Laura Killingbeck Archives - Adventure Cycling Association

How to Take Your Date on Their First Bikepacking Trip

Laura Killingbeck — Mon, 02 Jun 2025 16:31:40 +0000

I met Nick on a dating app, and our first date was a bike ride. We pedaled to a river and sat on a rock by the water. He asked me lots of questions and listened thoughtfully to the answers. He was cute and sincere, and we had a lovely afternoon.

After that, we met most weeks for bike excursions or dinners. Nick rides an old Surly Straggler which is probably a size too small for him. But he pushes it to its full capacity, logging thousands of hard, fast miles each year in Colorado’s thin mountain air. I’m a more whimsical rider, plodding along however the spirit takes me — slow but happy in any kind of weather. Somehow we found a rhythm that worked for us both.

There was only one problem: Nick didn’t camp. I found out a couple weeks after we met. “Oh, I’ve been camping,” he said. “Maybe a few years ago?”

Something about me: I basically live outside. I’ve built my life around long journeys, and I often work from a portable keyboard in my tent. I knew that if we wanted to continue the relationship, we’d have to enjoy camping together. So a few days later, I floated the idea of a bikepacking trip. Nick said it was something he’d always wanted to try. We pulled up our calendars and found a few days in March when we could both get away. I was delighted — we were going on an adventure.

As I learned while planning, outfitting, and embarking on a trip with a new partner, there’s a right way and a wrong way to take someone on their first bikepacking excursion. And while what follows is mostly the wrong way, no one died and we had a great time. Here’s how I did it so you can learn from my successes and my failures.

Route Planning

I poked around the usual route-planning websites: Adventure Cycling, Bikepacking.com, and Bikepacking Roots. I’d recently done a fun overnight on Adventure Cycling’s Great Parks South route, a paved ride that starts just a few miles from where I lived in Durango, Colorado. This time, however, I thought a gravel route at a lower, warmer elevation would be a better fit for us and our bikes.

I found a few different options and whittled them down to a favorite: Utah’s Grand Staircase Loop. It looked beautiful, the seasonal riding window aligned with our schedule, it was relatively close, and we could do it with the bikes we already had. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a beginner route, and there was only one water source for 160 miles.

Laura Killingbeck

I hemmed and hawed. I read and re-read the route commentary, searching for clues about other water sources and the terrain’s true difficulty. Everything I read made it seem dry, remote, and logistically tricky — not at all what I’d choose for someone who’d never been bikepacking before. Especially if I wanted them to like me afterwards.

But I’d seen Nick stride up slopes in freezing weather, bomb down gnarly hills, and meticulously plan his layers and snacks. He was strong, knew his bike inside and out, and never complained. I had a feeling he’d be up for a real adventure, so for better or worse, we set our sights on Utah.

Everything I read made the route seem dry, remote, and logistically tricky — not at all what I’d choose for someone who’d never been bikepacking before. Especially if I wanted them to like me afterwards.

Bikes

I’d bring my Kona Sutra ULTD and Nick would take his Straggler. His bike was sturdy enough for the ride, but I asked if he’d be willing to change his tires to tubeless. We’d be in a remote desert with a lot of logistical unknowns, so I wanted to mitigate the risk of mechanical issues.

The Straggler’s tubeless tires were still slightly narrower than ideal, but Nick and I talked about it and agreed that they’d work for our goals. I knew Nick was good at handling his bike in a variety of conditions, and if the terrain was really bad we could always hike-a-bike.

We’d be in a remote desert with a lot of logistical unknowns, so I wanted to mitigate the risk of mechanical issues.

Gear and Packing

Nick didn’t have any bikepacking gear, but that didn’t strike me as a problem. I have a long history of splicing random things into “oddly functional” gear. (See A Coworkers Campout or Packing Hacks for an Inexpensive Tour for an eclectic array of DIY options.)

In recent years, I’ve also had the great fortune to test new gear from awesome brands like Revelate Designs, Old Man Mountain, Big Agnes, and Showers Pass. This meant that I had a whole box of extra cycling and camping gear.

Laura Killingbeck

The week before our trip, I dumped the box out on the floor and sorted through my options. I’d given Nick a list of clothing to bring from home, so I needed to piece together everything else: camping gear, cooking necessities, food, and bags. It was a bit of a puzzle, but eventually I formed a large pile of everything we needed. The gear didn’t have to be perfect — it just had to keep us safe enough to survive the elements and comfortable enough to have a good time doing it.

The gear didn’t have to be perfect — it just had to keep us safe.

Safety First

A few days before we left, I still couldn’t confirm any additional water sources, and we were on a tight schedule with no margin for delays. So we decided to tweak our plans and spend the first couple nights car camping in the desert outside Durango. Then, we’d drive to Utah and bikepack a section of the Grand Staircase route instead of the whole thing.

The last-minute change was a little disappointing, but from a safety perspective, I’m very glad we made it. Sometimes people think that adventure means taking a lot of risks. I think the best adventures happen when you manage risk in safe ways and really enjoy the experience.

The best adventures happen when you manage risk in safe ways and really enjoy the experience.

The Real vs the Ideal

One thing I often remind myself is: There are ideal situations, and then there are real situations. In an ideal situation, I’d plan the perfect route, bikes, and gear to match. I’d print out a gear list with little checkboxes and check them off well in advance. And I’d take any beginning bikepacker on an easy trip before trying something harder.

But in this real situation involving two people scrambling to plan a ride in the midst of a thousand other life circumstances, I narrowed things down to the most basic levels of functionality, motivation, and safety. We used the bikes and gear we had. We chose a route that was easy to access and beautiful enough to motivate the journey. And we switched up our plans last minute to account for unknown variables. It wasn’t ideal, but it still worked in reality.

I narrowed things down to the most basic levels of functionality, motivation, and safety. It wasn’t ideal, but it still worked.

The Actual Trip

On an afternoon in late March, we drove to a backcountry campsite and pitched our tent. Soon the wind picked up, whipping streams of sand against our faces. We ate dinner crouched behind the car, and then crammed ourselves into my tiny, one-person tent.

Throughout the night, the wind bashed our shelter in all directions, forcing sand and dust under the fly. At dawn I woke up and turned to Nick. His face and sleeping bag were covered in a thick film of grit. I felt oddly gleeful. Usually, I make bad decisions all by myself, but now I had Nick to make bad decisions with me! Things were already going well.

Laura Killingbeck

We spent another day at the campsite, and then drove to Utah and got a motel room. The next morning, we rolled our loaded bikes out the door, high fived in the parking lot, and pedaled out of town on a dirt road that headed straight into the desert. Our plan was to bike about 40 miles and camp by a lake, which was our only water source. This route would include a 1,500-foot climb and possibly rocky terrain.

I hadn’t meant for this to be a test, but he was passing.

Soon, the desert morphed into masses of boulders and cliffs. Nick powered up the hills and seemed elated as the route steepened. Finally, we zigzagged up a long ridge and looked out over a swathe of epic red canyons. It was one of the most beautiful rides I’d ever done.

After a lunch break, we headed down to the lake, but when we got there, all we found was dried mud. We hopped off the bikes and pushed them across the dried lakebed. I began to feel guilty about everything I’d put Nick through. He, however, was remarkably resilient. I hadn’t meant for this to be a test, but he was passing.

About half an hour later, we spotted a shimmer of wet mud, then a trickle of water, and eventually, a clear pool. Birds flew overhead and a fish jumped. We were saved. We pitched the tent on a crusty patch of mud. I filtered water and Nick gathered wood. As the sun set, we lit a fire and watched the sky deepen into starlight. We were dirty and tired. Nothing had gone perfectly, but still, it was a perfect evening.

The post How to Take Your Date on Their First Bikepacking Trip appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

Even Short Rides Can Be Fulfilling Adventures For Mind and Body

Laura Killingbeck — Mon, 17 Mar 2025 15:45:06 +0000

No matter where I am in the US, there’s always an Adventure Cycling route close by. When I lived in Michigan, I pedaled out my door onto the North Lakes route. In Arizona, I was just a few miles from the Great Divide. When I visited my friend Alison in San Francisco, I biked from her house onto the Pacific Coast Route. And in Massachusetts, I got to host my friends Kaisa and Christoffer as they pedaled down the Atlantic Coast Route.

So when I moved to Durango, Colorado, this winter, I figured that trend would continue, and when I pulled up the Adventure Cycling route finder, I smiled. The Great Parks South Route started less than a mile from my house.

Using Ride with GPS to navigate Adventure Cycling’s Great Parks South Route.

Laura Killingbeck

The first town along the path would be Mancos, about thirty miles away. My friend Dave lives on a beautiful homestead in Mancos. It was the perfect opportunity to invite myself over on a short bike adventure. And to test out Adventure Cycling’s newest innovation: hosting its maps on Ride with GPS. On a Wednesday in February, I stuffed some clothes and snacks in my panniers, hopped on my bike, and pedaled out the basement door. It was warm and sunny. A perfect day. I’d downloaded the route onto my phone through Ride with GPS. In classic Adventure Cycling fashion, this showed me the route layout, distance, and points of interest along the way. Door to door, it would be 31.5 miles and 2,700 feet of elevation from my house to Dave’s. I followed a moderately trafficked highway with a wide shoulder that would take me over an 8,400-foot ridge and into the tiny mountain town of Mancos. I pushed the pedals, breathing deep and chugging slowly up the road. I’d been sick in bed for the last week with body aches and a cough, and this was my first ride since then. I had no idea how it would go. After a few miles, I got a text from Dave saying he was down with a migraine but still wanted me to come. Bodies do not always behave the way we wish they would, but the adventure must continue. Durango’s houses and hotels thinned. Then they disappeared. I was left with the open road, flanked by landscapes dappled in snow. As I climbed higher, the temperature dropped and an icy headwind started to push against my face. The further I went, the louder the wind rushed past my ears. Bushes on the roadside whipped back and forth, and grasses bent to the ground. It reminded me of a stretch of road in Wyoming on the Great Divide, where the wind was so cold and strong it felt like a river.

Layering up on the Great Parks South Route.

Laura Killingbeck

I began to regret my choices. The wind pushed into my mouth every time I inhaled, and my lungs were already sore from coughing. Why was I biking up the ridge in this state? Why did I think this would be fun? In the last twenty years I’ve biked many thousands of miles around the world. Those journeys have been the best moments of my life, yet big portions of them were uncomfortable, scary, or difficult. I kept pedaling and thought about my first bike trip at twenty-one, when I cycled alone against Iceland’s epic winds. What would that younger woman think about me now, complaining in my head about a short ride into a relatively small headwind? I imagined the younger version of me riding next to me on the road. She looked at me and started to laugh. Then I started to laugh, too. She was right — it was pretty funny. I eventually made it up the ridge and coasted down into Mancos. Home to just over a thousand residents, Mancos is nestled in a little mountain valley. I turned off the highway onto a dirt road lined with farms and small houses. After a few miles, I recognized the greenhouses and the row of willows at the edge of Dave’s farm. Dave’s three-legged dog Roo ran out to greet me at the driveway. It’s incredible how fast Roo can run.

Roo running in Mancos, Colorado.

Laura Killingbeck

Dave came out and showed me where to store my bike under the eave of the farmhouse. I grabbed my stuff and followed him inside. Dave’s home is a fun, cozy space. Big windows overlook the mountains, and earthen pots fill the shelves. Dave is a farmer and a potter, so he makes his dishes himself from clay that he digs from the land. Each is a work of art. I felt wind-burned but happy. Dave was doing okay with his migraine, so we took a walk with Roo before dark. As we wandered up the dirt road, the sun began to set, turning everything gold and orange. When we got back to the house, Dave made a delicious pot of miso sausage soup, and I brought out the sourdough flatbread and kvass I’d carried in my panniers. Kvass is a tangy drink made from fermented beets and spices. I’d brewed this batch with beets from Dave’s farm. We ate the soup out of beautiful, giant homemade bowls. After dinner I was pretty much ready for bed, so I lay down on the floor with Roo. (I’m a really entertaining house guest.) Dave needed to practice a short talk he’d written for a storytelling event, and I really wanted to hear it. So he sat on the couch with his notes and read the story out loud while I listened from the floor. The story was about a close friend he’d had who died suddenly at a young age. Dave read slowly, stopping, pausing and re-reading sentences. The story ended years later on the farm, when Dave realized that his grief had grown into a larger understanding of love. As I lay listening, it reminded me of the times I’d lost someone or something I loved. There are so few outlets in society to talk about grief and loss in a way that leads us back to love. I knew Dave’s story would be a gift to everyone who heard it.

A cozy farmhouse in Mancos, Colorado.

Laura Killingbeck

I slept in the cozy guest room, my head resting on a pillow decorated with a rabbit feeding salad to a mole. In the morning, we had breakfast, and I packed my bike for the ride home. It was a calm, sunny day. I hugged Dave goodbye, threw my leg over the saddle, and pedaled back out the driveway. My lungs felt good, and I was happy. This time I took gravel roads back behind Mancos before popping out onto the highway. About halfway to Durango, I stopped at a gas station and got a burrito and some carrot cake. It was mostly downhill from there. Back at the house, I rolled my bike into the basement and unpacked. I’d only been gone for a day, but a lot had happened. Even a short ride can be a great adventure.

Great Parks South Route Overview

This paved route extends 695 miles across Colorado between Steamboat Springs and Durango. It crosses eleven mountain passes and the highest point is 12,183 feet. Highlights include three national parks: Rocky Mountain , Black Canyon of the Gunnison, and Mesa Verde (via the Mesa Verde spur). The ideal riding season is early summer to mid-fall.

The post Even Short Rides Can Be Fulfilling Adventures For Mind and Body appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

A Little Loop in Michigan

Laura Killingbeck — Thu, 06 Jun 2024 19:49:43 +0000

One of my favorite ways to see a new place is to make my own bike loop. I love pedaling away from wherever I am and returning a few days later to the same spot. There’s a magic in leaving and returning at the speed of your own legs. This year I spent the winter caretaking a condo and dog in western Michigan, and after that I had a few days to explore. I decided to go on a little bike loop to see more of the backcountry and coastline.

Route Planning

To plan this trip, I just poked around the Adventure Cycling Association website and Bikepacking.com to see if there were any bike routes nearby. On the Adventure Cycling website I found the North Lakes cycling route, a paved U.S. bike route along the coast of Lake Michigan. The route had easy resupplies, great views of the lake, and plenty of camping options. And it passed directly through the town I was in!

I found the North Country Traverse on Bikepacking.com. This is a 172-mile non-technical singletrack route starting at a trailhead about 50 miles away. The route also showed plenty of backcountry camping options, water, and easy resupplies. I compared the two routes and found they intersected at the northern terminus of the North Country Traverse at Traverse City, creating a near-perfect loop. I could ride out of town on the North Lakes cycling route, cut over to the North Country Traverse, take that to Traverse City, and then hop back onto the North Lakes route down the coast to where I’d started. So that’s what I did! The total length of this route was about 300 miles, and it took me about a week and a half. I also wrote about my first day on this trip in this story. Here are the details about this shorter route, and how to tackle it yourself.

Navigation

Before I left, I downloaded maps of the area to my phone and tablet through Google Maps and Gaia. Google Maps is a free source for offline road maps. Gaia is an excellent app that shows detailed hiking and biking routes, campsites, and landscapes. I also downloaded the North Country Traverse GPX files to my phone and tablet from Bikepacking.com. Along my ride, I also picked up a paper map of cycling routes from the Michigan Department of Transportation. You can order or download that map from their website.

Landscape and Climate

I left in mid-April, which is technically spring, but in Michigan it still felt like winter! During the first few days of my trip, I experienced rain, sleet, snow, and a brief moment of surprise hail. Nighttime temperatures were in the 20s. A week and a half later when I finished my trip, flowers were blooming and temperatures were in the 60s. The entire loop was mostly flat with some short, rolling hills. There were no mountain passes or significant elevation changes. The North Country Traverse highlighted western Michigan’s secluded forests and dunes. The North Lakes Route reminded me of Adventure Cycling’s Pacific Coast Route, which I cycled last year. If you’re attracted to shoreline riding, the Michigan section of the North Lakes Route is a gem.

Camping and Resupply

I camped every night along the way. The North Country Traverse and my section of the North Lakes route both pass through National and State forest land with ample free dispersed camping. I supplemented my dispersed campsites with registered camping in Michigan’s extensive network of primitive campgrounds. As always, the Adventure Cycling Association and Bikepacking.com show campsites, lodging options, and grocery stores on their route maps. I always bring tons of food with me wherever I go. I prefer to eat as much as I want all the time without having to measure or ration anything. I also often dehydrate my own foods ahead of time and take them with me. This means I end up carrying a lot of extra weight in food, but I don’t really mind. On this trip I supplemented the food I brought from home with resupplies at country stores, gas stations, and grocery stores. There were plenty of options. I got most of my water in towns, but also occasionally filtered water from streams.

Bike and Gear

I don’t think you need the “perfect” gear to go on a bike trip. You just need the gear that will get you there and back, and keep you safe and happy along the way. My setup is always a mix of things I happen to have, items that survive the test of time, and whatever new gear I’m testing for gear companies. You can see my full gear list for this trip here.

Creating Your Own Bike Loop from a Larger Route

Since 1976, the Adventure Cycling Association has mapped over 50,000 miles of bike routes across the United States. These bike routes intertwine and overlap, forming hundreds of possible loops. You can also make your own loop by splicing routes together however you want. I’ve often planned my bike trips to start or end at my house or a friend’s house. That’s what I love so much about bike travel: you can start wherever you are, or aim for wherever you want to be. The adventure unfolds along the way. To make your own loop, just choose a place to start or end and then pull out some maps. The Adventure Cycling Association’s Interactive Route Map is a great place to look. How close are you to a bike route?

The North Lakes Route Nuts and Bolts

Overview: The North Lake Route connects 1,600 miles of pavement and bike paths between Minneapolis, Minnesota and Denver, Indiana. Distance: 1,600 miles (1,200 miles plus additional route alternates) Route Surface: Paved Terrain: Backroads, highways, and bike paths. Flat or rolling, with no major mountain passes. Best Season to ride: Spring, summer, and fall (Adventure Cycling recommends May through September). Bike: Any bike Find more information and download maps through the Adventure Cycling Association.

The North Country Traverse Nuts and Bolts

Overview: The North Country Traverse is a singletrack bike route through western Michigan. It follows a bike-friendly segment of the North Country Trail (NCT), a 4,800-mile footpath between North Dakota and Vermont. Distance: 173 miles Route Surface: 86% unpaved, 66% singletrack Terrain: Mostly non-technical with some roots, leaf litter, blow-downs, sand, mud, bridges, stairs, and other obstacles. Flat or rolling. The trail is well-marked with signs and blue blazes. Best Season to ride: Spring, summer, and fall. (Bikepacking.com recommends April through November, or whenever the trail is clear of snow.) Bike: This is a mountain bike route. Recommended tire size is two inches or wider. Find more information and GPX files at Bikepacking.com.

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Cycling the World: A New Film About a Big Journey

Laura Killingbeck — Mon, 15 Apr 2024 14:00:18 +0000

When McKenzie Barney was 29, she flew to Ho Chi Mihn, bought a bike, and pedaled across Vietnam. Afterwards, she rode across Europe and then headed to Africa. By the time she crossed the length of Africa from Cairo to Cape Town, she realized she could keep pedaling around the whole world. She also realized she had a story to tell. Over the course of three years, Barney cycled 29,000 kilometers across 28 countries and five continents. She mostly rode solo, filming her adventures with an iPhone and a Sony RX100 point-and-shoot camera. Later, she turned this footage into a 32-minute film telling the story of her journey and what it meant to her. You can watch that film, Cycling the World, on Vimeo.

Photo: McKenzie Barney

I watched Cycling the World a few times, and each time I got something new from it. It’s pretty rare for a person to bike alone around the world — more so if that person is female, and even more so if they’re an experienced, independent filmmaker. Cycling the World is the story of a unique journey from the perspective of an expert storyteller.

McKenzie Barney, Filmmaker and Adventurer

Before riding around the world, Barney studied film production at the University of Florida. Throughout her twenties, she wrote and produced nationally syndicated television shows, filmed outdoor adventure campaigns, and worked with brands and advertising agencies. Eventually she co-founded a production company and filmed a documentary about thru-hiking 1,800 miles across New Zealand. This led to more commercial, broadcast, and digital film projects for clients like National Geographic.

Photo: McKenzie Barney

As Barney filmed more outdoor adventure content, her interest in long-distance, human-powered journeys began to grow. She solo hiked for a month in Patagonia, and then completed the Pacific Crest Trail with her partner Jim. She grew accustomed to long days of physical exertion and lots of nights camping out in the wild. By the time she flew to Vietnam and bought a bicycle, she was already captivated by an active life in the outdoors.

Cycling the World Film

Cycling the World starts with Barney’s interior motivations: to see the world and value time over material possessions. The film splices in some of Barney’s backstory as a hiker, and then segues into her round-the-world cycling journey.

Photo: McKenzie Barney

Much of the footage begins in Africa, where Barney first decided to chronicle her journey. We see what it’s like to ride across the wind-swept Sahara, through tiny towns and wildlife preserves, and set up camp outdoors along the way. Later we also see footage from the infamous Nullabar plain in Australia, long sections from South America, and the beautiful Uyuni salt flats in Bolivia where Barney ended her trip. Barney captures special moments with people, animals, and new climates. We can see the dust on her clothes and the smile on her face the whole way through. Not everything goes perfectly, and that’s part of the adventure. But by the end of the film, it’s clear why she made the choices she made. Barney also addresses lots of questions people might want to know about this kind of journey: the highs and lows, how she solved problems, how she funded the trip, and her reflections on what it meant to see the world as a solo female traveler.

In Barney’s own words:

“Far away from noise, distraction, and rush, far away from the epidemic of busy, there exists ultimate peace and safety in nature. And I believe that it’s out here in the wild, where we’re all born from — with the wind as our soundtrack, and the trees as our walls, and the sun as our clock — this is where safety and security lie. Where we’re not bound to concrete walls, living in a box, driving in a box, watching a box. When we break those self-created confines, we come back to nature where we’ve always belonged. This is where I feel most safe as a woman alone.”

Photo: McKenzie Barney

Cycling the World is a chronicle of one woman’s extraordinary, life-affirming journey. It’s also a beautiful reminder that we all belong to nature. And it’s the kind of film that might just launch you into your own journey, wherever you wish to go.

McKenzie Barney: Behind the Lens

LK: Who do you hope your film will inspire? MB: My biggest hope with this film is that it lights a fire in souls that may have buried their dream in a drawer labeled ‘someday’ and moves them into action. More specifically, I hope this film inspires young women. My rather unconventional narrative approach to this film reads like a poem, an ode to a young self, to remember that courage is built like a callus, and to always believe in my path no matter how uncommon. On my bike journey I would come across women often, and I would try to amplify this poem of self-sufficiency and capability that women have, even when we travel or do things alone.

Photo: McKenzie Barney

LK: Who inspires you? MB: If it weren’t for the women explorers before me, I would have never taken this journey. My heroes are women who push boundaries in far corners of our atlas, and bravely share their stories to tell about it. Those like Robyn Davidson, who walked across the Aussie outback with her camels; Liz Clark who solo sails the seas; the great Lael Wilcox with the new ground she continually breaks as a female ultra endurance cyclist; and Jenny Graham who holds the world record for fastest woman to cycle the world. Of course most of all, my mom and dad are my biggest heroes for teaching me to have big dreams and believe in myself enough to pursue them. Anyone who dares to think differently and live a conscious, well-examined life even if it’s far outside of the norm — most notably of which my partner in life James — is my hero. Continuing the ripple effect of exploration in both the inner and outer landscape is what drove this project. I talk about this in my Bonus Footage video extensively.

Photo: McKenzie Barney

LK: Tell us about your film tour. Where did you go, and what was it like? MB: After deciding to produce an entirely self-made documentary — from filming to writing and even the editing/post production — it felt natural to continue the theme. So I pursued bicycle shops, outdoor brands, and universities that aligned with my message in Cycling The World. Surprisingly, everyone responded enthusiastically, wanting to host my Film Tour around the US. The following were my stops on tour: Cycleast in Austin, Texas; Keystone Bicycle Co in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; University of Florida; ZenCog Bicycle Co in Jacksonville, Florida; Treehouse Cyclery in Denver, Colorado; Storm Peak Brewing along with Big Agnes in Steamboat Springs, Colorado; Patagonia store in Palo Alto, California. I was fortunate enough to have many of my favorite cycling/outdoor brands partner with me in the tour including: Patagonia, Kona, Rapha, Swift Industries, Big Agnes, Tailfin, Ombraz, Oveja Negra, Bedrock Sandals, Revelate Designs, Chamois Butt’r, Bikes or Death and SRAM. The tour was a dream. I screened the film, did a Q&A session, and had many top-tier giveaways. Eternally humbled by the turnouts, many times exceeding over 100 people. The highlight of my Cycling The World USA Film Tour was interacting with local communities across the United States.

Photo: McKenzie Barney

LK: What are you up to these days? Any trips on the horizon? MB: Next up, I’ll be touring my film in New Zealand along with my partner James’ book The Road South that tells the story of our cycling adventure down the length of the African continent. We’ll be touring the South Island of New Zealand in May along with our tour partner Kona. LK: What’s the best way for people to follow your journeys? MB: The best way for people to follow along is on my Instagram: @mckenziebarney. Otherwise my website has all of my global expeditions, films, writing, and speeches. But most of all, I hope everyone watches the film and reaches out to let me know what they think or what it inspired them to seek.

The post Cycling the World: A New Film About a Big Journey appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

Adventure Cycling With A Twig Stove

Laura Killingbeck — Fri, 19 Jan 2024 23:32:30 +0000

People have been cooking on fire for hundreds of thousands of years. About a third of the world’s population still cooks on fire. Wood is humanity’s OG cooking fuel.

When I was eighteen I hitchhiked across Mexico, which is where I first saw people cooking on fire as a daily practice. People in small towns often had brick or earthen stoves where they’d toast hand-pressed tortillas or boil big pots of beans. The smoke added a special flavor. These fires were always tended by women whose skills were truly remarkable. On my first long bike trips, I never bothered to carry a camp stove. I either ate cold food or cooked on campfires. This worked great, and I learned to appreciate hot food as an occasional luxury. I still associate campfires with food, warmth, and luxurious comfort.

The author cooking over her twig stove

Laura Killingbeck

In my thirties, however, I became addicted to coffee, and this changed everything! For the first time in my life I needed hot water! I tried a full range of backcountry stoves and coffee makers, including tiny filters, instant coffee, and a Jetboil press. It all worked fine, but I hated lugging around the extra weight of a stove and fuel. I didn’t mind carrying paperback books, puppets, and rocks I found along the way, but for some reason I hated packing propane. It was a dilemma. Finally in 2021 I found my perfect solution: a twig stove and thermos! I’ve now used this special combo to cook food and make coffee for over 5,000 miles of cycling adventures and 1,100 miles of backpacking.

Twig Stoves

Laura Killingbeck

Twig stoves are tiny cooking stoves that use natural materials (twigs, pine cones, wood shavings, bark, palm fronds) as a fuel source. They come in many shapes and styles. Some fold up after use, others retain a rigid form. Most are made of steel or titanium. Some twig stoves have a fan to increase airflow; the Biolite Campstove 2 comes with a charging station. There are a lot of options to choose from!

Solo Stove Lite

My twig stove is a Solo Stove Lite. I chose this stove because it’s economical, relatively small, and has double walls which protect the ground from being scorched when you use it. This stove has been my sole source of cooking for over a year of cumulative use in swamps, forests, deserts, and mountains across three countries. The Solo Stove Lite weighs nine ounces and is made from stainless steel. It has a small pot holder that nests inside during transport. Though the design looks simple, the technology behind this stove is fascinating. Once you light the fire, air enters the stove through holes at the bottom, rises into the double walls, and gets pulled out through top vents. This creates a super-efficient secondary combustion called gasification, which leaves the fire nearly smoke-free. It’s much easier and faster to cook on a wood-gasifier stove than on a regular campfire.

Lighting a Twig Stove

Laura Killingbeck

There are a few different ways to light a twig stove. The Solo Stove company recommends building a twig bundle and lighting it from the top. Personally, I prefer kindling a tiny flame in the bottom of the stove and adding twigs as it grows. I’m a fan of doing whatever works best for you. Most people need to practice lighting their twig stove a few times before they feel really comfortable with it. It’s a skill that you hone over time. One of the biggest advantages of using a twig stove is: the twigs! You can find them just about anywhere. In wet weather I gather dry twigs from the base of trees, underneath overhanging rocks, or anywhere that’s protected from the rain. It takes longer to light and maintain a twig stove in wet weather, but it can be done. Some of my favorite twig stove experiences have been in the rain. A warm fire and hot tea on a wet day always feels like magic.

Thermos Coffee

I usually only light my stove once a day, in the evening. First I boil water for thermos coffee, then I cook dinner. To make the coffee, I just add coffee grounds to my thermos and pour boiling water overtop. Then I stick the thermos in my sleeping bag. When I wake up in the morning, I pull out the thermos and pour hot brewed coffee into the thermos lid, which doubles as a tiny mug. My Montbell Alpine thermos has a threaded stopper which naturally filters the coffee grounds as I pour the coffee. It’s a real treat to drink hot coffee each morning without even getting out of my sleeping bag!

Backcountry Cooking

The author cooking in the backcountry

Laura Killingbeck

For dinner I often cook regular backcountry foods like instant rice or pasta. I also use my stove to boil eggs, simmer beans, roast sausages, and toast marshmallows. I have fond memories of a day I spent on the Florida trail slow-cooking a venison stew. When I’m done cooking, I leave the stove outside to cool overnight and pack it up in the morning. Twig stoves create soot, so you need to store the stove and your cooking pot in reusable bags. I’ve never bothered to wash the outside of my cooking pot. Instead, I just let the soot build up until it’s thick enough to chip off. But mostly I just don’t care. I think the gnarly, soot-covered surface gives my cooking pot extra character!

Frontcountry Use

When I’m at home, my Solo Stove Lite is my best party trick. I bring it everywhere! I’ve hosted twig stove tea parties, s’mores gatherings, and late-night hot chocolate dates. It adds a flair of ambiance anywhere you go–even your own backyard.

Fire Safety

Laura Killingbeck

Twig stoves are not allowed in all backcountry areas. Check your local regulations before you go. On my recent cycling trip across the US, I sometimes passed through areas where I couldn’t use my Solo Stove. During those times I ate cold food and cold-soaked my coffee grounds. (This is the same method as thermos coffee, but with cold water.) If I’m in a campsite with a fire circle, I light the stove inside the circle. I’ve also used my stove on picnic tables, on top of grills, in city parks, on peoples’ lawns, or balanced between rocks on riverbanks. I never leave the stove unattended. When I’m cooking, the fire has my full attention.

A Unique Relationship

The author making use of a grill… for a platform

Laura Killingbeck

It takes time and attention to gather twigs, light a fire, and kindle flames. Your enjoyment of a twig stove will largely depend on how much you enjoy the time you spend making and tending the fire. I especially appreciate my stove in cold weather when it doubles as a tiny bonfire. I love sitting next to the stove and warming my hands over the flames. For me, adventure cycling is all about spending time in nature. I see this time as an investment in my relationship with nature. I get to form a deeper, richer connection with the whole wild world.

The post Adventure Cycling With A Twig Stove appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

Field Report: The 283-Mile Chihuahuan Connector

Laura Killingbeck — Mon, 23 Oct 2023 21:16:00 +0000

Laura Killingbeck cycling the Chihuahuan Connector toward the Dragoon Mountains in Arizona.

Laura Killingbeck

The Chihuahuan Connector is a 283-mile dirt cycling route between Tucson, Arizona, and Hachita, New Mexico. It’s one of seven Intermountain Connectors that link riders between Bikepacking Roots’ Western Wildlands Route and Adventure Cycling’s Great Divide Mountain Bike Route.

I cycled the Chihuahuan Connector in June, on my way from San Francisco to the southern terminus of the Great Divide. I went slowly, made lots of stops, and spent extra time camping, writing, and hiking. Although June is a very hot month to ride this route, I still had an absolute blast. The following is a photo field report about my ride on the Chihuahuan Connector.

Full moon on the Chihuahuan Connector.

Credit: Laura Killingbeck

My friend Nick arranged for me to stay with some bikepacking friends when I arrived in Tucson. I had an amazing time with cyclists Scott and Deirdre Calhoun, as well as Katie Visco and Henley Phillips. When I told Henley I was heading toward the Great Divide, he suggested I take the Chihuahuan Connector. I purchased the Intermountain Connectors guidebook and GPX files from Bikepacking Roots, downloaded the files to Ride with GPS and Gaia, and left Tucson on the Chihuahuan Connector.

Henley Phillps and Katie Visco hosted me at their home in Tucson. Henley told me about the Chihuahuan Connector.

Credit: Laura Killingbeck

Intermountain Connectors

I followed the Chihuahuan Connector through Tucson’s flat, paved streets before ascending 1,500 feet through the Santa Catalina Mountains up Redington Pass. As the road climbed higher, I chased the setting sun into the desert. That night I set up camp in a small clearing at an informal campsite.

Cycling into the sunset, surrounded by desert beauty.

Laura Killingbeck

The next day I continued on a long, dusty, hot road. I was careful to drink plenty of water and watch out for snakes hiding in the shade.

A friendly rattlesnake enjoys a patch of shade along the route.

Laura Killingbeck

Some of the highlights of the Chihuahuan Connector were its rugged landscapes and unique plants and animals. The desert was alive with giant yucca blossoms and vivid saguaro flowers.

Giant blooming yuccas. These blossoms are edible and taste like a cross between arugula and artichokes.

Laura Killingbeck

The saguaro flowers looked like something out of a Dr. Seuss book.

Laura Killingbeck

I spent a few days near a small town called Benson before continuing through the San Pedro Riparian Conservation Area. This section followed abandoned railroad and road beds, and some parts were quite overgrown.

The winding trails through the San Pedro Riparian Conservation Area.

Laura Killingbeck

Watch out for holes!

Laura Killingbeck

Daytime temperatures were in the high nineties. To stay cool, I carried extra water and used it to soak my shirt while I rode. Sometimes I only cycled in the evening and set up camp in the dark.

The desert sun perfectly preserved this small mammal skin.

Laura Killingbeck

Pouring extra water on clothing to stay cool.

Laura Killingbeck

Setting up camp in cool nighttime temperatures.

Laura Killingbeck

I resupplied my pickle stash and other food items at small stores along the route. I also carried dried fruits and vegetables from home.

This gas-station pickle got mid-level reviews.

Laura Killingbeck

“When I go on long bike rides, my mom mails me packages of homemade dried foods, which I pick up at local post offices.”

Laura Killingbeck

Dried fruits like blueberries are a great addition to granola or muesli.

Laura Killingbeck

I spent a day at the library in the tourist town of Tombstone. Tombstone is a very weird place. Part of the town was closed off while people reenacted an old western scene, complete with costumes, horses, and buggies. The Chihuahuan Connector passes through the current and ancestral home of the Hohokam, Tohono O’odham, O’odham Jewed, Chiricahua Apache, and Sobaipuri peoples. You can read more about bikepacking and the conflict of “Wild West’ imagery and nomenclature in this article, which includes a beautifully written statement by Renee Hutchens, a member of the Diné (Navajo) tribe.

The Tombstone Library

Laura Killingbeck

After Tombstone, I continued through the desert toward the lovely Dragoon Mountains. I was stopped several times by sheriffs who wanted to know if I had “seen any illegals.” I had not. If I had seen any people wandering through the desert, I would have given them some water. This is an extremely difficult landscape to cross by foot, no matter who you are or where you are from.

Riding towards the Dragoon Mountains.

Laura Killingbeck

Laura’s campsite in a cow field

Laura Killingbeck

The route climbed over the Dragoon Mountains and then went back down into more desert and grasslands. There were lots of lizards and flowers.

Looking down from the pass toward the desert below.

Laura Killingbeck

Flowers in full bloom in the desert.

Laura Killingbeck

Had to keep an eye out for these little horned lizards

Laura Killingbeck

On my way toward the Chiricahua National Monument, I camped in a grassy nook on public lands. That night, as I lay in my sleeping bag, I heard a terrible gnawing sound. When I woke up in the morning, I saw that packrats had chewed off my tent buckles, eaten my bike straps, and stolen one of my bike gloves! It was a sad but very funny day. Somewhere out there, a family of packrats is snuggling with my bike glove!

The beautiful grasslands near the Chiricahua National Monument.

Laura Killingbeck

Examining the ill-fated tent

Laura Killingbeck

That morning I put on my one glove and continued onward. Soon I met another rider named Mike, who was also cycling the Chihuahuan Connector toward the Great Divide. A few days earlier, I’d passed a different Mike and his cycling partner pedaling the Chihuahuan Connector toward Western Wildlands. These three people were the only cyclists I met on the route.

Mike was also cycling the Chihuahuan Connector toward the Great Divide.

Laura Killingbeck

After I got to the Chiricahua National Monument, I spent a few days hiking and biking. The area is known for its strange and beautiful rock formations. Just watch out for goshawks!

Just when Laura read this sign, the shadow of a large bird loomed overhead and she sprinted away.

Laura Killingbeck

It’s worth spending an extra day hiking the trails through the rock gardens.

Laura Killingbeck

Vast views of the rock formations.

Laura Killingbeck

Leaving the Monument, the road extended into the Coronado National Forest and up 2,500 feet over Onion Pass. The descent into the town of Portal was absolutely magical.

Heading over the mountain pass toward Portal.

Laura Killingbeck

“The entrance to Portal did actually feel like a portal.”

Laura Killingbeck

In the tiny town of Portal, I stopped at the post office to pick up some replacement parts. While I was there, a couple named Narca and Jim asked if I wanted to come home with them for a shower and dinner. I spent the night at their lovely house, where we ate veggie burgers and looked for birds. Portal is a hotspot for many bird species.

Laura sat for a while on the Portal post office steps, wearing her one glove.

Laura Killingbeck

Narca and Jim cooked some lovely veggie burgers and let Laura camp out on their balcony.

Laura Killingbeck

Narca and Jim are skilled birders, and showed Laura many new birds.

Laura Killingbeck

I camped near Portal for a few days, and then continued on a flat paved road toward Hachita. I stayed for several nights in the Hachita community center before continuing to the Mexican border at Antelope Wells and the start of the Great Divide.

The road to Hachita.

Laura Killingbeck

Finally, the Continental Divide!

Laura Killingbeck

The Hachita Community Center offered a wonderful place to stay.

Laura Killingbeck

And then the adventure continued!

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Chihuahuan Connector Nuts and Bolts

Length: 283 miles from Tucson to Hachita. This includes 130 miles of overlap on the Western Wildlands Trail to Tombstone, plus 154 miles connecting cyclists to the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route in Hachita. Climbing: 13,800 feet eastbound; 11,800 feet westbound Route surface: 45% paved and 55% dirt, including 20% double track Technical difficulty (1-10): Bikepacking Roots rates it as 4/10 Riding season: Fall (October-November) and spring (March-April) are ideal riding months. Summer is extremely hot. In winter Onion Pass in the Chiricahuas may be blocked by snow. Longest stretch between resupply: 100 miles (2+ days) Longest stretch between water: 75 miles (1-2 days) Type of bike: Mountain bike with 2-2.3″ tires or a gravel bike with at least 50mm tires. Tubeless tires and extra sealant strongly recommended.

Intermountain Connector routes in partnership with Bikepacking Roots

The post Field Report: The 283-Mile Chihuahuan Connector appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

Will Work From Bike

Laura Killingbeck — Wed, 13 Sep 2023 21:34:44 +0000

In 2022, I figured well heck, if I’m going to work remotely, I might as well get really remote!

I stuffed my backpack full of camping gear, flew to Florida, and spent the next four months through-hiking 1100 miles on the Florida Trail. Along the way, I wrote articles for magazines and websites, zeroed my inbox, cleaned out my Google Drive folders, built a website, edited a giant stack of old essays, kept a daily journal, and had the time of my life. I didn’t get rich, but I was able to cover a portion of my expenses while on trail. By the end of my trip, as I trudged through my last waist-high swamp, I realized: I am happy. And I am on to something. There are certain people for whom office life is both alluring and devastating. I love writing and telling stories; I also go bonkers if I sit in front of a computer all day. My solution has been to take myself and my work into the wild. Call me what you want – a freelance writer, a remote worker, a content creator, a digital nomad; but really I’m just an office worker gone wild. Last year when I returned from the Florida Trail, I immediately started planning my next trip – this time with no end date. In January I packed up my bike and camping gear, flew to San Francisco, and once again hit the road, this time on the Pacific Coast Route. I’ve been pedaling and writing ever since. Right now I’m typing this on my phone with a bluetooth keyboard. I’m sitting on the edge of a river in northern New Mexico. I pitched this article a few weeks ago from my tent while I was bikepacking the Chihuahuan Connector. I’m writing it now as I head north on the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route. I’m creating the experiment as I go, and every day is a new puzzle. There’s no reasonable way that this absurd lifestyle and career will work for me. But I happen to love absurdity, and I’m happy out here. So maybe I really am on to something. Over the last year I’ve learned a lot about what it’s like to work from the wild. I’m constantly adapting my gear, myself, and my plans to new situations, challenges, and opportunities. The following is a glimpse into my current systems for working from the wild.

Money

I start every trip with a lump sum of savings. Whatever I make along the way goes into a new account. When the lump sum is gone, I roll over the money from the new account. In theory, if I budget well enough this could work indefinitely. In reality, we’ll just have to see.

Mail

My friends Hazel and Maddie collect my mail and forward it to me at local post offices via general delivery. Thank you friends!!

Picking up mail from General Delivery

Laura Killingbeck

Accounting

As a freelancer, lots of things are write-offs. Whenever I buy something, I stuff the receipt in a little bag that says “Good Vibes”. When the bag fills up with receipts, I take photos of them and record them in a spreadsheet. The receipts make good fire starters.

Route Planning

I use Ride With GPS, Gaia GPS, Maps.me, and Google Maps. I download all my maps so they’re accessible offline. On this trip so far I’ve spliced together three official routes: the Pacific Coast Bike Route, the Chihuahuan Connector, and the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route. I plan my trajectory as I go. Here’s more advice for choosing a navigation method.

Riding Distances

The key to working from the wild is taking it slow. I mean this. Writing is a real job that takes real time. Sometimes this means working in the morning and riding in the afternoon. Other times it means riding for a few days and then hunkering down and writing for a few days. This is a challenge when I meet other cyclists who I’d like to travel with but can’t because I need to stop to work. I understand this and have made peace with it, but it can still be hard in the moment. Right now I’m riding a Kona Sutra LTD, which is reliable and great for many types of terrain.

Food

When I was back home, I dehydrated garden vegetables, fruits, and other foods and stored them in ziplock bags. Now my mom mails me packages of these foods via general delivery at local post offices. I supplement these with food from grocery stores along the way. Thank you mom!

Camping

I’m a huge fan of dispersed camping on public lands. The U.S. Forest Service (USFS) and the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) often allow free dispersed camping. Sometimes I also camp in official campsites. I camp almost every night.

Social Life

I describe myself as a “friendly introvert.” I can spend days or weeks by myself without feeling lonely; it’s also easy for me to meet new people and make friends. I keep in touch with close friends by phone, email, Instagram, and letters. On long journeys I also often feel a sense of closeness with non-human animals, plants, and all of nature. I genuinely experience nature as relational, and this means I rarely feel alone.

Where Do I Actually Work?

I often work in my tent. I also work in libraries, coffee shops, grocery stores, restaurants, public parks, campsites, and gas stations. This winter I spent several months working under an actual rock. That was probably my favorite office of all time. The rock was on a hillside and had a shallow cave underneath. Amazingly, I got cell reception. I had several officemates, including a hummingbird and a family of friendly rats.

Electronics

I usually type on my Samsung Galaxy A53 Android phone with my Zagg Flex Universal Keyboard. The Zagg Flex Universal Keyboard also works with my iPad Mini. The iPad Mini isn’t essential, but I find it useful for desktop functions. I use it to update my website and to plan routes on apps like Ride with GPS. It’s definitely annoying to use an Android phone alongside an iPad. However, I’ve always had an Android phone and after trying three different Android tablets, I gave up and settled on the iPad Mini. It’s the best and it’s worth the hassle. When I hiked the Florida Trail I didn’t have the iPad yet, so I did all my desktop work on public computers at local libraries. This works too.

Typing from her tent with a phone and portable keyboard

Laura Killingbeck

Protection and Adapters

I protect my phone and iPad with screen protectors and cases. For my Android phone I use an Otterbox Commuter Series Lite Case and a SuperShieldz Screen Protector. For my iPad Mini I use an Otterbox Defender case with the plastic screen protector ripped off. I replaced the screen protector with a KCT Paperfeel Screen Protector, because it’s more comfortable. I store my electronics in my waterproof Showers Pass Rainslinger Hip Pack or Sea To Summit Lightweight Dry Sacks. I also carry a variety of backup SD cards and adapters, including a Vanja 3-In-1 USB Adapter and a Rankie USB Adapter. These adapters are tiny and provide redundancy for reading and moving files between devices.

Interviews and Work Flow

I always work in Google Drive. This allows me to access all my documents from any device, anywhere. I save my documents so I can work on them offline. I record interviews by putting my phone on speakerphone and recording the conversation with my RECJOY USB voice recorder. I also record with my iPad’s voice recorder as a backup. After I record an interview, I save it to Google Drive and transcribe it later as needed. For video chats, I attach my phone to my Kodak Tripod with an adapter that came with the tripod. When I’m working in noisy places, my Sony Bluetooth Headphones are essential. I mostly listen to haunting violin covers of pop songs. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s an intuitive, cathartic response to my feelings about pop culture. Please feel free to give me new music recommendations.

Conducting reliable interviews even among the cacti

Laura Killingbeck

Internet

I use unlocked devices with prepaid data chips. In my phone I have a Mint Mobile chip, which gives me access to T-Mobile. In my tablet I have a Visible chip, which gives me access to Verizon. If I’m in an area where only one of those service providers is available (either Verizon or T-Mobile), I can still toggle back and forth between devices by using my mobile hotspot. This has been key for maximizing my access to data and phone service. In towns, I also use public wifi at cafes, libraries, and gas stations.

Power

I carry power banks and charge them with a solar panel or at outlets. A power bank is an external battery, and mAh (milliamp hours) represents the amount of power the battery can hold. Right now I have one 10,000 mAh Anker Powercore power bank and one 20,000 mAh Biolite Charge PD 80 power bank. Realistically this is more power than I need, but I prefer to keep my margins for error wider rather than smaller. For reference, most people I know who do long bikepacking and backpacking trips carry 10,000 to 20,000 mAh worth of power banks, which they charge exclusively at outlets (whereas I currently carry 30,000 mAh plus a solar panel). I charge my power banks with a 15 watt Anker PowerPort Lite Solar Panel, and supplement with outlets whenever I find them. I pay close attention to my power usage. I put my solar panel in the sun from sunrise to sunset, either at my campsite or strapped to the back of my bike. Every evening, I top off all my electronics with my newly filled power banks. On a sunny day my solar panel can fully fill one 10,000 mAh battery bank. However, I recently damaged the panel when I flipped my bike on a sandy shoulder, so I need to replace it with a new one. Unfortunately this solar panel has been discontinued, so I’ll have to try something different. In the future, I’ll probably consider carrying a larger solar panel and smaller power banks. This would be more efficient for extended periods of time off grid in sunny climates. When it comes to charging, I plan for redundancy. A cable can and will eventually break. Battery banks lose capacity over time. I always carry multiple cables and battery banks. I plan out my wall chargers and cable configurations so I can charge as much as possible at one time. I am what you might call “an aggressive charger.”

Without the right power supplies, your electronics are as useful a rock. Maybe less.

Laura Killingbeck

Camera Equipment

My camera equipment is simple and well protected. My goal is to get the best shots in the easiest, fastest, way possible without breaking my camera. Right now I’m using a Fuji X100V mirrorless camera with a polarizer lens filter. The camera screws onto my Kodak Tripod. Nearly everyone I know who shoots photos from their bike eventually breaks their camera. I’m hoping to prevent this by storing mine in a large, padded case. The case means extra weight and bulk, but I’m wagering that it’s worth it in the long run if my camera lasts longer. I’ve tried four different cases for this camera and my favorite is still this generic padded case that was actually designed to hold large camera lenses. It fits the Fuji X100V perfectly. It has velcro straps which hook directly to my handlebars. I keep a one-liter Sea to Summit Lightweight Dry Sack tucked nearby and put the camera inside whenever it starts to rain. (The padded case is described as “waterproof” but I disagree.)

Office Equipment

Sitting and writing for long periods of time is only sustainable if I’m physically comfortable. In this case, ultralight packing is not my friend. I load my bike like a pack animal, and this is essential to making this system work for me. I am my own boss, and I don’t want to hear any complaints from me! I plan for gear that’s rugged, reliable, and comfortable. This includes a sturdy, three-season freestanding tent (Alps Mountaineering Lynx 1), an extremely comfortable -15 degree down sleeping bag (very old Kelty, unknown model), a reliable steel twig stove (Solostove Lite), two sleeping pads (an inflatable Thermarest ProLite size small and a foam Thermarest cut to size for outdoor use), plenty of clothes, good lighting (Biolite 750 headlamp), and tons of capacity for food and water (BV500 BearVault Canister and MSR 10 Liter Dromedary Bag).

A bear can desk is about as ergonomic as you can get while not adding weight.

Laura Killingbeck

I use my Bearvault Canister for food storage as well as for a desk or a chair. It also doubles as a food cache, a washing machine, or a bucket. It protects my food from bears, rodents, bugs, and pretty much anything. When I’m biking I attach the BearVault to my handlebars with a Revelate Designs handlebar harness with strap extensions. This is a fantastic system. It also has the added benefit of being a real life carrot on a stick: I’m always riding toward my food stash!

Coffee

I recently learned that many bikepackers go to great lengths to brew high quality coffee! If you identify as a bikepacker, shield your eyes from this section, because I’m going to explain my down and dirty approach, and it will horrify you. For everyone else: this is the absolute best way to brew coffee on the road. Every evening I heat up water on my twig stove. Then I add a few tablespoons of coffee to my Montbell Alpine .5 liter Thermos, fill it up with the hot water, cap it, and toss it in the bottom of my sleeping bag. In the morning when I wake up, I fish the thermos out of my sleeping bag and pour myself a cup of hot coffee without even sitting up. That’s right – I drink hot coffee every morning on my side without even getting out of my sleeping bag. It’s the ultimate lazy pleasure. I’m including this in this article because if you’re an aspiring feral office worker, it’s the best gift I can give you.

Working From the Wild

Working from the wild is a challenge, but it’s a challenge that I love. I get lots of exercise and fresh air. I write stories that are authentic to me. Every day is a puzzle, and the goal of the puzzle is balance. Balance is always in motion; aspirational. I’ve been typing on this keyboard all afternoon. Birds are swooping around me and the river flows by in a steady stream. I’m looking forward to seeing the sun set, and tomorrow I will pack up and head into a new day.

The post Will Work From Bike appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

Book Review: The Bikepacker’s Guide

Laura Killingbeck — Wed, 09 Aug 2023 21:29:45 +0000

The Bikepacker’s Guide, originally published in 2015, was the first guide of its kind. It was co-authored for Salsa Cycles by bikepackers Kait Boyle and Kurt Refsnider. Two years later, Kait and Kurt created Bikepacking Roots, a non-profit which “supports and advances bikepacking, the growth of a diverse bikepacking community, and access to and the conservation of the landscapes and public lands through which we ride.”

The second edition of The Bikepacker’s Guide was published in 2023, and is available in print or digital. This edition expands on the original, and its proceeds support the mission of Bikepacking Roots.

What’s in The Bikepacker’s Guide?

2023 updated version of The Bikepacker’s Guide

Laura Killingbeck

The Bikepacker’s Guide is an 87-page, grassroots guide explaining what bikepacking is and how to do it. It includes sections on route planning, gear, food and water, packing, and navigating, as well as sections on camping skills, field reports, and useful checklists. The guide also includes beautiful photography and short essays that give you a feel for what bikepacking looks like in a range of environments. It includes all the information you would need to plan a bikepacking trip from scratch. The primary author, Kait Boyle, is backcountry mountain biker, adventure educator, and record-holding endurance athlete. Kurt Refsnider, who co-authored the first version of the guide, is also a bikepacker, educator, endurance athlete, and coach. The narrative of the book reflects both authors’ extensive experience in the field both recreationally and professionally. Other contributing authors include Annijke Wade, Jim Blount, Brooke Goudy, Crystal Kovaks, and Patrick Farnsworth — each of whom offers additional experience and perspective. The language of the book is clear and easy to follow. It combines direct, authoritative statements with open-ended questions that the reader can think through on their own. This style allows the reader to take in objective information, while also practicing the subjective problem solving inherent to any independent adventure. One of the highlights of this book are the useful gear lists and charts. I particularly appreciated the “bike style” chart, which allows the reader to match the bike they have with a route that’s right for their bike. Bikepacking does involve a certain amount of gear, and this guide makes it easy for people to assess the gear they have and how to apply it to their next adventure.

Who is the Bikepacker’s Guide For?

Laura Killingbeck

This guide is for everyone. Someone who’s never been bikepacking could pick it up and use it to plan their first trip. Folks who already have some bikepacking experience could also learn a lot. I’ve been bikepacking, touring, and backpacking for 20 years, and there were tons of things that I learned from this guide. My own gear setup and philosophy don’t exactly mirror the authors’, but there was plenty of overlap as well as new ideas to think through.

How I Read the Bikepacker’s Guide

I received print and digital copies of The Bikepacker’s Guide and read them while I was bikepacking the Adventure Cycling Association’s Great Divide Mountain Bike Route. The digital guide came as a PDF (it’s also available as EPUB), and I stored it on my phone and e-reader. This meant it was “virtually weightless” and easy to access. I also appreciated the paper copy because I’m old school and I liked flipping through it in real life! The paper copy is five inches by 8.5 inches, and fit inside my pannier pocket. One advantage of the print version is its beautiful color photography. If I’d been traveling with a coffee table, I’d have stored it on top.

My Hot Take on the Bikepacker’s Guide

Laura Killingbeck

Different people define bikepacking in different ways. The Bikepacker’s Guide defines bikepacking as “riding your bike, generally off-road, for more than one day.” It also assures riders that “any bike can go bikepacking” and “the best bikepacking bike is the one you have.” How refreshing! I loved this perspective because it creates space for many types of riders and riding styles. There are lots of ways to go bikepacking, and I appreciated that this guide encourages the full spectrum. The authors are world-class athletes who know what they’re doing and have the “trail cred” to prove it. But I still got the sense that they simply love being on their bikes in nature, and want to share that love with more people. The Bikepacker’s Guide is a great entrance point for people who are planning their first adventure; it’s also a wonderful standby for folks who want to glean new perspectives, pro tips, ideas, and insights from a reliable source.

Looking for a Bikepacking Route?

The author with her copy of The Bikepacker’s Guide

Laura Killingbeck

The Adventure Cycling Association and Bikepacking Roots are both non-profit advocacy groups that promote bicycle travel and route development. In 1998, the Adventure Cycling Association pioneered the development of long-distance bikepacking routes with the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route. In recent years, Bikepacking Roots has also developed a number of long and short bikepacking routes, including the Western Wildlands Route, which runs parallel to the Great Divide. In 2022, the Adventure Cycling Association and Bikepacking Roots collaborated to create the Intermountain Connectors, a network of seven dirt routes that connect the Adventure Cycling Association’s Great Divide Mountain Bike Route and Bikepacking Roots’ Western Wildlands Route. The Intermountain Connectors make it easy for riders to access each route from major cities like Tucson, Denver, or Salt Lake City. The Intermountain Connectors also enable riders to come up with creative loops that combine parts of several routes into a full-circle expedition. If you’re planning a bikepacking trip, get yourself a copy of The Bikepacker’s Guide, and plan your next adventure on one of these great routes!

Bikepacking Route Resources

The post Book Review: The Bikepacker’s Guide appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

Ten Best Rail Trails For Cyclists

Laura Killingbeck — Fri, 21 Jul 2023 21:58:59 +0000

Rail trails are flat or gently sloping paths open to people but not cars. They follow the lines of old, abandoned railroad tracks, and often connect interesting towns and historical sites. These unique paths make great stand-alone cycling adventures or form the perfect start to a longer journey. Because they do not share space with motor vehicles they are an appropriate choice for newer riders, families, and anyone who is tired of automobile noise and exhaust. In no particular order, here are ten amazing rail trail experiences in the United States that are part of Adventure Cycling Association’s route network.

1. Mickelson Trail

Children can enjoy the trail without stress from cars.

Lin Wilder

Pedal on South Dakota’s first rail-to-trail project, through the heart of the Black Hills on gently sloping gravel and crushed limestone paths, quietly passing through small towns, spruce/ponderosa forests, grassy meadows, and narrow valleys.

The Mickelson Trail contains more than 100 converted railroad bridges and four rock tunnels. Read a three-day family trip report on our blog with recommendations for sightseeing and accommodations. Length: 109 miles Location: South Dakota Connects to: Parks, Peaks, and Prairies Bike Route (Section 2)

2. Olympic Discovery Trail

You’ll love the intense greenery of the Olympic Peninsula.

Alex Strickland

Wind across the wild Pacific Northwest’s Olympic Peninsula, with views of snowy peaks, ocean vistas, and clear lakes. The Olympic Discovery Trail links roads and multi-use paths and includes some non-traditional construction, including ship and ferry loading ramps and flat railroad cars with opportunities to spot a variety of wildlife, from whales to spawning salmon to eagles. Length: 135 miles Location: Washington State Connects to: Washington Parks (Section 1)

3. Virginia Capital Trail

A bit of boardwalk.

David Bellotti

Sometimes referred to as “The Cap Trail,” this well-maintained, fully paved trail leads cyclists and pedestrians from Virginia’s current capital, Richmond, to the Colony of Virginia’s original capital, Jamestown. According to a November 2022 update on the trail’s website, over 100 additional miles of multi-use trails that will connect with the Cap Trail are already either in the planning or construction phases. The Virginia Capital Trail passes over 45 attractions including parks, museums, and historical sites. U.S. Bicycle Route 76 and USBR 176 use part of the Virginia Capital Trail. Enjoy the this trail on our Colonial Virginia Loop guided tour. Length: 51.7 miles Location: Virginia Connects to: TransAmerica Bike Route (Section 12) and Atlantic Coast Bike Route (Section 4)

4. Erie Canalway Trail

A particularly lush late June on the Erie Canal Bike Trail.

Jennifer Hamelman

Explore the villages, countrysides, and historical sites of the Erie Canal. The Erie Canalway Trail forms the east-west portion of the 750-mile Empire State Trail. The trailway runs from Buffalo to Albany and skirts the bottom of New York’s Adirondack Park, the largest protected wilderness area in the contiguous United States. Thanks to the kind folks over at Parks & Trails New York, an advocacy group for New York’s state park system, we can offer a detailed breakdown of the Erie Canalway Trail’s surface composition: 45 percent of the trail is paved, 41 percent is a crushed stone surface that is basically as smooth as pavement so long as it’s dry and not newly laid down, and 14 percent of the trail is on the road (and so riders will have to keep alert as they’ll have to share the road with cars). Length: 360 miles Location: Upstate New York Connects to: Northern Tier Bike Route (Section 10)

5. Florida Keys Overseas Heritage Trail

It’s difficult to find better weather than in the Florida Keys.

Karen Brooks

Pedal across the sunny and warm Florida Keys! The Florida Keys Overseas Heritage Trail is part of USBR 1 and passes some of Florida’s most epic wildlife parks, including Everglades National Park and ten Florida State Parks. Please be aware that some of the parts of the trail may not be open due to hurricane damage. Even with the storm damage, it may still possible to traverse the entire 106-mile corridor from Key Largo to Key West, although riders may have to share part of this journey with automobile traffic. Length: 90 miles Location: Florida Connects to: Atlantic Coast Bike Route (Section 7)

6. Central Lakes State Trail

Two cyclists enjoy riding the Central Lakes Trail on USBR 20 in Minnesota.

Kvidt Creative, Explore Alexandria Tourism

Pass through open grasslands, farmlands, wetlands, and forested rolling hills from Osakis to Fergus Falls in northwestern Minnesota. The Central Lakes Trail is paved and accessible in winter for snowmobiling (the only motorized vehicles permitted on the trail). It’s part of USBR 20 in Minnesota and also connects to the Lake Wobegon Trail. Believe it or not, thanks to Minnesota’s arctic winter temperatures, the trail also offers ample opportunity for in-line skating, something that not many multi-use trails in the country can boast. And since the Central Lakes State Trail is 55 miles long, it can be a day trip or a bike overnight. Length: 55 miles Location: Minnesota Connects to: Northern Tier Bike Route (Section 5)

7. Little Miami Scenic Trail

Crossing the Little Miami River near Xenia, OH

LittleT889, Wikimedia Commons

Contrary to what the name might indicate, this trail is actually in southwestern Ohio! It’s fully paved and mostly wooded. Most of the Little Miami Scenic Trail is in a car-free zone called Little Miami State Park and runs along the banks of the Little Miami River, named for the Native American Algonquin-speaking people who occupied the land that the trail runs through before they were relocated by the United States Government. For any cyclists out there who also enjoy time in the saddle of a different sort, the portion of the Little Miami Scenic Trail that runs through Greene County allows horseback riders. The trail is also part of USBR 21 and USBR 50 crosses it. Length: 78 miles Location: Ohio Connects to: Underground Railroad Bike Route (Section 4)

8. Greater Allegheny Passage (GAP)

Eastern Continental Divide

Michael Surgeon

Not to be confused with the Cap Trail, the GAP is a rail trail that stretches from Cumberland, Maryland, crosses over the Mason Dixon Line, and ends in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. It is part of USBR 50 in both states. Much of the GAP runs along rivers – the major ones include the Casselman, Youghiogheny, and Monongahela rivers – and so cyclists get to enjoy many different riparian benefits, including shade trees, diverse wildlife, and opportunities for a refreshing dip in the water. Notable pitstops along the GAP include Point State Park in Pittsburgh, world-class white water rafting at Ohiopyle State Park, and the Eastern Continental Divide, which is also the highest point along the GAP at a respectable 2,392 feet of elevation. When the GAP opened, Pennsylvania was crowned as the state with the most miles of rail trails. Though Missouri has it beat for longest trail with the Katy Trail, according to the Rails to Trails Conservancy, Pennsylvania boasts a whopping 2,214 miles of rail trails in total. One of the coolest parts of the GAP is that it connects to the Chesapeake and Ohio Towpath – number 9 on our list! – at its Cumberland trailhead. Length: 150 miles Location Pennsylvania & Maryland Connects to: Chicago to NYC (Philadelphia Alternate 1)

9. Chesapeake & Ohio Canal Towpath (C&O)

One of the many lockhouses on the C&O Canal

Frank Wimberley

Together with the GAP, the C&O Towpath forms a 350-mile rail trail system that runs from the Capitol in Washington, D.C., to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The 184.5-mile C&O Towpath is actually a long, skinny National Historic Park that runs along the C&O Canal. Unlike almost every other rail trail in the country, the C&O didn’t start out as a railroad, but rather as a towpath. Towpaths are just what they sound like: a path along a body of water that allows barges to be towed by horses, oxen, or even by people. Many rail trails are polished and manicured, but the C&O Towpath is of a different make; although there are a few stretches of crushed limestone and even some posh pavement to be found, the vast majority of the towpath is dirt. It is part of USBR 50 in Maryland and Washington D.C. Adventure Cycling offers a guided tour of the GAP and C&O canal. Length: 184.5 miles Location: Maryland & Washington, D.C. Connects to: Chicago to NYC (Philadelphia Alternate 1)

10. Katy Trail

Crossing Sand Creek on the Katy Trail

Tim Nave

Cycle through some of the most scenic and historical areas in Missouri, closely following the Missouri River. The Katy Trail has 26 trailheads and four fully restored railroad depots along the way. As writer and former Adventure Cycling Association staff member, Michael McCoy, says: “Katy Trail State Park is one of the crown jewels of North America’s rail-trail system. It follows a former route of the Missouri-Kansas-Texas Railroad – the MK&T, or Katy for short – between Clinton and Machens, Missouri. A quiet artery, the Katy Trail transports cyclists and other self-propelled travelers through the heart of Missouri. On a grander scale, the riverside portions of the trail between St. Charles and Boonville serve as components of a pair of trails that are national in scope: the Lewis and Clark National Historic Trail and the coast-to-coast American Discovery Trail. The trail takes travelers past dense hardwood forests, wetlands, sheltered valleys, manipulated crop fields, and occasional patches of restored tallgrass prairie. Redbud and a host of spring wildflowers bid colorful adieu to the drab days of winter, while autumn explodes in a multi-colored confusion of shrubs and hardwoods, highlighted with the flaming reds of sugar maples. Some cyclists tackle the entire trail over a period of four or five days, usually staying at indoors accommodations. More common are day trips, either out and back on the trail, or on a loop fashioned by pedaling a portion of the Katy Trail along with some adjacent low-traffic roads. (The contrast is startling: while the Katy Trail is flat and straight, the roller-coaster roads surrounding it are anything but.) My wife Nancy and I pedaled a day-ride sampler that began in Rocheport, an attractive burg containing numerous bed-and-breakfast inns and pre-Civil War homes. From the trailhead, we rode east on the trail as it squeezed between marshlands to our right and timbered bluffs on the left. Soon we came in beside the Missouri River – wide, deep, brown, and alive with twirling whirlpools and bobbing logs. The sight of scores of swallows darting in and out of their bluffside abodes was accompanied by a less expected vision: that of the occasional Canada goose roosting on a rock ledge. We also spotted red-headed woodpeckers and numerous other birds in huge cottonwood snags protruding from a trailside slough. Looking through a dense veil of vegetation, we could see steep drainage ravines cutting through private lands to the north. Elsewhere, we zipped through sun-dappled fields where gorgeous spreads of spiderwort – with its trio of violet-blue petals and bright yellow stamens – rivaled the electrifying brilliance of an indigo bunting we saw flashing past. At our turnaround, near a series of sycamore-smothered bluffs, we watched blue herons standing tall in wetlands lying between the river and the trail. On returning to Rocheport, we stood on the bridge spanning Moniteau Creek, peering down at the water to see red-eared sliders drifting downstream aboard logs.” If you’d like to ride with others, Adventure Cycling offers a week-long guided inn-to-inn tour of the Katy Trail. Length: 240 miles Location: Missouri Connects to: Lewis and Clark Bike Route (Section 1)

Bonus Combos!

Minnesota Combo: Central Lakes + Lake Wobegon + Lake Wobegon Spur + Soo Line + Paul Bunyan State Trail + Heartland State Trail

Paul Bunyan State Trail

Cindy Ross

Want to see more of Minnesota? We already talked about how cool the Central Lakes Trail is; link these rail trails across the state for a longer journey to pass epic scenery, towns, and historical sites. Use Adventure Cycling Association’s Northern Tier Route Sections 5 and 6 maps to navigate between them. Combined length: 323.9 (Central Lakes, 55; Lake Wobegon, 65; Lake Wobegon Spur, 12.9; Soo Line Trail, 27; Paul Bunyan State Trail, 115; Heartland State Trail, 49) Location: Minnesota Connects to: Northern Tier Bike Route (Sections 5 and 6)

Indiana Combo: Converse Junction Trail + Sweetser Switch Trail + Cardinal Greenway

Munice Station on the Cardinal Greenway

Adam Moss

This is Indiana’s largest span of recreational trails. The Cardinal Greenway hosts events throughout the year for cyclists, walkers, and runners. Use Adventure Cycling Association’s Chicago to New York City Bike Route Section 1 map to navigate between them. Combined Length: 68 miles (Converse Junction, 2; Sweetser Switch, 4; Cardinal Greenway, 62) Location: Indiana Connects to: Chicago to New York City Bike Route (Section 1) Additional research and contributions from Tyler Ayers.

Riding the National Parks

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Eight Things I Learned from Round-The-World Record Holder Jenny Graham

Laura Killingbeck — Mon, 01 May 2023 20:32:45 +0000

In 2018, 38-year-old Scottish cyclist Jenny Graham broke the women’s world record for cycling around the world. In just 124 days she pedaled 18,000 miles across four continents, through wind, rain, snow, and heat. She rode unsupported, carrying her own gear and independently managing daily logistics of food, shelter, navigation, and bike maintenance. She often slept a few hours at a time in fields, bus shelters, or ditches. Other times she didn’t sleep at all, and simply rode through the night. As long as she found coffee in the morning, she was good to go! Graham recently wrote about this journey in her characteristically buoyant, completely astounding book, Coffee First, Then The World.

I’ve been familiar with Jenny Graham’s story – and her exuberant method of storytelling – since listening to her vivid 2021 Tough Girl Podcast. I don’t know if it’s the extreme nature of her achievements, or the sense that she’s genuinely grinning when she talks about experiences that sound absolutely terrible, but I’ve always found it difficult to hear Graham speak without feeling radically inspired. Her book had the same effect. I enjoy reading memoirs by ultra-endurance cyclists because they’re stories of uniquely motivated people who wake up every day to pursue something difficult that they genuinely love. To achieve these pursuits, they have to systematically dismantle their own physical and emotional limitations. The struggle is real, and so is the allure. You could apply the lessons from these stories to any aspect of your life. And they’re certainly applicable to anyone dreaming up their next adventure cycling trip! I’m not an endurance cyclist, but I do spend several months of most years engaged in human-powered journeys. So when Graham’s publisher reached out to me with a copy of Coffee First, Then the World, I was actually in the middle of my own long distance cycling trip. (Specifically, I was cowering behind a water tower in the desert, waiting for a wind storm to pass.) It was an ideal time to absorb this book and see what I could learn from it. The following are a few of my favorite gems.

1. A man sitting in baked beans for 100 hours can inspire you to achieve athletic greatness.

Graham attributes her initial interest in setting a world record to a television program she watched when she was ten. The Record Breakers show featured various record breakers, including a man who broke the world record for the longest bean bath. Graham writes, “…it was the first time I remember questioning what action was needed between having the dream and making it happen.” After I read this part – which was only on the third page of text – I had to put the book down for a few minutes. I spent the time staring off into space. I mean, consider the implications! If bean bathing inspired Graham to bike around the world, what could it inspire me to do? Or you? Or anyone?

2. Radical persistence gets radical results.

When Graham realized she wanted to spend more time outdoors, she flipped open the yellow pages and called every outdoor center within 25 miles, asking if she could volunteer. They all said no. The next day, she called them all again to see if anyone had changed their minds. She was more than halfway through her list before someone finally said yes. This volunteer position eventually led to a job, a career, and a world record. That kind of persistence is extraordinary. And yet, anyone could do it.

3. It’s possible to train every day for a goal you’re not yet aware of.

This aspect of Graham’s life path makes her eventual round-the-world achievement seem eerily like destiny, but in reality it’s a destiny that she created herself by working for it. Graham pursued every possible opportunity, created new ones, and then used each new resource to the absolute maximum. After volunteering, working outdoors, and riding hard for years, she was finally offered a dream opportunity: a free year of coaching by cycling coach John Hampshire. She jumped at the chance. “This. Was. It.” Graham writes, “I didn’t yet know what “it” was, but I did know it had the potential to be life-changing…” “It” became training for the world record. Graham pursued what she loved until it led to a goal, and then she pursued that goal. I think this really speaks to the value of throwing yourself into whatever it is you truly love. Eventually new opportunities and new goals will naturally emerge.

4. Sardine tin oil can be chain lube.

Now we know!

5. Failure can be a driving force.

The first time Graham competed in a cycling race, she had to drop out. But instead of seeing this moment as a defeat, she used it to push her further. “The ride had ignited something and would become a driving force for me to make sure my body was strong enough for future missions.” There is such a brilliance to this mindset, because it means that every failure can be used as a resource. As a person who fails a lot, I was delighted to read this part. Bring on the failures!

Jenny Graham rests on a bench in Russia.

Jenny Graham

6. You CAN pee while riding!

Graham offers a detailed tutorial of how to achieve this feat – you’ll have to read the book to learn the full routine, which is quite specific. The only Big Reveal I’ll share is that Graham didn’t learn to do this in order to bike faster, as you might expect, but to avoid snakes. It’s up to you to find the lesson in this one.

7. Sometimes a bigger challenge is easier than a smaller one.

Cycling around the world includes flying across oceans, and unsupported riders have to manage all their own logistics for flights and visas. The race clock runs the whole time – including time waiting in the airport or sitting on the plane. Graham motivated herself to maximize her travel time by planning extremely thin margins to reach each new point of transportation. She often ended up pushing herself to the limit and riding through the night to get to the next plane, border crossing, or boat. On one occasion, though, she decided to give herself a larger margin of time to reach a ferry. Instead of enjoying the extra time, she found it to be more challenging. “With no deadline to chase I mentally switched off,” she writes. “There was no heroic effort, just a combination of subtle resistances…this would grind me down…” I think this speaks to the nature of genuine motivation. Graham wasn’t motivated by staying inside her comfort zone. She wanted to race the world! Comfort didn’t drive her the way racing did. This made me wonder how many times people fail to achieve their goals simply because their goals are too small. Sometimes the larger, more difficult goal, might be more closely aligned with the motivation that drives you to achieve it.

8. You can find perspective in frozen eyeballs.

This was a repeated theme, and every time I read it, I had to sigh. Oh, Jenny Graham. Midway through her trip, Graham listened to an audio book called The Worst Journey in the World, by Apsley Cherry-Garrard. The book described a 1922 expedition to the South Pole, where crew members endured “weeks of darkness…shattered teeth…and frozen eyeballs.” Throughout the worst moments of her own trip, Graham motivated herself by recalling the frozen eyeballs of the South Pole expedition. She writes, “There’s nothing like a bit of perspective…I had a new benchmark and in comparison my life was looking pretty peachy.” So there you have it. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, if your eyeballs aren’t frozen, then you’re doing GREAT!

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