When Dave Jones organised a February gravel-riding trip with Pure Mountains to Spain’s Badlands region for himself and a group of his friends, they likely imagined clear blue skies, sun-soaked trails and relaxed post-ride beers on a terrace. However, in the weeks leading up to their departure, southern Spain was battered by severe weather, with flooding and landslides tragically causing several fatalities. Would Dave’s adventure end up being ruined by the conditions, or would the weather gods finally show some mercy? Olly joined the trip and picks up the story from here…
“We have been over in the Badlands again today, checking out the latest conditions for you. The original gravel Stage 1 is, unfortunately, unrideable at the moment. That area is almost entirely clay. When it gets wet, it sticks to your bike like an unfired clay pot and then picks up more clay, until you have to drag your bike like a dead weight.” Jenny and Tim, the owners of Pure Mountains, did a fantastic job of keeping us informed about the conditions in the Badlands. February in southern Spain typically brings clear blue skies, warm sunshine, blooming almond trees and - most importantly - dry trails. However, the beginning of 2026 had been very different, with a series of named storms battering the region one after another. Trails had been washed away, warnings of widespread flooding were issued, and sadly, there had even been weather-related fatalities. With flights booked and the dates already set, the trip was going ahead regardless. The real question was what the trails would be like. Would we end up pushing, carrying and dragging our bikes through miles of sticky clay, or would things somehow work out OK in the end?
“I'm very glad we didn't try and plan this ourselves” said Dave, as we sat in the transfer bus, taking us from Malaga airport up to our first night’s accommodation on the edge of the Gorafe Desert. We’d arrived to find bright, blustery and warm conditions, but as we headed into the mountains, ominous-looking black clouds boiled on the horizon and as we climbed, rain started battering against the windows of the bus, before turning into snow as we traversed a 2000m high pass. I’d been lucky enough to have travelled to this region of Spain a couple of times before and I’d never seen views like it – everywhere was lush and green instead of its normal, semi-arid brown. There was standing water visible in the roadside olive groves and any time we spotted a 4x4 track, it looked wet and uninviting.
Dave had initially considered organising his own bikepacking trip through the region, using routes sourced from the web, with everyone carrying the kit they needed on their bikes and on their backs. In good conditions, this might have worked out fine, but the less-than-ideal weather meant the local knowledge and expertise of Jenny and Tim, who have lived and worked in Spain for more than twenty years, would pay off handsomely. They had spent weeks carefully reccying potential routes, trying to find the Goldilocks combination of challenging riding, ace scenery, places for us to find food/water and most importantly, sourcing accommodation in this sparsely populated area. “Finding nice places to stay, and luggage transport, is such a challenge that we often plan the tour stages around the accommodation, rather than vice versa. This, along with the routes, produces a gravel holiday that an independent traveller could never come up with,” was how Jenny phrased it.
Pure Mountains offer both guided and self-guided gravel riding trips. We had booked onto the latter. Jenny and Tim arranged airport transfers, overnight accommodation, baggage transfers and provided super-accurate GPX files for the daily rides. All we had to do was to ride from A-to-B, stopping off at cafes in small towns for lunch on some days, or carry bocadillos made by the overnight accommodation on days where we were really out in the wilds.
Warming up on paved roads
“We're recommending that you take the road alternative for Day 1” came the message from Jenny, a few days before we were due to arrive in Malaga. The revised Day 1 route was just under 84 km in length and would see us climbing around 1000m. Although nominally a road ride, Tim & Jenny had managed to shoehorn in more than 15 km of off-road riding and we agreed that it sounded perfect. It turns out that everyone in the group had looked at the stats for the different days and all had a similar thought – the planned rides didn’t look all that long or overly demanding. As we soon discovered, though, Badlands kilometres are not the same as kilometres ridden anywhere else and the routes had actually been planned to perfection to make sure we arrived appropriately tired, but not completely exhausted.
We set off on Day 1 under blue skies, but with a blustery tailwind reducing the early morning temperature to single digits and at points, propelling us down the road like rockets. The winds were forecast to be super strong all day (gust speeds of above 60 kph were forecast for some sections) and we knew that the last part of the day would be into a headwind. The pace was probably best described as “efficient”. I had ridden with half the group before, so I had a rough idea what to expect, but it was still plenty rapid. When deciding which bike to bring, I’d erred on the side of caution (thinking that the latter part of the trip would see some pretty adventurous away-from-the-road riding), so I had packed my monstercross, which was fitted with 29x2.4” tyres. The tyres were very minimally treaded and roll pretty well, but when I looked around at everyone else’s choice of bike, the theme was generally #fastfar rather than rugged. Lightweight bikes fitted with skinny tyres was the general consensus. Sadly, the gremlins of air travel had paid me a visit during the journey from the UK and when I unpacked my bike, the rear brake had got air in it and was completely unusable. I tried every trick that I knew, but to no avail, so I spent Day 1 riding gingerly on the descents with just a front brake and paid a visit to the only open bike shop that we found in the hope they could resolve the issue.
Our main target for Day 1 was the beautiful Plaza de la Constitución in the centre of Guadix. After a morning of fantastic, undulating riding, we were all ready for lunch and found a welcoming café in the heart of the plaza. One of the staff said they would look after our bikes, so we trooped inside and found a table among the well-dressed locals, out for a relaxed Saturday lunch. Our waitress was fantastic and didn’t look at all phased by our attempts to murder her language. The final bill was such good value that we assumed that the staff had made a mistake, but apparently not – even though it looked like the kind of place that tourists would flock to, the prices were very much aimed at locals and so were incredibly reasonable.
With lunch duly dispatched, we headed back out on the bikes. We had a date with some off-road trails and an ever-strengthening headwind. After a few short kilometres of road, the provided GPX route file led us off into the first of a series of ramblas – dried-up river beds which seem to frequently contain a 4x4 track. It was fantastic to have our tyres on the dirt and as the afternoon sun shone down brightly, we were in high spirits. Soon after, however, we did wonder whether Tim had included the trail just as a test of our willpower, with a short but viciously steep push up a loose and sandy climb to get from one river valley to another. Fortunately, it only required a few minutes of hike-a-bike before the gradient eased off and we could saddle up again.
The final part of the afternoon mixed fast-rolling dirt tracks with undulating sections of minor road. The middle of the afternoon saw us climb into the small hillside town of Gor, the destination for the next two nights. Our accommodation was a couple of beautifully appointed apartments and the welcome we received from the owner couldn’t have been warmer. With bikes washed and put away in the provided secure lock-up, we headed into town for a few post-ride beers and to find some dinner. While breakfast was included at each of the overnight stays, dinner was up to us. Jenny and Tim had given us their recommendations in places where there was a good choice or had made us a reservation in places where the choice was limited. In Gor, their suggested bar was closed, so we headed to their second choice. It felt very much like a place that never received tourists, but the welcome we received was incredibly friendly and during the course of the evening, a surprising number of local people came over to say hello. Seemingly unfazed by the fact we didn’t really have a language in common, they nattered on perfectly happily and even without us understanding much of the conversation, it was clear to see they were very happy that tourists had come to visit their town.
I snuck away slightly early after dinner. My aim was to have another go at fixing my still dysfunctional rear brake. The only open bike shop that we had found during the first ride had been very welcoming, but the owner apologetically explained that their mechanic wasn’t there, as he was out helping set up for a bike race happening in the area the following day. Back at the apartment, I used every bit of mechanical bodging I could think of (I knew that all my years working as an MTB guide in the wilds of Morocco would pay off at some point), but sadly no joy – my rear brake was still not functioning. I messaged Tim to update him and he came back straight away with some suggested fixes, but none of them worked.
The open-air bike workshop
Day 2 dawned cold, bright and sunny. It was scheduled as a loop ride day, but with only one functioning brake and some pretty gnarly trails included, I decided to skip it. I headed out early on foot with my camera kit, determined to capture some shots of the rest of the group as they tackled the first climb. The views were absolutely stunning. The mountains were freshly dusted in the snow and the early morning light made everything ‘pop’ in a way that felt entirely alien compared to the grey, miserable conditions that had typified much of the winter back home in the UK. Tim called me not long after I got back to the apartment to say that he was going to drive over, bringing a full tool kit and a spare bike, in case we couldn’t fix the issue. Considering he and Jenny lived more than two hours’ drive away, this was an incredible level of service.
When Tim arrived a few hours later, Marc, the owner of the accommodation we were staying in, came out to meet us, carrying in one hand what looked like a Shimano bleed funnel. “I found the file online last night, so have 3D printed this for you, in case it helps?” When we had arrived the previous afternoon, one of the group had mentioned to Marc that I had mechanical issues and he had straight away rung a couple of his local friends who he knew were into cycling, to see whether they had a bleed kit I could use. Unfortunately, none of them did, so as a backup, he’d spent some time researching online what I might need and then had gone to the effort of 3D printing the part he thought would be most useful. In all the years that I’ve spent travelling the world, I don’t think I’ve ever met an accommodation owner who has gone to this level of effort to try and help out one of his guests. I was properly speechless. Tim had brought an impressively well-stocked tool kit with him, but it was to be of no avail – a tiny o-ring had perished inside the brake calliper and, despite our best efforts, it wasn’t fixable. Fortunately, Tim had the foresight to bring Jenny’s spare XC race bike along and it fitted me like a dream. Cinderella could go to the ball after all!
After quickly cobbling together some lunch, I got changed into my cycling gear and headed out for a shake-down ride on Jenny’s bike. I’d looked at the route that Pure Mountains had suggested and realised that I could quite easily chop it in half, making the shortened version perfectly rideable in the time I had available. The route was almost entirely off-road and comprised a fantastic mix of climbing and descending. The Sierra Nevada mountains, freshly coated in snow, were my companion for a good chunk of the route and you can tell by the huge grin on my face how happy I was to be out riding (and to have two functioning brakes).
That evening, with everyone reunited, we headed back to the bar from the previous night and enjoyed another sociable dinner. It was noticeably quieter than the previous night (perhaps locals stay at home on a Sunday evening?), which meant we could have a post-dinner game of “look-how-badly-coordinated-gravel-riders-are-when-it-comes-to-anything-other-than-cycling” without feeling like we were barging the locals out of the way
Heading for the high mountains
While Tim had been helping try and fix my bike, we’d been chatting about his route suggestion for our third ride. He’d given us three options – a high “summer’ option, a lower altitude and slightly shorter “winter” option and a third road option (which was much longer and included way more climbing, but which would be 100% rideable no matter the weather). On his drive over, he’d been checking out the snow conditions and his advice was that we err on the side of caution and choose the winter off-road option. His advice was that the higher option would either have significant stretches of snow or that the snow would have melted and turned the tracks into an energy-sapping quagmire.
The group discussed the different options at length over dinner. We ruled out the road option as holding limited appeal. The lower option was probably the most sensible, but it was quite a bit shorter and wouldn’t offer the same ‘wow factor’ as the high route. In the end, we decided to go with the high route, but to turn back if we found the off-road part of the climb to be too difficult to ride. The climb was a decent challenge. In total, we would ascend for nearly 30 kms, of which more than 20 would be off-road. With the climb topping out at 2030m, if we were lucky with conditions, we were in for a fantastic (albeit challenging) day on the bikes.
The tarmac portion of the climb kicked up steeply at first, before undulating more as we made our way to the start of the off-road section. The dirt track started at an altitude higher than any mountain in the UK, which made me feel slightly better about the sense of fatigue in my legs and the relative lack of oxygen in the air. There were sections exactly as Tim had predicted, where the snow had melted, causing the surface to be a soggy mess. Despite relatively gentle gradients, it was unreasonably hard work to try and maintain momentum and there were sections where I definitely lost the will to live. Fortunately, as we climbed higher, we began to get glimpses through the trees of exceptionally beautiful surrounding scenery and somehow this made the pain a little more bearable.
The upper sections of the climb included some more undulating terrain and it was here that we found our first snow. Fortunately, the sun had started to reduce the depth, so in most places it was only around 5 to 10cm. Once you got the bike up to speed, it was fantastic to ride through. You had to really relax and let the bike find its own way through. Suddenly, the extra heft of my borrowed MTB was worthwhile, as I had terrain-appropriate tyres and a more upright position, so I was able to speed along the trail like a hooligan.
The high point of the climb offered a stunning vista over the Sierra Nevada mountains in the distance and the effort of the climb felt worthwhile. We hastily put on a few extra layers of clothing, shovelled in some food and set off on the descent. We had more than 30 km of descending to look forward to (although there were a few uphill sections cunningly camouflaged in the route profile), with initial gradients of around 10%. The descent took us northwards and as soon as we dropped onto the colder side of the mountain, the track surface was completely covered with a layer of compacted snow. Fortunately for us, despite the altitude, the snow remained mercifully soft and there were only tiny patches which were icy. Had the temperature been much colder, we would have been in a much less pleasant situation – descending a 10% gradient trail covered in wall-to-wall ice would not be high up anyone’s list of fun ways to spend an afternoon.
The descent was so long and so varied that you could actually feel the change in temperature in the different sections. The air temperature at the top was around 5 degrees C, but at one particularly sunny spot where we stopped for a mid-descent rest, the temperature rose to 18 degrees! Layers were stripped off and many of the group ended up in full-summer kit by the time we reached the lower slopes. The views changed as quickly as the temperature – we had a full alpine experience at the summit, but there were sections lower down where it felt like we were riding the strada bianche of southern Tuscany on the lower slopes. The trail surface too altered dramatically – we had everything from snow cover to surprisingly rocky/lumpy/stuttery to champagne gravel all in the space of about an hour.
At the base of the descent, one of the riders discovered he had broken a spoke in his rear wheel which had thrown the wheel out of true, so we made the decision to deviate slightly from our route to head into the local town of Baza in search of a good bike shop and a café. When we arrived, the bike shop was closed thanks to the siesta-based opening hours, but we found an excellent café nearby and worked our way through their menu of tostados, café con leche and waffles with ice cream while we waited for the shop to re-open.
The final part of the route saw us heading along a converted railway path (known as via verdes) pushed along by a screaming tailwind – always a good way to finish a ride. Our overnight accommodation was the most palatial and the most eclectic of the trip.
The flamboyant owners of the house were very welcoming and due to its more remote location, provided a fantastic multi-course dinner – ideal after a tough day on the bikes, albeit more than double the price of anywhere else that we ate!
Hope you packed your CX skills (and your swimming trunks?)
Day 4 dawned clear and sunny and after a lavish (and very welcome) breakfast, we saddled up and headed out. The initial part of the day’s route had a gently undulating and low-lying profile and we figured this probably meant there was a high chance of mud. Sure enough, after a few kilometres of bone-dry, fast rolling farm tracks, we turned off the main route onto a smaller side track and straight away found sections of the wet clay that Jenny had warned us about before the trip. Although I hadn’t managed to pack a functioning bike, I’d obviously managed to fit in some of my former mud-loving CX racer skills and by some combination of skill and luck, I managed to get through the first section with barely any mud on me on at all. When I looked back and started to take some photos, it was clear that not everyone had been as lucky and our group was spread thinly down the length of the trail. Speed is frequently your best friend when it comes to riding mud smoothly and unfortunately, a combination of slow speed and less-than-perfect line choice means your tyres pick up clay like it’s going out of fashion. Luckily, everyone was happy despite the wet conditions and after a short stop to de-clog their bikes, we were soon off again.
After the initially low-lying, undulating section of the route, we soon started to climb. The profile was stepped for the next section, with sections of climbing interspersed with flat sections or descents, but the overall trend was upwards. Around midday, we arrived, almost unexpectedly, at the high point. Compared to the previous day, when we had climbed for hours, today’s climbs came in short bursts and it felt to me as though we had expended much less energy, but arrived somewhere super impressive.
We stopped for our picnic lunch at a promontory with incredible views over an expansive man-made reservoir, with archetypal Badlands terrain beyond. It was warm and sunny, with barely any wind. Spirits in the group were super high and the fact that we had a long descent to look forward to after lunch only added to the atmosphere. The descent that followed was spectacular – initially on super-fast, flowy 4x4 tracks, followed by steeper, sweeping MTB-style trails and finally onto wide dirt roads. We lost a huge amount of height impressively fast and all ended up with big smiles on our faces.
Early afternoon saw our route drop down to the lowest point of the day, where we were scheduled to follow the course of a river up a wide, fertile valley. As we rounded the penultimate corner before reaching our riverside trail, we realised there was going to be an issue – the bottom of the valley was completely full of flood water. The initial section was easy enough to bypass as there was a handily positioned wall which gave us an elevated walkway above the water. The second section was not so easy to avoid, however. The track was completely inundated and the floodwater had deposited a thick layer of silt when the river had burst its banks.
With no other option, we removed our shoes and socks and started to wade gingerly into the water. Courtesy of some (well-timed?) camera-faff, I was almost the last member of the group to set off, which meant I could benefit from watching the other riders and either following (or avoiding) their line choice. Unfortunately for Ben F, his chosen route through the muddy water proved to be a little more sub-optimal than he had hoped for. In the blink of an eye, he appeared to lose his footing slightly and toppled over to his right, the weight of his bike causing most of his body to disappear below the surface of the water. Fortunately, he was soon rescued and made it safely to dry land. Considering how wet he was, he maintained his composure admirably and didn’t once complain about having to ride for the next few hours in soaking wet kit.
The final part of the afternoon offered up some of my favourite trails of the entire trip. Tim & Jenny’s route research had paid off in spades and we seemed to swoop and flow from one amazing trail to the next. There was everything from farm tracks lined with Cyprus trees, to challenging MTB-esque descents with amazing views, to smooth gravel roads and most things in between. The day’s route finished with a screamingly fast descent down a concrete track into a small, sunlit valley. On arrival at the hotel, it was warm enough to sit outside and enjoy a well-earned beer – the perfect end to a great day.
Final Day – Into the Badlands proper
On paper, the last day didn’t look all that challenging – 60 km and 1200m of climbing. What those stats singularly fail to demonstrate, though, is how mind-blowing the scenery was going to be and how demanding some of the climbs were. The initial part of the route heading away from the hotel was perfect – a relatively gentle spin up a billiard-table smooth section of tarmac, surrounded by stunning scenery. A short, fast, paved descent was then followed by a steep, gritty climb up onto a wide ridge. As we climbed, my photographer’s sixth sense started to tingle and I got the distinct impression that the combination of scenery and early morning light as we crested the high point was going to be impressive.
I wasn’t wrong! It felt as though we had ridden into a Hollywood film set. The summits of the mountains on the far side of the valley were wrapped in silken layers of cloud, stunningly backlit by the low, early morning sunshine. The valley bottom was carpeted with endless rows of olive trees and our trail cut a sinuous course through the creamy-brown dirt from the ridge down to the river valley below. It felt like we had arrived in gravel riding heaven. The ever-twisting nature of the descent gave us endless viewing options and on each corner, there was seemingly something more incredible to look at. With my photographer’s head on, I felt like a kid in a sweet shop. With my gravel rider’s head on, I had an enormous smile plastered across my face.
From the valley bottom, we faced almost 20 km of climbing to reach the day’s high point at 1019m. The relatively modest altitude of the summit was more than made up for by the spectacular scenery. The fact that we rode a good portion of the climb within the cloud, where we only offered occasional tantalising glimpses of the mountains beyond, almost added to the experience.
The descent from the summit was (for me anyway) the highlight of the entire trip. The first part of the trail clung to a wide ridgeline, which offered stunning views. The trail swooped down off the mountain in such a way that it felt as though we were gliding over the surface. The gradient, surface and levels of grip were absolutely perfect. It was as close to a spiritual experience as I’d ever had on a bike and it felt like the gods of gravel riding were smiling upon us.
Sadly, as with all good things, eventually the descent petered out and we arrived in a wide, fertile, flat-bottomed valley. We found an impromptu picnic spot on a flood bank above a fast-moving river. With bocadillos duly dispatched, we headed for a nearby village in search of a post-lunch caffeine hit. The only obstacles that remained between us and the end point of the ride (and the trip) were one final river crossing (fortunately nothing like as challenging as the previous day’s) and one final climb, which was an absolute brute. With sections steeper than 20% and a surface that had been quite damaged by the recent poor weather, it made for a challenging finish. Again, the views were spectacular, but it certainly felt like we had earned them.
We had one final (fantastic) descent to look forward to, followed by a short road section back to Gorafe, where our trip started. Before making the final climb back up to our fantastic cave-based overnight accommodation, we found a local bar and enjoyed a celebratory drink or two in the afternoon sunshine.
Our last night was spent eating a celebratory paella prepared by our super-friendly hosts and served in an incredible cave room carved out of one of Gorafe’s many soft-sided hills – a perfect way to finish the trip.
Over the course of five memorable days, we had ridden over 300km of some of southern Spain’s finest gravel trails. We’d climbed more than 6000 hard-earned metres and flown down some of the best gravel descents I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Thanks to the hard work of Jenny & Tim at Pure Mountains, what could have turned into a disaster on many levels ended up being a fantastic experience that will bring back happy smiles in the future whenever we think about it.
If you would like to find out more about Pure Mountain’s range of guided and self-guided gravel adventures, check out their website here.