310-mile Huracan bike ride through Florida tests grit, will and stamina

It was a serene night in the most picturesque sandy campsite, complete with a crackling campfire and a soundtrack of chirping crickets while stars twinkled overhead. We were reaping nature's rewards after three exhausting days of biking, with touches of misadventure, and we still had one more long day to go.

That's one of the more idyllic snippets of an adventurous 310-mile bike ride through the heart of Florida while following a bikepacking route called the Huracan. My Pittsburgh-based friend Evan Sanders and I spent four days in mid-April navigating gravel forest roads, paved bike paths and deep sand to prove our grit and stamina. Along the way, we battled oppressive heat and exhaustion and rode after dark to make it to the finish line.

I had heard of this fabled route, which was designed by Karlos Bernart, a bikepacking route creator by trade better known as the Singletrack Samurai. He named the route after an Indigenous spirit known to his ancestors.

"He is a mischievous spirit. My ancestors had his petroglyph carved on a rock," Bernart said. "They knew that when the sun would hit his petroglyph, hurricane season was starting. They called him Huracan.”

This ride was previously called the "ultimate off-road endurance experience in the state of Florida" by Bikepacker.com, where Sanders first found it. Hundreds of cyclists have now completed the Huracan, which had a group start in February and celebrates its 16th year in 2026.

As my friend gears up to tackle the 2,700-mile Great Divide off-road cycling route in a few years, he thought this ride would be a good shakedown to get the legs moving and test out gear. We chose the "lite" route, which involved more gravel and less technical singletrack.

After my high-adventure ride across Florida last year, which involved spinning my wheels for 270 miles from the Gulf Coast to the Atlantic Ocean, I was eager to level up my bikepacking skills with this challenge. The loop took us through Florida's state forests and pushed us with sandy trails and technical terrain that kept us both on our toes.

While the ride tested our limits, it allowed us to see some of the most scenic places in wild Central Florida, eventually taking us through Orlando's backyard at Lake Apopka before routing us straight through Ocala National Forest to the finish.

Day 1: An ill-fated shortcut

• On the trail: 10:15 a.m.
• Set up camp: 10:45 p.m.
• Weather: High 86, low 55; mostly sunny
• Mileage: 80
• Memorable moment: Gopher tortoise on trail, canopy roads
• Best snack: Publix sub
• Biggest gripe: Walking bikes in deep sand at night

We awoke at Ocala's Shangri-La campground, the official start of the Huracan route, to greet the dewy dawn, finish our packing and mount our bikes as soon as we could. For this ride, I borrowed Evan's Salsa Cutthroat, a sleek and sturdy carbon fiber bike that's purpose-built for bikepacking.

After a few quick photos, we hopped on our two-wheeled steeds, each loaded with 40+ pounds of gear, eager to put some miles behind us.

The first few hours of the day alternated between pavement and gravel as we traveled west on the Cross Florida Greenway, beginning our 310-mile counterclockwise loop. I explained to Evan the history of the ambitious but ultimately abandoned Cross Florida Barge Canal as he marveled at rows of pine trees that seemed to stretch on indefinitely.

At one road crossing, we grinned as we gave truckers a signal to honk their horns at us, and many obliged.

By lunchtime, we had arrived in Dunnellon, the town that serves as a base camp for countless people visiting Rainbow Springs. I enjoyed my Publix sub on a bench while we hydrated and prepared for a long stretch of paved path on the Withlacoochee State Trail.

It was a steady and scenic but monotonous ride as we rolled over mile after mile of pavement, stopping with great interest when we saw a gopher tortoise alongside the trail to break up the tedium.

As the mid-April afternoon stretched on and we rode into the heat of the day, we took a much-needed rest at the Holder Mine Campground in Citrus Wildlife Management Area. We replenished as many calories and electrolytes as we could during our 45-minute rest.

We rolled up and down the unpaved trails of Citrus, at times hitting sand deep enough to get us off our bikes to walk them. The dry conditions of this winter did not help to pack down the forest roads. Still, the scenery was magnificent as the sun began to sink below the treeline.

Back on pavement, we rolled on a beautiful canopy road lined with oak trees that stretched their branches and Spanish moss above our heads. The scenery was breathtaking, but the thought of the approaching dusk loomed large in our minds.

As daylight gave way to the blue hour, we navigated sandy trails and pavement by flashlight that led us to the Croom Mountain Biking Trails, where we were set to follow singletrack for a few miles before getting spit out close to Nobleton.

Evan mapped out a paved detour to our campsite called Hog Island, which in hindsight would have been a wise move. My stubborn side argued that we should stick to the route, although that isn't really what ended up happening anyway.

Arriving at the border of Withlacoochee State Forest, we could have turned north and found pavement. Instead, I suggested a shortcut that would allow us to bypass some of the singletrack on a forest road. I thought it might be hard-packed gravel or limestone. It turned out to be deep, loose sand.

We were sweating and fatigued as we longed for our campsite. Eventually, we found the singletrack and made our way to a Circle K in Nobleton, eager to replenish our bodies before making a quick ride to arrive at camp around 10:30 p.m.

The end of a 12-hour day proved to be the most grueling, and it could have been prevented if I had only listened to Evan's gut feeling that a paved detour would have saved us a giant headache.

Day 2: A ride on the wild side

• On the trail: 10 a.m.
• Set up camp: 10:45 p.m.
• Weather: High 83, low 64; mostly sunny and calm
• Mileage: 92
• Memorable moment: Arriving at the hotel
• Best snack:Wings and pizza
• Biggest gripe: 8+ hours on a bike saddle

As we awoke to begin the second day of our ride, I felt a few sore spots in my legs and posterior from a full day on the saddle. The novelty of the first day had worn off a little bit and I felt focused on the task ahead: reaching Clermont, 90 miles ahead on the route. There would be a reward there: We had booked a night indoors at a hotel.

Before that, though, we had to survive a 50-mile stretch of cycling through Green Swamp, a beautiful swath of pristine public land with no places to resupply.

At Circle K shortly before we entered the forest, we downed as much water and food as possible. I alternated between a coffee drink, water, a protein shake and my homemade banana bread. I packed some cookies for the road.

It's rare to find anywhere in Florida where you can bike for 50 miles straight and not see any of the sprawling housing developments or strip malls that have come to dot the landscape. Green Swamp, unyielding in its natural beauty, had hard-packed gravel roads that took us past rows of towering pines and occasionally passed under an oak canopy, where we always stopped for a shady break.

Around 5 p.m., we finally stopped for a bite near an abandoned and rusty school bus marked on our map. It was a relief not to be pedaling, even just for a little while.

As we ate bean burritos, we wondered where the time had gone and faced the fact that we were only about halfway to the hotel. After following gravel roads for another hour or so, we found a place to cut out of Green Swamp and onto pavement, creating a slight shortcut into Clermont. I had learned my lesson the day before and decided it was wisest to take the shortest path as nightfall swiftly approached.

With the light of our headlights, we approached civilization, stopping to cross Florida State Road 33 south of Groveland. A man in an FJ Cruiser stopped to ask us if we were OK, thinking it was odd to see two cyclists stopped at that spot after dark (and he wasn't wrong). We still had water and snacks, and just enough energy to carry our tired legs to that hotel.

I felt immense relief when we connected with the South Lake Trail, which I knew as familiar territory. At 10:45 p.m., we finally reached our destination and let out a huge sigh of relief.

I immediately got to work on ordering a large pizza and wings while Evan checked us into the hotel. We passed the time quickly as we began charging all of our devices and taking much-needed showers before crushing our dinner and settling in for a well-deserved rest.

Day 3: A dose of serendipity

• On the trail: 8:45 a.m.
• Set up camp: 7:45 p.m.
• Weather: High 87, low 61; full sun all day
• Mileage: 66
• Memorable moment: Swimming in the springs
• Best snack:Ice cream (x2)
• Biggest gripe: Losing wild Florida to development

There's nothing quite like the feeling of waking up refreshed and clean in a bed after roughing it on a bike for two days. What a treat, complete with hot breakfast, after back-to-back 12-hour days of riding.

We got an earlier start than on the previous days, knowing the sun would beat down on us all day whether we liked it or not. As we climbed and descended our way out of Clermont, we set our sights on Lake Apopka, which was familiar and exciting to me.

Along the way, my heart sank as we pedaled along Lake County's Hancock Trail. On my left, perched atop a ridge, was Del Webb, a new development for retirees. On my right was a patch of wild Florida that had been razed to make room for a new subdivision built by Lennar.

I contemplated the pristine scrub or sandhill habitat that had been lost to the tide of growth and progress. It left me thinking about the fight between growth and conservation, Florida's existential struggle. Seeing so much nature on this ride reminded me of the pressing need to protect what's left of the Sunshine State's natural beauty.

Before long, we reached the Green Mountain Scenic Overlook and Trailhead. We descended our way down gravel switchbacks before we hit Lake Apopka's north shore, spotting egrets, great blue herons, sandhill cranes and gators along the way.

Refreshed after our hotel stay, we kept in good spirits as we made mile after mile. A jaunt on the West Orange Trail helped us connect the dots that led us to Kelly Park, home to one of my favorite local gems, Rock Springs.

The feeling of jumping into the spring all sweaty and sore was magnificent. Hesitant to leave our cool oasis, we took a nearly two-hour break to drink water, eat food and recline in the shade.

By the time we got back on our bikes to head toward Seminole State Forest, the afternoon heat was relentless and the air was still, giving us no respite from the sun's rays.

We found pockets of shade as we headed north, beginning to think about where we might set up camp for the night, not wishing to be caught out after dark again. During a break at a 7-Eleven along State Route 44 in Eustis, I pinpointed a site marked on the map only 6 miles away.

I had no concept of what this site looked like, but as we arrived, it exceeded expectations in every way. Maintained by the Florida Trail Association, the Sawgrass Fill campsite had a bench (with a backrest!), a metal fire pit, firewood already laid out and a shovel for burying embers or taking care of business in the woods.

It was a much-needed stroke of good luck after a trying few days. We finally had time to enjoy ourselves, catch up, recount stories from the trail and relax around the fire, putting us in a good headspace to confront the final day.

Day 4: Earning every last mile

• On the trail: 7:45 a.m.
• Finished: 8:15 p.m.
• Weather: High 94, low 60; hot and sunny
• Mileage: 75
• Memorable moment: Spotting a black bear on trail
• Best snack:Wawa chicken sandwich and protein shake
• Biggest gripe: Oppressive heat

On our final day, we had one goal: finish by sunset. Make that two goals: And not to die of heatstroke during our hottest day on trail yet with a mid-April heatwave sending highs into the 90s.

We set off just after sunrise, soon finding our way onto the Paisley Woods mountain biking trails in Ocala National Forest. The loose sand was taxing and forced us off our bikes several times, slowing our momentum. It took us two hours to cover 10 miles of singletrack, a demoralizing experience when we were hoping to finish as soon as possible and beat the afternoon heat.

A stretch of paved roadway led us through Ocala National Forest, eventually bringing us to a country grocery store, where we soaked up as much time in the shade as we could. It was already sweltering outside.

We agreed to take a break every 10 miles to make sure we stayed hydrated and nourished throughout our final push.

Meandering over the ancient sand dunes of Ocala National Forest by bike was familiar to me after doing the same last year on my ride across Florida. The forest roads offered little shade, so we got through that 15-mile stretch as fast as we could. I checked the weather, which recorded a temperature of 94 degrees that felt like 100.

Even with the tricky conditions, I loved the full nature immersion that the forest provides.

It was nearly 4 p.m. by the time we finally made it to the western edge of the national forest, which made our goal of reaching the finish line by dark seem impossible. We modified our route to shave off about 10 miles, not wishing to succumb to heatstroke.

We followed scenic country roads until about 5:45 p.m. when we reached Belleview, where a much-anticipated Wawa awaited us. I happily devoured a chicken sandwich and protein smoothie along with coconut water and cheese sticks. It's hard to replenish all of the calories and fluids spent during a full sunny day on the bike.

By the time we got back on the route to finish our last 15 miles, the sun was beginning to cast a golden hue through massive oaks draped in Spanish moss that lined the road. At that point, we had faced so much that the sense of accomplishment began to settle upon me.

Our final miles on the paved Cross Florida Greenway were complete bliss. A Florida black bear, which another trail user pointed out to us, added a little magic to the final hour of our ride.

The final rays of daylight were almost gone by the time we reached the Shangri-La campground. So much had transpired in the four days since we set off from our site.

It's always hard to fathom exactly what an adventure will bring when heading into it, but that's part of the experience. Our ride was difficult and uncomfortable at times, but it was also beautiful with abundant scenery. And it ended with an immense sense of achievement.

Find me @PConnPie on Instagram or send me an email: pconnolly@orlandosentinel.com. Stay up to date with our latest travel, arts and events coverage by subscribing to our newsletters at orlandosentinel.com/newsletters.

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This story was originally published May 29, 2026 at 5:44 AM.