The dynamo light flickers weakly, gravel crunches under our soles, our eyelids are heavy. Slowly, the sky between the steep rock walls turns purple; dawn is breaking. We decided not to stop tonight, not to sleep. At 3,500 meters above sea level, the air is thin and our blood oxygen is low, our hearts are beating fast. Slowly we move. We haven't reached the first pass yet, we haven't completed the first roughly 7km-long hike-a-bike section. This will by no means be the only time on the next nearly 2,000km that we will be carrying our bikes (and not the other way around). 4,000-meter high passes are not uncommon here; we are in the Tian Shan, Central Asia, more precisely in Kyrgyzstan, racing the Silk Road Mountain Race 2025.

We? For the first time, my partner Héléne Fromenty and I are starting as a team, a first for both of us. Since we were in a long-distance relationship at the time, we wanted to experience this tour together and share the time. It would have felt wrong to be riding through Kyrgyzstan for two weeks at the same time without seeing each other. But such an undertaking has its pitfalls. Are we mentally strong enough and can we adapt our needs to each other? Can we manage nearly 30,000 meters of elevation gain over the most remote high mountain passes together within the given time of 15 days? This race is a leap into the unknown.

It was supposed to be a recovery phase after 48 hours in the scree. That 30-kilometer long paved straight on the Pamir Highway, right after the first checkpoint. In reality, it was more of an ordeal. Firstly, because we are on loaded hardtails with 2.35“ wide tires. Secondly, because the wind, when it sweeps across the Kyrgyz plains, shows no mercy, especially not when it's a headwind. Even though there are two of us and we take turns drafting, our speedometers barely show over 10 km/h. With curved backs, heads over the handlebars, we push on the pedals as if we had to pierce the asphalt. "Davai, davai!" a group of cyclists calls to us from the roadside. They don't belong to the race: no orange cap, no numbered sticker on the bike, no GPS tracker. They are not participants, but at their encouragements, we shudder a little. We are moved, because we know that they know. They know we are attempting one of the toughest off-road ultra cycling races in the world.

A particular difficulty during the 7th edition of the SRMR are the countless river crossings. The route goes through such remote areas that there is often no bridge connecting the two banks. Already on the second night, we stand before a wide river split into dozens of channels. They are barely deeper than a meter, but with a strong current, sharp stones, and icy glacier water. We try here and there. Impossible to find a way. "If a river is too deep, wait until daybreak, then the water level drops," Nelson Trees, the race organiser, had explained during the pre-start briefing. At night, the nearby glaciers melt less. We remember this and stop after several unsuccessful attempts in the twilight, earlier than planned, at kilometre 270.

It's pitch black as we inflate our sleeping pads and set up our tarp between the crumbling walls of an abandoned stable, a few hundred meters from the water, to try again at dawn.

Besides the pitfalls of weather and nature, the Silk Road Mountain Race is also known for the difficult resupply situation along the route. The official handbook for this edition makes it clear: "The longest stretch without resupply is 400km long." This section comes after Naryn, the only major town on the entire route. In this town of 50,000 inhabitants, after almost 1,000km ridden, we treat ourselves to several vegetarian kebabs (pizza was unfortunately sold out) and plunder the local supermarket. Since the start, our diet has been quite limited due to the offerings in small village shops and the fear of getting sick: chocolate bars, cookies, bread and cheese or canned fish, instant noodles, ice cream, or soft drinks. So in Naryn, we fill our bellies and stuff our bags to bursting; ready to tackle the next three days, or perhaps three winter months in a snowed-in mountain hut?

As the kilometres pass, it becomes clear that this challenge is as mental as it is physical. Often we have to accept that it's getting slow, long, and even longer. Like, for example, that 30 kilometre long hike-a-bike section that costs us an entire day. First on a single track, later cross-country, it goes along and through a small river, until we finally stand on the 4,000m high Suyek Pass, a stone's throw from the Chinese border. Or the infamous Old Soviet Road, a path only 2 kilometres long at over 3,000m altitude. With an average gradient of 20%, and significantly over 30% on the steep sections, we heave our bikes uphill for a good hour. To maintain motivation and keep pedalling, we had to understand day by day, pass by pass, that a arduous moment would usually be followed by a more comforting one, and vice versa. A blizzard at 3,500 meters, for example, is much easier to endure when you know that behind it, a warm meal, a hot shower, and a bed are waiting for you.

When we set out on the Silk Road, Hélène and I had established a rule: not to look at the live tracking, to live our own adventure, to progress at our own pace, without getting stressed by the speed of other participants, especially other pairs. We kept this promise until the tenth day. During a resupply break near Lake Yssyköl, at around kilometre 1550, we are surprised to find out that the leading duo is only about fifty kilometres ahead of us and we are in second place. After riding efficiently but without pressure since the start, our competitive spirit quickly catches up with us. We mutually decide to activate race mode for the remaining 400 kilometres. This means: arms on the aerobars, only getting off the bike for the most essential things, not sleeping at night, and on the final pass – the Chon Ashuu (3,860 m) – giving it our absolute all. "Davai, davai," we urge each other on. After almost a day without phone reception in the mountains, we finally reach Karakol and cross the finish line about 5 hours after the first pair, in second place. We finished in a little under 12 days. Out of the 250 starters, about half finish within the time limit; we place 40th and are somewhat proud of our team performance, tired, filthy, but happy.