# Nova Context > Explore bikepacking adventures, Colorado trails, helpful resources, wildlife encounters, and stories inspired by adventure in nature. Public Ghost content for AI and LLM tooling. This file includes a bounded export of public pages first, then recent public posts. Append `.md` to any post or page URL to get the content in Markdown (for example, `/example-post.md`). ## Pages ### About NovaContext URL: https://www.novacontext.ai/about/ Last updated: 2026-06-18T22:34:34.000Z Welcome. NovaContext was born from a simple realization: there is still so much life left to explore. For most of my adult life, I have been a cyclist. I have spent decades riding Colorado’s roads, gravel routes, and mountain bike trails. Along the way, I raced, trained, chased goals, and discovered what I was capable of physically and mentally. Then something shifted. I found myself feeling called toward a different kind of adventure. One less focused on performance and more focused on experience. One that invited curiosity instead of competition. One that encouraged me to slow down, look around, and fully immerse myself in the places I was moving through. That calling led me to bikepacking. But as I quickly discovered, this journey isn’t really about bicycles. It’s about adventure. It’s about waking up to birdsong in a tent. Watching deer move silently through camp. Finding a moose standing beside a mountain lake. Exploring small Colorado mountain towns. Learning new skills. Making mistakes. Trusting myself. Adapting when plans fall apart. And discovering that some of the best moments happen when life doesn’t go according to plan. At 59, I am still learning, growing, exploring, and saying yes to new experiences. In many ways, NovaContext is a journal of that journey. Here you’ll find stories from the trail, reflections from camp, wildlife encounters, lessons learned through adventure, and thoughts on what it means to live fully at every age. You’ll also find a deep appreciation for nature. The wind moving through the trees. The changing seasons. Mountain lakes. Wildflowers. Birdsong. Sunrises. The quiet wisdom that seems to reveal itself when we spend enough time outdoors. The name NovaContext reflects the idea that when we change our perspective, we change what becomes possible. Sometimes growth doesn’t require becoming someone new. Sometimes it simply requires seeing ourselves, our lives, and the world around us through a different lens - a more authentic, genuine one. My hope is that these stories inspire you to follow your own curiosity, trust yourself a little more, and perhaps say yes to an adventure you’ve been quietly considering. Whether you’re here because you love bikepacking, nature, wildlife, personal growth, Colorado, or simply the idea of living with greater presence and wonder, I’m glad you’re here. Come along for the adventure. — Julie ### Resources URL: https://www.novacontext.ai/resources/ Last updated: 2026-07-06T15:17:00.000Z When I first started bikepacking, I was looking for trusted information: places that could help me learn, build confidence, and avoid some of the mistakes that come with starting something completely new. These are the resources that have genuinely helped me along the way. I’ve used every one of them personally and continue to return to many of them today. ## **Websites** [**BikePacking.com**](https://bikepacking.com/?ref=novacontext.ai) The resource that gave me the confidence to begin. From route planning and gear reviews to inspiring stories and stunning photography, BikePacking.com helped me move from *“Where do I start?”* to *“I think I can actually do this.”* Whether you’re planning your first overnighter or dreaming about a multi-day adventure, it’s a resource I continue to return to. [**Bikepacking Roots**](https://www.bikepackingroots.org/?ref=novacontext.ai) More than an organization, Bikepacking Roots is an educational community dedicated to helping people experience bikepacking responsibly. Their [recorded webinar series](https://www.youtube.com/@BikepackingRoots?ref=novacontext.ai) became one of my favorite learning resources, covering everything from setting realistic goals and planning routes to nutrition, bike maintenance, and trailside repairs. They also publish an excellent [Bikepacking 101 Handbook](https://bikepackingroots.org/product/bikepackers-guide-digital-download/?ref=novacontext.ai), making this a valuable resource for both new and experienced bikepackers [**Ride with GPS**](https://ridewithgps.com/?ref=novacontext.ai) The planning and navigation tool I use for nearly every ride. From creating routes and navigating unfamiliar trails to sharing rides with others, Ride with GPS has become an essential part of my bikepacking workflow. It’s also taught me a few important lessons about navigation, preparation, and always having a backup plan. ## **Books** *(Coming soon.)* ## **Gear** *(Coming soon.)* ## Posts ### Golden Gate Canyon: A Bikepacking Overnight Close to Home URL: https://www.novacontext.ai/golden-gate-canyon-a-bikepacking-overnight-close-to-home/ Last updated: 2026-08-18T21:26:47.000Z **Golden Gate Canyon State Park, Colorado | August 12–13, 2026** One thing I am learning about bikepacking is that every trip has its own personality. Some adventures are about the riding: the miles, the climbing, the trails, and the challenge of getting from one place to another. Others turn out to be about something completely different. My overnight at Golden Gate Canyon State Park was definitely more about camping than riding, but in some ways that made it even more meaningful. It gave me a beautiful night outside, taught me more about my gear, and perhaps most importantly, helped me take another step toward making bikepacking a regular part of my life. I chose Golden Gate partly because it is so close to home. My cat, Callie, was recently diagnosed with diabetes and now needs insulin twice a day, and this would be my first night away from her since her diagnosis. I knew she would be in good hands with my pet sitter, Sarah, but knowing something intellectually and feeling completely comfortable with it are not always the same thing. Choosing somewhere close reassured me that if I truly needed to come home, I could. At the same time, I didn't want Callie's diagnosis to mean that I stopped doing something I had only recently discovered I loved. One of my larger goals is to establish a rhythm where I can bikepack every month, and figuring out how to balance adventure with caring for the animals I love is simply part of creating that life. I also had some practical objectives for the trip. I wanted to explore Golden Gate as a possible bikepacking destination, scout some of the trails, and especially get a feel for the road toward White Ranch and what the climbing would be like. I was curious about the primitive camping areas farther into the park and whether a route might eventually make sense coming in from the White Ranch side. Mostly, though, I wanted another night of practice: packing the bike, setting up camp, sleeping outside, figuring things out as I went, and becoming more comfortable with the entire process. ## A Hummingbird Welcome Almost immediately after arriving at the campsite, I received what felt like a little welcome from the wilderness. A hummingbird suddenly appeared and began flying around my head. It came so close that it hovered directly behind my right ear, and for a moment I thought I might actually capture it on video. Before I could, it darted away. I loved the whole encounter. There was something about arriving alone on my bike and immediately having this tiny, beautiful creature come investigate me that felt like the animal kingdom saying, *Welcome. You're here.* And I loved the campsite itself. The site was tucked among beautiful trees, with a small stream flowing right through it and a gorgeous rock wall rising alongside it. The sound of the water, the trees overhead, and the feeling of being enclosed in this little pocket of nature made it feel much more secluded than I expected for somewhere relatively close to home. There was also a bear box right at the campsite, with drinking water and vault toilets nearby, which made everything wonderfully easy. Of the places I have camped so far, I think this may actually be the prettiest. As I unpacked, I discovered another small bikepacking issue to solve. My saddle bag was occasionally hitting my rear wheel, so I need to check the pressure in my rear shock and determine whether I need more pressure, a dropper-post block, or possibly both. These are the kinds of things that have become part of the experience for me. I wouldn't describe myself as someone who has traditionally been obsessed with gear, but bikepacking is teaching me to understand my equipment in a completely different way. Every trip reveals another little adjustment that makes the next one easier. ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/08/IMG_0775.jpg) ## Choosing Camp Before the Storm I had originally planned to ride more that afternoon, but the sky was starting to look like rain, and I decided that getting my tent fully set up and my gear protected was more important than heading out to explore right away. I took a quick 30-minute spin instead, came back to camp, and settled in. That decision turned out to be a very good one because the rain arrived, and when it did, it absolutely dumped. The storm became another lesson in learning my tent. I realized I needed to stake it out more firmly than I had been, pull the rainfly farther away from the body of the tent, and really tighten the small adjustment straps. I hadn't paid much attention to those straps on previous trips, but in a sustained rain they matter. Once I adjusted everything properly, the tent stayed completely dry despite how hard it was raining. The one issue was splashback from the rain hitting the ground and bouncing moisture onto the lower sides of the tent. My sleeping bag was touching one of those areas and became slightly damp before I noticed it, so I moved it closer to me, and everything was fine. It gave me one more thing to research and improve before the next wet trip. There is something incredibly satisfying about being inside a tiny tent while the weather does whatever it wants outside and realizing your little shelter is working. The rain was heavy and steady for hours, but fortunately there wasn't much wind, and instead of making me anxious, the sound became incredibly soothing. I slept like a baby. In fact, I slept so well that when I woke up periodically during the night and realized what time it was, I found myself almost disappointed that there were only a few hours left until morning. I love my tent. I love my sleeping bag. I love my pillows. Lying there warm and comfortable while rain poured down around me felt absolutely heavenly. At one point, rather than immediately going back to sleep, I became very aware of the ground underneath me. I let my body settle more deeply into it and imagined simply allowing the Earth to hold me and heal me. That feeling, being completely surrounded by nature rather than simply riding through it, is becoming one of my favorite parts of bikepacking. When I ride, I'm constantly moving through the landscape. When I camp, eventually everything becomes still enough that I begin to notice what is happening around me. ## Morning Beside the Stream ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/08/Screenshot-2026-08-18-at-3.25.29---PM.png) At around five o'clock the next morning, the wilderness apparently decided I had slept long enough. I woke to an incredibly chatty little creature outside my tent and initially thought I was hearing a bird. Eventually I realized it was a baby chipmunk. When I got up, I saw a couple of them playing across the stream, and later one tiny chipmunk ventured surprisingly close to me while I was sitting at the picnic table. Between the hummingbird greeting me when I arrived and the chipmunks welcoming the morning, I felt as though I had been thoroughly acknowledged by the local residents. The rain had conveniently stopped during the few times I needed to get out of the tent during the night, and by morning everything was quiet and beautifully damp. I started the day with my Transcendental Meditation practice, then emptied my bear bag and spread everything out so I could organize my gear and decide how I wanted to approach the morning. I made coffee, and this time I actually got it right. Sitting outside beside the stream with a good cup of coffee, some LMNT, bread with honey and a protein bar felt wonderfully simple. Everything exposed to the damp air was still wet: the rainfly, some of my clothes, and various pieces of gear, and it became clear that nothing was going to dry quickly. I still wanted to ride, but I also realized that I didn't particularly want to haul all of my wet camping gear around the park just to prove that I could. So I packed everything back into my bikepacking bags, loaded the bike, rode down to the car, put my gear away and then headed back out for about an hour of riding. That turned out to be another useful lesson. Bikepacking doesn't have to follow some rigid definition in order to count. I had carried everything I needed to spend the night outside, ridden my loaded bike into camp, taken care of myself through a significant rainstorm and packed everything back out again. Leaving my gear at the car before doing another ride didn't somehow diminish the experience. If anything, I'm beginning to appreciate that becoming more experienced at this means knowing when something serves a purpose and when I'm simply making life harder because I think I'm supposed to. ## A Different Kind of Bikepacking Trip I didn't accomplish all of the scouting I had planned. The trails I wanted to explore were farther from the campsite than I had realized, and given the weather and the wet conditions, I didn't feel like turning the morning into a long ride simply to complete an objective. I came away with the sense that Golden Gate Canyon may be more of a camping destination for me than a riding destination. I enjoyed the riding, but it wasn't the part of the experience that made me think, *I can't wait to come back here.* The campsite did. I would return for that little stream, the rock wall, and the trees. I would return for another evening sitting quietly outside while the light disappears from the canyon. I would return for the possibility of another hummingbird buzzing around my head or waking to chipmunks playing on the other side of the water. Golden Gate may not become one of my favorite places to ride, but it could easily become one of my favorite places to spend a night. And perhaps that is part of what I'm learning as I become a bikepacker. I don't necessarily want every trip to be an epic riding achievement. Sometimes I want the riding to take me somewhere beautiful and then give way to something quieter. I want time to set up my tent, wander around camp, watch the animals, listen to the water, make coffee in the morning and experience what happens when I stay in one place long enough for the landscape to reveal itself. ## Learning to Leave Home Again The other part of this trip was happening back at home. I worried about Callie and my dog, Benny, even though Sarah was taking wonderful care of them. Callie's diabetes diagnosis is still new, and learning to give her insulin and monitor how she's doing has naturally made me more attentive to her. Leaving her for the first time required me to practice something that bikepacking seems to keep teaching me in different forms: trust. Life rarely clears the calendar, removes every responsibility, and announces that now is the perfect time to go have an adventure. There will always be something that needs our attention. The challenge is learning how to care deeply for the people and animals we love without slowly abandoning the parts of ourselves that also need to be fed. For me, spending a night outside has become one of those things. Bikepacking gives me the physical experience I have always loved about cycling, but it is also giving me something I didn't expect. It asks me to become more self-reliant while simultaneously learning when to trust. It asks me to prepare carefully and then accept that weather, trails, equipment and life itself may change the plan. It gives me opportunities to solve practical problems and then, sometimes only a few hours later, invites me to lie completely still and listen to rain falling on my tent. This trip wasn't particularly big. I didn't ride huge mileage or complete every scouting objective I had written down before leaving. It was, as I described it afterward, very camp-heavy, and I'm still looking forward to trips where I find a beautiful balance between long days on the bike and the pleasure of camping. But I came home knowing that I could leave Callie for a night and she would be okay. I learned how to make my tent perform better in heavy rain. I discovered a campsite I would happily return to. I slept deeply while a Colorado storm moved through the canyon, woke to a baby chipmunk chattering beside the stream, drank coffee outside in the cool damp morning, and rode my bike. Sometimes adventure expands our world through the distance we travel. Other times, it expands something inside us by showing us that our lives can hold a little more than we thought they could. This trip did the latter. And for one rainy night in Golden Gate Canyon, that was more than enough. ### Scouting a Future Bikepacking Overnighter in Keystone, Colorado URL: https://www.novacontext.ai/scouting-a-future-bikepacking-overnighter-in-keystone-colorado/ Last updated: 2026-07-30T17:14:47.000Z One of the things I enjoy most about bikepacking is that the adventure often begins long before an overnight trip. Sometimes it's simply getting outside to explore. On this ride, my goal was threefold: enjoy a couple of hours in nature, spend some time acclimating to the altitude, and scout potential camping locations for a future overnighter. Although I've ridden the Keystone Recreation Path many times over the years, I'd never looked at it through the lens of bikepacking. The day couldn't have been more inviting. Cool temperatures, overcast skies, and the promise of afternoon rain created the perfect backdrop for a peaceful ride. The sound of Soda Creek flowing alongside the trail, the towering trees, birds singing overhead, and mountain views in every direction made it easy to slow down and simply enjoy being there. It was also nice to see so many other people outside enjoying the day. As with many scouting rides, I learned a few things. The camping area I had hoped might work wasn't open to camping after all. I also explored farther up Montezuma Road, but reaching the trails required more road riding than I prefer. For the kind of bikepacking I'm drawn to, I'd rather spend my time on gravel roads and mountain bike trails than pavement. Even though I didn't find the overnight destination I was hoping for, the ride was far from a disappointment. Every ride teaches me something—sometimes about the route, sometimes about the gear, and sometimes simply about what feels right. This one reminded me that the search itself is part of the adventure. *I hope you enjoy riding along.* ### When Familiar Became Its Own Adventure URL: https://www.novacontext.ai/when-familiar-became-its-own-adventure/ Last updated: 2026-07-11T13:58:04.000Z One of the things I love about bikepacking is that every trip begins long before I ever throw a leg over my bike. It usually starts with maps spread across my computer, multiple browser tabs open, weather forecasts, campground research, route planning, and asking myself, “What adventure do I want to create next?” This trip was different. Honestly, I wrestled with it for a while. Part of me wanted another completely new adventure, somewhere that would challenge my navigation skills, introduce me to new trails, and continue stretching my confidence. But another part of me wanted something much simpler. I realized I had missed some of my structured cycling workouts over the past few weeks while learning bikepacking, and I wanted to reconnect with that part of myself too. Riding strong has always given me confidence, and I didn’t want to lose that while exploring this new passion. As I thought about it more, I realized those two goals didn’t have to compete with each other. One of my longer-term goals is to build a collection of bikepacking overnighters that I know well enough to ride almost on a whim. Places where I don’t have to spend weeks researching routes or wondering where to camp. Places that are always there when I simply want to load the bike and go. White Ranch is one of those. The Nederland loop is becoming another. I would love to find several more throughout Colorado that remain open year-round so even in the winter I can disappear for a night whenever the weather cooperates. That thought led me to [Chatfield State Park](https://cpw.state.co.us/state-parks/chatfield-state-park?ref=novacontext.ai). From my house, it’s a couple of hours away by bike, giving me a solid endurance ride on a loaded bike, an overnight camping experience, and enough climbing on the return trip to turn the ride home into a quality workout. There would be no complicated navigation, no wondering whether I’d miss another turn, and no worrying about where I was going. I could simply ride. I even laughed to myself thinking this might be my version of “bougie bikepacking.” Bathrooms. Showers. Running water. A picnic table. I briefly considered DoorDashing dinner to my campsite before deciding maybe I’d save that adventure for another day. As I rolled out of the driveway after kissing my fur babies goodbye, the sky looked dark enough to make me wonder if I should wait. I figured it was probably just one of Colorado’s quick afternoon showers. ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/07/Screenshot-2026-07-10-at-11.24.27---AM.jpg) Scott Scale loaded and ready to rock and roll! Within minutes, it started raining. ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/07/Screenshot-2026-07-11-at-7.43.38---AM.png) It rained steadily for about thirty minutes, and oddly enough, I found myself smiling. Every one of my bags passed their first real rain test. My [Apidura bags](https://www.apidura.com/?ref=novacontext.ai) stayed completely dry. My [USWE pack](https://uswe.com/?ref=novacontext.ai) wasn’t quite as waterproof, so a few things near the outside became damp, and I discovered a small opening where the zippers meet on my fork bag that let in just a little water. Fortunately, I had packed everything inside Ziplock bags, so nothing important got wet. Instead of feeling frustrated, I just added another mental note for next time. Every trip teaches me something. By the time I reached [Bear Creek](https://www.lakewoodco.gov/Local-Government/Departments/Community-Resources/Parks-Forestry-and-Open-Space/A-to-Z-Park-List/Bear-Creek-Lake-Park?ref=novacontext.ai), the rain had stopped, the trails had dried, and the ride settled into a comfortable Zone 2 pace. I stopped once to lube my chain, laughed when Ride with GPS took me to the campground address instead of my actual campsite, and spent a few extra minutes riding around Chatfield Lake before finally arriving. Lesson learned. Next time, I’ll route directly to the campsite instead of the park entrance. One thing that surprised me on this trip had nothing to do with Chatfield itself. Somewhere over these first few overnighters, bikepacking has quietly started becoming familiar. Packing wasn’t stressful. I wasn’t second-guessing every piece of gear. I wasn’t wondering if I had forgotten something important. I simply packed my bags, loaded the bike, and left. Even after arriving at camp, everything had its place. My headlamp hangs from the corner of the tent. My rain jacket clips overhead beside my glasses. The next day’s riding clothes slide into the foot pocket. My shoes, hydration pack, and water stay neatly in the vestibule. Even my crystal necklace now has its own little place hanging from the center of the tent. ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/07/IMG_0568.jpg) Without realizing it, I’ve created little routines that make the tent feel less like a temporary shelter and more like a tiny home. I love that. The campground itself was nice. Having bathrooms, showers, and unlimited water felt wonderfully luxurious after several more remote trips. I filled my hydration pack for the ride home, mixed LMNT in my water bottle, filled my Katadyn BeFree bladder with water for the evening, and by the next morning, I realized I had used every drop. It’s funny how quickly water disappears when it’s easily available. The only downside was the noise. I don’t think I’ve ever heard children cry for that long or quite that loudly. The campground was full of families, kids, conversations echoing between campsites, and neighbors shouting across the road to each other. It wasn’t exactly the peaceful evening I had imagined. And yet… The highlight of the trip had absolutely nothing to do with the campground. As I walked toward the bathroom to fill my water bottles, something hopped into the corner of my vision. A toad. At least I think it was a Woodhouse’s Toad. ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/07/IMG_0567.jpg) Since moving to Colorado, I honestly can’t remember ever seeing one before, so I was completely delighted. He had somehow found his way into the bathroom, and I couldn’t imagine that was where he wanted to spend the evening. I gently encouraged him back outside into the grass and walked away smiling. Later that evening, when I returned to brush my teeth before bed, there was another one. Or maybe it was the same little guy. Either way, I laughed. Ever since I started bikepacking, every overnight seems to come with its own greeting from nature. White Ranch welcomed me with deer. St. Vrain gave me osprey and birdsong. Nederland introduced me to the moose. Standley Lake surprised me with a rainbow. Now Chatfield had given me a toad. Maybe it’s a coincidence. Maybe it isn’t. The metaphysical symbolism of frogs and toads speaks of transformation, emotional renewal, and moving between different worlds with ease. Whether that’s objectively true doesn’t really matter to me. What mattered was how it felt. It felt like another welcome. After showering, I put on my favorite sun shirt, sat at the picnic table for Transcendental Meditation, watched the sunset, and climbed into my tent around nine o’clock. I absolutely love my sleeping setup now. My Nemo pad and Enlightened Equipment quilt are incredibly comfortable. I even bring two pillows, yes, I know that’s a little bougie for bikepacking, but they make sleeping on my side wonderful. I filled the tent stuff sack with extra clothing to create a third pillow for my arms, charged my phone from the power bank, and settled in. Sometime around midnight, I woke to use the bathroom. Later, I woke again around 3:20 in the morning, stepped outside beneath a sky full of stars, listened to coyotes somewhere in the distance, and stood there for a few quiet minutes before climbing back into the tent. Just as I was drifting off again, gentle raindrops began tapping the rainfly. I don’t know many sounds that sound more peaceful than rain falling on a tent. Morning arrived slowly. Breaking camp felt easy. The ride home turned out to be even more enjoyable than the ride to camp. ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/07/Screenshot-2026-07-10-at-11.29.47---AM.jpg) Almost immediately, two deer stood quietly beside the trail and watched me ride past without moving. I saw a large black-and-yellow snake that I believe was a bullsnake, rabbits along the trail, and enjoyed the cool morning temperatures as I left the park. Although my body felt noticeably more tired than it had on previous overnighters, something interesting happened. I wasn’t actually much slower. Instead of pushing power on the climbs, I focused on spinning easily and letting the loaded bike find its own rhythm. When I looked at my ride times afterward, they were remarkably similar to the ride out. Sometimes our bodies feel more tired than our performance actually reflects. By the time I rolled back into my driveway, I was definitely more fatigued than after my previous bikepacking trips. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was riding a loaded bike. Maybe I simply needed more carbohydrates the night before. I’m not entirely sure. What I do know is that my heart was full. Would I return to Chatfield? Surprisingly, probably not. The campground itself was lovely, and having showers and unlimited water was wonderful, but the constant traffic noise from C-470 and the busy campground never allowed me to fully settle into the quiet that I found at White Ranch or St. Vrain. That’s okay. Not every trip has to become a favorite. Every trip simply teaches me a little more about the kind of adventures that nourish my soul. And perhaps that’s what this trip gave me more than anything else. Not another spectacular destination. Not a dramatic challenge. Just the quiet realization that somewhere over the last few months, bikepacking has stopped feeling like something I’m trying to learn. It’s becoming part of how I live. ### How Bikepacking Roots Helped Me Build the Confidence to Begin Solo Bikepacking at 59 URL: https://www.novacontext.ai/how-bikepacking-roots-helped-me-build-the-confidence-to-begin-solo-bikepacking-at-59/ Last updated: 2026-07-06T15:35:36.000Z *“Education gives us knowledge. Community gives us confidence. Stewardship gives us something worth protecting.”* When I first became interested in bikepacking, I was looking for answers. I had spent weeks reading articles, researching gear, watching videos, and trying to understand how people planned multi-day adventures on two wheels. Slowly, the pieces began coming together. I learned about tents, sleeping quilts, bike bags, stoves, and water filtration. I started to understand what bikepacking was. What I still didn’t understand was how all those individual pieces became a real trip. How do you choose a route? How much food is enough? How much water should you carry? What skills should you know before spending your first night alone in the backcountry? Perhaps most importantly, how do you build enough confidence to finally stop researching and simply go? That was when [**Bikepacking Roots**](https://bikepackingroots.org/?ref=novacontext.ai)entered my life. One of the first things that stood out to me was that Bikepacking Roots isn’t simply encouraging people to go bikepacking. They’re helping shape the future of the sport through advocacy, education, stewardship, route development, and partnerships with land managers. Their work extends well beyond inspiring people to ride. They’re helping ensure that the public lands and trails we enjoy today remain accessible for generations to come. That mission immediately resonated with me. Having spent much of my professional career working in environmental sustainability, I’ve always appreciated organizations that think beyond the immediate experience. Trails don’t simply appear because we’re fortunate enough to have them. Someone builds them. Someone maintains them. Someone advocates for continued access. Someone works with land managers to balance recreation with conservation so these places remain healthy long after we’ve ridden through them. Bikepacking Roots is doing that work. Knowing that made me appreciate the organization before I had even attended a single webinar. It was their educational resources, however, that had the greatest impact on my own journey. One of the most valuable resources Bikepacking Roots offers is its recorded webinar series, available free on [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/@BikepackingRoots?ref=novacontext.ai). Although the webinars were recorded a few years ago, I never once found myself thinking the information felt dated. Good education has a way of remaining relevant, and these webinars are a perfect example. What I appreciated most wasn’t simply how much information they shared. It was how approachable they made bikepacking feel. Before finding the webinar series, bikepacking still felt like one enormous challenge. There were so many moving parts that it was difficult to know where to begin. The webinars quietly changed that. Rather than presenting bikepacking as one big leap, they broke it down into practical, manageable steps that anyone could learn. The very first webinar had the greatest impact on me. Instead of beginning with gear or equipment, it began with a much more important question. **What kind of bikepacking experience are you hoping to have?** That simple question encouraged me to explore my goals and objectives for each bikepacking ride I was considering. Until then, I think I had unconsciously been comparing myself to people riding across mountain ranges or disappearing into the backcountry for weeks at a time. The webinar reminded me that there isn’t one “right” way to bikepack. Your adventure should reflect what you’re hoping to experience. For me, that meant something wonderfully simple. I wanted to ride to a campground, spend the night by myself, wake up with the sun, make coffee outside, and ride home the next morning. That realization gave me permission to stop comparing my beginning to someone else’s middle. As I continued through the webinar series, each session built another layer of confidence. Route planning became less intimidating. Food and nutrition became easier to understand. Bike maintenance and trailside repairs transformed from mysterious skills into practical ones that could be learned with time and practice. Every webinar made the dream feel a little more achievable. And my confidence grew. Something else happened that I hadn’t expected. I realized I wasn’t asking unusual questions. Listening to the presenters and hearing conversations from other aspiring bikepackers reminded me that every experienced rider was once standing exactly where I was: trying to figure out what to pack, how much food to bring, where to camp, and whether they were ready. That sense of community mattered more than I anticipated. The webinar series is complemented by [The Bikepacker’s Guide (Second Edition)](https://bikepackingroots.org/product/bikepackers-guide-digital-download/?ref=novacontext.ai), a downloadable guidebook that has become one of my favorite planning resources. Originally published in 2015 and thoughtfully updated, the guide walks through trip planning, navigation, gear selection, positive impact practices, and mindset, and includes practical checklists that have become invaluable as I’ve planned my own adventures. Even now, as I prepare for longer rides and explore more remote areas of Colorado, I still return to the guide. Not because I’ve forgotten what I’ve learned, but because experience has taught me that it’s often the small details we overlook. Having a trusted reference helps me slow down, think through my plans, and head out with greater confidence. Looking back, I realize that [BikePacking.com](https://www.novacontext.ai/where-i-began-the-resource-that-gave-me-the-confidence-to-start-bikepacking/) and Bikepacking Roots each gave me something different. BikePacking.com inspired me to dream about bikepacking. Bikepacking Roots showed me how to turn that dream into something practical. One sparked my imagination. The other gave me the confidence to begin. Today, every time I ride through the trees, pitch my tent beneath towering pines, or wake to the sound of birds greeting a new day, I’m reminded that these experiences don’t happen by accident. They exist because people care enough to protect the places we ride, educate new riders, and create opportunities for others to experience the same sense of freedom and wonder. I feel a deep sense of gratitude. That’s why, throughout **July and August 2026**, I’m raising funds in support of Bikepacking Roots. Supporting this organization feels like a meaningful way to give back to a community that helped make my own journey possible. If you’ve found inspiration in the outdoors, value public lands, or simply believe in helping others discover bikepacking, I hope you’ll consider joining me. **Support my Bikepacking Roots fundraiser:** [**https://go.rallyup.com/bikepackingroots/m/jstarr**](https://go.rallyup.com/bikepackingroots/m/jstarr?ref=novacontext.ai) Thank you for helping ensure that the trails we ride, the landscapes we treasure, and the opportunities to explore them remain available for generations of bikepackers to come. ### Where I Began: The Resource That Gave Me the Confidence to Start Bikepacking URL: https://www.novacontext.ai/where-i-began-the-resource-that-gave-me-the-confidence-to-start-bikepacking/ Last updated: 2026-07-06T15:11:06.000Z When I first became interested in bikepacking, I didn’t know where to begin. That may sound surprising considering. I’d been mountain biking for more than twenty-five years, but knowing how to ride a bike and knowing how to travel with one into the backcountry are two entirely different things. I understood mountain biking. I understood endurance. I understood climbing, technical trails, nutrition, and spending long days in the saddle. I knew absolutely nothing about carrying everything I would need on my bike, finding a place to camp, cooking dinner outside, or waking up the next morning to do it all again. Like many people who discover bikepacking for the first time, I did what seemed most logical. I started researching. I read articles. I watched videos. I compared bags, tents, sleeping quilts, sleeping pads, stoves, and water filters. Every answer seemed to introduce three new questions. How much water do people carry? How do they know where to camp? How do they choose a route? What happens if you get lost? What if the weather changes? What if something breaks? And somewhere in the back of my mind was the question I suspect many first-time solo bikepackers quietly ask themselves: *Can I really do this?* Looking back now, I’m grateful for all of those hours I spent learning because they gave me a foundation to build on. But what I didn’t realize at the time was that I wasn’t simply looking for information. I was looking for someone, or something, I could trust. There is no shortage of opinions on the internet. Everyone has a favorite tent, a favorite stove, a favorite bag, a favorite way of packing. As someone who was completely new to bikepacking, I didn’t yet have enough experience to sort through all of that advice and decide what applied to me. That’s when I found [BikePacking.com](https://bikepacking.com/?ref=novacontext.ai). It quickly became the place I returned to over and over again, not because it told me what to buy, but because it helped me understand *why* things mattered. Their gear reviews didn’t feel like advertisements. They felt like conversations with people who had spent countless nights outside and had learned, often through experience, what worked, what didn’t, and why. That distinction mattered to me because I ride a small-frame mountain bike, and I quickly discovered that not every bag, tent, or packing system would work for my bike or the kind of adventures I wanted. Instead of trying to copy someone else’s setup, I slowly began developing my own criteria. As I read more reviews, I found myself asking different questions. Rather than wondering, *“Should I buy this?”* I started asking, *“Does this solve a problem I actually have?”* That shift probably saved me from buying a lot of gear I didn’t need and gave me confidence in the gear I eventually chose. Perhaps the greatest gift [BikePacking.com](https://bikepacking.com/?ref=novacontext.ai) gave me, though, had nothing to do with equipment. It changed how I thought about bikepacking itself. For years, mountain biking had been closely tied to training and performance. Most of my rides had a purpose beyond simply being outside. I was preparing for a race, completing intervals, building endurance, or working toward another goal. Bikepacking introduced me to a completely different rhythm. Riding became less about performance and more about experience. The goal wasn’t to ride as far or as fast as possible. It was to ride somewhere beautiful, make camp, wake up with the sun, make coffee outside, and continue the journey the next day. That simple shift felt surprisingly profound. One article in particular has stayed with me ever since. [BikePacking.com](https://bikepacking.com/?ref=novacontext.ai) describes bikepacking as *“the synthesis of mountain biking and minimalist camping.”* Those few words captured something I hadn’t been able to articulate myself. I wasn’t leaving mountain biking behind. I was expanding what it could become. The other realization that changed everything was much simpler. I didn’t have to start with an epic adventure. Until then, I think I had unconsciously assumed that “real” bikepacking meant disappearing into the mountains for a week with an enormous route and years of experience. What I found instead was permission to begin where I was. A single overnight counted. Riding to a campground close to home counted. Packing my bike, sleeping outside by myself for the first time, and riding home the next morning counted. That realization became my first solo overnighter at [White Ranch](https://www.novacontext.ai/curiosity-and-fear-colliding-who-wins/). Looking back now, I smile at how nervous I was. I questioned almost everything I packed. I wondered if I had enough food, enough water, enough layers, enough experience. In reality, what I needed most wasn’t another ten hours of research. I needed one night outside. So, if you are feeling inspired, check out these resources: \- Learn [Bikepacking 101](https://bikepacking.com/bikepacking-101/?ref=novacontext.ai) \- Start Here with [Route planning](https://bikepacking.com/plan/route-planning-guide/?ref=novacontext.ai) \- Discover the [route section](https://bikepacking.com/bikepacking-routes/?ref=novacontext.ai). There are routes all over the world, and given my goal of starting with overnighters to build my confidence, they even have a section dedicated to them. \- Excellent, tried and true [gear reviews](https://bikepacking.com/gear/?ref=novacontext.ai) Finally, a bonus! Even if you aren't interested in bikepacking, I encourage you to just visit the website for a dopamine hit! Sometimes I visit the website simply to wander through the photographs. They’re breathtaking. Sweeping mountain vistas, wildflowers, forests, campsites tucked beneath towering trees, and cyclists disappearing into landscapes that seem to stretch forever. Those images continue to expand my imagination. They help me see what is possible. ### Giving Back to the Places That Changed Me URL: https://www.novacontext.ai/giving-back-to-the-places-that-changed-me/ Last updated: 2026-06-25T15:03:10.000Z When I started bikepacking a few months ago, I thought I was learning how to carry camping gear on my bike. I had no idea I was about to redefine what adventure meant to me. Over the past several weeks, I have ridden through forests, listened to birds welcome a new day, stood quietly as a moose watched over a mountain lake, fallen asleep to the sound of wind moving through the trees, and smiled as a rainbow appeared while I pitched my tent on the Summer Solstice. I have also gotten lost. Missed turns. Questioned my confidence. Learned how to navigate uncertainty. Discovered that I am far more capable than I imagined. Every one of those moments has reminded me that bikepacking is about much more than riding a bicycle. It is about slowing down enough to notice the world around us. It is about curiosity replacing fear. It is about discovering that some of life’s greatest adventures begin the moment we step beyond what feels familiar. None of those experiences happened by accident. They happen because there are people who dedicate themselves to protecting public lands, creating routes, advocating for access, and ensuring that future generations can experience the same sense of wonder that I have been fortunate enough to discover. That is why I am supporting [Bikepacking Roots](https://bikepackingroots.org/?ref=novacontext.ai). Their work helps create and protect the places that have already changed my life in such a short time. I wanted to do more than simply enjoy these places. I wanted to give something back. So today I’m launching [my first fundraiser in support of Bikepacking Roots](https://go.rallyup.com/bikepackingroots/m/jstarr?ref=novacontext.ai). I’m beginning the campaign with my own $100 donation because I believe in the work they’re doing and the future they’re are helping create. If you’ve been following my journey through [Nova Context](https://www.novacontext.ai/)—whether you’ve celebrated the wildlife encounters, laughed through my navigation mishaps, or simply found inspiration in the idea that it’s never too late to begin something new—I invite you to join me. Every contribution, regardless of size, helps support route stewardship, public lands advocacy, and expanding access to bikepacking for others. Adventure has given me more than beautiful places to ride. It has taught me confidence. Presence. Wonder. Gratitude. This fundraiser is one small way to return some of that gift. If these stories have inspired you, or if you believe that wild places and meaningful adventures deserve to be protected, I would be honored if you joined me. Together, we can help ensure that someone else’s first bikepacking trip, first moose sighting, first sunrise from a tent, or first moment of discovering what they’re capable of is still waiting for them. Thank you for riding along with me. And thank you for helping protect the places that make adventures like these possible. If you’d like to join me in supporting their work, [here’s my fundraising page](https://go.rallyup.com/bikepackingroots/m/jstarr?ref=novacontext.ai). ### A Rainbow, a Summer Solstice, and My Fourth Bikepacking Overnighter URL: https://www.novacontext.ai/a-rainbow-a-summer-solstice-and-my-fourth-bikepacking-overnighter/ Last updated: 2026-06-22T15:16:41.000Z Yay! I bike packed again! Technically, this overnight happened because I wasn’t entirely sure whether my [Nederland adventure](https://www.novacontext.ai/nederland-a-moose-and-the-adventure-that-didnt-go-according-to-plan/) counted toward the [monthly bike packing challenge](https://ultramtb.net/bikepack-every-month/?ref=novacontext.ai). 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. ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/06/IMG_0485.jpg) 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](https://www.novacontext.ai/curiosity-and-fear-colliding-who-wins/), deer appeared near camp. Near Nederland, [a moose ](https://www.novacontext.ai/nederland-a-moose-and-the-adventure-that-didnt-go-according-to-plan/)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. ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/06/IMG_0486.jpg) 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. ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/06/IMG_0489.jpg) ### Nederland, a Moose, and the Adventure That Didn’t Go According to Plan URL: https://www.novacontext.ai/nederland-a-moose-and-the-adventure-that-didnt-go-according-to-plan/ Last updated: 2026-06-18T21:09:45.000Z There is a version of this story where I rode into camp exactly as planned. I followed the route, arrived at my dispersed campsite near Nederland, set up my tent beside my bike, cooked dinner, slept under the stars, and rode home the next morning. That is not the story that happened. And honestly, I’m glad. Because what unfolded taught me more about bikepacking, navigation, resilience, and myself than a perfectly executed trip ever could. ## **The Beginning: Calm Instead of Chaos** The first win happened before I even left home. This was the first bikepacking trip where I felt genuinely calm while packing. That may sound insignificant, but it wasn’t. On previous trips, I had fussed with bags, rearranged gear, wondered where things belonged, and wondered if I was doing things "right". This time felt different. I knew where everything went. I packed the bags before putting them on the bike. There was no scrambling or uncertainty. For the first time, I felt like someone who knew how to prepare for a bikepacking trip. This felt exciting! My confidence was growing, and enthusiasm and excited anticipation bubbled through my body like it was Christmas Eve! There was also another first. This was the first bikepacking adventure in which I drove to the starting location before riding. Somehow, this felt so adventurous to me. My previous routes had me leaving from home, and I felt a bit safer. But driving to a new location, riding an unknown route, and camping at an unknown campground felt like I was graduating of sorts! ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/06/IMG_0456.jpg) I was excited. Until.... ## **The Navigation Incident** ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/06/IMG_0463.jpg) The route itself began well enough. I was using Garmin navigation, and everything seemed to be working. Until it wasn’t. Somewhere near the intersection of Switzerland Trail, I took the wrong trail. There were actually two Switzerland Trails! The strange thing was that I never heard an off-course alert. When I glanced at the Garmin, it appeared to indicate that I was still generally heading where I needed to go. So I kept riding. And riding. And riding. Eventually, I noticed something that didn’t make sense. I had already traveled sixteen miles. The campground was supposed to be around sixteen miles from the start. Yet there was no campground. And there didn't appear to be a campground anywhere in sight! That was the moment I knew something was wrong. I continued riding until I came to an intersection. At that point, I stopped and pulled out the printed cue sheet I had thankfully brought with me. I could not match my location to the cue sheet. At all. That was confirmation. I was off course. ## **When Adventure Becomes Work** ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/06/IMG_0453.jpg) So, the challenge wasn’t simply that I was lost. The challenge was everything happening simultaneously. It was hot. The climbing was relentless. My legs were getting tired. I was running low on performance fluids. I didn’t know exactly where I was. I didn’t know exactly how much farther I needed to ride. And I didn’t know what was going to happen with my campsite. At one point, my instincts told me to head toward the road rather than continue forward. I listened. I flagged down several drivers and asked if the road would eventually take me to Nederland. Every one of those conversations mattered. First, because each driver confirmed my navigation to Nederland. Moreso, because each encounter warmed my heart to the kindness of humans! A generous couple offered to drive me back, while another couple generously gave me water. Another kind man stopped to encourage me. So, while I was having a small (ok, maybe medium) meltdown with my confidence falling like a boulder off a cliff, these kind people nourished me in ways that made me happy to be out there, even if things were not going to plan. The road eventually led where I needed to go. But by then, I had reached the point where the ride had become work. I pushed the bike more than I wanted. The heat was getting to me. The climbing was getting to me. The uncertainty was REALLY getting to me. And perhaps most importantly, I realized I don’t really enjoy hike-a-bike anymore. In my racing days, there was a time when suffering through sections like that felt almost like a badge of honor. Now it simply feels unnecessary. That’s useful information. As we evolve, our adventures evolve too. ## **What I Learned About Fueling** The day reinforced one lesson more than any other: Take more nutrition than you think you’ll need. Take more hydration than you think you’ll need. Always. Especially in remote areas where water sources are uncertain. Had everything gone according to plan, my supplies would have been adequate. But adventures rarely come with guarantees. Wrong turns happen. Mechanicals happen. Weather happens. Energy crashes happen. I never want to be in a position where an unexpected challenge becomes a bigger challenge because I underpacked nutrition. That’s a lesson I’ll carry into every future trip. ## **The Technology Lesson** Another important lesson involved navigation. I discovered that I still don’t fully understand how my Garmin 1040 behaves when GPS uncertainty, trail intersections, and off-course situations happen simultaneously. When I eventually reconnected with the route, Garmin attempted to direct me back toward it. But by that point, I no longer trusted the device. I knew that continuing straight would take me to Nederland. So I ignored the Garmin and followed my own judgment. That decision worked. Since returning home, I’ve spent time reviewing and updating the navigation settings on my Edge 1040. I also reinforced two practices: Always bring printed course cues. Always download courses for offline use. Ironically, the cue sheet I almost didn’t bring became one of the most useful tools I had all day. ## **The Best Part of the Entire Ride** ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/06/IMG_0466-1.jpg) At some point during the adventure, I saw a moose standing near a lake. Everything stopped. The frustration. The navigation issues. The climbing. The uncertainty. Everything. It was just me, a moose, and the quiet beauty of Colorado. That moment alone was worth the trip. Had the route gone perfectly, I still would have remembered the moose. But because the day was difficult, that encounter felt even more meaningful. A reminder that nature doesn’t care whether your route file works. The gifts are still there. ## **Choosing the Adventure Anyway** ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/06/IMG_0470.jpg) Eventually, I made it to Nederland. At that point, I had a choice. I could call the trip over. Or I could adapt. I bought water. A small Coke. A bag of potato chips. The chips disappeared almost immediately. The Coke tasted amazing. Then I drove to the campground. And I camped. That decision changed everything. Because the trip stopped being about executing a route and became about honoring the intention behind the trip. I wasn’t there to complete a perfect GPS track. I was there to have an adventure. And I was still having one. The campsite was beautiful. The air was cool. I set up my tent and sleep system. Everything else stayed in the car. The car became my bear box. Food and toiletries stayed secured. And now, I could relax into the night. ## **The Night That Reminded Me Why I Love Camping** I slept like a baby. And I mean really slept. I love my tent. LOVE it. I love my sleeping pad. I love my quilt. I love everything about sleeping outside. The gentle wind would occasionally move through camp and lull me back to sleep. I wasn’t afraid. Not even once. When I woke during the night to use the bathroom, I laughed at how normal it now feels to wander into the woods and pee under the stars. Somewhere around four in the morning, birds began singing. I listened. Then drifted back to sleep. I finally woke around seven. Still wrapped in my quilt. Still warm. Still comfortable. I opened the tent door and was greeted by a beautiful Colorado mountain morning. For a few moments, I simply sat there. Taking it in. Not rushing. Not trying to get somewhere. Just being there. ## **A Perfect Nederland Morning** ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/06/IMG_0475.jpg) Instead of immediately heading home, I decided to enjoy the town. I had breakfast. An egg and cheese bagel. Excellent coffee. Then I wandered into a crystal shop and found a beautiful clear quartz necklace that seemed determined to come home with me. One of my goals this summer has been to explore Colorado mountain towns. Not just ride through them. Experience them. Walk them. Feel them. Connect with them. Nederland became the first checkmark on that list. And I loved it. ## **The Real Success Metric** When I got home, I thought about whether the trip “counted" as a bike packing trip. I decided, technically, maybe not. Why? Well, I didn’t ride into camp. I didn’t ride out the next morning. By some definitions, it wasn’t a true bikepacking trip. But the longer I sat with it, the more I realized I was measuring the wrong thing. The real success metric wasn’t whether I completed the route exactly as planned. The real success metric was this: When the original plan fell apart, I still chose the adventure. That matters. Because that’s the version of myself I’m becoming. The woman who adapts. The woman who figures it out. The woman who is flexible and resilient. The woman who navigates uncertainty from a place of inner trust. And, the woman who sees a moose, sleeps under the stars, explores a mountain town, learns valuable lessons, and comes home richer for the experience. Not because everything went right. Because it didn’t. And I chose the adventure anyway. 🫎🚴🏕️🌲❤️ ### How Bike Packing Changed My Definition of Adventure URL: https://www.novacontext.ai/how-bike-packing-changed-my-definition-of-adventure/ Last updated: 2026-06-18T21:19:45.000Z When I first felt called toward bikepacking, I didn’t see gear. I saw mountain bike trails winding through forests. I heard streams and little waterfalls. I imagined butterflies dancing from wildflower to wildflower beside the trail. I imagined sunshine, sweat dripping from my helmet into my eyes, and the feeling of being fully alive. This calling continued to bring me closer to nature, solo travel, and an inner stillness. Yet, I questioned, why bike packing? And what exactly was bike packing? ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/06/IMG_0260---Edited.jpg) My Scott Scale bike packing setup I like [BikePacking.com's](https://bikepacking.com's/?ref=novacontext.ai) definition of bike packing. Bike packing is a blend of backcountry backpacking and cycling, where you carry your essential gear—like sleeping and cooking supplies—on an off-road capable bicycle. It allows riders to venture off the beaten path, explore remote trails, and travel self-supported for days or weeks at a time. Bike packing united all of the aspects I loved about racing without the intention of performance. It invited adventure. And I am discovering what adventure means to me. ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/06/IMG_0283.jpg) So far, this is what I have learned. Adventure, to me, is conscious expansion through lived experience. It is not recklessness. It is not suffering for the sake of suffering. It is not pushing beyond my limits to prove something. Adventure is choosing nourishing challenges that help me grow while preserving self-trust, nervous system coherence, and joy. It includes riding my bike to a place, setting up camp, enjoying the sanctuary I built, and then riding home or continuing on. I have realized that riding and camping matter equally. I love the movement, but I also love arriving. I love setting up my tent, organizing my gear, making coffee, listening to birds, and living simply for a little while. Adventure means being in a relationship with the natural world. Seasons matter. Weather matters. Terrain matters. Birdsong matters. Deer walking silently past camp matters. Wind moving through trees matters. Watching light change across a lake matters. Adventure is also learning. Route planning, navigation, water management, gear systems, bike handling, campsite selection, food planning, and safety preparation are all part of the experience. At first, that surprised me. I thought bikepacking was mostly riding and camping. Now I understand that the preparation, troubleshooting, and systems are also part of the adventure. Adventure asks me to expand the known edge of myself. Can I sleep outside alone? Can I navigate a new route? Can I ride a loaded bike? Can I stay calm when something rubs, shifts, leaks, or doesn’t go as planned? Can I adapt? This one seems big because it explores another area of personal development: letting go of what I cannot control and focusing on what I can. The insight: there's so much more than is not controllable, and it's easier to just let go. Regardless, each time I answer yes, even imperfectly, my world gets a little bigger. For me, adventure is freedom: - self-directed movement - immersion in nature - capability - solitude - beauty - simplicity - presence - adaptation - wonder with wisdom ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/06/IMG_0294.jpg) Adventure is how I practice being fully alive. Bike packing, whether it is a single overnighter or a multi-day trip, has invited me to explore adventure not only on the bike but also in my day-to-day life. Perhaps that is why bikepacking feels so meaningful to me. It is not simply a way of traveling by bicycle. It is a way of participating more fully in life. ### Curiosity and Fear Colliding: Who Wins? URL: https://www.novacontext.ai/curiosity-and-fear-colliding-who-wins/ Last updated: 2026-06-18T21:29:11.000Z Well, as life would have it, as soon as I committed to exploring bike packing and all that it involves, all the emotions, thoughts, and belief systems that are not aligned with that version of myself immediately surfaced. - Can I do this alone? - How do I stay safe? - What do I do about my pets? - What if I’m scared? - How much food and water do I carry? - How do I handle being older and sleeping on the ground? - What about the U-Haul amount of supplements that I take daily - how do I manage that? - How do I prepare legally and practically? - How do I balance adventure with financial responsibility? - What gear do I actually need to get started? And yet, simultaneously, a hurricane of enthusiasm was brewing inside of me and I could not contain it. While I quietly dismissed the fears, or at least set them aside temporarily, I allowed myself to swim in the current of desire and curiosity. Fortunately, that guided me to take little steps that verified for me that my interest in bike packing was real and not a passing fancy. I cleared a closet in a room and designated it as my gear closet, making space to store a tent, quilt, packs, clothing, and a "go-to box" to house the essential items I would take on every trip. While that may seem small to you, it was huge to me. I found myself fully engrossed in my imagination as I cleared the closet. As I rearranged items, creating space, I noticed a full immersion of possibility expanding before me and an accompanying feeling of my heart swelling with excitement and anticipation. I even placed pictures of tents, morning coffee, trail systems, essential bike components, and the like on my vision board to fuel the enthusiasm beginning to burst inside of me. And then there was the question: Can I do this? The intersection of practicality and possibility. The question wasn't just "Can I do this"-as in, ride my bike, camp, and repeat. It was a much deeper question. On a practical level, it meant finding bags that fit my size-small bike frame. And given that much of the cycling industry focuses on men and male bodies, finding bags that fit my frame wasn't easy. I spent three weeks building a spreadsheet of the required items I would need. I measured bikes, tracked grams and weight, and used ChatGPT to refine my choices and confirm my designed ecosystem would work for me and the criteria I had established. Just that process alone nearly led me to dismiss my idea of bikepacking. Frustration set in so many times. And yet, each time I wanted to walk away, that desire within me said, Try again. There's a way. So, in that way, I felt like I was actually becoming an adventurer - displaying adaptability, resilience, and also, connected to my vision for myself. Despite the setbacks, I found solutions, which built my confidence. I thought this was not unlike being on a trail, figuring out a mechanical or navigation issue. I am learning, and I can use these little wins as confidence-building exercises for myself. And I did. My final decision point for moving forward was a consultation with a guide, Megan of [Belay Expeditions](https://belayexpeditions.com/?ref=novacontext.ai). Given this was a sizeable investment in bags, gear, etc. I wanted to explore my vision of all of this with another female, and one who is actively bike packing. I think I counted down the hours for that phone call. And it was everything I needed to hear. I was in! But there it was again. Can I do this? This time, it wasn't fear. I had to sit with it a while to truly discover what the unease was all about. When I finally found it, I discovered it was really about permission and self-worth. For most of my life, achievement and performance equaled worth. Allowing myself to purchase nice new bike bags and a tent and quilt that I really loved, and committing to taking bike-packing trips on a regular basis, seemed like a radical departure from "earning worth." Could I really gift myself these cherished items? Could I really allow myself to feel this excitement and joy without penalizing myself in any way? At its core, this was a wild adventure to me. Radical freedom from older identities that I have outgrown. But could I trust myself in this new way of being? Spoiler alert: when curiosity and fear collided, curiosity won. Why? Because my heart felt the calling, and the calling of this adventure far outweighed the fear. I'm still writing. Bike packing plans are unfolding. Sure, the fears are there, but they are gifts to help me discover the truth about myself. Not the falsities I've bought into over time. And then something unexpected happened. I stopped wondering if I could do it and went and did it. ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/06/IMG_0121.jpg) My first overnight bikepacking trip was to White Ranch, a place I know well from years of mountain biking. It felt like the perfect place to begin. Familiar terrain. Familiar trails. An opportunity to test not only my gear, but also myself. The ride to camp wasn’t particularly long, but it immediately taught me something important: a loaded bike is different. The bike felt heavier on the climbs. Hike-a-bike sections required more energy. My heart rate was higher than it would have been on the same route unloaded. Yet, at the same time, I was surprised by how capable everything felt. The bike handled well. The bags stayed secure. The entire system worked. As I rode toward camp, I heard hummingbirds chattering and chasing one another through the trees. Later that evening, while storing my food in the bear locker, I looked up to find eight or ten deer quietly standing nearby, watching me with calm curiosity before silently moving through the landscape. Throughout the night, I listened to the wind move across the hills. Long stretches of complete stillness would be interrupted by a gentle rush of air through the trees before everything became quiet again. ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/af/a6/afa691c7-589c-43a4-bf34-f4ad2f26a216/content/images/2026/06/IMG_0128.jpg) Those moments reminded me why I wanted to do this in the first place. Not to accumulate miles. Not to prove anything. To be there. To experience the world differently. To me, this is pure joy! What surprised me most was how much I loved camp life. My quilt was incredibly warm and comfortable. My tent felt like a tiny home. The mattress was warm, the pillow worked, my cooking system functioned perfectly, and all the gear I had spent weeks researching and second-guessing performed exactly as I had hoped. Instead of feeling intimidated by the equipment, I felt confident using it. The next morning, I stood in the sun with a cup of coffee and a protein bar, warming myself as I listened to the birds sing. A large blue bird landed nearby. The world felt quiet and spacious. Of course, there were lessons too. I learned I need more storage when carrying water. I learned my rear shock sag needs adjustment when riding loaded. I learned I should never forget my power bank. I learned that sleeping on my side means I need a better way to support my arms. Most importantly, White Ranch answered the question that had been following me for months. Can I do this? Yes!!! Yes, I can! The fears that once felt so large became much smaller once they were met with direct experience. That’s the funny thing about adventure. Eventually, I stopped imagining the life I wanted to live and started living it. ### Why I Started Bikepacking at 59 URL: https://www.novacontext.ai/why-i-started-bikepacking-at-59-2/ Last updated: 2026-07-03T21:14:07.000Z Bikepacking arrived in my life as both a curiosity and a calling. For context, I have ridden and raced bikes—mostly mountain bikes—for more than 25 years. I’ve always loved cycling. I’ve always loved camping. But combining the two seemed like a distant fantasy until I finally stopped chasing performance and started pursuing something different: joy. At first, my curiosity about bikepacking looked like gear. Bags. Tents. Quilts. Sleeping pads. Route planning. Water. Food. Endless questions about whether everything would fit on the bike. But underneath all of that was something much deeper. I was being invited into a new relationship with adventure, nature, self-trust, and the next chapter of my life. I began watching bikepacking videos and found myself mesmerized by the rhythm of it all: riding through landscapes, setting up camp, waking beneath the open sky, packing up, and continuing onward. Something about that simplicity reached me. It wasn’t just the riding. It was the experience of moving through the world carrying what I needed, meeting uncertainty with curiosity, and discovering what else was possible from where I already stood. I am 59 years old. I am strong, healthy, capable, and curious. I love riding Colorado’s mountain bike trails. I feel fortunate every time I encounter wildlife, every time I round a corner and see snow-capped peaks, and every time I find myself gasping for enough oxygen to appreciate the view. As I get older, I also know there may come a day when I cannot do all the things I can do today. That realization didn’t make me sad. It made this season of life feel precious. It shifted something inside me. For years, much of my cycling was connected to goals, performance, training plans, and racing. Those experiences shaped me and gave me so much. But bikepacking offered something different. It invited me to ride for joy. To explore. To wander. To be present. That shift felt profound enough that I wanted to document it. Not just the routes and gear, but the feelings, fears, discoveries, mistakes, lessons, and moments of wonder. This journal is a gift to myself now and to my future self. A place to remember the campsites, the deer, the birds, the wind in the trees, the thunderstorms, the laughter, the frustrations, the confidence, and the moments when I surprised myself. I'm exploring what bike packing and adventure mean to me. For now, it is about freedom. It is about movement, nature, simplicity, preparedness, curiosity, and wonder. It is about learning to trust myself in new places. It's exploring safety from within myself, free of bracing against my false imaginings and fears, and settling into a place of trust and safety to meet life as it comes. It is about creating a life that feels aligned with my values and continuing to expand into what is possible. This is the story of that journey. If you’d like, come along for the adventure. Watch the video [here](https://youtu.be/Ij-Qik1SMs8?ref=novacontext.ai).