One Summer of Trackpacking, what did I learn?
If you’ve been following me on social media or even on our Discord, you know that I’ve completed a few good chunks of trackpacking this summer. After almost two years, it was finally time to create an update to my first trackpacking experience.
From intensive solo journeys to more casual trips with some friends, I’ve been taking notes about the various lessons learned, helpful beginner tips and also my personal limits.
But let’s start with probably one of the most important parts of your trip if you want everything to be smooth and easy: the preparation.
Prepping your bike and yourself will definitely help how you’re going to tackle your adventure, and the feasibility of this one.
Since you’re going fixed gear, what ratio are you taking? Is there a lot of elevation gain? What about terrain? Some gravel on the way? But also, what about checkpoints? Is drinkable water easily acceptable? And what about food? You get it, there is a lot to think about.
I’m not saying that you should know everything down to the minute, but adapting your gear ratio, bike weight, tire size, fitting position, sleeping system, with your trip is something so easy to insure a pleasurable trip, without putting yourself through pain for nothing.
Personal experience: Tried what I believed was a shortcut that wasn’t on the map… ended up pushing my bike in sand for ninety minutes…
What I’ve personally learned this year is to buy your peace of mind. Want to carry three extra tubes? Might be excessive, but if you feel better with it, fair enough! Yes, a hammock is lighter, but isn’t it easier to plant your tent anywhere? (especially if you’re not alone on that trip)
My personal “peace of mind” this year was about brakes! And for two good reasons. First is how much easier it is to stop your fifteen kilos track bike with just the pull of a lever. I’m not saying that it’s impossible to be brakeless (and I’ll probably do some brakeless trackpacking again in the near future), but it’s gonna save you so much energy!
Second is the unknown factor. Not exactly knowing where I was going, and the potential elevation gain. I can’t know if a tight corner is at the end of the next descent, or if I’ll end up in a tricky situation when surrounded by other riders.
Again, I’m not saying you have to put a brake on, but if it gets your mind at ease, you might as well do so.
One thing that I still have to get right is the amount of stuff I take with me.
I find it quite simple to get overwhelmed by the amount of gear you’ll need to assure your “comfort” during your trip.
Personal experience: You don’t always need a stove if you know you can eat pretty much everywhere on the road.
Yes, making your coffee right outside your tent feels amazing and highly “Instagramable”, but I’m still not ready to take the whole coffee dripper setup with me.
The best solution I found was to lower some of my standards and accept that you can’t really carry everything you want if you’re running a fixed gear setup.
One big comfort factor for this year has to be my new cockpit setup. After the review of the Passchier Gump 760, I decided to keep it on my Mash work and put it through the test of time. Let me tell you! It’s been a bliss! This handlebar really shines on long distances and fully rigid bikes. No hand tingling, no wrist pain, and a BIG eye-catcher for some reason.
Around a year ago, when I first talked with Passchier, they sent me a first bar that seemed lost in shipping, that I ended up receiving the thing a few months later. Upon offering to send it back, they told me to keep it, and since then it’s been sitting in my storage area.
But how could I keep this little treasure for myself? So if you happen to read this article near its release date, you should check out the SSS Instagram to know how to win an original Gump 760. Giveaways rules will be in the IG post, you just need to read them!
Finally, I’d like to talk about personal limits and how far I was willing to keep pushing. This might give you a small idea on what is possible, and what you can avoid.
As a personal experience, I was planning to do a 250 km ride in two days to keep things nice and easy. Weather was great, conditions were perfect, and I was feeling good on my bike. Looking at my phone around 6PM, I see that I only have 70 kilometers to go and decide to go for the finish line. I thought I had a reasonable amount of energy left, and my food and water situation was still looking good.
On paper, it was a perfectly sensible idea, with all my hopes and dreams behind it. In reality, I hit a sandy trail that took me ages to get out of, then a terrible gravel road in the pitch black night, and ended up arriving around 3 AM. Not that I wasn’t happy with my performance, but it just wasn’t fun anymore. Towards the end, I was barely able to climb any hill, and every minute felt like an eternity. I had lights, but when you’re between two wheat fields, nothing will ever shine enough for me to feel comfy. I was so scared to bump into something and pass out on the side of the gravel road, unable to set up any form of sleeping system. In the end, I arrived at my goal, spent 20 minutes under the shower asking myself why I was there, and went for one of the worst nights of my life.
But that’s not it! The next day was horrible… You asked your body so much to put yourself through an intense and potential stressful situation. That the recovery (at least for me that’s neither an endurance athlete nor a trained person) took me 24 whole hours of being capable of only eating cereals, and watching YouTube.
So you have it! One of my hardest rides for this summer, 2022!
Again, I’m not an athlete or a coach, so don’t think I’m a master at long distance fixed gear trips. There are people out there that have done crazy distances on similar setups and might have way better advice than mine. But at least you have the point of view of someone completely untrained but seeking flaws and possible improvements along his entire adventures.
Be flexible with yourself, have fun, enjoy your ride.
🎞: Fuji Xtra 800
📷: Nikon F100
