Riding a bike is like entering another dimension. The limitations of being on foot go away, the laws of physics seem to change, and life’s everyday worries subside. To me, cycling is freedom.
I’ve loved riding bikes since before I can remember. My mom tells a classic story about my brother and I riding trikes down the hallway at 2 and 3 years old, going from full speed to a swift stop and turn without scuffing the walls. In 3rd grade I started riding to school, and the bike gave me a new level of autonomy. Living on a small island, I could ride almost anywhere I wanted to go. In my early 20s, I discovered the full suspension carbon mountain bike, and more recently, decided to give this whole gravel thing a try… which leads to me to the mission I will be discussing today.
My intention with this piece is to share what I learned on my first solo bike packing trip, some of the adventure’s highs and lows, and hopefully capture the essence of what makes riding bikes so special.
Day 1: Overcoming Early Obstacles
Back in May a friend sent me a link to a route called, Miguel’s Olympic 360 Scramble, describing it as simply, EPIC. I took one look at it and felt my stomach drop. The route circumnavigated the Olympic Mountains. 418 miles, 30,000+ feet elevation gain, 50% gravel, 50% paved… with an estimated duration of 4-8 days. Sheesh.
The ride remained dormant in the back of my mind all summer. Sometimes making the time is adventure’s tightest bottleneck. Last month, I ran out of excuses. It was go-time.
Packing for a bike tour is a game of Tetris. Deciding which items are necessary and distributing weight laterally and front to back, I knew once I departed, I was on my own. Any challenges that arise would need to be solved on the spot.
I woke up the next day, finished packing, ate a hearty breakfast and was on the road by 7 AM. From my starting point in Mercer Island it was 22 miles to catch the 8:30 Edmonds -> Kingston Ferry. The trip was off to a good start, but using GPS to navigate was draining my phone battery quickly. By the time I stopped at Catkin Coffee in Quilcene (mile 43), both my external battery and phone were low on power. My ability to navigate, especially in a maze of gravel roads, was 100% dependent on my phone battery. Learning #1 was a simple one to solve. I picked up a cheap external battery from Walmart in Sequim, stopped blasting podcasts/music out loud and used low battery and airplane mode to conserve energy. This turned out to be a blessing. The silence allowed me to engage the present moment, think deeply and remain focused on the task at hand.
The second early lesson was a refresher that 1 mile does not equal 1 mile. At times, my average speed slowed to a walking pace as I pushed the bike up steeper sections, unable to ride on the loose gravel. What had I gotten myself into? Miguel advised 40-54mm tires, mine were 38mm. With longer gravel stretches ahead, I was nervous. My goal to finish in 5 days, 4 nights was already in question. But as the legendary coach, John Wooden said, “You never fail if you know in your heart that you did the best of which you are capable. I did my best. That is all I could do. Are you going to make mistakes? Of course. But it is not failure if you make the full effort.” Attitude and effort are the only two things you control on an adventure like this. I was ready to leave it all on the court.
West of Quilcene, I turned onto Penny Creek Road and started climbing. The pavement gave way to gravel and approached the eastern side of the Olympic Mountains. After a few miles, the route turned onto a road which apparently rarely sees car traffic. It was so overgrown that the only way forward was riding through bushes and leaves, barely able to make out the gravel road below. I also discovered that ascending and descending gravel, especially with the bike loaded for a multi-day trip, are two very different things. After cranking uphill you must recover and get focused for the descent. Similar to how a river runner picks a line through a rapid, I found myself “reading” the road, picking the smoothest, safest line possible.
Day 2: An Unforgettable Wildlife Experience
After 99 miles and 10 hours in the saddle day 1, I awoke to the sound of ocean waves and salty air at Dungeness Campground, feeling remarkably fresh. I continued west on the Olympic Discovery Trail, stopped for coffee and a breakfast burrito in Port Angeles, and began ascending the route’s first single track trail towards Lake Crescent.
I struggled a bit- a few times the rear bike bags jumped off the rack, which alerted me to the obvious velcro strap to prevent just that. Off the beaten path, exploring an area I had never seen before, this stretch was one of the highlights of the entire route.
Once I got in the rhythm, the only question was, how far could I go before sunset? Riding at night didn’t sound like much fun. The single track was enjoyable but the elevation gain made for very, very slow going. It was already getting late in the afternoon as I rounded Lake Crescent. I was up against the clock, pushing hard to reach my destination, Cycle Camp. 7 years ago, Bob, a free-spirited hippie opened up his property for the Olympic Peninsula’s two wheel travelers. Both bikes and motorcycles are welcome to camp, shower and even wash clothes, completely based on donations.
Besides the spectacular views and mechanically smooth day, the highlight of day 2 was one of the most intimate wildlife experiences I’ve ever had. The sun was low in the sky and I was deep in privately owned logging land when I came up on a herd of elk. About 50 yards ahead I could see 8 or 10 of them, and they could see me. My first instinct was caution. I tried to recall if I had ever heard of elk attacking people, which immediately sounded ridiculous. I spoke out loud to them, as though that might help. A moment later they got spooked and started running the other direction.
Assuming the show was over, I kept moving. The elk had not gone far. As the road steepened, I gained speed while the elk trampled through the forest next to me, creating what sounded like a violent wind storm or earthquake. Branches snapped, the ground churned and about 100 yards later, at the bend in the road, I came to a stop. Just 10 yards ahead, one after another, elk of all shapes and sizes ran across the road. There were easily 40 or 50 in the herd. I had goosebumps. I won’t get too ‘woo woo’ on you but it was as close to a spiritual experience as I’ve had. And to think I nearly opted for the highway to save time… I was buzzing with joy the rest of the evening.
Day 3: How Endurance Sports Separate the Mind and Body
Day 3 started with 20 miles of treacherous gravel. I slogged up the hills and white-knuckled my way down them. By the time I reached Highway 101, I was completely out of food. With no services in the next 75+ miles I decided to take the 101 through Queets. This was the only section where I didn’t follow Miguel through the mountains. I was a bit frustrated with myself for not preparing thoroughly when I noticed a blue and yellow farm stand with fresh blueberries for sale. 2 pints for 5 dollars… I packed one and devoured the other.
Riding solo 8-10 hours a day, I had plenty of time to think. Mostly about bitcoin but other things too. It was more than just the stark contrast between a typical “busy” day in the city vs. the simplicity of riding a bike. I was pushing myself mentally and physically harder than I ever had in my life. I had laser eyes. It might sound crazy but my mind and body became two separate entities. Like a player and coach, my mind and body worked together. I rested and re-filled water at streams, made instant coffee and gobbled up carbs all day long. Dusk came, and I made camp somewhere along a forest service road west of Lake Quinalt. 140 miles remained.
Day 4: A Nearly Derailed Mission
The two highest points on the route were just ahead to start day 4. That also meant the fastest, steepest descents. My body was sore, but mentally I was ready for another strong push. My bike had other plans. Out of nowhere, the rear (E-Tap) derailleur stopped shifting, stuck in the lowest (hardest) gear. For the next 15 miles I walked the steep uphill sections and coasted downhill, but I wasn’t going to be able to be able to finish the ride without a functional rear derailleur.
Stressed, I stopped at the Quinalt Library to connect to Wi-Fi. After a few internet searches I concluded the bike must have gone into “crash mode.” I figured the gravel descent was so intense the electronic shifting components assumed the bike had crashed. With that problem solved, the stoke was back.
It was beautiful, but damn it was hot. The tradeoff with riding clear-cut logging land is more scenery, but less shade. I passed a logging crew and one of the guys jokingly said, “I didn’t think I was going to have to flag traffic out here!” Pondering the dynamics of the timber industry, I marveled at how just a few men with big machines could impact the landscape so dramatically. I thought about how humans rely on wood, previous generations settling in Washington with the sole purpose of logging, and the fact that the road I was on wouldn’t exist if a private timber company didn’t build it.
By evening, I had entered the pain cave. My back and neck were sore, my left wrist was acting up, and my seat bones were swollen… but mainly my knee was killing me. It’s a pain I’m quite familiar with and have been able to manage through eating a clean, animal-based diet and more intentional mobility training. To me, pain triggers fear about more pain, and less of what I love. But pain is part of the game. I spent nearly 11 hours in the saddle day 4 and still came up short of the nearest established campground. I even sang along to some Eminem throwbacks to rile me up during the final climb of the day.
In another situation I would have been worried about where I was going to camp, but by this point, with the laser eyes, I didn’t care. I pitched my tent, looked up and realized I was directly in front of private property/no trespassing signs. Whoops. I figured, at least my tent is green and matches the bushes. Cars won’t even notice me. I dozed off to the sound of harbor seals and waves crashing on the rocky beach beside me.
Day 5: A Renewed Appreciation for My Home State
One of the recurring thoughts I had throughout the trip was just how grateful I am to call Washington home. I spent 4 days in awe of places I had driven past dozens of times, but never explored. Fresh air, clean water, fantastic summer weather and virtually limitless possibilities for recreation… what else do you need to call it paradise? A renewed sense of appreciation for Washington was the biggest thing I took home with me, and it didn’t take up any space in my bags.
Another major realization I had was just how efficient it is to travel by bike. Not only is it “greener” than driving, it’s also cheaper, since you won’t be paying for gas, campsites, parking and speeding tickets. In 1973, S.S. Wilson wanted to prove that migratory birds were the “masters of efficiency- which turned out not to be the case.” He used data compiled by Vance A. Tucker of Duke University (see chart below) to compare various animals and forms of transportation, with Body Weight (Kilograms) on the X-axis and Cost of Transportation (Calories per Gram per Kilometer) on the Y axis. In fact, a man on a bicycle is more efficient than another animal on earth, as well as cars and planes. There’s a fun fact to share on your next group ride 🙂
The route ends with a proper homecoming, approaching the Seattle waterfront by ferry. Surrounded by summer tourists, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I’ve sent some pretty ridiculous missions in the past, but this one felt different. Nobody knows what I just went through. For all they know I just came across the sound for a cup of coffee. But in fact, I had just completed the hardest endurance mission of my life.
When I got home I sent a photo with a thank you note to my friend, James, who sold me the bike. He responded by saying, “So cool, you’re going to have tons of amazing adventures! The bike will set you free…” That’s it. The bike will set you free.
Freedom is not a short-term rush like the adrenaline kick from hitting a jump on a mountain bike. The human spirit yearns to be free. Unfortunately, freedom is not the norm. Not today, and not at any point in recorded history. There are more entities trying to limit your freedom and control your attention than ever before. You didn’t ask for my advice, but if something makes you feel free, do more of that thing. Doing what you love is an act of rebellion.
The same reason I fell in love with bikes as a kid is why I love riding today. Aside from giving you a few tips for when you go ride Miguel’s Olympic 360 Scramble, I hope this inspires you to think about what sets you free, and do more of that.
Thank you,
Kyle ❤
Kyle Huber 