An Epic Adventure on the Olympic Peninsula: Duct Tape, Flat Tires, and the GPS Route

This July, Colin and I decided to ride the legendary Olympic Peninsula Adventure Route. Spoiler alert: it was about as smooth as a cat on a hot tin roof.

Pre-Adventure Shenanigans

Before we even hit the road, my tires looked like they’d been through a paper shredder. A few days prior, we swung by Kenco to buy some fresh rubber for my Husqvarna Norden 901. Meanwhile, Colin's trusty Honda Rally 250 decided to throw a tantrum by failing its clutch. Perfect timing, right? Nothing screams "adventure" like a clutch malfunction on the day before an adventure!

I got my fresh rubber on but while fixing Colin's bike, we discovered that the real culprit was a cable that was, quite frankly, in worse shape than a piñata after a birthday party. We rang up every shop from here to Seattle, and you guessed it: backordered.

Not one to be deterred, Colin went full MacGyver, repurposing the old clutch springs and duct taping the whole mess together like it was a contestant on a reality show. “This should last the trip!” he proclaimed, his eyes twinkling with a mix of hope and sheer madness.

Day 1: The Journey Begins

Finally, we hit the road, cruising from Port Renfrew to Port Angeles. But wait—first, a detour to the Husqvarna dealer! I needed some parts for my front fender, which had decided it wanted to suddenly just start flopping around.

Once we got off the ferry, we chose to ride the loop counterclockwise, aiming for Forks, Washington, and getting our first taste of dirt. But the dirt didn’t last long before we stumbled upon a mountain campsite boasting an epic view. That first night, we sat around chatting, watching the sunset, and I performed some surgical finesse on my rebellious fender.

Day 2: The Crux and the Thrill

The second day brought us to the crux of the trip. On my last run, we faced a treacherous landslide that had me questioning all life choices. This time, after a quick morning warm-up, we found ourselves staring up the slope. The good news? Someone had done some work, making it slightly less terrifying. The bad news? It was still very much an adrenaline-pumping experience.

After conquering that beast, we flew through some fast, flowy dual track—definitely the highlight of the route! We made it into Forks for supplies, which felt like a small victory. But finding a campsite that night was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. We finally found a spot, and it was glorious!

Day three dawned bright and sunny, and we cruised down from our mountain hideaway to the Pacific. The highway was beautiful, but after a quick gas and grub stop, we plunged into the longest, most remote dirt section of the loop.

And then, just a few miles in—BAM! Flat tire! Timing is everything, folks. I laid my bike down and fished out my tools, only to realize our spare tube was the only one we had, and my rubber glue had hardened like an old piece of pizza. Panic mode engaged!

We rode gingerly from there on out, avoiding any wild maneuvers to save our tires. After a long day, we crashed at a lake campsite and celebrated with a well-deserved swim to wash off the dust (and despair).

Day 4: Don't Pop the Tire or Run Out of Gas!

On day four, we had one more stretch before getting to the next town for a tube patch kit. Colin was sweating bullets over fuel; one detour and he’d be on fumes.

We packed up and hit the trails again, but this one felt like a ghost town—a little overgrown and spooky. Yet, we pressed on and eventually found our way. After another nerve-wracking landslide, we coasted down the mountain and into town just in time for gas and lunch. Phew!

Refueled and armed with a patch kit, we ventured north. The tracks opened up to fast, wide logging roads, leading us to a riverside campsite that felt like paradise after the chaos.

Day 5: The Great Escape

The final morning was brisk, and we were eager to get back. Thick fog enveloped us as we navigated through twisting logging roads that felt like they were designed by a maze-maker on caffeine.

We reached our last campsite early enough to catch the final ferry back to Victoria. Instead of pitching a tent, we made a dash for home, racing through the last stretch of dirt before hitting Highway 101.

We arrived at the ferry terminal just as they were loading up. We snagged our tickets and hopped on board, hearts racing from the adventure.

What a trip! From duct tape heroics to flat tires and questionable decisions, it was a wild ride filled with laughs and unforgettable moments. Check out our route and download it here—if you dare!