By Justin Short
Cover photo courtesy of Justin Short
Spokane has a lot of weird bike stuff going on. Twenty-one years ago, one guy goaded a few friends into riding all night, and the Midnight Century was born. More recently, Dan Webber rolled out a couple of signature Spokane events: The Great Spokane Shop Ride, which sends riders scrambling to visit every bike shop in town, and my personal favorite, The Spokane Stair Master, which climbs 25 staircases and over 1,200 steps in 20 miles. There’s really no shortage of eccentric things to do on bikes here, but why not add to the fray?
Gravel Braintrustee Anthology Johnson had been brainstorming a way to get a bunch of goofballs to ride a century in costume sometime around Halloween. Enter the 7th annual Corbin Park Witches’ Ride. Anthology had been eyeballing Corbin Park as a potential site for something akin to the Ladd’s 500 in Portland, a legendary goofball fest that draws hundreds of idiots out to ride a century on a roundabout in the historic Ladd’s Addition neighborhood. At eight-tenths of a mile and being rectangular in shape, Corbin Park would fit the bill quite nicely. This whole thing came together last minute, so we didn’t have a commemorative sticker or a candle burning on the altar bearing the image of OTO writer Carol Corbin, our patron saint. Perhaps this year she can kick this thing off by anointing riders on the nose with a dollop of magic donut frosting. She’s always wanted to start a cult.
I spent the afternoon figuring out which lighting system to strap down to which bike, and which snacks to pack—it was a “which’s” ride, after all. I then dusted off my chicken costume and headed for the park. Halfway there, I realized I had forgotten my Conan the Barbarian sized Masonic sword to place upon the altar. Yes, I briefly mentioned an altar in the previous paragraph. The rules of this thing clearly state that riders must lie and say, “I’m all in for the full 100,” even if they aren’t, and they must bring something to sacrifice upon the altar. And, oh, what an altar it was: candles, a skull, a bundle of sage, giant rubber dentures, a mountain bike tire, and a large jug of Fireball for our hydration needs. Snacks and water were piled up on either side for our frequent pit stops.
The Witches’ Ride, presented by Corbin Park Neighborhood Association, as far as I knew, involved a dozen folks showing up in witch costumes to ride a few laps around the park, then wandering off to hit the bars on Monroe. But it was sooo much more. There had to be more than a hundred witches and various other ghostly and gobliny characters gathered around the basketball court watching a coven of witches do a choreographed dance routine to classic Halloween tunes. Our “baker’s coven” (14 riders) gathered, bedecked in resplendent costumery. We had a mouse, a dinosaur, an avocado, a witch or two, a Spanish Civil Traffic Guard with a Gandalf hat, and a chicken. Anthology was rather understated with a dozen or so fuzzy tarantulas on his helmet.
As the musical procession concluded, witches took to the streets for a lap or two, cars that lined the park began pulling out, and children were trick or treating amidst the chaos while a couple of guys on e-bikes tossed candy about. We wanted to get the guy on the beach cruiser with a colossal wolf mask to join us, but I’m guessing he couldn’t hear us through that magnificent thing he was wearing. Was it made out of cardboard? Was it made out of quarter-inch steel plate? We’ll never know, but it was by far the coolest costume of the evening.
As the traffic cleared out, our pace picked up a bit, holding about 13 mph on the front stretch and 17 mph on the back stretch after cresting the “hill.” Our night was mapped out for us: go to the next corner and hang a left. 100 laps would be 80 miles, and 125 laps would be a solid imperial century, or, more appropriately, a “vampirical” century. I lost count somewhere around four laps in.
At some point, someone suggested we switch directions, and this is where things got weird. For the next couple of hours, I had many moments in which I could not place where I was. Fortunately, there was always a right turn coming up. Our avocado and witch team rode a triumphant metric century. Another witch in an invisibility cloak rode 59 miles, and three of us finished the century while other friends dipped in and out. I’m pretty sure Justin Skay, former writer of this column, had been there for a bit too, dressed as Justin Skay.
It was well after midnight, and soft cheers emanated from the couple of porches where Halloween parties were still going when the hankering for tacos hit us pretty hard. A 10 p.m. taco drop is something we’ll definitely orchestrate next time around. Anthology’s 125-lap calculation was right on the money. When it was all said and done, I took a few ceremonial glugs from the sacred Fireball jug on the altar and swerved home. I foresee this thing gaining some traction this year, so sharpen your vampire fangs and tighten up the straw on your broom. We don’t know yet if the 2025 Witches 100 will be Saturday, Oct. 25 or Nov. 1, but either way, prepare to declare yourself all-in for the full 100!
Out There’s “Everyday Cyclist” columnist Justin Short is always looking for an excuse to ride around town in a chicken costume.
