FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT

PAYSON MCELVEEN'S nonstop 32-hour solo crossing of Tasmania was a physical—and emotional—expedition.

- NEAL ROGERS 

Ultimately it wasn’t the distance, the unrelenting terrain or even the merciless body cramps that truly screwed with Payson McElveen’s mind in the toughest hours of his solo ride across Tasmania last November. That honor would go to the waist-deep nighttime river crossing with the very real threat of venomous snakes.

Unseasonable rain weeks earlier had flooded rivers along the 360-mile route, which he’d designed with the help of Tasmanian bike-packing icon Emma Flukes. A bridge 25 feet above the River Leven had been washed away, forcing McElveen to cross thigh-deep water with his bike perched on his shoulder.

But that, at least, happened during daylight hours. That night, about halfway into the 32-hour adventure, he had to ford the larger and muddier Mersey River. McElveen was concerned about all the electronics aboard his bike—lights, powerbank, spare drivetrain batteries, satellite tracker, iPhone— but getting them wet didn’t pose a lethal threat. Tiger snakes, however, were another story. And he had spotted them all along the route.

“They’re far more venomous than anything we have in the States,” he says. They’re 3 to 5 feet long, jet black and look like Satan incarnate. They’re just absolute weapons. And they just got into my head. Like many people, I just have this visceral reaction to snakes.”

Even with bright lights, McElveen couldn’t discern how far it was to the other side of the river. It was likely a few hundred yards, though it looked like more. Rushing water, the color of chocolate milk, rose above his waist. He had no choice but to hoist his fully loaded bike over his head. Weaving through flood debris, he made it across just as his arms began to give out. Then it was time to navigate his way through a thick tangle of driftwood uprooted from flooding—a prime spot for hidden tiger snakes.