Living On The Research Ranch

It's been over two months since Adam and I moved down to live at the 8,000 acre Appleton-Whittell Research Ranch (AWRR) 100 miles south of Tucson in Elgin, Arizona for the winter. For an introduction to the research ranch and what I am doing here, feel free to read my previous story about living at the AWRR. 

On a bike tour the extent to which I typically go without seeing another person rarely exceeds three days. Scatter back-to-back three-day periods across three months, and you can get a good idea of how isolating it felt to ride the Trans America Dirt Road Trail, also known as the TAT. The 5,000-mile tour of the TAT back in 2015 was the most isolating experience I have had, until recently. Living on the AWRR during a pandemic has been an unexpected level of isolation I have ever known. This adjustment dominated what feels like the whole month of December. During this time Adam and I worked on getting the Swinging H ranch house, which is over one hundred years old, cleaned and fixed up into a more livable space for our five month stay. Because no one has lived in the Swinging H consistently for over twenty years, this project included getting it set up with hot water, internet, safe electricity, wood for heating, fewer cobwebs, less dust, and deterring mice and woodpeckers. We did all of this with the constant help and support of the  ranch director and staff, Cristina, Ben, and Suzanne. 

Contributing to the isolation of the research ranch's geographic location being 45 minutes from the closest grocery store and closed to visitors due to high Covid transmission rates in Santa Cruz County, is that there is minimal internet access. The only type of internet available at the research ranch is satellite internet, which requires sending radio signals to a satellite in space, which then beams the internet to the dish attached to the house. Most people have fiber or cable internet, which is typically instant and unlimited. Satellite internet is the new thing for folks who live in remote locations where cable and fiber is too expensive or impossible to install. For reasons beyond my understanding, satellite internet is limited to 100 Gb per month and delayed. Apparently, Elon Musk is working to improve the landscape for the future of satellite internet, but I am skeptical. Since moving here, Adam and I have taken a scrupulous approach to our data usage. We have cut out anything unnecessary to preserve what we have for video calls with friends and family, meetings, ten hours of zoom school per week, homework, and photo uploads. 

Do you know what uses up a lot of unnecessary internet data? Instagram, Tiktok, and Netflix. I have largely stopped using these platforms during my stay here. I say largely because I will typically sneak a peek at the Tiktok videos my sisters send me. I'll also occasionally check my messages on Instagram via my web browser on my phone. Instagram is terrible to use through the web browser, but I use it because having the app is too easy and can quickly become an unconscious habit. As a recovering addict, I do not want to make it any easier to score my fix.  

Overall, this detox feels like what I have needed for a long time. Whenever I feel lonely, I remind myself that Covid is mainly responsible for this, considering that the ranch would be open to regular bikepacking visitors riding the Sky Island Odyssey routes. I would also typically be preparing for Ruta del Jefe at the end of February, inevitably hosting a few gravel camps, as well as socializing with locals, fellow snowbirds, and whoever was in town visiting for the week. While I am certainly missing my friends this winter, in this social and streaming void, I have been embracing the space, time, curiosity, and interests that living on a research ranch inspires. Over the last couple of months I have had more time to ride, read, write, and cook; so much cooking, in fact, that I earned the nickname "Chef Fireball."

I have been riding my bike on and off the ranch, test riding zones I overlooked in the past. I am finding so much more than I anticipated and using this new information to update my current route offerings in the area and to develop some new ones. Despite its large and diverse road network, routing in this part of the world has never been easy due to nearly every base map being incorrect or outdated. I suppose the challenge is what makes it so fun and why I enjoy exploring down here so much. 

I also have been reading about all the facets of the research ranch to inform my writing for some relatable and digestible educational signs and brochures for the  average visitor. Thanks to contributions from former ranch directors Carl and Jane Bock and the University of Arizona Press, there is an abundance of literature written about the AWRR and the surrounding area. This library has provided me with an education of the history of the research ranch and livestock grazing in the Southwest; semi-arid grassland habitats; archeology of southeastern Arizona; and the endangered Chiricahua Leopard Frog. I am learning how humans have used land throughout history to our benefit and coming to terms with the impact that use has had on the land. Living on the research ranch, a semi-arid grassland not grazed by livestock in over fifty years, I can make these connections in a more personal way and see the positive effects of limiting human use first-hand. It seems that we humans are the invasive species spreading, choking out, and taking over native habitats for our greedy benefit.

Grasslands vs. Livestock Grazing 

My time here has turned me into a grasslands snob, which is a blessing and a curse. When I ride off the ranch, I can't help but turn my nose up at some of the surrounding grasslands for how short and overgrazed they look or how many of them have been reduced to dirt and replaced with hoof prints and cow patties. This experience, coupled with my new knowledge, has led to an aha moment in understanding how detrimental the livestock grazing industry has been to the environment by eradicating biodiversity and beauty from natural landscapes and viable habitats for endangered species, specifically throughout the Southwest and Intermountain West. This information compounded with the knowledge that methane from the livestock industry contributes to 14.5 percent of the global greenhouse gas emissions has led me to cut meat out of my diet again. This time, however, not eating meat has been easier than it ever has been in the past. 

The Christmas Bird Count

A highlight of the last couple of months was participating in the annual Christmas Bird Count, or CBC, where I spent an entire day moving slowly through the habitat within one or two miles of the Swinging H ranch house and recorded each bird species seen and their amount. Administered by the National Audubon Society, the CBC is a census of birds in the Western Hemisphere performed by volunteers. The count  results provide population data for use in research and conservation biology but it also just so happens to be a fun recreational activity. I credit Aaron Van Geem, a friend and wildlife technician who joined us for the count, for making my first CBC an impactful and memorable experience. Aaron is trained and certified to track most animals in the western U.S. for conservation agencies and has worked specifically with jaguars, pygmy rabbits, bobcats, and Mexican spotted owls. What a job! While I have a good sense for spotting critters and Adam can identify different types of birds, Aaron was able to identify each specific species, including their gender and age. As a team of three, we allowed ourselves to fully geek out on birds from sunrise to sunset, at the end of which we were all thoroughly exhausted. This experience provided me with a greater appreciation of the biodiversity in this place where I get to live and cemented the species who also call it home into my memory. 

Swinging H Ranch House

A few facts about the Swinging H ranch house; it was part of a separate ranch acquired by the Appleton family when they formed the Elgin Hereford Cattle Ranch over 20 years before selling their cattle to dedicate their land to be a research station in 1967. As we call it, the “H” is part of a lower compound of buildings on the research ranch about a mile from the headquarters, directors and conservation managers' residences and the barn. The area around the H includes a bunkhouse, casita, and a lab. It's nestled lower than most places on the ranch in O'Donnell Canyon at 4,700 ft, surrounded by rolling hills of grasslands and the occasional oak or sycamore tree. We heat this old house by schlepping thirty-to-forty-pounds of oak and mesquite into the house twice per day, splinters and all. The living room window inside the H offers a distractingly good view of the Mustang Mountains. The backyard, creatively landscaped with ocotillo, sotol, agave, prickly pair and blooming yucca, serves as a playscape for many neighborly birds: the Rufous and White-crowned sparrow, Canyon towhee, Lesser goldfinch, Curved-billed thrasher, Pyrrhuloxia, Loggerhead shrike, Roadrunner, and even an occasional visit from the local American Kestrel. 

Wind 

The weather of a semi-arid high grassland plain in the winter is a lot like living in Ohio in the sense that you can experience a 70-degree sunny day, 3" inches of snow and a tornado all in one week. A tornado is an exaggeration for southern Arizona, but the sentiment is the same when there are days where the near-constant winds increase 30-40 mph speeds. These days, the wind creates an eerie, unsettling howl through each gab of this old house. I typically hunker down inside, taking refuge from the intense conditions outside, and watch as the grasses blow as if they were waves in a stormy sea. Sometimes, I will venture out into the wind to get a break from the house and I am usually pleasantly surprised by how fine it is to ride through, primarily because of the massive tailwind for half the ride. 

Time

Time feels like it is simultaneously flying by and not moving here. Part of me is overwhelmed by February already being here, and part of me feels like I have lived here for over a year. It is not uncommon for me to wear the same pair of wool-leggings for five-days straight. I am cherishing these moments with the expectation of a busy February with the ranch gradually opening back up to bikepackers; a tour on the Sky Islands Odyssey full loop for a film project with REI and Ford Motor Company; visits from a small cohort of friends from Austin, Texas; and my parents driving in from Ohio. Note: Adam and I are scheduled to quarantine and be tested before and after each of these visits to combat the spread of Covid.

My time at the research ranch will be coming to an end in April. In the meantime, I still have much I would like to see, learn, and do during the rest of this winter and making a list for winters to come. 

Here is a list of some of the great books I have been reading during this time:

Amann, Andrew W. Jr. Bezy, John V. Ratkevich, Ron W. Witkind, Max. Ice Age Mammals of the San Pedro River Valley. Arizona Geological Survey, Tucson

Bahre, Conrad J. 1977. Land-Use History of the Research Ranch, Elgin, Arizona. Journal of the Arizona Academy of Science.

Basso, Keith H. Wisdom Sits In Places: Landscape and Language Among The Western Apache.

Bock, Carl E. Bock, Jane H. The View From Bald Hill: Thirty Years in an Arizona Grassland

Bock, Carl E. Bock, Jane H. Sonoita Plain: View from a Southwestern Grassland.

Sayre, Nathan F. Ranching, Endangered Species, and Urbanization in the Southwest. 2005. The University of Arizona Press

A Getaway in the Chiricahua Mountains

Photos by Hubert d'Autremont. If you like handmade custom bicycle culture consider supporting Huberts work by purchasing a Rangefinder Book.

The Chiricahua sierra has been on my list of places to visit in Arizona since I started visiting this part of the world. In 2018, fresh off two and a half months of bike touring in Japan, New Zealand, and Australia, Adam and I attempted to ride back home to Durango from Tucson. Within four days we called it quits on Christmas Day when we got caught in a blizzard in the Chiricahuas. Our friends Benedict and Nam graciously came to the rescue, transporting us to the nearest hot spring and then to the nearest town so we could rent a car and finish the journey back home. It was one of the best Christmases to date. 

I didn't return to the Chiricahua cordillera until recently when I attempted the same route. This time, I was riding in the opposite direction from Las Cruces, New Mexico, back to the Appleton-Whittell Research Ranch in Elgin, Arizona. After pedaling two hundred miles in anticipation, I learned what all the fuss was about as I slowly approached the east side of the mountain range where a citadel of stone columns, spires, and hoodoos rose from the forest. Contrasted with the bleak, flat, and exposed desert of the vast San Simon Valley that I had just pedaled across, the Chiricahuas offered dense shade and a respite for my sunburn. They were also beaming with life; white-tailed deer, turkeys, javelina, and even running water after one of the driest monsoon seasons on record. 

The Chiricahua Mountains’ namesake comes from the Indigenous People to the land. The Chiricahua Peoples battled to defend their territory from Spanish-Mexican settlers and armies for over two hundred years. However, after the Gadsden Purchase of 1854, they were ultimately and violently forced from their lands by the U.S. Army so that Euro-American settlers could colonize the West. The mountains themselves are located thirty-five-miles north of the southern border of the U.S. with Mexico, and on the eastern Arizona border with New Mexico. The main gravel road that travels across the range is seventeen miles long, split between a 2,700 ft climb and a 2,000 ft descent. This road is a rare high altitude gem through one of the largest of the Sky Islands of southern Arizona, reaching 8,000 ft (the highest peak in the Chiricahuas reaches 9,763 ft).  A “sky Island” is one of many isolated mountain ranges in the Sonoran and Chihuahua deserts that produce multiple life zones with increased elevation. This phenomenon creates an island habitat for diverse flora and fauna surrounded by a desert sea. 

As I pedaled the ten miles of  winding and twisting gravel road to the top of the pass, I couldn't help but think back on what the jaguar experts who have spoken at Ruta del Jefe have said about this place. These experts believe that the Chiricahua Mountains are now the ideal habitat for American jaguars and Sonoran ocelots. Sure enough, in 2019, a rare spotting of a Sonoran ocelot was recorded by Conservation CATalyst, the same group who documented El Jefe, the famous American jaguar who lived in the Santa Rita Mountains. If you wonder what an ocelot looks like, understanding its name's origins should give you a good mental picture. The word "ocelot" comes from the Mexican Aztec word, tlalocelot, which means "field tiger." For more ocelot coolness, check out this remote action camera footage of Lil Jefe documented in the Chiricahua massif. Lil Jefe, named after his famous relative, has inspired hope for the future of conservation habitats for these extraordinary creatures, such as within the canyons of the Chiricahua from mining, urbanization, and deforestation. Lil Jefe also serves as a symbol to raise public awareness to protect his species from poaching and retaliatory killings from their perceived threat to livestock.

I wanted to be the last person on the mountain pass to increase my chances of having an unusual critter spotting. I pedaled slowly to capture the last sun on the range. My senses were heightened to the slightest rustle of leaves as I hoped to see something, anything. But I saw nothing until later that night at camp when the darkness and my heightened sensitivity turned to paranoia when I heard something(s) rustling in the grass around me. Was it a jaguar, a mountain lion, a black bear, or an ocelot? I could not see it. Having spilled my mac ‘n' cheese dinner on the ground beside my camp, I decided that whatever critter was looming in the shadows would now be even more interested in me. So, I buried my cheesy spilt  meal, folded my sleeping pad, bag, and bivy into a taco, slung it over my shoulder, and rode down the road to a different camp spot. My thinking was that sleeping in a more established camping area would deter whatever critters the last site had produced or, at the very least, allow me to see them coming. Within an hour, I heard the same noise. I sat up quickly, my heart racing, shined my headlight in the direction of the noise and finally spotted the culprit of my fear—a skunk. I was only somewhat relieved, having heard recent stories of skunks who like to cuddle with campers inside their bivouacs, so I shined my light on the little ball of black and white fur until they strolled away. 

After yet another sip of this wild-feeling place, I was determined to return to explore some of the few gravel roads I noticed while traveling on my short visits. The roads, scenery, camping options, and serenity seemed ideal for a little gravel getaway, to escape the grasslands for a shaded pause within the forests, and for Adam and I to connect with friends Hubert and Sean before the holidays. In preparation, I put a few cycling routes together while Adam added some hikes to a Ride with GPS collection, which gave us various options to choose from for a three-and-a-half-day base camp in the Chiricahua range

The trip started like any does when you meet your friends in a new faraway place. The fresh smells of pine and juniper complemented with cool, clean, crisp air inspired a sense of wonder and excitement for what would unfold in the following hours and days. We caught up with each other, picked our optimal camp spots and angles, prepped the bikes for the weekend ahead, and gathered a Yule log and tinder to keep us warm and in the holiday spirit when the sun would go down. 

Over the next three days, we spent the first two riding gravel roads through the mountain and in its foothills to see where they would lead. These days started late, around noon, after we had slept in, thawed out our frozen water, sat by the fire, and had a heaping breakfast. By the time we would leave camp the temperatures would be perfect in the mid-60s, but would get chillier by the hour as the sun sank behind the mountain skyline. Driven by the beauty and curiosity for what lay around the next corner, we spent these days riding further than our initial plans, making up for our late starts by maximizing the dusk and enjoying the sunsets. We did this even though it required cold ears and fingers as we rode into temperatures dipping into the low and frigid forties. We would return to camp, use the spirit and momentum we had gained from our ride and get straight to work on getting the fire started, warming up, and feeding ourselves, to make the outdoors habitable and pleasant. We would talk by the fire and over-guess the time of evening until we resigned to the call of our warm sleeping bags and pillows. We peeled ourselves away, one-by-one for an early bedtime, leaving the last two standing to douse and bury whatever coals of the Yule log that remained. 

I had planned an ambitious eighty mile circumnavigation of the Chiricahuas for the third day of our gravel getaway. However, our group felt that we could all use something less committing and more relaxing. After all, the holidays and our old priorities of using this time of year to "train" for the early season's gravel events like Ruta del Jefe and the Mid South felt a little pointless due to Covid, canceled events, and fewer friends visiting this year. The benefit of this decision is that I now have another reason to return to this magical place. As an alternative to the big ride, we opted for a nine mile round trip hike to Silver Peak. A nine mile hike compared to an eighty mile ride sounded like a piece of cake, so we approached our morning like all the others, casually sitting by the fire and shooting the breeze until noon when we set off to ride to the trailhead to start the hike. 

I'm not much of a hiker to be honest, and I quickly fell off the back. I did what I could to manipulate the group to slow down to my pace by positioning myself toward the front of the line, engaging in deep conversation, stopping to look through my binoculars, and taking pictures. If you are a slow hiker like me, give this strategy a try sometime - it works. The trail meandered at a low grade. We continued to march slowly up through each of its different biomes, from the low desert cacti to scrub oak, pinyon, and juniper, to eventually ponderosa pines and douglas firs. All the while, we were surrounded by a wonderland of rock faces, pinnacles, towers, steeples, battlements, and obelisks; eroded from layers of ash caused by a  volcanic eruption that occurred twenty seven million years ago.

At what felt like halfway through the hike, we took a snack break and checked our progress. To our shock, we saw that we still had 2,000 ft yet to climb. With daylight already dwindling, I knew we could not get to the top and make it down before total darkness, and of course, most of our group did not bring headlights, insulated jackets, or gloves. Despite all of this, no one seemed interested in turning around. I realized at that moment that this hike had just turned into a long, late, and cold adventure, one in which I was the weakest link. I sprang from my seat and started briskly hiking and jogging to the top as fast as I could while the guys continued at their natural conversational pace, just a switchback or two behind me. 

Silver Peak was as glorious as its name. The viewpoint provided spanned far south into Mexico and across the broad San Simon Valley of New Mexico. These are views you can't get from the seat of your bicycle. After a short break to eat a late lunch and rest our tired feet, we started the trek/hike/tramp/trudge down the mountain. The short period of brisk hiking that I had done to reach the top had finally taken its toll as my quadriceps and hips tightened and atrophy set in, necessitating a long, slow, every-person-for-themselves tromp down the mountain. Just as darkness started creeping through the valley, we reached the trailhead, retrieved our bikes from the bushes, and then found ourselves in an awkward standoff with a pack of javelinas devouring a tasty and spiny prickly pear. After they moved along, we pedaled our way back to camp, thoroughly exhausted from a weekend well- lived. We spent our final night connecting beside a fire, a simple experience that we used to take for granted but now cherish as one of the few places it is safer to be together. 

The Chiricahua chain offers a quiet escape. Located two and a half  hours from Tucson, they will likely stay that way for a while. Still, like any special place like this, the serenity of them  will inevitably come under threat in years to come as more people migrate from the big cities to find solace, clean air, and cooler temperatures in this ever-warming planet. When it is safe to do so, get out there and enjoy it for yourself, but please do what you can to help keep this place a viable habitat for all living things to coexist, thrive, and enjoy peacefully by leaving no trace and donating what you can.

Sarah Swallow's Logo by Mary Lytle

After years of back-and-forth and putting it on hold, Mary and I have finally landed on a symbol that represents the many different and ever-changing roles I play in my profession. Not only does this image represent me, but it also depicts connection; to the iconic Mustang Mountains that have inspired so many of my projects and collaborations, to making connections through linking roads for routes; to using those routes to connect me to self and my journey in life, and to making connections between people and places. 

Sky Islands Odyssey East Loop Print Pre-Order

Mary has been illustrating my concepts for rides and landscapes for over ten years now. There have been some classics over the years, but I have to say that this illustration of the Sky Islands Odyssey East Loop is my favorite. Mary created this illustration last year, depicting the classic view of the Mustang Mountains from east mesa as bikepackers approach the Appleton-Whittell Research Ranch along the route. The image includes some of the iconic elements and wildlife you'll see, particularly around the ranch. When Cream Design and Print in Tucson, AZ, printed the design on some seafoam green t-shirts to be sold through the AWRR, they threw in a single print, which gave Mary's artwork a whole new life. I've meant to get some made and sharing them with you ever since, and I finally got around to putting the order in a few weeks ago. When we are simultaneously stuck in our houses on video calls and dreaming of the places we have been or want to go, a little inspiration and decoration can go a long way. This print provides both. These will be available and shipping the week of February 14th, but I am opening the pre-order for the limited quantity of prints now.

Humanitarian Crisis in the Borderlands

If you have attended Ruta del Jefe or read the Sky Islands Odyssey route guide, you know that not everything down in the borderlands where I live is about frolicking pronghorn in a beautiful grassland landscape. Beneath the surface is the reality that the U.S. immigration policy, Prevention Through Deterrence, deters migrant refugee traffic to more hostile terrain that is less suited for crossing and better suited for enforcement. As a result of this strategy, hundreds of undocumented migrants suffer or die from dehydration, starvation, and the extreme journey through the desert each year within the borderlands.  

I am reminded of this reality daily while living on the AWRR throughout the constant drone traffic overhead and surrounding border patrol check points. The other day, however, I was riding around the ranch and came across a deserted backpack by one of the cienegas, which was a harsh reminder that even in five inches of snow and ice, refugees are still passing through the desert. No More Deaths, a humanitarian aid organization that provides water and food along migrant routes, just came out with a new report as the third installment of their series: Disappeared: How U.S. Border Enforcement Agencies are Fueling a Missing Person's Crisis. The report, Left to Die: Border Patrol, Search and Rescue, and the Crisis of Disappearance, written along with La Coalición de Derechos Humanos, finds that Border Patrol systematically ignores and mishandles search and rescue emergencies in the borderlands. 

I encourage you to read the report, view this short video of the findings, and donate to No More Deaths for their essential work in bringing light to these issues.

The Appleton-Whittell Research Ranch

Photos by John Watson, Gritchelle Fallesgon, Ronnie Romance, Adam Gaubert, and Sarah Swallow

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In the second half of 2020, I started making a concentrated effort to remove the things in my life that have been draining me and to move toward the things that inspire me. I ponder this because I pedal a fine line between making my passion feel like work and my work feeling like my passion (I am always striving for the latter). When I thought about the things that inspire me I thought of one place in particular; The Appleton-Whittell Research Ranch (AWRR) in southern Arizona. 

The AWRR is an 8,000-acre conservation research station that is managed by the National Audubon Society. AWRR resides on the unceded ancestral lands of the Tohono O'odham, Yoemi, and Chiricahua Apache in what is now Elgin, Arizona. It is situated 60-miles south of Tucson, 20-miles north of the Mexico/US border, and an hour’s drive from the nearest grocery store. This land was used as a working cattle ranch for over 100 years until 1968 when the Appleton Family converted the land into a research facility to serve as a reference area and control site to evaluate large-scale land use, such as the impact of livestock grazing. At this time, grazing on the property stopped and as a result, the native grasslands and riparian marshlands were slowly restored. With their rehabilitation came a habitat for hundreds of species of birds, reptiles, amphibians, insects, and mammals. In the summer, when the grass is green and the water flows, the ranch hosts researchers who come to study the climate, soil, hydrology, and the various species that migrate to and from the ranch.

I stumbled upon AWRR back in the winter of 2017/2018 when I was developing the Sky Islands Odyssey Route Project. That winter I had visited southern Arizona on seven different occasions to test ride portions of the routes. The final segment to be sorted was a way from the San Raphael Valley and Canelo Pass to Las Ciennegas National Conservation Area while avoiding the higher trafficked paved roads and the residential areas surrounding the towns of Sonoita and Elgin. Without knowing that AWRR is closed to the public and gated at both ends, I had routed a promising connector through the ranch. Sure enough, when my friend Ron (Ultraromance) and I went to test the connector we came upon a gated fence with a private property sign. What was different about this sign was that there was a phone number printed on it. So with one bar of LTE, I dialed the number and Cristina Francois, who had taken over the ranch as the director only a couple of months prior, answered the phone. Cristina ended up driving to the gate to meet us. She was the most cheerful, welcoming, and pleasant person I have ever met on the other side of a locked and signed gate. At the time she seemed open to the idea of allowing cyclists to pass through the ranch, so we exchanged contact information, and a slow yet steady email chain of creating a system to allow cyclists on the ranch for the first time in its history began. After permission was granted for bikepacking access, Cristina and I started collaborating on hosting Ruta del Jefe and a couple of small cycling camps. Three years later, between bikepackers passing through during their ride on the Sky Islands Odyssey routes, Ruta del Jefe attendees, and groups of cyclists who have started to come for overnight stays and day rides from the ranch, AWRR has seen 600 cyclists earning them an income of $15,000. The ranch earned more revenue from cyclists in the month of February 2020, than they typically do throughout their entire research season. During an otherwise slow winter season at the ranch, cyclists have added a new source of energy, exposure, and income to the ranch at the intersection of conservation and recreation. While a lot of those funds are needed for maintaining the facilities, the AWRR would like to invest those funds in making the ranch more accommodating to cyclists in the forms of educational signage, trails, maps, and scholarships.

To me, AWRR is one of the most magical places I have been to. There is no cell signal, limited wifi and its remote location and limited distractions force one to be immersed in books, binoculars, wood fires, nature, its elements, and all-around views. I love the feathery yellow grasses that are as tall as I am, the majestic view of the Mustang mountains; the orange dirt of the rocky double track roads that wind and roll throughout the property; the dry yellow leaves of the large cottonwoods that blow in the wind and sound like water flowing in a stream; and how, at sunset, the grass turns to gold, the mountains turn purple, and the sky transitions from shades of cotton candy to the east and fire and brimstone to the west. There are the old ranch houses; filled with their own quirks, creeks, lizards, and libraries of books about the surrounding region; and then there are the people who run and live on the ranch; Cristina, Suzanne, and Ben who are some of the warmest, most generous, and humorous folks I have ever had the pleasure to collaborate with. Out of all the places I have traveled to, the AWRR has been the one place that keeps my attention, inspiration, and my intrigue high any time I am here or away.

So naturally, when I thought about moving towards the things that inspired me, I thought about this place. I emailed Cristina and proposed that maybe in the fall of 2021 I could come down and live at the ranch to develop more cycling and educational opportunities and she responded, ‘why wait until 2021?’ So now I am here, Adam along, for the duration of the winter and some of the spring. Due to the extremely high cases of Covid in the area, hosting bikepackers, events and cycling groups have been put on hold. In the meantime, I’ll be here getting to know all the nooks and crannies of the ranch and the surrounding region to assist in the ranch’s vision to accommodate cyclists with their conservation work through signs, maps, trails, signage, and scholarships. My first project is to create a cycling map to make the riding more accessible and educational to the pedaling, researching, and bird-watching visitors of the AWRR. The second is to assist in the development of a connected trail system on the ranch property. If you are interested in volunteering for any of this if/when Covid cases go down to safe levels, please get in touch (sarahjean.swallow@gmail.com).

This opportunity is a dream come true for me and I can’t wait to share with y’all some more stories about what I learn and do here at AWRR this winter. 

A list of some of the critters Adam and I have been identifying from the Swinging H ranch house:

• Acorn Woodpecker - we have a love-hate relationship with them. This is mostly because, on one hand, their plumage is vibrant and glossy; and their features are distinct. On the other hand, in such a remote quiet place, they make the sound of someone knocking on the door when they drill holes in the side of the house to store solitary birdseed. I am constantly jumping out of my seat or bed to answer the door until I realize it is just my neighbor, the woodpecker.

• Pyrrhuloxia - the rockstars of the backyard.

• Madrean Alligator Lizard - found this one inside the house, they scared the shit out of me.

• Curved-billed Thrasher - a desert bird.

• Javelina - There is a group of around five that we keep seeing with one cute little baby.

• Coues’ White-tail deer - these are like the miniature horse of the deer world. They are very small and have a bushy white tail which can make them look like giant rabbits sometimes.

• Pronghorn Antelope - North America’s fastest land animal. I don’t spot these from where I am staying but I have seen them on the boundaries of the ranch. I get very excited when I see pronghorn. They blend into the landscapes so well it creates an extra challenge to spot them.

Growing Pains and a Healing Journey

The Bears Ears Story

Last month, I shared an article that I wrote about Bears Ears National Monument on bikepacking.com. The piece was a call to action to vote because Bears Ears and places like it depend on our engagement. The story was also about how the bicycle serves as a tool for me to connect and relate with the land, and to understand why it is worth protecting. Particularly in this piece, I was relating to the significance of the land within Bears Ears National Moment to Indigenous Peoples and how their heritage needed to be protected. 

In doing so, I co-opted the historic narrative of Bears Ears and contributed to the cultural erasure of Indigenous Peoples. This is not my story tell. As a white person I will never understand the breadth, complexity, and nuance of the historic erasure and all of the other issues Indigenous people face. Nor will I understand the significance and meaning of this land to each of the different tribes in the region, let alone the individuals within those groups.

Protecting Bears Ears is also not my fight to lead. My connection to Bears Ears is through living 2-hours away, riding there, writing U.S. representatives, donating to Bears Ears Intertribal Coalition, and the various other groups who are working to protect Bears Ears since I moved to Durango, Colorado in 2017. These actions are just scratching the surface in the fight that Indigenous Peoples been in for centuries.

Going to Bears Ears during the pandemic was counter-productive to the mission of the trip. When I shared this piece, I failed to consider how insensitive and problematic traveling to Bears Ears National Monument during Covid-19 would be to readers. This is particularly so, since Bears Ears neighbors the Navajo Nation, whose population has been disproportionately affected by the virus.

Lastly, I realize that some in my community were shocked that I could make such a mistake-- considering my work with WTF Bikexplorers (WTF BX) and Ruta del Jefe (RDJ). This piece caused some people to question their involvement with me and the validity of the my work with WTF BX and organizing RDJ. 

For the harm, disappointment, and confusion that I caused, I am deeply sorry. 

While I have an undergraduate degree in history that focused on racism in America in the 20th century, as I look back, I am baffled that my education taught me little about the breadth of colonialism and oppression that Indigenous Peoples have faced and continue to face today. Only in recent years, have I been learning this history. This lack of education in my life is rooted in the settler perspective and speaks to the cultural erasure that they face everyday. I acknowledge that I still have more to learn from this experience and am committed to the lifelong process of personal growth and decolonizing the way I think, write, and travel in the future. 

I have been willingly undergoing an accountability process to reconcile the harm that I caused my community. I have been meeting with and listening to the individuals who were directly harmed by my story, apologizing to them, and committing to change my behavior. I am grateful for these conversations, and for the time, energy, and courage of my BIPOC peers who have come forward to discuss this issue with me. While these conversations have been valuable, positive, and educational— it is not just up to them to keep me accountable. I, too, must hold myself accountable. One way that I can do that is to share this experience and what I have learned with you to promote healing and education in the community. 

Below, I have included a list of books and articles, a podcast, and some accounts I follow that have been broadening my understanding of the importance of Indigenous sovereignty and how to be a better ally to the movement. In terms of my writing, at a fundamental level, I am re-evaluating what I choose to write about. To do that, I ask myself; what’s my motivation behind writing about certain issues and is there someone else that should tell this story? Before the Bears Ears story was published, I communicated to WTF BX leadership that, after four years, I will be stepping down from my leadership role in order to give space for new energy and growth for the organization and for myself. I have been working with new leadership to complete my transition by January 1, 2021. 

I know a lot of folks have felt confused about this situation because my Bears Ears story was taken offline so quickly. Solely for transparency and so we can all learn from this experience, I am linking to my Bears Ears story here. 

Please, feel free to reach out to me if you would like to have a conversation about this or have any resources to add to this list.

• Accomplices Not Allies: Abolishing the Ally Industrial Complex: An Indigenous Perspective and Provocation - Indigenous Action Media

• All My Relations Podcast

• Cyclista Zine (@cyclista_zine)

• Davis, Lynne. {2010}. Alliances: Re/Envisioning Indigenous-Non-Indigenous Relationships. University of Toronto Press.

• Dunbar-Ortiz, Roxanne. {2014}. An Indigenous Peoples’ History or the United States. Beacon Press.

• Indigenous Women Hike (@indigenouswomenhike)

• Kimmerer, Robin W. [2013]. Braiding Sweetgrass. Milkweed Editions.

• Taylor, Dorceta E. {2016}. The Rise of the American Conservation Movement: Power, Privilege, and Environmental Protection. Duke University Press.

• Renee Hutchins (@Renay.h)

2020, Social Media, and I 

I grew up white middle-class. As a teenager I was stubborn, passionate, and angry. I just wanted to be left alone; to be free to do what I wanted. I pushed the boundaries of what was acceptable, tolerated, and what I could get away with. I pushed against authority so much, that I am lucky to not have been kicked out of school or in trouble with the law. 

I learned to manage these retaliatory impulses when I started riding a bike to stay healthy and to get to know southwest Ohio. At the time, the bicycle exposed me to an alternative way of life, how I could earn a living, and what a good living could look like. 

This year has created a social media environment that, for the first time in a long time, has me navigating my teenage angst again. This time, the authority in my life feels like it is being enforced by people on social media and I am struggling to find a balance between its addictive and sometimes oppressive nature, and the education, growth, and connection it can promote.

As I grasp this ever changing environment, I have been crashing along the way. I compare this to that period of time in your bike skills’ progression when you start to get comfortable in the new techniques you have gleaned from a summer of riding. Then, at the end of the season when you are feeling confident you crash your bike at high speed and nearly break your neck. This crash sets you back. It makes you reassess what you are doing, and why it’s worth doing (this literally happened to me a couple months ago - I’m fine). 

This year has made me reconsider almost everything I have been doing. I went from having one of my best years to one of the worst. Don’t get me wrong, compared to so many other folks affected by the pandemic and economy through loss of work, closed businesses, evictions, illness, poverty, and death, I am so grateful that my challenges are merely growing pains. In some regard, we are all feeling similarly. Maybe it is because of the anxiety around social media, Covid-19 restrictions on travel, and significantly less amount of time traveling and riding our bikes this year — the things that inspire and fuel us. More than anything this year is forcing me to revaluate how I would like to use my platform in a more intentional way. So far this will include less time on Instagram and more time writing blog posts and dispatches. I don’t expect to get everything right all of the time but, I refuse to give up. Despite the pain of the lessons, or crashes, that come with the process of change and evolution, I know it will lead to something better with time.

A Bike Tour

I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the amount of anxiety that I had during the weeks between the Bears Ears story and the election. Both events brought 2020 to a head for me. Similar to closing my bike shop, Swallow Bicycle Works, and when I decided to leave my marriage. During both of those times, I embarked upon a really long bicycle tour to process my feelings; I rode the TAT when we closed the bike shop, and I rode from Durango to Kansas to help process the break-up from a 10-year relationship. 

To be clear, the anxiety that was caused by the Bears Ears story did not stem from the feedback I had received from my BIPOC peers through the accountability process. As stated before, my experience with the accountability process has been positive and valuable. The anxiety that was triggered from it stemmed from my reaction to the piling-on of call-outs and criticisms from people online; people who do not know anything about me. From my reaction to the rumors and feelings of the unknown, my fate was in the hands of a force outside of my control. It was from my own shame of publicly messing-up and letting people I care about down. Again, it wasn’t that these things happened, it was that these things triggered my self-doubt and challenged my sense of self-worth, both of which I had been struggling with throughout the year. 

I knew that my health and ability to grow from this experience was dependent on shutting out the noise, being with myself, and getting back to basics. The best way I know how to do this is to pedal my loaded bicycle through nature day-after-day and sleep on the ground beneath the stars. With the appropriate Covid-19 precautions and planning; and the support of partner, therapist, family, and close friends, I started a solo 400-mile ride through deserts and mountains. My ride would end at the Appleton-Whittell Research Ranch in Elgin, Arizona, and the beginning of a new chapter in my life’s journey.

On the morning of day three of my eight-day tour, I was video chatting with my Granny. The day before ended up being one of the hardest days I have ever had on the bike, and I told her all about it. A combination of remote and rugged terrain, riding into a 40 mph headwind for 10 hours, a dwindling supply of water, some unfortunate yet necessary bike-hurling, hopping over one-too-many barbed wire fences, and an impending accountability call that evening made my 60-mile bike ride feel more like a 200-miler. I was so busy surviving in a physical way that any thought of the mental storm I had been dealing with in the weeks prior was drowned out from surviving day two of my tour. I made it to my destination that night, after dark, but just in time for my call for the purpose of reconciliation, and reconcile we did. At the end of this day I felt the anxiety of the past weeks disintegrate. 

That next morning Granny, a fellow traveler, asked me if I liked to travel solo. While at that moment, my answer was there are plusses and minuses of touring with people versus touring alone. Later on, her question made me realize that there was more to understand about how I felt because I had not toured by myself in nearly 5-years. The reason was that my last solo tour showed me truths about my life that I was not ready to accept at the time, and I ended up with mono. I feared what would be revealed if I toured alone again. 

While on this journey, I was reminded that the truth is not something to be afraid of. My truth on this tour, the truth I needed to see, was that I am still a good person despite my mistakes and I am and will always be growing. I am resilient and comfortable with myself. I deserve my own compassion and I still have a voice to do good in the world. 

Ruta Del Jefe 2021 Update

As of November 27, 2020, Santa Cruz County, Arizona has an infection rate of 1.36 which means cases are rapidly increasing. Due to the severe outbreak occurring in this region and the lack of local and state restrictions to limit the spread, Ruta del Jefe will be postponed until 2022. While I would love to create a bright light at the end of dark winter, I feel strongly that it is counterproductive to the mission of the event to to host the event during this time. Instead of hosting the RDJ this year, I am using the time to work on the structure of the event to bring you a more meaningful version of Ruta del Jefe in the future. In the meantime, I encourage you to learn more about the issues affecting the Southern Arizona borderlands by digging into some of the resources below. Please, also consider donating to one of the following organizations for the necessary work they do this holiday season; Indivisible Tohono, No More Deaths, Center of Biological Diversity, Save The Scenic Santa Ritas, The Arizona Trail Association, and the Appleton-Whittell Research Ranch.

I would like to host some small, informal, and safe ride meet-ups in the region if and when the cases go down to safer levels. So, if you are local or will already be in the region this winter, subscribe to my newsletter to get notified if/when that happens.

RUTA DEL JEFE RESOURCES

I am attaching this list of resources for those interested in learning more about Ruta Del Jefe, the Sky Islands Region, the environmental threats at play, and the humanitarian crisis. 

Ruta Del Jefe Event

• Ruta del Jefe Film - Gus Morton and Samantha Sauri

• BIKES!!!! with Cheech and Nam: Ruta del Jefe

• Madness and Mud: Ruta del Jefe 2020 - Tenzin Namdol

• Racing the Ruta Del Jefe in the San Raphael Valley - John Watson

• Raw Cycling Magazine: Interview with Sarah Swallow on Ruta Del Jefe

Sky Islands Odyssey Route Project

• The Sky Islands Odyssey Route Project

• The Sky Islands Odyssey East Loop

El Jefe

• Grant, Richards. [2016, October]. The Return of the Great American Jaguar. Smithsonian Magazine.

• Saving the Jaguar - Center for Biological Diversity

• Conservation CATalyst

Border Wall

• Jordahl, Laiken. [2020, November]. A Year of Devastation in Arizona’s Wild Lands. The New York Times.

• Moteil, Anya. [2017, Summer]. The Tohono O’odham and The Border Wall. American Indian Magazine.

• Greenwald, Noah. Segee, Brian. Curry, Tierra. Bradley, Curt. [2017, May]. A Wall in the Wild: Disastrous Impacts of Trump’s Border Wall on Wildlife. Center for Biological Diversity.

• No Border Wall - Center for Biological Diversity.

• Executive Order 13767: Border Security and Immigration Enforcement Improvements - The White House

Humanitarian Crisis

• Radiolab Border Trilogy Part 1

• Radiolab Border Trilogy Part 2

• Radiolab Border Trilogy Part 3

• The Undocumented Migration Project

• Border Patrol Strategic Plan 1994 and Beyond: National Strategy

• Rubio-Goldsmith, Raquel. McCormick, Melissa. Martinez, Daniel. Duarte, Inez Magdalena [2007, February]. A Humanitarian Crisis at the Border: New Estimates of Deaths Among Unauthorized Immigrants Immigration Policy Center.

• Immigration Nation - Netflix Limited Series

• No More Deaths

Rosemont Mine

• Save the Scenic Santa Ritas

• Sky Islands Conservation - Center for Biological Diversity

Routing and Navigation: Tools for Confidence and Independence on the Bicycle

Originally published for Get Rad Be Radical for WTF Bikexplorers and Ride with GPS in 2020. Photos by Sarah Swallow, Adam Gaubert, and Tom Swallow.

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I recently shared my tips and tricks for routing and navigation in the new Get Rad Be Radical Publication by WTF Bikexplorers. GRBR changes the way women, trans, femme, and non-binary people are depicted and represented in the bicycle adventure community. The publication creates a platform where everyone can see and experience what it means to be a FTWN-B person who shreds, featuring 20 contributor stories focused on themes discussed at the past WTF BK Summits from 2018-2019. I taught a widely attended Routing and Navigation Clinic at both summits and her piece Routing and Navigation: Tools for Confidence and Independence on the Bicycle is a summarization of the themes and strategies taught in my clinic. Order your copy of the Get Rad Be Radical Publication to read more educational and inspirational stories from the WTF BX community. 

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Some people have a carefree, adventurous spirit; they don’t care where they are going just so long as they are on two wheels. I am not one of these people. Throughout the 14-years I have been a cyclist, I have come to learn that I like having a plan and knowing where I am going. If you are anything like me, or if you have ever felt anxiety or stress from being dependent on someone else during a ride, or dropped from a group ride, this guide is for you. This guide will teach you the basics of routing and navigation, making a plan for your ride, what information to collect from that route so you can adequately prepare your body and equipment for the trip, and tips for how to effectively navigate in a group setting. 

Reasons to Plan a Ride and Navigate with GPS

By not participating in routing and navigation, you are placing yourself in a position where you are dependent on other people. Traveling in remote places by bicycle is already a vulnerable undertaking. Adding dependency to the mix can be a source of anxiety and stress for you individually and for the group. By learning how to route and navigate you will not only eliminate this stress and anxiety, but you will gain a skill-set that will lead to confidence, independence, inspiration, and empowerment to take your adventures to new horizons. 

Benefits of routing and navigating: 

• Know where you are, how far you have gone, and how much further you have to go.  

• Spend less time navigating and more time enjoying the ride. 

• Get to where you want to go.

• Know what the statistics are for the ride: distance, elevation, terrain, and the estimated time it will take so you know how much food, water, and gear to pack. 

• Gain a greater appreciation for the places you travel through and confidence being in those places. 

• Improvising your plan will become easier to do. 

Equipment For Routing and Navigation 

There are many different ways of going about routing and navigation, but my goal is to provide you with options to do the job so you can find a method that works best for your budget and time. There are financial and time barriers to being able to route and navigate like equipment, membership costs, and time to both research routes and to learn how to use routing software and navigation equipment. 

My preferred software for making routes is Ride with GPS (RWGPS)  because it includes route-making features specifically designed for cyclists. RWGPS offers a free membership option that allows users to make routes via a web browser on a computer and download .gpx files. RWGPS is an excellent option for folks who already have a GPS device and access to a computer. If you don’t have these, then you can use your smartphone to make routes and navigate them in airplane mode with a basic membership of $6/month. 

My preferred setup is to use all three - my laptop to make routes on RWGPS and for doing route research, a Garmin GPS device for navigation, and the RWGPS app on my smartphone as a backup form of navigation; to reference my POIs, and to view where I am along the route. While I choose to use all the tools listed below, not all are required. Choose the combination of equipment that works best for your time and budget. There are options for nearly every person.

• Internet connection or cell reception

• A membership with RWGPS  ($6 - $10/month). 

• A smartphone ($200 + $$$$)

• GPS Device (Garmin Edge Series $249 - $399, or Wahoo Elemnt Roam Series $229 - $379) 

• A handlebar mount for your smartphone or GPS device (SRAM, Barfly, K-Edge, or Quadlock $20-$100)

• A laptop or desktop computer (free at a library to $$$$)

• Basemaps for your GPS device (free to $20 per map)

• Time and patience for route research and to learn the routing software and/or your GPS device.

The Difference Between Using an Established Route and Making Your Own

There are two different ways of routing. The first is following an established route that someone has already researched and tested. The second is making your route from scratch. 

Using established routes is a good option for all cyclists because someone has already done the research and testing for the route, allowing you to spend less time researching a route and more time riding your bike. If you are new to bikepacking and want to try it out to see if you like it, use an established route. An established route is also a good option for when you travel to a country you have never been to before. It makes traveling by bike a little easier, so you are free to immerse yourself and fully enjoy the experience of getting to know a new culture and place.

Examples of established routes are the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route, Baja Divide, Western Wildlands Route, and the Sky Islands Odyssey. 

It is handy to know how to make your route from scratch because established routes are not always available in a place you want to ride. Making your route can unlock the spirit of adventure by allowing you to get creative with the way you experience a new location. You can make a route custom to your preferences for surface, terrain, and distance that accommodates how much time you have available to ride. If you are a multi-activity type of person, you might want to design a ride that will take you to a trailhead for a hike or climb; a put-in for packrafting; or a remote beach for some snorkeling. Through the process of the research required to make your route, you will familiarize yourself with the region you are about to travel in. As you ride, you will feel the power of this knowledge through your confidence and your ability to quickly problem-solve, if necessary. 

Making your own route can be challenging because it takes time to research and get familiar with the software. You are also bound to make some routing mistakes, which can result in putting yourself in a more complicated scenario than you intended or planned. When making your route it is essential to be flexible with your plans, willing to improvise, and even be OK with not completing the ride. The way we show up in these moments of routing and navigation challenge is what differentiates our experience from catastrophe to adventure.  

How to Plan A Ride

Step 1: Decide where you want to ride using Google Maps, RWGPS, and/or paper maps. Your inspiration for a location can come from the contours on a map, movie settings, non-fiction and fictional stories, documentaries, and/or word-of-mouth recommendations. Public lands; National Forest, National Monuments, BLM as well as State Parks and Forests are all optimal places to make routes through. 

Step 2: Start planning your route using Ride with GPS. Use the OSM cycle map, satellite map, and google street view option to find dirt roads. Be careful, some basemaps are not 100% accurate and do not always show where private property is. Use the satellite map to check that the roads you are using exist and if there are any gates or fences across your route. You can use a paper map to cross-check your route as well. For detailed instructions on how to make a route on the RWGPS website visit https://ridewithgps.com/help/planning.

Step 3: Add POIs to your route where there are opportunities to resupply food and water. You may also want to note any specific points of interest like a scenic vista, hot spring, or shortcut.

Step 4: Review the statistics of your route. Note the total distance of the ride, elevation, and distance between resupply points. Make sure that the route is do-able for the time you have. If it seems too hard, make adjustments or research your shortcut options. 

Step 5: Name and save your route. I like to name my routes starting with the distance, then with the notable location the route travels through and where your route starts. For example 37 Las Cienegas Dirt Route from Sonoita.

Step 6: Upload your route to a GPS device. There are two options here; you can use the RWGPS app with a Basic membership to download the route on your phone so it is available offline, or you can download the .gpx. file on your computer and upload the file onto your GPS device. The uploading process for each GPS device brand is different so be sure to refer to it’s manual or online instructions. 

Step 7: Check your device to ensure the route has been properly downloaded and installed before you leave for your ride.

Step 8: Install any basemaps needed on your GPS device. Open Street Map (http://garmin.openstreetmap.nl/) provides free detailed basemaps for most locations. For detailed steps on how to install basemaps on your GPS device, visit https://www.dcrainmaker.com/2013/05/download-garmin-705800810.html

Step 9: Start riding and navigating. 

Tips for Navigating in Groups 

Once you develop the skills to route and navigate for yourself, you have the opportunity to share your experience by leading group rides. In the ideal world, each person on a ride would share the responsibility of navigating - but this is rarely the case. There will always be someone in the group who does not have the route or a navigation device, so it is crucial to have a basic understanding of how to navigate in a group so everyone can feel comfortable and enjoy the ride. If you are the only one navigating in a group, it is important to share your knowledge and manage the expectations of the group through good communication. This task can also be a burden so encourage your friends to help. The tips below can be included in a 5-minute group meeting before the ride begins and will make the difference between chaos and teamwork. 

• In the days before the ride, share the route you have planned with everyone in your group. 

• Make sure your GPS device securely mounts to your handlebars and that your locationsets to ‘track up’. 

• Communicate the distance and elevation of the ride so that everyone in the group understands the task at hand and can collectively keep each other on schedule to complete the goal.  

• Make a game plan: What happens if the group splits up? Where is the meet-up location if people get separated? You can suggest to re-group at the last location everyone was together or re-grouping at a future location. 

• Note any areas along the route of concern, question, or any major challenges. For example; you routed a connection between two roads that might require a hike-a-bike, or there is a 10-mile climb midday with some grades that go over 16%. 

• Mention the mileage at which the high points and the low points occur so the group can collectively decide on where to camp or filter water.  

• Encourage those who are not navigating to ride behind those who are.

• Use a buddy system to keep track of everyone in the group. Each person has a buddy who they are responsible for keeping track of. At each re-group ask if everyone sees their buddy.  

• Communicate when there is a turn coming up and regroup at each turn (not at each intersection). 

Route planning and navigation can be incredible tools for making us as individuals more confident and independent on bike rides. It is my hope that this guide has empowered you to start making and leading your own rides to help connect our community through fun and safe riding spaces. 

Terms

• Route - A route is a plan for a ride that includes a path, an elevation profile, and points of interest.

• Navigation - The process or activity of accurately ascertaining one’s position while planning and following a route. 

• Point of Interest (POI) - A specific point or location that someone may find useful or interesting. 

• Basemap - A virtual map or a .jpeg image of a specific style of the map your route that lays under your route . It could be a topo map, street map, satellite map, OSM cycling map, or a specific map you find on the web. 

• .gpx -  The universal route file type used on most GPS devices. There are also .tcx. files (specific Garmin devices), and .kml. files (for Google maps/earth)

• GPS - Global Positioning System, uses satellites to provide your longitude and latitude position on a basemap. 

Paper Map Resources

Benchmark Maps - Detailed paper state atlas’s that show a variety of roads, including established dirt, 4 x 4 road, and some trails. Benchmark maps are also good references for campgrounds, rivers, springs, public lands, and other points of interest. 

National Geographic Adventure Maps - Detailed foldable paper maps of specific regions or countries showing a variety of roads including established dirt roads, 4 x 4 trails, mountain bike trails, and hiking trails. National Geographic Adventure Maps can also show helpful points of interest like places to swim, snorkel, surf, hike, raft, and climb.

Web and App-based Resources

• Ride with GPS - A web-based route making software and navigation application designed for cyclists, by cyclists. RWGPS allows its members to create detailed cycling routes on a computer, tablet, and smartphone and to download and navigate those routes offline in the backcountry. Membership: Basic $6 month for mobile navigation, Premium $10 month for advanced route making. 

• Gaia GPS is a smartphone application as well as a web software designed with hikers in mind but it works for cyclists too. Gaia allows users to view and download their GPS location against a variety of detailed base maps so they can be available offline.  The app also allows users to upload .gpx  files, make routes, and view your location on them. When used correctly, this application can replace the need to carry a paper map in the backcountry. Membership to Gaia GPS is $19.99 year for a standard membership, or $39.99 year for a premium membership with access to more basemaps and features. 

• Google Maps, Street View, and Earth used on the web can be great resources for researching what the terrain is like; if the roads are paved or dirt, if it is deserted or forested, and what the surrounding points of interest are. Google Maps and Earth can also be used to make routes but the process can be more challenging to use since it is car-centric. Membership for Google is free. 

• Avenza is the only smartphone application that allows you to purchase and download mobile versions of Benchmark Atlas Maps. The app will enable you to view your location on downloaded maps without a cell signal. The cost ranges from free to $8 per map. 

Bikepacking Pack List

Illustration by Sam Scipio and list by Sarah Swallow for WTF Bikexplorers, 2020

Food and Water

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

• Capacity to carry up to 2 days of food. (2 nights, 2 mornings, 2 lunches, and snacks)

• Water Bladders/Bottles

Sleep System 

• Shelter - rain fly, bug net, ground sheet, or full tent system (depending on location) Check the 10-day weather forecast before you make this decision.

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

• Sleeping pad and pillow

Cooking Kit

• Stove 

• Propane canister

• Kettle/plate

• Mug

• Spork

• Knife

• Lighter

• Seasoning

Clothing

• Ride clothes (shirt, shorts, light socks, helmet)

• Sleep clothes (pants, undies, heavy socks, and warm hat)

• Down jacket

• Rain jacket

• Ride shoes 

• Camp/hike sandals

• Hat

• Bandana / mask

• Gloves

Electronics 

• Phone 

• GPS Device and/or phone mounted onto your handlebars

• Headlamp/tail light

• Camera

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

• Outlet wall charger

• Charging Cables (Micro USB and Phone chargers)

• Headphones

• Spares: SD cards, camera batteries, etc. 

Tool Kit

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

• Pump

• Multitool 

• Leatherman pliers 

• Chain lube

• Rag

• Patch Kit (Patches, Tire lever, Dyno plugs, Spare tube, and Tire boots)

• 2 oz of sealant

• Presta valve adapter

• Chain link

• Needle and thread

• Tape

• Zip Ties

• A few extra bolts (4mm, 5mm, and 6mm)

Toiletries

• Toothbrush 

• Toothpaste

• Floss

• Soap

• Baby wipes/toilet paper

• Waste Bag

• Hand sanitizer

• Bug spray

• Sunscreen

First Aid Kit

• Bandages

• Gauze

• Tape

• Ibuprofen

• Anti-histamine

Extras 

• Binoculars 

• Notebook 

• Book

• Group Game

• Writing utensil

Backyard Endeavors during the Pandemic Shutdown

Originally published by Brooks England in May 2020

Right now I am supposed to be in Sardinia, Italy, on a bike touring diet of local fine wine, cheese, and bread, pedaling my way amongst the sheep and ancient Roman ruins from beach cove to beach cove on the Mediterranean Sea. Instead, I am at home in Durango, Colorado learning how to cook for the first time in my life while adapting to a new reality of canceled travel, events, and social distancing guidelines imposed by the coronavirus pandemic.

For the past 5-years, I have made a career for myself as an adventure cyclist and an event organizer. It is a career and a lifestyle that keeps me traveling around the world with my bike for the majority of the year. I have called Durango home for the past three years. I sporadically return for 2-4 weeks at a time between trips which amounts to 3-4 months that I end up spending here out of the entire year. My modus operandi for when I come home is to physically recover and to catch up on the type of work that piles on when I'm traveling in regions with limited to no cell signal for weeks or months at a time. I enjoy this life and feel incredibly grateful for having had the opportunity to live it now more than ever. For the past 5 years, I have been in a constant state of refueling my tank of passion and inspiration through exposure to new landscapes, cultures, experiences, and a perpetual sense of awe. 

Now, imagine the identity crisis I had at the onset of the coronavirus pandemic. I realized I would need to stay put for an unknowable amount of time and cancel all my future travel and event plans for the unforeseeable future. How would I find that sense of awe while having to stay in one place? Like with any crisis I am unexpectedly faced with while exploring by bike; whether that be stranded in a city terrorized by a coup d'état, or getting lost in the world's largest salt flat, separated from my source of food, shelter, and money, I allowed my well-practiced adaptation skills to kick into gear. I started focusing my energy on a personal challenge to take my mind off of the black hole of bad news and to rest my tennis elbow from kneading bagel dough and playing endless games of ping-pong. Having spent so little time in the place I call my home, I am well overdue to get to know my backyard a little better. So I make it my challenge to get off the beaten tracks and to explore new ways and alternative views within a state-mandated 10-mile radius.

Located at 6,500 ft altitude in the Southwest corner of Colorado, Durango is defined by its high desert environment consisting of canyons, valleys, mesas, and mountains sprinkled with pinion, juniper, sage, shrub oaks, and ponderosa trees, nestled at the foot of the rugged San Juan Mountains to the north, and the picturesque La Plata Mountains to the west. The accessibility of the high country and desert environments creates a year-round mecca for outdoor recreationists, particularly for mountain bikers. Durango has over 450 miles of mountain bike trails, most of which are within a few pedal strokes from my front door. As a transplant from the singletrack-barren Midwest, I pinch myself every day in the attempt to wake from the dream of living here. I feel incredibly grateful for the privilege to live in a place with so much outdoor access and beauty. Since moving here I have fallen in love with mountain biking and the quick rush of adrenaline, anaerobic fitness, confidence boost, and technical challenge that can be had in a 1-2 hour ride. But there is something that mountain biking in town does not satisfy in me. While following established tracks and routes is a wonderful way to make cycling accessible, it lacks an aspect of adventure and curiosity that fuels the campfire of one of my bike adventures. 

I started focusing my energy on paper and digital maps to scrupulously survey the Durango area for routes within 10 miles from home - routes that stay off the beaten track and pavement, safely beneath the snow line, yet in the bounds of travel restrictions, and legal riding access by avoiding as much private property and designated wilderness area. I never know if the route will actually work until I go ride it. With my new abundance of free time; what else is there to do?

It’s springtime here with temperatures hovering in the mid-70’s, streams are full from snow melt, and flowers are blooming in shades of purple, pink, yellow, and white against the buttes and mountains that have seemingly turned from brown to neon green overnight. The mission of our ride is to explore a ridgeline southwest of our home. It looks to be an adventurous alternative to one of our favorite gravel routes in the area and has the potential to deliver some great views of the La Plata Mountains. 

I planned the route following ways that we had never gone before, and sure enough within the first 10 miles, we were bumping along a rough overgrown double track. After a strenuous 30 minutes, my partner turns to me and asks “do you think the whole ride will be like this?” I say begrudgingly, “I hope not” as I take stock of how much water we are both carrying. The rough track eventually leads to a smoother one, as it always does, until the smoother track winds, climbs, and ends at a gate. There are two signs that say, “Private Property, No Trespassing” and “This Area is Under 24-hour Surveillance”. Standing in the heat of the midday sun we look longingly beyond the gate, at the shade of an old-growth ponderosa forest between us and the very near top of the ridgeline. I refer to the map on my phone and see a faint alternative route to the ridgeline but it will require us to retrace our tracks, descend and start the climb all over again. What else do we have to do today? Water is a consideration but we feel like we have enough, and my zoom meeting at 7 p.m. is a must, but we have plenty of time. We turn around and start again. The new way takes us past an old barn in the middle of a grassy meadow; a welcoming place for a picnic and some mid-ride aromatherapy from the surrounding fresh blooming sagebrush. 

We reach our new approach and the faint trail I saw on the map is hardly a trail at all. Before I can voice my concern, Adam pedals onward through the grass as if on the scent for a trail I can not smell or see myself, so I follow his tracks. Eventually, we find only a slightly clearer trail, but it has been used so little; the surface is loose, washed out, and rocky, requiring a herculean effort to pedal certain sections until the inevitable slip and anaerobic explosion, forcing a dismount and a calf-burning, blister-creating, hike-a-bike. I realized about half-way through this effort to the ridgeline that this route was by no means a long-term or repeatable solution to reaching the ridgeline in the future, but I reassured myself that once we reached the top the reward would be riding a more established trail along the cliff edge with spectacular views of the La Plata Mountains. Plus, we are almost there, so I keep going, through the encroaching oak shrubs that are scraping against my increasingly sunburnt skin. 

By the time we reached the top of the ridgeline and saw that our connector track was more of the same of what we had just done, we resigned ourselves to the ridgeline. It was late in the afternoon and the zoom meeting was quickly approaching in 2 hours. After 5 hours of riding and hiking, we had only made it through the first quarter of the route I had initially planned. Enthralled by the elusive compelling ridgeline, we had completely lost track of time and distance. Defeated, we decided to abandon the mission, ride down what we had just hiked up, and start to make our way back home. 

Out of the woods and the brush, we find speed and rhythm along fast and smooth roads that link us to our favorite network of singletracks that wind us down from the mesa back home in the canyons of Durango. We may have been defeated but I don’t feel defeat. On the surface I feel happy that the ride is coming to an end for the day, hungry for dinner, and on time for my zoom meeting. In my soul, I feel the satisfaction of chasing the allure of an adventure and riding (and hiking) in a place I had never ridden (or hiked), humbled by the fact I will likely never do it again, and inspired to return to the search for another way another day. Physically, I am scraped, bruised, burnt, and sore but my senses are full with the smell of the pine and sage. And the views; well, we got those too. 

This whole new way of life during a pandemic may not be what I planned or expected, but for me, the bicycle remains a constant source of adventure and an alternative perspective. I don’t need to travel far to fuel my fire. All I need is a little curiosity. 

The State of Gravel Racing and the WTF Bikexplorers Gravel Program

Originally published on The Radavist on March 5, 2020

Photos by Gritchelle Fallesgon

The idea for a WTF Bikexplorers Gravel Program slowly sprouted in 2019 as I spun back into the gravel race scene. I saw the same deficit in diversity that bike-touring had (and still has) when five friends and I decided to organize the first WTF Bikexplorers Summit in 2018. Despite gravel racing as a rapidly growing sport within cycling, it is still very grassroots. It is not controlled by the UCI or any other sanctioning bodies and therefore it has the opportunity to mold and change to be the way we want it to be. 

What is there to change? Currently, most gravel races are in such high demand they sell out in 30 seconds at 5 a.m. on a Saturday morning for a registration cost of $250. The registration is only  ⅕ of the cost. Due to the general remoteness of most locations surrounded by gravel roads, there are additional costs for travel (sometimes flights and a rental car), food, and lodging. This tells me two things: One is that this current culture of racing is catering to the elite; the people who have the money, time, and support, to train, travel, and race. The second is that there is an abundant demand for more gravel events. These new events have the unique opportunity to structure themselves in any way the promoters see fit and that is an incredible opportunity for changing the paradigm. 

Now that we understand the financial and time barriers involved for the privileged who can manage to get over them, imagine the barriers that exist for people who have systematic, economic, and societal barriers to jump over before even sitting down to try and register before the cut-off time. Gravel races are amazing experiences. We get to push ourselves harder and further than we physically thought was possible. We get to surprise ourselves and come out on the other side of the finish line stronger, more empowered and a better version of ourselves. It’s such a wonderful gift that everyone deserves to experience. Imagine a world where more people could experience this unique sense of achievement in mental and physical fortitude. Imagine the impact if we all participated in these events with purpose and intention to make our small cycling world a better and more inclusive space. 

In 2019, I made an effort to ride with more people during gravel races who presumably identified as transgender, femme, non-binary, or women. While there was rarely only one other FTW to ride with at any given point, I still preferred riding in their company rather than riding in a sea of cis men. I felt a sense of comradery, despite the fact we were technically competing with one another. We were the minority and we were doing this race with the odds against us. This sense of comradery made me long for a stronger FTW community at these gravel races, one in which rather than competing against each other, we support, celebrate, and connect with one another to grow and develop as individuals and as a community. 

At the 2019 WTF Bikexplorers Summit, I stuck a post-it note on the community board “Interested in racing gravel? Email Sarah Swallow'' and received around 50 emails from folks who expressed interest. With our decision to expand the WTF Bikexplorers reach, impact, and community by moving away from the summit format in 2020, I decided that my focus for WTF Bikexplorers in 2020 would be to create the foundational roots of a WTF Bikexplorers Gravel Program. I created a survey and received over 200 responses from people eager to sign on to a community with the following mission:

• To support, celebrate and connect a community of strong non-binary, transgender, femme, and women cyclists who challenge themselves in gravel race events. 

• To increase representation and advocate for more gender and racial inclusivity and equality at gravel race events.

• To be stewards of the WTF Bikexplorers Guiding Principles. 

• To inspire more non-binary, transgender, femme, and women cyclists to hold space at gravel race events. 

We’re just getting started here, but I’ll tell you what we have going on in 2020. First and foremost we’re creating a community that supports, celebrates, and connects with each other-- specifically about riding and racing gravel. We’ve created a communication network through Google where all members, if they choose, can network with one another for training rides, questions, and coordinate carpooling and lodging logistics for gravel race events. Sharing the burden of planning and training makes it easier for everyone and more likely for them to participate. We’re calling this community the WTF Bikexplorers Gravel Squad and anyone who is interested in participating in gravel events and identifies as non-binary, transgender, femme, or women can be part of this Squad. 

We will be showing up in force at the Mid-South, Dirty Kanza, SBT Gravel, Gravel Worlds, and Grinduro California; supporting races making inclusivity a priority and nudging the ones who could and should be doing better. We’ll be doing this by upholding the ethics of the WTF Bikexplorers Guiding Principles ourselves and sharing resources for others who would like to get involved.

To kick-start this program I decided to host a gravel camp in southern Arizona to test the power of this intentional community; to hash out some specific initiatives we would like to see in the future; and to select a team from the squad riders who will be ambassadors of and race for this mission. 

Twenty-two folks met me down in southern Arizona on Sunday, February 16th for 5 days days of epic gravel rides through the Sonoran Desert. We split up into two different speed groups; “the Javelinas” and “the Pronghorns”, and tackled some of the toughest and most technical routes in the area. The rides presented various challenges each day for the groups to get through together; we got lost and had to re-route; we ran out of water and had to make friends with a local fisherman who shared his; we had mechanicals, crashed, and hiked our bikes up and down steep, loose, rocky hills; we learned how to draft in a pace-line and harness our power and speed by working together; and finally, we helped each other hop fences and enjoyed each sunset from the saddle of our bicycles. The fun didn’t stop there; there were group games led by Nam, a dance party, a spaghetti-western photoshoot, and a scorcher lap race equipped with cookie hand-ups. By the end of the week, we had forged a special and unbreakable bond that transformed the gravel events on the upcoming schedule as reunions of the space and community we fostered at camp. 

Our basecamp was the peaceful and remote setting of the Appleton-Whittell Research Ranch on ancestral Tohono O’odham, Yoemi, and Chiricahua Apache lands currently called Elgin, Arizona. Our cooking, cleaning, yoga, and mechanical needs were met by Ron, Jordan, and Adam who gave us the space and time to focus on shredding the patriarchy.

We brainstormed at camp what initiatives gravel events could take to be more inclusive and equitable. There are a few races like Mid-South and the SBT Gravel either offering free registration or early registration to the FTW community which is a huge help and is drastically increasing their number of participants from these communities. Gravel Worlds gives free registration to those who financially do not have the means, and suggests a donation to a non-profit organization if you manage to secure the funds before the race. But how do we take this further than an invitation? How do we create safety and security at these events for the people who have not been traditionally welcomed?

In his We Got To Hang Out interview, Izzy Sederbaum, answers this question about safety and security by proposing that event organizers have some basic ground rules for participants to follow, in which everyone would be held accountable for upholding. The WTF Bikexplorers Guiding Principles is a great template of what these ground rules could look like. During camp, we discussed ways in which events could appeal to more people by offering an open gender category. One in which people who don’t identify as a man or woman could register and still compete for a podium. We also discussed the idea of having separate podiums for separate time categories, much like marathons do. Rather than compete against people in your gender, you compete against people in your time category that you qualify for prior to the event. In order to address economic barriers, some ideas were discussed to create a sliding scale entry fee based on the participant’s income bracket as well as offering a certain amount of participation grants. These are just a few initiatives we discussed. The gravel team will be working on creating specific action items and resources for gravel events to utilize, but while that is in the works it is important for us all to start thinking and talking along these lines. 

We have an incredible team of ambassadors representing us this year on the WTF Bikexplorers Gravel Team: Carley Erickson, Natalia Cortes, Emily Waldren, Delaney Burkette, Hannah Dhonau, Effie Bourgin, and Jorja Creighton. They will be at Dirty Kanza, SBT Gravel, Gravel Worlds, and Grinduro California wearing a WTF Bikexplorers/Machines For Freedom collaborative kit and fostering community amongst non-binary, transgender, femme, and women participants. They will be sharing information about the WTF Bikexplorers Cycling Industry Pledge and our Guiding Principles to anyone who is eager to learn more about what we have going on. Members of the WTF Bikexplorers Gravel Squad will also be out at gravel events nationwide.

This year, our team is a reflection of where we are with gravel racing and the cycling industry as a whole. The reality is that I did not have a pool of non-binary, transgender, or women of color apply for the gravel team. There are still massive time, cultural, and financial barriers getting in the way for increased participation and WTF Bikexplorers can’t break those barriers down without the help of the entire cycling industry and cycling community. So, I am asking you to talk about these issues, organize inclusive events yourselves, and ask each other the following questions. How do we make gravel racing more inclusive and diverse? How do we make these spaces safe and secure for everyone? How do we make it more equitable to participate? 

WTF Bikexplorers will be working on answering these questions this year as we refine this gravel program and our own systems, so that we can do better next year, and the next, and the year after that. Change is not going to happen in a year, but we have to start somewhere. 

A special thanks goes out to the companies who have come on board to support the vision and the mission of the WTF Bikexplorers Gravel Program. Their support makes it possible for us to subsidize and equip our racers: Specialized Bicycles, Ride with GPS, Swift Industries, Machines for Freedom, Roval Components, and Revelate Designs.

Increasing Awareness Through Cycling: The Sky Islands Odyssey Route Project and Ruta Del Jefe

Originally written for Swift Industries April 2, 2019

In today’s polarized cultural environment the bicycle has the ability to bridge the gap. After spending most of my adult life exploring by bicycle around the world, my experiences have led me to believe that the bicycle serves as the greatest tool to learn about myself, others, and the world around me. This is possible because while traveling by bicycle I am moving slow enough to be immersed in my surroundings which gives me the opportunity to relate to the land and its culture. While traveling by bicycle is often a solitary self-reflective time to ponder the story of the land, I am also incredibly vulnerable and exposed. I don’t have the protection of a glass windshield to shelter me from the outside world. I have to engage. The combination of these fundamental aspects of bicycle travel creates an incredible opportunity to make positive connections with people and places I normally would not have. 

When most people ride a bicycle through a place, they wander in awe “how did this place come to be, what is the history of this land, what makes this place so beautiful to ride in?” What we lack in these moments is factual information. We’re usually riding in a remote place and don’t have enough cell signal to look up the answer. Then, when we finish the ride our phones turn back on, life resumes, and we completely forget to research the answers to our questions. If we simply did a bit more research, or better yet, engage with people in the places where we ride, we would have a better understanding of the lands story and greater appreciation for the place itself. Take this equation one step further by sharing that information with your friends, family, and neighbors, or write about it to your community, and a snowball effect of cultural awareness and informed action can begin within your community. The first step in all of this is to honor Native inhabitants of the land and to acknowledge the history of colonization and systematic racism in our country in order to dismantle any “discovery complex” we may have as we “explore” by bike. 

I put this basic method to the test when I found a region through bicycling that needs our attention now more than ever. 

The US/Mexico Borderlands, particularly the Sky Islands region of the Sonoran Desert in Southern Arizona is one of the most biologically diverse places in the world and one of the most beautiful places to ride a bicycle yet, the region is plagued with many environmental threats from mining and border infrastructure as well as a humanitarian crisis that most folks are unaware of.

I first visited Southern Arizona a few years ago for a cycling training camp and was blown away by the diversity of scenery, the network of gravel roads, and the ideal climate for riding during winter. After the camp I immediately started scheming for a bikepacking route to explore the region more thoroughly. I returned seven separate times between 2017 and 2018 to scout, ride, and link up the many mis-mapped roads in the region, ultimately putting together the Sky Islands Odyssey Route Project with three routes in one; a full loop, a west loop, and an east loop of varying lengths and difficulty. As I scouted these routes the environmental, political, and humanitarian issues in this region were very apparent. As someone who grew up in Ohio, I had never been to a place in the U.S. so highly militarized as the US/Mexico borderlands, nor had I ever seen the border wall (and lack there of in certain places). I had never seen tire draggers on the side of the road, designed to groom the road so migrant footprints could be more trackable, and I wondered why I was seeing so many pieces of clothing, or a solitary shoe left in this remote place. It wasn’t until I encountered two migrants at my camp one morning that I realized that as a cyclist with a privilege to ride in these beautiful places and a platform to share my experiences, I simply cannot brush over the issues at hand. So I wrote the route guides with all the dirty, ugly details that contribute to the story of this beautiful place. 

Then, this winter I was motivated to host a single-day challenge on the Sky Islands Odyssey East Loop so I created the event, Ruta Del Jefe, a 125-mile self-supported adventure race following dirt roads around the Santa Rita Mountains, the lair of one of the only North American Jaguars to live in the U.S., a tribute to the biological diversity of the region. 

The goal for Ruta del Jefe is to challenge riders to take on the Sky Islands Odyssey East Loop in one single day while also raising awareness to the environmental and political threats affecting this region. Some of the key issues I highlight through the promotion of Ruta del Jefe is the environmental threat of the proposed Rosemont Copper Mine, a half-mile deep, one-mile wide open pit copper mine, and Executive Order 13767, which calls for a physical solid wall to be built along the border and the effect they would have on wildlife habitat and migratory species, water quality, and outdoor recreation in the Sky Islands region. Another issue I highlight is the current U.S. national policy to regulate illegal migration through “Prevention Through Deterrence” which deters illegal migrant traffic to more hostile terrain, less suited for crossing and better suited for enforcement. As a result of this strategy, thousands of undocumented migrants have died from dehydrations, starvation, and the extreme journey within the borderlands where Ruta del Jefe takes place. 

I believe that riding a bike in the Sky Islands region offers a unique perspective on these issues. In addition, since we have the privilege to travel to ride bikes in beautiful places, it is our responsibility to understand the big picture of the history of the region we ride, what is special and unique about it, what the threats are, and how we can take action. So with Ruta del Jefe the cost of registration was a suggested donation to Save the Scenic Santa Ritas, the non-profit organization fighting the Rosemont Copper Mine and No More Deaths, the non-profit organization providing humanitarian aid for migrants traveling through the desert. I also asked representatives to speak to the riders on behalf the Tohono O’odham Nation, Save The Scenic Santa Ritas, No More Deaths, The Northern Jaguar Project, and the Appleton-Whittell Research Ranch of the National Audubon Society. The presentations took place the night before the race to give riders a greater context for the land they would be racing through the following day.

So by now you may be asking “can we even make a difference”. The answer is yes, absolutely. Our problem as outdoor enthusiasts is that we are always so busy enjoying the outdoors. Add to the mix our full-time jobs, family, friends, and relationships and we have seemingly very little time to get involved. Through the process of researching these issues I was surprised to learn that the outdoor recreation industry combined contributes, 887 million dollars in consumer spending, 7.6 million jobs, 65.3 million in federal tax revenue, and 59.2 billion in state and local tax revenue (outdoorindusty.org). If each of us would allow ourselves to be a bit more engaged in the places we travel through and active in sharing what we learn with others, then we can participate in informed action with the economic muscle of the outdoor recreation industry to back it up. We have a voice. 

WTF Bikexplorers Southern Arizona Ride Series Recap

This story was originally published by WTF Bikexplorers on April 26, 2018. Illustrations by Mary Lytle

What happens when you bring a group of w/t/f/n-b bikexploring strangers together over a rugged multi-day adventure through the Sonoran Desert? Magical things. A couple of weeks ago a group of WTF Bikexplorers assembled in Patagonia, Arizona for the first of five nationwide rides leading up to the WTF Bikexplorers Summit in August. These rides are grassroots opportunities designed to build a greater connection within our community of WTF Bikexplorers while actually exploring by bike. 

The first ride in the WTF Bikexplorers Ride Series took place in the Sky Islands region of the Sonoran Desert within Southern Arizona. In your mind’s eye, you may imagine a dry, dead, desolate landscape but the Sky Islands region is far from it. This eco-region receives its majestic name for the pine-oak woodland covered mountains encompassed within and isolated by desert and grassland lowlands, creating diverse habitat “islands” within a short distance and change in elevation. This region hosts some of the highest levels of biodiversity in plants and animals in the world and is far from “dead”. Even so, the land here is rugged, remote, and dry, with drastic changes in temperatures and very little groundwater all of which must be taken into careful consideration to properly prepare for 4-days of riding and 3-nights of camping through this environment.

The magical saga that unfolded as seven WTF Bikexplorers immersed themselves in the elements of this Sky Island Region goes like this…

 We met up in the small town of Patagonia, Arizona, introduced ourselves, had a stranger take our group photo and quickly set out on our 4-day journey together. Any early awkwardness dissolved at our first shade break where home-made snacks carefully prepared in advance were shared and tasted by all. These shaded, snack-share breaks quickly became the highlight of the whole tour due to the creativeness in snack selection, preparation, and dehydration by members of our group.

The wind was strong but at our backs on the first day, delivering us to our camp destination at the Appleton-Whittell Research Ranch (AWRR) by late afternoon. AWRR is a cooperative partnership between the National Audubon Society and the various land management agencies in the area to protect a region encompassing 8,000 acres of Madrean mixed-grass prairie, Madrean oak woodlands, and their ecosystems through conservation, research, and education. To protect this region, AWRR limits public access to the private research ranch to Permit Use Only, and luckily they were more than welcome to host this group of WTF Bikexplorers. Our time at the AWRR was a unique opportunity to witness the pristine grassland prairies untouched by cattle ranching for over 30-years while also stimulating conversations of land use, conservation, and how we, as bicyclists, can experience these places in a responsible way. With access to a luxurious Camp Headquarters, that provided shelter from the wind to converse, cook, and to play an epically long game of Egyptian Ratscrew before we fell asleep beneath the desert sky and behind the old adobe walls of the ranch.

By the morning of the second day, we were bonded as an eclectic troupe of bike tourers laughing our way through the now severe headwinds in an exposed environment. There was no cause for concern because we regrouped often in protected spots for more of our shaded snack-share breaks. When we grew tired of eating, we played hacky sack and laughed some more.

Throughout the following days, we enjoyed the landscape’s spring story of new life unfolding in front of us. We feasted our eyes on the idiosyncrasies of life within this desert. We named flowering desert flora and pointed out all the jackrabbits, pronghorn antelope, newborn calves, furry caterpillars, and colorful horny toads we managed to spot. Daytime temperatures ranged from the low 60’s to the mid-’90s with evening temperatures diving into the low 30’s. These elements forced us to be diligent in selecting adequate shelter for camping. The severely high wildfire risk shortened the evenings and made more space for sleep and recovery for fun the next day. Nonetheless, we moved as one group with support, knowledge, and experience to combat anything that was thrown at us with comfort and ease. 

These WTF Bikexplorers came from California, Colorado, Oregon, New Mexico, Maryland, and Arizona specifically for this opportunity. We are artists, doctors, entrepreneurs, electricians, mechanics, and librarians. Our bikexploring experiences ranged from seasoned adventurers to total beginners and we had a blast together. Below is a list of our group’s favorite ride snacks on this tour and some sketches that were produced at camp.

·      Curry Cashews with Raisins

·      Dehydrated Teriyaki Pineapple

·      Dehydrated Mangos (no sugar added)

·      Olives

·      Sun-Dried Tomatoes with Crackers

·      Sardines with Green Chilies

·      Cashew Cheese with Seitan Pepperoni Sausage

LP Story Guide: The Alpine Loop

Originally published in Lonely Planet’s Epic Rides of The Americas in 2019

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A spectacular scenic route along steep and rugged dirt roads over the high 12,000 ft (3,658 m) passes of the San Juan Mountains in Colorado.  This one is a lung buster!

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When a group of friends from Texas, Oregon, and Connecticut planned a trip to visit me in Colorado I couldn’t help but scheme the most impressive bike tour in the area I could take them on. I wanted them to get the most bang-for-their-buck, so I decided to take them on an epic journey over the high mountain passes and alpine tundra of the San Juan Mountains, following the Alpine Loop. The route makes a champion out of anyone who accomplishes the two lung-busting climbs above 12,000 ft (3,657 m).  

Designated a Scenic and Historic Byway, The Alpine Loop circumnavigates 80-miles (129 km) through ghost towns and abandoned mines along mostly well maintained and gravel roads that become rockier and rugged toward the top of the passes. Due to the altitude of the mountain passes, the roads on this route are only open for a few months out of the year. Generally, the roads are clear of snow from July through September but in order to avoid the peak summer jeep crowds and catch the aspen trees at their full fall color, September is the most ideal time to enjoy the ride. While the distance is relatively short, the two major ascents on this route are slow going and can take the entire day to complete. Couple this with stops at the many historic markers it is best to allow 2-3 days to complete this route. 

We began our ride in the historic mining town of Silverton, Colorado; nestled between 13,000 ft peaks it was at one point the hub of four major railroads serving the mining districts high into the mountains. This area was known to be one of the richest mining districts of silver and ore in the world, with much of the wealth of Wall Street around the turn of the 19th century coming from fortunes made here. Today, Silverton is a quiet town, a hub for adventures in the mountains, and tourists arriving by steam train from Durango along the historic Durango and Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad. 

Paralleling the paved road north of town we follow a quiet dirt road along the Animas River. At this point our altitude is 9,400 ft (2,865.12 M), the roads are smooth and the ascent is gradual. In Eureka the grade kicks up, separating our group as we settle into our individual climbing pace. We stop and regroup for lunch next to a waterfall. The wind and the mist from the falls are enough to cool us from the climb but are loud enough to require us to yell in order to converse, so we sit in silence and absorb our beautiful surroundings. 

A few long miles later we arrive in the historic mining camp of Animas Forks where the mine structure and many old buildings still stand. Located at an elevation 11,160 ft. (3,402 M) Animas Forks was known for the publication of the highest printed newspaper, The Animas Forks Pioneer and was a bustling mining town of 450 people in the mid 1880’s. We explored the old building of Animas Forks, imagining what it would be like to live so simply, so high, day after day. 

From Animas Forks the road steepens and becomes more rugged. At this point the altitude combined with the physicality required by the road surface has everyone in suffer mode. We may have enjoyed the views earlier in the day but now all we can focus on is the road in front of us while carefully balancing our bikes for traction over the steep loose rocks. Occasionally traction is lost forcing a welcomed break to look around. The views are incredible, out from tree line we can see for miles both from where we came, to where we are going. Alpine tundra is an otherworldly landscape dotted with large packs of snow creating ice-cold creeks dividing the land. We’re here during wildflower season and the tundra is sprinkled in red, purple, white and yellow. The moment of lost traction turns into a moment of piece and serenity and I stop to take a picture. I watch while my friends implement the strategy of alternating between riding and hike-a-biking. Due to the lack of oxygen, I can’t tell which one is harder. We reach Cinnamon Pass located at an impressive altitude of 12,600 ft. (3,840 m) and cheer for our remaining cohorts making the last push over the top.  While we revel in the accomplishment of reaching such a high place by bicycle, we don’t linger. It’s cold and windy at the top allowing the sweat we generated on the climb to cool our cores. The reward occurs in the descent, which offers new views and valleys to explore. We’ve just dropped into American Basin, an alpine valley famous for its wildflowers in midsummer and they did not disappoint. We set camp, iced our sore legs in the creek, and went to bed early to the sound of water trickling by. 

From American Basin the Alpine Loop drops down to Lake City at an elevation of 8,671 ft. (2,643 m) a small town equipped with all the trimmings for resupply and recovery. The Alpine Loop continues with another long climb to Engineer Pass that grows steeper and more rugged toward the top of the pass while passing vestiges of Colorado’s mining history and magnificent views of the impressive 14,000 ft (4,267 m) peaks characteristic of the San Juan Mountains. A long technical descent from the top of the 12,800 ft (3,901 m) Engineer Pass drops us back into Silverton, the perfect place for a celebratory drink at an old-time saloon. 

Note 

At the high elevations along this route, sudden storms can bring rain or snow at any time of year so make sure to bring some extra clothing in case of sudden drops of temperature. Summer monsoons bring afternoon storms from July through August. Plan the timing of your ascents, know your limits, and avoid camping above tree line. 

Details

• Start / Silverton, Colorado 

• End / Silverton, Colorado

• Distance / 80 Miles (129 KM)

• Getting There / The closest airport is the Durango La Plata County Airport. From there it is best to rent a car to make the hour and a half drive to Silverton. 

• Where to stay / The Raven’s Rest Hostel in Lake City. There are also many idyllic camping spots along this route between 10,000–9,000 ft. (3,048 – 2,743 M)

• Best time of year to ride / July through September 

• Route GPX https:// https://ridewithgps.com/routes/13533093

• For more information on this route visit, www.bikepacking.com 

• What To Bring / GPS device, water filter, camping equipment, cookware, clothes for the drastic change in temperatures, repair kit, spare tubes, a battery charger, your climbing legs, and a camera!

• What type of bike / A bicycle with at least 2 inch (50 mm) tires is best used for this route.

LP Story Route Guide: Oaxaca to Zipolite

Originally published in Lonely Planet’s Epic Rides of The Americas in 2019.

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A romantic get-away from the colorful and charming city of Oaxaca that winds through the rugged and mystic Sierra Madre del Sur Mountains and down to Mexico’s exotic pacific coastline. 

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Not many couples imagine celebrating Valentines Day by going on a five-day bike pack over steep mountains to get to their beach vacation, but maybe they should. Over 170-miles (274 km) and a leg burning elevation gain of 21,000 ft (6,400 m), the Oaxaca to Zipolite route follows dirt roads from the colorful, culinary, colonial city of Oaxaca, past mezcal farms growing agave, through remote indigenous villages in the Sierra Madre del Sur Mountains, to sea level ending at Playa Zipolite, Mexico’s first and only legal nudist beach. My partner I and justified this vacation as the proper balance between effort and reward with the intention of making the good times even sweeter. 

We started our trip in Oaxaca City, which is home to one million and visited by more for its colonial-era architecture, cultural charm, exquisite mole cuisine, lively festivals, and the pyramids of Monte Alban. We meandered through markets, sipped hot chocolate in the Zócalo and explored the vaulted ceilings of the many colorful colonial cathedrals, monasteries, and convents lining Oaxaca’s narrow cobbled streets. Oaxaca’s appeal makes for an inspiring location to start a bike tour and a tough place to leave. With our bellies full of chapulines (fried grasshoppers seasoned with chili), mole, and fresh piña we reluctantly set out on course through Oaxaca’s Valle Centrales (Central Valley).

The route flows easily and quickly out of the city and into the countryside where crops of agave are grown to make mezcal, a distilled alcoholic beverage similar to Tequila that famously comes from this region. We stop at a roadside café for a home cooked meal of chicken and mole. At the end of our meal our host brings two shot glasses of mezcal, as if to share a local tradition or an after meal treat. We sip the strong and smoky beverage out of respect and gratitude for our hosts’ generosity, but we know the alcohol will not help with navigating out of the road maze of this town. We manage and continue through agricultural farms, along flat dirt roads lined with succulents, and cacti as we make our way to the foothills of the Sierra Madre del Sur Mountains. Along the way we meet friendly farmers driving oxen to the fields and guiding donkeys carrying supplies to the next village. Without hesitation, they great us with a warm smile and a friendly chat and inquire where we have come from and where we are headed. 

With the gain of elevation the mountains grow steeper, the sun stronger, and we begin to notice the pesky itchy bites we are getting from the no see um gnats. We were quickly forced to adapt to the elements of the Sierra Madres. Despite the heat we put on long pants, tall socks, and long sleeved shirts and like magic, we stopped getting bit and burnt. 

The route through the Sierra Madre del Sur Mountains ranges in elevation repetitively from 5,500 ft to 6,500 ft (1,676 -1,981 m). Within this minimal elevation change the biome changes as well, with pine-oak forests at the higher elevations and tropical dry forests at the lower elevations. Sprinkled throughout are small isolated villages perched high above the clouds and nestled deep within the jungle, the only indicator of their existence being the cheerful music reverberating from town through the surrounding mountains. These villages act as frequent opportunities to stock up on supplies and to engage with the indigenous Zapotec and Mixtec people who are direct descendents of the ancient civilizations that existed in Oaxaca during Mesoamerican period. Each group has its own language, customs, religious beliefs, traditional dress, and are artisans specializing in a unique craft to sell at markets. 

On a particularly hot day we stopped in a village at a roadside store to refill our water and cool down in the shade. As we were sitting outside a woman emerged from her home with two bowls of a cool white corn based liquid soup with spots of mold floating on top. The soup was so nourishing to our bodies and refreshing on such a hot day it was as if the woman new exactly what we needed and cared enough to share. This is just one example of the generosity and the charm characteristic of the indigenous people of Oaxaca who we encountered. Later we learned that this soupy beverage is called Atole.

As the route begins its 6,500 ft (1,981 m) descent to seal level we became stifled by the heat and made frequent stops to sip coconut juice and to eat fresh mango, pineapple and melon. 

The route turns to pavement and short steep coastal hills tug us closer to the Oaxaca coast where a number of remote beach and fishing communities are located. Our destination is Playa Zipolite, a one-mile stretch of golden sand with rocky sea cliffs on either side next to the clear turquoise Pacific waters.

In the 1970’s, the isolated nature of the Oaxaca’s coast attracted hippies from all over the world, particularly to Playa Zipolite. As a result the community exudes a free love paradise vibe with a relaxed attitude toward most things, including nudism. The beach in Zipolite has been unofficially nudist for over 30-years and legally nudist since 2016. The long tradition of nudism, along with the numerous nudists, allows for a safe and unique place to even out those cycling tan lines. 

Having only three paved roads, the village is hip with a variety of tasty restaurants, cafes, and lodging ranging from rustic to luxurious. If you manage to strip yourself from the relaxing shade of a palm-thatched palapa, there are plenty of opportunities to surf, do yoga, get a massage, or snorkel. 

Sunned, tired, and dusted we roll into the hip streets of Zipolite and straight to the beach. We drop our bikes in the sand, take off our dirty clothes, and jump into the cold large waves. Let the vacation begin.  

Note

A two day detour from San Pedro de Coatlán is a town called San Jose del Pacifico known for the hallucinogenic mushroom Psilocybe Mexicana that grow in the region. Though their consumption is illegal, the ‘magic mushrooms’ attract travelers from all over the world, infamously John Lennon and Bob Dylan, to take a trip. Regardless of its reputation, San Jose del Pacifico is a nice detour off route offering places to stay with good views, and tamazcal steam baths in a mystic setting. 

Details

• Start / Oaxaca City, Mexico

• End / Zipolite, Mexico

• Distance / 170 Miles (274 km)

• Getting There / Oaxaca City Airport

• Getting Away/ Hualtulco or Puerto Escondido Airport

• Where to stay / Oaxaca City – Quinta Real Oaxaca. Zipolite – Lo Cosmico

• Best time of year to ride / November through February  

• Route GPX / https://ridewithgps.com/routes/28564458

• For more information on this route visit, www.bikepacking.com 

• What To Bring / GPS device, camping equipment, cookware, clothing layers, repair kit, spare tubes, a battery charger, your climbing legs and an open mind!

• What type of bike / A bicycle with at least 40mm tires is best used for this route.

LP Story Guide: Whitefish to Banff on the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route

Originally published in Lonely Planet’s Epic Rides of The Americas in 2019.

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This is an epic journey through the vast stretches of wilderness past pyramidal peaks of the Canadian Rocky Mountains along rugged terrain including a demanding hike-a-bike and a river ford.

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If you could only ride one section of the GDMBR (a legendary 2,700-mile [4,345 km] route from Banff, Alberta to Antelope Wells, New Mexico along the Continental Divide), it should be the Whitefish to Banff section. Renowned for its vast stretches through remote wilderness, commanding scenic views of the Canadian Rocky Mountains, glacial lakes, opportunities for wildlife sightings, and technical terrain, the Whitefish to Banff section guarantees to deliver all the adventure of the GDMBR in a fragment of the distance.  

Crisscrossing the continental divide through Northern Montana and Southern Canada the Whitefish to Banff route stretches 350-miles (563 km) and 24,000 ft (7,315 m) along surfaces that range from pavement, good gravel, four-wheel-drive roads, and single-track. Amongst its dense woods and rugged terrain, this region is home to grizzly bear, wolverine, mountain lion, big horn sheep, elk and moose.

The route can be ridden in either direction with most of the GDMBR thru-bikers traveling from north to south. Since the route can get busy with many cyclists during the peak summer season, I prefer to ride this route from south to north in order to still encounter the inspiring thru-bikers but to maintain my own riding rhythm and to be rewarded with the grand scenery of Banff National Park at the end of the ride. 

My partner and I began the route in the adventure hub and historic logging town of Whitefish, Montana, and made our way over the first major climb of Red Meadow Pass. The long 30-mile (48 km) climb rewards us with a small, pristine alpine lake at the top with idyllic mountain views. We stop and enjoy a swim before making our way down the to the North Fork Road which offers dramatic vistas of the nearby towering peaks of the Rocky Mountains within Glacier National Park as it winds us north to our final pass in the U.S. to climb. More gradual than the last, Whitefish Pass winds us back over the Whitefish Range in order to capitalize on a resupply in Eureka and the official border crossing into Canada. 

The Canadian side is much more remote than the U.S. side, daunting us with the steepest and longest climb yet. We take many breaks along this climb to walk our bikes and snack on thimbleberries alongside the road. Finally, the decent delivers us to the Flathead River Valley, along a 110-mile (177 km) stretch of unbridled wilderness. This region is known as the “Serengeti of North America” by biologists for its abundant wildlife populations and for being the last valley of British Columbia to be completely undeveloped. We knew we had made it to the Flat Head River Valley when the road we were on deteriorated to trail requiring an extremely steep, yet short, downhill hike-a-bike. 

It’s wild in the Flat Head River Valley and eerily quiet despite the rain while we are there. The terrain varies from double track to washed out rocky roads with rushing water and granite vistas all around. Some call this stretch of the Flat Head River Valley the “Grizzly Bear Highway” so while we made sure to be very bear aware we only encountered moose, towering alongside the roads and plowing through the dense woods as we startled them with our bikes. 

We took refuge from the rain in Butt’s Cabin, a forest service patrol cabin that is first-come, first-serve. There is no one around when we arrive, so we move into sleep on sheltered bunk beds, dry our clothes next to the woodstove, and to wait out the rain. By mid-morning the sun is out and we are refreshed and revitalized to take on the final challenge that the Flathead River Valley has in store for us. A bridge along the route has been washed out from recent flooding requiring a strenuous off the bike ford of the Flat Head River.

We enter civilization again through the Canadian small towns of Sparwood then Elkford and revel in their lodging, food, and taverns where we meet locals who live in these remote regions for the rich coal mining and logging industry. Evidence of this is the industry is prominently on display in the center of Sparwood with the big green “Terex Titan”, at one point the world’s largest truck 

From Elkford we make the long gradual climb along a power-lined road where dramatic views of towering craggy mountain peaks speckled with glaciers welcome us into Banff National Park and shortly after, the presence of motor vehicle traffic. To protect our lungs from the dust of the busy dirt park roads, we cover our mouths with bandannas and pedal to transport ourselves to a quieter place. Eventually, we turn off the busy road and on to a hiker-biker only trail that winds us along the West side of Spray Lake. The trail is fun and flowing, the air is crisp and clear, and the setting of rocky pyramidal peaks emerging from glacial turquoise lakes is awe-inspiring. It’s the most beautiful place to enjoy a bicycle ride. We spend the night along Spray Lake to explore nearby waterfalls and to take in the remote and quiet part of an otherwise busy National Park. The doleful, plaintive call of loons, reverberating off of the lakeside mountains peacefully wakes us in the morning for our final day of riding.

We continue the ride along an easy old railroad grade that runs just along the lakefront. We stop to sunbathe, swim, and to soak up the grand setting we have called home for the last few days. Reluctantly, we follow the fun dirt bike trails through the park to the end of the route just outside of the town of Banff. The juxtaposition of the time we spent alone in the wilderness with the busy tourist crowds of Banff, poses our final psychological challenge. We combat this sensation by assimilating amongst tourists with one final swim in the idyllic blue waters of Bow Falls. 

Note

Because this route travels through bear and mountain lion country it is necessary that each rider carry a can of bear spray that is easily accessible while riding. Encounters are unlikely, but they can happen since this region acts as a large wildlife corridor. Avoid encounters by making a lot of noise while riding and by hanging your food and toiletries away from your camp. 

Details

• Start / Whitefish, Montana, U.S.A.

• End / Banff, Alberta Canada

• Distance / 350 Miles (563 km)

• Getting There / Kalispell Airport or Amtrak Train 

• Getting Away / A bus service leaves every two-hours from Banff to Calgary Airport. There are also many shuttles available for hire through the Whitefish Bike Retreat.

• Where to stay / Whitefish, Eureka, Sparwood, Elkford and Banff. 

• Best time of year to ride / mid June through mid October  

• Route GPX / https://ridewithgps.com/routes/28578501

• For more information on this route visit, https://www.adventurecycling.org/routes-and-maps/adventure-cycling-route-network/great-divide-mountain-bike-route/

• What To Bring / GPS device, camping equipment, water filter, cookware, smell proof bags, clothing layers, repair kit, spare tubes, a battery charger, swimsuit, camera, bug and bear spray!

• What type of bike / A bicycle with at least 2.2 inch (56 mm) tires is best used for this route.

LP Story Guide: The Sky Islands Odyssey

Originally published in Lonely Planet’s Epic Rides of The Americas in 2019

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A journey through the vast borderlands of the southwest, featuring idyllic camping and sunsets, world-class stargazing and ever-changing landscapes characteristic of the Sky Islands Bioregion within the Sonoran Desert.

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When winter rolls in with its cloudy grey cool days I look toward Southern Arizona for a good dose of the outdoors and vitamin D. A short one-hour drive South of Tucson delivers me to the small eclectic town of Patagonia where my journey along the Sky Island Odyssey begins. 

The Sky Islands is an ecoregion within the Sonoran Desert, named for a series of isolated forested mountain ranges surrounded by radically different lowland desert and grassland environments. The Sky Islands Odyssey circumnavigates one of the Sky Islands, the Santa Rita Mountains, and offers views of many others over a 230-mile (370 km) distance. Each island in the sky displays its unique topographic characteristics. These habitat “islands” host some of the highest levels of biodiversity of plants and animals in the world ensuring ever-changing scenery, terrain, and unique critter sightings. It is not uncommon to see hundreds of bird species, reptiles, pronghorn antelope, javelinas, and jackrabbits on this route. 

The land management agencies along the Sky Islands Odyssey are almost as diverse as the ecosystems they protect and include a range of state, federal, and private lands (permits required – see toolbox). The wild spaces that these land management agencies preserve are what make the Sky Islands Odyssey so special. They offer educational information about the region, quiet gated roads open to bicyclists, preserved wild spaces, and ideal places to camp and spot wildlife. 

I begin my journey along the Sky Islands Odyssey in the clockwise direction, heading south from Patagonia to the wide-open spaces of the San Rafael Valley. Here I climb from grasslands into the rocky pine-oak forests of the rugged Patagonia Mountains, to the routes highest point of Mt. Washington where I enjoy the view. I can see the Santa Cruz River Valley in front of me, all the way to Tucson, and to my left I can see Mexico. 

From Mt. Washington I enjoy the zig-zag sandy descent along granite cliffs covered in lichen down to the valley I had gazed at from above. I experience my first reality check on the ride during a brief stretch through suburbia and a tempting pass at fast food. I have my mind set on a cool dip at Peña Blanca Lake 10-miles up the road. Before I get there the road turns to dirt again and I have seemingly entered a whole new place with otherworldly landscapes littered with succulents. 

After camping near the lake, I make my way to the small town of Arivaca intentionally before 11 a.m. I had heard that on Saturday’s I could catch the farmers market and some fresh hot tamales for the road ahead. Once I adequately filled my belly, my water, and my food supplies, I ventured back into the borderland hill country to make my way to the Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge. 

Through the hills another change begins to occur as Boboquivari Peak gradually comes in to view. This land is originally home to the Tohono O’odham tribe who regard Boboquivari as the ‘navel of the world,’ the most sacred place at the center of their cosmology. Its noteworthy rectangular peak serves as an iconic landmark visible throughout the west side of the loop.

At the Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge Headquarters, I pick up some ‘light’ reading materials about the area and top off my water. I grab a checklist of the myriad bird species common in the area and set off to see what I can see within the refuges conserved wetlands and grasslands. As if I was on a safari tour, wildlife was everywhere. While I rolled through tunnels of tall grass savannas and yucca trees I saw birds of prey perched on old growth oak trees, camouflaged pronghorn antelope napping in the grass, and jack rabbits rapidly hopping in all directions.  

Eventually the grasslands give way to lowland desert, which feels harsh and prickly. I make my way to another highway store to resupply and to cool my insides with some ice cream before heading back into the wilds of the Santa Cruz River Valley. I skirt another stretch of populated land along the Juan Bautista De Anza Trail, a trail commemorating the expedition route taken by Spanish colonizers from Sonora, Mexico to establish the future city of San Francisco, California between 1774 and 1776. The trail weaves me through cacti, sandy arroyos, and olive groves. 

I climb the pass of Box Canyon and another transition occurs. I am relieved to leave the desert behind and to be welcomed by the shady forests of the Canelo Hills. I have reached the east side of the Santa Rita Mountains and can see a whole new view. Most notably, I see another island in the sky, the Whetstone Mountains. 

I spend the night without the need for a tent due to the regions dry climate and lack of insects. I have a clear view of the deep night sky from where I lay; I stargaze and watch Orion’s procession through the heavens throughout the night. 

In the morning I make my way to the old gold mining town of Kentucky Camp, for a historic look at mining life and to fill my water. I ride through Elgin Wine Country and stop at the Elgin Village Winery for a celebratory self-toast. I’m almost there! I conclude my ride along the route though the private ranches that offer permitted passage to bicyclists through their conserved grasslands- another opportunity to see an abundance of wildlife and a land untouched. 

As I roll into Patagonia at the end of the ride, I feel refreshed, stimulated, and energized to take winter on again. 

Note

This region is an illegal border-crossing corridor at the center of the U.S. Immigration Crisis. Because of this there is a strong presence of Border Patrol in certain areas of the route. Encounters with migrants are extremely unlikely, since they stay off established roads and on more discrete trails. While this aspect of the route may deter some, for others it offers a unique humanizing perspective of a very current issue in the U.S.

Details

• Start / Patagonia, Arizona

• End / Patagonia, Arizona

• Distance /230-miles (379 km) 

• Getting There / Tucson International Airport, a one-hour (56-mile, 90 km) drive to Patagonia. 

• Where to stay / Kentucky Camp, Appleton-Whittell Research Ranch and camping on public lands.

• Best time of year to ride / November through April 

• Route GPX https://ridewithgps.com/routes/26902258

• Call ahead for permits that are required to pass through the Appleton-Whittell Research Ranch (+1-520-455-5522) and Babacomari Ranch (+1-520-455-5507)

• For more information on this route visit, www.bikepacking.com. 

• What To Bring / GPS device, plenty of water storage and filter, camping equipment, cookware, clothes for the drastic change in temperatures, repair kit, spare tubes, a battery charger, and some binoculars!

• What type of bike / A bicycle with at least 40mm tubeless tires is best used for this route.

More Routes Like This One

1. Monumental Loop

2. Camino Del Diablo

3. Bikepacking Big Bend

LP Story Guide: Glacier National Park Loop

Originally published in Lonely Planet’s Epic Rides of The Americas in 2019

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Venture into the Montana wilderness of Glacier National Park to ride through old-growth forests, to crystal clear lakes, along the towering peaks of the Northern Rocky Mountains. 

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I have done this ride a number of times and it never seems to get old. It is not every day where you can ride a 20-mile (32 km) car-free dirt road through a National Park Wilderness to be rewarded with a Huckleberry Bear Claw from a world-renowned bakery and a cooling swim in a glacial lake. These features, along with many others of the Glacier National Park Loop, have been luring me back to northern Montana on a regular basis.  

The Glacier National Park Loop starts and ends in the town of Whitefish, Montana. With a rich history of timber and logging, Whitefish today serves as an adventure hub for those visiting the National Park, the ski resort, one of the many large lakes in the area, and more recently, the large network of flowing mountain bike trails outside of town. The Great Northern Railway runs through the center of town and delivers travelers from all over the country by the Amtrak train. 

The loop circumnavigates smooth gravel roads in the Whitefish Range, through the Kootenai and Flathead National Forests, as well as Glacier National Park. The total mileage of the loop is 105-miles (169 km) and is relatively easy going which allows time for a variety of satellite missions to more scenic lakes, hikes, or even a ‘Ride to the Sun’. 

Having ridden this route in both directions, I prefer following it in the counter-clockwise direction, in order to maximize the steep and fast 30-mile (48 km) descent from Red Meadow Pass down to Whitefish at the end of the ride. In this direction, the route starts with a gradual departure from town to the countryside and into the complex network of old logging roads of the Flathead National Forest. From there the route drops briefly into the North Fork River Valley before heading into Glacier National Park where bicyclists can enjoy camping at one of the $8.00 hiker-biker sites available. I set up a base camp here and let the fun begin. 

The first thing I do is jump off the dock into the icy blue waters of Lake McDonald surrounded by craggy granite Rocky Mountain peaks. Since there are no showers in the campgrounds the lake is the only way to clean the salty sweat off my skin. The water is ice-cold, shocking, but incredibly refreshing. Any hesitation I had before I jumped was wasted energy as the cold water reinvigorated my hot tired body. I’m ready for the next thing. A huckleberry milkshake from the ice cream shack, perhaps? I indulge then make my way back to camp to socialize with the fellow bicycle travelers who share my campsite. 

Back on route, I meander my way through the park’s maze of bike paths, gravel roads, and a short stretch of single-track until I reach the trailhead for the Inside North Fork Road. Surrendered to mother nature, the Inside North Fork Road is an old gravel road that has been washed out, rutted, and burned over the years. Because of the poor road surface, the National Park only allows hikers and bikers to use the path. This is most certainly one of the wildest places I have ridden a bike. I have seen black bears and a grizzly bear while riding this road so I hold my bear spray tight and at the ready and turn on my portable Bluetooth stereo. Eventually, any fear I had subsides as I settle into the rhythm and momentum of the rolling foothills through the old-growth ponderosa pine forests and watch new life emerge from the dead and burned. It is a peaceful ride when the music isn’t blasting and I enjoy picking the sweet and tart fruits from the huckleberry, thimbleberry, and raspberry patches for a roadside snack. I don’t linger long as any lush patch of berries is bound to attract more visitors than just me. 

Passing through the gate at the end of the 20-mile (32 km) wilderness stretch along the Inside North Fork Road, I am overcome with a false sense of security as I start seeing more cars. Just because I did not encounter a bear there, doesn’t mean I couldn’t encounter one here. My destination for the night is a short satellite mission up to Bowman Lake where I enjoy idyllic camping next to another ice-cold, crystal clear lake surrounded by Glacier’s impressive peaks. 

In the morning I roll down to the 100-year old Polebridge Mercantile which is a renowned destination amongst adventures for resupply and their world-class sweet and savory baked treats. I eat a huckleberry bear claw and bring one to go. The final climb and descent over Red Meadow Pass lie ahead. 

Although the climb is long, it is smooth and easy offering grand departing views of the Northern Rocky Mountains. I know I’m at the top when I reach Red Meadow Lake. I stop here to take in the scenery that inspires paintings and one last swim before I make the final fast 30-mile descent to town. Clouds roll in with rain shortly after. As I meander through a turn I stop dead in my tracks. A large white wolf is standing on the side of the road 20-yards in front of me. Unfazed and in no hurry, the wolf walks into the tree line and disappears into the dense forest. It’s not a fearful moment; it’s a peaceful one. Perhaps it’s this unique immersion into such a wild and alive place that keeps me coming back for more, time after time. 

Note

Going To The Sun Road is a world-renowned bucket-list climb that is accessible from the Glacier National Park Loop. This satellite mission is a 60-mile round-trip from Apgar Campground. The climb itself is 30-miles (48 km) covering +4,500 ft  (1372 m) and offers commanding views of Rocky Mountain Peaks and opportunities to spot mountain goats balanced on craggy cliffs. The road closes to bicyclists at 11 a.m. (due to heavy vehicle traffic) so be sure to start early!

Details

• Start / Whitefish, Montana

• End / Whitefish, Montana

• Distance / 105 Miles (169 km)

• Getting There / Kalispell Airport or Amtrak Train 

• Where to stay / The Whitefish Hostel, Camp in Glacier National Park and at Bowman Lake

• Best time of year to ride / mid-June through mid-October  

• Route GPX / https://ridewithgps.com/routes/15106314

• For more information on this route visit, http://www.bikepacking.com/routes/red-meadow-pass/ 

• What To Bring / GPS device, camping equipment, water filter, cookware, smell-proof bags, clothing layers, repair kit, spare tubes, a battery charger, swimsuit, a bear bell, bug, and bear spray!

• What type of bike / A bicycle with at least 40mm tires is best used for this route.

More Rides Like This

1. Grand Staircase Escalante 

2. Mt. St. Helens Weekender

3. White Rim Trail

LP Story Guide: Oregon Backcountry Explorer Route

Originally published in Lonely Planet’s Epic Rides of The Americas in 2019

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This is a journey through time exploring the old-growth forests and the geologic wonderland of Central Oregon. Just watch out for goat head thorns!  

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Psssssss, “there goes another one!” It was our 8th flat of the day within a short 5-mile (8 km) stretch of dirt road along the John Day River. A brief moment spent off-track to explore the remnants of a ghost town resulted in a plague of goat head thorns wreaking havoc on the tubes and tires of my group. We made it 12 miles (19 km) total that day and limped our way to the closest town where we were pleasantly surprised by the refuge of an inviting bicycle traveler’s hostel equipped with tools, a pump, sealant, and all the comforts of home for a proper recovery. 

We were riding the Central Oregon Backcountry Explorer route as a short escape from the moody and rainy fall days of the city of Portland. Sitting in the rain shadow east of the Cascade Mountains, Central Oregon has an arid high desert climate offering a warm and dry environment within reach of a 3-hour drive from the city. This 152-mile (245 km) route follows paved and gravel roads as the landscape transforms from the grass meadows and old-growth ponderosa pine forests of the Ochoco Mountains to the geologic oddities of the juniper foothills of the John Day River Basin, while passing ranches and vestiges of ghost towns and mines.

The route begins in a town called Prineville. In a period when the presence of a railroad meant the difference between prosperity and fate as an abandoned settlement, the citizens of Prineville built their own railway to combat the inevitable. The railway supported the timber industry, and a town of 10,000 residents still exists today. The same cannot be said for the rest of the towns established in this region at the turn of the nineteenth century. 

Before we start our ride I stop into the grocery store to pick up a few last-minute snacks. As I check out at the counter the clerk inquires as to where I’m headed. “The Ochocos” I say and eerily he responds, “Watch out for cougars up there. You can’t see them, but they can see you.” I don’t mention the exchange to my three friends but as we climbed our way through the dense dark forests of the Ochoco Mountains I couldn’t help but take a closer look at my surroundings for a chance to catch a stalking cat. Cougars aren’t the only wildlife to roam this land. This region is home to the hardy with an impressive variety of bird species, reptiles, pronghorn antelope, mule deer, and at times, elk. 

At the top of the climb the pavement turns to dirt, and the road drops us into the John Day River Basin, an uplifted and eroded volcanic landscape formed by lava over 225 million years ago. Along the descent, a change in climate and scenery occurs. During this geographic transition, shady ponderosa pine forests gave way to an exposed deserted land of conical hills speckled with sagebrush and juniper trees. 

We stop for a picnic of peanut butter sandwiches at the dilapidated ghost town of Horsehaven a town established after an ore of mercury was discovered in the surrounding hills in 1933. After burning down, being rebuilt, and collapsing again, the town called it quits by 1958 and historic structures still remain, scattered throughout the hills. 

Through a corridor of lava rock, the John Day River emerges. Named after an expedition hunter and trapper from the early 1800s, John Day was robbed and stripped naked by Native Americans at the mouth of the river and forced to hike 80-miles to find some clothes. Today, the John Day River is one of the longest undammed, free-flowing rivers in the U.S. furnishing a diverse habitat for wild Steelhead trout, Chinook salmon, and many other species of fish. It is within this beautiful setting where our group noticed the consequence of our idyllic picnic location. We had three flats out of our group of four, and one on its way. The perpetrator, dried fruit from an invasive weed bearing hard sharp spines that is prevalent in this climate. Well known and feared by bicyclists, these spinning fruits are called goat heads for their familiar features. Multiple tubes were replaced, patched, and patched again. 

We limped our way to the Painted Hills stunned by the turn of events that had caused us so much time of the day. The visit to the national monument put that time in perspective, as the geology revealed the change from tropical to temperate climate over millennia through red and yellow stained ribbons across its ancient mounds of shale.  

By dusk, we reached the historic pioneer town of Mitchell. Seemingly unchanged by time the charming town offers camping in the town park, a general store, a brewery, and a bicycle tourist hostel. Located on the Trans America Trail (the paved cross-country route from Astoria, Oregon to Yorktown, Virginia) the donation-based, Spoken Hostel is built within a church and offers memory foam beds, showers, laundry, and a fun and friendly atmosphere to share tales of woe with fellow bicycle travelers. 

Refreshed and resupplied, we leave Mitchell the following morning and climb our way back over the Ochoco Mountains along a rewarding climb for the effort. Through prairies and forests, we spotted a bald eagle perched on a geologic oddity and wild horses. We soaked up the vista of central Oregon and marveled at the adventure we had then descended back to where it started. Filled with wanderlust to return for more, we drove back to rainy Portland where we celebrated our record-breaking 12-flat fixes over some hefty burritos. 

Note

In the 1980s this region was home to the city of Rajneeshpuram, a controversial commune home to 7,000 followers of the Indian mystic, Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh (Osho). Known for their free love ideology the Rajneesh grew controversial within the local communities for their attempts to grow and politically take over the nearby town of Antelope as well as the county seat of the Dalles and for a deliberate food poisoning attack of hundreds calculated to influence the election. A documentary called, Wild Wild Country outlines the historic controversy that occurred in the rocky hills along this route.

Details 

• Start / Prineville, Oregon

• End / Prineville, Oregon

• Distance /152 Miles (245 km)

• Getting There / Redmond Municipal Airport [19.5 miles (31 km) away], Portland (3-hour drive), and Bend (50-minute drive).

• Where to stay / Spoken Hostel in Mitchell and camping on public lands.

• Best time of year to ride / June through October.

• Route GPX / https://ridewithgps.com/routes/18196171

• For the most up-to-date information and route versions of the route visit, http://www.bikepacking.com/routes/central-oregon-backcountry-explorer/

• What To Bring / GPS device, plenty of water storage and filter, camping equipment, cookware, clothes for the change in elevation, repair kit, extra tire sealant, spare tubes, and a spare battery pack. 

• What type of bike / A bicycle with at least 38 mm wide tubeless tires is best used for this route.

More Routes like This

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