Chicken Cross: Finding the "Spirit of Gravel" in Weird Places
Calvin has never done a cyclo-cross race before. He doesn’t follow World Cup cyclo-cross racing in the winter. The word “cyclo-cross” is just an interesting tidbit in palmares of a few famous riders he watches in the Tour de France. So he didn’t know what to expect when his friend invited him to do an underground cyclo-cross race called “Chicken Cross” in Chattanooga, Tennessee.
He showed up on race day with his Obed Boundary. There was no entry fee, and at the start line, real live chickens were scattered amongst the riders. He rode hard, fell over once or twice, and had the time of his life. Looking back at the experience, little cyclo-cross races like this might be a perfect example of how the “Spirit of Gravel” can still exist in a world where gravel events are becoming increasingly corporate and professional.
What Does Underground ‘Cross Have To Do With Gravel?
The Chicken Cross Race Series was started by a local Chattanooga cycling legend called James “Bub 1” Bacon. What’s unique about these races is that they are truly grassroots, word-of-mouth events. There’s no website or registration page. As Calvin explains it, if you know someone who knows someone, you eventually find out about it and get an invite. Racing is free, and in the end, the results don’t really matter.
Hearing this, I can’t help but think back to the early days of gravel, around 10-15 years ago. Even the world's biggest gravel event, like Unbound Gravel, started as a silly word-of-mouth adventure between a few friends.
Of course, cyclists were riding and racing on gravel roads long before modern gravel bikes existed. In fact, cyclo-cross’s origins can be traced back to the early 1900s in Europe, where riders would race from town to town by cutting through farm fields and hopping fences. But the modern version of gravel we know today only solidified in name and character over the last decade, where it has since become one of the fastest-growing segments of the sport.
Gravel’s meteoric rise makes sense. 10 years ago, it represented the counterculture. It stood in stark contrast to the more rigid and gate-kept traditions found in road racing. It placed greater emphasis on inclusivity and camaraderie than on results or performance. For those who rode for the sake of joy and prioritized exploration, it felt refreshing and timely. This ethos was even given a name: the Spirit of Gravel.
In recent years, though, many have claimed that this spirit has died. Gravel has experienced a growing wave of corporatization and professionalism, two of the things gravel’s early adopters sought to escape. The result is friction between modern gravel events and riders who believe these events no longer represent what gravel stood for in the first place.
This post isn’t here to argue about whether the spirit of gravel is alive or dead, what events are worth attending or hosting, or what aspects of modern gravel are right or wrong. Every hobby or sport evolves and changes. Every rider is different, and so are their desires and needs. For us, the spirit of gravel is simply the thing that compels us to get out on a bike. If you’re riding with a smile, you’re probably doing something right.
During his 45-minute Chicken Cross race, Calvin was suffering, but he was suffering with a smile. Seeing that, I remembered a time long ago, before gravel bikes with fat MTB tires started taking over the world, when I raced ‘cross too. I raced in a flannel and jorts. I mashed recklessly through ruts on barely inflated 33mm tubulars. I grabbed beer hand-ups and got heckled for my remounts. I was covered in mud, out of breath, and completely free.
Seeing Calvin experience those same feelings reminded me that sometimes the greatest joys come from the smallest things: riding through a notch between trees, pedaling through mud without dismounting, yelling encouragement to a competitor you keep swapping places with over the course of a race.
I still experience these little joys in gravel races, but maybe it happens a bit less than it used to. Calvin’s too young to have experienced the early days of gravel when the spirit was soaring at its highest. But he experienced that same spirit at this little word-of-mouth race in his own backyard. Maybe next time, I’ll try to join him. We can work on hopping barriers!