Nicole Maniez was the first woman to finish this year’s Endless Mountains 430 in Pennsylvania, completing the 430-mile route in 4 days and 9 hours. Find her day-by-day recap, takeaways from her ride, and a collection of race photos here…

Words by Nicole Maniez, photos by Denny Pry

For me, a multi-day, challenging bike packing route starts about six months before the grand depart. I like that about it. I need to plan a lot and also train. For half a year, I can think about the adventure that is coming up. I need to get all my gear in check, modify my bike for the course, train, and figure out my resupply and daily routes. All of these things take time and will surely change over the months as I reassess my needs and what I want to do. It feels grounding to have a place for my mind to return to and a goal to focus on over many months.

Getting to the start line is the first big win. Just getting there shows you have luck on your side. Illness, transportation issues, bike problems, family stuff, work… so many things that can get in the way of that early morning start. I camped the night before with about 20 other folks at the airport about two miles from the start. The next morning, a thick fog made it hard to get to downtown Towanda for the Endless Mountains Gravel Grand Depart. At 6:30 am, with a crew of bike- and nature-loving weirdos, I was ready to start pedaling! The group was a great mix: someone with a trailer on their bike, a sandals guy, and tightly kitted FKT (Fastest Known Time) peeps ranging in age from 20-something to late 60s. Our motley crew was ready to roll out.

Day One: 75 miles, 7,800′ elevation

Within the first 10 miles, we hit a wall of a hill, and in some ways, that may have been my worst climb. I didn’t like it. We were still in a pack, and navigating around folks and making room for others to pass added to the steep, treacherous climb. That first hard effort, though short, was the wake-up call that this ride was gonna be gnarly. It was also turning into a beautiful morning. At each vista, huge skies, mountain ranges, and puffy clouds filled the view. NEPA, as Northeast Pennsylvania is called, is magical.

That first day had perfectly spaced stops, with some Trail Magic around mile 45, to keep us well fed and hydrated. I got husky kisses from a dog and was feeling great. By this point, we had some climbs and hike-a-bikes under our cycling shorts, and I was settling into the fun descents and the suffering. The descent into Canton through Tioga Forest was especially beautiful. I arrived at mile 75 in Canton around 4:30 p.m., at what seemed like a famed Trail Magic stop. Moody clouds were starting to take over the sky, and the Trail Angels encouraged us to check the weather. I was sure I was gonna keep going. I wanted to make it to mile 105 to camp. That was my plan! I was feeling good. I could do this. But then I looked at the radar and saw a huge storm cell that no one could avoid.

You can camp at the Trail Magic shop in Canton, and a good handful of folks were doing just that. We had a chance for chitchat and camaraderie and realized that for most of us, our pace was sub-10 mph, which many of us didn’t expect. We realized this ride was gonna take longer than we had thought. Hopefully we all had Plan B and C ready, because Plan A was stuck at this rest stop.

The Trail Magic in Canton had showers, indoor space, and also a cooler of beer. Tempting as that was, I opted for one of two rooms available at the Park Hotel just a block away instead. It was great to be inside that night as the rain poured down. I thought about the folks who had pushed on and hoped they were doing ok.

Day Two: 109 miles, 10,230′ elevation

The next morning, I left around 7 a.m., trying to avoid the morning rain as it moved out. The hike-a-bike climb out of Canton was hellish, and I was super glad I didn’t try it the night before in the rain. I would have been pissed. Instead, I was well-rested and ready-ish for the new challenges of the day. I was learning that a nasty ascent meant a long descent, and I got one as I bombed down through the forest past lots of roadside campsites. At the bottom of the descent near Bear Wallow Pond on Bear Wallow Rd, there was a pavilion and latrine. This would be a good place to camp, especially if you bring a water filter.

I made it to Hillsgrove in the mist and stopped at the McCarty Mercantile around mile 100 for a cinnamon bun and some resupply. I ran into Pat there, who I had been leapfrogging with the day before. We both planned this trip as a 50th birthday present to ourselves. Great minds think alike?

I hit Eagles Mere around mile 115. There were a few places to stop, but I kept moving, and the sun was starting to peek out. I hit a trail section as I left town. It starts nice and ends up a rocky mud fest. Once I squeaked out the end, I needed to clean and lube my chain a bit. It was also a great time to reapply the butt butter, which I recommend doing a few times a day. Everything appreciates some lube.

Next, the trail entered the forest. Loyalsock and Worlds End are both so beautiful. There was a lot of climbing and a lot of beauty. I resupplied around mile 125 at the Sunoco. Although it added three miles to my day, I wanted to make sure I was fully hydrated because I wasn’t planning to stop again until Ricketts Glen at mile 164. With my pockets full of food and my bottles full of fluids, it was just forest, forest, forest, and lots of deep breathing as I inhaled that deep green air to keep my mind steady through the climbs.

As I cruised into Jamison City, another bikepacker called to tell me that I was going the wrong way. My Garmin was having tiny freak-outs here and there, and I was super grateful that one of my new bike buddies, Ed, called out to catch me before I went the wrong way. Ed was scarfing down some hot fries and gravy. It looked good, but I had pockets full of meat sticks and chocolate bars. I ran into the bar where he was posted up to fill up my water bottles. The Doors were playing through the speakers, and the bar looked so cozy, filled with a bunch of kind-looking folks. Another bikepacker was at the bar, and he was spent. He was deciding whether to stop for the day and finish his 250 course the next day. Seemed like a great choice to me. He was in a nice little oasis.

I pushed on, knowing a “hard” climb was just around the corner. It was up a “road” that was through more forest, following a creek. It was picturesque, with some people getting off the bike to hike, look at the trees, mud, and leaves, and listen to the creek flowing. There were climbs everywhere, so knowing a “hard” one was coming up meant less. I knew it was about 1,000 feet of climbing every 10 miles, but some of that 1,000 feet was kind of flowy, and some was wall. It was hard to know what you were getting into, so it was best to accept you might be suffering at any time.

Popping off that hill, it was descent time, and highway time, too. It was time to pedal and feel some speed. Because I filled up my bottles in Jamison, I cruised by the cheering Trail Angels around mile 164 at Ricketts Glen, with my eyes on camping at Pigtail Farm at mile 181. It was getting dark, so I put on my lights and was excited for my first bit of night riding. It was a chill-ish ride to my destination, but I started seeing lightning in the distance. Was it going to rain again? Just as I pulled up to the Trail Magic camp spot, the raindrops started to fall. The Trail Angels gave me an indoor space to rest my weary head, and I was at the height of gratitude to be out of the rain and inside with super hospitable folks! I woke around 2 am to hear more rain, and another wave of gratitude washed over me.

Day Three: 97 miles, 9,500′ elevation

I rolled out around 6 a.m. and said goodbye to the barn cats, who supervised me as I loaded my gear onto my bike. Trail Magic was scattered about to keep me hydrated, and I found a banana in a cooler and felt happy, grateful again for the folks who took part in the ride and cheered us on with supplies and kindness.

I got into Tunkhannock and eyed the retro Pizza Hut, but I didn’t want to sit down too long, so I made a note to return here with friends for the full experience. While I was in town, I made a campsite reservation at Shore Forest Campground. I was so happy to arrive at Hop Bottom at mile 272 around 6 p.m., so I could set up camp and rest a bit before dark.

There was a 0.7-mile hike-a-bike to get to the campsite. I was happy to be almost at my destination, so the hike was dandy for me. When you pull into the driveway, a sign says “You Made It!” It was a Monday night in September, and the campground was empty. I loved it. I camped by a little lake, took a hot shower, ate a weird melange of canned sardines, Chex mix, and cheese, and went to bed.

Day Four: 90 miles, 8,222′ elevation

I rolled out around 6 a.m., lights on and layered up. It was cold! I hoped for a good climb to warm me up, but nothing did. Around 8 a.m., the sun started shining, and I stopped and took my toes out to thaw. I saw about 5 sunrises as I kept dipping up and down valleys. Some cows mooed as I climbed up a long slope in the mist.

I heard I could make up time on the Rail Trail and looked forward to a different pace. Before I could reach the trail, though, I hit “the possibly hardest climb” at mile 289. I hiked up that mountain like a champ. Hiking next to your bike isn’t so bad. It’s a chance to let your body stretch and get the blood flowing back to your feet. On this climb, I didn’t have to sing the “my legs are pistons” song because I wasn’t pedaling at three miles per hour up a hill. I was just out for a little hike with my bike.

The reward for that climb was arriving at Cable’s General Store, where great folks welcome you and good food is in abundance. I ate, drank, filled my pockets with treats, and headed onto the Rail Trail. The Rail Trail starts nicely groomed and then has real identity issues as it turns into mud bowls and rock gardens. If you are lucky, the Earth Movers see you and wave you on. There is a switchback section that feels like a possible Thelma and Louise situation if you don’t realize it’s coming. I wouldn’t want to approach it in the dark! I put on some tunes for the first time on the trip to keep me company and enjoyed the tedium of almost flat riding.

I think there must have been some trail magic because I continued until New Milford, when I stopped at the local bike shop. I needed some lube. When I walked in, it was like stepping back in time. I found what I was looking for, then spotted the jersey rack, which looked like it had some fun, old stock. I left the store with a full leopard print Trashy Cat kit circa 2015, made in Italy. I have a soft spot for old bike shops with old stock that keep doing their thing, despite the challenges of online markets and changing business landscapes.

Rain was again in the forecast, so I made an online reservation at the Rosemont Inn B+B, just off the course in Montrose. I knew I was getting close and was excited to arrive before dark again and grab some hot food in town. As I was doing the climbs up into Montrose, Lorenzo, a local young cyclist, met me. He had been watching everyone’s dots and helped out some of the fast guys on Sunday night when it was raining, and they had nowhere to stay. I hadn’t seen a cyclist since day two, so it was a nice surprise and a good distraction from the climbing. We rode and chatted for a few miles, and then he peeled off. I watched longingly as he sped off while I slogged on.

A few little towny trails led into Montrose, and I was ecstatic to arrive at the beautiful B+B. The folks who ran it were super nice and accommodating. They put a breakfast of granola, hard-boiled eggs, fruit, and nuts in the fridge for my early morning departure. I showered and realized my hardcore idea that I must camp while bikepacking had been completely demolished, and staying in the Great Indoors at night may not be so bad.

Day Five: 75 miles, 7,287′ elevation

I woke to the rain and suited up in my rain pants and jacket. Easier to put it on now than later. I was excited; just 75 miles to the finish. I got this!

My naive enthusiasm was quickly dampened when I met the most challenging part of the course yet. The rain was constant, and the course was so slow going. The rain made the gravel sketchy on the descents (were there any?) and the climbs were a slog. It took me almost 5 hours to ride 28 miles from Montrose to LeRaysville. I later learned that my Colombian friends broke a rear derailleur on this section, just 45 miles from the finish. I can totally see how it could happen. I felt like this section might eat my bike, and my soul, too. Before I even got to LeRaysville, my drivetrain sounded so chonked out that I stopped and pulled out my toothbrush to clean my chain and derailleur.

I made it to the Dandy at mile 388 and was bewildered. It took me a bit to figure out my next steps. Eat. Drink. Change out of completely soaked clothes and put on dirty, smelly, dry clothing. Once I managed those things, I looked at the clock. At this pace, I would arrive back in Towanda at midnight, not at 4 p.m. as I hoped.

I was mad. Not sure at what. But it was the first time on the course that I felt mad in my whole body. It took until day five. A tiny part of me could see this was actually a win.

Luckily for me, the course changed from mud walls to flowing climbs, and the sun started to peek out. I didn’t get rained on again. The media crew met me about 30 miles from the finish. I teared up when I saw them. I couldn’t quite express why. I was relieved and happy and proud and exhausted. I was gonna make it back. It was gonna happen, even if it took a few more hours.

Some takeaways from my ride:

It’s gonna take longer than you think. Give yourself an extra day or two, just in case. About 22 people started the 430, and I think about 13 finished. A lot of folks dropped to the 250 miler so they could finish in the shorter time they had allotted. My Plan A was to ride it in four days. I ended up out there for five days. I was the first woman in, and the sixth person overall, riding at an average speed of under 10 miles per hour and getting a good sleep every night!

I wish I had a 1x with a big pie plate in the rear. I had 2x 52/30T upfront with 10-36T in the rear. I wish I had 45mm tires. I had 40mm. They were okay. I also had an almost slick rear tire, which got little traction when climbing on loose or wet gravel. The weather report changed from great every day to rain every day and 10 degrees colder overnight. Bring rain gear. Bring arm warmers or enough layers for weather you don’t expect.

There was no cell service most of the ride. When I stopped in town, I could get on Wi-Fi at the Dandys to try to make reservations for places to stay. I called my husband to make them too because somehow I could call him but not the local places. Next time, I may go slower and stop at more places. I want to return to check out the bar in Jamison, the bar in Hillsgrove, Camp Bluestone, Arlo’s Country Store, lie in the grass at more vistas, and hike around the forests.

Maybe I like staying inside. Maybe I should lean into that. I like riding alone, and I also like seeing people and chatting. Alone time is like meditation for me. My brain really clears out, and I get to see what is left inside there. So many very cool people ride for all kinds of reasons, and hearing their stories is inspiring and makes you love the world more.

Learn more about the Endless Mountains series on Instagram and at EndlessMountainsPA.com.

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