Four days, thousands of vertical meters, unexplored trails, and the wild nature of Chile. At the start of the season, Vojta Bláha fulfilled his dream and took on the legendary stage race Andes Pacifico. What was it like to ride at 3,600 meters above sea level? What was the toughest part, and what fascinated him the most? And why does he compare the race to Blinduro on steroids? Find out all this and more in this action-packed interview!

Vojta, you kicked off this season right after the New Year by flying to Chile. Tell us, how did this idea come about?
Honestly, I had this race in my head for over five years. Unfortunately, due to COVID, the event couldn’t be organized again until this year. But when I found out that this legendary race was finally making a comeback, I didn’t hesitate for long!
I see Chile as something exotic when it comes to cycling, especially enduro riding. What are the local conditions like for biking, and how challenging was it to adapt to riding at such a high altitude?
That’s right—Chile is definitely exotic, but enduro has a strong tradition there. I remember that back when I started my enduro career, EWS was held in Chile almost every year. The same organizers were behind this year’s Andes Pacifico as well. As for the altitude, you can really feel it. I spent the first few days in Bike Park La Parva, where the top station of the lift sits at 3,600 meters above sea level. You ride for just a minute, and you’re already at your max heart rate.
A multi-day enduro race isn’t very common in our region or even in Europe. So what exactly is Andes Pacifico?
You can think of a stage enduro race as a classic enduro race stretched over 4 to 6 days. Riders race "blind", meaning they have no prior knowledge of the trails. For the czech riders, I’d describe it as a four-day Blinduro on steroids. On top of that, the whole event is constantly moving between different locations, so every day, you’re racing in a completely new place. In the case of Andes Pacifico, we started high up in the Andes, and by the fourth day, the final stage ended right on the Pacific coast.


Describe what a typical day in a stage race looks like.
The day starts early, with a wake-up call around 6:00 AM, a quick breakfast—usually a sandwich to-go—and then straight into the shuttle. Most of the morning is spent on transfers, and around noon (12:00 PM), the first stage (RZ) kicks off. We usually complete 3 to 6 stages, each up to 5 km long with around 700 meters of descent, which keeps us going until sunset, which in this part of the world is around 9:30 PM. After that, there’s barely time for anything else—just dinner and preparing gear for the next day. Bikes are usually left on a trailer somewhere, so servicing them isn’t really an option unless you’re willing to wait until midnight.
What were the race trails like, and how much did you manage to cover each day?
The trails were absolutely incredible! And even though the race organization had its flaws, the trails more than made up for it. The first two days took us through forests with massive trees and a surface that felt like moon dust. Roots were rare, rocks popped up here and there, but overall, the terrain was a dream come true for an enduro bike. In the distance, snow-capped volcanoes loomed, the sun was blazing all day… honestly, it was perfect. Each day, we usually climbed around 2,000 vertical meters, plus some shuttle lifts, so the total descent often exceeded 3,000 meters. The number of stages (RZs) varied, but in total, the stats were pretty consistent from day to day. Distance-wise, it averaged about 40 km per day, which meant 5–6 hours of pure riding. But with all the transfers and breaks, the whole day easily stretched to 11 hours from start to finish.
What were you allowed to bring? I assume there were some baggage restrictions for riders during the race.
We were given 100-liter bags, and everything had to fit inside—except for the bike. That meant packing clothing for six days, a helmet, protective gear, hygiene essentials, and all necessary equipment, all in just one bag. The organizers then transported our bags to a new location each day, depending on where we were sleeping and where we finished riding for the day.


I guess you didn’t have access to a laundry, right? We saw you switching up your race gear throughout the event. Which setup worked best for you, and how much gear did you bring?
Yeah, no laundry for sure! So I was really glad I packed enough gear. I had one set of clothing for each race day, plus two pairs of pads and two back protectors. My favorite combo? Definitely the lightweight Quantum jersey paired with the Stoker bike shorts—that combo worked best for me!
How was the food situation during the race? It’s not exactly a standard routine for a rider. Did you ever feel hungry?
Because of this, I decided to race with a backpack. I’m not a fan of carrying something on my back, but in the end, I had to take at least a minimalist pack. Each day, I carried 1.5 liters of water, which we were fortunately able to refill frequently—otherwise, I would have needed more. As for food, I packed about four bars and the same number of gels per day. The routine was simple: a bar on every transfer and a gel before each stage (RZ). I also had to throw in some caffeine, as I was struggling a bit with jet lag.
Speaking of technical support—after a full day of racing, bikes must have taken quite a beating. Did you have access to any kind of service?
In this regard, Andes Pacifico was absolutely extreme. The overall setup was decent, but due to some logistical issues, we usually had to take a bus back to the base camp, about 30 km away, after finishing the last stage of the day. The problem? Bikes didn’t fit in the bus, so they were transported separately in pick-up trucks, often much later. This meant that if you needed to work on your bike, you’d only get access to it around 11 PM or even midnight, somewhere on a trailer. Luckily, I didn’t have any major mechanical issues, so I focused more on recovery. My daily "service" routine was limited to wiping down the bike in the morning, lubing the chain, and checking tire pressures.


What was the toughest part of the entire race for you?
For me, it was definitely the overall length of the race and the time spent in the stages (RZs). To get a good result, you had to stay fully focused for four days straight on every single timed run. The terrain was often completely unpredictable, so even a small mistake could cost precious seconds that determined your position. Not to mention that one wrong move could lead to a serious mechanical issue. So the hardest part for me was maintaining a solid pace all the way to the finish while avoiding any major problems.
And on the other hand, what was the most amazing part for you?
The most incredible thing for me was the overall sense of adventure. Even though I was focused on my performance and giving it my all, there were so many moments when I just stood in awe of the breathtaking nature and the incredible hospitality of the locals. I also strongly felt the cultural contrast compared to Europe—in Chile, everything felt wilder and freer. That unpredictability added a whole new layer to the experience, creating unexpected moments that simply wouldn’t happen in our part of the world.
To wrap things up, tell us about your current plans. Where can we expect to see you this season?
My immediate plans include getting back into training for the 2025 EDR season, testing new products for various brands, and probably hitting a few training camps somewhere warm! So yeah, I’m really looking forward to all of that. Besides the usual races, I’m also considering a few more events similar to Andes Pacifico—I had an absolute blast, and landing 3rd place was a really pleasant surprise!







