A Rainbow, a Summer Solstice, and My Fourth Bikepacking Overnighter

Yay! I bike packed again!

Technically, this overnight happened because I wasn’t entirely sure whether my Nederland adventure counted toward the monthly bike packing challenge. Since I didn’t ride into camp and ride out the next morning, I found myself wondering if I had somehow landed in a gray area.

So, to make sure I could honestly say I had completed the challenge, I booked a campsite at Standley Lake for the Summer Solstice and decided to do another overnight stay.

I am so happy that I did.

What surprised me most about this trip wasn’t the riding, the camping, or even the beautiful evening. It was the ease. Just six or so weeks ago, the idea of loading my bike, riding to camp, setting up a tent, sleeping outside, packing everything up, and riding home felt like a really big deal. There were so many unknowns. So many questions. So many things I thought I needed to learn before I could comfortably do this ride-and-camp thing. This trip showed me how much has already changed.

The day started with a three-hour Zone 2 ride. I wanted to get my official workout in. Afterward, I rested, packed my gear, and was completely ready to go. Then life decided to add a little drama.

The power went out.

Normally, that wouldn’t have been a big deal. But I had pets at home, and I wasn’t comfortable leaving them without electricity on a warm summer day. To add to the uncertainty, a storm was moving in. The wind was picking up. Thunder was rolling across the sky. Lightning flashed in the distance.

For a while, it looked like the trip might not happen. And then, almost like magic, the power came back on. And, with a boost of reassurance from my dear friend and neighbor that things should be fine, I went.

The ride to the campsite was wonderfully uneventful. About thirty minutes of easy riding. No navigation challenges. No missed turns. No epic climbs. No suffering. Just riding. And I was super grateful to just spin my legs and look around. I don't usually ride that late in the day, so it felt like an extra treat to ride without a workout focus, enjoy the cooler temperatures, and take in a familiar route from a relaxed perspective. That alone was calming and gave me a gentle adventure vibe.

When I arrived, I checked in and started setting up camp. And that’s when I realized something.

Setting up camp is easy now.

Yay! It wasn't that I'd become an expert, but because it had become familiar. How awesome is that? The process no longer requires much thought. I know where things go. I know how the tent works. I know how the sleep system comes together. I know what needs to happen next. Just a few weeks ago, I repeatedly practiced setting up my tent and sleep system in my downstairs studio so I could do it with ease and confidence. Mostly, I did this in case I was in poor weather - raining or windy - and I wanted to ease my insecurities and fears around uncertainties. That felt like a huge milestone.

As I was setting up, a light rain drifted through camp. More of a gentle mist than a storm. The wind kept the temperatures comfortable, and then something beautiful happened.

A rainbow appeared.

It felt like one of those little greetings I have come to love on these adventures. At White Ranch, deer appeared near camp. Near Nederland, a moose stood quietly beside a lake. This evening, a rainbow arrived. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a picture. On the bright side, I got the experience. And honestly, that’s better.

Camp itself was simple and peaceful.

I settled in quickly, ate my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, brushed my teeth, and climbed into my tent.

Once again, I slept like a baby. This continues to surprise me. You would think that after a three-hour ride and sleeping outside, I would be uncomfortable or restless. Instead, I sleep deeply. The wind moved through camp throughout the night, and there is something about listening to wind from inside a tent that completely relaxes me. It rises and falls. Moves through the trees. Then everything becomes quiet again.

A few times during the night, I woke to use the bathroom and laughed when I realized I didn’t need my headlamp. It never really gets dark. At least not the way I imagine it does.

Around four in the morning, a Western Kingbird greeted the day with its beautiful call. I listened for a while and drifted back to sleep until my alarm went off at 5:30.

I had plans. I wanted to meditate, break down camp, head home, let the pets out, and start my day. Otherwise, I probably would have stayed in my sleeping bag longer.

What I appreciate most about this trip is that it wasn’t really about navigation skills, wilderness travel, or pushing myself physically. It was about confidence. It was about recognizing how much has already become second nature. A month and a half ago, bikepacking felt like a giant unknown. Now it feels like something I do. That realization feels really good.

And perhaps that’s the real lesson from this overnighter. Growth often happens so gradually that we miss it as it occurs.

Then one day we’re standing beside a tent we’ve set up without thinking, listening to the wind, watching a rainbow form in the distance, and realizing we’ve already become the person we were hoping to become.