Bikepacking Overnight: GDMBR Somewhere Near Canada to Polebridge to Whitefish

After a whole lot of anticipation came and went, smoldered by the wildfire smoke that blanketed the American West, the women's bikepacking event Ride Beyond was rescheduled for mid-October. With the whirlwind of late summer and early fall, it snuck up on me altogether too fast and I found myself whizzing along the highway on a road trip with my gear haphazardly thrown in the back. Because of the shorter days of fall and the schedule of the official photographer, our route was shortened and turned into an overnighter with some free time to do some day rides.

We all convened at the Adventure Cycling Association office for a tour and some bike touring history, then headed up to Whitefish. After arriving at the Whitefish Bike Retreat, where we would base our adventures from, I was happy to have time to enjoy the beautiful space.

I don't have much to report from this trip, other than being blown away by the stunning beauty of fall in Montana. The dirt roads were just about perfect and we had a fun mix of smooth fast rolling dirt, to rocky descents, to some serious hike-a-bike, and everything in between. I definitely want to come back to ride the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route, but on my own or with one or two close friends.

 

Laura relishes her meat stick.

The larches made for fiery yellow highlights on the mountainside.

Snow biking! Okay, it was very little snow, but made us feel pretty gnarly.

 

Hello Glacier National Park!

Can we please ride to Canada? It's soooo close!

These views...

Some sexy steeds, a sexy creek, and sexy mountains.

We made it to the Polebridge Merc with just enough time to buy the out of pizza rolls, huckleberry bear claws, and all the pastries.

 

Sweet dispersed campsite along the North Fork of the Flathead River... right at Glacier's doorstep. 

Summit lakes make for the best lunch break spots.

Fall in Montana is gorgeous. Couldn't have asked for better weather. (photo credit: Cricket Butler)

The crew had enough energy to gather for one last group photo back at the Whitefish Bike Retreat and happy to be done!

Dipping my toe into the world of sponsored bike touring was a surreal experience for me and one I'm not sure I would repeat. While I feel privileged to have been part of a project to inspire other women to get into bikepacking, it wasn't my cup of tea. I'd rather focus my energy on engaging women in my little corner of Oregon. 

A few tips for cycle tourists:

• The route we ended up riding can be found here. According to local intel, there are a lot of different ways to cross the divide on dirt roads and each are all pretty great. We ended up getting a shuttle ride to allow us the best route for the time we had.
• If you can help it, stay at the Whitefish Bike Retreat. Cricket is a badass and wealth of information. Not only has she ridden the Great Divide Mountain Bike route at least four times, but she has thru-hiked the PCT and AT. There are miles of singletrack that leave straight from her property. She provides shuttles to Banff. Oh yea, and there is a wood fired sauna. Really, what more, could a cyclist want?
• The Polebridge Mercantile has everything a bikepacker could want, from showers, to hot coffee, and a surprisingly robust selection of groceries. During the peak summer months, there is also a hostel there, but I loved dispersed camping by the river.
• This ride was sponsored by: Ortlieb, Adventure Cycling, 7 Mesh, Masi Bikes, Exped, Skratch Labs, Hydroflask, and Whitefish Bike Retreat.

Days 2 and 3: Steens Mountain Loop

After luxurious night in our heated M.A.S.H. unit, we peeled ourselves out of bed only to realize that it wasn't *that* cold out. We watched the sun rise over the Alvord desert as we drank our coffee and made breakfast. We knew the second day of riding was going to be the longest with the most climbing, but we couldn't leave the Alvord desert without an obligatory roll out onto the playa.

Breakfast in the morning sun overlooking the Alvord desert.

Morning light on the backside of Steens mountain.

Playa selfie. 

Morning jaunt on the playa.

After playtime on the playa, we set out for what would become known as "the shitty windy day." We finished the last 10 miles of dirt road with no problems and climbed around the south side of Steens mountain. As we turned back north, we were pummeled in the face with a headwind so strong we had to pedal down the steep descent. With 60+ miles left to the ride, we put our heads down, created pace lines, and told long bad jokes to grind it out. There aren't many people who would make it through a day like that and still want to be my friend, but that's why Ani and Ed are the best!

Rolling out for the day and leaving behind the Alvord desert.

Breaktime.

More breaktime. We took turns drafting and slowly but surely made it to Frenchglen.

Ed's happy face... just 2 miles to Frenchglen and its all sweet sweet sweet downhill.

As we rolled into Frenchglen at sunset, high on the sweet descent, we had a decision to make. The Page Springs campground was still a 3-mile ride and we weren't 100% sure if the pump was still on, or if it had been shut down for the off season. The Frenchglen Hotel was full of people sitting down to a buffet dinner and looked so cozy and I felt done for the day. I wanted to ask about the Page Springs campground... and it dawned on me maybe there might be somewhere to camp in town. So we tiptoed in and asked if there was somewhere we could pitch out tent with access to a toilet. The owner said we were welcome to camp in their lawn and use the pit toilet. I asked how much it would cost, and he said "well, not really anything." Done and done.

What happens when you try to sleep three people in a two-person tent. We were surprisingly comfortable and with lows in the 20s, we were happy to snuggle.

Another perk of camping in the hotel lawn was a hot breakfast with all-you-can-drink coffee.

Turns out the hotel was half full of other folks who bike toured. We chatted with a few and got one last group photo before rolling back to Crane hot springs for one last dip.

The last day of riding started off with a leisurely breakfast at the hotel. We soaked in the warmth and drank bottomless cups of coffee and set off with a small cheering squad. Luckily, the wind had calmed down and it was a relatively easy ride back to the Crane hot springs, where we had one last soak before heading home. 

Day 1: Steens Mountain Loop

I've had my eye on a bike tour in Eastern Oregon for quite some time that the awesome folks at Oregon Bikepacking mapped out that circumnavigated and went up and around Steens mountain. The route has all my favorite things, including empty back roads, gravel roads, hot springs, and quirky tiny "towns." Sometimes, I find myself on so many adventures, that I just need to commit to a date on the calendar for a bike tour with friends and then make something happen. So a few months back, we put a 3-day weekend randomly on our October calendar for a bike tour.

As the date neared, we needed to figure out where to go. Three days was not enough to do the Steens route I had on my radar, but I realized that by cutting out the massive dirt road climb to 10,000 feet, we could still circumnavigate Steens mountain if we averaged about 70 miles a day. There are only a few people in my life that would find that kind of mileage fun, so team Ecuador was reunited for a lot of Type 2 fun, good food, and hot springs.

We piled our bikes onto Ani's car and headed out the Crystal Crane hot springs to camp before starting our bike tour. The folks there will let you park your car for $5 a day and having a hot soak in the outdoor pool made for a lovely starting and ending point. We demolished a pot of homemade pozole and then soaked and took in the brilliant starry skies, made more brilliant by the new moon. Shortly after sunrise, we pulled our gear together and braved the cold morning to head out for the first day of riding.

It may have dipped below freezing our first night at Crane hot springs. Ed shows off his new swim trunk style.

Crane hot springs is more like a ginormous pool. Don't let the sunny skies fool you, it's only about 27 degrees out.

After a leisurely breakfast, we set out and willed the sun to heat up the desert landscape. We blissfully rolled down the empty road. The air was still and there was nothing but blue skies. While Eastern Oregon does not have the majestic landscape of other parts of Oregon, the vast space and emptiness of the desert has a different beauty. These roads are empty, whether paved or gravel, and the few drivers cyclists encounter are generally kind people. We had folks pull over to ask us if we needed Cokes or water or just slow down to make sure we didn't get dusted out.

And, we are ready to head out, all bright eyed and bushy tailed or something like that.

On the long empty road.

First mechanical of the trip... a broken spoke. We were excited to try out the fiber spoke fix kit! It was amazing and it totally worked.

Road side snack break brought to you by the following sponsors: beef jerky, cheese, Trader Joe's fishies, olives, and peanut butter.

Delicious descent towards the Alvord desert.

The day passed by quickly and we transitioned from pavement to dirt. While the dirt road we easy, it had been a long day. One of Ed's front racks also broke and so Ani took one for the team and threw his pannier on her rear rack. As the sun set, the temperature dropped and we pushed on to make it to the Alvord hot springs by sunset. And then, at long last, the oasis in the desert appeared and we celebrated with some beers and whiskey. It had been a really long day and we decided to splurge on a sweet M.A.S.H. unit to sleep in. That, and Ed thought he had a 3-person tent, which was actually a 2-person tent, and having our own beds sounded awfully grand.

My favorite road sign.

M.A.S.H.

Our mansion for the night... drying out the tent from the frozen night at the Crane hot springs.

A few tips for cycle tourists:

• The route we ended up mostly taking can be found here. Depending on the time of year the route is ridden, it can be insanely hot and my understanding is that the dirt road from Page Springs Campground back to the paved road can be impassable after rain. We ended up camping in the lawn of the Frenchglen hotel and not Page Springs Campground as originally planned. The Oregon Bikepacking website does a good job of marking all the shady spots if you do an earlier season tour.

• Highway 78 has the "most" traffic and it can be fast-moving, however, there are very few cars and most will pass you with a wide berth. After the turnoff onto the Anderson Valley road, traffic is virtually non-existent. There is about 40 miles of good 2-lane dirt road on the eastern side of Steens mountain and it is basically flat. While there are sections with washboard, bikes can usually find a good line. 

• There are no reliable natural water sources between Crane and Fields. There is, however, water available for purchase at the Alvord hot springs office which is generally open from 9:00 am to 9:00 pm. 

• It can get really windy on this route. Really windy. Our second day, we biked into a headwind the entire way and it almost broke us. Tent camping could be challenging in high winds both at Crane hot springs and Alvord hot springs, but both have options for "cabins."

Wallowas Comedy of Errors

It's easy to paint life as one adventure to the next and skip over the hard stuff, the boring stuff, and the every day stuff. But that's not life, and as unglamorous as it may be, sometimes the best lessons in life comes from the moments in between each adventure. The day-to-day of work has been wearing on me more than I care to admit, and sometimes, I wonder if being "grown up" is worth it... but then I also struggle with what to do when I have too much time on my hands. David and I often talk about the hamster wheel of life and how to find balance in it all.

Summer is the time when I start to wear myself out with adventure after adventure. There is a pressure folks in this corner of the world put on themselves of needing to explore all the places and taking advantage of all the good weather, lest we somehow miss out on living. I'm beginning to realize that August should really just be my month of rest. It's too hot, too dry, too smoky, and more often than not, I'm nursing a neglected injury. This is exactly the time when I should be able to give myself permission to practice capoeira music, make art, and resurrect all the food projects I love. Fall will bring another frenzy of needing to get out just one last time before the snow flies.

But I digress, this all started when my big all ladies bikepacking trip to Montana got postponed due to the fires and smoke that blanketed Canada and basically everything west of Colorado. I was bummed. I had been looking forward to taking a break from work and gave up an opportunity to go backpacking to make sure I could be prepared for the trip. Rather than try to just power through the work week, I desperately checked the AQI maps for anywhere within a seven hour drive that had decent air. The Wallawas were pretty close to normal, so I hatched a last minute plan to do an overnight bikepacking trip and some dayhiking.

Oh beautiful blue skies! So much promise as I was driving out towards the Wallawas.

A quick stop at the adorable indie bookstore in Enterprise to grab a new book for the weekend since I had left my other book at home. A tiny rustic version of Dudley's, my hometown indie bookstore.

As I pulled onto Hurricane Creek road and the mountains came into view, I knew I had made the right decision. Blue skies and perfect dispersed camping greeted me as I popped open a beer and set up camp. I had the most glorious smoke-free afternoon and evening reading in my hammock and writing in my journal. Then I drifted off to sleep with the babbling creek as my gentle lullaby for a good night's sleep.

It doesn't get much better than this.

The next morning, everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. Well, except for breakfast. I had the loveliest breakfast by the creek. After I had loaded up all my gear, I started rolling down the road... and then it happened. Both of my tires slowly went flat. I tried to pump both of them, but the goo for my tubeless set up had dried and neither would hold air. I only had one spare tube, so I tried to asses my options. There was a small bike shop, I thought, in Joseph, but it was really just part of a hardware store and was not sure they could service a tubeless set up. The next nearest full service shop was in La Grande, over an hour away. Well, maybe I could day hike! Except that I had accidentally left my hiking shoes at home, so all I had were cycling shoes and flip flops.

What is wrong with this picture?

A closer inspection reveals dried up goo.

The final straw was looking back towards my mountain view that had been so clear the night before only to see that the smoke was back and obscured my views. I sat down for a bit to think about my options. Even if I did get my bike fixed, did I really want to bike through the smoke? The air quality deteriorated drastically as I sat in camp and I decided it wasn't too late to head home and have a staycation. I had dozens of little things on my "to do" list that had fallen by the wayside in the bustle of summer, and when was the last time I had over 3 days at home with no plans?

It was decided, I would save my longs and head home. By the time I packed up and left, the air quality was hazardous and I felt lucky not to be biking in that. Sure, I could chase the green dots on the AQI map in the valley, but with no functional bike and no hiking shoes, there wasn't much to do anyway.

Same view from my campsite, where did the mountain go?

On my way out... ick.

When I got back home, the smoke was thicker in the air than when I left. For the first time this summer, I actually put all of my gear away into my gear tubs instead of leaving it half staged for a last minute trip. My cupboards have been cleaned and re-organized, homemade hot sauce made, sprouts started, art projects are swirling in my mind, and I've set everything up to do my fall planting in my garden. As always, in the back of my head is a scheme for another time, a bike tour in this area... 

BIkepacking Overnight: Circumnavigation of Mt. Hood

Michelle, a former coworker and one of my good friends who also happens to love bikes, is leaving Bend for good for adventures in France and then bigger and better things in Colorado. We had intended on doing bike tours several times this year, but were waylaid by my dislocated elbow and weather on two separate occasions, and so we were determined to get one last bike tour in before she left. The forecast was nothing but sun and heat and summer wildfires had yet to chase us from this part of Oregon, so off we went!

When I had originally decided we should park at Timberline Lodge, all I remembered was that there was safe overnight parking for my car from the time I did a backpacking trip on the Timberline trail around Mt. Hood. What I did not remember was that it was five miles miles straight up Mt. Hood, elevation gain that I had not anticipated when mapping the original route. As we creeped to the top, we looked at each other... should we park in a pullout? Should we look for a different parking spot? "Might as well at least get a look at the top since we are almost there," I commented to Michelle. And then it was done. Screw it, we got this far so we decided to stick with the original plan. We were going to circumnavigate Mt. Hood and finish in a blaze of sweat and glory. 

We quickly packed up our gear, hit the bathroom, laughed at the fact there were folks wearing snowboarding gear getting in their last turns of the season, and the zoomed down the hill to Highway 26 and quickly connected to the quieter Highway 35. We got to see Mt. Hood peeking out from every which way, and then veered off onto Cooper Spur, which is a quiet access road that runs parallel to Highway 35 and provides access to the more remote Cloud Cap area of Mt. Hood.

Michelle contemplates the many pear orchards we passed... Peartopia, to be sure, but none were ripe and we languished with no fruit stands right on our route. Where were all the cherries and peaches?

Even though there were no farm stands to be found in this part of the Fruit Loop, we relished the gorgeous views of Mt. Hood overlooking bucolic farmland.

We descended into Parkdale, which has all the things a cyclist needs, including water, BBQ, multiple restaurants, a bike shop, and much to our chagrin... fruit stands, but a mere 1.5 miles out of our way. We even saw another bike tourists here! Our stop was short and sweet, just long enough to get water out and water in and to enjoy the lunches we had packed.

Lunch break in the cute tourist town of Parkdale with shade, public restrooms at the illustrious local museum, and purportedly the best huckleberry crepes and pies in town.

As we headed out of Parkdale, the heat of the day was upon us and we were dripping with sweat pretty much all the time. We had enjoyed a glorious descent into Parkdale and the ghost town of Dee, but as we rounded back to head over the north side of Mt. Hood, we prepared ourselves for slow climb out of the valley via Lost Lake road and the Lolo pass road. Luckily, these are both lovely quiet roads and we saw a ton of cyclists, both those out for day rides and others bike touring like us.

Water refills and head dunking happened as much as possible with the 90+ degree weather and blazing sun.

After consulting the topo map, we eyeballed a small plateau in the climbing, a small plateau that happened to come right after the steepest climb of the whole tour at 13%, but before the route turned to dirt just shy of the Lolo pass. It was not an easy feat after riding all day. But we labored through it in our granny gears and rejoiced when we hit the plateau. We were disheartened a bit by the fact that much of this road tracked underneath buzzing powerlines, but we were finally able to get away from them a few miles into the plateau and the riding itself couldn't be beat with empty one-lane roads that forced the few cars there to proceed with caution.

Magically, after the climb kicked our butts, this magical mansion of a dispersed campsite appeared. If we had explored a little more, we would have discovered an accessible creek just a hop and a skip down the road for water (which we had packed it so it was fine), which would have been glorious to splash in to rinse of the dirt and grime of the day.

Dinner time! Don't worry, we did NOT light a fire, we just used the firepit rocks as our kitchen table.

We saw a little trail across the road and literally, in the middle of nowhere 2/3 the way up the Lolo pass, we had our own personal outhouse, complete with a "vacant/in use" sign. 

Since we had set up camp early, I took some time to write in my journal and finish Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey, a book I had taken on two other bike tours but had failed to finish, while Michelle took a nap. I love getting to camp with enough light to make a leisurely dinner (this time, Thai rice noodle soup with a beaten egg, shitakes, and veggies), drink a little wine or whiskey, and having some quality time to lose myself in my journal, my thoughts, or a good book. We both drifted off to sleep in the warm summer night, no sleeping bag or rainfly needed.

Morning came early and we set off to beat the heat. Mt. Hood was hazy in the bright light of early morning as we worked our way up the dirt road over the Lolo pass.

We made quick work of the Lolo pass and zoomed down 10 miles to Zig Zag where we had second breakfast on the stoop of the local cafe, which also served as our water refill station. And then we braced ourselves for the long continuous climb from Zig Zag to Government Camp along Highway 26. Once we hit the turnoff for the Timberline Lodge, we were so happy to be off the highway that we didn't care we had to climb another 2000 feet!

A short rest break halfway up, which also served as moment to enjoy the views of Mt. Jefferson.

With the end in sight, we took one last break before we rejoined civilization to look back on what we had done and to enjoy the views of Mt. Hood.

The last bit of climbing, which was supposed to be our blaze of glory, wasn't too bad. The waterfalls were plentiful towards the base, the views were spectacular, the cars/motorcycles/shuttle buses gave us tons of thumbs ups and support, and there simply was not a better way to end this ride.

A few tips for cycle tourists:

• Our route was about as good as I could get it without making more of the ride on dirt. Michelle has a set up that doesn't do great on dirt roads so I tried to keep the dirt road riding to a minimum. I based our route off a cycling route on RidewithGPS that I had found that started in Hood River and went around using primarily Highway 35, Lolo pass, and Highway 26. Given that we were driving up from Bend, this didn't make sense to us and I'm not sure why that route did use the lovely Cooper Spur alternative to Highway 35. Navigation was easy and I could have easily done it without a GPS, but I did put the route on RidewithGPS and download it for offline use just in case. We rode this counterclockwise for better camping options and to have most of the dirt road be climbing rather than descending.

• The 11 mile section of Highway 26 to Timberline Lodge is a slog of steady climbing with lots of traffic. While there is a decent shoulder most of the time, this was mentally the hardest part of the entire tour. 

• There was plenty of water on the route in the form of small roadside streams, waterfalls, and even bigger rivers, but usually the river access was steep and often inaccessible. We were happy to load up so we could dry camp if necessary. 

• Coming up the Lolo pass, there wasn't much good dispersed camping until the plateau before the dirt road summit. There was one okay site with access to a small waterfall after the 13% grade climb to the plateau, but it was pretty exposed to the road. A few miles down and past all the sections where you track along the powerlines, there is a huge dispersed site with nice soft dirt, plenty of hammock trees, and a rustic outhouse across the road. Even up and through the dirt road section, there were other dispersed sites with fire pits, but most were too close to the road for my liking, except for one that was on a big stream and was tucked back and along the bank. 

• For those wanting more luxurious accommodations, there was a bike-friendly sign at the Cooper Spur lodge and Parkdale likely boasted some sort of accommodations. Both also had full services (water, groceries, food, beer, cafe, restaurant) and Parkdale even had a bike shop. On the southern side of Mt. Hood, Zig Zag, Rhododendron, and Government Camp all boast enough civilization for cyclists to find water, food, and accommodations.