January Overnighter

I was scrolling.

Yes…well down the rabbit hole of bikes, dogs, and humans doing cringe worthy things, and I was feeling that special shame that comes from wasting time. BUT, for once, I was saved by a moment of inspiration. Our dear friends at Breadwinner Cycles had shared a customer’s post that I thought was terrific. It was by a small family out of Bend, and last year they decided to go bikepacking, every month, for the entire year…and that inspired me.

Are you a parent? I’m not, and consequently the thought of getting kids off to school is like a Shackletonian expedition. But to take a young family bikepacking requires patience of a special order. But they did it, HOORAY! It’s seriously remarkable. I’m sure as individuals, the parents would love to do something longer and more physically demanding, but that’s not what this challenge was about. It was about doing SOMETHING, each month, as a family. And that’s what I love, and that’s what I decided to mirror as my own challenge (less the children) this year. Get out, 12 times.

With January winding down, I saw a weather window for the Cascade rain shadow near The Dalles and put the word out to the ANTHM team. With late notice, I wasn’t surprised that no one could rally, so I took the opportunity to turn it into a solo multi-sport outing. The first leg was a sunset tour up the Palmer Glacier. Truly dreadful conditions. I mean it - turns were made that I CANNOT be proud of. But so what? Look at this sunset!

I was back at the van by sunset and after a relatively short drive, I made it to the Deschutes Recreation Area at about 8:30pm. I was mostly packed, and mostly organized, but the reality is, I’d been away from bikepacking for a bit and I was out of practice. I told myself, it’s just a quick overnighter and I’m carrying an oversized pack to test, so if there’s any doubt, carry more. And yet - I easily could have grabbed my zero degree bag, instead I brought my 15. I easily could have brought my big puffy, instead I brought my 100g synthetic . I VERY easily could have remembered my new coffee canister… you see where this is going.

I rolled out around 9, and it was blissfully dark and quiet. The Lower Deschutes River Trail is an old rail grade, turned gravel path. From what I remember reading, way back in the westward expansion and land stealing days, two railroad companies were vying to be the first to connect the high desert to the Columbia River, building rail on opposite sides of the river. Today, the West side of the river has an active railway, the east has a popular dirt path that gradually meanders at an easy grade along the banks.

The route is an out and back, with a multitude of camping options along the way. My plan was to ride in to the Southern terminus of the trail at about 20 miles in. But as excited as I was to be riding at night, alone, and under the stars, I think my legs were a bit blown from the quick ski tour and the cold settling in. At about 10 miles in I decided, that’ll do for tonight.

A quick setup and dinner gave way to spectacular star gazing and then I tucked in for the night. Normally, I sleep quite well outside, but this was a MISERABLE night. My feet completely froze (let’s just say it was a sock user error and layering isn’t ALWAYS the solution). I’d also brought an aluminum bottle into my bag with me so it wouldn’t freeze, of course the cold water condensed in my warmish bag and I woke up with a wet shirt. At that point it was being irritated with myself that was keeping me awake. But eventually I’d doze off and wake to an extremely brisk morning with freezing fog.

You see that second picture? The one with the plain water in the cup? The plain water that’s supposed to be coffee? Yeah, it was that kind of morning. The night before I’d “missed” when I tossed my new little coffee canister into my bag. Can’t you just feel how painful that mistake is? I was experimenting with this new organic instant coffee, and now I was waking to the calming sensations of warm water. Which, for what it’s worth, is WAY better than nothing on a morning this cold. I could only laugh at myself and pack up, try to knock some life into my frozen toes and fingers, and get back on the bike.

The descent was extremely pleasant. My favorite part about bikepacking into the night is that sense of discovery the following morning at your surroundings. In this case, re-tracing what I’d ridden in the bubble of headlamp the night prior added a special element to it. The sun found its way through the layer of clouds for a second, a train traced the opposite river bank and the whole morning felt sufficiently quaint. As I neared the campground and trailhead I passed a hunter with his bird dog, a couple of gravel riders, but otherwise I’d been solo since the night before. Hardly more than a mule deer for company.

Rolling back to the van, I took in the simplicity of this little outing. Stripping away itineraries and route planning, avoiding the constant calculations of time and progress, the lack of any stress about where the night would be spent, the operating hours of the next re-supply, the distance to aid if I had a catastrophic mechanical…all that stuff that comes with multi-day rides just wasn't there. It couldn’t have been more simple. Ride up the trail a little ways, go to sleep, ride back down - and take it all in. And it’s January after all!.

I’m looking forward to these monthly outings. I have no idea where the next one will be, or when. But I can’t wait.

Wanna come?