It’s no surprise that Spain is a wonderful cycling destination. Pros have attended untold numbers of winter camps in Valencia, Calpe, Mallorca, and Malaga; lyrca is now dominant in Girona, and Granada is a common base for altitude training. San Sebastian and the Basque Country offer legendary routes, and offerings like Camino del Cid present new adventures.
While untold numbers flock to Mallorca and Girona, some brave few have been testing the Costa del Sol, surrounding Malaga and its region. Andalusia does indeed offer a broad menu of cycling, from the dusty Badlands (which look like a perfect twin to western Colorado and eastern Utah) to the manicured roads of Malaga, loops around Ronda, and other easy-to-reach southern destinations. I, for one, have become intrigued with the cycling in the region, and although hot in the summer, the cooler months beckon.
In the Before Times, prior to our COVID-induced travel hiatus, I had stumbled across Cycle Sierra Nevada, based out of Velez de Benaudalla. Their website offered tantalizing photos of the area, with clean, empty roads and sweeping turns. I was captivated by the photos, and the dates of their tours (September through May) teased a warm break in the middle of winter. I bookmarked the site, returning often to browse the photos and narratives. All I needed was an excuse and a week or two to escape to Spain.
In May of 2024, I was granted a short break from my part-time airline job of yelling at people when our local airport shut down for 3 weeks in order to do maintenance. Having a small staff makes shift trades fairly difficult, as we all have day jobs and few enough opportunities to adjust schedules between jobs, kids, chores, obligations, and so forth. A closure meant all bets (and shifts) were off, so I started giving thought to traveling. The O.G. Sierras sprang to mind, partly because the other Sierras were still buried in the snowpack provided by El Niño.
During my window of opportunity, Cycle Sierra Nevada’s Classic Climbs camp was available, so I asked my wife if she was interested in joining me. Although she was training for SBTGRVL, she was not in a climbing mood and categorically said “no.” I then asked if I could go anyway, to which she replied, “Sure. Whatever.”
If I’ve learned nothing else in 20 years of marriage, it’s to have the trip loaded and in the cart before asking permission, then clicking “buy” as soon as tacit approval is granted. Pro Tip: It helps if you have the page loaded on your phone, so you can steathily tap the button as soon as she’s done rolling her eyes. I wasted no time and booked the trip, plus transfers to and from Malaga. She also breathed her own sigh of relief, knowing that she could enjoy some blissful time with only one immature, moody, hangry, high maintenance male around the house, namely our teenage son. He, for his part, would welcome the opportunity to raid my toolbox and distribute its contents to far-flung corners of the basement. He hides tools like a squirrel planning for winter, and like the critter, forgets where the stashes are.
The winter of 2023-24 was long and seemingly without end. Perhaps it was due to La Niña and El Niño fighting it out in the southern Pacific in an epic sibling battle spilling storms directly toward us, but more likely it was because I had a brand-new road bike and was dying to ride it. Winter stretched into spring, loitering until well past its due date, adding snow to an already record inventory. I wanted sunshine and thawing, I got freshies. The day before I got on the flight to Spain, winter offered up another dump.
As such, I headed eastward to a big block of riding with a scant 200 miles in my legs. Sure, I had been on the fat bike, but those are long, slow, short miles. Strava’s algorithm bases projected ride times based on recent averages. When I loaded up routes I wanted to ride, it calcutated that a 30-mile road ride would take me about 20 hours. As it turned out, while the projection was off, it wasn’t really off by that much.
The flights were relatively easy, with the main event being a 7-hour 757 flight out of Newark to Malaga. Newark is typically one of the worst airport experiences on the planet, and every time I transfer through there I am reminded of this. From absurd pricing to horrible service, the collective EWR experience is somehow less inviting than a medieval torture chamber complete with iron maiden and lousy wi-fi.
Malaga (AGP), on the other hand, is a time warp to an era when airport halls were vast and loud. Non-EU flights collect their bags in separate, closed-off rooms, then head to customs. Once outside, you walk a few steps to a bus, and the city center is barely 20 miniutes and 4 Euros away. Despite being in need of an upgrade, Malaga airport is easy to navigate and conveniently close to the city. My flight landed at 7AM, and I was sipping coffee in the centro before 9.
After riding in Malaga in January, I was looking forward to spending more time exploring the rides around the city. The desert environment and steep hills remind me somewhat of southern California and Arizona, and the riding around the city is really good. I think it would take many more days to explore the best the area has to offer, an effort I’m happy to make. Once you’re up on the hillsides, the roads are empty and the views are worth the effort.
I spent 4 days exploring the roads, re-riding a few, and getting a better sense of both the local road rides and the local post-effort Basic Energy & Electrolyte Replacement. In short, it was great. The weather was perfect- low 70s degrees (20s C), clear skies, and minimal wind. The B.E.E.R. was cold and plentiful.
On transfer day, one of CSN’s guides met me in Malaga and we put my bike and travel case in the van. A quick loop off to the airport to pick up another guest, then it was eastward for about 100km to Velez.
CSN is based out of a small shop in the center of Velez, with large conference tables, a mechanic, espresso machine, and plenty of ride supplies. It has a comfortable, relaxed vibe, and is a great central meeting place.
Velez de Benaudalla is a small town nestled in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas, due north of Motril. With a population of about 3,000, it has a small collection of restaurants, a couple of bars, a tiny grocery store, a wonderful produce store, and a castle. Velez is blissfully quiet, and whereas in Girona it takes 3-5km to ride out of the city, and Malaga which takes 8-12km, to leave Velez you ride for a few hundred meters. Of the 4 roads out of town, only one leaves on a descent.
To the north is a large basin below the peaks, with a vast collection or roads snaking around the hills and between small towns. These roads are generally very smooth and remarkably devoid of cars. They climb out of the valley, distracting you with spectacular vistas as they sneakily increase the grade. As you ride, glancing at the views and gradually slowing down, you realize that the pleasant 6% grade is now 11% and you are overdue for a shift.
This is not to say the climbing is unpleasant or brutal, even for those MAMILs in attendance. Some of us choose to keep a healthy layer of insulation on our bodies, particularly during long winters, and just the aspect of being out of the cold is enough to keep us smiling and pedaling.
The transfers happen on Saturdays, and since I had been in country already, my bike was ready to go. I pre-hydrated while my roommate, Chris, assembled his lovely Factor bike. Our lodgings were a 2-bedroom apartment on the hilltop above the town center. It was clean and quiet, had laundry and a drying rack, and was a short downhill walk to the CSN shop and other amenities in town. The climb up was either through twisting old city passageways or a steep street with a switchback and 2 sharp turns. We went down to town, shopping bags in hand, and visited the local grocery store as it opened post-siesta. Although tiny, it offered plenty for breakfasts and snacks, so we got enough to cover a few days and walked back up the hill.
Ride days with CSN start at their shop, where they have a vast fleet of BMCs for rent, ride snacks to buy, and delicious espressos to jump start the day. Directly adjacent is a cafe with great food at very reasonable prices, and of course, icy cold beers. Everyone gathers at the shop at or before the appointed time, and the guide breaks out a large paper map to describe the day’s route. Often based on what coffee shops are open in specific towns on that day, the rides for our camp were mostly loops, taking in the valley to the north and the coastal range to the south (Velez is just south of the black, Y-shaped blob in the middle of the map).
Our ride group consisted of 3 people: Chris, from the UK, Brad, all the way from Australia, and myself, with one guide. Two staff members, Luka and Szymon, alternated daily so that each was fresh enough to rip our legs off several times over. Brad and Chris were quick to demonstrate that they had not spent the last 6 months on a fatbike, climbing at a mollusk’s pace to go several hundred yards. Apparantly, they live in places where it doesn’t snow much, and if it does, it has the courtesy to stop.
Rides ranged from 35-65 miles, and 4-7,000′ of climbing. Some led to the coast, but most headed due up, climbing away from the valley into the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. The catalog of options is vast, so there’s no real reason to detail each ride we did on specific days. If you, dear reader, attend a camp (and you should), you may or may not ride the same stuff, and most likely not in the same order. Cormac Kenney, the owner of CSN, said that he’s barely scratched the surface of all of the available rides in the area, and I believe him. On every hillside and face you can see another road cut, beckoning you to new places.
Rather, what matters is the incredible quality of the riding and the routes. When one thinks of Girona, the huge catalog of road routes springs to mind and explains why so many pros live and train there. This, however, seems far more broad and offers significantly more climbing. During my week (plus a couple days riding in Malaga), I rode over 400 miles and climbed about 41,000′. On my trips to Girona, I’ve come close to the same mileage, but nowhere near the vert.
Velez is located along the freeway due south of Granada. It’s less than an hour by car between the two, and this freeway is an important connection from Granada to the coast. After its construction, the smaller local roads fell into disuse, but not disrepair. They are nearly empty, with cars few and far between, but the road surfaces are clean, dry, and for the most part, very smooth. Other than a few short rougher chip-and-seal sections, I don’t recall many spots with major potholes or chunky pavement. Colorado DOT could learn a lot from these roads, like 1) how to build roads, 2) how to maintain roads, and 3) why switchbacks matter.
The value offered by CSN is unparalleled, with the cost of the camp and guiding extremely reasonable. You’re on your own for food and drink, but the restaurants and stores in Velez, not to mention the mid-ride coffee stops, are all well within most budgets. The cafe attached to the bike shop, Thivany’s Bar & Grill, has excellent sandwiches and pizza, and at Meson Nacimiento I was able to order calamari by the kilogram.
All in all, this was one of the most pleasurable trips I’ve taken to Spain, and the riding was among the best experiences I’ve had anywhere. The rides are not famous (the Vuelta went through the valley in 2024 for Stage 9, but none of it was televised), but they rival the best that the Alps or Pyrenees can offer without the traffic loads. Along with the road camps, CSN offers gravel point-to-point trips and is continually broadening their catalog.
When my adventure to the Sierras ended, I flew home, again with pretty easy travel back to the high country. Naturally, the mountains were covered in a mantle of fresh snow, greeting my return.
Since I had such a great time with CSN, I made a valiant effort to round up a MAMIL crew to go back, but scheduling 4 stressed out, overworked, grumpy men for a meeting at a bar is hard enough, let alone a week on another continent. Instead, I’m happy to book another visit on my own and send them loads of annoying texts about how much fun I’m having while they toil at their jobs. It’s the least I could do.