Solo Bikepacking Adventure Journal

A Solo Bikepacking Adventure: How Going Solo Will Change Your Life

I set out to get in around 150-200 miles in 3-4 days across the southern Black Hills (as well as to camp at least one night completely on my own…I WAS SO SCARED!!!) My idea was to have a route that included as little pavement as possible (we are bikepacking & not bike-touring, after all!) but enough to keep me recovered and feeling motivated. I wanted enough gravel roads and double track to make it interesting, adventurous, beautiful and to get me to places I hadn’t seen before. And, to include enough single track on the first leg to bring me just to that line of wanting to quit but knowing if I just focused on refining my hike-a-bike skills and feeling like a bad-ass, the rest would be “downhill from there” :-)

I also wanted a route that other women might feel more comfortable bikepacking. I know there are so many of you women and men out there who don’t think twice about adventures like this but I know that for many women in particular, it is very intimidating to do things like this alone (much less doing many things alone). I felt this way for a long time! So this route has lots of bail-out points, ways you can shorten it up and enough possibilities to filter or acquire water. Sometimes just knowing another woman did it can make it feel more accessible. And that’s what I’m hoping. That by sharing the details of this solo adventure and if you’re someone (but particularly a woman) on the fence about doing something like this, you might find some inspiration, some comradery and validation in that it is scary and difficult AND it is not only doable to do something completely solo but can (will) change your life. And yes, it is that dramatic. Solo trips WILL change your life.

A little caveat here: You do not need to go ride your bike on your own for miles and miles to experience the rejuvenating effects of doing things alone, of being in solitude, of being alone in nature (which, by the way, has been shown to help us focus our priorities, gain a greater appreciation for relationships, and improve our overall sense of well-being). You could spend a day completely alone in nature going for a hike or hammocking by a lake-side or maybe it’s staying in a cabin or air b&b somewhere accessible to the outdoors. The benefits of being alone in nature can fit your personal comfort/uncomfortable level!

Back to bikepacking: Just a heads up that this particular route does require some experience. The route includes a part of the Centennial Trail and the entire Paha Sapa Trail. Both of these trails are old-school single-track. They have lots of rocks, waist-high grasses that hide rocks and roots, small stream crossings and some definite hike-a-bike sections. You would most likely enjoy a full-suspension bike (at least I did!) and you want some advanced mountain biking skills. Mountain biking on primitive trails with a loaded bikepacking bike is a whole other experience than regular mountain biking.

So why solo bikepacking???? Experiencing intense moments of silence in our lives is something we often have to battle to acquire. It comes naturally on a solo trip, especially if you’re in spaces without any phone service. You’re forced to be off the grid (and there are LOTS of those spaces on this route!). I actually bikepack with my phone in airplane mode almost the entire time (saving battery) until I have to check in for safety reasons but it is truly a gift when you are forced off the grid as what happens in so many places within the Black Hills. This is where the magic happens…when you KNOW you are completely on your own. This is the space where the calming of the mind occurs on it’s own and this is the gift I receive every time I head out solo. I am an anxious-by-nature-person who had tons of weighted-thoughts of worry that bombarded me for years and years but (thankfully!) learned how to shift that habit/pattern of thinking most of the time… AND… that habit-pattern of thinking can still can pop up from time to time on a solo bike journey like this. But when you are off the grid, totally alone, there is this beautiful thing that happens, the mind stills. Maybe it’s because I know I can’t get help from anyone and it’s just all on me so I better keep it together or maybe it’s because I feel closer to God and so my mind rests or maybe it’s that when the physical consequences are so large our brain is like, “better not waste energy worrying right now”. It’s probably a combo of all those things. I just know that in those moments, I am finally free.

I mentioned this was my first attempt at solo camping. I’ve done solo bikepacking adventures before but either Luke has met me to camp (his broken-heel-summer!) or I stayed at little motels or rented an air b&b room. I AM (was) SO SCARED TO CAMP ALONE!!!  AND… it is something I really wanted to experience at least once in my life. So this was it. My daughter was going to be gone, Luke had to work and so it was the stars aligning… this was my chance!

I can’t tell you how many times I had to redirect my thoughts about solo camping; “you’re going to die… rattlesnake bite… crazy man in the woods… mountain lion attack!” Anxiety is something I have be healing through for many, many years now but it is my nature…especially when something out of the ordinary is happening…for my thoughts to get to worrying. So practicing allowing the anxious thoughts to be there, focusing on my breath and then talking to myself, “The chances of anything going wrong are one in a million. You really want to do this. Those are just thoughts. They don’t have to mean anything. Think of how it will feel after you do the hard thing.” And these were the ways I played with my thinking in order to keep me feeling willing and empowered to follow through on camping alone as I biked along my route the first day.

I was feeling pretty set that I would attempt to solo camp my first night but as I started out that first day, immediately within the first 15 miles, I missed a turn off of Victoria Lake Road. I was meant to take a “B-road” south to meet up with Sheridan Lake Road where I would cross the road to Dakota point and hook up with the Centennial Trail but instead, I kept going on Victoria Lake Road headed west. I didn’t realize my mistake until I was at Brush Creek and figured out I had missed my turn. So, as any of you know in following a “planned” route, it almost never, ever goes as planned. So I kept heading west to hit HWY 385 where I then headed south, got back on Sheridan Lake Road and back-tracked to Dakota Point to re-join my route. A little disheartening. This is where I found myself having thoughts of “maybe I won’t camp tonight”.  Not a good sign.  After making it through some sections of hike-a-bike and tiptoeing through poison ivy, I made it to some pavement which renewed a sense that I could do this! By this time I had been in the saddle for quite a few hours already but felt OK about at least getting to Sylvan Lake in Custer State Park. I hit some gravel roads that brought me to beautiful, secluded views of Black Elk Peak and eventually accessed the bottom of Sylvan Lake Road and started the grueling climb to the top.

As I ascended, the skies started to shift. I could hear thunder in the distance and as I looked behind me, saw the clouds forcefully and quickly billowing. Hmmmm….will the storm build over to the north or am I going to be screwed? I continued the slow ascent through the granite outcroppings and hairpin turns as the thunder booms grew louder and louder. The storm was coming my way, and quickly. There is no quick climbing for me (especially with a loaded bike). So it was just slow and steady and saying some prayers. As I was nearing the top (to where I could then start to descend to reach Sylvan Lake and the the little general store) there was an incredible BOOM of thunder and an immediate flash of lightning. The hairs on my arms stood at attention. I reminded my self that getting hit by a flash of lighting is like 1 in a million or something like that and pressed on ignoring the fear. By now the sky was black but I was almost to shelter. I pulled into the general store and stuck my bike under the small awning of the building. Within 2 minutes of my arrival, the torrid rains came and then (of course!) came the hail. And it didn’t stop. I had to laugh because there is this joke that I’ve never gone on a bikepacking trip without it raining at least once…and that is the truth! But this was my first time in a hail storm. Obviously I was so thankful to have reached actual shelter instead of squatting under some pine trees waiting this out.

By the time the hail-event happened, I had been riding for about 7 hours. I decided to wait the storm out (usually they pass quickly) and started thinking about how to dry things out. Even though my bike was under an awning, due to the ferocity of the storm, everything was soaked. I have water proof bags but inevitably things get damp. I did have time to grab my emergency trash bag I carry with me and wrap it over the carrier where I keep my sleeping bag hoping to ensure at least my sleeping bag would not get wet. If your sleeping bag gets wet, you will not be getting any sleep and can even risk hypothermia at night. The problem now was that it was freezing cold. I had been sweating and overheating all day but now the temp had dropped dramatically, and I was damp and cold. I started putting on all my layers. I waited and waited. The storm did not pass quickly. After 2 hours of me waiting and biding my time in the somewhat warm general store waiting to be asked to leave, I decided I really needed to start riding to get to a place to camp for the night. I still had to ride the Paha Sapa to get to Forest Service land where I could camp. Wait….was I really still going to camp?? Now I would be camping in completely soaked terrain, setting up in the rain, everything wet, riding through piles of hail on primitive single track which, inevitably was going to be another 3 hours of riding/hike-a-biking. And so here is where the thing that I mentioned before happened: I was off the grid. There is no phone service at Sylvan Lake. None. You're not even sending a text. I really didn’t have an easy out. Even if I wanted to get picked up I was going to have to ride somewhere to get service. F&#@ it. The light is long in July. I have time. I’m getting to camp tonight.

Through the quickly melting piles of hail, a steady rain, and soaking wet socks and shoes I pedaled. And as I moved down the Needle’s Highway to the start of the single track, the skies began to break. Just a little at first but gradually more as I pushed my bike up steep sections of mica-sparkling trail and hoisted my bike over sections of slick tree roots. And, as I navigated a trail covered by waist-high grasses, jumped over a few streams and took in the spectacular granite outcroppings enveloping me, I felt protected in a lovely way. I looked up and saw a patch of blue and it was coming my direction. Yep. I can do this.

The sun started to make an appearance after about 2 hours on the trail. I was thanking God this whole time (if you’re not spiritual before starting something like this I promise you will become so along the way!) I’ll be able to dry everything out AND warm up before trying to make it through the night! Yes! And that’s how I began my first solo camping experience. Not what I had planned, but, as we all know, nothing ever goes as planned. That’s why it’s so important to practice flexible thinking…so in moments like this, you can roll with it, play along and still get to where you want to go.

My “reward” to myself if I made it through a night camping on my own was that I could stay in a room in Hot Springs for the second night of my journey. With this luxury on my mind, I packed up quickly the next morning and set off. I almost immediately realized I forgot to filter extra water at the stream mid-way through the single track section of last evening’s ride. I was so concerned with making it to camp before dark, I completely forgot. This led to a little frantic-feeling as it was super hot already and it was still early in the morning. I had 1/2 water bottle left so figured I would have to make it to Center Lake Campground or Legion Lake Store on just that (not knowing exactly how long it would take me to get to one of those places). I did know that creating any dehydration in myself in temps like this would lead to not being able to recover and my body not wanting to bike the fully planned route. But, just as things don’t go as planned, often things go right and I was pleasantly surprised to find a small stream about a mile from where I was. There I spent about 30 minutes filtering water and feeling like a new woman on a fantastic journey!

The second day of riding was more pavement, gravel and straight forward navigation (thankfully). It was, however, quite hot and very limited shade existed in this section. And I really mean limited. But, I was stocked with water, the tourists were friendly and encouraging as I climbed hills (they would yell things out there car windows like, “You can do it” and “you got this” and the scenery and wildlife was simply astounding.

Side note on tourists: In Custer State Park in the summer there are tons of tourists. Because of this, if I ride my bike there, I try to do it during the week and/or early morning. But, there are some things I just love about tourists: when you bike you get a whole different experience with them. Everyone is moving very slow and taking in all the beauty. Wherever you stop whether to get water or take in a view, you will hear Spanish, Chinese, German being spoken. All these different languages is very much a multicultural coming together in this little place in western South Dakota.  There is something I just adore about that juxtaposition. So, yes, it is busy in the summer but on a bike it just doesn’t feel that busy as it does when you’re in a vehicle. Everything is slowed down. Tourists don’t annoy you and you get to meet people and talk with them as they are always curious as to what you are up to on a bike. I think when you’re on a bike it somehow makes you more accessible and makes people want to engage. It’s fun to have those moments within a solo adventure.

After winding through grasslands, seeing all kinds of wildlife (buffalo, wild burros, prairie dogs, hawks, etc) and navigating some double track gravel through the outskirts of Wind Cave National Park I arrived at Hot Springs by 2:00pm. I had been in the heat and on my bike for about 7 hours. It was time to be done for the day as I felt a bit like I was teetering on some heat exhaustion. I negotiated a cheap room at the family-run Braun Historic Hotel and Restaurant. What a treat this place is if you’re into historical buildings. So much is original! The room was super small but clean and had a window a/c unit (thank goodness as this journey was done on a sweltering day of 95+ degrees!) The owners were very kind and even accommodated my bike in their own private quarters in the hotel where they assured me to “just come in and out and make yourself at home here” in order for me to deal with unpacking and repacking my bike.

Side note on Hot Spings, SD: I love the town of Hot Springs. If you ever have the chance, go! The sandstone buildings that run along side the babbling brook on main street as well as the small waterfall set up such a relaxing atmosphere. If you go, make sure to check out Moccasin Springs Natural Mineral Spa (adults only) to soak in the original hot springs or head to Evans Plunge with the kiddos (Spring-fed pools for play). I didn’t have time to do either of those things but because I saved so much money by riding my bike here and not driving (ha ha!), I treated myself to a delicious filet and fries at the in-house restaurant at my hotel called the Buffalo Steakhouse. This was really great food, very fair prices and they have a place where you can sit outside to dine! They also offer elk and buffalo steaks or burgers for those of you looking for a true taste of Western South Dakota! Hot Springs should be this amazing, gentrified, beautiful little town…it’s just not quite there yet. But I am hopeful as on this trip there was MAJOR infrastructure work going on and I noticed several new store fronts taking over the once dilapidated and empty historic sandstone buildings. Hopefully soon, this lovely little town will have its day in the sun. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that the history of Hot Springs is interesting and (as all history is in our country) woven with tragedy that includes Native Americans and early settlers. It is worth doing a google search or finding a book to learn more before you go or as you visit here.

By the end of day 2 after being in the heat with no shade for 7 hours, finally making it to Hot Springs and even after eating a real meal, I realistically only saw myself making it to Custer the following day. The ride was going to be 30 miles of some pavement but mostly gravel double track, it was going to be climbing pretty much the entire way AND it was going to be the hottest day yet. It wasn’t that I was defeated. It was more that I just didn’t have confidence in what my body or my mind could do anymore.

I lost a lot of the confidence in my physical capabilities over the past 2 years just due to some health issues that have not quite been resolved. Its not anything major or that I can’t live with (I know so many people have major health issues so I don’t want to make it seem like mine are dramatic). But if you are someone used to all your self-worth being based in physical accomplishments (btw…if you are resonating with this then it’s so important to work through this issue and realize you are worthy beyond your physicality!) and then all of the sudden your body and health change for whatever reason and you can't do what you used to do for a time period, you lose that ability to believe you are capable. It leads to confusion on what you can still do or not do physically as well as if it’s OK for your health to keep pushing. So this was that moment where I just decided I won’t be able to go further and that’s absolutely OK with me…I really was fine with Custer being the end of my route. I had prepared myself before going into this trip that I would be flexible with my self (not demanding of myself like I would typically do in the past when I would set a physical goal. That kind of behavior is what got me into health issues in the first place!) So I was all set and at peace with ending. I made a plan with Luke to pick me up in Custer the next day. However, while on the phone with him telling him my reasons and that I was even a bit nervous about making it to Custer, he gently reminded me that I am used to riding in the heat and that I am used to riding long and that I know how to manage my mind. And that one sentence was all it took for me to consider that maybe I could make it the entire way. But, I told myself I would leave the decision until tomorrow got going (that’s a trick a use a lot, by the way, on physical endurance journeys as well as in normal, every day life. A decision will need to be made, but if it doesn’t have to be made at that exact moment, I will remind myself that I can start things, see how they go and stay open and flexible to different decisions. When the time comes, based on my current experience, I can then make a decision. More often than not, this leads to my best decision-making.)

I woke the next morning at 4:30 (typical for me) and had my bike packed and was on the road by 5:30. This is my favorite time to ride. The sun is just coming up, the rest of the world sleeps and stillness abounds. It is also cooler at this time of day! I started the long climb straight out of Hot Springs, took some off-shoots from HWY 385 onto gravel lanes that rolled with green hills, on through the entrance area to Wind Cave and then carried on back along the highway. It is in this section I got very close to a buffalo (not by choice!) as well as watched a coyote hunt a prairie dog as her baby watched from the background on the horizon. These are truly magical moments to me. The awe that I experience when things like this are in my reality is like nothing I feel anywhere else. I always believe that experiencing moments like these are the closest to heaven that we get here on earth.

This is why I love long rides: It gives you the opportunity to practice existing in the present moment for a long time period. When you are riding (particularly solo) your mind automatically focuses. There is one thing to do and one thing only: pedal. There is no, “I need to do this now” or I should get this done” or “I have all these things I must do”. There is none of that. Because none of that even exists when you’re out there doing your thing. And yes, your mind wanders, you have other thoughts but then a buffalo rises up out of the long grasses in the ditch right next to you and just like that you are back into the present moment. You’re thinking about work next week as you round a corner and a vista appears where the sun is rising through scattered clouds and the sky appears in deep purples and oranges and your breath catches and you are back in the moment.  And over a long period of time of your mind being in the present moment from outings like this, it starts to do it automatically in every day life. You get to go home and live in your “real” world but you automatically notice that beautiful way your daughter tilts her head when she’s asking for something from you. Or you sit on your back deck and notice how the breeze shifts the leaves in that tree just so. Or you really sense the love that comes through that hug from the man you love in the moment it is happening. This is present moment living and I’m all about more of it.

Back to the journey to Custer: I make a right turn onto a gravel double track and start climbing even more…ugh! But… it’s completely shaded and I’m not feeling that heat yet. In fact, I’m having lots of thoughts about making it to Hill City and maybe even back to Rapid City today with my own horse power?? The road is beautiful. It’s bumpy enough to keep me interested but not too bumpy that I can’t look around. Around every twist in the road holds a new treasure to look at. Rock outcroppings in all different types of sandstone and granite, a stream flowing along the twisting trail, a vista of canyons and pine. I gain more energy from these views and I also remind myself of the brain research (yes, this is how my mind works) that says the brain will always tell us to shut down before we actually physically need to shut down (look it up-its a thing!) So with this renewal of my thinking, I begin to think that I can maybe make it home today and complete my loop. I text Luke to let him know I’m going to push for Hill City and that I’ll let him know at that point what I may or may not attempt.

Side note: I want to include all my thinking here because I’m hoping if you are on the fence about trying something like this, that you can stay flexible. I’ve found for any physical and/or mental endurance endeavor staying flexible with how things may or may not turn out is usually imperative for them turning out. I really needed to allow myself the flexibility of ending the ride or not. Setting myself up for the mentality I used to hold, “You have to do this completely or you are a failure” etc, etc is just a way to self-sabotage the entire journey. Holding onto the mentality that this is truly about the journey along the way and NOT about the end point is what keeps us flexible, open to trying new things, enjoying! And I hope it’s not lost on you that this is the perfect metaphor for every day life. Yes, this type of mindset is truly required for physical endurance efforts if we want to get the most out of them and live to tell the tale and do another one. AND…it is the type of mindset that brings more peace, joy, and meaning to every day life as well!

I rode into Custer much quicker than I anticipated so didn’t even stop. Just kept on going to Hill City. The funny thing here is that I promised myself I would not use the Mickelson Trail for any part of this journey. Don’t as me why. It was just a thing that was lodged in my head. But, of course, I am obviously going to ride that beautiful section of perfect gravel with no motorized traffic from Custer to Hill City. I’m staying flexible by riding the Mickelson! Ha!

I arrived in Hill City about 80-90 minutes later (this section is 15 miles long with a 5 mile climb out of Custer up to Crazy Horse Monument and then has about 10 miles of descent). The downhill was welcomed and gave my butt time to rest off the seat. Relief. And now it was only 11:00. Early in the day. I have time to make it to Rapid City and complete the loop. Even if I went super slow or had to walk some, I could get there. So, gingerly getting back on my bike (quads and butt were aching at this point) I started to pedal. The last leg of the journey involved a little more gravel and double track just so I wasn’t on the highway with all the Saturday tourist traffic and then a return to Sheridan Lake Road. Sheridan Lake Road into Rapid City is a beautiful, scenic and typically paved road. However, when I rode this (July 2022) much of it was gravel due to construction going on and because of this, not many cars were using it. Yay!

(My favorite food combo of the journey!)

Those last 15 miles flew by even though my pace was quite slow and the sun was beating down on my body in the open space of that wide road. There is something about knowing you’re about to be home. A cold shower. A beer. Real food. Clean clothes. Your own bed. Your loved ones. Comfort. And then there is the grieving part. A sadness that the uncomfortableness is ending. That the calm from the present-minded-focus will be more difficult to come by. That the heightened spiritual sense from pushing your limits will not be as easily attainable in day to day life. I have learned to hold both at the same time. To embrace the comfort and the uncomfortableness. To not only allow for both in life but to cultivate both on purpose.

There is one thing I was told by my biking mentor (and bestie) years ago. As we were attempting the Black Hills Expedition together and suffering madly on a climb while carrying our bikes over a forest of down-trees (Samelius peak before the clean-up for all my local friends), she said to remember that when we are flying on the downhill (which is just on the other side) we will believe that we can do anything again! And this has stuck with me in riding and in life in general. There are ALWAYS climbs in life that make us want to quit and there are ALWAYS the downhills on the other side of things where we can fly. We experience joy and we experience grief simply because we exist as humans. The problem only arises when we try to stay away from the uncomfortable feelings and try to hang on too tightly to the comfortable feelings. This creates the struggle which is suffering. The trick is to end the suffering by allowing ALL the hard climbs and all the fun downhills, all the comfortable and uncomfortable feelings. It is so much easier to feel hard feelings when we don’t dump suffering on top of the difficult experience. And it is so much more reverent when experiencing joy if we don’t struggle to hold on to it. Allow it all.

And that’s how it ended. After a final 9 hours on the bike, I rode into my driveway. I was home. Solo. Confident. Empowered. Joyful. Changed. Free.