bikepacking – cyclespeak

Izzy Weds / A complete one-eighty

April 17, 2024April 18, 2024Posted in InterviewTagged bikepacking, Graphic design, gravel bikes, Illustration, Izzy Weds, PhotographyLeave a comment

“Do I see myself as an artist? Not really. Because I’m very methodical in how I work and have systems in my head that I follow. So I guess that makes me a designer at heart?”

It’s Easter break and Izzy Wedderburn has travelled back to Dorset to enjoy some home comforts. Close to completing her third and final year at UCA*, she’s been balancing her studies with carving out a career as a freelance illustrator and graphic designer. Which is how we arrive at Izzy Weds. A shortened form of her given name and the brand Izzy has built since heart won out over head in determining which future path to follow.

*University for the Creative Arts

“At school I was very much labelled as an academic. It’s what I knew but I was so unhappy because deep down it just wasn’t me. I was very creative as a child but all that got a little squished by the expectations of my parents—both doctors—and our education system. So after finishing my A-Levels, I did a complete one-eighty and enrolled on a foundation course in art and design at Arts University Bournemouth. But finding the unstructured nature of the curriculum a little overwhelming, I did another one-eighty to study Sport Science at The University of Bath, stayed for one term and dropped out.”

A period of significant change that was resolved when she joined her UCA graphic design course part way through the first year; rounding out this turbulent time with—as Izzy sees it—the best decision she’s ever made.

RVCA summer internship

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“The projects we work on are all very open-ended but you do need an outcome. And that’s been super helpful because I don’t think I’d be where I am today without this structured approach. From being someone who lacked a certain creative confidence, I’ve come out with this whole body of work and a sense of pride in what I’ve made.”

Looking back at her childhood, Izzy remembers her grandmother as a particular source of inspiration. An accomplished dressmaker who made all her own clothes from scratch, she encouraged Izzy to start sewing; the bags and pencil cases she made for her school friends earning her the tongue-in-cheek title of Stitch Queen.

“So much time spent making,” she muses, “but I’d stopped identifying myself as a creative person. Which is kind of crazy, if you think about it.”

With her brand now established—summer internships in London and Biarritz helping decide what she did and didn’t want career wise—Izzy is building a portfolio of projects that highlight her broad range of experience and attention to design details.

“I originally started with illustration. Those were my first commissions and what got the ball rolling in the creative world. But my work has evolved into a more multifaceted graphic design practice which I see as a fusion of very different disciplines. Illustration still plays an important role but there’s also my interest in photography and textiles that gets tipped into the pot.”

Illustration

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When it comes to recharging her own creative reserves, Izzy cites Magalleria—a magazine shop in nearby Bath—as a favoured destination for sourcing old copies of Les Others and Gestalten travel books. And her Instagram account—another popular source of inspiration for industry creatives—saw a follow from gravel racer and graphic designer Sarah Sturm after Izzy included her Specialized race bike in a series of illustrations.

“My subconscious is always ticking away. Sometimes to the extent that when I sit down to start a project, it’s almost as if I’ve already considered this or that approach. And I’m definitely a pen and paper girl. I’m not one of those people who make notes on their phone.”

“My interest in photography is also increasingly prevalent in my design practice,” she continues. “And I’ve just started experimenting with taking analogue images which is enormous fun, very exploratory, but expensive!”

Still in the first phase of a career where she says yes to every commission, although the freelance nature of her profession often results in a solitary work experience, Izzy describes how she relishes the freedom to set her own deadlines and the positive impact her work can have on clients. A response that has me wondering what makes the perfect client?

“Not too needy? Not too much table tennis with the emails? No, I’m kidding. I guess it’s someone on the same wavelength, who’s equally excited about the project as I am.”

Film photography

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And the metrics she personally uses to define a project as a success?

“At the end of the day, it has to sit well with me. When I close down my laptop, the knowledge that I’ve given my all.”

Admittedly not good with super noisy environments, Izzy appreciates having enough space to spread out her sketches and source materials.

“By nature, I like to be grounded and have all my bits and bobs close to hand. Working from a café can be fun but that’s when I’m sorting out admin tasks as opposed to being creative. But if I was to design my own studio—as a flight of fancy—it would definitely be somewhere in the mountains. And not too big. Maybe three, four, five desks with a small team working on interesting, environmentally important projects that focus on the outdoors.”

With this mention of collaboration, our conversation turns to the limited-run magazine—Original Freedom—that Izzy self-published as part of her UCA dissertation module.

Original Freedom

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“It all started with me emailing my friends to ask if they’d been on any cool adventures or trips. Fortunately they were all super happy to get involved and sent me a variety of words and images that I could use. And the idea of Original Freedom bridges how we all enjoy the outdoors but in very different ways. Because maybe there’s this notion of adventure with a capital A—very remote, in far-flung places—that I wanted to question. Adventure for one person might very well mean a multi-day wilderness trip. But for the next it could be a hike through their local woods.”

Remembering the time she spent at home during the pandemic—travel restrictions encouraging her to explore from her doorstep—Izzy references the network of paths and trails that she still rides today and might otherwise have gone unnoticed.

“I explored everywhere close to home. And it was this same sense of adventure—in all its different forms—that made creating the magazine such a fun experience. A timely reminder that I’m happiest when outside; whether that’s walking the dog, going climbing or riding my bike.”

The bike in question is a Brother Cycles Kepler—painted, according to Izzy, in OG black—that she was gifted on her 18th birthday.

“I remember my Dad questioning whether I wanted a steel frame with riser bars but I stuck to my guns and it’s still my favourite bike to ride. But I’m not one for setting arbitrary targets such as riding this far or fast. I focus more on enjoying the freedom of moving through a landscape, taking a new path or trail, and seeing where it leads me.”

Les Portes du Soleil

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A relaxed approach to riding perhaps mirrored in Izzy’s design career to date? A professional journey she feels happened almost by accident as an about-face to the path prescribed for her.

“My Dad’s very traditional and sometimes I wonder if he would have been happier if I’d become a doctor. But it turns out that Mum very nearly dropped out of medicine to study an art foundation course; an interesting duality in the paths we did, and didn’t, take. Which perhaps explains why she’s really supportive and excited for me.”

“As to how I feel,” Izzy concludes, “I went to a very academic school and it was almost assumed that I’d follow a certain educational route. So it’s not always been easy but I’m far enough along my creative journey to feel confident enough to say: this is me, this is my work, this is what I’m passionate about. From not really knowing myself well enough to trust that I was making the right decision, I’ve grown to believe 100% that this is the right path.”

All photography and visual imagery with kind permission of Izzy Weds

izzyweds.com

Henna Palosaari / Outside

January 23, 2024Posted in InterviewTagged bikepacking, Fara Cycles, gravel, gravel bikesLeave a comment

Growing up in the north of Finland, the weather was never something to complain about. If it was -20°C, Henna Palosaari simply put on more layers. A remarkable relationship with the outdoors that has continued into adulthood. Whether snowboarding in winter, bike packing through warmer months or surfing in between; Henna is a life adventurer happiest when outside.

Henna has just messaged to say she’ll be a little late for our call. Swapping her native Finnish slopes for a four-week snowboarding holiday on Japanese powder, when her video feed pings into life she explains how her evening meal was truly wonderful but took far longer than expected.

“We found this traditional Japanese restaurant run by a couple in their eighties. All very lovely but it took us over two hours to eat our dinner. And then I felt a little guilty that they were still working into their old age.”

After honing their craft over all that time, I suggest that maybe it’s more passion than profession. And then continue our food theme by admitting how the name of Henna’s cold weather clothing—Haglöfs—reminds me of an ice cream brand.

“Häagen-Dazs?” she responds with a laugh. “That’s funny. Maybe I should suggest they diversify.”

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Looking relaxed and warmly wrapped up in down jacket and wool beanie, I’m reminded that Henna studied accountancy at university but quit her job as an auditor to spend the winter in Innsbruck as—and I quote—a ski bum. So I’m naturally curious to learn what prompted such a major change in lifestyle?

“One big factor was the semester I spent abroad in New Zealand studying for my Masters. I hiked a lot and learnt to surf and then spent some time in Bali before returning home to Finland to take up a position with an accountancy firm. And I remember thinking whether this was how it was going to be for the next 20 or 30 years. So my best friend and I decided to try the European ski season and that’s how we ended up in Innsbruck.”

Fast forward to 2024 and Henna is now working for Bikeland.fi—the Finnish centre for cycling tourism—where she’s responsible for building and updating the website as well as coordinating the development and integration of cycle routes.

“Back when I was working as an accountant,” Henna explains, “I didn’t ride a bike. That came later when, like a lot of other people, I started to ride during the pandemic. Initially it was just a way of getting some fresh air but then I began to go a little further. I bought a gravel bike and some bike packing bags and set off on a 4800 km trip around Finland. And the more I rode, the more cycling became a passion. So when I saw a job with Bikeland, I applied but didn’t get it. And then a little later, I applied for another position with them and didn’t get that one either. But then they called me about the job I do now and that’s how I got started.”

A good example, I’m thinking, of how it pays to be persistent, before our conversation turns to Ride To Ski; the recently released film that, as the title suggests, combines her love of cycling and snowboarding. Featuring friends Sami Sauri and Malva Björkman, Henna not only planned all the routes but also produced the film. So very much a passion project?

“Yes. For sure. It was an idea that I’d been mulling over for a couple of years before deciding that, this winter, we were going to make it happen.”

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Offering a plentitude of Alpine panoramas and loaded with smiles and laughter, certain emotive scenes show Malva coming to terms with a traumatic event she’d previously experienced when skiing. So I’m wondering whether the way the three friends were travelling and experiencing the outdoors helped unlock these inner thoughts and feelings?

“When you travel by bike,” suggests Henna, “there’s definitely more time to process your thoughts. And when you’re physically tired, emotions can get stirred up that maybe you’re subconsciously suppressing? So I guess for me, cycling is a kind of safe haven where I can think through what’s going on in my life.”

Not the first project Henna has shared with Sami Sauri, the pair initially met over Instagram before plans were put in place to ride the Arctic Post Road; the resultant film depicting back-to-back days crossing the Nordic wilderness.

“From my experience your funniest memories of a trip are when things don’t go according to plan. And our plans began to unravel when we’d just completed a super technical section and we found ourselves running a little behind schedule. It was getting late but we decided to push through to the next village that had accommodation. It was raining, starting to get cold and the mosquitoes were biting when we finally arrived at our destination. But there was no one around and the contact number we’d been given wasn’t answering. Then we noticed this guy approaching on a quad bike who told us the owner of the cabin had gone fishing and couldn’t be contacted.”

Laughing as she reminisces, I’m mentally putting myself in that same scenario and wondering what I would decide to do? With no accommodation available, the pair pitching their tent in the parking lot before cooking a meal of pasta. A good reminder that it helps to be self-sufficient and always carry what you need for those just-in-case situations.

“The most stressful aspect of our Ride To Ski trip was getting all the equipment sorted before setting off. Malva’s bike arrived by mail with a bent derailleur hanger so that was a last minute hassle. But because of all this rushing around, the actual trip felt relatively stress free.”

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I rather guiltily admit to Henna that I found myself smiling at the scene from the film which shows them riding up this incredibly steep road with Malva getting slower and slower until she eventually comes to a halt and tips over.

“That was on the first night and it was a 25% ramp,” laughs Henna. “And I later learnt that it was Malva’s first ever bike packing trip. And Sami—who cycles a lot—had only skied twice that season. So considering the circumstances, I think we managed pretty well.”

Keen to point out that she doesn’t consider herself to be a professional cyclist or snowboarder, Henna is visibly more comfortable when I suggest that she’s a storyteller.

“I’m conscious that we see a lot of professional athletes doing incredible things but that’s not always the most relatable content for someone considering riding a bike for the first time. So if I can bring my amateur adventures to life and share them in a way that inspires people to go exploring themselves, then maybe that will translate to amazing experiences when they spend time outdoors?”

Growing up in Finland, time spent outdoors meant biking to school all year round, whatever the weather. A willingness to contend with the vagaries of the seasons that Henna has carried through to adulthood.

“My Dad would spend time teaching us new skills like how to use a saw or light a fire. And I still find there’s a real sense of satisfaction from figuring out a problem. When I first embarked on my van Eldo’s renovation there was hour after hour of research on YouTube and Google—a van building bubble that took over my life for a few months. But now I get to enjoy the result of all that hard work and it’s what ties me and Eldo so closely together.”

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Clearly tenacious by nature and always willing to seek out a solution, my thoughts turn to another project that saw Henna experimenting with the concept of light packing; carrying everything she needed for an overnighter in a 14L backpack.

“I do get a certain sense of satisfaction in seeing how little I need to carry. And that’s another aspect that I love about travelling by bike. How once you’ve invested in a few essential pieces of equipment—a gas stove, a tent, a sleeping bag and mat—then you’re basically good to go.”

Is there a piece of kit that Henna’s never without, I wonder?

“I pretty much always carry an emergency blanket. Just in case,” she answers with a laugh. “And in the Nordics, whether it’s summer or winter, you always travel with a down jacket.”

So there’s never a time when Henna decides to stay inside, under her duvet?

“I do love sleeping. But usually I know that if I’ve planned something, then it will make me feel so much better. So that’s the motivation I need to get myself moving. And spending time outdoors is where I feel most relaxed. Our day-to-day lives can be quite frantic but when I’m riding my bike or out on the slopes, it’s as if time is standing still and I don’t feel in a rush. For me, a really important way of managing both my physical and mental wellbeing.”

Conscious that Henna is 10 hours ahead and needs to rest before once again hitting the slopes in the morning, I finish up our conversation with one final question but with the proviso that she doesn’t have to answer. But I can’t help feeling curious whether she sees herself as a snowboarder who cycles, or a cyclist who skis?

“That’s a tricky one! But we have made a film called Ride To Ski. So maybe the truth lies somewhere in the middle?”

Photography with kind permission of Henna Palosaari / Feature image by Emil Nyeng

Alex Roszko / Fast, fun and easy

December 13, 2023Posted in ConversationTagged alex roszko, bikepacking, gravel, gravel bikes, gravel racing, pas normal studios, Photography, roszkoLeave a comment

It’s Thanksgiving Day and photographer Alex Roszko is taking our video call on his mobile phone as he strolls through a suburban neighbourhood in Austin, Texas. Jacket zipped up against the December chill, he’s visibly relaxed and happy to let our conversation wander.

Tracing his love of visual storytelling to when he was gifted his first camera—a Polaroid covered in Ninja Turtle stickers—when the opportunity arose to swap his programming position with an engineering firm for the gravel trails of race events, he decided to make the leap.

A decision to pursue photography as a full-time career that he explores with an unwavering honesty; Alex offering an intriguing take on the challenges of being your own boss, and why it can be the smallest of details that make your heart sing.

Alex
Good morning. Or I guess afternoon for you?

cyclespeak
That’s time zones for you. But we managed to navigate the difference at our first attempt. You’re calling from Austin?

Alex
I am. But I usually only stay for a few weeks at a time. Which probably explains why the most common question I get asked is, “So, how long are you here?”

cyclespeak
Austin is enjoying something of a boom?

Alex
You can see it in the house prices. Tech is coming in. We’re the new San Francisco [laughs].

cyclespeak
The price of progress. And I remember a friend of mine mentioning that a lot of your dirt roads are being paved over?

Alex
You have to get pretty far out of town to find any good gravel.

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cyclespeak
Because you’ve just got back from Girona where there are endless trails to ride. And I was smiling at your Instagram story where you mentioned not being able to take your bike bag on the small train to Barcelona which meant an unexpected €200 trip by taxi.

Alex
To be fair, I’d taken this same train a couple of times without any problems. But this time, I just happened on the wrong person and it was a very definite ‘no’.

cyclespeak
I was looking at the ‘About’ section of your website where you mention that your first name is John.

Alex
But I go by my middle name, Alexander. Or Alex. But most people call me Roszko. Which is my last name. Which I can see is all kind of confusing [smiles].

cyclespeak
When I saw the spelling of Roszko, I immediately thought you might have some European heritage?

Alex
I believe my great grandparents came over from Poland in the 20s.

cyclespeak
Well, there you go. And looking back on your family life and childhood, do you remember it as being particularly creative?

Alex
Actually, my dream as a child was to be an artist. I was obsessed with drawing and I must have sketched the Titanic over a hundred times to try and get it perfect. But I’ve always been a visual learner rather than relying on memorising text.

cyclespeak
So what are your first memories of photography?

Alex
I got my first camera when I was seven or eight. So I’ve been looking through a lens for a long, long time.

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cyclespeak
Did your visual education continue at high school and college?

Alex
I went to high school in Houston. Initially still wanting to be an artist but that changed when I developed an interest in meteorology and geography. I was really enamoured with the physical world and our weather and how that all combines. But when I enrolled in community college, I discovered meteorology was out of the question because it required four years of physics or math; two subjects I’m just hopeless with. My brain just doesn’t bend in those ways [laughs].

cyclespeak
So what did you study instead?

Alex
I graduated from Texas State University with a degree in physical geography.

cyclespeak
Where did your photography fit in?

Alex
I’d skateboarded for twenty years by this point but got an injury so I picked up my camera to take some pictures of my friends. And that was the moment when photography re-entered my life and I started to scratch this creative itch.

cyclespeak
I’m guessing you didn’t immediately start earning a living as a photographer?

Alex
I remember in 2013 using my credit card to buy my first full-frame camera—which was terrifying—and the deal I made with myself was I had to pay it off with the income I made using the camera. At the time I was working for a local engineering firm so at weekends I would take high school portraits, graduations and engagements before trying my hand at weddings. That lasted for eight years. A 9-5 job during the week and photography on the weekends.

cyclespeak
So what happened to make photography a full-time gig?

Alex
Covid, actually. We were all working from home and my company sent out this email to ask for volunteers who wanted to quit.

cyclespeak
Voluntary severance?

Alex
That’s right. I thought about all the free time I would have and what I could do if I accepted their offer. So I volunteered.

cyclespeak
And said goodbye to the 9-5?

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Alex
Actually, no. Long-story-short, they denied my application but this idea was still stirring around inside my head so I reached out to some local bike shops and offered my photographic services on retainer. I’d arranged a meeting with one of these bike shops and told my boss that I was sick and had to finish early. But he told me I couldn’t because we had a meeting at noon that I needed to attend. So I rescheduled with the bike shop, turned up at this meeting, only to be told they were letting me go.

cyclespeak
How did that feel?

Alex
I was kind of happy, excited and also a little scared. But then I just drove down to the bike shop and negotiated my first retainer. So I was technically unemployed for about 30 minutes.

cyclespeak
Looking back at your photographic work since this pivotal moment, it’s been very varied and you’re definitely not pigeonholed with a bike in every shot.

Alex
Each brief is pretty unique. And I wear a lot of hats. I do a lot of product photography but even that allows a degree of creativity when there’s a message behind what I’m portraying. Other times it’s adventure photography where it’s more difficult to control the environment so there’s an element of spray-and-pray. And then there are times when I try a new creative angle.

cyclespeak
Keeping things fresh isn’t always easy?

Alex
It’s very hard and needs constant thought and application. Something I discuss with my videographer friends and their use of movement, edits and music. But a photo is a photo. One final product.

cyclespeak
Sometimes I think it’s the shots off the bike—sitting around a campfire making coffee or sheltering from a rainstorm—that afford you little moments of visual magic.

Alex
I completely agree. I definitely get more joy from the details. When I see someone capturing muddy eyelashes it just looks so cool.

cyclespeak
Your Instagram story from earlier today had a very nice shot of your partner’s wisps of hair escaping from her helmet and droplets of rain on her eyewear.

Alex
Capturing details like that is my personal motivation. You know, the little nuances of a moment like the hair wisp photo. I’m out with my partner—we’re in the mountains with the Fall colours on the trees—but I keep getting pulled in by the way her hair is catching the wind. Until eventually I snap out of it and realise I need a photo [laughs].

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cyclespeak
In your approach to a shoot, where does the balance lie between what you’ve previously planned to capture and your instinctual response to a subject and location?

Alex
I plan things pretty meticulously—a lot of scouting and Google Street View—but I do a lot of my shoots on the bike and I’ll always see something I didn’t expect. And those are the moments I typically like the most. The impromptu shots when you feel that spark of inspiration. I’d much rather be pulled in by a location than force the photo. Which is why I build in some spare time on a shoot and I always tell everyone that it’s going to be fast, fun and easy. As if we’re just on a bike ride and hanging out together.

cyclespeak
Are you conscious of using phrases like ‘just one more time’ or ‘can you ride that section again’?

Alex
Managing time and keeping everyone happy and engaged is one of the biggest challenges of any shoot. And it definitely helps that you sell yourself; so they’re onboard with what you’re trying to achieve. If you’re fun to work with and personable and you make people laugh, then you’re much more likely to forge a healthy relationship with a client and get a callback. The images are almost the easy part—that’s what I do, it’s my job—but what I’m also focusing on is my interaction with the subject or the client. That takes a lot of effort but I want it to look and feel effortless.

cyclespeak
The secret sauce?

Alex
A shoot can go great and you come away with some stunning images. But if the client or subjects are having a rotten time, then that almost feels like a failure.

cyclespeak
I’ve enjoyed talking to a wide range of creatives across a number of disciplines and they can be very hard on themselves—always focusing on how they could have done something better. And I was wondering where you sit on that spectrum?

Alex
I re-read my post about Big Sugar and it made me question whether I’m ever positive about my work [laughs]. I’m aware that sometimes my sharing can be a little woe-is-me, but I think it’s important to share both the wins and the losses. And it doesn’t help when my friends and co-workers are constantly churning out incredible work. A feeling encapsulated by probably my favourite quote, ‘comparison is the thief of joy’.

cyclespeak
I love that.

Alex
But I believe that you really do have to be critical of yourself in order to improve. Because if you thought that everything you did was bang on the money…

cyclespeak
You’d stand still?

Alex
Exactly. But, as in all things, there’s a balance to be found. And one thing that I have noticed in my creative community, is how welcoming and supportive they all are. To such a degree that I see them as co-workers rather than my competition. And I might leave an event in a self-critical frame of mind but then get lifted up by the positivity of what feels like a family.

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cyclespeak
With all this talk about doing a good job, can I ask if there’s such a thing as the perfect photograph? Does it exist and, if so, whether there’s a recipe to replicate perfection?

Alex
I wish I knew [smiles]. So I’m going to butcher a quote from a good friend of mine, the photographer Caleb Kerr, who suggests that every good photograph needs three things: an interesting subject, something happening that makes that particular moment unique, and good light. Because you can take a hundred great photos of someone smiling, but if you can capture that exact glance, at that exact time…

cyclespeak
A photographer friend of mine, Ian Walton, very often places the point of interest just outside of the frame…

Alex
Nice!

cyclespeak
So it encourages the viewer to seek the narrative.

Alex
I completely agree.

cyclespeak
Your own imagery is beautifully lit and full of captured motion. And you’ve mentioned that you like to shoot while on the bike. But are there times when it’s better to be slightly removed?

Alex
Sometimes when I’m close to the action, I do get lost in it. So I just have to take a step back and remind myself that I’m the photographer with a job to do. And that can be as simple as being dropped off at a distance to get that tracking shot of the riders crossing the landscape.

cyclespeak
Are you the type of person that can leave for an assignment at the drop of a hat?

Alex
It can vary. Sometimes I can be ready to go in 10 minutes. Sometimes it might take half a day. And I am pretty scatterbrained so I like to have everything I need physically arranged in front of me.

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cyclespeak
I’m guessing it’s also important to keep yourself fuelled on a long workday? Does a coffee help and, if so, what’s your order?

Alex
Now that I’m back from Spain, I’m a flat white kind of guy.

cyclespeak
Does a Texan flat white differ from the Spanish equivalent?

Alex
Inwardly I’m smiling when you order a flat white in Austin and they ask you, “What size?” And when it comes to food, I do have this pretty notorious streak for under-fuelling on race days.

cyclespeak
In the same way that Dominique Powers has her partner Ken handing her Snickers, you need someone to take charge of your fuelling.

Alex
If we’re working the same event, Dominique feeds me actually. She’ll produce a hummus sandwich or an extra Uncrustables.

cyclespeak
I’m guessing it’s a tool of your trade but what are your views on Instagram?

Alex
Just last night I thought, this is a soul-sucking waste of time. And then, other times, I view it as such an amazing networking tool. So maybe, as my Dad is fond of saying, everything in moderation. And because I manage social media for a few brands, it’s part of my job and I kind of need to know what’s going on.

cyclespeak
Inspiration comes from a rich variety of sources. Where do you look to fill up your creative reserves?

Alex
All kinds of places. I have friends that only use an iPhone and get amazing results that make me stop and think. And my colleagues blow my mind when we’re at the same event and they come away with a completely different image set.

cyclespeak
Is this a state of mind? Being open to visual stimuli?

Alex
I think of work all the time….

[Alex pauses]

…or am I just looking for inspiration? Because returning to this concept of the perfect photograph, it needs to strike me visually—give me goosebumps—but also include an emotional element. What is that person thinking and how does it make me feel? Which is pretty amazing for a flat format that you view on a screen or pin to the wall.

cyclespeak
From the outside looking in, people might assume that it’s an enviable career but are there challenges of earning a living as a professional photographer?

Alex
It’s funny you ask because I’ve just posted an image on my Stories that asks what people think you do as a professional photographer. And it shows a pie chart with the smallest segment labelled as ‘taking photos’ and the largest as ‘having fun’.

cyclespeak
That sounds like the perfect job [laughs].

Alex
But there’s a second pie chart which shows what I actually do.

cyclespeak
Which is?

Alex
There’s the same-sized segment for taking photos but the rest is divided up into marketing, social media, budgeting, emails, planning, portfolio consolidation. Basically everything that consumes the vast majority of my time.

cyclespeak
That’s a lot of work.

Alex
I’m very fortunate to love what I do but at times it can be stressful and I’ve never worked harder in my life. And only recently when I was in Spain on holiday with my partner, she commented that I looked rather down. So I explained that I’d been up since four in the morning worrying about what I was going to do next year and whether this career was sustainable.

cyclespeak
I imagine you aren’t alone with those thoughts. And because you work for yourself, everything is down to you.

Alex
Which reminds me of another silly quote, ‘I didn’t want to work a 9-5 job so now I work 24/7.’

cyclespeak
Obviously travel is a necessary aspect of your profession. So I was wondering about your concept of home? Is it a place, people, belongings or something else?

Alex
When I’m away, it’s people. That’s what I miss the most. And I’ve had some changes in my living arrangements this year so I’m staying with a friend right now whilst I transition into my next phase.

cyclespeak
What might that look like?

Alex
It could be a van or even multiple locations; part-time here and there. So home for me is a little abstract at the moment.

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cyclespeak
As a photographer, your sight is crucial to the imagery you create. How do you tap into your other senses?

Alex
My music taste is pretty eclectic, but the last time I flew back from Spain, I spent the entire journey—upwards of 20 hours—listening to Brian Eno. Very musical and pure ambience. And I find that to be incredibly meditative as it helps me to stay calm and centre my thoughts.

cyclespeak
I like the image of you flying across the Atlantic together with Brian Eno.

Alex
And I’ve played drums for many years so whatever I’m listening to, I’ll concentrate on the rhythm and technique.

cyclespeak
What does a typical day in your life look like when you’re not carrying a camera? How do you unwind from the pressures of a busy work life?

Alex
I ride nearly every day. I wake up at seven and hopefully I’m out on the bike by eight. And I also like to plan fun things; it’s always nice to have something to look forward to. Maybe the next trip, tickets for a show, or checking out a few vans for sale as I’m in the market.

cyclespeak
Have you got a #vanlife wish list?

Alex
Basically a sprinter van. Room for a bed, storage for bikes. Water and solar. Composting toilet.

cyclespeak
Is the plan to convert it yourself?

Alex
Based on my work schedule, that’s unlikely. So I’ll probably go for one that ticks most of my boxes, try living with it for a while and then make any necessary modifications.

cyclespeak
You’re living the dream [smiles].

Alex
That’s an interesting phrase because I hear it a lot. And I never quite know how to respond.

cyclespeak
How so?

Alex
Don’t get me wrong, my life is rich and varied and I feel very fortunate to be earning a living this way. But there are aspects I still find a little scary. So I’m wary of people comparing a romanticised version of my life with theirs and feeling they come up short. Because I was there, working the 9-5, for a very long time, dreaming of becoming a photographer. And now that’s become a reality, I’m a little happier but there are also things that stress me out.

Click image to enlarge

cyclespeak
Is it fair to say that happiness as a state of being doesn’t really exist? That life has a way of balancing things out? And we live in a world where marketing and social media platforms drive sales through making you feel less of a person without this or that? So maybe, rather than shooting for happiness—or living the dream—it might be better to aim for contentment?

Alex
Only very recently, I was thinking something very similar when I was having a bad day in Spain. There I was, on holiday with my partner, riding my bike, eating great food, not worrying about money or health issues. Absolutely no reason that justified me feeling unhappy. But I was. And then the next day—when it was cold and nasty—I was in the best mood ever. So what’s going on? And that got me thinking about our perception of happiness. You definitely can’t buy it and it can be tricky to hang onto.

cyclespeak
I guess there’s always more. Always something bigger or better. And maybe we all occasionally struggle with knowing when enough is enough.

Alex
I guess so [smiles].

cyclespeak
So once again circling back to your photography, in an emotional sense can you describe how it feels to hold your camera and raise it to your eye?

Alex
It can be frantic. Get the shot, get the shot. The subject is moving, things are changing. Go, go, go.

cyclespeak
I guess that’s especially the case for an event or race situation?

Alex
But if you’re talking about pure emotion, when I’m holding a camera I definitely feel empowered and confident. And, in a sense, invisible. Which I guess is an odd thing to say when you consider I’m taking pictures.

cyclespeak
In the sense that you’re divorced from what’s going on?

Alex
Absolutely. And maybe because it’s human nature for people to want to look natural. So they’ll play it cool. Which was exactly what happened yesterday when I was taking a shot from the inside of a coffee shop of some riders in the parking lot. Nobody took a blind bit of notice—or at least that’s the impression they gave—so I was invisible.

Click image to enlarge

cyclespeak
Do you think a lot about the future? Where you’ll be and what you’ll be doing?

Alex
I know we’ve talked about me getting a van and, long-term, I do think about a home and where it will be. But for now, I’m just trying to take advantage of my time and health by travelling and pushing my limits both physically and creatively. I’ve been very aware and thankful for my health over the past few years.

cyclespeak
One aspect of our lives that we sometimes take for granted?

Alex
Definitely. Everything is fleeting. And maybe that’s why I enjoyed photographing those hair wisps so much. Because, for me, they perfectly represent another one of my favourite quotes; ‘nuance is the spice of life’. I’m not sure where I first heard it but it’s been ringing around in my head a lot lately and it’s so true.

cyclespeak
The little details—so easy to overlook—that help define a situation or experience and its importance.

Alex
Because nuance is the best part of most things. It’s the part you can’t describe or easily explain.

cyclespeak
The things on the edge or outside of the frame?

Alex
There you go. Beautiful [laughs].

All photography by Alex Roszko / roszkophoto.com

Sami Sauri / Hours in the day

October 24, 2022Posted in Conversation, PhotographyTagged bikepacking, gravel, gravel bikes, gravel racing, Photography, sami sauriLeave a comment

From snow-capped mountains to desert sands, the past year has seen a plethora of professional projects for photographer and creative producer Sami Sauri. Based in Girona but rarely in repose, her full-gas approach to work and play brings with it a creative energy that enlivens each and every shoot. Open and honest in how she depicts the highs and lows of a life lived on the road, Sami’s innate sense of fun threads through a conversation that casts a humorous light on lost bikes, a rain soaked search for surf and her wishful desire for more hours in the day.

Sami
Sorry I’m late.

cyclespeak
No problem whatsoever.

Sami
I was getting a new bike fitted and it took longer than expected. And then I got home and the bike wouldn’t fit.

cyclespeak
Fit where?

Sami
In the elevator [laughs]. I had to take the front wheel off and then I couldn’t find my keys.

cyclespeak
What kind of bike is it?

Sami
A YT Industries. They’re my new sponsor.

cyclespeak
We all love a new bike day.

Sami
I’ve got a big trip coming up and don’t want to fuck up my body which is why I arranged the bike fit.

cyclespeak
Speaking of looking after yourself, did something happen yesterday when you were riding back to Girona from Andorra?

Sami
My bag flew off on the second big downhill section. Very strange because I’d checked the straps and I’ve used the same setup on some pretty gnarly stuff. And the funny thing is, I didn’t even realise. I kept going and it turns out there was this car behind me, trying to attract my attention by peeping their horn. But I had my music on and a buff over my ears. Luckily, I had to stop at a red light. The car pulled up and the guy driving explained what had happened. I was like, ‘What!’

cyclespeak
If it wasn’t for that stop light, who knows how far you would have ridden?

Sami
Exactly. And the bag was holding my computer and hard drives. But another car had stopped and they’d picked it up from where it had fallen. Luckily, on a previous trip I’d been working with a sponsor called Urban Armour Wear that makes protective cases for phones and laptops. So at least my stuff was super well protected [laughs].

cyclespeak
And you provided the perfect real-world test.

Sami
In Spanish, to be lucky, we say we have a flower in the ass.

cyclespeak
The past few days I’ve been busy working out what questions to ask you but there’s just so much to cover over the past year.

[Sami laughing]

cyclespeak
And I can’t start a call with four pages of questions. It’s ridiculous. So I’ve had to hone it down as you never sit still.

Sami
So it’s the highlights?

cyclespeak
That’s right. So starting with the tail end of last year and you were premiering the first episode of Into the Atlantic Islands. Towing a surfboard behind your bike up those Madeira climbs looked hard work?

Sami
They were so steep and I did it wearing sneakers.

cyclespeak
How was the response to the film?

Sami
Looking back, maybe it was a mistake to split it up into little mini episodes rather than one full-length film. And I always find it difficult to edit myself. Hearing your own voice and seeing yourself on camera. And if you think about it in a marketing sense, we shot the film when it was sunny and warm but it had a wintertime release. So maybe a little out of context?

cyclespeak
And the audience response?

Sami
That was really good and we’re now taking those lessons learnt into our second chapter.

cyclespeak
Shortly after your Madeira trip, you went off to Saudi Arabia to film the Dakar Rally.

Sami
That was an experience which I would happily do again. But spending 20 back-to-back days filming in the desert, I did really miss my bike. Kind of my body asking what the fuck I was doing?

cyclespeak
But shortly afterwards, you posted from Fuerteventura where you were taking a well-earned rest.

Sami
It’s a special place for me. Somewhere I go to recharge and relax. I ride but usually spend more time surfing. They have waves all the time so why not [laughs].

cyclespeak
And then quite a contrast in landscape when you visited your friend Gaby in the Alps to help celebrate her birthday. Is there a particular emotional connection you have with mountains?

Sami
Ahhh. Now you’ve got me. Because I’m finding it more and more.

cyclespeak
The call of the mountains?

Sami
There was a time when I was seriously planning on moving to Fuerteventura. There’s endless gravel riding and of course the surfing. Two sports that merge really well and work all of my body. Surfing is so chill with no phones or anything and you get a sense of discovery with your bike.

cyclespeak
But you decided not to move?

Sami
It’s a pretty small island so I’m still happy to stay in Girona for the time being. But the mountains appeal in both a personal and professional way. So I’m not going to say when but I’m already considering a move there.

cyclespeak
Andorra maybe or the Alps?

Sami
No, definitely the Alps.

cyclespeak
I can imagine you in a little cottage on the side of a mountain.

Sami
It might not be a place, exactly. Maybe I’ll just get a car or van and move around. I’m in this limbo at the moment trying to sort stuff out.

cyclespeak
After saying goodbye to Gaby, you’d planned to ride home but the weather was pretty awful so you decided to take a bus. And what happened next was pretty incredible?

Sami
The rain was torrential so I stopped in this middle of nowhere town. There was a restaurant but it only had things with meat available. So I just sat down with a tea and watched the rain get even heavier. I asked them if there was a bus and they told me it was round the corner before helping me find an online timetable.

cyclespeak
That sounds a better option than riding in the pouring rain.

Sami
The bus was running late so I was waiting at the stop in the freezing cold, wearing every layer I was carrying. There was a girl driving and she helped me put my bike underneath in the luggage compartment. But when I came to pay I realised I’d left my wallet in my bags so, once more, out into the rain and cold.

cyclespeak
You paid your fare and found a seat?

Sami
15 or 20 minutes later, the driver suddenly braked and brought the bus to a stop. She was shouting that the door was open but I didn’t immediately realise she was referring to the luggage compartment. And then it suddenly hit me and I raced down the steps and outside – not wearing any rain jacket – to discover my bike was missing.

cyclespeak
That must have been devastating?

Sami
My bike, my clothes, my computer, two hard drives containing recent projects. All missing.

cyclespeak
I can only imagine how that feels.

Sami
And then this car pulls up and explains that they’d been flashing us after they saw something fall out of the bus. I asked them to take me back along the road which they kindly agreed to do. And they were saying it was here, or maybe along here, or actually a little bit further. And all the time I was thinking, where the fuck is my bike!!

cyclespeak
So you couldn’t find it?

Sami
While all this was happening, thankfully the bus was waiting because my wallet and phone were still resting on my seat. So I thanked the car driver for trying to help and climbed back onto the bus to shelter from the rain. I called my friend who was putting me up for the night and I’ve never been so upset in my whole life—breathless, hardly able to speak and sobbing down the phone.

cyclespeak
How do you explain to someone that your bike fell out of a moving vehicle?

Sami
She offered to come and pick me up but I decided to stay on the bus and she’d meet me when we arrived in her town. An hour or two later – after a few more calls of me crying – we pulled up at the bus station. My friend and I were still hugging when I got a notification on my phone to say I’d received an email. This, it turned out, had been sent from a local police station to let me know they had my bike in detention [laughs].

cyclespeak
They’d arrested your bike?

Sami
Yes! And when my friend drove us over, there it was.

cyclespeak
But how did they know it belonged to you?

Sami
They’d opened the bags, powered up my laptop and saw my name on the log-in screen. Searching on Instagram, they’d found my profile and had sent me messages. But checking my Instagram feed was the last thing on my mind as I was panicking about my lost bike so I’d missed them. But from the profile they did manage to find my email and that finally worked.

cyclespeak
That’s quite some detective work!

Sami
And the funny thing is, the boyfriend of the girl I was staying with has this labelling machine and he made me name labels for everything I was carrying and my bike [laughs].

cyclespeak
Not long afterwards, you spent some time in Paris shooting for Rose Bikes. How did you find working in an urban environment with its street culture undertones?

Sami
That’s possibly one of my favourite shoots of the year. I love working with El Flamingo Films—the best times ever. And they always seem to use beautifully edgy models and locations that are random, remote and crazy places.

cyclespeak
Random and remote in Paris?

Sami
We went to this neighbourhood that definitely matched that description [laughs]. And I liked how Rose wanted to tell a different kind of story compared to the usual editorial content. We even featured an actual taxi driver in some of the scenes.

cyclespeak
After a spell of surfing and skiing, you signed up for the Gravel Augusta; a 450km route from Barcelona to Valencia with 4000m of climbing. An enjoyable return to long distance racing?

Sami
Looking back, my decision to sign up was crazy [laughs].

cyclespeak
But you raced it nonstop—the first woman home. Pretty impressive.

Sami
I’d been on a ride with some friends and then had lots of wine at a restaurant so I was completely shitfaced when I agreed to do it.

cyclespeak
And then the reality sinks in the following morning.

Sami
In my head, I had the best day ever on the bike. I hadn’t trained so I wasn’t focusing on my speed or where the other riders were. And then during the night section, I’d stopped for dinner – for an hour and a half [laughs] – when another girl arrived. That’s when I realised I was leading and when she asked if there was food available, I pointed the way inside before jumping on my bike.

cyclespeak
And off you went.

Sami
I was riding with this group of men but unfortunately they were too slow. It was 3:00am in the morning and I was feeling good. So I pushed on alone until about 6:00am when I thought I was going to die.

cyclespeak
Time to refuel?

Sami
A coffee and doughnut at a gas station. And that got me through to the end.

cyclespeak
Without any focused preparation – only the basic fitness of your regular riding – you cover 450km in one go. Good for you!

Sami
But people should not do this [laughs].

cyclespeak
It’s a big ask, certainly.

Sami
And I do know what riding long distances over gravel feels like. So I would suggest working up to an event like this.

cyclespeak
You raced Unbound in 2019 – that’s 200 miles of gravel – and returned this year to photograph the event. Were you tempted to pin on a number and ride it again or happy to stay behind the camera?

Sami
The day before the start, I was ready to race it again. I had my bike with me and rode some of the first sections. And whenever I’m not racing, it always feels like I’m missing something. But on the day of the race, I was sooo happy that I was there as a photographer.

cyclespeak
Was it the weather?

Sami
It was super nice in the morning but then it started to rain. So I was out on the course – wearing a poncho – and sheltering in the car when it got super heavy.

cyclespeak
And you got your picture taken by Dominique Powers.

Sami
Yes! My God, that girl is amazing.

cyclespeak
You had a muscle injury after returning from the US and decided to take a break from Instagram to avoid the temptation of endless scrolling while you were resting up. Did you miss it?

Sami
It can get to be a habit so it’s nice to have time away from the platform. But you also have obligations to your sponsors so I’m still searching for that balance. I do enjoy sharing my adventures and I’ve made some great connections and friendships that way. It’s become another tool for messaging and reaching out to people.

cyclespeak
Another photoshoot – this time for Pas Normal Studios – took you to Iceland. I thought your photographs were particularly beautiful. A landscape you found inspiring?

Sami
The first time I visited Iceland – back in 2019 – I came back with this amazing impression. And the more I work, the more I understand how the right location for a shoot is one of the most important aspects. For me, it works best when I first discover these places by bike, so some of the locations for the Pas Normal campaign were inspired by racing the Rift.

cyclespeak
You returned to Iceland later this year for the next in your Atlantic Islands series. The riding didn’t go exactly to plan which you referenced very openly in a social media post. Do you feel it’s important to be honest about life’s highs and lows?

Sami
I’m been thinking a lot about this since I came back. Because I do wonder whether there are people that assume I’m flying around the world, living my best life, and it’s all flowers and rainbows. But that’s definitely not always the case.

cyclespeak
Is anyone’s life that perfect?

Sami
Some people choose to only post about the good times but I’m working my ass off and sometimes things don’t go to plan. And going back to Iceland, it wasn’t the cycling aspect of the trip but the surfing. You depend so much on the weather, which you can’t control. I have a limited number of days and if you don’t have waves, you don’t surf. And that’s basically what happened. I pedalled for 270km towing a trailer with my surfboard. In the rain. And then there’s no waves. I was disappointed and upset and it’s like when you have a partner. You take these emotions out on them.

cyclespeak
I think that happens to us all.

Sami
Well, in Iceland it was two of my friends. And afterwards I was super sad because I didn’t handle it very well. So after thinking over how I’d behaved, I did post about it. Maybe I was being too honest? Too much drama? But when these things happen, that’s real life. The ups but also the downs.

cyclespeak
The way you come across, it’s not contrived. You say how you feel and I believe people appreciate your honesty. Because everything isn’t curated.

Sami
The photo that went with the post was taken after riding six hours in the rain, only to find no waves. And my expression says it all—what the hell am I doing here? [laughs]

cyclespeak
In another post you mention wanting more hours in the day. Do you find it difficult to fit everything in?

Sami
Every single day I think the same. When I’m out of the house – maybe it’s a shoot that starts at 5:00am – then you have a structure and things usually work out. But at home? Today I was an hour late for our call because there’s never enough time—I’m still wearing my kit from the bike fit. So I could definitely do with a few more hours each day [laughs].

cyclespeak
Can I take you back to the start of the year when you made a post that mentioned how you were facing some life difficulties but looking forward to new decisions and experiences. And it ended with you reaffirming the joy and strength you get from riding your bike. Can I ask whether you’re enjoying life at the moment?

Sami
I definitely feel it’s been a good year in the sense that I said yes to everything I wanted to do and had time for. So I went all in, again, and that’s after promising myself that I would ride more than work. But that didn’t happen [laughs].

cyclespeak
Because there’s always the next project?

Sami
Maybe now, I’m reaching the point where I don’t feel the need to say yes to everything? And there’s so many good memories from the rides I have done this year. We recently released the film of me and my friend Henna bikepacking above the Arctic Circle—such a fun trip. And I’m heading back to Iceland to pick up where we left off. This time, hopefully with some waves and a happy Sami [laughs].

Feature images by Dominique Powers

All other imagery with kind permission of Sami Sauri / samisauri.com

Into the Atlantic Islands

Saskia Martin / From behind the lens

October 4, 2022October 5, 2022Posted in PhotographyTagged bikepacking, gravel bikes, Photography, rapha, rapha europe, saskia martin2 Comments

Harvest hills of golden wheat. A below-table tangle of bare legs and bib shorts. Helmeted heads silhouetted by shadow. Themes that feature regularly in Saskia Martin’s carefully observed and playful photography.

Having spent the past decade documenting her rides in and around London, commissioned projects have followed as Saskia combines her passion for the medium with the professional requirements of delivering a brief.

Interspersing a photo essay of recent work, Saskia frames this creative journey with references to her own riding, the visual language she employs in capturing a moment, and her innate love of telling stories.

Riding

This time last year I’d boxed up my bike before travelling to southern Spain. I’d lost my cycling mojo and decided the best place to find it again was riding the Badlands route with my friend Kat.

My mojo proved elusive on the dry, dusty trails so I guess I’m still working through a mid-bike crisis. But treating myself to a new mountain bike has proved motivational in terms of wanting to use it. My first time out, riding up a hill, I had this sudden moment of clarity—like I was sitting in a favourite armchair.

Work

One of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make was leaving my role as Product Developer for Rapha after three and a half, happy years. As you can perhaps imagine, lots of tears.

I’ve left behind what feels like a family of colleagues but it just felt like it was time for a change. And as I’m now working for Apidura, cycling continues to play a huge part in my life.

We’re a fairly small team based in Camden and I just love it. There’s a real focus on functionality – solving design problems which is very much me – and as I ride to work each morning through the city streets I look forward to what each day brings.

Picking up the camera

My introduction to photography was through my iPhone. Taking pictures of friends out riding or at a coffee stop. It’s rather a cliché but I just love storytelling and this translates to certain rules I have when posting multiple images on social media. They have to be in chronological order and not every photograph necessarily needs to include someone on a bike. I get a kick out of portraying the little details that inform the bigger picture.

I’ve since upgraded to a mirrorless camera system as I transition into commissioned projects. It’s been quite a creative journey since my first ever photographic gig shooting my best friend’s wedding. I felt like I was getting married with the amount of stress I was feeling.

Inspiration

I love making a brand’s vision come alive and delight in the outcome of the process—that first pass through the images and the editing that follows. But then you also have the occasional crisis in confidence which, talking to established photographers, isn’t that uncommon. Looking back and thinking how you would change this or that.

I get a lot of inspiration from how the cinema portrays light and colour. And I’m instinctively drawn to what some might consider to be imperfect images—if there’s a blur or the composition isn’t classically two thirds. I have a penchant for capturing parts of people rather than a full head-to-toe shot. Hands are so expressive and my friends are now accustomed to me photographing their legs and feet.

I’m not one for grandiose statements but, to me, my pictures feel like curated art and artists always title their work. So I do carefully consider the words I use to accompany a post. I’m not particularly comfortable in front of the camera but I’m happy to be seen through my work. And maybe this combination of words and images can engage or even inspire for a moment?

All images with kind permission of Saskia Martin

Journeying with Fara Cycling

April 6, 2022May 2, 2022Posted in InterviewTagged bikepacking, f/gr, fara bikes, fara cycling, gravel, gravel bikes, jeff webb, oslo, Quoc cycling, Quoc shoesLeave a comment

“We’re a relatively small company but that makes us very personable. Every customer and every bike we build is so important to us.”

Speaking over a video call from his office in Taiwan, Jeff Webb has an easy manner that suggests he’s just as comfortable solving problems in the workshop as he is sitting around a boardroom table in his role as CEO of Fara Cycling.

Canadian-born, when he was 19 years old he travelled to Europe to pursue a dream of racing his bike professionally before subsequently settling in Norway. Following a successful career as a sports photographer and years working in the sporting goods industry, Jeff founded Fara Cycling in 2015 with a vision of building a bike brand for a new breed of cyclists. One that’s inspired by adventure, emotions and nature.

“When I first started Fara Cycling, it was typical me—bullheaded in the face of a lot of naivety but just going at it and not feeling that I was prepared to back out. And right from the off, I wanted to make people feel comfortable and do away with any sense of intimidation, elitism and snobbery. You go to a trade show and it’s awash with all these images depicting gritted teeth and hollow-eyed faces. And I’m really not sure who these brands are talking to because at Fara we’re so far away from that. We never mention lactic acid or FTP—that’s not our world. What we do focus on is how the bike allows you to enjoy all these amazing places and experiences.”

Although Fara Cycling is based in the Norwegian capital of Oslo, Jeff has spent the past six months in Taiwan overseeing the final pre-launch phase of the company’s new bike model: the F/GR.

“Because of the various travel restrictions and the need to hotel quarantine on arrival, it makes sense to remain for a longer period rather than travelling back and forth. And Taiwan’s a nice place to be—the climate is warm and there’s so much great riding to choose from.”

With Fara wanting to own as much of the value chain as possible, their Taiwanese facility allows easy access to component suppliers – SRAM are located just down the road – and the convenience of overseeing vital finishing touches such as paint.

“We decided to keep final assembly in-house which is a little unusual in the bike industry. Even the paint we use is purchased by ourselves from the supplier who’s also just round the corner. So all this gives us a pretty unique level of control over the various stages of manufacturing.”

Now that it’s a little over five years since the dream of creating his own brand became a reality, Jeff recognises how the time he spent travelling the globe as a photographer provided the inspiration that eventually led to Fara Cycling.

“I did a lot of work with small skiing and snowboarding brands—allowing me to see from the ground up how they created their own market. So I took all these insights and started Fara in Norway – this fascinating location – because I’ve lived there for the past 25 years, I speak the language and feel socially immersed in every way you can imagine.”

“In Old Norse,” Jeff continues, “At Fara means to journey or venture. So we have this cultural thread that ties together the whole brand and I truly believe that recognising this identity was a key moment in our growth. Something that really drove us and continues to do so.”

With this initial inspiration provided by the winter sports brands he was photographing, it was the years Jeff spent heading up sales management for a large sporting goods corporation that proved equally as motivational when it came to launching his own company.

“The more I worked in this corporate world, the greater the belief in me grew that we could do things better. That we could grow a brand that spoke more directly to the customer base.”

Determined to start his own company according to these firmly held principles, Jeff contacted his friend Kenneth Pedersen—the owner of highly respected brand design agency ANTI and also a keen cyclist.

“If you peek behind the curtain,” suggests Jeff with a smile, “you might be surprised at what we’ve managed to achieve with a relatively small team. We’ve recently expanded in response to the demand for bikes during the pandemic but it wasn’t that long ago – a little over two years – that I was the only full-time employee. I was building bikes during the day and answering emails at night.”

With teams now based in Oslo and Taiwan together with a handful of employees working remotely, not only has the Fara workforce increased in numbers but the model range has grown to encompass riding styles that range from road to gravel adventure.

“We’re heavily influenced by our immediate surroundings,” Jeff explains. “So we design bikes that work in the landscapes where we ourselves ride. Which is why we had a gravel bike from day one—before gravel was even a thing. And the idea for our all-road bike, the F/AR, came about when we wanted a bike that could go anywhere. A bike that’s fast and fun that you can ride really, really far. That really resonates with me and influences the way I myself ride. We weren’t looking to dumb down the ride experience—slow and sluggish was never an option.”

“Riding gravel – or whatever you choose to call it – is very much a social scene too. I regularly see groups of riders heading out of Oslo on a loop before stopping off to chat over a coffee or beer. A very different way of riding compared to ten or 15 years ago. And we saw this as an opportunity to design the whole brand – the concept and messaging – around this new style of riding.”

Another recent trend in the cycling industry is the enormous growth in online sales with Fara opting for a direct-to-customer sales strategy. A working model that sees Jeff taking a turn on customer services and replying to messages on his Instagram account.

“A couple of years ago we were contacted by a customer who had a bike that was making the most terrible noise. He’d taken it to his local bike shop but they couldn’t help so I loaded up my car with tools and spare parts and drove three and a half hours to this guy’s house. It only took 15 minutes to diagnose and fix the problem – the rear axle needed re-greasing – but taking care of this customer’s problem was well worth the time and effort.”

“We’re a bit of a ragtag bunch at Fara and I believe that one of my skills is to recognise the potential in people. So if I come across someone I feel might prove a good fit in our journey, I don’t hesitate in talking to them. I very much appreciate how everyone in the Fara team is so passionate about cycling and also the brand. And with that comes our uncompromising approach to the highest level of customer service—making sure that everyone is treated well and has the best possible consumer journey. After all, your customers are your most important ambassadors.”

Not only is Jeff concerned with implementing a robust system of customer support, his vision of building bikes that are fun to ride but also supremely capable has led his design team to explore issues of rider comfort and convenience—the recently developed integrated luggage system offering a clever method of fixing bike bags using a series of magnets embedded in the frame.

“It may appear deceptively simple,” comments Jeff, “but it’s a response to a set of circumstances familiar to many of our customers. You’re on a multi-day trip, pulling up at your overnight stop with frozen hands and you’re struggling to remove the straps of your bags. There had to be a better way.”

“So in the design phase of the F/AR – because we knew it would be used for this kind of adventure riding – it just felt like a wasted opportunity if we couldn’t find a way of integrating the luggage system. Yes, we wanted the bike to look great with or without the bags, and now that we’ve designed our first version of the system, we just need people to use it and enjoy it and then we’ll see where we can take it from here.”

For customers able to visit Oslo, the various aspects of the customer journey have been distilled into the Fara Cycling Experience Centre—the online process of picking a model to fit a particular riding style before selecting components that work with a customer’s budget complemented by in-person advice and the opportunity to see before you buy.

“Our Experience Centre offers a warm welcome and advice to everyone. We don’t care how long your socks are, if you shave your legs or whether you want to ride thirty kilometres or three hundred. All of that stuff doesn’t concern us—we’re all about the joy of cycling and that everyone should feel welcome. So the first thing you’ll hear as you walk inside is ‘hi’ followed by ‘do you want a cup of coffee’?”

Although it’s clear that Jeff still relishes every available opportunity to engage with his customer base, a typical working day as CEO can depend on a number of disparate factors with his current Taiwanese timezone proving a prime example.

“The mornings are generally quiet over here so I can go for a ride before things get a little crazy after lunch when Oslo wakes up. Then I’ll work into the evening – usually until midnight – but I don’t consider myself a typical executive. I’m just a bike guy and feel very fortunate to have lots of really talented and inspiring colleagues along for the journey. As the founder of the company, it’s really touching when other people buy into your vision.”

“Everybody in the Fara Cycling team works so hard which makes my job so much easier,” Jeff concludes. “And in return, I want to give them a great place to work and the feeling that they’re part of something that’s really cool. Money is money but a sense of collective achievement is priceless.”

Jeff Webb

Fara Cycling

Photo credits: Fara Cycling / Emil Nyeng / Steff Gutovska / Pål Laukli / Sebastian Mamaj

Krysten Koehn / Portage Cycling

January 26, 2022September 30, 2022Posted in InterviewTagged bikepacking, colorado, gravel, isen bikes, krysten koehn, pas normal, pas normal studios, portage cyclingLeave a comment

When artist and adventurer Krysten Koehn slammed into the ground on a Hamburg bike path, the immediate consequences of a badly broken hand stretched to postponing a planned bike packing trip through Slovenia. With a move back to Amsterdam in time for the start of a new teaching position already arranged, Krysten decided to return home to Colorado and recover with the help and support of her family. But once reacquainted with the mountain landscapes of her youth, she quickly arrived at the realisation that this emotional reconnection with her homeland was questioning her sense of place.

‘Maybe it takes a stark contrast to unlock your understanding because it soon dawned on me how I’d underestimated the incredible beauty of Colorado. I’d spent so long living in a wet and windy Amsterdam – which at the time I loved – that I’d forgotten what it was like to have the sun shine over 300 days a year and the mountains right on your doorstep.’

With the decision to stay made, Krysten started to search for a temporary teaching job and almost immediately found a suitable position. A brief visit to Europe saw personal belongings packed ready for shipping and her bike boxed for the return flight—Krysten now recrossing the Atlantic as a returning resident rather than temporary visitor.

A few months on from this homecoming and we’re catching up over a video call. It’s just after 5:00am in Colorado but despite the early hour Krysten looks happy and content as she punctuates gaps in our conversation with a spoonful of oatmeal. I comment on the brightly coloured design of her closed curtains and immediately a smile lights up her face.

‘My belongings were sent from the Netherlands to London and 5 months later they’re still sitting in a warehouse waiting to be put into a container. The curtains were given to me by a friend who was moving and she kindly donated a bunch of stuff I could use in my new apartment. She found them in a thrift shop and now it’s my turn to use them.’

Although unsurprisingly frustrated at the shortcomings of transatlantic shipping, having her gravel bike to hand means weekends are now filled with rides as Krysten rediscovers a physical relationship with a landscape that prompts flashes of memory from her childhood.

‘I can remember being on the trail with the sun shining through the branches of pine trees—walking next to a stream with tall grasses parting as my legs pushed forward. And then, as I grew older, those experiences carried more weight and became more salient. My sense of being was formed by this landscape and when I left for Europe, I had this visceral longing for the mountains—like they were a magnet for future experiences. A compass for my life with the mountains at true north.’

Delighting in this process of rediscovery, Krysten nevertheless describes herself as a puzzle piece that once fitted neatly into a bigger picture but now has edges a little roughened from the passage of time.

‘Returning home, there was this sense of reverse culture shock. Even in the wilder parts of Europe, you’re never that far from some form of civilisation. And that’s just not the case in Colorado. Nature is so, so big and it’s taken a while to get my head round this lack of constraints. To ride out and the only thing that references the presence of other people being the tyre tracks left on the gravel trail you’re following.’

This boundless freedom that Krysten documents so beautifully in her Instagram posts and stories has now prompted a new chapter in her cycling journey. Taken aback by the overwhelmingly positive reactions to her social media snippets, Krysten has distilled her love of these landscapes and passion for community into Portage Cycling—a company offering custom cycling adventures that benefit from her unique insights into the best riding experiences Colorado has to offer.

‘I came to the conclusion that I want to be working towards something rather than simply standing still. So why not be really intentional about how I live my life and spend my time. And what really brings me joy – where the air comes from – is creating things, experiencing nature, riding my bicycle and making meaningful connections with people. Combining these four pillars is where Portage was born.’

With the dream of one day opening a cycling guesthouse that focuses all the elements of Portage into a physical space, Krysten is busy launching her new venture as a point of departure for this ultimate goal. A process that required her to name the initial concept and cause for another broad smile.

‘I deliberated for months—scrolling through endless lists of cycling terms to spark ideas. And then I landed on the name Portage. French in origin and meaning to carry but also a colloquial term for carrying your bike. And because gravel riding in Colorado can be pretty gnarly, on occasion you do find yourself hike-a-biking. But, to me, that means you’re truly on an adventure.’

Not limited to a literal translation, another connotation applies to Krysten’s desire to carry people through an experience so all that remains is for guests to relax and truly enjoy the riding.

‘I want the trips I organise to be highly customisable. Maybe you want to eat sandwiches on the trail before heading back to Boulder for dinner at a Michelin starred restaurant. Maybe you only have a weekend and want some sample routes to follow. However you want to ride, whatever you want to experience, I can accommodate that.’

With the process starting over a conversation that enables Krysten to drill down what her guests really want from the experience, with oatmeal now finished and a cup of coffee to hand, I ask her to describe a typical Portage day.

‘It would involve all of the things that you want and none of the things you don’t—highly specific to your individual ideas. A day that starts with a cup or two of really good locally-roasted coffee. And then picture a bowl of homemade granola or a giant plate of Eggs Benedict with bacon and homemade biscuit. We’d then head out on a ride together and discover magical views over endless mountains with red-dirt roads stretching off to the horizon. Lunchtime would see us stopping at a little general store before the ride continuing into the afternoon. Arriving back at base, after showering we’d enjoy a lovely farm-to-table dinner that’s made with locally-sourced, in-season ingredients.’

With a boundless energy and joie de vivre – undiminished even by the pre-dawn challenges of our transatlantic call – as a practising artist, Krysten’s desire to make artworks is inseparable from how she consciously chooses to live her life—a bike ride drawing imaginary lines on the landscape and the act of building Portage from the ground up, both outlets for her irrepressibly creative spirit.

‘To me, bringing an idea into existence and creating something from nothing is an artistic act. And my intention is to show people this awe inspiring land in the hope that, faced with its beauty, they have the same ache in their hearts that I do.’

Krysten Koehn / Portage Cycling

Feature image by Dennis Kugizaki / Ride images by Donalrey Nieva / Colorado images by Krysten

Saskia Martin / From Bad to Better

November 15, 2021Posted in Interview, Photography, RideTagged badlands, bikepacking, gravel, gravel explore, rapha, rapha europe, rapha uk, rapha women1 Comment

All my holidays involve riding bikes. I simply can’t sit still and I’m always on the quest for the right type of epic.

Mentally exhausted and with holiday plans in disarray, Saskia Martin looked to the desert wilderness of Andalusia to force a reset. Heading south to ride the Badlands route with her friend Cat Karalis, the redemption Saskia sought proved elusive but she did discover a sense of self and a way of once again moving forward.

Illustrated with her own beautiful photography, Saskia offers a warm and honest reflection on the healing properties of friendship and the freedom of the road.

As a senior product developer for Rapha, my job is to make our designer’s dreams and concepts into a reality. But as it’s a very fast-paced role – which I love because I thrive in chaos and under time constraints – that brings with it a certain degree of pressure and I was close to burn out.

With this feeling compounded by both work and home life revolving around bikes, I woke up one morning and didn’t want to ride. I was still commuting by bike but even that was exhausting. A physical tiredness but also an emotional sense of weariness that was devastating—I was basically going through a break-up with my bikes.

These issues couldn’t have come at a worse time because I’d signed up for the Atlas Mountain Race with my friend Cat. So when this was postponed and still having a window of annual leave to fill, we decided to book a flight to Málaga to see if I could rediscover my cycling mojo by riding the Badlands route. A fuck-it attitude of let’s see how we will do.

My friendship with Cat grew through working together at Rapha. From Regent’s Park laps to weekend bivvying, we’re always searching for our next cycling adventure and have a shared Excel spreadsheet permanently detailing our packing lists. All sub-categorised, a tick underneath each heading tells us who’s bringing what.

Just getting our boxed bikes to the airport proved one of the trip’s biggest challenges. Cat was taking her Cannondale MTB so her box weighed in at 30 kg – my Juliana gravel bike a relatively svelte 25 kg – but both proved a burden as we pushed and pulled them across London’s Tower Bridge at 5:00am in the morning.

Landing in Málaga saw us building our bikes outside the terminal before riding to the train station and, unbeknownst to us, a train strike. With no news on a resumption of services, we decided to take back logistical control and ride to Granada and the start of the Badlands route.

Messaging my friend to ask if he could make us a route, he sent one through but warned us not to question the elevation as he’d just done an A to B on Komoot. It was Day Minus One and we had 130 km to cover with 2,500 m of climbing—no problem!

From the outside, our hostel in Granada looked really dodgy but proved to be a palace. Which added to our guilt when we got the camping stove going in our room to brew up our morning coffee. As we’d planned to bivvy each night, this would be our last taste of luxury until our pre-booked Airbnb in Colmenar. I’d used Google Maps to pinpoint each evening’s placement for our makeshift camps but that didn’t exactly go to plan either.

Setting off from Granada we got our first taste of the terrain with a few tumbles to fuel our adrenaline levels. Stopping to spend the night on the edge of a small town, we were pitted against a torrential downpour and gale force winds. These meteorological challenges prompted a shockingly-bad attempt at fixing up a shelter to protect us from the elements. With a tarparline stretched over our bikes, we resorted to supporting the centre of our ‘roof’ with a stick in an effort to divert the rivulets of water away from our heads. Surprisingly, considering the climatic conditions, I slept like a log—Cat, not so much.

Waking up on Day Two, I felt refreshed but Cat had slight bivvy eyes. Automatically slipping into my efficient mode, I prepped breakfast and quickly packed up everything for the off. Naturally we immediately began to climb—a rutted track that was so steep we were forced to push our bikes with outstretched arms and bent knees. Finally reaching the top, any sense of elation was immediately quashed by a British cycle-brand busy with their photoshoot.

Leaving behind the models on bikes, photographer, art director, assistants and cars – so much for seeking out the wilderness – we found our way through a series of gorges that sliced through the arid hillsides. A mini Grand Canyon with wild goats and an isolated monastery adding a touch of local colour—also provided by my Garmin and its coded difficulty ratings on the climb profiles. Ranging from a benign green through yellow, orange and finally a heart-palpitating dark red, I would shout out our colour zone at every opportune moment.

Feeling the need for some creature comforts, we decided to book a hotel for the night. On arrival – after we were passed on the road by the photoshoot crew – this establishment proved curiously reminiscent of a Hollywood film set. Embracing its quirky charms and taking the opportunity to wash out our kit, we slept without the need to take turns holding a stick and both woke ready to greet the next day’s challenges.

With this restful night providing an added vigour to our riding, the off-road trails gradually transitioned into a section of forest—both of us enjoying the changes in shade and light and a part of the trip where the chatter of our conversations proved particularly resonant. With our voices and laughter held in this timber-like lattice, it reminded me that what I love about bike-packing is the sound as you ride—the hum of tyres on smooth tarmac or the crunch of gravel on a trail. Very unfortunately I’d been advised that it would be okay to fit these really cheap disc pads and they were screaming whenever I slowed down. To such an extent that I dreaded descending and anyone who knows me, knows that I love to descend. All I wanted to do was climb because at least that meant I could avoid the anxiety of coming down again.

In the forest, however, this wasn’t so much of an issue as my style of riding at home meant I could confidently pick my line and brake less. And it was here that we first spotted through a gap in the trees, the white domes of the Calar Alto Observatory.

Struggling to work out the distance to this landmark, the road inevitably began to climb until I was finally sitting, eating some sweets, and taking in the architecture of this incredible mountain top cluster of buildings. Wishing we could stay and camp out under the stars, I also knew we faced a long descent and that my brakes would scream all the way down. Sure enough, the noise was so loud that when I finally reached the bottom I was crying—no fun at all and with an added sense of losing my thing. Because my thing is descending.

Searching for somewhere to spend the night, we decided on a lay-by next to a motorway. Admittedly it was a bit grim and we were bedeviled by swarms of mosquitoes but the sky was clear so we didn’t need to be covered by our tarp and we fell asleep under a blanket of stars.

Dawn saw us rising with the sun and counting our mosquito bites. Cat almost immediately had a puncture so, once fixed, we sought comfort in a café. Here I experienced one of the highlights of our trip – the shouts and laughter of the customers, the bustle of orders being brought to tables – and what I love about my rides in and around London. Lapping Regent’s Park isn’t exactly exciting but you do it with friends and go to a café afterwards. It sets you up right for the day—which was what I was witnessing in that little corner of Spain.

On our way again, this was the day we’d be crossing the Tabernas—the only official desert on the European continent. My favourite day as it turned out because the terrain was so technical that it cleared my mind of other concerns. We were riding tiny tracks with a drop off to either side and the knowledge that if either of us made a mistake the consequences could be severe. And although a barren landscape, the colours were truly vibrant and we loved carrying our bikes across rail tracks that disappeared either way into the distance.

Closing in on the end of our sojourn, in some ways I was feeling a little deflated. We were always behind in our plans due to the problems with our transfer from the airport and this meant we’d cut out some sections of the official Badlands route. And there was this voice in my head telling me that we should have done more. Cat patiently pointed out that we were on holiday and should only do what we want to do and not worry about the rest. It took me some time but eventually I managed to get to that place and this process was helped by our time at a campsite by the sea. We rented a plot and there were toilets and showers – such luxury – and you fell asleep to the sound of waves crashing on the beach.

To ride the route with Cat – an experienced ultra-distance racer and one of the most wonderful people in my world – was why I kept on moving forward. Every time I doubted or questioned, she was there with a gentle reminder of how to be present and embrace the moment. And what struck me as we wound our way back in the direction of Málaga and our waiting Airbnb, was the constantly shifting landscapes we’d ridden through. Road, desert, forest, beach, rolling coastal-California—jaw-dropping visual surprises like the desert train tracks and flamingos in a lagoon. Views and vistas that I tried to capture with my camera as an added reminder of the joys we had both shared.

In all honesty, I use cycling as therapy—I run away from my problems by riding my bike. But when we returned home and everyone was asking how we got on, I had to put on this front and tell them how amazing our trip was. Because I really wish I could say that I found my cycling mojo in the Badlands of southern Spain but I didn’t.

What I did find was a desire to ride my bike a little more. And our trip gave me the time to reflect on what’s actually important to me and what makes me happy. Everything in life shapes you to one degree or another—the next time you go and do something, you do it as a different person. We’re always growing and I do understand that Badlands has changed me. I just haven’t as yet figured out how.

All images with kind permission of Saskia Martin

Cat Karalis

Badlands 2022

Sami Sauri / New adventures

November 1, 2021September 30, 2022Posted in ConversationTagged bikepacking, gravel, gus morton, sami sauri, suunto, thereaboutsLeave a comment

Constantly on the move – camera in hand – from one project to the next, when photographer and filmmaker Sami Sauri decided to commit 100% to her own production company, little did she know what a whirlwind year she would enjoy.

Reflecting on this period of transition in her usual candid manner, Sami considers life’s simple pleasures, why storytelling underpins her way of working and how failure can be a mechanism for growth.

cyclespeak
You’re just back from shooting in Austria. It looked fantastic.

Sami
It was for next year’s Jack Wolfskin spring / summer range.

cyclespeak
But it was snowing.

Sami
I know [laughs]. They chose Austria for the location – which was very nice – but maybe next time we can go to the Canaries? Because the first day it just rained and nobody wanted to wear shorts [laughs].

cyclespeak
Did you expect to be above the snowline?

Sami
No. Not at all. I’d packed a rain jacket but I was wearing normal shoes. And the main story behind the women’s campaign was a hike to a hut at 2100 metres and then down the other side. We were going to spend the night at this altitude – the story was amazing – and the whole crew was female. I turned down two projects just so I could do this shoot.

cyclespeak
But the weather wasn’t helping?

Sami
We had a mountain guide with us and she advised us to postpone for a couple of days. But when we did finally start to climb, on the first ridge we had snow. But I wasn’t going to stop there—this story wouldn’t make sense if we hadn’t got to the hut [laughs].

cyclespeak
So it all worked out in the end?

Sami
For me, I had a wonderful experience—I love those kinds of adventures.

cyclespeak
The last time we caught up, you were listing all your various mishaps. Your foot had been in a plastic boot and you later tore some ligaments when you were out trail running. How’s the summer been in terms of staying in one piece?

Sami
I’ve probably done less this summer than for the last five years. Not because of my foot but I’ve had so much work that I couldn’t find the time for intense bike trips. But I have started running again and trying new sports like motocross.

cyclespeak
Your road to recovery after injuring your foot brought to mind the issues you had with knee pain during the Route 66 and Big Land films.

Sami
The knee pain comes from riding fixed gear. You can’t help falling and it always seems to be on the same side. And I find it interesting that you get used to sleeping in a position that’s comfortable for your hip and your knee—your body quickly adapts to what feels best.

cyclespeak
So it’s something that you can now manage?

Sami
I feel that everything comes for a reason and when I started physio, I discovered that I’d been riding all those years and not using my glutes. There was very little muscle and this was the main reason my knee was hurting. So I now realise that I need to exercise in different ways to help relieve the pain—using bands or a simple 20 minute yoga session every morning to activate my body.

cyclespeak
So that’s your morning routine sorted?

Sami
I’m somebody who finds it very difficult to have constant things in their life [laughs].

cyclespeak
That doesn’t fit well with your personality?

Sami
It’s more my lifestyle right now. So busy and always on the move.

cyclespeak
Is racing the fixed gear scene something you miss?

Sami
I definitely miss that sense of community. And I’ve realised that I’m quite competitive. Which is why I often ride alone because nobody is watching and I can go as fast or as slow as I like and really enjoy it. When I go out with friends, I find myself looking back and wondering where they are [laughs].

cyclespeak
I saw a recent post where you were riding near Girona and someone had a bloodied knee?

Sami
The mountain bike ride? When I put my friends through hell [laughs].

cyclespeak
That’s the one.

Sami
I felt so sorry for them. I convinced these two girls – one of them is my physio – that we should take out our mountain bikes and just do some easy, smooth trails. Well, oh my god, we had some proper gnarly downhill stuff [laughs].

cyclespeak
When you aren’t shredding local trails, you spend a fair proportion of your time on the road filming. What do you miss most about home when you’re away?

Sami
I do miss my own cooking. Every time I come back home, the first thing I do is make a plate of my pasta. Maybe this comes from my childhood but I need that plate of pasta.

cyclespeak
Do you have a particular recipe?

Sami
Parmesan, olive oil and salt. That’s it. I don’t need anything else to make me happy. And I might put on some vinyl and turn up the volume [smiles].

cyclespeak
Simple pleasures.

Sami
But after three days, I’m already looking forward to the next adventure [laughs].

cyclespeak
From the moment you receive a phone call or a message, how fast can you be packed and out of the door?

Sami
It doesn’t take me long. 30 minutes?

cyclespeak
Really?

Sami
I pretty much know what I want and what I need—and I don’t need much. But I do always take a pair of cycling shorts because no matter where you are, you might get a ride [laughs].

cyclespeak
You sound very organised?

Sami
Before, everything was super tight with the packing and arriving at the airport. Massive stress [laughs]. Now, I pack two days before I’m due to leave and arrive at the airport at least two hours before my flight—something I never used to do. And when I get to the airport, I’ve figured out a good spot for breakfast, where I can work. And it means I don’t arrive sweating [laughs].

cyclespeak
What would you tell someone just starting out taking photographs or trying their hand at film making?

Sami
I do get messages about that—people wanting to change their lives. For me, I was just handed a camera and told to shoot. And I said, ‘Shoot what [laughs]?’

cyclespeak
That sounds like good advice.

Sami
The first thing I always say to people is just go and do it. Do it, do it and keep on doing it. And fail and do it right and fail again and then see if you like it. You’ll never know when that will be – or whether you will or won’t – until you give it your all.

cyclespeak
And where do you see yourself on that journey?

Sami
I’ve still not completely figured out what’s my vibe. I didn’t think I’d like commercial photography but these last two shoots for big brands I’ve absolutely loved. They were wonderful clients in giving me free rein – I didn’t have a shot list – so it felt like they’d put their trust in me.

cyclespeak
You enjoy an open brief?

Sami
Yes. It’s like for a recent cycling collection I’ve just shot. Super commercial but I gave them this idea that we could rent a motorhome, go to the desert, camp out and ride bikes. Basically shooting on the go.

cyclespeak
Personally speaking, how much is a sense of storytelling and narrative an important element to these projects?

Sami
For me, it’s super important. For the brands, they don’t always ask for it but they all want it.

cyclespeak
I love that.

Sami
Right now, this storytelling style of shooting is mind blowing. Everybody’s doing it.

cyclespeak
Whenever you’re pictured outside – walking, riding, running – very often you have a brilliant smile that lights up your face. And this made me think about a post from earlier this year when you referenced much darker thoughts and feelings.

Sami
I’ve spent time on both sides. I’ve been the happiest person ever and the saddest. And I can think of certain people that wanted to drag me down the wrong path but I think that happens to a lot of people. And the only thing that got me through, was opening the door and going outside. Not necessarily to do sports but sometimes it was a matter of just being out in the fresh air. To find my true self, it’s never going to happen inside a house. I could stay inside – alone with my thoughts – and look at the same wall for a million hours and not feel any better. But if you go out and talk to somebody – your friend, your dog, your horse, even someone you don’t know – then this can make a real difference. It’s like a door that opens or stays closed.

cyclespeak
I guess an open door lets in light? Which brings me to your recent collaboration with Megamo bikes—a custom Sami Sauri paint job for one of their full-suspension mountain bikes with a theme of ‘sunset’.

Sami
I suddenly got this idea in my head about painting a sunset on a bike. To me, the best time of the day because I just love all that colour—not so much on me but definitely on a bike [laughs]. I’m good friends with Megamo and they’ve been super helpful over the past year. Just before I went to Egypt, one of the guys on the trip broke his frame in Barcelona by crashing when we were eating pizza. We got a bike from Megamo in under 12 hours so the trip could go ahead and all their generous help made me want to return the favour.

cyclespeak
So what is it about sunsets that you love so much?

Sami
I’d much rather ride in the evening. In the morning I’m very active mentally and in a creative mood and want to get things done. But when I finish for the day, I can go out and ride into the sunset – it sounds a little like a movie – and that acts as a reward or a pat on the back.

cyclespeak
You’re always on the go – always busy – so how do you unwind?

Sami
I’m not sure I do switch off [laughs]. Maybe when I sleep? And part of me thinks that if I stop, I might miss something [smiles].

cyclespeak
I think that’s a state of mind a lot of people would recognise.

Sami
But I have started reading again—time with no phone or screens. And that’s why I like going on holiday to somewhere simple that doesn’t take lots of decisions to enjoy. Somewhere I can surf or go hiking.

cyclespeak
So do you prefer a 5 day, 5 week or 5 month plan for living your life?

Sami
Hmmm. Fuck. It has to be 5 day because nothing ever goes to plan [laughs]. I can receive a call today and I’m leaving for somewhere else. It’s crazy!

cyclespeak
There’s a post from earlier in the year where you write, ‘Do what you love and love what you do.’ Is that a fair description of how you’re currently living your life?

Sami
It’s not like I’ve always known what path in life I will take. But then somebody handed me a camera to film, photograph and ride at the same time. So I’m grateful for those special people that I’ve known—the ones who after years still see you as you are.

[pause]

It’s not been easy – there were times when I was working three jobs just to eat and put a roof over my head – but I’ve made it this far and I want to live every moment as if it was the last one.

Sami

Photographs of Sami in Egypt with kind permission of Sonam Gotthilf

Cristina Sanser / Badlands

September 27, 2021Posted in InterviewTagged badlands, bikepacking, cyclespeak, gravel, gravel racing, transiberica, universal colours, wahoo, wahoo elemnt, wahoo roamLeave a comment

With 85% of the route off-road, Badlands is an unsupported, ultracycling gravel challenge that rewards self-sufficiency. So what happens if things take an unexpected turn under the searing sun of Andalusia?

Cristina Sanser had taken a whole year to prepare before rolling up to the September startline. But finding herself riding through a beautiful but unforgiving landscape, she needed to find the inner strength to stop and say enough.

Why Badlands? I suppose I should start by explaining that I’ve only been riding a bike for four years—and only consistently for a year and a half. With the whole Covid situation, I had to work from home and everything was so boring with no travelling allowed. My friends and I saw the Badlands documentary from last year and when the bars once again opened, we went for a drink and decided why not?

The year I spent training for it, in the back of mind I was doubting whether I would ever be ready. I’m pretty fit but everyone taking part in the challenge is super strong and I’m still working my way up the ladder in terms of technical ability. So in the end, I decided to just treat it as a holiday. I would sign up and whether I finished the race or not, this would be an excuse to visit another part of Spain and have some fun.

I was riding – unofficially – as a team. We entered two as a pair and one more as an individual but the plan was to ride together. Freya had recently moved to Girona from the UK and is super strong with a racing background—very much a mentor to me and really helpful advising on things like bike gearing and clothing. My other friend, Laura, is a sports scientist and cycling coach and my pre-race level of fitness was all due to her help and encouragement.

I was fully aware that we were facing certain metrics—the distance, the terrain, the allowed time window of six days. But we’d prepared well with a first training block that built up an endurance base, a second block with a higher intensity and then a third which combined elements of both. Quite a commitment when working office hours in a demanding role.

In terms of a bike and equipment, budget played a part in the decisions we made. Everything is so expensive but fortunately I managed to upgrade to a BMC URS gravel bike—the geometry works better for me and it gives me more confidence if the surface is poor. And all of these different strands of preparation came together on a test ride in the Pyrenees—lots of climbing, super technical sections and sleeping outside. Mentally, we’d been planning this for so long that it felt settled in my brain. So I suppose, in a sense, I was prepared to suffer. To suffer a lot.

Perhaps inevitably, the closer we got to the start date the more our nerves began to build. I’d never raced before – ever – so the thoughts going through my head involved what would happen if I crashed in the first ten kilometres. Or maybe I wouldn’t be able to unclip and everyone would see me and laugh. And in hindsight it was a mistake to book a hotel outside of Granada’s city centre. We walked a lot before Badlands got underway but then we walked a lot during the race too.

Attending a rider briefing a couple of days before the start, we got to talk to people who had already raced Trans-Pyrenees and the previous year’s Badlands. Very simply, this proved to be super motivating and I left the briefing feeling that, yes, I could do this.

Race day arrived with Laura waking to a painful wisdom tooth. Typically, she cast aside any thoughts of not riding in the time it took to take some paracetamol and we rolled up at a park area to set off as a bunch. Riding amongst all the other competitors during the first 20 km, I was close to tears. What was I doing with all these super strong and experienced riders? But we’d spent 12 months preparing for this moment and that thought carried me through those initial nerves.

Climbing upwards and upwards, the gravel trails gradually became more technical and on some sections we were jumping on and off the bike. But even though the heat was intense and the riding hard, the first day was fun. I even have a picture of me smiling.

With the sun setting in the sky, we rolled into the village of Gorafe. My friends and l felt tired but seeing all the other competitors who’d also chosen this location to snatch a few hours rest gave us an emotional lift. We grabbed some food and then laid out our mats and sleeping bags on the roadside to sleep. Three hours later we woke up – not to say that I actually slept with all the night time noises – and got underway again to hit the desert before sunrise.

This proved to be truly an amazing experience. Very technical – especially descending with bike lights – but it felt like an epic adventure. Approaching another small village, we stopped briefly for a couple of quick coffees before continuing. But even though we’d refilled all our bidons and hydration packs, we eventually began to run short of water and needed to ration how much we drank despite the intense heat.

Freya had pushed on ahead – she’s such a strong rider – as the landscape gradually changed from gravel to sand. Really technical to ride but we’d managed to maintain a good race position and our spirits were up. And then, without warning, I crashed. Maybe because I was dehydrated – my Wahoo was reading 49°C – but my front wheel hit a soft patch of sand and I lost control. A silly mistake rather than a tragic accident but I hit my head when the bike went over. Taking a moment to gather my senses, all the good feelings that had buoyed our progress so far seemed to evaporate into the cloudless sky. Climbing back on my bike, for the next couple of hours I was dizzy and disorientated—cresting every rise with the expectation of a village and water but finding only barren nothingness.

Catching up with Laura at the end of a long and draining climb, I discovered her crying. And Laura never cries. A true lover of nature and always happiest in the mountains, seeing her upset made me realise that our race was starting to fall apart. Then Laura’s mum called to ask if Freya was still with us—she’d been dot watching and could see she was off route. I immediately called Freya and thankfully she answered. She’d taken a wrong turn and then had to backtrack – uphill – to regain the route. We’d already booked a hotel earlier that morning so we agreed to meet there and decide what to do. What she didn’t tell us over the call was that she’d been continually vomiting due to dehydration.

We now had a strong headwind and 25 km of super technical riding between us and the hotel. More walking than riding, it felt an impossible task and by then we’d run out of water. But somehow we managed to keep moving until we finally reached the hotel to be greeted by Freya. She’d cooked food for us – such an angel – and when we began to feel more comfortable we talked about our options.

The next day was 140 km with no stops for food or water. Food had never really been an issue but the availability of water in this scorching heat was a real concern. And what Freya and I hadn’t realised – because she didn’t want to burden us – was that Laura now had an infection in her tooth and had exhausted her supply of paracetamol. Weighing up these different factors, we all felt the same and decided to stop.

Will I return to race Badlands again? Looking back from the comfort of home, there’s a part of me that still questions whether we should have continued. I feel tears begin to well-up when I think of all that preparation and how we’d pictured ourselves finishing. But we made the decision together and we cried together.

Sometimes things are just out of your control and it would have been foolhardy to continue with Laura suffering and in pain. And I do recognise that mentally I’m very strong. Who knew – even if we didn’t finish – that I would find myself rolling up to the start line of Badlands? That I’d be happy to sleep in the street? And being able to say enough and accepting that it was the right decision—that proved far harder and took more strength than continuing to ride.

Cristina / Laura / Freya / Over&Out

Photography by Juanan Barros and Carlos Mazón

Badlands

Lael Wilcox / [smiles]

September 1, 2021September 30, 2022Posted in ConversationTagged bikepacking, lael wilcox, rapha, Rue Kaladyte, specialized, tour divide, unbound, unbound xl, wahoo1 Comment

Take even the most cursory glance at Lael Wilcox’s social media feed and the one constancy is her smile. Wide enough to crease the cheeks and crinkle the eyes, this ultra-distance racer and bikepacker exudes a love of riding bikes that proves infectious. To such an extent that hearing Lael enthusiastically describe her incredible exploits crossing countries and continents and you just can’t help smiling back.

But not every ride or race ends as Lael originally determined it might. And this year’s Tour Divide proved the exception to the rule in leaving tears rolling down her face as raging wildfires forced Lael to abandon her record attempt.

A few days after scratching from the Tour Divide, Lael sat down to talk about managing adversity, finding a sense of joy in the outdoors and how, ultimately, love makes every day feel special.

cyclespeak
Can I start by asking how you are? I saw images of the smoke from the Tour Divide and it didn’t look good.

Lael
I knew beforehand about the wildfires but it didn’t hit me until I was riding just how serious it would be as far as the air quality. It looked and felt like the apocalypse—the end of the world. So, yes, it was sad that I had to stop my ride. But getting into the thick of it, I realised that I simply couldn’t carry on. It was the only choice I could make.

cyclespeak
I can only imagine how difficult it was to call it a day.

Lael
More than that, it was just so depressing seeing these places ravaged by fires and the effect this is having on the communities that live there and the wildlife too.

cyclespeak
Speaking of wildlife, I believe you bumped into a mountain lion?

Lael
It was incredible. I’d always thought it was super rare to see them because they’re so hyper aware of people and other animals. And then coming up a climb, my bike lights reflected off this pair of eyes and I stopped, thinking it was a raccoon or something. But then I made out the outline of the mountain lion’s body and its tail.

cyclespeak
So quite a surprise?

Lael
It was midnight, I was already sleep-deprived and really motivated to get to this small town where I knew I could sleep in the church. So I’m thinking, oh dear, now what am I supposed to do?

cyclespeak
And what did you decide?

Lael
Not knowing how they usually behave, I weighed up whether it might attack me if I tried to get past. So I just stood still and started talking to it—trying to convey the idea that I wasn’t menacing by telling it I just wanted to get by. I could hear some other sounds which I think were its cubs and as I slowly began to move along the path, the mountain lion came out from the trees and was walking in front of me along the trail for 10 minutes or so before disappearing off into the bushes and leaving me to ride down the hill. But it didn’t end there. A little further on there was another animal on the trail in front of me and my bike light picked out this white stripe along its back. And I’m like, that’s a skunk and I’m going to get sprayed! Fortunately it darted off to one side but there’s me thinking, what next [laughs]?

cyclespeak
All this excitement after a hard day’s riding.

Lael
I finally got to the town but I didn’t know where the church was. I turned on my phone to look it up but of course there wasn’t any cell reception. Then I passed an old covered wagon – kind of a tourist town display – and I’m thinking I can always sleep in that but then I saw the church. I pushed my bike inside, it’s warm and there’s power outlets and a bathroom. What else do you need [smiles]?

cyclespeak
I’m surprised you were able to unwind enough to sleep.

Lael
After riding 170 miles that day, it was quite a night. But that’s what makes it exciting. So many unknowns and everyday is packed full of these obstacles that you quickly forget about because you’re so focused on getting where you’re going.

cyclespeak
You already hold the women’s Tour Divide record* which you set in 2015. And on this attempt you were aiming to beat the overall record set by the late Mike Hall in 2016. For such a mammoth undertaking, is mental preparation just as important as the physical?

*Lael covered the 4,418 km in 15 days, 10 hours and 59 minutes.

Lael
For me, the main thing is wrapping your head around the need to maintain a level of urgency for two weeks. Because when you get tired, are you going to have that drive to keep pushing forward? If the weather’s bad or you’re in pain – maybe you see a mountain lion [smiles] – all these different things can crack at you and potentially slow your progress.

cyclespeak
So what’s the secret to maintaining your momentum?

Lael
You just need to ride the best that you can through these moments until they pass—that’s the most important thing. In a sense, more important than speed. Speed plays into it but if you only ride 15 hours a day, realistically it doesn’t matter how fast you travel because you’re not going to have the record. It’s just not possible.

cyclespeak
Your smile – on and off the bike – is so recognisably a part of your outward persona. And I was wondering whether the positivity that you radiate is a key to your success? Because I watched your film with Rapha that shows you racing this year’s Unbound Gravel XL – 358 self-supported miles that you covered in under 27 hours – and you never looked like you weren’t having fun.

Lael
I definitely ride better and stronger if I feel good. And I feel good most of the time because I’m actually doing something I enjoy. Of course there are moments of hardship but, looking at the overall picture, even if it’s hard, even if it hurts, I’d still rather be there, trying to achieve my best result.

cyclespeak
And it’s like you said, these issues rarely last forever?

Lael
We all have negative thoughts—I’m not fast enough, strong enough, this isn’t working. But it doesn’t help you ride better. So I’ve learnt over time to just not get into that downward spiral of negativity. To find the positives in those moments until it starts to get better again.

cyclespeak
I’m guessing it helps if you’re naturally positive. A glass half-full kind of person?

Lael
I do think that’s my natural state when I’m moving outside. And I just extended that feeling to a 24 hour race and then a 2 week race. Still connecting to the same joy that comes from riding my bike.

cyclespeak
That’s an interesting choice of word: joy.

Lael
I feel that’s the greatest gift we have as humans—getting to experience places and cultures, terrain and weather. And for the most part, it’s all free. Which is why I find these wildfires so devastating because it steals that away from us.

cyclespeak
As we’re speaking about positivity, can you talk me through your decision to scratch on the Tour Divide? How you manage these situations when circumstances are beyond your control?

Lael
Scratching from this year’s Tour Divide definitely hit me hard. I felt I was doing well and even though there was a lot of smoke, it was manageable. But then it got to a point where it wasn’t. Crossing this one city of Butte in Montana, I was riding towards a massive wildfire – smoke and flames – and in that half an hour I could hear myself start to wheeze and feel my lungs labouring. At that moment, I did feel incredibly sad and started crying as I was riding my bike. Because I knew I had to stop and I just hate giving up. But as we’ve already talked about, part of this racing is overcoming barriers or challenges and sometimes it’s out of your hands.

cyclespeak
Over the past year and a bit, we’ve witnessed a wave of individuals re-engaging with the outdoors—possibly prompted by a desire to stay local and enjoy the fresh air.

Lael
I feel that’s one of the best outcomes from the pandemic. People realising that this is something they can do, that makes them feel better and helps them process the other, potentially hard aspects of their lives. And it doesn’t have to be riding the Tour Divide. It can be engaging with the outdoors in any way that’s real to them. Going just that little bit further than they’ve been before and how empowering that can feel.

cyclespeak
For me, lockdown encouraged me to ride from my doorstep and rediscover my immediate environment.

Lael
I went back to Alaska where I’m from. I’d done a project in 2017 where I cycled all the major roads—something like seven or eight thousand kilometres. Some of these routes were pretty remote and I saw animals and mountains and not a lot of people out there. But I did that alone and I’ve since thought how nice it would be to revisit this trip but make a film with my now-wife Rue. I’d told her about these places and she shoots photographs and video so that’s what we did.

cyclespeak
Your relationship with riding started out as transport. You commuted to your job at a brewery when you were 20 and it went from there. So now, after all those years and thousands of kilometres, when you see a bike leaning up against a wall, how does it speak to you on an emotional level?

Lael
I’ve never learned to drive a car and the bike is a huge upgrade in transportation from walking. Easier to carry equipment and it’s such a simple machine that you probably won’t break down. And it’s also part of our culture—you’re a kid, you learn how to ride a bike and that offers your first real taste of freedom. You can now go further, easier, faster. And that immediateness of hopping on a bike offers such a sense of liberation. I still feel that way every time I ride my bike.

cyclespeak
I can see how it can extend your horizon—allowing you to journey through the landscape because you can go that little bit further than if you were walking. Something you do on a multiple-thousands-of-kilometres scale?

Lael
But that’s just me compressing more into less time. And people should ride the way they want to. I sometimes get criticised for not taking enough time to stop and appreciate the view [smiles].

cyclespeak
I think humankind is rather too fond of passing opinions when it really doesn’t materially matter to them. But advice can be useful so I wanted to ask what you’d say to someone contemplating taking up cycling?

Lael
To ride somewhere real.

cyclespeak
Real?

Lael
Ride your errands, commute around town, ride to your friend’s house. That way you’re actually riding for a reason. And if you want to build up your distance, take a bus or a train and ride home. Because that way, the closer you get, the more familiar it feels when you’re beginning to feel a little tired.

cyclespeak
The races you take part in, by their very nature, offer plenty of thinking time in the saddle. What kind of thoughts enter your head or are you too focused on the task at hand?

Lael
I just let my mind go free and think whatever I want. My first two times riding the Tour Divide, I also rode from Alaska to the start…

cyclespeak
I love that. Because the Tour Divide at 4,418 km just isn’t long enough [laughs].

Lael
At that time, I only had a flip-phone so no music or podcasts. So I was there, alone, riding for weeks at a time—making my own decisions, being whoever I wanted to be. Since then and after racing thousands and thousands of kilometres, I like to listen to audio books. Riding through the night, you can get really engaged in a story [smiles].

cyclespeak
In the Rapha film, you mentioned that night time can be tough. Do you thrive on these aspects of adversity or does discipline and the promise of dawn light see you through?

Lael
I always look forward to the sun coming up. In the dark, it’s just harder to be alert and ride fast. You can’t see as well and that’s when you feel tired. Especially when it’s cold, there’s an instinct to just stop and sleep.

cyclespeak
Which is what the vast majority of the human race does at night time.

Lael
The strategy I use on races like the Tour Divide is that, if I feel tired, I’ll just stop and sleep for four hours and then wake up and carry on—even if it’s the middle of the night. Because regardless of when you sleep, you have to ride in the dark at some point to cover the miles.

cyclespeak
A little bit of a segue but you mentioned your now-wife Rue. You recently got married…

Lael
Yeahhh!

cyclespeak
Your wedding sounded really wonderful—I love the idea of the scooters.

Lael
I’m just happier than I’ve ever been before. I’ve always loved spending time outdoors on my bike but now I have Rue with me for the rest of my life so every day is good.

cyclespeak
The pictures you share on Instagram of you with Rue are incredibly life affirming.

Lael
Rue rides but she also shoots so we can do projects together. What a gift—it’s just amazing.

cyclespeak
Whenever I talk to bike racers or industry creatives such as photographers and filmmakers, I sometimes get a sense that they’re never satisfied. They’re always looking to go faster, to take a better photograph or try another film edit. Where do you sit in saying to yourself, ‘Job well done?’

Lael
I think if I give it my best effort – and I’ll know if I have or not – then I do have a sense of satisfaction. And with ultra-distance racing, you have a lot of time. So maybe you don’t feel great but you’re still moving so that’s your best effort at that particular moment. And then a few hours later you feel great so you pick up the pace. At the end and regardless of my finish, if I tried my hardest then I’m happy.

cyclespeak
And when things are out of your control like this year’s Tour Divide?

Lael
If something goes wrong – a mechanical or I get sick or unforeseen circumstances like the fires – then I have a reason to go back and give it another go [smiles].

cyclespeak
I mentioned how riding a bike started out purely as transport to get to work…

Lael
I was commuting and then bike touring and then ultra-distance racing—frustrated because I was working two jobs to pay for these things.

cyclespeak
I do wonder how much of that drive and determination influences your current success?

Lael
I suppose it shows that I’m doing something I really, really want. Otherwise I would’ve just given it up because I spent years doing that. Working 12 hours a day and worrying when I’d get to ride my bike. Or when I’d get to sleep [laughs].

cyclespeak
The way you ride, the distances you cover, the results you enjoy—do you feel a sense of responsibility that you’re a public face flying the flag for female participation in bike racing?

Lael
It all adds to my level of motivation. That I can race against the men and go for the overall. In other disciplines of cycling, that just isn’t possible. Women and men are competing in completely different categories but in bike packing, we all get to line up together and whoever gets to the finish first, wins. I find that super exciting and motivating because I want to be the winner and I know it’s possible. And it’s not just about pure power or speed—there are so many other aspects like recovery and efficiency that come into play. How you feel on Day 10, how you react to seeing a mountain lion [laughs].

cyclespeak
I’m guessing you also need to minimise the chance of mechanicals during the race?

Lael
The thing with ultra-distance is that everything breaks or falls apart—your bike and your body. So I want to start out with both myself and my bike in great condition because I know that by the end of it, we’ll be trashed.

cyclespeak
I suppose over time you get to know what works and what doesn’t?

Lael
My gear choices are mostly for comfort. Going into a race, I’m very aware that at some point I’ll be experiencing a lot of pain so maybe I’ll pick a larger tyre, a fork with more travel or figure out a range of hand positions. Basically, what’s going to keep me happy on the bike for the longest. You want to pack light but what do you actually need?

cyclespeak
You’re constantly on the move with your racing schedule so I wanted to ask about your concept of home?

Lael
That’s definitely Rue. Just spending time with her wherever we go—being together. We’re currently living in Tucson, Arizona, and thinking of buying a house. I’m 35 and never thought it would be something that I’d want to do but it would be a nice place to spend time in the winter.

cyclespeak
Can I ask why Tucson?

Lael
It has great winter weather and beautiful mountains. It’s pretty inexpensive and you can ride up Mount Lemmon to over 9,000 ft—from saguaro cactus to pine forest in a 20 mile ride.

cyclespeak
And it would be good to have a base for storing bikes?

Lael
I love to change them because I spend so much intense time on one bike that I want to ride something completely different. If I’ve raced my mountain bike, I want to ride road. If I’m racing road, then I want to ride a full suspension mountain bike. Swapping between them puts my brain in a different place and keeps me motivated.

cyclespeak
Looking forward, do you have a five year, five month or five day plan?

Lael
Somewhere in between? Two months is pretty good [laughs].

cyclespeak
Is that your comfort zone?

Lael
It’s enough time to puzzle things together.

cyclespeak
And the best thing about being Lael Wilcox?

Lael
I’m very fortunate that I pretty much get to do exactly what I want, every single day. And I’m so grateful for that. I wake up and if I want to go for a bike ride, I go for a bike ride. I just get to follow my dreams and I can’t believe that’s my life.

[smiles]

Feature image chosen by Rue Kaladyte

All photography by Rue Kaladyte with kind permission of Lael Wilcox

Rapha Gone Racing – Unbound Gravel XL

Lael Rides Alaska