Discover Adventure Cycling – 150 Miles through Florida Springs Country
Last month, Live Wildly’s creative director Aaron Rickel Jones headed out on a bikepacking adventure with Singletrack Samurai, an adventure cycling organization that hosts gravel races and bikepacking tours throughout the state. Here is his trip report:
It’s intimidating to show up in a parking lot full of strangers and ride together for three days.
What if I’m too slow?
What if I get lost?
What if these people turn out to be complete jerks and I’m stuck with them for 72 hours in the middle of the woods with no ride home… and then I get lost?
All these questions spun through my mind as I stuffed one last Snickers bar into my handlebar bag for quick-access calories. But as soon as the wheels started turning, my fears washed away. Adventure cycling, bikepacking, gravel bike touring — whatever you decide to call the activity of loading camping gear, clothes, and food onto a bicycle and setting off onto forgotten dirt roads — it attracts incredible people who share a common love of experiencing the world at the pace of a bike.
This particular ride was coined the Dirt Devil 2025 — a three-day, 150-mile tour from Micanopy to High Springs and back. Around 8 am on a Friday morning, a group of 35 bicycle adventurers rolled out from the Micanopy Native American Heritage Preserve on bikes loaded with camping gear to spend three days exploring the dirt roads on the outskirts of Gainesville, and two nights telling stories and drinking beers around the campfire.
One of the route highlights was riding along a forgotten section of Old Bellamy Road, the first US highway in Florida and one of the oldest roads in the nation. It traverses the natural land bridge across the Santa Fe where the river dips underground before re-emerging at River Rise Preserve State Park. This natural bridge has provided a way for humans and wildlife to cross the Santa Fe since prehistoric times. Using it to cross the river by bicycle in 2025 reminded us of our connection through history to the generations of people and animals who have called Florida home.
Pedaling 150 miles on (mostly) dirt roads over three days is no small undertaking, but the Dirt Devil is a perfect introduction to bikepacking for anyone brave enough to show up at the starting line. For a dozen or so people on the ride, it was their first bikepacking trip ever, and they all had a fantastic time.
The Dirt Devil is definitively not a race — the pace is relaxed and there are countless stopping points along the way to check out Florida’s natural wonders, stop for food and drinks, and dip your toes into the crystal clear waters rising up from the Floridan Aquifer.
Karlos Bernart and Graham Partain have been mapping adventure cycling routes across Florida for the better part of two decades, and Singletrack Samurai is a gold mine of resources for bikepacking. From the grueling 400 mile “HuRaCaN What The F*** Route” to the social cruiser Beer & Bourbon Bicycle Tour, Singletrack Samurai has something for everyone, no matter your cycling experience.
Riding bikes through the wild Florida landscape connects you to the natural world in a way you don’t get when traveling by car. There is more time to notice the Spanish moss waving in the breeze overhead and feel the small changes in elevation that are magnified when traveling under human power.
The traffic of the toll roads and interstates seems a world away, replaced by the gentle crunch of two wheels rolling along rural country roads. Spending a weekend pedaling the dirt roads winding through rural North Central Florida — you can’t help but feel a deep sense of calm settle into your bones. There’s something incredibly freeing about a day where the only tasks are to ride your bike, drink water, eat food, and sleep. Everything else is extra credit.
My legs were tired and heavy at the end of a full day of biking, of course. But my spirits were light and rejuvenated.
The absolute pinnacle of the Dirt Devil (and the tour’s namesake) is a night spent camping at Devil’s Den Spring. After the sun went down and the park had closed for the day, the campground managers led us down into the cavern for an after-hours swim. After a long, sweaty day in the saddle, diving into the cool spring was immaculately refreshing — I’m convinced there’s no other feeling like it on Earth.
As we rolled back into Micanopy on day three and I loaded my bike back into the car, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the nerves I’d felt on the first morning. There was no such thing as too slow on the Dirt Devil — we all traveled at whatever pace felt most comfortable. I never got lost — Karlos made a thorough route map with well-marked resupply points.
And, unsurprisingly, nobody was a complete jerk — far from it. The bikepacking community is full of vibrant, funny, and welcoming people of all types, ages, and backgrounds. I’m admittedly a biased source, but in my opinion if you want to get to know the real Florida, the best way to do it is on a bike.
