Badlands isn’t just another gravel race. It’s one of Europe’s toughest bikepacking challenges: more than 750 km of remote tracks across southern Spain, with punishing climbs, scorching deserts, and long stretches without resupply. Ever since finishing Gravel Birds — and after a failed attempt at The Goats — I had dreamed of lining up for this event. In 2025, I finally got my chance. What follows is my day-by-day account of the race, the planning that went into it, the gear that kept me moving, and the lessons I learned along the way.

Getting In and Getting Ready

Badlands is notoriously difficult to get into, so I made sure I was among the first to apply. The race has a reputation for brutal heat, especially in the Gorafe and Tabernas deserts, and that was the factor I feared most. I live in Portugal, so when we had heat waves I trained in the Portuguese mountains on my gravel bike. The idea of having to quit because of heat terrified me.

Luckily, in the 2025 edition the weather turned out to be relatively kind — at least for me. Many riders still complained about high temperatures, but coming from a hot country I found them manageable.

I’m not a pro athlete — not even a full-time athlete — so my goal was simple: finish Badlands in five days. I took the GPX file from the organisers, imported it into Komoot and broke it into five stages. Some days were intimidating, with over 150 km and 3,000 m of climbing, but my previous experience on The Goats (180 km and 3,200 m in one day) told me it was possible.

I studied the route in detail, marking resupply points and potential sleeping spots. With the planning done, it was time to talk about my setup.

My Bike and Gear Setup

I rode a Canyon Grizl Escape with a 11–51 cassette and 40T chainring. This gearing was essential for climbing the relentless Andalusian mountains.

Sleeping system: ultralight mattress, emergency bivvy, and sleeping bag. My down jacket doubled as a pillow.

Water: capacity for 4.5 L, though I only filled it fully on the longest stretches.

Lights: two 900-lumen lamps plus a headlamp. Night riding at Badlands is inevitable.

Clothing: one extra bib short, jersey, and socks. No casual clothes — though in hindsight, a spare boxer or thin base layer would have made sleeping more comfortable.

First aid: alcohol pads, medical tape, ibuprofen, wet wipes, toothbrush and toothpaste.

Tools & spares: derailleur hanger, chain links, bolts, multi-tool, tubeless plug kit, two bottles of chain lube, and zip ties (lots of them).

Day 1: Granada to Villanueva

The start in Granada was cool and a little nerve-wracking. The first twenty kilometres were essentially a 1000 meters climb, followed by more hills. Despite being in the last wave of riders, I felt strong.

At La Peza (60 km) I stopped for two bocadillos and Fantas, refilled my bottles at a fountain, and rolled on. Heat started to build, so I watched my hydration and salt intake carefully.

The Gorafe Desert was stunning — vast, quiet, and surreal. My goal was to reach Gorafe before sunset, eat a big dinner, and push on in the dark. I met two Brazilian riders and we rode together into Villanueva, finally finding a playground to sleep in. For an ultra-cyclist, a playground with soft ground feels like a five-star hotel.

Day 2: Villanueva to Velefique

My plan for Day 2 was to reach Gór for food, then tackle the climb to Calar Alto. The morning was spectacular, with long climbs out of the desert.

At 40 km I stopped in a small village for food and ice cream. Gór had a 24-hour restaurant and supermarket ready for Badlands riders — I ate a hearty chicken-and-salad meal with peaches before the 1,000 m climb.

The ascent to Calar Alto Observatory was long but consistent, mostly on smooth gravel. By nightfall I was still climbing, exhausted but steady. After a sketchy gravel descent I rolled into Velefique at 1:30 am and slept on a bench surrounded by the scent of flowers.

Day 3: Through the Tabernas Desert to Agua Amarga

After three hours of sleep I crossed the Tabernas Desert. Alone on the early-morning gravel, the silence was magical.

Breakfast was a huge tuna-and-egg salad in Uleila del Campo. By midday I was in Tabernas eating pasta, filling bottles with ice water, and bracing for the desert. Sandy sections slowed me down, but the scenery was spectacular.

By evening I reached the Mediterranean. In Agua Amarga I devoured a pizza while covered in dirt and salt. Modesto — a rider I’d seen repeatedly — joined me. Hotels were full, so we slept on the beach, falling asleep to the sound of waves.

Day 4: Cabo de Gata and the Endless Climb

We woke at 6 am. My Garmin kept insisting I had “no sleep detected,” but my legs felt good. Today was the longest distance — 180 km — though “only” 2,200 m of climbing.

We swam at San José, rinsed off in public showers, then rolled toward Cabo de Gata. Stunning beaches, flamingos in the salt flats, and wide gravel roads gave way to Almería.

At a bike shop I had a small leak fixed and stocked up on gels and bars. Then came Los Pedrolos: a 14 km climb that took three hours but was far less brutal thanks to recently improved gravel. We decided to sleep in Félix, finding yet another playground with artificial grass and a fountain.

Day 5: The Hardest Day of My Life

The final day began with a climb out of Félix and straight into furnace-like heat. Our route followed dry riverbeds and remote valleys — at times feeling like a Western movie set.

At Alboloduy the thermometer hit 40°C. The 17 km climb that followed was the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, but also the most draining. Salt tabs and isotonic drinks were lifesavers.

By evening I reached Ocana, ate pasta, stored leftovers in a water bottle for later, and set off again. The tailwind helped; almond fields and windmills flew by as night fell.

But then came La Peza and the last 30 km — the hardest of the entire race. The climbs felt endless, the gravel rough, the temperature plunging. I started to hallucinate and fought sleepiness on the descents, singing nonsense songs to stay awake.

Finally, after a final brutal 17% detour, I rolled into Granada at 5 am, nine hours before the time limit.

🧰 Gear Tips from My Badlands Ride

• Gear ratio matters. A wide-range cassette (mine was 32–51 with a 48T front) let me spin instead of grind up endless climbs.
• Carry more water than you think you need. Even if you don’t fill it every time, having 4–5 L capacity removes a lot of stress.
• Light is freedom. Two bright lights and a headlamp gave me confidence to ride at night and extend my daily distance.
• Think of comfort at night. A lightweight bivvy plus a down jacket as a pillow was enough, but spare underwear or a thin base layer would have been gold for sleeping.
• Small but essential tools. A spare derailleur hanger, tubeless repair kit, chain lube and zip ties are worth their weight many times over.
• Pack food variety. Not just gels: bocadillos, fruit, salt tablets and real meals when possible helped keep energy steady.

💡 Lessons Learned

• Heat training pays off. Regular riding in Portugal’s heat made Badlands’ temperatures feel manageable.
• Break the route into chunks. Planning stages on Komoot and marking resupply points gave me a mental map and reduced anxiety.
• Eat and drink before you’re hungry or thirsty. Salt tablets plus real food prevented cramps and bonks.
• Expect the unexpected. Gravel instead of tarmac, missing water sources, or “bonus climbs” at night — build in margin for surprises.
• Sleep is powerful. Even three hours on a bench or playground can restore enough energy to keep moving.
• Ride your own race. Being at the back of the pack at the start doesn’t matter; staying steady and consistent does.

Closing Thoughts

Badlands was the hardest challenge of my life so far, but also the most breathtaking. The landscapes, the people, and the sense of pushing myself beyond my limits were unforgettable. I’m sure I’ll return one day — but for next year, other gravel adventures await around the world.