To explain what I mean by being a dual pilgrim, I have to go back to 2017. And, curiously enough, start by talking about a bicycle. That year I had just bought my first gravel bike, a steel Specialized Sequoia. I was looking for a bike that would basically let me wander the Delta: ride around the Ebro Delta, where I was living at the time, without having to decide in advance which way I would take to get back home.

If there’s one route I’ve been longing to ride for a while, it’s Rodera, Camí dels Assagadors. Why? Because I’m Valencian. And, as such, I admit with a hint of blush that I still haven’t explored all the treasures of my own land. Rodera is exactly that: the perfect chance to step into one of those places I’ve yet to taste and to reconnect with the beauty of a territory that, for me, is among the most beautiful in the world.

Some journeys begin long before the first pedal stroke.
Sometimes they begin with a conversation. Other times, with a forgotten photograph. For Ramon and Mariona, it all started with one of those coincidences that some people call signs. In October 2025, a video about a journey through the Annapurnas happened to appear on YouTube. A few days later, Google reminded them of photos from a trip to Nepal they had taken seventeen years earlier. Without even realizing it, one name had found its way back onto the horizon: Thorong La Pass.

In mid-2019, I came across a text online that sparked a deep curiosity in me: "The 1,000 mile Bikepacking Trans Germany (BTG) runs southwest to northeast and was designed to take in the most beautiful and unknown parts of the German backcountry. The BTG follows fast rolling gravel roads with quite a few technical trails in between to explore the wild and remote parts of Germany with plenty of history along the trail if you take time for it."

I like riding alone. It’s a habit that brings me calm, clarity, and a sense of balance that’s hard to find amid the noise of everyday life. I’ve already shared some of those benefits in this Deriva. Traveling alone brings me peace. I can move at my own pace, without distractions, without having to negotiate anything. If I feel like stopping, I stop. If I’m hungry, I eat. If my body asks for rest, I set up camp.

They say there are places you pass through, and others that stay with you.
That’s what this Deriva is about.
There are moments when the path stops being movement and turns into stillness. Not because you seek it, but because something inside asks you to slow down.
DL Slow never ceases to surprise me.
There is so much to discover across its more than 800 kilometres that even I, moving through it from within, keep finding corners I didn’t expect.
This was one of them.
I arrived with good references, but without imagining how deeply this place would make me pause. Sometimes we don’t know we need it until we are already there.

Imagine having a few days to lose yourself in a bike journey. You, the bike, and the road. Imagine moving slowly, savoring what you love most: disconnecting to reconnect through nature. No rush, no obligation to complete the route if time runs short. It doesn’t matter: the route will be patient, waiting calmly without complaint. What matters is enjoying every kilometre, every moment.