My Drake Passage Ride
Bikepacking To Support Cancer Care: May 25, 2024
Not 3 minutes into the single track of the Harkness Conservation Area, I knew I made the right bike selection.
Roots, rocks, logs and millions of slippery leaves covered the path ahead and it took me a while to muster up the confidence necessary for gunning up and over the mix of obstacles.
At first I opted to walk over the sharper babyheads and Tetrisy rock gardens, but as the day wore on and I grew more accustomed to the extra weight of my rig, I got a little more sendy. “Speed is your friend” I told myself.
I thought back to the couple I had met at the parking lot where I left my car; they had opted for gravel bikes. Shit was I happy to have suspension.
The ride report was spot on, miles 4-16 were hard. At first I opted to walk over the sharper babyheads and Tetrisy rock gardens, but as the day wore on and I grew more accustomed to the extra weight of my rig, I got a little more sendy. “Speed is your friend” I told myself. And ain’t that the truth.
Forest bathing seemed like a silly New Age term until this weekend.
But during almost the whole ride I was pleasantly soaked in the small droplets of light only permitted between leaves. Given the heat, I was grateful for the canopy.
Boston 65 miles of mix-terrain and around 6,000 feet of total elevation, the Drake Passage is almost doable in one day. Had I started my ride earlier, I could have pulled it off. But that wasn’t the point. Bikepacking, or so I’m told, is about the moments between pedal strokes, not crushing the miles to get to your destination
It was only 3pm when I arrived at the last spot to camp on the route without trespassing so I ended up with a tremendous amount of nothing to do.
Bikepacking, or so I’m told, is about the moments between pedal strokes, not crushing the miles to get to your destination. But doing “nothing” made me panic..
As I tried to settle down for the evening, my body shook with withdrawal. The adrenaline that had propelled me through 6 hours of tough single track and up steep hike-a-bikes was suddenly gone. Given my background in yoga and meditation, it shocked me how initially uncomfortable I was alone, without a task. I thought about suffering my own company for another 5 1/2 hours before sleep and sobbed.
I cried too, because the abundance of adrenaline that had been coursing through my body during the tough single track and the steep hike-a-bikes had finally stopped flowing. Though I had successfully held it together all day, as soon as I stopped riding, I shook with the sudden epinephrine withdrawal.
I thought about pressing on, but worried I end up without a place to sleep or worse: riding to my car in Amherst in the dark without lights. So I opted to backtrack to Wendell State Forest and find a suitable spot to make camp.
Even my 3 mile backtrack and the time I spent erecting my set-up for the night didn’t suck up much time. Inevitably it was just me and the mosquitoes. Mosquitoes by the millions. So many mosquitoes that I had little choice but to spend my evening, listening to Dave Grohl read his memoir over the competing buzz of the buggers dive bombing the sides of my tent. Eventually I fell asleep.This was the point, I told myself: confronting who I was, in the solitude of stillness, in the heart of darkness, in the embrace of nature.
Because of the mosquito frenzy, I was relegated to the confines of my tent. I had no choice but to lay on my back and listened to the bird songs echo through the trees. Eventually their symphony stilled my mind and I fell asleep.
My blood sucking friends were no less thirsty in the morning, so day two I got an early start. I know the route was designed to be savored, but unable to stop with being feasted on, I kept rolling.
This meant that every farm stand and refueling option was closed when I rolled by at 6:30, 6:45 and 7am and I felt lucky to have the foresight to pack extra bars. By my second hour into Sunday morning, I was salivating at the thought of a fried chicken sandwich and IPA back at Baxter’s, dockside on the Cape with unreasonable delight.
Just about the time I started fantasizing about food, I hit the climb at Rattlesnake Gutter rd. Fortunately it wasn’t that long, but with gradients that saw 19%, it was challenging none the less. Wilson, my bike, groaned under the surplus load of 180lbs and the downward pressure of my feet. But the climb was so beautiful it was impossible to feel crushed. The task at hand- getting to the top, took my mind off my twisting gut.
With newfound confidence I navigated back to the loose Harkness single track and ripped it up. Rocks? What rocks. The terrain no longer felt challenging.
I had survived a solo night in the woods, mastered riding with the extra weight of my rig and pulled off my first bikepacking adventure alone. Success.
My ride on day two only took my 3 hours and 45 minutes. I was back at my car by 9:45am. Unfortunately I was there well before the recommended Amherst brewery would open.
My celebratory beer would have to wait until Baxter’s in Hyannis.
My drive back to the Cape provided me with plenty of time to reflect on the highs and lows of this challenge. Ultimately, I decided my sense of accomplishment in completing it, without any support, was worth the discomforts. Would I do it again? Yes. Would I do it again soon? Probably not…. not until the chill of fall kills off every last one of those skeeters. 🍻
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Big thanks to Jason Kahn for developing this route, for Bikepacking.com for making it available to all, and to everyone who so far has donated to my SAA Cancer Care campaign! If you haven’t done so already please consider making a donation here:
