RIDING The seven
The SEVEN UCI World Gravel Series race had its inaugural event in 2018 and has been rampaging from strength to strength since then, with well over 1440 people lining up last year. 2026 will see the Gravel World Championships rumbling over the ‘parallel single track’ route that lies between the small towns of Nannup, Bridgetown and Donnybrook - quite a stellar rise for this ‘family-feel’ event that takes place a three hour drive south of Perth.
I was invited by SEVEN’s Brendon Morrison and co-conspirator Rebecca Cotton to take part in the 2024 edition, held last May.
Having not raced for a few years and having never done a proper gravel event, I decided that rather than do one of the shorter options (there is a ONE, a THREE, and a FIVE also), I’d take on the big one: 125km with 3200m of elevation.
In for a penny, in for 125 quid, as no one ever said.
After spending a short time in Perth, I arrived in Nannup a couple of days before the race. I went out on a couple of recce rides out along the route with my friend Minh Ha (who we work with on our Ha Giang Loop tour), and we also helped out getting the start/finish area ready, setting up sponsor flags, barriers and other bits and pieces.
L-R: Minh Ha, Brendon Morrison and your correspondent.
Over the course of these two days, we met several key members of the SEVEN race crew and what struck me was not just how friendly and welcoming everyone was, but also how committed they were to their work. I’ve taken part in and co-organised many events and races, and honestly speaking, the organisation of the SEVEN is the most professional I’ve witnessed.
The feeling that all those decked out in blue ‘crew’ t-shirts knew what they were doing and were committed to delivering the best possible experience to the participants was tangible - whether this is an Aussie thing or a SEVEN thing, I’m not fully versed enough to know, as this was my first time Down Under, but it certainly made for a great experience.
SEVEN’s Rob Marshall inspects our work from above.
Race Day:
There was the usual jostling about on the start line to get a good starting spot, the most coveted being the second pen, behind the professional riders. As I squeezed in on the third or fourth line, I heard someone call my name. I turned to my right and next to me was an old friend, Daniel Smith who I’d raced alongside many times in the past, in various events in Asia.
With Daniel on the start line, the calm before the storm…
What are you doing here?! he asked.
I’m about to get battered I think.
Ha! Same!
I was kind of heading into the unknown here, as this was my first ‘proper’ gravel race. In the past though I’d raced in Mongolia over 7 days, more than once, and I’d been fine and loved the whole experience, and I’d also finished the TransAlpe back in 2014. I’d also seen other gravel races on Youtube - the courses didn’t look that gnarly, just ‘gritty’ farm roads and what have you.
Well, I was about to learn that not all gravel - and not all gravel races - are created equal…
Before we knew it we were haring down the only bit of tarmac in the whole race as we left Nannup to head into the wild, led out by the lead race car and a few shiny pro backsides. I managed to enter the first gravel section about 20th wheel, and the legs felt great - the 900km with nearly 18,000m I’d done very recently, over 8 days up north of Hanoi, with Minh in a car behind, had clearly upped my FTP - that is a lot of Zone 2…
We were soon out through the bush and into open country, and there the land opened up to reveal its ancient beauty (Australia has the oldest continental crust in the world, aged at 4.4 billion years). A soft, slightly foreboding white mist clung to the valley floor. The early morning sunlight caressed the hillsides with a delicate touch and, though gritting my teeth and fighting hard to keep pace with the front group, I couldn’t help but be awed by the scale and sheer majesty of what lay all around me.
The lead group pushes on. Image: Patrick Boere.
And then, 10km in, due to a lack of concentration (I’ll blame it on the scenery), the front wheel slipped out from under me on a tight corner. No bother, I picked myself up and jumped back on. I began to catch a few people on the descent and was feeling good in the valleys.
The next climb reared up ahead…
Anyone that’s raced off-road knows that ascending a dirt trail is quite a bit different than going uphill on tarmac. The front wheel devilishly seeks out little channels in the dirt that cause the bike to veer off line, and the rear is prone to slip and slide as it fights for traction. The best way to get up these climbs is to put it in the easiest gear and rev at as high a cadence as the incline and legs will allow.
Pedal on you Crazy Diamond, pedal on. Image: Patrick Boere.
All well done and said, unless you find you’ve lost your two top gears due to a bent derailleur hanger…
It is what it is, I thought - nothing to be done, legs are decent, let’s crack on, we can rest later.
Then about five km later the first flat happened. And then soon after another… and then another.
And this is why you should run tubeless if you’re doing an event like the SEVEN. And if, like me, you haven’t got tubeless compatible wheels, then either a) go buy some or b) take more than 3 inner tubes with you.
Someone did stop and hand me a puncture kit and then rode off, but as I opened the case I discovered the glue had gone completely hard and was unusable. This was just one of those days...
And thus, at about the 40km mark, my race was run. It’d been fun, and whilst frustrated with myself it’d been an experience. The sag wagon duly pulled up and the driver asked if I was done.
Yep, that’s it for me.
Ok… Hang on… you know Brendon right?
Yeah. Oh hey, we met yesterday briefly, it’s Nilss..?
Yeah, listen mate - we are gonna fix your bike. You’ve been invited here, you have to ride it. I want you to experience this amazing place that I live in.
Pebble dash. Image: Patrick Boere.
He found an old inner tube in the back of his ute, he got that in and then he bent back my RD hanger to within an mill of its life, passing me handfuls of trail mix as he whizzed about with hands as quick as a magician’s - and, Abracadabra, it was done.
I thanked him and I was off again.
Now, I could have been feeling down about the situation I found myself in. Something like 600 riders had passed me as I was fixing my flats and then waiting for Nilss, and I was still irritated with myself for the rookie mistakes I’d made.
Yet as I pedalled along, with all hopes of a top 3 (or indeed a top 30o!) gone, something just went - click.
Thankfully, it wasn’t the derailleur…
Here I was, in an outback that was beyond my wildest childhood imaginings, miles and miles and miles from my house in Taiwan and even further from the place of my birth - and pretty far even from the nearest local town - hurtling along down a hill on the greatest machine ever created, the sun shining, me breathing - for I was not yet dead, my thumping heart told me that - and I realised how lucky I was to be here in this magical place, with all these other lovely BikeFolk.
For what was it exactly, that were we doing?
Nothing more than riding up over hills and down the the other side and imagining we were flying, and we were suffering, and hurting, yes, but the payoff was something you couldn’t see or touch or put into words.
A bunch of overgrown kids just playing outside with their friends in a ginormous adventure park.
How dare we dare to be so innocent, to fritter away our time with such abandon, in the face of The Maelstrom - otherwise known as Life - that demands of us that we grow up and be serious?
For me, and I suspect for many of you too, the beauty of the bike lies within a simple fact - when I’m cycling, this self reconnects to that self.
All the serious stuff drifts away. Time somehow disconnects itself from the world, and I find myself, sometimes for as long as fifteen minutes, not thinking about anything at all.
It’s bliss.
Lift that leg up, cock it over a top tube, plant backside on saddle, and you’re off.
And this event, this big beautiful thing called SEVEN, well, I can’t think of many finer spots to go be ten years old again.
So, there I was, bombing down a pretty long, steep hill with barely a brush of the brake levers, a big grin on face and feeling wonderfully alive, and I suddenly started singing, without thinking about it, Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen.
Well your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
Here, in this instance, it was the beauty of the route and of the people I’d met that had me all overthrown.
A single tear of joy tumbled from my eye - sounds too cheesy to be true, but true it is - and I thought to myself:
You know what… this is the best place in the world to have 4 flat tires…
And so - and this may seem a very long-winded way to getting here - this is why we decided to build a tour around the SEVEN! It was such an incredible experience that we want to share it with as many people as we possibly can.
This tour, which is May 15th to 21st, 2025, is being offered at a special price as this is a Recon Tour - because it will be the first time we have run a tour here.
The tour starts with being picked up in Perth and then driven down to arrive in Nannup the day prior to the race (which is May 17th). Once in the town, we will get VIP access to the event, and you can help in setting up the finish area for an hour or two if you’d like. We will also meet the SEVEN crew and the founders, Brendon and Rebecca.
After the race, we will ride for three more days, one of the highlights of which is a winery tour.
By going to the event with us, you will get a real ‘locals’ feel from it, and a good time shall be had by all - and that’s a guarantee!
If you’d like to sign up, send us a message, thank you!
All images below by Patrick Boere.
