More Coco-di-loco…
May 9, 2012
As I mentioned in my previous post, the Coconino Loop is a bikepacking journey around the Coconino National Forest, Northern Arizona. Concocted by Scott Morris, of Topofusion fame, and his buddy Chad Brown - both bikepacking fiends – it knits together 250 miles of trails and jeep tracks, with only a handful of paved miles to its name. It’s an incredibly diverse loop, flitting from corridors of ponderosas pines to the open, red rock desert of Sedona, via Cottonwood, Mingus Mountain, the Verde River and Williams.
I say ‘bikepacking’ because the route claims to be almost 50% singletrack, much of which is relatively technical. Between the slabby trails of Sedona, the medley of rough jeep tracks through the ponderosas, and the vertical challenges of Mingus Mountain, it’s certainly tough enough to warrant packing as light as you can – so forget panniers or a trailer on this one.
The loop is raced in 4 stages, or even by madmen who tackle it in one fell swoop - for the grand prize of a box of donuts no less. Yes, that means riding 250 miles of technical terrain straight through the night…
As mortals, we rode it in 4 and a half days, largely due to my obsession for taking photos and a couple of late starts. I’d add to that our first day out of Flag was slowed down considerably by tacky, clay-like mud on the Anderson Plateau, having rained the night before. A tenacious compound, it ‘slo-moed’ us down to a literal standstill, jabbing hopelessly with twigs to clear clogged drivetrains. So, keep an eye on the weather if you’re planning the ride. Spring and Fall are best, to avoid the sweltering heat of Sedona.
We ran fully rigid setups, but agreed front suspension would have made for less exhausting days – we were both pretty spent by the time we were done. Although you can trim this ride down to three nights, four felt good to us. We certainly didn’t feel like we were slacking…
For stat-heads:
Distance: 253 miles
Average speed: 7.4 mph
Elevation gain: 20 671ft (the official taly is 28 000ft. We diverted round the infamous Mingus Mountain hike ‘n bike and stayed on forest roads, which might account for 2000ft of the shortfall, but I’m not sure where the rest of the discrepancy lies)
Time: 34 hours moving time
GPS:
Although the parts of the route that follow the Arizona Trail are well signposted, you definitely need a GPS for this ride. All the relevant info can be downloaded from the bikepacking.net. I used my lovely new Garmin Etrex 20 (thank you Nancy!) and though I have yet to unearth all its secrets, I’m now a GPS convert. Battery life was great – at least 40 hours with lithiums AAs, leaving it on and not fiddling with menus during the day.
Coco Lite
I’m all for shouldering the bike if it gets me to places I’d otherwise not be able to reach – or to avoid pavement. But if there’s a good dirt road alternative, I’m happy to take that too. To avoid the route’s most infamous hike ‘n bike, I’d recommend taking the Mingus Mountain Bypass (there’s a separate gpx file) which skirts round the top of the mountain, keeping to mellow, scenic forest roads for the most part. It meets the main route some 10 miles later. We noticed that it’s also possible to turn off onto a graded dirt road at a couple of points on the way up to the Bill Williams Overlook, saving yourself some potential off-the-bike toils. If the trail on the other side is littered with blowdown, you can follow the dirt road down into Williams too.
Rigs:
I rode my Surly Ogre with my usual Porcelain Rocket kit. I was travelling light, but not as light as most. The Ogre carries a few extra pounds round its waist (easily slimmed back with a lighter wheelset) and I had some 6.5 lbs (3kg) of camera kit to lug round too – my DLSR and a few lenses, plus spare battery – so I certainly wasn’t riding as light as I could have been.
Gary took his AM Peirce, fitted with a 1×9 drivetrain and Stan’s ZTR tubeless rims, weighing in at around 25lbs. His full rig (minus food and water) tipped the scales 34lbs 12oz (15.7kg), plus 5lbs 10 oz (2.56kg) in his pack. Gary knows how to pack! He had tubeless tyres and I ran sealant in my inner tubes.
We both packed lightweight tarps (only used one night), and made sure we had enough layers for cooler conditions. I carried my Clikstand cookset, while Gary relied on cold food.
Here’s just an overview of the ride – I’m saving some photos for a story I hope to write up… You can check out Gary’s pics here.
The two bikepacking steeds. My Surly Ogre, and Gary’s AM Peirce.
Easing into the ride on the Arizona Trail at our start point of Flagstaff.
Unfortunately, rain the night before had transformed what should have been 10 miles of blissful singletrack in a sticky, treacly brew. Definitely not derailleur friendly: where’s that Rohloff when you need it…
Much of the AZT picks its way through corridors of ponderosas and alleyways of rock gardens…
Linking one grassy plateau to the next…
We met this Japanese AZT through-hiker on the route. Apart from in Sedona, we didn’t see anyone else on the trails.
Dropping down from the Mogollon Rim at Schnebly Hill Overlook. Built in 1902, the Old Munds Wagon trail was used by homesteaders in the Verde Valley to sell produce and livestock in Flagstaff.
Spring is in the air – a wonderful time to be in the desert.
Our descent into Sedona marked a change in flora – we were entering the land of agave and cacti.
Sedona is said to be a centre of vortexes to heightened spiritual and metaphysical energy…
It’s also a mountain biking mecca. The Coconino Loop weaves one trail together with the next – like Broken Arrow, a Sedona Classic.
Cathedral Rock. Note Pink Jeep in the background. At the risk of sounding like a zealot, these jeeps disgorge tourists too lazy to hike the few miles needed to get here. Not ideal for desert peace and tranquility…
Spot Gary if you can…
There he goes…
Catching these miniature barrel cacti as they began to flower was a highlight of the desert experience for me.
The waters of Buddha Beach were so tempting we crossed them without even needing to, straying briefly off route.
Leaving Sedona for solitude once more.
The Lime Kiln Trail was originally constructed in the 1880s to burn lime; now it’s just the wisp of a sandy path across the desert.
More splashes of colour…
And the desert rat’s favourite, the spindly, spikey occatillo cacti.
No need for the tarp… A perfect camping spot on a plateau above Cottonwood.
Cottonwood lured us in its grocery store, where set up camp for an hour of feeding and gear repairs. Climbing back out from Cottonwood towards Mingus Mountain was tough in the heat; sweat flowed off my helmet peak like a waterfall. That’s San Francisco Peak in the distance, where we began.
Tired legs and loose rocks = some pushing.
The classic hide of an alligator juniper, as we climbed up in altitude once more.
The route unearths all kinds of rarely used jeep tracks. At one point, we followed a powerline for a few miles across the valley.
Coyote Springs offered a welcome chance to stop for lunch and refill water bottles. Despite the life forms, we didn’t bother to purify it, and lived to tell the tale.
Stopping to soak it all it up, before the gravel road descent back down to the Verde River, where we camped the night.
Which, of course, was met by a drawn out climb back out of the valley. Foolishly, we’d expected an easy trail to round off the morning, before lunch in Williams…
But we ended up climbing back up to 9000ft, culminating with an infamous hike ‘n bike. Blowdown made our much anticipated descent from the Bill Williams lookout more of an assault course than a ride.
Eventually, the trail opened up once more for some sweet riding.
Williams – on the National Register of Historic Places – boasts some classic signage that harks back to the historic Route 66. I’m a sucker for ’50s Americana.
It was also home to the most excellent Rolando’s Mexican Restaurant. This double burrito special cost $9, and fed me for both lunch and dinner. You need to stop at this place if you’re doing this ride.
A good excuse for a break: waiting for the cargo train to chug by.
Before long, we were back amongst the avenues of ponderosas once more.
Then, we turned off onto trail again, following singletrack around Sycamore Canyon, dodging volcanic babyheads as we went. Given our tired legs, some sections were more than a little awkward to ride…
Don’t look down…
Great views and campspots abound… The latter part of the trail smooths out, reward for previous toils!
Maybe one day there will be a picture of a bikepacker…
Eventually we closed in on Snowbowl, back up at 9000ft, at the foot of the lofty San Francisco Peak.
From here, 14 miles of AZT awaited, a ribbon of singletrack perfectly crafted into the hillside. We weaved between rock and tree with effortless grace.
So good!
Back in Flagstaff, where a shower at the $40 dollar Canyon Inn Motel (eventually) shifted ingrained dust and mud… But not memories (-:
Cheers Gary! End of ride celebration at the Dairy Queen.
Lost and Found: bikepacking around Hermit Peak, NM.
April 24, 2012
Not all trips go quite to plan. In fact, not all trips even have a plan…
Last weekend, I delved into Santa Fe National Forest, home to the crumpled folds of the Sangre de Cristo mountains – Spanish for ‘Blood of Christ’, so named for their red hue come sunrise and sunset. In fact, the Sangre de Cristos form the southernmost subrange of the Rockies, stretching some 250 miles from Santa Fe to Salida, up in Colorado – which is where I’d first encountered them.
My companions were two long term Santa Fean residents: bikepacking eccentric Tim – I say this in the most endearing way – and aspiring bikepacking racer Joanne. Having driven out to Las Vegas (New Mexico that is, not Nevada) over on the eastern side of the forest, our plan was to ride back west to Santa Fe. Or maybe we’d make a loop north round Mora. Or perhaps even strike out towards Taos…
In any event, there’s nothing like getting completely, hopelessly lost for a refreshing sense of unabated exploration. It’s a good reminder too that at times it’s ok to forget the destination, and simply enjoy the moment. Even if it’s not the moment you had in mind…
Despite several valiant attempts at formulating a plan, by the time we'd unloaded our bikes, we were more focused on getting riding than worrying about details like direction. When the roads are as scenic and quiet as they are in northern New Mexico, sometimes it's hard to stop moving...
Pavement gave way to dirt, as we followed a gently undulating road beside the Sapello River westwards. Things were looking good... until it dead ended in a private ranch. That night we pitched tent beside a grove of wintery aspens.
We tried to follow a singletrack from our campsite, in the hope it would link us with trails on the western side of ridge. But it proved more hike than bike, so we opted to retrace our tyre tracks and look for a more rideable exit strategy. Did I mentioned we had a GPS? Unfortunately we left it in the car...
Luckily Tim had printed out detailed 1:20 000 topo maps. Unlikely, they didn't quite cover where we were heading...
Furthermore, our attempts to head north were foiled by a boundary of impregnable private land, despite public access indications on our map. So we settled on skirting round to the south towards Las Dispensias and Mineral Hull, via a well-packed gravel track that climbed once more into the forest.
Soon, we were picking our way along a rutted dirt as we closed in on Hermit Peak, a jagged granite monolith that marks the extreme southern end of the Rockies.
The cemetery here claimed to be established in 1985... but it looked more like it dated back to 1885.
The trail between Las Dispensas and El Porvenir was unkept, overgrown.. and suited our tastes quite perfectly. South West USA - and New Mexico in particular - is blessed with an enviable network of forest service roads that all but guarantee traffic-free riding.
Trailside tweaking. Joanne is prepping her rig for racing, so was using the trip as a chance to hone gear choices.
Here she is stretching out her muscled legs, shaped by many miles of riding and racing around the world - including with the US national team in the Pan American Championships in Cuba. More racehead than rambler, she was riding a custom carbon Crumpton cyclocross bike and left us in the dust on pavement. But her skinny tyres struggled more than our plump 29ers when the going got rough.
A nosy llama in the meadows below Hermit Peak.
Scoping out a suitable spot for our second night's camping.
We stopped early to enjoy the afternoon sun from our vantage point above Mineral Hill.
What's on the menu? For me, it was Trader Joe's brown rice and ready-made chana masala. Quick 'n easy. Good 'n wholesome. Camping food for just a few dollars.
I'm rarely without my tub of peanut butter and a 'honey bear' to sustain me during the day. But in a ploy to shed weight, I'd transferred a few helpings into smaller Nalgene containers, more appropriate for miniature adventures. They were joined by Tim's secret energy boost formula: pure coconut oil. Coconut oil contains tryglycerides, which unlike other saturated fats, are burned immediately rather than being stored in the body. It also has healthy, fatty acids and all kinds of nutritional benefits - it's good for skin, hair and the heart.
Similarly, to shave valuable grams from my packlist, I'd taken advantage of a clear forecast and borrowed this 11oz (311g) 6 Moon Designs Gatewood Cape Tarp. It also transforms into a rather unfashionable (but eminently practical) poncho. More on this nifty little tarp later...
The next morning, Joanne peeled off east to put in some road miles and return to her car, while we pressed on with our freeform adventure, Santa Fe in our distant sights. Hermit Peak - originally known by early Spanish settlers as El Cerro Del Tecalote, or the hill of the owl - loomed impressively behind us. In the 1860s, an Italian missionary made his home in a cave below there, trading carved crucifixes for food.
The village of San Geronimo reminded me of an aldea in backcountry Northern Mexico.
It seemed to be comprised of little more than a collection of dishelled houses, a weather-cracked church and a few rusty pickup truck fading in the sun.
From San Pablo, we unearthed a trail that worked its way up slabs and steps of bedrock, back into the Santa Fe National Forest.
It's not always easy to discern what is a public right of way, and what might drive a gun-slinging rancher to arms... Unfortunately, it seems that many of the roads that historically provided public access to the National Forest now fall in private land.
Finally we emerged onto a ridge, home to fingers of rutted trails that pointed in every which direction. Unfortunately, any efforts made to strike west towards Barillas Peak were met with improbably steep grades, disappearing trails and intense hike n' bikes.
Another (scenic) dead end...
The mighty ponderosa.
And a miniature barrel cacti, a little out of place amongst the pine needles.
Finally, after an inspired, freeform bushwack (via dry creek beds and chicanes of pine trees) we emerged into the open sunlight of a beautiful meadow, marked with crumbling, red stone ruins. Bikepacking: takes you to places other tours cannot reach...
And the steeds that got us here. My Surly, dressed in Porcelain Rocket gear, and Tim's dropped-barred Raleigh, adorned with Revelate garb.
Tim was running both Anything Cages on his Reba suspension forks and water bottles. Another novel invention included running an upside-down aero bar, hoseclamped round the headtube to support a roll bag, rather than hanging weight of the handlebars.
From here on - given that we were well and truly off the pages of our map - we kept to the main thoroughfare and resisted the urge to explore further. Even it meant undoing the work we'd done all day, as we swung round back to whence we came...
Classic New Mexico triptych. One...
Two...
And three...
Finally we emerged onto the fringes of the I-25, just a handful of miles from Las Vegas, and many more from Santa Fe. Not quite as planned... Still, even dining by the stained forecourt of the gas station couldn't take away from a superb weekend of camping, riding... and the unexpected discoveries of getting lost.
Thanks to Joanne for driving us out to Las Vegas and joining in the adventure, and Tim for his sheer enthusiasm for bikepacking in New Mexico… and his inimitable style of journey planning (-:
Bikepacking: the joys of travelling lean and light.
April 3, 2012
The more I travel, the less I enjoy being confined to the busy claustrophobia of paved roads. And the more I explore dirt trails, the more I find myself drawn to the notion of travelling lean and light…
The Surly Ogre in 'bikepacking' mode, as this style of minimal setup has become known. It's loaded with everything I need for a few days camping in the mountains, and everything I'd need for travelling in South America - bar a computer. Handling feels great on both rough trails and singletrack: the weight is snug to the frame, and nicely balanced across the whole bike. There are no panniers or trailer to snag or clatter around.
Travelling light.
When shorter timescales are involved – anything up to a few weeks – there’s no debate that bikepacking is my preferred modus operandi. It’s refreshing to carry so little.
For longer periods on the road – I’m talking months – it’s not quite so clear cut. I try to eat at least a semblance of fresh, healthy food, rather than relying solely on packet noodles. That takes up space. In my case I’m also hamstringed by my reliance on a laptop. It won’t quite fit in my framebag and I’ve never enjoyed carrying a backpack for long days on end – that’s when a set of rear panniers or a trailer can work best for me.
But… If you’re happy with more compact computing – like a tablet, a smart phone or (shock, horror) nothing at all – long distance bikepacking should be well within the realms of reason. With a few considered gear choices, travelling light should be do-able, without the associated gram-shaving obsession. Especially if you’re biking in a part of the world where food is readily available, or it’s warm enough to do without winter clothes, or even stove.
Pros and cons of ‘bikepacking ‘
+ The main upside to travelling light (and this is a big one) is the freedom to roam… almost anywhere! Explore the backcountry you might otherwise have grudgingly passed by. Take the most interesting road, whatever the terrain. Reduced capacity limits you to carrying only the very essentials – a good discipline! (less to think about = less to worry about) Covering bigger distances is considerably more pleasurable. There’s a knock on effect on your bike too. It handles better off road. Plus, less weight means wear and tear, so you can run a lighter, livelier wheelset – and even frame.
- Limited cargo space requires tetris-like packing precision, which doesn’t suit everyone. This reduced space also encroaches on how many days (and thus miles) you can ride between resupplies. Unless you can confidently to pull off big distances, it can put pressure on getting to places: planning becomes all-important. It’s easier to bikepack in a more controlled environment, where you have access to reliable information about where you’re riding. And, for overseas travel especially, a full framebag kit isn’t as straight forward as unclipping a pair of panniers and storing them in your guesthouse.
Joe Cruz, who spent 6 months travelling this way in South America – without even the need for a backpack – made a really well balanced argument for bikepacking here.
Here’s some weight comparisons:
- Seatpack – 310g
- Handlebar ‘sausage’ and bag – 340g
- El Gilberto Frambag (a burly, heavy duty model) for a large frame – 480g
- Total: 1130g
- OrtliebBackroller Plus (the lightest models): 1700g
- Ortlieb Ultimate 5 Plus bar bag (the lightest, M in size): 680g
- Tubus Cargo rack (light but strong): 650g
- Total: 3030g
The capacity of a rear panniers and bar bag setup is 47L. A bikepacking setup is roughly 25L, plus whatever a framebag is (which really depends on frame size). Let’s call it 7 litres – making 32L (without a backpack).
My rig
The setup in the pictures below includes 2-3 days of food. Weather-wise, I’m prepared for most mountain conditions, bar the coldest of temperatures. Water carrying capacity is 3.5l. The folding packpack and bladder can expand this by a few litres on the days I really need it. There’s even a spare tyre too, and my Panasonic GH2 camera and lenses.
From my experience, a light tent (think Tarptent, Big Agnes or similar), a minimal cookset (denatured alcohol) and a more compact camera system make all the difference to being able to travel this way. At just a few ounces, a vapour barrier (unfortunately no longer stocked here) is a good way of boosting your sleeping bag too, without extra bulk. This is what Joe carried in South America – he later even jettisoned the backpack – and here’s what Gary was packing on our New Mexico ride.
On a budget
Currently, the two main framebag players are Revelate Designs, up in Alaska, and Porcelain Rocket, out of British Colombia. You don’t need to run these kind of semi-custom bags to travel light, but they do help. The best initial investment is probably an expandable seat pack, though traditional Carradice saddlebags can work well too. More homegrown methods include simply cinching waterproof role bags to your handlebars – tape anything that rub against the brake levers or frame with the likes of gorilla tape. Or, fit lightweight front/rear racks, and strap role top bags to them. Hoseclamps are great inventions too for attaching extra water bottle or Anything cages. The more creative can even try and make their own framebag – ideas can be found here.
Cockpit view: front pouch and handlebar 'sausage'. This space holds my sleeping bag, puff jacket, clothes and potset.
The front pouch carries a mirrorless camera and a couple of lenses. An REI Flash 18 packpack is rolled away for longer distances between resupplies.
The seat pack carries my tent, Thermarest, clothes and flip flops, with expansion room for extra food. The bulk of the heavy food is carried in the framepack, along with tools and spare tubes. The heavy stuff is low and centred.
The top tube pack fits a headtorch, multitool, knife, spork and snacks. Things you want to get to easily.
One side of the fork has a Salsa Anything Cage (with matching Porcelain Rocket bag), the perfect spot for layers I like to keep handy - waterproofs and warm gloves. If I was carrying a pack, I'd probably store these things there - freeing up some space for a Thermarest.
The other leg has a 1.2L Klean Kanteen, held securely in place with a Profile Kage.
I like to carry plenty of water. This 1.5 lire bottle lives under the Ogre's belly. A Profile Kage would work well here too, with a Klean Kanteen or 1L MSR fuel bottle.
An 800ml, easy-to-reach bottle resides on the stem, thanks to a King Cage Top Cap Mount.
The rougher the trails you ride, the lighter it makes sense to travel. The lighter you travel, the more sense it makes to bikepack...
My setup for a 3 week tour of Cuba.
From the archive... 'Bikepacking' in Northern India, 2006: a multi day, singletrack ride, following a hiking path from Leh to the Morei Plains. 4000m-5000m mountain biking!
Fahrstil magazine – Deutsch framebag feature
March 25, 2012
A while ago I was contact by a German magazine, Fahrstil. I hadn’t heard about it before, but with its emphasis on bike culture, it sounded like a magazine I’d like to read.
Fast forward a few months and there was a thud onto the doormat – well, there would have been if post wasn’t left in the mailbox, as is the way in the States. At 160 pages, Fahrstill is a veritable tome.
The print quality is great, I love the layout, and I was delighted to see the photos on building a framebag had been given a full 12 pages, with ample space for them to breathe – including an embarrassingly large double page spread of me…
Although I can’t decipher much of the text, the rest of the magazine looks really interesting – a feature on Fatbikes, an article comparing car and bicycle brand name graphics, and a retro-lycra fashion spread (page 132 is a favourite) to mention just a few.
Incidentally, the photos were shot on a Panasonic GH2, in horribly low lighting conditions. Having seen them in print, it’s reaffirmed how impressive Micro Four Thirds cameras can be, especially given their incredibly compact size.
You can see more of Scott’s skilled work on his Porcelain Rocket Fickr page, and the original blog post here.
If you want to buy a copy of Fahrstil, you can do so here.
Nancy und Fahrstil das Radaculturmagazin.
A sweaty (and dreadlocked) me on the road in Panama.
Scott, of Porcelain Rocket, tracing out a pattern in his mancave.
Working his magic on the sewing machine.
Time out for Kaboom.
Cupping the finished framebag like a newborn baby...
On the road and dusty - like all bike gear should be.
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.
Short days and long nights: a brief stint in the Pacific North West.
January 27, 2012
It might seem like I’ve lost some of my southerly focus… Over the last few weeks, I’ve been bouncing around the Pacific North West, visiting friends and acquiring a new US visa – with plans to perhaps stall my onward travels until after the North American Handbuilt Bike Show.
To be honest, the depths of winter probably isn’t the best time to be biking the infamously wet northern reaches of the Pacific Coast. Short days and long nights make life under a tarp a frigid and lonely existence. Then there’s the rain, which falls hard and steady, and the accompanying damp air, persistent and lingering… Perhaps I’m getting carried away, or I’ve gone soft in Arizona and California, and now I’m just grumbling too much. Certainly, the conditions I experienced were positively mild compared to this incredible northerly ride, and won’t discourage me from returning for a more thorough exploration – when daylight hours are longer. With further detective work, it could well be that a web of forest tracks would make an enticing alternative to the more mainstream – and busy – Pacific Coast Highway, so often used to link Canada to Mexico. I’ll be back one day for sure.
In any case, whatever time of the year, the natural beauty of the Pacific North West is undeniable. The coastal, temperate rainforest is an enchanting world straight from the pages of a fairytale. There’s a sense of ancient wisdom. Sitka Spruce, Hemlock and Redwoods grow thick and tall; their voices might well be heard in the deep, resonant creaking that carries in the wind. They tower so high it makes my neck sore to look up at them, casting dappled light shows through intermingling branches.
Down below on the forest floor, any hope for sunshine is smothered by a tight canopy of tree tops. Branches are dressed in lichen, and a fabric of moss embalms fallen trees. Bizarre epiphytes find their homes in nooks and crannies, and ferns sprout from a sea of green mulch. When the air isn’t heavy with drizzle, it’s a still, eery and a timeless place.
During my brief stay in Victoria, British Colombia, I made the most of a cold but dry snap to explore a small corner of Vancouver Island: Juan de Fuca National Park. Here, the rainforest creeps right down to the seashore. Raging surf draws hardy, wetsuit-clad surfers the length of this beautiful coastline and you can see the US' Olympic Mountains across the waters.
A totem pole at Port Renfrew, carved in Western Red Cedar, the provincial tree of the BC First Nations People.
Typical Pacific North Coast scenery; wild, abandoned, unspoilt.
In Botany Bay, lichen hangs like tufts of hair from the trees, absorbing moisture from the air. Rather than being a parasite, it produces its own food through photosynthesis.
Over these weeks, I've whittled my gear down to the bare minimum, and left excess baggage in Los Angeles. Here's the Surly Troll, sporting a full Porcelain Rocket framekit. My latest setup evolution is a pair of 120g Salsa Anything Cages that have added extra capacity, without undue weight.
These adaptable cages can be hose clamped around suspension forks, and are perfect for light, bulky items, like a Thermarest. Incidentally, many Salsa and Surly rigid forks these days are sporting triple eyelets, especially for the Anythings.
This two-nighter was also a chance to test out my new Porcelain Rocket framepack, with its extra wide flare.
My ride took me from Port Renfrew through balding mountains to Lake Cowichan. I'd hoped this logging route would be gravel, but it had been paved in recent years. Enticing tracks turned off in every direction. With a GPS and a stash of food, there's a world of off-pavement exploration to be experienced out here.
Where the forest hadn't been cleared, I strained to see much further than a few metres through thick groves of deadfall trees, ferns and moss on either side of the road.
In Lake Cawichan, I turned off pavement to join a 122km section of the Trans Canada Trail. When this project is finished, it will cover 16 500km of inter-connected trails from coast to coast.
As always, it felt good to be away from traffic, even if this former converted railway trail could have done with the odd turn here and there...
Four railway trestle bridges span gaping chasms along the route, the last of which was only renovated last year.
Each affords views of clear, torrid waters and lush forest far below. Too cold for a dip at this time of the year, though...
Almost claustrophobic in places, parts of the trail run straight as an arrow...
... along - appropriately enough for Canada in winter - a bed of frozen Maple leaves.
I camped on my second night at the foot of the most impressive of these, the 188m Kinsol Trestle, built in 1920. Back then, the railway was used to transport old growth timber.
Home for the night. A perfect spot, beside the Koksilah River, that some walkers had told me about.
That night, my entire wardrobe doubled up as pijamas. A single skin tarp doesn't provide much insulation and by morning, everything was frozen solid, including me, my water bottles and my food.
Loading up the bike again, with claw-fingered hands. Running such a light setup makes hiking down to inaccesible spots far easier than lugging a bike with a trailer or panniers.
I put my extra wide framepack to good use, stuffing it with a few days of provisions. I'd overlooked the fact that Vancouver Island has the highest concentration of bears and cougars in BC, and forgotten to bring any cord to hang my food...
Shrouded behind a veil of mist, the warming beams of sunshine took a couple of hours to finally thaw me out.
Finding uses for my framepacks's see-through sleeve.
Crossing the glassy Saanich inlet, from Mill Bay to Brentwood Bay. Budget traveller's take note. Buy your ticket in advance at Thrifty's supermarket for a two dollar discount.
From here, the Lochside Trail runs parallel to the Salish Sea, all the way to Victoria. It passes by Roy, dedicated to the farmers of Blenkinsop Valley.
I made it back to Scott and Naomi's just in time to grab my stuff and hop on the ferry to the Olympic Peninsula's Port Angeles, over the pond in the US.
Taking the shortcut south... As it happened, Caleb, with whom I'd rideshared north from California, was also headed back down the coast. I caught up with his art-packed Audi in Portland, for the 12 hour, night drive to San Francisco...
Links:
For affordable, social and relatively eco-friendly travel across the US, try ridesharing sites such as Craigs List, Zim Ride and Ride Joy.
Bike light with a finely crafted set of Porcelain Rocket framebags.
Salsa’s Anything Cages will carry, well, just about anything.
Porcelain Rocket: the making of a framebag
January 7, 2012
Somewhat at odds with my original plans, I now find myself in Victoria, the capital city of British Colombia that’s situated, a little confusingly, on Vancouver Island – not to be mistaken with nearby Vancouver, which isn’t…
What, back in Canada?
Er, yep. For now.
There’s a reason for my about turn, and it’s that I’ve decided to prolong my stay in North America. But for this, I’ll need to renew my US visa. In my usual style, this was a last minute decision, so with only a few days left before it expired, a helping hand was required to cover the 900 mile, triple-state traverse to the Canadian border. Enter the virtual bulletin board of Craigslist, where 75 bucks in gas money earned me a rideshare all the way to Port Angeles, a lonely harbour set dramatically at the foot of the Olympic Mountains. From there, it was just a short hop across the Salish Sea, from Washington’s Olympic peninsula to British Colombia, on a ferry that neatly depositing me in downtown Victoria.
From past experience, it seems that unusual company is all but guaranteed when ridesharing: on this occasion, the 20 hour road trip was shared with a chainsmoking student of Tibetan Buddhism, a girl with green hair, a Deadhead and, of course, my dismembered bicycle squeezed into the trunk of the Audi wagon. The journey itself proved interminably long but largely uneventful, most likely because it involved four wheels and a motor, rather than two and a pair of legs.
Still, making such an odyssey north did have other benefits. For one, it introduced me to the Pacific North West – a land of ancient, towering redwoods, giant ferns, moss-draped rainforests and, being the middle of winter, permadrizzle. It’s also given me the chance connect again with Scott and Naomi, who have moved to Victoria since I last stayed with them in Banff – back when they replenished me with food in readiness for the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route, over two years ago.
During this time, Scott has begun a new business: Porcelain Rocket, fabricators of custom bicycle framebags. Just to recap, stowing gear within the frame of a bicycle makes great use of space and centers weight, allowing for a lighter, rack and pannier-less setup and more technical riding prowess. With the advent of this style of kit available commercially, dirt road touring, or bikepacking, as it’s becoming known, has been flourishing.
In fact, Scott’s distinctive rocket patches have festooned my muddy gear over the last 18 months, as he’s been kind enough to send me various prototypes to use and abuse. Which, in turn, has introduced me to a new world of more remote and challenging mountain bike travels.
While I’ve been out riding, Scott’s been honing his sewing skills… And he’s got pretty good…
Welcome to Porcelain Rocket, aka the Cave. A trained ceramic artist, and something of a rocket when out on his bicycle, Scott's unusual but aptly-named business has quietly grown within the bowels of a ramshackle Art Deco home, which itself is in midst of DIY upheaval.
The first step to building a framebag is to draw out a pattern of the bicycle frame in question, marking on details such as water bottle mounts and cable bosses. Inevitably each pattern is different, depending on the bicycle manufacturer, the frame's size, and the material it's made from.
The pattern is then cut out and laid over the fabric, its tracing forming the main panels of the framebag.
Depending on intended use and aesthetic whims, there are various fabrics and colours to choose from, from the burliest of Corduras for expedition riding to lightest of modern packclothes for ultra endurance racing.
Snip snip snip. Steadier hands than mine.
Just in case I might have had aspirations to rustle up my own framebag, I was told in no uncertain words that each pair of scissors has its own purpose. Of the four, these are the fabric shears. Woe betide anyone who confuses them with the snippers for cutting plastic.
Work begins by lamplight...
Scott's machines are all second hand - this one is an old straight stitcher from the '70s. His bartacker came out of the Dallas Cowboy's uniform shop - unfortunately not the Cheerleaders'.
Vrroooom, vrooom...
Time for some zips. These fellas are known as 'Number 10s', and they're the big daddies of the zip world.
One side completed. This one has a dual compartment and is built with extra tough fabric.
Each panel is lined with a piece of foam, to help provide structure and protect innards. Although these black and white shots don't show it, this particular liner is actually a tasteful shade of Hot Pink...
Take 5. Kaboom calls for a break.
Then it's back to the sewing machine to work on the other side, which features a shallow map sleeve and a see-through storage compartment.
This done, the spine of the bag is then traced out onto a ballistics fabric, chosen for its high abrasion resistance.
Velcro strips are sewn in, to secure the bag in place within the frame.
Each one is carefully positioned to avoid cable bosses and stops, which have been marked out by the frame's pattern.
Back to the machine once more...
Sewing in the main construction stitch - suddenly, it's starting to take shape.
Corner and intricate stitches require working the machine manually.
The framebag's still inside out, but almost there. Note the massive, padded flair at the front for extra storage capacity.
Excess fabric falls to the ground as the bag is trimmed, and then finished with seam ribbon.
And last but not least, the moment of truth: the 'rabbit out of the hat trick'. Scott grapples with the framebag to turn it the right way round.
Framepack builder cradles finished product. Job done.
A final splash of colour... The proof, as they say, is in the pudding. It's a perfect fit!
Notes:
For more details on Scott’s fantastic work, check out Porcelain Rocket and his Flickr page.
The images were taken using a Micro Four Thirds Lumix GH2, with 28 and 40mm pancake primes, at 800-1600 ISO. Scott’s little sweatshop is all but devoid of light, especially away from the work lamps, so I processed the images into black and light using Lightroom.
Faithful steeds
December 9, 2011
Nancy I have both been riding Surly Trolls, hardy little bikes I’d have no hesitation in recommending for unbeaten path travel.
I’m planning a rundown on kit and setup at some point. In the meantime, California has provided some colourful backdrops to show off our faithful steeds.
My Troll includes a well used Rohloff hub, a 2004 Marzocchi Mx Comp air/coil fork and Avid BB7 brakes. I have a Porcelain Rocket framebag, an Ortlieb bar bag, and I'm towing a Tout Terrain Mule suspended trailer - giving me plenty of capacity for food and kit.
Nancy's bike has derailleur gears, a Rock Shox Recon coil-sprung fork, Jeff Jones aluminium H-loop bars and Avid BB7 brakes. Her gear is carried courtesy of a full Porcelain Rocket bikepacking setup.
Some links:
Surly Troll – versatile steel frames ideal for unbeaten path travel
Porcelain Rocket - finely crafted, made-to-measure framebags for all your bikepacking needs
Tout Terrain Mule - high end, suspended trailer with a nifty built in kickstand
Rohloff Speedhub- luxury uber hub for big mile riding
Porcelain Rocket
June 2, 2011
I’ve just got my grubby mitts on a lovely new Porcelain Rocket framebag for the Troll.
Since moving over from the Thorn Sterling frameset, I’ve been really missing the extra storage space, especially as the Troll can only carry two water bottles, and the position of the eyelets doesn’t cater for larger cages, like Minoura and Topeak’s 1.5l models.
Besides, framebags are an ideal way of making use of all that dead space, centering cargo and providing organisational pouches for stuff I want to get to easily.
For long distance touring, they add a lot of versatility. I can jettison my panniers and still have a setup with ample space for day rides, or ultralight multi-day trips with the extra seat pack and handlebar bag, like the Arizona Trail.
I’d also add that with this system, there’s nothing strapped onto my rear rack, making loading up quick and easy. And there’s nothing to work loose on rough descents – which always happens, no matter how well you bungee things on.
There’s a couple of potential downsides. It’s best not to leave anything valuable inside if you’re parking up your bike, and there’s a little extra surface area in crosswinds. Neither of which have proved to be an issue yet. Lastly, framebags are water-resistant, but not waterproof.
I like the versatility of this system. Running a framebag, seat pack and top tube pack means I can drop my panniers and embark on lightweight, singletrack side trips.
Chunky waterproof zips should stand the test of time. The framebag can be split into an upper and lower compartment, with internal, adjustable dividers and mesh stash pockets to keep everything stable.
The top compartment is ideal for camera lenses, but for now I've filled it with a 3 litre water bladder, running a hose up to the handlebar. The advantage to this system is that I'll no longer be drinking from crud/shit covered water bottles. The disadvantage is that it'll be harder to keep tabs on how much water I'm going through.
I'm using the lower compartment for food, including delicious granadillas.
There's also a slimmer compartment on the non-drive side ideal for maps, and a separate stash pocket that'll fit a multi tool, or similarly-sized knick knack.
Framebags are custom made for each frame, so you can tweak each framepack to your own design. Great quality needlework and a nice tight fit.
The top tube pack is ideal for stashing snacks, an MP3 player, sunglasses and gloves.
The expandable and surprisingly capacious seat pack is home to my tent, grounsheet and waterproofs. It acts as a good mudguard too.
Ready to roll...
And out on the Colombian trails...
.
