From Instagram to Trieste: Seven Serpents Quick Bite 2023

Words by Tatiana Myk, photos by Seven Serpents

While scrolling through Instagram out of boredom, I came across a familiar face in a photo. It was clearly taken during a race. The picture showed tired, dirty, happy riders on a stunning old Italian square, holding ceramic medals with snake motifs. It was the first Seven Serpents race. At that moment, I hadn’t yet assembled my gravel bike, but I had already decided to find myself on that square among those riders someday.

Around January 2023, my friend Maya, my partner in the most daring adventures, told me that this year’s race would have a shorter version called Quick Bite, with a 500-kilometer total distance with 8,000 meters of elevation gain. She had already bought tickets. Without hesitation, I also purchased tickets, taking the first step toward fulfilling my summer dream.

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I have been cycling since 2011, actively exploring Europe on my downhill mountain bike until 2020. However, like others, the pandemic disrupted my life, and downhill biking became a thing of the past. Berlin wasn’t the best place for my passion, so I decided to try road cycling. By 2022, I realized I was drawn to forests, mountains, off-road trails, and long distances. The gravel bike became everything to me: health, family, love, and happiness.

My winter training for the race didn’t go as planned. I rode less and worked more, dealing with personal issues. I sprang into action when there was only one month left until Seven Serpents. Overall, I had everything I needed: the bike, lights, dynamo hub, bags, sleeping bag, mattress, and bus tickets to Ljubljana. I had never participated in such races before, and the thought of being alone on the road for several days in the forests of Slovenia and Croatia scared me. But I set my mind on the positive. To calm my anxious thoughts, I booked and planned all the accommodations in advance, aiming to stay motivated and have some semblance of a plan. Oh, how naive I was.

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Day One: The Start

Maya and I were at the starting line in Ljubljana, surrounded by more than 100 other cyclists. I recognized some from Instagram, while others I got to know along the way. There was a sense of excitement in the air as everyone prepared. Each person had their fears, goals, and expectations. It was fascinating to observe their setups and speculate whether a particular participant would make it to the top 10 or if we would end up having coffee somewhere on the road. Laughter, smiles, excitement, and off we went!

The unforgettable feeling of a collective start and unity washed over me. Inside, a spring of excitement released. I’m here! I’m doing this! Something incredible awaits me ahead.

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On the first climb, the group stretched out. I climbed slowly as familiar faces passed by, offering encouraging smiles. We would meet again later; everyone was on their own for now. We passed 20, 50, and 70 kilometers of rain, fields, brief encounters, and small talk. At 85 kilometers came the first short break, and I met Maya again. My plan was to ride 110 kilometers and sleep at the train station in a city. I was afraid of climbing alone in the dark to the first checkpoint and then searching for accommodation somewhere. But here we were, in that city, with the sunset painting the sky.

Maya’s eyes sparkled, and she made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. In the twilight, we ventured toward the first checkpoint. I remember the darkness, the cold air, the long downhill ride through the forest illuminated by our bike lights. We were together, and I wasn’t afraid. I was happy! We weren’t alone; lights dotted the entire forest, and the cemetery awaited us. I never thought I would be so thrilled about a reserved spot under a tarp at a Slovenian cemetery. We covered 140 kilometers and climbed 3,000 meters.

Day Two: Slovenia to Croatia

The morning at the cemetery was charming: quiet, clean, undisturbed, with drinking water available. After sleeping for about five hours and getting up at 6 a.m., we had breakfast and decided to finish together in Trieste. Slovenia delighted us with misty lakes, warm sunshine, green fields of young wheat, and flocks of birds. Our bodies were aching. Everything hurt, especially our sit bones. Our bodies felt like stones, inflexible. So, after reaching the highest point of the day after 50 kilometers, we decided to stay at the Airbnb I had previously booked in Croatia, 60 kilometers away.

Lack of sleep, inadequate food intake, and unprecedented elevation gain drained us of all strength. By 5 p.m., we arrived at our hosts’ place. The welcoming hostess tried to offer us wine, while her husband provided us with fluffy home shoes and drove us to a pizzeria where we could fill our stomachs enough for our bodies to focus solely on sleep and digestion for the next eight hours. A quick stretch after the shower, the alarm was set for 5 a.m. Sleep. Recover. Digest.

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Day Three: Mom, I’m at the seaside!

We woke up well-rested! Life was pulsing again through our bodies, muscles regained flexibility, and the smiles never left our faces. After finishing the cold pizza from the previous day, we set off, and within just 10 kilometers, we realized that we were in Croatia. The air was filled with the scent of the salty sea, and the forest roads gave way to gravelly singletracks. Overcoming a few challenging trails, we caught sight of our destination: the bridge to the island of Krk. The thrilling downhill on loose stones added excitement, and I was in my element!

Maya kept up with my trajectories, and we confidently raced downhill at speeds of up to 60 kilometers per hour. Many warned us that Krk would be difficult, but we had rested and eaten. And, intoxicated by the seaside landscapes and rocky descents, we conquered it in one breath. After being on the road for 12 hours, we reached the hotel I had previously booked on Krk and boarded the last ferry to the second island, Cres. During short breaks, we saw quite a few participants celebrating with champagne at the finish line on Instagram, which motivated us. We will finish this race tomorrow!

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The salty air caressed our faces, and the setting sun cast a golden hue on the horizon, gently blinding us. We were drunk with happiness. We knew that ahead of us lay the unknown. And that’s the wonderful thing about backpacking and long-distance riding: it’s an adventure you don’t plan in advance and one that unfolds in uncertainty. You learn and adapt in the moment. We knew our final destination was at the end of the island, that we would sleep somewhere on a pier at the other end of Cres, and that we would arrive there in the darkness, and I’m very afraid of the dark. But right now, we were chatting with tired legs on the ferry deck and enjoying our first dinner: rolls with slices of cheese and ham because darkness is a problem for future me. The first part of the island was entirely paved, and the climbs were going well, but the wind was picking up.

At some point, we realized it had gotten completely dark, and it was time to take out our flashlights. We reached a 20-kilometer gravel section in the forest. Darkness. Up to this point, besides sheep, we hadn’t encountered anyone. The island seemed deserted. Only a long-burnt car, an abandoned trailer, or a semi-collapsed house along the route reminded us that people should be somewhere on the island. I took out a bell and a whistle. Amid the crunching of stones under our tires and the ringing of the bell, we continued deeper into the forest, and then, through a stone fence, a little wild boar crossed our path. Then another. And we stopped abruptly. There it was! My greatest fear. Wild boars. I was very afraid to meet them in the dark, but I thought how cute and scared they looked when we did. For the first time, I realized they were more afraid of me than I was of them. And just like that, my fear disappeared.

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Riding became even more enjoyable after that. For a better mood, in addition to the jingling bell, we turned on a small JBL speaker with The Prodigy at full blast. Riding became even more fun! The flashlights illuminated the way, the music echoed all around, and our mood was excellent when suddenly… a running car with its headlights on stood in the middle of the forest. First thought: an interesting photo spot for the media car, but why are they waiting for us here in the middle of the night? A hand emerged from the car, and all thoughts that it might be the organizers’ car vanished. The hand began waving at us aggressively to keep moving, and when we reached it, we saw a scruffy-looking man with a hostile expression.

Without figuring out who he was and what he was doing in the forest at midnight in the uninhabited part of Cres Island, Maya and I pressed on the pedals and rushed to the ferry. Various thoughts raced through our heads. But the most important thing was to reach the pier and find a secluded place to sleep so that no suspicious men would bother us until morning. When we reached the pier, we met two more race participants who were also “stranded” on the island until the morning ferry, and they shed light on the situation. The northern part of Cres Island is an official hunting ground, and the man in the car was a hunter. Now I understand his hostile look because instead of the desired hunt, he got a light and musical performance from two unknown girls.

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Day Four: The Final Push!

We slept soundly, all together, on the ground under a tent tarp. But we didn’t sleep much. We woke up, gathered our belongings, and hopped on the first ferry at 6 a.m.. We had breakfast on the ferry itself, and as soon as we disembarked, I took a magical pill I had bought in Ljubljana: ibuprofen with caffeine. An explosive and delightful combination that, unfortunately, didn’t work. I no longer felt anything except muscle pain, lack of energy, and exhaustion.

To motivate ourselves and not give up, we decided to book a hotel in Trieste. It didn’t matter when we would finish; the important thing was knowing that a hot shower and a dry bed awaited us there. After all, there were only 130 kilometers and about 2,500 meters of ascent left until the finish, and behind us were 420 kilometers and 7,500 meters of ascent. Most of the journey was behind us. The final push awaited!

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I couldn’t go on anymore. My legs wouldn’t listen, my vision was dimming. I desperately wanted to sleep and eat. I started convincing myself: in 25 kilometers, there’s one last big climb in the Ucka Nature Reserve, and before that, there’s a town where we can eat and rest for 30 minutes. But when we reached the town, we found food and even started falling asleep right on the ground in a small alley when suddenly the hostel owner woke us up and asked us to leave the private property, and then it started raining. I burst into tears. Fatigue, lack of sleep, knee pain… all the emotions poured through tears. Maya remained upbeat. She had an abundance of positivity, determination, and motivation. And it was contagious!

So, with our pizza split in half and placed in a frame bag, we began our ascent to the highest mountain of the Quick Bite in the rain! A long asphalt climb, a gravel ascent through the forest, then a three-kilometer hike and bike with an 18% gradient. Three and a half hours later, we reached the summit. The views from the descent were breathtaking.

We had 50 kilometers left to the finish, with the last 20 kilometers being a downhill ride into the city. But my knees refused. It’s worth noting that I had chosen the wrong gear ratio for this race. For those who love and understand numbers, I rode this race with a 40-tooth chainring in the front and a 42-tooth cassette in the rear. Feeling sorry for my uphill suffering, Maya suggested we swap bikes for 30 kilometers. She had a 36-tooth chainring and the same 42-tooth cassette. It was a game-changer. I could once again tackle the climbs instead of walking every time. Our speed increased, and now it was Maya’s turn to suffer. She couldn’t believe I had climbed over 9,000 meters with this gear ratio.

Mountains, sunset, and 20 kilometers to go. In the setting sun’s golden rays, we saw the sea and Trieste below. Like a fairytale, the city was nestled by the sea and glowed with golden light. We began our descent into it in the dark. We descended quickly and confidently. The evening’s cold wind was burning our bare hands and knees. The finish was near. We were in the city. Traffic lights, a turn, and there it was. That incredible square from the photo I saw a year ago on the internet. I was there. In the distance on the square, a crowd of people shouted and waved a flag. They were the finish line. They were the participants who had already completed this race and experienced the same journey. They were the splashes of champagne, laughter, hugs, and congratulations. They were the indescribable feeling of unity, of being part of something bigger than just a race.

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For them, for us, for Maya, and for me. We did it! Thank you to the Seven Serpents’ organizers for giving us the feeling of being part of something greater than just a race.

I had completed my first-ever long-distance bike race: 539 kilometers and 10,190 meters of elevation in 3 days and 9 hours. I would like to take this opportunity to say a big thank you to my mother, who followed my progress from Russia on the Follow My Challenge tracking map throughout the entire race and supported me. Also, thanks to my perfect partner for this adventure, Maya. I had a lot to learn from her.

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