Summer ends tomorrow, and I only managed to get out on two bikepacking trips. There are a lot of reasons for that, most of them pretty weak. Fires on the Olympic Peninsula nixed my plans to re-ride the Olympic Bridges route. Lack of pre-planning tanked the Olympic Adventure Route. I couldn’t find a campsite when I needed one, and apparently you can’t just show up and manifest one. Most importantly, I just didn’t ride as much as I wanted. I don’t “train,” so I didn’t rack up enough saddle time and didn’t feel remotely prepared to tackle the harder stuff on my bikepacking bucket list.
A Change on the Horizon
That might be about to change.
I’m starting a new job in a few days. It requires me to be in an office three days a week, which feels pretty retro. I haven’t had a real commute since February 2020. Most of my travel since then has involved long-haul flights from Seattle to far-flung places.
I have options. I could spend 45 minutes each way on a bus. I could drive for over 30. Or I could do what I used to do for most of the last decade: ride my damn bike.
The Pink ‘Rona Rises
Enter The Pink ‘Rona, an All-City Space Horse GRX I bought during the pandemic. It never really fit me right. No matter what tweaks I made, the drop bars always left my hands more numb than I’d like. I haven’t ridden it much in the last two years. Hobbes has been my go-to, thanks to its upright seating and Jones H Bars that don’t try to kill my wrists.
The Pink ‘Rona outfitted for bikepacking in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest.
Last week, while pretending to prepare for the new job, I started looking at commuter bikes. Then I remembered All-City makes a flat-bar version of the Space Horse. That got me wondering: could I convert The Pink ‘Rona and avoid buying another bike? A little googling later and, yes, Shimano makes it pretty painless to swap brifters for flat-bar brakes and shifters.
So now The Pink ‘Rona is mid-transformation. The drop bars are gone, replaced with Hobbes’ original Jones H Bar. The slightly knobby Rene Herse tires were swapped out for narrower, slicker Terravails. The narrower tires allowed me to reinstall a set of metal fenders for wet riding through the winter. I threw a front platform rack back on as well.
(Side note: I will never buy Rene Herse tires again. They were such a PITA to set up tubeless! It took me hours to set them up successfully while the Terravails took about 10 minutes each!)
The new brake levers are waiting to be installed and bled pending the purchase of a few parts, and the shifters should show up later this week. I hope to be riding by next weekend.
Once everything’s set up I’ll do a testing with a variety of stems in my bike parts bin to get the bar height and stem length dialed. I expect that I’ll buy a Jones H Bar with a 2.5-inch rise since I’ll need a stack of spacers to keep the bar at a sufficient height. I’m currently rocking 60mm in spacers and a 30 degree rise stem to keep the drop bars high enough for me! I’d be happy to ditch the spacers and cut the steerer down to a more reasonable length with a riser bar instead.
The Big Question
Will I be “training” for bikepacking in 2026?
Unlikely, at best. But if I’m commuting by bike three times a week, I might actually have the legs to tackle the routes on my bucket list…
Hobbes is the first bike I’ve owned with any carbon fiber (CF) parts. CF parts must be installed with appropriate care, always paying attention to the appropriate torque values to avoid damaging anything. I have a set of torque wrenches I use to ensure I am not over tightening anything on my bikes, remaining within the specified torque values.
So when I purchased a new stem for Hobbes, I checked the torque settings on the stem – 7 Nm. I installed the stem and set off to ride, including my most recent bikepacking trip.
Yesterday when cleaning Hobbes, I saw what looked like a scratch or possibly a crack on the CF steerer tube underneath where the stem clamps onto the steerer. Oh… 💩!
I took the stem off, removed the fork from the bike and ran it down to my local bike shop. The shop confirmed that the steerer is cracked and should no longer be considered safe to ride. I tightened the stem to 7Nm, but the fork specs recommend tightening to 6Nm, and the shop suggests 5 Nm is sufficient for mounting a stem on a CF fork.
The shop has ordered a replacement fork which should arrive by the end of the week. I’m out over $650 for the new fork. Yet, I’m thankful that I saw the crack before it failed catastrophically, sending me over the bars in a dangerous crash. Maintaining my bikes means keeping an eye out for anything that might need to be fixed and fixing it before it becomes a problem.
As a standards nerd who knows the value of identifying and following standards, I should have known to double check the torque specs for every CF part on my bike (both of them – the fork and the seat post!). This is a lesson I won’t soon forget.
After a winter of too much travel, not enough exercise, and too many unhealthy food choices, I finally got a chance to escape into the woods and remember what it feels like to move under my own power. No difficult routes or grand adventures, just a chance to get outside, ride for a few hours, camp overnight, ride back, and return home. All in less than 24 hours, aka a Sub-24 Hour Overnight (S24O) (what’s an S24O?). Just me, Hobbes, a trimmed-down kit, and a route up the Middle Fork Snoqualmie River to shake off the rust.
That’s a lot of travel in Q1/Q2 2025…
The Plan: Low Expectations, High Payoff?
I hadn’t been on an overnight trip since last summer. I’ve spent more time looking at my gear and my pack list than actually using it.
Over the winter and early spring, I made a few creature-comfort improvements to my bike. I swapped out the 170mm cranks with 155mm cranks. At 5’7″, the 170mm cranks always felt long, so I took a shot on the shorter ones and I’m glad I did. I can spin nice, tight circles without feeling like I have too much knee bend at the top of the stroke. A shorter lever arm means that I need to put out more power to make the cranks spin, which means I’m working a little bit harder, but it feels like more of the pedal stroke is within the range of movement where I can make sufficient power.
With shorter cranks I need a slightly higher and more setback saddle. I traded the aluminum seat post for a Salsa Guide carbon 18mm setback seat post. I’ve moved my seat back by about 10mm, which was a significant improvement. My body feels like it is sitting more naturally aligned with the saddle now.
Last, I changed out the Jones Bars and stem, choosing the Jones Double Butted Riser bar and a Whisky No 7 Mountain Stem (50mm, 0-degree). Using these tools I was able to visualize how to bring my bars up about 30mm and back by 20mm. This puts me more upright in the saddle, taking pressure off my wrists and reducing the pain I was experiencing. I also added a set of Ergon GS1 Evo grips and moved the brakes and shifting further outboard on the bars toward the grips. I don’t move my hands as much in this configuration as I did with round grips and the controls closer to the loop of the bar. However, I am very comfortable and in control.
Earlier in the year I marked off a few days between work obligations for a possible quick trip… Finally, the schedule and the weather both cooperated.
Middle Fork was an easy choice since it’s only 75 minutes from home. About seven miles into the route, cars are no longer allowed, making it low-traffic and remote enough to feel like I’d actually gone somewhere.
The Setup: Lighter, Tighter, Slightly Dumber?
I over-plan. And I over-pack. Every. Single. Time.
I have packing lists galore, but they never really worked well for me. Over the winter I imported all my gear into PackWizard to help me plan future trips. Designed for hiking, it’s not a perfect tool for bikepacking, but it gets the job done. (Seriously, I’d love to organize gear by type and by where it lives on the bike or body via different views into the data.)
You can poke through the full gear list for the trip here: PackWizard Setup. I brought as few clothes as necessary—they’re both heavy and bulky and a common place for me to say, “well, let me add that JUST IN CASE.”
Highlights:
Patagonia Thermal Hoodie: My favorite lightweight hoodie. When combined with a windbreaker like the Patagonia Houdini and a merino baselayer, it kept me warm into the night before bed. Swap the merino for a lightweight T-shirt and I was warm on the descent to the car.
Insta360 X5 camera to capture all my questionable decisions in detail. I’m still learning how best to use it and edit the video output.
I really, really want to love the Firebox Nano in the field. But I was too wrecked at the end of the night to bother setting it up for a tiny campfire.
The Ride: Straight Up. Straight Down.
At 3:10 PM on a Friday afternoon, I started spinning up the trail. The first 7 or so miles were on a somewhat rough forest road. “High clearance vehicles” apparently includes the occasional Honda Fit.
The weather was warmer than expected, about 70F. A mile in came the first short, steep climb. I was already gassed. Not great!
After that, the forest thickened and the temps cooled off. The first six miles passed quickly with the occasional car or camper along the way. (Note to self: There are some nice dispersed options here if you’re car camping.)
After that, no cars. From here on out it’s hikers, bikers, and horses only. Thankfully I saw no horses, nor did I have any horse apples to dodge.
Dingford Creek Falls. Mile 6.4 on day 1.
Just past the road closure, I reached Dingford Creek Falls. I stopped for a bit to admire the falls before knocking out another ~5 miles. The first 11 miles and 1,152′ of climbing took me 2 hours 20 minutes. The next 2.5 miles to camp took another 1 hour 10 minutes and 850 more feet of climbing. There was a lot of hike-a-bike and muttering “WTF am I even doing?”
Hey duck!
But the payoff was worth it. I arrived at the Hardscrabble Horse Camp around 6:45 PM to find a pair of bikepackers lounging in their hammocks. They pointed out where to access water—not easy despite being right by the river. They also casually mentioned spotting a bear earlier that afternoon. Cool… I think?
After sundown, I crawled into my tent, fiddled with editing Insta360 clips on my phone, and passed out to the sound of the river.
Sleep was cool but not cold. My pared-down kit did the job, though I’m still not in love with the Nemo Tensor sleeping pad. I may have to admit a thicker pad is worth the trade-off of both volume and weight.
I also need to figure out better ventilation for the TarpTent Double Rainbow DW. My riding clothes didn’t dry overnight and the rainfly was soaked with condensation.
The Descent: Gravity Is Your Friend
I skipped the hot breakfast I’d packed and went with a protein bar, Coba chocolate, and a camp mochaccino (freeze-dried coffee + cocoa packet).
Changed into cold, damp riding clothes. Yuck.
Packed up and rolled downhill. The return trip was so much easier. Downhill for about 12 quick miles, then a short climb, and then back down to the car. It reminded me of BMX rides as a kid—but I don’t bounce back like I used to, so I kept it controlled rather than take unnecessary risks and hurt myself.
No heroics, no mechanicals, no major faux pas. Just a solid overnight to get back into the PNW bikepacking season..
The Middle Fork Snoqualmie River route is a solid early-season ride if the weather cooperates. The final few miles to camp are tough, but the sites near the river are worth it. Bear poles, tent pads, and the sounds of the rushing river.
Mosquitos? Absolutely, but they didn’t bother me much because it was cold enough to require long sleeves and pants in camp.
My trimmed-down pack list worked. Still room to trim: If I’m not riding at night, the headlight can stay home in favor of a headlamp.
I still pack too much food that I don’t eat.
Hobbes is dialed. The upgrades made a noticeable difference in my overall comfort.
I need more time in the saddle to gear up for bigger adventures this summer. Sustained steep climbs are my enemy.
Solo time in the woods is the best way to recharge after a long, busy beginning of the year.
More video once I’ve had more time to practice editing.
Want a deeper dive on the camera or gear list? Let me know in the comments or find me on BlueSky.
After a crazy first half of the year with work taking me to Madrid, Brisbane, Osaka, the Bay Area, and Las Vegas, I haven’t had as much time on the bike as I would like. But I’m itching for an adventure and some alone time on the bike. So I’ve planned a three day adventure before summer arrives.
My plan is to catch the Victoria Clipper ferry to Victoria, BC so that I can ride the Cowichan Valley 8. I plan on riding the route in 3 days/2 nights, returning on the evening Clipper on Day 3.
Although the ride is non-technical and I could take my gravel bike, the Pink ‘Rona, I’ll be riding on Hobbes since I find it’s upright stance to be more comfortable overall. I recently upgraded the wheels on Hobbes to a set of Hunt Trail Wide MTB 29 along with the 2.6″ Vittoria Mezcal tires. I expect to have a nice and cushy ride.
Packing is still a work in progress – I’m definitely taking a lot less gear than I did in Mexico. I haven’t exactly gone ultralight, but I did minimize my gear for this trip. I recently started using PackWizard to manage my gear, replacing the overly complicated spreadsheet that I had been using. While I can manage my pack in PackWizard, it doesn’t allow me to tag items with where I plan to store them since it’s designed for backpackers, not bikepackers. Oh well.
One of the benefits of this loop is that I’ll be able to spend two nights at the same campsite. Although day 2 of the ride has less climbing and mileage than I’ve planned on day 1, it will be nice to ride mostly unladen.
Today I started getting the bikes ready for spring. Both bikes had winter tune ups when I returned from Baja. A new set of Vittoria Mezcal 29X2.6″ tires was waiting for Hobbes, so I took off WTB Ranger 29X3″ tires that came stock.b. The Vittoria tires sealed up easily with no real mess once I wrangled them onto the rims.
Frankly, the stock WTB i45 front rim is a bit wide for these tires, but I think that it will be fine for the riding I do. I have my eye out for a set of 35mm internal width rims at some point in the future, allowing me to run even narrower tires when I don’t need the width and suspension of 2.6″+ tires.
I also tried to upgrade to a smaller chainring, but I bought the wrong version and need to wait for a new one to arrive. Next week I’ll have a new 28T chainring, giving me slightly lower gearing. Once the new ring arrives, it will be mounted and Hobbes is ready to ride again.
Finally, I used my REI 20% off member coupon to pick up a brand new 20 degree F quilt, the Thermarest Vesper. It is warmer than either Kammok quilt I own, and it compresses quite a bit smaller, too. I look forward to trying it out soon.
Next up, I have to patch a rip in my tent that I created in Baja…
Normally, I don’t have any issues eating and drinking enough when bikepacking. That did not carry over to Baja, and I don’t know why.
First, keeping up with hydration was really hard. Even though I covered up with a long sleeve sun shirt to keep the direct sun off of my torso, arms, and neck, the sun was still hot. As a Seattleite in the middle of winter, even the 80 degree F/27 degee C weather was really hot for me. I always had plenty of water and/or Liquid IV, I was never running low enough to have to ration. When I refilled my water, I would drink as much as I could straight from my filter. Yet I consistently experienced some symptoms of dehydration every day.
The more significant issue was my inability to consume enough calories to keep going each day. I had a constant supply of snacky food – peanut butter, some honey sticks, cookies, peanuts, snickers – available to me while I rode. More often than not, I didn’t really want what I had. None of the food was appealing to me. When I sat down to eat, I wasn’t hungry even though I knew I needed to refuel my body. I expected to be ravenous, consuming larger quantities of food than normal, yet my intake was less than I eat normally at home. This was incredibly frustrating for me – I was free to eat whatever I wanted and yet I didn’t want what I had.
I don’t really understand why this was. Since my past bikepacking experiences were all overnighters, I could manage even if I wasn’t eating well. Not eating enough calories across multiple days was unsustainable. I was bonking, hard, and it began to impact my mood.
So what’s next? I don’t really know. I need to keep working on finding foods that I actively want to eat while bikepacking that are calorie dense and enjoyable to eat. Andrew Skurka has a few recipes I’ve used that I like, and Garage Grown Gear has been my go-to source for mostly enjoyable pre-packaged dehydrated meals. But this was not an option in Baja where I was trying to be self-sufficient and live off the land… er… local markets. Sorry, Ryan van Duzer and Baja Divide riders everywhere, but bagged beans served at ambient temperature were not that great!
I’ve been home a few weeks. Hobbes went to the shop – no major issues, just needed a cleaning and some regular maintenance. The dragging brakes just needed to be adjusted. A replacement bike computer mount has been ordered. My other bike, The Pink ‘Rona, also went to the shop for a tune up. Both are ready to ride again.
Yesterday I was finally motivated to dig through my gear, reorganize everything into lidded plastic bins, and put it all away. Getting ready to go was so much easier than putting things away after the trip.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my trip. What went well, what didn’t go well, and what I would change next time. Here’s some of my thoughts, in no particular order.
What went well?What would I do again?
First, I maintained a spreadsheet of all of my gear, where it was being packed, and how much I needed (e.g. “16 advil, packed in a mini ziplock, inside the first aid kit”). The spreadsheet really helped me think through all of my needs and ensure I didn’t forget to pack anything. If anything, I overpacked (see below).
Second, I have always been obsessed with maps. If you’ve ever been on a video call with me, my office has a huge wooden map on the wall behind me. I pin everyplace I’ve been. So I had obsessed over the maps of the routes. I knew where to expect water (and still found it where I didn’t expect it), where different options were if I needed to bail out for any reason. Everything was mapped in Gaia and RideWithGPS and available online or offline on my phone. This was a source of comfort and provided options when needed.
Third, speaking Spanish wasn’t an absolute necessity, but it did make things easier. Knowing the local language helped me speak with people I met along the way, learn about the road ahead, find a place to sleep, etc.
Finally, I packed and unpacked my bike multiple times before the trip. That gave me a lot of comfort that it wouldn’t be a problem in Mexico.
What went wrong? Why was I unable to complete the loop?
There were a couple of things I didn’t do well that made my ride more difficult than it needed to be.
I chose gearing that worked on shorter climbs near home, without considering how I might feel after a day or more of riding. This might have been OK, if I had ridden more in the months leading up to the trip, especially on a fully loaded bike on back to back days.
A slightly lower gear ratio with closer spaced gearing at the low end would have been incredibly useful. There were a number of climbs where I needed gears in the middle of the ratios I had available. A SRAM 1x 30T with 10-52 12 speed cassette has a really low granny gear, but the SRAM cassette has wide gear spacing at the low end. Changing the front chainring to a 28T chainring and a Garbaruk 10-50 cassette will allow for a slightly lower low end with closer gear ratios in the places where it counts.
Visual gearing calculator. Current gearing is on top, the bottom show the changes to a 28T with a Garbaruk 10-50. Notice the closer gear spacing at the low end on the left.
I’ve never been one to choose the lightest bikes and components. There are areas on my bike where I could cut weight and make a significant difference in the base weight of my bike. Wheels and tires are the two biggest areas where significant weight savings is possible. Upgrades will happen over time, there are cheaper and easier areas to save weight in the immediate future (below).
The bigger issue I faced was simply carrying too much stuff. First up, food: I need to carry enough food to get to the next resupply with a little extra, just in case. Instead, I carried extra food from home – packets of tuna and chicken, an extra pack of ramen, individual packs of peanut butter and hazelnut chocolate spread, and a lot of electrolyte pouches – that I planned to consume over the entire ride (~10 days). I could have bought what I needed every other day, saved a lot of weight, and made my ride easier. When shopping, I need to ensure I only buy what I will actually eat and not much more. An avocado might survive a day bouncing around in a pannier, definitely not two.
Electronics are another area where I can save weight. I brought too many GoPro batteries and a GoPro charger that didn’t need. I could have brought two batteries instead of four and left the charger at home. I’m not sure that I needed the second 10,000 mAH battery pack. Both the Wahoo Bolt cycling computer and Garmin inReach Mini can go for 2 days (or more) between charges, as can my headlamp. I didn’t use my headlight, so it didn’t need to be charged. I need to play with this more and see how far I can go with one battery pack to recharge and run my tent lights.
I’m not sure if I brought the right cooking kit, but I was only camping two nights, so it’s a bit hard to say. The Firebox Nano stove didn’t get used for a fire as I had hoped. I only used the Trangia inside the Firebox Nano once to heat up water for coffee. I didn’t use the titanium fork, knife, or tongs. I carried ~300 mL of stove fuel that was never used. Clearly I have some space to optimize for both space and weight.
I started riding too late almost every day. Packing up took longer than planned, my pump needed to be taken apart to lube the o-rings before pumping up the tires, Lupe’s tour was longer than expected, etc. Leaving late ensured that I was riding through the hottest part of the day almost every day. I need to pack more efficiently, cold soak breakfast, and generally get moving earlier in the morning. An early departure allows me the time to get off the bike in the hottest part of the day. I can use this time to sit in the shade, drink water, and eat a filling lunch.
I’m not sure why, but I slept terribly on this entire trip, even when I was in a bed. The nights I spent camping were uncomfortable with a new, untested pillow. The Nemo Fillo didn’t work for me – it was too small and thin, and too bulky when packed. I’ve replaced it with a Sea to Summit Aeros Down Deluxe which I hope works better for me on future trips.
My sleeping kit was ok… I don’t find the Kammok Bobcat quilt to be very warm, especially for it’s weight. I’d like to replace it with a lighter, warmer, more compressible quilt. A warmer quilt will allow me to leave behind the Appalachian Gear Company sleeping bag liner, saving a lot of space and about a pound of weight.
Will I do the Cape Loop again? Time will tell. I have other things I want to try to ride, or to ride again. Plus, there are other parts of Mexico and the world I want to explore. In the next few weeks I’ll be traveling, minimizing my cycling time. In the meantime, I’m looking for a route for early April within driving distance of home… I learned a lot on this trip that will make the next trip easier.
I woke up early today, still dehydrated. A liter of water and an unheatlhy breakfast – the Snickers bar was the healthiest thing I ate this morning – and I was ready to head out the door.
Ready for the ride back to San José del Cabo.
I took a shuttle back to the Cactus Hotel where my adventure began a week earlier. After a ~2 hour ride, with a quick stop in Los Barriles for cash for the driver, I was back in San José del Cabo. I hosed down the dirt from Hobbes before breaking the it down and repacking Hobbes for travel. I changed into fresh clothes I had left at the hotel, and headed up the street for some local food before heading to the airport. At the recommendation of the front desk clerk at the hotel I found delicious quesabirria tacos, consomme, and a half liter of coke.
A pair of quesabirria tacos from an unnamed street vendor.
A comically tiny car came to the hotel to take me to the airport – I’m not quite sure how we made the bike bag fit, but it did. I checked in to my flight a few hours early and headed to the lounge where I sat and drank – mostly ice water – for a few hours while waiting for the flight home.
I was still dehydrated.
By the time we reached Seattle I was tired, hungry, and ready to sleep in my own bed. When I got home, I wrestled the bike bag into the shed, took a long, hot shower, and fell asleep. Unpacking and reorganizing my gear will wait for another day…
Am I happy I went? Yes. Absolutely.
Am I sad that I quit before completing the loop? No, I’m OK with the outcome. This was the longest and most ambitious bikepacking trip I had ever undertaken. And I was doing it alone. Things didn’t work out as planned. I learned from the experience and will carry that forward to the next adventure.
I had another restless night with super strange, surreal dreams. Since I was meeting Lupe for a tour at 7:30 AM, I had an early alarm to allow me to have breakfast and get my stuff packed before he showed up.
As promised Lupe showed up in the morning and gave me a very personal, in depth tour of the Santuario de los Cactus. Lupe shared with me that the sanctuary has been there for about 30 years. Six acres are protected with forty more acres surrounding the sanctuary waiting for fencing to protect it from local grazing animals. Lupe’s brother worked in the sanctuary for 28 years, Lupe has been working there since his brother’s death three years ago.
Lupe at the entrance to Santuario de los Cactus
Lupe had a real connection to the sanctuary and its plants. He shared stories about the plants medicinal properties, pointed out spider eggs, local “cherries”, chiltepín chile plants, palo blanco trees with their incredibly straight trunks that the locals use to build structures, and all the different cacti. He showed me how the cacti “dance” when they’re shaken. I feel lucky to have spent time with Lupe and having him share his passion for the sanctuary with me. If you’re spending the night in El Rosario, make sure to ask in town for Lupe.
Departing the sanctuary, it was an easy dirt road for about 3 miles, followed by a 2 lane highway for another 7 miles before turning off on another dirt road. I knew the remainder of the route was going to be empty. Lupe told me about one store that I would encounter 5 miles down the road. There was a sign for Rancho Los Brasiles restaurant at the highway turn off. I stopped two guys in a compact car as they turned down the road and asked about restaurants and they enthusiastically told me to go to Rancho Los Brasiles before taking off down the dirt road.
Posole at Rancho Los Brasiles
A little while later, I rolled into Rancho Los Brasiles and ran into my friends in the compact car. They bought food to go and were on their way out. The driver gave me a fist bump when he saw me and let me know he was glad I found the restaurant. I sat down at a table in the shade, ordered some pozole, horchata, and a liter of water, and had a leisurely lunch. I struggled to eat all the food – again – before heading back to the main road for the mostly deserted stretch between through ranch lands on the way to La Ventana. The road was very quiet, I only saw a few cars. One SUV slowed down to see if I was OK and knew where I was going. Even though I was still not eating sufficiently, I felt OK and started the climb to Los Divisaderos, a ranch near the top of the climb.
The climb was long and exposed, with a few steep pitches. My planned route took me off the main road to Iglesia San Blas, but seeing the deep sand between the main road and the church, I skipped the church rather than fight unridable sand. I wasn’t aware what I was going to face a short time later.
Passing through Rancho los Divisaderos I was chased by a handful of dogs. A few squirts from my water bottle sent them away, while I continued pedaling up the hill. Eventually, I crested the hill. Hot and tired, I was looking forward to the next few downhill miles to cool off, and enjoy a fun descent all the way down to the Sea of Cortez. I came around a bend and could see the lowlands around Los Planes and the sea beyond.
Around the same time, I received a handful of texts. I was once again in an area with cellular coverage. I had a quick chat with my wife before Hobbes and I set off downhill with visions of tacos and beer filling my stomach in a few short hours…
Minutes later, everything changed.
Looking NE toward Los Planes and the coast.
Riding down a non-technical section of the road there were long stretches where the road was divided lengthwise by channels formed from water runoff. The channels run roughly parallel with the road, requiring me to maneuver along the channels, riding the high, uneroded road bed as much as possible. A momentary loss of focus and I watched as the front wheel dropped into one of the channels, caught the edge of the channel on the right side, and threw me off the bike.
Physically, I was in OK shape. In the crash, I came off to the right, skinning my knee. My right elbow and shoulder were sore from landing on outstretched hands. I pulled out my first aid kit, bandaged up my knee, and checked out Hobbes. I’m not quite sure how this happened, but the crash bent the arm which my cycling computer and GoPro mount to. Not a big deal. Everything else seemed fine at the moment.
Except for me.
Back on the bike, heading down the hill, I was feeling pretty low. Accidents happen, yet I was second guessing everything I had done leading up to that moment. My tiredness contributed to my loss of focus and the crash. I began to consider what would have happened if the crash was worse? I hadn’t seen any humans in an hour or so, and that was on the other side of the pass I had just crossed. My mobile phone had service and my satellite messenger was available in case I really needed help, though it could be hours before help arrived. Instead of focusing on the fact that my bike and I were both intact and able to continue onward I started down the path of worst-first thinking. This is a helpful skill at my day job, but not so helpful at this moment in time.
Then I started mentally working through the calendar and the remainder of the ride I had planned. Could I get to La Ventana, and stay an extra rest day? If I did, I’d have to go three days straight to get back down the coast to San José del Cabo. What if I try to take an easier route tomorrow as I head toward the coast? I was thankful that I had studied the route, I had a reasonable mental map of my options for the next few days and could figure out a plan.
About two miles past where I crashed I ran into sand. Deep, miserable sand. The next five or so miles alternated between barely rideable sand and absolutely unrideable, get off and push sand. Over the next 90 minutes I would alternate between riding, pushing, and loudly cursing at the damned sand. At the same time, both brakes began dragging and squealing with each revolution of the tires.
Miles of sand.
The sand broke me both physically and mentally. During this push I decided my Cape Loop ride was done. I could choose to be stubborn and try to continue onward at the risk of hurting myself or finding myself stuck in a more difficult position. The better, wiser choice was to get myself to town and figure out way to get back home a few days early.
First, I have to get to the highway and then ride into town, chasing the fading light and my waning energy levels.
I made it to the intersection of the highway and the road to La Ventana. Contemplating my options, I stuck my thumb out for a ride. Within 2 minutes, a truck with Oregon plates turns on to the road to La Ventana and pulls over. Vince steps out and asks me how he can help. I texted him the GPS coordinates of my AirBNB and he helped me put Hobbes in the back of his truck. I hopped in the back with Hobbes and rode the last few miles into town with Vince. He dropped me off at the AirBnB and let me know he would text me information on a recommend a bike shop in town or, if I wanted, a transportation company to help me get back to the airport in San Jose del Cabo.
Thanks, Vince, your generosity reminded me that there are good people in the world who do things out of kindness and care for others. (Vince texted me the next morning and again a few days later to make sure I got home ok. We need more Vinces in the world.)
Inside the AirBNB I took a shower, switched into clean(er) clothes, and walked a few blocks for dinner and a beer. I called Delta and they changed my return flight to the next day (at no charge! Thanks, CS agent Stephanie!). Vince hooked me up with a shuttle driver for transportation to the hotel in the the morning.
I repacked my gear for tomorrow’s ride back to San José del Cabo and headed to bed.
Today, I was up and out of the door early, riding by around 7:30 AM. As soon as I left my AirBNB, I noticed just how windy it was. The next few hours were spent fighting a steady 15+ MPH headwind riding along the highway toward La Paz. The noise from cars and trucks, combined with the constant wind noise was difficult to block out. AirPods Pro 2 can only do so much to reduce the outside sounds.
The highlight of 20 miles along the highway was finding myself at Lonchería la Garita. I happened upon the restaurant right around the time I was considering a lunch break, so I dropped in for a machaca burrito, some fresh pressed cheese, refried beans, tortilla chips, a large Fanta orange soda, and a bottle of electrolyte drink. After a welcome break from the highway, I hopped back on Hobbes for 6 more miles of pavement before turning east on a dirt road back into the mountains.
Lunch at la Garita.
The next 8 miles was a mix of hard packed dirt and loose, rideable sand through forests of mesquite and cacti with roadrunners and doves all around. There were ranches on both sides of the road which means lots of cattle poop and the occasional cattle grazing along the roadside. I passed directly through one ranch, passing through a small herd of cattle and right past the ranch house. Eventually I reached the north end of el Valle Perdido, the Lost Valley, where I turned north to ride into el Rosario.
One of the very large cactus along the route.
In el Rosario I stopped in at the local tienda for four liters of water and two beers. I rode two minutes down the road to el Santuario de los Cactus and found it gated. Back to the tienda, the owners let me know they had called Lupe and that he would meet me at the sanctuary. I could let myself in – the gate was to keep the cattle out, not people.
Looking south into el Valle Perdido
Back to the sanctuary, I let myself in and began to set up my tent under the future entrance building to stay out of the wind. Eventually a car drives up and I meet Lupe for the first time. Lupe is the caretaker of the sanctuary, a job he’s been doing for about 3 years. His brother was the caretaker before him for 28 years! Lupe shows me around, sets me up with a nice fire, a grate to cook over, and a chair to sit in. He proudly showed off the baby cacti he planted. I had no idea that cacti sprout with a pair of cotyledons! Lupe left with a promise to return at 7:30 AM for a personal tour of the sanctuary.
I made a quick dinner which I ate by the fire. I consumed at least a liter of water and a pair of cans of Tecate while reading by the fire. Tired, I put out the fire, climbed into my tent, and listened to an audiobook until I fell asleep.
Bikepacking for Nerds 
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