Oregon Timber Trail Bikepacking Race

The Oregon Timber Trail is 669-mile National Scenic Route across the state of Oregon from California to Washington passable by mountain bike, foot, and horse. The route was on our radar based on high praise from Justin, who raced last year. His description of the route and comment that this should really be the third of the Triple Crown bikepacking races (along with the Colorado Trail and Arizona Trail) piqued our interest. 

We tentatively put the Oregon Timber Trail Race on our calendars for 2025. The route has been affected by fires in the past making it tough to get a clean run on the trail, not to mention the potential for health-threatening smoke should fires be burning throughout the Pacific Northwest. We kept an eye on smoke and fires, and it looked like this might be the year that it goes!

Andrew had a fantastic ride, finishing the route in 6 days, 9 hours, making him the first to finish at this year’s race. You can read some of Andrew’s thoughts about the OTT on this bikepacking.com article. For a peek into Andrew’s bikepack racing brain, check out his MTBCast call in.

Katie finished the ride a couple days after Andrew in 8 days, 18 hours. Here’s a YouTube video Katie put together from her ride:

Some highlights from the route include:

• The Middle Fork Willamette Trail – an incredible swoopy section of trail through a canopy of old growth forest along the Middle Fork Willamette River
• The Bend area trails – flowy and fun
• The Metolius Windigo Trail with views of the Three Sisters and lots of wildflowers
• The 44 Trails System – another swoopy, fun trail system
• The Post Canyon Trails – purpose-built mountain bike trails with lots of kickers and huge berms 
• The Wildlife – Katie saw a badger, two bears, three foxes, a herd of elk, a bobcat, and a mountain lion
• The Swimming – lots of creeks and clear lakes for swimming

For Katie’s full writeup about her ride, you can continue reading below:

As we packed up our van, I felt unprepared. A person who usually goes over the route in detail and creates a very nerdy spreadsheet, I’d done none of this before we left. Part of me was sure that if I got my hopes up too much, something would go wrong, and I wouldn’t be able to start. This may sound like a paranoid attitude, and it is, but I got skunked the last two bikepacking races I planned to start. On our way to the AZT in 2024, I got GI Covid from hell and was in no condition to start, and a few weeks before the 2025 Grand Loop, I got a concussion and was unable to race. I didn’t feel like I was really going to be able to race until I took that first pedal stroke at the start. So with the bare minimum preparation, we left our place in Utah on a hot and smoky afternoon to head to Oregon. It felt a bit ominous when we left, but the good news was that we were headed to clearer air. Thanks to a bigger snow year and fewer thunderstorms in Oregon this year, the state was relatively clear of smoke in July. 

On our way up to Oregon, Andrew saw on our community Facebook page that a fire had started near where we live. At the time of the report, it was 20 acres. A red flag day, the fire quickly grew to 600 acres and continued to expand each time we refreshed the page. We were in Salt Lake, finishing up our grocery shopping – pastries, beef sticks, gummy candy, and it was all I could do to keep from crying in the Walmart. Are we really going to go race? Do we need to go home? We decided we needed to take a beat and think before we continued heading west. Serendipitously, there was a brewery just across from the Walmart where we discussed our options over burgers, onion rings, and beer. 

With the highway closed for firefighting operations, and evacuation orders beginning to take place, we weren’t sure they’d even let us go back. And if we did, what would we do? Sure we could save a few things, but we can’t fight a fire. Ultimately we decided to continue to Oregon and hope for the best. 

Arriving at the Deep Creek Campground at the start, Alexandera, Johnny, Karla, and Justin were there to greet us. I was still in a funk, feeling unprepared and unsure whether I should be there doing this thing. Justin and Karla had been through fires threatening their home more than once, and their words helped calm my nerves and confirm that it was okay we didn’t turn around and go home. 

The morning of the Grand Depart, we woke up to a cool and damp morning with enough time to make coffee and oatmeal. Other racers stirred and the air was full of good energy of 18 bikepackers ready for an adventure. 14 riders would take on the full 700-mile route to Hood River, while 5 were signed up for the first 300 miles, finishing in Oakridge. This year, there were three of us WTFNB racers, and I was the only woman signed up for the full 700-mile route. I was bummed about the low turnout for women, but I’m hoping more will show up in the coming years. 

Due to fires, the start of the OTT was moved from the California border to the Deep Creek Forest Camp just north of the border. The trail climbed right from the start. I pedaled behind mostly singlespeeders as the field started to string out. My bike was heavy with as much food as I was willing to carry for the first 200 miles and the first resupply at Chemult. I stuffed my bags with pizza, pastries, beef sticks, maple syrup, honey, granola bars, bagels, gummy bears, high carb Scratch mix, and Tailwind recovery mix. 

Trail beta from Justin and Karin, both of whom raced last year, helped me keep my expectations in check. I knew the first few days would include a lot of bushwhacking, a lot of cheatgrass, and things would be slow. So I followed the GPS line on my computer, and when I could see them, the footprints and trodden grass from the riders ahead of me. As the afternoon temperatures rose, I took fully clothed creek dips to cool down. It was amazing how much a quick swim woke up my brain and motivated me to push a little harder. As the afternoon transitioned to evening, the terrain changed again from forest and open sagebrush to burn areas with moondust, decimated trees, and thriving manzanita and cheatgrass. I hiked with purpose, trying to get as far as possible before the darkness would make navigating the trail even more challenging. 

I continued into the night, lifting over hundreds of downed trees through a burn, at one point thinking, “is this really right?” I turned on my phone to double check what I was seeing on my Garmin. My phone lit up with texts in the race group thread. “Forewarning everyone, Moss Pass to Cox Pass is rough. Bring lots of extra water and be prepared to move very slow and route find!.” Well, at least it confirmed that the leaders were having a similar experience, and I was on the right track! I saw lights of other riders ahead in the distance. Then a set of mystery eyes. “What are you? Are you friendly?” I eventually identified the creature as a badger!

I continued making slow progress and saw a light above. It was Johnny, who took a better path higher along the ridge. I pushed my bike straight up the hill to get back on track – step, brake, step, brake. From then on my rule was, when in doubt, stay high. Johnny set up his bivy not far from there. I told Johnny, “there’s a trailhead a mile away, I’m going to try to get out of here before I go to sleep.” More walking, lifting, and a little riding later, I made it to the trailhead, a satisfactory milestone where I felt like I could sleep. My arms and back were tired. It was such a physical day of moving over challenging terrain. 

Mike arrived at the trailhead as I was getting ready to go to sleep. We commemorated about the difficulty of that section. I checked the tracker and saw Justin was also camped near the trailhead, whoops, hopefully we didn’t wake him up. I was stopped for six hours, an adequate rest to move efficiently the next day. 

I packed my gear in the moonlight and started riding just after 4am. Justin caught me, bummed that his Garmin had bricked out on him. With his power-hungry phone as his sole navigation on a route that requires near constant checking, he didn’t have high hopes for continuing much further. That was the last time I’d see another racer on course. 

That morning, hiking through yet another burn, I couldn’t help but think about the fire burning at home. I had myself a little cry, wondering if it was right for me to be here, playing, while our neighbors were preparing for the worst. I reminded myself of the decision I’d made, that there was nothing I could do to stop a fire, and being out here is better than sitting in proximity to home, watching the forest burn and refreshing the Watch Duty app. 

Knowing that often the miles would come slowly, I chose the mantra, “create momentum” for the Oregon Timber Trail. It helped me to remember that even traversing difficult terrain, I can still move efficiently and create my own positive energy. I wiped the last of my tears, repeated my mantra out loud, and kept going. The first creek I came across that morning felt like a gift. The Moss Pass to Cox Pass section took much longer than expected and I’d been rationing water for a few hours. I chugged water from my filter, grateful for that precious resource. A few more miles, and I crossed the Chewaucan River where I sat at a picnic table, ate some pizza, refilled my water bladder with drink mix, and shooed away chipmunks who were very interested in what was in my bags. 

Motivated to move again, I got into a flow. Riding, pushing, riding, pushing. It was exactly what I wanted to be doing. I’m a mover – I want to move – I need to move. I didn’t stop again until I needed water. Currier Spring was a beautiful source with terraced flowing troughs filled by a pipe. Before I knew it, it was nearing sunset. I saw a small bear run across the road, “hey bear! Where’s your mama?” A quick out and back on the course led to Fremont Point, right on the edge of the Winter Rim overlooking the Great Basin. 

By 10pm, I was ready for some rest. I found a flat enough spot and set my alarm for 4am. Zipped into my bivy, I heard mosquitos buzzing and put my earplugs in to cancel out the noise. When my alarm went off, I felt surprisingly rested and began moving much faster than the previous evening. I didn’t have much food left and anticipated another full day of riding to get to Chemult. Half a bag of gummy bears and 4 packets of Tailwind recovery mix would have to get me there. Hunger came in waves and I promised my body that I’d move as efficiently as possible to get to real food. 

At 9pm, the Chemult gas station and Subway were much busier than I expected. I plugged my electronics in and started shopping for the next 95 miles to Oakridge. I waited in line for Subway for what felt like forever, but it was so worth that delicious toasted sandwich. My stop wasn’t very efficient. I ended up going back into the gas station for more snacks three times. By the time I finally left, I was pretty wiped out. I didn’t make it far before calling it a night. 

The next morning was surprisingly cold. My Garmin read 35 degrees! I put all my layers on to pedal comfortably until the sun warmed me up. The pedaly gravel road was a nice way to get my legs going that morning. The next singletrack along the Oldenberg Lake Trail made it easy to “create momentum.” I saw a couple of backpackers out there. It was cool and a little bit smoky. I came across a creek crossing with a tree down and had to decide whether to go over or under. I didn’t want to get my shoes wet, so I stopped to take them off. Immediately swarmed by mosquitos, I couldn’t move fast enough. I eventually got my shoes off and started across the creek carrying my shoes. I tripped and my shoes fell in the water. After all that, my shoes still ended up wet! All I could do was laugh. The mosquitoes in that section kept me motivated to ride fast. As long as I kept my speed up, they didn’t bother me. 

As the sun rose higher in the sky and the temperature rose again, I came across Summit Lake. I stopped to take in the view. No mosquitos, the sun was out. Time to swim! I floated on my back in the crystal clear water. It was absolutely blissful. Recharged, I hopped back on the bike and put motivated pressure on the pedals. I’d ride the Middle Fork Willamette Trail that day. It was unlike any place I’ve ever been. A swoopy, long descent along the rushing river in the thick canopy of old growth forest. If fairies exist, it’s probably where they live. Also bears! I saw another one on the trail. I popped out of the singletrack onto a road where a fox was between me and an oncoming truck. The fox ran away, but the man in the truck rolled down his window and asked, “is that your pet?” I laughed assuming he was joking, but his face remained completely serious, “oh, no, I think that was a fox.” I’m pretty sure he also knew it was a fox, but thought maybe I was riding my bike with my pet fox? I guess I was giving off Snow White vibes. 

Rolling into Oakridge around 11pm, I turned my phone on to find worried texts from my mom and a message from Scott that my dot hadn’t moved in a while. Whoops! The tree cover drained my inReach battery much faster than I’m used to. I texted my mom to let her know I was okay and plugged the tracker into my cache battery. I rode through town to the only open convenience store. I’ve made many late night gas station stops during bikepack races, usually the 11pm crowd is a little rougher than the middle of the day crowd and Oakridge was no different. I locked my bike to the ice cooler and made my stop as quick as I could. A highlight of that gas station was the several corn dogs I purchased. I ate as I rolled out of town on pavement. I’d heard the next section has lots of logging traffic, so I wanted to get as much of it out of the way before the workers started in the morning.

I pushed longer than I wanted to and by the time I decided to stop, my brain was so fatigued that I had trouble choosing where to camp. I finally found a good enough spot off the side of the road at 12:30am. My brain felt wired and anxious. I had difficulty falling asleep and laid there for a couple of hours before I could really relax. Then I awoke from my deep sleep around 3:30 in the morning to headlights and the sound of massive logging trucks speeding up and down the road. I had no idea they’d get started that early. I wanted more rest, but didn’t get much continuous sleep as the logging trucks continued the rest of the morning.

I finally got myself out of my bivy at 6:45. I knew today would be difficult. The notorious Bunchgrass Trail was coming up. I climbed up the road, pulling off when I heard logging trucks railing down the road. I doubt they’re looking for bikes, and even if they saw me, I don’t think they’d be able to stop fast enough to avoid a collision, so I figured the safest thing for me to do was just get out of the way. Fortunately there was less logging traffic as I rode than there was when I was trying to sleep! 

It was a relief to get off of the dirt road and onto the singletrack Bunchgrass Trail, knowing I wouldn’t encounter any more logging traffic. Well, it was a relief for a bit, but as the trail continued to deteriorate and the grade began to increase, my progress slowed to an absolute crawl. It was smoky that day from a fire near Bend. I was worried about damaging my lungs and airways, so I made myself breathe through my nose the whole day. The 10 miles of Bunchgrass took me 8 hours. It was excruciatingly slow. The overgrowth, the moondust, the big water carry, the smoke, and my lack of sleep contributed to my slow progress. When I finally emerged onto a forest service road and saw a small lake, I was absolutely ecstatic. I celebrated with a swim, cleaning the ashy dirt off my body and chugging as much water as my stomach could hold. I knew it would get dark soon and wanted to take advantage of the daylight, so I pedaled as efficiently as I could now that I was back on the bike. I stopped just after 10pm near the shore of Waldo Lake and gave myself an extra hour of rest to make up for the poor sleep I had the night before. I rode and hiked only 33 miles that day. My shortest day ever on a bikepacking race. 

At 5am, I started riding again. The Waldo Lake Trail was bordered by small dead trees. I assumed that brushing a shoulder against one would be no big deal. They looked flimsy, like they’d give, but they didn’t budge at all, and I ended up with two good sized holes in my sunshirt. It really upped my level of dingy. Based on my slow progress the previous day, I knew I needed to stop at the Cultus Lake Store if I wanted to avoid running out of food again, plus they have a restaurant there, and I was really craving a burger. I picked up some sports drink, homemade cookies, gummy snacks, chips, and sat down for a burger while my dying electronics charged. I felt a bit out of place in my dirty, ripped sunshirt, but the waitress didn’t seem bothered by my appearance. After several days of eating little bits of food at a time, I had a hard time finishing my burger and I packed my fries to go.

That burger felt like rocket fuel when I started pedaling again. Paired with the faster terrain of the Bend area trails, I was flying. Well, I could have literally been flying had I been comfortable catching air on the Tiddlywinks Trail on my loaded bike. I took it conservatively, I would’ve felt like a real dummy had I crashed after making it that far. Despite my wheels never getting more than a couple inches of air, I was woohoo-ing the whole way down. 

10pm that night found me at the Tumalo Falls Trailhead. I found a spot far enough from the toilet that it didn’t stink, and rested to the sound of the roaring waterfall. When I started again at 4:30, I had just enough moonlight and twilight to see the falls. I figured this was the perfect time to ride this section of trail. Andrew confirmed my suspicion when he shared his experience of hiking through the masses in the afternoon. I treasured that morning climbing along the creek and into the mountains where the Three Sisters appeared. The Metolius-Windigo Trail was a real highlight with the view of the mountains and wildflowers and the trails descending into Sisters were an absolute blast. 

Arriving at the Oliver Lemon’s grocery store in Sisters was a dream. They had fresh food and bakery-made goods. I bought sushi, brownies, lemon poppyseed cookies, and three sandwiches to go. My GoPro had died from one too many accidental 20 minute long recordings and I spent way too long trying to get it to charge. No luck, it just wouldn’t accept a charge from the wall outlet or my cache battery. I left town with a full belly, reenergized for the rest of the day. A couple miles outside of town, I saw a herd of elk. I pedaled slowly and watched the majestic creatures trot away. I soaked my shirt in the next creek to keep myself cool in the afternoon heat. 

Once my clothes dried and I stopped benefiting from evaporative cooling that came with damp clothes, I looked at my map for the next water source. Suttle Lake was coming up. I rode along the shoreline, but it was so busy, I didn’t really want to stop. I continued along the shoreline trail, telling myself I’d swim in the next lake, but Scout Lake was busy too. Okay, the next one. Well, Dark Lake was busy too. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have let the crowds keep me from jumping in. By the time I got to a quiet lake, the temperatures were cool enough that swimming was less appealing. 

Back on a sandy forest service road, I started seeing a few side by sides along with mountain lion tracks. I took a quick sandwich break and checked Trackleaders. Andrew was done! I gave him a call to congratulate him and tell him I loved him. The phone call was just a few minutes, but it was a boost to hear his voice again after a week on the trail. 

I finished my sandwich and started surfing down the Santiam Wagon Road. It was crazy trying to imagine wagons on those steep grades in the sand. I climbed up Crescent Mountain that night, stopping at 11pm, ready for a break from the big cat energy the forest was radiating. 

It took some time for my legs to warm up the next morning, but when they did, I felt great. I was motivated to get to the next resupply point, Detroit Lake. As the sun came up, I noticed how visibly dirty I was. “Should’ve taken that swim yesterday,” I thought. I promised myself a creek or lake bath, and just as I started getting warm, a perfect, clear, cold creek appeared. I hiked off the road and washed my clothes. I rubbed the dirt off my face and my legs. My white sunshirt still looked dirty, and the holes in the sleeves from the aggressive trees didn’t help, but I felt much better. With a clean and cooled off body, I kept pressure on the pedals to get to the Detroit Lake grocery store. I bought chicken tenders, corn dogs, and a coke. My first and only caffeine of the whole trip. The grocery store didn’t have trash cans. I asked the cashier if there is somewhere in town I could throw away trash, hoping maybe they’d offer to take mine, but they didn’t get the hint and couldn’t tell me where I could get rid of trash. I really didn’t have room for the empty bottles of sports drink and other packaging, so I rode back into town and found a public trash can in the park. 

I was ready to head back out into the backcountry after the bustle of town. A long, quiet stretch of pavement felt like I was getting free miles. I wondered, “maybe I’m done with all the blowdowns and overgrown trail. Maybe it’s all ridable now.” I turned off the pavement onto a dirt road. A woman and her dog were camped out there in the middle of the road. She was surprised to see me and asked what I was doing. I told her about the Oregon Timber Trail and she was amazed to hear of such a thing. I turned off the dirt road onto the Red Lake Trail, and I realized I was wrong about the rest of the trail being ridable. Into another burn area I went. The sun was starting to go down and I hiked as fast as I could hoping I could get the challenge of navigating a burn area over with in the daylight, but the burn was vast and I continued marching through moondust and manzanita into the dark. I started what I like to call “beary-oke” around sunset. Playing music in my earbuds and singing along loud enough to let the bears know I’m coming. I saw a tent, whoops, hopefully they don’t mind my singing 90’s hits. As it got later and I became more tired, I started getting irritated that I was still in a burn area. When will it end?? I wanted to go to sleep, but sleeping among the burned trees is a good way to get smooshed. So I kept going and promised myself I’d stop as soon as it was safe. I reminded myself there wasn’t anything I could do other than keep going, so I might as well go as fast as I can. I finally made it out of the burn just after 11pm. I had a great night of sleep and started moving again at 6. 

Pedaling along on dirt, I checked my phone. I looked at splits from the riders ahead, and realized it was possible to finish my ride that night. Knowing that Andrew and his parents would stay up as late as they needed to to see me in, I felt motivated to pedal hard and stop as little as possible. That morning was the only short fire detour of the route. A small fire near Timothy Lake started a couple days prior, and while it was out, Watch Duty said to continue avoiding the area. It turned out it would have been fine to stay on the original route, which is what Bill, just ahead of me, did. 

There was lots of pedaling that last day. When I finally turned off the pavement to dirt, and then to trail, I started seeing other mountain bikers. That was a welcome sight! That means people ride these trails on day rides, on purpose, and that means it’s gotta be a good trail. And it was! Throughout the day, I got glimpses of Mt. Hood when the forest thinned out or when I was riding along a ridge.

Sometimes on the last day of a race, I feel ready to be done, and like it’s dragging on, but not that day. I was truly enjoying myself out there. I felt like I was so close when the Oak Ridge Trail spit me out just outside of Parkdale. I checked Andrew’s splits on Trackleaders. It took him three hours, and I thought maybe I could do it in 4. I hammered the pavement out of Parkdale in the rain with a rainbow behind me. It rained on me for about 20 minutes, the only precipitation I had during my ride. 

I started climbing again, legs feeling strong and fast, as if I hadn’t spent the last 8 days riding. I tend to get a burst of energy right before the sun goes down, and tonight I had the added anticipation of finishing the race. As I grinded up the paved climb, I caught a glimpse of some eyes. It was just starting to get dark, and when I looked at who the eyes belonged to, I saw a mountain lion! It was still light enough that I could see its massive body. It was statue still, staring at me from 20 feet off the road. I yelled at it, “hey! You leave me alone! I’m going up the road! You stay right there! Leave me alone!” I’m certain I sounded like a crazy person. Fortunately the mountain lion followed my instructions, but I was looking over my shoulder the rest of the ride. I made sure I ate a snack after the encounter. Sometimes those adrenaline rushes come with a big crash, and I wanted to maintain my energy and finish strong. 

I finished the climb and had a huge descent down into Hood River to finish off the race. It was super trippy riding the Post Canyon trails by myself with the huge whoops and berms in the dark. I had a huge smile on my face and I felt so fast. When the trail finally ended and I found myself navigating town, I reflected on my ride. I spent an incredible amount of time in a flow state. My only caffeine was the coke in Detroit. I didn’t use my inhaler and had no lung problems. I slept really well. My bike performed perfectly. The weather was incredible, and there was very little smoke. I felt so lucky that my ride went so smoothly, and that I really did follow my mantra, and create momentum even when the terrain was slow. After navigating a weird railroad crossing that appeared to be some kind of GPS error, I made it to the Columbia River! Andrew and his parents were there waiting for me with pizza. Giving Andrew a big hug after we both had successful races was such a good feeling. I finished my ride in 8 days, 18 hours and Andrew finished in 6 days, 9 hours.

Would I do it again? Well, I’m really glad I was able to ride the trail. I would absolutely go back and ride sections, the Middle Fork Willamette Trail in particular was really special. I’m not sure I could convince myself to go back and ride sections like Cox Pass and Bunchgrass that have been decimated by fire without knowing it had improved. That being said, the Oregon Timber Trail was conceived of in 2015 – It’s still a very young trail! The Oregon Timber Trail Alliance is continuing to advocate for the trail including securing funding for trail crews and organizing volunteers. I have no doubt that the trail will continue to improve.

Thanks so much to Dan and Anne, Andrew’s parents who picked us up in Hood River!