There is only one way to describe La Ruta and that is brutal. No doubt the four days certainly lived up to its billing as the toughest mountain bike race in the world. Rich (my racing partner) and I felt suitably tested and inspired by the whole experience.

Day 1: (Jaco Beach to San Jose) 112 kms, 12 hrs 45 mins, 6,500 kcal.

The morning of the race was a typically idillic Costa Rican morning. The Pacific looked calm and the mountains looked stunning in the early morning light. To call the first day a mountain bike race probably doesn’t give it justice; it was a race with a bike. The first hour set the scene 30 mins riding and 30 mins carrying the bike over the unpassable terrain. This was only set to get worse as we hit the jungle. The hurricane and floods the week before had caused a series of landslides and had contorted the terrain as we spent 2:30 hrs carrying our bikes in the relentless heat through rivers, foliage and across the clay mud. It had to be seen to be believed, a mere 6kms was covered in this time. Riding was near on impossible and my brief attempt to do so resulted with me flying over the handlebars.

After six hours of this we passed the jungle and the terrain improved. The environment and landscape continued to keep us inspired. The reception we got from the locals was also incredible with the children spraying us with hosepipes whilst demanding our signatures, quite an art whilst cycling.

We had been on the bike for nine hours and were into to the mountains, working hard on the hills and approx 50 kms from the end. The light was fading fast and suddenly I found myself in black inky darkness with still two hours to go and no lights on my bike. The day slowly turning into a nightmare as navigation of obstacles and avoidance of heavy haulage on the road became increasingly difficult in the dark.

My will was tested further after scaling a huge hill near the finish I was told I had gone wrong. On cycling all the way back down I was greeted by three Mexican cyclists cycling up. I quickly turned around cursing the ladies advice and stuck close to them as one of the riders fortunately had a head torch.

On arrival at the finish line, I had completed what was a mammoth day. Probably among one of the most memorable in experience of racing.

A word of praise must be made for Rich (my riding partner) who had flown in two days prior, jet lagged and knackered, after marching 280 miles for ‘Help for Heroes’. He just stopped kms short of the finish on day one due to light but put in a colossal effort burning over 10,500 calories in his exertions.

Day 2: (San Jose to Tres Rios) 78 kms, 9 hrs 30 mins

Up again at the accustomed 04:30 with very little in the tank. Today was going to be all about survival and trying to get some energy back into the body. The day started with little time to warm up as we found ourselves spending the first 2hrs climbing up ridiculously sized mountains. When God made Costa Rica he certainely didn’t design it to be crossed by bike. No amount of training in the UK could of adequately prepared us for the mountains in front of us. There were no easy km’s you were either cycling up vertical hills or holding on for dear life down technical descents. The bike started to complain as the various gears and cogs stopped working at various parts of the day. The day passed in a blur whilst I made every effort to try and appreciate the beautiful country around us. Much relief was felt when we finished before 16:00 at least giving us some time to recover.

Only this time I was greeted by the news that Ale (my Costa Rican Girlfriend) had the window of her car smashed on the highway whilst driving over to meet us. Luckily the best attempts of the robber to steel the luggage out of the car were prevented.

Day 3: (Tres Rios to Turriabla) 82 kms, 8 hrs 32 mins.

Still suffering from the exertions of the previous days we were greeted by the news that today would involve ascending up to 3,000 metres as part of a 44km climb. The views were stunning the climb slowly sucked every once of energy from your body at the top we were greeted by the magnificent views of Volcan Irazu. The altitude and temperature noticeable along with my saddle sores!

At the top we then had a descent of 33 kms into Turriabla where I worked with Raleigh (a development charity) in 2006. This was going to be a emotional journey down memory lane. I think the descent worried me more than the ascent after a couple of falls the previous days. I was told the descent would be tough even for the accomplished mountain bikers with scree and big rocks making it treacherous. They were right. I have never descended on any terrain like it before. After an hour passed the terrain eased and I spent the next two hours descending in the brilliant sunshine.

I have cycled across Europe but never had such a spectacular couple of hours on the bike. The sweeping roads and downhill through the mountains seemed endless arriving in sunny Turriabla starting to feel refreshed.

Day 4: (Turriabla to Puerto Limon) 122 kms, 8hrs 15 mins

I started the last day feeling revitalised. Glad that I had reached the final day in one piece. Despite the day being the longest the terrain

would ensure it was the shortest. It was great to see the changing terrain transform to one more dominated by the Caribbean, as we cycled past countless coco, sugar cane and banana fields. The rain came down but nothing could stop the smiles, until I reached the rail road bridges!

Picture this; there used to be a railway transferring produce from the centre of Costa Rica out to the Port of Limon. This has been disused for years but the bridges across still exist despite their deteriorated condition. To cross the bridges is rather unconventional as you have to step from one wooden sleeper to the next despite the gaps in between them. Some of these sleepers are rotten and others are simply missing requiring you to bound across a meter gap. This can be precarious at the best of times but when you are holding a bike, wearing slippy bike shoes, in the rain, got tired legs and the added pressure of gaggles of local children waiting to see a tourist fall this only becomes worse. Planks were placed down the day before by the organisers but had been stolen. Stories were told between the riders of those who had lost their bikes in previous years and nearly had nasty falls.

On my arrival at the first bridge that must have been 40 ft long I was greeted by three cyclists going the other way. I have done a few scary things in my time but these crossings were interesting. The words ringing of one German rider who was behind me, claiming: ’That this would never happen in Europe! He was right but we got across taking some time to improve my technique.

Finally 10 kms from the finish the route took us along the beach and through waist height waters caused by the floods. At this stage I couldn’t feel fazed and crossing the finish line on the beach was immensely rewarding despite having to hunt down my finish medal.

It was an amazing experience and a fantastic country. Thanks to Rich and Ale for all their support and help along the way. Rich got stronger each day and finished with a flourish.