Road Holes 200: Around Washington on $200 Bikes

The Road Holes 200 is an unconventional challenge that seeks to find out if a ragtag group of $200 bikes and their riders can pedal 200 rough-and-tumble miles around Washington. In this piece, creator Alder Threlkeld reflects on his merry group of friends finding the limits of more than just their budget builds. Read it here…

Photos by Connor Azzarello , Emmet Sheehan , and Dominik Haja.

The whole thing is about as chaotic as you might imagine. Planning to ride 200 miles on bikes we found on the used market for no more than $200 was the kind of foolishness we’d become accustomed to. We, “Road Holes,” as we like to call ourselves, had already done so a year prior. However, similarly stupid and random events of our own creation had long since defined where and how we rode our bikes. To give some insight into the complex calculus behind our newest venture, Road Holes 200, hereto referred to as “RH200,” we figured $100 bikes would be too sketchy to ride 100 miles while also surmising that few would commit to a king’s ransom of a $300 bike and 300 miles. In the end, $200 and 200 miles hit the sweet spot of solid but not life-altering financial commitment while still biting off more than we could reasonably chew.

Learning from the disappointment of the year prior, I added a stipulation for the fairweather friends we all have. To curb the high sign-up but low attendance of year one, I required a $20 donation to the Evergreen Mountain Bike Alliance so potential participants had some skin in the game. Even those who bailed would be making a positive impact in doing so.

  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200

Leading the charge as our resident route master, Machiko Threlkeld, also known as my mom, devised something slightly less devious than our inaugural expedition. It cut off a few thousand feet from year one at a paltry 192 miles and 12,000 feet of elevation gain. Looping in at the gathering place of many a Road Holes endeavor, R+E Cycles, the new route managed to avoid most of what was on offer from the year prior. After all, Machiko isn’t one for repeating routes.

Day One

Twelve brave riders took on the RH200 challenge in 2024, a motley crew that somehow included two tandems, one of which was piloted by me and my girlfriend, Soha Kawtharani. Though the rules stipulated that a rider’s steed be no more than $200, folks were welcome to use their own bikepacking bags, saddles, and pedals to keep the budget-conscious suffering to a minimum. After all, we’re not masochists. With a plan to split the 200 miles up across two days, we took off from R+E and ventured northwest, away from the bustling metropolis of Seattle.

  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200

With limited time on our rigs before the start of the ride, the first ten miles served as something of a shake-down. Rolling north of Seattle’s University District, we tested out which bags were rubbing most and whether or not gears were actually working—y’know, your typical first-ride bugs. As colorful bags that exceeded the cost of the frames they were strapped to glistened in the late Seattle summer light, I thought about the people who ended up here. For one, it’s an exceedingly hard ride to train for since no one wanted to push the already-spent lifespan of the bikes we found on Facebook Marketplace, Craigslist, and the like. In fact, most of these formerly solid rigs were being pedaled by their new riders for the very first time. While that might sound like a bit of a death trap, my anxiety around people’s safety was calmed a little for year two. The process of joining the crew for RH200 had become a lot more stringent since the first time. Asking for priors and previously held experience, it was more like an interview than an event sign-up.

Making up the poor man’s peloton was a hodgepodge of odd contraptions. A couple of old Trek mountain bikes, a Specialized Rockhopper, a Fuji Thrill, Burley and Univega tandems, an Orbea Mini Velo, a Gary Fisher, a Cannondale Headshok, and a Kona longtail cargo bike. Miraculously, the Cannondale Headshok and Kona both completed last year’s RH200, albeit under different riders. Surely, it’s a testament to the ingenuity of their design. All the models present seemed to be forgotten classics often overlooked by folks looking to get into cycling today. Some were methodically put together to stay within budget, while others were closer to bone stock with minor alterations through the touch points to make the journey a little less painful.

Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200

Routing us through the portal-like neighborhoods that dot Seattle’s greater boroughs, some of Machiko’s favorites were on display. Old haunts like Heart Attack Hil and the Tolt Pipeline trail sought to test the mettle of even the nicest bikes, let alone one found and assembled for a mere $200. The screaming descents, paired with a few lung-busting classics, made for a memorable, if not harrowing, start to the second annual RH200.

Given we weren’t racing and misery loves company, we stuck together as a large, loud, and clunky group. Within it was a never-ending stream of conversation, laughter, and tales of adventures past. The sun beamed down and made an idyllic setting even more picturesque. Though she’d created the route, my mom surprised us as we exited a particularly fun portion of Seattle singletrack. Prepared with sandwiches loaded up with your typical fixings, assorted fresh veggies, and cheese, it was the send-off from the city we would need to endure the rest of the grueling journey.

Our first big test outside the city was Lord Hill, a familiar death knell that broke many riders on our first RH200. This time, however, we climbed the paved northern side of the hill to hit the singletrack on the descent. To add to that sense of peril, it was my girlfriend Soha’s first time on a tandem. After hastily transferring her saddle and pedals the night before, she reluctantly entrusted me to steer us to safety on—among other sketchy parts—$7 knobbies I got in the closeout bin at a bike shop. Shrieking and laughing down the descent is a memory we cherish to this day.

  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200

The road twisted and turned for another 20 miles as we meandered into the nearby city of Sultan at sunset. With a not-so-quick gas station refuel, we gave our sore behinds a break and hit our final stretch of riding before nightfall. The last climb to camp splintered the group as the light disappeared from the horizon. The dark, serpentine roads led to a campsite crowded with cars, where we were once again greeted by Machiko. It was warm and well-lit with string lights, a stark and welcome difference from last year’s wet, primitive camp. As is becoming tradition, we recounted our experiences throughout the day over food and more than a few laughs. Passing around a bag of chips and a dip made by my mom, we shared in it all. From the lows of the day to the baby wipes we tried to clean ourselves with.

Day Two

The night was hot and sticky, but the exhaustion made it pass relatively quickly. In the early morning hours, the campsite started to stir with the lazy clinking and clanking of a groggy start. Somehow, there was a palpable sense of enthusiasm about the final leg of the trip. That said, our $200 bikes started sharing some of the physical burden with our bodies. In an attempt to save poor Soha’s backside, I switched saddles with her to try and mitigate the bumps and bruises from the rough roads ahead.

The mileage for day two started with a long climb. Though the heat wasn’t as oppressive as the day before, the humidity did not subside. Taking our first stop at Sultan Bakery was as much about eating as it was simply taking a well-deserved break. Alas, where bread leavened, so did the wheat separate from the chaff. With some unwilling to continue, the remaining crew had shrunk to just five bikes and six riders: Rudy, Emmet, Connor, Dom, Soha, and me.

Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200

With some breakfast in our stomachs, we took to the last real bit of gravel before civilization, a 10-mile, 1,000-foot rolling climb, followed by an equally long descent, where we experienced our first mechanical of this year’s RH200. Addressing a flat caused by a thorn, Emmet made quick work of changing the tube and continued, only to pinch flat again later down the same road. It must be said, however, by that point in last year’s trip—I’d already had three flats, ground down to a concerningly thin brake pad, and a stripped headset lock nut, which required me to tighten my headset by hand every 10 minutes. Beyond the flat and some wheel adjustment at camp the night before, this was a pretty flawless run.

Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200

Of course, I’d spoken a bit too soon. At our second food stop, my friend and fellow Road Hole, Connor Azzarello, complained about how bad his shifting had gotten. I didn’t think anything of it since it had been stubborn for more or less the whole trip. But, at Small Fryes—the burger joint where we’d stopped—I noticed a large amount of crank spindle was visible between the crank arm and bottom bracket of his two-piece XT cranks. I leaned the bike back up against the wall, only to see the non-drive side crank hit the ground with an almost cartoonish “thud!” He’d lost his plastic compression bolt, and the pinch bolts had worked their way loose. Given we only had 35 miles left, I figured I would just slam the crank back on the spindle, torque it to Shimano’s recommended rating, and crank the pinch bolts to a spec I called “as hard as I can with a multi-tool.” This ingenious take on roadside mechanic-ing lasted about a tenth of a mile before his crank came off again, this time still stuck to his cleat.

There was no way the crank would stay on without the plastic compression bolt, and the crank was too old of a model to have the plastic safety pinhole on the spindle. Riding through a rural area of eastern Washington on a Sunday evening, our options for supplies were limited. I thought maybe a champagne cork, since its flared end would keep the crank on, or perhaps a wine cork with a wood screw and a piece of wood—anything to get us to the end. The obvious choice was a bolt and nut that was about eight inches to span the length of the spindle and hold it together, but where would we find that out there on a Sunday?

Suddenly, a young man came up and asked if we needed anything. I briefed him on our mechanical predicament, listing some common household items that might remedy the issue. He stopped me and asked, “What about an eight-inch bolt?” After doing a couple of laps back and forth to his warehouse to test, fit, and then cut a three-quarter-inch rod. Eventually, we bolted it down with two big nuts. Incredibly, it was the kind of fix that worked well enough that you never end up actually swapping it out for the proper solution.

  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200

Connor’s crank malfunction delayed us, so we rode the remaining 30 miles in the dark. The roads became all the more familiar, and as taller buildings replaced the tall trees, we felt a sense of ease wash over us. Riding up the hill back to the shop brought relief that the ride had ended and sadness that the fun adventure was now over.

Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200
  • Road Holes 200

Parting Thoughts

Looking back, I’m not sure what the ultimate goal for this ride series was. I’ve always said you can ride anything, anywhere. For better or worse, RH200 proved that. It’s not what you’re riding; it’s how you ride it.

Nothing here was state of the art. Nothing about the bikes we chose indicated they could even be ridden so hard and for so long. But they fared just fine. It made me think about how far you could go armed solely with a sense of conviction, something that rolls forward, and a willingness to be the engine you wish to be. RH200 will now, unfortunately, be retired, but many unlikely, stupid, and life-changing journeys are yet to come for me and my fellow Road Holes—that much is certain.

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