Jacopo Cerutti, desert centaur

The Napapijri Bulletin is a monthly editorial project that tells the extraordinary stories of extraordinary people. Cultural adventurers, friends of the brand, modern explorers: each month, The Bulletin celebrates those who dare to abandon the known maps to chart unexpected territories.

Jacopo Cerutti, desert centaur

Born in 1989, he has been riding a motorcycle since he was 14. After collecting Italian and European enduro titles, in 2015 he broke out of his comfort zone with a Paris–Dakar. Since then, the dusty world of rally raid has become part of his life. We met him between a race in the desert and competitions in Europe, while he trains… on a bicycle.

The rally raids you take part in are a mix of competition and adventure. Which aspect prevails in your character?

As a professional, you obviously can’t do without the competitive side, even though a rally raid is never just a race. Over the course of my career, the way I approach these events has changed a lot. At the beginning, the desire to win, to prove my worth, took precedence over everything else. Now I have a more conscious approach: I enjoy the adventure much more, because what makes you happy isn’t looking at a trophy on a shelf in your living room. What really fills your life are landscapes, horizons, unexpected events and surprises. In fifteen days of racing in the desert, you gather enough stories to tell for an entire year.

What kind of relationship do you have with your bike? Is it more a travel companion or an extension of your body?

A bit of both. When I’m alone in the desert, riding six or seven thousand kilometres in two weeks, it’s my only true companion. Having a good feeling with the bike is essential. But to be fast, to keep having fun, to enjoy riding, I also need to feel it as part of my body, almost as if I were a centaur.

The rally raids you take part in are a mix of competition and adventure. Which aspect prevails in your character?

As a professional, you obviously can’t do without the competitive side, even though a rally raid is never just a race. Over the course of my career, the way I approach these events has changed a lot. At the beginning, the desire to win, to prove my worth, took precedence over everything else. Now I have a more conscious approach: I enjoy the adventure much more, because what makes you happy isn’t looking at a trophy on a shelf in your living room. What really fills your life are landscapes, horizons, unexpected events and surprises. In fifteen days of racing in the desert, you gather enough stories to tell for an entire year.

What kind of relationship do you have with your bike? Is it more a travel companion or an extension of your body?

A bit of both. When I’m alone in the desert, riding six or seven thousand kilometres in two weeks, it’s my only true companion. Having a good feeling with the bike is essential. But to be fast, to keep having fun, to enjoy riding, I also need to feel it as part of my body, almost as if I were a centaur.

What does Africa represent for you?

It’s a presence that often comes back to my mind and stays in my heart. “Africa sickness” really exists: one visit is enough and you never fully recover. When you’re there, you want to go home, but as soon as you return, you wish you were back there, where your strongest memories remain—whether good or bad. The poverty I’ve seen, especially in Mauritania, showed me how relative my idea of normality is. If I have a roof over my head and enough to eat, I know there is really nothing I should worry about. Africa teaches you that.

Do you enjoy navigating in nature using maps, without GPS, or is it just a rule of the game?

It’s a fundamental part of the adventure. Even when you’re sure you’re on the right track, there’s always the thrill of doubt. Getting lost is part of the game. Last year, and again this year, together with other riders, we got lost among the dunes. We spent an hour riding around nothing, unable to find a way out, risking running out of fuel. In situations like that, you’re no longer rivals: you stick together and try to find the way back as a group. A unique atmosphere is created among the riders.

In raid preparation, you take meticulous care of every detail.

When I ride, I have a habit of modifying and optimizing everything I carry with me. From the small box for earplugs fixed to the handlebar, to lip balm spread on my face so that sand doesn’t get into my goggles. Sometimes I notice my “tricks” being picked up by colleagues. And there are those who copy me—but I don’t mind.

What are your goals for this year?

We’ll race the European Championship in Spain in mid-April, in Santiago de Compostela, then move on to a seaside race in Greece, in the Peloponnese, which I particularly love, at the end of May. In September, we’ve scheduled very demanding tests in Morocco. Finally, in October, the last races of the season before EICMA, and then we’ll be back competing in the Africa Race at the end of January.

Tell us about sand.

Beautiful and treacherous. As a terrain, I really like it. But I hate it when, as happens in Mauritania and Tunisia, it becomes soft and loose. It only takes a moment to sink in with the entire bike: getting it out under the sun requires patience, strength and technique.

When you come back, do you still carry a bit of the desert with you?