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Bike Play is one of the city’s unsung artistic cuties. Since its start in 2009, the Bike Summer/Pedalpalooza ride has drawn healthy crowds to its annual one or two weekend runs, filling parks and lesser-known neighborhood green spaces with playfulness, charm, and cyclist humor.
The production flies under the radar of most cultural criticism. It’s been written about almost exclusively by Bike Portland’s Jonathan Maus for being part of the city’s cycling culture. But isn’t Bike Play theater? And shouldn’t we critique it? Merriam-Webster defines—I’m joking! Of course Bike Play is theater, especially if you think of short comedy skits as meeting the criteria.Â
Bike Play is actually a very old kind of theater, the outdoors kind. And it contends with some of the most enduring puzzles of the form: How to be loud, and how to make movements that can be recognized at a distance.
As with anything that’s been going on for 17 years, the troupe contains a mix of longstanding players and fresh faces. It began as a project of the Working Theatre Collective, now defunct outside of Bike Play. After the first three productions, founder Noah Martin moved out of Portland, and the show’s producer Noelle Eaton became its longest-running constant.
In mid-July the troupe staged its 16th iteration, Up Shift Creek, which followed a Magnolia-esque arc through several separate camping groups—each with their own dramatic circumstances—who all eventually overlapped to fight a shark. Along the way, there were synchronized dances, musical numbers, and a secret religious sect that had been living in the woods since 1968.Â
The story and dialogue were light and refreshing—seemingly built to appeal to 
both young and older audiences, as Bike
Play is a family-friendly ride. Still, sharply smart lines jumped out unexpectedly from the easygoing script, contributing to the show’s overall feeling of pleasant surprise.
The structure of the ride is deceptively simple: A series of interconnected skits, broken up along a group bike ride route. Actors and audience traveled between six locations, along a five-mile loop, and each location brought a unique flavor to the different skits: A grassy divot, tucked beneath tall walls built to block Swan Island traffic sounds, felt like a hidden glade. A basketball court that offered a grand view from the Overlook neighborhood bluff became a sunset stage for tender family reconciliation. In the latter scene, longstanding troupe choreographer Kelsey Rankins broke out ballet moves—in sneakers—her dance with newcomer Isaac Ellingson creating an unusual energy that shifted from surprising elegance to goofy comedy and back again.
Kind of shocking that Bike Play is so fun and funny. A light series of interconnected sketches, told over 5-6 stops on a big group bike ride, it keeps its material tight and gets plenty of laughs from the willing crowd.
— Suzette Smith (@suzettesmith.bsky.social) July 11, 2025 at 7:32 AM
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Plenty of moments of Up Shift Creek were intentionally camp, made to telegraph easily to a large crowd—our audience had over a hundred. But what we felt most often was genuine entertainment at the ingenuity on display. One scene unwound a spool of cellophane to make an impassable river, another used traffic cones to represent campfires.
Even within such a simple idea, there’s so much chaos to work with. We were struck with the idea that Bike Play is so refreshing because its creators are still playing—still inventing and reacting to their shifting stages— and that’s leading them to bold, new flavors of mood.
Read more about Bike Play at bikeplaypdx.com, follow @bikeplay for updates.
