Recapping The Equinox with Boru McCullagh

As the seasons shift and the hemisphere’s unite once again in equal day and night, we set out to capture gravel adventurer Boru McCullagh’s own Equinox Experience—a solo Alps epic marking the time of year, and time on the bike, where fresh rhythm is found. Yet simply calling Boru an ‘adventurer’ is massively under-cooking things. Before his reflections on the Equinox ride, there was another chapter that demanded attention: the final stretch of a two-year odyssey cycling around the planet.

Since we last caught up with him before the U.S. leg of this journey, Boru has accumulated 55,000 kms across 31 countries—an exploration of life few experience, an endurance effort few can comprehend; yet, most of us agree is wildly inspiring.

Despite living largely by two wheels the past few years, Boru’s story isn’t defined by distance covered, but by perspective gained. His global circumnavigation, described as a ‘vast collage’, contrasts with the single-day Equinox ride—a fragment of time in his larger cycling journey. But for the South Londoner now based in the South of France, it still represents something important—a moment to pause, reflect, and reconnect with the simple act of turning pedals through changing light. Back at his current home base in Lyon, we got into it…

A lot better than I thought they would be! I feel as though I gave myself the world's biggest base to build from, and that’s what I’m trying to do now. I have some races coming up later in the year, so I’m shifting focus to putting some spring in the step. I’m surprising myself now that I’m on a road bike instead of a 40kg touring rig.

A lot of people think of what I did on the bike in those years as a solo endeavor and if I’m honest I did for a long time too. The day to day at the start was just me, the bike, my tent, the Lidl bakery section and the self reliance I felt in the face of such a huge unknown—the road ahead. Before leaving, I had this intense desire to know as much as possible about ‘travel’ and ‘bikepacking’ and what this entails before even jumping in. Because of that however, I completely overlooked what those things might mean, not to other people, but to myself.

I had these really strict goals in mind for how far to travel each day, how often I would take days off and I thought I knew what I was doing. I had a plan. But adventure is the acceptance that there’s an uncertain outcome. It’s calculated naivety - being able to take care of yourself if shit hits the fan, but outside of that, navigating and looking at the world as if you have the eyes of a child: being curious, learning from your mistakes, seeing the novelty in life.

What also came with that mindset was an appreciation that this whole journey was far from a solo endeavor. Thousands of people supported what I did through their smiles or waves along the roadside, advice they offered, messages they sent in support, beds they let me rest in. And not just the people. The mountain ranges I had to traverse, the deserts that seemed to last an age, the forests that sheltered me all became personified.

This journey was one vast collage of all of that, centred around connecting people, places and myself in a simple, human way and all of those parts still live and show themselves in me. I’m a big fan of Bourdain, and he never misses. 

If I was to offer myself some advice at the start—when I had my head down and was dashing across Europe—in line with something I think Bourdain would agree with, it’s to slow down, see the novelty in the world around you and compliment people’s food in their own language. It’s the biggest compliment you can give someone.

Cycling is whatever you want it to be, and we’re all just big kids having fun on two wheels. What brings us together is the love of this magical invention, and I’m grateful to have met people from vastly different walks of life because of it.

Listen to local knowledge. Some of the best places were those that someone mentioned in a conversation and I’d have never heard about otherwise. For every ‘best climb in [insert country name]’ there are countless others that you’ll never find on Google or ChatGPT.

I’d also remind you that your ability to enjoy the place you’re in is completely down to you. Allan Shaw once wrote “The bike is the instrument, but you are the rockstar”, and it never left me. If you are open to learn and are curious, everywhere can teach you something and it’ll stick with you.

To give an answer though, I think the Mormons were really onto something when it comes to Utah and Scotland is the most beautiful country in the world.

You know what. I think we as humans have a tendency to bias negativity, I know I used to. But over the last few years this has flipped and now I genuinely find it hard to remember the tough sections. Places like Japan, where for days the temperature wouldn’t rise above 0, or riding the Stuart Highway in Australia come to mind, but if I had the chance to I’d go back in an instant and do it all again. 

There is physical discomfort in these things but it’s not pain. It’s not a struggle. I think it’s extremely important to remember that it’s our choice to do this, and if it’s a choice, it’s not suffering. There are people in the world who are feeling and experiencing real suffering in ways we can never understand. So we can never forget that it’s a privilege to be able to do what we do and, for me, when I feel the self pitying thoughts start to rear their heads in the tough sections, I remind myself of this and it always grounds and centres me.

It was the only way to complete that ride. Similar to a lot of people at the velodrome I could reel off what it means to me. It’s a place that gave me a purpose when I was suffering from a major depression and needed a lifeline, it gave me a drive, it gave and continues to introduce me to people I have the pleasure to call friends. It was a workplace, a social space and a cycling oasis that has developed me hugely into who I am today, personally and professionally. It’s a community and it’s a home. So returning there… It was so surreal and at the same time felt so normal, but that’s what home feels like.

Lyon is a beautiful city. I cycled through here on the final stretch of the journey and fell in love with it. It’s busy but not rushed and it’s relaxed but not slow. You’ve the alps a couple of hours ride away to the east, the mediterranean the same distance south. It’s surrounded by incredible countryside and it’s got everything you need cycling wise. 

Everyone needs to be challenged all the time so we're always developing and learning, and moving to a new country where I don’t speak the language seemed like the right way to exercise that right now. As much as I’d love to keep travelling, there are other things I want to balance, and having a place to call home is the next frontier.

There will always be a track cyclist in me, this is where I started in cycling, but the freedom to explore is what’s so attractive to me in gravel riding. My friend Kate once said that “suspension is a mindset”, and with that and a gravel bike, the world is your oyster.

Any big day out on the bike gives me butterflies but what I think is so special about the Equinox Experience is the unity it brings to all people across the globe. To be outside and celebrate this changing of the seasons together… I want to be a part of that.

With the Alps on my doorstep, it was the logical place to look. I wanted a route that had been tried and tested and stumbled upon the Alps Divide, a 1000km route from the Med to Geneva. To keep it within a day, I cut the route to a northern, hilly section. The challenge was the elevation and gradients, and although I wanted to cover as much as I could in 12 hours, the goal was to take it slow, stay relaxed, and feel present in Europe again. To put myself into the mountains and the mountains into myself.

I felt like a new rider that day. I was able to don some new MAAP kit, the new QUOC x MAAP GT XC’s as well as a shiny new Specialized Diverge that I’d picked up a couple of days before. With trains to get out to the Alps and time off the bike, I chose kit that worked both on and off it. That bikepacking mindset stuck—everything needs multiple uses. My favourite were the new Overshorts. I’ve worn the previous model since launch and thought they couldn’t be beaten, but the new ones go further in meeting riding needs while being comfortable off the bike.

The day started with the most unholy amount of almond croissants from the boulangerie in the town I stayed in the night before, as well as a doorstopper of a cheese sandwich and some other little pastries. Knowing it’s going to be a big day and understanding that it’s impossible to overfuel on the bike, I wanted to get as much in me at the start. Following that, I’m a believer in eating non stop, and for endurance like this that isn’t maximum intensity and is lasting all day, any food is good food. You can go down the rabbit hole of counting how many grams of carbs you have on you and therefore how long you can optimally fuel yourself for if you’re riding at X intensity, but for myself, I find this limiting and turns the ride into a formula. Eat proper and eat well.

I knew the route was cooked when it took me over an hour to do the first 8km. The first climb of the day was unrelenting and my legs were on fire. Those almond croissants were doing me well, but it was slow moving as the crow flies. My favourite part of the day was actually near the end - it was just under a couple of hours of hike-a-bike across Dent du Salantin towards Lac de Salanfe, not because of the terrain but because of the gradient. I was worried that I’d started this ascent too late in the day and I could see over the peak heavy rain clouds being held on the other side, so I knew what was waiting for me. It was like willingly walking into a trap, but there was no way to avoid it. 

As soon as I neared the top at around 2100m, the drizzle started and once I jumped back on the bike the heavens opened. The weather in the mountains can change quickly so you need to be prepared for anything, but for this ride I was hoping I’d get away with it so I was missing a few bits of kit that would have meant I could continue in cold rain. Fortunately, there was a refuge by the lake and it had been 12 hours since I’d started in the morning so it seemed like this was meant to be the conclusion to my Equinox ride. I learnt whilst bikepacking to take what comes your way when it does because you don’t know when it’ll come again: food, a warm shower, shelter. When I cycled past the refuge, it seemed like too perfect a coincidence that it was there bang on the 12 hour mark. I was welcomed with soup, rice and warm tea.

There are so many reasons but primarily for me it’s the opportunity to connect with the outdoors. We all live such busy lives these days, we’re always needed for something, we always need others. We’re always contactable and life feels like it’s moving at a million miles an hour. But as soon as you’re out on your bike, it’s a moment of serenity, of peacefulness, tranquility. You’re giving yourself space to just be with yourself and nature and this is never a bad thing. It serves as a grand exercise in mindfulness and this is vital to ensuring a healthy headspace and appreciation of the world, because it’s a beautiful one out there if you open your heart to it. I enjoy riding solo for this reason, because I feel way more connected to my surroundings. I spent so long trying to take myself out of the world when I was younger, that now I want to jump into it as much as possible.

Mind is a mental health charity in the UK who do amazing work in fighting for change, supporting those experiencing mental health problems and raising awareness to fight the stigma around the conversations we have regarding mental health. 

When I left to cycle around the world, it felt like an incredibly selfish endeavor to want to just focus on myself and it didn’t quite sit right with me. Therefore, I decided very early on that if I was going to do something like this, then something objectively good for others had to come out of it. I didn’t want it to just be for myself. Raising this money for them made all of it worth it.

The downtime has come and gone! I allowed myself a period of grace after returning to just do nothing in an attempt to process what on earth just happened because it was really hard to readjust to ‘normal’ life, when ‘normal’ for me had become living on a bike and waking up everyday to google maps, deciding where to ride.

Now things are back in full swing, and although I don’t have any big tours planned—that’s for 2026—I do have some gravel and ultra races on the horizon. I’ll soon be in the Philippines for Gravelton, Thailand for Dustman UCI and not long after down in Chile for the Across Andes ultra.

And very soon we will be releasing the third and final installment of our Mind Mapping series which Finley, one of my best friends and incredible filmmaker, shot earlier this year as we cycled home through Ireland and the UK. This will be a big one and I can’t wait to finish telling this story.

Boru took his own photos on location in the South of France, wearing the new season of Alt_Road™ and MAAP + QUOC. You can follow him @marlboru_ and learn more about Mind UK here.