BikingMan 555 Alpes Maritimes 2025

Valberg. A small resort tucked away in the heart of the Alpes Maritimes. A winter destination, but this early summer it’s the stage for something entirely different. This time, we’re not here for skiing. We’re here for the silence of the mountains, for the short breath of the mountain passes, for the 555 challenge. A shorter, but far from easier, version of the BikingMan: 500 km with 12,000 m of climbing, on trails, backroads, and rough tracks that will make your calves burn.

Looking at the profile, I know I’ll be leaving my comfort zone. At 90 kg, my body isn’t exactly built for such gradients, and I expect to suffer. That’s part of the point… breaking habits, shattering routines, seeing what the body will endure and what the mind will refuse to abandon.

This time, I’ve taken a different approach. No obsession with the clock. No precise schedule. My goal is to ride by instinct. Feel the wind, the slope, the slumps. Not rush. And ideally, finish in under two days, with a few strategic water points noted along the way.

The start is at 7:00 am, in waves by level. I like this format: the fastest leave last. The first kilometers are almost festive. We cross paths, encourage each other, and overtake with a friendly vibe. A quick word, a glance, and already we know we’re all in the same boat. No matter the level, we all know we’re going to suffer.

After a fresh, fast descent, the real work begins. First, a few gentle climbs on tracks and backroads. Then the terrain starts sorting people out. I end up in a stretched-out group, each rider 10 meters apart. I alternate between finding my rhythm and adjusting my bearings.

Then, mistake: I follow a rider who seems confident down a descent. My GPS beeps. Wrong track. The terrain turns chaotic — a black ski slope, but with rocks and dust. The Dutch rider behind me shouts “Stop!”… he got dragged into it too. We turn back on foot, pushing for several hundred meters. The slope is brutal, morale takes an early hit.

Back on the right track, I refocus. I pass those who had overtaken me earlier. I settle into a cleaner tempo. I end up riding with Sladian, a guy from Saint-Étienne. Great exchange. We talk about everything — work, life perspectives. He has this calm lucidity, the kind of words you remember in low moments. We ride nearly 40 km together before he pulls away on a climb clearly suiting his climber’s build.

Sladian. A name I won’t forget. His presence during the effort marked me more than any other this year. Straightforward, he radiates a rare inner peace for this type of race. Few words, but always the right ones. He doesn’t talk to fill space — he talks to convey something.

In this early part of the race, we rode side by side without needing to say much. And yet every sentence resonated. He can read the effort, putting words to the pain that make it meaningful. There’s a gentle spirituality to him, without dogma. Just a connection to reality, to the moment, to others.

When legs are heavy and the slope endless, sometimes it’s these words that stay, anchoring you. Brutal effort, in its purest form, has the strange power to transcend the mind. It dissolves ego, erases status, strips souls bare. It builds bridges between people who, in another context, would never have met. And sometimes, it leads to synchronicities. Meaningful silences. Inner echoes you carry long past the finish line.

That’s Sladian: a man who doesn’t try to shine, but lights the way when needed.

The Clamia climb. 13 km. The first turns are almost playful, on a small road. Then comes the track. Rideable, but steep. The 13% grades are real. Sladian pulls away. I lose sight of him.

A small supermarket at KM 80 serves as a refuel. Water, sodas. Quick refill. Then on to the Granges de la Brasque climb. 15 km, 8% average. The kind of profile that wears you down. No shade. The heat rises. A three-day heatwave warning. Perfect timing… to suffer.

Rudi van Houts passes me. Former MTB pro, top 30 in the World Cup, 17th at the London Olympics. He drops me with polite silence, smooth and fluid. I’m wrestling with my watts and my thoughts. He floats. I sink.

The climb to Pointe de Séréna is hell. Over 11 km. Another track. My body is maxed out. I throw up twice. I push. I stop every 500 m. Breathe. Start again. When I finally crest, I’m empty. No more energy. No more clarity.

I descend toward Levens. A sign makes me doubt. The urge to quit hits hard. I call my partner and my brother. I need another kind of oxygen. They find the words. So I push on. I accept to suffer. I accept to walk. But I move forward.

The next pass is on tarmac. I climb like an automaton. Two riders pass me. One says, “Never Give Up.” It’s fitting — and it will matter later. I reach the top, collapse on the ground in front of a gate. People speak to me. I understand nothing. I give a thumbs-up. I just need to let my brain idle and cool the engine. Hazard triangle and warning lights on.

I stay there a good 15 minutes, KO. The brain is on standby. I descend to L’Escarène, thinking that the climb back up will be the spark to get moving again. A SPAR is open. Ice cream, Red Bull, banana, cold water… Didier from the organization is there. Quick exchange. He sees in my face the day hasn’t been kind.

I leave again. Another pass. 12 km, 7%. I manage. I breathe. Under 40°C — almost pleasant. I climb. Slowly, but I climb.

Peille village. It’s 8 pm. The sun is sinking. I start a spectacular descent toward Monaco. The contrast is brutal. After hours alone in the mountains, the horns, local festivals, sports cars… it all feels unreal. I don’t stop for supplies. My bottles are warm, but too much noise, too many people.

I carry on to the Levens Checkpoint. I’m told I’m 4th. Unexpected. I thought I’d lost everything. Sladian is there, just arrived with another rider. We eat. We sleep. Not long. I set my timer for 60 minutes.

I wake alone after 22 minutes. Strange feeling. Not really rested, but not exhausted either. I set off. They tell me the Swiss rider ahead hasn’t slept. There’s also a pack behind that won’t stop. I’m 3rd.

I take a wrong turn again. Wrong bridge. Wrong instinct. I turn back. I meet two others who made the same mistake. We get back on track together.

The legs feel better. The air is cooler. My goal is clear: finish before noon, before the furnace returns. I climb at a steady pace. I gain time. I catch the Swiss rider on a gravel section. He’s paying for his sleepless night. We exchange a few words. I press on.

The descent is long. I have moments of absence — eyes open, brain elsewhere. At over 60 km/h, you can’t afford to drift in a corner. I almost look forward to the next climb, just to regain some mental tension.

La Croix-sur-Roudoule. A small suspension bridge. Then an 11 km climb to Saint-Léger. The temperatures are rising. I find a fountain. Ice-cold water. I soak myself, refill both bottles.

Another descent. A second suspension bridge. A small climb into the red, sculpted, mineral Gorges de Daluis. Feels like riding across another continent.

Then Guillaumes. The last round: the final climb to Valberg. 15 km. Steady. But it’s over 40°C. I watch the gaps. The 3rd is 6 km ahead. The 4th far behind. I climb at my pace. I splash myself often. I grab water in Péone. I hang on.

With 2 km to go, I call my partner. My GPS shows over 8 km left. Total confusion. Did Axel save a surprise finish for us? Turns out, no. I arrive in Valberg. I turn. I hear the bell. It’s over.

29 hours. 420 km. 11,000 m of climbing. 22 minutes of sleep.

A magnificent route. Wild valleys. Contrasting landscapes. Axel has once again found the perfect mix. This BikingMan 555 forced me to listen to my body and adjust my strategy. Fewer pointless stops. Better pacing.

Nutrition remains a challenge. Too many bars, not enough desire. And the heat makes everything harder. I carry with me the simple words of my partner, my brother… and Sladian, whose presence will stay with me for a long time.

• Bike: Open UP gravel
• Wheels/Tires: ZIPP 303 XPLR SW / Schwalbe G-One RS Pro (45 front, 40 rear)
• Drivetrain: SRAM XX1 mullet 42 / 10-50
• Bags: Cyclite (light, no spare bibs/jersey)
• Navigation: Garmin 1040 + Quad Lock / Komoot
• Comfort: Raised stem, thick Supacaz bar tape
• Lights: Decathlon HL900, Garmin UT800, Varia radar, Decathlon SL110
• Audio: Shokz Open Run Pro 2

Still significant foot pain despite custom Sidas insoles.