The Drake Passage
A first solo overnight Bikepacking Adventure.
May 25, 2024
Not three minutes into the single track of the Harkness Conservation Area, I knew I made the right bike selection.
Roots, rocks, logs and millions of slippery leaves covered the path ahead and it took me a while to muster up the confidence necessary for gunning up and over the mix of obstacles. The ride report was spot on, miles 4-16 were hard. At first I opted to walk over the sharper babyheads and Tetris-like rock gardens, but as the day wore on and I grew more accustomed to the extra weight of my rig, I got a little more sendy. “Speed is your friend” I told myself. I thought back to the couple I had met at the parking lot where I left my car; they had opted for gravel bikes. Shit was I happy to have suspension.
Boasting 65 miles of mix-terrain and around 6,000 feet of total elevation, the Drake Passage is almost doable in one day and It was only 3pm when I arrived at the last “sanctioned” place to camp on the route. Had I started my ride earlier, I could have pulled it off. But that wasn’t the point. Bikepacking, as they say, is about the moments between pedal strokes, not crushing the miles to get to your destination. And even thought the thought of doing nothing typically makes me panic, I was out in nanture all alone to wrestle with this particular concept.
Forest bathing seemed like a silly wellness term until this weekend. But my solitude spent soaking up the sweetness of the soft pine earth brought poignant relevancy to this New Age pastime. Given the heat, I was grateful for the canopy.
For a hot second I thought about pressing on, but worried I could end up without a place to sleep or riding to my car in Amherst in the dark without lights. So I opted to backtrack to Wendell State Forest and find a suitable spot to make camp. Unfortunately even the 3 mile backtrack and the time I spent setting up camp didn’t suck up much time and inevitably it was just me and the mosquitoes. Mosquitoes by the millions. So many mosquitoes that I had little choice but to spend my evening, listening to Dave Grohl read his memoir over the competing buzz of the buggers dive bombing the sides of my tent. Eventually I fell asleep.This was the point, I told myself: confronting who I was, in the solitude of stillness, in the heart of darkness, in the embrace of nature.
As I tried to settle down for the evening, my body shook with withdrawal. The adrenaline that had propelled me through 6 hours of tough single track and up steep hike-a-bikes was suddenly gone. Given my background in yoga and meditation, it shocked me how initially uncomfortable I was alone, without a task. I thought about suffering my own company for another 5 1/2 hours before sleep and sobbed. Though I had successfully held it together all day, as soon as I stopped riding, I shook with the sudden dopamine withdrawal.
My blood sucking mosquito friends were no less thirsty in the morning, so on day two I got an early start. Which meant that every farm stand and refueling option was closed when I rolled by at 6:30, 6:45 and 7am. I felt lucky to have had the foresight to pack extra bars. By my second hour into Sunday morning, I was salivating at the thought of a fried chicken sandwich and IPA at Baxter’s on the Cape.
Around the same time I started fantasizing about food, I hit the climb at Rattlesnake Gutter road. Fortunately it wasn’t that long, but with gradients that grew to 19%, it was challenging none the less. Wilson, my bike, groaned under the surplus load of 180lbs and the downward pressure of my feet. But the climb was so beautiful it was impossible to feel crushed. Getting to the top, took my mind off my twisting gut. You know what they say: The top of the mountain is nothing without the climb.
With newfound confidence I navigated in reverse, the loose Harkness single track and ripped it up. Rocks? What rocks. The terrain no longer felt challenging.
I felt smooth and fast on my bike; and it took me only 3 hours and 45 minutes to finish the route. I was back at my car at 9:45am; unfortunately well before the recommended Amherst brewery opened. I had survived a solo night in the woods, mastered riding with the extra weight of my rig and pulled off my first bikepacking adventure alone. Success. But a celebratory beer would have to wait until Baxter’s in Hyannis.
My drive back to the Cape provided me with plenty of time to reflect on the highs and lows of this challenge. Ultimately, I decided my sense of accomplishment in completing it, without any support, was worth the discomforts. Would I do it again? Yes. Would I do it again soon? Probably not…. not until the chill of fall kills off every last one of those skeeters. 🍻
Big thanks to Jason Kahn for developing this route, for Bikepacking.com for making it available to all, and to everyone who donated to my SAA Cancer Care campaign!
