What’s the deal with gravel riding?
While preparing for a business trip to Huntsville, Alabama, I researched places to rent a bike. Alabama being a new state, I had to get a ride in. There were a few places in town that looked promising, especially those that rented out mountain bikes. However, what really caught my eye was a place called Southern Carnage, in the little town of Mooresville, which advertised Alabama gravel grinding.
More specifically, they rent gravel bikes. In addition, their website boasted over 30 miles of car free, gravel roads on a nearby wildlife refuge. I called them up to confirm all the details, and quickly decided I would head there.
For those not in the know, gravel grinding is a form of cycling with a recently increasing popularity. Simply put, it is biking on gravel roads, which are generally off the beaten path, through woods and farmland. It aims to bring the best of two cycling worlds, road and mountain, together. There is the car-free, backcountry terrain of mountain biking, coupled with the absence of technical features and cruising capabilities that characterize road biking. In addition, there are special bikes that are suited to this kind of riding, which have most of the features of a road bike but with a thicker tire.
Unbound
There is even a podcast devoted to gravel grinding, called The Gravel Ride Podcast. I’m ashamed to say I’ve only listened to it once, but when I did it was clever and inspiring. The topic of the day was the Dirty Kanza, recently renamed Unbound, which is gravel biking’s equivalent to the Paris-Roubaix. To get into the mind of a gravel grinder, I’ll repost this quote from the Dirty Kanza’s website.
“To be unbound is to be untethered and unrestrained. The term’s pre-12th century origins illicit notions of liberation and escape. Those who are unbound embrace life without limits or restrictions. The word owns many definitions and derivations, but each one ultimately reaches the same finish line.
To be unbound is to be free.”
The advertised sense of freedom is what made me curious about gravel riding. I had to see if there was any flame to the smoke. So, on a morning in Huntsville I set off for Southern Carnage. After a half hour drive I pulled up to the little shop in the countryside, in what is the historic Mooresville downtown. It’s a bit rundown compared to other historic, small towns I’ve been, but it was the right setting for a gravel ride.
Alabama gravel grinding
The friendly shopkeeper hooked me up with all the bells and whistles. I had a real gravel bike, a map, spare tubes, and CO2 cartridges. I was not confident in my ability to fix a flat in the heat of the moment, but the shopkeeper gave me the bailout option to call the shop if I struggled. Then, with his thick Southern accent, he wished me a good ride and I was off for a round of Alabama gravel grinding.
After a couple of blocks on the street I turned onto a gravel road and headed into the refuge. My first impression was, “this is sure bumpy.” There are no shocks on gravel bikes, and I could feel every nook and cranny of the road. My second thought was, “wow, no cars zipping by.” Apart from one car that passed me from the other direction at the beginning of the ride, no other cars passed by the whole day. That is honestly the real beauty of gravel riding.
After passing a field the road headed into the woods. Once in the forest the roads became less gravel and more dirt. I don’t know how the gravel biking community feels about gravel vs dirt, I’d imagine there are some purists out there. Personally, I’d consider them close relatives.
To my left was the backwaters of the Tennessee River. I passed a few people fishing, which seemed like another good way to enjoy the day. The weather was perfect for a ride, sunny and 70s. I gradually adjusted to the bumpiness, and just started cruising along.
There were turtles everywhere. They swam in the water, basked on the shoreline, and hung out on logs. I could never get a good picture of them though because they all dove into the water at the mere sound of my bicycle zooming by. I also nearly ran over a gigantic snake, maybe 7 feet long. That gave me a spook that I am still getting over.
None shall pass
Southern Carnage touts over 30 miles of gravel roads on the refuge, but they send most people on a 20 mile loop. It follows the backwaters until it reaches the Tennessee River, where it makes a turn. There are a couple of gates that block cars from entering the inner reaches of the refuge, ensuring that most of the ride will be car free. However, there are still signs of civilization such as an interstate bridge that crosses overhead.
I encountered one obstacle while riding on Eagle’s Nest Road, which is where the route begins its loop back. Firstly, I questioned whether I was in the right place, considering the road wasn’t very obvious, and covered with a lot of foliage and debris. Then, I hit a big pond. The road was flooded. I thought about continuing through, but unsure if I was in the right place, I turned around and headed back the way I came. Later, back at the shop, I was informed that I could’ve passed through it if I wanted to.
I only saw a few other bikers out there. There were two guys going at a brisk pace, and an older couple enjoying the day on e-bikes. I helped them out with orienting themselves on the map. There were also some workers, or possibly scientists, wading around in the marsh taking some measurements.
I followed the Tennessee River on the return voyage before taking a slightly different route to get back to Southern Carnage. This took me first underneath the Interstate, which was very noisy, and then along a marsh. It finished out in the open on a true gravel road beside a farm field. Being early March, the field was all dirt. Much to my delight, I didn’t get a flat at any point during the day. I did however get covered in gravel dust, which I think is the right look to end my Alabama gravel grinding adventure.
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