Hard, Harder, The GOATS - An Unvarnished First-Hand Account by Tatiana Myk

Tatiana Myk is an adventurer from Berlin whose life revolves around cycling. Professionally, she works as a Marketing Manager for the Berlin-based bicycle manufacturer 8bar Bikes. In her free time, she participates in bikepacking races, where she swears by SUPERNOVA lighting. One of these races last year was "The GOATS" in Portugal.

750 kilometers. 17,000 meters of elevation gain. Six mountain ranges. Definitely quite a challenge. But these numbers only tell half the story. What truly defines The GOATS is the sheer diversity of landscapes, strung together like pearls along Portugal’s major rivers. Starting in Penhas da Saúde, the route leads up to Alto da Torre, the highest point on mainland Portugal at 1,993 meters.

So far, so good—if it weren’t for the weather playing a decisive role. Although Portugal is known for its mild climate, mountain conditions can change dramatically in an instant. Participants experienced this firsthand when Storm Kirk forced more than half the field to drop out. Perhaps this is why the organizers are considering moving the race to June in 2025—although they admit with a smile that, with The GOATS, you never really know what to expect.

What did Tatiana expect from this extraordinary adventure, and how did she handle it? She shares her insights in this exclusive interview.

What started as a fun race for a duo turned into true survival of the fittest. How did you experience the race, and what are your thoughts with a bit of distance?

It has now been over three months since the race, and as I recover from an intense season, I reflect on my 2024. Only now do I truly begin to grasp just how challenging The GOATS in Portugal was.

Of course, I had my own expectations for this race.

First, I had never been to Portugal before and was eager to explore the country. I believe that ultra-distance races offer a great way not only to discover unique corners of our planet but also to visit small, authentic villages and connect with locals through casual conversations.

Second, my partner, Bruno Ferraro, and I planned to ride this race as a pair, making it both a challenge and our vacation.

And third, the weather—I had dreamed of Portugal being warm and sunny in October after enduring endless rain at nearly all the other events I had participated in.

Unfortunately, our sunny adventure-challenge turned into yet another never-ending rain survival tour: 750 km and 17,000 meters of elevation on soaked gravel, with torrential downpours and two storms within five days.

What was tougher - the weather or the physical and mental challenge?

To be honest, everything was hard at first. But the biggest challenge was simply getting to the start line with a race-ready bike and without getting sick. Right before the race, I started experiencing back pain, and just two days before my flight to Portugal, my bottom bracket broke.

Then came race day. We stood in the rain, waiting for the start signal, and I had neither motivation nor energy left. Somehow, the first 48 hours passed under the motto: "Why did I sign up for this again?" By that point, my partner and I had already been caught in heavy rain five times. We had no dry clothes left, a bruise on my palm from a fall on the first day had darkened and hurt, and my gears were struggling due to mud and moisture.

The route did not pass through many small villages, and because of the fog and rain, we could barely see the mountain landscapes around us. Since our slow pace meant we had to stick to our plan, we rode for five to six hours in darkness each day.

On the third day, my partner Bruno lost his motivation. We tried hard not to argue, but under such conditions, it is incredibly difficult to stay happy and optimistic.

I think that moment was a turning point for me. I simply accepted the wet reality and focused on reaching the finish while trying to stay as positive as possible. Can’t shift down? Bunny-hop it. No food in the village? At least there’s a tree full of ripe persimmons! Muscle soreness? At least no saddle sores. Four downpours? At least it’s not a hurricane. A hurricane outside? Then we get to sleep longer and start later.

When we got stuck in a storm at the Caramulo mountain pass, we found a mountain hut with a fireplace and a friendly Portuguese forester. After four days in wet clothes, we stank? No problem—we rode into town, stopped at a laundromat, and washed and dried our gear.

Every problem had a solution and a silver lining, which was reassuring. It became a kind of mental game. Our planning horizon was 12 hours: set realistic distance goals and then sleep in a dry bed after a hot shower.

Can you ever truly prepare for such events?

Not really. We had a chat group for race participants, and just three weeks before the start, we were discussing wildfires in Portugal and monitoring if they would reach the race route. Then, one week before the race, everyone suddenly started buying rubber gloves and waterproof bags.

Since I had already prepared for the worst at the Mother North race in Norway in August, I simply swapped out my "sunny setup" for my "rain setup." Once on site, I realized I just had to work with what I had—Portugal wasn’t going to offer me different weather. So, I accepted the situation, adapted, and tried to see the positives even in the toughest moments.

What are your key takeaways from the GOATS Event?

1. Prepare your bike at least a month before the race, not just a few days before departure.
   
   

2. Races are not a relaxing vacation. There should be downtime before and after the race to avoid stress and exhaustion.
   
   

3. Stick to my "Ultra Care" strategy. This is my personal hygiene and skin care routine for ultra-distance races. Thanks to these rules, I had no issues in Portugal, proving how crucial proper care is, especially for people with vulvas during extreme endurance events.

Solo or as a team - what are the pros and cons?

Cons:

• Longer stop times for breaks, food, and repairs.
  
  

• Different riding speeds and preferences can create tension.
  
  

• Mental strain—under pressure, negativity can surface, leading to arguments.
  
  
  

Pros:

• It’s much less scary riding in the dark with a partner.
  
  

• Shared moments of joy.
  
  

• Mutual support, both mechanical and moral.

The weather at last year's edition not only demanded mental power but especially challenged the equipment. Were you worried about your gear? Did you have concerns about product quality?

I think everything worked or didn't work according to the conditions. Of course, I was very worried about the electronics. I was afraid that my navigation device or phone might fail. Or that my SUPERNOVA light might give up in the darkest corner of the forest, in the middle of the rain... But in the end, everything worked excellently and reliably! I didn't have any problems with the lighting throughout the entire time!

However, due to accumulated dirt and the lack of ability to clean the bike daily, I had problems with the gear shifting. Especially on climbs, when the chain was supposed to go to the largest rear sprocket, it refused to shift back down. Each time I had to do a bunny hop, after which the gears would finally shift down again.

Everything was wet. If not completely soaked, then at least damp. This moisture was our constant companion throughout the 5.5 days of the race. Of course, this affected the smell of the bags and shoes. But I dealt with that after the race: Everything was thoroughly washed, cleaned, and disinfected with vinegar.

You also ride a lot in the dark and have recently been using our products - can good and reliable lighting contribute to well-being/ performance at night?

Definitely yes. Here's the thing: I've had two eye surgeries and used to have -8 diopters. Now I have -2 and ride with Alba sports glasses that have an additional clip with diopters. I don't wear contact lenses, and the double glass in the glasses definitely doesn't help me see better in the dark.

During such a race, eyes become very tired from wind and rain throughout the day, so I knew I needed a good front light. It was a real surprise for me that a single light on the bike is sufficient! With previous lights, this was never the case. I had to use an additional helmet light.

For the GOATS, I chose the larger SUPERNOVA B54 MAX. It's bigger, heavier, but also more powerful than the B54 PRO. For mounting, I used an additional bracket and didn't attach it directly to the navigation device holder. Since I rode an MTB with a straight handlebar, I had enough space for all devices. The light with its curved mount fit perfectly under the navigation device in the center of the handlebar. This meant the light beam wasn't shifted left or right, and I could clearly see everything in front of me, in the distance, and at the edges.

The switch for changing between high and low beam was conveniently placed next to the right grip, so I could operate it without taking my hand off the handlebar.

I used it frequently. Imagine a single trail leading around a lake, with rain-washed sandy descents and steep passages that you have to climb on foot. Or rapidly changing landscapes from eucalyptus forests to open asphalt roads. In such moments, you sometimes need extremely bright light, while on asphalt or climbs, less light is sufficient to conserve battery.

Nevertheless, I charged the battery every day, but the lighting time was always sufficient for 5-6 hours of riding. In fact, I even achieved a QOM on a long, technical gravel descent at night.

I can definitely say that the SUPERNOVA light gave me much more confidence when riding in the dark.

You ride a lot both privately and professionally - now also considerably more often in the dark due to the season. Is lighting just a product for your visibility, and comfort? What are your experiences here?

Since the race, my MTB has been waiting for its big moment when I finally find time to have it checked by a mechanic. However, with my gravel bike, the 8bar Mitte Titan, and the smaller SUPERNOVA B54 PRO light, I've covered 1600 km from mid-October to the end of January.

On my gravel bike, the light is mounted directly on the navigation device holder. This is elegant, space-saving, and perfect for my small 38 cm dropbar. For me, light is a combination of comfort and safety – both for myself and other road users.

In October and November, I organized social rides. During these rides, which included participants of various skill levels, it was particularly important to see well where you're going and keep track of other riders. 90% of my rides are on gravel routes, and autumn in Berlin often means wet and slippery leaves in the forest. Since I was home after 4-5 hours of riding, I never saved on light (and battery consumption). During group rides, I always had the light set to full power.

In November, my friends and I organized an overnighter tour. That night, the temperature dropped to as low as -1 degree, and we had to collect many branches and wood for the campfire. To better orient ourselves in the dark forest, we used my Supernova light as a standing light source. This was incredibly practical for illuminating the path well.

At the end of December, I rode my gravel bike to Spain for a month. There, my friend and I often returned home to Alicante after dark. The way home usually led over busy roads. To ensure all drivers could see me well, I always used the high beam.

Unfortunately, collisions between cars and cyclists aren't rare. That's why it's particularly important for me to be visible early on. When drivers are considerate and change to the other lane to give us space, I thank them with a quick flash signal using the mode switch on the handlebar. This way, I stay safe, and the drivers appreciate the small gesture.

Text: Tatiana Myk, David Gedanitz, Levin Sottru

Photos: Bruno Ferraro