Bikes Beers Bluegrass (B3) Lost River is a weekend-long gathering of Mid-Atlantic cyclists centered around a non-competitive gravel ride that focuses on casual cycling. Andy Karr attended B3 for the first time after years of prioritizing other local, racing-oriented events instead and was left wondering, “What was I thinking all those years?” Continue reading below for Andy’s recap, supported by a wonderful mix of analog and digital photography!
Bikes Beers Bluegrass (B3) in Lost River, West Virginia has everything the name promises, plus a healthy dose of scratch-made, locally sourced, professionally prepared food, camping, hot coffee, fireside sing-alongs, a pack of very good dogs, the coming together of old friends and the meetings of new ones, a long and challenging gravel ride featuring steep climbs and long descents, and a pizza party. What it does not have is a podium or a prize purse.
B3 Lost River is not a race. For years I’ve failed to prioritize making space on my calendar for B3 in favor of other events that prioritize racing. My error in judgment became clear the moment I sunk my teeth into a scratch-made slice of pizza that had come out of a portable pizza oven, right before my eyes, only moments prior. How did I let myself miss this event for so many years? It’s not like I didn’t know about it – the man slinging oven-hot pizzas right in front of me came to my wedding! Here I was, surrounded by friends old and new, with a slice of pizza in my hand, looking out at one of West Virginia’s best views. If there is such a thing as retroactive FOMO, I was now experiencing it for the prior five runnings of the event.
The first running of B3 was in 2017, at which point it was called Bikes Beers Banjos (in 2024 the event took a more expansive “bluegrass” as its third B). Both the idea and name for the event came from Chris Tank and his friends Adam Hoey and Colby Waller. Adam and Colby had both recently purchased cabins in Lost River and were eager to coax friends out of the city and into the mountains for some good times and tough riding.
Adam and Chris had recently helped found a cyclocross team together, Bluemont Connection. Take a group of cycling friends, endless West Virginia unimproved roads, knobby tire road bikes, and a cyclocross off-season, then just and add beers and banjos. B3.
While no doubt a group effort, these days Chris Tank is the primary orchestrator of the event in addition to the role he’s always played: route architect. B3 offers two routes, both being big, challenging days. Route one is 99 miles, 11,000 ft elevation; route two is 63 miles, 7,800 ft elevation. They both follow the same course for the first 51 miles and offer an optional singletrack section for the more adventurous riders. Though again, not a race, B3 brings out riders who are hungry for a challenge. At one time B3 offered a third, shorter route distance, but year after year hardly anyone took him up on it, so he struck it from the registration page this year.
The two routes offer big, steep gravel climbs and descents, unpredictable weather, and occasional views from the ridge line that delineates the Virginia/West Virginia border in this area. Both routes also climb Helmick Rock Road, a 2.75 mile, 1,100 ft washboarded gravel climb with a max grade of 17%. A “race organizer” might describe this course with words like “brutal.” But that’s not what B3 is all about. The registration page notes the challenging nature of the routes and simply asks you to bring tire plugs and “a sense of adventure.” That sense of adventure and an endless well of good vibes during the big ride meant that, despite a rainy start, it was all smiles on course (even on the 17% climb.) Again, more FOMO here. I was committed to getting the best pictures I could manage, so I spent the day jumping in and out of my AWD station wagon, not riding my bike.
Everyone I know who spends any amount of time doing big days out in the country has learned to love the rural gas station convenience store. These routes have a couple such resupplies, plus an additional, more traditional aid station on course. Piles of snacks, hot coffee, and even a little handheld gong welcomed riders in from the rain for some refueling, conversation, and brief hangs with friends before continuing on into the surrounding hills and hollows. These islands of socialization punctuate a landscape that, thanks in large part to the George Washington National Forest, feels very, very remote most of the day. The landscape, especially in the rain, was gorgeous for the entire day, with lots of green and few cars.
The Lost River region is rich with outdoor recreation opportunities and is a major tourist draw for the state of West Virginia. So while the local community as a whole is supportive of cyclists and access to outdoor recreation, Chris and B3 take care to promote courteous riding among the participants, notify local search and rescue of the event, and make donations to the local Lost River Trails Coalition and affiliated NICA team, the Hardy County Cryptids.
Something else they have done since 2022 is to make a donation to the local volunteer fire and rescue, which this year spent countless hours battling wildfires in the surrounding hills during what is usually the wettest, most fire-resistant season. The 99-mile route follows the firebreak from one such fire, laying bare the stark realities of climate-driven forest fires – lush green forest to the left, bare fire-scorched landscape to the right.
Following a two-year, pandemic-initiated hiatus, B3 moved to its current venue, the Lost River Barn, in 2022. “The Barn,” as it is lovingly referred to by an entire generation of Mid-Atlantic cyclists, is owned by Matt and Susan Bieganski. Matt and Susan are notably not cyclists themselves, but have nonetheless put their hearts and souls into improving the Barn’s amenities for the region’s cyclists and were truly the most gracious hosts for the weekend. Matt and Susan own a neighboring property and purchased the Barn following the June 2021 death of its previous owner, Jay Moglia. Matt and Susie see themselves as caretakers of the property, its legacy, and Jay’s vision rather than merely property owners, and want guests to experience everything Jay worked so hard to build and they continue to improve.
Jay Moglia and his partner Audrey Taucher purchased the former 1930s-era pig barn on Branch Mountain in Mathias, WV in 2007 and worked hard to convert it from a literal barn into a cycling training camp. Jay was a DC bike messenger, bike racer, Olympic qualifier, musician, songwriter, and a dear friend to communities of musicians and cyclists. Jay and Audrey put Lost River on the cycling map. The Barn, also known as Raw Talent Ranch, drew in countless cyclists over the years, from emerging local racers like Ben King and Joe Dombrowski to local race teams and groups of friends who came first for the great riding, and returned year after year to enjoy the magic of Lost River and Jay’s charisma and storytelling.
Despite its remote location, the Lost River Barn has a storied history and plays an important role as a nexus of the Mid-Atlantic bike community. This is perhaps never more true than in the Saturday afternoon of B3 as the beer kegs were being tapped, the taco bar was being uncovered, and the band was tuning up.
It was quite a scene: mud-splattered cyclists streaming in, queueing up at the bike wash to reveal their bike’s true colors to the folks in line for the kegs. Meanwhile, plates and cups were being filled, lawn chairs set up, high fives and dirty hugs all around. This year’s bluegrass band, Jenkins and the Knuckle Busters, performed under a pop-up tent that served as a makeshift bandstand. The Appalachian region has a long and deep culture and history of old-time string music. Around Lost River, there is a whole scene of local players who perform at bluegrass festivals and venues throughout the region.
As challenging and beautiful as the course is, it’s the before- and after-ride times that draw folks back year after year. While the music played, V, who had previously prepared meals for Jay’s groups, rolled out the most impressive taco bar I have ever seen. V is an amazing cook who worked alone to prepare impressive spreads for after the ride, plus breakfast on Saturday and Sunday. This year, in addition to non-alcoholic beers from The Athletic, they opened kegs from Jackie O’s in Athens, OH, and Big Timber in Elkins, WV. The post-ride vibes were sublime. Bluegrass music in the air, rainbows in the bike wash spray, and overlapping concentric circles of tired but happy cyclists making conversation between bites of tacos and swallows of beer.
B3 has grown from about 30 people in its first year to over 100 now, but will never get any bigger. Least not just for logistical reasons – there is only so much room in and around that old pig barn and these narrow country lanes can’t accommodate much more bike traffic on the day – but also because it’s the small size and close knit community that makes the event what it is. I have no doubt that the scene at Unbound Gravel is a real spectacle, but B3 offers its attendees a more family-style, casual atmosphere primed for deeper and more personal connections than at a larger, more competitively focused event. I heard Chris say more than once, “If I can’t still do the ride myself, it’s gotten too big.”
The concept that “B3 is a ride, not a race” may have played a part in my having not prioritized it in the past. Too bad, so sad for past-Andy. Thankfully, I’ve moved well past filling my calendar with events centered around a podium I would never be able to get on. The non-competitive nature of B3 has been in place since the beginning, and as a result this event draws people for reasons other than the opportunity to win something, including some otherwise very competitive bike racers whose calendars are quite populated with races. And to be sure: these are hard rides on challenging terrain, but riders on course aren’t competing with anything other than the gradients and the elements. In my experience, a race can feel more lonely than a solo ride. Alone in your pain cave, chasing or being chased, B3 is not lonely. B3 is a big ride with a lot of friends, centered on a degree of comradery that extends beyond the ride itself and across an entire weekend. B3 is a time and place for community and it’s the community that comes for the weekend that makes B3 what it is.
I went to B3 expecting Bikes, Beers, and Bluegrass, which I got. But it’s the hugs from old friends, good vibes and country music, the 100 or so grinning, mud-splattered faces and plates full of tacos that will bring me back. Next year, I’ll plan to bring a bike though, not a camera.
Film stocks used: Kodak Portra 800, Fuji Superia Xtra 400, and Ilford HP5.