Me ‘n Ogre
February 28, 2012
With my Troll in storage for now, I’m taking its big brother, Ogre, to California – a bike that’s turned out to be one of the most versatile rides I’ve enjoyed for some time. I’ll be penning some more thoughts on it soon, and my take on the pros and cons of the two Surlys.
In the meantime, this is how I’ll be rolling – along with help from public buses and trains. This lean setup includes everything I need for 4 season travel, a cookset, all my electronic gismos, a few lenses, and food storage space for a few days. I won’t extol the virtues of pannier-less touring and ponder its downsides right now. But if you think travelling like this is unrealistic for more than a few weeks, check out Joe Cruz’s inspiring blog, charting his incredible, ultralight, fat-tyred adventures around South America.
The Ogre's loaded up and ready to roll. Adios Santa Fe.
A few setup notes:
Despite its bulk and weight, I’m using my Nikon DSLR on this trip, thanks it its improved low light capabilities over the Micro 4/3rds system. This will suit shooting without flash at the North American Handmade Bike Show. Stowage comes courtesy of an Ortlieb Ultimate 5 bar bag. Although it pushes extra weight further forward on the handlebars – not ideal – its roomy, completely waterproof, and makes the camera quick and easy to access. A necessary compromise.
Without my panniers, which are currently residing in Ecuador, there’s no room for my Macbook Air on the bike. I dislike carrying weight on my back when touring, particularly on road stretches, but there’s no other way round this for now. At a touch over 1kg, at least the Macbook is extremely light for the punch that it packs.
Along with the bottle cage I mount on the stem, this setup allows for over two litres of precious liquids on the bike – enough for overnighting. If I need more, I can load up the water bladder in my backpack. I’d aim to use that up first, to lessen the weight on my back.
Joe added water bottle mounts on the seatstays of his Pugsley for extra H20 capacity. Although this setup is a little delicate – they catch on the ground when lying the bike down – it’s an option too. You can read his thoughts on the pros and cons of long distance bikepacking here.
The Ogre’s eyeletted fork allows two Salsa Anything Cages to be quickly fitted to its blades. Each one can hold around 4 litres of light but bulky kit. I pack my tarp in one side, and Thermarest/waterproofs in the other. Look out for Porcelain Rocket’s new Anything Cage Bags – these would be a great addition to the cages.
Despite the extra weight and bulk, I’m carrying a spare tyre synched to the handlebar ‘sausage’. Even though I’m unlikely to need a spare tyre right now, sourcing 29er rubber is the main issue when travelling beyond North America and Europe with this less common wheel size. I’m a fan of piece of mind, so I’m going to see how it works for future travels.
And lastly, some more inspiration…
Master Chef: Curried Red Lentils and Rice
February 27, 2012
One-pot-wonder.
Even in a fully stocked kitchen, I can’t claim to be the greatest chef in the world… But I do love good food and try to eat healthily on tour – and on the cheap. With this in mind, I thought I’d share one of Nancy’s one-pot-recipes that has helped sustain me over these last few months.
Although trickier to track down than their green brethren, red lentils are perfect camping fodder. They’re nutritious, rich in protein and cook quickly – soak them in water while you’re pitching the tent and they’ll be ready even faster. Red lentils go well with basmati rice, a high carb, slow burning whole grain.
With this in mind, here’s a simple, tasty Curried Red Lentils and Rice Combo…
Start by putting a pot of water on to boil.
Chop up some fresh ginger.
Chop up some fresh garlic.
Chop up an onion.
If you like extra spice, chop up a little jalepeno pepper too.
Chop up some carrots/sweet potatoes/brocolli, small so they cook quickly.
Throw all this into the pot. Yep, at the same time. While you’re at it, add in the lentils and rice - white basmati cooks quicker. Easy, huh?
Mix in some pre-prepared tumeric, coriander and cumin (equal parts), or a curry powder you’ve bought.
Sprinkle in some salt.
Potter about for 20 mins, stirring occasioally. Have a stretch. Blow up your mattress. Fluff up your sleeping bag. My trangia has a nice simmer control, so won’t flay dinner to a blackened crisp if I get distracted.
Serve and enjoy… After a long day in the saddle, there’s nothing to beat camping food!
Haute Cuisine on the Great Divide.
Variations on a theme:
Make sure there’s extra liquid and mix in some cous cous at the end, and let it sit.
If you chance upon some coconut milk, you can use two thirds milk/one third water for a lovely, rich flavour. Or even throw in some coconut milk powder you can find in health food shops.
Similarly, I use red lentils to bulk up instant Thai Kitchen rice noodles – a lightweight, relatively healthy and flavoursome pre-prepared noodle soup, costing just a dollar each. While the water is boiling, I add the same combo – red lentils, onion and some sweet potato – mixing in the sachets too. When the vegetables are tender, add in the rice noodles for a couple of minutes.
I’d be glad to hear of other simple, foolproof camping recipes (-:
And finally, just add view...
Links:
I’m a big Trangia fan – it’s a simple and reliable cook system. Previously I travelled with the complete potset, but I’ve now moved over to the far lighter and more compact Clikstand, which uses the same burner. Or you can make your own, with all the tips you need over at Zen Stoves. The fuel – denatured alcohol – can be found in most hardware shops. HEET, the little yellow bottles of gas line antifreeze found in many gas stations, works well too.
The flat-pack Clikstand.
Update:
Handy links for sourcing denatured alcohol around the world:
Heading for the Foothills: Alburquerque, NM.
February 25, 2012
A retropost…
Whenever I visit a new city, it’s become second nature that I find myself scrutinising its provision for cyclists and access to public transport – basically, its feasibility for car-free living.
In the UK I’m lucky enough to live in Bristol, a bustling metropolis in South West England, that affords quick and easy access into the surrounding green spaces. It’s just a 15 minute ride before congestion gives way to empty backlanes, and only a little longer before I’m amongst the twisting, turning singletrack of the local woodland trail network. An hour’s train ride deposits me near the Quantocks or Wales, both of which abound in mountain biking potential and overnight escapes.
All in all, it’s an amazing blend for a city of its size, and I’m always on the lookout for anywhere can replicate this formula. With a bit less rain, and a bit more sun…
Albuquerque is the largest city in New Mexico – not that that’s saying much in a state that’s home to just two million people – and could be a contender. In the heart of the city, miles of urban-themed mountain biking can be unearthed along the edges of the Rio Grande. It’s well served with bike lanes for hassle-free commuting and the surrounding open desert is the perfect stomping ground for roadies. I’ve mentioned the otherwordly White Mesa before, and there’s also the forest around Cedro Peak nearby - rumour has it technical day rides abound outside wintry months.
Like the relationship between Bristol and Bath, Albuquerque has a more affluent neighbour – Santa Fe – easily and cheaply linked by the Railrunner train, a service that offers free bike travel. Come spring, Santa Fe offers its own trail network, Dale Ball, just a short bike ride away from the train station.
But the deal-clincher for mountain bikers is the year-round, primo singletrack within cycling distance of Albuquerque’s downtown. As I discovered to my delight, the Sandia Foothills - pictured below – are the perfect antithesis to those winter blues…
The Sandia Foothills trail network is, on the whole, mellow and flowy. The terrain is ideal for both those relatively new to mountain biking, with a few more technical runs to keep experienced riders on their toes.
Altitudes range from 5700ft to 6800ft, with far reaching over the city and the surrounding high desert.
Singletrack weaves its way through giant, lichen-flecked boulders, groves of contorted cholla cacti and whispery grasses.
A perfect slice of the Sandia Mountains - Spanish for watermelon, so named for the colour they turn come sunset.
The Foothills are well marked. The area seems particularly popular with trail runners, with endless footpaths winding into the higher folds of the Sandia Mountains Wilderness.
Bone dry and perfect for building up trail confidence.
The trails meander their way amongst various desert shrubs; chamisa, three-leaf sumac, desert holly and big sage. Those soft, silvery-blue tones seem all the more striking against big, New Mexican skies.
A little talk... Nancy's swapped out her Jones Loop bars for a set of Salsa Moto Aces, with a 17 degree sweep. While the Jones proved perfect for touring, the Salsas put her in a more involved riding position - they seem to have noticeably improved her mountain biking skills.
I cannibalised them from the Ogre. Being the handlebar junkie that I am, I've invested in new steering. Andy Pearce's 22 degree sweep ti bars aren't just supremely elegant, they're also comfortable and wide enough for great control.
I'm reintroducing myself to big wheels and rigid-forked mountain biking. Most of the Foothills are smooth and flowy; perfect for this bare bones setup. Next time I'll remove my Salsa Anything Cages - a quick and easy process - in case they catch on branches or rocks.
High desert colours...
Nancy picks her way through one of the rock gardens that pepper the network...
... and adds a touch of glamour to her trail riding wardrobe.
Blazing quick singletrack hurtles us through cacti and grasses on the way back to the trailhead.
So far so good with the Ogre. 29er issues aside, this is turning out to be one of the most versatile bikes I've ridden.
The Sandia Foothills. It's not often singletrack like this is accessible almost every day of the year. And just a few miles from a city...
Headed to the North American Handmade Bicycle Show, California.
February 24, 2012
Just a short post to say I’m headed to the North American Handmade Bicycle Show. This year it’s being held in Sacramento, California, from March 2-4. To those who aren’t familiar with this event, it’s the time when custom framebuilders emerge from their darkened, winter workshops all around the US, to showcase and flaunt their wares. And, it’s an opportunity for Joe Public to ogle some truly beautiful, creative pieces of functional art.
I’ll be covering the event for the UK’s Singletrack magazine, and posting on this blog too.
I plan to camp somewhere in Sacramento, unless anyone can offer me some floorspace (-; My hope is then to travel down to LA (and fly back to South America), in case anyone is up for a ride.
As for getting there, I’ll be carsharing west from Albuquerque, New Mexico, stopping off in Death Valley National Park for a few days of dirt touring en route. If anyone is headed to the show and can help out, please let me know!
Back on the move... (photo Gary Blakley)
I ♥ New Mexico: Silver City to the Very Large Array
February 17, 2012
As much as I try and savour each and every moment, it’s inevitable that over this long journey, individual sights, sounds and experiences are sometimes lost in the blur of daily motion and change. They queue up in days so jam packed with stimuli it can be hard to retain all the details. Memories clump together. The brain buffer’s full.
But then, generally when I least expect it, I stumble across a nook of the world that really stands out. Something seems to resonate. Perhaps it’s a sense of connection, a deeper appreciation of the lanscape. The people I meet. Shared interests and ideas. Or maybe it’s just the right time, when I’m looking to pause, rest and lay down some roots, as short term as they may be.
Silver City, set at the foot of the vast, unspoilt, impregnable wilderness of the Gila in southern New Mexico, feels like such a place. When I was last travelling through – as part of the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route in 2009 – I managed to while away almost a week here, and it was with a definite reluctance that I continued on my way.
In fact, I’d barely arrived in Silver before I was pointed towards the residence known in local circles as the Bike House. Which is exactly what it was: a house crammed with all manner of bicycles. Leant against gates. Scratching wall paint. Hanging from rafters. Old and new, fancy and plain. All well used.
Of course, the Bike House was made up of a rich tapestry of other occupants too; a tide of people to-ing and fro-ing through unlocked doors, a larger-than-life collection of giant puppets, raucus chickens, as well as various other animals that came and went as they pleased… Its owner, Jamie, is well known for scooping up nomadic, long distance tourers and offering them a place to rest and recharge in his eclectic, rabbit’s warren of a houseshare. Coupled with a mellow downtown, all-year riding potential and an earthy, unpretentious New Mexican hipness, the whole Silver City experience earned it a spot amongst my favourite spots of the South West, and a highlight of the Great Divide.
So I was pleased that our long drive back back to Santa Fe from Big Bend State Park Ranch offered the chance to spend another night in the esoteric Bike House. True to its reputation, bikes were still sprawled out across the yard with well-practised abandon; old mtbs, a singlespeed 29er, an Extracycle, rusty Schwinns, a BMX or two… The door was still unlocked and the place as much as a shambles as I so warmly recalled. As we stood in the doorway and surveyed the scene, a cocophonic thump shook the house. Overhead, marching band practise was in full swing, with children and adults alike squeezed in amongst gaudy paper mache figurines. It was the genuine Bike House Experience.
It didn’t take more than a birthday ride around the sweet trails of Little Walnut and Gomez Peak to remind myself why I had felt such a connection here and what had brought me back. And although I didn’t have time to linger as long this time, I’d soon hatched a plan to abandon the car, and relive some of the Gila Wilderness…
Silver City is surrounded by prime riding, even in the midst of winter. I stripped down the Ogre of its bikepacking gear and set off with Nancy to explore the singletrack around Little Walnut. This was followed up with a ride around Boston Hill with tireless Jamie, and a dirt and gravel road outing with Andrew, Chris and Martin. There is little to beat local rides with enthusiastic bikers, and as a visitor, I always feel honoured to be invited into the fold to share these experiences.
My bed in the Bike (and Giant Puppet) House.
Gila Hike and Bike is surely one of my favourite bike shops, with its laid back, down to earth vibe. A demo Pugsley fatbike was available for a spin, which fit Nancy perfectly. I've always hankered after an 'Omniterra'. I just need to live in the kind of terrain that warrants one... Or maybe everywhere does...
My father's love of Westerns and frontier history must have rubbed off, for I find myself fascinated by Silver City and the surrounding area. Its past abounds with colourful characters. Like Lottie Deno - short for dinero, the Spanish for money - who owned a gambling hall in nearby Georgetown. Said to be well educated and impeccably dressed, she earned a fortune gambling in the rough, cash-flush pioneer towns of New Mexico. Billy the Kid's stepfather also had a restaurant there, and his early midsadventures are part of local legend.
The classic New Mexican backyard, complete with discarded junk, reinvented school bus and sawn-off trailer.
Turning off onto FR150 for some sublime riding through the Gila, designated a protected wilderness area as early as 1924. It was early in the season to be riding at this high altitude, so I flagged down a weatherbeaten pickup truck to check road conditions ahead. The pony-tailed old timer who pulled over had clearly been enjoying a few beers after a hot afternoon's wood chopping. Lifting his dusty wraparound shades to reveal bloodshot eyes, he enthused about the Gila, suggesting a few good camping spots. 'Listen to the spirits, that's what I always too', he said, chuckling a thick, husky smoker's laugh.
Camping out in Geronimo's stomping ground, amongst skeletal cottonwoods. My soundtrack was the warbly call of coyotes, and a dozen wild horses snuffled their way over in the night, gathering inquisitively as I cooked up my dinner. Just that day before I'd seen a group of wild, snorting havelinas. Or rather smelt them first - they're also known as skunk pigs, for good reason.
Tree trunk, elephant hoof, or simply a good spot to lean a bike...
Chilly! That night, my water bottles froze solid, even inside the tarp. The downside of the palatial Megalite is that it's size doesn't encourage trapped air to stay warm. I sat and toasted myself in the first rays of sunlight, as they slipped across the plains towards the tent.
Technically, it's a little early in the season for this ride... A storm the month before had closed off a portion of the road to all but the hardiest vehicles, though a bicycle could still slither its way through.
I took an impressive tumble on this particularly icy stretch, bike and body sliding some ways down the hill with little grace but thankfully few bruises.
Once beyond Beaverhead Works station, conditions dried out once more. From this point, I detoured off the Great Divide Route, heading north east towards Albuquerque through Railroad Canyon.
Mmmm...
Although I planned to tackled this 150 mile dirt road ride in a couple of days, I carried extra provisions and layers as I was unsure as to where I might end up. With my laptop on board too, it was a good chance to try out the Ogre with a set of borrowed panniers, and see how it handled with a more traditional touring setup.
Country Road 163. Or to put it more romantically, a ribbon of dirt, disappearing into the quintessential, soft haze of the New Mexican horizon.
Chicaning amongst ponderosa pines.
A forlorn post box marks a dirt track to who knows where...
The plains of San Angustin. Luckily, a tailwind helped propel along 60 miles of dirt road.
This herd of antellope ran alongside me for some time. A curious group, they slowed down and ambled around when I stopped down to take a photo, running with me once more when I started to ride again. Despite moments of loneliness and hardship on solo rides, it's during these fleeting moments that the penny really drops: these experiences are exactly why I'm here.
Happy to be on the road, loping across the desert.
Conditions were mainly good, with a few rough stretches of washboard and sand to contend with. 29er wheels seem to help with both of these, and I didn't begrudge the lack of suspension on my bike.
There are many wonderful names in this part of the world, harking back to mining days and the pioneer towns of yesteryear.
My destination was the equally wondrous Very Large Array. And very large it was. Built from 1975-1980, the VLA is a radio astronomy observatory that's been probing the deeper reaches of space for the last thirty years. The centre is at almost 7000ft in altitude and set in an empty patch of high desert far, far from any sizeable settlement.
It's made up of a collection of 27 enormous antennas. I stood in awe as the dishes all begun to rotate in unison, in a slow, elegant ballet, pointing up inquisitively into the sky. A series of railway tracks form a Y shape - each arm reaching 13 miles into the desert - that allows them to be positioned in various configurations. An accompanying film explained how the centre has been instrumental in our understanding of black holes, pointing out that our own galaxy lies within a whole sea of other galaxies. Amplified by the solitude of the empty, windswept plains of San Angustin, and it's enough to make you feel pretty small...
The free self-guided tour allows you to wander right up to one of the dishes. The stats: 25 metres in diameter and 209 metric tonnes in weight. If they look familiar, it might be because the VLA's been used in the movie Contact, with Jodie Foster.
Is there anyone out there? After sunset, I pushed on to Datil, clocking almost a 100 miles that day - far more than I'd usually accrue on dirt roads. With a storm scheduled to barrel in the following morning, I pitched my tent for the night, before hitching hiking north the next day. Thanks kindly to Art and Phyllis for breakfast and the ride!
Some links:
Gila Hike and Bike – most excellent bikes, and most excellent service.
Very Large Array – be wide-eyed like Jodie Foster.
Lunar Exploration: Riding White Mesa, NM.
February 16, 2012
Returning to New Mexico has given me the chance to ride a couple of trails I heard about, but didn’t have time to explore before. Numero Uno on my wishlist was a classic local desert loop known as White Mesa, set in a bizarre, lunar-like landscape. It’s so named for the colour of the gypsum residue that reflects the sun in this mineral-rich, parched-dry area.
The trail is well marked, and there are various permutations to shrink or extend the ride. Our trip was a little forshortened when Nancy took a nasty, helmet-cracking, wheel-tacoing spill. Luckily, she lives to ride another day.
The trailhead is about 35 miles from Albuquerque, the last few of which are along a dusty dirt road off Highway 550. We drove out with a posse of riders, including Dallas, Amy, Woody, Mike and Bobbie. Although the loop itself is pretty short, you could use public transport and make a weekend of it, hopping on the Railrunner from Santa Fe ($6), or Albuquerque, and getting of in Bernalillo. This links up with the Bernalillo-Cuba shuttle bus ($2, inc bike), stopping off in the Zia Pueblo and San Ysidro Village, which is a couple of miles from the turnoff. Incidentally, I’m a big fan of the Railrunner, the train that runs between ABQ and Santa Fe. Although the timetable is a little restrictive – it’s aimed at commuters – it’s cheap, bike-friendly, and has free wifi!
As far as I’ve experienced, White Mesa is completely different from anything else in the area; it’s as unique as Utah, and definitely somewhere I’d like to explore further. There’s plenty more scope closer to ABQ, with bike lanes around town, and the local Foothills trail network within riding distance – not to mention some great road riding potential too. Plenty of route info can be found at Two Wheel Drive.
Thanks to the posse for their hospitality and for showing us around, particularly Dallas for prepping our bikes in his incredible, spick ‘n span workshop!
In Santa Fe the trails are caked by snow and mud. Head south 60 miles and drop a couple of thousand feet, and this is what you get.
New Mexico mountain biking at its best. The White Mesa loop is fast and flowing, with a few technical hurdles, some exposed ledges and a couple of grunty climbs.
Inter-planetary exploration.
Post-spill. Nancy back on the bike, front wheel trued back to life. We later found a second hand replacement - a Mavic 317 laced to a Specialized hub - for $30 at the excellent Broken Spoke in Santa Fe.
The trail is well signed, and can be ridden in either direction.
A short hike 'n bike earns some bonus singletrack and an off-the-saddle steep descent.
Amy, on her green-rimmed, Voodoo 29er. This is perfect big wheel country.
Riding the Dragon's Spine.
White Mesa was my first time out on the Ogre. Next time I'll bring my bikepacking gear - the area would make for some awesome camping and incredible starry nights.
Sweet singletrack on the way back to the trailhead.
Downtown Albuquerque. The largest city in New Mexico, ABQ is surprisingly bike friendly. The Paseo del Bosque runs from north to south of the metropolitan area, amongst the cottonwoods of the Rio Grande. There's plenty of singletrack to be unearthed along the river trails too, and quick access to the Cedro Peak National Forest.
Back in the Chihuahuan Desert: Bikepacking in Big Bend
February 15, 2012
There’s a whole load of material I need to catch up with on the blog front… so I’ll start with a recent bikepacking trip to Big Bend Ranch State Park, Texas.
Texas?
Yes, in an apparent act of teleportation, I’ve disappeared in a puff of smoke from the lush, rainforested Pacific North West, only to pop up again in a vast, brittle-dry desert on the other side of the country. In reality, getting there took many an hour and a meldley of transportation: a 12 hour rideshare from Portland to San Francisco, a 6 hour bus to LA, a 17 hour train ride to Albuquerque, rounded off with 11 long hours by car to the Mexican border…
I first heard about Big Bend on my original ride south; so named for the enormous arc carved by the mighty Rio Grande on its journey to the Gulf of Mexico. Although the National Park is well known for its grand vistas and dramatic canyons, its the neighbouring State Park that holds most interest for mountain bikers. Previously a working ranch, it was acquired as recently as 1988, and is laced with mile upon mile of roughly hewn dirt roads, as well as enough rock-strewn singletrack for several days of epic exploration.
Similarly, I’m afraid this is destined to be an epically long post. It took such a long time to get there, I figured it was worth a few extra pictures…
Welcome to big sky, Western Texas. This passing freight train, tugging an endless tail of cargo across the high desert, reminded me of the role played by the railroad in 19th century frontier history. Border skirmishes continue to wage on today, albeit in a different form. What little traffic there is seems primarily made up of Border Patrol trucks, scouring the area for illegal Mexican immigrants, with regular manned inspection points checking for drugs.
A mural in Alpine depicting the Rio Grande, which flows from Colorado to the Gulf of Mexico. Since 1948 - following the US invasion of Mexico - a stretch of this 1900 mile river has formed the border between Texas and Chihuahua. In the sprawl of El Paso a massive, foreboding fence divides the two nations. Down in remote Big Bend, it looks like it would be as easy as wading across the river to cross into Mexico.
To break up the journey we paused in Marfa, once a railroad water stop, and now a popular hangout with New York hipsters. Cavernous gallery spaces occupy almost every streetcorner in this Texan backwater. The most notable is the famous Chinati Foundation, the catylist for the emergence of this now thriving oasis of art and culture. Nearby Alpine and Marathon are other small settlements with an increasingly liberal, artistic feel.
Texas heat is best tempered by ice tea. Ordering from this trendy little cafe involved walking through the old fashioned Tumbleweed Laundromat, where NPR was playing on the radio.
Marfa. Home to characterful residents.
Big Bend takes some determination to reach. Pushing on through the night, we past the border town of Presidio and camped beside the Rio Grande, literally a stone's throw from Mexico. By morning we'd reached Lajitas, marked by this unexpectedly swanky, Wild West-themed resort and golf course. Even if you're not packing your irons, be sure to indulge in a cinnamon roll at the adjoining bakery.
At last. Time to stretch out stiffened limbs and prep the bikes in the Texas sun for our 4 day, lightweight loop of Big Bend Ranch.
Desert sustenance.
Supplemented with trail munchies. With the window on my new framebag, it's easy to keep a tab on how many there are left...
Our steeds, ready to roll. The nerdy might have noted that one of the two is sporting unusually large wheels. For now, I've swapped out my faithful Troll for its 29er brethren, an Ogre, on loan from the kind folks at Surly. More on this big wheeled monster in a future post...
Big Bend Ranch State Park is crammed with tracks of all shapes and sizes. Surfaces range from fast, well-graded doubletrack...
... to rough, rolling, baby-head strewn jeep trails...
There's plenty of well-groomed singletrack too...
... with fun, twisting trails to negotiate.
The overlying theme? Rugged solitude. We didn't see another soul the whole time we were in the park, except at Sauceda Ranger Station.
More often than not, these fellows were our companions, the characterful and rather phallic-looking rainbow cacti.
Or these little chaps, miniature barrel cacti.
Another Big Bend resident. Spindly, spikey occatillo, traditionally used to make fences.
Colourful opuntia - paddle cacti - that can turn a shade of burgundy in winter.
Whoah there. We come in peace.
With so many thorny creations mining the trail, it's a good idea to run sealant in your tyres, either in the inner tubes or by going tubeless.
Carrying plenty of spare tubes and a stash of patches is recommended...
Big Bend Ranch is a land of ancient, extinct volcanos and steep sides canyons. Crazy rock formations abound.
Taking a break near the Rincon Trailhead.
... and back on the road once more.
The view down the valley from Pilla Montoya, into the Mexican mountains beyond...
The trail past Papalote Encino, a back route to Sauceda Ranger Station.
On the whole, the park is easy to navigate. A few abandonned signposts had our brows furrowed for a few moments.
A GPS would be useful, but we were fine relying on the park's detailed topographical map, a highlighter and a compass.
Riding the dreaded wash. Although the trails regularly dip down and climb out of sandy arroyos - dry river beds - with careful routeplanning and lightweight packing, there's little pushing involved. Trails like the Rincon Loop stay high and skirt round the worst of the Fresno Canyon, the main offender for energy-sapping sand.
Somewhat surprisingly for this swathe of the Chihuahuan Desert, sourcing water isn't a major issue. There are a couple of reliable springs in the park, as well as several water towers positioned in strategic locations. It's always worth checking with the ranger station for the latest on what's dry and what's not.
We carried iodine tabs, boiling water for dinner.
Old Madrid House, where a clump of cottonwoods marked a welcome spring.
Weather-wise, winter is generally a great time to visit Big Bend. Time your trip a little later, March to April, and you might even experience the flowering of desert cacti.
Still, the temperatures fluctuated enough to require a full compliment of layers - we read it can change by as much as 40 degrees. As usual, Nancy styles it up out on the trail.
In fact, a couple of days were particularly cold and blustery. A 50mph wind whipped through the valley, so we secured the tarp to anything and everything we could find.
There are secluded campsites dotted throughout the park. The charge is a very reasonable $5 a site - which gets you a fire pit and a bench - or you can wild camp in designated zones for $3.
Although a traditional rack and pannier setup is fine for the many miles of jeep trails, a bikepacking style rig is the best option for singletrack attacks. Pack light, as some of the trails can be rocky and awkward in places, and require the odd carry. Here's Nancy's Troll, with Porcelain Rocket bags, plus extra water bottles mounted to her front shock. Suspension was welcome on some of the rougher trails.
Tacking advantage of the Ogre's rock-munching, 29er wheelset, I stuck with a rigid fork, allowing me to mount two Salsa Anything cages to its eyelets. These lightweight cages are perfect for a Thermarest or groundsheet, though you need to be extra careful when laying the bike down.
Travel light. No panniers required.
Makes those awkward little pushes a touch easier...
More big, open spaces as we head out on the Oso Loop. The park isn't as flat as it looks here, with elevations ranging from 2300 to 4500 ft.
And more quirky little rainbow cacti watching us go by.
Sublime camping at Mexicano 2.
Another round of instant porridge for breakfast. Yum.
And another bikepacking staple. Almond butter, lacquered on to bagels and smothered with honey. The cyclist's alternative to jet fuel.
The ride back out onto the Madrid Falls Road after a star-clustered night.
Heading back towards Fresno Canyon.
A couple of cold, overcast and windy days had us wrapped up in all our layers. But as soon as the winter sun popped out, it was shorts and T shirt weather. This was the Texas we'd come for.
And so was this. Sweet serpentine singletrack on Government Trail.
One last loop around the rollercoasting Contrabando Dome Trail, in an area once mined for precious quicksilver - later known as mercury.
And then... time to bid 'gracias y adios' to the Chihuahuan Desert.
The Lowdown
Getting there:
It’s a long drive down to Big Bend. If you’re heading from New Mexico, the trail network around El Paso – out of Chuck Heinrich Park – is a good way to break up the journey. We travelled down via Marfa and Presidio, and back through Alpine. Gas gets increasingly expensive as you head further off the beaten track. We also signed up with Craiglist, and found ourselves an unusual passenger for half the journey to the border. Kevin was deaf and had no knowledge of Spanish, yet had set himself the task of reaching Peru in four days….
Getting to Big Bend on public transport isn’t possible. The nearest Amtrack station is at Alpine, but as it’s not manned, bike boxes can’t be unloaded there. A notch up on the luxury scale, we met one couple who had flown into Sauceda Ranger Station’s tiny dirt airstrip in a kit plane, and rented Cannondale mtbs to explore once there…
Our loop:
We rode the 3-4 day loop described on page 60 of the free Big Bend Ranch Biking Guide. The weather took a turn for the worse, so sadly we had to forgo the Solitario Loop and content ourselves with riding singletrack around Sauceda.
The trails have been developed since the guide’s publication. We used the Rincon Loop to avoid the worst of the wash that characterises the Fresno Canyon. We linked in the excellent Government Road singletrack when heading south, picking it up past Madrid House – it’s a real highlight. Allow yourself time to ride some of the many other fun singletrack spurs, like Controband Dome loop, as you ride in and out of East Controbando Trailhead. They’re all great fun.
If you prefer to ride your bike rather than spend too much time carrying/pushing it, it’s well worth contacting the park for the latest info on the state of the trails – what’s rideable and what isn’t. Mountain biking is being actively encouraged, so the area is developing quickly. Thanks Dan and Barrett for your enthusiasm and help!
Gear:
We tackled this loop aboard Surly steeds, a Troll and Ogre, filling the inner tubes with sealant. Our kitlist included the usual lightweight packlist, highlights of which were a Black Diamond Mega Light tarp (customised by Blackpaw Wilderness Designs with extra guy points) and a Clickstand denatured alcohol cookset. We carried our kit with Porcelain Rocket framebags – mine is actually from my Troll, but it just squeezes into the Ogre’s frame. I used a pair of Salsa Anything Cages for a little extra capacity.
Maps:
A topo map can be purchased at the ranger stations in Sauceda and Lajitas for $6.
Handy links:
The main Texas Parks and Wildlife site for Big Bend Ranch State Park can be found here.
We found this trip report at Bikepacking.net a particularly useful and inspiring font of information. Check out the video too. The main site is an excellent resource for lightweight, dirt road biking.
An excellent, free pdf of many of the trails can be found here.
Fees:
It’s $3 dollars per day to be in the park. Camping is $3-5 dollars, depending on the type of site. There are free hot showers in Sauceda Ranger Station, plus free wifi. You might be lucky and get cell coverage there too. If you want more pampering, there are rooms and dorm beds ($35) in a beautiful, former hunting lodge.
Supplies:
The border town of Presidio is the last spot with a large grocery store. Lajitas has the basics. Sauceda Ranger Station has a drinks machine and a few candies. With advance notice, the hostel can cook up food.
Next time…
With a few more days, I’d love to have ridden out and back from Presidio to Lajitas, via a 27 mile gravel road to Sauceda. Better still, it would be a real adventure to link up Big Bend State Ranch with Big Bend National Park. Although there’s currently no access to singletrack in the National Park, there are plenty of jeep tracks to explore. A possible resupply point would be Terlingua, where there’s also a bikeshop, Desert Sports, most likely a good source of information on the area.
