The “Festive 500” Recap.
After the almost “fatal” attempt to complete the Festive 500 in one go two years ago, the idea resurfaced this year—slightly wiser, but no less ambitious. The concept was refreshed by my friend Jeroen and immediately embraced by Luca. Nestor, unfortunately, could not commit to the full challenge this time.
The date was initially set for 29 December, but a few days before the ride we decided to move it to the 28th, due to an unfavourable rain forecast.
Our starting point was Nicosia. Jeroen had spent the night at my place, while Luca arrived in style—riding through the night from Limassol. Nestor also drove to Nicosia to join us for the first part of the challenge. And as tradition dictates, first things first: at 7:30 a.m. we stopped for an espresso at Amber & Joe’s, where we met the final member of the group, Costas Artutovich.
With the team complete, the anxiety settled in—and our journey into the unknown began.
The plan was to ride around the island of Cyprus, avoiding the northern occupied areas, apart from a very short section. The weather was exactly what you’d hope for in a Cypriot December: sunshine, mild temperatures, and—most importantly—a tailwind for most of the day.
Two short but essential breaks at 80 km and 130 km allowed us to refuel and mentally prepare for the first half of the challenge. That half conveniently ended at Jeroen’s place in Limassol, where Carolien was waiting for us with warm pasta, tomato and ricotta, plus some meat for the non-vegetarians. A hot shower and a fresh cycling kit before heading out again turned out to be the wisest decision of the entire ride.
The second half started at 10:45 p.m. The temperature hovered around 11–12°C, ideal for night riding, and our first rendezvous with the support car came soon after. Three hours later, at 340 km, we met Carolien again—this time for what would become the most essential fuel of the day: trachanas soup. Absolute gold.
As the night progressed, energy levels dropped faster and the temperature followed. This was, without doubt, my hardest moment. Feeling cold, sitting steadily behind Costas’ and Jeroen’s wheels, pedalling continuously—trying to stay warm, or at least less cold—and simply survive.
Around 370 km, the wind shifted and hit us straight in the face. That’s when we knew we had to dig really deep to make it to the finish. We started encouraging each other, reminding ourselves that if we’d made it this far, we had to finish.
Another stop at 410 km, another bowl of trachanas, and things slowly began to improve. Not long after, the sun rose, the temperature climbed, and so did morale.
Our final stop came at 465 km, just a quick refreshment. The remaining distance felt endless, but once we passed Pyrga and Kornos, we knew the end was close. We finished near my house, riding a few extra loops around the neighbourhood to make sure we hit the magic 500 km mark.
To make things interesting, my Hammerhead died about 4 km before the end—meaning I had to ride extra to be absolutely sure the distance was completed.
And in the end—what was left?
Nothing more than pride. Not just for the 500 km itself, but for all the small wins along the way: pushing through exhaustion, managing fatigue, staying focused on the goal, leaning on friends, and that powerful reminder that we are capable of far more than we think.
