How to not finish a bikepacking race

BuckshotI would like to share with you my wisdom on how to NOT finish a bikepacking race. Given that the 2019 Buckshot is the one and only such event I have attempted, I am a little surprised too that I’m already such an expert.

This is the inaugural Buckshot race. It is a loop that starts and ends in Kamloops. For more info, see this link.

Take my word for it. If you do exactly as I described, you won’t be able to finish either.

  1. Leave your food behind

On the way out of town, stop at your favorite bagel shop to pick up bagels for your ride. But when you arrive at the start line, leave the bagels in the car. The first resupply point is only 180 km away.

When you are as forgetful as me, you will be fine on Day 1. But you will run out of food on Day 2, with quite a bit more mileage to go until the resupply point. For 3 hours, you will ride on empty, and call it quits when you start to hallucinate.

2. Don’t test out your gear

There is a thing called shakedown rides. You train with all your gear and weight, refine what doesn’t work, and work out the details before a race. Don’t do that. Skip that important step.

I had a new handlebar bag I have never used. I borrowed some lights the night before leaving for the start line. I got my down quilt the day before the race. I had no place to mount the borrowed lights because I left my helmet mount at work. I never tried riding hills with camping gear and the 2L water bladder filled. My knee hits the feed bag when I climb standing.

If you follow all my steps, you’ll be stopping 10 km into the race, trying to re-pack your bags because the heavy weight in the front was causing all sorts of problems. Brilliant.

3. Don’t learn to navigate

You think your “off line map” with Ride With GPS will work perfectly. But because you skipped the shakedown rides, you never tried using that app. So for whatever reason, when the app stopped telling you you’re off course, you ride full steam ahead down the wrong road in complete darkness. Adding 17km to a punishing course will surely suck the life out of you, and make you feel like a complete idiot.

Be confused about GPX and FIT files. Don’t try to understand how they work with your Garmin.

4. Don’t figure out your strategy

Some people “tour” the route. Some people “race” the route. If you “tour” the route, then take your time, camp where you feel like, stop and chat with people, and pack a nice tent and camping stove. If you “race” the route, then you’re going to pack light and go fast.

If you have it figured out beforehand what you are doing, life is much easier. Don’t do that. Be undecided. Then kick yourself for packing too much shit to race, but packing too little to enjoy a scenic tour.

5. Don’t learn about your bike

Be spoiled like me, who has an awesome bike shop who will fix your bike when you break things. Don’t bother learning about your bike. When the shifter stops working, just ride your bike like a single speed bike and hope it will magically start working over the next hill.


Alright, obviously, you know by now I didn’t finish the Buckshot ride. All jokes and sarcasm aside, it was very hard for me to make the decision to bail. I bailed on day 2, about 27 hours after I started. At that point, I had run out of food 3 hours ago, and had another 35km of thick muddy hills to go before the resupply stop. At the rate I was going on a single speed bike, the store would be closed before I get there, and I would have to survive on no food for the next 12 hours. I had nothing left in me to continue.

I felt defeated, stupid, and weak. I was lucky that Cliff and the kids drove two hours from Kamloops to come find me and take me off the muddy road. When I saw the family, I sobbed uselessly. 

Did I have the most amazing time? Yes!

Did I have the worst time? Yes!

Adventures are like that. There are moments you think you’re in heaven, and there are moments you feel like you’re in hell. Yet that’s exactly why I want to try this again. There’s some sort of magnetic force that pulls me back into such self inflicted torture. Maybe next year I can write a post about how to actually finish this ride.




Winter camping

Before the weekend, Josh and I discussed a few ideas of things we can do together–just the two of us. Somehow he had his mind set on camping. Don’t get me wrong, I love camping too. But in December, while it’s rainy and dark? Not on the top of my list of fun things to do.

I got home from work on Friday, fully expecting to discuss with him what else we can do this weekend, given the wind warning and rain. As soon as I opened the door, he came running with his sleeping bag in tow, excitedly asked, “Are we going camping now?”

“Uh, baby, it’s raining out and there’s a wind warning in effect. Do you want to do something else this weekend?”

“No, I want to go camping.”

Okay…then. Since I did ask that in the form of a question, leaving the choice to him, I can’t then turnaround to say no. I packed up a few things and got ready to go camping. I have had a long week and was feeling very tired. I really did not want to go camping.

While waiting for the elevator, Josh looked up at me with bright eyes, and said, “Mommy, I have been waiting so long to spend some time with you.  You were away in Vienna with Daddy and Phoenix with Savanna. I am so excited we’re going camping!”

Well, that put an end to my self-pity about how tired I was feeling. Who knows how many more years I have left with my son wanting to go camping with me?

We drove down to Birch Bay State Park. It was pitch black and raining hard when we got there. We had our choice of campsites, as there were only 3 other campers in an area with over 30 sites. We settled in for the night listening to the wind outside, while we were safety tucked inside the van with electricity and a propane-powered furnace. Josh taught me how to make origami squids, we read a couple of chapters of Captain Underpants,  ate some potato chips and drank hot tea. By 9 pm, my eyelids were getting heavy. Josh was still too wound up to sleep. I gave up and went to sleep, while he stayed up a little longer to make more origami.


On Saturday, we woke up to a clear day with no rain. It was cold outside, but the furnace (and my many layers of clothing, and my sub-zero sleeping bag) had kept me pretty warm.

We ate breakfast, and went for a long walk. Josh loves looking for broken crab shells and interesting rocks at the beach, so we did just that. We got some coffee and hot chocolate at the coffee shop, and walked back to the campsite talking about random things. We talked about how much we love camping, and made plans to do this more often.

While waiting for our lunch to cook, I looked back and see Josh throwing sticks around, climbing onto the picnic table and jumping off. There was no one else around, so I let him be. Then he was fixated on stripping the bark off a broken tree branch. The air was cool and fresh. I was loving being outdoors, and being with Josh. There was no TV, no phone, no work, and no rush to go somewhere. It was so good for the soul.

IMG_1993-EditBirch Bay CampingIMG_2009Birch Bay CampingIMG_2031Birch Bay Camping

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IMG_1979-EditBirch Bay Camping


Fool’s Loop

Bikepacking is part backpacking, and part bike touring. You can do this fairly civilized on paved roads, or the other extreme of all off-road riding. It’s about stripping all the non-essentials of life, and carry only what you need to survive. I used every piece of gear I brought, except the spare tubes and sealant that are back-up plans. I could have carried less food supplies, but given what happened during the trip, I was happy to have extra.

My favorite part of the trip: sleeping under the stars!

For an abbreviated version of the trip report, please see my Instagram feed. What you get here is the very long version, with more pictures. This version is so long that I don’t know if I want to read it.

You’ve been warned.

The route is loosely based on this website.

Day 1: Phoenix to Anthem, 38km

Once upon a time, someone told me you can fly into a city with a bike, build the bike at the airport, break down the cardboard box, and ride away. I was amazed by the idea, and that’s exactly what I did for this trip. I spread out pieces of the bike, my bags, and tools in a corner of the airport. Nobody even batted an eyelash. Once I was done putting my bike together and add all the bags, I cut up the cardboard box and put everything in the recycling bin.

The Phoenix airport has a free train that connects to the city’s light rail metro system. I took the free train to the metro station, and paid $2 to get on the metro. The metro went all the way to the north end of the city. I got off at Dunlap, bypassing most of the traffic in the city, and started pedaling towards Anthem for a civilized night sleep in a bnb.


Flying over the grand canyon



Note to self: cardboard box gets no love from baggage handlers


At least everything arrived in one piece

Assembled bike, at the train station


Quick dinner stop at Subway


Still riding after sunset to get to Anthem


Day 3: Anthem to just after Horseshoe Dam, 82 km

From Anthem, I had planned on riding on the Maricopa Trail across to Carefree before entering the Tonto National Forest. After a couple of “trail closed” detours that seems to go nowhere, I was getting a little annoyed, so I took the pavement instead.

The ride was a steady uphill climb the whole way from Anthem to Carefree. But the sun was shining, and I was not missing the rain in Vancouver at all.

Just before leaving Carefree, I stopped at Starbucks for a coffee. I sat in the sun and inhaled the dry desert air with greed. This is where the adventure would start! I’m about to leave civilization and enter a very remote region. I can’t wait!!



Climbing to start the day


Making time to take pictures to send home to Josh




After the Tonto Forest info board, I was fully expecting the tarmac to turn into dirt. But no, the tarmac continued for quite a while. In fact, it went on for longer than I expected. 


Just when I was wondering when the dirt would start, a blue sign informs me that the Maricopa County’s responsibility ends right here.


One minute I was whining about too much tarmac. The next minute I was death-gripping my brakes on the downhill and fish-tailing through deep sand.




I don’t know if I startled the cow more, or if she scared the shit out of me more.


Horseshoe Dam


Horseshoe Lake behind the dam

I had a goal to get to Horseshoe Lake this evening. Seeing that I have gotten there around 3 pm, I felt pretty good about myself. There is a bit more daylight left to keep pushing forward. So far most of the dirt road was rideable. There was some car traffic.

I had about 1L of water left. The next source of water is at Sheep Bridge, which is only 18 km away. I figured I can just push towards Sheep Bridge and get water there. I didn’t want to waste precious daylight trying to climb down to Horseshoe Lake to get water if the next source is so close.

I continued on.

I was already getting fairly tired after a full day’s riding, and thirsty, and hungry.

To get across the dam, the only passage is a very narrow pedestrian walkway. There is no way for cars to get to the other side of the dam. The dirt road on the other side of the dam mostly complete crap with big fist size rocks and deep grooves.

Before I knew it, I was hiking with my bike rather than riding it. I tried my best to ride, but it was beyond my limits. The “only 18 km” to Sheep Bridge started to seem unattainable as I hiked on, with the daylight starting to fade.

I tried riding down a rocky stretch, and fell over. I laid there on the dirt road, with the wind knocked out of me, feeling the sting of the cuts and scrapes I just acquired. I was starting to make mistakes, and it’s too remote here for anyone to help me if I got really hurt. I decided it’s time to call it a day.

It’s 4:30 pm. I’m somewhere between two water sources. Too far to go back to Horseshoe Lake, and too tired to push towards Sheep Bridge.

I pushed my bike off the dirt road, up a hill, carefully between cacti, and found a small tree to be home for the night. Camping under a tree, apparently, is wise. I read that on the internet, so it must be true. This is my first time using a bivy set up, so I will take all the protection I can get!

I laid out my sleeping and cooking gear. I was being very quiet, taking care not to make any noise. I would rather not be discovered in my little spot behind some vegetation. I have camped by myself many times in my life, but never in such a remote place. After Horseshoe dam, I have not seen a single car in 2 hours. Nothing good ever happens in CSI Las Vegas when a woman is out in a remote area by herself. I can hear rifle shots in a distance, which reminded me of a CSI episode where a guy was shot hundreds of times by accident at a rifle range at night. All of a sudden I was imaging myself being shot hundreds of times because someone is going to think I’m a deer and kill me by accident. 30 seconds later, I was imagining the guys driving by in a big jeep and loud music are going to assault me.

I ate my freeze dried food. Now I have less than 500ml of water left. If I drink it now, I will have nothing to make breakfast with. So I decided to go thirsty.

I made a small fire with the dead wood I gathered. The fire was not for warmth, but more for fun. I didn’t need it. I put on my headlamp and write a few words in my notepad. The sun set quickly, and the sky became pitch dark. But before long, all the bright stars appeared, and it took my breath away that I was right under the milky way!

I laid in my bivy, looking up at the dark sky and bright stars. For some reason, it calmed my over-active imagination. I drifted off to sleep.




Took a little dirt nap. Luckily nothing was damaged other than my elbow and ego.


The sun was starting to set. I decided I needed to break for the night.


Boiling water with the Trangia alcohol stove I just bought. I was pretty excited to use it.


My little camp fire, with my sleeping set-up in the background and sweaty laundry hanging on the tree branches to dry.


Day 3: Just after Horseshoe Dam to bottom of Bloody Basin, 33 km

I woke up without bullet holes or assault wounds on me. Wow, I made my first night of wild camping in one piece. I was so pleased with myself.

I boiled my remaining water to make breakfast. Then as soon as the sun is up high enough for some warmth, I packed up camp and started towards Sheep Bridge. My lips were stuck together because they were so dry.

There were a couple of signs to the effect of “this road is meant for 4×4 high clearance vehicles, not your little cross bike and skinny 40mm tires, dumbass!” And those signs were right. My hopes of getting to Sheep Bridge quickly to get water fizzled as I hiked.


The desert is beautiful. I frigging love it!


The hills ate me for breakfast


This is pretty typical of the condition of the road. Someone else can probably ride this just fine, but I just don’t have the skills for it.





I would ride 20 metres, and have to get off to hike 30 metres, get back on to ride 25 metres, and get off to hike 20 metres. I was getting on and off my bike so much, that my right inner thigh was getting chafed from brushing over my sleeping bag.

It took me 2 hours to finally get to Sheep Bridge. When I saw the bridge, I exclaimed out loud: Water!!!!

I have not had a drink of water for 18 hours, aside from the 1 L I used to cook my dinner and breakfast.

I ran towards Verde River, took out my water filter, and started filtering water into all my carrying vessels. And just to double the assurance, I also added Aquatabs to the filtered water. When I finally got to drink the water 30 minutes later, it was the most delicious chlorine I have ever tasted!!


Verde River


Sheep Bridge – a narrow foot bridge for ranchers to get their sheep over the river


I filled both my bottles and a bladder with the water from Verde River, and added treatment tablets just to be sure.


The punishing hike to get up to Sheep Bridge. I was a sweaty mess by the time I hoisted the loaded bike over these rocks.


I did not stop for lunch, as I was trying to rush through as much of the mileage as possible. The plan was to get to Cordes Junction tonight. Technically it was only about 65-70km from where I started in the morning. Normally that kind of distance on the road would have never even fazed me. But the fact that it took me 4 hours to cover 20 km, I was starting to worry. Also, all the water I got from Verde River this morning was starting to run low.

It was Thanksgiving long weekend, so there were a number of families driving their dune buggies into the forest. They all had loud music playing, faces masked by bandanas, and large coolers strapped to the back of their off-road buggies. Every single driver would slow down and give me space on the road, and waved hello.

One particular driver came to a dead stop next to me, and asked if I wanted water. My eyes lit up. YES! Please!! He jumped out of his driver seat, went to the back, opened up his cooler, and handed me an icy cold bottle of water. I probably said thank-you 30 times. I was so grateful.

The day was hot, dry and windy. I felt like water was just evaporating out of my every pore. I took small sips of the water I was given, but even then, I finished it in half an hour.

An hour later, a BMW coming towards me was slowing down to give me space. I gathered up the guts and asked if he had any water to spare. He was a middle aged man, with his dad in the passenger seat. He did not hesitate handing me his water bottle, and asked if I wanted more. This was not the time to be shy, so I said yes. He got out of his car, opened his trunk, and brought out a big jug to fill my own bottles. He told me the road doesn’t get any better for quite a while. It took him 3 hours of driving from Cordes to where we were standing, which means I have no chance in hell to make it to Cordes tonight. His dad shook his head at me, totally not impressed that I was obviously unprepared for my journey. I was shaking my head at myself by this time. How the hell did I get to this point? What made me think I can do this on my own?

I thanked them for the water, and continued on. The landscape was so beautiful, but the hill was relentless.

The people of Arizona are some of the friendliest people I have ever encountered. I would stop on the side of the road to catch my breath, and at least two drivers stopped to ask if my needed help. It occurred to me that it could very well be the same people who were shooting rifles the night before who are now offering me water or assistance or a friendly wave. I may not agree with the gun laws in the US, but people are still people–I believe goodness is in everyone’s core.

Around 3 pm, I came across a small stream. I was so happy to be able to load up on water again. This time, there were cows grazing nearby. I filtered the water, added the treatment tabs, but decided I will also boil the water later before I consume it. I am not taking the chance with getting sick when this trip has been the most physically demanding things I have ever done.

By 4 pm, I have only made it to the bottom of Bloody Basin, just 33 km after my departure point this morning. That’s less than half the mileage I planned on, and there is no way for me to get out of the forest that night.

I decided to set up camp and get some rest, and maybe start early tomorrow. I found a spot at the top of a ravine. Even though it was 4:30 pm and there was still daylight, the temperature dropped very quickly. I shivered involuntarily. By 5 pm, I already knew my sleeping bag was not going to keep me warm through the night.

To save weight, I took Savanna’s hybrid sleeping bag on this trip. The bag was rated to 7c, but the temperature eventually dropped to -3c that night.  If I can’t get out of the forest, the only chance of making it through the night is keeping a fire going so I can stay warm.

I got to work gathering dead branches. I boiled water on the little stove, poured it into my stainless steel bottle, and held the bottle in my jacket for warmth. By 8 pm, my eyelids were getting heavy. I dozed off while sitting cross legged. 20 minutes later, I woke up freezing because the fire has gone out. I brought the fire back, and basically sat waiting for the wood to burn, just so I can add more to keep it going.

There wasn’t much else to think about at that moment. I missed my kids. And if I don’t make it out alive? I truly hope that they know I was having the most badass adventure of my life when shit hit the fan. I didn’t cry. I wasn’t emotional. I calmly kept the fire going, and thought about the kids.

The stars were bright. The moon was so bright it looked like someone turned the light on in a room.


Beautiful landscape and relentless hills



Day 4: Bottom of Bloody Basin to Cordes Junction, 43 km

When the sun started to rise, I have also just burned the last branch I gathered. I really wanted to sleep for a few hours.

I ate breakfast, and decided not to sleep. I have finite amount of daylight to get to Cordes Junction tonight, as I mentally cannot take another night in the forest, and who knows how long it will take me to get out! I packed up and started the climb out of Bloody Basin.

There was very little riding all morning. I hiked. And hiked. It was very warm, windy, and the climb out of the basin was steep. Every once in a while, I would stop and take some photos, or catch my breath. Since I left the campsite at 8 am, I have not seen a single vehicle. How long would it take me to get to Cordes Junction? What if I am stuck in the forest another night? What if I don’t come across any water source all day? Is this how people die of exposure? Why are there ravens circling above my head?

I started rehearsing a speech in my head, asking for help if I saw a vehicle. I no longer cared if I rode the entire route on my own. I wanted to get out of the forest, I wanted to get to town, and have some water. I hiked for the next 3 hours, pushing the loaded bike up steep and rocky hills.

Finally, I heard a vehicle in a distance. I couldn’t see it, but it was coming from somewhere behind me, headed in the same direction I was going. It rattled and there was a lot of metal-against-metal banging noises. There were just too many twists and turns in the road to see what the vehicle was. I continued hiking, and finally after 20 minutes, I can see the vehicle. It was a extended cab pick-up truck towing a trailer holding 6 cows. It was the pieces of the trailer that were making the banging noises. I waved the truck down as it came up next to me.

Me: “Hi there. Any chance I could catch a ride? I have bitten off more than I can chew on this road.”

Rancher: “I ‘er only going up to the top ‘er to drop off ’em cows, eh.”

He rolled away. Not another word was said.

I took a deep breath. There’s no one to blame but myself for being in this predicament. I thought I could ride this road. No one forced me to do this. I wanted it. There was nothing else to do except continue to hike up the hill. This was where the topo map showed the most dense lines out of the basin, and it took me another hour to crest the lip. I had been hiking for over 4 hours, sweating and swearing, and finished all but about a cup of water.

All of a sudden, the road condition improved. I got on my bike and actually rode it! It felt very foreign for a few minutes, since I have done nothing but hike for the last 4 hours. There were still no vehicles in sight, but I didn’t care. I was actually moving, and the kilometres finally started to tick at a speed I was accustomed to. I rode with renewed sense of energy on the type of dirt road I assumed would be typical of this trip, and I actually smiled because I was finally moving forward. 3 hours later, I finally finished the dirt road and reached where it connected to tarmac. The uphill on tarmac into Cordes Junction did not bother me at all–anything at this point is easier than the rocky hikes I have been doing.

Rather than finding a place to camp, I took a motel room in Cordes for a night. I needed to drink copious amounts of water, eat a mountain of food, take a shower, and get some sleep. I went to bed at 6 pm, and slept for 12 hours straight that night.


The fire just before the sun came up


Let’s do this!


Bloody Basin got its name because of how red the dirt is



See the bottom of the photo–notice the rusted car? It likely fell off the steep dirt road and was just left there. I had a moment of thinking of throwing my bike down there too.


As soon as I got out of the basin, the road smoothed out. This was the smoothest dirt I have been on for days.


My thoughts at the moment: I never want to see another gravel road again in my life. Ever.


Day 5: Cordes Junction to Phoenix, 88 km

The interstate ride out of Cordes Junction was fast, smooth, and all downhill, and I barely pedaled for 17km. The shoulder of an interstate is paved with broken glass and shredded tire, but I was smiling. I really needed to feel like I can get some speed on a bike.

I stopped in Black Canyon City for a coffee, and spent an hour chatting with everyone who walked by, wanting to know where I came from and where I was going with that very dusty bike. It reminded me of my solo motorcycle trip across the country back in 2006. I had no shortage of curious people who just couldn’t understand why I would be doing such a thing by myself.

Leaving Black Canyon City, for some reason Google map told me to take this obscure road with no name. I just assumed Google knows that the next section of I-17 is a no-bike zone, and I blindly followed. I had to get through a barbwire gate, according to Google. I can see a gravel path up ahead. But who am I to dispute with Google? I took a deep breath and started down the gravel path.

The condition of the path deteriorated very quickly. Within 15 minutes, I was back in the familiar position of pushing my bike over rocks, hiking rather than riding. Annoying.

I stopped and actually Googled whether I was allowed to ride on I-17 through that portion. It turns out that I was. And here I was, sweating and hiking on a rocky service road, while I can see I-17 a few hundred feet away with buttery smooth tarmac. I could spend an hour hiking back to that barbwire gate and start over on pavement, or I can continue hiking this crap road. I chose to continue, as I hoped it wouldn’t be much longer.

I was wrong. The crap road continued. Not a single vehicle went by.

After 3 hours of hiking on some of the worst surface of the entire trip, going through long dark tunnels under the highway, I finally found tarmac again. This time, I stayed on it. I rode a long stretch on I-17, until I got close to Anthem. There was just a bit too much traffic when it came to the off- and on-ramps, I decided it was safer for me to get off the interstate. I rode on city streets, spinning my sore legs as fast as I can, with the hope of getting back to Phoenix that night.

Even though I don’t fly out until 2 pm the next day, I wanted to get into the city. I wanted to be done with riding. It was like I gorged on a huge meal, and I felt sick from eating too much. I wanted to get off the bike, feel like a normal human again, and not rush to try to catch my flight.

The city riding back into Phoenix was nothing to write home about. I rode to Dunlap street and got on the train, and took the train into the city. I found a hotel close to the airport for the night. Even though I have already seen the movie Wolverine a few times, I watched it on TV until the wee hours of the night. Honestly, I just wanted something predictable.



Sun Rise Point at a rest stop on I-17


I never should have followed Google’s direction to get behind this gate


The crap started shortly after I went through the barbwire gate



I didn’t fall over. The bike slipped out on the sand as I was pushing it. I could have held onto it, but I let it tip over gently. I was just done. Done with the hiking and pushing. Done with crap roads. I threw a little temper tantrum.


I likely couldn’t make it up this hill even if it was paved.


Tunnel under the highway



Finally got back to the city


Back at Dunlap Street station, where it all started 5 days ago.


Day 6: Short Spin, 13km

On the last day of the trip, I pedaled to a nearby park to ride the trails. It was nice to know I can actually handle the blue mountain bike trails, so it’s not like I am a totally sucky rider. I was scraping together the last little bit of my self confidence.

The morning air was very cool, and I sat in the park to soak up the sunshine. I had zero ambitious riding goals for the day. I wanted to spin out my sore legs, store the bike, and get on a flight home. I ate a huge breakfast, and gathered up my dusty bags to get on the plane. I couldn’t wait to get home and throw my arms around the kids!


Papago Park


Apparently that was a mountain bike trail that was rated blue.


Enjoying the sunshine


My very dusty bike, with squeaky mechs.



The. End.

Needless to say, not a whole lot went according to plan on this trip. I had a route in mind, but missed half of it, and took twice as long to cover some of the distance planned. I did’t have “the right bike” for a trip like this. I was scared shitless on multiple occasions. More scared than I have ever felt in any other circumstances in my life.


…I loved it.

I loved it that was the complete opposite of my normal life.

I loved sleeping under the stars, and feeling so small. I loved the physical challenge of pushing hard. I loved it that my legs were so sore. I loved it I had to be humble and ask for help. I loved it that I had to become flexible and change course when required. I loved it that I had to be ok with myself for not hitting the target.

A trip like this has a magical way of filtering out what is truly important in life.

I can’t wait to do it again!

Planning a bikepacking trip

My obsession with riding my bike may be slightly obvious. Aside from hanging out with the kids, there’s really not much else I want to do other than ride my bike.

A few weeks ago, I was sitting at my desk at work on a cold rainy day, wallowing in self-pity. I opened up Google map just to look at potential trips I can plan. This is one of those escape-reality things I do. I don’t like shopping or porn. I look at maps.

I decided on Phoenix. And riding a bike. And camping.

In a few days, I will fly down to Phoenix for a 5-day bikepacking trip. It will start right from the airport, up into the Tonto National Forest, up to Mayer, down Black Canyon Trail, and back to Phoenix. It will be a mix of pavement in the city, forest service roads, and some mountain bike trails.

I’m taking my cross bike. 40mm tires. A frame bag. A seat bag. Savanna’s sleeping bag (to save weight). And let’s see how this goes.


Update on Vienna

Sorry for the delay on posting an update. I excel at procrastinating.

I survived Vienna. There was no spontaneously self-combustion.

The time difference between Vienna and Vancouver made it very difficult to speak with the kids while we were away. While I missed them like crazy, I only spoke with them once.

I was busy with meetings, tours, and events. While I was in meetings, Cliff rolled out of bed late, eat a leisurely breakfast buffet, and walked the streets of Vienna searching for apple strudel. It was a whirlwind week of activities, and little sleep.

Cliff and I also rented road bikes and went riding outside the city a few times. I’m not a big fan of the busy city, but really enjoyed the mountain roads and countryside outside of Vienna.

When the gala at the AGM ended, we hopped on a flight a few hours later. The minute I got to hold both kids in my arms, I felt like life was complete again.

I certainly do not enjoy being away from the kids. They were totally fine. They missed us, and missed being driven around. But they were fine.Would I do this again? I wouldn’t mind going away with Cliff for a weekend, but certainly would not choose to be away for this length of time again in the next few years.










10 years ago

10 years ago, Cliff and I climbed Kilimanjaro together. After that, we went on a safari with some friends. Then Cliff had to go back to work, so I met up with yet some other friends and did an Eastern Europe tour to cover Budapest, Progue, and Vienna.

Vienna is a beautiful city. Although not my all-time favorite, I am very much looking forward to being there for Cliff’s first time in Europe. As much as I whine about being away from work during a busy time, and leaving the kids behind (which I’m still freaking out about), I know I will enjoy some “us” time with just Cliff.


A week in Kelowna

In 2015, we took the family to Kelowna for the first time and the kids had a blast. We have returned pretty much annually ever since. The kids love picking fruits, going to the beach, and visiting various farms. This year Josh and I also biked the Myra Canyon portion of the Kettle Valley Rail.

We’ve been back in town for a week now, and we’re still enjoying the fruits we picked from Kelowna. We eat them fresh, make smoothies, make popsicles, and make kombucha with them.




Penticton 2018

I started to write this blog post as a ride report. As a rookie cyclist, a lot of the stuff I write about seem fresh and interesting to me, so I go on and on and on about them. You might read this and think, “Wow, she’s an idiot.” Just keep your thoughts to yourself, and remember that I’m still new at all this.

Back in the fall last year, “Coach Jill” told me about the Penticton fondo. Jill is probably 103 lbs soaking wet, but can power up a hill like a boss. Penticton is easy enough to drive to with the whole family without too much fuss. Naturally, I signed up with little prompting.

Since March this year, I’ve been faithfully following a schedule to train for the fondo. After much anticipation, the day finally arrived and I was pumped.

Before this, I have only ever done one fondo (the 2017 Whistler fondo). Whistler was rainy and cold, and I was miserable, but I finished. Whistler has more net elevation gain than Penticton, and I handled it just fine. I figured I’ll be ok with Penticton. Right?

Not so much.

Whatever mistakes I made, I chalk it up to stupid rookie mistakes. The fact that I actually finished the ride was a huge win in my mind.

The route starts in Penticton, goes up to Summerland, back to Penticton, then down to OK Falls on the east side of Skaha, back up the west side of the lake, back to Penticton. It is absolutely gorgeous. Breathtaking. Beautiful.

I started the ride waaaaay at the back of the chute, and I couldn’t find anyone I knew. Mistake number one was trying to chase down other people I might recognize. Right out the gate was a hill, and I tried to pass everyone in my way. Eventually I found another familiar jersey (Emily), and hopped on her group. I already knew I blew more energy than necessary to try and catch someone. But I was so happy to find a friendly face. Emily was full of energy and it was infectious.

Things were great in the flats and turns, until we hit the KOM hill in Summerland. Mistake number two, I tried to keep up with the girl pulling, and it was a long hill. By the time I crested the hill, my legs and lungs were burning and I was on my own. After only 35km, I was *this* close to pulling over to throw up, and I still had 90km to go! Somewhere around 40km, Emily found me and we rode together back to town again with a big group.

After 50km and back through town, I lost Emily. That sucked. I found a big guy with giant calves and stayed behind him for a good while. It was like having a windshield, so I can take a breather. I tried eating, but my stomach was very unhappy with me. I have already drained two full bottles of electrolyte, and about half way through my 3rd bottle. Mistake number three–likely the biggest mistake I made–I didn’t want to stop at a busy aid station to get more water, so I went further down the East side of Skaha Lake with only half a bottle of water left.

Between 60-80km, things were pretty decent. I was very thirsty, obviously. Half a bottle of water for 20 km was not smart. I will pay for this very dearly later. I found two guys with Spandex Panda jerseys riding just above my speed. I asked if I can join them, and they kindly accepted. We all took turns pulling, but I knew for certain they were just being patient with me when I pulled. At 5’3″, I’m not giving them much draft. That was probably the most blissful part of my entire ride. They were going at a great speed I can manage, and rode smoothly and predictably.

Sadly, the Spandex Panda guys were doing the 160km ride, and I am doing 126km, so I had to wave them goodbye at the bottom of Secrest. By the time I took that turn, there was barely anyone on the 126km route. Was the rest of the world doing 160km? I looked up that hill, and looked down on my empty water bottles, and just thought to myself, you’re an absolute idiot.

I like hills. But Secrest is not like many other hills I have climbed. It was steep. It was relentless. I stood up on my pedals to try and use my body weight to push my way up this hill, and that’s when the cramps hit me. At the same moment, both my quads and both my calves cramped. I nearly fell over as my legs just gave way. I quickly sat back in my saddle as a “fuck!” involuntarily escaped my lips. What the hell was that? I have never cramped before.

My little brain was still trying to work out what was wrong with my legs, and how I was supposed to do this climb sitting on my butt the whole way. I pedaled slowly like a drunk person, zig zagging all over the pavement trying to not fall over. I ran through my options in my head. I can pull over and call it quits. Or I can try to ride through the cramps. I also really wanted to call the super athlete Tennessee and ask her what I’m supposed to do with the cramps, but the hill was too steep and I couldn’t take one hand off the bar to use my phone. So I kept riding.

My legs were in excruciating pain with each pedal stroke. I rode up the entire hill doing the drunken zig zag. The worst part was, at this point, I felt like my crotch was on fire. Maybe not enough Butt’r (a chamois cream I applied quite liberally before the ride)? Too much sweat? Too warm of a day? I don’t know, but I swear I was sitting on burning coal.

Imagine the Okanagan paper headline, “Fondo participant from Vancouver started a forest fire with her crotch“.

Some guy was being friendly and was chatting me up, and I was just so not in the mood. I really wanted to say, dude, my crotch is on fire, how is yours? (Don’t worry, I didn’t say that out loud. I just smiled and nodded, and pretended not to speak English.)

I crested the hill, and rode the next 7 or 8km all by myself. It was a remote piece of road, with no traffic, no signs, and no other cyclists. It was a little creepy. I went from, “This hill is finally over” to “Am I even on the right course?”

Eventually I see a few people ahead of me, and it gave me motivation to try to catch up. I rode a bit on and off with a few guys who look like they didn’t even sweat. They were chit-chatting and joking around. I’m pretty sure their crotches weren’t on fire.

At the next aid station, I was so happy to see the volunteer with two jugs of liquids. When she filled my bottles, I almost wanted to kiss her feet. Then a cute young man even peeled a banana for me. He could probably tell I was in shitty shape. The volunteers at this fondo are freaking awesome.

Eventually I caught up to someone riding somewhat at my speed. I found out later his name is Rob. Since I wasn’t going anywhere fast with my useless legs on the climbs, I chatted him up. He looked like he was suffering too. On the downhill, I ducked behind him for a quick descend. On the uphills, I would ride in front to give him a little break.

During the last 20km, it was so warm and the wind picked up. Back on the last stretch of the highway, all I can think of is how much pain I was in, and hashing over all the mistakes I have made to be where I was at that moment. My Garmin wasn’t giving me an accurate read of the distance, and I don’t know Penticton at all, so I really couldn’t gauge how much farther I had to go. I was nearly in tears. Even my inner thigh was cramping. Like really, I didn’t even know there was a muscle there!

When we started the steady 1% climb up Main Street, Rob said that was the last climb. I figured the fact that I saw a Starbucks, we must be near the edge of downtown. It couldn’t be much further now. I had nothing left in me to go any faster than I was going. I keep waiting for Rob to lose his patience and ride past me, but I guess he likely had nothing left either. Main Street eventually flattens out, and the last 500-600m everyone starts to sprint. That was probably the clue that the end is near. Rob pulled out in front of me with a couple of other guys, and I gave it all I had to hang on. We rode as fast as we could to the last corner, and sprinted down the chute to the finish line.

The poor volunteer who cut my timing chip off had to catch me as I almost fell over. I limped my way up the curb, shook Rob’s hand, met his wife, and went to look for my family.

I finished. I couldn’t believe I finished. As much as I was cursing my legs for not working right, I knew it was my mistake. I started out too hard, tried too hard to keep up, and I was dehydrated. Even though I took enough electrolyte, there wasn’t enough water to deliver it to my muscles. And when you over-stress your body, the digestive system shuts down to allow all the blood supply to support the “flight” mode. That’s why I could barely eat and was at the edge of throwing up for more than half the ride.

I have learned so much on this ride. I’m still trying to digest all the valuable lessons. More importantly, as shitty as I felt physically, I looked back on the day and thought to myself, I will be back.



Sedona is breathtaking. My words fail to describe the beauty of the place. Here are some photos from the 3-day hiking trip with Maggie.


First day’s hike–Devil’s Bridge. We started hiking before 6 am in pitch darkness, using our headlamps to find our way. We were rewarded with having no one else on the trail, and got to Devil’s Bridge before anyone else that day.


At Devil’s Bridge


Cacti everywhere


Pick your poison. Neither sounded really appealing to me. Good thing that was for mountain bikers, and I don’t mountain bike.


The signs for mountain bikers are plenty


I named this the “chocolate cake rock”. Maggie was not impressed with my creativity.


We were getting pelted by hail here, but who’s complaining when you get this kind of view?


Plenty of interesting plants


This just takes my breath away.


Day two started with a scramble up Cathedral Rock. Best part of the trip!


The view from the top of Cathedral Rock trail.


What the walls of Cathedral Rock looks like.


Half this branch is smooth and brown, and the other half is bark-y and dried. So weird!


Funky bark.


Seriously twisted tree branch


Day three, we hiked to Devil’s Kitchen. It’s a giant sink hole with huge slabs of rocks fallen into the sink hole. Pretty awesome. Also pretty hard to demonstrate in a photo.


Last interesting plant


Since everyone talks about the vortex, Maggie and I decided to give it a try on the top of Ant Hill. We sat, breathed deeply, and hummed. Ok, maybe it was just making fun of the vortex seekers, but we got a photo to prove that we tried it and did not find the vortex.

Costa Rica with Savanna

Savanna and I came back from Costa Rica late on Tuesday night last week. We came back with some coffee and chocolate in our suitcase. But I also came back with a load of great memories of hanging out with this little human.

We stayed at a B&B owned by an older couple. The house was designed by the husband, the garden designed by the wife, situated on their family’s coffee plantation. We were surrounded by greenery. They  had two dogs and two cats, which is the equivalent of heaven for Savanna.

We were fed amazing fresh mangoes, juice from their own orange trees, and locally made cheese every morning. We went to the local farmers market to get fresh produce, drank coconut juice, and ate watermelon. When the monsoon rain started in the afternoon, we would stay in and do puzzles, coloring books, play with the host’s grandson’s toys. We took one cocoa farm tour where we gorged on chocolates made from the farm’s own cocoa fruit, and drank hot chocolate from freshly ground cocoa nibs.

In general, we spent a ton of time together enjoying each other’s company. I tried hard to savour every minute of time spent with Savanna, and memorize her still-baby’ish cheeks. I know how fast this time goes by, and I am in such denial that she’s going to kindergarten in September.Angela Chang Photography Costa Rica San Jose trip

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The house we stayed at

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Farmers market

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A fresh bean. My first time seeing one.

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Giant papaya

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Freshly made tortilla

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Savanna spent lots of time playing in the yard with branches and twigs.

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We did hours of coloring and puzzles.

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Churro filled with caramel. I ate most of it.

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Oranges that are great for juicing after they ripen. The smell of the orange flowers is a.m.a.z.i.n.g.

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Savanna collected walnuts in the yard

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On the cocoa farm tour, Savanna got to crack open a cocoa fruit.

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This is what the inside of the cocoa fruit looks like.

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Dried cocoa beans.

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Once dried, the cocoa beans are roasted to intensify the flavour.

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Then you crack the shells open.

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Grind up the cocoa nibs, make hot chocolate, and give it all to Angela.

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This is a story for another day. It’s a story about how I turned a 2-hour drive into a 5-hour drive on the twisty-est and rainy-est mountain roads in Costa Rica.

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And this is how patient this kid is about her mother’s ability to mess up the Google map directions.

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I am totally crazy about this little human being, and absolutely in love with her.

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Every morning, the sweetest and juiciest mango greets us.

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A stroll on the coffee planation with the B&B host.

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Savanna said, “Look Mommy, I found a heart!”