World Championship. There’s a special sound to those words. As a child, racing at the World Championship was a dream. I haven’t had any top results, but I’m proud to have represented Norway in the Men Elite category for the fifth consecutive year.
This year was even more unique, with the event taking place in the beautiful town of Nannup, Australia. What an event.
This is my race story.
There’s a chill breeze in the air. In Norway, it’s autumn; here, it’s spring. Flowers are blooming, and the summer heat is on its way, but it hasn’t arrived just yet.
We’re approaching Nannup, a small timber town 280 km south of Perth in Western Australia. It’s far from home, and making it here was never a given. A 20-hour flight from Oslo isn’t unbearable, but after our little Isak was born in July, I had to take my parental obligations into account.
Still, I couldn’t miss my fifth Gravel Worlds, or the opportunity to race in Oceania and complete the list of all the continents possible to race on. I convinced my wife to bring Isak and come along, and we emptied our credit card and made it happen.
My longtime friend Kent Erik, or simply Kenny, joined us too. I feel honoured to share this experience with them.
The race starts at 10 am, but Nannup is already buzzing when we park the car after driving in from our Airbnb on the coast in Dunsborough.
Nannup, a town of just 500 inhabitants, is hosting 800 riders from all over the world today. Looking around, I spot riders from the Philippines, the Netherlands, Brazil, and Australia. They’re all here. I am the only rider representing Norway in the Elite category.
– Good luck, riders! the announcer yells as we’re off. It’s 10 AM sharp, and the Men Elite category is the first to start. Yesterday, the women and the age categories over 50 raced in light rain and muddy conditions. I know, because I rode parts of the course myself and had to wash my bike twice and clean my headset after just a short ride. Luckily, conditions are drier today.
There are 80 riders in the Men Elite category, and we form a peloton as we roll onto the first 8 km of asphalt roads. A few riders take their chances with an early breakaway, but I plan to conserve energy after fighting a cold over the last few days. I feel better today, but I’m not totally fresh. Let’s see how this turns out.
Then, suddenly, I find myself at the front of the peloton, following a few moves. Hey, we’ve got a gap! It’s not huge, but we keep rolling for a few minutes before we’re pulled back. I get excited, but I also remind myself not to waste energy, as this 141 km course is a tough one.
Soon, we leave the asphalt behind and hit the gravel, with the first of five big climbs ahead of us. According to the route guide, we’re going to climb 3,700 metres today. This is going to turn into a survival race, where only the strongest survive.
– BAM! My front wheel hits a pothole. I’m in a good position, but as I slam my front wheel into the hole, my handlebars twist down. I can still ride, but the hand position feels odd, and at the same time, I start losing places in the peloton. Soon, I’m at the back. And then the first climb, Killarney, begins. 5.3 km with 176 m of elevation gain.
The intensity increases. I feel strong. This morning, I wasn’t sure how I would feel, having struggled with a cold over the last few days. But I can’t say I feel sick. I’m not at my best, but I still feel like I can handle a lot of suffering. I feel fresh.
I stay comfortable with the peloton over the climb, but it’s on the descent that the splits happen. The pea gravel, named after the pea-sized rocks the roads are made of, is incredibly slippery in the corners. It’s easy to lose your grip, so choosing the right line and getting the tyre pressure right are more important than ever.
My Felt Breed FRD is shod with the new Challenge Getaway Pro 50 tires, an updated version of the old Pro 45, now with more volume and a few extra knobs. I feel comfortable, but I’m not quite willing to let it all go. So when riders start losing the wheels ahead, I can’t close the gaps.
At the bottom, the peloton has split into smaller groups. I’m not stressing too much, though. I join forces with a group chasing down the fast-moving peloton.
Green fields stretch out around us, separated only by a steep, narrow dirt road. This is Brockman Hill, the toughest climb of the day. 2.5 km, 200 metres of elevation gain, with ramps reaching 20%.
I accelerate at the bottom to rejoin the back of the peloton after we’ve spent the last 5 km chasing. As I make it back, riders start dropping, and I have to zigzag my way through them to get closer to the front. The climb is taking its toll, and I have to find my rhythm. Today, though, that’s not enough to make it back to the front group.
I keep the momentum going and reach the top not too far behind. Piotr Havik catches up with me, and we start working together to close the gap to the guys ahead.
– There’s Hanna and Isak, I think as I reach out to grab the bottle she’s handing me. We fly through the feed zone, trying to catch the peloton ahead. We’re not far off.
– Come on, Jonas. Get to the front group, I tell myself.
Left turn, right turn, up, down. It’s a winding gravel road. The surface is mostly solid and fast, but some sections are rougher, and some corners are loose. You have to stay in the wheel tracks, or you risk wiping out.
Piotr has been setting a high tempo, and together with an Aussie, a Japanese rider, and an Italian, we’re catching dropped riders. But we can’t quite make it back to the peloton. They’re out of sight, but we have an unspoken agreement: keep pushing as hard as we can for as long as we can and see who we can catch. Right now, we’re sitting around 45th place.
The kilometres tick by, and soon we pass the second aid station. I grab a bottle and head towards the longest climb of the day.
There, we spot the group ahead. About 10 riders are a minute up the road, and hopefully, we can catch them. Piotr looks determined and puts the pedal to the floor. My heart rate is elevated, I’m breathing heavily, and my legs are screaming, but I’ve decided to stick to his wheel. We drop the other guys and get closer and closer. But the group ahead isn’t waiting.
– There they are. Let’s catch them, Piotr says.
On the longer stretches, I catch glimpses of the group ahead and start believing we’re going to make it. I take my turns at the front, but I’m not as strong as Piotr. He has to do most of the work.
We pass the 100 km mark, but this section feels never-ending, rolling up and down with no real break in sight.
I’m suffering, but I know we’ll soon be back on the asphalt leading into town. There, having Piotr as my two-man relay partner would be ideal.
Finally, we start descending into the valley. Piotr rides a bit more aggressively downhill than I do, but I make sure not to let him get away. Then, hey — something isn’t right. My rear tyre feels low on pressure. It’s not flat, but this isn’t good.
As we reach the asphalt, there’s an aid station, and I shout:
– Anyone got a pump?
A few of the team soigneurs look frantically around, but then someone comes running with a pump. I stop, unscrew the valve, and pump it up to 25 PSI before deciding to keep going. The whole pit stop takes about a minute, and Piotr is now far up the road. Still, I wouldn’t have managed to keep going without adding some air. Hopefully, the sealant does its job and gets me to the finish.
It’s a slow 7 km drag back to Nannup. I’m all by myself, with no one in sight, either ahead or behind. Finally, I hear the sounds of the finish area, but I’m directed left onto a steep climb that leads into another 25 km loop.
There’s Hanna, and I grab a bottle of Coke. The atmosphere at this feed zone is electric. Tour de France atmosphere. I love it, and push on, but I realise there’s not much left in the tank. It’s getting really hard to push now. I’m moving, but not very fast.
At least I know this loop, having ridden it the day before. There’s not too much left now. 20 km to go.
A special, emotional feeling hits me as I’m closing in on town. My fifth consecutive Gravel World Championship in Men Elite. Maybe my last?
An Aussie catches up with me and helps me get closer to the finish line. He attacks me over the last hill. I try to hold his wheel, but eventually have to give him a few metres. I realise I’m not going to close the gap. And that’s fine. This World Championship meant a lot more to me than just chasing a result.
Isak was born on July 21. The three months have been amazing, and busier than ever. Trying to manage a “pro cycling” career, combine it with being CEO of Green Cycling Norway, and be a dad is a tricky puzzle. But I really wanted to make this World Championship happen, completing my goal of racing on every continent possible.
Just being here is a victory, and finishing 44th is huge. Top 50 in the world in this rapidly growing discipline of gravel. And seeing my wife and Isak at the finish line was emotional.
I’m grateful for this trip Down Under, and for the past years as a Gravel Pro. The coming weeks and months will be a time to reflect and think about what lies ahead, and how the puzzle should look going forward.
What’s certain is that this isn’t the last you’ll see of the Nordic Trailblazer. But whether you’ll see me at my sixth Gravel Worlds? Time will tell!
Thanks to Kenny for coming along, capturing photos, and being such a big part of this Trailblazer career.