Basilicata C2C
Basilicata C2C is a raw, three-day gravel crossing of one of Italy's most untamed regions, threading 249 kilometers from the Ionian coast to the Tyrrhenian Sea with nearly 5,000 meters of climbing earned the hard way. This is not a polished route — it is a demanding immersion into the faccioni, the deeply eroded clay badlands that define Basilicata's interior, where the landscape feels ancient and indifferent and the gravel rarely relents. The journey begins at the sun-scorched shores of Policoro, climbs into the surreal lunar terrain around Aliano — the village where Carlo Levi was exiled and where the land seems to fold in on itself — before pushing south through the forests above Sarconi and finally descending to the dramatic coastal cliffs of Maratea. Three days, two seas, one unforgettable crossing.
Route
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Basilicata C2CR day 1 | Policoro - Aliano
Stony tracks and sun-bleached clay trails set the tone from the first pedal stroke, the landscape already asserting its dry, uncompromising character. The route climbs persistently through rolling inland terrain, where sparse scrub and pale eroded hillsides stretch in every direction under a wide southern sky. Ninety kilometres and over 1300 metres of climbing demand a steady, patient effort before the day finally relents at Aliano, the remote hilltop village made famous by Carlo Levi's exile — a fitting, quietly haunting place to rest.
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Basilicata C2CR day 2 | Aliano - Sarconi
From the barren clay badlands above Aliano, the route climbs relentlessly into a landscape that feels emptied of everything but light and effort. The terrain is merciless and beautiful — eroded gullies, pale lunar hillsides, and long ridgelines that offer no shelter from the southern sun. Over 2,200 metres of climbing across 102 kilometres, the legs earn every descent. By day's end the air softens, the hills deepen green, and the Tyrrhenian coast begins to feel possible.
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Basilicata C2CR day 3 | Sarconi - Maratea
From the high ridgeline south of the Agri valley, the Tyrrhenian Sea appears for the first time, a distant silver glimmer beyond folds of forested limestone. The descent toward Maratea is hard-earned, the legs carrying the memory of three days across the spine of Basilicata — rough tracks, quiet hill towns, the particular silence of a region that asks something of you. The final kilometers wind through coastal scrubland thick with myrtle and broom, the gradient relenting as the sea draws closer. Maratea arrives like a reward: a small, luminous town clinging to cliffs above the water, the end of a crossing that felt genuinely remote.
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