Oregon Trail Gravel Grinder - The race
The bike's still dusty, the last batch of laundry has been run and fatigue still lingers in my limbs. OTGG ended 4 days ago, but its aura remains present. Here's a rather long brief on my race.
With 5 days of racing over 350 miles and 30,000 feet of elevation gain (over 550km and 9000m) raced over the cascades on punishing gravel roads, this event is one of the hardest to perform well at in the North American calendar, and it’s certainly one of those that will leave you most depleted. Picture stages longer in time than the Tour de France ones, but forget the swarm of soigneurs helping you at the finish, and the comfy, temperature controlled rooms: we were camping. This is what makes the beauty of the event, it brings us racers closer to the environment in which we are racing, and allows us to share moments off the bike with fellow competitors of all categories.
I won the event in 2024, it was my first real gravel race and I fell in love with the discipline while climbing the strenuous 9% roads of the Cascades, and furiously descending amongst the ponderosa pines lining the forest service roads we raced on. There was no question about coming back this year, both to defend my title and to spend another week at “bike summer camp” with the rest of the crazy crew racing.
The 2025 edition was a harder one than the previous year, partially due to the stacked field that showed up (Sofia, Sarah, Morgan, Danni, etc.), and also because of the separate starts that Gravel Earth Series had required.
I want to share some anecdotes and some of the dynamics that shaped my race days, and hopefully convince you to put this event on your calendar for next year.
Wednesday - Stage 1
We start the day at the Oregon Trail HQ, just outside of Bend, with last minute preparations of adding a last minute bag of clothes in our totes that would be driven to our destination, saying bye to family and friends before we leave, and race nerves jostling our insides. All 10 of us pro women set off 5 minutes after the pro men, and rolled the first 10 miles on pavement and flat gravel as if it is neutral. It is a good warmup and a nice way to start the day, catching up with each other, cordiality before the war would start. When the first climb rises up ahead of us, the pace significantly increases. I get dropped from Sofia, Michaela and the two PAS girls, Morgan and Cassia, on the first techy descent of the day. Sarah, Danni and I work well together to get back to them at the halfway point. On a very sandy descent, I follow Morgan and Sofia through clouds of dust to drop the rest of the field. This would be the lead group to the finish. Approaching the finish line, caginess makes is way in the group and attacks go left and right. It comes down to Sofia and I at the line, and she navigates the last corner way better than me to win by 3”.
That night, we camp by a lake. The first evening, everyone is learning the ropes of the food line, we’re getting to know each other, catching up with friends, and sharing race stories. No one’s very tired yet, we are excited about the rest of the week.
Thursday - Stage 2
After a cold night, where I wake up a first time to retrieve an extra layer from my tote box, and a second time to rook around for some food to sooth my hungry stomach, I pile my plate with bagels and muffins. The name of the game this week is carbs, and I know how to play. The line for coffee is waning way too slowly for my liking, and I opt for plain water instead. Michaela walks up to me and offers to get take my mug to fill when she gets to the front of the line. This is one of many examples of why I love this race, despite being my rival for 5 hours a day on the bike, Michaela is one of the nicest people you will meet and does heartwarming things like this. Hanging out at camp will bring this out of you.
After breakfast, tents are folded, and crammed into the tote boxes, gels jammed into our pockets, and the mind veers towards the day ahead.
9am, it’s time to race. We line up under a crisp but sunny sky. We start to recognize faces and get to know our competitors better. The atmosphere is light and we are excited to get going. Just as it was yesterday, we start with some pavement that we neutralize. The tempo increases on the first gravel section. Throughout the first hour of gravel roads, the size of the group stays steady, except for loosing Morgan for a brief moment due to a flat tire. Going up the first big climb of the day, our pack dwindles down to 5. We progress through giants puddles, chunky climbs and loose-over-hard descents this way for another hour. We hit the steepest and techiest 1km climb of the day, I knew it would be decisive, so I make an extra effort to stay on Sofia’s wheel who’d taken the lead. Once we crest, an equally as steep and chunky descent awaits us. I get gapped but get back on a little later. The two of us make it to the top of the 20 mile gravel descent. Sofia drops me quite fast, and I wouldn’t see her again until the false flat downhill at the bottom of it. We work together for the remaining 40km, hearing we have a 2’ gap on the chasers. At 2 miles to go, as I flick my elbow to prompt her to pull, she declares she won’t pull anymore. A chess game is on. I briefly think of attacking, but my legs discourage me from that. At a snails pace, we hit the last climb and drop towards the finish line. Suddenly she bolts from behind me, catching me by surprise, and I respond as well as I can. I’m starting to claw my way back to her, but the line is approaching faster. I lose by a bike length or so.
After the usual post-race debrief amongst us and recovery spin, I ride into the Oakridge camp. We can relax and set up our camp with peace of mind: tomorrow is the short TT stage, and don’t have to move until the day after.
Friday - Stage 3
I love this format of racing: three timed sections on a course, 6 miles uphill, 6 miles “rollercoaster”, and 4 miles descent. We get to regroup between stages, chat about how hard they were, and share thoughts on the next one.
At 10:10, I line up behind Sofia, in front of Morgan. We have 30” separating each start. My goal is to catch Sofia as early as possible and finish the climb with her. I see her shooting off from the start. I head off just as hard. Withing 5’, I can see her, and I make my way up to her at 10’. The remaining 25’ of the climb are excruciating. I try to pull away a few times, but there’s nothing to it. For a while, I sit and stare at her wheel. I end up riding right by her, wanting to turn it into an equal effort for the both of us. She gets me at the line, as usual, which I don’t really care about: I already had my 30”.
After a gel and dumping a whole load of water on myself, I start the second section. The downhill is a lot techier than I wanted it to be, but the last half is uphill, which I feel good about. I see no one on this segment, so I have no idea how I fared.
Riding to the start of the last segment, stunningly beautiful scenery appear left and right. I stop for a second to admire it. If anything, this race will have provided soul soothing views.
At the start of the last segment, Sofia is camped in the shade waiting for me. She wants me to go ahead to have someone to chase. Seeing that she won’t budge, I lower my tire pressure and head on down. It’s a steep downhill with many tight turns, loose corners, narrow two-way tracks and low visibility. Not the kind of terrain I excel in, but I put in a good effort. Half a mile to go, as I start feeling good about myself for not having been caught, I hear gravel sliding behind me. Oh dear. Sofia skillfully passes me and makes it seem like an easy game she’s playing. I come in the finish a few seconds after her.
Despite having a 30” on her from the uphill, she was able to get a whole 1’10 from the two other segments, finishing the day 40” ahead of me. I am now 44” seconds back
The rest of the day is spent hanging out with Jacob, my friend and someone who I coach, at the tent, and making the most of nature’s cryotherapy at the river. And eating, of course, as the next day is going to be grueling. Moods are still light, everyone’s energy still seems to be high. We’re all having a good time.
Saturday - Stage 4 - Queen stage
After a short 4h night, I feel more than apprehensive going into the biggest and scariest day of the week. The evening before, I was tossing and turning, going over the day’s events, reliving conversations, thinking ahead to the last two days and what I would need to pull out to beat the current GC leader. All of these thoughts were keeping me from sleeping. I also woke up at 5am starving, apparently I hadn’t played the carb game hard enough the day before.
I force-feed myself breakfast, swallow down the tepid coffee, pack up tent and tote, and start focusing on the day to come. 4 long and steep gravel climbs await us.
We roll out on 20’ of pavement, at a civil pace, and then hit the first difficulty of the day. A 30 ish minute climb averaging 8%. A brutal appetizer giving us a taste of what was to come. Sofia immediately puts the pressure on, and pulls away from us halfway through. I look at my legs in dismay, they are not cooperating. I feel drained, flat, desperate. A group of four of us find ourselves together on the downhill (Morgan, Sarah, Michaela and I) and start working together to pull Sofia back. Sarah being sorta-kinda teammates with her, sits in, making the most of the situation, while we take turns pulling until we have our target in sight. We purposefully let her dangle a few hundred feet away, with the intention of making her work as much on her own as the three of us were. At the base of the next climb, she is a few seconds away. As the gradient increases, so does our huffing and puffing. Sarah and I soon find ourselves on our own in our effort to catch the escapee. The gap doesn’t seem to get any smaller, but we persist. As we lose sight of her, and of the two riders behind us, it becomes clear that we would have to work together for the rest of the day. It’s a perfect situation. Sarah is trying to pull away from Morgan who is sitting in front of her in GC, and I am trying to catch back up to Sofia, 44” ahead of me. I take the lead in the downhills, Sarah mostly rides the uphills, with a few pathetic attempts of mine to pull us both when the gradients shallowed out. I feel wrecked, and Sarah’s company feels godsent. Even though it didn’t make fatigue go away, knowing we were sharing the suffering, and hearing each other’s encouragements made it more bearable. Up and down long, punishing climbs and loose descents, we ride for the rest of the day. After a flat, extremely pot-holy section, we hit the final kicker for the day, 1km at 10%. I warn Sarah of a steep and rocky right-hander at the end of it, that I knew from the previous year, only to get caught in it myself and having to shamefully run up the last 150 feet. A rapid and techy descent creates a little gap between my companion for the day and me, and I aero tuck the last paved 3km to the finish to try to retrieve as much time as possible on Sofia at the end. I end with being 1’40 down on her. The finish line hugs with Sarah felt extra special, we went through hell together and had made it the other side.
That evening, doing anything required extra effort. Retrieving my totes felt insulting, building my tent took 10 minutes, I had to sit down on the ground while I was in line for the showers, and eating dinner was a chore. I asked around for sleeping aids, I didn’t want to go through the same night the day before. However, I quickly find sleep. 3am rolls around, and once again, my stomach, in need for food, wakes me up. Rummaging through my tote box, the only thing I find to eat is rolled oats. I sit in my sleeping bag, scooping dry oats into my mouth, and washing it down with cold water, just like a horse. The life of an elite athlete, am I right?
Sunday - Stage 5
Boxes packed, kitted up, we wait around for our turn on the school buses that will shuttle us to the base of McKenzie pass, where we start our final day of racing. Despite our fatigue, the air feels light, everyone’s eager to get this last stage in. We stretch and activate on the track, in an effort to alleviate the aches and pains from the previous four days of racing. Glitter is passed around, I put some on my cheeks and knees, hoping for its magic to seep through my skin and make me climb away from my competitors (it didn’t).
In the yellow bus, I sit next to someone I had shared the same ride with last year, on the same stage. We chat about the race and how tired we are, we essentially are experiencing the same things, no matter what category we both were in. Once all the bikes unloaded, the usual tire pressure debates start. What do we inflate to now, at 300m and 15 degrees C, when we’ll be going up to 2000m on chunky gravel later? A real conundrum. I opt for 17 in the front and 19 in the back.
At 9:05, we start ascending the “most beautiful climb in the Pacific Northwest” just like the other days, rather calmly. The smooth repaved road undulating up between the pines is a welcome change from the chunky days we’ve experienced up to then. A few attacks go as we approach the top, but nothing sticks. I let them roll past me, letting others close the gaps. After cresting, we descend the gorgeous road with wide corners all the way to our first gravel section. Here, the pace increases, just as the difficulty of the terrain. It’s thick gravel that saps all the speed out of our tires. We quickly end up with 4 people (Morgan, Sarah, Sofia and I), then drop Morgan to end up as a group of three. Sarah is pulling hard to create a gap between us and Morgan, she wants to stave her off from her 3rd place. The gravel roads in this middle section are a real slog, my tired body is not appreciating what I’m putting it through. We hit the last climb of the day, a paved 6 mile climb. As I see the miles going down to slowly, I fear attacks, I’m really feeling rough. We make our way to the sandy and rolly gravel section at the top of the climb. Sofia gaps us but stays within sight. With everything I have, I crawl back to within 20 feet of her, knowing I needed to stay with her on the long descent that takes us almost all the way to the finish. Just before cresting, snow banks appear on the road. Sofia navigates them gracefully, one foot off, dancing her way over them. I clumsily have to dismount for most of them, even falling over in one of them. She disappears. As the descent starts, I try to find a state of flow, and push as hard as I can in the flatter sections. It’s a techy descent with sandy segments, rocky ones, loose ones, and rutted ones. As we approach 15km to the finish, I see Sofia in the distance. I pass her, and we end up riding together the end of the downhill. How can I win this race? I wait for a moment with an uphill, that are rare in this last part of the course. I attack, unsuccessfully, she’s right on my wheel. This move kills our momentum, she no longer wants to pull. We then go snail pace, just as we did on day 2, but this time we still have 8km to go. I’ll have to wait for the finish, but I didn’t recon it. I fumble with my garmin map, to try to see what it looks like. Suddenly, Sarah appears behind us, surprised at our party pace. She goes straight to the front and pulls. I need to stay behind her Sofia until the last left-hand corner, then take that first. We approach it, and as that corner gets into sight, I put in an acceleration. I take that corner first, skidding on the gravel. We enter a narrow double track that takes us back to the resort. I just need to stay ahead I think, the finish is just there. I push hard and see Sofia still on my wheel. I didn’t see the right-hand turn that takes us to the finishing straight, and Sofia takes the outside, passing me to get her 5th win of the week.
I’m gutted, but so happy to have finished this week. I lie my bike down in the grass and, for the last time this week, join my fellow racers to congratulate them and to share our feelings of relief to have gotten to the end of this grueling event.
For the next 3 hours of hanging out at the finish, I chat with friends about our respective stories, I see riders of all ages and abilities cross the finish line, exhilarated, tearful, in pain, relieved, I assess the damage the 5 days have done on my body and bike (relatively low, considering), and sit down with a big plate of food, appreciating the fact that tonight, I wouldn’t have to pitch my tent, and tomorrow, I wouldn’t have to ride my bike hard for 5 hours.
Another wonderful race recap! Thank you for sharing! I have to ask, which was harder to eat, the pretzels or the dry rolled oats!! Hahaha!!