(In the unlikely event that even one or two people care.) This is what I started with. Since saying goodbye to the backpack and its water bladder, I’ve abandoned*: – t-shirt – gore-tex shorts (no […]
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Bikepacking Portachuelo Honda
Unable to find any reports of cyclists making the ascent to Honda pass from Chacas via Juitush in the Parque Nacionale Huascaran, everyone simply ascends to glorious Punta Olimpica but we had giddy beer and […]
Kit list for South America (every last thing)
Always the tension between thinking you need and needing, between the grudging acceptance of discomforts and the abstract knowledge that carrying less makes a difference, between not caring that you seem like a disgusting lunatic […]
Bikepacking the Inca Trail Ecuador
Reactions ranged from “no, not possible” to “that’s ridiculous” to the charitable assumption that I was joking and an ensuing change of subject. The rising chorus of denials sounded an awful lot like an imperative, naturally.
Gear Carry on South America Tour (Revised)
Surly Pugsley with Revelate frame bag + Viscacha seat bag + Harness/Pocket + Gas Tank. Sea to Summit eVent dry bag. BikeBuddy bottle carrier with Minoura attachment. Osprey Talon 22 pack. The difficulty and danger […]
Pugsley for South America Tour
Surly Pugsley with Old Man Mountain Cold Springs front and rear racks. Larry tires. Lone Peak Mount Rainier and Ortlieb Sport Packer Plus panniers, Revelate frame bag + Gas Tank. Fuel bottle in Bikebuddy cage secured to seatpost with Minoura bottle cage attachment.
After summertime touring in Alaska last year on the Pugsley, I reported having had an excellent time and that I was very satisfied with the choice of bicycle. I also said that I didn’t imagine myself touring on it again much in the future, unless there was some special reason to be on a fat bike. Evidently I asserted something about preferring fast-and-light. Equally evidently — though I waxed on about how the big tires inspired complete strangers to outlandish declarations of bike lust — I didn’t anticipate just how much the fat tire format would capture my imagination. So, going round and round in that this is really important but it couldn’t possibly matter much sort of way, I’ve tested my packing and gear with an eye toward five months on the trail in South America. MC spoke with the convictional voice of reason: “There’s no issue, the bouncy bike is completely out. Ride the bike that makes the most sense for covering distance, take the Long Haul Trucker.” To a normal person she would have been completely persuasive. By way of antidote and encouragement, AE said, “…besides the fact that everything will be rideable, you’re going to make more friends. If we were into not being miserable then we’d go to the beach and have umbrella drinks.” This sort of quip ought to have set off all kinds of alarm bells. Here’s the deal: The Pugs is about 10 pounds heavier than my Trucker, and about 14 pounds heavier than the English Folding 2-9. I shudder at those differences, though, really, the English is out since the wheel format can create headaches if something goes wrong. (True, the Pugsley wheels are also not standard, but there’s a reasonably straightforward plan against catastrophe in that case.) For the broken road jungle walk dirt track mountain trekking path trip that I envision, the bikes are probably nearly a wash. Each is superior to the other at the extremes of a spectrum from asphalt to singletrack. I would hope that the Pugsley can make short work of Bolivian sandy roads, but that’s only a small fraction of the journey. In all, the Trucker ought to be the default, easier to repair, ridable anywhere. But I’m just so damned stupidly enamored of the Pugs. Here’s the thought that makes the fat bike so blindingly seductive: For any terrain ahead of you, if a bike can go there at all, a fat bike can go there. I’m sure I’ll be angrily repeating that to myself like a mantra as I beg for help hoisting the thing on to a bus roof. The total base weight — bike, bags, all gear except minimal clothing worn, but no food or water — is 72 lbs. (~32 kg’s). Not overly heavy by the standards of some cyclotourists, but unusual for me.
South America Bound
Envisioning volcanoes, jungle tracks, salt flats and glaciers. Altitude and crater lakes and sawtooth crags, hypoxic dirt routes (if I’m not careful, tourist nonsense pan flutes). For me, South America is to Asia like ground is […]
Gathering Gear
Picturing the destination, half remembered images seen or interpolated from descriptions in books read while comfortable on a couch long before ever imagining I’d visit there. Reading a few other people’s packing lists and past […]
Pugsley wheel experiments
I recently became curious about the answers to the following questions with respect to my fat bike, a Surly Pugsley:
1. How would it ride with a standard, not-specially-dished 26″ rear wheel and standard mountain bike tire used in the rear?
2. Would it work to mount a standard — say, 2.0 — mountain bike tire (with a standard tube) on a Large Marge rim?
3. What would happen if an Endomorph was mounted on a standard, not-specially-dished mountain bike wheel with a Surly oversized tube, and that wheel was used on the Pugsley?
Of course, I had theories but I wanted some observations by way of confirmation. So I set out to do some experiments.
Lightweight touring packing list
The LBS recently put me in contact with someone who has done a few bike tours but who “wants to travel light without being pathological about it.” The person was hoping for my comments more than just a gear list, and was also curious about the specific items for reference. It sounded like a reasonable goal to me, so I put together a list of the things I bring on a tour when I’m not trying to be ultrathisorthat. There are a thousand of excellent ones of these on-line, and I don’t imagine that mine is particularly innovative or special. Something like this inventory has served me well, though, for tours lasting from mere days to months and months. It usually comes in under 25 lbs., counting panniers but not including the minimal kit worn while actually pedaling.

MotionX GPS app, ReeCharge Power Pack, Dynamo hub
For my recent trip to the Middle East, I ended up leaving the Garmin 705 at home. Even though it was indispensable in guiding me to small roads in Europe and New Zealand, there are no maps for it for Syria, Jordan and Egypt. And there was little point in collecting data on distances, speed, elevation gain, etc., because, well, I don’t care. I was, however, craving street maps of the urban areas I was visiting. And while I always take along or find paper maps, having a GPS as backup to confirm that you are where you think you are on a paper map is convenient.
I had had the MotionX app for the iPhone for some time, but I was still astonished when I was able to use it to download clear and detailed maps of the region. I loaded all of these at varying levels of resolution (Zoom setting from 6 to 15, for those of you who use the app) to store on the phone. That way, I would not need to be connected to the network to look at the maps. All the maps together took up a few gigs. The built in GPS was then able to project my location on the maps, and do all of the things one normally expects a GPS to do. It worked brilliantly: the maps showed even alleyways and dirt roads. As a bonus — though it didn’t seem so initially — the place names at most resolutions are in Arabic. This made it so I could show the phone to locals to confirm my directions and route. Even in that mobile-jaded context, where phones are routinely used for everything and far more than ever occurs to me, several people seemed surprised that such things could be on a phone.
Zoomed down to the street level
Gear for Middle East Trip
For six weeks in winter. Left to right (more or less) from top: Tent poles, tent, sleeping bag/pad, riding/hiking shoes, sandals, Patagonia Puff pullover, merino gloves Digital SLR, fleece sleeping bag liner, headlamp/knife/spork, passport/novel/eticket, goretex socks, […]
