Spencer Paxson, Human Power Generation and The Bike: Loamatosis at Trans Cascadia 2017

An adventure in the woods. Rustic trail. Real fast. Part race, part revelry, part trail stewardship, the Trans Cascadia is all about uncovering ancient trails, creating a valuable resource for those who like to share good times going self-powered through the woods on two wheels. A little inside account of a 5-day journey through the Old Cascades of central Oregon during third annual Trans Cascadia, thanks to the event photographers for capturing the action. Their work used with permission here...

Photo by: Daniel Sharp

A long time ago, before any so-called mountain bikers roamed, a wide web of trail was built in these here hills…the Old Cascade Crest…in a land called now Oregon.

Trails once upon a time meant to move through the forests in order to skirt the flanks of fearsome mountains, to be with the land and to trade things like huckleberries. Later on, to move wagons and pack animals, or to spy forest fires. Eventually, trails just to have trails, to experience nature, and move through the forests.

Photo by: Leslie Kehmeier

Eventually the trails were lost, or forgotten. Signs marking the way had become one with the trees, and the path through the forest was no longer.

Mike Thomas

Until, one day, a party gathered in the woods to uncover these old trails and clear their way through the forest again.

Photo by: Dylan VanWeelden

"Mountain bikers", they were called. These new trail stewards, those who value a certain way of going through the forest. Many came to rebuild, and then the rest came to ride the handiwork.

Photo by: Mike Thomas

Drawn by this: “black gold”, “loam”, as they call it. As champagne powder is to the skier, there is hardly anything more desired by the mountain biker.

Photo by: Mike Thomas

The goods are best when shared, yet kept secret enough. Undisclosed until the night before, queue cards are handed out in camp and studied under headlamp.

Photo by: Mike Thomas

Photo by: Nate Johnson

Like the operators of the old Santiam Wagon Road, the hosts treated their people very well and looked to every detail to make their stay comfortable. Much food is prepped for 100 people spending five nights in the forest. Special ingredients are added to stave off the inevitable loamatosis, which afflicts those who consume lush trail with such gluttony.

Photo by: Nate Johnson

…and after dinner ceremony, neon dance revelry…

Photo by: Mike Thomas

…and after neon dance revelry, neon sleep in the woods ritual…

Photo by: Lyden Trevor

…and come morning, the wheeled stables bring the steeds and their riders out the paved road and on to the primitive trailhead.

Photo by: Chris Hornbeck

The ride begins along an old way through the forest. The trail is barely perceptible through the thick green moss. Walking.

Photo by: Mike Thomas

A delicate balance across the creek to the next path. No pole vaulting required, just bike balancing.

Photo by: Mike Thomas

Eventually out of the thick forest and up into the mid-alpine meadows, kept open long ago for living and hunting, the trail is barely perceptible through the golden grass. Old stone cairns mark the way, and clouds float.

Photo by: Chris Hornbeck

Across misty, huckleberry-strewn ridge tops they go.

Photo by: Leslie Kehmeier

As the descent becomes ever closer, the excitement builds.

Photo by: Mike Thomas

Dropping down through the fiery fall foliage.

Photo by: Dylan VanWeelden

Travelers were obliged by the swiftness of the trail to join in a train of shred. Unlike covered-wagon routes, these trails are as serpentine as possible.