When people ask me which race on the 2026 calendar I’m most curious about, the answer is The Rift. Not the most intimidating — that’s Badlands. Not the most famous — that’s Unbound. The Rift is the one I find hardest to imagine until I’m actually there, and that uncertainty is its own kind of draw.
Ten days to go. Iceland on 18 July.
What The Rift Is
The Rift takes place in the Þórsmörk area of Southern Iceland — volcanic highland terrain, created by the same geological processes that are still actively reshaping the island. The name refers to the rift zones where the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates are pulling apart, which is either poetic or terrifying depending on your relationship with geology.
The course runs 140km of gravel, track, and terrain that doesn’t quite have an English word for what it is. Lava fields. Glacial river crossings. Black volcanic gravel that looks like a different planet and rides like nothing you’ve trained for in Lancashire. There’s also a 200km option and a new ultra distance for 2026 — the Abyss, 330km, capped at 30 riders — but I’m on the 140km, which is enough of an introduction to this particular landscape.
The field is around 600 riders. That’s small by the standards of Turnhout or the Traka — intimate, in gravel terms. The race doesn’t have the mass-participation character of a UCI Gravel World Series event. It has something different: a specific location that you cannot replicate, and a course that only works in Iceland because it could only exist in Iceland.
What I Know About the Terrain
I’ve spoken to riders who’ve done The Rift before. The consensus is: it is unlike anything else.
The lava fields create surfaces that are unpredictable in ways that even experienced gravel riders find surprising. Hard volcanic rock, loose scree, compacted ash, sections where the trail disappears into a riverbed — all within a few kilometres of each other. Tyre choice is the most contested pre-race topic in the Rift community for good reason. There isn’t a single correct answer; there are trade-offs between grip, protection, and rolling resistance that you make based on the weather forecast and your own risk tolerance.
The river crossings are genuine crossings, not glorified puddles. Glacial meltwater, cold enough to be a shock at 140km in, with currents that require you to pick your line carefully. I’ve been watching footage from previous years and mentally filing it under “things that will be different in practice.”
The weather in Southern Iceland in July is, to put it diplomatically, variable. It can be warm and clear, which makes the landscape extraordinary. It can also be driving rain and 8 degrees, which makes it a different kind of race entirely. Layering, waterproofing, and carrying the right kit for conditions that can shift within an hour — this is part of the preparation that most European gravel races don’t require.
Where This Sits in the Season
The Rift falls between Gravel Suisse in Switzerland on July 12 and Badlands on August 30. After a dense spring — five races between February and May — the summer has more space. July is two races in a month rather than three races in six weeks, and the recovery windows are more generous.
That matters, because I want to arrive at Badlands in August with the season’s accumulated adaptation rather than its accumulated fatigue. The Rift is a target in its own right. It’s also a sustained three-hour-plus effort on technical terrain that will reinforce the endurance base I need for 800km of Andalusia.
Jacob has built July with Badlands on the horizon. Every session, every race, every recovery decision is made with that end point in mind.
The Honest Part
I’ve raced on Catalan limestone and Belgian cobbles and California fire roads and Scottish forest tracks. I’ve done 360km through the Pyrenean foothills and 200 miles across Kansas prairie. Iceland’s volcanic terrain is something I cannot fully prepare for until I’m riding it, and that sits somewhere between exciting and unsettling.
The unsettling part is fine. That’s what new races are for. If every course felt familiar, the sport would lose the thing that makes it compelling — the sense that you’re doing something genuinely difficult in a place that genuinely tests you.
Iceland in ten days. Lava fields, glacial rivers, a landscape that belongs to a different geological era.
I cannot wait.
Supported by Merlin Cycles, Ventum Racing, OGT, Gravaa, and Questa Financial Planning. Coached by Jacob Tipper at JT Performance Coaching.