The Radavist

The Mid South doesn’t need an introduction. But if you missed or, or have yet to visit Stillwater, Oklahoma, maybe you need some vicarious feels. Jarrod Bunk shares photos and words that try to capture the magic of the most inclusive event in gravel.

We’re not in Kansas anymore. Certainly not. Unlike the hard bedrock of the flint hills and similar gravel roads that pattern the Midwest, The Mid South (or “Mud South”) hosted in Stillwater, Oklahoma is characterized by its rich red clay. Second only to race director Bobby Wintle‘s finish line hug for every rider, The Mid South has become infamous for its often wet weather that turns that beautiful red clay into drivetrain-eating mud. Re-routing the course is never even a topic of conversation.

Geographic locations and riding can add a lot to the picture when considering what your dream bike may be. Massive tire clearance? Tall or low bottom bracket? Slack or steep head tube angles. Well after riding in an area for so long you figure out what works, what doesn’t, and what you wish someone could just get right. With these thoughts in mind Bobby collaborated with Wilde Bikes to develop a bike that is Mid South approved. How so? Read on to find out a little bit more about this bike from Jarrod Bunk and check out some flicks on the red dirt.

The Mid South has offered a non-binary competitive category since their socially-distanced event in 2022. This year’s race saw a new course record, along with highlights in the Mid South double and singlespeed categories! Sally Turner, former journalist and current Event Manager for the Stillwater  gravel season opener, shares a recap of how the day shook out for the non-binary field!

I had a lot of reservations about going to Mid South 2022. COVID. Money. Time. Don’t get me wrong. I wanted to go. Bobby is one of my best friends, and I love his entire crew over in Stillwater. But, still…COVID, money, time. Then I saw that something spectacular was happening.

Comparing what riders think they are going to experience vs what they do experience, as well as what they are taking away from the ride, has always been a fascination of mine. We all bring our hopes and, yes, our fears to the start line. After a nearly two-year layoff from in-person events, I wanted to see what this year’s Mid South participants brought with them to the race. What did they think was going to happen once they rolled over that start line? What were they hoping they’d take away from it all after they crossed it again to finish?

When peanut butter mud and clay wreak havoc on drivetrains, you’re gonna see a lot of single-speed bikes rolling up to the start line at events like the Mid South. I did, in fact, see a number of single speeds but I was really into Nate’s Reeb Cycles Dirt Diggler, so I shot a few photos of it while I chatted with Nate about Stillwater, District Bicycles, and yeah, the mud!

When bike events promote inclusivity and welcome all sorts of riders, not just racers, wonderful things happen. If it seems like I’m still glowing from this weekend’s Mid South, well, it’s the truth. Those few days completely recharged over two years of dreary times and meeting Keith re-centered my own struggles by putting them in perspective. In a serendipitous way – ok, I was stalking him – I happened to catch him rolling into the expo area at Mid South on his Scissortail Cycles cargo bike. There’s so much going on with this one so let’s get to it…

A lot. A little. Eb. Flow. Ping. Pong. Southwest. Midsouth.

My brain is lost in a myriad of memories from the past two weeks as my schedule jettisoned itself from over two years of stagnation to two weeks of back-to-back events and Radavist Reportage. Last weekend was the Mid South, a gravel race/ride/experience located in Stillwater, Oklahoma, hosted by District Bicycles. While people travel from all over to cut their chops on some Oklahoma red clay dirt, gravel, and mud, I am so fond of this event for the ultradian rhythms found in its hosts, attendees, and volunteers. That’s why I told Bobby from District to expect me to park and sleep in his driveway for a few nights because I was coming to get a heavy dose of rhythmic balance…

For the astute bike nerd, with the unfettered access to the internet that many of the socially distant are currently experiencing, it is evident that hardly a day passes without some bike brand announcing their revolutionary new gravel bike into an increasingly crowded marketplace. Shorter chainstays! Bigger tire clearance! More braze-ons splooshed all over the frame! Into this current apocalyptic wasteland of the gravel racer without a race is born the Lickskillet. Springing from the loins of REEB (yes, that is BEER spelled backward) the venerable bike/brewing company in Longmont Colorado. As they say, each REEB is “Barn Built Because it Matters”.

To begin, it is important to say that I am not a doctor, a data analyst, or an economist. Am I an expert regarding the growing pandemic that is becoming one of the defining events of our lives? No, I am not. I am a bike mechanic who likes to take photos. There are smarter people out there who could (or should) be writing about this, but as it is, you have me. And I find it extremely difficult—even inappropriate—to talk about this year’s Mid South without acknowledging the massive elephant in the room. For some of you, these images or just the thought of a large group gathering may be upsetting. You would be right to feel that way, and I get it. If this were any other year, it would have been a widely celebrated event, filled with love and excitement from the greater cycling community. In a lot of ways, it still was. But given that upside-down is the new normal, here we are.

Have you ever been somewhere and you just knew it was special? For years Bobby from District Bicycles had been telling me about this magical place called Keith’s Bike Fort, providing lodging to the traveling cyclist.

Fingers Crossed For A Fair-weather Forecast At Land Run 100
Photos and words by Jarrod Bunk

You ever have a ride that breaks you?  My first encounter with the red dirt of Oklahoma did just that.  2017 was one of the muddiest courses that had ever graced Land Run 100 since its inception. Only 165 of 1000 people completed that ride, and you can read more about it over here.