words by Adam Pawlikiewicz, Photos by Adam Pawlikiewicz and Leonardo Brasil, Film by Chase Regrets
For seven centuries, the Iberian Peninsula—al-Andalus—was a meeting point of Muslim, Christian, and Jewish worlds, a legacy still etched into courtyards, calligraphy, and stone. Our Trans Al-Andalus ride set out to trace that living history on two wheels: 2,200 kilometers from misty Asturias to sun-scorched Tarifa, threading mountain passes, medieval paths, and cities like Toledo and Granada where cultures overlap. What began as a route became a dialogue—between Europe and Africa, past and present—and a test of endurance under Spain’s hottest summer on record. For us as Latin Americans, each pedal stroke felt like returning to an origin story we’d inherited, discovering how familiar the distant can be.
From 711 to 1492, the Iberian Peninsula was known as al-Andalus, a crossroads of Muslim, Christian, and Jewish cultures. It was a golden age of breathtaking architecture, philosophy, and science. Cities like Córdoba and Granada flourished, leaving behind landmarks that still shape Spain and Morocco to this day.
The Trans-Al-Andalus is our attempt to trace this history on two wheels. With over 2,200 kilometers, we rode from Oviedo in Spain’s northern coast through mountain passes, medieval towns, and cultural capitals, finishing in Tarifa, the southernmost point on the Iberian Peninsula. Our goal was to connect both the European and African continents and cultures through the lens of exploration and shared heritage.
The first days in Asturias and the Basque Country set the tone of our entire journey; misty climbs, steep hike-a-bikes, and long descents into quiet remote villages. Morning 1-euro espressos became a ritual accompanied by our personal favorite ride fuel: tortilla espanola. The rhythm of Spain’s roads and culture, where life moves slow and cyclists are given the right of way eased us into the experience of bikepacking in this historical place.
Further south, the route wound through Toledo, the “City of Three Cultures,” and into Granada, once the heart of the Islamic Caliphate. Each city carried visible reminders of layered history that felt alive as we rode past mosques, cathedrals, and cobblestone streets.
Our personal challenge, however, wasn’t the terrain, it was the heat. Spain’s hottest summer on record forced us to slow our pace and take mid day siestas as all restaurants, towns and plazas shut down for their afternoon break. We traded tent camping for hostels with air conditioning and ate more ice cream than I care to admit just as an attempt to cool our bodies down. The journey became about heat endurance in the truest sense, carefully weaving our way through the country during peak tourist season.
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