Type two fun can become type one in the right circumstance. I have found this in bikepacking. There have been trips that rained the entire time and my wheel exploded. But there isn’t much close to the feeling of pedaling a little bike weighed down with gear you need to last the next day, week, month, year, etc.
I first found the itch to do this after a solid year of “gravel riding” in Chattanooga. Driving thirty minutes to an hour out and riding 20 to 50 miles in farm land. I had a Surly Preamble I got on sale from some online bike shop in Texas. I soon started upgrading everything on it to handle the fire roads of the Ocoee. All of the upgrades I learned to install myself with the help of my friends at Two Bikes. For the money, I had a bike that worked and put a smile on my face. It was then I realized the noise of city living took a major toll on my mental. When I was so far away from home, there was nothing I could focus on except soaking in the wilderness and making sure I don’t break my bike in the middle of nowhere.
One day, I decided to try out bikepacking. I had acquired a decent amount of camping gear from my previous times backpacking. So I found some eBay deals on bags, strapped a few dry bags full of gear, and did an overnighter. It was a gravel trail not too far from my house I’d ridden many times. I went with my buddy Ethan, who had never considered bikepacking until I offered. It was a pretty short route, but immediately made me fall in love. The idea of being away from civilization with friends with zero cars was amazing. (To this day, cars are in my top ten least favorite parts of modern living.)
As I started to do more and more routes, I learned what really stuck with me: the feeling of individualism. Doing activities in a communal setting can be great, but I love the feeling of intimacy you get from doing stuff alone/with a small group. In ways, I found myself idolizing cowboys and western characters. People who did things on their terms in a world that was shortly before the modern/nuclear family format. You had the freedom to plant yourself on public (sometimes private) land and make it what you want. It makes it even better to dip your toes into small towns along the way.
I have found the Midwest is much more welcoming for travelers than the south. People in Minnesota and Wisconsin are typically excited to see folks visiting their town, especially by bike. Many of my friends have been able to camp on the porch of bars they stop by on their trips. In some ways, it allows you to find a middle ground between folks that may have different viewpoints than you. Some of my best conversations have been with folks in real tree on side by sides that just want to ask where I’m heading. At the end of the day, we’re all real people that are in the countryside. No real room to be judgmental.
I thought I would have more to write, but bikepacking is awesome because it’s simple. Modern western life is way too complex and confining. This is my “own private Idaho” as they may say (a great movie if you haven’t seen). Anyway, here are some photos of bikepacking and gravel rides I’ve done over the years.
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