I got back into cycling a few years ago and then into bikepacking shortly after that, which is a type of off-grid camping for mountain bikers. It’s a fun activity with a lot to learn and I’ve been dialing new skills and gear.
Surprisingly, one of the parts that took the longest to figure out was which kind of front tire to use.
Front tire! That sounds like such a simple project but trust me, there’s a bewildering number of options to research and try out.
I went through three different types in as many years, racking up miles and punctures, riding all kinds of terrain to test the traction (and lack thereof), until I finally found my gamechanger: a bikepacking-specific model from the Japanese company SimWorks.
It strikes a difficult balance - it’s the biggest and knobbiest tire I could fit in my front fork, yet also somehow light and fast on the road.
This tire is awesome, I totally love it. It’s a gamechanger for grip in the corners and my confidence has skyrocketed in loose terrain, especially when carrying a heavy load of camping equipment.
I’m not a thrill-seeking action junkie, I’m a slow and steady type that’s only interested getting as far out in nature as I can, preferably with all of my limbs and gear intact.
But I’ve only been riding in dry conditions so far, which is why I got excited when it rained last week. Now was finally my chance to push my skills out to the extreme in slippery conditions and see where the outer limits really were, while still staying close to home and not in any real danger of getting stranded.
Also: I love the rain. Like to a weird degree. I made a big cup of coffee in the afternoon and just sat there, staring at it like a lunatic, waiting for my wife to come home from work so she could watch our anxious old dog.
So home she came and out I went.
And boy oh boy, that was fun. FUN.
I was grinning from ear-to-ear while getting soaked and charging through puddles. I had to watch it in corners a little bit but that was nothing compared to my old setup. I would’ve spun in circles like Bambi on ice.
It was so capable that I got into a totally different kind of trouble than what I expected. I didn’t crash, instead I was out in the wet slick stuff so much that I hit a patch of “peanut butter mud” and got stopped dead in my tracks.
This nasty stuff is what mountain bikers dread, but totally new to me. I’ve only read about the stuff in recaps of hardcore endurance racing.
Honestly this stuff is so gross. It gums everything up so much that the tires can’t spin at all. It’s a dense mixture of fine-grained soil and wet clay that sticks in giant clumps, growing larger with every rotation until you’re trapped in place like a mastodon in a tar pit.
In fact it was so thick that it popped the belt right off the drive, which almost never happens.
I use a bike with a belt instead of a chain for increased durability in all conditions. It doesn’t need lubing, cleaning or maintenance, and normally it sheds rain and mud off like water off of a duck’s back, but even this amazing piece of tech has its limits. It’s only come off 1-2 times before ever.
This kind of mud is no joke for bikepackers. Run into it in a remote place and boom, game over. You better have a satellite device to call in a rescue.
But let’s not get carried away. I’m not James Franco in 127 Hours. I could’ve walked home if I really had to.
Frankly, I was having way too much fun learning new skills to be grumpy. It being a test run near home made all the difference in my mood and I laughed off the whole thing in disbelief.
So, there was nothing to do but schlep it out. I did what we call a “hike and bike” - I picked the bike up, slung it over a shoulder, and trudged my way off the trail. I found a loading dock by the lake and propped it up on a table for a field repair.
Then it was time to dig in and clean the crap off of it, one disgusting chunk at a time, until things were in good enough working order again.
Finally, it was clean enough to reassemble the belt and wheel setup, then ride home.
I came home with the biggest smile on my face. Honestly that was such a blast that I felt like a little kid splashing in puddles on purpose.
The next day, I proudly took pics of the aftermath.
I love seeing my bike in a filthy state, hinting at the previous night’s adventures. It puts a wry smile on my face, like whenever I see a muddy old Land Rover parked in a monotonous sea of spotless SUVs that have never left the pavement.
I learned a lot on that ride: seeing how the tire held up, practicing control in tricky conditions, and successfully getting out of a literal sticky situation.
I also learned that there are a few more upgrades I need before tackling bad weather in isolated areas, like hydromechanical brakes designed to handle mud like this without fading. The cheapo stock hydraulics failed for the second time this year and I screwed up something in the rear one in particular, so now it’s spongy and borderline useless.
But even without those tweaks, I’m steadily growing in confidence that I can handle some bigger adventures, the kind I’ve been daydreaming about ever since getting into this hobby.
I already had a pretty big ride earlier this year to the local mountains and back, an incredible and demanding experience that I really should sit down and write up.
That was still mostly pavement though. My next big challenge is going to be my biggest off-grid test yet. There’s an event in Laguna Beach in about a month, an epic one where the shortest option is 38 miles of chunky difficult landscape, longer than I’ve ever gone off-road before.
Who knows what the trail conditions will be like in mid-November? It’ll probably be dry enough for some Type 2 fun. Or maybe it’ll get wet and I’ll be hating life in a Type 3 sufferfest.
Either way, I’m down for more adventures and hard lessons. Sometimes the worst ideas make the best stories.