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Impromptu Three Day Bike Trip: A Packing List

July 9th, 2013

I’m a big fan of bicycle touring pack lists.  In the morning I leave for just three days, to volunteer for a DNR project planting native plugs by Lake Volney in Le Center, MN.  So on a whim, I threw together this pack list.  Everything is listed as it’s unpacked.

This winter I got my Trek 850 all fixed up for proper touring.  I made panniers, got a front rack and switched over to butterfly handlebars.  It’s a big leap from last year’s setup where everything was piled on top of the rear rack.  The bike was hard to mount and dismount and I couldn’t stand up to pedal uphill.  Now I can even ride no-handed and it feels like a normal bike even with 40 pounds of gear hanging on it.

Here’s a photo of my winter test pack. The configuration I’m using is pretty similar:
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This trip came together just in the last 24 hours, since I found out they were looking for volunteers for this project.  It’s only 3 days, so my list is not quite typical.

So, here’s a list of what I’m taking with me:

On the bike:

  • Two water bottles
  • Fuel canister for cooking
  • Tire pump

(I use HEET automotive gas line something-or-other as my cooking fuel, and I think it’s hilarious to go to the gas station and fill up a little tank that’s strapped to my bike — actually just an aluminum water bottle — with HEET.)

Strapped on top of the rear rack:

  • Tent poles
  • Tarp
  • Sleeping Bag
  • Gym bag containing extra water, plastic bags, all my food and some gardening tools.

Rear Pannier #1:

  • Toiletry kit with bug balm, sunscreen, Dr. Bronner’s soap, deoderant, toilet paper, first aid kit, hand lotion, pills, vaseline, a marker, alcohol wipes, toothpaste, toothbrush, nail clippers, razor handle and blades, and a comb.
  • Swim kit with sandals, swimsuit and a camp towel in a cloth drawstring backpack (which is useful for hikes as well).
  • Waterproof bag containing a blank notebook, a book on Environmental Literacy I’m reading, a bird fieldguide and a wildflower fieldguide.
  • Self-inflating Therm-a-rest mattress.
  • Flask of “nightcap.”

Rear Pannier #2:

  • Ziploc of several bandanas, socks and underwear, as well as a hat.
  • 2 spare bike tubes (one for each valve type)
  • My tent.

Front Pannier #1:

  • Rain Pants
  • Long khaki hiking pants
  • My DIY nested cook kit with an enameled steel mug, pot support, windscreen made out of duct pipe, stove made out of a beer can and a travel size french press.  There’s also a small scotchbrite pad for cleaning.
  • In one small pocket I have a ziploc containing 6 firestarters made out of cotton balls and petroleum jelly.  In the other small pocket I have a travel can opener.

Front pannier #2:

  • rain jacket
  • Fleece vest
  • Chain oil and a rag together in one ziploc
  • And one large ziploc I call the “coffee can:” miscellaneous tools and hardware–spare bolts, tire levers, a presta valve converter, batteries, matches, patch kit, caribiners, etc.
  • In the small pocket, i keep a bicycle multi-tool.

Handelbar bag:

  • Sunglasses (or glasses — whichever I’m not wearing) in a case.
  • Camera
  • Binoculars
  • Chargers
  • Pens
  • Lighters
  • Headlamp
  • My Minnesota Master Naturalist pin
  • Spare bike key and a small folding knife on a lanyard
  • Then I have something I got from Target on clearance called a “travel wallet.”  It’s a 5×7″ zippered pouch that fits my bank card, cash, YWCA card, ID, etc.  as well as my 7″ tablet computer, which I’m using to view PDF’s of my route maps, check the weather, and read an essay by Timothy Morton called “Ecologocentrism: Unworking Animals.”

In my food collection I have the following things:

  • Coffee
  • Dehydrated pea soup with bacos and red pepper flakes. (the bacos soften up when cooked and have a ham-like flavor and texture — and they’re vegan.)
  • Apple Fritter bread for breakfast.
  • Baguettes (bought fresh when I can)
  • Baby bel cheese
  • Wheat thins
  • Nutella
  • Olives
  • Instant potatoes
  • Fruit
  • I also have my silverware in here rather than with the cookset since most of the time I won’t be cooking.

Three River Mini Bicycle Tour

July 23rd, 2012

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Rather than continuing to post my incessant ramblings about how I can’t get my shit together, I’ve been trying to get my shit together. A few moments of inspiration around recording, philosophy or self-education have fed this blog, but other than that I’ve had a heap of things on the backburner. Every once in a while something comes forward. Better work, a more solid place in the world, peace of mind and a more active social life are all actually pieces of the same thing – happiness. Overall and forgiving of the pitfalls, I get a little happier everyday. There are as many reasons for this as there are things I’m juggling.

Knowing all of this, I was all too aware as the early spring hit Minnesota that I was due for a trip – I hadn’t been out of town since my western tour-on-the-cheap in 2009. I need nature, miles of pavement, inspiring boredom and the loss of ego that comes with the unfamiliar. This need is three years backed up. While the rest of the obstacles of life are close at hand and visible, this one just grows like a slow cumulonimbus – a sure sign of a bad storm.

I made a heavy commitment to biking this year, for a lot of reasons. Mental health, fun, economy, exercise, ecology. All signs pointed to letting my shitty 1994 Ford station wagon sit on the street if it wasn’t playing nice. Instead of going through the usual hoops of mechanics, maintenance and asking dad for loans, I asked a friend to tune up my 1983 Trek 850 mountain bike. I bought a nice custom-refurbished single-speed from Two Wheels. I got a membership at the YWCA and toned up my legs. I bought rain gear. In comparison the only investment I made in my car was a new battery and two or three tanks of gas. After buying a map of the city trails, I learned how long I could stay out biking – about five hours with a lunch break.

I was shopping around for a second bike when I learned about bicycle touring – taking a 10 mile an hour road trip on two wheels. My Trek, although not a dedicated touring bike, seems suited just fine for light touring. With a little bit of work, it could go across the country for weeks on end. I made the bare minimum of upgrades: a new chain, new cassette, a rear rack with fold-out baskets, new grips, a light set, and I replaced the rusty shifter cables. I’ve been racking my brain all spring and summer budgeting out what I needed, and what I could get away with not buying, for a short camping trip. I’m able to fit my big ass Target tent. I have a list of foods I can eat that don’t require cooking. Instead of a sleeping bag and air mattress, I can suffer with just a woven mat and a blanket as long as it’s less than a week. In 2009 I was sleeping in the backseat of my 1991 Honda Accord though 10 states. Instead of waterproof panniers I have garbage bags to line my backpack and gym bag with. Instead of a handlebar bag I’ll use a drawstring backpack and a Sea to Summit Dry Sack to carry my wallet, phone, journal and maps. Not the most ideal or elegant touring configuration, but it’ll do to get me out of the city and into the landscape.

Originally, my plan was to bike up to William O’Brien State Park, just north of Stillwater on the St. Croix River, and stay for three nights. I made my reservations about a week ago, and went on a binge of plan-changing. I added an extra day, an extra state, two stops and 140 miles to my trip. I will be camping in three different parks on three different rivers. In order to camp in dependable places I needed to make my itinerary a little rigid. To compensate I made my trips as short as possible so I have lots of time to check out the landscape, get lost or wait out the weather if I need to. Since I can’t carry a lot of supplies with me, I’m making sure to be within about an hours drive from the city at all times in case something happens and I need to call for help. I’ll be passing through cities in between parks so I can shop for groceries.

I spent over $1000 in 2009 to be on the road for two weeks and got to camp for free in the Jemez mountains of New Mexico, check out off-the-interstate ghost towns in Texas and deal with torrential rains in Arkansas, Tennessee and Missouri. I woke up in a van to ridiculously humid air in Houston. I took a wrong turn into East St. Louis after dark (which should speak for itself if you’ve ever been there) but I’ve never been just outside of Hudson to stand in a waterfall, I’ve never taken note of the native Midwestern prairie grasses, and I’ve never gone across a state line without letting almost everything besides rest stops and chain restaurants speed past me at seventy miles an hour. You don’t need a car to get to work, see your friends, go to shows or go grocery shopping. In a little over a week I’ll show myself that you don’t need one to take a road trip either.

So here’s the itinerary for my five-day three-river mini bicycle tour:

  • August 1st
    42 mile ride to William O’Brien State Park near Marine on St. Croix, Minnesota. I’ll be taking the very long Gateway trail through the northeastern metro area.
  • August 2nd
    23 mile ride to Willow River State Park in St. Joseph Wisconsin. I’ll be crossing the state line into Wisconsin in Stillwater, shopping for food if necessary. I’ve got all day to make this very manageable distance, so I may stop to swim in the river or have a long picnic or just get to camp early and hang out. I hear the waterfalls at this park are spectacular and I hope it’s not raining.
  • August 3rd
    49 mile ride to Frontenac State Park just downriver from Red Wing, Minnesota. This is the furthest out of town I will be.
  • August 4th
    Rest and hang around camp. With all the riding and camping, I want to make sure I’m good to get back home.
  • August 5th
    70 mile ride back to Minneapolis. This will be a feat, but since I’m biking into the city, I figure I can stop and eat or get on a bus if I’ve had enough, and I don’t need to worry about setting up camp at the end of the ride since I’ll be home, which could be as late as midnight!

2009 Tour: Part Two

September 10th, 2009

As I start writing this, I’m waiting for my laundry to dry at a truck stop outside of Amarillo, TX. There’s a charge to use the wifi, so I’m just typing it out offline. I’m on my way to Austin to meet up with the guys from Hotel Hotel.

In Santa Fe I did my laundry, talking on the phone and grocery shopping and then went camping up in the Jemez mountains. The whole time and up until now I’ve been battling my stomachache–all the leftover anxiety from my past that sits in the lower right corner of my gut, and comes back to taunt me any time I run my body down. Certainly broken sleep in a Honda backseat is a trigger. Finding a spot to lay flat on my back and stare at the sky is the only medicine, although temporary. I did just that on a bench outside the Santa Fe laundromat, and on a big boulder outside the Historical Museum in Tucmcari, NM. Sitting at the Travel Bug Cafe and drinking iced tea helped a little (where I wrote my last blog,) but then the stimuli of the interwebs would bring it back. It’s a weird animal, my guts.

But I still have two weeks or so on the road, and I don’t want to spend the whole time complaining to myself. My Jemez outing was sort of an R+R retreat. No other campers were present. I stuck around the site, grilled black bean burgers, worked on songs, wrote postcards, and drank Black Label. A lot like home except I was up on a mountain. When it stormed, I sat in the tent and programmed the drum machine. When it stopped, I peaked out to see a handful of free range cows grazing outside my tent.

I went for a flask-and-headphones walk at dusk where I listened to Andrew Bird and Sigur Ros and checked out the humbling environment. Massive red cliffs cut by a tiny stream lined the gravel road to my site. I thought about the smallness of life, the permanence of natural beauty and the temporality of an individual’s appreciation of it, punctuated by death. I thought about love, and magic. I thought about how happy I am right now, and in my small life, that means so much because it keeps me awake inside to appreciate everything outside of myself. I was drinking Jameson.

I also realized that I was dangerously close to not making it to Austin in time, so in the morning I packed up, with stabbing in my stomach, and headed east. I didn’t get very far. I made plenty of stops. Dump my garbage here, fill my tires there, get water, look for ginger ale (no ginger ale in NM convenience stores, btw. WTF.)

I stopped in Tucumcari NM in the late afternoon, probably the least traveler-oriented of my interstate stops. It’s run down with wide streets and ruins of houses and old buildings, cats everywhere and a desolate quietude much like the mountains. You feel as though something very slow is going on all around you. One day a crack in the stucko grows an inch. The next, a storm weathers the sign of a-gas station that closed it’s doors years ago. I get a good vibe from the Southwest, but I don’t quite understand it. I appreciate it with a restlessness. I’m too aware of it.

A man on a bike tried to sell me weed. I declined. A car full of people yelled “Hey Baby!” at me. I knew I was out of place.

It wasn’t until well after dark that I pulled out of Tucumcari, trying to get to Amarillo before trying to sleep. It didn’t work. I got halfway before trying to find a spot on one of the many gravel county roads that service the wind turbines. I was quickly greeted by the Texas police as soon as I pulled over. Sure it was an inconvenience, but I do really enjoy a run-in with the authorities knowing that I’m doing nothing wrong. It would have made his day if I was drunk, or high, or had a weapon on me or whatever. Instead he gave me my ID back and pointed me to the next rest stop.

Pictures on Facebook



Some Things I’m Looking Forward to Doing in September:

August 6th, 2009
  • Washing my clothes in strange laundromats
  • Recording noise guitar under the pitch-black skies of rural New Mexico
  • Writing songs in a tent
  • Buying single servings of milk to eat my cereal with
  • Drinking whiskey from a metal flask
  • Being in cities and having little to no agenda
  • Taking smaller highways, taking my time and going through the centers of small towns
  • Going for a swim instead of showering
  • Making a different mix CD off of my laptop for every few days I’m on the road
  • Taking more photographs in week than I’ve probably taken all year
  • Small moments of positive boredom
  • Trying to grill dinner at a wayside reststop