El Piri Self Supported Bikepacking

One rider's account of El Piri, an 800km self-supported bikepacking race through Catalonia's wild Pyrenees, with 20,000m of climbing, on a Sonder Sedona.

After almost 50km of climbing, I allowed myself a quick pause. I was standing at the summit of Colletó de la Portella, looking out across the vast and impressive Catalan Pyrenees, the pain from hours of uphill gravel immediately forgotten. Still catching my breathe, my legs shaking as I unclipped, I paused to relish the feeling of reaching another summit. I’d started the climb in stifling heat but as I had crawled up switchbacks and left forest for the higher Alpine landscape, impressive, and slightly alarming, storm clouds had been building around me. Not wanting to hang around, I stuffed a handful of sweets in my mouth and after one last look at the valley I had come from, clipped back in and rolled on. Only 360 km left to go.

I was taking part in El Piri, an 800km self-supported endurance event that ventures out from Girona into the wild Catalan Pyrenees, and back again. With almost 20,000m of climbing, the route is demanding but spectacular. James and the team behind El Piri put a strong focus on community, respect, and the joy in riding. I was fortunate enough to gain a place through their Startline Bursary, epitomising El Piri’s commitment to improving representation and encouraging those who might not otherwise take part in the event.

As my first ever cycling event, it felt like a massive jump into the unknown. Training had mostly consisted of lapping Surrey hills and Richmond Park, in a desperate attempt to recreate the Pyrenees. Standing at the summit of Colletó de la Portella, at 2,265m the highest point of El Piri, I almost laughed thinking of the hours I’d spent repeating hill climbs in Surrey - though grateful for the training, it didn’t quite compare.

Finding a rhythm

For four days, 16 hours, and 20 minutes, I found myself jumping between self-doubt, awe, pain, and exhilaration. A crash on day two knocked my confidence and left me with some injuries I could really have done without. I’d known the mental challenge would be significant, but there were moments where I really questioned whether I’d make it to the finish line.

As I sat at the halfway checkpoint at 10pm on day three though, covered head to toe in a thick layer of dirt, scoffing a pizza, and laughing with equally grubby riders, I realised for the first time that I could actually do this. Somewhere along the way I’d fallen into a steady rhythm - riding into epic sunrises, just me, my Sonder Sedona, and an endless horizon of mountains. Between more technical gravel and smooth tarmac, sections of perfect gravel surpassed anything I’d ridden before. I rode with vultures circling above, I had multiple stare-offs with marmots in Alpine meadows, and one evening, an otter appeared beside the trail. The small moments in between became as significant - exchanging stories with other riders, stocking up on as many pastries as I could in picturesque mountain towns, diving my head under fresh mountain streams to cool off. In some ways, everything became so simple: stay hydrated, eat as much as I could, focus on the present, and keep pedalling.

The finish line

The mountains humbled me. Plans went out the window almost as soon as I had made them, and multiple times I questioned if I would reach the finish. But I rolled back into Girona with the realisation that I was so much more capable than I thought. Preparation was by no means perfect, progress along the route was not linear, but I came away with a fresh appreciation for the beauty of the outdoors, for the incredible community of endurance riders, and for how lucky I am to be able to ride my bike in the mountains.