Gravel Biking in Andalucía: A Bumpy Yet Beautiful Sierra Nevada Adventure
Embarking on a van journey with an Englishman, five Irishmen, and a Scotsman, I knew the stage was set for potential embarrassment. My goal for the next few days was simple: avoid being the one who ended up looking foolish. We were heading from bustling Málaga to the remote reaches of Andalucía for a four-day gravel biking expedition—a completely new experience for me, and one I wasn't entirely sure I was prepared for.
My cycling background was limited to a flat five-mile commute through London and leisurely road touring holidays. I had always preferred the smooth glide of asphalt, harboring a slight snobbery towards rough terrain. Why endure bumps when you could sail effortlessly? However, my apprehension grew as I realized my companions were all seasoned gravel and mountain bikers who had trained extensively for this tour. Mostly medical professionals—doctors, dentists, and physiotherapists—they were not only fitter than me but also a reassuring presence in case of mishaps. It quickly became clear I had bitten off more than I could chew.
Into the Wild: Sierra Nevada Backcountry
We were dropped off at the northern edge of the Sierra Nevada mountain range, where our guides, Tim and Jenny, welcomed us with cold beers and detailed booklets outlining the journey ahead. The key stats were daunting: approximately 60 kilometers per day with a challenging 1,400 meters of climbing and descending. The borrowed bike was much lighter than my own, featuring wider tires and drop handlebars splayed out for enhanced control. With lower gearing than I was accustomed to, even the steepest slopes seemed surmountable—eventually.
The first morning, we rode north towards the Sierra de Baza national park on what my companions dubbed "champagne gravel"—a firm, flat road sprinkled with small stones. We breezed across the arid landscape, passing the derelict film set that once portrayed Flagstone in Once Upon a Time in the West. This dramatic, empty terrain has attracted countless location scouts, featuring in Sergio Leone's Dollars trilogy, Dr. Zhivago, and even a KLF music video.
As we began climbing through almond groves into the mountains, the group spread out. Tim led the fastest riders at the front, while Jenny, on an ebike, stayed with the stragglers—including me—to ensure no one got lost. We regrouped at unsigned turns and refueled with muesli bars and dried fruit.
Mastering the Descents and Embracing the Challenge
During the climb, Jenny and others offered crucial advice for my first gravel descent: keep hands on the drops to avoid bumps, shift weight back, angle heels down on pedals, balance hips above the saddle, maintain distance from riders ahead, use both brakes simultaneously, avoid distractions from the views, and remember to breathe. The list of ways to lose control was extensive, but I managed to descend intact, though sore in muscles I never knew existed.
This part of Spain was remarkably empty; the only cars we encountered were during a coffee stop in Gor, a key village in the brutal 800km Badlands gravel race. Unlike the crowded Costa del Sol beach towns, which have seen anti-tourist protests, this quiet region of Andalucía eagerly welcomes visitors. Signs like "¡Macrogranjas no, turismo sí!" ("Megafarms no, tourism yes!") underscored the local enthusiasm.
Day two was even quieter, with no cars sighted all day. It began with a 1,000-meter climb up El Chullo, the tallest peak in Almería. We wound along a single-track path past rock piles and boar-dug holes before stopping near the summit for ham and cheese bocadillos. The descent was easier, allowing me to relax and observe other riders' techniques, though I still found myself holding my breath in concentration.
Unexpected Thrills and a Gravel Conversion
Day three also started with a 1,000-meter climb, offering glorious views as we navigated switchbacks past the treeline to a plateau. I was starting to feel at home—I could do this daily. However, the descent on bone-shuddering roads, so bumpy they drew complaints from professionals in the 2023 World Gravel Series, left my wrists aching. A doctor companion attributed it to tension, but I wasn't the only one relieved to hit the asphalt road back to the hotel.
The final day proved the most dramatic. We rode along dry ramblas, or riverbeds, navigating jungle-like foliage and muddy stretches that felt like riding through porridge. Menacing clouds finally broke, soaking us as we climbed through mud. Suddenly, water appeared upstream, turning from a trickle to a gush and transforming the porridge-like mud into soup. My wheels spun in the sand at times, but I had learned to keep pedaling and use balance to stay upright.
Tim took charge, marshaling us via radio and guiding everyone uphill to safety from the rising waters. After a soggy climb, Jenny greeted us at the final hotel with a van full of cava. As we celebrated, an Irish doctor joked, "Was this what you signed up for?" I looked at my drenched shoes, filthy bike, and sore hands, my face caked with mud. I had ended up looking silly, but it didn't matter. My snobbery about gravel biking had been foolish—I had ridden routes impossible for a road bike and experienced adventures unattainable on asphalt. The literal bumps in the road were part of the appeal. Why glide along when the bumps are so much fun?
The five-night Sierra Nevada gravel bike tour was provided by Pure Mountains, offering self-guided tours from £870 per person and guided tours from £1,090 per person.
