Gravel Del Fuego 2025

Landscapes Too Big To Frame

Gravel del Fuego is more than a race — it’s a story waiting to be told. It weaves together emotion, the vast landscapes of Patagonia, and the deep, inner journey that any ultra-distance challenge brings. It becomes a one-of-a-kind experience.

"Gravel del Fuego isn’t just a race. It’s a rite of passage."

These words from photographer Clemente Diaz ring truer than ever once you cross that finish line.

Photo credits: Clemente Diaz

Just standing at the starting line was a challenge in itself. My training had been limited, I’d never attempted a distance like this, and the cold morning air combined with the sheer number of kilometres ahead made both my body and mind tremble. But the excitement — that mix of nerves and joy — of riding through one of the most beautiful places on Earth was enough to say yes to the “madness” of pedalling from Puerto Natales to Torres del Paine and back in less than 20hrs. Sure, the 1000km version is a whole other level of transformation. But for those of us doing the 250km for the first time — or even for those coming back for more (because clearly, there's a reason they do) — it goes way beyond the distance, the cold, the dust, the crashes, and the scenery. It’s a challenge that pushes you to your core, and in doing so, becomes a path to discovering what you’re really made of. When everything else fades away, all that’s left is the landscape, your bike, and you.

Photo credits: Benja Zamora

We started just as the sun rose, in that chilly dawn light. And then, something shifted — I dropped into total connection. No headphones. Just an open heart, fully immersed. I felt every piece of that autumn landscape pour in through my senses — the colours, the wind, the stillness. It held me, even when my body started to fail. And yes — there were tough moments. Especially when I found myself alone, which was more than half the race. Riding solo can be beautiful, but it also plays tricks on your mind. The headwind at times felt endless, like it was trying to stop me in my tracks. I just wanted to finish. That’s all I could think about in the last 50km, when darkness began to fall again and the cold started biting at my face, hands, and feet. I was afraid I’d break. And I did — at the Milodón sector. I knew I was “close,” but it felt impossibly far. I cried. I cried because I hadn’t trained enough. I cried because I wanted it so badly. I cried because I needed to — in order to keep going.

Photo credits: Clemente Diaz

Reaching CP4 was brutal. I was on the edge of another breakdown. The cold, the exhaustion — it all made me doubt. Dust, crashes, freezing wind. Everything made the finish line seem even further away. But the warmth of the helping hand at the checkpoint gave me strength. That kind of strength that shows up just when you think there’s none left.

Photo credits: Clemente Diaz

The season this event takes place in isn’t just a backdrop — Autumn is a key character in the story. The colours, the temperature, the quiet melancholy of the trees... it all creates a unique atmosphere where beauty and challenge intertwine. Gravel del Fuego is poetry in motion. The landscape left me in a trance.

To receive that finisher medal. To know you did it. That you went beyond. That you were stronger than you believed — it’s a feeling that stays in your body and your mind for several days. Looking back now, I feel different. Feel prouder. Happier. Stronger. Because yes — Gravel del Fuego changed me. It showed me, like @titonazar says:

“The rare and precious thing is finding places where you can discover the strength that lives in your own solitude.”

250 kilometres with 3000 metres of elevation gain in less than 20hrs sounds insane to most people. And maybe it is? But the magic lies in this — that in the end, time doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you did it. That you faced everything and didn’t give up. Yes, the physical challenge is obvious. But the mental work this race demands is immense — facing the cold, the night, the exhaustion, the self-doubt… and continuing anyway. It’s a test of character. Of heart. Of grit.

Photo credits: Rodrigo Perez

Thanks to those who manage to capture what this journey really feels like — , , and — whose photos reflect what we feel when we ride through landscapes too big for any frame, but not too big for the heart. Thank you, (), for being part of this journey. For shaking me up and helping me grow roots. For the hugs at the finish line.

There’s something powerful about sharing a wild experience like this with others. Because nobody crosses a finish line alone.

Words by Carola Fresno

Photo credits: Clemente Diaz