Spandex, Baby Alpacas, Headwinds, and oh a little fire.

Every Backroads trip begins the same way: standing in a hotel lobby scanning the crowd for fellow travelers in “action pants.” This time, though, it wasn’t zip-off khakis and trail shoes—it was Lycra everywhere. Neon yellow bike jackets, aerodynamic sunglasses, shoes that clicked on tile. I looked down at myself and thought: I am not in the Tour de France. Still, as always, nice people—the kind of folks who believe seeing the world is better done on two wheels. These just happened to look… more professional.

Our guides Sabrina, Olivia (aka Livie) and Lara loaded us in the vans in Bend, Oregon and headed to Smith Rock, birthplace of American sport climbing and the silhouette on every Clif Bar wrapper you’ve ever stuffed in your backpack. There, we met our bikes, adjusted seats, listened to the obligatory “don’t-fall-off” talk, and then set off on our maiden ride: 15 miles to an alpaca farm.

It was a gorgeous ride—if you don’t mind headwinds that felt like Mother Nature herself was leaning on your handlebars. We rolled into Alpaca Country Estates where Nancy, the owner, welcomed us and her 1,500 alpacas. We grabbed lunch and she casually invited us into a pasture with moms and their three-month-old babies. Surreal doesn’t begin to cover it. One of the fellow guests said it just felt AI generated, which totally described it. Later, in the nursery, I got to hold a one-day-old cria (that’s the official word for baby alpacas). Soft, wide-eyed, impossibly fragile—it was like holding a squirmy dark cloud. We stayed close to the mother so both felt comfortable. 

The afternoon brought another 26 miles into the town of Sisters—named after the three peaks looming above. We checked into FivePine Lodge, which is basically summer camp for grown-ups: private cabins with fireplaces, cozy couches, and beds you want to write home about. If you’re ever in this corner of Oregon, stay here.

Dinner was at Rainshadow Organics, a stunning flower-filled farm where the owner passionately described her growing methods while my stomach passionately begged her to pass the bread. The food was fine, but the real star came afterward: stepping into the night sky and spotting the Milky Way with my own eyes. No telescope, no app—just pure starlight. It had been years since I’d seen it, and it was worth every bite of an underwhelming entrée.

Day two began with a 40-mile ride over McKenzie Pass. On the east side of the Cascades it’s drier with ponderosa Pines, but crest the summit and suddenly—bam—lush green forest with Douglas Firs. In between? A lava field. Yes, actual hardened lava. The landscape looked otherworldly: miles of jagged black rock that seemed like it had been poured out yesterday — not 1,500 years ago. 

So now I need to describe the “Rain Shadow” effect which explains why there is such a major change in the Oregon’s climate. This is from Backroads: 

Here’s how it works: Moist air blows in from the Pacific Ocean and travels eastward. The first barrier it encounters is the Coast Range, a relatively modest set of mountains that already causes some air to rise and release rain. But the real wall is farther inland: the towering Cascade Mountains. As air masses climb the west side of the Cascades, they cool rapidly, and the moisture they carry condenses into clouds and rain. This process dumps huge amounts of precipitation on the western slopes—fueling the dense forests and green landscapes that define the Oregon Coast and Willamette Valley. But once the air crests the mountains and begins descending the eastern slope, everything changes. The air warms as it drops in elevation, which reduces its humidity and prevents cloud formation. The result? A dry, sun-drenched region known as the rain shadow.

OK back to biking ….. The climb was steady, the descent was glorious (I love a down hill), and then—mile 32—STOP. Smoke hung in the air. Fire crews were cutting trees, making a break line. For the last stretch, we were escorted by a pace car and rode by about 40 firefighters working against the clock to create a break line. We could see the helicopters go overhead and pour water down. It was surreal. Did not have wildfire on my bingo card! 

We wrapped the day at Belknap Hot Springs Resort, soaking in a 110° mineral pool that felt like a hug from the earth itself. I floated around on a pool noodle chatting with locals while wildflowers leaned over the riverbank. Hard to leave.

Back at FivePine, the true miracle appeared: laundry facilities. If you know me, you know clean clothes bring me joy on a cellular level. I only wish I’d known in advance—I could have packed half the suitcase.

Dinner was casual—pizza at The Barn in downtown Sisters. The pizza was solid, but dessert? Chocolate chip cookies topped with flaky sea salt. Salty, sweet, chewy perfection. Worth every mile in the saddle. Oh and my saddle is sore!