From My Door
Pt. 2: Class IV and Counting

NELSON BROWN 〡 May 26th, 2026

When Memorial Day weekend rolls around, most people are loading up cars, sitting in traffic, watching Vermont blur past at sixty miles an hour. There's something about driving through this state that makes you complacent, the hills flatten into scenery, the towns become exits, the terrain just passes by without you feeling it. Somewhere between 50 and 60 percent of Vermont's roads are unpaved, more than almost any other state in the country.

This year, I left the car in the driveway. Again. One loop starting and ending at my front door in Waitsfield, with my partner and two loaded bikes. No shuttles, no car, no shortcuts. Just dirt roads unfolding one pedal stroke at a time. A way of actually experiencing Vermont instead of just moving through it.

This isn't a story about speed or suffering or how many feet of climbing you can stack in a weekend. It's about slowing down enough to actually see where you are. I love sitting at home with a map, stitching together a route from roads I've never ridden, finding a good spot to sleep, and seeing what shows up along the way. The adventure is in the details. People always want to know where you came from and where you're going, that curiosity is one of the best parts of traveling this way.

Something about a loaded bike seems to get people thinking.

Day 1: Waitsfield → ROCHESTER (23.5 miles, 1,900 ft)

We left after work. Not first thing in the morning with fresh legs and a full day ahead. After work, around six, bikes loaded, headlamps clicked on somewhere before the light fully left the sky. The adventure starts a dirt road. Riding at golden hour into the night in Vermont has its own quality. The roads narrow in your headlamp beam. The climbs come at you without warning. You feel the terrain more than you see it, the grade in your legs, the temperature dropping as you descend into a valley, the sound of the road changing from pavement to dirt and back again. By the time we rolled into Rochester, the day was long gone and experienced the Stable Inn run by the Vermont Huts Association.

Day 2: Rochester → Silver lake state park (19.5 miles, 3,333 ft)

Breakfast at the Rochester Diner. Before leaving town, a quick stop at Green Mountain Bikes , my derailleur had decided it didn't want to work properly. Doon got us sorted and we were back on the road within the hour. Rochester Gap is a long climb with a big payoff. Mount Hunger Road came next, which sounds like a threat and rides like one too. We got off and walked, bikes in hand, picking through rock and root. The bugs didnt help the slowness of hiking a bike.

The GOAT Tee and Springbok Sun Hoodie were on all day. Cool enough on the climbs, comfortable on the descents. Never thought about them once, which is exactly the point. By afternoon we reached Barnard. A guy at the general store saw the loaded bikes, the mud, the general look of people who'd been at it since the previous evening, and bought us beers. That kind of thing doesn't happen through a windshield. Silver Lake that evening was quiet and still. 

Day 3: Silver Lake → Fledgling Farmstead in Tunbridge ( 40 miles, 4,593 ft)

Cloudy and cool. The best kind of riding weather, even if it doesn't look like it on paper.

Vermont's back roads have a sense of humor. The caution sign warning of a small child, slow dog, fast cat, and escaping hens was a highlight. You don't catch that doing 55 on Route 2. Somewhere mid-day we crossed paths with two people hiking on the Long Trail. Deep in their own type-2 fun, they stopped at a farm stand bakery and bought us cookies. Two strangers, in the middle of their own sufferfest, sharing what they had.

We ended at Fledgling Farmstead in Tunbridge — a hipcamp up in the hills with views that made the climb to get there feel justified. Tent up, legs out, another good day done.

Day 4:Fledgling Farmstead in Tunbridge → Berlin ( 50ish miles, 4,000ish ft - watch died lol)

The watch dying was probably fine and kinda summed up the day.  Rain started early and didn't stop all day. Well over an inch, all day.

Turnpike Road — which comes with an actual sign informing you that Google Maps has misled you and this road is not maintained for passenger vehicles. Normally. In the mud it was a different conversation entirely. Bobbinshop Road was long and unrelenting in the way that makes you question your route choices. There were sections we'd normally ride without thinking twice that we walked instead. The mud was that thick. Shoes sinking, bikes pushed by hand, moving at a pace that was only technically faster than standing still. At one point the GPS had us cutting through someone's backyard. We did. That's the thing about bikepacking routes — they look one way on a screen and reveal themselves completely differently once your tires are actually on the ground. You don't know until you know.

I didn't take many photos. The camera stayed buried. What I can tell you is that merino wool in the rain is not a gimmick. The GOAT Tee and Springbok Sun Hoodie were soaked and kept working anyway. Warm when wet is a real thing and on this day it mattered.

We ended the day at an Applebee's in Berlin. No regrets. Loaded up on sodium and cheap beer, pitched a tent, and passed out. Some days that's exactly what the trip calls for. 

Day 5: Berlin → Waitsfield — (27 miles, 2,058 ft)

The last day came up clear and beautiful, the way Vermont apologizes.
Moretown Common Road was new to me, one of those roads you somehow haven't found despite living nearby. 

The moment you're on it you can't believe you waited. Rolling hills, open farms, the kind of Vermont that makes you feel like you're getting away with something. Near the middle we stopped to say hello to the von Trapp cows. A woman there told us she helps raise them when they're babies before they join the more mature herd. Just a normal conversation on a dirt road that you'd never have from a car window.

When we coasted back into Waitsfield, 146 ish miles later, that was it. Five days, every kind of weather, one very memorable terrible meal (Applebee's), and more dirt road than we knew what to do with.

The loop starts and ends at home, which makes coming back feel different than it would otherwise.

Bikepacking shows you the world at the right speed. Fast enough to cover ground, slow enough to actually see it. Every trip out the door confirms it. Just pedal.

My Bikepacking Gear List:

Nelson's Biking Kit: