Events: Farmer’s Daughter Gravel Grinder 2026
All photos are courtesy of William Nguyen. A very special thanks is in order to him for providing these photographs. You can find his Instagram account here.
For a cycling day that lasted roughly fifteen hours, the key move happened in the first hour. With a fully loaded team car, I headed north to the town of Chatham, NY, at four in the morning for the 2026 edition of the Farmer’s Daughter Gravel Grinder. Named after Chatham Brewing’s Farmer’s Daughter Rye IPA, the metric century ride is unique in its stature. It features sixty-two miles along with sixty-two-hundred feet (1,900 m) of climbing. It also features sixty percent unpaved roads and hosts two trail segments making a gravel or cross the bike the minimum rig choice for the terrain.
It was that first hour, where I added a massive packet of electrolytes to the steel water bottle that was the key move. Little did I expect the finish line to be 94 degrees (34 C). Without sipping electrolytes, and without a strong application of sunscreen, I would have been part of the carnage I witnessed on course. The registrants around me in the morning - there were more than 1,000 preregistered - would reappear in various forms later in the day.
Registration was a breeze. Having moved through the Columbia County Fairgrounds quickly, I had plenty of time to dress the gravel part, affix the number plate with my name on it, and stash the nutrition in the top tube bag and jersey pocket. The outgoing mechanics even gave a quick barrel adjustment to give the rear derailleur the coaxing necessary for the course ahead. Then it was over to the Farmer’s Daughter arch where all one thousand of us were let loose into New York farm country and its unique gravel roads.
Some of the starters were able to race the train through Chatham, NY. Photo courtesy of William Nguyen.
It only took two miles precisely to hit the first unpaved surface. At the aptly named junction of Rock City, the course broke away from itself and sent us north. The opening four miles would be covered again for the finish. The first fifteen miles were a breeze due to the minimal elevation. Having studied the profile for weeks prior, I knew the heavy stuff occupied the back 75% of the course. There was hardly a sense of comfort knowing vertical miles were the only way back to Chatham. The gravel was firm and golden. It had numerous potholes which few in the group pointed out. A handful of times I went along for a ride atop a bucking bike due to the divots. For the most part, the gravel roads were hardly stony affairs. These were polished roads, many reflecting the morning’s light, and - later - the intense sun beams of the afternoon.
It was also at mile fifteen where the first aid station appeared at S&S Farm Brewery. Their selling point was French toast squares with maple syrup.This delicious sweet treat fell between French toast and coffee cake. And speaking of coffee, the volunteer under the tent proclaimed iced coffee was available. There would be no hot coffee today, he said, on account of the heat. Bikes were everywhere, evident that participants insisted on stopping here for refills. I, too, refilled bottles and added Untapped drink mix to keep the day on a positive trajectory. Volunteers warned of the immediate gravel descent after the farm was steep and newly graveled. Caution was heeded after enjoying French toast and coffee at some farm miles away from the nearest town.
At mile 26 came a course split. The Farmer’s Granddaughter's short route continued straight. We had freshly finished the first major climb of the day when the long route plunged into the woods after the picturesque meadow bordering Meizinger Lake. A lone kayaker stood out in their red boat against the deep blue water. The foreground’s tall grass shimmered in the breeze. I took delight in hearing the marshal usher the long route riders onto a hiking path where the unique segment began.
The New York gravel consisted of lush green flanking bright dirt roads. Photo courtesy of William Nguyen.
Immediately a rider in front of me dumped it off to the side of the trail. The goal here was to stay upright, to be one with the bike. Here is where the cyclocross skills came in handy. Each rock was identified as a potential side wall ripper. Each root was labeled as a slippery obstacle. Even the greasy mud - and there was enough mud to be challenging - made attempts at taking me from the bike. There was a downhill turn that likely saw a few riders pitch over the side if they got it wrong. Meanwhile, the close passage to the lakeshore created a brief calm to the experience. The pine trees huffed in the same breeze swaying the grass a mile back. Even the trail’s expectations took a break before the second half came into play. Wooden plank bridges guided the route over streams. Storming our way through the second half gave way to a grassy meadow. I found myself saying how beautiful the view was before realizing the second rest stop had come up quickly.
Like the first rest stop, the second was inundated by participants. Hosted by Bountiful Breads, the sandwiches were absolutely enticing. The tomato, mozzarella, pesto sandwich lifted the overheated spirits. I waited in line for water but ditched it on account of the line’s length. I missed out on the small cans of Coca-Cola and regretted it. A slight unease came over me due to the empty water bottle and fifteen intense miles ahead of climbing efforts, but I had to keep going.
Riders hoofed it over three hard climbs as the temperatures also climbed. The gravel continued to be intriguing. It was wild to be on unpaved roads for such a length of time. There were even gravel intersections featuring stop signs. Meanwhile shade was a blessing. Eastern white pines lined several of the gravel roads, their tall trunks devoid of branches. The tufts at the top worked together to create a natural umbrella as the Farmer’s Daughter riders abandoned the telemetry on the bike computer and began studying the relentless profile.
Later in the event, when the temperature climbed, shade became important. Photo courtesy of William Nguyen.
A volunteer flagged me down for the third rest stop at mile 45. Located at Spacious Skies Campgrounds, and after we returned from the short visit into Massachusetts, things were clearly dire here. I eagerly filled both bottles. The highest point of the course was slowly approaching. The heat was at its most relentless and climbing. A participant was overheard commenting, “I don’t remember [Farmer’s Daughter] being this unfriendly.” Perhaps it was the desire to finish off the course. Maybe riders were on their last match. One thing I did notice on course is people all around me had gotten real quiet since the previous rest stop. I sat in the pavilion, happy to be out of the sunshine for a spell. But I had to get back at it and finish off the biggest climb of the day.
Shortly after the rest stop, a familiar directive for the long route to plunge into the woods via a hiking trail appeared. This result would be different. The initial gravel path into Beebe Hill Multiuse Area shot straight up. It was steep, broken rock and gravel with a deep drainage ditch down the middle. Even under perfect conditions it would be unlikely to ride it. Sure enough, after catching the front wheel on a stone just off the main trail, I unclipped. The bike was being taken for a walk. After the initial section leveled off, the rig was remounted and, near Chance of Thunder lean-to, the route hit its highest elevation at 1700 feet. I had summited the uphill trail section.
Most people would assume the Farmer’s Daughter route would be a rip-roaring descent back to Chatham after rolling off the highest climb. But with more than a thousand feet of climbing remaining, willpower became essential. The heat made things more difficult as the carnage became hard to ignore. Every climb. Every single climb a rider cramped up, awkwardly pulled off the course, and held the offending leg at right angles. They all grabbed the stiffened leg while throwing the head back and gritting teeth. One rider had stopped under an overpass and proclaimed he was cooling off. I felt good, but the day was catching up to me. It was in the waning moments that the electrolytes I had sipped the entire drive were making the difference. Those ten miles after the peak elevation were some of the hardest of the day.
The infrequent times the Farmer’s Daughter used pavement. Photo courtesy of William Nguyen.
I managed to get within sight of a small group on the approach to the finish. One rider with the new hunter green Pedal Mafia kit was caked in salt. I told him he won the award for saltiest kit and he responded that a lot of riders told him that. We medium-paced it into the archway of the Columbia County Fairgrounds where he promptly rode away from me. Then the distinct sound of a rider sprinting atop squishy gravel tires could be heard as another finisher came around me. I could not believe I had completed the Farmer’s Daughter Gravel Grinder for 2026.
I rolled back to the car to a varied scene. One finisher was lying in the grassy shade of his car. His buddy tried to joke with him, but he told him tersely to stop talking. The car next to me had already departed, having likely finished the shorter route. One person inquired how I did before relaying that he had to be driven back to the start on account of cramps. Other finishers were sitting in their cars with the AC on full blast. I changed, remounted the bike, and headed to event control where the Tri-Village Rotary Club was cooking up some flavorful taco ingredients. Chatham Brewing was serving up the complimentary beer for all finishers over 21.
Having spent enough time in the sun, I settled into a small grassy spot near the finish. The breeze felt nice. The shade did its job. I watched as the local mountain bike team offered bike washing to raise money. More than the bikes, riders were asking to be hosed down from top to bottom. As was my style during the Farmer’s Daughter, I sat off to the side taking the entire scene in. Everywhere people seemed to know ten other people. The finish is where they reunited to pick up those on-course conversation starters. Farmer’s Daughter appeared to be more than just an event; it was a yearly meeting spot for cyclists to complete and proclaim, “Same time next year?”
I went into Farmer’s Daughter to seek out new experiences in a cycling event. New roads. New rest stops. New participants. I came away with an appreciation for everything about the Farmer’s Daughter. It might sound like I was an outsider with no link to the event, but the day dropped hints to say I was one of them. From the group recalling their muddy Battenkill experience the week before, or the three finishers sporting Tour of the Catskills tshirts, to the two guys parked next to me talking about Formula One and the Indy 500, I realized I was just as much a part of this event as those hugging ride kicks at mile fifty. But the lasting feeling was the volunteer at the third aid station who called out my name and encouraged me to pull it in for water. For a brief second I thought, “How did she know my name?” I remembered it was on the number plate hanging from my handlebars. Yet for a brief second, on the approach to the highest point of the Farmer’s Daughter course, amidst the hottest part of the day, I considered that maybe, just maybe, she actually knew me personally.
