Brown’s Camp: The Notorious

June 3, 2003

Browns Camp is the most well known riding area in northwestern Oregon. It seemed like whenever I explained to someone that I had gone riding over the weekend, they assumed it was at this location. In my years of living and riding I had only driven past it en route to somewhere else.

Often I overheard bikers speak of it. “Yeah, I broke this at Browns Camp,” I’d hear at a bike shop while standing in line to pick up a replacement part. Then while gassing up at Chevron before a ride, I’d be asked, “Going to Browns Camp?” For fear of starting a lame conversation that would take time away from my ride, I’d simply nod and go about filling up my bike. Always Browns Camp this, Browns Camp that.

All this hype worked its way into the various stages of my conscious mind. I would think to myself, “I need to ride Browns Camp.” The order kept repeating in my head like the voices heard by Iowa farmer, Ray Kinsella in Field of Dreams. It was time to obey my own voices.

Some reliable sources told me that the trail was more notorious than famous. I’d heard it described as: rutted, muddy, slick, thrashed and crowded. I wanted to experience it myself.

A trio of us headed west after work on a Tuesday. It was exceptionally warm for early June and had not rained in weeks. My companions, both veterans of the loops we were about to venture through, didn’t promise me anything spectacular, only that because of its close proximity we’d have the most daylight. From Portland, Browns Camp is the closest place to ride. Off work at 5:00 and riding by 6:00 ― I was happy, but not all grins.

Browns Camp’s popularity gave it some unpleasant characteristics. Ruts! Ruts everywhere (my sources were correct). The ruts were so deep I expected to see a row of traffic cones and guys wearing orange reflective vest, directing me to the best line. The trails are as wide as a two-lane highway and had 20 different trenches to choose from. Fortunately it was dry and our tires didn’t encounter the Swamp Thing that lies at the bottom of these vast grooves during the wet seasons.

The match, us versus the ruts, started out even. But things got worse when the ruts’ sidekicks, roots and rock, joined in the competition. The three-in-the-ring combination kept our speed down. Picking a good line through the many ruts kept our eyes busy. One wrong choice and I’d have to hope that my bike would be wide enough to stick into the sides of the huge crevice, keeping my tires from touching down in China. Like with most riding conditions we eventually grew accustom, and started to dice with each other a bit. But then another enemy decided to attack – dust.

The thickly wooded area held out the wind and prevented the dust from leaving the trail. Many times we found ourselves braking on a straight section, blind to what lie six feet beneath our faces. The dust, ruts, root and rock made a formidable combination.

As the sun dropped below the coastal range of mountains to the west, our ride came to a close. We had a decent experience and got home in time for the last part of 2 Wheel Tuesday. In my mouth I could still taste the grit of the rock-hard clay surface that kicked up in to my teeth. In my nose, every hair was coated with the same dirt that blinded my vision from the many hidden obstacles.

Dust-caked sinuses aside, I now understand why Browns Camp is so popular ― it’s close and easy to ride over. From just about anywhere in the Portland area you can leave your house and be riding in an hour. You don’t have to be an expert to stay on the trail. The trails are wide enough to accommodate a triple trailer sideways and the only threatening obstacles are man-made. It is perhaps, the perfect place for the parking lot rider who is looking for more of a challenge, or the family who wants to ride together and doesn’t want to encounter anything too steep. But for the serious rider, Browns Camp offers little more than a “how to” guide for riding ruts.