Lake Chelan Tour
Sneaking Rides With Cascade Bicycle Club
Why Lake Chelan Keeps Calling Me Back
The Lake Chelan Tour is hands-down one of my favorite cycling events in Washington. I’ve ridden it four times now, and I always prefer the fall edition over the spring. The weather tends to be more cooperative—less rain, more crisp air—and the orchards are bursting with apples and pears ready for harvest. It’s a sensory delight on two wheels.
A Budget-Friendly Workaround
This year, I missed the registration deadline and couldn’t use my volunteer hours to cover the $225 fee. With William out of work, that kind of expense wasn’t in the cards. But I wasn’t ready to give up on the ride. I hatched a plan: camp at the state park using my VA disability pass (free camping, thank you very much), and ride the routes unofficially. I knew the area well and had the maps, so I figured I’d just start a little earlier than the official group each day.
Smoke, Stew, and a Stove That Quit
I drove to Chelan on Thursday, as usual, to avoid a pre-dawn road trip. Passing through Wenatchee, I hit a wall of wildfire smoke—like driving into Mordor. Thankfully, Chelan was clearer.
At the campground, I set up my tent and prepped for dinner: potato and sausage stew. But my camp stove refused to light. I couldn’t hear the gas flow and assumed the propane was empty. A 10-mile drive later, I had a new canister—but the stove was officially dead. One burner had already quit, and now the second had joined it. I tried salvaging dinner with my Jet Boil, but it wasn’t up to the task. Blueberries became my sad substitute for stew.
Day One: Pie, Hills, and a Bonus Ride
Friday morning started with a mediocre breakfast at the Apple Cup—way too much food for one person. I began my ride early and passed the Cascade group mid-briefing. Perfect timing.
The route through Manson is a favorite: big climbs, winding descents, and views of vineyards and orchards. I detoured to Blueberry Hill for a slice of pumpkin pie—worth every pedal stroke. The route totaled 32 miles with 2,801 feet of elevation gain.
Back at camp, I was still buzzing with energy, so I added another 13 miles with a ride towards 25-Mile State Park. After a shower and change, I headed to the winery to mingle with the Cascade riders.
Wine, Camaraderie, and a Surprise Invitation
The group was twice the size of previous years. We had a big tent and grassy area overlooking the lake. I ordered a charcuterie tray and a glass of cabernet franc—recommended by the staff to pair with sea salt chocolate caramels. It was divine, but not $60-a-bottle divine.
I chatted with Lee, the club’s executive director, who invited me to join the official ride the next day. He promised me a bib number. That glass of wine helped me sleep like a rock.
Day Two: Flat Tires and Mountain Climbs
Morning came too soon. I drove into Chelan, parked, and discovered a flat rear tire. With an ebike, that meant disconnecting the motor to change the tube—a real hassle. I drove to the park and found a mechanic who sent me to his shop a block away. Twenty bucks later, I was back just in time for the tail end of the briefing.
Then came the twist: the route was reversed. That meant a brutal climb from the river valley back to town. I was not thrilled.
Still, riding the route in reverse offered fresh views I’d never noticed before. Lunch was a pleasant surprise—hot tamales, beans, and rice instead of cold sandwiches. Delicious.
I skipped the pie stop to conserve energy for the climb. Bracing myself, I tackled the ascent and—shockingly—made it to the top without stopping. I must be getting stronger. The views and photo ops were spectacular.
A Smoky Ending
After the ride, I decided to skip camping a third night. I was feeling worn out and the early signs of a head cold were creeping in. I packed up and headed home.
Later, I learned the final day of the tour was cancelled due to wildfire smoke. Turns out, my early exit was perfectly timed.
Conclusion: Riding Between the Lines
This year’s Lake Chelan Tour was a patchwork of improvisation, grit, and unexpected joy. From stove failures to surprise invitations, it reminded me that sometimes the best rides aren’t the ones you register for—they’re the ones you sneak in, fueled by pie, persistence, and a little red wine.
