THE OUT AND BACK GOING THROUGH CHANGES IDENTITY CRISIS

BY GRAHAM AVERILL

GRAVEL ISN’T SEXY. AT LEAST, not at first glance. You’re just riding bikes on dirt roads. People have been doing that since 1817, which is when some German dude invented the bicycle. And yet, the entire world seems to be obsessed with riding gravel. There are bike shops dedicated almost entirely to the niche. Some of the most exciting advancements in bike tech are happening with gravel rigs. Gravel races have lottery systems where you must win an entry because demand is so high. And I’m right there in the thick of this cultural obsession. I love gravel. I don’t know why I love gravel, but I do, which is causing a bit of an identity crisis, because I’ve always considered myself a mountain biker.

Am I still a mountain biker if I choose to ride gravel all the time? What do I tell people when I meet them at parties? “Hi, my name’s Graham, I enjoy long, arduous climbs in the middle of the woods on wide, dirt roads. I would have previously described these rides as pointless because there’s no promise of a fun singletrack downhill at the end, but now I love them and am confused by that love.”

Is that how my conversations should go from now on? Won’t people think I’m weird?

To the casual observer, preferring to ride gravel over singletrack probably doesn’t seem like an issue. But I’ve identified as a mountain biker for the last 20 years. Mountain biking is what I do. Or did

Riding bikes on singletrack helped me establish my career and has been a defining character trait of my adult persona. Imagine if you’ve been a vegan for two decades and then, suddenly, you just start ordering fried chicken all the time.

The situation I’m in is like that, but with bikes. Just as that friedchicken eater can’t identify as a vegan anymore, I can’t identify as a mountain biker anymore. If I’m being honest with myself, I have to say I ride gravel. But the truly weird thing is I can’t figure out why I’m choosing gravel over singletrack.

The easy answer is that idly pedaling country roads with no traffic and no trail obstacles is a lovely way to spend the afternoon, but I have a suspicion that there’s more to my decision at play here. I think I like gravel because of my age. My kids are teenagers now, and when they do something confusing like ask if they can get a perm (true story), my wife is quick to point out that their awkward decisions are likely just part of the developmental process. They’ll outgrow them and will stop wanting perms. Is it possible that the gravitational pull of gravel is part of my own developmental process? Is my choice to ditch singletrack for safer surfaces just part of some second puberty I’m experiencing? And if so, will I grow out of it?

There’s other evidence to support this theory. Exhibit A: I find myself listening to a lot of Lionel Richie recently, singing along with “Say You, Say Me” when I’m alone in the car. I mean really belting it out, without even a hint of hipster irony. The lyrics speak to me in a way they never have before, which is troubling because I’ve survived almost entirely on a musical diet of grunge, hip-hop, and jam bands up to this point. Easy listening never factored into the equation. And “Say You, Say Me” isn’t even fun, danceable Lionel Richie. It’s pensive, love song Lionel Richie. Nothing says I’m an old man like tearing up while singing “as we go down life’s lonesome highway, seems the hardest thing to do is find a friend or two…” while waiting in the car line to pick up my kids.

Now that I really examine the situation, I see that gravel riding is a lot like Lionel Richie’s music: It’s safe and lovely. I’m not saying gravel riding is easy like Sunday morning. Some dirt roads are ridiculously steep, but compared to gnarly singletrack and aggressive drivers, gravel is the safest choice a cyclist could make. It’s “Three Times a Lady” safe, and the exact kind of riding that someone of my distinguished age should choose.

Jesus, I like soft rock and cruising gravel, am I going to start watching three-hour-long documentaries about WWII warships now? And wearing slippers to the grocery store?

I spent the first half of my life actively trying to kill myself through diet and questionable hobbies. Now that I’m in the second half, the downward slide if you will, I must be in some sort of default preservation mode where I avoid dangerous situations.

I used to avoid gravel like the plague. I would plan massive rides through Pisgah National Forest where a few friends and I would ride for days, camping along the way, pedaling from Asheville to Brevard, and I would painstakingly plot the route to avoid dirt roads as much as possible. To set tires on gravel for more than a couple of miles was considered a failure. But little by little I started adding more gravel into my regular rides, taking singletrack out in the process.

It’s gotten to the point now that many of my rides are exclusively gravel. Maybe I’ll use a piece of singletrack to link two long roads together, if I have to, but the focus of the ride is dirt roads. Do you know how sick that is? To actively avoid singletrack? That’s like saying I’m actively avoiding fun. I’ve actually done versions of my original Pisgah thru-biking route that avoid the singletrack altogether. And God help me, I loved those all-gravel rides. I loved them so much.

I don’t know who I am anymore. Now that I’m a gravel biker, do I have to get a whole new wardrobe? Do I have to start wearing spandex and those little Italian cycling caps? To quote the great Lionel, “I’ve been through so many changes in my life, it’s a wonder I ain’t lose my mind.”

And if this newfound love of gravel is just a developmental phase, what’s the next phase in my second puberty? eBikes? Spin class? Dear God, am I headed towards 6am spin class with a septuagenarian instructor named Phyllis who sets the whole workout to a soft rock soundtrack? Is that where this all ends? And more troubling, why does that 6am spin class with Phyllis sound so appealing to me? People have been telling me for years that I’m going to get older, but they never said I’d actually like it. That I’d welcome the change.

I guess the important thing is I’m still riding bikes, right? Doesn’t matter what kind of bikes. Mountain, gravel, stationary while listening to Lionel Richie sing “Dancing on the Ceiling”…doesn’t matter. The important thing is to keep pedaling. Because I know, I’ve found in biking “my endless love.”

Inside Lines

BY DOUG SCHNITZSPAHN

Orvis

Helios 3F 5# 8'6" rod and Mirage LT II Reel

Meet the perfect setup for stalking the cold mountain streams of the Blue Ridge this spring. The top-performing Helios 3F rod simply casts like butter in tough spots—giving you perfect presentations with small dries as well as the ability to place nymphs just where you need them in fast currents. The light, trusty reel offers the drag you need to catch big fish on minimal gear without overpowering your setup and makes it fun to land small fish on tight streams. $998 rod, $429 reel; orvis.com

Redington X Topo Designs

Fly Fishing Kit 590-6

We are always fans of the fly fishing combo kit as a practical way of getting into the game. It makes sense: You get a rod and reel (plus a few extra goodies) in one package. This kit—a collab between core fishing brand Redington and outdoor apparel hotshots Topo Designs— really delivers with a 9-foot, six-piece, 5-weight rod and reel that’s easy to stash and ideal for backpacking. Top that off with a leader, line, a loaded fly box, hemostat, and tippet and you have everything you need to catch fish. But the real winner is the Topo Designs hip pack made to carry all that gear. $450; farbank.com

Patagonia

Swiftcurrent Wet Wade Wading Pants

All too often, waders are too hot and just too much during a balmy day of fly fishing, but wet wading in shorts can be chilly. The answer is these fast drying, fair-trade-certified recycled nylon pants that give you a bit of protection in the water without all the bulk. $99; patagonia.com

Korkers

River Ops

These burly wading boots are easy to batten down and don’t get waterlogged during a full day of casting, but what we like best is how they can take on a stiff scramble down to the stream. Credit that performance to the OmniTrax sole that grips both wet rocks and the trail. Want something more refined for the stream? Just switch it out to one of Korkers’ specialized felt or sticky soles. A new Boa version secures even faster and easier without the trouble of lacing. $260 ($300 with Boa); korkers.com

Zeal

Sable

Eyewear is the all-too-often forgotten essential when it comes to fly fishing—for both protecting your peepers and to better see the water (and fish). The sleek Sable provides a wrap fit to better protect from errant flies and offers up polarization to cut through water glare. Better still, the plant-based plastic in the frames is easy on the environment. $159; zealoptics.com

Orvis

Women’s PRO Fishing Jacket

Designed with the rigors of casting and rowing in mind, this shell is a godsend when the weather gets rough out on the water. With fully taped seams and built from waterproof/breathable material, it keeps out the wet but it never feels too claustrophobic. Cut for the female form, it’s also a breath of fresh air in a sport where women, who are getting on the water more than ever, are finding more gear made specifically for them instead of having to settle for men’s stuff.

$449; orvis.com

Riversmith/Küat

Quick Release Mounts

Innovative bike rack brand Küat worked with fly rod rack masters Riversmith to make quickrelease flip mounts that make it easy to take that rod carrier on and off when you need it in between other adventures that require rack space. We combine them with the 10-foot, fourinch Riversmith River Quiver ($480) to have our best rod at the ready and protected when we head to the stream. $100; riversmith.com