“We are good at what we do because we are good at making do.”
Again we transition. So far on Her Odyssey we have hiked, kayaked, rafted, and even a short stint of road biking. Now we are going to try bikepacking! This will connect our route across South America to what we have now hiked across North America.
I’d had a notion when I first began designing this journey, to pursue recognition and to claim a first. The simplicity of the vision/headline appealed to my goal motivated self: To be the first woman to walk the length of the Americas. You all would be very impressed and it would be simple to explain. Though I quickly realized, for myself, setting a goal this narrow would leave me feeling trapped.
If there is anything I can be certain I’ll chafe against, it is feeling obligated. I don’t like following rules, not even my own. Especially my own. Our family story runs that my first sentence was, “I wanna do what I wanna do.” To this day, I want the freedom to do what I want to do.
So I added a clause and broadened the scope of potential for this journey by specifying only that progress be non-motorized. There is a world of ways to travel without engines. Some familiar, many new. If I ever got to feeling trapped and as circumstances dictated, we would shake the journey up.
I am pleased that, even if I designed it without fully understanding how important it would become to the journey, allowing ourselves this flexibility has been crucial to our edification and expansion. I like not knowing. It is one of the fundamental components of adventure.
The first few times we added variety to our methods, was to test the waters. Literally. Paddling across Nahuel Huapi in Argentina with our friend Cheri. Rafting the Rio Maranon in Peru with the Maranon Waterkeepers. Then as we attempted different approaches to the Darien Gap. First walking (which still involves some boating), then walking from a different direction, then road biking. We then partnered with the rad folks over at Trak kayaks with the intention of paddling the entire length of the Caribbean coast of Central America. Due to skill level, legal challenges, and time constraints we only ended up covering 900 km, between Lago Nicaragua back to Turbo, Colombia where we walked to before becoming embroiled in the Darien Debacle.
We had discussed integrating cycling since early on in the journey. It seems a natural choice for slow and engaged travel. Neon had been curious about it for some time as a progression from her career as a thru-hiker. In fact, we have learned that many of our thru-hiking community expand to bikepacking next. It is a nice option.
My three main issues with the idea of bikepacking were:
- A (relatively) lot of people do it
- It adds cost and complication
- It would make my butt hurt
The issue with doing something unique is that much of your time around other people is spent explaining yourself. In this, walking with Neon across South America, was a huge help. Particularly as a travel companion and a woman, which presented a unique angle of that experience as compared to the few others I had found who could relate. Still, chatting with George Meegan, Gregg Treinish, Joey Shonka, Ian, Justin, Jan, those few long walkers who understand the particularities of such a drive and journey through a specific region, was immensely helpful across those first 8,000 miles of the journey.
Because most other interactions are spent trying to help people understand. Explaining the “why” which is ever changing. Answering the same questions over and over again, “what do you eat?” “where do you sleep?” “what about having children?” “aren’t you afraid?” Trying to get locals to understand just what exactly you are doing popping up in their back 40. After 4 years, that gets tiring. Beyond that, the safety considerations through Central America have proved vastly different from those of Patagonia, for example. Traveling by at least somewhat familiar means such as bicycles eases passage through area we may need to cross quickly.
In planning for this bikepacking leg of the journey, both Neon and I have been astounded at the availability and thoroughness of resources. Regarding gear, routes, philosophies, advice, there is just a ton of information out there, so much so that it is almost overwhelming. The bikepacking.com website has done a great job of being a central location for all of these things and we find ourselves going back to it again and a gain. Nice job, bikepacker!
To the second point, bikepacking does add costs and will require a proficiency with bike repair. Regarding cost, Her Odyssey is not a money maker, it is a calling. In that pursuit, a small and solid community have risen up to help make sure our basic needs are met. Our monthly Patreon supporters keep us fed. PayPal gifts enable us to sleep indoors periodically. As I write this, I sit in the home of friends of Neon. The way our people rise to meet our needs and empower us to press forward is, to me, one of the most inspiring aspect of this journey. That we always find just what we need to keep going.
Gearing up for biking has played out much the same. As needs arise, they are met. When I began trying to figure out just how to get into the sport, Cloudbuster offered to build me a bike. When I balked at the price tag of bikepacking kit, Last on the Bus provided the materials to build my own frame bag and P.O.D. sewed it together. When I realized it would be beneficial to try out bikepacking while still in my native country, Redhead and [Man] Neon offered their property in Tucson as a staging point and helped get my bike from box to built status. This is another aspect of a life of adventure. Moving forward and trusting.
To the third point, the discomfort aspect, that is just a part of it. Each new sport means a new set of calluses and new soreness. We’ve often discussed how pursuit of comfort is ingrained in humans but that perhaps we have achieved levels of it unanticipated by our genetics, yielding extremely comfortable and deeply unsatisfied people. When I spend a week out in the wilds, struggling just to stay alive and keep moving and fall gratefully into a bed, I do so with a sense that I’ve earned it. Rather than, as in some of my longer stints in the Default World, when the constant availability of comfort yielded sloth and lack of activity and self care which fueled depression and an almost chronic inability to get out of bed for weeks on end. Rest and comfort can be both savior and enemy.
But honestly, I’ve waxed on too long already. I’m on the cusp of something new and that always makes me philosophical and think I know a lot when actually. I know nothing. So I suppose for now, it’s time to go see.
