Badlands 2021 Recap

In 2020 the protagonist was Lachlan Morton, who won with an incalculable lead over the rest of the cowboys. The 2021 edition brought together a cast of previously unseen levels: men, women and pairs ready to play their part in a film with a much more gripping plot, in an eagerly awaited sequel.

There were lots of big men that time. There was Sofiane Sehili, who had just won the Silk Road Mountain Race. There was Ulrich Bartholmoes, who won I don’t know how many races this year. There was Alistair Brownlee, an Olympic medal winner tackling a desert adventure. There were many others, as well as us, of the Enough Cycling Collective: Mattia De Marchi, amongst the favourites on the eve of the race and a pair made up of me, Federico, fairly worn-out after my adventure at the North Cape 400 and Asja, a tough character, who was lining up for her first long distance event.

 

Arriving in Granada almost feels like home. The weather is fine, the bikes have arrived safely and we have some exclusive new wheels. We fitted the new Rapid Red Carbon at home, and they are incredible. The tubeless setup seems to hold up well and didn’t pull any surprises after the flight.

We collect our caps and tracking devices and say hello to a few people. Races are a chance for this rather close-knit community to come together, so the starts always feel like a party, like explorers in the Wild West meeting up in a saloon before some great expedition.

Bike and gear are all ready for the next day. We set off with quite a light setup, opting to make the road our home until the finish, 700 km away. No tents, nor sleeping bags. Mattia, who wants to get to the finish as quickly as possible, opts for just some emergency equipment. Asja and I have a sleeping mat and a thermal blanket because we will certainly take breaks, but we don’t want to take it too easy.  

We set off and it’s like a big weight is lifted. It’s a bit like leaving the house and realising that up to a minute before you left you felt like you were in a cage. The bars at the windows are all the doubts for what awaits you; your head is the sheriff.

Everything goes smoothly, until a technical problem ambushes me, just like an attack on a stagecoach. Preparation is everything in these events and this time it was quite rushed, to say the least. I pay the consequences and have to stop often to sort things out and loose quite a lot of time. In the meantime Mattia is safely out front. Asja and I spend the first few hours constantly stopped and lose lots of positions. 

Never mind, if you’re able to adapt everything is possible. It’s not the ideal situation, but this is how things are, so we deal with it. The afternoon gets hot, very hot. I can’t remember heat like this, between 40° and 42°C. We pedal and stop whenever we find water. Sometime we meet other riders, for different reasons. Faster riders pass you, you pass slower riders, you nod to someone who has found a tiny square of shadow to lie down and escape the midday sun. You find water with someone else. Amongst these riders there’s Marion Dziwnik who we share the road with for a while and who will go on to win the women’s race.

These races are tough and most of those taking part are even tougher. Reaching the end is never a given, but it takes some unsurmountable situation to make someone scratch from the race. For example we meet Jimbo who is riding, and will continue riding all the way to the finish, with a broken bottom bracket. He is practically pedalling with just one leg and keeping the other crank arm up with his foot.  

We spend the evening with him, after crossing the first desert, Gorafe, at sunset with incredible views. Mattia, in the meantime, is alone at the front and is getting ready to pedal through the night, whilst at 3 o’clock we decide to stop for a couple of hours sleep. We find an abandoned stable, in the middle of nowhere. We use the wall for shelter but sleep outside, looking up at a star filled sky that I can’ even begin to describe.

You have to save your breath, but ration water and food too. On the morning of the second day, for example, we reach Gor and we know that it will be the last semblance of civilisation for the next 130 km. We deserve a good breakfast and fill our packs and bags will all that we can manage: better to have a little extra weight rather than risk running out in the middle of nowhere. 

The kilometres pass and we leave behind a nice section that also included the highest point of the route, at 2000 metres above sea level and start dropping into the highlight of this year’s Badlands. The Tabernas desert awaits us and we reach it just before sunset.

The Tabernas desert seen from above is incredible, with its succession of canyons, rock stratifications and barren crests. From above it’s incredible, but Joe is right, it’s thrilling and more impressive to ride in it. It really does seem like you’re pedalling in the Wild West but the loose sand under your tyres quickly brings you back to reality. It’s not loose enough to have to get off and walk, but it’s enough to make pedalling a struggle and we top 10/12 km/h on the flat.  

We come out of it in the evening and head for the sea, after a quick dinner of tapas. We pedal late into the night once again, before resting out in the open and calling Mattia for an update from the front. He’s only got a few kilometres left and it looks like he can do it. Mattia will end up winning the race around five in the morning, with an incredible time of 45 hours and 54 minutes, whilst we were sleeping.

Whoever mapped the 100 km along the sea before Almeria must have thought that. After the first beautiful part in Cabo de Gata, you drop down on the beach. The beach means sand and sand means pushing the bike. It’s hot, sweltering: the Garmin says 45 C° when we reach the town at midday for a quick lunch, to drink and stock up on as many provisions as possible. We know that the afternoon will be hard, there are “only 160 km left”, but Mattia warned us. They are very tough.

Asja and I can’t tell you how hard those 160 km are. Because the heat of the afternoon is even more devastating. We reach 49 C°, on a 15 km climb, without a single tree or a breath of wind. It feels like we’re closed inside an oven and want to pull our skin off our bodies. We breathe without managing to get any air in our lungs.

The climb ends and just when we feel that we’ve overcome this difficulty too…BAM! A shot to the heart. Suddenly, just like a western duel. No gun shot for us though, but heat stroke. It forces us to stop and drop out of the race, 140 km from the finish.

The question is obvious. Will you go back? The answer is less obvious, but perhaps more predictable. On the one hand going back would mean facing the desert, the heat and all the various problems again. On the other these are all the things that render an adventure like this unforgettable.

So the answer can only be: yes, we will go back. Also because we have a score to settle with Badlands. And in the Wild West you have to settle scores as quickly as possible.