Oregon outback fkt fueled by tater boost
It had been a couple of years thinking about it, the Oregon Outback was calling to me with its beauty. The tales of FKT attempts and the seemingly unbeatable record of 26+ hours echoed in my mind. But this year, I decided it was time to embark on my own journey. Before attempting the FKT, I wanted to intimately know the route, mentally prepare, and plan meticulously. So, I chose the last two weeks of June to pick a couple of days to tour it solo, avoiding the impending heat and fire season. All previous record holders toured it before they set their record.
Coincidentally, I had a work trip in Klamath Falls where the route starts on June 28th. That's when it clicked—I would get my bike camping gear ready, finish my work, and set off on the route the next day. Originally, my plan was a quick two-day bikepacking trip to scout the route. However, the weather looked promising, and my upcoming schedule was brimming with commitments. So, why not go for the FKT attempt? Even if I couldn't finish, I could at least ride to Highway 20 and have friends from Bend pick me up. Legs feel strong, my bike “Jack Black” is tuned up by the Bike Peddler, and I’ve got plenty of Tater Boost. What’s my excuse?!
As for my Jack Black you ask, it is a Specialized Crux Comp. With the help of the Bike Peddler in Salem, OR, Jack Black was upgraded with a combination of Roval Terra CLX EVO wheel set and Pathfinder Pro 700X47 gravel tires, providing optimal traction and control over the demanding terrains encountered along the way. With the Shimano Dura-Ace groupset ensuring seamless shifting and efficient power transfer.
With a goofy plan to minimize stops, knowing the previous record holder Jan Heine had only stopped for 26 minutes total, I set my sights on the challenge. I estimated a 35-minute break knowing I couldn’t be as impressive as Jan, stocked up with around 4500 calories, primarily Tater Boost, and planned stops at Fork Rock, Prineville, and Ashwood. Trackleaders did try to help add me to the GPS map last minute, but my Inreach did not cooperate.
Finally, the day arrived. I woke up at 4 AM, indulged in a hearty breakfast with a cup of coffee and took off at 6 AM. Resisting the temptation to push too hard in the initial long farms section, I conserved my energy for the moments when I would need it most. Along the way, I encountered two locked gates, made quick stops for chain lube, and had unforgettable staring contests with curious cows blocking my path.
Reaching Fork Rock quickly, I made an unexpected decision to keep going, mistakenly believing I was going through Silver Lake. Wait! Did I just cover the first 136 miles that quick! Man that was fast. It wasn't until a mile later that I realized my error. Fortunately, a giant water container near a ranch saved the day. I refilled my hydration bag and bottles and kept going. Few miles later, I discovered my hydration camel bag was leaking the fresh supply I had just acquired. Thoughts of giving up by Highway 20 crept into my mind. But hey, do not give up, you’re doing so good. You still have a bottle and a half of water, let me be very conservative with it.
Twenty minutes later, a dreadful realization struck—I had dropped my water bottle in one of the washboard sections. Now, with almost no water in the scorching afternoon heat and surrounded by nothingness in Deschutes National Forest, I saw a small puddle in the forest. Desperate, I took a cautious sip to wet my whistle, only to stumble upon a group of cows wandering in the forest. How did these cows get here?! I considered calling friends to pick me up from Highway 20, vowing to ride slowly until I found some cell signal closer to it.
One and a half hour later, an incredible stroke of luck! I encountered the forest service folks. Relief washed over me as I drank two liters of water, refilled everything, and they insisted I take some expired energy bars I didn't really need. Eager to continue, I pedaled on and kept looking at my desired average speed like a carrot on a stick. For a mere 10 minutes before stopping again, emptying my stomach and regurgitating most of the water I had just consumed. Was it heat exhaustion or something from the forest puddle? Thoughts of a DNF at Highway 20 resurfaced.
But then I reminded myself that Prineville was just around 60 miles away—I could surely make it there! Crossing Highway 20, battling headwinds and feeling weak, I struggled to stomach any sweet energy bars. My saviors became Tater Boost and gummy bears, my sources of sustenance. I did not even need electrolytes since Tater Boost has plenty of sodium. Somewhere along the Crooked River Highway, I stopped once more, emptying my guts on the side of the road. To my surprise, a kind elderly gentleman stopped to offer me water.
Pressing on, I found Prineville arriving swiftly after the worst moments had passed. Still unable to eat much, I relied on small bites of Tater Boost and gummy bears, washing them down with sips of water. I bypassed Prineville, carrying everything I needed with me. I had already spent more than 40 minutes of stop time and have more than 135 miles to go. The climb after Prineville was quiet, the headwind tapering as night arrived. Then came the descent to Ashwood, where I encountered unexpected water crossings, getting slightly damp but not too cold. Knowing there was a good chance to find a cooler left by a resident in Ashwood, I replenished my water supply with plenty to spare, along with three cans of Coke, leaving some cash behind as gratitude.
The slow climb after Ashwood began, and with less than 80 miles left, and ahead of the record time, riding beneath the glow of an orange moon added a surreal touch to the experience. Morning broke, the wind picking up once more. I mistakenly believed that the steep descent to the Gorge awaited me in the final 30 miles, only to discover that the most grueling, sneaky climbs were draining what little energy I had left. When would it end? But eventually, those last eight miles flew by as I descended rapidly, ultimately completing the journey in 25 hours and 10 minutes, averaging 14.4 miles per hour with stops. This was much better than what I could’ve asked for!
My legs held up reasonably well, but my triceps were screaming from the aero position. Nevertheless, I felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction, grateful for the privilege of such an extraordinary journey. This experience would not have been possible without the kindness of the forest service, the folks at the Bike Peddler, workable weather conditions and of course a bunch of pouches of Tater Boost.
