Day 1: Starting in Government Camp
The morning fog hangs low on Mount Hood as I unload my bike at Government Camp. The air is crisp, scented with pine and wet earth. My tires hit the forest road, and immediately I feel the rhythm of the Hood Loop: climbs, descents, gravel crunching under every pedal stroke.
The first section follows Highway 26 briefly before turning onto forest roads that wind through alpine meadows. Sunlight filters through tall pines, and small streams cross under rustic bridges. By midday, I reach Government Camp Café for a quick refuel: a hot coffee and oatmeal to fuel the climbs ahead.
Afternoon brings a steady climb, the forest thinning to reveal distant volcanic peaks. I camp near Timberline Lodge Road, setting up beneath towering pines as dusk paints Mount Hood in oranges and purples.
Day 2: Ridge Lines and Remote Singletrack
Sunrise lights the ridge lines as I tackle the most technical section of the loop: singletrack winding through lava rock and dense forest. The tires slip in wet moss at points, but the payoff is in the views — endless ridges, waterfalls glimpsed through the trees, and the quiet hum of wildlife.
Midday, I pass through Oakridge, a small mountain town famous for its bike culture. At Oakridge Bike Shop, I top off water and chat with locals about trail conditions. Their tips save me hours of searching for the next connection northward.
Camp that night is tucked in a small clearing, the stars vivid above the Cascades. The air is cooler here, and the scent of resin fills the campsite.
Day 3: Southern Descent and Lakeside Reflections
The third day is more gradual. Rolling hills give way to smooth forest roads, and I descend toward Clear Lake. The lake mirrors the sky perfectly, and I stop to soak my legs and refill bottles. Few people are around; the trail feels private, as though it exists solely for riders who make the effort to find it.
Continuing east, I reconnect with forest roads leading back toward Mount Hood. The loop closes with a long descent back into Government Camp. My legs ache, but there is a sense of accomplishment. Three days, multiple ridges, thousands of feet of climbing, and the constant reward of Oregon’s wilderness.