Andalusia, here we come!
My brother has been living in Andalusia for almost 20 years now. He ended up there after spending some time in the U.S., where he met his wife, Mar, who was born in Andalusia. They live in Seville, a city that feels like a world away thanks to its cultural richness, the orange trees lining its streets, its bars that are always bustling, and the laughter of its residents that carries through the walls late into the night.
I’m not much of a city person. Maybe it’s because I’ve lived in very large cities and have come to need the tranquility of the countryside. And despite all its beauty, I find Seville exhausting. So after a delightful weekend with family, I felt the urge to get out of there. We quickly found some routes online, tweaked them to suit us, strapped our bags to our bikes, and off we went—Jo and I—on the roads of Andalusia. The plan was to ride from Seville to Córdoba through the Sierra Morena and return to Seville via a different route—a loop of just over 400k in southern Andalusia.
To Plan… or Not
Cycling is thrilling. It has its own rhythm, its own detours, and its own unexpected twists. Because it’s still a bit chilly this time of year (it’s February), we decided not to camp, which requires a bit more planning than we’re used to. So we mapped out stages, allowing us to travel from one village or town to the next to find a place to stay for the night. It’s a small constraint, though, because it imposes a schedule and a destination, and prevents us from completely letting ourselves be carried along by the flow of the journey.
It’s surprisingly easy these days to plan a trip at the last minute—with a phone, you can book lodging instantly, check the weather, and view the route.
That said, our Andalusian journey still had its share of adventures. A route that was often vague along the paths and trails meant we had to carry our bikes, climb over barbed wire, cross countless gates, and push our bikes through muddy, steep terrain.
We also saw landscapes of striking beauty in the Sierra Morena, and many animals that melted our hearts—very young calves with fluffy coats, wild boar piglets that looked like stuffed animals, majestic storks, pensive cows, and rabbits with pure white bottoms.
Encounters
On the trails and paths, we encountered… no one. Surprising, given those hundreds of kilometers of farmland (many cork oaks and olive trees in the Sierra—vast fields on the plain). Occasionally a few 4x4s—two or three a day—and a few tractors on the horizon. That’s all. After the bustling city, the contrast was striking and we loved it. We did see people in the village bars, where we stopped to restock our supplies. They were loud and laughing, a bit surprised to see two Frenchmen show up on bikes, but apparently not at all surprised to serve us impressive amounts of food.
Because hours spent on a bike make you hungry. So we ate a lot. As much as the days in the saddle had their share of discomfort, we made up for it with simple meals enjoyed at a table, in a warm and authentic atmosphere. We ate dishes with names we couldn’t even pronounce, served by people who were always incredibly kind—and all for a pittance. Our accommodations were very simple, always spotlessly clean (a stark contrast to our dust-covered bikes and clothes)—and they allowed us to get a good night’s sleep.
Tourism?
We played the part of tourists a bit—with a day off in Córdoba. Even though we both really appreciate art, history, and architecture, we quickly got overwhelmed by the crowds and tourist attractions. It was with mutual relief that we hopped back on our bikes to set off again along the wide, windy trails that took us back to Seville.
Bikepacking: a sport?
Some call it a sport, but we see these adventures simply as a way of life that has little to do with athletic performance. It’s the wandering, the joy of discovery, the unique sense of time that comes with cycling, and the embrace of the unexpected that draw us in above all else. Of course, it’s still a significant physical effort. But it has a meaning entirely different from that of a route judged solely by its difficulty, the number of kilometers, and the elevation gain. To be honest, we don’t really care about that. It just comes with the territory; what matters most to us is that forward motion—rather slow, silent, and full of appreciation.
Gear Corner and Tips
- We prefer gravel bikes: they go almost anywhere, stay relatively comfortable on rocky terrain, and don’t stick too close to the road on paved surfaces. They’re easy to equip with bags and racks. That said, for long trips or certain mountainous terrain, mountain bikes are still much better suited. We do get jostled around quite a bit on gravel, though. Our bikes are equipped with gravel drivetrains designed to help us tackle steep climbs without leaving our lungs behind, and our tires are wide for added comfort (Jojo: 2 chainrings—31/46 and 50 tires; me: single chainring 30/42 and 47 tires). We’d like to have an easier gear ratio because, honestly, those long, steep climbs with loaded bikes really take it out of you.
- We love Helmut bags—they’re handmade, so they’re top-notch. We won’t mention the brands of the other bags we use because they aren’t very durable, and Jojo’s are on their last legs. Rapha has released a fanny pack, which we tested on this trip and have completely adopted. You can’t even feel it, and you can put tools or food in it.
- As for clothes, we pack very little. We wash them when we can, and they dry overnight. A T-shirt, a jacket or fleece, an ultra-light down jacket, cycling shorts, a rain jacket—and that’s it! We both have our favorite brands: Jo loves Pedaled and Café du Cycliste, while I’m a die-hard fan of Rapha cycling shorts. Patagonia down jackets are still the lightest and warmest. During this trip, we added a pair of lightweight leggings or pants for the evenings or when it gets cold. I also recommend those ridiculously long socks, which mainly serve two purposes: 1) to keep us from taking ourselves too seriously, and 2) to keep most of our legs warm during early morning rides.
- GPS routes: we create them on Visu GPX at home, or find pre-made ones online (which was the case for this trip), and then customize them as we see fit. We love Komoot—it’s super easy to use, right on your phone, which attaches to the bike with a Quadlock mount (another new gadget we tested on this trip and have since adopted). Base maps abroad sometimes leave us a bit hesitant, since we’re used to IGN’s Top 25 series. But we manage—by checking certain sections with satellite imagery, we’re able to work around a few obstacles. And the rest? That’s just part of the surprises you find on the ground.
- Distances: Hmm, well, if you’re used to road biking—where riding 100k requires good fitness and some experience but isn’t exactly a feat—you’ll need to reassess your expectations. Because on the trails, paths, and tracks—even when they’re in very good condition, like in Andalusia—well, you just don’t go fast! Our two stages around 100k were loooooong and, frankly, a bit pushing it—we arrived after dark, totally wiped out. Even though we knew the route was doable and our accommodation options were limited, we much prefer stages of 50 to 70k per day, especially if there’s significant elevation gain and the terrain is technical. It also gives us time to chat, take in the scenery, take a nap, snap some photos, and just enjoy ourselves.
- Tools—ah, tools! Because you need them. Our frame bags are actually dedicated to that: a multi-tool kit, a pump, puncture repair kit (and we sure put it to good use after a huge nail—I didn’t dare take a picture of it, since the moment was a bit tense—pierced right through Jo’s rear tire. Of course, we were in the middle of nowhere, still had a good 40 km to go, and night was fast approaching. Jo, who doesn’t let things like this get to her, managed to patch the torn tire, drain the tubeless sealant, and install an inner tube. Then—and this was by far the hardest part—we set off again, confident that the repair would hold up on rough trails and through thorny patches, since, of course, we encountered more unexpected obstacles along the way afterward. There are also plenty of other things that our respective experiences have taught us not to leave at home: the right chain lube to protect against dust and mud, derailleur hanger and cable (yes, it’s useful, since one of my specialties is actually crashing right onto the derailleur—I had two such crashes during this trip), tire levers, valves, tire levers, and all that. I won’t list everything here—enthusiasts can ask us.
- And food? Well, you need it, and often that means giving up on the ideal balanced diet—which, in the end, is only realistic for the urban athlete who has a Biocoop around the corner. We take what we can and what we find; we don’t make a big deal out of it—as I said earlier, we eat a lot and often; that’s the secret to having enough energy to pedal 6 to 8 hours a day.
- Sore spots: because, let’s face it, spending several days in a row with your butt on a bike, jostled by the rough road, is uncomfortable. Let’s not kid ourselves—there are no “magic” little tricks that will suddenly make the butt pain go away (a generic term describing a whole range of discomforts, from a sore… and flattened “chamois,” to raw skin, not to mention bruises on the sit bones and/or pubic bone). You may have already experienced that moment the day after a long ride, when you first sit on the saddle, and you think to yourself… “Oh no, this can’t be happening—I can’t sit down; I’m going to have to ride the whole day out of the saddle”; well, that kind of experience never goes away. You get used to it a bit, grit your teeth for a while, and after a while, the discomfort just becomes part of the daily routine—you can move on to other things. And then there are also the sharp pains in your neck and/or upper back, cramps in your wrists and/or fingers, and knees that creak when you have to push or pull hard on the pedals going uphill. But hey, when you embrace the slow pace, you give yourself time to stop, catch your breath, make adjustments, and set off again feeling a little better.
