DESTINATION NORTH CAPE

Every August, the Arctic Race of Norway transforms Northern Norway into one of the most beautiful arenas for professional cycling. In a picturesque scenery, some of the world's best cyclists compete for honor and glory in the Norwegian stage race north of the Arctic Circle. But where the riders' performances are only weighted in the results on the stages and in the general classification, it often remains unknown what work is put in outside the race. So, what is actually required of the teams to even be able to compete in the world's northernmost stage race? How is the Arctic Race of Norway experienced from the inside? We followed Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team on their journey to the North Cape and got an exclusive insight into how professional cycling takes place behind the scenes.

Words: Marcus Liebold. Cover image: Billy Ceusters - Arctic Race of Norway.

The Dutchman Adriaan van Zijp stands firm in a chaos of breathless riders who with daring maneuvers steer their bikes crosswise. The cheering of the spectators mixes with aggressive honking from cars and motorbikes trying to go up and past in the queue. A helicopter drones from the sky. The clock has just passed six on this Thursday evening in August and in only a few moments the otherwise peaceful Løkkeveien in the center of Alta has turned into a pounding main artery in international top cycling.

While the Italian Alberto Dainese and his teammates from Team DSM-Firmenich celebrate the opening victory in the Arctic Race of Norway, a small group of silver and black-clad riders gathers around van Zijp. The 56-year-old is one of a total of six employees in the support staff of the Swiss team Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team who will follow up their cyclists in the Norwegian stage race. Van Zijp hands out drinks and snacks to his men. Not as a reward for the effort during the stage, but as part of a fixed routine after crossing the finish line.

– No, the small treat is not there to spoil our riders, but to give them something to chew on, that they can’t just swallow. Chewing means that the carbohydrate is already broken down in the mouth, which causes the sugar to end up in the blood more quickly. This also starts recovery much earlier, the 56-year-old explains.

Norwegian Carl Fredrik Hagen, team captain of Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team during the stage race, makes his way through the chaos and eventually stops next to his soigneur. In just a few seconds, he pours himself a bottle of recovery drink and fishes out a few bites from the goody bag. Although he has just cycled 170 kilometers in slightly hilly terrain from Kautokeino and through Finnmarksvidda, he does not look significantly tired.

– It was actually a fairly calm stage, he explains, as he chews his way through some chewy pieces of jelly.

– I had good control the whole way..., the 31-year-old continues as he swallows.

– ... just tested my legs a bit on the climb on the final lap here in Alta. I'm feeling good. But you, I just have to take a shower, so I don't get cold, but I'll see you later, Hagen says and rolls to the hotel, which is only a few hundred meters away from the finish line.

For once, he and the other riders in the Arctic Race of Norway avoid one of the annoyingly long bus transfers that are common in professional cycling, but can only roll away to the accommodation for the stage. A welcome change, considering everything else that will happen for the rest of the evening. As the riders, officials and spectators find their way, Løkkeveien also begins to look again like the quiet city street it used to be. The sun casts a golden late summer light over Alta this August evening.

***

It's a quarter past eight when I knock on the door to room 544 at the Scandic hotel overlooking the Northern Lights Cathedral. The furniture in the already cramped double room has been stowed away in a corner to make room for a massage bench. Fruit, muesli mixes, nuts and soya milk are displayed on a small side table. Food to last you until a far too late dinner. From the depths of the room, a low conversation is heard, which is occasionally interrupted by the music from the TV on the wall.

Roxanne Koopman, a young woman whom I met earlier today, when she was handing out bottles to the riders during the stage, nods briefly when she spots me and then continues massaging Carl Fredrik Hagen's legs. Koopman is a physiotherapist at Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team. With each of the concentric movements she performs, her fingertips dig deeper into the thigh muscles of the Norwegian professional cyclist.

– Being mobile is a small but important part of a rider's overall performance. Massage and physiotherapy help the cyclists to be physically prepared for the stress they are exposed to in a race. I find it very rewarding through my job to be able to contribute to them performing better, “Rox” explains her motivation for working with professional cyclists.

In the same way as her colleagues in the support staff at Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team, Koopman has a contract with the team on a daily basis. She works a certain number of days for the cycling team, while the rest of the year she is self-employed in a private gym in Hilversum, the Netherlands, where athletes from several different sports seek her expertise.

– I used to work with footballers, but being a physiotherapist for cyclists is something completely different. In football you have a whole week to get the players ready for the next match, but in cycling it is one evening, which you have to help the riders get in the best possible condition for the next day. Then you also have to deal with more types of injuries than in football. When a rider crashes, you usually have to take into account not only impact injuries, but also abrasions. Cycling is so much more intense, she says.

Koopman is dedicated and meticulous in her work. As she takes care of Hagen's thigh muscles, she moves on to massaging his calves. Then the feet, hip and back. The treatment takes time.

– Does it hurt?, the physiotherapist asks after a while.

– It's ok..., Carl Fredrik Hagen answers, as he bites his lips so as not to have to reveal the pain. Koopman has located several muscle knots on the left side of Hagen's chest, which have arisen as a consequence of a wrong strain after a crash in Tour de Pologne two weeks before, where the Norwegian pro broke three ribs. She massages the chest muscles and stretches Hagen's left arm backwards to stretch the tight muscle fibers. The Norwegian's facial expression can no longer hide the pain.

– It’s exhausting of being in so much pain. Whether it's training, riding or even during a massage, you're actually in pain all the time. Living with pain is part of a cyclist's everyday life, but it is exhausting in the long run, says Hagen, who in his so far five-year long professional career has experienced several painful crashes and injuries. After one hour, the massage is over. Hagen thanks for the treatment and rushes off to dinner so that he can eventually calm down. A cyclist's everyday life is not only about coping with pain, but also about making it on time – to the finish line, massage, dinner or even to bed.

***

The next morning, I meet Koopman again. Before other hotel guests enter the dining room and can occupy the seats, she is busy reserving a table for the riders in the team who, due to a late start to the stage, can sleep late. A luxury that employees in the support staff of a cycling team cannot afford. When the physiotherapist has put out special food, which is not available on the buffet, she checks her phone for the next tasks. Later in the morning, “Rox”, together with her two colleagues Ronald Broersma and Ton de Vaan, will transport the riders' luggage to the next accommodation in Hammerfest and get everything ready in the rooms, but first she will go to the shop.

– What we are going to buy is food for both the riders and the staff, she says when we later get into the car.

– Food that can be eaten before the stage, right after the finish and in the time until dinner, she says.

In the Arctic Race of Norway, where the cycling teams cannot bring their own chefs or food trucks due to logistics, and where the food on offer at the hotels is limited to breakfast and dinner, buying snacks is of extra importance.

At the store, the trolley is gradually filled with nuts, fruit, quark, rice cakes, tinned tuna and bottled water. Orange soda, wine gum, chocolate and small cinnamon rolls also end up in the basket. Koopman knows that the nutritional content of the food is not everything, but that it can also help to increase morale in the team. When the next day, during the start of the stage in Hammerfest, it will be pouring down with single-digit temperatures, her foresight will prove to be worth its weight in gold.

Half an hour later, “Rox” then puts the goods in the car and checks the receipt. The food she has bought for six riders and six employees in the support staff comes to around GPB 110.

– Inflation means that food prices only increase and when the team participates in races in countries with high living costs such as in Switzerland or Norway, we notice this especially well, Koopman says.

– Nutrition has become a very important focus area at all levels. The riders must have the right supplements at the right time and therefore more and more money is spent on food in professional cycling both directly and indirectly. For example, several more people are now also involved in feeding the riders during the rides. There is almost a sort of war going on as to who can provide the most resources on provisioning. And of course, large teams with good finances always have an advantage here. It is clear that riders, who constantly get food and bottles from the side of the road, save energy when not to have to fetch it from the team car. Then they are not at the mercy of the race situation to such a large extent, but get the necessary energy much more regularly, “Rox” explains.

On the way back to the hotel, I suddenly get a text. It’s the director sportive at Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team who has sent me a message. “Marcus, there will be a team meeting in my room at eleven o'clock. You are welcome to join. Rik”. Tactics meetings, such as the one I have been invited to, form a central component of professional cycling and fulfill an important purpose. The meetings give the teams the opportunity to make a plan for the day on how to achieve their sporting goals. Team meetings usually take place in the teams' buses right at the start area, but in the Arctic Race of Norway, where it is logistically inadvisable to transfer the teams' car fleet from Central Europe to Northern Norway for just a few days, it is necessary to improvise.

When I pop into one of the anonymous hotel rooms at the Scandic hotel a few minutes before eleven, which for the occasion will function as a command centre, Rik Reinerink is just setting up his small laptop. A Powerpoint presentation flickers on the screen. The tall, bald man in his early fifties, who during the Arctic Race of Norway is the responsible sports director at Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team, was a professional cyclist himself in the late 1990s and early 2000s and knows the structures of cycling inside out. He has therefore developed a clear opinion about how he should exercise his role as team leader.

– In the same way as I am a family man. I raise my children by telling them what to do, but try to make them think for themselves, challenge them and let them make their own choices based on the discussions we have. This is also how I relate to the riders on the team. I'm not concerned with hierarchies and I don't see myself as better just because I'm a sports director, but it's important that the riders understand that it's my job to make demands and have expectations that they must meet, Reinerink says.

– Good morning, it suddenly comes from the other end of the room.

Carl Fredrik Hagen has turned up and – with a lack of alternatives – sits down at the hotel bed. The 31-year-old is precise on time and first out of all the riders at Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team. It is obvious that the team captain wants to lead also in terms of discipline and seriousness. A few minutes later, the Pole Kamil Małecki, the Spaniard Marcel Camprubi and the Australian Cyrus Monk also sneak into the hotel room. Only the Italian duo Alessandro Fedeli and Walter Calzoni keep them waiting.

– Okay guys..., Reinerink opens the tactics meeting when the team finally is complete.

– ... today's stage is about two things: wind and positioning. Carl and Kamil are our best cards in the race, so I want the rest of you to do everything you can to protect them. Keep them out of the wind and get them into position. A lot of crosswinds have been reported, especially when we change direction here, Reinerink explains as he points to some map sections in the presentation.

The riders are concentrated and pay close attention, while the sports director interprets the course and the stage profile. They ask short follow-up questions and gradually begin to discuss with each other which specific tasks every team member must solve. Carl Fredrik Hagen then takes control of the conversation.

– We have to be alert and stay at the front right from the start, because Uno-X will try to blow up the peloton at some point. If they can't get it done while crossing the plateau, where it is completely open, they will try again once we get to Kvaløya, Hagen predicts.

A few hours later, the Norwegian cycling team Uno-X attacks in the crosswinds over Sennalandet and blows up the field. While many riders frantically fight not to lose contact with the first echelon, Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team sits at the front with its key riders. Hagen's authority and experience have meant that the team on the second stage of the Arctic Race of Norway succeeds in its objective of getting both he and the Pole Kamil Małecki safely to the finish line without losing time. Only a pouring rain and arctic temperatures on the way to Hammerfest put a damper on the good feeling on this day.

Soaking wet, frostbitten and in great pain, Hagen and the other riders are met by Adriaan van Zijp at the finish line. The soigneur distributes extra jackets and dry gloves, before sending the cyclists down from the summit they have just climbed up to. In just a few minutes, the finish area is empty again. It is all about getting a warm shower as quickly as possible that day.

The dry weather this Saturday morning in Hammerfest will not last. At the same time as the first teams turn up for sign-in at the town hall square, it starts to rain. Not extreme, but steady as it can rain on a late summer day in August up in Northern Norway. In an effort to keep warm, the riders of Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team have donned rain jackets, hats and neck warmers, but are still shivering as they stand on stage and are introduced to the audience. The riders willingly line up for short press interviews and selfies with young supporters. They smile for the cameras and show the thumbs up in a weather where even outdoor enthusiasts had chosen to stay at home. Professional cyclists, I think as I walk over to the team car, are expected not only to perform physically at any given time, but also to be mentally sharp at all times, whereby the latter condition is at least as energy-demanding.

At the front of the team car, I meet Rik Reinerink, who is trying to incite his men to battle. He hands out pats on the back and high fives, as the riders put on extra clothes, gloves and shoe covers. Only the Italian Alessandro Fedeli chooses not to do either.

– You only get even colder when your clothes get wet, he says and puts several gels in the back pocket of his jersey.

– We can't do anything about the weather..., I hear Carl Fredrik Hagen say to an elderly lady who is watching the riders' preparations from a folding chair on the pavement. The lady likes his attitude.

– ... you know my grandson is a kind of climate refugee and has moved south to Drøbak, but I like myself better here, she says with a sharp northern Norwegian dialect. She gains even greater sympathy for the Norwegian professional cyclist, when Hagen tells her that he is from Oppegård and on his training rides regularly stops by at the small town along the Oslo Fjord.

Right next to me, Kamil Małecki has taken refuge from the rain at the entrance to a house and looks at me worriedly. The Pole is the one among the riders who seems to be the least motivated to have to throw himself into a rainy stage.

– Guys, I have a surprise for you, suddenly a voice with a Spanish accent says. It's Edgar Coso Ferrer, one of the mechanics at Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team. The Spaniard is the very definition of joy and positivity and therefore loved by everyone in the team. He sees that the riders need more than just a pat on the back to get through the stage and has therefore started handing out chocolates and cinnamon rolls to them.

– Don't tell Rik. He's going to kill me, the Spanish mechanic says and starts laughing.

The riders promise to keep their mouths shut and even Kamil Małecki can't help but smile. Professional cycling is not only about breaking down the sport into numbers and algorithms and chasing marginal gains at all costs, but also about seeing the people, the individuals in the whole. While the six endorphin-fueled pros roll to the start, I jump into the team car. Together with Rik and Edgar, I will follow the third stage of the Arctic Race of Norway from where it actually happens. On the road.

– There is little we can do now, Rik says when Radio Tour ten kilometers into the race informs about which cyclists have formed a breakaway.

After an intense opening on the stage to Havøysund, none of the pre-designated riders at Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team have managed to join the break. The team tactic of putting pressure on the other teams by placing a rider in the breakaway has not worked. Instead of shaping the first phase of the stage, the riders in the Swiss professional team now have to readjust and for the time just have to wait.

The same applies to us at the back. As car sixteen in the line of team cars, a number that mirrors Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team's position in the team ranking, we are relegated to having to slide along in the endless cortege and wait to see what happens. We are so far back in the queue that we can't even see the peloton anymore. Only occasionally, when the road winds around one of the many waves on Kvaløya, we do spot some riders in the distance.

At least the sun has begun to peek out from behind the rain clouds and makes the rugged northern Norwegian nature seem more welcoming. Precisely the sun also ensures that suddenly life comes to both the peloton and the queue of team cars at the back. Out of nowhere several riders call for their team cars to deliver excess clothes. Rik Reinerink is also told to come up to the back of the peloton. Within seconds there is chaos all around us.

Everywhere there are riders steering with unruly rain jackets, riders hanging on to cars, riders who have stopped to pee and riders being paced back to the peloton. It seems that screaming and honking at these moments is the Esperanto of the peloton.

– We tried everything we could, but we couldn't make it, Marcel Camprubi shouts into the car, handing over the rain jackets from his teammates.

Reinerink nods, takes the gear and, in the same movement, hands out bottles out of the car without taking his eyes off the road. He gives the young Spaniard a few instructions and sends him back up to his teammates. Then the sports director of Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team allows himself to fall back to his assigned place at the back of the car queue and smiles. The stress of keeping track of riders, motorcycles and other cars has been palpable, but fifty-year-old Rik Reinerink seems to be in his element.

– When I stopped my career, I was really sick of cycling. I was sick of the doping that was practiced in the peloton and saw no prospects in the sport. I eventually started working as a controller in private business, but quickly realized that an office job not suits me. It's situations like this that I love. When I was offered a role at Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team before the season, it was therefore an easy choice to make, Rik says.

In the coming kilometers, the Dutchman gives short instructions to his riders over the radio. He provides information on details of the course that are displayed on a tablet that he has set up in the car. The sports director warns of possible crosswinds as soon as the feed zone in Olderfjord is passed and is not mistaken. As soon as the peloton faces north on the Porsanger Peninsula, attacks blow up the field. The distance between the individual groups also means that the team cars end up further and further behind the front. If one of the riders at Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team now gets a mechanical, it will take several minutes before he can get help from the car.

The fact that it has also started to rain again does not reduce the risk of technical trouble any less. But things are getting worse. When we later get stuck behind a group of riders who got dropped by the peloton, because the commissaire won't let us past, we gradually lose radio communication with our guys. Edgar in the back of the car takes out his mobile phone and follows the TV broadcast from the stage to keep us updated on the progress of the race. But on the climb up to Kirkedalen we additionally lose mobile coverage and are completely groping in the blind. For more than two miles we have no information whatsoever about what is going on a few kilometers ahead of us on the course. We do not know whether any of the riders in the team need help or who is still at the front.

Modern cycling, as seen from the outside, often creates the impression that the sports directors pull the strings and are in full control at any given time. In fact, the truth is that the riders often have to manage the tactics themselves during a race and make decisions on their own.

Only when we are at Havøysund we do get mobile coverage and radio contact again. Alessandro Fedeli and Carl Fredrik Hagen are still in the front group and are well placed in the steep climb up to the wind farm. But as the percentages increase and the riders begin to work more and more with their upper body, an opponent suddenly touches away in Hagen, so that the Norwegian has to click out of the pedals. Not only does he lose his flow, but also the chance for a good result. Together with the Italian Fedeli, Hagen finishes twenty seconds down to the winner Stephen Williams from Israel Premier-Tech.

Frustration spreads in the team car. The sports director of Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team had expected more from his riders on the queen stage of the Arctic Race of Norway. He knows that the race is over as far as the general classification is concerned.

– It wasn't good enough today, Reinerink sums up succinctly.

– I was so cold that I couldn't even get my heart rate up, Carl Fredrik Hagen says at the finish a short time later.

– Of course, I'm disappointed, he says trembling.

The efforts have colored the 31-year-old's face white. His still broken ribs hurt no less now.

***

24 hours later, Adriaan van Zijp and I stand behind the finish line on the North Cape and hold our breath. 22-year-old Walter Calzoni has attacked out of the breakaway group that he has been in all day and has a small lead over the favorites. In the hunt for the stage victory, the neo-pro at Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team turns his inside out. He knows he can get his first pro win. The time gap to the pursuers is shrinking, but with seven hundred meters to go the young Italian still leads by five seconds. Only when two hundred and fifty meters remain, he will be caught.

The Italian is heartbroken and looks uncomprehendingly at his soigneur.

Adriaan van Zjip meets the 22-year-old with open arms, ready to comfort him. His teammates also gather around Calzoni, pat him on the shoulder and try to lift him back up. Although Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team did not get a long-awaited stage win in the end, the team marked the final stage of the Arctic Race of Norway.

– This is how I want you to ride, boys. You can certainly be proud of what you have achieved today, Rik Reinerink praises his riders as they eventually change clothes at the team car.

The mood in the team has turned. Yesterday's disappointments over an unsuccessful queen stage are forgotten. The performance of Walter Calzoni has taken away the pressure of having to show off in the Arctic Race of Norway. For the first time since the start of the race four days ago, both the riders and the support staff at Q36.5 Pro Cycling Team can lower their shoulders.

The victory ceremony, where Walter Calzoni is later hailed as the most aggressive rider on the stage, is like redemption for the whole team. But it is not an occasion to let impressions sink. As soon as Adriaan and Edgar have stowed away the bikes and equipment, we have to rush to the hotel. Professional cycling is a caravan that never stops, but only moves on. Jumping into the car, I take one last look back at the North Cape. I wonder how it feels to be in the most spectacular places in the world without ever having the time to experience them.

– Of course, it's strange, but if it hadn't been for cycling, we would never have gotten to such places once, Edgar answers laconically.

– Having time is perhaps something you miss the most as a mechanic?, I ask, when later outside the hotel I watch how the 32-year-old prepares the riders' bikes for transport back to the team's Service Course.

During the evening, all of the team's bikes that were used in the Arctic Race of Norway must be cleaned, disassembled and packed away. Edgar and his colleague Ronald will have to work hard until well into the night to finish the task. As he oils the chain, removes the seat post and packs Carl Fredrik Hagen's road bike, the Spaniard answers my question.

– Yes, that is correct. It's a hectic job being a mechanic in a professional team, but my attitude is that it’ll take the time it takes to go over the bikes. If it results in long evenings, then so be it. Many people think that being a mechanic is an easy and pleasant job, that you just travel around the world and tinker with bikes every now and then. But the truth is that you have to sacrifice a lot. My last relationship broke up because I was away from home so much. If you don't love your job, if you don't see it as part of a lifestyle, you'll probably quit sooner rather than later. Fortunately, I love cycling, perhaps much more than anything else, the Spaniard says and sets off on the next bike.