Intro to snow bikepacking

The drive north was a little surreal. Fog curled over the Vermillion cliffs, the road was empty, and snow appeared low in the desert.

I met Mike Curiak and Brian Blair at the Jacob Lake Inn. Mike handed me a bicycle, fresh off the jig in Steamboat Springs.

A Snoots — a Moots titianium softtail, designed specifically for touring on snow. Sweet.

I had a couple hours to turn the garage sale erupting around my car into a cohesive snow bikepacking kit. I didn’t know what I was doing, so there were a number of educated guesses in there.

Streamlined, well thought out, confident? Not the words you’d use to describe my kit.

We knew even less about the trail and snow conditions. There was a bit of a celebration when we discovered a ~packed trail heading south, towards the Grand Canyon.

I was amazed we were able to ride at all through the soft and deep snow. These bikes are pretty cool! Though it was always slow and broken by long stretches of walking.

No big deal, though, the walking was easy and allowed the head turn around and take in the surroundings.

I have spent so little time on snow in the last decade that it seemed like a different world. I flashed back to memories of skiing in Utah as a teenager. Except I had to remind myself that there were no quick runs back to the parking lot, no lodges and no warm places. Just an endless world of beautiful white.

We walked and walked, crunched snow, rode and rode, and in seven hours we had covered 14 miles. Only 14 miles out, but it felt like we were out there, knowing how much time and energy it’d take to get back.

The sun dropped and the temperature plummeted. I learned that you have to react quickly to temperature changes, and I payed for it getting chilled while Brian worked on his frozen derailleur pulley. Brian is also from a warm place (SoCal) but he seemed much more comfortable in the cold than I did.

We rode a little bit after sunset. It was fun to see how little light you need – slow speeds and reflective surface. Then we stomped out a place for a few sleeping bags and a fire.

I fiddled with my alcohol stove for quite a while (apparently they don’t work very well in the cold) and eventually got some ~boiling water for dinner. Mike had already made and eaten dinner, plus melted a gallon or two of snow, so I took some of his water. We stood around the fire telling stories and jokes, then finally sauntered off to try to stay warm without el fuego.

There was a certain amount of curiosity, lying there for the first minutes, trying to fall asleep. I don’t know quite how to explain it, only that when you are doing something foreign (sleeping on snow, in easily sub freezing temps) your mind tends to wonder. I knew if I got really cold all I had to do was jump up and run down or up the trail, so there was no real worry.

I was actually quite comfortable, and slept well. My toes were chilled in the morning hours as I laid around waiting for the sun’s influence to be felt in the world again. But otherwise I was toasty warm. According to Mike’s thermometer, it was 8 degrees when we left camp, an hour or so after sunrise. Maybe 4 or 5 was the overnight low?

In the morning I learned again how critical it is to have a streamlined kit. As soon as I put my feet into my frozen shoes they became very unhappy. Perhaps more a function of my footware choice (hiking shoes with NEOS overboots) than anything else. But it was clear that standing around fiddling with gear was a good way to freeze, fast. I did my best packing up the gear and said to Mike, “I’m going to walk down the trail to get my feet back.”

Mike, on the other hand, was packed up and ready to ride in what seemed like two blinks of the eye. Streamlined, well thought out, confident? Yep, you’d use those words to describe MC and his kit. I guess this isn’t his first rodeo or sumthin’.

There was a moment where I wasn’t too happy with myself, wondering if my feet actually would come back. When you can’t feel them you aren’t really sure how far gone they are. But several minutes dumb walking led to toasty toes.

I started trying to ride. But snow conditions were no better than yesterday. Things were still in the ~3 mph range. I questioned whether we would make it to the North Rim (~45 miles out), let alone back. It seemed pretty pointless to continue, but I knew conditions can be variable, so I figured I’d keep trudging along for at least a few hours to see if it would get any better.

It seemed to be getting worse, and I started getting frustrated. Part of it was the psychology of the out and back (why push / fight your bike one way, only to push / fight it back), and part of it was a regular old ‘low’ moment of being a little tired. MC and Brian both seemed to be able to ride more than I did, and moved a little faster.

After a long snack / gear break I decided I was turning back. We mulled over the options and the numbers, and MC and Brian decided to join me. It did indeed seem unlikely we’d make it to the North Rim (for the view and possibly a hike down canyon) with enough time to get back (we only had ~4 days of food and fuel at best).

Brian on his Pugsley with homemade frame bag

I expected continuing SLOW conditions on the way back, which meant we’d camp another night on snow.

Mike, running as cool and settled as the snow around him

But the trail firmed up, some NPS rangers passed by on snow mobiles, and I found myself spinning in granny gear, uphill, on what was perhaps the steepest hill we had yet seen.

Awesome! So this snow biking thing really is possible…

Oops. Keep your bike upright!

We stopped for a hot lunch, basking in the warm sun. My stove worked a little better, but melting snow to refill the camelbak was still a little tedious. I’ll need to figure out something else next time.

It was a beautiful day to be out on the bike. Brian out front, per usual.

Besides improving trail conditions, we were also descending — far more than it seemed like we had climbed in the other direction.

Fun stuff ensued — pumping the rises, swooping through ruts, one foot out around corners, trying to catch Mike and Brian only to go superman off the bike into the powder!

It still wasn’t ‘good’ conditions, just ‘good’ compared to what we had seen before. Our rear tires would still sink into holes. It was fun to try to get a read on the conditions, based on the snow mobile tracks and MC and Brian’s tracks. The sink holes were completely avoidable… sometimes.

We reached Jacob Lake just after sunset. We inhaled whatever they would cook us inside, then hit the road for warmer climates. My parents were in St. George, so I was excited to see them and stay at their place.

The next day we rode with two national champions, both in a bit of a goofy mood (that was the first they’d worn the jerseys since winning them at 24 Hours of Moab). Lynda was flying on her shiny singlespeed, I was trailing with tired legs and a persistent headache.

But man did it feel good to get out and ride some dirt.

And rock. MC on the quasi snow bike. It didn’t seem to slow him down any, and this way he didn’t even have to contemplate the big moves, like Base Jump. I pretended like I gave it a half serious look on my ‘big’ bike.

photo by Lynda Wallenfels

There were a couple fun things to ride on it, though.

DH and MC sessioning on Zen Trail. Yeah!

It’s always good to see friends and family. Bonus that it worked out that way on this trip.

The next morning I got to ride with my Dad. It was a little chilly (30’s) since I needed to go early, but once we were rolling it was quite nice.

I’m totally jealous of the ‘backyard’ trails my parents have.

Super scenic, super fun. Slickrock, techy sections.

Even a side move or two.

It was an invigorating way to start the day and a long drive back to Tucson. I decided to return back through Jacob Lake and Flagstaff to digest a few more snow visuals. In many ways the snow bikepacking seemed like a dream, and my eyes were craving more trees and deep snow, perhaps to prove it was real.

I’m still processing the experience and don’t know quite what to think. Most of the drive back I was just thankful for all the people in my life and everything I have. Life is full and I feel very lucky. Special thanks to Mike for all the info and encouragement over the years, and for loaning me his incredibly sweet and incredibly new snowbike for the trip.