I just spent 22 days bicycling across Utah with my friend b7. Pics and write-up here.
The cool thing about longer trips like this is that you get to see your life from the outside. In the same way a forest looks different depending on if you’re walking through it vs overlooking it from a mountaintop, our lives look different depending on where we’re at.
I always generate novel insights about my life when I step outside of it for a bit, which for me is a primary reason to go on longish trips.
How to See Your Life From the Outside
Get a bicycle. Just about any bike will do.
Strap camping gear to the bike. You don’t need to buy ‘bikepacking’ specific stuff. I don’t own any gear designed for bikepacking, I just use whatever I’ve already got, or make my own.
Start pedaling for 6-12 hours a day in any direction. You probably don’t need to train for this — just take it easy and you’ll get in shape as you go.
Sleep outside at night.
Repeat steps 3-4 for 20+ days.
Congrats, you can now see your life from the outside.
Here’s roughly what you can expect:
Days 0-5: Are the hardest physically and logistically. Your ass is getting used to the saddle, your legs are getting used to spinning all day, and you’re making tweaks to body position and keeping an eye on tendons and joints. You’re also getting into the rhythm of spotting good places to camp for free, what food to pack, and setting up your sleep system. You might be a bit high strung about navigation, the weather, food, resupplies, ‘the Plan’, etc.
Days 6-10: The fundamentals no longer require much conscious effort. You don’t start to think about finding a camp spot until evening. You stop thinking in terms of what time it is and start being generally aware of where the sun is in the sky. You’re beginning to relax and your mind wanders most of the day.
Days 11-13: You experience a spike of anxiety about getting back home and “doing something”. You might sense this as boredom or a fit of ideas about existing projects waiting for you at home. This is a symptom of old hang-ups about productivity. Just keep going, the feeling will soon fade.
Days 14-20: The routines, projects, and initiatives of your normal life begin to recede to a certain mid-distance where you’re able to view them dispassionately. You begin to have thoughts like “What if I just… didn’t do that thing? What if I just abandoned that project? Why am I doing it in the first place?” and “You know what I want to do? I want to build a meditation cave!” and “That thing I was planning on doing next year, why don’t I do it this fall instead?”
Days 20+: You drop into a copacetic mind-space and everything is all right.
I don’t know what happens after 30 days of riding, I’ve never gone that long. Maybe next year.
Why a Bicycle? Why not just walk?
Walking is good, but generally requires more logistics and up-front planning. If you’re going to walk a trail you need permits and a plan for resupplies. If you’re going to road-walk, that’s pretty hardcore in terms of stealth camping and dealing with being perceived as a hobo. Good on ya if you’re into that, but a bicycle is easier to just get on and go. Nobody thinks “ugh, bike tourers, those people are the worst.” Many people, in fact, will go out of their way to ask if you need anything. A bicycle trip is easier in this regard.
What about a road trip with a car?
That’s a whole different kind of experience. Road trips are great and all, but they lack the austere simplicity of self-propelled long distance travel. And in my experience it is the simplicity of self-propelled travel that results in a unique perspective on your life.
Bicycles are the perfect sweet spot between walking and driving.
How much do you have to train for bikepacking?
I don’t train, I just take it easy the first few days. You get in shape as you go. If you can ride a bike a few miles, you can ride a bike for a month.
How do you find campspots?
I ride in the US West where there is National Forest and BLM land everywhere. It’s public land — it’s our privilege to camp on it as long as we practice good stewardship (leave no trace ethic).