The beginning

Before recorded history, there were Jentilak. These were the pagans: big, hairy giants who lived in the Basque country. They invented metallurgy and the Basque game Pilota. They were stronger than any other humans, and threw huge boulders at intruders and occasionally each other. As the plains of the Bay of Biscay filled with Christian peoples, the Jentilak never again left the high mountains where they felt most comfortable.

In a sense, the Jentilak returned in 1994. A professional cycling team was founded, a ragged bunch of Basque climbers who eschewed the plains but thrived as soon as the road turned upwards. After a few sponsor changes early on, these giants came to fame as Euskaltel-Euskadi.

Fast forward to mid 2019. I was, and suppose am still, a Bianchi rider. Yet, I won't bring my expensive Bianchi to my work's bike parking. So, I'm on the hunt for a cheap, second hand racing bike to help me commute. And that's when I find a bargain.

And then

It's seven years until Euskaltel-Euskadi takes part in their first Tour de France, but it's two years later when they make their real breakthrough on cycling highest stage. Iban Mayo, winner of that year's Tour of the Basque country, drops all his competitors on the Alp d'Huez on stage eight, putting minutes into the likes of Lance Armstrong, Alexandre Vinokourov and Ivan Basso. At the end of the 2003 Tour, Mayo and his quieter teammate Haimar Zubeldia ride their Orbea bikes into Paris as the sixth and fifth classified overall, respectively.



That's exactly what I find on Ebay: a 2003 Orbea in Euskaltel-Euskadi race colours. Bright orange. Bargain price. The previous owner also bought it second hand to use for their commute, as, likely, did the owner before them. They hadn't heard of the team, but I have. Even before I've brought the bike home, I'm more in love with it than I've ever been with any piece of unliving material. It's saddle is far too high and it has fugly triathlon handlebars installed, but for the first time since starting cycling I get out my wrench and cleaning rag and modify the bike back to perfection.

The perfect race sometimes relies on bad luck of others. The Olympic road race of 2008, from Beijing's Forbidden City to the Great Wall of China, knows two favourite squads: an Italian team armed to the teeth with dangerous attackers, and a Spanish armada of Grand Tour contenders and one clear finisseur: the explosive Valverde. Samuel Sanchez joins a line-up of Alberto Contador and Carlos Sastre to string out the pack and bring Valverde to the line. But these Olympics are not an usual race: the Beijing smog is too heavy on the lungs of many riders, but Samuel Sanchez' cycling career was formed amid the Basque industries - when his nominal leader falters, is is Samu who outsprints his rivals and claims Olympic gold. Does this count as a win for Euskaltel? He may have ridden this race on an Orbea in Spanish colours, it was Euskaltel-Euskadi that gets to add golden stripes to a jersey for the next four years.



On the advice of a friend, I email the Orbea press service. I never was the only fan of this team of underdogs, and in 2003 plenty of replica bikes were made. I send what I think is the bike's registration number, to find out who used this bike in 2003. A young Samuel Sanchez? Iban Mayo himself? I get a reply from a friendly guy named Aitor. Alas, he informs me, the registration system they've got has only been in place since 2010, the number I give him was a generic number imprinted on all frames from that year. Nevermind, I am already sure. My bike belonged to Igor Anton.

Igor Anton joined the squad in 2005, not 2003. In his first year, he rides the Giro. The next time he return to that race is in 2011. The peloton has just lost Wouter Weylands, but the Giro waits for no-one. On stage twelve, the dangerous Monte Crostis is removed after a riders' protest. It is rumored that five teams want to keep the Crostis in the race, but the other 17 refuse to ride it. It is not known which teams are the five, but one can only speculate Euskadi Euskaltel was among them. Nevertheless, the mighty Zoncolan is a gruesome finish to any stage. Igor Anton dances away from the GC favourites on its 22% slopes, to reach the finish alone, having pushed through indescribable pains to the top of the world. Behind my television, I become a fan of this team.

The toughest slope I've got on my commute is the gentle incline of a bridge over a canal. So, on weekends, I take my Orbea out of the city. Every hill I find there -especially the one where Omar Fraile won a 4th cat KOM when the 2016 Giro d' Italia came to my town- is a Zoncolan in my mind. Omar never signed for Euskadi, but he's Basque nevertheless. I even take my partner along to take photos. And on weekdays? On weekdays I race up that bridge, leaving senior citizens on e-bikes in my wake like I've got a grand tour to win.



Many of Euskaltel's riders in 2012 will be stars of the World Tour years later. Amets Txurraka will be in that break together with Omar Fraile. Igor Anton will attempt another Zoncolan victory for Dimension Data before retiring. Mikel Nieve will be a superdomestique to the likes of Chris Froome and Esteban Chaves, and win several mountain jerseys in his own right. The Izzagirre brothers will contest week-long races in Bahrain Merida's red. Pello Bilbao collects swashbuckling stage victories left and right in Astana's blue. Mikel Landa is the world's most exciting grand tour contender whatever jersey he wears. But in 2012, all of them wore Euskadi Orange.

I leave my home later than usual, leaving me twenty-five minutes for a thirty minute commute. I push on the pedals; I am my own echelon, I cut corners and I sprint every stretch of road as if it's the final kilometre of the San Sebastian. Halfway to work -I'll make it there with three minutes to spare- the green traffic light jumps to orange. It's fine to me. Orange is MY colour.

The end

In 2013, the end is near for the Euskadi team. Commercial sponsor Euskaltel withdraws, and the most important race now isn't on the bike, but in boardrooms, trying to find a new sponsor. Enigmatic Formula 1 racer Fernando Alonso looks to be a lifeline, offering to buy the team. Unfortunately, the move is never completed. With the team's demise already definite, Juan Jose Lobato takes the team's final win, at home in the Basque country in the Circuito de Getxo.

I've been a Basque for five months. The photo's of the bike adorn my social media profiles, my work colleagues know whether I'm in with one look at the parking. I'm biking home on a rainy day, taking a short stop at a supermarket. I carefully lock the bike, and do my groceries. When I try to unlock my bike, my lock breaks - the bike is locked, but I'm unable to unlock it. There's a bike shop around the corner, but it's a Sunday and it's closed. As I get on the bus home, I look back once more. I feel something in the bottom of my stomach.



It's been six years since the end of Euskaltel Euskadi. It's known several smaller successors: the commercially sponsored Euskadi Murias enjoyed two seasons on the professional level, but it too has now closed its shutters. Spiritually closer to the old team is Fundacion Euskadi, Mikel Landa's project funded by government subsidies and philanthropists. It is they who ride in the classic Basque bright orange jerseys. As I sit in the bus home, my phone's twitter app buzzes. Although I heard the rumour before, I read the confirmed news for the first time, then and there in that bus: Fundacion Euskadi makes the step upwards to the Pro Tour. In 2020, the orange jersey will join the pro peloton again.

I was a Basque for five months. It's now the off season. My gut feeling was right: when I came back the next day, my beautiful Orbea was gone. I filed a police report, scoured Ebay for weeks to see my bike pop-up again. No avail. I was a Basque for five months, but now I've lost the bike. More good news for Mikel Landa: Fundacion's funding is guaranteed for five years. I was a Basque for five months. In two months time, the pro-team Fundacion Euskadi will ride their first race in San Juan. It will be late at night in my home, but I will turn on the television nevertheless. And every time when I see an orange jersey on TV, I will be a Basque again.


Are you a fan of Basque cycling too? The good people behind Marea Naranja (@MareaNaranja) are crowdfunding a book on 20 years of Euskaltel-Euskadi, with photo's and interviews with many of the colourful characters of the orange squad. They're very close to reaching their target, and you've got one week to help them! --> http://vkm.is/mareanaranja