Unpacking my little bike tour

 Years ago, Brendan and I pondered the difference between bike packing and good, old fashion bike touring, aside from adding a questionably healthy dollup of marketing to the latter to magically create the former, without any functional difference.

Time passes, have you noticed? Fewer years ago, I once again raised this topic with Brendan, but with his ear more carefully tuned than mine to what's cool in biking, he had an answer. Bike packing, as he had come to understand, might not stick to paved roads, or even roads of any sort, and to facilitate that boogie through the twisty and narrow, a bike packing bicycle was more likely to shed wide panniers in favor of handlebar and frame bags, and the rider might even wear a hip pack, because, anything with a name like that must be cool.

These new insights distressed me greatly. Over many more years than the time since discussion number one, I had come to great peace with the fact that I am not cool. I might even revel in that truth, and yet from what Brendan described, I, for a long time, had secretly been a closeted bike packer. No! Bike packing is cool, so I still insist, I must be a touring cyclist.

Keeping with mentioning Brendan, last week, he sent out an invitation for the one day dividing his and Johanna's birthdays, Johanna being the wiser and obviously better half of their partnership. They live northwest of Hartford, and with the party running from 3pm to wheneverish, it was a good chance for a overnight bike outing, something for which I'd been pining.

My first bike touring kit, kaboodle, and clam trap was heavy. I was never a boy Scout, but I'd taken the always-prepared concept too seriously and was lugging around maybe 40 pounds of gear. I know that isn't an extreme load by the standards of many, but it didn't suit my minimalism, nor my general desire to cover ground, and then, a bit more ground when I'm on a bike. For my last fully planned trip by bike, to Charleston, SC and back, I was carrying maybe ten pounds of gear, no panniers, and quite a bit happier than merely content.

For my last trip by bike, with far less planning, I'd stayed with hosts in Santa Cruz, CA on my way from Santa Barbara to Eureka. This pair's adventures made my domenstic touring seem downright tame, and they agreed with my proposal for the three most important things to bring on any tour: flexibility, ingenuity, and resilience! With those, and maybe a wee bit of luck, most everything else is manageable.

So, for my ride to celebrate with Brendan and Johanna, I opted to pare my gear down a bit further as an experiment on such a short outing. To start, I left derailleurs and shifters at home, finally giving my years long contemplation of a singlespeed touring bike a try.  Things can go wrong-ish, or at least far-from-perfect-ish on an extended tour, and I like the idea that fewer things means fewer things to break. You know what? In practice, I still rather liked it, so I might have to continue with my shifty thoughts about a less shifty bike for touring.

Also, I did say overnight, and for many more sensible people, that means such comforts as a sleeping bag, camp mat, and gosh, maybe even a tent! Too posh for me, so I sufficed with the hooded puffy jacket from the free pile down the street last Tuesday, the mosquito mesh head cover I found hiking Wednesday, and the space blanket I've had for years stuffed into a Ziploc sandwich bag. Did I mention minimalist? Oh, ok, did grab the pillow I found roadside a half mile after leaving Brendan and Johanna's last night! Guess I'm getting soft.

Remember the ingenuity part? When it rains, that means we can learn a lot from our trusty, or even devious, hobo friends, and that means the underside of a bridge is ready to provide good shelter from falling elements. Last night's choice for me was the span over the Farmington River for the Farmington Canal Path. Ok, that might be more mimicry than ingenuity, but I will take credit for my bed of burning bush branches (a Connecticut listed invasive plant, so no feelings of guilt breaking down the plants) that shielded me effectively from the sandy floor.

On Friday, Anne introduced me to the concept of sleep hygiene, the idea that one's approach to slumper in an organized and consistent fashion can have positive impact on the sleep we all need. While I've been enjoying a couple weeks improvement, in June, I started to experience more disrupted sleep, which can be a common occurrence with ye olde TBI. So yeah, sleep hygiene, but not shockingly, for me that might mean a truly dirty outdoor bed. Part way through the night, I checked my watch, expecting to see some time close to midnight. Correction, most of the way through the night I checked my watch to see a few minutes after 5AM, which meant over nine hours of sleep. Yay! Trust me, big yay!

Truly well rested, I rose, broke my fast, and broke my cover from under the bridge for a damp, but not unpleasant ride up the canal path to Westfield before connecting with an off the road cut through Ashley Reservoir for a truly pleasant ride home. Yes, it rain on me, but I reflected on the sage advice from my friend Brian before my first overloaded tour: "The most important thing to know when touring is, when people asks, 'What do you do when it rains?' and they will, you tell them, 'I get wet.'"