Singletrack/MTB
Gravel/All-road
Dirt-road Touring
Fat-bike
Istra Land is a 430-kilometer off-road bikepacking event across Istria, a triangular-shaped peninsula in the Adriatic Sea. Rufus Wenlock had lofty plans for the event, but after a busy season and a handful of injuries, he set his sights on a new objective: simply finishing the ride. Find his reflection and photos from the organizers here…
Words by Rufus Wenlock, photos by exploro.cc
The atmosphere on the start line is humming. There are nervous vibes and high fives in every direction. A chorus of 400 riders bellows out the countdown: “Three… two… one…” All of the tense energy is now transferred into action. Istra Land 2023 is underway as we jostle for position, navigating the narrow and loose gravel roads out of Sežana.
Istra Land is a 400-kilometre loop around a small peninsula divided between Slovenia and Croatia. I’m excited to discover more of Europe, and riding with the promise of seaside sightings gets me going. Climbing up to Checkpoint 1 on a tarmac road is a relief after a rough and rocky start. It gives me time to second-guess the slick, worn-out gravel tires I use. They have already ridden thousands of kilometres throughout Europe. In some ways, my tires are the perfect metaphor for the state I found myself in: heavily fatigued and nursing a host of injuries after an ambitious season of races.
Cresting the highest point in the ride, Mount Vojak, we enter a 1,000-metre descent, confirming my poor tire choice. I dart from one side of the trail to the other, doing my best to avoid the fist-sized rocks. It’s not an easy task when your eyes keep wandering up to the immense panorama of the Istrian Peninsula! After 20 minutes of descending, my feet are failing fast. This is where my priority in the race shifts. With my feet in such a state after a long season, I recognize my limits and focus on finishing at a sustainable pace rather than pushing for what would be an inevitable blowup. I can barely pedal the smooth tarmac at the bottom, and just when I thought I’d gotten away with a miracle, I hear my rear tire let out an unmistakable psssst.
As the evening draws near and the sun starts to drop from its hottest point, I emerge from a bush-shrouded path onto the coast with views across the Adriatic Sea to the Dalmatia archipelago, the water calmly lapping on the shore. I have an overwhelming urge to swim and bathe my screaming feet, but with Checkpoint 2 so close, the desire to tick that milestone off drives me on. Looking down to grab a snack from my pocket, I can see the evidence of the day’s heat: streaks of white salt stained my jersey, and my glasses are blurred from sweat. The thought of a cooler evening is a relief.
The sun sits low in the sky and shines directly in my eyes as I weave along the coastline towards Cape Kamenjak. Arriving at sunset to a crowd of travelers and holidaymakers, I can hear Checkpoint 2 in the distance. It’s placed on the very last Cape of Istria at Safari Bar. It’s Friday evening, and the party is already in full swing. And not just any party: it’s the bar’s 30th anniversary and the owner’s 80th birthday! It’s bewildering to be amongst all these people after a day spent mostly alone on the much more secluded and rural east side of the peninsula.
It’s dark now, and what lies ahead is a maze of rocky paths intertwining through pine trees. I share this section with another rider, and we both take turns attempting to lead, just to hear the yelling back “Nope! Wrong turn.” The company is short-lived, as I hear the familiar pssssst of yet another puncture.
It is easy to spot another competitor when you see someone sitting on the pavement outside a market with an array of food sprawled before them and a vacant look in their eyes as they chew. It is a stark contrast to the crowds of people in the streets of Pula. I pull up beside the rider. He points to the entrance “Quick, they’re nearly closed!” I rush in and panic, facing so many choices. I grab a bottle of juice. I doubt my nauseous stomach could handle anything more solid. We sit for a while and exchange stories.
Mirna Valley signals the end of the coastal sections. I turn inland and follow a welcomingly smooth gravel path under what’s now a very bright full moon. The moonlight casts an eerie light upon the quiet landscape, a contrast to the vibrant colors I have been seeing during the day. Everything now is cast in monotones. As I travel deeper into the mainland, the temperature steadily drops. Valleys become shrouded in a cold mist. Occasionally, I’m struck with a warm breeze, but it disappears just as fast.
The early hours of the night tick over as I approach the final big climb of the race up to the Slovenian border. With my motivation having shifted to just finishing, I’m enjoying the change of pace. I’m still pushing but without the stress of racing. Taking time to rest or observe the country I pass through are simple pleasures not usually taken in a race environment. Riders pass me at night as I sit on a stone wall or take advantage of a comfy chair outside a closed restaurant. One of them would later ask me what I was doing when she passed me. Confused, I have no answer. I can’t remember. Maybe I had just taken a nap?
Rolling the final kilometers in Sežana as the sun rises behind me feels like a strange conclusion to my time in Europe. This is where my season began all those months ago on the Trans Balkan Race. Coming from New Zealand, I initially felt strange and out of place in this foreign continent. But events like this create a sense of familiarity as friendships and memories. I return home with plenty to reflect on and a little bit more familiar, having experienced the landscapes and people of Istria.
Istra Land 2024 is already scheduled for September 27th in Sežana, Slovenia. Learn more here.
Further Reading
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