McKenzie Pass Bike Ride: Car-Free and Full of Wonder

Pre-Ride Pregame: Passing Protests and Campsite Conversations
This past weekend, I joined my friends Annie and Joe, along with Annie’s friend Emma, for a 75-mile bike ride with 6,200 feet of elevation gain. The McKenzie Pass, (about an hour east of Eugene, OR) closes to cars in the winter, and for a brief window in early summer, it becomes a haven for bikers. Once the snow is plowed and melted, but before cars are allowed back, cyclists flock to the scenic route for a peaceful, otherworldly ride. Most folks turn around at the Dee Wright Observatory, but some extend their trip over the mountain. And then there are the unhinged.. those who do the full out-and-back. We were those people.

We left Portland as the No Kings protest filled the Hawthorne Bridge, awestruck by the thousands below. After driving to McKenzie Bridge, a tiny village with a general store and pub, we lucked out and snagged the last first-come, first-served campsite in the McKenzie Bridge campground. Annie came through clutch with a grill, and we devoured burgers and veggie burgers as we fueled up for the next day. Around the fire, we discussed our mermaid alter-egos (tail color, superpower, and sidekick), played Rorschach with raw patties, and chatted until the sun dipped behind the Douglas firs.

The Ride Begins
Fueled by a beautiful breakfast of zucchini bread, oatmeal, papaya, and mango, we parked near Camp Yale and prepped our bikes. It was clearly the last car-free day as the lot was filling with other cyclists gearing up for the same adventure. Spirits were high, and the first miles flew by. Shortly before the Proxy Falls Trailhead, a sign warned that cycling wasn’t allowed beyond a certain point, an ODOT safety measure, but people continued anyway.

We climbed through forest thick with beargrass, rhododendron, and columbine, while downhill riders zipped past us. A couple of aerodynamic assholes commented on the “heavy load” I was hauling: my pannier full of my stuff and some of Annie’s. “What a guy,” one of them quipped. There's always an elitist or two in any hobby. If only they’d seen Joe’s two frozen burritos warming on his rear rack.

Into the Lava Fields: Alien Landscapes and Butterfly Blessings
We paused near Scott Lake, where burnt trees framed the view, then continued until we hit a vast lava field. Formed from the eruption of Belknap Crater around 1,500 years ago, the field stretched endlessly with airy stones precariously stacked like an alien playground. I took the opportunity to climb around (and lost the hardest game of “The Floor is Lava” I’ve ever played) before a group picture. A butterfly landed on my bag, and I almost cried with excitement. In hindsight, that naive joy was the calm before the butterfly storm.

Summiting: Lava Castles and Disney Princess Moments
After being welcomed by a stunning view of the Three Sisters mountains, we rolled on to the Dee Wright Observatory. Adding to the surreal nature of the day, it was a lava-stone castle built by the CCC in the 1930s-not the basic bathroom-equipped shelter we were expecting. Joe ate his solar-heated burrito, we explored the castle’s viewfinder windows to spot Mount Washington, Three-Fingered Jack, and various buttes. Joe and I ripped a celebratory cig and Annie admonished like us like a good friend should do. I tried to ask a man about his curried tofu and was ignored??? (but was redeemed by a dog named Roy). We then had a kid moment, taking our bikes on the narrow interpretive trail surrounded by lava stones and canyon walls.

Then came the descent into Sisters. In what I can only describe as a movie moment or something out of a dream, we became surrounded by hundreds of California Tortoiseshell butterflies as we careened down the eastern side of the pass. Presumably in migration, or maybe a newly hatched gathering, they danced in and out of the spokes of the wheels, brushed against my bare arms, and unfortunately splatted against my sunglasses a few times. We took a pause at the other snow gate, in awe of what happened, while more butterflies (and bees) landed on us. As we took off again, I told the two butterflies and bee on my hand that we had to go. One of the butterflies was down to clown, and stayed upon my pointer finger for a mile or two as I one-handed the descent while laughing like a maniacal Disney Princess. Real life is occasionally better than dreaming!

The Desert, the Doubts, and the Climb Back Up
The mountain landscape soon gave way to the high desert feels of the Deschutes National Forest and we pushed along the last few miles into Sisters feeling great. A pit stop in town for coffee and food-truck pizza reminded me how quickly the disconnect from society can happen when immersed in nature. I felt like an alien as I saw people going about their days, dressed well without being covered in sweat and not wearing bike helmets. We laid in the grass while Annie went back for her forgotten sunglasses at the coffee shop, and the three of us got a little too relaxed. The day was only only halfway over, and we now had to climb back up 3,000+ feet on tired legs.

As we got back onto the highway, we hit our “inverted diamond” formation, and cranked some tunes on the bluetooth speaker I brought for morale. I will forever associate Chappel Roan’s new single ‘The Giver’ with that moment as the Three Sisters guided us back up the gradual climb to the mountains. Joe was dying for some Abba, and it was cute to see the women we passed smiling and dancing along to the tunes.

The next portion was grueling as we made our way back up the mountain, and I used the elevation stat on my watch as a motivator, knowing that we had to make it up to 5,500 feet. The butterflies were less common now, the bluetooth speaker cutting out as Annie (and her phone) zoomed ahead, and I began to hit the mental wall that I often find while running marathons. It was only the weekend prior that I accomplished a 4k ft elevation ride, and I started to doubt my ability. Having friends there to climb with made it doable though, and the music of Magdalena Bay helped me push through the last section as we got back into the lava fields. We all screamed with joy and devoured our snacks like feral animals once we got back to the Observatory, and felt excited that we only had a few more small hills to go before the fun began again.

Final Descent: Out-of-Body Joy
Then came the final descent: 3,000 feet in 30 minutes. It felt transcendent, like my bike and body were the same entity. Every lean into a curve was euphoric. I became a floating head making judgement calls about blind corners. With so few other riders doing the out-and-back, we had the road to ourselves. That freedom defined the entire experience.

Afterglow: Records Broken and Memories Made
At 74.6 miles, we reached the car, Emma, Annie, and I all breaking our personal distance records. I’d done 55 miles last summer on the Oregon coast, but this ride was in another league. We freshened up and tailgated with hot dogs and beer.

Earlier, someone in Sisters had said they weren’t the athlete they used to be. I asked the group if they felt like athletes. They shook their heads, but I reminded them: we’re definitely not couch potatoes. This ride wasn’t just about accomplishment. It was about awe, Oregon landscapes, joy, butterflies, friendship, and the kind of moments that will stick with us for the rest of our lives.