October 24, 2026, turned out to be another perfect, cloudless autumn day in Central Vermont—perfect enough for another eBike adventure with my housemate, Bruce, though this one almost ended in a flat-battery failure.
I wanted to see how Bruce would handle some different terrain, so I mapped out a route to lead us up to Quarterline Road. The plan was to ride up to VT 140, descend into Wallingford, and stop at the Market for lunch. It was a solid plan, until the realities of battery management and steep topography collided.
Early in the ride, we stopped along Quarterline Road at a clearing where you can see down the valley for miles. I always marvel at this view. I like to call it the "Money Shot" of the ride. There are a few others along the route, but this one is my absolute favorite—perhaps because I ride this road so often and love how the landscape just opens up.
Immediately following the view came the big descent: a scarry 20% pitch on an unpaved surface. I was genuinely concerned for Bruce because he had never ridden anything quite this steep. His eBike has a front suspension fork, so I knew his equipment could technically handle the chatter, but I wasn't sure how he would fare since this was entirely new territory. I stayed right with him the whole way down. He handled it beautifully.
Once we reached Chippenhook, the road turned back to smooth pavement. We hung a left onto Walker Mountain Road and the turned right on East Tinmouth Road. This is a solid 3-mile, Category 3 climb with an average grade of 3.5% and a max pitch of 9.5%.
My Yamaha Wabash RT was handling the terrain flawlessly. I was meticulously managing my battery consumption—running in +ECO (the lowest assist setting) on the flats, coasting entirely on the descents, and bumping it to ECO only for the climbs to get a solid workout.
We were probably two miles into that grueling three-mile climb when Bruce turned to me and dropped a bomb: he was already down to half a battery.
Knowing his tendency to leave his bike pinned in the highest assist mode for our entire ride, my mind immediately started doing the math. I began wondering if he’d even make it back to the house. At that exact moment, my hopes of riding the full, expansive Wallingford Roubaix route were extinguished. I knew we were going to have to cut things short and take the direct shot back on Creek Road.
Before making the pivot, we reached the top of East Tinmouth Road and were treated to another exceptional view down the valley—definitely another Money Shot candidate. I honestly can’t decide which perspective I love more: the expansive view down the valley, or the rustic composition of the dirt road with the old farm in the distance.
As we closed in on VT 140, the gravel gave way to pavement. We turned onto the State Highway and immediately started climbing again. This pitch was much shorter than the last one—only about two-thirds of a mile—but it was noticeably steeper, averaging a 6.5% grade.
At the crest of the hill, the road flattened out, and we pulled over at the local landmark known as the Giant’s Table. It’s a fantastic spot featuring massive chairs built from tree branches and oversized wooden place settings meant to fit a giant. Bruce had never seen it before, and it was fun to watch him take it in.
From the table, we began the long descent into Wallingford, and what a wild, fast ride it was. I made sure to keep Bruce in my line of sight the whole way down, capping my own speed at about 30 mph. He handled the speed nicely. Afterward, he mentioned that he always keeps a sharp eye out on downhills for potholes and road debris—which is ironic, considering he only has one eye! He noted that while his front shock can absorb most surface imperfections, he knows he has to stay hyper-vigilant.
We rolled into town and made our scheduled stop at The Market for lunch. I managed to score the very last four-pack of Lawson’s Finest Liquids Fest Bier. I haven’t seen it on sale anywhere else. Lately, my go-to spot for beer in Rutland has been Hannaford since they usually have an incredible selection of Vermont craft beers, but they curiously haven't stocked any local Oktoberfests this autumn. Aside from checking the Market, I haven't gone too far out of my way to hunt them down this season.
I brought a homemade cold cut wrap along for lunch, which disappeared quickly. The Fest Bier went down incredibly smooth. Its rich, malty profile immediately brought back nostalgic memories of the days I lived in Germany and Austria, where I drank these traditional seasonal lagers fresh from the source.
After finishing our beers, we geared up to head back. We approached the intersection, and as I came to a proper stop at the red light, Bruce simply rolled right through, cutting across the intersection against traffic. It always makes me cringe.
While there weren’t any cars coming at that exact second, these kinds of predictable, impatient maneuvers give all cyclists a bad name.
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| Reproductive Rights Pumpkin at The Market |
We turned onto Creek Road to trace our way north back to Rutland. By now, Bruce's battery gauge was showing just three bars, and I could tell he was praying the remaining juice would last.
Leaving Wallingford, Creek Road cuts through open, picturesque pastures. I noticed a few cows grazing right up against the fencing—a sight I hadn't seen on this particular stretch before—and a lone horse was hanging out in the field with them.
The sun was bright through the open fields, but as the road hugged the edge of the ridge overlooking the Otter Creek Valley, we plunged into deep shadow. The temperature dropped instantly. It was absolutely freezing. Bruce told me he finally stepped his power down a notch, running in Standard mode instead of High to conserve juice. Meanwhile, I dropped my Wabash down to +ECO to force myself to pedal harder, using the physical exertion to generate some body heat.
We finally broke back out into the welcome sunlight as we crossed the town line from Clarendon into Rutland, where Creek Road transitions into Dorr Drive. To help him conserve what little energy his bike had left, I had Bruce tuck in and draft directly behind me.
By the time we turned onto River Street, he called out that he was down to a single, flashing bar. I genuinely wondered if he was going to have to push the bike home, especially with one final, punchy little climb remaining up and over the railroad bridge.
But at the base of the bridge, Bruce suddenly flew up the incline—he must have clicked it right back into full power for a final sprint.
I paused at the apex of the bridge to snap a picture of a fascinating train configuration sitting on the tracks below. There were six locomotives connected head-to-tail. It's a massive lineup of motive power that I’ve never seen paired together like that before, yet curiously, they weren't pulling very many cars. I figured they might be scheduled to pick up additional freight further down the line.
When we finally rolled back into the driveway, Bruce’s battery gauge was still stubbornly clinging to that single, flashing bar. I breathed a massive sigh of relief.
Next time we head out together, I think we’ll stick to the flat, familiar valley routes he’s used to that skip the heavy climbing. But looking down at my own battery gauge—which was still well over half full—I know I'm going to have to venture back out solo to conquer the entire Wallingford Roubaix route I originally envisioned. I'll have to tackle it twice: once on the eBike, and once on the pure analog gravel rig.
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