El Mito Challenge: A Bikepacking Story Between Europe and Africa

With the El Mito Challenge, a unique route leads across the Strait of Gibraltar, from Ronda to Tétouan and back. Our colleague Raúl took part himself and shares his impressions of this intercontinental bikepacking crossing in the following text.

Fourteen Kilometers

A bikepacking crossing of the Strait of Gibraltar

At the end of March, we went on a bikepacking trip. Not to someplace distant, but to a place that is close on the map and yet surprisingly complex in reality: the Strait of Gibraltar.

In just fourteen kilometers, four languages, three countries, and three distinct cultures meet. On one side, southern Spain; Cádiz and Málaga. On the other, northern Morocco. And in between, Gibraltar. Fourteen kilometers.

There's an old story tied to this place. It says Hercules split a mountain in two, opening the passage between Europe and Africa. In the end, it’s just a myth. But you don't need mythology to understand why people talk about it. You just need to cross it. When you do, something shifts. Distances shrink and blur. What once felt like separation starts to look more like connection.

The Route

This trip happened within the framework of the El Mito Challenge; and El Mito is not just a route. It is a crossing.

It unfolds across the Strait of Gibraltar, home to the Intercontinental Mediterranean Biosphere Reserve, the only one of its kind in the world to span two continents. The route passes through the surroundings of Sierra de Grazalema Natural Park, Los Alcornocales, and El Estrecho, before crossing into the Moroccan landscapes of Jbel Musa and the Fasml Jaar mountain range near Tétouan.

For those who created it, people born on both shores of the Strait, it is both a source of pride and a responsibility. A way of telling the story of this land through cycling, carefully and respectfully, without reducing it to a race or a backdrop.

In practical terms: a gravel challenge beginning in Ronda, one of Spain's most beautiful cities, suspended above its dramatic gorge, and ending in Tétouan, the cultural heart of northern Morocco and home to one of the most authentic, best-preserved medinas in the Maghreb. Between those two points lie three stages, hundreds of kilometres, mountain passes, villages, and a ferry crossing that quite literally connects two worlds.

There are no aid stations, no course markings, no external assistance. Riders are responsible for everything: navigation, logistics, accommodation, decisions. The one hard rule the route imposes is this: reach the port of Tarifa in time for the last ferry of the day. If you miss it, the African stage is gone.

The People

I am Raúl Sotillo, and I rode this together with César Merás. I work in product development at CYCLITE, and he is a police officer and athlete. We met through the small bikepacking scene in Andalucía (small enough that paths inevitably cross) and properly during Badlands. Since then, we've kept showing up in each other's orbit.

Along the way we were joined by others: Sergio, filming quietly behind the lens, and riders like Massimo, Daniel, Aaron, and Juan. Different lives but same direction and so many things in common.

The Crossing

The first day was defined by urgency. Nearly 200 kilometres and around 3,200 metres of climbing, all to reach the last ferry from Tarifa to Tangier.

After the ferry crossing everything changed. Tangier doesn't introduce itself slowly. It arrives all at once: noise, movement, density, life. We walked the medina, had dinner, bought traditional shoes, talked to people.

The next day we rode to Tétouan. One hundred kilometres, two thousand metres of climbing. It looked manageable on paper. It wasn't. The climbs were steep, the terrain demanding. But something else happened too: the pace forced attention to the road, to the landscape, to the people we met along the way. A greeting, a shared tea, or a short conversation that lasts minutes but stays much longer. By the time we reached Tétouan, we were exhausted. We rested, reset, prepared for the return.

The third day was about coming back. From Tétouan to Ceuta, then back into Spain. Forty kilometres to the border, ridden fast, together with the front group. We made it through passport control, but we all missed the ferry that we already booked back in Tarifa. We had a choice: rush again and pay extra, or wait. Almost all of us waited, had breakfast, sat down, and had nice conversations.

Later, we crossed with a larger group and continued riding, flat roads where effort was shared, then long climbs again, steady and unavoidable, before the final descent back to Ronda. We arrived before sunset.

In total: nearly 500 kilometres and close to 9,000 metres of elevation gain.

What Remains

From Europe, North Africa is often described in terms of difference. But when you arrive, that narrative weakens quickly. What stands out instead is closeness, familiarity, warmth; people who welcome you in, who share what they have, who treat you simply as a guest. There was many short talks like: where are you coming from? And when answering; from Andalucía, Spain, they always said “hey neighbour!” or “hey brother!”. Which always makes you think: why does this exchange not always feel symmetrical?

The numbers, the kilometres, the metres climbed… those are not the point. What remains is simpler. That fourteen kilometres can hold four languages, three countries, and three cultures. That borders are thinner than they appear. That generosity is more common than distance suggests.

And that sometimes, crossing is enough.