Nederland, a Moose, and the Adventure That Didn’t Go According to Plan

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!

I was excited. Until....

The Navigation Incident

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

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

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

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

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. 🫎🚴🏕️🌲❤️