Austin Sullivan's Return to Transcordilleras 2025

• Words by Austin Sullivan
• Photos by La Vuelta es Asi (@lavueltaesasi) & Pipe Cano (@pipecano_photo)
  

If the essence of gravel riding is to explore, discover, and test the limits of ourselves and our equipment, Transcordilleras ticks all the boxes. Transcordilleras is an 8-day adventure across the three mountain ranges of Colombia—the only country in South America to have 3 ranges (cordilleras) of the Andes mountains and one of the most biologically diverse places in the world. 

Every year, the Transcordilleras route changes. It occasionally visits the same pueblos, but the goal of the race organizer, Mauricio Ordoñez, is to explore new areas of the country. Many of the participants are there for exactly that. Many of the Colombians in attendance are doing so to discover new places in their home country, pueblos they might never visit if it wasn't for the race. Generally, the route is around 1000 km with 20,000m of elevation gain. This year’s route is slightly under those marks, with a couple of days being significantly shorter than years prior. But that by no means equated to an easier ride: 

• 8 days

• 3 mountain ranges

• 560 miles

• 55,000ft of ascent 

Transcordilleras bills itself as a bikepacking rally, which at the surface sounds quite quaint. But this “rally” is so much more. This year marks the 5th edition and the second time that I’ve traveled to Colombia to compete. This year’s ride provided a whole new range of emotions and experiences. 

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Stage 1-3: I’ll Never Forget This Ride

Transcordilleras 2025 began in Choachí, a small pueblo east of Bogotá surrounded by large, ominous rock faces. At 6:30 AM, I lined up for Stage 1, and the parque principal, the main square of town, was buzzing. A 6 piece marching band raised the spirits, and fresh coffee was being passed around as 120 cyclists faced the unknown. Familiar faces from last year calmed my nerves, and the socialization began to melt away all the thoughts about gear, training, and expectations. Smiles appeared as photographers filtered through, and old friends reconvened after 52 weeks of separation. 

The first three stages of Transcordilleras would take us across the Western Cordillera, from Choachí to the shores of the massive Magdalena River in Honda. Our first day was spent traversing the páramo of Chingaza National Park, a place that is highly protected for its unique plant and animal diversity. I knew this day would be special, and it was something I had looked forward to for a long time. As we ascended the 7,000-foot climb up to the gates of the Chingaza, the fog and low passing clouds set the stage. 

An eagerness loomed as we began to peak out of the dense forest and into pockets of fog. Breaks in the fog would open up views of rounded mountains, all devoid of trees but absolutely jammed full of plant life. I was riding with the race organizer, Mauricio, who was racing this year and cooking his way down the rough Chingaza descents. I was constantly thinking to myself, “I’ll never forget this ride”. 

Frailejon plants lined the roadside, the hillsides, and every place my eyes wandered. Any space between them was full of other plants, fighting for water and sunlight. The roads were moist but not soggy, made up of hard-packed dirt with small embedded riverstones. Riding above 10,000 feet for the middle 40 miles of the day dictated the pace of what many would declare the queen stage. Feeling so empty in the legs while my eyes were so full is a rare experience. 

As the miles clicked on, the fog dissolved while I yo-yoed between a couple of new friends. Luckily, rain never really fell on us—a blessing as colder temperatures could have changed the storyline drastically. The hardest thing about day one was trying to find a balance between managing my effort for the next 8 days of racing and trying to soak up all the beauty of the Chingaza.

After a mystical day of exploring the Chingaza, Stages 2 and 3 felt more like serious bike racing. The leaders split off, tearing up any ideas of pacing the group and leaving me in a dust cloud trying to figure out who would be my racing partners for the rest of the week. Over these two days, I found myself a new group of riding buddies, settling in with some Argentinians, an American transplanted to Girona, and a former US road champion. In my mind, this is what the bikepacking rally is about—making new friends, pushing each other's limits, carrying our bikes through road construction, puckering up through bling corners, chasing wheels as they disappear on a foggy descent, possibly creating some time gaps, and sharing a limonada de coco with everyone after the day’s stage.

It’s the off-the-bike moments that really stood out. Instead of signing up for the hotel package, I sought out my own hotels for the duration of the race. The main goal was to save some money, but I didn't realize how many strong memories would come from the interactions that resulted from this decision. 

My first hotel might have given pause to some travelers. It was located on a narrow dirt road lined with barbed wire fencing. A very nice gentleman came out and took me to my room while we chatted in Spanish about the race and various political topics. Two other Colombian racers were staying there as well, Felipe and Dani. Smiles and greetings were exchanged, and together, we went to hunt down dinner. Salt of the earth, these guys—strong riders with stronger smiles—we shared multiple meals and cheered for each other throughout the rest of the race. 

Stage 4-6: On Another Planet

Our arrival to the Central Cordillera was defined by a massive change of climate. After a couple of days of bouncing through clouds, we descended and met the shores of the Rio Magdalena. The Magdalena is the largest river of the northern Andes, spanning nearly 950 miles from the southeast of Colombia to the northern coast, and it signifies a major milestone in our journey across Colombia. Being lower in elevation, the river valley is also known for its stifling heat, and the city of Honda lived up to expectations. Nearly every local I spoke to about the route would exhale a big sigh each time I mentioned we would be passing through Honda, a nonverbal warning about its heat and humidity. 

We woke up to heavy rains that only intensified while we ate breakfast. Fortunately, it subsided, but I don't think many of us knew that the aftermath from all that rain would become the focus of the day. The ride out of town was dry and fun. The peloton got strung out immediately, and I never saw the front of the race. The course ran alongside the Magdalena for 30 miles or so, undulating with short and steep pitches that led into paths cut by cattle.

And then came the mud. This wasn’t anything like mud we had experienced in prior stages. This mud was deep and it provided no visual cues as to where it was firm or more akin to sticky peanut butter. After a couple of minor washouts, I managed to keep riding while others were walking or completely stopped trying to fish their chain out of their mud-riddled frames. I did end up walking one small section, but it was short-lived, and I was able to ride my way through, thanking myself for the 1x drivetrain (nearly everyone who was stopped had a 2x...). 

Towards the end of this mud, the soil became firmer, and a small group formed as we rolled through some tiny farming villages. As we exited the dirt, we passed by the former town of Armero. Tragically, in 1985, a mudslide triggered by a volcanic eruption wiped away 20-25,000 residents, and all that was left was a cemetery. This tragic event led to big changes in emergency warning systems in Colombia, even though the volcano was some 60 miles away.

Alex Howes in the blue helmet, riding with a suspension fork and MTB tires!

Turning onto the pavement marked the beginning of the longest paved climb in the world, Alto del Sifón. From Armero to the top of the climb is some 60 miles and over 13,000ft of gain. Lucky for us, the climb is split over two days, with the second half passing through another of Colombia’s páramos and skirting the edge of the volcano Nevado Ruiz. Another day of revelling in thin air, trying to compute why my legs felt so dead, and distracting myself with crazy mountain views and large patches of volcanic rock. Again, I thought I was on another planet, not to mention I was riding with Alex Howes, a former WorldTour pro and 2019 US national champ. Somehow, I kept my cool AND held onto his wheel for the 8,000-foot climb to the top of Sifón.

There is a lot to be said about the climbs, but with each up comes another down, and the descent off of Sifón was delicious. Big sweeping curves built into jungle hill sides eventually gave way to the big city of Manizales. Manizales was also another planet. After staying in pueblos and towns with hundreds of people, it felt very odd to be in the center of half a million residents. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. By this point, I had become more accustomed to the slow and quiet comfort of small pueblos. 

A short but sweet stage out of Manizales really brought out the full gas racing. After riding up climbs that took two or three hours, it was a serious breath of fresh air to have a two-hour stage that was over in a flash. Stage 6 finish brought us to the next major river of Colombia, the Cauca. This 600-mile behemoth marks the shift into the last third of our rally, the Western Cordillera. 

Stage 7-8: What's Left in the Tank?

With two days left, we finally got a semi-social peloton for a couple of hours. Maybe everyone was tired or just hyper aware that 10,000 feet of climbing loomed in the second half of the day’s stage. Whatever the cause, it was nice to chat a bit, get some riding photos with new friends, and simply soak in what we all had been through while rolling along the Cauca river. Two hard days left; it was time to see what was left in the tank. Not much for me. 

Paved roads turned to dirt, and some muddy bits kept everyone honest. Throughout the whole week, I managed to stick with someone else on the never-ending climbs. This day would be different and turned out to be my most difficult. Even though I was familiar with some of these roads, I struggled to agree with what lay ahead. I began to lose some of my joie de vivre. The heat combined with the slow-going over rocky roads had me a bit twisted. Even with a chance of moving up to 7th overall, I couldn’t muster the desire to push harder. 

“Just get to the finish, Austin,” kept rolling through my mind. I knew the final roads up to the finish and that the last 3 blocks into town were very steep—like 20-30 degrees steep. But I certainly didn't know what was actually in store for the finish line. The city of Támesis outdid themselves with not only a crowd of cheering people but a PA with both English and Spanish announcers yelling down the final steep ramp. Nobody would be walking this last ramp.  

I heard my name shouted out, and the joie de vivre that cycling gives me came rushing back. My 8-year-old niece came running down to cheer me through the final meters. I know it wasn’t the final stage, but I’m sure all of us felt like we had made it to the finish. While not my best stage result, this day was my queen stage.

Our final day began with fog surrounding the colorful town of Támesis, leading to a dirt road where we all got bottlenecked trying to pass a chiva (big colorful buses that primarily drive dirt roads). With the peloton splintered by the chiva, there was no way to know who was ahead and who wasn’t. I settled in with some familiar faces, Howes and Diego the Argentinian. We comfortably pushed the pace on the climbs and got a little frisky on the downs. Eventually, Howes was gone. With his suspension fork and 2.4” MTB tires, we didn't stand a chance of keeping his wheel. 

Diego and I chatted about keeping the pace strong and staying together to the finish. The roads we were traversing were lined to the edge with coffee plants, their sweet smells and red cherries trying to grab our senses. This might have been one of the most beautiful roads we rode. Every descent provided views of even steeper hillsides covered with coffee and banana plants. Trying to soak it in, keeping our pace strong, and managing to squeeze in a photo or two, Diego and I were having fun.

Colombian gravel has a way of keeping you on your toes. In this case, we nearly had a run-in with a mountain taxi, a jeepeta. With no room to brake, we squeezed by on the edge of the road shoulder. We both locked eyes and shut down any plans of pushing the pace on descents. Tranquilo y seguro—calm and safe. 

The last couple of miles were paved roads, passing through the pueblo of Jardín, which is lauded as the prettiest pueblo in all of Antioquia (the department that includes Medellín). Sunday in Jardín was a busy, bustling, and beautiful time. Diego and I emptied the tank while passing through the main square. 

Finish lines are always sweet. Ending an 8-day journey, which exposed us to new places, experiences, and sensations, is a bit more bittersweet. Between the WhatsApp group chats, the dinner time hunts for rice, and the breakfast scarfing, the connection we all built ran deep. What started as a group of foreign faces nervously anticipating the challenge ahead transformed into a week full of warm-hearted smiles, beautiful photo ops, and the general sentiment of never wanting to leave this dream.

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Austin’s 2025 Transcordilleras Bike & Gear

Weight: 19 lbs dry, 29 lbs w/ clothes and gear

Frame: Obed GVR

Fork: ENVE Gravel IN-Route 

Stem: FSA SMR, 110mm

Handlebars: FSA K-Wing AGX, 40cm

Seatpost: Cane Creek eeSilk

Handlebar Tape: Supacaz 

Shifters: SRAM Force AXS + blips mounted under the center of the bar

Crankset: SRAM Force w/ Quarq power meter, 170mm 

Chainring: Wolftooth, 40t + GnarWolf Chainguide

Rear Derailleur: SRAM XX1 AXS

Cassette: SRAM XX1, 10-52 

Wheels: Reynolds ATRx 

Tires: Teravail Washburn, 47mm  

Sealant: OrangeSeal

Bottle Cages: Arundel Mandible 

Head Unit: Garmin Edge 840 Solar 

Bags: Oveja Negra Half frame, gas tank, and large seat pack.

Bottles: 700ml & 500ml on the bike, 500ml in jersey pocket

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Riding kit:

• HandUp gloves

• Go Rigo Go Sunsleeves

• Pactimo Summit Mesh Jersey

• Gore Wear Base Layer

• Endura Cargo Bibs 

• Pearl Izumi Explore Cargo Bibs

• Smartwool Socks

• Smith Trace Helmet

• Smith Wildcat Photochromic Sunglasses

• Gore ShakeDry Rain Jacket

• Endura Knee Warmers

Packed on the bike:

• Black Diamond Running Shorts

• Smartwool Shirt

• Cep Compression Socks

• Toiletries—8 days of contact lenses, half a toothbrush, toothpaste, Floyds CBD Chamois Butter Ultra

• 2-Port Charger + USBc & Micro-USB Cables 

• Backup SRAM Battery & Charger,

• Repair kit—2 Tubolitos, multitool w/ power link, Dynaplug & 6 refills, spare SPD cleat, spare bottle & stem bolt, 2 derailleur hangers, latex gloves, 3 sets of brake pads, 2-3 chainlinks, small rotor truing tool, tire boot, small roll of electrical tape