Battling the Gralloch

Two brave Newbury Road Club Members take on one of the toughest Gravel Bike Events in the calendar

The clue's in the name: The dictionaries translate 'Gralloch' into English as 'the guts and entrails of a deer'. So, it's fair to say that Jerry Rolfe and Mark Nelson really did 'work their guts out' on this brutal but increasingly popular event. They entered the 2026 111km UCI Gravel World Series qualifier in Scotland's Galloway Forest Park.

In Jerry's own words: "The Gralloch isn’t just a gravel race — it’s a proper test of grit, legs, and determination. As a UCI World Championship qualifier, the field is stacked: elite men and women battling for qualification spots, some of the strongest amateur riders around, and then the rest of us age-group warriors turning up simply to experience one of the most iconic gravel events in the calendar. I very much fell into that last category.

And what an event it is.

Set in an utterly spectacular location, The Gralloch serves up scenery that is genuinely breath-taking — although much of the time you're too busy staring at your front wheel, trying to survive what’s coming next. The climbs are relentless, the descents are brutal, and there’s very little opportunity to settle into any kind of rhythm. This race doesn’t ease you in and it certainly doesn’t give much back.

Around 2,000 riders lined up for the UCI race and from the moment the gun went off, the suffering began. Within just 600 metres of the start line you hit the race’s biggest climb: a 6km drag that immediately reminds you exactly what sort of day you’ve signed up for. Any hope that things might ease off after that quickly disappears. The route simply keeps throwing climb after climb at you, punctuated by rough, high-speed descents that dish out a relentless beating to both rider and bike. It never ceases to amaze me just how much punishment modern bikes can absorb.

The race itself covers 110km, with around 80% off-road over notoriously flinty terrain. Punctures were happening everywhere. Some of the biggest hazards weren’t the rocks; they were the bidons being launched from bikes on the descents. Nothing sharpens your concentration like dodging water bottles while rattling downhill.

At the sharp end of the race, the winner crossed the line in a staggering three hours. The rest of us? Age-group times stretched all the way from around four hours to eight, with riders spread across the course battling their own private wars against terrain, fatigue and cramping legs.

Overall, The Gralloch was one of the toughest events I’ve ever ridden. Unrelenting, unforgiving and absolutely exhausting. But somehow, despite all that, it was also hugely enjoyable.

Maybe that's the strange appeal of gravel racing.

Or maybe everything just feels better when you’re standing at the finish line with a beer in your hand."

Like some other famous sporting endeavours, the Gralloch could claim the aphorism "It's not the winning that matters, it's the taking part." It takes courage and dedication just to enter and a great deal of strength, stamina and determination to finish the course. It's a fact that, despite the strong starting line-up of qualified entrants, the rigours of the Gralloch typically prevent around 1 in 6 riders from completing the course; which our riders saw for themselves. But as Jerry wrote, the first pint of beer afterwards was the crowning moment on an amazing day.