Desertus Bikus… on a Brompton!

Desertus led riders from the French Basque Country to the south of Spain, passing through some of Spain's least populated areas and famous deserts. Café du Cycliste is an event partner, and Café athletes Adrien Liechti, Camille Sohier, Hugo Chevalier and Clément Fouquet-Iapar also took part. But only Sophie did it on a folding bike. Here, she explains how it went:

"With three Desertus events under my belt, I didn’t initially plan to return, but it turned out that the 2025 edition was going to be exceptional, with 40% of the participants being women thanks to the work of Yvan Thuayre, the organiser. So, it was impossible not to take part! But after riding the Desertus twice with a road bike and once on trails with a gravel bike, I wanted to do something different. And what started as a joke gradually became reality with the launch of the Brompton G-Line a few months before the race – a 'gravel' Brompton that’s a bit more comfortable than the classic model."

"I got my hands on a Brompton G-Line in autumn 2024, and from that moment on, I started riding exclusively with that bike. Everything is different compared to a traditional bike: the position, the speed, the feel – so I wanted to be at least somewhat prepared before tackling the Desertus. The day I received the Brompton, I went out for a 150 km ride with a 'sink or swim' attitude – and it 'swam'. From that moment, based on my long-distance experience, I knew that with some training it would be doable.

"I changed a few parts on the bike to make it more suitable for an ultra-distance event and spent a lot of time figuring out a bag set-up that would work. Small bike = fewer attachment points and less space for gear. I also optimized all my equipment to bring only the bare essentials, knowing I planned to bivouac. 

"For the race, I made a few changes to the Brompton G-Line, which is primarily designed for off-road riding: I converted the tires to tubeless for peace of mind, swapped out the 54-tooth chainring for a 44-tooth, so I could climb anything even with a loaded bike, added aero bars, and changed the pedals to clipless ones. My luggage setup included the small Café du Cycliste tool pouch, a saddle bag, and frame bags specially adapted for a small bike — thanks to the talents of three French artisans who collaborated to make it work on the Brompton: Cours s’il Pleut, Studio Ricochet, and Avalanche Cycles.

"As for mental preparation, it mostly involved building a long playlist and finding podcasts to listen to throughout the journey. I was riding more slowly than usual and had a feeling I’d probably be doing this Desertus alone."

"The weather was quite challenging at the start – lots of rain and strong headwinds made the first two days really tough; I felt like I wasn’t making any progress. After passing through Vitoria-Gasteiz in the Spanish Basque Country, the weather improved slightly, though showers and wind remained. I kept the second day short and stopped early in the evening to regain strength at the base of the mountain leading to the first checkpoint. I figured it would be easier to cross the snow-covered mountain early in the morning – and that was definitely a good call. The snow had even melted, except I had planned a gravel segment for a few kilometers… and as it turns out, melted snow makes for soaked trails. It took me nearly an hour to cover just a few kilometres, mostly walking and pushing the bike."

"The second checkpoint remains one of the most memorable moments. The location is stunning – the Ermita de San Bartolomé, reached by following the Cañón del Río Lobos, with absolutely magnificent landscapes. From there, I had about 500 kilometres to go to reach southern Spain. I had plotted a route with as little elevation gain as possible, sticking to the smallest roads I could find, to keep it pleasurable riding across the vast agricultural plains. Once I crossed an imaginary horizontal line through Madrid, the weather finally turned nice. Olive groves became more frequent, the villages turned white, there was hardly anyone on the roads, wildflowers lined the roadside, and the air was filled with the scent of orange blossoms."

"The biggest struggle of the race happened on the first night around 10 PM, after nearly 22 hours of non-stop riding since the midnight start. I had booked a hotel to dry my gear and get a proper sleep. About 10 km from the town where the hotel was, I ended up on a dead-end road that led straight on to a highway. I remembered that when I created my route, there was a gravel section there. I checked the tracker and saw that someone had passed through earlier, but in the dark I couldn’t find the path. That’s when I started thinking this might really be a big SNAFU, no question. In the end, I looked for an alternative asphalt route — and boom, it required a 30-kilometre detour. I chose the detour, got lost in a commercial zone, and had to re-map things in a rush, in the rain (those who’ve tried to map on a phone that doesn’t work in the rain will understand my frustration). I ended up on a tiny road climbing into the hills, and then I started hallucinating like crazy – I saw lush exotic plants and people standing by the roadside. I did another 10 kilometres in this imaginary world. I finally reached the hotel, set my alarm for 8 AM (way too late), come what may – tomorrow was another day."

"My best memory, without a doubt, was the finish. I arrived dead last, several hours past the cut-off. I was absolutely determined to make it by Friday evening in time for the finishers' party because I suspected no one would be there the next day – and there’s nothing sadder than finishing and finding the door shut with no one around. I decided to skip the final checkpoint near Granada, which I already knew from the Badlands gravel race, and opted for a coastal route to reduce the elevation. Planned arrival: 9 PM. That was without accounting for a brutal headwind that picked up and, combined with the Venturi effect from the seaside cliffs, made it nearly impossible to move forward. I was getting really fed up, but the thought of finishing kept me going, even though I had to stop more and more frequently. I messaged Antoine Bernays from the media team to say I’d be quite late, and he replied saying a couple of people would probably still be at the finish.

"I finally reached Almuñécar, the end of the race, but I had to stop by my hotel to collect the room key before it closed for the night. Naturally, the hotel was on the opposite side of town from the finish line. At that point, I started getting messages asking where I was and what I was doing. I raced toward the finish as quickly as I could – and saw a crowd at the end of the street, cheering for me."