Trans Iberica 2026 Contributed By Jack Schofield

When you’re staring down the barrel of your first ever ultra distance race. I hadn’t even done any over night riding to prep - so I was completely in the dark on what to expect.

My parents drove me out to Belgium which was amazing. It meant I could just switch off and not stress about anything. Dad did a detour via Battersea to get some 40mm risers for my aero bars, just in case I needed to make sure I was at maximum risk of doing something stupid, and tinkering with the bike 48 hours before I rode 2,900km.

Being on the start line was so incredibly different to any triathlon I’ve ever done. It was relaxed, registration took 15 seconds, and there’s no swim kit or shoes to worry about.

I packed my bags the day before and was up early for some cereal & snacks before rolling down to the start in the dark. It was nice to finally test the lights, nothing like some last minute planning. 

The start was slightly delayed and we were off. I stuck myself on the front to stay out of trouble, and before I knew it was were rolling along nicely.

Into the cobbles & I couldn’t believe how fast everyone was north of 400W. A whole week of riding ahead of us, and we’re riding as if we’re in the local crit.

Once the mandatory section along the cobbles and gravel was done, it was nice to part ways with the majority of the field and get into a rhythm. I felt like I was riding WAY too hard for the first day, but managed to get into the swing of things. I was amazed at how much it felt like a triathlon, constantly catching and passing people. There wasn’t too much excitement as we ripped along towards the first checkpoints.

I managed to hit the first checkpoint in 10th, before calling it at around 450km and knuckling down for a pizza and a night of sleep.

Day 2 I woke up ready to tackle the first mountains. I hadn’t quite expected 30 people to overtake me in the night. But that meant I was a lot fresher and fuelled when I got rolling. Up and into the first climbs and the real scenery started. The landscapes exploded and the camera started clicking.

I took a little detour to add on 60km (heatmap is life) - which also cost me a couple of hours on day 2, and I made the decision to press all the way through the hills, ready to stop just the nearside of Geneva. I really struggled to find a rhythm and I always knew I was going to struggle on a Sunday in France. Nowhere is open and an 85kg boy needs a lot to keep the whels turning… but kept the calories as high as the circumstances would let me & I managed another 400k before settling down for another 5 hours of sleep. 

Day 3 brought Geneva and the start of the alps. Geneva has always held a special place in my heart after spending my 30th birthday there with my partner Vic, it was a nice trip down memory lane to roll through the busy city streets.

The heat came with the move into Switzerland and as we got further south the temperature kicked. But the landscapes delivered. Sweeping roads, alpine vistas & beauty everywhere. I couldn’t help but be in awe of the beauty around me. Monday meant supermarkets were back in full swing and the calories were flowing. I was climbing well within myself and slowly started to get a rhythm.

I climbed into the alps and we started the mandatory gravel section. This is where the Parcours wheels really came into their own. I’d ridden my way up to about 15th over the space of the 2 days, but as soon as I hit the 15km gravel section I took off. Taking 3 people on that section alone - I could honestly have been riding 45mm gravel tyres. The wheels were so stable and comfy, I felt as though I could attack every moment. Grippy & firm, you just couldn’t wipe the smile of my face. Cast under a cliff at the top of the alps - it was beauty in it’s purest form. Nothing else in the world but pedalling in one of the most beautiful settings europe has to offer.

It was all going well until about midnight when I made the decision to stay a little further up the road. Unfortunately I hadn’t checked my weather app and missed the memo that a full blown tropical storm was rolling in… 2am trying to climb up to CP4 and I knew I was in trouble. The roads were underwater and I started to get cold, fast.

I made it up the climb and down to my accommodation for 3am. I hadn’t managed to get much food so I knew I’d be in trouble for the first hour or so when I started rolling in the morning. From the moment I woke up, I felt like I was riding through treacle. The wheels weren’t turning well and the storm had stopped the buttons on my garmin working. 2000km isn’t much fun without a route. It took me a couple of days to realize that my brake pistons had seized - and so I quite literally was riding through treacle.

Though day 4 continued in the Alps and brought the beauty, I really moved into a tough spot with my wheels against constant resistance. I made the decision to press on through the night, but never really moved anywhere with the brakes truly on. It was a 33 hour ride with only 580km covered. I was slowly moving backwards in the field with no answers as to why despite pushing 230W, I was being dropped at every turn.

The garmin errors meant I kept missing turns which started to frustrate me. More beautiful landscapes and the last of the alps meant i could finally roll across France and towards Toulouse. When I found out my accommodation had a bath I was very happy boy. Another pizza and a quick soak and I was very ready for some shut eye after 33 hours on the road.

I rolled along the flat of the next day towards Toulouse and decided enough was enough. A quick trip to decathlon and I was away with a new Garmin edge. Finally back with a route. The mechanic politely pointed out my brake caliper was seized shut, and asked how long it’d been like that…. That’s when I realised since the storm…

So, with a quick prize open and I was off. A new man. Legs felt fresh. The bike felt light. And we were away. I was back in the game and the Pyrenees were calling.

I was flowing so nicely. Back in my rhythm and back in the race. I caught 4 people in the afternoon and whistled right into the big climbs. With my first accommodation cancelling, I decided to push on and topped out at 2,000m shortly after midnight. The sky was breath taking. I could have ridden without my lights, the scenery flooding with moon and starlight. I felt so incredibly grateful to be in the mountains experiencing it for the first time. I decided to get a few hours sleep at 3am and realised I was just below Font Romeu where we’d been on training camp in 2024.

Waking up on my final day and my mind was made up. The brakes were off, I knew I had 770km left, 9100m of climbing and I was ready. I decided enough was enough. I was going to chase down the top 10 and push myself all the way to the finish. The day started with the last of the Pyrenees, before dropping down into Spain and rolling across the north of the European giant. 

The landscapes opened up and it was vista after vista. I was climbing like a man possessed, pushing 300+w up every climb and chasing everyone I could. Stopping every 90 minutes for food and water - the legs were back in the game. I rode into the night after leaving the pyrenees and tucked up into the aero bars. Armed with a tube of pringles, a metre long baguette and 3 bags of haribo, I was chasing the finish line hard.

As the sun rose I knew it was my final push to Bilbao. I entered the finishing Parcours in 9th and knew there was more places to be had. Pressed into the pedals I pictured the 180km of an ironman I had left. Ticking them off one by one, I managed to pass the final few athletes in front of me, before rolling into Bilbao, broken and empty, in 6th.

I’d seen multiple countries, the alps and the pyrenees and proven to myself that an 85kg bloke can survive in 40+ degree heat and climb some of europe’s biggest mountains. With a panier full of way too many spares, haribo and kit.

It was one of the most special experiences I’ve ever been lucky enough to share. And I already have half an eye on what I could do better if I got another chance. I’d certainly be fitting new brake pistons, and I certainly wouldn’t change the wheelset!