With a total distance of "only“ 75 km (46 miles), the Sherry Bike Marathon was supposed to be a relatively gentle spin on his retromod gravel bike for Timo Rokitta. The perfect warm-up in fact for running the Marathon race that the same organisers were putting on the following day. But the weather gods weren‘t playing nicely and what should have been a straight forward ride through the Spanish countryside turned into something a lot more challenging.

The sun hasn’t fully risen over Jerez de la Frontera, but the square in front of Bodega Las Copas is already buzzing with life. Hundreds of gravel bikes gleam in the early morning light and riders, dressed in vibrant kits, tense with anticipation, gather under the starting arch. The air smells of wine, earth and adventure. Welcome to the Sherry Bike Marathon, an extraordinary off-road spectacle through the legendary Sherry vineyards of southern Andalusia.

Gravel biking through the Sherry Triangle

Jerez – the heart of Sherry production – is not only famous for its noble wines, but also for its unforgettable scenery: gentle hills, the bright white of Albariza soil, lush green vines and centuries-old bodegas. Together with El Puerto de Santa María and Sanlúcar de Barrameda, Jerez forms the world-renowned “Sherry Triangle.” It’s a place where wine meets history – and now, where cycling meets legend.

The Start – Euphoria and Adrenaline

It’s just past 8 a.m. as I slip into the starting field. Around me, freewheels are humming, pedals are clicking – the excitement is rising. The event organiser spots me immediately, laughs and tells the others I’m the crazy guy running the Sherry Marathon tomorrow too. Applause erupts. The pressure’s on.

Then, at 8:30 sharp – the starting gun. A tyre-studded caravan rolls forward. Asphalt gives way to gravel, gravel to dirt and I pass rider after rider. I feel strong, my rhythm is solid, the day holds promise.

The skies open and the rain begins

But then, out of nowhere: rain. Not drizzle but a downpour. Within minutes, the bright white clay turns into a slick, treacherous mess. Tyres lose grip, the climbs get brutal. The first vineyard sections are still manageable, but the real fun is over – now it’s survival mode.

After the first feed station, the real battle begins. The soil clings to the tyres like chewing gum. Uphills become push sections. Cursing and slipping, we crawl forward. One stretch right through the vineyard becomes a nightmare – no one can ride. Even walking becomes a torture test.

Breakdown in the middle of nowhere – salvation via garden hose

Then it hits me: my chain keeps slipping off. Over and over. I try to fix it, but it’s caked with mud and tiny stones. Nothing holds. Frustrated, soaked and freezing, I stand by my bike, ready to quit. A photographer hands me a cloth to help unclog my gears but it’s useless. A second man, possibly a helper, shows up with a hammer – yes, a hammer – and tries to bang the chain into place. No luck.

Then, out of the blue, the same man takes me behind the house and shows me a garden hose. Together, we hose down the derailleur, chainring, cassette – everything. Freezing cold, but effective. Miraculously, it works. The gears shift again. The chain runs clean. I’ve lost 30 minutes, but my will is unbroken. I’m finishing this. I want that medal!

Back in the game – sun, mud and triumph

With pedals jammed, shoes full of grit and mud up to my forehead, I ride on. And now – the sun breaks through. The final 30 kilometers roll over glorious gravel tracks, past olive groves, whitewashed haciendas, and shining vineyards. I skip every feed station. I’m in the zone. Just ride. Just finish.

Many aren’t so lucky. I see riders with broken derailleurs, shredded tyres – and an older competitor running across the finish line, his bike slung over his shoulder. When I finally cross the line – cold, exhausted, but elated – I get it: the Sherry Medal. A small piece of metal that means the world after a day like this.

And tomorrow? A marathon. On foot. Of course.

The next day, I’m back at the starting line – this time, without the bike. 42.2 kilometers through the same hills, the same stunning landscape. I’m still tired, but carried by the pride of yesterday. And it goes well: I finish the Sherry Marathon run in 3 hours and 19 minutes, even winning my age group of M50.

Conclusion? Jerez is more than just Sherry. It’s emotion, landscape and challenge – a place where riding and running become pure adventure. One thing’s for sure: I’ll be back.

You can find details of Timo’s epic day out on the bike here: