So hard to choose just a handful from this extraordinary series of images…
Photographed by Liz Seabrook on her third assignment documenting the Lost Dot / Trans Pyrenees race, this is a world of endurance, determination, exhaustion and elation - of community and isolation, fleeting encounters and long stretches of solitude. And of course the all important, pitstops for refuelling and recharging.
But alongside the physical challenge, there are quieter moments; riders disappearing into mist, unexpected encounters on remote mountain trails, and the particular kind of comnection that comes from sharing an adventure while travelling it alone.
Below, Liz captures something of what it feels like to be out there - in her own words.
“I’m standing on a forestry trail in the drizzle of a cloud with a pocketful of emergency biscuits brought from home. I’ve lost track as to whether I’m in France or Spain. In a signal black spot, I wait for two men – who we’ve named the salty Scandis, after a particularly crusty jersey emerged earlier in the week under the hot Spanish sun – to appear on their bikes around the gravelly switchback in front of me. When I first set out down the track I couldn’t see more than 200m ahead of me, which for being atop a 2200 mountain felt like a shame. Silhouettes of horses and cattle lined the way like breathing cairns, marking my path. A rider – perhaps the youngest in the field at 20 – fumbled with his phone and Garmin, unsure of the way through the fog. I walked with him a few minutes, suddenly feeling protective over this young man, who’s already ridden further on his own than I think I dare, before remembering that this is his adventure to take on his own. I stopped in my tracks and watched his form dissolve into the cloud.
It’s quiet here. There’s a stream running behind me, gently tumbling over the rocks beneath. I can’t hear a single bird, and the firs around me are bejewelled with bulbous raindrops. I doubt the tracker in my pocket is pinging in this dead spot, so I’m alone. But, I’m not. Out in the mist are tens of other souls pedalling their way back towards the Mediterranean coast. Far wetter, colder and more exhausted than I am. What a privilege it is to exist in this world together alone. A reminder of what going outdoors can be. And yes, maybe this is too verbose for a 6km scouts pace run-walk, but it’s happiness, and it’s gratitude. And while getting up this morning for an eighth day to run up and down mountains, then drive for hours may have elicited a grumble, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
