More than dots

I watch name bubbles inch their way across an electronic map. There is something utterly gripping about the stripped back nature of “dotwatching”. We are left to fill in the gaps ourselves; the weather, rider’s fatigue, the terrain in which they are moving through, whether the cafe in the next town will still be open when they arrive, or whether the slow puncture that resists all attempts at repair will finally give in. The experience feels like a natural extension of my teenage self waiting for the BBC Ceefax teletext service on a Sunday afternoon to refresh, watching its pages tick over until it reached the latest rugby scores. In some ways, that felt more tense than standing in the terraces. There was no build up, no ebb and flow, no clue as to when a try may be scored. Just the cold, hard statistics. I’m not sure whether I would have been able to support a team remotely week in, week out. I needed to know whether my favourite player had scored with a trademark flourish, see how hard the team had fought, smell the liniment as they ran out onto the pitch, hear the impact of a tackle during a lull in the crowd’s chanting and see the elation or disappointment on their faces as they left the pitch after 80 minutes. 

By its very nature – and for very obvious reasons – ultra distance racing has never been and never will be a live spectator sport in quite the same way as even a Grand Tour bike race, never mind a sport that can be conducted on a pitch or in an arena. Yet for as long as there have been modern bikepacking races, people have wanted to keep track of the riders and experience the race unfolding in as close to real time as possible. 

In 2008, my late wife (and before I knew her) raced along the Tour Divide route. This was a period during which trackers had not yet become de rigueur, and the only way to keep track of riders fortunes (and misfortunes) was to listen in to their collated call-ins. Short phone messages from the road; sometimes expansive stories of their last few days of adventure, sometimes terser and more strained. Sometimes a one-way counselling session, sometimes a final “dear John” message to the race, explaining they were scratching. In a Dorset farmhouse, my wife’s father had a map of the US hung on a wall, stretching from ceiling to floor. And a single pin edged its way southwards until it reached the Mexican border. To him, and to many, many others the pin – or more recently to others, a dot – was much more than a point on a map.

Starting at the start

24 May 2025. It’s the day before the start of the third edition of the Hellenic Mountain Race. Riders sign on and there is the usual bristle of excitement, mixed with nerves. The full Mountain Race Media Team walk amongst them and records their feelings. Mel Webb records snippets for the pre-race daily podcast. She shares running jokes carried over from the Atlas Mountain Race, held just a few weeks earlier and her first time taking on the role of overseeing media and producing the daily podcast for the Mountain Races. She also knows the Hellenic Race intimately from the riders perspective, having been in their exact position two years ago. Before the racers have started their almost 900km journey into the remote Greek mountains, the daily podcast is edited, narrated and live.

The media team

Car 1

Chris Trees (Driver)

Nelson Trees (Race Director)

Evgeni Chisyakov (Videographer)

Nils Laengner (Photographer)

Car 2

Guilhem Athiel (Driver)

Lloyd Wright (Photographer)

Car 3

Jan Poller (Driver)

Stephen Shelesky (Photographer) 

Mel Webb (Media manager and maker of the race podcast)

Ben Crannell (Sound Designer)

Colouring in the map

Just over a week later and the last rider has whooped their way down the last long descent to the coastal finish line. Mel and Nelson Trees – the founder and Race Director of the Mountain Race series – are still decompressing. We spend a couple of hours chatting about the evolution of media coverage of ultra racing and the challenges of making it happen. 

We start by reflecting on what the media coverage brings to those like me, who were following along from their laptops and mobile phones, from the office and bed and sofa. It is quite simple really. The race media; photography, film and social media posts and the podcasts, bring life to the dots. They fill in the gaps, tell stories, express the challenges and glories, and they provide an outlet for the personalities. The result is a fuller picture of the experience, both in (close to) real time and after the event. We knew that eventual race winner, Alex McCormack, was looking more tired and less composed as he had done in his earlier Atlas Mountain Race, and that perhaps he isn’t superhuman after all. Again, the dots told us that Shona Oldfield and Rich Naylor were riding as a pair and those of us who know them will know they were riding their trusty tandem. But it was the podcast that filled in the gaps of what it’s actually like to be clinging on as the stoker while Rich resolutely refuses to touch the brakes. 

The dots don’t give us golden hour, nor the shadows of mountains in a starry sky. The dots don’t give us the soundscape of feet crunching up a steep track and the click of a freewheel and a few breathless words. The dots don’t give us the details of meals ordered (mostly chicken, chips and salad by the sounds of things), strange bivvy locations or sleep-deprived hallucinations.

Telling the story of the race

“When I started out with the races and planned how I wanted their story to be told there were two goals: to bring the adventures that the riders were having to life and to inspire those following the race to go on their own. I've always tried to provide as comprehensive a perspective as possible, with elements of the media team spread throughout the field. It is a race of course so there is more attention towards the front of the field but I've always wanted to highlight the efforts of everyone who takes part.”

Nelson explains how fundamental the coverage is to the ethos of his races. The world of ultra-distance racing can sometimes feel rarified and out of reach of a ‘normal’ rider. 

“Mel has done a great job of furthering this aim, increasing the homogeneity of the overall coverage and helping to point out areas for improvement. Our coverage of the women's race has definitely improved since she joined the team. By having a media team that is spread out across the whole field, we are able to contrast the almost alien performances of those up front, with those towards the back of the pack. It shows that in many respects quite normal people are able to take on these great challenges and inspires others to do the same. At the same time it brings back those very pointy end performances to a more human realm and grounds the whole thing when we hear from the winners at the end of the race and realise that they are also human beings who face the same struggles as everyone else in the field.”

Look through the Hellenic Instagram pages (including the reels), listen back to the podcasts and those aims are overwhelmingly achieved. The stories told exemplify what makes ultra racing so special; give humans a challenge that sits right on the boundary of what is possible (whether that particular challenge is to win or simply to finish) and magic happens. The media team successfully celebrates the beauty of the race, aesthetically, but also humanistically. The magnificent highs are tempered by moments of desperation, exhaustion, inspiration and humour. 

That this is achievable at all is remarkable, that it is done so professionally and within the dynamic, never stopping racing environment is all the more astonishing.

Ultra endurance documentation

Visit the Mountain Races website and you can replay the race tracker at hyper speed. Days of racing are compressed into a couple of minutes. Set it running and press pause somewhere around the three day mark. As the leaders are rolling towards the finish, the pack is spread out across a few hundred kilometers behind them. 181 riders are living their own stories, from eyeing victory to trying to work out the practicalities of getting themselves and their broken bike off a mountain side and to the finish line. How do you even begin to go about trying to cover that?

Mel runs through the basics of the logistics. “There are three control cars in total, with photographers and a videographer spread across all three. Nelson is in Control Car 1 at the head of the race. Control Car 2 follows the women’s race leaders and Control Car 3 is roughly at the back of the race and is where I am. Each car has a dedicated driver. Our day will largely be dictated by the flow of the race. Hellenic was easier to follow than Morocco, simply because more of the driving is on tarmac. There’s still a lot of twisty roads and circuitous driving though.” 

Nelson adds, “yeah – I think it was 45km as the crow flies between checkpoint 3 and the finish line. It was a 100km drive.” 

Back to Mel: “you kind of get caught up in your own bubble in the car, but there’s good communication and banter between all of us, from heads up on the conditions to insane voice notes.”

To tell the story of the event in the fullest, most graphic and most human way possible the team rely on both the visual media of film and photography and recording sound for the podcast. Each has their own unique challenges. As already mentioned, they are challenges that are risen to; successfully. Astonishingly beautiful images, emotionally moving videography and an aural commentary of the action and voices of the race. Documentation of the front middle and back of the pack. The story of the race as a whole and the individuals within it. 

“It can be really challenging for the photographers and Evgeni (videography). Their primary role is to document the race”, Mel explains. “That means getting the shot regardless of the light, the setting or time of day. It can mean waiting for hours for a few seconds of action, or it can mean having no time at all to set up the perfect shot and having to run and gun and rely on years of professional experience to ensure they capture what’s needed. Each photographer is an artist in their own right and they place as much value on creativity as they do simply documenting the action. There’s times when we need to lean on the documentation side and often it is about the story that the collection of shots tells, rather than a single image. Again, it’s about immersing the viewer into the experience. We also try to make sure that we capture as many of the riders as we can. Over 3000 photos are circulated to them afterwards and they act as a memento of the race.”

Equally, there is a real art to creating a cohesive videographical record of a race spanning days, distance and people. There are no ‘can you just do that one more time’, no second chances. Once again, it's important to capture the macro and micro. The “race” in its most literal meaning, but also its broadest, most beautifully diverse sense. Windows into a Greek saga largely being played out behind closed curtains. 

It’s a point that I chew over briefly. Even with a full multi-media team, so much of the race goes unseen and unheard. The race coverage serves up a few grains of what is captured, which in turn is a few grains of the myriad stories that are playing out throughout the course of the race. Nelson wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“It’s vital that we preserve the mystery of the race and its unsupported nature. It’s also important to recognise that for most, if not all of the riders, they are doing this for the sake of escapism and adventure.” 

It is what makes the recorded moments so special and what drives the crew to work long hours, living out the ultra in every way other than actually riding it. They experience similar sleep deprivation, eating on the move, constantly looking towards the next destination, but while the racers are immersed in their own world for the duration of their ride, the media crew span two. There is the rarified atmosphere of the Hellenic and there is life outside. The team acts as the go between, relaying messages to that outside world. It means that while they may not have to pedal every mile, they are never truly switching off until long after the race is done.

Mel – “It’s so rewarding to see people overcome things and learn something about themselves. Documenting it means more than the photograph or the slice of conversation. It’s recording a moment in time that is deeply important in someone's life, but can be so fleeting and even forgotten about by the time they reach the finish line.”

Voices on the road

With stunning visuals at its core, the Mountain Races’ coverage is further enriched by the daily podcast, which brings another dimension to the stories unfolding on the screen.

“A lot of the time the riders will be happy to stop and chat to me briefly. I’ll ask them a few questions about how their race is going. I’ll be ready to run alongside them if they want to keep moving, and I’ll always be respectful of the fact that they might not want to talk.” Mel talks through how she records each podcast while on the road. “I’ll aim for maybe 10-15 clips from riders each day. I can do that wherever, so I tend to work around the locations that best work for the photographers. I’ll take notes where I can and edit together with a narrative each evening before I send it across to a sound designer before the final upload. There are the usual headaches of trying to find wifi or reception and while I always aim to have some quiet time towards the end of the day, the busyness of the atmosphere means that it is typically done in between everything else that is going on. It leads to these amazing surreal moments like when I ended up sitting on the top of a rocky ridge, holding my phone in the air to maximise the small amount of reception I had while waiting for the sound file to upload.”

The subtle art of observation

We return to the interactions with riders. There are those that are glad to see the crew, who are expressive and communicative and enjoy the opportunity to step outside of their own mind for a while. And there are those that want to push on or simply aren’t in the mood. 

Nelson talks me through his ethos: “It’s really important to me to never compromise the self-supported nature of the race. That means that we will deliberately make sure we don’t meet up with the leaders too often. I want their experience to be the same as everyone else’s. It is about respecting that.. as well as fairness.”

That adherence to the self-supported nature of the race sometimes leads to unnatural interactions between riders and the media team. “A rider will sometimes ask an entirely reasonable question about how far the next town is, or if the top of a climb is near”, describes Mel. “Many will check themselves as soon as they ask. Most nod knowingly when we reply that we don’t know, or to check their map.” Then there’s those moments akin to a David Attenborough nature documentary when all the cameraman can do is watch nature play out its course as a predator closes in on its unsuspecting prey. 

While the consequences are not quite as extreme for the racers, Nelson reflects, “It’s sometimes painful watching someone take a wrong turn, or documenting them repairing a mechanical from a distance, but you have to remind yourself that this is the experience they wanted and signed up for.”

Documentation for inspiration

Returning to Nelson’s opening statement; “I wanted to bring the adventures that the riders were having to life and to inspire those following the race to go on their own.” 

Ultimately, it is all about inspiration. Not necessarily to sign up to Hellenic Mountain Race, nor the Atlas or Silk Road, but inspiration to ride a little further and push a little harder and learn about yourself, regardless of where you are starting from. 

Mel: “We never want the social media to be twelve squares filled with photos of dudes on bikes every day. We make sure we have a mixture of faces, landscapes, action shots and we make sure there’s at least one woman in the coverage each day. It is absolutely true that you cannot be what you cannot see, and well rounded storytelling grows the sport as a whole.”

And perhaps, that is the true strength of the storytelling that the Mountain Race coverage brings. In a niche within a niche within a niche of the cycling world, it shows and tells us not only what is possible, but what is eminently achievable by anyone who is willing to face discomfort and exertion. More than that, it switches the conversation about ultra racing from the raw numbers – miles covered, hours of riding time – that dotwatching tends to drive, to a fuller story of individual and collective experiences, a sense of adventure and discovery of self.

We finish with an anecdote from Mel, which sums up the madness and beauty of trying to capture a couple of hundred riders trying to ride their bikes a long way from point A to point B. It’s the final day of the race and she and Nelson are standing at the top of the final climb before the long sweeping descent down to the finish. 

“Nelson, I just need someone to cry for the podcast!” laments Mel with a chuckle. For all the emotion of the finale, the riders that have passed are understandably exhausted, numb and focussed on the finish. One rider crests the climb, weaving over the road. He slumps over the bars, overcome with exhaustion and the emotion sweeps over him and the tears flow. Eventually he pushes off, whooping his way down to the finish. 

Watching his dot, you might have wondered why it lingered there for so long…