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Extremoduro

Malaga To Madrid

 

In early 2020, a friend and I started planning another cycling adventure. It was January, and we decided to head to the south of Europe.

My deep passion for Spain made the decision an easy one, and a flight to Málaga was quickly booked. For the first time, I traveled by plane with my bicycle and a new layer of logistics made the planning process more exciting.

A bike box was essential, and after visiting several bike shops, I finally found one spacious enough to accommodate my Genesis Vagabond gravel bike. With everything carefully packed, I stepped back to admire the well-organized result, feeling thoroughly satisfied with my preparation.

 

Luggage prepared for the flight: 1x bike, 2x Ortlieb Backroller, 1x Ortlieb Ultimate front bag and 1x foldable ultralight mini backpack (with a lot of food inside :-)

 

Everything went surprisingly smoothly. The booking process, check-in at Hamburg airport, and our arrival in Málaga were seamless, and we were delighted to find our bikes in excellent condition, even though it was already close to midnight.

What we hadn’t anticipated, however, was that assembling the bikes would turn into a two-hour endeavor. The late-night arrival hall was eerily quiet, except for the occasional appearance of amused airport staff who couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of two determined women armed with screwdrivers.

I soon learned that using a high-pressure air pump to inflate a 2.1-inch high-volume gravel tire was an exercise in futility. Within minutes, I was drenched in sweat and struggling to make any progress. Thankfully, my friend came to the rescue with her fantastic Lezyne pump, and I couldn’t have been more grateful.

 

Unboxing at Malaga airport

 

After what felt like an eternity spent assembling the bikes, we were finally ready to set off. Relieved and excited, we rolled toward the nearby airport hotel we had wisely booked in advance. Searching for a camping spot in Málaga at that late hour would have been nothing short of a logistical nightmare.

To our delight, the hotel room was located on the ground floor, allowing us to wheel our bikes straight inside. It felt comforting and reassuring to keep our beloved bikes by our side in the room, safe and ready for the adventure ahead.

 

Airport hotel in Malaga on arrival.

 

As soon as we entered the room, it turned into pure chaos within seconds. Our gear was scattered around as we unpacked and settled in.

The next day, after enjoying a Spanish breakfast, we set off on our planned route. As we cycled along the beachfront promenade of Torremolinos, we soaked in the warm rays of sunshine, hardly able to believe we had escaped the cold German winter weather.

 

 

Beachfront of Torremolinos: The Genesis and the my friend's Bombtrack basked in the sunshine, unaware of what lies ahead in the coming days

 

Along the southern Spanish coast and through the upscale town of Marbella, we reached a campsite by the late evening.

On the very first day, we quickly realized that finding a suitable cycling route was no easy task. On one side, the A7 highway and the mountains loomed, while on the other, the beach and rows of hotels left little room for maneuvering. An attempt to escape the A7 led us into a barranco—a gorge that, at this time of year, still carried water. In the dim twilight, we waded through the stream, adding an unexpected adventure to our journey.

 

Evening atmosphere near Marbella:

 

Packing up the next morning

 

The next day brought us unique challenges in terms of finding a route. We navigated our way between the beach, highway bridges, and guardrails, only to eventually end up directly on the Autovía A7. With no alternative routes available, it felt too dangerous to continue on the highway itself. So, we stayed on the other side of the guardrail, where some unexpected surprises awaited us.

 

 

 

 

Back and forth between a lot of obstacles. At one point, we even had to cross the veranda of a restaurant to continue our path alongside the guardrail of the Autovía A7.

 

Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed this very eventful cycling day, and it remains a fond memory to this day. 

The second half of the day, from Manvila to Gibraltar, was equally varied and offered breathtaking views, making the ride even more memorable.

 

Breathtaking view of the Rock of Gibraltar: its majestic silhouette rising sharply against the clear sky, with the shimmering sea stretching out below— a truly unforgettable sight.

 

A short nap before descending to Gibraltar was a welcome pause

 

Evening mood shortly after the blue hour with blue and orange on the horizon. A magical time to reflect on the day's journey

 

A chicken visited me for breakfast ! Did it come looking for crumbs, or was it just there to enjoy your company?

 

Another spectacular view of Gibraltar, this time from the west side: the iconic rock framed beautifully by the shimmering sea

 

We left the coast and the Autovía behind, relieved to enjoy some time cycling through the countryside. Along the way, we encountered storks, spending their winter here in southern Spain. Many more were to come. The encounters with these magnificent storks left a lasting impression, a true highlight of the adventure.

We were soon back on the E5, but the traffic was manageable, and the shoulder of the road was wide enough to ride safely. The route took us through the mountains, leading us toward Tarifa— The play of light added a magical touch to the landscape.

 

 

 

 

At a lovely little campsite, slightly west of Tarifa, we made our stop for the evening. There was a charming small hut with tables and chairs right by the beach. We prepared a delicious dinner and were treated to the magical sight of lights twinkling from Tangier on the opposite continent in Morocco—a perfect blend of tranquility and wonder.

 

 

 

 

The next day was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful on the entire journey—a stage I would gladly ride again and highly recommend. From Tarifa to Conil, the coastal landscape transformed dramatically. Gone were the heavily developed and touristy areas, replaced instead by a magnificent, wild, and diverse stretch of natural beauty. Each turn revealed something new and breathtaking, making it a truly unforgettable experience.

The highlight was undoubtedly the landscape around the dune of Bolonia — a natural wonder. It's a stunning natural phenomenon located on the Costa de la Luz in Andalusia. They are part of El Estrecho Natural Park and are situated along Playa de Bolonia, an untouched beach with fine, white sand. The dunes are vast and offer beautiful views of the coastline and the surrounding park. It was as if you were traversing an expansive desert.

 

 

 

 

No stopping in the desert sand. An ironic reminder that some places are meant to be admired while passing through.

 

The road through the dunes was a dead end, but we made the decision to continue anyway. From Paloma Baja, we took on the challenging task of pushing through the sand—a demanding effort, yet absolutely worthwhile. The most memoriable photos of the entire tour were taken here in the unique beauty of the dunes. Moments like these make every effort feel unforgettable!

 

 

 

Two Gravelers with heavy gear, being pushed through the soft, shifting sands

 

After crossing the dunes, we passed through Parque National de Barbate , with its untamed beauty and wild beaches. We made the wonderful decision to return someday to soak in its charm for a longer stay. Spending the night at a campsite in the lovely coastal town of Conil was a perfect end of the day.

We knew this would be our final night by the sea and, above all, one of our last nights at a comfortable campsite. This chapter of our journey was drawing to a close.

 

 

 

Our coastal journey was drawing to a close, and ahead of us lay the solitude of Andalusia’s and Extremadura’s inland landscapes.

 

Sitting on the ground, with a simple yet comforting meal of pasta and tomatoes

 

Leaving Jerez behind, the journey leads towards the Rio Guadalquivir and the Doñana National Park. This vast river delta is a haven for countless bird species, a sanctuary of biodiversity. However, the moment we left the coast, the weather decided to add its own twist to the adventure.

In the pouring rain, we finally reached the river, exhausted and unsure of where we would spend the night. With only two campsites between here and Madrid, our options were scarce. Tired and a bit desperate, we chose a spot where we felt entirely exposed, like being on display for everyone to see. It was far from ideal, but it offered us shelter for the night. The decision highlighted the contrast between camping hidden away from view and camping so visibly that there was no hiding at all. This time, we chose the latter.

 

The large and vast delta of river Guadaliquivir.

 

A sunshade became our drying rack, perfect for hanging up our completely soaked clothes. Small victories like these always seem to brighten even the toughest moments on the road.

 

A Fanta Lemon can definitely lift the spirits, but it truly shines under a blazing sun at 30°C. It's those small joys that truly enrich life

 

Somewhere "Off the map"

 

We rarely camp in plain sight, preferring a bit more discretion. Little did we know, the spot we'd chosen happened to be a popular weekend hangout for local youngsters. No sooner had we snuggled into our sleeping bags than we got the fright of our lives! We heard a car approaching, and then, like a scene from a movie, headlights came blazing straight towards our tents.

And then, we heard the sound of young men chatting – probably three of them – right next to our tents! There was no doubt about it; they must have spotted us, even thought it was already dark night.

Our hearts pounded in our chests as we lay frozen and practically breathless in our tents. A million worst-case scenarios raced through our minds, each more terrifying than the last. The men were just a meter away from our tents, probably wondering, who on earth was tucked away in those tents. They probably weren't expecting to find two girls camping out there all alone, that's for sure.

After a while they headed back to their car and we started to breathe a collective sigh of relief when they suddenly revved the engine and began tearing around in crazy donuts. They finally sped off into the night.

Just as we'd managed to drift back to sleep, another car came roaring up, headlights aimed directly at our tents again. This time, it seemed to be a couple looking for a secluded spot to enjoy a romantic evening. This time, we weren't so scared – the lovebirds seemed far too preoccupied with each other to notice us. At some point they drove off, and we finally drifted off to sleep

 

We had no idea what lay ahead as we set off the next morning on the dirt road along the river, heading north. Around 620 km to Madrid stretched out before us. Within just a few meters, we noticed how the road had been significantly softened by the rain. Little did we know of the muddy challenge that awaited us down the trail.

 

 

Storks, everywhere—nothing but storks! I

 

A mud battle like no other — one that truly stands out!

 

While cleaning the tires, I noticed that the rim was full of cracks.

 

Our tires were so caked with mud that they could barely turn, forcing us to stop and clean them. It was during this process that I made a shocking discovery — my rear wheel rim had cracks at every spoke hole. A moment of real concern on the journey, especially knowing how crucial reliable equipment is in such conditions.

And I got lucky. The damaged rim held up and got me all the way to Seville. And there, in the middle of the mud, were two female cycling adventurers from America, on with racing bikes and tires that looked thinner than my patience.

It was a surprise to meet cyclists on this harsh and unpopular dirt track. We chatted for a while and they told us they slept the last nights in Seville, in an abandoned house.

In a sleepy little suburb called Dos Hermanas ("two sisters"), we checked in on a campground, with washing machine and showers and were hoping to find a repair shop the next day.

 

Arrival at the bike shop, which looked more like a car dealer

 

We found a workshop, which looked more like a car dealership than a bike shop at first glance, but lo and behold! Upstairs, we discovered a seriously well-equipped mountain bike workshop and a super friendly dude ready to help.

I'll admit it, I always get a little twitchy and suspicious when I hand my beloved bike over to strangers. But here, I was totally proven wrong! This mechanic was a true pro – in no time, he'd swapped out the mangled rim for a shiny new one, replaced the tire, re-tuned the gears, and even managed to work some magic on my friend's shifting problems.

Honestly, I doubt we could have found such amazing and friendly service so quickly in any bike shop back in Germany, than we did right there. With and hearts full of gratitude, we bid farewell to the shop and eagerly hit the road once more.

 

Fueling up with a roadside picnic: bread, hummus, gazpacho and water

 

A whole week of uncharted adventures lay before us, though we knew one thing for sure: campsites were going to be rare along the way.

Wild camping is a big no-go in Spain, and we knew the Guardia Civil, Spain's vigilant highway patrol, would definitely be keeping a watchful eye on things.

Just off the main highway, we discovered a turnoff onto an old country road, hidden behind a thick screen of bushes. We figured it was the perfect spot to pitch our tent for the night, completely out of sight.

 

 

Two Hilleberg tents snuggled side-by-side, in the middle of nowhere

 

After our last, less-than-relaxing night, we were desperately hoping for a full, uninterrupted night of blissful slumber. But alas, once again, we were jolted awake by blinding lights barrelling towards our tent.

This time, it couldn't possibly be a coincidence. No one would stumble upon this abandoned spot by chance. Besides, there was no way anyone could have spotted our tents from the road. We braced ourselves for the worst, fully expecting the Guardia Civil to come knocking any minute now.

The lights drew closer and closer, and just when we thought they were about to plow straight through our tent, they suddenly veered off and changed direction! We cautiously unzipped the tent flap and peeked outside. And there it was - a tractor, plowing the field next to us in the dead of night!

Overcome with relief, we burst out laughing, crawled back into our tents, and finally succumbed to a deep and tranquil sleep

 

 

 

 

Unfortunately, the days that followed were a bit of a letdown. The weather turned gray, cold, and stubbornly rainy. The route wound its way through the seemingly endless plains of Extremadura, and honestly, we'd imagined this section of the trip would be a whole lot more exciting. Instead, all we found on either side of the road were fences, relentlessly separating private property from the public thoroughfare. Truth be told, we felt more like we were trapped in a mobile prison than embarking on an adventure. Campsites and wild camping opportunities were practically non-existent.

 

Trying to shield ourselves from prying eyes while setting up camp on private land (a definite no-no, of course!)

 

We desperately tried to ward off the relentless rain by wrapping our feet and hands in plastic bags - not exactly the height of cycling fashion, but needs must! Okay, it was January, and we weren't exactly expecting glorious summer weather, but four degrees Celsius and non-stop drizzle was definitely pushing our limits.

We missed more then anything a campsite with steaming hot showers and the opportunity to dry our soggy clothes.

 

 

The farm dogs were barking a constant serenade as we pitched our tents near that tiny little stream.

 

Nearing our fourth night, we were at our wit's end, completely unable to find a suitable spot to pitch our tents. We cycled along the edge of a vast, yet almost completely dried-up reservoir, but the banks were far too steep to set up camp. Just as we were about to lose all hope, we turned down a small dead-end road and, to our surprise, discovered an abandoned house.

It was kind of a bathing area, likely used during the summer months. We decided to take our chances and stay, and as luck would have it, we found ourselves with an absolutely fantastic, albeit unconventional, campsite.

 

 

In the end, we found a fantastic camping spot that exceeded all expectations

 

View of the Cerro Masatrigo, a fascinating geological formation. This hill has a nearly perfect conical shape and looks like a volcano, but isn't one.

 

The Embalse de La Serena, located in the province of Badajoz, Extremadura, is one of the largest reservoirs in Europe

 

We knew then that we had overcome the toughest part of our journey. Ahead lay just one day's ride to Toledo, where a proper campsite, delicious food, hot showers, and even a washing machine awaited us like a shimmering mirage. And frankly, it couldn't come soon enough – after so many nights off the grid under rainy conditions, we were starting smelling ourselves.

 

 

 

Parking under palm trees, one of our favorites

 

 

When we finally rolled into Toledo, the very first thing we did was drape our sopping wet clothes all over half the campground, effectively turning it into our personal laundry line.

Leaving the days of wild camping behind us, we reveled in all the glorious amenities of the campground, left all our gear out in the sun, and made a beeline for those long-awaited showers. We didn't worry that someone might swipe something while we were away - unlike the Belgian couple parked next to us in their luxurious, self-contained RV.

They were so risk-averse that they only ever stayed in gated campgrounds, tucked safely behind security barriers. The thought of wild camping or even parking overnight in a regular "Stellplatz" would have sent shivers down their spines. Their RV was practically a rolling fortress, equipped with every conceivable security gadget. We could only shake our heads in amusement.

We accepted their invitation for a morning espresso in their fancy rig and spent a delightful while chatting with the couple about the ups and downs of life, both on and off the road.

 

Toledo at it's best, a blend of Christian, Jewish, and Muslim influences – the atmosphere of a city that was once the capital of Spain

 

Toledo is a photographer's dream. Don't miss it!

 

That evening, we treated ourselves to a truly fantastic Spanish feast, complete with delectable drinks, as we joyfully celebrated our return to civilization.

 

Federico Martín Bahamontes, also known as "The Eagle of Toledo," was a legendary Spanish cyclist and one of the greatest climbers in the history.

 

Heading straight towards Madrid, but some mountains in between

 

With only one day's journey remaining, the road ahead proved surprisingly pleasant! In just half a day, we reached the outskirts of Madrid, and navigating into the sprawling metropolis turned out to be far easier than we had anticipated

Instead of heading straight for the city center and our hostel, we made a detour to the Vallecas neighborhood, a working-class district with a vibrant soul. There, we joined the queue at the stadium of Rayo Vallecano, eager to snag tickets for their next match.

 

Campo de Fútbol de Vallecas, is indeed unique in its design. One side of the stadium is bordered by a large wall instead of traditional spectator stands as a result of beeing located in a densely built urban area, leaving limited space for expansion. The club has a strong connection to its working-class roots and is known for representing the local community's culture and values and for anti-fascists supporters .

 

 

This was the end of an incredible bike tour through Spain, a journey that was challenging, monotonous, and exhilarating all at the same time. It was an adventure!!!