Save the Date: Convoys, Cowboys and Rock’n’Roll

Sprache wechseln:

An introduction to the only 4×4 and camper event where you can park your rig in front of a saloon, trade gear by the gallows, and sleep under the same stars that cast Clint Eastwood’s shadow.

DATES:

The Good, The Bad & The Fugly / Badlands Weekender: 17th -19th October 2025
Mojácar Music Mile: 21st – 25th October 2025

Fade In: Dust, Gunsmoke and Diesel

The opening shot isn’t digital. It’s real. Sunlight knifing through the dust, the dry rumble of tyres on gravel, the scent of diesel wafting somewhere in the heat haze. This isn’t cosplay. This isn’t Comic-Con in camo. This is The Good, The Bad & The Fugly aka Badlanders Weekend—an unholy alliance of campers, overlanders, bikers and desert rats, all converging on the most surreal venue in Europe: MiniHollywood Oasys…in Spain’s Tabernas Desert.

It’s not a dream. It’s not even new. It’s a revival.

Because before there were influencers and Instagram filters, there were men in dusters and wide-brimmed hats, squinting into the sun and staring down the devil. And they did it right here—amidst the scrub, the rocks, the bones of old movie sets long since left to rot.

Until now.

In October 2025, this land rides again.

A Fistful of Footage

They call it MiniHollywood. But don’t let the name fool you—it’s not a pretend playground. This is where cinema icons were forged in sand and sweat. A place where a director could blow up a bridge, ride a hundred horses through a canyon, or stare down a man with a pistol and a past.

The Tabernas Desert is officially Europe’s only true desert. A cracked, sun-baked wilderness that looks more like Arizona than Andalusia. Which is exactly why Hollywood came here.

Spaghetti Westerns made this place immortal. The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. For a Few Dollars More. Once Upon a Time in the West. You don’t just visit these places—you step into them.

But it wasn’t all six-shooters.

– Lawrence of Arabia burned across these dunes.
– Indiana Jones galloped through these gullies.
– Exodus, How the West Was Won, Conan the Barbarian—all rolled cameras here.
– Game of Thrones too, for the younger set.
– Even Doctor Who for the episode A Town Called Mercy. If you know, you know.

And at the heart of it all stands MiniHollywood Oasys.

MiniHollywood Oasys: No Mirage

The venue isn’t a backdrop. It’s the main stage. Saved from the wrecking ball by a far-sighted owner, MiniHollywood is a working Western town, complete with dirt roads, swinging saloon doors, and stagecoaches that still roll.

This isn’t a ghost town overrun by tumbleweed. It’s fully alive—especially in October.

Expect live shows:

• Cowboy shoot-outs in the main square
• Can-can dancers in the Yellow Rose Saloon
• Horse stunts, Wild West storytelling, and fire-lit evenings that crackle with both nostalgia and new stories

It’s not just entertainment, though—it’s home base.

Campers and overlanders will have full access to:

• Dedicated camping areas with proper facilities
• Bars, cafés and restaurants serving cold drinks and hot food
• Fire pits for swapping road stories long after sunset
• A trader and exhibitor zone with gear, rigs, upgrades, and oddball items you never knew you needed

Whether you arrive in a Defender with mud on the door seals, a van kitted out with all the comforts of home, or on an adventure bike laden with panniers, you’ll find a space to park, camp, and connect. You don’t need a film degree—just a sense of humour and a tank of diesel!

East to Mojácar: Guitars After Gunfights

When the dust settles and the echoes of gunfire fade, the convoys roll on. From the scorched ochres of Tabernas to the blues and golds of the coast. The next chapter unfolds in Mojácar, a hillside village with a Moorish heart and a rock’n’roll soul.

We call it the Mojácar Music Mile—but it’s more than a pub crawl.

It’s a celebration. A finale. A seafront symphony strung together by surf, tapas, and five nights of live music in beachfront bars and backstreet dives. Rock, folk, flamenco, jazz—whatever moves your boots.

Each venue competes for your vote. You’re the judge. The result? One band takes home the crown. The rest? They take your applause.

Treasure Island Beach: X Marks the Spot

Before the music kicks off, there’s the Treasure Hunt at Treasure Island Beach. Yes, that’s the real name. And yes, Disney reportedly filmed Treasure Island here back in 1950, long before Hollywood had CGI or guilt.

The beach isn’t easy to find. The track is bumpy, steep, and just ambiguous enough to make you question your navigation skills. Perfect.

Some come for the hunt. Some for the view. Some just want to be able to say they made it. But everyone leaves with something—even if it’s just sand in their boots and an unshakable grin.

There’s rumour of actual treasure. Gold nuggets? Maybe. More likely beer tokens and bragging rights. Either way…worth the ride.

Mojácar Magic and Mayhem

This isn’t just the wind-down. It’s the payoff.

After the heat and dust, Mojácar is pure contrast—palm trees, whitewashed walls, rugged tracks, and the kind of sunsets that make you want to toast someone, anyone. You’ll find wild camping by the beach, low-key campsites, boutique hotels tucked into the hills, and bars that haven’t shut since the ’80s.

By day, the options are as scattered as your gear after a night in the saloon:

• Hit the off-road trails and put your tyres to work
• Take a quad or buggy up into the ridgelines
• Go dolphin spotting. Or flamingos, if you’re into the weird and pink
• Try “car golf” on a defunct coastal golf course, if you fancy hacking around in low range with no rules

Then there’s Hog Watch—which is exactly what it sounds like. Mojácar’s own wild boar whisperer will lead a silent vigil for the pigs. You couldn’t make this up.

And if you need a breather, Mojácar Pueblo—just a short drive inland—is one of Spain’s most beautiful villages. Cobbled streets, Moorish history, and enough elevation to give you a new perspective on your hangover.

Why This Isn’t Just Another Event

Because it’s not polished. It’s not packaged. It doesn’t care how many followers you’ve got, or whether your paint job matches your fridge magnets.

It’s part cinematic tribute, part community gathering, part fever dream. You bring your rig, your sense of humour, and your favourite flask. We bring the dust, the music, the treasure, and the trail.

It’s a nod to the films that raised us, the road trips that shaped us, and the idea that getting there is still half the fun.

No brands shoved down your throat. No glossy pitches. Just a convoy of like-minded misfits heading for the same horizon.

So. Saddle Up.

You don’t need a Colt .45 or a clapperboard. You just need a vehicle that runs, a decent sense of direction, and a hankering for the absurd.

The West is calling. The roads are long. The campsites are dusty. The music is loud. And somewhere out there—between Sad Hill Cemetery and Mojácar—is the kind of story you’ll still be telling when your boots are worn through.

See you in the Badlands!

Some legends are real. Some are retold around the campfire. We like both.

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