Cover photo courtesy of Jon Jonckers

Long days, cool waters and mountain trails—summer in the Inland Northwest is pure magic. Whether you’re chasing adrenaline or searching for serenity, you’ll find the right outdoor adventure to match your mood in this year’s roundup of summer adventure ideas.

 

Tube or Paddle the Lower Spokane River 
Nothing beats floating the Spokane River on an inflatable tube on a toasty summer day. The water is cool and the rapids are relatively tame on a float from Peaceful Valley downstream from downtown to the take out at T.J. Meenach Bridge, which avoids expert-only rapids farther down river (life jackets required). 

Local river guide and outfitter FLOW Adventures makes this classic Spokane float even easier and more enjoyable with tube rentals and a shuttle service. FLOW also rents cooler tubes for keeping your lunch and refreshments cold. Take your time to stop to look for crawdads, chill on a beach and soak up the slow summer pace of our beautiful urban river. 

Visit the Historic Kettle Falls Historical Center 
Learn about the fur trade and Native American history at the Kettle Falls Historical Center. The area, once a major trading hub, offers exhibits and a rich history of both settlers and Native Americans that gives insight into the area’s past. It’s a great way to experience both history and natural beauty in one spot. The nearby Sherman Creek Wildlife Area offers several hiking trail options to make this a history and hiking trip. 

Ride a Section of the Trail of the Coeur d’Alenes 
Spanning 73 miles through Idaho’s Silver Valley, the Trail of the Coeur d’Alenes is a flat, paved trail with many trailheads to plan a ride of whatever distance your group is up for. This incredible trail includes options for swimming in Lake Coeur d’Alene on the public beach in Harrison, grabbing a bite to eat in one of several towns and viewing wildlife along the trail.  

Explore the Ross Creek Cedars 
Take a walk through one of the few remaining old-growth cedar forests in the region. Located in Montana’s Cabinet Mountains, the towering trees are a wonder to experience up close. A short loop takes hikers past informative signs where you can learn about the role old-growth forests play in the natural world. 

Raft the Clark Fork River 
The Clark Fork River offers thrilling Class III rapids only a couple of hours from Spokane, making it a perfect adrenaline-packed day on the water. Experienced rafters with their own gear should definitely get to know this Class II and III whitewater run through stunning canyons. If you aren’t set up for rafting on your own, book a guided trip with ROW Adventures to safely experience this wild and incredibly scenic whitewater. Guides will share their knowledge about the river canyon and wildlife and find the best swimming spots to cool off between rapids.  

Hunt for Real Fossils at Stonerose Fossil Site in Republic, WA 
The Stonerose Interpretive Center and Eocene Fossil Site allows visitors to split rocks and search for fossils while learning about the prehistoric past of the region. The site is rich in ancient plant fossils, making it a great destination for geology lovers and families alike. Dig your own fossils, explore the interpretive center, and discover the ancient history that shaped the land. Don’t miss the free interpretive center where you can learn all about the fossils you’ll be searching for. 

Try Mountain Biking at Riverside State Park 
Riverside State Park near downtown Spokane offers a wide range of mountain biking trails for riders of all abilities and is one of the most beginner-friendly trail systems in the Inland Northwest. The forgiving trails are perfect for trying mountain biking for the first time or getting kids introduced to singletrack riding. Trails wind for miles through pine forests and along the Spokane River and basalt cliffsides with plenty of mostly-flat trails that take it easy on lungs and legs.  

Go Fishing at Fish Lake Regional Park 
If you live near downtown Spokane, Fish Lake Regional Park near Cheney is a quiet, quick fishing getaway. Only electric boat motors are allowed, which lends to the peaceful vibe on the water that makes this 43-acre lake popular with paddlers and small boats. Landlubbers also have plenty of shoreline to explore while fishing for brook, tiger and rainbow trout among other species. The paved Columbia Plateau Trail passes above the lake and, with the exception of a several mile trail gap between the lake and Spokane, the Fish Lake Trail provides a scenic, paved option for biking to the lake for your angling outing.  

Kayak the Little Spokane River 
The Little Spokane River, known for its calm waters and largely wild shoreline, is a peaceful paddling option for kayakers and paddle boarders, especially since floating the river in tubes as well as swimming and consuming alcohol are not allowed. Paddle through the serene landscape, passing by acres of conservation and park lands that moose, elk, deer and other wildlife call home. It’s a great way to connect with nature and slow down summer. Simplify your float by taking advantage of the Spokane Parks and Recreation river shuttle. 

Learn about Downtown Spokane History on a Walking Tour 
Step back in time with a guided walking tour of some of Spokane’s little-known history and other hidden sites with Wander Spokane. Choose from different themed tours and discover the city’s rich history and beautiful trails and urban wild areas. From historic buildings to significant landmarks, tours offer a deeper understanding of Spokane’s heritage with some tours making stops at craft eateries, breweries and wine-tasting spots.  

Hike the Dishman Hills in Spokane Valley 
Choose from an extensive network of trails that lead hikers through diverse ecosystems, including ponds and wetlands, forests and grasslands. It’s an easy in-town option for a full-day hike with a picnic, or short evening or morning loop hike suitable for all abilities and ages. The area’s tranquility and beauty on the edge of the city makes a hike here feel like a wilderness experience without the long drive. The Dishman Hills Conservancy hosts regular guided hikes and other events where you can learn about this incredible urban wildland. 

Bike the Columbia Plateau Trail 
The full length of the Columbia Plateau Trail stretches 130 miles from Pasco to Cheney, offering scenic views of the surrounding channeled scablands past lakes, wetlands, forests and grasslands. Start your ride in Cheney for an out-and-back pedal, passing through a portion of Turnbull National Wildlife Refuge, or arrange a shuttle from one of several trailheads to see more of this crushed-rock rail trail. Time your ride in the morning or evening for the best chance at viewing birds and other wildlife including moose and elk.  

Bike the Route of the Hiawatha  
A must-ride route that should be on everyone’s bucket list, the 15-mile Route of the Hiawatha near Lookout Pass passes through tunnels and over trestle bridges in Idaho’s Bitterroot Mountains. The trail offers stunning views of the surrounding mountains and interpretive signs to learn about the history of the trail and nearby communities. It’s also a relatively easy ride with a shuttle option, making it suitable for families and groups of mixed fitness and physical ability. Trail passes are required for the Hiawatha and can be purchased online with shuttles or at Lookout Pass Ski and Recreation Area, where you can also rent bikes and other gear for the ride. Headlamps required.  

Pedal the Rails on a RailRider Tour 
This unique and active tour involves pedaling retired railroad tracks on a railbike near Metaline Falls in Northeast Washington. Travel through scenic areas that were once only traversed by trains. Tours typically sell out in the summer months, so plan ahead or book a fall trip. 

Go Birdwatching at Turnbull National Wildlife Refuge 
Turnbull National Wildlife Refuge near Cheney is a prime spot for birdwatching, with diverse habitats supporting a variety of wildlife. In the summer months, many birds can be observed near ponds and lakes on the 17,000-acre refuge. There are several short trails and wildlife viewing areas along the auto-tour loop with signage. 

Explore the Little Pend Oreille National Wildlife Refuge Auto-Tour Loop 
The Little Pend Oreille National Wildlife Refuge near Colville, Wash., has a 10-mile auto-tour loop that tours through diverse forest habitats. Drive or bike the loop with stops for short hikes and to read the interpretive signs. Morning and evening outings are best for wildlife viewing. There are some excellent riverside campsites too. Gravel bikers and bikepackers can connect additional forest roads for longer day rides or bikepacking adventures. 

Rent a Kayak, Sailboat, or Paddleboard on Lake Coeur d’Alene 
Rent the paddle craft of your choice right on the beach from the North Idaho College-run Sunspot at Ya-Keehn-Um Beach in Coeur d’Alene. Paddle along the lakeshore for a unique view of downtown Coeur d’Alene or explore the waters where the lake and Spokane River meet.  

Bike the Kettle River Heritage Trail in Grand Forks, B.C. 
This super scenic 17k trail just north of the border from Washington follows the path of a historic railroad between Grand Forks and Christina Lake. The rustic crushed rock trail passes through forest and grassland, including the Gilpin Grasslands Provincial Park. Bring your swim suit for a dip or two in the Kettle River. Be sure to check out the spectacular Cascade Gorge Falls near Christina Lake as part of your trip. 

Kayak the Coeur d’Alene River Chain Lakes  

Paddle through a series of interconnected lakes with a good chance of seeing moose and many types of birds. Launch in Harrison, Idaho, and explore multiple connected lakes along the Coeur d’Alene River. 

Stargaze at Steptoe Butte State Park 

Rising nearly 1,000 feet above the rolling Palouse hills, stargazing in the Inland Northwest doesn’t get much better than Steptoe Butte. Drive to the summit at dusk, spread out a blanket and witness the Milky Way spread across the dark sky. The minimal light pollution and 360-degree views make this one of the region’s premier stargazing locations, especially during meteor showers. 

Rock Climb, Paddle or Swim at Q’emiln Park in Post Falls 

Q’emiln Park offers over 40 established rock-climbing routes on its quality granite walls. With options for beginners to experienced climbers, the park provides a perfect introduction to outdoor climbing in a beautiful setting along the Spokane River. After your climb, or if you don’t rock climb, cool off with a swim at the park’s beach or launch your paddleboard or kayak for a serene paddle on the still waters of this section of the Spokane River behind Post Falls Dam. Bring your bike and pedal across the bridge into town for a craft beer or bite to eat in downtown Post Falls. 

Stand-Up Paddleboard on Medical Lake 

Just west of Spokane, Medical Lake provides a perfect setting for stand-up paddleboarding with its calm waters and no-wake policy. The lake’s compact size makes it ideal for beginners, while more experienced paddlers can explore the entire perimeter. Early morning paddling offers the best chance to see local wildlife and enjoy glassy water conditions. 

Hike or Mountain Bike the Trails at 4th of July Pass Near Coeur d’Alene 

Located between Coeur d’Alene and Kellogg right off of I-90, this mellow trail system includes miles of rolling trails on decommissioned forest roads that are used for Nordic skiing and snowshoeing in the winter. A great option for families or those looking for a close-to-town forest escape.   

Explore the Sullivan Lake Trail 

Sullivan Lake near Metaline Falls, Wash., offers a gorgeous 8.2-mile round-trip trail along the east side of the mostly undeveloped lake in the Colville National Forest. The lake is clean, clear and great for swimming at a few spots along the trail and at the campground beaches at both ends of the trail.  

Go for a Gravel Ride in the Channeled Scablands  

Explore the unique landscape of the channeled scablands on hundreds of miles of gravel roads southwest of Spokane. These quiet, lightly traveled backroads wind through dramatic coulees, past pothole lakes and across rolling farm and ranch lands. Create your own route linking up sections of gravel road with paved-road stretches by starting in Spokane for a longer ride or the college town of Cheney for more manageable options.  

Go Geocaching in Riverside State Park 

Embark on a modern-day treasure hunt in one of Washington’s largest state parks. There are plenty of geocaches hidden in Riverside to keep you busy searching using GPS coordinates. This family-friendly activity combines hiking with problem-solving and can be tailored to any fitness level, from short walks to longer day-hikes. Get started at Geocaching.com. 

Bike the Old Spiral Highway Near Lewiston, Idaho 

Experience a cycling challenge with spectacular views on the Old Spiral Highway near Lewiston, Idaho. This historic road climbs 2,000 feet via dozens of curves and switchbacks, offering increasingly panoramic vistas of the Snake River and surrounding landscape. The 7.3-mile ascent is a favorite among local cyclists looking to test their climbing legs. 

Canoe or Kayak the Lower Pack River 

This section of the Pack River near Sandpoint in the summer is a gentle float suitable for beginners and families. Expect a peaceful paddle through forest and wetlands with frequent wildlife encounters. The slow current and multiple access points make it easy to plan trips of various lengths. 

Go Gold Panning  
This summer, try your luck at recreational gold panning in North Idaho. Pick up a basic gold pan and classifier to screen out large rocks and grab a shovel. No permit is needed for most public lands, but always check current rules and avoid disturbing sensitive aquatic areas. A great option is the privately-owned Eagle City Park gold panning area near Wallace, Idaho. A fee is required to pan this former gold mining hotspot.  

Challenge Yourself on Mica Moon’s Aerial Park 

If you’re craving a treetop thrill, Mica Moon’s aerial park tucked in the mountains near Liberty Lake, Wash., is packed with swinging bridges, balance lines, and ninja-style elements to test your balance and agility. It’s a choose-your-own-adventure course perfect for families and groups of friends. Mica Moon also offers tours on its nine ziplines. 

RV Camp Where It’s Truly Wild 

Tucked into the quiet wilds of Northeast Washington, the Wilds RV Campground is where solitude seekers and outdoor lovers find their sweet spot. This remote private campground offers dispersed-style RV and campervan sites, meaning no shoulder-to-shoulder parking—so you can enjoy the stars and the sounds of the forest. Basecamp here for day trips to nearby Colville National Forest trails and lakes.  

Ride Silver Mountain Bike Park 
Silver Mountain Bike Park turns gravity into your best friend. Load your bike on the gondola, climb 3,400 feet without breaking a sweat, then drop into over 30 miles of trails ranging from beginner-friendly green trails to rooty, rowdy blues and blacks with plenty of jumps and features to challenge yourself.  

Take a Scenic Gondola Ride and a Hike at Silver Mountain 

The gondola at Silver Mountain Resort is North America’s longest, floating you quietly above the trees and canyons for expansive views of Idaho’s Silver Valley. At the top, stretch your legs with a high-country hike and hunt for huckleberries.  
 

The post 100+ Summer Adventures  appeared first on Out There Venture.

Explore these summer outdoor music festivals in the Pacific Northwest that you can bikepack to and camp at—or drive and bring your bike for day rides between music sets. For gear and route planning tips, visit Bikepacking.com, a top resource for adventure cyclists.

Kettle River Music Festival – Curlew, Washington (August 1–3, 2025)
BIKE IT: Bikepack from Republic via the Golden Tiger Pathway and Ferry County Rail Trail, or ride sections of the trail system from the festival grounds. More ambitious riders can head up to the Kettle Crest for epic singletrack.
kettlerivermusicfestival.org

Yellow Pine Harmonica Festival – Yellow Pine, Idaho (July 31–August 2, 2025)
BIKE IT: Bikepack from McCall, Idaho, over a steep mountain pass and along the South Fork Salmon River to reach this remote Idaho mountain music festival. For an incredibly scenic day ride or overnighter from the festival, pedal 33 rugged miles to the community of Big Creek for an excellent meal at the Big Creek Lodge near the airstrip. Then ride back or stay at one of the nearby campsites.
yellowpinefestival.org

National Oldtime Fiddlers’ Contest & Festival – Weiser, Idaho (June 17–21, 2025)
BIKE IT: Bikepack from New Meadows or McCall, Idaho, incorporating the 84-mile-long Weiser River Trail, one of Idaho’s top rail trails. Or, day-ride this scenic route directly from the festival.
fiddlecontest.org

Juniper Jam – Enterprise, Oregon (August 30, 2025)
BIKE IT: Bikepackers looking for an epic challenge can start from Asotin, Washington, or farther south at Heller Bar on the Snake River and ride gravel and two-track trails climbing through the Chief Joseph Wildlife Area to the rim above Hells Canyon—a 100+ mile journey with incredible camping along the way. Less zealous riders can enjoy scenic day rides from the festival on gravel roads into the Zumwalt Prairie and surrounding Wallowa Mountains.
juniperjam.com

Festival at Sandpoint – Sandpoint, Idaho (July 24–27 and July 31–August 3, 2025)
BIKE IT: Create your own custom bikepacking route to Sandpoint, Idaho, mixing trails, gravel, and pavement from your home base. The nearby trails at Pine Street Woods are an easy ride from the festival for day trippers.
festivalatsandpoint.com

The Gorge Amphitheatre – George, Washington (Multiple 2025 Festivals)
Beyond Wonderland (June 20–22)
Watershed Festival (August 1–3)
Bass Canyon Festival (August 15–17)
BIKE IT: Bikepack from Spokane on the Palouse to Cascades Trail to the Gorge Amphitheatre, one of the most iconic outdoor music venues in Washington. Or use the trail for a day ride during your festival weekend.
gorgeamphitheatre.com

Blue Waters Bluegrass Festival – Medical Lake, Washington (August 8–10, 2025)
BIKE IT: Bikepack from Spokane via the Fish Lake Trail and scenic back roads to this lakeside bluegrass festival near Spokane. Explore miles of quiet roads and countryside around Medical Lake between music sets.
bluewatersbluegrass.org

Shambhala Music Festival – Salmo, British Columbia (July 25–28, 2025)
BIKE IT: Bikepack from Spokane and connect with the International Selkirk Loop bike route, then continue on to Salmo for this legendary BC electronic music festival in the Kootenays. Or ride from Nelson, BC, on the Nelson-Salmo Great Northern Trail for outstanding day rides from the festival. Don’t forget your passport!
shambhalamusicfestival.com

The post NW Music Festivals You Can Bikepack To (Or Day Ride From) appeared first on Out There Venture.

Cover photo courtesy of Derrick Knowles

Honestly, the musical genre barely registered when Out There Venture publisher Derrick Knowles invited me and several other riders to bikepack from Spokane to Medical Lake, Washington, for the 2024 Blue Waters Bluegrass Festival in August. It takes very little for me to say “yes” to bikepacking, and since my weekend was free, it was a no-brainer. But the promise of a homegrown, small-town feel with some of the best bluegrass bands around added to the appeal. And I discovered that a music festival has some great perks as a bikepacking destination.

The Blue Waters Bluegrass Festival in Medical Lake, WA, has welcomed musicians and fans from across the U.S. since 2022. World-class bluegrass music is offered at this modest but memorable festival, with camping fees that spoke to my dirtbag heart. The festival’s proximity to Spokane’s urban core promised a pleasant, scenic pedal to buzzing Medical Lake Waterfront Park.

While it would be easy enough to load up the bikes with gear and pedal straight to Medical Lake, there are enough scenic options between downtown Spokane and the lakefront to encourage gravel-centric bikepacking routes through the West Plains and around nearby lakes. Our bikepacking route from Spokane took us south on the Fish Lake Trail, then west through Cheney and Four Lakes, popular areas for gravel biking in Eastern Washington. While spending hours on Ride with GPS finding the best routes isn’t my cup of tea, I’m grateful to have lots of adventure buddies who love this aspect of trip planning and always find interesting, challenging, beautiful routes to take.

Approaching Silver Lake from the east was sobering, as evidence of the 2023 catastrophic wildfires greeted us. Though many homes are being rebuilt, the blackened trees and scorched earth were a stark contrast to the sparkling lake. It’s easy to pedal along, spinning out about the increasing impact that wildfires are having on our beautiful, pedalable home.

With four riders, lots of gear, and plenty of time, we took snack and drink breaks and paused to enjoy wildflowers. I’m assuming the others waited patiently for me to catch up. While much of the weight on my bike was vital camping gear (tent, sleeping bag, festival chair), I needn’t have packed so much food. The best part of bikepacking to a music festival was discovering the diverse food trucks at the venue—an unexpected culinary bonus after a long ride. From Feast World Kitchen’s tofu pad thai to a truck selling hot coffee in the morning, my freeze-dried meals just couldn’t stack up, so they stayed packed away. Since Medical Lake is a delightfully small town with wide streets, it wouldn’t have been hard to pedal into town for a bite or beverage if needed.

Live bluegrass music filled the air all day, from regional acts and local players in the afternoon to national headliners in the evening. The Saturday night headliners, New Dangerfield, were introduced by the festival organizer who calmly assured the audience that in 22 years, they’d never been rained out … even as the inevitable thunderclouds that follow me everywhere gathered on the horizon and rumbled over the rolling hills. My travel companions glared at me as they pulled out their rain jackets. But, I did warn them.

Knowing at least some rain was on the way, our cozy campsite right on the water’s edge was secured with rain flies zipped and bags packed away. We kicked back, enjoyed the music, and watched festival staff and volunteers scramble to right the canopy sheltering the sound system as gusts of wind brought the storm ever closer. The musicians, professional performers, carried on with their set, bringing the audience to their feet with toe-tapping tunes and classic sounds of Appalachia.

Most people camping for the weekend were using trailers and RVs, but those of us sleeping in tents were relieved when Mother Nature left just a few drops and carried the thunder and lightning north instead of raining on our parade. The next morning, as we packed to leave, I was pleased to see musicians young and old gathering at picnic tables and under trees for a series of music workshops—generations sharing their art and carrying on the language of string-based bluegrass for new audiences to discover.

Pedaling away from the bustle of the campground reminded me that bikepacking truly is my favorite way to adventure. The freedom of circumventing crowded parking lots and lines of vehicles, carrying everything I need on my bike, pedaling until I’m tired, then sleeping, then pedaling again, is my perfect adventure. Sharing conversation, suffering, and camaraderie with others turning pedals with (or usually far ahead of) me—there’s just nothing like it.

The 2024 Blue Waters Bluegrass Festival (August 8–10 in Medical Lake, WA) is just one of many bikeable music festivals in the Inland Northwest. The region boasts a lineup of events for various genres, schedules, camping experiences, and price points. These festivals are well-supported, with camping, restrooms, concessions, and other comfort amenities. They offer community and something to look forward to during your miles of pedaling—and they’re typically close enough to “somewhere” that you can access an easy exit strategy if things go sideways.

If bikepacking has been on your “want to try” list, find a fun, local festival, pull whatever bike you have out of the garage for a quick tune-up (at least lube the chain and pump up the tires), throw a tent and a sleeping bag in a backpack or some panniers, and get out there—bikepacking to festivals is the perfect blend of adventure, music, and outdoor culture.

Carol Corbin is looking for ways to monetize the rain that follows her on all her outdoor adventures, having recently achieved international notoriety by breaking an unseasonable dry spell with four days of biking in England.

The post Bikepacking from Spokane to the Blue Waters Bluegrass Festival in Medical Lake appeared first on Out There Venture.

Cover photo courtesy of Eric Deady

Winter has landed upon us, and it is time once again to dust off the fat bike. For those of us who enjoy the idea of traveling through the landscape during winter on a bike, or for those who may be considering fat biking for the first time, there are a few things to consider before heading out.  

Where fat-biking in winter differs from other kinds of cycling is in the consequence of failing to get it right. Forgetting critical pieces of the puzzle can leave you in a dangerous situation very quickly, or can just ruin a good time. Getting all the right pieces put together to keep yourself safe and frostbite-free, is, for me, part of the allure of fat biking. I have to be a lot more vigilant in my preparation to avoid serious outcomes. So, here are a few things to consider.  

Be Self-Reliant 

Fat biking is best in remote areas, and we ride during a time of year when there are fewer trail users overall. Self-reliance means safety. Be sure to have a bail-out plan if things go wrong, a good GPS that will work in cold temps, and the correct maps loaded onto it. Be sure to have whatever tools you need on-hand to fix a mechanical problem and the knowledge to use them. Sitting in the snow is never a good time to try and learn how to use that new chain-breaker you got from Santa. Being self-reliant means that you can get yourself to safety and have the gear necessary to keep safe if you get lost or injured.  

Bring the Right Gear 

Fat biking in winter requires more gear, and there’s really no way around it. Outfit your bike with a frame bag, seat bag, or some other way to carry your gear that keeps it off your body and on the bike. This will make swapping layers easier and less time consuming. I prefer a rear rack and dry bags to carry bulky items, and a frame bag for the denser things. Have a small stash spot available to keep your immediate-need items like layers, snacks, and water so you don’t need to dig through your entire kit during a blizzard just to find that Scooby-snack. Outfit your handlebars with a set of Pogies to keep the wind off your fingers and your hands warm and less bulky. Bringing a simple folding stove and a fuel canister, even on short rides, will ensure that you can keep yourself warm and hydrated in an emergency and is also just a great way to have a mid-ride break with a warm cup of your favorite drink or soup. My go-to is a packet of Lipton chicken noodle.  

Stay Warm . . . And Cool 

This third thing may be the most important for your general comfort and overall safety. Layer, layer, layer! “Wetting out” your clothing can spell disaster, and can often lead to hypothermia. The best way to avoid this is through a well-planned layering strategy and by regulating your effort to avoid sweating. Start with thin, next-to-skin layers that wick moisture. Merino wool is a good choice here. Above your base layer, the idea is to allow any moisture wicked away to escape before it can penetrate your clothing and potentially freeze. That’s why you will likely be adding or shedding layers as your body heats up or cools down. Keep spares of safety-critical items like gloves, and know where they are when you need them. Always choose clothing that is easy to get on and off and fits well.  

Keeping those three things in mind before heading out will help you stay organized and hopefully keep you safe should conditions deteriorate or a mechanical problem occurs. 

Eric Deady has been bikepacking and touring around the world for more than 30 years and now shares that love of the outdoors with his children.  

The post Fat Biking Prep and Winter Safety  appeared first on Out There Venture.

By Eric Deady  

Cover photo courtesy of Kyle Lucas

There is often a peaceful resolve that settles into a person when confronted with the certainty of death in the backcountry. It’s a very unique abandonment of fear, and an acceptance of what is to come. Those of us who recreate in remote places, or those who have made outdoor pursuits a centerpiece of our lives, often have a long, profound, and very personal list of reasons why our outdoors lives have mattered. When confronted with the unthinkable, we have a tendency to settle in and draw on those same memories and experiences from past adventures to bring us peace and acceptance of the outcome. 

That acceptance of fate washed over Josh Anderson, a 34-year-old mountain biker from Spokane, on July 17, 2024, when a routine backcountry mountain bike exploration turned into a fight for survival and a reckoning with the very fundamental question of “Why.” Why do we put ourselves in these remote situations, knowing full-well what the outcomes could be? 

For Anderson, the answers to those questions would come after an hours-long struggle through the backcountry of the Colville National Forest near Sullivan Lake in the far Northeastern reaches of Washington State, where a standard scramble over a fallen log turned into a fight for his very survival. 

Anderson and his friend David Donnelly began their day with the energy and enthusiasm that usually comes with a day on mountain bikes. Machines lubed, checked and tuned. Gear assembled, car full of gas. All of the standard checklist items that precede a good day out in the woods on bikes. With the car loaded, Anderson and Donnelly made their way to the Noisy Creek trailhead in the Colville National Forest for a ride on some forest service trails that had yet to be cleared for the season. Many of us have encountered trails like this—overgrown, with sections of fallen trees and brush. For Anderson and Donnelly, these are the unruly conditions they love and have prepared for. The sense of adventure and discovery that comes with riding trails like these is, for them, only heightened by the added dangers of unpredictable terrain, obstacles, and constantly changing conditions.  

The two cyclists had planned to shuttle that day’s ride, with their two vehicles staged at the entry and exit points of the trail. With those vehicles dropped off, they began their ride around 9 a.m. on what was sure to be a typically warm and beautiful summer day. Being early in the season, the trees were flushed with nearly neon-green leaves. The creeks were full of clear, cool water, and the forest was alive with the sounds and smells of an early summer morning. 

A mile and a half of downhill mountain biking can pass in the blink of an eye, and it wasn’t long before Anderson and Donnelly found themselves deep in the woods. Alone, without cell service, they confronted a deteriorating trail, covered with fallen logs from the previous winter’s blow-down.  

While lifting his mountain bike over one of these fallen logs—a scenario as benign as reaching for a snack—Anderson’s foot slipped off the log and plunged through some branches below. One of those branches was sharp enough, strong enough, and oriented at just the right angle to fillet nearly his entire calf, leaving an unimaginably large flap of exposed flesh staring back at him when he looked down to see what damage had been done. A routine slip turned into a bloody nightmare in the blink of an eye.  

In complete disbelief, all Anderson could say was “I messed up man . . . I really messed up,” while staring down with a growing sense of panic at what he describes as the “guts” of his leg and the immediate gush of blood, now soaking his entire leg and foot. With Donnelly now at his side, the two riders immediately got to work applying pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding, but the damage was too severe, and the flap of flesh just too large for a pressure bandage. This was no mere cut or scratch. This was a complete separation of one of the largest muscles a cyclist has, and a wound so devastating that immediate action needed to be taken in the form of a tourniquet, fashioned from Anderson’s favorite Arcade Belt and a chunk of broken stick lying nearby.   

With their ride now obviously over, and their focus shifting onto extracting themselves from the woods, that once quick mile and a half of downhill riding turned into the prospect of an impossibly long uphill nightmare. The mountain they had so quickly descended was now facing these two in the form of a life-and-death struggle back up to the car, where they hoped to find enough cell coverage to call for help. Their decision to turn around and start hiking was made, in part, because neither of them had their emergency beacons (Garmin inReach), and their cellphones were not responding to the SOS feature now found on many newer phones. The only option was to hike out on a leg that was now bandaged and disconnected from any sensation because of the tourniquet. A proposition with a questionable chance of success at best.  

With no other option but to get moving, and with blood still oozing from his wound, the pair began the hike back up the mountain. With every step up the hill, their nightmare only seemed to get more real, as the extent of Anderson’s injury and their limited options for rescue began to sink in. With Anderson having lost a lot of blood, and now fighting the swimming allure of unconsciousness, he literally leaned on Donnelly, leg completely numb and oozing blood despite the bandaging and tourniquet while scrambling over the same fallen logs and branches they had crossed on the way down. It was agonizingly slow, and since Anderson had no sensation in his leg, some sections of trail were impossible to navigate without periodically loosening the tourniquet long enough so he could feel his foot, navigate an obstacle, and then re-tighten the tourniquet, all while watching more of his blood flow into the trail.   

They made it a full mile like this before their cell phones began to chirp, having picked up a weak signal. Knowing the urgency of the situation, they took the opportunity to call 911. They had just enough time to explain to the 911 operator their location, the critical nature of their situation, and a description of their car before the cell signal was lost and the call was dropped, leaving them once again on their own. Another half mile of uphill hiking through brush and deadfall faced them before making it back to the car, so the pair had no choice but to keep making their way up the mountain. 

Would it have been myself in Anderson’s bloody shoes that day, I think at this point in the story I would be feeling just how lonely and isolated I was out there. Sure, Donnelly was there, but when faced with a situation so completely bonkers and out of control, the realization that you are alone and vulnerable would have been overwhelming and complete. The same friendly woods, once alive with the sights and sounds of a summer morning, were now conspiring to keep Anderson there forever.  

The last half-mile to the car was a journey through half-conscious delirium. For Anderson, this stretch defined his entire ordeal and crystallized for him what his relationship to the outdoors truly meant. The panic and adrenaline that defined his experience until this point gave way to a complete, calm acceptance of his fate. This was not an abandonment of care or concern for himself, or a fatalistic forfeiture of life, but a clear and vivid understanding that his journey through life was likely over, and his experience on Earth would be coming to an end. And despite everything—the blood, the pain, and the fear—he was at peace. He accepted.  

Of course, Anderson’s life did not end that day. This is not a story about death, or the dangers of recreating outdoors. This is a story of the relationship and connection formed between us and the wild places where we spend our time. This is a story about Anderson, and his ordeal, but it is also a story that could have happened to any of us at any time while we pursue our outdoor passions. Anderson is a reasonable, skilled, competent outdoorsperson. He makes plans for contingencies, and follows those plans. He travels with people he trusts with his life, and chooses those people carefully. He has a plan for the day, and lets loved-ones know where he is. His preparation and foresight may well have saved his life, but his experience and preparation did not prevent the accident from happening. The bad still came for him that day.  

Anderson made it back up the hill on that July morning, relying completely on the heroic efforts of his friend Donnelly, who he credits with saving his life. Nearing unconsciousness, and still bleeding horribly despite the tourniquet, Anderson’s thoughts were centered on his family, friends, and loved ones who he would leave behind. But there was another, more personal thought that he reflects on by saying “I was thinking that all I want to do is keep exploring this beautiful planet.”  

The rest of the story is one of speeding cars, shocked ambulance crews, and desperate helicopter flights. Highly skilled first responders met the pair while they were driving down the road and took one look at the injury, loaded Anderson up and made the determination that more help was necessary. The first responders called Life Flight, a critical care air medical transport service of which Anderson was a member, and met the Life Flight helicopter in a nearby field while administering pain medication and as much help as they could. Life Flight took him to the hospital for emergency surgery to move his muscles back in his calf and make sure he had enough blood to replace what was lost on Hall Mountain. Anderson’s story is also one of hospital stays, grateful families, and a months-long recovery. Of stitches, staples, and scars. 

For Anderson, the hardest part of his story so far has been missing the woods that call to him in a way they never did before. Maybe it’s because he senses his relationship to those woods has changed, and has become one of belonging. Of membership. Of home.  

What I find so fascinating about Anderson’s experience is how his ordeal has created in him an affirmation of his outdoor pursuits, and a new sense of belonging to wild places. Anderson now feels more a part of the outdoors than he ever has before, and his relationship to outdoor spaces has changed from being a mere observer within those places to becoming a true participant and member. He belongs to those places now more than ever in the past through his own blood and a message delivered to him by the forest that day: that he is a part of this place, and is a real and true part of nature, and wildness, and pain. He is not an observer, but a participant. 

Each of us could all find ourselves in a situation like Anderson’s and be faced with the same thoughts, emotions, and consequences that he had that day. It’s important to remember that our natural environment is not a sterilized, manicured zoo, and we cannot truly exist in nature as mere selfie-snapping interlopers, considering ourselves immune from the very real outcomes of existence within outdoor spaces. We must, as Anderson discovered, be integral parts of these spaces we love so much. It is only through the acceptance of our fragility within wild places that we can truly be a partner with them, not a master over them.  

Eric Deady has been bikepacking and touring around the world for more than 30 years, and now shares that love of the outdoors with his children. 

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This update to MSR’s backcountry cookware products is the ideal minimalist backpacking or bikepacking set that adds thoughtful updates while remaining ultralight. The Titan Double Wall Mug (MSRP: $49.95) features a double-wall design that holds the heat in beverages without adding extra weight. The plastic sipping lid lets you take your time enjoying every hot drop. The new Titan Long Spoon is light and durable and gives you added reach to dig deep in those dehydrated meal pouches without soiling your knuckles (MSRP $17.95). The updated Titan Kettles come in 900-ml. (MSRP: $64.95) and 1400-ml. (MSRP: $69.95) sizes with a few new features while remaining true to ultralight roots. The kettles have an improved spout for easy pouring and new, folding, silicone-coated handles. The lid has also been improved for a snugger fit, and the lid knob is easier to use. Internal graduation marks make measuring water super convenient. Msrgear.com (Wil Wheaton) 

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Cover photo courtesy of Sue Craigmile

If you are bikepacking curious, mark your calendar for Friday, May 17 at 6 p.m. for a bikepacking for beginners seminar at Two Wheeler bike shop in Hayden, Idaho. Topics will include bike choice, how to carry gear, mapping and route finding, and more. The following day, Saturday, May 18 at 2 p.m., put what you learned into practice on a group ride from Two Wheeler to Farragut State Park to camp out, eat, drink, and tell lies about the day’s ride. There are two route options, a mostly-flat 22-mile paved ride or a not-so flat mixed surface ride of 24 miles up and over a nice woodsy mountain. Call Two Wheeler at 208-772-8179 with questions or to sign up.  

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EXPLANATORY STATEMENT 

Bikepacking is a method of recreation that entails riding your bicycle loaded with all of your camp gear across potentially wild terrain to get to and from a predetermined campsite. “The Packfiller Podcast” host and creator Pat Bulger went on his first bikepacking trip last summer, and he did not fall in love. Pat’s “against bikepacking” argument has been met with a spirited rebuttal from Out There’s “Everyday Cyclist” columnist, Justin Short. Read on for a “pro backpacking” argument from cyclist and regular contributor Carol Corbin, who ultimately would choose bikepacking again and again. Carefully review these arguments and make an educated decision on whether bikepacking should be your next great summer adventure. 

AGAINST ARGUMENT: A Cyclist’s first Bikepacking Trip 

By Pat Bulger 

Freedom to explore. At one with nature. Off the grid. Simple. These are just a few of the comments I regularly hear from cyclists who have entered the world of bikepacking. Long gone are the days of “tourists” who would load pound after pound of camping gear, clothing, and personal items onto their bike to slowly, arduously, pedal to some chosen destination to sleep on the ground and painfully do so again the next day. Bikes are lighter. Camping gear is packable and efficient. Bike bags are waterproof, rugged, and creatively designed. Bikepacking is here to stay.  

Then why do I dislike it the way a school librarian dislikes childhood joy? Last summer, I assigned myself the task of an overnight bikepacking trip. I had already purchased most of the equipment needed on, well, let’s be honest here, some random evenings with a glass of adult beverage and an open shopping web browser. The destination was decided upon as a “medium” distance to test everything out, stay the night, experience the “joy,” and pedal home the next day. The destination, beautiful Lake Benewah, was just outside of St. Maries, Idaho, about 45-50 miles each way depending on the route loaded into my GPS.  

Fast forward two days later, in 98-degree heat, on a rear flat tire that I had no energy to change for the last three miles, massive heat exhaustion, a sore back and neck from the “sleeping pad” I endured, GPS mistakes, and, I have to say that bikepacking can, well, take a hike.  

Here are my reasons why I’ll take a pass on bikepacking.  

1. I ride my bike for the feeling that I experienced as a child. The feeling of flying. The wind in my face. The speed. Bikepacking, as a close friend once said to me, is “like you’re a bird who’s had their wings clipped.” A fully-loaded bike with all of my gear was over 50 pounds. Fifty! Why not just give me a classic Schwinn Varsity with rubbing brakes?! Getting out of the saddle to climb, accelerate, or even relieve sit bone pressure was impossible, and maintaining any type of momentum was akin to pedaling with flat tires in tapioca pudding.  
 

2. Camping is great. Heck, even tent camping is great. But, after four hours in the saddle maintaining a scant 14 mph, I would have happily traded for a subpar hotel and a pizza place. Every time I moved the next morning I emitted verbal sounds that could only be described as “old man grunts.” This being said, I do have to attest to the great food and coffee options that have been made available to those adventuring out into the woods. Give me a proper RV and day trips from a campsite instead, please.  
 

3. Once arriving at your destination, there is little chance of obtaining any extra provisions. My wonderful camp host informed me that, should I want to grab some cold beverages or additional snacks, my closest option was a “short 17-mile drive” away. Yeah, I wasn’t about to add 34 miles to my adventure.  

I now fully understand why many bikepacking social media groups I follow tend to have a multitude of equipment for sale. Anyone want to buy some bike bags? 

AGAINST REBUTTLE: “Hold Your Horses, Pat” 

By Justin Short  

Don’t go selling your bikepacking gear just yet—we haven’t even been on an overnight adventure together. But before we go, we’ve got to talk about your route. I think you learned the hard way why you should never ever under any circumstances go bikepacking in the Palouse during the dog days of summer. There’s no amount of water you can carry that won’t be instantly vaporized along with all of the moisture in your body in that treeless hellscape.  

Heyburn State Park is a lovely destination, though, and there’s a much better way to get there when the Palouse has reached the temperature of the sun. Ride out the Centennial Trail to Coeur d’Alene; you’ll probably carry enough speed coasting from the South Hill to get halfway there. Get a good cup of coffee and a devastating pastry at the Bakery by the Lake, then make your way over the saddle to the far side of the lake for a delightfully scenic pedal to Beauty Bay Campground, where you’ll refill water bottles from the crusty old cast iron pump with the most delicious and refreshing water sipped by anyone ever.  

Okay, the climb over Caribou Ridge is a ball-buster, but it’s a cool, shady ball-buster. Ride the Trail of the Coeur d’Alenes down to Harrison, jump in the lake, get some ice cream, and then stock up on the much longed-for provisions, such as fizzy beverages and snacks for the return trip. You’re 11 miles from camp.  

And that brings me to my next point: never take directions from the camp host. I’ve listened to a well-intentioned camp host pour over my map for a half hour about some scenic route I needed to take; the map was upside down. Your host obviously wanted you killed if they recommended the 17-mile ride into St. Maries. Never mind the bike, that road is terrifying to drive in a semi. If you’re needing the services of a major metro area, Plummer, Idaho, is much closer, and the entire ride is on the bike trail.   

“Crunchy old man back” is a thing with which I am well acquainted. All I can say is, experiment with air pressure. My wife carries an inflatable body pillow and a feather pillow with her now, and I hear far less grumbling from her side of the tent these days.  

Finally, 14 mph is slow?!! That is literally flying by bikepacking standards. If I ever hit a double-digit average speed, it’s like 10 or 11 mph, tops. And I don’t even want to know how much my bike weighs when it’s loaded, but it’s a lot closer to ALL THE POUNDS than 50 pounds.  

So, let’s set a date during the fair weather for a fun and easy overnighter with the Gravel Braintrustees. I promise, there won’t be much bushwhacking, but one of us will definitely make you laugh so hard you’ll shoot fizzy electrolyte water out of your nostrils. 

FOR ARGUMENT: “People and Puffy Pants” 

By Carol Corbin 

It was only 37 miles, and mostly flat, but after only four “base-building” rides in the last three months, it was a relief to be out of the saddle. My tent, pad, and sleeping bag were set up for the night with clean, warm socks and a cozy base layer. As my travel companions gathered deadfall for a campfire, I wriggled into my puffy pants and was engulfed in warmth. But not just physical warmth. A soul warmth. A warmth that comes from a physically demanding day fading into a magical, starlit night. 

When I discovered bikepacking half a dozen years ago, it combined two things I love the most about being outside. Pedaling a bicycle and having everything I need to survive–and sometimes even be comfortable–in whatever level of wilderness in which I might find myself. Since that first ride with my five-year-old on the Palouse to Cascades Trail, I’ve spent many nights in tents, my faithful gravel bike outside, my dusty Revelate bags crowding around me, and another day in the saddle awaiting when I wake up. 

Over the years, I’ve come to know intimately that bikepacking is hard. Really hard. Throw-my-bike-off-the-side-of-a-mountain hard. On nearly every trip, there is at least one moment when I cry out in anguish, “Why can’t I be indoorsy?!” And yet, I still go. This particular trip, my puffy pants accompanied me on my fifth annual “Fishtrap Shakedown,” where a few intrepid bikepackers pedal from our front doors in Spokane to the “wilderness” of Fishtrap Recreation Area in the channeled scablands for an overnight review of just what this activity requires. 

“Why are you doing this?” For every time I’ve been asked this question by others, I’ve probably asked it of myself at least twice. And it’s hard to put into words. The meditative process of making a packing list, and then assembling dusty, trail-worn and intimately familiar gear, is blissful! As I press sleeping bag and tent into compression bags, zip headlamp and powerbank into a frame pack, and carefully tuck a fuel canister into my steel cup, cushioning it with a wool beanie, I picture myself reveling in the simplicities of life away from . . . everything. Everything but my tent, my bike, my people, and, ultimately myself. 

Through the years, my most memorable and empowering experiences have been bike-based. As have many of my closest friendships, and most memorable transient ones. From Melinda and Sue, my ride-or-dies for years, to Jean, who shared a Canadian campsite with us one night in July on her way to Mexico, these are friends whom I can suffer with, laugh with, cry in front of, and maybe even share a freeze-dried pasta meal with at the end of even the roughest trail days. 

Bikepacking strips away everything that isn’t essential. Not just things like furniture and climate-control, but personal insecurities, body image issues, work and family stressors. When I’m making camp after a long day in the saddle, it’s when I feel the most alive, the most connected, and the most, well, me. 

One doesn’t have to look far to find the cons of bikepacking. There is very little comfort and ease. The trail rarely ends in a cold beverage and a hot meal. There’s cold and wet, hot and dry. Mechanical failures, forgotten niceties and necessities, and no easy outs. Sunburns, bug bites, bear encounters, blocked trails, wet feet, cold fingers, cramped legs . . . the list goes on. There are a thousand reasons not to load up your bike and pedal into the wilds. 

But that warmth of the puffy pants and the friends who are the same kind of crazy as me? I’ll pedal a helluva lot farther than 37 miles for that. 

FOR ARGUMENT: “Bikepacking Magic” 

By Eric Deady 

Bikepacking can mean many things to many people, but for me, the best way to describe it is “transformative.” I have seen magic happen on bikepacking trips. The kind of magic that gives you a warm-fuzzy feeling and forces you to look within for its cause. I have seen nervous wrecks transformed into the kind of peaceful pedalers that we all wish we could be. I have seen bodies and minds transformed in ways that beg the question, why can’t I always feel this good?  

You could chalk it up to endorphins, dopamine, and a soup of brain chemicals, and you would be right to credit our biology for some of it. But not all. There is a magic that I have only been able to see and feel on bike trips that can sustain me for months or even years with its power, and it always leaves me yearning for more.  

So, you want some of that magic, eh? All you need to do is go take it! It’s there waiting for you on the top of mountains after a grueling climb. It’s there when your fingers threaten to stop working from the cold of a long, wet descent. It’s there whispering to you from the trees and rivers and clouds and dirt. It’s there when you least expect it and will always leave you a better person.  

You don’t need much to start bikepacking. Bikepacking, in its most basic form, is a person on a bicycle carrying their own camping gear, food and personal items, usually off of paved roads. How that happens, and with whom, is up to you. Of course, there are some things that can make your journey more comfortable, or less traumatic, but it’s all on a scale, and if we wanted easy, we would get in our cars and drive.  

Get the bike that’s comfortable to ride, and make sure it’s tuned, lubed, and loved. Plan a route that sounds fun, or challenging, or beautiful, and get that route onto your phone or GPS. Pack a backpack, or panniers, stuff sacks, or even burlap sacks full of whatever you might need for the time you’ll be out and start pedaling. Keep your senses alert, and your body in tune.  Be safe and smile. No matter what happens, you will find magic.  

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As I squirt WD-40 into my hitch-mounted bike rack for the n’th time, the ludicrousness of transporting a vehicle (my bike) on another vehicle (my gas-guzzling SUV) strikes me again. It always does. Bikes were developed as a means of transportation. And I have purchased an expensive, heavy, complex means of transporting my bikes hundreds of miles from my garage, just to go for a bike ride. Shaking my head, I remind myself, “You know, you can just, like, get on and pedal the thing from here to somewhere else and back again, and you’ve gone on a bike ride.”

I tell myself stories about why I love the outdoors and why I bike, run, hike, camp and paddle in urban environments and wilderness. I tell myself I am an advocate for nature and wildlife, that I believe deeply in nature’s power to build and nurture healthy humans and thriving systems. And at the same time, I participate in activities that degrade soil and cause erosion, that disrupt wildlife migration corridors, and destroy vegetation. While I’m certain I live every day as a walking conundrum in many areas, this is the one that troubles me the most.

It’s no secret that human presence in nature can be, and often is, highly disruptive. In 2006, as part of my master’s program, I took a trip to a cave in western Tennessee along with about a dozen other master’s students and three professors. The entrance to the cave was on private property and access was limited (in theory) by those the property owner chose to allow on his land. The caving community tends to be tight-lipped and many caves like this are known only to a select few. Cave ecosystems are often delicate, ancient, and highly susceptible to catastrophic damage when humans are introduced to the system.

This cave was no exception. As we crawled through caverns, slid down rock faces, and snaked on our bellies through tight passageways, our instructor told us about another group of spelunkers who’d visited the cave years before. One of their number had taken a fall, breaking his leg. His companions managed to transport him into a large cavern with a small opening to the outside world at the top. Rescuers determined the only way to get him out was to come in through that small opening.

No one had ever come in or out of the cave that way because of its size, and because it sat atop a delicate ecosystem that had existed undisturbed on the cave floor for tens of thousands of years. The rescue would be catastrophic to that micro-system. As we stood at the edge of the cavern, we could see deep ruts in the floor, created by the rescue team. A clear indication that the delicate, ancient ecosystem would never be the same. A stark and permanent reminder that humans had been there. Even though I visited that cave almost 20 years ago, I still remember the feeling of sadness and loss that came over me. The destruction of this intricate, balanced, ages-old system by one human mishap.

For many (if not all) of us, time in nature is non-negotiable. We have to go outside! Our lives depend upon it. But at the risk of sucking all the air out of the room, the bottom line is this: justifying outside activities might just be a way of greenwashing our environmental impact. Burning fossil fuels and buying a new wardrobe every year to climb mountains or participate in my next running event isn’t virtuous; it’s selfish. I do it for me. And once I can be honest about that, I can start to make more sustainable choices.

Now, I can ask myself, “What is the essence of the experience I want to have?” Is it peace and solitude? Physical challenge? Beautiful views? Time with friends? Then, I try to find ways I can reduce the impact of that experience. Can I invite my friends to carpool? Can I leave earlier and ride my bike to the rendezvous point instead of driving? Can I content myself with a camp lantern and a blanket, instead of building a fire? Can I route my run through nearby farmland and leave from my front door, instead of driving to a trailhead? Can I build a bikepacking loop in the Idaho Panhandle instead of hauling my bike to Ireland?

I’ve discovered that when I take the time to make mindful outdoor choices, not only do I reduce my impact, but I find myself more aware of and grateful for the experience I do have. The thoughtful process of existing as a part of the world, and not a consumer of it, pays dividends every time. //

Carol Corbin has embraced the indoor stationary bicycle this winter, hiding from the gray and looking forward to early spring running weather and sunshine! She’s also betting the first buttercups of the season will be spotted on the Palisades bluff in Spokane.

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The thing I love most about these tents is the comfort built into the design, from plenty of headroom to its side-opening with roomy vestibule for inclement weather cooking or comfortable lounging in bed with a coffee while watching the sun rise. Even lighter than before, the mesh and solid fabric construction provides protection from the weather and privacy with all the venting you could hope for from a tent. While my first Hubba Hubba existed in the era before ubiquitous smartphones, today’s tent sports tech-friendly pockets with cable ports at the corners and a spacious overhead gear loft. Rumor has it MSR has a Hubba Hubba bikepacking tent now too! MSRP: $549.95. Msrgear.com

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