TATR TEN 2024

The Adirondack Trail Ride, or TATR, is a bikepacking route that circumnavigates upstate New York's 6-million-acre Adirondack Park. Every September, there's a grand depart that draws dozens of riders looking to ride (and race) the route starting at the same time from Northville, NY. The original, or "OG," route (585 miles with 51,650' of climbing) is long and infamously rugged, with mile after mile of hike-a-bike through chunky boulder fields and marshes, two major river crossings, and bushwhacking through dense forests. 

​This year, as part of the tenth anniversary of the ride, a new "TATR TEN" route was offered.

​This route is slightly longer (618 miles with 44,560' of climbing) but overlaps with the OG route for much of the ride, with the exception of the hike-a-bike sections and river crossings.

​The TEN is intended to be more accessible and inclusive to a wider range of riders looking for challenging gravel but perhaps not the relentless hike-a-biking. 

​I first heard about TATR from a coworker a few months ago, and it resurfaced on my radar after signing up to ride the northern lobe of the Vermont Super 8, another bikepacking race, in late September. ​​

Both routes start and end in Northville, NY (the yellow dot) and circumnavigate the park in a clockwise direction.

Roughly 3 days before the start of TATR, I submitted my intent to ride the new TATR TEN route. "The perfect shakeout ride for the Super 8," I thought to myself (ha). This would also be my very first bikepacking ultra-endurance race, though my goal was simply to finish the route rather than compete. 

​After car troubles thwarted my attempt to arrive in Northville the night before the grand depart, I questioned whether or not I'd even make it to the event. Fortunately, I was able to borrow my partner's car and made it to the starting line on Friday morning with time to spare. Before lining up for a group picture, I met and talked with a handful of other riders, including the other two women riding the TEN.

Phase 1: Northville > Moose River Plains
141 miles | 9,823' | 11:34:40
​Strava: TATR10 phase 1

After Mikey, one of the event organizers and a TATR veteran, shared some words of wisdom and stoke, we departed as a group at 8:10am. Just minutes into the neutral roll-out, we passed a local elementary school where students and teachers had gathered on both sides of the road to cheer us on. This was an incredibly sweet surprise send-off, and probably the closest I’ll ever come to feeling like a pro cyclist. 

As we left the pavement behind, the road transitioned from smooth dirt to a rocky 4x4 track, and I began to seriously question my decision to embark on this 600+ mile endeavor on 3 days' notice. Each rutted descent rattled my brain and my handlebar bag, and I found myself leapfrogging two other riders until we hit pavement again.
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I rode alone for a while, grateful to be back on smooth ground, until just before noon when I caught up to the leaders of the TEN group, James G. and Matt. I think they were as surprised to see me as I was to catch up to them at the crest of a long, sunny climb. It was already early afternoon by the time we reached the Stratford Trailside Deli for lunch. 

The neutral roll out of Northville.

After lunch, I rode alongside James G. until we reconvened with Matt near Speculator. By the late afternoon, I realized that what had started as some minor groin chafing had become heinously uncomfortable. We detoured into Speculator, the last town with a substantial market, to procure some rash cream. 

Unfortunately, the town was about a mile off route and down a giant hill that we'd need to climb back up. In retrospect, if I hadn't needed to stop, we could have just refilled our water at a spring on the route right before the turn-off and waited another few miles to resupply. 

A pizza feast (ice cream indulgences not pictured).

Around 7:30pm, the three of us arrived in Indian Lake, ravenous for a proper meal. This was only my second Stewart’s experience (the first being earlier this summer while bikepacking the VTXL), and it did not disappoint.

​We feasted on a "supreme" pizza while charging our phones and chatting with a funny older man who was enjoying some ice cream. After getting some of our own, we continued down the road toward our first potential sleep option, a cemetery that Matt had scoped out on a previous TATR ride. 

We decided to push a little further to Moose River Plains, a recreation area with several campsites off a dirt road roughly 20 miles beyond Indian Lake. This would set us up well for a breakfast stop in Inlet, and around midnight, we ended up at a lovely stream-side campsite where we rinsed off and slept for ~4 hours. ​

Phase 2: Moose River Plains > Tooley Pond
​147 miles | 8,555' | 12:46:45
Strava: TATR10 phase 2

When my alarm went off at 4:30am, I felt shockingly well-rested (albeit a bit chilly), and we started moving by 5:20 to begin our approach to Inlet. As we made our way along the winding dirt roads through Moose River, all I could think about was how much of a game-changer it was to be riding with a dynamo light setup. *

* Just 36 hours before leaving home, my friend, Meg, asked if I wanted to borrow her 650b wheelset with a generator hub. Not only were the wheels fitted with cushy but fast-rolling 2” tires, but I wouldn’t have to worry about keeping a front light charged for the entire journey. Biggest shout-out to Meg for the wheels and for being one of the raddest and most hilarious, loving, and dream-chasing shredders I know. xoxo.  

We rolled along into the dawn, and the early morning light filtered softly through the dense fog hanging over the marshes surrounding us on both sides of the road. We descended into Inlet dripping with condensation and stopped at the first gas station we saw, which just so happened to be the same one Ben and I stopped at briefly on our first day of paddling the Northern Forest Canoe Trail. This time around, we got coffee, breakfast sandwiches, fresh donuts, and snacks to fuel us for the next several hours. 

We rode through downtown Inlet and saw two of the leaders of the OG route in the lakefront park area where they had set up camp for a few early-morning hours of rest. We continued out of town on an ATV/multi-use path and passed a sign for the historic Raquette Lake railroad. After crossing some active railroad tracks, the path turned into a slightly chunkier dirt road, and our group spread out a bit over the next few hours. 

Matt, James G., and I reconvened shortly before detouring slightly for a lunch stop at a farm store near Belfort. We had hoped they'd have more lunch food, but we made do with soda, fresh plums, and some pumpkin spice trail mix before continuing on. We rode out of the corn fields and soon found ourselves back in the woods. My mood declined precipitously as we climbed what felt like endless loose gravel hills, but eventually we made it to the Oswegatchie Educational Center where we encountered some stellar trail magic: hot showers, coffee, and WiFi at a lodge on a beautiful lake in the middle of the woods. 

We took our time recharging and basking in the amenities as if we'd been riding for weeks rather than just over 24 hours, but we knew we had to keep moving at some point. We thanked our host and continued on toward Harrisville where we stopped at a Stewart's. Outside, we snacked and talked to a friendly cyclist who mountain bikes in the area and was interested in our setups. 

As the shadows grew longer, we pushed on toward Star Lake. Not far beyond Harrisville, we forded a flooded marsh area where the road was submerged under a foot or two of water. Our feet were wet but our spirits were high as we crossed over more railroad tracks and descended some picturesque roads in the golden hour light, and we hopped on Route 3 just as it was getting dark. 

When the road goes underwater, keep going.

Caesar salad from a bag or box reigns supreme.

Close to Star Lake, the route directed us to turn sharply off the main road onto a trail that we simply could not find. As we stood in the dark trying to figure out the best way forward, a man came down his driveway and asked if we were okay. He told us there wasn't a trail behind his house that goes anywhere (where the route supposedly went). We asked about taking the next closest road that would put us back on the route, and he strongly discouraged us from attempting it due to the "steep hill" and the "rednecks and bears" around there. 

At the intersection of the possible cutover, we found ourselves at a crossroads. Our trio was divided over trying the re-route and sticking to the busy but reliable main road. After a good bit of deliberation, we ended up investigating the re-route (which did end up being a somewhat significant climb, but there were no redneck or bear encounters), and we were rewarded with a buttery-smooth, freshly-paved descent into Star Lake where we ate salad, pizza, and other snacks at a Circle K and scoped out our camp options for the night. 

Similar to the night before (but significantly later in the evening), we decided to continue on toward Tooley Pond where there appeared to be a trailhead and potential campsite. The ~20 miles to Tooley were relatively flat but felt endless, and I felt pretty unsettled by the dark, silent houses we passed along the way. We arrived at Tooley after midnight and passed out for a few hours of sleep. ​

Phase 3: Tooley Pond > Wilmington
136 miles | 8,343' | 12:37:19
Strava: TATR10 phase 3

​We woke up around 4am and indulged in some 7-flavor oatmeal to kick off the morning, giving me an excuse to use my stove and pot while shedding some food weight. If TATR taught me anything, it's that bringing a pot, stove, mug, and dehydrated food (along with a tent instead of a bivy, good gawd) for an ultra race was quite the rookie move and very much not #ultralight. 

While we ate, James G. declared that he thought we could finish the ride in 4 days. I told him I thought that was absolutely bonkers but that I would try to keep up as long as I could. 

A quick self-timer before the final climb to Hopkinton.

We packed up our bikes and rolled out into the dark, ripping a nearly 6-mile descent as the sky began to fade into dawn. At the bottom of the hill, we turned off onto a trail, entering a nearly 15-mile section of intense doubletrack featuring loose gravel headwalls, chunky descents, deep sand, and biting pricker bushes.

​James G. and I found ourselves ahead of Matt as we tackled the trail one obstacle at a time, and when we finally popped out on Route 56, it felt like we had spent an entire day's worth of energy in the first 20 miles. 

Smooth, rolling paved and dirt roads brought us all the way to Hopkinton. I’d been manifesting some onion rings for the last day or so, and my dreams came true at the local convenience store. I also introduced James G. to cucumber-lime Gatorade (the best flavor) and chugged a Dunkin iced coffee like a proper Masshole. ​​

While we feasted, we chatted with James R. (an OG rider) who was also stopping there for a break. Notably, he offered us a travel-size toothbrush that happened to come with some toothpaste he'd bought. We all politely declined. In retrospect, keeping a toothbrush close at hand is an absolutely pro move considering all the sugary, high-carb foods I'm constantly coating my teeth with during these long rides. 

Feeling fueled up and amped to keep rolling, I rode solo while bumping some tunes for the next few hours between Hopkinton and the next dirt section leading toward Paul Smith's. While at the store in Hopkinton, a woman had mentioned that we’d pass a spring a few miles down the dirt road. By the time I reconvened with James G., he was out of water and I was approaching empty by the time we found it, many miles after we'd completely lost hope of passing it. 

The miles of quiet forest roads to Paul Smith's were gorgeous but slow, interspersed with stretches of deep sand to keep us on our toes. When we arrived in town, we knew it was highly unlikely we’d make it to Wilmington before the establishments there closed. We decided to take a long break to charge our devices and split a sandwich, potato chips (the flavors of the day, which had traveled all the way from Circle K, were grilled hot dog and cheesy garlic bread flavors), and an iced coffee from a vending machine inside the gym where we’d parked ourselves. 

​As we continued out of town toward Wilmington, we followed a scenic ATV/multi-use trail following power lines for several miles. Just as it was getting dark, the spindly wire mount resembling a paper clip that I had been using to mount the dynamo light to my handlebars snapped in half. I thought I was 100% screwed, but I was able to strap the light body to my normal light mount, which ended up being significantly more secure than what had previously been holding it together. 

While I was finagling the light situation, James R. zipped past us. Looking back on my TATR experience, I was probably checking Trackleaders (the “dot watching” platform used to track riders’ positions along the routes) a few times a day, but it was always a fun surprise to leapfrog with riders who you were convinced were already ahead or behind you. 

As the darkness settled in, we made our way through the Franklin Falls-Union Falls Pond area, another NFCT-TATR crossover point, and zigzagged our way up a steeeeep paved headwall. At the top, we threw on every layer we had before rolling down the luxuriously long, evenly-graded road into Wilmington. By the time we arrived in town around 10:30pm, not a single store was open and the town was eerily silent. We stopped at a gas station where we refilled water at an outside spigot and charged our devices. 

I had just started boiling water for chili (maybe bringing a stove, pot, and dehydrated food wasn’t a terrible idea?) when James R. showed up once again. A few minutes after his arrival, a car blazed past us, followed closely by a half dozen police cars all going at least 60mph down the quiet main street. We were all pretty shaken up by the chase, grateful to have been off the road by mere minutes. 

The three of us proceeded to yap for nearly an hour while James shuffled around his gear and ate a granola bar. James G. and I decided we needed to take a nap before pushing ahead, and we investigated the ballpark around the block as per James R.'s recommendation, as he recalled there being a dugout which would make a quaint shelter. Instead, to our awe, there was a covered picnic area and four unlocked, heated bathrooms where we slept on the bathroom floor and dried out our gear for ~2 hours before waking up at 3am to continue riding. 

Phase 4: Wilmington > Northville
191 miles | 17,844' | 20:12:02
Strava: TATR10 phase 4

​When we rolled out around 3am, the ballpark and nearby hills were illuminated by the glow of the nearly-full moon. We encountered some smooth, swoopy singletrack on the way out of town and made our way east toward Jay. Another paved climb rivaled the steepness of the hill on our way to Wilmington, and my right knee wasn’t exactly having the time of its life. ​

Sunrise on the Jay Mountain approach.

Rewarded with a smooth descent.

As we hit a more gradual dirt section of the climb toward Jay Mountain, we passed none other than James R. who had stopped briefly for a rest just off the road. James G. and I continued on. Just before dawn, we hit a blockade across the road where a bridge was out. We followed tire tracks imprinted in the dewy grass leading down to the river where I fumbled to cross and quickly gave up on trying to keep my feet dry. 

Soon after the crossing, we encountered a cooler on the side of the road marked “trail magic.” Inside the cooler, a kind neighbor had left several dozen small apples making for a fun 6am snack. The sun was just beginning to filter through the trees as I pushed my bike up the final loose gravel headwall, and we began our long descent on the chundery track (which looked more like a streambed than a road at times) toward Lewis. 

​We were now entering James G.’s home turf, and we took a delightful pit stop at a farm stand that had a stunning array of baked and canned goods. We housed an entire bag of peanut butter oatmeal chocolate chip coconut cookies, hopeful that this would be enough to get me to Westport for a more substantial breakfast stop. In retrospect, 'twas not. ​

Re-packing bikes and pawning off recovery drink mix on unsuspecting townspeople.

The morning miles to the shore of Lake Champlain were beautiful but mostly a blur. James G. pointed out friends’ farms and houses, and I wished I’d been able to take more of it in instead of pouring all of my energy and focus into putting down one pedal at a time. 

​By the time we rolled into Westport, I had just enough brain power to buy some bagels, a block of cream cheese, and coffee at a cafe where we sat down with James R. and another rider. 

I was in a stupor for most of the conversation, but I remember laughing so hard my stomach started to hurt (something about different types of vegans). James R. and I departed town slightly before James G. was ready to leave, and we rode together for the next few hours while talking about urban planning and paddling trips. ​

Our next stop in North Hudson was one I’d been looking forward to for the last day or so: Frontier Town Gateway, specifically the samosas at an Indian restaurant inside a rest station. Boy, did it deliver. Samosas, a coconut ice cream bar, and a Red Bull hit the spot for a late-afternoon snack. From there, James G. and I continued riding together into the golden hour sunlight, tackling a long but gradual paved climb right out of town. As we descended the s-curves after cresting the hill, we almost missed our turn off the main paved road onto an overgrown forest service road.  

The light was starting to fade as we questioned if we were in the right place, but the track on my bike computer pointed straight into the woods. 

​For the next ~2 miles, we hiked our bikes along a densely forested track, navigating over and under at least a dozen tangled blowdowns and curtains of thick brush as we plodded along at a slow but steady pace. It was fully dark by the time we popped back out on the highway and continued on toward North Creek. 

After riding on a freshly-paved but nearly silent highway for several miles, we arrived at our next (and final!) Stewart’s resupply of the journey. As we sat under the fluorescent lights, slightly disappointed that we’d missed our opportunity to order a whole pizza, we realized we’d been awake for nearly 24 hours. At the stroke of midnight, the friendly Stewart’s staff locked the doors, and we were on our way. ​

An abundantly obvious and meticulously-maintained trail.

With 60 miles remaining, we continued on in a sleep-deprived, adrenaline-fueled haze. Between midnight and dawn, we cycled through periods of silence and stretches of deep conversation under the nearly-full moon. Sometime around 3am, we stopped for a power nap on the side of a 4x4 road. I set an alarm for 10 minutes, and James managed to catch a few winks while I lay on the ground in fear that if I dozed off at that moment, I’d almost definitely sleep through my alarm. Power naps are high on my list of skills to refine in the coming year. 

As James emerged from his brief slumber, I housed a peanut butter chocolate rice crispy bar that had been kicking around in my feed bag since the Circle K in Star Lake. Hands-down one of the most delicious baked goods I’ve ever eaten, definitely not just the circumstances. A bit before dawn, we rode through a field lined with signs that pointed to trail magic, but I couldn’t quite tell how far off the road they led and wanted to keep moving. 

Just before the sun came up, James needed to stop, but I was so cold and determined to keep my momentum that I kept moving, knowing he’d catch me within few minutes. At the top of the next hill, I put on every layer I’d packed but in the most chaotic order courtesy of my limited executive function: baselayer under sun shirt under windbreaker topped off with my down jacket. I also decided in that moment that if I didn’t consume some caffeine, I’d probably fall asleep on my bike, so I pounded a mini can of Coke that I’d been saving (“for an emergency,” whatever that means) since Westport. 

The sun rose behind me as I forged ahead toward Northville, realizing that if all went smoothly, I could make it to the finish in just under 4 days. It really wasn’t until this point that what had started as a ride felt like the start of a race against the clock. As the minutes ticked away, my brain was quiet and it felt like I was floating above my bike rather than pushing the pedals. The miles to the finish were soul-crushing, and I laughed out loud to myself as I approached one hill that looked like a vertical wall. To this day, I don’t know how I managed to stay on my bike instead of pushing it up Yates Hill Road. 

The last section of dirt before the finish was the most fitting ending I could imagine, walking my bike around blowdowns and snaking my way down a washed-out streambed. As I rolled into Northville roughly 10 minutes before 8am, I was surprised and delighted to see Adin, the first OG finisher, along with one of the event organizers and a woman rider who’d crashed on the first day and had to scratch. 

The first 3 finishers! (2 TATR TEN and 1 OG)

Less than 10 minutes later, James G. rolled through while on FaceTime with his son. I was overjoyed and overwhelmed to have been met at the finish line by such a wonderful crowd, and I definitely couldn’t process what had just happened or that we were the first TATR TEN finishers. 
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​We’d just spent nearly 96 hours riding our bikes fueled by gas station food, almost zero sleep, and what felt like a bottomless supply of stoke and gratitude for each other’s support and willingness to take a leap of faith into the unknown world of bikepacking ultra-racing. ​

Friends don’t let friends do dumb things alone, and I think our journey was proof of that and then some. Endless gratitude for the TATR organizers and community for this beautiful, biting, relentless experience and to the kind, generous people I met along the way. ​