Events UnPAved 2026
Dave Pryor, event coordinator for UnPAved, sent out emails full of jubilation weeks prior to the gravel event that claimed, “Easy on the eyes, hard on the legs.” I became somewhat of a meteorologist with the long range forecast in an attempt to get the kit correct for the 120-mile route I was attempting on October 11th in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania. Pryor’s jubilation even hit me when I checked the forecast every time I had a break at work. Things were falling into place! I had restocked my Untapped supply. The bike was ready. But eventually things turned very dark.
Back in the spring, Eric (we all remember Eric, right?) texted me his confirmation entry for UnPAved Pierogi pace 120-mile ride. Not to be outdone, I hastened to sign up and send him the same screenshot back. Having added UnPAved to the Big A## Calendar on the office wall felt far away in my mind. Months from now, I would need to worry about this event. Soon Eric texted updates that an AirBnB was booked in Lewisburg. Suddenly UnPAved came into the long-range forecast. Out of nowhere I needed to consider packing. And speaking of ‘out of nowhere,’ something huge was brewing beyond all of our control.
UnPAved of the Susquehanna River Valley is a premier gravel event in central Pennsylvania. In fact, central PA is gaining recognition as a destination for gravel riders looking for dozens of miles of unpaved roads designated “IPA gravel".” Our route, the 120-mile event, featured nearly 80% unpaved roads. With distances and designations like that, it’s hard to make do with a road bike sporting wide tires. UnPAved is the playground for gravel rigs. And for those really into gravel events, UnPAved offers the Big Lick 200 which departed the night Eric and I arrived in Lewisburg. Big Lick riders had until 8pm the next day to finish their exploration of central PA involving 124 miles of unpaved roads and 17,000 feet of climbing. No wonder it’s also called “Ultra” or “XL” or “WOAH.” Citing bike light longevity and my sudden fear of seeing a sasquatch, I did not upgrade my Full 120 entry. Or maybe I should have, considering what was heading toward Pennsylvania.
Feeling smug about whether I would sport sleeves for UnPAved, Eric and I exchanged texts of optimism a fortnight before the event. A little rain in the forecast the day before reinforced my belief that the Big Lick was not the right call. The forecast claimed clear weather before UnPAved, a little rain near the weekend, then beautiful days after UnPAved. “They just threw that in for funsies,” I thought to myself. That is, until Tropical Storm Isaiah took shape in the Gulf of Mexico. I updated my thoughts to, “What are the chances….?” UnPAved is hard. I can’t imagine what it’s like amidst the remnants of a tropical storm.
The path of the storm as it was predicted days out.
Sure enough, the forecast got very dark. Per the prediction, remnants of Tropical Storm Isaiah would hit central Pennsylvania starting at 4 am the day of UnPAved and continue through to midnight. For two weeks the forecast was clear and perfect. The only blemish, a massive one mind you, parked itself at the precise time window of UnPAved. Eric and I scrambled to update our cycling attire from cool and dry to cold and downright swamped.
We entered the Susquehanna River Valley by car towards sunset the day before the event. UnPAved famously takes over the historic Campus Theatre in downtown Lewisburg. Dave Pryor set up several viewings of bike films as well as the standard pre-ride briefing. Having checked into our AirBnb, Eric and I rode to the Campus Theatre and caught up with friends in the golden glow of the theater’s common area. The smell of popcorn invited us further into the festivities as we shopped the merchandise table. Once we departed the theater, we gathered dinner and prepped our bikes for the unique experience awaiting us after our sleep. Eric confirmed he would use his Showers Pass rain pants by cutting the tags off them. I let him look at the Sockeloen Del Crosso shoe covers, my only answer for heavy precipitation. With the starting line two blocks away, the bikes were left ready to mount in the morning. We went to bed hoping the storm would magically blow off course by morning.
I didn’t wake to my alarm. It was the heavy rain drops pounding the bedroom window that preceded my 5:30 am wakeup call. “It’s just a bad dream,” I thought and tried to go back to sleep. Once the alarm went off, I grabbed breakfast using the Lauf spork provided in the swag bag and checked the forecast one last time. Rain for twelve hours. A half hour of stretching. Kitting up for a bit. Mounting the bikes, Eric and I rolled unceremoniously to the start. We were going to get wet, why bother fighting it?
Under the UnPAved banner, our lights casting beams and blinks, we started our UnPAved experience. Straight down the Buffalo Valley Rail Trail, I pondered what state we would be in the next time we were on this stretch. The flat path felt normal and dependable. The right turn onto Skunk Hollow Road came almost as a shock. The fact it went modestly uphill went so far as to offend me a bit. Then I remembered that 10,000 feet of climbing awaited me in hills and ridges obscured by low swirling clouds and misty fog.
UnPAved set itself apart from my two other gravel events in 2026. The Great North and Farmers Daughter gravel events featured intimidating climbs near the end. UnPAved featured a category two climb at mile fourteen, right as we entered The Hook Natural Area. The famous Jones Mountain segment is a four-mile gravel climb that collects 1,300 feet of climbing. At the top, riders can expect a vista that looks back on the starting town of Lewisburg on a normal day. During UnPAved, participants could sample Backyard Beans cold brew coffee for an early miles pick-me-up. Needless to say, only one was enjoyed; the vista was more of the rain clouds, just up close. Having collected my Jones Mountain sticker, we then sloughed off 600 feet in a wily descent that would send us into the next climb. We were expected to experience seventeen notable climbs on the 120-mile route.
The exciting part of the route sent us into Bald Eagle State Forest. Years ago, CNN cited Bald Eagle State Forest as one of the few locations in the 48 states where the Milky Way Galaxy can be seen with the naked eye. Verifying its remoteness, the route felt removed from the world. There were tunnels of trees for hours on end. The treetops whirled with tropical storm force while the ground level was still. Creeks flowed aggressively alongside the gravel throughways. Park rangers, who seemed to materialize out of the woods, kept a close eye on participants. I had started to fall off Eric’s pace and set myself to looking for camp sites that I had heard about. All that was observed were random gravel roads going into the distance. Some had swing gates preventing vehicular access. Streams of rainwater twisted down the gravel lanes.
The gravel conditions through the state forests. Photo courtesy of alex.will.land on Instagram, who competed in the Big Lick 200.
My old nemesis inserted itself into my UnPAved effort. Unsure if the cold and wet conditions brought the lack of appetite, I started to struggle with taking in calories. The hydration pack offered water that I forced. The water bottles were full of Untapped Gingeraid, free of the caffeine that left me struggling in the prep ride weeks prior. I squeezed a handful of Untapped Maple syrup from a flask. Even at rest stops I forced food into me, but for some reason I couldn’t encourage myself to slow the caloric deficit. At one point Eric demanded I not only eat more, but to add Pepto Bismol tablets to improve food intake. Those miles between 40 and 50 miles felt like forever.
My unprofessional pace continued to spiral downward. Eric kindly waited atop every hill, regardless of its percentage. Even small climbs destroyed me. I internalized that I was letting him down and that he should not be subjected to my unthreading. His 120-mile ride was jeopardized by my inability to slay even the smallest hillock. Another concerning idea crossed my mind at one point. Experience told me things were worse off than I thought. I almost suggested I lay down in the woods, that Eric could come back for me after he crossed the Poe Paddy rest stop and successfully descended the technical Longwell Draft Road. The last time I made this suggestion, I was in similar conditions on a mountain bike ride. At that time I was bonking. Throughout my struggles I had realized my blinking rear light had expired. I empathized with its struggles.
We pulled into The Ranch rest stop at mile 63. It was the final gut punch. By this point we hardly spotted other riders. Not only were we halfway through the course, but the volunteers stated we technically missed the cutoff by twenty minutes. We could continue, but the next cutoff at Poe Paddy would be unlikely. Perhaps a drop of adrenaline got me back on the bike, perhaps it was not wanting to deprive Eric of a full distance, or maybe the Coca-Cola encouraged me to get back out there, I tried to collect all that was left to make it to the next stop. Eric was waiting longer at hilltops. He was pedaling slowly more often. I was letting him down. I tried to rev my thoughts by saying 120 miles is an emotional roller coaster, and this is a low point. I had gotten myself out of these dark places before, which made the next major decision difficult for me.
The Pennsylvania state forests were beautiful despite the conditions. Photo courtesy of alex.will.land on Instagram, who competed in the Big Lick 200.
On the UnPAved map, the marker is called Attitude Adjustment Opportunity, and it is located at mile 75. Poe Paddy was only five miles away. I was trying to be positive until mile 80 where Eric said the climbs relented. It was at this wooded gravel intersection that an UnPAved volunteer in a car stopped us. He said we could continue, but we would be coming back in the dark. Eric asked me what to do. He sportingly told me to consider my condition and the road ahead to make the decision. I thought, “We came for 120 miles, we should do 120 miles.” My emotions said to get in the car and call it quits. I got emotional as I honestly told Eric I had nothing left, that we should omit the Longwell Draft Road we wanted to experience, and take the “easy” way out. I couldn’t say it to his face, so I looked off into the woods, my eyes welling with tears. It would be the first time I would not be able to get myself out of a dark time. Surely this wasn’t harder than all those other rides I never pulled the plug on.
Along the connector to the Plenty 97 route felt like we were discharged from the woods. We went from wooded gravel roads to civilized houses with sporadic trees to farm fields and paved roads carrying traffic. I really wanted to take a pull to show I wasn’t a weak link, but every riser brought me down. I felt little salvation as we searched for the Buffalo Valley Rail Trail and, ultimately, the finish banner. The rain still beat down on us. I genuinely had concern motorists would not see us in the driving precipitation and shiny roads. I also wondered what they thought of seeing two cyclists out in these conditions.
Almost nine hours of moving time and 107 miles later, we approached the finish arch cheered on by a handful of enthusiastic supporters. A photographer snapped away a finisher shot. We were given a choice of a finisher cup and whoopie pie. I went with the red velvet before I realized they had double peanut butter. We decided to ride back to the AirBnb a block away, shower, and return for the finisher meal at the Lewisburg YMCA. It was the best barbecue pulled pork and macaroni and cheese ever. Outside, finishers still rolled in. Likely people who were encouraged to take a shorter route but were more stubborn than the weather. “That should have been us,” I would think when I heard the gaggle of finish line volunteers shout out encouragement. We found speed in our meal and headed back to the accommodations. There was no suggestion of staying up late. Sopping wet kit was arranged thoughtfully. The bikes were in a sad state. The washer and dryer came in clutch after our cycling gear was rinsed out. We passed out shortly afterwards. Nearly 1.5 inches of rain fell during our UnPAved.
Heading home the next morning, of course the roads would be dry and the sun brightly shining. Cold air had moved in; autumn was everywhere. Reluctantly I asked Eric if an UnPAved 2027 was on his mind. I can never let a failed attempt stick the next year, especially one where I was directly responsible for its failure. It took a large amount of time to unpack the items from his truck before we officially ended our UnPAved weekend. The township felt crowded after having been in the wilderness for two days.
Dave Pryor hosts an incredible event. From the theater takeover to the 200-mile Big Lick all the way down to the Rail 40 distance, UnPAved is like no other cycling event around. It isn’t often I check websites for refreshes of event sway like I do for UnPAved. (They were out of Pierogies, the name of our distance, tshirts at the Campus Theatre.) Is it possible for creakybottombracket.com representatives to return to the Susquehanna Valley in 2027? Possibly. At one rest stop a volunteer said, “It rained four years ago, then we had perfect weather since.” With a Tropical Storm passing through on race day, I would hope, after the remnants of a tropical storm, future UnPAved events get perfect weather for the next decade.
