Skip to content

Evidence

The damage so far

Several years of people making questionable decisions in beautiful places.

Six riders in matching bandanas posing together on a river sandbar at sunset — 2026Friday night, somewhere in the middle of the Wisconsin River.

Nine riders lined up with loaded bikes on a country road beneath the inflatable start arch — 2026Everyone still clean, still optimistic.

A large group of riders and crew crowded together for a photo in a car park — 2026Everybody who took a different way to the same place.

Six riders posing on and around a yellow tractor parked outside a small-town tavern — 2026The tavern had a tractor out front. What were we supposed to do.

Canoes and kayaks pulled up on a wide sandbar with wooded bluffs across the river — 2026The bluffs do most of the work. You just float past them.

Two paddlers in a canoe loaded with dry bags, the one in front taking the photo — 2026Three days of luggage and twenty miles of river.

A paddler throwing a peace sign in front of beached canoes while others wade in the shallows — 2026The standard response to reaching the sandbar.

A single canoe pulled up on an empty sandbar as the light goes — 2026Parked for the night. No reservation needed.

Six riders with their arms around each other under a wooden shelter at dusk — 2026Nobody is going anywhere for a while.

A group of riders sitting round a picnic table under a shelter with drinks — 2026Shade, a bench, and no particular reason to leave.

Two riders leaning on a bar counter in a small-town taproom — 2026Two miles off route. Correct decision.

Two riders standing with their bikes on a paved path, holding drinks and snacks — 2026Refuelling, generously defined.

The bow of an aluminium canoe resting in shallow brown river water beside a red kayak — 2026The Wisconsin River. Browner than you'd like, warmer than you'd expect.

A lone paddler in a loaded canoe on a still, green stretch of river — 2026Somewhere in the middle of a Friday.

A rider standing beside a mountain bike loaded with a dry bag and camping gear — 2026Carrying every single thing himself, and quietly pleased about it.

A red sun setting over a river sandbar with tents pitched along the shore — 2026Your bedroom, and the view from it.

Two riders in loud tropical shirts messing about outside a bar — 2026Costumes: strongly encouraged. Never once regretted.

A rider holding up a tarot card reading take a selfie with a cow, with cows grazing behind — 2026A tarot card, completed. The cow declined to comment.

A group in Lil Drifty caps crowded around a tavern table covered in drinks — 2026The bars along the route are half the point.

Three finishers in feather boas and bandanas posing in the brewery car park — 2026Sunday, Working Draft. Boas were not on the packing list.

A rider standing beside a tent in the woods holding a tarot card — 2026Saturday night is wherever you decide it is.

A rider in a brightly patterned kit grinning with a plate of food and a drink inside a bar — 2026Nobody has ever regretted the mid-ride plate of food.

A rider stopped on a wooded trail blocked by a large fallen tree — 2026Safe-ish.

A rider on a paved trail with a bright pink cape flying out behind them — 2026Cape optional. Aerodynamics also optional.

Two riders in matching feather boas and bandanas posing against a brick wall — 2026Approaching the finish with dignity fully intact.

Close portrait of a rider in a red vest and cap with a scrape on her chin — 2026Not every mile goes exactly to plan.

A rider taking a selfie with two others on loaded bikes behind her on a country road — 2026You'll show up knowing nobody. That lasts about an hour.

A group sitting on a river sandbar at dusk with kayaks pulled up on the sand — 2026The bit people won't shut up about afterwards.

A line of riders on loaded bikes spread across a country road — Token Creek, roughly 7am, roughly organised.

Two riders in cyan helmets laughing with their arms around each other — Before anybody knew what was coming.

A paddler raising their paddle overhead in celebration on the river — Nobody is timing this. It doesn't stop anyone.

Two paddlers in a red canoe loaded with dry bags on the Wisconsin River — Twenty miles of river and no particular hurry.

August 12–15, 2027.

That's a while away, which is exactly enough time to talk yourself into it, and then to talk somebody else into it too.

Grab a spot Keep me posted