What is the Reggie Scramble?
The Reggie Ramble has earned its place as one of my favorite gravel events. It is a full-day test of grit, legs, and love for dirt roads. Riders usually choose from one, two, or all three loops, covering anywhere from 65km to a brutal 200km, all centered around the gravel paradise of Warkworth, Ontario.
2025 offered a lot of challenges when it came to organizing the Ramble.
Life got busy. The core volunteer team that usually powers the event was tied up, and the massive effort required to run the full Ramble just wasn’t in the cards. Rather than cancel outright, the organizers did what gravel riders do best; they adapted.
This year, the Reggie Ramble evolved into the Reggie Scramble: a scaled-back, one-loop, 68km route packed with 1,100 metres of climbing and six brutal “ambushes”; steep, technical climbs that lived up to their name. It was shorter, punchier, and just as intense in all the right ways.
Even better, the Scramble added heart to the hurt. In partnership with Wild Rock Outfitters, the event raised funds for The Compassion Project, a charity that aims to provide support to local organizations that strive to protect our lands and recreational outdoor opportunities, as well as those fighting for social justice and equity. Riders donated at least $20 to enter, with all proceeds going to the cause. There was no official timing, just honour, Strava, and a cash prize for the fastest rider.
The Reggie Scramble is not about podiums or prestige. It is about community, challenge, and keeping the spirit of gravel alive.
Race Day Heat and Hype
On morning of the ride, it was clear the Reggie Scramble was going to live up to its reputation in more ways than one. The forecast called for scorching temperatures soaring above 30°C, with a humidex pushing it into the 40s. It was the kind of heat that cooks your energy before you even clip in. Still, the atmosphere was buzzing. Volunteers greeted riders with big smiles, making everyone feel welcome as they collected entry donations and handed out raffle tickets, one for the first $20, with extra chances tossed in for those who dug a little deeper for the cause. As bikes were prepped and bottles topped off, you could feel the stoke in the air. Riders gathered in small groups, chatting, laughing, and trying to stay cool before tackling the day’s heat and hills. It was grassroots gravel at its best: hot, hard, and full of heart.
My Strategy: Survive the Heat, Ride Smart, and Send It on the Tech
With a brutal forecast and a reputation for punishing climbs, I knew this ride was going to be more about racing smart than all out speed. My plan started with hydration, lots of it. I packed two Bivo insulated bottles filled with ice and topped with cold water, plus a 2L USWE bladder packed the same way. That gave me 3.5L of icy hydration, which I hoped would help regulate my core temperature and stave off heat stress.
For fuel, I kept it simple and proven: peanut butter and jam sandwiches, easy to eat and packed with energy.
On the start line, I made sure to position myself near the front for the neutral rollout. Once the flag dropped and the pace picked up, the real game began. The goal? Hang onto the lead group’s wheel for as long as I could, then drift back to the next group when things got too spicy. Rinse and repeat until I found a group I could stick with to the end. It was all about managing effort, avoiding early burnout, and keeping some gas in the tank.
I also planned to push hard through the ATV trail sections, where technical skills could make a difference. These were the spots to make up time and put pressure on riders who might be stronger climbers but less comfortable on rough terrain.
As for those notorious Reggie ambushes, I had one rule: no pride. If walking was faster or more efficient than grinding up a wall of loose gravel in 35°C heat, then so be it. Whatever it took to keep moving forward.
My ultimate goal? Cross the line in under 3 hours. But mostly, I just wanted to ride smart, stay upright, and have something left in the tank for a strong finish.
The Race: Dust, Heat, Glory
The day started fast but controlled, with a few neutral kilometers to ease the field out of town and stretch the group before the real suffering began. Once the “go” point was reached, I moved up the pack and found myself sitting comfortably in the lead group who, thankfully, were still enjoying a mellow pace. But I couldn’t resist a little mischief. On one of the early rollers, I launched a sneaky attack over the top and down the descent. For a few glorious seconds, I was leading the Reggie Scramble.
Then reality hit. The real race began as the fastest riders surged past, dragging a cloud of dust and a brutal pace with them. I locked onto their wheels, hanging on for dear life. Each climb stretched the elastic further, and I had to bury myself to claw back onto the group every time I crested a hill. Eventually, the elastic snapped, and I had to let them go, hoping I’d find another wheel to work with further back.
The first ambush hit like a freight train. An impossibly steep ATV trail covered in shifting river rock forced many to dismount. I clawed my way up, weaving around riders who’d already started walking. The narrow trail, choked with vegetation, held the heat like an oven. Without the cooling effect of motion, the air became stifling. My heart rate spiked, and my breathing spiraled, it was time to swallow my pride and hike. After what felt like forever, the grade eased, and I got back in the saddle. Breaking out of the woods and into open air felt like a rebirth.
I settled into a strong rhythm and eventually caught up to a struggling rider. He was out of water and unsure if there were any aid stations ahead (there weren’t). Not wanting to see anyone go down from heat exhaustion, I shared a bottle of my precious ice water. It was a gamble, but worth it.
My new friend was strong and we traded pulls, working together through the next few ambushes. But after one especially long climb, my legs gave out, and I had to let him go.
Next came the sand, it was deep, loose, and relentless. Thankfully, years of cyclocross racing kicked in, and I powered through, using momentum and technique to stay upright. A pair of Wild Rock riders caught me, and I tucked in behind them, hoping their draft would pull me to the finish. My strategy was holding. Sub-3 was still possible.
But gravel doesn’t care about your plans. In the final 15km, the hills came nonstop. The Wild Rock duo rode away as my legs gave out. I was down to one strategy: gain speed on the descents and coast as far up each climb as possible before grinding away in my easiest gear.
When I felt I had nothing left to give, salvation appeared: the stop sign that marked the turn back into Warkworth. I had 3km to go and just over 10 minutes left. A jolt of adrenaline hit. I dropped into the bars and hammered. My eyes flicked between speed and time, counting down. I hit town with one minute to spare and sprinted toward the finish line.
The final stretch led through the Cow Palace, a massive barn at the Warkworth Fairgrounds. I charged in, vision blurred by the sudden dark. I locked on to the sunlight at the far end and gave everything I had left.
Bursting back into the light, I crossed the finish and slammed stop on my computer: 2 hours, 59 minutes, 35 seconds.
Goal achieved. Totally spent, I rolled over to the volunteer table, grabbed my free can of Goodlot beer, and let the dust, the heat, and the effort settle. I’d made it. Just barely, but I made it.
Post-Ride: Cold Drinks, Good Vibes, and Community Spirit
After crossing the line and catching my breath, the real reward began, the post-ride party. The atmosphere at the finish was pure joy. Riders swapped war stories from the course, laughed about near misses, and congratulated each other on surviving the heat and the hills. With music playing and food on hand, it felt more like a backyard hangout than a race.
The raffle was a highlight in itself. With a mountain of prizes: beer mugs, water bottles, hats, cycling gear; just about everyone walked away with something. I scored big: a pair of Compassion Project beer mugs, a slick Lazer hat, and two $20 gift certificates to Wild Rock Outfitters. Not a bad haul after a day in the saddle.
But beyond the swag, the biggest win was the community coming together. Whether you were racing full gas or out on a chill roll with friends, the vibe was welcoming and fun. Around 250 riders showed up, and together we raised about $7,000 for The Compassion Project in Peterborough; a huge success for a grassroots ride.
By the time I packed up my bike and said my goodbyes, I was already thinking ahead. I’ll be back for next year’s Reggie Ramble, whatever form it takes. Because rides like this, hot, hard, and full of heart, are what gravel is all about.
Final Thoughts
The Reggie Scramble wasn’t the longest or most technical event I’ve done, but it might have been one of the most meaningful. Between the heat, the climbs, and the camaraderie, it reminded me why I love gravel: it’s not just about pushing your limits; it’s about showing up, sharing the experience, and supporting a good cause along the way. I set out with a plan, gave it everything I had, and hit my sub-3-hour goal by the slimmest of margins. But what I’ll remember most isn’t the clock, it’s the shared struggle, the generosity on course, and the electric energy at the finish. If you’re on the fence about joining next year, don’t be. Whether you’re there to race, ride, or just soak in the good vibes, the Reggie Ramble community will be ready to welcome you.
