Day 9 // A Wiley Flight Path
July 29, 2026
Words by Jake Thorpe
Photos by Matt Grayson, Tom Gibbs, Tomás Montes, Sam Dugon, and Weronika Szalas
In the Hot Seat
As our leading dots funnel south, with the Finish Parcours – the final coalescence – beginning to loom on the horizon, further back, we’re seeing a great dispersion across Hungary. Riders are separated by nearly 3 longitudinal degrees, from Eger in the east, to Székesfehérvár in the west; at midday, Matthew Spooner (069) held the eastern flank, while Elise Sauvinet (303) held the western. But, varied as the routes through Hungary may be, the verdict on the riding has remained remarkably consistent. "Hungary?” asked Sarah Bosslet (120), FLINTA frontrunner, “It's not my country. Too boring, too flat. Busy roads, sh*tty roads." It seems she echoed the field’s prevailing sentiment. Not many riders, I wager, will be adding pins to their map of potential touring destinations.
In the lowlands, too, the heat of Central Europe has taken on a new ferocity. After a day pushing through Hungary and Croatia towards Bosnia, yesterday, Sarah discovered a heat-induced rash covering her legs. It’s no wonder she seemed so put out by such a protracted stint beneath the pitiless sun; heatstroke at this point of her race could well be game over. After a restorative night in a hotel, some laundry, and two borders between her and her nemesis, however, Sarah was again feeling more positive.
She’d not been alone in her struggle. Camille Albisser (270), Sarah’s counterpart at the head of the FLINTA field, admitted that yesterday had been one of the race’s tougher days. It seems their disposition, as well as the distance they’re covering, is moving in tandem. “Let’s be real, these days happen,” Camille shared. Fuelling had been a challenge. Having hit a string of Russian-owned petrol stations where only Hungarian Forints held value, Camille was forced to ration supplies until she could find somewhere that would take her French credit card. Currency can be a crux for riders in Central and Southeastern Europe, particularly within the approaching Balkan peninsula. In many of these countries, cash is still king. It takes some foresight to ensure you have some in hand.
To get through the last of this hot, flat riding, Camille employed a strategy of classic dissociation. “I had to really just switch off, zone out and keep moving forward,” she said. “But from tomorrow, I’ll be back in the mountains; you should find me in a much better mood.” The measurable progress of crossing three borders in a day did appear to boost Camille’s morale. Most importantly, though, she shared that, at present, her saddle is giving her no discomfort. Having suffered a lot with saddle-soreness in the past, both in the wet of the NorthCape4000 and the dry of Desertus Bikus, she warned, “I don’t want to jinx it, but I think I’ve finally found the perfect combination.” Her progress certainly seemed to substantiate these claims. Ripping through Bosnia, Camille arrived on the dot of midday to CP3, second on the FLINTA leaderboard, just 10 minutes behind Sarah.
But Camille and Sarah are not yet in a race all of their own. Lea Hamberger (404) arrived at CP3 less than 90 minutes behind the leading duo, with Larissa Unsinn (346) following her by the same margin. With the four frontrunners separated by just 3 hours, the race for the FLINTA lead is anything but a head-to-head. Advantages like these can evaporate in an instant. Lea, for her part, has continued to ride with the discipline of a race leader, minimising stoppage and focussing on total efficiency in the pursuit of forward progress. Sleeping for 4 hours a night, Lea is keeping consistent pressure on Camille and Sarah. If either falters, Lea will be there to succeed them.
Also suffering with the heat through Croatia, a little further back, Anna Carlqvist (223) decided a change of pace was in order, making the tough decision to take an extended break in Kelebija, Serbia’s northernmost town. Vila Major was her home for the next 14 hours: a palatial hotel of dark mahogany and red velour – not the worst possible place to recuperate. Cautiously continuing today after some deliberation, Anna explained that “decisions like these are hard, but they’re not worth risking injury or health.” She planned to keep her finger on the pulse of her race and evaluate both her pacing and, if necessary, her participation should things not improve.
A Changing of the Guard
But riders won’t be in the flatlands forever. It seems Bosnia is currently doing good trade in first impressions, coming in the wake of Hungary and Croatia. From here, the race enters the Balkans proper. As riders delve further down the peninsular, they will enter an altogether wilder landscape.
Yet sadly, in this race, for Omar di Felice (195), the Balkans will never arrive. His attempt to rest and recover, having suffered heatstroke along Central Europe’s flatter plains, has been fruitless, forcing him to scratch in Croatia, just south of the Drava. Sadly, at this point, he admits that the “disappointment and sorrow far outweigh any other feeling.” We hope that, with time, the positive memories of his race, amidst the tricky personal circumstances of the last month, will shine through.
Today also saw a scratch from another rider who has animated the front of this year’s race. Max Agut (051), second to both the first and second controls, has struggled with illness in the race’s recent chapters. Speaking to Race Coordinator, Hannah Larbalestier, Max confessed, “I was here to feel the hurt of the TCR, and I touched that, I think.” He highlighted route planning as his biggest challenge in this edition – something he hopes to learn from in future. “For next year,” he began, before adding, “if I come back next year, there’s a lot I would change.” Keeping hope for his season’s upcoming races, and for another shot at the TCR, in due course, Max said, simply, “I’ll see you again very soon, the next one is coming.” We hope to welcome Max back to a TCR start line before long.
It seems today has been something of a watershed for those pushing themselves at the sharp end. Yet another of the consistent frontrunners, Jonas Verest (368), third on the road since CP2, saw progress halted in Kukës after his carbon crank arm began to split in two. Clearly the power required to sustain his storming advance through the Balkans had been too much for his equipment. After attempting some roadside repairs, to no avail, Jonas sought a potential replacement in Gjakova. Evidently, it worked; by 21:00 CEST, having lost 10 hours, Jonas was back on the road, powering towards the fourth parcours in the hope of reclaiming the six places he had lost in the process.
Dancing in the Daylight
It was a shame for Jonas that he, like our leading rider Robin Gemperle (001) the night before, was forced to tackle the parcours by moonlight. Parcours 4 is nothing short of sublime; a bucket-list sequence of climbs and descents that sweeps riders through Albania’s Black Drin valley from Kukës to Peshkopi. Wedged between the Korab range on the east and ridgelines of the Lurë on the southwest, those tackling the parcours by day will be treated to a panoramic mountainscape.
Unlike the more densely forested peaks of the Bosnian mountains, here in Albania, hillsides are a floral melange – black pine, beech and alder give way to drifts of wildflowers, and, as you climb up from the irrigated valley floor, a dusting of hardier shrubs. The mountains are higher, too; limestone peaks – bleached, mineral, and monochromatic – pile up like ash above the treeline, falling away in gullied spurs to the roadside. The landscape draws you along. The gradient, however, does not. Riders will have to climb 1,400 m over the 58 km of the parcours, the bulk of which comes in the first 25 km.
But Nicolas Chatelet (126) appeared entirely unfazed by the challenge, dancing up the ramps and divebombing the descents. We – in Control Car 1 – were overtaken by the agile Frenchman more often than we care to admit. Second on the road, now by a significant margin, Nicolas looked worryingly fresh for his 9th day in the saddle. Soon, he was off, leaving us in the dust on the descent to Peshkopi.
We might’ve liked to stick around on the parcours; there are certainly worse places to spend an afternoon. But, as has been the theme of the race so far, we were, once again, forced to up sticks and lay chase to our flighty Robin.
A Wiley Flightpath
Robin, after a 4-hour rest in Peshkopi at the end of the fourth parcours, was back on the road at 07:00CEST, making a beeline for Macedonia. Across the border, he took a small road, skirting around the edge of Lake Ohrid on its western shore.
For the safety of riders, all A-roads in Macedonia are prohibited, however, short stretches of these roads – and other similarly banned roads across the continent – are permitted for riders to use, to allow viable alternative routes to intersect, or to enable riders to access crucial landmarks. In the case of Macedonia’s A2, the 100-or-so metres of road that has been allowed is the only stretch that enables riders to cross the Kjafasan border back into Albania.
Running parallel to the A2, Robin’s lakeside route, at the border, simply stops. There is, however, a steep hiking trail connecting a hotel on Ohrid’s shores with the A2 above. Over the years, Robin has shown that he is more than happy to dismount in the pursuit of a shortcut. So, in a near-exact replica of his strategy from TCRNo9 – when, to avoid the Axenstrasse, a banned road in Switzerland, he had opted for a dash up a thousand stone steps from the lakeshore – Robin once again shouldered his bike and set to work.
Hawk Team 1, on the other hand, had chosen to remain in Albania, tracking a more elevated route first through the Voras and then the Melesin Mountains. However hard we beat our wings, we’d never follow the nimble Robin on his chosen flight path. But we weren’t complaining. As we crested col after col, beneath us, Albania unfolded, the haze of the day’s heat coyly revealing ever more of its contours. We arrived in Leskovik, home to CP4, at 19:00CEST. Robin had passed through the control an hour earlier, drinking the small bar dry in the process. Before setting off for the Greek border, he had concocted a draught of eight of Albania’s most saccharine sodas, mixed in his hydration bladder, to see him through the night. Two hours later, he was across the border, the final country of his race stretching out before him.
