A Guide to Bicycle Travel

Bicycle travel is an incredible way to explore new places and immerse yourself in cultures around the world. Unlike traditional travel, cycling allows you to bypass crowded tourist hotspots and engage more deeply with a place’s natural landscapes, cultural heritage, and daily rhythms—all at a human-powered pace. Traveling by bicycle is not just about reaching the final destination; it's more about the journey itself: the challenges you face, the connections you make, the meals you enjoy, and the stories you gather along the way. Beyond these rewards, bicycle travel is also a more sustainable and economical choice. Drastically reducing your carbon footprint minimizes conventional travel methods' environmental and societal impacts. Additionally, prioritizing camping over lodging can make it a far more affordable way to explore, allowing you to experience epic destinations without breaking the bank.

However, traveling by bicycle comes with its share of challenges. It requires careful planning to map out your route, establish a rough itinerary, and select the appropriate equipment for the journey. Strategic packing is essential to avoid excess baggage fees and a cumbersome ride, and navigating cultural and language differences is vital to being a respectful guest. Additionally, emotional and mental challenges, such as homesickness or travel fatigue, can arise and should be anticipated.  

I have had the privilege of traveling by bike on six continents and through over twenty countries. My trips have ranged from two weeks to three months. These experiences have tested my physical and mental limits and deepened my understanding of the world and my place within it through meaningful connections and interactions. In this guide, I’ll share strategies for successful bicycle travel—from planning your route and choosing the right equipment to packing efficiently and navigating cultural nuances, as well as addressing the emotional and mental aspects of the journey. Whether you’re a seasoned globetrotter seeking new insights or preparing for your first international trip, I hope this guide inspires and equips you to become a prepared, low-impact, and conscious world bicycle traveler.

Choosing Your Route

Selecting a route and planning a rough itinerary are the first steps in preparing for a bicycle trip, even before booking flights and accommodations. Fortunately, countless established routes and guides are available online for nearly any destination you have in mind.

If this is your first time traveling to a specific location, follow a pre-established route. This simplifies logistics and allows you to focus on immersing yourself in the cultural experience and tackling the physical challenges rather than navigating complex land access rules or route planning in unfamiliar territory.

Key Questions to Shape Your Experience

To determine the type of experience you want, ask yourself:

  • Where do I want to go?

  • What culture inspires me, or which one would I like to learn more about?

  • What surfaces do I want to ride? Pavement, dirt roads, trails, or a mix?

  • What’s my primary goal? Exploring remote natural landscapes or immersing fully in a cultural experience?

  • What kind of environment excites me? Mountains, urban, countryside, coastlines, deserts, etc.?

  • What accommodations do I prefer? Camping, hostels, B&Bs, homestays, huts, or hotels?

Answering these questions can help you clarify your vision for the trip, making it easier to narrow down potential routes.

Finding the Perfect Route

Once you have a sense of what you’re looking for, use these resources to discover established routes:

  • Bikepacking.com Worldwide Route Map: A global database of bikepacking routes, guides, and stories.

  • Bikepacking Roots: U.S.-based routes with an emphasis on conservation, advocacy, and community.

  • Ride with GPS: A user-friendly platform for planning, finding, and navigating routes.

  • Komoot Discover Routes: A similar app to Ride with GPS dominant in Europe. 

  • Google Search: Use keywords like “Bikepacking [location]” or “Bike Touring [location]” to find region-specific guides.

Choosing a route that aligns with your values, goals, and preferences will set the foundation for a rewarding and memorable adventure.

Planning Your Itinerary

Once you've chosen a destination and a route, it's time to plan a basic itinerary. A well-structured yet flexible itinerary allows you to be free to fully enjoy the experience. The basic framework below helps you budget time for the trip and book transportation while leaving room for spontaneity, the heart of bicycle travel. After all, the unplanned moments, whether a serendipitous detour or an immersive cultural experience, often become the highlights of your journey.

Budgeting Time for the Trip

Start by taking your route's total mileage (or elevation gain) and dividing it by the average distance (or elevation) you expect to cover each day.

For example, I enjoy rugged, remote, and mountainous routes and prefer a daily average of about 35 miles or 3,500 feet of climbing. This pace gives me time to:

  • Pause for a siesta or a swim.

  • Enjoy impromptu experiences.

  • Fully immerse in the surroundings without feeling rushed.

For a 400-mile route, I’d budget around 11 days of riding, allowing for variability:

  • Surpassing the daily average lets me "bank" time.

  • Some days, I may cover as little as 25 miles due to challenging terrain or the desire to linger.

  • Banking time often allows for rest days or exploring cultural attractions mid-tour or at the trip's end.

Key Considerations for Daily Mileage

When determining your average distance per day, think about:

  1. Surface Type

    • Pavement allows for longer distances.

    • Dirt roads, singletrack, or technical terrain slow you down.

  2. Elevation Gain

    • Significant climbing reduces your daily range.

  3. Load

    • Fully loaded bikes with camping gear and provisions require more effort. Adjust expectations accordingly.

    • Depending on conditions, semi-loaded riders staying in huts or hotels may manage higher mileage.

Build Flexibility into Your Itinerary

Add a few buffer days to account for:

  • Travel days.

  • Jet lag.

  • Acclimating to altitude or a new climate.

  • Unexpected delays or opportunities for unplanned adventures.

This extra time ensures you won't feel pressured and allows the trip to unfold naturally.

Final Step: Book Your Tickets

Once you’ve calculated the time needed for your trip (plus a buffer), start shopping for transportation tickets whether it be by plane, train, or automobile. 

Selecting and Preparing the Equipment

Once you've chosen your route and planned a basic itinerary, you can focus on selecting and preparing your bicycle, camping gear, bike bags, and other travel essentials.

Route-Specific Gear Selection

Many route guides offer gear recommendations tailored to specific routes. Read these guides and browse community comments for insights into terrain difficulty, climate conditions, insect prevalence, and overnight temperatures. These details can significantly influence your gear choices.

If no recommendations are available, here’s a basic guideline:

  • Off-Road Routes (40% or more): Choose a hardtail mountain bike for stability, comfort, and lower gearing under heavy load. Opt for flat bars for technical routes with singletrack or rough roads, adjusting tire size for sandy or rocky conditions. For smoother gravel and dirt roads, a hardtail mountain bike with drop bars works well (e.g., the Fenrir).

  • Gravel Bikes: Think of gravel bikes as the road bikes of paved touring. Tour on a gravel bike on predominantly paved routes, and you’ll have the flexibility to ride dirt sections comfortably enough for shorter periods of time.

Camping Gear: Your Home on Wheels

When camping, your gear becomes your home, kitchen, and bed. Prioritize comfort and be ready for varying conditions:

  • Always carry a bug net and a rainfly for longer trips.

  • Choose a sleeping pad based on expected temperatures:

    • For nights above 45°F, an uninsulated pad suffices.

    • Below that, opt for an insulated pad.

  • I tend to run cold at night. For temperatures in the 20°F range, I choose a 10°-0°F sleeping bag and pack insulated pants and booties.

Bikepacking vs. Touring Setup

Deciding between traditional racks and panniers or bikepacking bags depends on your style and route. For a deeper dive into this choice, check out my Introduction to Bikepacking: Tips, Tricks, and Pack List. If gear is a barrier to starting, remember: the best gear is the gear you already have or can borrow. With the right attitude, almost any bike and setup can get you there.

Preventative Maintenance

Nothing disrupts an adventure like realizing mid-trip that your chain is worn or your derailleur hanger is broken. Ensure your bike is trail-ready by getting a professional tune-up before your trip.

Ask your mechanic to:

  • Check and replace worn tires, chain, cassette, and brake pads.

  • Service the bottom bracket and hubs.

Remember to pack a spare derailleur hanger, an extra tube, tire sealant, tire plugs, chain links, extra brake pads, spare bolts, a few spokes for each wheel, and any other bike-specific item that may fail. 

Preparation is key to a smooth journey!

Packing Tips for Bike Travel

When packing to travel with your bicycle, it is crucial to bring only the essentials. Packing light will simplify your life on the road (rather than make it complex and cumbersome) and make your bicycle handle more comfortably and efficiently. For my recommended packing list and how to balance weight distribution on your bike, check out my Introduction to Bikepacking: Tips, Tricks, and Pack List. 

Transporting Your Bicycle

“How do you get your bicycle to your destination? Do you travel with it? Is that a TV in that box?” These are common questions I’m asked when traveling with my bike.

While rental bikes are available in many places worldwide, I prefer traveling with my bicycle because:

  • It is tailored to my fit specifications.

  • My bikepacking bags are designed to fit my bicycle’s dimensions.

  • I trust its mechanical reliability and durability.

  • I have trained with and tested my setup.

Traveling by Plane 

Flying with Your Bike

Most major U.S. airlines now treat bicycles as standard checked baggage, provided the box or case weighs 50 lbs or less. Exceeding this weight limit will typically result in oversized baggage fees ranging from $150 to $200 or more. 

Pro Tips for Flying with a Bike:

  1. Check Airline Baggage Policies: Research and print the airline’s bicycle baggage policy before your trip. If the check-in agent seems unfamiliar with the airline’s rules, show them to them. If necessary, politely ask for a supervisor to assist.

  2. Beware of Smaller Regional Airlines: Many regional airlines outside the U.S. have stricter policies and higher fees for bicycles. For example:

    • I am flying to Marrakesh, Morocco, with a layover in Madrid, Spain. The leg from Madrid to Marrakesh is booked through a third-party regional airline, but because I purchased my ticket through American Airlines and my bike is checked through to my final destination, I will only pay the price of a checked bag on the outbound trip. However, on my return, the process will differ. I’ll first fly from Marrakesh to Madrid with the third-party airline. Upon arrival in Madrid, I’ll need to retrieve my bike from customs and recheck it with American Airlines for the final leg of the journey to the United States. In this case, I should anticipate being charged by the third-party airline for their bicycle luggage policy (typically $150–$300), as their fees will apply for the Marrakesh-to-Madrid segment, not American Airlines'.

  3. Weigh and Pack Smart: Avoid surprise charges by keeping your bike box or case within the weight limit.

Bike Cases vs. Cardboard Boxes

Bike Cases (Hard or Soft):

  • Pros:

    • Best protection for your bike during air travel.

    • Ideal for trips starting and ending in the same location, as many hotels or hostels will store the case for you.

  • Cons:

    • Expensive and bulky, requiring storage space when not in use.

    • Heavier and offer less room for additional gear like camping equipment or clothing.

Cardboard Bike Boxes:

  • Pros:

    • Affordable (often free) and lightweight.

    • Mountain bike or e-bike boxes provide extra space for packing gear, which also adds padding.

    • Easy to discard or recycle at your destination, making them great for trips with different start and end points.

  • Cons:

    • Less durable; long flights with many connections can damage them, potentially harming your bike.

    • Loose items may fall out through holes created during handling.

    • More complicated to replace in areas without bike shops. If unavailable, you may need to construct one using cardboard from appliance stores.

See How to Pack Your Bike In a Cardboard Box

Packing Your Gear

Whether using a case or box, pack heavy or bulky items with your bike to distribute weight efficiently. Consider carrying a lightweight, packable backpack or bikepacking bag as your carry-on. I typically pack essentials like:

  • Electronics.

  • Toiletries.

  • Clothing layers.

  • Sleep setup (bag, pad, pillow).

By packing my sleeping gear, toiletries, clothing, and electronics in my carry-on bag, I ensure I’m prepared to sleep in the airport if needed or manage comfortably if my bike luggage is delayed.

Bonus Tip: If you love bringing home local goods, purchase a cheap duffle bag from a local market to carry extra items that won’t fit in your bike box or carry-on. It’s a handy way to transport those artisan finds!

Remember! You cannot fly with CO2 cartridges or propane canisters. Pack all lithium batteries (including eTap batteries) in your carry-on bag.

Traveling By Train 

Traveling by train is a convenient, low-impact option, especially in Europe. Most local regional trains in Europe allow bicycles onboard for free and have designated bike racks in specific cars. For longer-distance or high-speed trains, a limited number of bike racks are available, and an additional ticket for your bicycle is often required.

Amtrak is the only nationwide train service in the United States, supplemented by smaller regional and subway systems in major cities. Amtrak destinations are limited, and tickets can sometimes cost more than renting a car. Travel times can be longer than driving, with occasional significant delays. However, train travel offers a more relaxed and hassle-free experience. For bicycles, Amtrak typically requires a reservation. Bikes weighing up to 50 lbs are accepted, but you’ll need to remove all bags and luggage before handing your bike to the Amtrak luggage crew.

Traveling By Bus

Traveling by bus can also be a great option, though it may be limited by the number of bicycles the bus can accommodate. Smaller buses without under-coach storage typically have a bike rack on the front. Drivers may ask you to remove some or all of your bike's bags to make it easier to secure on the rack and avoid obstructing their view.

You’ll often need to remove at least the front wheel for larger buses with under-coach storage. In Europe, many bus services require bicycles to be wrapped in plastic or placed inside a bag to contain dirt. Always check the specific bicycle policy of the bus service before traveling.

Traveling by Boat

Traveling by boat or ferry is a scenic, convenient, and hassle-free way to transport your bicycle, with no disassembly required. Simply roll your bike on and off the vessel. Don’t forget to bring a few extra straps to secure your bike during the journey.

Shipping Your Bike

For domestic travel, Bike Flights offers a reliable, insured shipping service and can also provide a sturdy bike box for packing. However, this convenience comes at a cost—expect to pay $200 or more.

Cultural and Logistical Considerations for Responsible Travel

It is a privilege to travel by bicycle, so when visiting a new place or country, it’s essential to be respectful, responsible, and well-prepared to ensure sustainable and low-impact travel.

1. Research and Preparation: Thoroughly research your route and prepare yourself and your equipment to minimize the risk of being underprepared and potentially burdening local communities.

2. Visas and Documentation: For international trips, consult the U.S. State Department’s travel recommendations for your destination. Ensure you obtain all necessary visas, permits, and supporting paperwork well in advance.

3. Guidebooks and General Knowledge: Use a general guidebook, such as Lonely Planet, to familiarize yourself with the local currency, transportation options, history, cultural norms, and major attractions.

4. Language Basics: Learn basic phrases in the local language using tools like Duolingo. Even small efforts to communicate are often warmly appreciated. Additionally, download the Google Translate app and save the relevant languages for offline use—translation apps are widely accepted and used worldwide.

5. Immerse Yourself in Local Culture: Deepen your understanding by exploring the culture of a place. Listen to local music, watch documentaries, or read works by regional authors. Connecting to culture, arts, and literature enriches your experience and shows respect for the place and its people.

6. Stay Informed About Local Context: Familiarize yourself with your destination's current socioeconomic and political climate to better understand its context and sensitivities.

7. Ask Permission Before Taking Photos: Always ask for permission before photographing people, sacred sites, or private property. Respect local customs regarding photography, and be mindful that some communities may view it as intrusive or disrespectful.

8. Support Fair Trade and Ethical Practices: Shopping from fair trade and ethically responsible sellers ensures your purchases contribute positively to the local economy, support artisans, and uphold fair labor practices. Avoid buying products that exploit local resources or workers.

9. Leave No Trace: Adhere to the Seven Principles of Leave No Trace to minimize your environmental impact and help preserve the natural and cultural beauty of the places you visit.

10. Interactions with Locals: Engage with curious locals who show genuine interest in getting to know you. However, exercise caution and avoid engaging with individuals exhibiting hustling or scam-like behavior.

11. Respect for Rural and Underserved Communities

  • Avoid straining local resources by being adequately prepared for your journey.

  • Consider bringing small, meaningful gifts like pens, toothbrushes, water filters, or solar lanterns to give back thoughtfully.

12. Sustainable Travel: Research carbon offset programs to mitigate your travel's environmental impact. Many initiatives allow you to fund climate projects, often in the region you’re visiting, helping to balance activities like travel by plane. 

13. Travel Mindset: A positive attitude goes a long way. Be respectful, humble, and courteous, always remembering that you are a guest and that travel is a privilege.

Emotional and Mental Aspects of Traveling by Bicycle

Traveling by bicycle can be a magical adventure, but it also has its share of emotional challenges, such as solitude, homesickness, or a lack of motivation. Preparing for these challenges can help you address your needs without completely derailing your trip.

When an emotional challenge arises, the first step is to have compassion for yourself. Traveling by bike takes you far outside your comfort zone, away from familiar support systems, and often leaves you physically exhausted from daily riding and camping. Add the mental stimulation of constant new experiences, and it’s no surprise that emotional challenges can surface. When this happens, consider the following:

  • Practice Self-Compassion: Remind yourself that what you’re experiencing is expected, given the demands of your journey. Reframe your emotions in the context of the incredible effort and adventure you’re undertaking.

  • Meet Your Basic Needs: Eat a substantial meal (or two), get quality rest by booking a room, shower, and do some laundry. A single restful night can transform your outlook.

  • Take a Break: Take a day or two off the bike to recharge physically and mentally.

  • Reconnect: Reach out to family or friends or engage with other travelers. Human connection can offer a fresh perspective and much-needed comfort.

  • Reassess Your Plans: If fatigue or emotional strain persists, consider pivoting. Pivoting might mean adjusting your route, taking a different mode of transport, or even stepping away from the bike entirely. Remember, there’s no prize for completing every mile. Your well-being matters more than the route.

  • Read for Perspective: For further insights on managing the emotional and mental aspects of cycling journeys, check out my article: Quitting: A Cyclist’s Guide to Graceful Exits.

No matter what happens, every journey teaches you something about yourself. Embrace the experience, listen to your needs, and trust yourself to make the best decisions for your trip.

For me, bicycle travel is an intimate and rewarding way to experience new places. It blends physical challenges with cultural immersion, environmental consciousness, and personal growth. While it requires some preparation and adaptability, the benefits are immeasurable. Whether you seek adventure, connection, or a deeper understanding of the world and your place within it, traveling by bike offers a unique perspective unavailable through traditional means. With the strategies shared in this guide, you are now equipped to plan a successful and conscientious journey. Embrace the unexpected, and enjoy the ride. Safe travels!

Quitting: A Cyclists Guide to Graceful Exits

Bikepacking trips and events can require months of training and preparation, financial investment, and time off work and away from loved ones. So, what leads us to quit things we have put so much emotional, physical, and financial energy into completing? How do we avoid quitting? How do we know when to stop, when to pivot, or when to keep going? Finally, why does quitting hurt so severely, and how do we recover after a hard quit? 

In this article, I’ll explore the taboo topic of quitting through these questions and share some lessons and strategies I have learned from my experience of both quitting and completing big challenges. 

For the sake of this discussion, I define quitting as abandoning an effort entirely and going home. I believe quitting is more common when a goal, time limit, or event is narrowly defined, such as a race, FKT, or big challenge. While there are grey areas, quitting is less likely when flexibility allows for pivoting, such as on a ride or bike tour. Pivoting, in this context, means adapting to a new plan that is more fulfilling and sustainable for your well-being.

Challenging the Taboo of Quitting

I am a cyclist focusing primarily on bike touring and adventure rides, who occasionally likes to take on significant challenges. My bikepacking philosophy embraces pivoting when the experience becomes unsustainable —I allow myself to switch it up, take a day or two off, adjust my route, or even use alternative transportation before quitting and going home. My fundamental goal is to have a rewarding and fulfilling experience, and the means I go about reaching that goal are up for my interpretation. Remember, unless you are racing or aiming to set a record, there’s no need to put undue pressure on yourself to ride every mile of a route.

First, let’s address the taboo. Quitting competitive or goal-driven activities is often stigmatized and frequently seen as a sign of failure or weakness—especially in environments where perseverance and pushing through adversity are highly celebrated. This stigma, compounded by how much we share our goals on social media, can create added pressure to complete what we start, for better or worse. The combination of societal expectations and online scrutiny also intensifies the emotional pain when we decide to step away.

It’s essential to challenge the mindset that quitting is a sign of failure or weakness because there are many valid reasons to step away from a goal—whether due to physical health, mental well-being, or uncontrollable circumstances. Success shouldn’t be defined solely by crossing the finish line but by being able to recognize your limits, having meaningful experiences, and prioritizing your welfare. There’s little glory in achieving a goal at the expense of your safety, health, or relationships. That kind of culture can become toxic. It can damage your relationship with the sport by making it less sustainable and can make the sport feel less accessible to others.

My Two Hardest Quits

While I don’t compete in races very often, I have completed the Unbound Kansaz 200-mile gravel race twice, a 350-mile randonnee without sleep, a successful Tour Divide race, and was the first cyclist to complete the entire TAT, a 5,000-mile dual-sport motorcycle route across the U.S. from east to west on dirt roads. I’ve also bikepacked tens of thousands of miles across six continents and over twenty-one countries. Despite all the challenges I’ve faced during my 10-year career in adventure cycling, quitting two particular events— the New Colo in 2022 and the Tour Divide in 2023—were some of the hardest reckonings of my cycling journey. While I’ve pivoted from my plans countless times on bike tours, I had never quit anything before, let alone two events back-to-back.

It all started in 2021, after a long hiatus from participating in bikepacking races. I decided to enter the Tour Divide Race after spending six years bikepacking worldwide until the COVID-19 pandemic shut down international travel. By the spring of 2021, while COVID was still present, people were beginning to venture out again. A modified version of the Tour Divide was planned starting at the U.S.-Canada border. After being cooped up for over a year, I threw my name in the hat to see how my bikepacking experience would translate into an ultra long distance race environment.

Unfortunately, on the way to the event, the bike rack on my car failed, ejecting my race-ready Tour Divide bike onto the road at 60 miles per hour. Watching it fly off the rack in my rearview mirror, I saw all the time, money, and energy I had invested vanish in an instant. At first glance, the damage appeared cosmetic, but I soon noticed that the seat stay was nearly severed in half. I broke down emotionally, believing my Tour Divide journey was over before it even began.

However, after a night of rest, I regained clarity and motivation to find a solution by reaching out to my community. Thanks to their incredible and swift help, my carbon frame was repaired within 36 hours. Fueled by gratitude and encouragement, I flew through the Tour Divide in 21 days, securing second place among women and 11th overall. While this is a story of perseverance in the face of adversity, it is also significant because this Tour Divide experience pushed me to explore my identity in cycling. I was curious whether I genuinely enjoyed bikepacking races or if this experience was just an anomaly.

The following year, I entered the inaugural New Colo bikepacking race, a local Durango event featuring 1,000 miles of single-track and dirt roads through southwest Colorado and northeast New Mexico. I spent two months preparing to complete the route on my home turf in 10-14 days. In doing so, I said no to countless other opportunities and structured my entire summer around this event. However, as the race approached, subtle red flags emerged regarding the event organizer’s communicated philosophy and route choices. I tried to ignore them, but they eventually festered into a severe case of anxiety that gripped me the night before the event and lasted through the first 24 hours of the race. With no relief from the looming dread, I reached a fork in the trail at sunrise on day two, atop the epic Calico Ridge. The right path kept me on course, while the left led off route—a commitment to abandoning the event. I pushed my bike a few steps to the right, only to return to the intersection. It felt as if I were being physically pulled from the route. I turned left and quit the New Colo at mile 64 (and 14,000 ft of gained elevation) out of 1,000 miles. 

Fast-forward to 2023, when a few close friends and I decided to tackle the Tour Divide together. While I usually avoid repeating challenges, the thought of speed-packing this iconic route with close friends was too tempting to pass up. However, things quickly took an unexpected turn. Just days before the race, the anonymous organizer of the 2023 event sent out a stern email enforcing strict rules on emotional support. According to these rules, riding with others was considered a form of assistance, which disqualified us from the event. The organizer even made it clear that participants planning to ride together were not welcome at the start line. 

Despite this, we felt it was too late to change our plans, so we decided to start the race in silent protest. 

During the first 24 hours, a familiar anxiety resurfaced, but as I settled into the course, muscle memory took over, and I found myself falling into the rhythm I had honed back in 2021. It was reassuring to feel that same level of fitness and skill return, especially after the challenges I had faced on the New Colo. Maybe, in some way, I needed that validation. But as the miles rolled by, it became clear that my friends and I were on different wavelengths. By the end of the first five days, a nearly 24-hour gap had grown between us. I was torn—continue at my own pace and relive the ride of 2021 or slow down and ride alongside my friends. Ultimately, I chose the latter.

Even after reuniting, though, the pace difference was hard to ignore. After several days of grappling with the frustration of difference in pace, and after countless tearful calls to loved ones for guidance, I made the difficult decision to withdraw from the race, having covered 800 miles of the 2,700-mile journey.

While the circumstances were very different, the emotions that followed in the hours, days, and weeks after quitting were remarkably similar: relief, shame, disappointment, anger, doubt, and confusion. My confidence was shattered. I questioned whether I was truly capable or just delusional. In both cases, I didn’t feel regret for quitting, which affirmed that I had made the right decision, but I did feel regret for not knowing my self better and investing in something that didn’t align with my values.

Why Do We Quit?

Both of my two hardest quits occurred during race or event settings where I had set clear, defined goals. I had committed to participating in structured events with the aim of finishing within a specific timeframe. So why did I quit after investing so much in these goals? The truth is, during both the New Colo and the 2023 Tour Divide, I was chasing challenges that didn’t align with my core values.

First, my entire career has been built around being a non-competitive cyclist for a reason. Over the years, I’ve learned that I derive far more fulfillment from non-competitive cycling experiences than I do from racing environments. Secondly, I ignored subtle red flags. In both events, I didn’t fully support the organizers' philosophy around the routes or emotional support rules.

During the 2023 Tour Divide, I found myself avoiding the truth—that deep down, I wanted to relive my 2021 experience, but this time, alongside friends, all riding at the same pace. However, trying to achieve that in the context of an ultra-distance race added an extra layer of complexity to an already grueling challenge. The balance between group dynamics and the individual demands of the race made the experience far more difficult than I had anticipated.

Despite my efforts to ignore the subtle signs urging me to reconsider taking on both events, it took pushing myself to the physical limit, with all distractions stripped away, to recognize that these challenges were more draining than fulfilling. 

I committed to these events during a time when I was exploring my identity in cycling, questioning whether bikepacking racing was still right for me after the success and enjoyment of the 2021 Tour Divide. The lesson, after these two experiences, is nuanced. I believe bikepacking racing can still be part of my journey, but only if I choose events that align with my values and where I’m fully committed to adhering to the race's structure. As I search for that alignment, I’ve taken a meaningful step toward rides that truly fulfill me—whether that’s exploring new and familiar places in the Southwest United States or tackling the epic routes of the Dolomites in Italy, the Baja Peninsula in Mexico, Morocco's sub-Sahara, the Peruvian Andes, Kyrgyzstan Tian Shan, and the Bartang Valley of Tajikistan.

In my case, I quit because the anxiety and stress of doing something misaligned with my values became unbearable.

Other valid reasons to quit include protecting your physical health, when continuing would be irresponsible. You might also quit if you find yourself in a cycle of diminishing returns, where the effort and resources you’re investing are yielding little or no positive outcome. You may realize you're only continuing because of a sense of obligation to others. Lastly, external factors like severe weather, flooding, deep snow, or forest fires could make achieving your goal impossible or unsafe.

Whatever the reason for quitting, the decision should not be taken likely because of the investment it took to get there, the resources it will take to remove you from the course, and the emotional reckoning that could accompany your decision.

When to Quit, Pivot, or Push Forward

A general rule: don’t quit on an empty stomach, when you’re exhausted, or when environmental conditions are unpleasant. Get some rest, eat a solid meal, and reassess the next day. Chances are, you’ll have renewed energy and clarity.

If the urge to quit persists, ask yourself:

  • Are you aligned with your values and priorities?

  • Is your physical or mental health at risk?

  • Are you stuck in a cycle of diminishing returns?

  • Are external factors out of your control?

If none of these resonate, read on to learn how to avoid a hard quit. But if they do, consider pivoting as a first line of defense. Adjust your approach by increasing your level of self-care (more hotels, laundry, showers, etc.), switching to touring mode, or cherry-picking the route by using public transportation. Quit if continuing after a few days it is more detrimental to your well-being to keep going than beneficial.

How to Avoid a Hard Quit (and Accomplish Big Goals)

From my experience completing big goals, I have found the following strategies helpful in maintaining momentum on the course:

Practice Gratitude: Assuming you have physically prepared to the best of your ability, start by practicing gratitude. Reflect on the privilege of challenging yourself via the bicycle in a beautiful place, your ability to take time off work or away from family, your physical capabilities, the community that supports you, and your access to bicycles and gear. Gratitude can be a powerful motivator. For example, when my bike frame cracked and then repaired three days before the 2021 Tour Divide, my gratitude for my community's support and the opportunity to race propelled me down the course with momentum. 

Set Realistic Expectations: Adjust your expectations to be more achievable. Modify timelines, reduce the pressure for perfection, and rethink success to make the ride more enjoyable and sustainable. For instance, during my 2021 Tour Divide, I set the goal of finishing the route in 30 days while aiming to average 82 miles per day. During the event, completing 110 miles felt exhilarating, while 120+ miles made me feel like a superhero. Even on days when I rode just 85 miles due to weather, I felt content. I ended up finishing in 21 days, averaging 118 miles per day, consistently surpassing my expectations and feeling accomplished.

Stay Present: Focus on one pedal stroke at a time and celebrate small victories to maintain momentum. When I was suffering over Union Pass in Wyoming, it was overwhelming to think about reaching Antelope Wells, New Mexico. To keep going, I concentrated on the present moment using the mantra “one pedal stroke at a time,” and immersed myself in my surroundings—aspens flickering in the wind, the sensation of the breeze, the vivid sunset, and the babbling of a nearby brook.

Stay Connected to a Supportive Community: Surround yourself with people who understand and encourage your journey. A strong community offers advice, accountability, and inspiration, especially during challenging times. I’m fortunate to have a network supporting my bikepacking adventures—my partner, parents, siblings, friends, and extended social circles. I often lean on them for encouragement and guidance, or simply to reconnect with the outside world which helps me remember who I am and what I am capable of. I jokingly call my parents 'mission control' because, more times than I can count, they’ve helped me navigate both literal and figurative forks in the road.

Revisit Your “Why” and Visualize Success: Spend time reconnecting with the deeper reasons behind your goal and imagining how it will feel when you accomplish it. Understanding your inspiration can reignite your passion while visualizing success can boost motivation, build confidence, and reinforce that the effort will pay off. I chose to do the 2021 Tour Divide to test my capabilities and fundraise for getting more young women on bicycles through the Cairn Project. Visualizing all the miles, different environments, and challenges I overcame—culminating in the sight of my partner Adam at the finish line—provided a powerful sense of accomplishment when I needed a boost on the route.

Pivot When Necessary: Sometimes, avoiding quitting doesn’t mean sticking to your original plan. Be open to adjusting your approach if something isn’t working. Flexibility in your plan or timeline can help you overcome roadblocks without abandoning your goal. For example, an early-season monsoon system brought multiple rain and lightning storms in New Mexico daily. To keep going and avoid quitting, I had to adjust my expectations for daily mileage and increase self-care by booking more motel rooms and doing additional laundry.

How to Recover After Quitting

After quitting, go easy on yourself. Allow yourself plenty of time to physically recover and grace to process the emotions—relief, guilt, disappointment, etc. When you are ready, reflect on why you quit and the lessons you gained. Reframe quitting as a deliberate choice that takes strength, made for valid reasons rather than failure. Lastly, focus on future goals, whether that’s rest or a new challenge. 

It took me more time than I’d like to admit to process my decision to quit the New Colo. Two weeks after I quit the event, I decided to do a 5-day solo bikepacking trip in southwest Colorado. I needed this experience to remind myself that I love riding bikes and I am capable of overcoming big challenges. I recovered much faster from the 2023 Tour Divide after that experience. Journaling, therapy, talking with friends and colleagues, riding my bike, and writing this article have all been part of the process.

Conclusion

Everyone quits at some point, though we don’t often talk about how difficult it can be to quit because of the stigma. I believe quitting is a necessary part of growth as an athlete, it certainly has been for me. We should celebrate our ability to aim high, face adversity, and know when to prioritize our well-being. Next time you decide whether to quit or not, I hope this article will help make that decision a tiny bit easier.

Baja Cape Loop: Itinerary and Route Guide

Having completed three laps around the Baja Cape, I wanted to create a dedicated resource for those tackling the Baja Cape Loop. Alongside my 2024 Baja Divide Route Guide Update, I’ve assembled the following resources for the Baja Cape Loop, starting and ending at San José del Cabo Airport:

Complete Baja Cape Loop: Featuring my personal favorite points of interest, including camping spots, surf and snorkel locations, delicious food stops, and key resupply points.

Route Collection: Includes the complete route, the route split into two sections, a detour to Playa Los Cerritos, and a shortcut option.

Resupply Sheet: Details resupply points for the full route and individual sections, listing mile markers for each resupply and the distances between them.

Route Guide: Includes minor updates to Nicholas Carmen and Lael Wilcox’s original written guide for the Cape, modified to start and end at San José del Cabo Airport.

Suggested Itinerary (see below): My recommended 11-day itinerary includes two travel days and 9.5 riding days, with one full day off and two half days. Designed for those seeking a balance of adventure and leisure, this itinerary allows time to experience the Baja Cape’s highlights: surfing waves, snorkeling, swimming with whale sharks, and savoring delicious local food—all alongside challenging rides.

  • The itinerary offers flexibility:

    • Shorten it by skipping the Los Cerritos detour or taking the La Paz–San Juan de los Planes shortcut (both included in the Route Collection).

    • Extend it by adding rest days to explore La Paz, Cabo Pulmo, or Todos Santos.

    Use this itinerary as a framework, adjusting daily distances and campsites to suit your group’s needs.

Trip Itinerary 

Day 1: Arrive at the Los Cabos International Airport by noon // Build bikes at the airport // Shuttle vehicle with boxes to Cactus Inn // Ride 25 miles +3,200 //Camp around the summit

Day 2: Ride 32 Miles +1,600 // Take Playa Los Cerritos Detour // Camp on beach at Playa Los Cerritos 

Day 3: Boogie Board // 22 Miles +1,200 to Todos Santos // Early Dinner at Restaurant Bar Bahia // Camp on Beach outside of Todos Santos

Day 4*: Ride 34 Miles +3,300 ft // Camp near Santuario de los Cactus

Day 5: Ride 45 Miles +2,400 ft // Lodging in La Paz

Day 6: Swim with Whalesharks // Day off in La Paz

Day 7: Ride 45 Miles +3,700 ft  // Take the La Paz_San Jose De Los Planes Short Cut // Camp at East Cape Spot #1 or #2

Day 8: Ride 40 Miles + 1,314 ft // Camp at East Cape Spot #4 (Alternatively, ride 55 miles to Los Arbolitos // Camp at Los Arbolitos // Take day nine off in Los Arbolitos).

Day 9: Ride 15 Miles +658 ft // Snorkel and hike at Los Arbolitos // Camp at Los Arbolitos 

Day 10**: Ride 36 Miles +2,893 ft to Cabo* // Lodging in Cabo

Day 11: Departures 

*This is a challenging day with a lot of steep and technical climbing

**This is a big day with a lot of steep climbing!

2024 Baja Divide Route Guide Update

This route guide was originally commissioned by and published for Ride with GPS in August 2024. The information shared here is the same information you can find on Ride with GPS and my Routes page.

Since its publication in 2016, the Baja Divide has beckoned mid-winter adventurers to ramble south through its alluring shrub-steppe mountains and vast stretches of undeveloped coastline. Thanks to the vision, time and immense resources dedicated by route creators Nicholas Carman and Lael Wilcox, the Baja Divide has steadily earned its reputation as the venerable winter touring standard. This sprawling 1736-mile bikepacking route connects the Pacific Ocean with the Sea of Cortez, traversing every major Baja California mountain range along the way. The Baja Divide links historic Spanish mission sites rich in water and shade with remote ranchos, rural fishing villages and bustling highway towns via miles and miles of beautifully rugged backcountry desert tracks.

Using Pat Boyle's updated 2023 GPX file, I updated this multifaceted Ride with GPS resource for 2024. This includes Nicholas Carman's original waypoints augmented by my favorite POIs compiled from my experience riding the complete Baja Divide one and a half times, the Cape Loop three times, and revisiting multiple sections over my seven trips to Baja California over the past nine years.

The Baja Divide revised route guide includes the following:

Complete Route: The Complete Route includes the entire Baja Divide route from San Diego to La Paz with updated POI resources for water, food, supplies, camp spots, critical route details, and more.

Route Collection: The route collection contains the complete Baja Divide route above, broken into ten easily digestible sections (for use with your GPS device and downloading for offline use). Each section contains POIs marking towns, services, water, restaurants, trailheads, critical infrastructure, and more. Additionally, each route section includes Nicholas Carman’s original comprehensive route guide notes, course descriptions, resupply information, and essential course details, with minor updates.

Resupply Chart: The resupply chart lists the mile marker where services and resupplies occur and the distance between each one. The chart is available for the complete route and separately for each section. It’s a handy cheat sheet while riding the route and planning in advance.

Route Guide: The comprehensive Baja Divide route guide includes minor updates to Nicholas Carmen’s original route guide, which covers everything you need to know in explicit detail – from basic distances, key resupply points, and noteworthy highlights to detailed step-by-step overviews of road conditions, terrain, highlights, course warnings, with callouts for bike shops, ATM locations, and transit centers so you'll know what to expect and how best to prepare for your Baja Divide experience.

A Brief History of the Baja Divide Route Guide and Updates

2015 - 2016: Nicholas Carmen and Lael Wilcox created and scouted the original route. The original route* website and resource was shared: bajadivide.wordpress.com

2017: A grand departure with over 100 cyclists was held in January 2017 to establish the route. The route was published on Bikepacking.com in 2017*: bikepacking.com/routes/baja-divide

*Neither resource has been updated since 2017.

2022: Due to a land access dispute, Salavador of Fass Bike provides a re-route between Rancho Melling and Vicente Guerrero which he describes in this post: facebook.com/groups/bajadivide/permalink/1532982893788549

2023: Baja Divide rider, Pay Boyle shares revised GPX files and waypoints with the 2022 update: phatboyle.github.io/bajadivide

2024: Using Pat Boyle's 2023 updated GPX file, Sarah Swallow created this Ride with GPS resource that includes Nicholas Carmen's original waypoints in addition to her favorite points of interest (POIs) from her experience riding the complete Baja Divide one and a half times, the Cape Loop three times, and revisiting multiple sections during her seven trips to Baja California over the past nine years.

You can find the updated route file, guide, and resupply cheat sheet for this Ride with GPS version of the route, as well as all the previous versions and resources (2023 and 2017) of the route, here: drive.google.com/drive/folders/1yu2k9DQdxUs2K3-dwdVFoSBxFSqGRUNd?usp=drive_link

Bikepacking for Couples Part II: Strategies for Experiencing Joy and Managing Conflict

This article was originally commissioned and published by Otso Cycles on October 6, 2023 and is the second installment of a two part story. Read Bikepacking For Couples Part I: Lost On The Bolivian Salt Flats, A Story.

According to the Gottman Institute, having fun together is vital to relationship satisfaction. The research shows that the stress couples experience must be balanced with a certain amount of connection and fun to build a positive relationship perspective. In other words, we need to have an archive of fun experiences so that when times are tough, those positive experiences help us stay encouraged and hopeful for the future. 

Bikepacking as a couple can be an excellent way to spend quality time and have enriching experiences with your significant other. While I am a fan of date nights and planning fun activities for connection and memory-building with my partner regularly, the adventures and new experiences we have shared while bikepacking have strengthened our capacity to overcome some of the most extreme challenges in our relationship. 

While it's easy to romanticize bikepacking with your partner, it's essential to understand and prepare for the challenges you will likely face so that you can overcome, experience joy, and integrate bikepacking into your lives together for the long term. 

Relationships are complex and unique to the individuals involved. Communication, trust, compatibility, emotional intimacy, conflict resolution, personality, trauma, codependency, and attachment style are just a few factors that influence our relationship dynamics. These factors tend to play out in more extreme ways when we are hungry, angry, lonely, and tired (HALT), stressors that can commonly occur while bikepacking. 

I am an imperfect student on the journey of self-development while in a partnership. I've worked with therapists, life coaches, and couples therapists, completed workshops, utilized psychedelic therapies, and read many inspirational texts to support my individual and relational journey. From my experience, relationships require an immense amount of time and trial and error to learn and integrate the skills of self-awareness, communication, empathy, regulation, and conflict repair. A grasp of these skills is essential before setting out on a bikepacking trip with your significant other.   

I met my partner, Adam, on the first night of the inaugural grand departure of the Baja Divide in 2017. We instantly connected while sitting next to each other at the pre-ride banquet. The following day, we parted ways, riding the route with our respective groups at different paces. I saw Adam again that spring in southern Arizona during a week-long gravel camp with friends. Finally, while camping in Great Sand Dunes National Park on a bikepacking trip from Durango, Colorado, to Emporia, Kansas, to race Unbound, Adam and I decided to start dating. Since then, we’ve gone on two to five bikepacking trips together yearly and have toured in over fifteen countries. 

Not every couple enjoys the privilege of both individuals sharing a love for traveling by bicycle. For some couples, that separation of interests makes their relationship work. Because bikepacking is my passion and an essential part of my career, I value having a partner willing to bikepack with me. Otherwise, I would always be traveling and away from home. I am grateful that Adam is also a skier, runner, and mountaineer. His separate interests allow us to have healthy time apart and space to do things solo or with friends, making enjoying experiences together even sweeter. 

If you are single and looking to find someone special to share these bikepacking journeys with, attending gatherings centered around bikes is a great way to meet new people with similar interests. My favorite experience for making deep connections is participating in non-competitive group bikepacking events. You can find a list of such bikepacking events (competitive and non-competitive) on Bikepacking.com/events. 

If you are in a relationship with someone who does not currently bikepack but who you would like to go bikepacking with, don't force it. Instead, consider enticing your partner into bikepacking by suggesting a credit card tour, where you ride from hotel to hotel instead of camping in a place they have always wanted to visit. Europe is great for this sort of trip. If you have the budget, consider booking a supported bikepacking trip with Adventure Cycling or Pannier. A sub-24-hour overnighter (S24O) in a place you both are familiar with is also a great option. The goal is to make it easy and low-consequence so your partner can enjoy the experience and build from there. The process of choosing and planning the trip should also be collaborative. 

After going on countless bikepacking trips with my partners over the past ten years, trips all around the world ranging in lengths from 24 hours to up to 3 months at a time, I feel like I have an excellent notion of what challenges relationships can face while touring and some strategies that work to overcome those challenges. To be sure that I covered all the areas of interest for relationships outside of my own, I contacted my online community; I asked them what they would like to know about bikepacking with their significant other. Unsurprisingly, every couple faces some common challenges when bikepacking. The most common are navigating the differential pace, managing conflict and resolution, defining roles and camp tasks, being intimate when camping, and maintaining hygiene.

How to Manage the Differential in Pace between Two Partners While Bikepacking

Navigating the differential in pace is the most common challenge among couples. Experience, speed, technical ability, and desire may differ significantly between two people in a relationship trying to bikepack together. Without adequately addressing and compensating for these differences, the person with less experience, slower speed, less technical ability, or desire for type-two fun can quickly feel overwhelmed, stressed, and self-critical in the effort to keep up with their partner. The person with more experience, speed, technical ability, or desire can conversely feel bored, impatient, or anxious over whether their partner is having a good time and will agree to bikepack again. In my relationship, Adam is much stronger than me in the speed and technical department.

Quicker Rider: Carry More Gear

Adam and I address our speed differential by packing Adam's bike with more gear. For instance, he typically carries the tent, the heaviest food items, and the cooking gear. Loading the faster person's bike with more weight creates more of a challenge and slows them down. It also takes the load off of the slower person and allows them a less encumbered ride. 

Quicker Rider: Find a Hobby 

For those partners who are quicker, consider finding a hobby to healthily occupy your time and interest, especially if you are waiting a lot or not feeling challenged. Photography and film are excellent hobbies to combine with bikepacking. You can capture memories of your trip and review the “day's catch" each night at camp to keep the motivation high. Everyone loves it when a rider is in the shot, so be sure to capture the content of your partner so they can see themselves doing something outside their comfort zone in an epic place. Photography and film encourage frequent regrouping and check-ins rather than extended periods of separation which can feel isolating and confusing.

Slower Rider: Train

In most cases, no amount of training and fitness will close the pace differential between two people. Still, training in preparation for a trip will significantly increase your enjoyment, comfort, and confidence on the ride. Consider riding your bike for at least one hour a day, 4-6 days a week in the weeks leading up to the trip to help your body adapt to riding your bike daily. To build endurance, do a few challenging rides on similar terrain to the route you will follow leading up to the trip. Building core and strength training will also support your comfort on the bike. 

Slower Rider: Be Self-Sufficient 

If you are the slower rider in the relationship, it's helpful to go into the trip with the expectation that you will likely be riding alone for periods; that way, you can pack your bike with everything you need to feel confident riding alone. Ideally, each person has a navigation device with the route and carries a repair kit, pump, snacks, water filter, sleep system, and clothing. When each person takes these essential items, anxiety reduces around navigation and separation. Being self-sufficient also adjusts the ride dynamic from dependence on one another to independence, creating more space to enjoy the time one gets to ride solo. 

How to Handle Conflict and Resolution on a Bikepacking Trip

Conflicts during a bikepacking trip with your partner are inevitable. Still, they also have the potential to be amplified significantly compared to conflicts at home in day-to-day life. Disagreements on trips can feel more extreme because both people can be physically exhausted, overstimulated, stressed, anxious, hungry, homesick, and emotionally disconnected. Both parties are worn down and not operating with the same capacity they have when sleeping in a warm bed each night, eating three solid meals per day, not riding 8 hours per day, or being exposed to the elements. Mine and Adam's strategy for managing conflict is to practice preventative maintenance, taking space from each other, and having perspective and compassion for ourselves. 

Do Preventative Maintenance

Adam and I practice preventative maintenance on bike tours by carving out time each morning to stretch, journal, and check in with one another about where we are emotionally as individuals, our needs, and our intentions for the day. Sometimes, we only have time to practice some of these things. If so, we'll do as much as possible or fit the rest throughout the day. When I travel in such proximity to one person, it can be easy for me to lose touch with how I am feeling emotionally. I care for this by journaling or expressing my need to ride alone or listen to music, audiobooks, or podcasts. 

Sharing gratitude with and for your partner frequently throughout a trip is another excellent preventative maintenance strategy. Another helpful approach is learning to read the signs of HALT (hungry, angry, lonely, tired). Keeping an eye out for these signs will support you and your partner address your needs before a small, tense exchange grows into something bigger. 

Take Space, But Not Too Much Space

When the inevitable happens and a conflict occurs, take space from one another to regulate your nervous system rather than try to reconcile immediately. Mental health professionals typically recommend separating for 20 minutes before attempting to reconcile and reconnect. From personal experience, 20 minutes is an excellent goal with an hour cap. When conflict occurs, consider going for separate walks rather than riding separately. If you continue to ride, avoid getting too separated and stay within eyesight of each other (see Bikepacking for Couples Part I for what could happen if you get too separated). Even if both individuals are self-sufficient, you will still rely on each other to make decisions. For example, suppose a navigational challenge arises, or the weather becomes dangerous. In those moments, you must do your best to put down your differences to decide on the best course of action. 

If you are in a location like an airport, where a lot of people are around, and it doesn't feel comfortable to attempt reconciliation verbally, consider texting or writing notes to each other. 

If a conflict is so bad and you and your partner are struggling to reconcile, consider pausing the tour altogether, getting separate rooms for time and space to nurture yourselves, and contacting your support systems for help. 

Properly Apologize and Utilize Non-Violent Communication. 

A proper apology requires self-reflection, responsibility for your actions, genuine remorse, commitment to growth, empathy, active listening, and openness to feedback. Defensiveness will only prolong the pain. Also, consider utilizing non-violent communication or even taking a course before a big trip. Non-violent communication includes:

  • What you see (observation): Start by saying what is happening without blaming or judging. Be straight-up and describe the situation. For example: "When I see or hear ___"

  • Why you feel that way (emotion): Share your emotions honestly, whether happy, mad, sad, confused, worried, peaceful, etc. No need to sugarcoat it. For example: "I feel ___"

  • Why you feel that way (needs, values, desires, hopes, dreams): Figure out what's bothering you. It is usually because an important need or value is not being met. For example: "My need or value is ___"

  • What you want (request): Finally, ask what you want to happen next. Be clear about what you need or how you want the situation to change. For example: "Would you be willing to ___?"

Have Perspective and Compassion

Remember to put what you are both going through into context and have compassion for yourselves and each other for not showing up as your best selves. You are both operating outside your comfort zone; you may be tired, hungry, exposed to the elements, etc. You are both doing the best you can, considering the circumstances. 

Adapting

Sometimes, the trip goes differently than planned; it may be more challenging than expected, understimulating, or one or both individuals are simply not feeling it. Rather than push through for the sake of route completion, consider shaking up the plan by taking a bus or train to jump ahead on the route or switch routes. Or, forgo bikepacking altogether and turn it into a cultural tour or beach vacation. Improvising can be fun and exciting and bring a trip back to life. 

Dividing the Work

Bikepacking as a couple should be a collaborative effort from the planning stage through the end of the trip. In my relationship, I struggle with committing so far in advance, so I let Adam spark the inspiration for the trip location, time of year, and to make any necessary bookings. As we get closer to the trip, I step in to choose and research the route and write up a rough itinerary. Regarding camping, one of us is responsible for setting up the tent while the other person prepares dinner. 

Being Intimate When Camping and Hygiene is a Challenge 

Good hygiene is something to prioritize if you and your partner wish to maintain intimacy while on a bikepacking trip. If you are traveling in a place with rivers, creeks, or lakes, take a dip or rinse daily. If there is minimal groundwater, bring plenty of baby wipes. A proper baby wipe bath should be done in this order: face, ears, neck, chest, pits, belly, back, privates, and crack. Use a second wipe for your hands, other areas needing extra attention, and your legs and feet. Bring some biodegradable soap, floss, a small container of natural deodorant, tea tree oil (for saddle sores), and natural diaper rash cream (for chafing). Using these items regularly is not only good maintenance for your body while on tour but will also keep odors at bay. Wearing clothing made of natural fibers such as merino wool or linen are antimicrobial and do not absorb smells as badly or as quickly as synthetics. No one enjoys riding behind someone, let alone sleeping beside someone who has been sweating in the same synthetic jersey or cotton t-shirt for the last three days or more. Rinse and wash your clothes frequently.

Conclusion

In essence, bikepacking with your partner can be a transformative and enriching experience, provided that you approach it with open communication, adaptability, and a willingness to navigate the challenges together. With the right mindset and strategies, these adventures can become cherished memories that strengthen your relationship for years to come.

Bikepacking for Couples Part I: Lost on the Bolivian Salt Flats, A Story

This article was originally commissioned and published by Otso Cycles on October 6, 2023, and is the second installment of a two-part story. Read Bikepacking For Couples Part II: Strategies for Experiencing Joy and Managing Conflict.

The setting was the Bolivian salt flats outside of Uyuni. The time was November 2019; Adam and I were one-and-a-half years into our relationship. It was the end of a month-long bikepacking trip that had started with getting stuck in La Paz during a coup d’état of Bolivia's then-socialist president, Evo Morales, and some of the most intense and frightening days we had ever experienced. We managed to salvage the trip by escaping La Paz in the wee hours of the morning to get around barricades blocking access to the airport and got on a flight to Arequipa, Peru. We started an alternative route that connected the Altiplano in southern Peru with a series of protected areas in northern Chile. Our route ended via a series of dried salt lake crossings, Salar de Surire and the Salar de Unini. By the time we finished the trip, the tension in Bolivia had died down, and we safely returned to La Paz for our flight back to the United States.

Despite the intense start, this trip stands out in my mind as one of our most successful as a couple. To me, success on a journey like this means staying connected, being present with ourselves, each other, and our surroundings, and having no significant conflicts or breakdowns. What supported this was the time we carved out each morning after packing up camp to stretch, journal, and check in with one another about where we were each mentally and physically and our expectations and intentions for that day. 

A highlight for us was when we stumbled upon a hot spring lake just as we were looking for camp one evening during a beautiful sunset. For the entire evening and the following morning, we reveled in the stunning landscape all around us: in the warmth of a mud bath within the lake and wildlife viewings of flamingos and vicuñas in the distance, solid meals of quinoa, veggies, and cheese for dinner and scrambled eggs and potatoes for breakfast. The whole experience was inspiring, romantic, fulfilling, and nurturing and propelled us down the route with more presence, connection, and engagement for the following few days.

However, to counter any illusions of perfection, something between us happened on this trip that also stands out as one of the lowest moments we have experienced while traveling by bicycle as a couple. 

We were approaching the crossing of the final salt lake, Salar de Uyuni, the world's largest salt lake, iconic for its vast expanses of bright-white salt with an occasional cacti-studded island. This crossing would be the final miles of our month-long trip to South America. Days before, we had run into another couple, bikepacking the same route in the opposite direction. They had told a funny story of running into another cyclist who had gotten separated from his group on the Salar de Uyuni. All four of us laughed; "how can you possibly get lost in such a place where you can see everything around you?"

In the days before our crossing of Salar de Uyuni, we had reached Salar de Surire by way of some of the worst corrugated roads I have ever pedaled on a bicycle. By the time we had reached Surire, my nether region had been chafed raw. To make matters worse, a thin layer of water sat atop the salt of Salar de Surire. The spray from my tires ultimately soaked my shorts with salt water and created such intense burning and further abrasion on my already chafed skin that I was forced to remove my shorts altogether and ride the remaining stretch of the salt flat pantsless and standing up. The situation was pretty desperate, and I distinctly remember an intense exchange between Adam audibly expressing concern over my decision to remove my pants, my slow pace across the flat, and the impending darkness and freezing temperature of the night, while I, ignoring his concern, just focused on my discomfort and getting the crossing over with as soon as I possibly could. We took a day off after crossing Surire in a nearby town to clean our bikes and clothes and let my skin recover for crossing the Salar de Uyuni.

Our bicycle crossing of the Salar de Uyuni would take us 100 miles across the white expanse with one water resupply at the largest island, Incahuasi. We planned to ride it over two days, leaving plenty of time to enjoy one final night of camping in one of the most iconic places to ride and camp by bicycle. We had been imagining this night of camp for weeks and couldn't wait to play with our photography in such a place. As it turned out, however, we had an experience that neither of us expected. Adam and I had a fight or disagreement within the first couple miles of our crossing, which resulted in us taking some space to ride our own pace for a bit, as we often do in moments of conflict while on tour. 

A thin layer of water sits atop the Salar de Uyuni for half the year. As this water evaporates, it leaves behind a layer of salt that begins to crystalize. The salt crystals grow into hexagonal shapes, then expand and merge with neighboring crystals to form a honeycomb pattern. So, while one may expect the surface of a salt flat to be very flat and smooth, in reality, due to the ridges of salt in the shape of honeycomb patterns that are about the length of a wheel apart, the salt flat is in fact, a very bumpy ride on a bicycle. 

We each navigated the challenging surface differently. I was still nursing my chafed nether region and was constantly altering my line to find the smoothest possible section. While doing so, I was slowly diverting from the GPS coordinates of the route, first by a few hundred feet and, before I knew it, a half a mile. At the time, this seemed inconsequential, and from what I could tell, Adam followed a similar path. But, as we continued to pedal in separation, frustration, and discomfort, the distance between us grew greater and greater. I could no longer tell the difference between Adam and a vehicle because their prospective size was the same, a tiny dark speck in the distance in a sea of white salt. I was not particularly worried; I knew we planned to resupply water at Incahuasi and would surely regroup there before finding camp for the evening. 

However, when I reached Incahuasi, I became overwhelmed by the number of tourists and the lack of respite from the sun exposure from above and reflecting off the ground below. I quickly became agitated by the conditions and frustrated that Adam had not waited for me in an obvious place. I assumed he had also grown frustrated by the crowd and was waiting for me down the Salar somewhere. So, I topped my water bottles off at the lone spigot, forwent purchasing any additional snacks because Adam was carrying our money, and carried down the Salar to find Adam. But Adam was nowhere to be found, and the reality that I was alone on the Salar de Uyuni as it was growing dark, the temperature was dropping, and the wind was picking up started to set in. Adam was carrying the tarp of our tent, the bulk of our food, and our cash. I had my sleeping bag, pad, and a bag of Lay's potato chips and a couple of Snickers bars. As the night sky grew dark, so did the stories I told myself. "He abandoned me; he intentionally did this; we're doomed as a couple; this is the end for us." I ate all the potato chips and spent a restless night exposed on the Salar de Uyuni, blocking the cold wind from my head with my bicycle and constantly re-securing any loose items the wind was eager to blow away. 

Adam and I remained separated until the following evening, for a total of 36 hours. Without a cell signal, neither knew where the other was. Later, we discovered we were likely within a mile of each other the entire time. Adam was, in fact, waiting for me at Incahuasi, in some shade he had found away from the crowds, in an area I had not bothered to look at because my mind had gone to the worst-case scenario from being alone for so long after our fight. When I never showed up, he carried on the Salar, expecting to find me, until dark. He gave up and attempted to set up camp but, in the process, lost hold of his sleeping bag, which was instantly blown away into the oblivion of the Salar de Uyuni, requiring him to carry further to the next town to find a room for the night. He had waited for me in that town for a few hours the following morning. Without knowing if I was behind or in front of him, he carried on to Uyuni just 30 minutes before I rolled up to where he had been waiting. 

When we reunited, we were each exhausted, hungry, and disappointed by how we had ended what had otherwise been a perfect trip for us as a couple, how we had missed this night of camping together in such an iconic place that we had been looking forward to for the entire trip. After some rest, a shower, and a series of uncomfortable conversations, we forgave ourselves and each other. Later that evening, we laughed at the hilarity of it over a couple of large wood-fired pizzas and a bottle of wine. 

When we add up the conditions that led to our separation and disconnect on the Salar de Uyuni: the challenge of the honeycomb surface, a chafed and pantless ride on the Salar de Surire, riding for days on the worst washboard roads we had ever experienced, starting our trip getting stuck in a coup d’état, it makes logical sense that by the end of our month-long trip, we were not the best version of ourselves. I believe this perspective is an essential lens to use before passing judgment on the relationship and for having compassion for ourselves and each other. 

This trip represents the extreme highs and lows that one can experience while bikepacking with your partner. In the second installment of Bikepacking for Couples, I will outline some considerations for bikepacking with your significant other, as well as some strategies that I have gleaned from my experiences, relationships, and years of therapy and pursuit of self-development to assist other couples in finding joy, compassion, and managing conflict while traveling by bicycle.

This Adventure Cyclist Turned Her Love of Bikes Into a Career

“Cycling has helped build my self-confidence and community, providing me with a career and experiences I never thought possible.”

By Sarah Swallow, as told to Emily Shiffer for Bicycling.com on June 5, 2024

Name: Sarah Swallow
Age: 36
Hometown: Tucson, Arizona
Occupation: Professional adventure cyclist
Time Cycling: 19 years
Reason for Cycling: I use the bicycle as a tool for my well-being, sense of freedom, and inspiration, as well as for connecting with my community, other cultures, and natural landscapes around the world.

I first started cycling when I was 18 years old, after graduating from high school. Without the need to train for field hockey or lacrosse, my dad (a former marathon runner), who had recently transitioned to cycling due to knee issues, invited me on a road bike ride. I was immediately attracted to the low-impact workout that cycling provided, as well as the freedom it offered to explore places in southwest Ohio I didn’t know existed.

Once I started cycling, I dove head-first into all aspects of the sport. I began with sprint triathlons, then trained for my first century ride. I explored mountain biking, raced cyclocross, and ventured into gravel riding and bikepacking eventually.

However, I was around bikes long before I started riding. I began working with bicycles at the age of 12 at Loveland Bike and Skate Rental in Loveland, Ohio. It was there that I first witnessed the joy cycling brought to others.

Through my teens and early 20s, I immersed myself in the world of cycling before transitioning to another job at the local bike shop in town. When that shop closed, I took the leap and opened my own bike shop, Swallow Bicycle Works, in 2011.

Through Swallow Bicycle Works, we catered to the greater Cincinnati cycling community, offering repairs, custom builds for all budgets, and outfitting services. I fostered community spaces at cyclocross events, and by hosting gravel rides.

My training philosophy has always been to keep it fun with a lot of variety and ride in ways that I enjoy to maintain sustainability. I’m not a competitive cyclist; I approach events as opportunities to challenge myself and connect with the cycling community.

In 2015, I secured a sponsorship contract with Specialized Bicycles, which led me to close my bike shop and embark on a 5,000-mile journey from east to west across the United States on dirt roads. For the past nine years, I have worked as a non-competitive adventure ambassador, living my dream and feeling incredibly grateful for the opportunity to do what I love for a living.

I am also one of the co-founders of Radical Adventure Riders (RAR). RAR is a movement toward gender inclusivity and racial equity in cycling and the outdoors.

RAR began as a series of bikepacking rides around the country, leading up to a three-day educational summit. We did that for two years, before transitioning to the chapter-based network that RAR is today.

Since I stepped down from RAR in 2020 to allow space for fresh leadership and diversity within the organization, I have been focused on planning Ruta del Jefe, which is a binational festival celebrating adventure, education, community, and advocacy in the United States and Mexico borderlands.

In addition to Ruta del Jefe, I maintain the Sky Islands Odyssey Bikepacking Route Project and host the Sky Islands Adventure Ride Series in Southern Arizona. These initiatives aim to bring the community together in the beautiful Sky Islands landscape, and on its diverse network of roads.

When I’m not on a major ride or exploring a new place, I enjoy commuting and riding mountain bikes, mixed terrain, and bike paths from my home in Tucson, Arizona.

Before I found cycling, I didn’t feel like I had a direction or purpose in life. Cycling has helped build my self-confidence and community, providing me with a career and experiences I never thought possible.

Adventure is not an escape, but an embracing of reality that always leads me to a newfound appreciation of life and the world around me. Cycling continually draws me back for the transformative experiences, new perspectives on life, and has expanded my global perspective.

These tips have made my cycling journey a success:

1. Switch up your rides

If you have the ability, ride different bikes on different terrain and in different places to keep cycling fun. To keep my motivation, I love exploring new places, or just switching between my gravel and mountain bike.

2. Be self-sufficient

A lot of my success has come from being fully self-sufficient on the bike rather than depending on others in the group. Bring the spare tube, repair kit, layers, and extra snacks. More importantly, navigate for yourself and have a thorough understanding of the route you’re riding. When you can navigate a route and carry everything you need, your mentality can switch from being dependent and insecure to confident and independent.

3. Share your experience and get involved

Cycling can provide some of the most life-changing, unique, and inspiring experiences. However, it can also be an extremely isolating and individualistic activity. Find a way to share your incredible experiences with others, like through photos, videos, or stories. You can even organize a community event, mentor a new cyclist, or volunteer with a local organization. Use your experiences to give back to the community and encourage more people to ride.

Sarah’s Must-Have Gear

→ Ombraz Armless Sunglasses: Ombraz Armless Sunglasses are polarized and come in a bunch of cool shapes and sizes with a unique design. They have no side arms, but rather a nylon cord with a minimalist adjusting system to secure the sunglasses on your face or around your neck. Before discovering Ombraz, I would often lose glasses, or the arms would be too tight on my temples, resulting in headaches.

→ Fjällräven Expandable Hip Pack: This is a versatile and indispensable piece of gear for both local rides and bike tours. Its seamless transition from a fanny pack to a lightweight backpack makes it perfect for storing essentials like an extra layer, water bladder, or snacks during rides. Plus, its ability to expand into backpack mode comes in handy for unexpected stops at the grocery store on the way home. During bike tours, I rely on the hip pack while riding, and switch to backpack mode for use as a carry-on during travel or for transporting extra supplies from town to camp.

→ Peak Designs Out Front Bike Mount: I love having my phone visible and accessible on my handlebars for navigation and entertainment while riding. The Peak Designs Out Front Bike Mount is hands down the best solution, both in terms of functionality and aesthetics. No more struggling with clunky phone mounts—the magnet system and button release make it effortless to secure and remove your phone.

→ Premium Subscription for Ride with GPS: I’m passionate about developing and navigating routes, and Ride with GPS stands out as a great cycling route-making software. It’s website offers a comprehensive range of features, including global and personal heatmaps, various base maps, points of interest (POIs), and advanced route-building and editing tools. After creating and researching routes on the website, I utilize their smartphone application to download the route for offline use, ensuring I can reference it during my rides without relying on an internet connection.

→ Otso Fenrir: I’m an advocate for versatile bikes that will last a lifetime, and the Otso Fenrir perfectly embodies this ethos. Whether you’re into gravel riding, mountain biking, or bikepacking, the Fenrir can do all three. It is available in stainless steel or titanium, and adaptable to both drop bars and flat bars.

Routes that Tell a Story: Cuenca Los Ojos

This interview was published by Ride with GPS in January 2024

Photos by Daniel Zaid, Karla Robles, and Adam Gaubert

Sarah Swallow on adventure route creation, experiential storytelling, and the development of Ruta del Jefe 2024.

Sarah Swallow's Ruta del Jefe is a long weekend blending adventure cycling, advocacy, education, and community in the borderlands spanning southeast Arizona and the Mexican state of Sonora. The first multinational edition kicks off March 21-24, 2024 in Cuenca Los Ojos, Mexico. Ruta del Jefe was initially created and hosted by Sarah on the Appleton-Whittell research ranch in Elgin, AZ through 2022, after which Sarah was invited to develop an installment of the event on the Cuenca Los Ojos preserve in Sonora, Mexico.

Sarah tapped Karla Robles and Daniel Zaid of Andarres.com to co-organize the first binational Ruta del Jefe event in Mexico for 2024. Sarah, Karla, and Daniel spent over thirty days on the preserve scouting, planning, and laying out the landscape for the event. We caught up with Sarah to gain some insight into the vision and process of developing the 2024 Cuenca Los Ojos edition of Ruta del Jefe.

Q: What is your approach to route development for the Cuenca Los Ojos edition of Ruta del Jefe? For you, are there key ingredients or must-haves that go into creating compelling adventure routes like this?

When developing routes for Ruta del Jefe at Cuenca Los Ojos, I look for routes that tell a story. Oftentimes, that means it's a circumnavigation (a loop) of a particular area where you start in one place, experience many different landscapes in between, and return to where you started, seeing something new unfold around every corner. I look for fun, challenging, rewarding, and engaging terrain that offers respite after prolonged strenuous efforts. I enjoy making remote and intimate routes with the surrounding landscape, a hybrid between a road and a trail. Old railroad grades or roads designed with a Ford 150 in mind (like the roads at Cuenca Los Ojos) tend to be designed at grades that are more appropriate for bicycles. Roads designed for 4-wheelers, ATVs, and 4x4 Vehicles tend to use grades that are possible by bicycle but less suitable and enjoyable.

Q: Do you begin with specific ideas, locations or geography you want to showcase or do you let the landscapes/regions reveal themselves organically?

I let the region steer the route. Without ever being to a location where I am designing a route, I try to find the most prominent and established routes to ride first to get the lay of the land before I delve deeper into less-traveled areas. By starting with the most established route I can find, I get a feel for the landscape characteristics and the ones I want to highlight. For instance, at Cuenca Los Ojos, there are high plateaus of grasslands with double track rolling along ridgelines offering incredible 360-degree views. Rocky and sandy roads within deep canyons cross rivers and creeks. There are hoodoo volcanic rock structures that jut out of the hills, areas where thousands of yuccas bloom, and extensive wetland valleys. When designing a route, I encompass as many of these features as possible within a loop. In addition, by getting a feel for the land in person, I more easily understand which roads are only enjoyable in one direction. In person, I can adjust initial route drafts so we are not riding up a road we should only be going down.

Q: What does it look like to scout deep backcountry courses like the Ruta del Jefe? Do you plan everything like detailed POI and water sources beforehand, then pre-ride to make sure it all checks out or do you let the specifics come together during recon phase?

Before my first scouting mission at Cuenca Los Ojos for Ruta del Jefe, I went in with a specific plan of routes I had drafted that I wanted to try. The first route we attempted to scout had us hike-a-biking over a steep, rutted, and overgrown pass for over 1,000 ft in 2 hours. We had to turn back at that point, throw my entire plan out, and start from scratch. That’s when I decided to follow the most straightforward route I knew to get the lay of the land. In the case of Cuenca Los Ojos, the terrain was so challenging, steep, and overgrown on that first trip that we had to scale our expectations for mileage down dramatically. Routes that were only 23 miles would take us an entire day due to how rough, steep, and overgrown the roads were.

Whenever I am riding any route, I constantly watch for other possible roads to explore. Once I am in the location and have a better feel for the region and the landscape, more roads inevitably reveal themselves on the satellite maps than I could see before when planning routes from home. I also relied heavily on the intel from CLO staff to inform me if there were roads where I thought there were roads. In most cases, they told me there were roads; however, they had not traveled them in some time. Each monsoon season erodes the roads, and they become very overgrown, so even if they say there was a road there at some point, it may not be that enjoyable to ride. Because we were also advising CLO on which roads to improve for the event, we had to figure out which roads were worth investing in by riding, pushing, and hiking for sometimes up to 5 miles at a time through tall grass or a washed-out river bed.

For scouting at CLO, I did not use POIs for water or other services. I wasn’t sure if or how much water there would be, and the area is so remote that there are no other services other than the ranchos throughout the property. When we scouted the routes initially, we just ensured we carried enough water and food for an entire day and brought a water filter in case we found water. As it turned out, Cuenca Los Ojos, through their restoration of the watershed, has a lot of groundwater for a desert landscape, but this still can change from year to year. Now that I know the landscape and routes well, I add POIs to mark as a reference where riders can seek support from the ranchos within CLO and access groundwater for filtering.

Q: What maps, tools, utilities, or other resources do you use when researching and assembling your routes?

For Cuenca Los Ojos and Ruta del Jefe, I primarily relied on satellite and topo maps, GPS, and POI coordinates the CLO provided me to show their properties' perimeters, roads, and where their ranchos were. To view this in one place, I uploaded all those coordinates to Gaia GPS and referenced that as I mapped out various routes to try on Ride with GPS. As I mentioned before, even though the satellite map showed very clear and established roads, that was not the case when we visited during our first scouting mission in October 2022, after a record-breaking year of monsoons. Most of the roads were destroyed and completely overgrown. So even when a satellite shows a road, you don’t know what condition it will be in until you get the wheels on the ground.

Q: What is it about riding in the Sonoran and Chihuahuan desert that makes it special? What are some of the challenges you've encountered putting together DIY adventure rides in multinational borderlands?

What is unique about this borderland region is the amount of biodiversity in such a small area. What causes this biodiversity is the convergence of the Sierra Madre Occidental with the Chihuahua and Sonoran Deserts and the Rocky Mountains. Flora and fauna from all these environments extend to these borderlands, which creates enormous amounts of biodiversity. For instance, black bears exist in the same place that jaguars roam; rattlesnakes and Gila monsters cohabitate in the same areas as beavers. This region is known as the northernmost habitat of the elegant trogon, a bird migrating from the depths of the Amazon, as well as a Red-Tailed Hawk. Cottonwood and birch trees grow near juniper trees and other conifers, which grow near prickly pear, ocotillo, and yucca species. The draw of riding a bicycle here is the landscape and wildlife diversity one can experience in only 30-miles.

One of the biggest challenges I faced while assembling routes in Mexico is that most land is privately owned. This means that even if a road is on a map, that doesn’t necessarily mean you can ride it. There are many roads I would still like to ride surrounding Cuenca Los Ojos, but it is necessary to get permission, and to get that permission, it takes time to build those relationships. Another challenging aspect is that the standard satellite or base maps are outdated and less detailed than the map beta we have here in the U.S. Once again, a road can show up as well established on an old satellite image, but in reality, it can be thoroughly washed away. Owners of large private ranches may have detailed maps of their properties, but they are impossible to find if you are not there in person. Lastly, the language is a barrier for me personally. As an English speaker with a basic understanding of Spanish, I rely heavily on other people translating for me. When speaking to someone who may know more about the condition of a road I would like to ride or gain permission for, it can be challenging for me to communicate everything I want or have all my questions answered. Things can easily get lost in translation, and out of respect for everyone involved, I take a slower approach to building relationships before attempting to travel through an area with questionable access.

Q: Ruta del Jefe has always emphasized education, advocacy, and community as opposed to simply adventure for its own sake – how would you characterize the relationship between the route developer and the lands/communities through which you ride?

Routes are incredible opportunities to capture riders' interests and capitalize on that interest to tell more significant stories. Personally, when I ride a route that I find engaging and visually stimulating, I start getting curious about why the place is the way it is, what its social and geologic history is like, who was its first inhabitants, and what sorts of stories are being told about it today. Ruta del Jefe takes place in the borderlands of the U.S. and Mexico. While it has much biodiversity and incredible conservation and restoration initiatives, the newly constructed border wall and the growing interest in Copper for electric vehicles, a mineral prevalent in the region, threaten migration patterns and the habitat of threatened and endangered species like the jaguar.

As many of us know from the abundance of news stories, the borderlands is also the center of a humanitarian crisis where refugees worldwide are attempting to seek asylum in the United States. A story that is less often told in the news, but anyone in the borderlands understands, is that due to the U.S. immigration policies and the desperation of many of these immigrants, many individuals resort to hiring coyotes to assist them in crossing the border in more remote regions. Once across, many of these coyotes abandon the migrants who hired them, even stealing any remaining food, water, and money they had. This tragic situation leaves people with nothing in one of the harshest environments in the world with no navigation and results in thousands of deaths in the U.S. borderland each year, many of which go uncounted. While this may not be an issue, some people want to acknowledge when they ride their bicycle, it comes with the territory of riding a bicycle in the borderlands. Through Ruta del Jefe and other route projects in the region, I educate riders about this unpleasant reality and their rights to offer humanitarian aid to individuals they may encounter in need of assistance. People who ride a bike in this region and encounter a migrant needing help can make a difference in a life lost and a life saved.

As route developers, it is our responsibility to tell the truth about the places we promote riding through so that riders can decide whether they are comfortable with riding that route and have more context and appreciation for the places they ride.

Q: I notice you call specific attention to the fact that Ruta del Jefe is 'not a gravel ride' – how would you parse out the difference between 'gravel' and 'adventure' riding?

These days, gravel riding is road-style riding on unpaved roads. Gravel riding takes place on generally well-maintained 2-wheel drive roads. They tend to be just as wide or wider than a paved road and easily be ridden on a bike with 38mm - 45mm tires. Adventure riding is not gravel riding, nor is it single-track mountain bike riding. Adventure riding is a blend of gravel and single-track that takes place on narrow roads that are often double-track, technical, steep, and more integrated with the natural landscape they are built through. Adventure riding is more challenging and technical than gravel riding but less challenging and technical than single-track riding. The best bike for the terrain depends on its rider. The bike recommended for Ruta del Jefe in 2024 should not have any smaller tires than 2.3” for the loose, steep, rocky, and sandy roads and should come equipped with the most forgiving gear ratio for steep climbs. Due to the many technical features and steep grades, a bicycle with a flat bar will be more comfortable for most people and allow quick maneuvering and good visibility.

Adventures in Baja

My partner, Adam, and I crossed paths on the 2017 inaugural Baja Divide grand departure. Since then, our shared love for adventure and the sea has led us back to the Baja Peninsula and the Gulf of California every year. Nestled in central Baja is a spot we've grown to call home for three to four weeks at a time.* Each year, it draws us back with its abundant opportunities for snorkeling, paddling, biking, and hiking, not to mention the vibrant community of fellow adventurers it hosts.

After three weeks at our base camp in December 2023, Adam and I were itching to get on our bikes and explore. Having returned to the same spot year after year, Adam had developed an obsession with the prospect of exploring a distant peninsula that we could only see from specific vantage points around our camp. The tip of the peninsula, Pulpito Point, emerged in elevation dramatically from the surrounding flat land and sea in the shape of an octopus, making it all the more mysterious to us. 

Having biked the northern stretch of Concepción Peninsula on the Baja Divide in 2017, I'd yet to explore its southern counterpart. To reach Concepción Peninsula's north end, Los Hornitos, one must enlist a fisherman to transport you across the Bahía Concepción from Mulegé by boat, which can only be done safely when wind speeds are below twelve nautical miles per hour. During my 2017 Baja Divide journey, I waited four days in Mulegé for favorable wind conditions. 

Over time, Adam gathered bits of intel on accessing Pulpito Point from the trickle of visitors coming and going from our base camp. We learned that a beach and land crossing was impossible for our destination due to rock cliffs, and kayaking wasn't feasible due to the distance and our skill level. Ultimately, we concluded that we needed a boat to drop us off at the south end and another to pick us up from the north to do the ride we wanted. 

While I was recovering from a back injury, Adam took charge of planning the adventure. He rode to the nearby fishing village to arrange for transportation, and soon enough, a local with a boat from Mulege visited our base camp. Before I knew it, Adam had secured both boat transports. Just as I regained mobility, a brief weather window opened, allowing for a 2-3 day opportunity for both boat crossings. We swiftly packed our bikes and hit the road. However, having base camped for three weeks without resupply, our food supplies were scarce. We packed what we could and hoped the one anticipated resupply along the route would suffice for the rest of our journey.

We left our base camp in the afternoon and headed to the nearby village to meet the fisherman who would transport us to Pulpito Point in his panga boat. Despite my experience with bumpy panga boat rides and a recovering slipped disc, I was hopeful for a smooth journey upon learning that our fisherman guide was also recovering from a back injury. However, any expectations of a calm ride were quickly shattered as we crossed a ten-mile stretch of sea with increasing winds. Our small boat navigated six-foot swells, tossing us and our belongings into the air before crashing onto the wooden benches. After what felt like an eternity, we arrived at our destination on a rocky beach at sunset. After paying the fisherman and bidding farewell, we searched for a nearby flat spot to set up camp.

The following morning, we rose early to delve into the world underwater. We make it a habit to carry our snorkel gear on our bike tours in Baja. Snorkeling is akin to cycling because it allows for exploring new landscapes and life forms. As we swam, the agitated waters unveiled canyons of coral reefs, and each moment revealed a diverse array of big and small fish as they searched for their morning meal. When the cold set in, we started returning to shore. But, as we made our way back, our dreamy snorkeling experience turned into all-out hell when we were both stung multiple times by several tiny jellyfish. Screaming and flailing about, we eventually made it ashore to lick our wounds, pack our bikes, and begin the day's ride. 

Leaving our camp, we followed faint cactus-lined double tracks around the enigmatic octopus-shaped cliff of Pulpito Point, eventually reaching Concepción Peninsula's eastern coastline on the Gulf of California. There, we navigated the low-tide sand and cobbles until we reached our only resupply point of the trip, a small fishing village called San Nicolás.

My memory of the store in San Nicolás, along the Baja Divide route, was hazy. Anticipating minimal supplies, we were taken aback by how minimal it was when a local directed us to someone's home for the store. Inside, the shelves were nearly bare, with only a few items scattered about a sleeve of cookies, a couple of bottles of soda, a few bottles of water, a lone avocado, and a bag of nibbled-on tortillas, courtesy of the resident cat. Despite the scarcity, we decided to stock up on whatever we could, including the slightly damaged tortillas, before continuing northward.

Bikepacking in Baja has its share of challenges, as the terrain can often prove more demanding than expected. While distances and elevations may appear manageable on paper, the rocky, steep, off-camber, and sandy roads, especially when traversed on a fully loaded bicycle, frequently slow progress to a crawl rather than a roll. Riding the new Otso Voytek 2 on this trip was a relief. It marked my first time riding a proper fat bike on this terrain in seven years of under-biking Baja's rugged terrain. The Voytek 2 effortlessly handled the chunky and sandy coastal roads, yet the allure of picturesque views and inviting swim spots seemed to make the miles pass by at a snail's pace, so much so that we did not make it as far as we had hoped our first day. 

Due to our limited water and food supplies, this shortage posed a significant problem. We had one full day of riding left and one additional night of camping before the second boat could pick us up.  According to my calculations, we wouldn't have sufficient food or water for the final night of camping. If the boat was delayed due to winds, we risked being stranded at the remote north end of the peninsula without provisions while waiting for the boat or, worse, having to embark on a grueling ride off the peninsula out to Highway 2 to hitchhike.

That night at camp, we faced the conundrum, spreading out our supplies and carefully tallying calories and liters. We even contemplated conserving water by skipping hydration for our dehydrated meals. Adam leaned towards taking the risk, remaining optimistic despite growling stomachs. On the contrary, I lacked confidence in our plan to press on and suggested we head towards the highway in the morning while it was still within reach.

I noticed a lone goat on the hill above our camp as we debated. Goats are a common source of meat and cheese for ranchers in Baja, so it's not uncommon to come across a herd in such a desolate place; they can, after all, eat almost anything. The strange thing was that this goat was by itself, and while it was alive, it hadn't moved from one spot during the entire time we were at camp. Seeking a distraction from all the uncertainties, I hiked up to investigate. Upon closer inspection, I discovered the goat's foot trapped between two boulders, indicating it had been stuck for days. Calling Adam for assistance, we managed to free the goat, but its injuries left it unable to move. Feeling disheartened, I descended the hill, troubled by the prospect of its fate within view of our tent. Meanwhile, Adam tended to the goat, offering it plants to eat and, to my dismay, sharing some of our dwindling water supply to revive it.


As we settled into our sleeping bags, still uncertain about our plans for the next day and saddened by the goat's plight, we heard a truck approaching. Given the remote nature of the peninsula, we hoped the driver might know the owner of the stranded goat. Flagging down the truck, we were relieved to find that the occupants were indeed the children of the goat's owner. While Adam and the young man carried the goat to the truck, the young woman gifted me with bags of freshly smoked fish and invited us to visit their ranch a few miles away the following day to fill up the water. Suddenly, our fortunes changed. We felt a renewed sense of optimism with enough fish to sustain us for the remainder of our journey and an invitation to replenish our water supply at the ranch.

As promised, we made our way to the family's ranch the following day, energized by our good fortune. When we arrived, we were pleased to hear that the goat from camp had rejoined the rest of the herd. We also learned that it was being aptly fed to fatten back up to make it into some birria. Welcomed warmly into their home, we reunited with the teenagers, the rancher and his wife, their youngest daughter, and a litter of kittens. Once again, the family generously shared water, fruit, and more fish. The teenage boy even offered to guide us to nearby petroglyphs, a deal we gladly accepted. Before we knew it, we had left our bikes at the mouth of a secluded canyon and were hiking amidst towering cliffs adorned with beautifully preserved ancient paintings of turtles, whale sharks, and fish.


After saying goodbye to the teenage boy, we resumed our northward journey on the peninsula. However, as we emerged from the canyon, we were met with dramatically increased winds, causing the Bahía Concepción to churn with white-capped waves. Consulting my Garmin inReach, 25-30 mph wind speeds, equivalent to 21-26 knots, were reported. To assess the situation and ensure our safety, we messaged the boat driver from Mulegé, who was scheduled to pick us up the following morning. Deciding not to proceed further until we received confirmation from him, we settled in the shade for a picnic and a game of cards, knowing that if we ventured to the end of the peninsula and were unable to be picked up due to the winds, our supplies would still be insufficient for an additional day, despite the provisions received from the rancher's family.

As we waited anxiously for the boat driver's perspective on the weather forecast, the winds strengthened, intensifying our concerns about the transfer scheduled for the next day. Despite the wait, we found ourselves enjoying the moment. We had discovered a serene spot in a beautiful wash where we could relax, have lunch, and play games. However, our enjoyment was interrupted by an unexpected development. Initially, a lone wasp buzzed around our picnic, followed by more until they swarmed around us, landing on our faces and crawling into our ears. Realizing we had unwittingly set up our picnic near an underground hive, panic ensued as we hastily packed our gear amidst the buzzing swarm. At the road juncture, we faced a pivotal decision. Turning right would mean committing to riding to the peninsula's north end and banking on the boat ride with still no word from the boat driver. Turning left would mean abandoning our plan, riding out of the peninsula, and hitchhiking back to base camp. Without hesitation, we exchanged a glance and screamed, "LEFT!" as we fled from the wasps.

Satisfied with our decision, we retraced our route towards Highway 2, aiming to hitchhike toward our base camp. Our resolve was bolstered by a robust 30 mph tailwind, propelling us forward. Arriving at Highway 2 as the sun dipped behind the mountains, we braced ourselves for what we anticipated would be a lengthy wait for a ride. I stuck out my thumb, and to our astonishment, the first passing car pulled over. The driver, coincidentally supporting a cyclist on the Baja Divide, had an empty bike rack on his Jeep. In less than ten minutes, from sticking out my thumb to loading up his Jeep, we were on our way—a testament to another Baja miracle. He dropped us off an hour later, allowing us to complete the final twelve miles back to our base camp. As we journeyed homeward, with the sky transitioning from pink to purple to blue, we caught glimpses of the octopus cliff that had sparked one of the most condensed and amusing adventures we'd ever experienced. We chuckled, agreeing that such escapades could only happen in Baja.

Some of the most fulfilling adventures occur when you let go of control. Admittedly, the plan for this adventure was complex and risky. We pursued a clear goal diligently, yet circumstances beyond our control, our spontaneous approach, and some lack of preparation made our journey incomplete. However, I see this trip as a success. It was more successful than achieving any specific goal because we fully immersed ourselves in the adventure, allowing it to unfold naturally by embracing opportunities and heeding the signs. In return, we were rewarded with tailwinds, an abundance of generosity, and plenty of fun. Ultimately, it wasn't about reaching a predetermined destination but embracing the journey itself and the unexpected moments that arose along the way.

*Traditionally, I meticulously share specific names and locations I reference in my stories and resources, but I intentionally keep the location vague in this case. With the Baja Peninsula attracting increasing U.S. travelers, apps like iOverlander have made finding remote campsites effortless. Despite being listed on iOverlander, I refrain from sharing the name or exact location to preserve its unique character. This area is transitioning into a conservation zone, and such pristine locations are becoming scarce in Baja California. Those of you who are familiar enough with the Baja Peninsula should be able to connect the dots.

Introduction to Bikepacking: Tips, Tricks, and Pack Lists

If you are new to the world of bikepacking, you may be wondering what the difference is between bikepacking and bicycle touring. Theoretically, bicycle touring and bikepacking represent traveling by bike through a place but in different forms and fashions. While touring is used to distinguish between the pace or intention of a ride compared to racing, bicycle touring has traditionally represented traveling by bike on paved roads with racks and panniers. Alternatively, bikepacking is a form of bicycle travel on dirt roads and trails utilizing bags that integrate with your bicycle frame and distribute the weight of your gear more evenly. If you are familiar with hiking culture, bicycle touring on the pavement is equivalent to backpacking, while bikepacking is equivalent to thru-hiking.

There are pluses and minus for both setups. Touring setups with racks and panniers are readily available, generally affordable, easy to access and pack your stuff, and can carry enough gear for lush living off the bicycle at camp. However, touring setups tend to be heavier and have less clearance in tighter spaces, making them more challenging to maneuver on trails or steep and technical terrain. 

Bikepacking bags are generally smaller, limiting their carrying capacity to the necessary items. When you are limited on space, lightweight and packable clothing, and camping equipment become a valuable quality that can be more costly and sometimes less luxurious at camp. However, a bikepacking setup can handle more technical and challenging terrain easily and comfortably without sacrificing ride quality. A bikepacking setup offers a unique opportunity to explore and immerse yourself in natural landscapes that are often inaccessible by other means.

With all that said, you can be a bikepacker and still consider yourself a bicycle tourist; you can bicycle tour with bikepacking bags, and people ride off-road with panniers all the time. 

Getting into bikepacking can be overwhelming initially, so try not to get bogged down in the details and nuance– use what you have or borrow some bags, throw in whatever gear you currently own, and get out for your first tour! You'll quickly figure out what works for you, what you like and don't like, and you can gradually acquire gear and refine your setup as time and budget allow. 

I have been bikepacking for ten years. When I learned that this niche within the cycling world existed, I jumped in head-first by riding my bike east to west across the United States, following a 5,000-mile dirt road dual sport motorcycle route called the Trans-America Trail (TAT) as only my fourth bikepacking trip. Don't worry; I will not recommend selling all of your possessions to bikepack full-time. Instead, I am sharing my background and experience as a bikepacker to provide the context behind this guide's tips, tricks, and pack list.

Before the trip on the TAT, I worked in and managed bike shops for 15 years. For five of those years, I owned and operated my own shop, Swallow Bicycles Works. I was looking for a life change, and a ride to see what the world offered beyond southwest Ohio appealed to me. While the ride on the TAT was the most challenging thing I have ever done (my partner and I were the first cyclists to complete the route), I came away from the trip, only wanting to continue the journey. So that's what I did. 


In addition to the TAT, I have completed notorious long-distance routes such as the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route and the Baja Divide, along with countless routes in over 20 countries worldwide. As a route developer, I have explored almost every nook and cranny of the diverse landscapes, environments, and public lands in the United States. Additionally, through partnerships with cycling brands, I have been fortunate to make a career reciprocal to a lifestyle of going on frequent bikepacking adventures.

For me, bikepacking is an eye-opening journey that takes me away while bringing me closer to myself and my surroundings. It's a transformative experience that provides perspective on life and an understanding of my physical and mental capabilities. I gain inspiration from the natural environments I travel through and am constantly humbled by the adventure. Bikepacking is not an escape but an embracing of reality that always leads me to a newfound appreciation of life and the world around me. 

Getting out the door for a bikepacking trip can be my biggest challenge. Some trips can take more planning and preparation than others and require intention around scheduling the time away, where to go, what gear to bring, and how to pack it. While the options can be daunting, it's helpful to remember what a privilege it is to get to do something like this. Once I'm out on my bicycle and the adventure has begun, all that time spent planning and prepping is worth it. By preparing for my trip properly, I'm free to enjoy the ride fully and be present and open to what the ride has in store. 

While Bikepacking changed my life drastically, you don't need to give up your job, home, or pets to benefit from the thrill, challenge, and freedom a bikepacking adventure can instill. Here are my tips and tricks for how to get started.

Bikepacking Tips and Tricks

  • Plan ahead, but not too much. Have a route and note its distance, elevation, and food and water resupply points. 

  • Embrace the unexpected. We live such rigid, goal-oriented lives that it can be challenging to be flexible and adaptable and to embrace the unexpected change that can happen during an adventure. Bikepacking can be less stressful and much more fun if we let loose a little.

  • Don't rush it. Take a lot of breaks, go for mid-ride hikes and swims, explore, and take pictures! Ditch those gel packs, and bring real food for a picnic (i.e., hard salami, cheese, crackers, and olives). 

  • Get out there, no matter your gear. My friend carried a backpack full of her stuff and strapped a full-size pillow to her bike on her first bikepacking trip, and she had a blast. You don't need fancy gear to start. Work up to it and use what you have. Head to www.bikepacking.com for general information about bikepacking, gear, routes, events, and stories.

  • Use a GPS device and make navigating easy. These days our smartphones make great GPS devices. There are loads of applications where you can download base maps and routes to follow. My favorite route-making and navigation app is Ride With GPS. I also use a Garmin navigation device.

  • Start small. A 50-mile route fully loaded with bikepacking gear will take much longer than unloaded. Plan more time than you think you need for your first few trips. My favorite average daily mileage is 25-30 miles depending on terrain (dirt road vs. singletrack), conditions, and elevation.

  • Visit Public Lands. Ride in the National Forest, Bureau of Land Management, and State Lands for quiet roads, trails, and easy camping. Maps for public lands are easily accessible and outline different trails, roads, and campgrounds, making it a bit easier to plan a route to follow.

  • Bring the necessities. Shelter, sleeping bag, sleeping pad, navigation device, spare battery pack, water filter, tool and repair kit, food, wool layers, down jacket, rain jacket, and water storage (see pack list below).

  • Pack light. Avoid packing the kitchen sink (and the cast iron skillet). The basics will add up to a heavier bike than you are accustomed to riding. Additional weight will be cumbersome, costing you energy, time, and ride enjoyment. 

  • Test your gear. Before you drive to the trailhead and head out on the open road, test your loaded bikepacking setup around your neighborhood or local trails. Take it up and down steep hills and ride it off big curbs. Ensure your bags are securely mounted to your bike and not rubbing on your tires, that no bags are dangling in your wheels, and that your items are securely contained from being ejected mid-ride. 

  • There is no shame in music doping. I ride with headphones and play my favorite tunes, podcasts, and audiobooks to get me through the tough times. Plus, you can dance and sing as loud as you would like when you are out in the middle of nowhere. 

  • Get acquainted with burying your poop and the 7 Leave No Trace Principles.

  • Ride dirt roads. While singletrack can add a certain level of peace, quiet, and adventure, it can also take a physical and mental toll when riding a fully loaded bike. Dirt roads are great options for bikepacking. They will get you out there but are less technical than bikepacking on singletrack. 

  • Make a plan for when your headspace gets dark: ground in the present moment, meditate, breathe, repeat a mantra, gratitude, affirmation, etc. Or, crank the music up and ride to the beat of the music.

  • Address your fears. What are you afraid of? How can you better prepare to address those fears and feel more confident?

  • Make it sustainable, don't suffer (too much): It's ok to take a day off, get a hotel, hop on a bus, shower, do your laundry, go to some hot springs, and pamper yourself.

  • Prepare your body. If you are new to multi-day bikepacking, your body will thank you if you do a few things before your trip. 

    • Try to ride for at least one hour daily (rain or shine) for a certain period.

    • Do at least one overnighter on a route comparable to the terrain, surface, elevation, and mileage per day you will experience on your multi-day trip. 

    • Stretch and strength training: yoga, core, and kettlebell workouts. 

    • Rest, recovery, and self-care: reward your body for working hard with Epson salt baths, massage, and eating nutritious food.


Bikepacking Pack List 

Whether you go out for a sub-24-hour bikepacking adventure (S24O) or a month-long journey, your pack list will generally be the same. While some folks can get away with carrying more and less on a sub-24-hour trip, when packing for any three or more days, you'll want to ensure you have all the necessities and nothing you don't need. A typical good rule is to ensure each item you pack will be used, has its own purpose, and is not duplicated by any other item. The more purposes one item has, the better. For optimal handling, pack your heaviest items low and central (frame bag) and pack your lighter items higher and further out (seat bag and bar bag).

Here is my typical pack list for adventures, big and small.

Sleep System

  • Shelter: rain fly, bug net, ground sheet, or complete tent system (depending on location)*

  • Sleeping bag or quilt (rated for cooler temperatures at night

  • Sleeping pad and pillow

* Make your decision based on the environment. For example, is there a chance for rain, snow, or insects?


Cooking Kit

  • Stove 

  • Propane canister/bottle of isopropyl alcohol*

  • Kettle/plate

  • Mug

  • Spork

  • Knife

  • Lighter

  • Seasoning

*Depending on the stove


Food and Water

  • Capacity to carry up to 3-8 liters of water (depending on location)*

  • Capacity to carry up to 2 days of food: 2 nights, 2 mornings, 2 lunches, and snacks*

  • Water Bladders/Bottles

  • Water filter (one filter for every 2-3 people)

*Food and water capacity needs may vary depending on the location and frequency of resupplies.

Clothing

  • Ride clothes: shirt, shorts, light socks, helmet

  • Sleep clothes: pants, long-sleeve shirt, warm socks, and warm hat

  • Down jacket

  • Rain jacket

  • Ride shoes 

  • Camp/hike sandals

  • Hat

  • Bandana 

  • Gloves

Electronics 

  • Phone 

  • GPS navigation device and/or phone mounted onto your handlebars

  • Satellite Communication Device (Inreach or SPOT)

  • Headlamp and tail light

  • Camera

  • Spare battery pack (10,000 - 15,000 milliamps)

  • Outlet wall charger

  • Charging Cables

  • Headphones

  • Spares: SD cards, camera batteries, etc. 

Toiletries

  • Toothbrush 

  • Toothpaste

  • Floss

  • Soap

  • Baby wipes/toilet paper

  • Waste Bag

  • Hand sanitizer

  • Bug spray

  • Sunscreen


Tool Kit

  • Pump

  • Multitool 

  • Pliers 

  • Chain lube

  • Rag

  • Patch Kit: Patches, Tire lever, Tire plugs (various thicknesses), Spare tube, and Tire boots

  • 2 oz of sealant

  • Presta valve adapter

  • Chain link

  • Spare derailleur hanger

  • Needle and thread

  • Tape: electrical tape and gorilla tape (I wrap a bunch of tape around my pump)

  • Zip Ties

  • A few extra bolts:4mm and 5mm


First Aid Kit

  • Bandages

  • Gauze

  • Tape

  • Ibuprofen

  • Anti-histamine

  • Antacid/laxative

  • Eye drops

  • Emergency blanket

Extras

  • Binoculars 

  • Notebook 

  • Book

  • Deck of cards

  • Writing utensil

  • Footbag



Now that you have the information and motivation to get started, it's time to start loading a few bags onto your bike, getting some supplies and snacks ready, and hitting the open road. No matter what happens, you are bound for an adventure. Don't worry if you make a few mistakes - it's all part of the process. Have fun, be safe, and enjoy the journey.

The Bike That Flew

This story was originally published by Rapha.

On the way to competing in the Tour Divide, I hit a devastating bump in the road. Facing the prospect of having to bow out of the race, I wasn’t willing to go down without a fight.

It was four days before the scheduled start of what would be the most daunting ride of my life. For the past two months, I had dedicated all of my energy to prepare my mind, body, and equipment to spend between 25 and 32 days testing my stamina in what is considered the most challenging mountain bike race in the world, the Tour Divide. With a completion rate of 40-50% of the riders who embark on the ride, finishing this ride is no small feat and not guaranteed. Due to border closers caused by covid, the race would start at the Roosville, Montana border crossing with Canada generating a total course length of 2,500 miles with over 150,000 ft of climbing along the Continental Divide terminating in Antelope Wells, New Mexico. The route travels through five states; Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Colorado, and New Mexico, and follows primarily dirt roads with a mix of pavement and single track thrown in. The rule for the race is to travel through the course completely self-supported in as short of time as possible by relying on services and resupplies that can only be found in the small towns along the route. Packed up, I would be pedaling a 57 pound mountain bike with drop and aero bars laden with a bivy, sleeping bag and pad, layers of clothing, spare batteries and parts, tools, 3 liters of water, and capacity to carry up to 2.5 days worth of food. To prepare for such an undertaking required the help and support of my partner Adam, and many friends, family members, bike mechanics, therapists, and sponsors.

The journey began with a three-day drive from my home in Durango, Colorado, to the start line in Montana. Adam and I were wrapping up a long day of driving and looking for a place to camp for the night south of Seeley Lake, Montana, when we drove over a large bump in the tarmac at 60 mph. The entire truck bounced like a sea-saw that caused us both to cringe when we heard a snap and saw something in the rearview mirror. "What was that!?" I yelled. "It was a bike..." Adam answered. "Was it your bike??" I asked desperately. "I think it was your bike..." he responded. We stopped the car, and I got out to confirm that my Tour Divide bike lay one hundred yards down the road. I ran toward it hysterically like it was a loved pet that had just been hit by a car in front of me.

I picked up the mangled bike in disbelief. The handlebar tape, seat, derailleur, and pedals were shredded. The hoods were shifted and ripped. All the top straps of the frame bag had ripped off during the impact. At first, it seemed that all the damage was superficial until I noticed what would be catastrophic for my ride, a fully cracked seat stay on my carbon frame. I dropped the bike back on the ground in nauseous shock and walked back to the car without it. My race was over. Everything I had done to prepare was a waste of time, money, and energy. In a fit of rage, I kicked the car door. Adam picked up the pieces of my bike and put them in the back of the truck. There was no point in continuing toward the border, so we turned the car around and headed back in the direction of home, stopping in Missoula, Montana, for a sleepless night. I was completely numb and unable to accept how my reality had suddenly and drastically shifted. As Adam started YouTubing various ways to fix carbon bikes with supplies purchased from a hardware store, I realized I could not give up on my dream of completing doing the Tour Divide so quickly. So, I texted the one person I knew in Missoula, Russ Roca of Path Less Pedaled, and first asked if he knew anyone who could help mend my frame bag. Russ put me in touch with the folks of Bedrock Sandals, who offered to meet me at 8 a.m. the following day.

I then asked if Russ had any leads on anyone willing to fix a cracked carbon frame. It was a more significant task with a low likelihood of a positive outcome. Russ did not know of anyone, but he generously offered his bike for me to ride. I thanked him for that and his help thus far, but I knew I was unwilling to ride someone else's bike on such a long journey. Then, Russ followed up with another text, "you might want to try contacting Pursuit Cycles in Bozeman. They are a carbon manufacturer and don't do repairs, but you could at least ask." I immediately sent an email to Pursuit Cycles explaining my situation. It was 1 a.m., and I felt like I had done everything I could for the night, so I laid down and tried to get some sleep. That night I dreamt of my bike fully working and of riding and finishing the Tour Divide. Unfortunately, I would wake between these dreams to the reality of a broken frame and shattered aspirations. 

When I finally woke the following day, I checked my phone to find an email from Carl at Pursuit Cycles saying they would do their best to help, considering the monumental ride I was trying to take on. I would need to travel three and a half hours southwest to Bozeman and have my bike stripped down to the frame, but they believed they could successfully repair my seat stay. Just like that, my reality shifted again. I now had hope, and my adrenaline started pumping again. We stopped by the Bedrock Sandals office, and they repaired my frame bag in under ten minutes, then we set out for the drive to Bozeman. Upon arrival in Bozeman, my friend Adam Sklar of Sklar Bikes removed all the parts from my frame in under twenty minutes. I was able to drop my frame off at Pursuit Cycles by 2 p.m., and they promised it to be ready by 7 a.m. the following morning. With only three days until the start of the race, it was looking like I would be able to do the Tour Divide after all. Overwhelmed with gratitude, I waited for the repairs to be made as I spent the rest of the day celebrating with new and old friends over good food, beverages, and a bike ride (on a loaned bike). 

The next day, I picked up my repaired frame and then took it to my friend Mason, who owns Alter Cycles, to build it back up before opening the shop that morning. A few hours later, I installed the bags back on my bike and securely placed it inside the truck for the final drive to the start line. I was going to do this ride!

I ended up completing the Tour Divide in 21 days, 4 hours, and 10 minutes, four days earlier than my goal and eleven days earlier than my time limit. In every way, I exceeded my expectations for the ride, physically and mentally. Within the first few days, I realized that I could ride so much further than 100 miles per day. Those early days were all about learning what my limits were; how far I could go, how much sleep I could sacrifice, how many days I was willing to wear a single dirty chamois, and if I was motivated enough to chase after first place. I learned that I could go anywhere between 100 and 150 miles per day depending on the elevation and the terrain; I have little desire to ride in the dark; I love sleeping between six and eight hours a night; I could tolerate wearing a dirty chamois for about four days; and that while I was tempted at first, I was unwilling to chase down first place because that was not what I was there to do. I'm sponsored as a lifestyle athlete, after all, not a racer. I was there to do the best ride I could do, challenge myself to meet my goals, stay healthy, happy, and have fun while doing so. I feel like I accomplished all those things due to several reasons:

  • Before the ride, I took as much pressure off myself as possible by setting a goal (25 days) and limiting the amount of time I would be willing to be out on course before calling it quits (32 days). I had not ridden one hundred miles per day for more than three days in a row in over six years. I also did not pedal over 65 miles in one day to train for this event. Therefore, I had no idea how my body would react to this undertaking. I also overestimated how difficult the route would be compared to the more technical and steep terrain I was training on in Durango, Colorado. Essentially, I underpromised and over-delivered, which set me up to feel accomplished the entire time rather than setting too hard of a goal and not meeting the expectations for myself. 

  • I was incredibly grateful and amazed that I could even do the ride considering my bike had broken only a few days before starting. I felt like I had an entire village of support behind me -this did not feel like pressure; it felt like jet propulsion.

  • I am no stranger to living on my bike for months on end. I know how to take care of myself during these long rides. I know when it's time to get a hotel, do some laundry, or call my parents to get a little emotional boost. 

With rides like the Tour Divide, I feel like there is the perception that you have to suffer to be successful. I can't entirely agree with this, especially if you are like me and it is your goal to finish and not necessarily win. Sure, there are some moments of suffering: like being at an altitude of 10,000 ft in the pouring rain, cold and soaked with lightning bolts crashing down; having my handlebars break 1,000 miles into the ride, and needing to pedal 300 miles to the next town to replace them without riding in the drops; outrunning a rapidly spreading forest fire, riding through fresh cow dung for ten miles; hike-a-biking without pants due to saddle sores; getting stuck in peanut butter-like-mud; riding through a 30 mph headwind and crosswind for 50 miles through the Great Basin, or my stomach rejecting a Chipotle burrito and having it come out both ends at the top of Boreas Pass resulting in a bad case of hemorrhoids. But, just like the reality of my bike frame being broken and fixed, these all were just moments in time that pass. My suffering on the Tour Divide was not any different from anyone else's doing the Tour Divide; in fact, it was probably a lot less. In these most challenging moments, I would repeat the mantra to take each moment at a time, each day at a time. I would think about how grateful I was to be there and all the people who helped me get there. I would envision myself finishing and the emotions associated with that accomplishment. Finally, I would focus on my surroundings: the abundant wildlife that one can only see during the waking and waning daylight hours, the exhilarating thunderstorms, vibrant sunrises and sunsets, the aromatic piñon and sage, drenching downpours that the earth so desperately needed, and the awe-inspiring double rainbows that followed. 

There is no doubt in my mind that I had my crisis-of-the-ride when I discovered my bike frame was cracked. The experience forced me to consider how much I wanted to do the ride and how far I was willing to go to make it happen. When my bike frame broke, and my handlebars eventually cracked, I doubled my commitment to finish the Tour Divide instead of quitting. Those crises' affirmed that I was doing what I loved to do, and I did not want to stop doing it. I could not have done it without the incredible support of my community. I am forever grateful, and I share my success with everyone who helped me get to the start and the finish. 

Listen: Bikes or Death Podcast, Ride Buddies with Sarah Sturm, My TDR Playlist

If you are looking for some entertainment to plug into your ears while you go about you daily life or bike ride, please check out some of the recent conversations I have had. I was interviewed by Patrick Farnsworth of the Bikes or Death Podcast, recorded a really fun conversation by my professional twin, Sarah Sturm, for the Ride with GPS Ride Buddies Podcast, and am sharing my Tour Divide Playlist. You can find all of these with brief descriptions below!

Bikes or Death

In this interview I share how I was introduced to bicycles, and the cycling community, at the young age of 12 when I started working for a bike rental company in Ohio. I wasn’t a cyclist at the time and had no idea that one day I would be a sponsored Adventure Cyclist. In this podcast I share how I have carved out a cool career for myself that allows me to pursue the things in life that bring me joy and share them in a way that is authentic to myself.

RWGPS Ride Buddies Episode 2: Sarah Sturm and Sarah Swallow

Pantless hike-a-bikes, epic journeys and so much laughter. In this second episode of the Ride Buddies conversation series, Sarah and I connect over our many similarities (name, sponsors and Durango-living), dissect the merits of different race formats, and swap hilarious stories of recent adventures.

My Tour Divide Playlist

Aside from listening to the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy and the Hobit, these are the sounds that kept my legs spinning and the good vibes flowing during my Tour Divide ride. I hope they will have the same affect on you!