Pianella put to the test by Montenegro Mountain Madness

It's already been a year

One Saturday morning, I received a message from Matt. He sent me a post from Montenegro Mountain Madness (MMM), an ultra mountain bike race. Images that clearly make you want to go on an adventure, very, very far from Nice, as you can imagine.

Matt simply texted me: "Shall we do it?"

And then, on a whim, I signed us up. Without looking at the details. Without even knowing how to get there. We figured we'd have plenty of time to figure that out later.

Without knowing it at the time, we were about to launch, reveal and test our very first Pianella steel mountain bike, far, far away from our comfort zone.

Okay… how do we get to Montenegro?

Then the date approached. It was time to look at where the starting point was, how long it would take to cross all of Italy, Slovenia, Croatia, and Bosnia. In other words, quite a few kilometers, many hours listening to Matthieu's awesome YouTube mix, and testing out the motorway service areas in each country.

All this for the toughest mountain bike race we've ever done.

We left completely carefree, thinking it would be “a bit like home”, a mountain is a mountain… Not at all.

Six days crossing a completely unknown country. Days without seeing a soul. Hours spent riding alone across the steppes, battling the wind, with mountains stretching as far as the eye could see. And that's not even mentioning the slopes… very steep. Really very steep.

Why 6 days? No more, no less.

When we received the route, we saw that it was already divided into 6 stages. And most importantly, that at the end of those 6 days, there was a pizza party at the finish line, on the shores of the Bay of Kotor. That was enough to convince us.

We figured: we might as well do it in 6 days, no need to arrive earlier. And above all, these were the only times we passed through towns to resupply and sleep.

Our strategy: travel light and sleep in a real bed every night. So we book everything in advance.

We imagined arriving around 6pm, having a drink, enjoying ourselves…
In reality? We never arrived before 7 or 8 pm.

It's time to roll.

The night before departure, we arrive late, around midnight, and park by the Bay of Kotor. The next morning, we leave early to reach the starting point.

On the agenda: 100 km and 1500 m of elevation gain to reach the capital of Montenegro, Podgorica.

We arrive in the afternoon, everyone is at the hotel: collecting race numbers, first encounters. The atmosphere is super cool… and it's sweltering.

In the evening, we share a pizza with a small group with whom we get along well. It seems improbable: with us are Adrien Liechti, the founder of Bombtrack and his team, and strangers whom we will meet again at the end of the race.

Day 1, departure.

Departure at 9am. It's already very hot (yes, really).
We start straight away with a mountain pass on the road. The first ones take off very fast, the ones we'll never see again. Then the group spreads out, each at their own pace. Many are suffering from the heat. We have the advantage of being used to Nice.

After a 3 or 4 hour climb, we reached a deserted plateau and stopped at an unlikely inn: the “Chikago”. A couple runs the small inn; their son lives in Chicago, hence the American decor in the middle of nowhere. Tiny houses, free-roaming horses… surreal.

We eat way too much, and we linger way too long. Giant omelet, sausages, cheese… but it's a great time. We still run into quite a few riders who stop by like us.

Then we tackled an incredibly steep slope. We thought we knew what steep hills were like in Nice… but there, it's 20, 25, sometimes 30%. Matt rode the whole thing. I pushed. Even on foot, it was tough…

First real mountain biking section, rough track, completely crazy scenery. You can feel that something is happening, that you are getting away from everything.

The days are getting longer, the memories are getting mixed up.

The first evening, we finished with one last mountain pass on the road and arrived in a small hamlet that looked a bit like the Col de Turini. Old hotels frozen in time.

We had booked a small cabin. We were the only guests. A woman and her daughter run the hotel; everything is homemade. We dined outside, under a sheltered terrace, in shorts and down jackets. That incredible feeling at the end of the day: exhausted, starving, drained… but completely relaxed.

The next day, a gargantuan breakfast: goulash, potatoes, meat in sauce. A real Sunday lunch. We set off again at 8 a.m., bellies full, sandwiches in our panniers, and a steep climb ahead. We're already thinking we're leaving too late… we'll do better tomorrow.

Little by little, we're getting organized.

Matt takes care of the bike maintenance. I handle the reservations and the refueling points.

We leave earlier, we pack better, we eat what we can. Gas stations often save us, especially thanks to their XXL-sized fruit purees (even the children's portion is enormous).

The days are hard and blur together.
I remember that morning when I wasn't feeling well... and that one real city of the trip, where a good breakfast and the second Coke of my life literally saved me.

Then Durmitor National Park. An abandoned ski resort, with a Canadian-style national park feel (at least as I imagine it). Guards at the entrance make us pay an entrance fee. This day seems endless. We end up driving through tunnels along magnificent gorges… but without any lighting. Frightening and dangerous, especially with the stretches of road.

In the evening, a small village by a lake. We ate well, once again. An Englishman who was racing joined us for a beer, one of the two friends we see every day. Two men in their fifties, each pushing the limits in their own way, always ending up in the same place. We loved following their adventure, and they ours.

The stormy day.

And that day, do you remember? From the morning, the sky was threatening. The higher we climbed, the darker the clouds became. Back home, we would have turned back. Here, it was impossible…

At the summit, we found a tiny refuge. Very local. We didn't speak the language, but the woman seated us and served us without asking: several meats, vegetables, feta-type cheese, Turkish coffee. They suggested we stay the night, but we continued: it was only the beginning of the day.

What followed was a completely crazy day: sun, rain, wind, fog, hail… on repeat. No photos. We just had to keep going. Grit our teeth. Hope with every break in the clouds.

We finally arrive with the sun. Covered in mud. Exhausted. Relieved.

Last night.

Last night of the race. An old town, an atmosphere of former Yugoslavia, abandoned military camps, heavy architecture… then the tourists.

We sleep by a lake. Peace and quiet. We reflect on the day. We burst out laughing, realizing we won't be doing the race planned for September. One a year is enough.

Brief.

It was tough.
It was incredible.
I wouldn't have done it alone.

And above all, we are super proud to have done it with Pianella, which was the perfect bike for us.

I'm forgetting a lot of details, and I might come back to them in other articles. But the atmosphere and the emotions are there. It's a mess, everything's mixed up, and every time we talk about it, we get even more confused. We ask ourselves: was all that just one day?

In short, we're still wondering what our next challenge will be for 2026.