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Route 66 Is About to Turn 100, and There’s Never Been a Better Time to Ride It

Nathan Ward — Thu, 10 Jul 2025 14:00:11 +0000

Editor’s Note: This feature was originally published in the August/September 2014 issue of Adventure Cyclist magazine under the title “America’s Darling: Route 66”. We’re publishing it online for the first time in honor of Route 66’s 100 anniversary next year and our route’s 10th birthday this year.

It is Friday night, and with the last gasp of the day, a golden glow burns low across Central Avenue in Albuquerque, New Mexico. It throws a storied slant on the time-pitted windows of a blue 1968 Ford Mustang, cruising slowly in front of the bright lights of the KiMo Theater. Lost in the song of glass-pack mufflers burbling out V-8 song, we shuck and jive on pedals east on the avenue to the pink and teal neon of the Route 66 Diner where the promise of the past lives on. On Friday nights in Albuquerque, it’s not the best hour for bicycles, but we persist just as the legend of Route 66 persists in the dreams of people worldwide.

Pull open the door. Inside the Route 66 Diner, the needle drops on a 45 and “Tucumcari, Here I Come” by Dale Watson bursts out. A bubbly girl in a short dress and braces seats us on spinning stools on a long counter in front of an Elvis cutout and an old Schwinn cruiser. We order fizzing drinks, then walk around the restaurant looking at memorabilia — old road signs, a Pez collection, the cutt-off front of a Chrysler with the chrome still gleaming. This diner is the just the way I dream of old Route 66, but out on the road, of course, the story runs far deeper.

Next year, the Adventure Cycling Association will release their newest bicycle route, the fabled Route 66 from Chicago’s gleaming Miracle Mile to Santa Monica’s infinite blue waters. It’s a 2,448-mile (give or take) ribbon of highway — America’s Main Street — stretching out in front of your wheels like a road map to the promised land.

Route 66 still holds the lure of discovery and Americans love that promise of potential. Back in 1926. Right now. Tomorrow. I can’t define it, but there is certainly something about the idea of Route 66 that promises happiness. There is no better way to discover The Mother Road’s mysteries than to ponder them slowly at bicycle speed.

A lonely stretchof Route 66 through Gallup New Mexico

Anderson Schmig Unsplash

From Chicago, Route 66 starts down Jackson Boulevard, crosses Illinois and Missouri, tastes Kansas, and digs deep into Oklahoma, the Texas Panhandle, New Mexico, Arizona, and California — Lake Michigan to the Pacific Ocean. It’s a classic journey, best done in one push, but we decided to tackle it in bite-sized rides, bit by bit like a Dust Bowl jalopy that breaks down but keeps chugging when the time is right. We tasted our first slice of Route 66 pie by traveling from Romeroville to Gallup, a stretch across most of New Mexico that follows the pre-1937 route up through Santa Fe.

Why start in the middle? Why New Mexico? Simply put, for me it was the crux of the journey, the land where the culture noticeably changes, food grows spicier, hills thrust higher, and the history of the American West, just a generation or two ago removed form us, begins. We weren’t disappointed by Route 66 in New Mexico.

On paper, Route 66 was born on November 11, when the U.S. government officially linked up a collection of existing roads and named it double six. In New Mexico, the original was a teeth-chattering 501 miles of washboard dirt that S-curved across the state. Back then, there was no straight shot across the Enchanted State.

My wife Andrea and I started our tour in Las Vegas, a town just north of the proper route in Romeroville. The road comes into Las Vegas after long stretches of short grass prairie, persistent breezes, windmills, and long fence lines that fade straight into the distance. Then the road starts to roller coaster up and down through a canyon thick with red dirt, stone, and piñon pine. Stacked stone houses give in to gravity, a patient horse waits for dinner at a big porch tacked on to a tidy trailer house, and primered project cars erode in front yards, all under the brilliance of the New Mexico sky.

Route 66’s iconic highway sign marker is painted on the road.

Tamas Szedlak Unsplash

Rolling into town under black dripping fingers of clouds, Las Vegas speaks of modern America with box stores and chain hotels on its perimeter, the downtown chock-full of historic brick buildings — some restored to glory, others waiting for saviors. We pedaled through Las Vegas seeking out its gems — a mural on a brick wall and chopped smooth lowrider pickups with giant chrome grills so shiny they mirror the quiet Spanish-Mexican plaza with streets radiating out like the rays of the sun.

Las Vegas has more than 900 buildings on various historic registers, and it’s fascinating to ride around looking at them. Some may look familiar because, despite the diminutive size of Las Vegas, it’s a hotbed for Hollywood. Many well-known directors have filmed scenes here over the decades. The list of films is too long to name, but suffice it to say that every step you take in this town follows the steps of one movie star or another.

In the last hours of the day, we rode out of town a few miles to “The Castle,” a stunning edifice on the mountainside that is currently home to the Armand Hammer United World College of the American West. Security guards in golf carts chased us down when we tried to pedal through the campus, but they did point out a back road to something more precious for cyclists — hot springs.

Right along the road near the college, hot water seeps up through the ground, and locals have built rock pools to harness the mineral water of Montezuma Hot Springs. Amazingly, in this day and age, it’s still free and not commercialized. Families park along the road after work and ease their bodies into these healing waters. They were an almost too-relaxing cap on a day of riding and it was a struggle to ride back to town and sink deep into bed for the night.

In the morning, under a cloudless sky, we rode to the railroad tracks near our hotel. A stunning building sat forlorn and boarded up. Back in the day, it strummed with life and even hosted a Harvey House restaurant. A white-haired lady in the train station saw us looking around and came out to tell us stories. “That was where the ladies of the night lived,” she said and pointed to a battered building. “They worked all this area, but that’s where they stayed. It ain’t much to look at these days.”

She was right, it ain’t. Time was taking its toll, but I could picture it with fresh paint and slamming doors, a home for girls with no other home. We came to see that this old building represented a lot of Route 66. Not much is left anymore, the road covered by interstate, the buildings torn down, and the roadside attractions long gone. But this home of soiled doves prompted an epiphany of sorts. Route 66 became more than just a ribbon of highway, it became a treasure hunt to find the original bits that still remain, and there are plenty of treasures if you only look.

Out of Romeroville, the road follows the path of least resistance through growing hills. Short original sections of Route 66 parallel the road, and side roads stray to abandoned villages and old cemeteries. A lot of stories have unfolded here — more stories than we’ll ever know. The last section of Route 66 was decommissioned in 1985, replaced by the bigger and faster Interstate 40. But even before 1926 this road was here, host to cars, wagons, horse, and foot traffic for as long as humans have been here. We’ve traveled this route for more than 10,000 years, a natural path through the tough desert land.

We paralleled I-40 on a frontage road with rolling hills and no traffic. We weren’t sure if this would be part of the final Adventure Cycling route because the maps aren’t finished, but it’s certainly a nice ride despite the proximity of the interstate.

As we climbed toward the Sangre de Cristo Mountains and its snowy summits, we noticed a small sign that simply read “San Jose,” and the road led through a culvert under the interstate. It looked too interesting to pass up, and that’s how we found San Jose del Vado, a pueblito founded in 1803 and looking like time had stood still.

“Wow, it feels like we’ve just ridden in a time machine back to Old Mexico,” I exclaimed to Andrea. The village surrounded an attractive old church and plaza, a sleepy place of adobe houses with shuttered windows and stick fences, everyone out at work. Swallows flited in and out of their mud nests, frantic and elegant.

Later, in Santa Fe when we were having a drink with Route 66 historian Michael Pitel, I told him that I’d felt we had dropped into Old Mexico, and he quickly said, “No, no, they wouldn’t ever want you to say that. They’d want you to say ‘old New Mexico’ because hardly any of those people came from Mexico. They’re Spanish.”

Pre-Pueblo, Pueblo, Mexican, Spanish, settlers, cowboys, armies, Dust Bowl refugees, criminals, post-World War II veterans, history buffs — the whole mixing bowl of humanity has followed this trail through the gap between the Sangre de Cristo Mountains and Glorieta Pass.

But some people lasted longer than others, and the story of civilizations and their passings became tangible when we rode into the Pecos National Historic Park. They didn’t call it Route 66 back then, but the land looked essentially the same when the Pecos Pueblo began to emerge around 1450, as the native people from this area banding together, potentially as protection against encroaching Plains tribes. It was still a land of wolves and grizzlies where music was played on bird-bone flutes and two good horses would buy you one good Apache or Comanche slave.

In 1540, the Spanish arrived with their military and religion — then came Mexico, the United States, Santa Fe Trail settlers, Kearny and the Army of the West, the Civil War, the railroad, and Route 66.

Andrea and I locked our bikes and walked the path up a hill that is the remains of a Pueblo city. The sides of the hill served as the trash dump for hundreds of years. Shattered pottery and arrowhead pieces litter the ground. We tried to imagine what it was like, but as always this was nearly impossible. The world of human culture has changed a lot in a short time.

We continued riding over Glorieta Pass at 7,500 feet and dropped all the way down into Santa Fe. There the low-slung, adobe-esque city of 80,000 hides well among the hills, but it still felt frenetic after the miles spent in the quiet hills getting here.

We rode into Santa Fe on old 66 and turned into the El Rey Inn to check into an original adobe room, cool and dark even in the heat. The El Rey was built in 1935-36 and enjoyed only one year of Route 66 business before the government changed 66 through New Mexico. A new road opened and cut off the whole S-curve loop we’d been riding so far. This new route ran straight across and shaved 106 miles off Route 66.

In early evening, we pedaled Cerillos Road to Galisteo Street into the famed Santa Fe Plaza. Route 66 led straight to the plaza then, and some of the original building skylines and businesses still exist. On the corner of Water Street and Don Gaspar Avenue, three Route 66 businesses flourish, including the beautiful Hotel St. Francis. We met Santa Fean and Route 66 historian Pitel near here, and he walked through some of the best remaining 66 sites in downtown Santa Fe. It was a great way to learn a lot without having to fumble around the city on our own.

We ducked into the La Fonda Hotel and the Plazuela Restaurant, perhaps the most famous Harvey House restaurant. They offered us a choice of 23 different margaritas, whipped up a mountain of guacamole right at our table, tempted us with fresh squash blossoms stuffed with goat cheese, and finished us off with bowls of posole in red chile. It was heaven. Then one of my favorite writers on the planet walked in and sat down at the next table. Cormac McCarthy. Could it get any better?

As anyone who has been here knows, it’s hard to leave Santa Fe, but we saddled up and pedaled out. The journey west out of Santa Fe was a big step for many travelers because it was the day they had to navigate the infamous La Bajada hill that switchbacked steeply down to the valley below. Drivers often rode the brakes hard, and the old cotton brake pads would burst into flame, causing a lot of excitement. Locals would congregate at the top and bottom of La Bajada to offer their services as drivers to get vehicles up or down the hill safely. Many travelers took them up on it.

Today La Bajada is no longer a route anyone travels. It’s even hard to find, locked away behind someone’s cow pasture. No matter — for us it was time to deviate from Route 66 as I-40 covers the whole next stretch of the historical route all the way to Albuquerque.

We turned south on New Mexico State Road 14 (NM 14) to follow the mountainous Turquoise Trail Scenic Byway through the picturesque towns of Madrid, Golden, and Sandia Park. The Turquoise Trail is quite obviously named for the turquoise that Pueblo people mined, starting over 1,000 years ago.

In spite of the beauty of this section of the journey, we were eager to reach Albuquerque and treasure hunt for Route 66 remnants. We arrived late and settled into Hotel Andaluz just off Route 66 in the historic downtown. It opened in 1939 as the Hilton Hotel, the first hotel built in New Mexico by native son Conrad Hilton. From there we headed up Central Avenue/Route 66 to Kelly’s Brew Pub and Food, a spot heaving with locals eating deep-fried green beans and such.

Just up Central Avenue is the polished Route 66 Diner, which draws on a version of what most people today think Route 66 must have been like. Back in the heyday of travel along this route, people built “roadside attractions” to try and lure people in. You could find tipi-shaped hotel rooms, giant Paul Bunyan statues, and other oddities. The Route 66 Diner is simply a modern roadside attraction, and it’s fun to visit, but the real fun in Albuquerque is searching out the originals.

The place to start is along Central Avenue and the Nob Hill District, which offers a diverse mix of Americana — carnicerias, auto shops, university hangouts, streetwalkers, boarded-up Route 66 hotels with their classic signs faded and barely hanging on. Try to find them soon because locals say they’re disappearing by the day. It’s history that no one has the money to restore.

We headed out of Albuquerque on Central Avenue through the old part of town, then up 9 Mile Hill where we stopped to rest and enjoy the great view of the city behind and below us. Albuquerque ends abruptly, and in no time we were back in the sage, dust, and scrub. Our route now occasionally followed the shoulder of the interstate, but we turned off on older sections of Route 66 every chance we had.

It was a long, hot, windy stretch, and the bits of Route 66 that remain are just broken remnants. But there are still treasures, like Mission San José and Budville. Budville isn’t much to look at, but the old gas station has an interesting story. The town was named for Bud Rice, a local businessman who ran a towing company and a cafe. He was murdered there, along with a waitress in the 1960s during a robbery, and the crime was never solved. There is no end to the stories along Route 66, including the tales of mobsters and other criminals on the run.

The road passes through the black lava flows of Malpaís right before the town of Grants. The town was famous for carrots and uranium, but it looks bit beat-up these days. Nonetheless, there are a couple of nice Route 66 signs to seek out.

From Grants, our route left Route 66 to avoid a long section of interstate with no shoulder. Instead we pedaled south along NM 53 on a back road to Gallup. Stock up, it’s miles of wide open land and sky, beautiful and peaceful. It’s also an easy way to get up and over the Continental Divide — we hardly noticed pedaling over it at a mere 7,882 feet.

We stopped at the El Morro National Monument to see the cliff where travelers scratched their names in the rocks for hundreds of years, marveled at the light across Dowa Yalanne (Corn Mesa), visited the artists of Zuni, and enjoyed riding through the beautiful American West on the way to Gallup.

Gallup, New Mexico, was the center of the Western film industry from roughly 1929 to 1964, and all the big stars were here. In the El Rancho Hotel, their autographed photos line the walls, and we slaked our road thirst with a cold beer in the hotel bar, the same one that John Wayne rode into on his horse and reputedly said “Give me a beer. Give my horse a beer too.”

For us, it was the end of the first section of our Route 66 adventure, but that old highway still stretched out in the distance to the west.

There are many ways to ride Route 66. You can do it for the diversity and beauty of the route, just skimming over the history. Or you can dig deep into it, seek out the Route 66 fanatics that live in every town along the way, and ask them to share their knowledge. Then pedal out again and seek out all the old pieces of the route’s history that are out there, slowly fading away but still waiting for you to discover them.

Route 66 Nuts and Bolts

When to Go

The route runs from the northern climes of the Midwest through the southern U.S. deserts, so the weather is a factor. You could encounter both very hot and very cold. And it depends which way you want to ride it, Illinois to California, or the opposite. If starting in Illinois, late summer or early fall would be ideal so you would pass through the desert when the days are cooler. If starting in California, you could start in late winter to reach the Midwest in the spring or early summer.

What to Ride

We rode road bikes with 25mm tires. This worked well, but these would be too narrow for most of the dirt roads or side rough sections. Next time I will ride a standard touring bike with something in the range of a 32mm tire. Panniers or a trailer would be effective. You can also vehicle support this entire route if desired.

Where to Stay

I think a mix of camping and classic hotels would be ideal along the whole route. Some of the original hotels are pretty cool, but there aren’t many left. The ACA maps will mark all the campgrounds along the way.

Books to Read

The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck

Route 66 – The Mother Road by Michael Wallis

Route 66 Sightings by Jerry McClanahan, Jim Ross, and Shellee Graham

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Be Here Now Catalina Island

Gina Pellechio — Mon, 30 Jun 2025 14:00:15 +0000

Shortly after the ferry leaves port, the dense sprawl of Southern California fades into the distance. Roughly an hour later, you arrive at Santa Catalina Island, a mountainous ridge rising from the Pacific. Although it has been inhabited for the better part of the past 7,000 years, the Spanish are said to have “discovered” Catalina, one of eight that comprise California’s Channel Islands archipelago, in 1542. Efforts to develop it as a resort destination began in the mid-1800s, and over the years, it’s served as a spring training site for the Chicago Cubs, a WWII military base, and a retreat for Hollywood stars. These days, throngs of tourists hurry between the restaurants and shops of Avalon, the island’s main port which is nestled like a half-bowl against steep hills.

And yet, much of Catalina remains wild. More than 165 miles of trails and roads unspool in loops and spurs across the 22-mile-long landmass. With its craggy terrain and ocean vistas — to say nothing of its fauna, including foxes, bald eagles, and 120-odd bison — the island feels nothing like nearby Los Angeles.

All of which contributes to Catalina’s reputation as a paradise for outdoors enthusiasts. With restricted car usage, biking is one of the best ways to explore, and whether it’s cruising Avalon’s scenic, paved waterfront or tackling stony fire roads, there’s something for cyclists of all levels. To access the trails outside of town, a $35 Freewheeler Bike Pass can be purchased through the Catalina Island Conservancy. But don’t expect any of SoCal’s notorious traffic, unless it’s a line of golf carts in town or a herd of bison in the backcountry.

Little Harbor

Pixabay

Beginner/Overnight

Avalon to Little Harbor Loop
Distance: 32 miles
Elevation gain: 4,400 feet

Depart Avalon and begin the relentless climb to Airport in the Sky. After 10 miles and almost 2,000 feet of elevation gain, you’ll arrive at the quaint aerodrome where you can take in beautiful views, fill up water, and grab a beloved “Killer Cookie” from the on-site cafe.

Sufficiently refueled, you’ll be ready for the pleasant 6-mile descent into Little Harbor Campground, a beachfront oasis on Catalina’s remote “backside.” It may be secluded, but it’s got plenty of amenities, including picnic tables, barbecue grills, bathrooms, and staggering ocean sunsets. Be sure to reserve your site through the Catalina Island Company well before your trip as sites can fill up months in advance (see below). And if you want to lighten your load — literally — you can arrange for your camping gear to be delivered to your site for $40 per bag round trip. Complete the lollipop loop by following Middle Ranch Road back to Airport Road, which you’ll follow back to Avalon.

Intermediate/Multi-Day

Trans-Catalina Bikepacking Route
Distance: 70 miles
Elevation Gain: 8,520 feet

For this intermediate ride, you’ll follow the first leg of the beginner route to Little Harbor. But instead of pitching your tent, you’ll ride another 6 miles north to Two Harbors, Catalina’s second, less touristy port. Grab a bite before setting out for 7 miles of a zig-zagging gravel road to Parsons Landing Campground, the most remote tent sites on the island. It may be Catalina’s only bivouac without potable water, but it makes up for it with dramatic cliffside vistas and near endless stretches of deep blue water right out your tent door.

The next day, retrace your ride back to Two Harbors for breakfast, then keep an eye out for — and your distance from — the grazing bison as you pedal back to Little Harbor. Strong cyclists could head straight back to Avalon, but why not take your time and enjoy another ocean sunset before drifting off to the crashing waves at Little Harbor Campground? For your final day, you’ll pick up Middle Ranch Road, where you’ll spot horses, foxes, and, if you’re lucky, a few bald eagles as you loop south around 2,097-foot Mount Orizaba to rejoin Airport Road. Not ready to return to town? Pick up Divide Road just west of Avalon to tack on a 10-mile, counterclockwise loop around the island’s southern end and up 1,563-foot East Mountain.

A word of warning: The packed gravel quickly turns to steep, loose, and rocky terrain with possible hike-a-bike sections. If this sounds appealing, consider bringing a more capable steed. Most gravel bikes likely won’t make for a comfortable ride, and you may end up fishtailing or even walking much of final descent. Whichever route you choose, celebrate with a cruise around Avalon, where the isolation of the wild side is again traded for the crowds of an energetic port.

Go and Stay

Two companies provide transport to the island: The Catalina Express ferry leaves from San Pedro, Long Beach, and Dana Point ($92 round trip, $7 bike fee), and the Catalina Flyer departs from Newport Beach ($94, $20 bike fee). Avalon has several posh hotels, starting at $200 per night. For panoramic views and historic elegance, book the four-star Mt Ada Hotel. Airbnb and VRBO options abound, and you’ll find Hermit Gulch Campground just a mile outside of town. There are four other campgrounds on the island, and all five must be reserved in advance through the Catalina Island Company (visitcatalinaisland.com; $35 per adult and $24 per child per night; reservations open every year on January 1). Camping add-ons, including water, firewood, and other essentials can be purchased — and delivered to your site — for an additional fee.

Arts and Culture

The Catalina Museum for Art and History features permanent and rotating exhibits detailing the island’s 7,000-year-history of inhabitation. On the north side of Avalon Bay, the famed Catalina Casino, one of the first theaters specifically built for “talkies,” is a showcase of art deco architecture and murals. The island is also a hub for film, music, and wine festivals. Check out the events page at visitcatalinaisland.com to see if one happens to fall on your chosen dates.

Groceries and Food

Avalon is full of restaurants catering to tourists. Check out NDMK Fish House for seafood, Catalina Coffee and Cookie Co. for something sweet, and Catalina Island Brew House for post-ride pints. For a SoCal-style beach party, head to Descanso Beach Club, the Island’s only beachfront restaurant and bar. (Don’t skip the signature Buffalo Milk cocktail, a frozen concoction of vodka, ice cream, banana chips, and coffee, banana, and chocolate liqueurs.) Stock up on camp food at Vons grocery store prior to departing for the more remote parts of Catalina, but don’t worry too much. There are plenty of places to refuel in the hinterland, including Two Harbors’ Harbor Reef Restaurant and Bar or Two Harbors General Store.

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An Ode to Bicycling Arizona’s Sky Island

Stefan Mostert — Thu, 26 Jun 2025 14:00:34 +0000

We always imagine a holiday as something that should happen far away. We want to cross the ocean or a continent to a place with different trees, different people, different things. That novelty and transformation pulls our attention back to the world around us before everything becomes too much the same. Yet the world is very big and new places hard to reach, so when you can experience several unfamiliar landscapes in a single, short journey, you’ve discovered something special.

From my home in Tucson, Arizona, in the heart of the Sonoran Desert, there is just such a place. It’s called a sky island, and this particular one is part of the Santa Catalina Mountains. On it, I can experience almost the entire North American landscape in a single bike ride.

Sky island describes these kinds of mountains perfectly. They are massive peaks scattered across the desert floor. Separated by miles of cacti and roaring sun, each mountain is an isolated habitat with its own microclimate and unique ecosystems. In fact, their seclusion means that many species can only be found on a single sky island because the next suitable habitat lies beyond a sea of desert. But their isolation isn’t the only thing that makes them unique.

Nearing the upper reaches of Mount Lemmon, Tucson, Arizona

Brandon Messner / Unsplash

As a rule of thumb, for every 1,000 feet of elevation you gain, the temperature drops around five degrees, the equivalent of driving 300 miles north, and the landscape transforms accordingly. So, to travel through multiple North American biomes, I could change my latitude and go there physically, or I could simply change my altitude and stay right here in Arizona.

I do just that often — especially on my bicycle. On an early Saturday morning, I’ll leave the city and pedal slowly through Tucson’s extensive cycle network, which includes a 100-plus-mile bike path which encircles the entire city. I’ll begin my ride with a broad sweep around the southeast toward the summit of Mount Lemmon, more than 9,000 feet in the air. I’ll bring a few things to eat, plenty of water, and an audiobook.

The road that takes me to the top is the Catalina Highway. It’s everything that makes America great: a wide and smooth ribbon of asphalt stretching from the desert floor up into the forest. Its 27 miles lift you almost 7,000 feet — the equivalent of traveling from Tucson to Banff, Canada. Scattered on both sides of the road lie several picnic spots, many hiking trails, a small lake, and several campgrounds. Together, they create ideal conditions for outdoor adventures — especially an overnight bicycle tour. (Or for a longer trip, you could string together an island-hopping ride among any or all of the 16 sky islands spread across southern Arizona’s Coronado National Forest.) All of this is spread across five distinct habitats created by the elevation change.

Through the noisy city appears the Lower Sonoran Desert, famed for its saguaro cacti. Then follows the Upper Sonoran Desert shrublands, the desert grasslands, the chaparral and oak woodlands, and finally — past the pinyon, junipers, and ponderosa pines — the mixed conifer forest complete with lingering winter snow and a few roaming bears. The bicycle is the best method to witness this natural transformation firsthand. That way, I can personally greet the last saguaro and appreciate every habitat in detail. I can also stop wherever I like, taking in the views while my body catches its breath.

To round off the Catalina Highway, there is a little wooden cabin at the very top that serves an enormous, freshly baked cookie and hot coffee. You’ll have earned them. Outside, the wind whistles through the conifer needles, and the entire experience is literally a world away from what’s happening down in the desert. But the best reason to take such a trip by bike is the downhill you get at the end of your ride — all 30 miles of it. Then you can experience the transformation again, this time in reverse and a little bit faster. The green trees turn into brown trees, then shrubs, then grasslands, and later the first saguaro cactus waving its arms in the air. Then, it’s back to the city, another two hours of backstreets, and finally home.

Arizona’s sky islands may offer ideal conditions to experience this natural phenomenon of elevation, but they’re not the only place. It can be observed all over the world, including in the Southern Hemisphere, where climbing 1,000 feet provides the same transformation as travelling 300 miles south. Thus, in certain aspects, we can compare the climate of South Africa’s Drakensberg at a particular elevation to that of Cape Town.

What binds it all together is the incredible biodiversity our planet offers — not only when we set off on grand journeys, but also, sometimes, right in our own backyard.

To read more of Stefan’s writing, visit his blog at adailyrumble.com

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Escaping Gotham

Will Maurillo — Fri, 30 May 2025 17:33:23 +0000

To celebrate our partnership with NYC-based Priority Bicycles for this year’s bike giveaway donation and membership drive, we asked the belt-drive bike manufacturer for a guide to something our Mountain Time zone-based editorial staff previously thought impossible: A bikepacking trip from the heart of Manhattan. Read their trip report, then click here to see how you can win a Priority Gemini Smart.Shift Gravel bike.

Bikepacking might not be the first thing that comes to mind when you picture New York City, a megaopolis known for banking, late nights, and a slice at all hours. But what many people don’t realize — and what the Priority Bicycles team came to fully appreciate on this ride — is that there are hundreds of miles of trails just outside our sliding subway doors.

On this ride, you can escape the city via a quick train ride, then pedal hundreds of miles to your heart’s content. While we rode out and drove back, the route is easily scalable from an out-and-back day trip to a simple overnight to multi-night epic. Our goal wasn’t just to prove to ourselves and others that bikepacking from the heart of Manhattan was possible, it was to inspire folks to find routes in their own backyards — even if that backyard is a 20-million-person conurbanation. Because if us New Yorkers can find a two-wheeled escape right out our front doors, anyone can.

But along the way, we all learned another important lesson: Sometimes it’s more about the people you’re riding with than where you’re riding to. Here’s how we did it, and how you can, too.

Priority Bikes

Last year, still riding the high of July’s RAGBRAI 2024, we pitched a fall team trip during a Priority meeting. The concept? Ride 239 miles from our Manhattan headquarters in Tribeca to our Montgomery, Pennsylvania, warehouse — the hub of our direct-to-consumer operation. Suggestions flew. “We should do it on kids’ bikes!” “Why don’t we take beach cruisers?!”

That got our gears — or gearboxes — turning about how fun and casual we could make this ride. With the idea in mind, we set some concrete expectations:

Whether someone packed for full self-sufficiency or needed a little backup, the ride would be accessible for everyone.
We wanted an easily accessible route
With a larger group, food, water, and camping get even more complicated; we wanted to make that part of the planning as simple as possible.

They were all good decisions because the logistics of getting eleven riders from NYC to central Pennsylvania — some with full bikepacking setups, some with little more than a backpack — was complicated enough. We created a shared document for gear coordination, a separate thread for route planning, and a Google Map to track campgrounds, food stops, water fill-ups, and train access. Then, we used Komoot to block out the ride in broad strokes. This gave us an idea of how we could break up the ride into achievable days. There were some solid stopping points: NYC to Frenchtown, Pennsylvania, (67 miles); Frenchtown to Jim Thorpe (71 miles); and Jim Thorpe to Montgomery (101 miles). It would be ambitious, but with clear paths and only 7,750 feet of elevation gain, it felt doable. Especially after we decided to take a train from Manhattan to New Brunswick, New Jersey, and thus avoid starting our trek with a 25-mile slog through urban commuter traffic. Instead of riding the same route back to NYC, we shuttled back via van and U-Haul truck.

Day 1: NYC to Frenchtown – 67 miles

We met at Penn Station and caught a 5:30 AM NJ Transit train, which allowed bikes, to New Brunswick ($15.75). Then we grabbed breakfast at Dunkin’ (not sponsored), performed pre-ride checks, and rolled out. Within minutes, we were on the Delaware & Raritan Canal State Park Trail, and it felt like we were a world away from Manhattan.

Priority Bikes

Our crew ranged in experience from Tour Divide veterans (lookin’ at you Ryan Van Duzer) to newer cyclists with just 20 miles under their belts. The initial nervousness about keeping the group together across miles of canal-side gravel trails quickly faded into the background as we immersed ourselves in our surroundings.

The first day was defined by that feeling: being close to home but totally removed. We settled into a rhythm as we wound along the canal, weaving behind neighborhoods and gliding through town after town. When someone said, “Oh … we’re in Trenton?” it reminded us how far we’d come and how quickly we disconnected from the city.

The tow paths were easy: beautiful views, languid water to chill the air, and a plentiful tree canopy to block the sun. The miles ticked along as groups spread out, ultimately landing at the Tinicum Park Campground on the canal. Hammocks went up, tents unfolded (some for the first time ever), and we ended the day with burritos in Frenchtown, just a couple of miles away, before crawling into sleeping bags.

Day 2: Frenchtown to Jim Thorpe – 71 miles

The next day was a smooth-gravel blur. The trail rolled northwest through Bethlehem toward Jim Thorpe. It was effortless and meditative. Seventy-one miles is a long ride for a larger group, but the tow path was easy to follow, so speedier riders could easily pedal ahead. One major learning was that we could have pre-planned two to three meetup points throughout the day to allow us options for big stops or short ones. With large groups, it’s easy to lose 15 to 30 minutes chatting, waiting for group members, or eating snacks.

Given some of those stops, we arrived in Jim Thorpe about 45 minutes before sunset. There is a 20-minute climb from town to 100 Mile View Camping, and upon seeing the fun to be had at local bars and restaurants, we had our “big shift.” We were exhausted, had to get camp set up, and had 100 miles planned for the next day, but the town’s charm stopped us in our tracks. The obvious question popped up: “Why are we stressing ourselves out. Why don’t we stay longer?”

Priority Bikes

We had a great group, a campfire burning, and our friend Line brought us pizza and snacks. We made the call: Reduce the mileage of our final day and stay in Jim Thorpe a little longer. We earned this moment. Why rush?

Day 3: Jim Thorpe and Beyond – 36 miles

Instead of starting a century ride at 5 AM, we had brunch in town which had a Harry Potter vibe and was home to cool bakeries and great coffee. After wandering through shops, we got on the bikes and soaked in the final few trail miles, having renegotiated with our van driver to pick us up closer to Jim Thorpe. The day was unstructured, low-key, and full of laughs — exactly what we all needed.

It was the best decision we could have made, but it was only because we had a solid framework in place and our goals in mind. We knew the route, our stops, and the access points. We didn’t feel like we missed out on 65 miles; we felt like we gained an amazing day with friends.

If you’re worried about the finish, you’ll miss the ride—the leaves, the sounds, the jokes, the people. Keeping the group together meant no one got dropped, and everyone had a better time because of it. When we get together and look back on the trip, we don’t talk about the mileage or elevation — we talk about campfire stories, unexpected moments in tiny towns, and how fun it was to get out there and poke around close to home.

Turns out, escaping Gotham doesn’t require a Batmobile — just a belt drive, a good crew, and maybe a few burritos. You don’t need superpowers to leave the noise behind, just a plan, a patch kit, and people who are down for the ride. We went from the shadows of skyscrapers to hanging by the campfire in a matter of hours, and it reminded us that adventure isn’t about how far you go — it’s about how open you are to the unexpected.

If we can roll out from Manhattan and find peace on gravel paths and in sleepy towns, so can you. The city will always be there. The trails? They’re closer than you think.

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Where The Buffalo Roam: How Buffalo Bicycles Is Creating Social And Economic Empowerment

Courtney Holden — Tue, 29 Apr 2025 21:16:19 +0000

In America, whether our bike is a source of adventure (hello, new towns and terrain) or a ticket to a healthier life (goodbye, stress and fatigue), we generally ride them by choice.

In Africa, however, bicycles are also an essential form of transportation, and not just from place to place. Bikes have the power to propel someone into a better life. A bike can cut a student’s two-hour walk to school in half, help a small business owner sell more eggs and milk at markets far from home, and allow a healthcare worker to reach more patients — and save more lives — in rural communities. “A bicycle is not just a bicycle,” says Brian Berkhout, World Bicycle Relief’s (WBR) Zimbabwe managing director. “It’s a tool for someone to achieve their educational dreams, provide for their household, or take care of sick children. It’s the magical enabler.” WBR has worked to get that magical enabler into the hands of more deserving individuals — a lot more. Since its founding in 2005, the nonprofit has distributed roughly 850,000 bicycles across 21 countries (primarily in Africa), providing more than 2 million people with the mobility necessary for education, healthcare, and economic empowerment. Having two reliable wheels at their disposal means these individuals can conquer distance, achieve independence, and thrive. But WBR doesn’t supply just any bikes. “We created a bicycle that is purpose-designed with the voice of those people who need it the most,” says WBR CEO Dave Neiswander, adding that the organization also builds the community infrastructure, including bike shops and a replacement parts pipeline, required to sustain it. “That’s the core value of the organization.” Bicycles first arrived in Africa in the late 19th century, and over the next 100 years, became an important tool for transportation, trade, and daily life. These days, bikes are readily available and, at an average of $90 U.S., relatively inexpensive. But while cost and quantity haven’t been issues, quality has. In many African countries, Berkhout explains, it’s common to see signs in bike shop windows declaring, “No refund, no return.” Once a bike leaves the store, any issues it might have — cheap pedals, a weak fork, faulty brakes — become the buyer’s responsibility. “This created a race to the bottom on price,” Berkhout says. “Stores competed to sell the cheapest bikes possible, regardless of quality. Unfortunately, this sent the wrong message up the supply chain to manufacturers in China and India, reinforcing the belief that African markets only wanted the cheapest bikes. The result was a flood of bicycles that didn’t meet the demands of rural use.” Started by F.K. Day, cofounder of global bicycle component manufacturer SRAM Corporation, and his wife Leah Missbach Day, WBR knows a thing or two about what goes into a good bike. When the nonprofit began working closely with African communities in 2007, its staff quickly recognized the local bike inventory’s limitations. “Africa probes for weaknesses,” Berkhout says. “It’s really, really tough on machinery. If there’s something that’s not going to cope, it will come up.” Luckily, WBR had the resources to address those shortcomings, thanks, in part, to its founders’ decades-long relationships with the cycling industry’s leading product engineers, supply chain vendors, and testing facilities. It wasn’t just a matter of making a quality bike, however. WBR needed to design a bike for the unique challenges and needs of riders in rural Africa. Over the next five years, despite challenges like sourcing reliable components, establishing local manufacturing and assembly operations, and ensuring affordability, that’s precisely what the organization did.

The Buffalo Bicycle Utility S2 can cut students’ commute times by half.

World Bicycle Relief

Testing Grounds

In Africa, dirt and gravel roads are pockmarked with deep ruts. When it rains, mud abounds. When it doesn’t, the sun is relentless. A quality mountain bike, say a Giant Trance X 29, might seem like the answer to these conditions. And sure, the $2,200 steed would perform superbly in this rugged terrain, but who’s going to fix it when its wheel is tacoed by an especially nasty pothole? The closest bike shop with the needed parts is likely in a different country. There’s also the matter of repair costs, Berkhout points out, which are likely far beyond what the owner could afford, even if they received the bike for free. Enter a whole different beast. The Buffalo features a threaded headset and quill stem. Those components may seem outdated to Western cyclists, but they’re simple to adjust and there’s a healthy supply of replacement parts. The frame, which uses a durable, dipping top tube to accommodate both child and adult riders, is made from burly, TIG-welded carbon steel, and the brakes are weather-resistant and reliable. Further down, the wheels have high-grade chromoly steel axles and stiff, 13-gauge spokes that are unlikely to be damaged if a stray branch makes its way in between them. Kenda tires built specifically for Buffalo Bicycles sacrifice low weight for puncture-resistance. The built-in rack is rated for 220 pounds (though it often carries more), and a rear-axle kickstand automatically disengages when the bike rolls forward. Users can tie down their load and simply start pedaling. Front and rear fenders, a UV-resistant seat and grips, and a bell all come standard.

The Buffalo Bicycle Utility S2

World Bicycle Relief

At 50 pounds, the aptly named Buffalo is not built for speed. It is, however, built for longevity and easy maintenance. Every component can be adjusted or repaired using standard, non-bike-specific tools like a wrench or screwdriver, which makes maintenance possible in remote and resource-limited locales. “You would never call it the cheetah,” laughs Neiswander, “but it’s the workhorse you can count on. It’s built to thrive in the toughest conditions where durability and reliability matter more than speed.”

“A bicycle is not just a bicycle … it’s the magical enabler.”

That heft didn’t faze Eurobike Award judges last summer when they honored Buffalo Bicycles’ new model, the Utility S2, with a Gold Award. With an industry-first two-chain, two-speed drivetrain engineered to withstand harsh environments, the S2 can shift between the high and low gears without the need for a fragile derailer or expensive internal gear hub. All sensitive components are housed in the freewheel and the dual chains create redundancy, both of which help prevent ride-ending mechanicals. While WBR is a nonprofit, its Buffalo Bicycles subsidiary is a for-profit social enterprise. The business sells its bikes, including the Utility S2, for $175 to $230 through its own retail shops in several African countries — Zimbabwe, Zambia, Kenya, Uganda, Malawi, and Tanzania among them — as well as Colombia in South America. Profits are then reinvested into WBR to open more bike shops in more underserved communities, train local mechanics, and increase inventory to meet growing demand. “Buffalo Bicycles were never built to maximize profit,” Berkhout says. “They were always built to maximize function.” Considering multiple other non-governmental organizations (Oxfam, Plan International, and Save the Children to name a few) have partnered with WBR to purchase and distribute Buffalo Bicycles, Berkhout is confident that the venture is hitting the right mark at the right price. Buffalo Bicycles doesn’t just manufacture bikes, however. In 2023, it sold $1.7 million U.S. worth of spare parts (compared to $2.1 million in bicycles). All those extra headsets, cranks, and wheels kept Buffalo Bicycles up and running, and because the parts are universal, they can be used to upgrade bikes of the $90 variety. WBR also trains one mechanic for every 50 bikes it distributes to create a network of qualified mechanics who’ll earn a living while keeping Utility S2s and other bicycles functional. “We are strengthening the entire bicycle market in the African countries where we operate,” says WBR executive director of programs Sean Granville-Ross, who’s based in Kenya, “fostering economic resilience and opportunity in the process.”

Headwinds and Hope

Selling a bike twice the amount that consumers expect is no easy feat. “We actually had to create a mind shift away from the idea that a bicycle should be $100 or less,” Berkhout says. “What we want to do is get to a point where people don’t think about the bicycle itself. We want them to think about their business, and the bicycle is just a tool for their business.” Research in the global development sector shows that giving items away, whether a bicycle or a farm animal, often leads to unwanted outcomes. Among other issues, it creates dependency. So instead of handing out bikes Oprah-style, WBR asks the questions who could and who should pay. Bikes financed by donors or the government are distributed to community health workers and nurses as an essential piece of equipment. On the other hand, small business owners can buy their bikes outright through a payment plan, and in the future they may even be able to get a micro-loan from WBR. In the education realm, Buffalo Bicycles are donated to rural schools which then own them like desks and chalkboards. The bikes are issued to children based on gender (WBR aims to provide 70 percent of its bikes to women and girls because they face greater obstacles to quality education, employment, and healthcare) and need, such as how far a student lives from the school. The kids then keep the bike until they graduate. Since the Buffalo S2 can carry so much weight, however, these children rarely ride to school alone. One bicycle carries at least one if not two additional passengers, which means 200 bicycles can help more than 400 children get an education.

“All answers are found in the communities that we serve.”

That impact extends far beyond students, too. “The beauty of the bicycle is that when the kids are not in school, it doesn’t sit in the corner,” Granville-Ross says. “It’s going to work, fetching water, going to market, taking somebody in the household who’s sick to the health center.” A 2023 WBR report showed that students were significantly more likely to get to class on time. Late days declined by an average of 81 percent in Kenya, and absenteeism declined by nearly 90 percent in Zambia. Student commutes were nearly halved. In the healthcare sector, access to services improved significantly because travel time decreased by as much as 50 percent, and households with bicycles also reported a whopping 43 percent increase in monthly income on average. Those impacts, however, depend heavily on fundraising. To build support, WBR produces short documentaries about its bikes that are shown at bike shops around the world, and its galas feature live auctions of cycling gear such as a replica race bike handed over personally by pro Swiss mountain biker Nino Schurter. Other fundraisers include Gran Fondos, Zwift challenges, and multiday cycling trips through the countries it supports. (Look for an eight-day adventure through Kenya in May 2025.) Although Buffalo Bicycles has carved out a niche in developing countries, WBR always has new hills to climb. In recent years, for example, unscrupulous enterprises flooded the African cycling market with Buffalo Bicycle impersonators made of cheap materials which tarnished the reputation the organization had worked so hard to build. Environmental factors like floods and droughts, along with weak economies and catastrophic hyperinflation, also complicate its efforts in these regions. While the challenges ahead are big, WBR knows where to find solutions. “We have a motto,” Neiswander says. “All answers are found in the communities that we serve.” Thus, WBR remains committed to keeping its end user — riders in rugged, rural areas with limited resources — at the heart of what it does as it works towards its goal of delivering one million bicycles. “We have the solution to help amplify and accelerate the goals that these countries and organizations are trying to achieve,” Neiswander says. “Bicycles are not just tools for transportation. They are tools for transformation, unlocking potential and creating lasting change for individuals and communities alike.”

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How To Bike Tour Santa Fe, New Mexico

Bryan Rogala — Fri, 28 Mar 2025 15:52:01 +0000

Northern New Mexico’s painted high desert landscapes, green chile, turquoise, margaritas, and world-class art galleries may make you never want to leave. And why should you? With plentiful gravel roads, mountain tracks, and numerous bike and multiuse trails, the city is also a cycling paradise. In fact, the International Mountain Biking Association designated the Southwestern city as a Silver Level Ride Center in 2014, and the League of American Bicyclists renewed Santa Fe’s status as a Silver-Level Bike Friendly Community last year. Translation? The New Mexico capital caters to cyclists of all persuasions. And it caters well. If you like your tires fat, you’ll have access to everything from high-alpine singletrack to machine-cut jump trails — all within minutes of downtown. Roadies and gravel enthusiasts may have it even better. Miles and miles of lonely gravel lanes meander through the piñon- and juniper-studded high desert. And with more than 300 days of sunshine a year, chances are excellent that you’ll find a weather window for a trip, whether you’re using Santa Fe as a home base or a launching point for a longer tour.

Photo: Nick Castelli; Unsplash. Santa Fe’s Cathedral Basilica of Saint Francis of Assisi

Each season brings its own distinct flavor of riding. Spring temperatures are ideal for desert bikepacking trips, and summer marks the opening of post-snow high-alpine terrain. The real magic, however, happens during autumn in the Land of Enchantment (better known to locals as the Land of Entrapment for its ability to convert tourists into residents). Aspens start to change color in the mountains in late September, followed by the cottonwoods lower in the valleys, and the desert takes on a milder, more welcoming tone. There’s no better time to explore the City Different by two wheels.

Beginner / Day Ride

Route: Santa Fe Rail Trail Out and Back to Lamy Distance: 34 mile Elevation gain: 1,587 feet Santa Fe’s Rail Trail is the perfect introduction to the high desert. Start downtown in the popular Railyard Arts District and ride almost 17 miles out to the historic town of Lamy. The route takes you through the center of Santa Fe, past charming adobe homes and plenty of shops and restaurants, on almost five miles of paved bike path before switching to gravel at the Rabbit Road trailhead, making bigger tires a must. There, the scenery starts to change, treating you to sweeping views, and, eventually, the alluring Galisteo Basin. If you time your ride correctly, be sure to stop at Lamy’s Legal Tender Saloon & Eating House for lunch or a libation. (Some may recognize its vintage Brunswick bar and Old West decor from Amazon’s Outer Range or countless other recent Westerns.) But save some room. Once you’re back in Santa Fe, cap off your ride with a margarita and a plate of beloved, green chile-loaded New Mexican fare at Tomasita’s, which sits just steps away from the terminus of the Rail Trail.

Intermediate / Multiday

Route: The New Mexico Off-Road Runner Distance: 201 miles Elevation gain: 8,511 feet The New Mexico Off-Road Runner, a mostly unpaved route developed by Bikepacking.com in 2017, travels nearly 500 miles across the state from Santa Fe in the north to Las Cruces in the south. The full route takes around nine days, but if you want a quick taste or simply don’t have time to tackle the full ride, we recommend the first 201 miles from Santa Fe to the village of Bernardo. The small, unincorporated community lies just 18 miles south of Belen, the southernmost stop of the Rail Runner Express. So to save time — or your legs — you can grab a ticket for $10 and ride the rails back to Santa Fe where you started. (Alternatively, you could start your trip with a train ride, then pedal the route in reverse.) Both options are equally good. If you choose to leave from Santa Fe, you’ll pedal through the capital city for several miles on the same car-free Rail Trail as our beginner route until it intersects Avenida Vista Grande in the sleepy suburb of El Dorado. (Expect plenty of Spanish road names.) From here, you’ll head east on pavement towards Glorieta Mesa, where the route turns into dirt roads and two tracks. As you enter the 1.6-million-acre Santa Fe National Forest, you’ll be treated to incredible views of the untamed terrain that surrounds Santa Fe. Camping opportunities abound on Glorieta and Rowe mesas, so plan to spend a night in the forest on public land before you enter the ranchlands between Rowe Mesa and Moriarity, population 1,946. It may be small, but the town is home to several restaurants, a grocery store, and the Sierra Blanca Brewing Company should you need to quench your thirst after restocking supplies. From Moriarity, the route follows the Manzano Mountains foothills before dipping into the Cibola National Forest to finish on a paved stretch into Bernardo. This trip is best ridden in fall and likely best enjoyed on a rigid or hardtail mountain bike with at least a 2.3-inch tire. Some folks may be comfortable riding a gravel rig, but New Mexico’s dirt roads can be rough and washboarded, so a little extra cushion is advisable. Whatever bike you choose, just make sure you run a tubeless tire setup: With cactus spines, goathead thorns, and sharp rocks, you’ll thank us later.

Go and Stay

Tiny Santa Fe Regional Airport has direct flights to and from Dallas, Denver, and Phoenix, or you can fly into Albuquerque and catch the train to Santa Fe. Either way, you shouldn’t need to rent a car. Lodging in Santa Fe is plentiful and ranges from upscale resorts such as the Four Seasons and Bishop’s Lodge to old-school motor lodges converted to hipster motels like El Rey Court and the Mystic Santa Fe. Five independent bike shops, plus an REI, mean you’ll have plenty of options for last-minute bike needs.

Arts and Culture

One bonus to starting and ending your trip in Santa Fe? The multitude of activities available when you’re not on the bike. No visit would be complete without a walk up Canyon Road, a historic street lined with more than 100 art galleries. Across town lies another absolute must: Meow Wolf, an interactive and immersive art exhibit that should be unlike any art installation you’ve ever visited. Depending on your schedule, you could also earmark a day to spend at October’s annual Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta, where more than 500 balloons launch each morning.

Groceries and Food

Santa Fe is as well known for its culinary arts as its visual ones, so there’s no shortage of restaurants to fuel you up before your ride. One of its newest breweries, Nuckolls Brewing Co., lies just feet from the beginning of the Rail Trail where it serves up both delicious pints and pub fare. Cafe Fina, an old gas-station-turned-diner with a local cult following, lies just outside town near El Dorado, which you’ll pass through on Day One of our expert ride. Whatever you order at Cafe Fina, be sure to grab a pastry for the road, too. Our favorite: the cranberry almond scone.

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Bike Touring in Alaska with Adventure Cycling Association

Lou Melini — Wed, 05 Mar 2025 20:18:53 +0000

This article originally appeared in Cycling West, a print and digital publication about cycling in Utah, Idaho, Wyoming, Montana, Nevada, Arizona, California, and Colorado.

An Alaskan bicycle tour has been on the bucket list for Julie and I for 15 years or more. Initially the plan was to ride the “North Star route” from Missoula, Montana to Denali National Park. That plan never rose to the top of our bucket list due to a bucketful of reasons. Julie and I are not yet ready to have a vehicle carry our gear, and we like to camp, so tours with vans and exclusively hotels were out. We have never been to Alaska, thus the thought of me pulling off the logistics in the manner that we are accustomed for an Alaskan trip seemed overwhelming to me. In September of 2023 I got on the Adventure Cycling Association (ACA) website to browse the annual self-supported bike trips being offered for 2024. The ACA is perhaps the only organization that has group trips in which the riders carry their gear with no van support (note that most of their trips are van supported). The Denali National Park trip popped up in front of my eyes. A quick consult with Julie sealed the plan with each of us paying a $200 down payment. The late June 2024 trip started in Anchorage and ended, 430 miles and 14 days later (11 riding days) in Denali National Park. In addition, Julie’s sister lives on the Kenai peninsula in Alaska. The bike trip would combine a trip to see her sister and brother-in-law. I’ve been a member of the nonprofit Adventure Cycling Association since 1976/77 time period. I have used the maps produced by the ACA for many of my trips with Julie. The ACA produces great bike travel maps, and I expected the same professionalism for this tour.

Adventure Cycling Association Tours:

Julie and I were excited about doing our first commercial tour and doing it with the ACA. The website listed it as a road tour with some gravel. The technical difficulty was rated as “easy,” the terrain “mountainous,” and the difficulty rating of “5”, the most difficult. We assumed that the difficulty rating reflected the “mountainous” and “gravel” as there was no explanation for the rating. The tour was limited to 15 people including the leaders. I should note that there are 2 aspects of ACA tours. There is a “Tours Team” a behind the scenes group and then there are the tour leader(s) that lead the trip. We received a tour packet 2 months prior to our trip. A chat group was created enabling us to receive introductions from the rest of the group. I was happy to learn that many in our group had bike travel experience. Additionally, 5 of the 13 including me, were in their 70’s. One concern we had was a change in leadership for the tour 10 days prior to our departure. For this trip we had 2 leaders, one an experienced tour leader and his assistant. Both leaders of the trip were excellent. They were very responsive to the concerns of the group. Because of their efforts the questions from the group were answered.

Anchorage:

Julie and I arrived in Anchorage at 4 AM Salt Lake time. The night flight was the only direct flight. We had visions of arriving in Anchorage with our bikes still in Seattle. Schlepping our bikes through the airport at that time of night was not pleasant. Plus, we needed two taxis to get to the hotel. The alternative was using Bike Flights. Julie informed me that both bikes would cost $600 to Anchorage and another $600 home. Perhaps I will take fellow bike traveler Matt Davidson’s advice and rent a bike in the future… CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE READING ON CYCLING WEST

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The Mother Lode: A Long-term Review of the ENVE MOG

Berne Broudy — Wed, 26 Feb 2025 21:26:48 +0000

This review originally appeared in the Nov/Dec 2024 issue of Adventure Cyclist magazine. Click here to learn more. After years of producing high-end carbon bike components, ENVE finally decided to try its hand at full bike builds in 2021. The result was the Custom Road, whose geometry, paint, and components are tailored to each rider. The Melee and all-road Fray soon followed, and last year the firm finally released a gravel rig: the MOG (Mother of Gravel) reviewed here. Although it’s only available as a chassis, meaning it’s sold as a frame plus the fork, headset, stem, spacers, handlebar, and seatpost, the MOG’s sleek design is a testament to ENVE’s rise as a bike builder. It’s also a joy to ride. Built on 700c wheels with clearance for tires up to 50mm, it’s comfortable and forgiving enough for long tours but still fast enough to race. “The average consumer doesn’t need a dedicated bikepacking bike and a separate dedicated race bike,” said Jake Pantone, ENVE’s vice president of product and consumer experience. “This is a bike that can do everything you want a gravel bike to do, and it can do it well.”

To craft the MOG’s personality, ENVE fabricated a fleet of demos with different geometries ranging from slacked out and “mountain-bikey” to road-focused. Then they sent their staff out for test rides on the river-bottom singletrack and mountain roads that snake around their Ogden, Utah, office. The version they settled on is in the middle of those two extremes. It’s efficient on climbs and notably stable on descents. It does well on open roads, tracking straight and holding your line with minimal vibration, and when I turned the wheels toward my local mountain bike trails and forest tracks, it handled just as well. In fact, the slack headtube angle inspired so much confidence that I blasted down gravel hills faster than I ever have before. There are some interesting design choices. First, the frame is only made for 700c wheels with no option for swapping in 650b hoops, a growing trend in gravel design. Then there is the storage. Plenty of mountain bikes now have compartments built into their down tubes, but the MOG is one of the first gravel bikes to follow suit. It’s about time. As droppers become more prolific in the gravel space, seatbags have become less practical because they can abrade the posts’ slick, protective coatings or even hit your tire when your seat is down. In-tube storage not only doesn’t impact your bike, but it also gets gear out of your jersey pockets. With six liters of space, the cargo bay is large enough to stow a lightweight windbreaker as well as the two neoprene gear bags that come with the MOG. Better yet, the compartment provides quick access to the internal cable routing and an adjustable retention strap to prevent rattling. While ENVE opted for a standard seat tube to ensure the bike is compatible with most droppers, the rest of the frame is aero, and the wires and cables are routed through the bars and stem to keep the cockpit streamlined. The version I tested had the company’s Aero Integrated Stem. Its drop looks aggressive, but I found it comfortable thanks to the rise from the spacers. If you need more rise, though, ENVE also offers the In-Route Highrise Stem, and you could keep the fork’s steerer tube long and increase the stack height with either stem. Another notable part of my MOG’s build-out was its G-Series wheels, which came with ENVE’s Innerdrive Premium hubs. To protect the bearings from dirt and debris without slowing them down, the company paired a full-contact external seal with a fast-rolling, non-contact internal seal. They were the lowest-resistance wheels I’ve ever ridden, and I could coast forever while my riding companions had to pedal. I also loved the 40mm G-Series Dropper Post, which features an inverted design, meaning the sleeve is integrated into the saddle clamp instead of resting inside the seat tube. This not only allows you to attach a seatbag without wearing down the dropper’s coating, but you can also trim the dropper’s alloy post like a normal seatpost. The additional stability it gave me was noticeable, but the drop was small enough that I could still pedal effectively. Sometimes on steep climbs, I’d even lower it a skosh to maximize my traction. If this sounds like your kind of ride, you can find a dealer on ENVE’s website. Because it’s sold chassis-only, however, you may not be able to see and touch a fully built MOG, but the shop will help you build a bike to fit your body and suit your tastes. That starts by determining your frame size, then they’ll help you pick an ENVE headset, stem, seatpost, and handlebar — all of which are included. After that, it’s up to you and your shop to finish kitting out the bike à la carte. (ENVE won’t let you leave the dealer with only the chassis.) Just don’t set your sights on a Campagnolo groupset. While my tester came with the Italian brand’s 13-speed Ekar drivetrain, ENVE now only offers SRAM and Shimano. The in-frame storage aside, there’s something to be said of designing a high- end carbon frame while resisting the urge to overload it with “innovations.” There are no flip chips, no options for alternate wheel sizes, no disc brake fairings, and no suspension. Instead, the MOG is what a gravel bike should be: fast and comfortable. After a couple of months in the saddle, I’ve fallen in love with its lightweight, responsive handling, and best of all, its stability has redefined the speeds I am willing to ride.

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The Ultimate Bike Travel Guide to Maine’s USBRS 1

Robert Isenberg — Tue, 04 Feb 2025 19:47:17 +0000

Lighthouses jutting out of cliffs. Fresh Atlantic lobster. Colossal forests of spruce and fir. Maine conjures a lot of romantic images, and if you love vast timberland and quiet small towns, Vacationland certainly lives up to its nickname. But while there are many ways to explore this holiday hot spot— from RVs to Harleys — one of the best methods is also the least known: Cycling 396 miles across Maine on U.S. Bicycle Route 1. Opened in 1982, USBRS 1 is one of the original corridors laid out by the U.S. Bicycle Route System, and while it extends piecemeal for 1,820 miles from Maine to Florida, its northernmost segment stands out due to its wildness. There are no big cities here like Baltimore or Miami. Heck, Maine’s population density is 43 people per square mile. The climate skews chilly and rainy, even by New England standards. And aside from Stephen King movies and the novelty of pronouncing Bar Harbor without Rs, Maine isn’t as well known or understood outside New England as, say, North Carolina or Florida.

A classic Maine lobster roll. Photo by Alexander Grey.

But that’s all part of the appeal. Maine is a place for small towns, quiet reflection, and hours of backwoods riding. Here is a quick introduction.

When to Go

Generally speaking, Maine is bitterly cold November through March, and snow can fall as early as October and as late as May. Autumn and spring are beautiful, but storms can be as frequent as they are cold, heavy, and hard to predict. Most cyclists travel in the warmest months, between May and September. Note that this is also high season for mosquitos and black flies, which get feisty around marshes and wetlands. Yet sunny skies and verdant scenery more than make up for the occasional bite.

North or South?

Like most bike routes on public roadways, there is no “right” way to ride Maine’s portion of USBRS 1. You could start in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and venture north, or you could make your way to the Canadian border in Calais and pedal south. Both directions are equally pleasant, and you’ll climb over 16,300 feet and descend a near-identical amount whichever way you choose. There’s also no reason you have to bike the whole thing. Starting in Brunswick, Amtrak has a handful of train stations along its Downeaster line, allowing you (and your bike) to leave the route and chug away to Boston or beyond. But if you’re a bad-news-first kind of person, we recommend heading south to front loads the most frustrating part of the journey: getting to Calais.

Starting is the Trickiest Part

Calais (pronounced “Callus”), the northern terminus of USBRS 1, is a quaint mill town perched on the banks of the St. Croix River Reservoir in far northeastern Maine across the water from St. Stephen, Canada. The 3,000-person border town poses a special problem for travelers: Amtrak lines don’t extend this far north and there’s no Greyhound station in town. Ride-share apps don’t work here, nor are there taxis or rental car locations to drop off a temporary ride. (There is an Enterprise in St. Stephen, but that would require U.S. travelers to cross the border — twice.) Ideally, a generous friend or loved one would chauffeur you to Calais, wish you luck, and drive away. This is asking a lot. Unless this generous person already lives in Maine, Calais is a long haul from just about anywhere. Luckily, the East Coast Greenway also starts in Calais, and its staff has put together a transit itinerary that should work for most bike travelers.

Ride the Road or Chase the Sunrise

Most of USBRS 1 follows paved roads, both in New England and farther south. This part of Maine is extremely rural, and traffic is light for long stretches. The topography is also forgiving, so you can warm up on gentle hills and long flats. Cyclists with skinny road tires should follow the GPX route down streets and byways from beginning to end, but there is another option: The Down East Sunrise Trail. This 87-mile unpaved and car-free trail parallels the official USBRS 1 along a former railroad bed through woods and wetlands to the town of Ellsworth. Hybrid or gravel tires are recommended as the surface can be pebbled and muddy depending on the season, but it’s a fantastic way to explore this near-wilderness.

Sleeping in the Wild North

The first hundred miles of USBRS 1 are peppered with motels, cabins, and campgrounds, but you’d be wise to make reservations ahead of time. Bed-and-breakfasts can get dizzyingly expensive in the high season when warm weather brings a lot of vacationers, many of whom are summer regulars and book their stays long in advance. Well-rated accommodations near the trail include the tent sites at Cottonwood Camping & RV Park, the comfy Margaretta Inn motel, and the Chandler River Inn, a storied 20-acre homestead dating back to 1797.

Acadia Side Trip

Mountain and ocean views in Acadia National Park. Photo by Wei Zeng.

From Ellsworth, USBRS 1 shoots along U.S. Highway 1 for 19 miles to Bucksport. You could easily ride this segment without stopping, but before you leave Ellsworth, consider a side trip to Acadia National Park. This was the first National Park created east of the Mississippi River, and its wooded hikes, rocky beaches, and views from 1,530-foot Cadillac Mountain are absolutely worth an overnight — or three. Acadia is also thick with campgrounds, and nearby Bar Harbor offers even more accommodations, plus shops and restaurants. All of this takes time, of course; the detour along Route 3 requires a two-hour ride from Ellsworth each way, and you’ll have to pay a park fee.

Middle Maine: The Big Towns

In Bucksport, USBRS 1 makes an abrupt turn inland toward Bangor. This next segment connects that former lumber town to Augusta, the state capital. Both river towns are “big” and busy compared to the tiny villages of northeast Maine, and you’ll find a lot of culture and amenities, including plenty of restaurants and hotels. Bangor is home to the Maine Discovery Museum, the Zillman Art Museum, and the Hose 5 Fire Museum, among other diversions. Augusta has the Maine State Museum (temporarily closed for renovations) and Old Fort Western. At the very least, 200 miles into your trek, you’ll find a cozy room and decent laundromat. Most of hotels in Augusta are familiar chains (Best Western, Days Inn, Super 8), which should do the trick, but for local flair, there’s the bucolic Maple Hill Farm Inn and Conference Center and rustic Lakeside Lodge & Marina.

An Oceanic Alternative

But wait! What happened to the ocean? Maine is famous for its rocky coast, and most tourists come for its maritime sights. So no visit would be complete without spying plenty of clifftop cottages, weathered trawlers, and stacks of lobster traps, and for the most part, USBRS 1 bypasses all of it. The landscape is gorgeous, but most roads are so far inland that you might forget the Atlantic is even there. That’s why USBR 1A was added to the U.S. Bicycle Route System in 2011. This alternate path veers south from Bucksport (instead of north to Bangor) and traces the meandering coast to Brunswick, treating riders to 135 miles of seascape and scenic towns.

Drop an Anchor: Portland and Portsmouth

The final stretch of USBRS 1 takes you along Maine’s southern coast, into trendy Portland. This small city — whose cycling scene you can read about in depth here — is a favorite getaway for New Englanders thanks to its 200-year-old streets packed with restaurants, craft breweries, and knickknack shops. Many New Englanders make a pilgrimage to Allagash Brewing Company or Shipyard Brewing Company, and for a robust seafood menu and dockside ambiance, you can’t go wrong with DiMillo’s on the Water. After Portland, you actually cross state lines, entering a tiny sliver of New Hampshire. Your USBRS 1 journey ends 64 miles later, when you pedal into Portsmouth, a postcard-perfect town at the mouth of the Piscataque River.

Amtrak Back?

Maine is the largest state in New England, and the second-most-rural state in the U.S. After riding about 400 miles through backwoods and windswept coast, you’ll have almost certainly passed deer, beavers, and groundhogs, and it’s very possible you’ve spotted moose, coyotes, and black bear. If you haven’t tried a lobster roll yet — and don’t have any dietary objections — splurge on one before you go home. Here’s the big question: Should you head to one of the Amtrak stations in nearby Durham, Dover, or Exeter and let the train whisk you and your bike away or should you rent a car or arrange a ride with a generous friend? How about a fourth option? Continue down USBRS 1 — another segment will take you from Georgetown to Boston and points south. While Vacationland is arguably the most challenging portion, there are about 1,400 miles left to enjoy. As Maine native Harriet Beecher Stowe once put it: “Never give up, for that is just the place that the tide will turn.”

The post The Ultimate Bike Travel Guide to Maine’s USBRS 1 appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

Lighthouses and Lobster Rolls: A Guide to Riding in Portland, Maine

Greg M. Peters — Fri, 10 Jan 2025 21:58:12 +0000

This story originally appeared as the Be Here Now feature of the 2024 Sept/Oct issue of Adventure Cyclist. Perched on a peninsula in the south- western edge of Casco Bay, the city of Portland, Maine, is infused with all things ocean. Even the city’s most famous district is called the Old Port, evoking its maritime heritage. Foodies, hipsters, tourists, and fishermen mingle among stately brick buildings that rise from a maze of cobblestone streets. Overhead, squawking seagulls drift through the salt-tinged air. Over the last couple of decades, Portland has rightfully cemented its reputation as a destination city with top-tier food, arts, and music scenes. Fortunately for those who prefer to travel on two wheels, it also serves up some tasty biking adventures.

Beginner / Day Ride

Route: Black Cove Eastern Prom

Distance: 18 miles Elevation gain: 278 feet For a great introduction to the city, head onto the Back Cove Trail and the Eastern Promenade Trail, and then up and over the Casco Bay Bridge into South Portland for a day ride with plenty of visual and gastronomic diversions. The region’s original inhabitants, the Abenaki, called the area Machigonne, which means “Great Neck” in Algonquin, and this tour takes you along most of the “neck” that sticks out into the ocean. Warm up on the Back Cove Trail, a mostly flat 3.6-mile paved and crushed-stone loop that delivers views of Portland’s western skyline, before hopping onto the paved Eastern Promenade Trail and rolling into the heart of the city. Dip your tires into the Atlantic at East End Beach and keep an eye out for Fort Gorges, which guards the entrance to Portland Harbor. In short order, you’ll roll onto Commercial Street, which parallels Portland’s action-packed working waterfront. The vibrant strip is a great spot to lock up your bike and refuel. Continue up Commercial Street and over the Casco Bay Bridge, a working drawbridge that connects Portland with South Portland. A protected pedestrian lane on the bridge’s northeast side allows bikes, and there are dedicated bike lanes along each side of the bridge as well. You can simply turn around at the top of the bridge once you’ve soaked in the views of Portland’s waterfront or continue into South Portland where you can make your way to Bug Light, a small lighthouse on the northern tip of South Portland.

Intermediate / Multiday Ride

Route: Lighthouses and Lobster Roll

Distance: 93.8 miles Elevation Gain: 2,717 Feet GPX File on Ride With GPS

Map created by Haley Breuckman.

This one winds along relatively flat, quiet roads, past several lighthouses, and through seaside villages before returning along the Eastern Trail, the region’s premier rail trail. Start in Portland proper or at Bug Light (#1) in South Portland. Make your way to Spring Point Ledge Light (#2) before cranking to Cape Elizabeth and Portland Head Light (#3). Chalk up another lighthouse sighting (#4) with the Ram Island Ledge Light that marks the northern end of the main channel into Portland Harbor. The next stop, down Route 77, is called Two Lights (#5 and #6). Although both are now off limits to the public, there are views of them from a parking area. From Two Lights, make your way to Old Orchard Beach, a classic pier complete with an amusement park and funky dive bars. Parallel the beach along Route 9 to Camp Ellis and the Saco River, which you’ll follow a few miles inland to the towns of Saco and Biddeford. Cross the river from Saco into Biddeford before quickly heading back to the coast and the communities of Biddeford Pool and Fortunes Rocks.

The Portland Head Light at Cape Elizabeth

If you haven’t had your fill of coastal architecture, duck into the colony of Goose Rocks and then on to the village of Cape Porpoise. Be sure to ride all the way to the public dock so you can see Goat Island Light (#7). Your next stop is Kennebunkport. Just past town, take the gravel Bridle Path to Kennebunk, Kennebunkport’s inland sibling. Downtown Kennebunk is just a few miles from the Eastern Trail, so once you’re done exploring, simply work your way to the trail. Enjoy the car-free rail trail for about eight miles to Biddeford. Once there, you’ll have to navigate some on-road riding until you meet back up with the off-road portion of the trail in Saco. Grind gravel for another 10 miles or so back to Scarborough where a quick zip south along Route 208/Black Point Road brings you to Highland Avenue’s bike lane, which you can ride all the way back to South Portland.

Groceries and Food

Portland has all the grocery options you would ever need. For fresh produce from May through November, the Portland Farmers Market operates in Deering Oaks Park from 7:00 am to 1:00 pm Wednesdays and Saturdays. Union Wharf Market curates a fine collection of local food and gifts, artisan coffee, spices, and more. Their café serves lunch as well. Browne Trading Company sells fresh fish, wine, lunch, and artisan delicacies from their Commercial Street storefront.

Go and Stay

Unfortunately, and somewhat bafflingly for locals, hotels in Portland can be remarkably pricey at all times of the year. Budget-conscious travelers should check out the Black Elephant Hostel, which provides bunk and private room options but fills up fast (they don’t allow bikes in the hostel but do have a fenced garden with a bike rack). Airbnb or Vrbo may have deals if you book early enough. Amtrak and most major airlines serve Portland, so getting to the city is easy (just be sure you’re flying to Portland, Maine, not Portland, Oregon). It’s also right on Interstate 295, roughly two hours north of Boston. Hotels, motels, B&Bs, and campgrounds abound along the route outlined above. In the peak summer season, reservations are mandatory, but you might be able to wing it in the spring and fall shoulder seasons.

Arts and Culture

Portland hosts a nice collection of museums, including traditional options like the Portland Museum of Art and eclectic options like the International Cryptozoology Museum, which features exhibits on Big Foot, Nessie, and other creatures that may or may not roam the earth. The Victoria Mansion provides tours of one of the best examples of pre–Civil War architecture found in New England, and the Maine Narrow Gauge Railroad Museum offers scenic rides on a historic narrow-gauge train. Check out the Portland House of Music, the nightclub Aura, or the State Theatre for music and entertainment acts if you’ve got energy left after your bike tour.

Want More Routes?

Adventure Cycling Association has created free Short Routes in partnership with the East Coast Greenway Alliance that begin (or end) in Portland, Maine. One goes from Portland, ME to Newburyport, MA, and the other is the Portland to Brunswick Maine Coastal Ride.

The post Lighthouses and Lobster Rolls: A Guide to Riding in Portland, Maine appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.