Singletrack/MTB
Gravel/All-road
Dirt-road Touring
Fat-bike
LaReina Reyes of Arizona finished first on the 300-mile Oregon Timber Trail route option at this year’s grand depart, riding from the California border to Oakridge in just 4 days, 3 hours, and 20 minutes. Find a written reflection and photos from their ride here…
Words and photos by LaReina Reyes (Rei Rey), additional photos by Dave Cavaletto
The journey was epic. I had been playing over logistics in my head for four months. This was the first event I have done outside of my home turf in Arizona. The territory in Southeast and Central Oregon was completely unknown, unfamiliar, and from the research I had done, a daunting task to complete.
It was an 18-hour drive to get to from Flagstaff to Oakridge, followed by a five-hour shuttle drive back down to the race start near Lakeview. Everything lined up. I got to the Airbnb on the night of the 10th and hustled to the Willamette Mountain Mercantile (bike shop in Oakridge) just before Cedar’s, Oregon Territory Outfitters’ shuttle pick-up. A group of us headed southbound.
Things were smooth sailing on the shuttle ride down, and the group made it to a ranch country dinner at the Neon Cowboy in Lakeview. From there, I received a lift to the Deep Creek campground race start location. I was thankful to be able to wake up at the starting line, as one of my steepest learning curves in ultra-racing is learning to unpack and pack quickly and efficiently.
Having found a camp spot, I joined the legends’ table for a brief meet and greet. Alex H, Jonny No Shoes, The Strempkes, Max and Mike (2025 OTTR race directors), Sleepy Bill, Justin Baker, Dave Cavaletto, and I convened around a small picnic table, chatted, and then dispersed throughout the campground for a good night’s rest before race day!
The following day, July 12th at 6 a.m., we took off on the gravel climb at the race start. Leapfrogging with single speeders and tailing Katie, I got into a decent early race flow. It was about two hours in before summiting our first climb that I hit a small snowfield. I incorrectly followed the “path” and ended up out on a steep slope of tremendous tree windfall. It took me a mere 20 minutes to get back on course, but I never caught up with the 700-route pointy end crew. Riders flying by at the top of the ridge, where I had lost sight of the trail, got me back on course. Immediately, I felt my system working harder than an endurance pace as I made my way back on route.
It was subtle foreshadowing of what was to come in the approaching, slow-going miles of the next two days. There would be a steep downhill, followed by windfall, so that the amount of time spent on your bike was a mere moment before dismounting and getting yourself over yet another tree. Even with consideration of copious hike-a-bike, the time frame of three days to go 100 miles debilitated my morale. Nonetheless, I stayed on the course. There were some good cries mixed in with nuggets of scenic magnificence. The theme I struggled with most was to slow down and remain grateful for the experience.
The YouTube videos of those who have challenged themselves on the first 300 miles of the Oregon Timber Trail held true. Between reroutes and windfall, I was delighted when, after mile 154, the trail eased up and became more rideable, and with that, the mosquitoes multiplied! The arduousness of what I have come to call “lift-a-bike” course terrain was escalated by the tiny whine of the blood sucking insects. I learned that head nets are hot, even more so when it’s 96 degrees out. I found it particularly cumbersome to get my water hose into my mouth under the net when I needed fluids. Dehydration was setting in as I stomped on into the night up Yamsay, accompanied by the abundance of thirsty pokey bugs. It was adverse as hell, and again, “slow down” echoed in my head.
On day four, I made it to Chemult, mile 205. There were chicken rolled tacos, rice, and beans waiting for me. The waitress was motherly and sensed my total defeat as I had taken a high-speed crash over the handlebars on my way down Yamsay. Now to call it Wamsey, and she looked at me and said, “You came here from Flagstaff, Arizona? You’re gunna go out there and ride the last 100 miles with your head up high!” It was endearing and exactly what I needed to hear to get up and back out on the route. That day, I rode 90 miles to Jackson Creek campground. There was potable water and a nice flat camping space. The full moon peeked through the deep trees, and the night air was calm. The bugs were not an issue. I slept a solid three hours for the first time.
As we hit the final miles to the finish, the singletrack was popping, and the movement was good. I wouldn’t call it a smooth sail, as it was still slow going, but knowing I’d finish that morning in Oakridge kept my legs and spirit alive. I rolled into the race finish line at Ray’s Market and was astonished to see that I had come in first place among the 300 racers. Mike had been far ahead, but he did not finish for reasons unbeknown to me. My buddy Dave, whom I paced with most of the route, was there to pat me twice on the back at the finish and say, “Good job.”
I am still taking in the experience as it was by far the biggest logistical achievement of my life outside of managing care for a dying parent. I’m so damn proud of myself and thankful for all the support I have from my community. Word has it that the miles beyond Oakridge are glorious, fast-moving singletrack miles. I’m in for the full OTTR next year!
Further Reading
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