October 11, 2020October 2, 2023 Blue Ridge Wrangler (9/25-27/20)- Third Time’s a Charm I recently completed the Blue Ridge Wrangler route, located in the George Washington National forest in central Virginia. The route starts just a few minutes south of Charlottesville, and consists of a series of loops that traverse southward, continually intertwining itself with the Blue Ridge Parkway and the Appalachian Trail. The terrain on this route varies widely, ranging from chunky single track, winding gravel roads, overgrown fire roads, and a little bit of pavement here and there on the BRP. Completing this route was a huge win for me, mainly because it’s the third time I’ve attempted it. I had to bail on my previous two attempts due to not having the right bike and time constraints/lack of planning. This was also my first solo completion of a bike packing route. Day 1- 45 mi/7,000 ft. ascentDay 2- 72 mi/10,800 ft. ascentDay 3- 23 mi/2,100 ft ascent Going solo is a completely different game, compared to riding with a group or partner. Not only do you need to depend on yourself for solid decision making, but you also can’t rely on anyone else to boost your mood in stressful situations or relieve the inevitable boredom of long distance bike touring. Since I’ve been contemplating a possible second attempt at completing the great divide next summer, I’ve been trying to become more comfortable putting in long hours in the saddle alone. This route really is such an amazing combination of all different types of terrain. Major kudos to Paul Kane for researching, riding, and submitting this route to bikepacking.com, over 3 years ago. It truly is one of the OG routes on that, now uber-popular, website. In a training sense, this is the best way for me to get my ass thoroughly kicked over a 3 day weekend, and only a short drive from my house in Richmond. While this trip was a huge success, I definitely experienced some hard-earned lessons out there. Hopefully, they’ll stick with me for future trips. Lesson #1: Plan, plan, plan!- A solo bike packing trip is not the time to just “wing it”. I’m not saying I necessarily did that, but my prep game could’ve been much tighter. Know the camp ground you’re shooting for. Know the timing and mileage you want to hit for each day. Figure out the terrain for each segment. On a widely varied route like the BRW, the terrain is everything. I spent too much time just hyper focusing on an elevation map that I had printed out, while riding completely blind to the types of trails or roads that were coming up on the route. The wrangler is a rowdy mixture of just about every type of terrain possible in back country riding. As a route, it’s all over the place. If you’re totally fried from riding all day, but want to do another 10 miles before camp, the terrain of that last stretch makes all the difference. That brings me to my next lesson. Lesson #2: Don’t forget about water!!- learned this one before while hiking on the AT, but of course I had to re-learn it here. On day two, just around dusk, I began the very exposed and technical ascent (I hiked it because the trail was too narrow) up to Whetstone Ridge. I started this hike feeling strong and energized, even though day light was already starting to quickly fade. After some steep and narrow hike-a-biking, I arrived at the top of the ridge… only to find myself traversing even more exposed trail that meandered along the top of the mountain. The trail went straight north, going up and down extremely steep mountain-top ridges. No problem right? I’ve come this far, I can do a couple hike a bikes to get through, and eventually, off this ridge. As I was watching the gorgeous sunset over the blue ridge valley atop the 7,000 ft whetstone ridge, I slowly take a sip from my mouthpiece and hear the familiar gurgle of a suddenly empty water bladder. Great. In my eagerness to get up and over this last climb, I totally forgot to re-fill. Ok, well nothing really to do but keep hiking up and down the ludicrously steep mini-ridges. Sun goes down. Dark sets in. Headlamp and bike light turned on. More steep hike-a-biking. Bike light (the brighter of the two) goes dead. Great. I have a battery for re-charging, but it takes a little while. All I have is my relatively weak headlamp. At this point, on top of a mountain, with no water, very little light, and a 10 hr/10k ascent/70+ mile day behind me, I’m starting to get just a little… unsettled about my situation. While looking at my Garmin and comparing it to my paper elevation map, I realize that I have no idea how long this ridge line trail continues. I also have no idea where I can get water next, and based on the elevation chart (usually on mountain trails you have to go down in elevation to get near water) it’s not for 20+ more miles!! Uh.. ok. While stopping to ponder the bleak reality staring back to me from that elevation chart, I look up into the now-pitch-black forest surrounding me and spot, maybe 20 yards away… a pair of luminous eyes reflecting off the beam of my headlamp. Two eyes, bright in the inky black darkness, just staring right back at me. Needless to say, my already somewhat elevated heart rate is suddenly jacked WAY up. I quickly grab my bear spray and start yelling in an attempt to announce my benign presence. “HEY BEAR. JUST PASSIN THROUGH. DON’T MIND ME. JUST A DUDE ON A BIKE. HEY BEAR. HEY BEAR.” Get movin, NOW. I pick up the pace, trying to not think too much. Just hollerin and hikin, further into the darkness. Lesson #3: Always compare different GPS sources- Up to that point in the trip, I was relying solely on my Garmin, the Gaia app on my phone, and my paper elevation charts. Eventually, I stopped somewhere in the midst of my nocturnal ridge-line sketch-fest, and had the idea to take my phone off airplane mode to see what google maps might be able to tell me. Luckily I had a few bars of service, and was able to see that the trail would eventually intersect with the BRP in a few miles. Even better yet, google revealed to me a blissful oasis in the form of a small blue icon labeled “ranger station”. At first, I almost didn’t believe it because I had basically resigned myself to the idea of a 20+ mile trek through the woods all night. Sure enough, when I finally reached the pavement of the parkway, I could not believe how much my luck had completely turned around. The ranger station had a water fountain and electrical sockets! The drama was almost too much for me when, after pushing the button on the water fountain nothing happened for about 10 seconds.. after which the cool well water suddenly came gushing out. At that point, physically and emotionally drained, I didn’t know what else to do other than yell triumphantly into the cool night air. All in all, I could not be happier with finally completing this challenging route. It was basically a 3 year project for me. It seems like this crazy pursuit of bike packing (sport?.. hobby?.. obsession?) tends to often leave it’s devotees grappling with unfinished business. A route attempted and left incomplete can torture your mind for months or even years afterwords. It gnaws at you, and looms in your imagination as time marches on. As you go about your daily civilized life, it somehow sticks with you, like a unwanted companion, mocking your pointless routines of modern living. Maybe you eventually give in. You somehow get back out there. Maybe you even find a way to finish what you could not complete before. Check.. done with that! Yet, even once the route is completed, you can’t help but notice that the feeling is not exactly what you had imagined, or built up in your mind all that time. Of course it isn’t. The mountains always win! They’re undefeated, and always will be. Suddenly, you find yourself sitting comfortably in a giant metal box, hurdling across smooth pavement at 70 mph. With the cold ac hitting your face, and a sugar rush from processed gas station food subsiding, you start wondering what the big deal was all about. Why’d you even do all that? How come you don’t feel any different than you did before? Just three days ago you were 100% focused on nothing but tackling the route. Now, only three days later, you find yourself directing that same focus to what kind of toppings your should get on your burrito. You’re the same person, just a lot more sore, tired, and insatiably famished. Pulling up to your house, groggily thinking about what needs to be done for the next work week, you realize.. “I’m ready to go back”. Thanks for all the fun Wrangler. Trip Reports bikepackingblue ridgeblue ridge wranglervirginia