What started as a seven-day route across Sardinia quickly became something much bigger. More than just a bikepacking event, Lael’s Sardinia Rally brought together 60 riders from around the world to share in the highs, lows, gelato stops, beach camps, and countless small moments that transformed strangers into a rolling community. Find a recap here…
Photos by Exploro.cc
“The café opens at eight.”
Groups of us converged on the café from all directions. First there were four, and then eight, and then twenty—our group multiplying in size by the minute. Where did you camp? How was your ride yesterday? Did you see the moon last night? It felt like a joyful reunion with long-lost friends, except it had only been 24 hours since most of us had met. It was day two of Lael’s Sardinia Rally, and we were all drawn to the same simple pleasures after our first night camping: coffee, croissants, water, and toilets.
We had spent the previous night camping with six others on a beach outside the small town of Chia. After a long day of steep climbing on gravel roads, we dipped in the sea (after letting out shrieeeeeks from the cold), ate dinner in the sand, and watched the sky turn pink as flamingos flew overhead honking. We slept with the tent fly off so we could watch the moonlight shimmer over the sea and catch the first glimpses of the red sunrise. It was the type of night where you want to pinch yourself: Am I really here?
The spirit of Lael’s Rallies is that adventure is for everyone. At the beginning of the rally, riders are provided a thoughtfully designed route and an opportunity. An opportunity to ride with 60 other FLINTA* (Female, Lesbian, Intersex, Non-binary, Transgender, Agender) riders and be part of something larger than oneself. Lael’s Rallies are described as “multi-day bikepacking adventures built on joy, grit, and connection.” But the rallies are more than just bikepacking adventures; they are the start of a movement that elevates, connects, and empowers FLINTA* riders across the globe. While the composition of the group varies from rally to rally, what remains constant is their openness to all types of riders. In their words, “There is no blueprint for who a rider should be.” There were riders of all ages representing different countries: Denmark, Spain, Canada, and Lithuania, to name a few. Riders who had never bikepacked before and those who had cycled around the world.
Although there is a GPX track on Komoot, riders are encouraged to use the route as a framework or a canvas from which to begin. The event organizers encourage you to “ride it your way.” Camp, sleep inside, take short-cuts, linger in the moment. The seven-day route, and its many variations, took us from Cagliari, the capital city of Sardinia, north along the west coast of the island, to the town of Porto Torres.
We hit our rhythm around day three. That was when we let go of any pressure or anxious energy to “keep up.” We learned what the rally had to teach us: trust the process and the group’s rhythm.
Like a caterpillar inching forward, the group contracted and expanded in a natural ebb and flow—just like the sea we biked along. At times, the group was large. We would overwhelm cafés, cause long lines at gelaterias, and have impromptu dance parties in alimentaris. In contrast, at times, the group was small. You would find yourself biking a stretch of coastline alone, immersed in your own wonder. Yet soon enough, around the next bend, you would rejoin a group of riders. These mini reunions always seemed to happen at the perfect time, like right before the 2.6 kilometer, 13% grade climb coming out of the town of Nebida.
On the fifth day of the rally, our route took us inland, with long stretches of flat and slightly downhill pavement. Before leaving the town of Guspini in the morning, we stopped at a nearby café for coffee. Rachel rolled by and spotted us, her face sporting a big smile, and joined us for a quick coffee before rolling out together. We maneuvered our way out of town and past a herd of sheep, and soon spotted Lael. The tandem excels on slightly downhill pavement, and soon enough, we had started a train: Rachel behind us as our “coxswain.” Lael behind her. As we approached riders ahead of us, we would shout, “Hop on the train!” We give quite a draft, after all. Within a few hours, we had nearly 15 people riding our “train,” weaving through bike paths and roads back out to the turquoise coast. Spotting people on route felt like finding old friends, reminders that none of us were really alone.
The last few days of the rally took us back to Sardinia’s jaw-dropping coastlines, white sandy beaches, and dramatic cliffs. But by now we had realized that it wasn’t really about the route; it was about the people we were sharing it with. The best camp spots were the ones sprawled with tents and bivvies, where chain lube and baby wipes were passed around like salt and pepper at the dinner table. The best café spots were those where loaded bikes were leaning against every available vertical surface. The best moments were those spent laughing about an absurd shared experience, like waking up covered in a soggy dew after camping in a field with party music blasting until 1 a.m. in a nearby town.
It was these shared moments during the rally that made us reflect on our “why.” What are we in search of while bikepacking? The obvious answers (to us) are adventure, solitude, challenge, and nature. This rally asked us to imagine what riding could look like if community and connection were prioritized. During Lael’s Rallies, there are no prizes and no podiums. Success is not measured in time or distance. In fact, success seems to stop mattering altogether. It’s the moments that matter—the lingering in a feeling or a place between two points on a map. The rally gave us permission to just be.
The rally proved that bikepacking can be a wondrous dichotomy. You can push yourself and enjoy the gelato stops; you can ride on your own or with others. You can go hard while taking your time. Effort and community can coexist. Lael, the rally’s inspiration, embodies this dichotomy. Despite being a world record holder, she rode alongside everyone, stopping to eat lasagna and drink a Coke at a seaside café. She powered up climbs and lingered in moments with her wife, Rue, who could often be found behind a camera, smiling in her blue “LW” hat.
On the last evening of the rally, we gathered in a large circle on the hotel patio after dinner. Each of us had made it to the rally’s final destination despite many obstacles that day: locked gates that required you to lift your bike over them, roads that did not exist, construction blocking bike paths, coastal flooding, and overgrown trails. Perhaps these obstacles were blessings in disguise, slowing us down toward the inevitable finish of this magnificent adventure.
That day, the WhatsApp group was active, with riders sending updates and suggestions about alternative routes to avoid these obstacles. That is the essence of the rally—thinking of those ahead and behind you as if they were yourself.
In the circle that evening, riders shared their reflections on the trip. We had all been touched by the magic and spirit of Lael’s Rallies, something each of us had sought out, but not all for the same reasons. Behind every bike was a unique story—of motherhood, of breast cancer, of Relative Energy Deficiency in Sport (RED-S), of self-doubt and fear, of underrepresentation of FLINTA* people in cycling.
Seven days earlier, many of us were strangers. At the end of the rally, we left as a community. And we left feeling inspired and empowered. How can we spread the seeds of Lael’s Rallies to communities in our own backyard?
We can all play a part in cultivating the magic of Lael’s Rallies. Sponsors such as Komoot and Wahoo remove financial barriers and expand cycling access to underrepresented groups. Event organizers like Exploro.cc create inclusive spaces where riders can connect, grow, and be challenged together. Role models like Lael Wilcox break down gender barriers and invite more FLINTA* riders into the sport. Every rally rider from across the globe came together to create an uplifting space and change the narrative about who rides bikes. What can you do to spread the magic?
Please keep the conversation civil, constructive, and inclusive, or your comment will be removed.