TCRNo11 Day 17 // The Paradox of Self-Sufficiency

Words by Jake Thorpe

Photos by Matt Grayson, Sam Dugon, and Tomás Montes

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A Wearying Sight

Greeted by rapturous applause to the shores of the Black Sea on Wednesday morning, Julien Gravaud (398a) and Simon Taulelle (398b), fresh from a night’s sleep on the Finish Parcours, certainly knew how to court the press. Having spent the night 50 km from the finish line, the pair arrived at a civilised hour, in box-fresh kit, radiating bonne humeur. Ever voluble, The Beavers’ tongues were quickly loosened a little more with a finisher's beer, and the gathered masses were regaled with tales of a truly collaborative continental crossing. 

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Now with three races to their combined palmarès, the pair are past having to prove their molecular stability. Yet just as water endeavours to permeate even the toughest bedrock, frictional fissures endeavour to crack even the strongest partnership. In the case of The Beavers, friction first arrived this year in the form of an unsanctioned beer, ordered and drunk by Simon on registration day in Santiago. 

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At the finish line, tensions appeared unresolved. “That beer wasn’t part of the plan; it wasn’t agreed”, Julien protested, insisting that this transgression had undoubtedly been the sole cause of Simon's knee pain during the first three days. Julien had been forced to carry the duo while Simon was ordered to recover from his hangover, tucked into the slipstream. “Everyone thinks drafting is such a great advantage”, Simon retorted, “But let me assure you, after a while, I was just tired of seeing his ass.”

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By the time the pair reached Italy, however, the tables had turned. Julien, having been, in his own words “a bit too generous with the pushing”, had developed an injury in his quad. Despite knowing he couldn’t keep pace with the pair’s planned progress, Julien, less comfortable in the position of the helped than that of the helper, had soldiered on, refusing to release their racing aspirations. 

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In a rush to reach the ferry, the pair were unable to stop at a pharmacy before their crossing. The resulting convalescence saw them slip through the pairs rankings on Balkan soil, releasing second position, then third. Struggling to envisage a Plan B, Julien briefly considered scratching; after all the preparation, all the hard graft, if they couldn’t race, he reasoned, they couldn’t ride. But Simon wouldn’t have it. He urged Julien to adjust rather than eject. A finish is a finish, whatever the position, and the pair would reach it together. 

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“You have to understand that you’re always one person, with four wheels and four legs – well, in our case, three – going in the same direction”, Simon reflected from Constanța. The pair certainly lived up to this ideal. The only time they spent apart over the course of the journey was during their Adriatic crossing; Julien, having booked the ferry tickets from his aerobars on a bumpy road, had inadvertently ordered two twin cabins, forcing the pair to separate in a bid to get maximum bang for their buck.

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After 399 hours of total symbiosis, The Beavers set off from Zoom Beach to scour the streets of Constanța for a hotel. Naturally, they were on the lookout for a twin room.

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A Minor Speedbump

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Seemingly, The Beavers’ only regret about their journey of such proximity across Europe was that, come the finish line, it hadn’t been sealed by a kiss; their respective partners might’ve raised eyebrows. Other riders, however, were more fortunate. 

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Emerging through a cloud of colourful confetti, Jill Hovecamp (097) arrived on Wednesday afternoon to be greeted by her partner, Tilo, on the shores of the Black Sea. Tilo had endeavoured to give away no hint of his plans to join Jill at the finish line in Romania. Jill’s suspicions had, however, been aroused when Tilo had sent a screenshot several days earlier – a message that unwittingly revealed his phone’s local time.

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Clawing, frantically, for an explanation to assuage any assumptions of his whereabouts, Tilo had concocted a Greek stag do, arranged last-minute, to explain his eastern time zone. In case Jill’s race-ragged brain had somehow managed to connect the dots, however, he had also fabricated some evidence from his base at Zoom Beach Bar to endorse his claim; a line of fluorescent shots, some placeless beach-club stills, an indecipherable soundbyte or two drowned out by the bass of the speakers. 

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As Jill’s dot reached the beach, Tilo received a call. Approaching the last hundred metres of her journey, Jill had wanted to share the final moment with him. Forced to string out the ruse a moment longer, however, Tilo garbled an excuse, feigning unavailability, before putting down the phone to prepare the confetti cannon. Arriving to an immense welcome, Jill looked less surprised than anticipated. As testament to Tilo’s usual thoughtfulness, she had come to suspect his story a sham when he’d cut the call short a moment earlier. Surprise or not, it was a touching reunion. Both agreed that, with this little vignette of deceit now over, they were excited to restore their relationship’s typical, truthful foundations. 

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The Sum of its Parts

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Many arriving in Constanța, having put a continent beneath their wheels, feel moved to extend this achievement to others – letting it resonate beyond their own personal bounds. For Chris Murray (033), the gravity of the journey, and the gratitude for all who, in some way, had helped bring it to its close, was overwhelming. 

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Having set off on Tuesday morning beside Bulgaria’s Serbian border, 635 km away from Constanța, Chris knew that, all going well, this stint would carry her to the finish line. She had deliberately ridden, rather than raced, the TCR; but now, with the last 24 hours in sight – a distance that, for the British Women’s 24-Hour Time Trial Champion, spelled home turf – Chris opened the taps. Covering the distance in 27 hours, despite sustaining five punctures on the canal path of the Finish Parcours, Chris arrived on Wednesday evening, frustrated, exhausted, relieved. 

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But one emotion prevailed. Above all, Chris was grateful. Choking back tears, she acknowledged the impact of those who have sustained her throughout – the emotional support team that forge the paradox of this self-supported bike race. “Yes it's unsupported,” she explained, “but those people around that cheer you on, that have your back, that love you, they're what keeps you going; they enable you to achieve things you really didn't think were possible.”

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As a finishing pair, attribution is easy; success, for the whole, is inextricable from that of its halves. But for those concluding a solo journey, success, too, can be shared – in tears, a tight squeeze, or a carefully concealed confetti cannon.

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Scratch Report 

Andrea Saltini (133) – Rider scratched 11:40 CEST 14/8 via WhatsApp due to injury.

Mihai Ciprian Onofrei (266) – Rider scratched 19:46 CEST 13/8 via WhatsApp due to time constraints.