Would I recommend Rasputitsa to a friend? MAYBE. Is this the hardest thing I’ve ever done? No. In Closingĭid we accomplish something significant? Yes. We wanted to rinse off our bikes, but the line was long and our sweat was starting to freeze so we rode back to our accommodations for a hot shower and then getting dinner. When we finally rolled over the finish line, no one was cheering a handful of volunteers were standing around talking to each other. Perhaps another day I would have loved it. Someone might say that is part of the charm I won’t die on this hill. I didn’t love dragging my bike through the thick mud while trying to keep my shoes on my feet when I’m within 2 miles of the finish. Believe me, I really enjoy challenging conditions and perk up when the road tilts skyward. I get it” – the thick mud at the end of the ride felt casually unnecessary.

The thick mud at the start was like “of course. I decided to keep riding and hope I didn’t feel worse.)

When I asked a volunteer if there was a way to get back to the start, the only vehicle designated as a potential option was at the next aid station with no plan to come back to the first aid station. ( I was not feeling well due to aforementioned stress-induced GI issues I almost didn’t ride but decided I could always make a decision at the first rest stop. For $160 registration fee, I expected more options – even if I was in the last quarter of the riders out on course. The rest stop fare selection was meager – water, maple syrup, and potato chips. We got checked in very quickly, but no further information given about where the expo booths were located.

When we showed up to get our bike plates and drop off non-perishable goods for a community donation, it wasn’t acknowledged we put our stuff down on the table while the volunteers chatted behind the table. The event felt like a hollow husk of what Rasputitsa is known for. If I’m being super honest, I didn’t get the party vibe. We paused to take a swig of a Coke, eat some fruit Newtons, chat with the homeowner, and pet his adorable, wiggly dogs before continuing up the mountain. A mile or so into the climb featured an unexpected aid station and the Grounded Nebraska hype squad. Quite possibly, my absolute favorite part of the ride was the 4-mile climb up a logging road. This day could go any way weather-wise we prayed the sun would make an appearance and we would finish before the rain was expected in the afternoon. The morning of the ride, Karen and I sat in the living room of the cottage we rented and stared at the snow falling outside. My biggest concern going into the day was if I would feel well enough to eat enough food to support the effort this ride would require. Unfortunately, I’ve been dealing with some severe anxiety issues rooted in unprocessed grief and stress that blossomed into physical manifestations. A few friends also registered so I was looking forward to a great day on the bike.

With 2024 seeing the 10th anniversary of the event and a return to Jay Peak, I finally decided to register and test my legs against Vermont Gravel in mud season. Photos and hype reels from past events show a party atmosphere and plenty of party-pace riders enjoying post-ride fire pits, a beverage, and some hot food.Ī friend did Rasputitsa a few years back and reported it was an incredibly challenging route, especially Cyberia, but was fun overall. Their signature Cyberia section has humbled many a rider, with either deep snow or mud depending on how the spring thaw is going. Originally hosted at Jay Peak, the event moved to Burke Mountain for several years and experienced tremendous growth as gravel took off and riders kept looking for events that were ever more bonkers. Rasputitsa is an iconic Northeast spring classic in all the best ways: ridiculous route, unpredictable weather, and conditions that might be amazing but just as easily might bring you to your knees.

Plush bar and grill bessemer