The Oregon Trail Gravel Grinder doesn't just test your legs; it tests your soul. Over stages two and three, our Factory Racing athletes and team members discovered what it truly means to push beyond perceived limits, where the line between triumph and disaster can vanish in an instant of loose gravel and raw determination.

Stage Two: The Portal from Hell to Heaven - Gilchrist to Oakridge

Thirty miles of uninterrupted descent. It sounds like a gift from the gravel gods, but don't be fooled; this stage delivered the kind of punishment that separates pretenders from legends. The Oregon Trail Gravel Grinder's most beloved stage became a proving ground where speed demons danced with disaster at every turn.

The Portal Between Worlds

Picture this: You're grinding through the moonscape of the eastern Cascades, where volcanic lava rocks sit like serrated teeth waiting to devour tires and flesh alike. The air is bone-dry, sucking moisture from your bottles before noon even arrives. Then, like stepping through a portal, you plunge into the humid embrace of Oakridge's pine-shrouded climbs.

Oakridge isn't just another mountain town; it's a mecca for central Oregon's most fearless riders. Every summer, they descend on this place like pilgrims seeking the steepest, rowdiest, most remote singletrack imaginable. But here's the secret that Chad and the Breakaway Promotions team uncovered: the gravel roads that connect all those legendary trails. Built for logging trucks, never dreaming they'd become the stage for elite gravel racing warfare.

When Racing Becomes Community

Cassia started this stage from the sidelines, nursing wounds from a high-speed crash that could have ended everything. The medical team found no fractures, but sometimes the invisible damage runs deeper than X-rays can reveal. With thirty miles of technical descent ahead, wisdom trumped warrior instinct. While her teammates battled for position, Cassia found medicine in the steady rhythm of recovery rides through Oakridge's endless network of forest roads.

The soreness lingered like a shadow, but something else grew stronger: the fire to return. By stage's end, she'd made the decision that would define her race: to rejoin the battle and hunt for stage wins the rest of the week.

Cassius embodied everything pure about gravel racing when the chips were down. Rolling with the lead group up the climb, he witnessed fellow racer Mattia de Marchi hit the deck with devastating force. In that moment, in the middle of nowhere with everything on the line, Cassius made the choice that reminds us why we love this sport: he stopped for a down racer.

This is cycling at its core, community first, even when your own dreams hang in the balance. After ensuring Mattia could continue (before race organizers ultimately pulled him for safety), Cassius emptied his tank trying to bridge back to the leaders. The pace was merciless. His legs screamed. The group disappeared over the next ridge, leaving him to grind out the final miles alone, finishing in the top ten but knowing he'd made the right call.

Matt faced his own demons on the descent. Watching professional mountain bikers and Unbound champion Cameron Jones throwing "kamikaze haymakers powerful enough to send a man to the moon," the San Francisco architect made the veteran's choice: back off ten percent, keep it upright, live to fight another day.

For the second day running, Matt found himself riding forty miles solo through punishing headwinds. No mechanical demons this time, no crashes, just the pure, grinding meditation of one man versus the elements. Another top-ten finish, another day of proving that sometimes the smartest racer is the one who knows when to choose survival over glory.

The Staff Who Live What We Build

This is where our story gets personal. Ryan and Ben aren't just along for the ride; they're living proof that we build bikes for the experiences that matter most.

Ryan started with the long course crew, immediately swept up in a pace that had him hitting 45 mph on the descent alongside Girona's Sergi Romeo. Both riders pushing their Argonaut GR3s to the limit, they arrived at the aid station twenty minutes ahead of schedule, even faster than the pro men's estimated arrival.

The scene was pure gravel racing gold: Sergi immediately grabbed road construction signs and started directing traffic, more for the laughs than any paycheck. They fueled up, caught the wheels of the elite men rolling through, and for a few precious miles, hung on to see how the pros really rip.

When the pace finally shattered their legs, they cruised into camp with grins wider than the Oregon sky. Ryan nicked Sergi in a final sprint, maintaining his lead in the open category, but the real victory was the reminder of why we do this.

Ben orchestrated a masterclass in race tactics, pushing the men's open field through three brutal selections until only four remained for the final descent. Group dynamics became his weapon, pushing the pace when it mattered, sitting in when strategy demanded it.

One final uphill surge stood between him and stage victory. These are the moments that transform bike racing into something transcendent. When the world melts away, when pain becomes power, when you're playing chess while everyone else just spins pedals.

Ben smelled weakness in the group and planned his attack with surgical precision. Using the group to slingshot him forward, he delivered a massive surge over the crest, gaining just enough gap to establish himself as the strongest wheel. The final 500 meters became a battle of pure will, and Ben held on, securing another day in the leader's jersey.

Stage Three: The Oakridge Enduro - Where Mountain Bikes Fear to Tread

Thirty minutes of all-out climbing followed by a rowdy doubletrack rollercoaster into a descent so steep and loose that even mountain bikes would think twice. The Oregon Trail Gravel Grinder's third stage proved that variety truly is the spice of life, and the spice of a five-day stage race.

The Calm Before the Storm

With the two hardest stages still looming (the climb from Oakridge to McKenzie River, then up and over the Cascades back to Bend), the race organizers threw us this curveball of segment racing. It showcased the logistical mastery of Breakaway Promotions: shuttles to avoid busy shipping corridors, multiple timing mats, endless food and drink, and an incredible campsite at Camp Oakridge beside the glacially cold river.

Return of the Warrior

Cassia returned to racing with fire in her eyes and doubt in her wrist. The crash from stage one still haunted her movements, but her cardiovascular engine roared like a caged beast. The climb flew by, her legs and lungs clearly capable of much more than her injured arms could handle.

The descent became a battle of conservation versus ambition. Every rock, every loose corner, every moment of technical challenge became a negotiation with her healing body. Not a podium day, but something more important: proof that she was back, pedaling toward a future limited only by her own courage.

Cassius faced the cruel irony of safety protocols that compromised performance. The shuttle to avoid the dangerous shipping corridor meant a cold start to a thirty-minute power effort, a recipe for injury and race devastation. He rode conservatively up the climb, saving his ammunition for the descent where his GR3 could truly sing.

When the road pitched downward into singletrack, Cassius unleashed everything. The bike came alive beneath him, carving through narrow gaps in the trees, loose-over-hard corners, and chunky terrain that would humble most riders. After three days, he remained in the top ten overall, battered but unbroken.

Matt found his element on the uphill segment, his climbing power earning him a KOM. This is the secret sauce of the GR3: the ability to support massive watts through its incredibly stiff bottom bracket and short, snappy chainstays. But when the descent arrived, the GR3 transformed into something else entirely: a rocket ship guided by its progressive head angle and tire clearance, capable of threading needles and boosting gaps into corners with supernatural precision.

Living the Adventure

Ben continued his reign in the leader's jersey aboard his custom GR3, turning in an uneventful day, sometimes the best kind when you're protecting an overall lead. The stage format served as a quasi-rest day for the full Pioneer distance warriors, tackling 350 miles in five days, with only about an hour of racing on deck.

But Ryan, after not racing since he was on the short course Settler option, always hungry for bonus miles, headed out for what should have been a quick hour-long exploration with support crew Joe and John. Seven miles in, they made the fateful decision to keep climbing a steep gradient gravel road. Every corner promised relief, every break in the trees teased the start of the legendary Alpine Trail descent.

Eighteen miles later, they finally admitted defeat and turned down unmarked doubletrack, hoping to find the trail proper. What followed was six miles of the rowdiest singletrack any of them had ever attempted with drop bars. Three hours after rolling out, they returned to camp dehydrated, thoroughly cooked, and grinning like fools.

This is what experts might call foreshadowing. Some adventures reveal themselves only in the living.

The Season of Speed Awaits

Here's the thing about inspiration: it demands action.

If you've read this far, if these stories of triumph and suffering and pure human determination have stirred something in your chest, then you understand what we build our bikes for. These aren't just frames and components. They're the foundation for your own epic chapters, your own moments of transcendence on gravel roads that lead to places maps can't show you.

But inspiration has a deadline.

In thirty days, the cost of raw materials and components will force us to increase pricing on our Supernaut models. This isn't arbitrary; it's the reality of building bikes that can handle whatever you throw at them. The RM3 and GR3 Supernauts will be available at $18k starting next month.

We still have limited availability at 2024 pricing, but when it's gone, it's gone.

If you've been dreaming about transforming this summer into your season of speed, about finding your own version of what Ben felt cresting that final climb or what Ryan discovered in those unmarked miles above Oakridge, now is the time to act.

Don't sleep on this one. The Oregon Trail taught us that some opportunities don't wait for anyone.