First Bikepacking Trip/Western Suburb Beer Tour

Someone recently asked me about our anticipated bike adventure, which led to me trying to explain the concept of ultralight bike touring.  The following exchange ensued:

Q.  So, you like, carry all your stuff on your bike and go camping?
A.  Yeah, that's generally the idea.
Q.  You ever done this before?
A.  No, not at all.
Q.  But you basically refinanced your house in order to buy two titanium mountain bikes?
A.  Yes, correct.
Q.  So you bought these bikes, plus a bunch of equipment, but you've never toured, nor do you know if you'll even enjoy it.
A.  Yeah... (awkward silence)

Needless to say, we decided that we needed to figure out, stat, whether we were up for the task.  

Enter Carver Park Reserve, situated out on the western edge of the Twin Cities near Victoria, MN.  A quick google search revealed that the park was conveniently accessible via bike trail almost the entire way from our house in South Minneapolis, and an assist from the City Pages gave us the idea in the first place.  After a very nice chat with a woman in the reservation department, we had a site set for Saturday night at the Lake Auburn campground.

We certainly don't have all the carrying devices and packs for our bikes, but we were able to cobble together enough storage space using our regular commuting panniers, our frame bags, and some creative use of extra straps to affix our sleeping bags to our handlebars.  I was also able to strap our tent to the top of my rear rack.  All in all, this setup worked quite well for this jaunt, although I need to action a better situation for affixing items to the handlebars.  The tension/buckle straps kept pulling loose with all the bumps/vibration.

Anyway, who cares about that.  We went up and caught the Midtown Greenway west to Hopkins, where we moved onto the Lake Minnetonka LRT Regional Trail, which shuttled us forth direct to Carver Park, skirting Lake Minnetonka on the way.  Her are some shots from the trail.

Blue skies, open trail.

Thanks again for selling me the Garmin, Erik - working great!

K2, on the road.

Go west young man.

 As you can see, the LRT trail was crushed gravel for the duration of its 15 miles, and the Salsa Fargo Tis that bore us westward essentially transmogrified the gravel into asphalt.  When riding on pavement, the big knobby 29er tires on the Fargo make an awkward and unseemly "whum, whum, whum" noise, the noise of a machine desperately trying to find its element.  While, gravel is certainly the Fargo's element.  Kate and I both commented how the bikes not only gripped the gravel more comfortably than they do pavement, but they seemed to handle better under the weight of our camping gear than they do with no weight at all.

Anyway, as we pondered this and other mysteries, I realized that the LRT trail went right through downtown Excelsior.  I also knew that in downtown Excelsior, there was a brewing establishment known as Excelsior Brewing Company.  And furthermore, said establishment contained a taproom of some repute.  So I politely suggested that we stop for a mid-ride libation.  And after nearly getting flattened by the hordes of Lake Minnetonka goers in their Mercedes-Benz SUV's, we rolled up to the aforementioned Excelsior Brewing Company.

beer beer beer beer beer

See what time it is?

Let me tell you a couple things about Excelsior Brewing Company:

• It features some fantastic brews in an unpretentious taproom/garage, and everyone seems to enjoy themselves
• If you buy an Excelsior Brewing bike jersey, and ride your bike to the brewery wearing that jersey, your first pint is on the house, for, as far as I could tell, eternity.  Seriously.  Needless to say, we were calculating how many trips it would take for us to recoup the cost of an $80 jersey...
• Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of folks enjoying free beer in their Excelsior Brewing bike jersey
• Apparently, Excelsior Brewing is the epicenter of friendly, bike-riding, beer-drinking folk in the Lake Minnetonka area

To that last point, we had no less than two people in cycling gear just come up to us out of the blue, point to our bikes leaning up against the fire escape of a nearby building, and strike up a conversation.  One older gentleman talked to us at length about how he just recently purchased a Salsa titanium road bike and took it out to Colorado.  So we chit-chatted about bikes with him, told him about our GDBMR plans, and by that point, had duly drained our first pints.  Initially we thought we'd just stop for one beer and head for the park, which was still 8 or so miles further, but decided that the atmosphere simply required us to enjoy another drink.  So, we did.

Cheers!

And as we were about to leave, another woman in a cycling jersey approached us as we mounted up our bikes, and asked us about where we were going, where we were from, yada, yada, yada.  Her and her company had apparently gone from Excelsior into Minneapolis, and done a little tour of the many delicious bars and restaurants the City of Lakes offers.  She herself had done some bikepacking, and as we joked that our camping trip had become really a brewery tour of the western suburbs, she commented, "well, you still have one more - the brewery in Victoria!"  Newly intrigued, we listened carefully as she described that, at the terminus of the LRT trail in Victoria, sat a just opened brewery/taproom.  Plans changed yet again, we set forth with a solid buzz only to arrive at ENKI Brewing.  

Yes.

Birrr.

Beer thirty again?  Well, of course!

Anyway, ENKI Brewing is a nice little gem of a place, positively in the middle of nowhere, as far as I'm concerned.  I was reading a story the other day about a project Patagonia has sponsored, which is called "Slow is Fast."  Basically, the concept is a guy decides to bike down the California coast, to see his home state in a way he has never seen it, and he discovers just how much more richly he experiences people and his surroundings when he is freed from the constraints of his automobile.  I can't imagine a scenario where I would have driven out to Victoria just to sample a new brewery.  But as part of a bike adventure, as part of a slow travel experience, you never know what you might find.

Having had our camping trip duly converted into a brewery tour, we decided it was about time to retrace our steps and enter Carver Park Reserve.  So we did.  And for those of you who have not visited, I suggest you go.  I'm always amazed at how beautiful it can get just a few miles outside of the city.

Riding the paved trails at Carver Park Reserve

 The people at the check in looked at us as if we were insane as we pulled in on our bikes, a reaction that would only continue as we rolled to our campsite, surrounded by all sides by families in bus sized RV's, giant 8 person tents, pop-up campers, and/or SUV's.  By comparison, our modest camp consisting of two bikes and a two person backpacking tent looked positively out of place.

Car pass?

Our rides

Setting up the tent

Heineken?!  Fuck that shit!  Pabst Blue Ribbon!

 It's not an adventure until something goes wrong.  We realized as we started to prepare dinner that we forgot forks, spoons, sporks, or any utensils of any kind, for that matter, save for a single spatula.  That forced us to get creative in our cooking and eating procedures.

The batter stir-er

I nearly burnt my hand off with this stove - but it worked great!  Thanks Erik and Kim!

 Just for funsies, we packed one of those dehydrated backpacking meals, just to see what it's like.  It turns out freeze dried cheese enchiladas rancheros are not too bad.  Kate's sister and brother-in-law also hooked us up with some bread you can make in a pan, which we enjoyed for dinner and breakfast, although frying said bread was challenging given that the stove was either (1) off, or; (2) as hot as the surface of the sun.

Although I am out of photos, the day was capped by (what else) a campfire, as well as the typical sleeping bag tossing and turning one does when they neglected to pack a sleeping pad.  The next day, we got an early start in order to shuttle Kate back to the MPLS for a pre-arranged brunch with friends.  And thankfully, our legs bore us eastward with even greater speed than the day before, and we made it with plenty of time to spare.

Needless to say, it was a very enjoyable little out and back trip, and so easy to do from the Twin Cities proper.  I would bike back to Excelsior Brewing in a heartbeat.  It felt good to come home and see our frame bags and bikes covered with a thin film of gravel dust - a dusting that illustrates to all who enquire that "WE ARE SERIOUS - DO NOT MESS WITH US!"  We conquered our first bike camping trip in good spirits, saw what things worked and those things that didn't work so well.  Best of all, I think we can confidently start to answer to all who ask whether we know what we are doing:

"Not everything, but yes, we know some things.  And we're getting better."

Challenges, Surprises, and Successes: Kate's First Tracks

Hello Adventurers. It's Kate again.

This weekend, my mindset about this trip really took a turn (for the good, I promise). To give credit where credit is due, this trip was really Aaron's idea; something he drummed up in the middle of a cold and snowy winter while we watched movies and read books about people who had taken great adventures, faced seemingly insurmountable challenges, and yet came out on the other side with an unforgettable experience. I feel incredibly honored, in actuality, that Aaron wanted to take me on this trip. After all, he is a superior rider and I can be a bit of an over-planner/worrier-- not always the ideal traveling companion when things don't go according to plan.

For a little bit, I felt like I was tagging along on a ride that could have been titled "Aaron's Very Big, So Cool, Badass Bike Ride from Canada to Mexico Because Hell Yes." But on Tuesday I got an email that my bike had arrived at the shop, and on Saturday I was test riding it around the neighborhood, making adjustments, and finally bringing it home.

And, guys, she's a beauty.

Yellow bar tape by request, a 'free' water bottle, frame bag, rear rack, and overall seriously sweet bicycle.

And you know what two 29" wheels, some unique dropped handlebars, and a titanium frame give you? Some skin in the game. An extra level of commitment from me that says to The Universe (and to Aaron) that I am going to learn to ride this bike, to fix this bike, to love (and sometimes hate) this bike, and ride it as far as I can in summer 2016.

 

How surprised I was to discover that only 24 hours I was going through every stage of learning to ride the bike, fix the bike, love the bike, and hate the bike. All on my first off-road trip.

This afternoon, we headed to the Minnesota Valley Wildlife Refuge, which Aaron wrote a bit about a few days ago. A pretty surprising place I had driven over thousands of times but never really knew anything about.

Let's break down the trip into Challenges, Surprises, and Successes, in chronological order.

Challenge #1: Both mountain bikes don't fit on the bike rack. Hmm... break one down, load 'er in the trunk!

Challenge #2: The hill down into the trails is steep, rocky, and sandy. In essence, a bit terrifying. From this, however, I get my first Success #1: The brakes work well. 

Success #2: I quickly learn to navigate some relatively simple trails and find the environment and company to be spectacular.

Suprise #1: Sand. Deep, soft, tire-grabbing sand. The kind you would love to dig your toes into on the beach but do not want to watch your tires sink in to on the trail. Which of course, gave rise to Challenges #3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10: falling. Eight times. Which, in the name of coming full-circle, gave rise to Surprise #2: The Salsa Cycles Fargo Ti is light enough to flip over with one hand out of anger/frustration while you simultaneously spit out a mouthful of sand.**

However, before you start to feel sorry for me, there were also Successes #3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10: getting up, relatively unharmed even. Seven out of the eight times, I was even laughing as I got up, as a fall in deep sand is the slowest, least graceful kind of fall. Material suitable for a Monty Python film, if there was a Monty Python movie about bikes.

Challenge #11: Dried mud tracks with deep, rough ridges.

 

What you cannot see so well in the very right hand of this photo is the 2 inches of wet mud I dropped that left hand in on the way down. What you can see is Success #11: a thumbs up. 

Challenge #12: One fall was so hard, the seat post dropped about an inch and twisted about 30 degrees. But we had a multitool along and a quick trailside repair had us going again in under 2 minutes. My first on-the-trail bike fix? Success #12. 

Surprise #3: This area we drive over all the time without giving it more than a thought on our way in or out of the suburbs is actually a really neat place. I don't know if I would describe it as 'beautiful,' although maybe more sunshine in my sky and less sand in my drawers would change my mind. But it definitely felt like a mini-adventure, at an appropriate skill-level where I wasn't terrified the entire ride. We even stopped to enjoy some scenery. 

[An aside about the shirt I am wearing. If you know me at all, you were totally prepared for a tangent in an already multi-themed post.] My parents just got me this shirt for my birthday, which was 2 weeks ago. It says, "Live life like a 3-1 count." I realize this is mixing sports metaphors, but hang in there. In softball/baseball, 3-1 (3 balls, 1 strike) is best known as a "hitter's count" because the pitcher is either going to walk you on ball 4 our throw you a nice juicy strike that they are probably hoping you watch, but tends to be supremely hittable. Either way, as a batter, you're probably goin' places with the very next pitch. So even though this shirt is never-been-worn-brand-new, I sort of felt I had to wear it today. The trip to the Divide, the prep along the way, the trying something new and scary... this is all living life like a 3-1 count. Thanks, Dad and Mom! 

Surprise #4: There was no crying. Which may not surprise some of you, but probably should. Because I am a lady who loves a plan and who loves to be good at things and is somewhat terrified of gravity and falling. If you are keeping score, you will remember that about 6 months ago, I cried ALL the way down a green-circle ski hill before I ever even fell out of sheer terror. Mathematically, statistically, theoretically, I should have cried today. Color me the most surprised by this.

Challenge #13: Ah, lucky number 13 comes to us from our garage, after returning home. As I a reassembling the bike, I knock a brake pad loose. I have never fixed any type of brake before, and certainly not a brand new disc brake. But 2 brains, 1 multitool, and 1 "Well, for fucksake, you piece of shit bike" we got it back together! Success #13: Teamwork.

Overall, the fearlessness I felt about mountain biking on Saturday is gone. In a healthy gone, kind of way. There are definitely things, even on these pretty easy trails to be afraid of: sand, really uneven track, super steep hills, the dead snake. But instead of replacing that fearlessness with fear, I think it has been filled with confidence: I can bike my way out of most sand, and if I don't, then I am just going to fall 3 feet into a big dusty cloud. Or a mud puddle. Or whatever. But it's not going to be the end of the world. It might be clumsy, it might be embarrassing, but if I recall correctly, learning sometimes feels a bit clumsy and embarrassing.

Onward to more mini-adventures, and to only falling SIX times next time!

*Is it any question why I wanted a bike called the Fargo? With a handlebar design called The Woodchipper? C'mon, that's funny. 
**Surprise 2.1: No bikes were harmed in this moment of outrage.

First Tracks

I think the impetus for this trip is the same impetus that gives rise to most absurd sounding adventures - the urge to just walk out one's door and go someplace you've never been.  The goal is not so much the destination, but the act of getting there.  I was reminded of this this morning, when MPR's excellent News Cut blog posted this story.  I'd advise you all to go check it out if you have a spare minute.

Salsa, the manufacturer of the two bicycles Kate and I have bought, operate under the motto of "Adventure by Bike."  My cynical reaction to that would be that some PR guy came up with that, but having a look around their website, I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and conclude that the guys running that brand reached their own conclusion.

But I rather decided that I needed to explore this notion myself, so last Monday, I drove down to the Minnesota Valley National Wildlife Refuge, where, I was accurately told, there are a number of hiking/biking trails that snake down the Minnesota River valley.  Previously, I had taken the Fargo up to Theodore Wirth Park in Minneapolis, where I very foolishly tried to tackle singletrack trails that, I, as a complete novice mountain biker, really had no business being on.  The good folks at the Angry Catfish, after I relayed tales of my idiocy, very kindly suggested that the river bottom trails might be a good first step for a beginner.

And were they ever right.  The river bottoms, I thought, were a great challenge - easy enough for me to make a 10 mile loop after work, but still having a few rocky sections and some sand that could challenge my beginner skills.  It was a great confidence builder, and it felt really great to be able to get my new bike dirty for the first time, squelching through mud and struggling through the soft sand left behind by the soggy spring. Did I go down once or twice in the sand?  Well, yes, I did.  But more importantly, I learned I could get through it.

I've lived for 27 years in the Minneapolis-St. Paul metro area, and I've crossed the Minnesota River on the Cedar Avenue bridge or the 35W bridge hundreds, if not thousands of times.  It's never really been a big deal for me - you speed across the bridge, you get to where you're going, and you don't notice much else.  But on my bike, I was able, for the first time, to go under the Cedar Avenue bridge rather than over it, and experience my surroundings in a completely different way.  It was a completely liberating feeling, that I could just point my tires in a different direction and go where I pleased.  I could stop and enjoy the view of the river, or explore that path into the woods just a little further.  When a deer suddenly crossed my path, I could slow down and really appreciate it.  I noticed the beautiful sunset over Bloomington.  It was great.

Now, riding 10 miles around the river valley is much different than some more grandiose schemes, this is true.  But I think the spirit of adventure is the same.  Why I haven't done this before, I don't know.  I won't say it is because I now have a vehicle that can get me these places, but it certainly has been a great impetus to challenge myself and try some new experiences.  Micro-adventures, if you will.

Next up, we pick up Kate's bike from the shop, and a week later, we'll give ourselves a go at our first bike overnight trip!