Transcordilleras Rally 2024

Crossing the Andes, Bonding, and the Magic of Gravel

"Vamos, vamos!!" (go, go!) yelled my breakaway companions as we followed the winding silhouette of the Cauca River in Colombia. It was the third stage of the Transcordilleras Rally, a bikepacking event that takes place annually in my home country. The concept is simple enough to explain but harder to execute: hop on your bike and ride a predefined route across one of the most rugged sections of the Andes, through a mix of surfaces—everything from asphalt on main and secondary roads to unpaved paths that sometimes resemble a riverbed.

With less than 50 kilometers left until the finish line, the heat and humidity were relentless. I had probably sweated out liters in just two hours, regretting the extra layers I’d packed for the cold. Following the organizers’ advice, we had to be prepared for extreme temperature swings, as some stages climbed more than 2,000 meters above sea level. But so far, I’d only encountered three types of heat: hot, hotter and 'hellish'. Being so close to the equator, the sun bathes the valleys and mountains almost vertically from 10 AM to 2 PM. That intensity? You feel it.

The Start Line: Questions and Doubts

Three days earlier, standing on the start line for Stage 1 in Guatapé, I was filled with emotions and doubts. "Am I prepared for this?" "What if I can’t make it?" "Everyone looks better equipped than me." It’s a familiar mix for most cyclists, especially at the start of a big adventure. Though this wasn’t my first bikepacking event, it was my first in Colombia, so the nerves were real.

Despite these uncertainties, the organizers and fellow participants created a welcoming atmosphere, particularly for first-timers. It didn’t take long to find a rhythm and settle into what I like to call the "natural selection of cyclists"—where those with similar fitness levels, goals, and personalities naturally group together. 

The Transcordilleras began as an epic rally covering 1,000 km (625 miles) over eight stages, with brutal elevation gains surpassing 20,000 meters. Nowadays, there are two additional versions: 

• Non-stop, where the clock never stops, and the fastest rider wins (similar to events like Badlands and the Atlas Mountain Race).
• Three stages, a shorter version of less than 400 km, covering the final three stages of the original 8 stages route. Given my limited time, this was the option I chose.

The Terrain: Beauty and Brutality

From the very first stage, we were treated to the stunning landscapes of Antioquia, home to Medellín, Colombia’s second-largest city. The topography was lush and dramatic, with countless shades of green that turned bluish in the distance. Flat terrain? Not here. The region is a cyclist’s paradise, with rolling hills and steep climbs as far as the eye can see.

But beauty came with a price. The steep ascents of more than 1,500 meters in just 40 km were taxing enough, but the real challenge lay in the descents. On Colombia’s unpaved roads, the descents were rougher than the climbs. The jagged, unpredictable surface and the sharp, winding turns made every downhill a true test—especially on my gravel bike, which lacked suspension.

The Company: Riding with My Twin Sister

One of the best parts of this adventure was sharing it with my twin sister, Carolina. She’s a hiker, explorer, poet, writer, and podcaster, who calls herself "mujer montaña" (mountain woman). When I confirmed I’d be riding in the event, she signed up to join me on the journey. We drove 500 km of twisty Colombian roads, spending an entire day getting to the start line in Guatapé. 

She followed the race in her camper, 'La Pajarera', waiting for me at the finish line of each stage. While I was riding 140 km in nine hours, she was driving nearly the same distance in six hours—proof of how challenging the roads really were! Living abroad for more than two decades, every finish line was more than just completing a stage. It was a reunion with my sister, catching up on all the moments we’d missed over the years (and getting two bottles of Electrolit, a hydration drink that’s become famous in Colombia).  

It's also great to see a good number of women in the event, from top-level athletes like Annemiek van Vleuten (the most winning elite racer in the history of cycling, men included), athletes-influencers like Caroline Livesey, local cross-country legends like Natalia Franco Villegas, to less known but equally courageous ladies from different parts of the world. I had a secret hope that by bringing my sister along, she might be inspired to sign up for next year’s event. Whether that happens or not, we had an unforgettable experience together.

Final Thoughts: Gravel and Community

Gravel riding has become a hot topic in the cycling world. Some claim it’s a marketing ploy, while others argue it's a genuine response to a need for versatility. For me, the buzz doesn’t matter—what counts is that the gravel scene is bringing more people into the cycling and bikepacking community. 

If I had to choose just one bike, it would probably be a gravel bike. But since I already own a mountain bike and a road bike, it wouldn’t make sense to switch. Gravel bikes aren’t ideal for every surface, but they’re perfect for adventures like the Transcordilleras rally.

To anyone who feels unprepared or thinks these events are only for seasoned riders, my advice is simple: "give it a shot". Sure, there will be some ultra-fit cyclists chasing podiums, but the majority of us are just regular riders looking for a challenge. If you can handle a 100 km ride with 2,000 meters of climbing, you're probably ready for the three-stage version—just be prepared to push yourself and embrace the experience. The eight-stage version? That’s another beast entirely, but with the right training and mindset, it’s not impossible.

Don’t believe me? Come with me to the next Transcordilleras Rally, and I’ll show you.