Each radio features IP67 waterproofing, a shatter-resistant screen, and a thermoplastic shell engineered to perform in subzero temperatures down to -20°F. The lithium-ion battery lasts four to six days, and simple, one-button controls make operation easy with gloves on. Standard functions include privacy codes, scan and lock modes, NOAA weather alerts, repeater compatibility and dual-channel watch. You can also add the Waterproof Hand Mic ($65), featuring a built-in speaker, mic and push-to-talk controls without unholstering the radio. Fully waterproof and snowproof, it clips securely to clothing and stays clear and audible in wind, snow or whitewater. MSRP: $180. Rockytalkie.com

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Designed by a veteran, RecPaks combine MRE efficiency (just add water and shake) with clean, complete energy for a mountain meal on the move. The ‘Paks come in three flavors: chocolate, vanilla chai and coffee, the latter with a dash of caffeine that recommends it as a stove-free breakfast-and-coffee combo. Whether to combat protein bar burnout or to avoid the dreaded dehydrated meal gut bomb, RecPaks make a worthy addition to any pack. MSRP: $38.99 (pack of three). Recpak.co  (Aaron Theisen) 

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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.

I’ve been a long-time fan of Crazy Creek’s chairs. This Montana-based company has provided me with years of comfort in camp on dozens of backpacking and bikepacking trips. Last fall on a backpacking trip in the Wallowas I decided to leave it behind at the car to save weight, a move I regretted each day as I leaned awkwardly and uncomfortably into a slouching backpack during my sacred morning coffee and evening happy hour.

Now with their new Aircliner Chair, backcountry skiers, snowshoers and winter hikers, and resort aprè skiers can enjoy on-snow and cold-weather Crazy Creek comfort too. The Aircliner provides a baffled air cushion that’s easily inflatable with five breaths or less, which keeps your bum warm and dry while you chill. The chair is also still highly packable, rolling into a 2.7-inch diameter bundle, and light enough at 29 ounces to justify packing it with you into the snowy wilds. MSRP: 124.95. Crazycreek.com

The post Crazy Creek AirCliner Chair  appeared first on Out There Venture.

By Justin Short 

Cover photo courtesy of Justin Short

A few years back, a friend found an interesting bikepacking route out of Coeur d’Alene on the North Idaho Bikepacking page (Facebook? Web? Yellow? I didn’t ask). I was immediately intrigued because The Idaho Panhandle Ramble, or “PanRam” as we’ve come to call it, promised to scratch my “going places I’ve never been” itch in a big way. At 320 miles with 30,000+ feet of climbing, this ride is YUUUGE, but not so huge that we couldn’t knock it out over our three-day weekends that magically coincided in mid-July. 

Our plan was to ride two big days and one easy day. There would be no easy day. When it was all said and done, my mind was blown. This thing needs to become a showcase bikepacking event for the Inland Northwest, I thought, so I tracked down and spoke with route designer Eric Deady and told him just that.  

My first impression of PanRam was that a normal person would want to ride this route. Let me qualify that by saying that I meant a “special” kind of normal. I mean, there aren’t any cliffs to rock climb up with a loaded bike, or unrideable mountains of fist-sized boulders to stumble over for six hours, or even any river crossings teeming with alligators. However, you will be climbing 3,000 feet in the first 20 miles, mostly on rocky double track blown out by summer moto traffic.  

The gravel is comparatively nice after that, but the elevation profile is off the hook all the way through, so you’ll want to be ready for that. I’m also referring to a normality that includes laying down and splashing about in every creek, pond, lake, or occasional horse trough to cool off. It also goes without saying that our “normal” PanRam candidate will be filtering water from streams and filling every bottle, and perhaps even pockets, with ice anytime that’s available… which isn’t often.  

The inaugural PanRam grand depart was then organized and set for mid-July in 2023. Fifteen riders registered and eight actually showed up, which ain’t a bad turnout for this kind of thing when it’s blistering hot and people are having weddings and trips to “the lake” sprung on them. The weather was definitely hot for 2023, but this route is pretty forgiving with plentiful water sources, tree cover, and creek-dunking opportunities. I rode out the first 50 miles with my friends, camped for the night and rode home for work the next morning, wishing I could be out there for the whole shenanigan once again. 

PanRam is not billed as an official race, but more of a bikepacking odyssey, so it’s not governed by the usual rules of unsupported ultra-distance bikepacking races, which prohibit receiving outside support of any kind. Nonetheless, you can count on a small handful of goofballs attempting to set the Fastest Known Time, or “FKT” as it’s called in bikepacking circles. The first person to do this was none other than John Stamstad who came out for an ITT (individual time trial). That’s what we call it when a rider makes an official run on a route outside of a grand depart event. And when John rides your route, it’s like having Babe Ruth play your baseball field. It gets noticed. One could say he’s been an influential figure in the ultra-endurance mountain biking world. Among other things too numerous to mention, he was the first person to race pace the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route from Canada to Mexico, basically turning the 2,700-mile Tour Divide into the Tour de France of the bikepacking world that it is now. He was also the first rider to solo a 24-hour mountain bike race when he entered a four-man team under four different iterations of his own name because he was told by the race organizers that soloing was too hard. (On a side note: I’m soloing the 24 Hours of Riverside MTB race this year, soooo thanks, John!)  

I honestly don’t know if it was John’s influence that got PanRam listed as a featured route on bikepacking.com or if it was entirely Eric Deady’s efforts. Either way, the word is out and 75 riders signed up for the 2024 edition of PanRam, this time set for mid June to avoid the mid-summer heat. Of those 75 riders, 35 actually showed up for the grand depart. Once again, these are solid numbers, and there were riders from the west side of the Cascades, Montana, and British Columbia. I didn’t know everyone there, and that’s getting rare these days. Outside of the grand departs, there have been hundreds of riders who’ve experienced PanRam at this point.  

So where does PanRam go, anyway? The route begins and ends at the moose by the lake. Which moose? Well, you had to do some hunting if you showed up at a moose statue on Lake Coeur d’Alene that didn’t have a bunch of bikepackers gathered around it. From there the route heads northeast with, as previously mentioned, some serious climbing. But the grade and gravel both mellow out significantly on the way to Magee Air Strip, as a lush green valley opens with Tepee Creek snaking through the meadow below. You can stop to relax in the AC at the Starbucks outside of TSA at the air strip, or at least that’s how we refer to the little wading pool in the creek under the bridge before the 8-mile climb up Spyglass Peak. It’s a charming spot for a break and highly recommended during the heat of the day.  

Somewhere out there on a high exposed ridge, I caught a glimpse of Silver Mountain in the distance, just long enough to wonder if I had really seen it. And that’s something that really inspires me about traveling through these mountains: seeing prominent peeks from hither-to unexperienced perspectives. The route heads south over more mountains to the first resupply point in Pritchard where you can count on a huckleberry milkshake to get you over Dobson Pass into Wallace, Idaho, if you’re not stopping to camp. There’s also some excellent barbecue there, and you might not want to miss that.  

In an official race, staying with a friend on the route is a big no-no, but PanRam, as we have said, is not a race, so I was free to crash with a couple riders at my friend Emma’s house in Wallace. I had joked with Eric about making Emma’s house a mandatory stopover for all riders on PanRam without telling Emma, but only half joking. That would really take this event up a notch.  

After Wallace was Moon Pass, which had a huge landslide last year, requiring a re-route. There were a couple options, and I chose to ride over Mullan Pass, dipping into Montana to take the Route of the Hiawatha, which is always a delight. Farther down the dusty trail, there’s an opportunity to stop for ice cream at the fly-fishing shop in Avery. Say hi to owner Dan Mottern, he’s a rider and one hell of a runner, having participated in the Boston Marathon a good 10 times.  

The route rolls out of Avery farther south, climbing through Fishhook Creek Canyon where tall craggy rock formations reach for the sky out of the densely green cedar groves that cover the steep canyon walls, offering a bit of comforting shade. The next segment over the Grandmother Mountain Wilderness Study Area is where I ran out of water in mid-July. There was a big surprise waiting for all of us in mid-June, though, in the form of a 12-mile snow traverse that took six hours to clear. My friend George and I dragged it at night, witnessing a moonrise that left us in rapturous spasms of awe that I will carry for the rest of my days. It’s a long way from there back to the moose with many more mountain vistas, and spectacular jaw-dropping moments, as well as the obligatory bushwhacking section called The Maze that always leaves folks wondering if they’ve lost their way. It got me thoroughly confused both times I’ve “ridden” it, and it definitely will again this year.  

Eric Deady’s inspiration behind PanRam was to give riders the flavor of the remoteness of North Idaho with small town charm and easy resupply: “It’s a way to connect with friends and build memories, and discover yourself and the Idaho Panhandle along the route.”  

PanRam is not an easy ride by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s definitely worth the effort, and there’s no reason not to con a friend into driving a sag wagon out to some of the prime camping spots along the way to lighten your load. The 2025 grand depart will begin on June 20. For more information go to lifeonbikes.com/panram-bikepacking-route-1 and we’ll see you Out There! 

Out There Venture contributor Justin Short has ridden PanRam twice, if the article didn’t make that abundantly clear . . . but that’s not nearly as many times as he’s planning to ride it.  

The post The Idaho Panhandle Ramble   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. 

The post A Near-death MTB Ride in the Northeast Washington Backcountry appeared first on Out There Venture.

By Justin Short  

I lived on the west side for 13 years—and by “west side,” I mean the green and rainy side of the Cascades—and was well accustomed to a long, dreary, rainy season that could almost outlast my rosy disposition. When I moved to the Inland Northwest 12 years ago, I was assured that winter here would be socked in with clouds and fog blotting out the sun at least as long as the most depressing Portland winter. “But,” I would always retort, “if there’s snow on the ground and falling from the sky, it’s a winter wonderland.” I know I’m preaching to the choir here with the OTO readership, but seasonal affective disorder has a hard time doing its thing when there’s snow to play in.  

The first snow is always the best for any kind of fat biking, but especially urban fat biking. Snow hasn’t been plowed into the bike lanes yet (because that’s where they plow the snow here. I mean, who would ride bikes in the winter here, anyway? Fill that bike lane with snow!) Given the inconsistency of our climatic weather patterns these days, we might get several first snows during the course of the winter. It’s snow that doesn’t have ice underneath it waiting to take you out. If you don’t own a fat bike, this is the time to hit the streets on your mountain bike, or pretty much any bike if the snow is only two or three inches deep. Beyond that, you kind of need a fat bike. The colder the snow, the better the traction you’ll find underneath.  

When the snow is right, where should you go? It might take a day or two for Frank Benish to groom the miles and miles of trails in Riverside State Park, and that really is some of the finest urban winter fat biking to be found, but there’s something infective and charming about seeing cross country skiers hit the snowy streets that always makes me want to follow suit. For me, it’s the allure of the high alpine region of that which we call the South Hill.  

One of my first urban fat bike excursions that I fondly recall involved stopping for coffee at one of our fine local roasters on Monroe with former EDC columnist Justin Skay. Afterward, we climbed up from the lowlands of downtown Spokane to . . . I don’t know exactly where we were, because everything looked different in the snow. We turned left and right at random, eventually finding ourselves on a corner where every porch, sidewalk, and yard had a multitude of snow bunnies. They ranged in size from a couple of feet tall to darn near the size of a full-grown snowman. The snow was deeper up there (it always is) and the porches were very charming—the turkeys definitely thought so, because every porch had a turkey or three, none of them made of snow.  

Last winter, a snow storm was coming in one evening, with rain in forecast the next morning. I think its the bane of every snow sports enthusiast here that a good snowfall is so frequently followed by rain the next morning that ruins everything. In such circumstances, there is no time to drive anywhere, all you can do is hop on the bike and go for a good urban slog. Good fortune is smiling upon you if you happen to have a partner in crime close by who is typically ready to roll at the drop of a wool cycling cap. I texted Anthony, or maybe he texted me, and a last-minute plan was hatched to go see some Christmas lights.  

We met at Uprise Brewing for a quick pre-ride snack. By the time we left, our beloved snow was tapering into rain. I don’t have fenders on my fat bike, so my tactic was to ride slowly so as to avoid the “wet diaper effect.” When riding in the rain, the average fat bike tire is instantly transformed into a Mississippi Queen riverboat paddle wheel, propelling unfathomable amounts of water from the street onto your back, which then seeps down into your nether regions. I don’t care how much Gore-Tex you’re wearing, that is your fate when riding in the rain without fenders. It wasn’t hard to stay dry, because we were soon climbing the South Hill to our first destination, the light display at Cowley Park below Providence Sacred Heart hospital. It’s quite magical to ride around through their holiday light show.  

The hill gets rather steep from there, and the secondary tactic to stay dry is to unzip jackets and pedal gently so as not to arrive at the top of a climb wearing 80 pounds of sweat-soaked clothes. The rain turned back into snow before we reached the top of the climb, and we meandered our way towards our second destination, the light show at Manito Park. I think every city has that drive-or-walk-through holiday light show that draws carloads of families by the thousands. This year there is no Manito light show car option due to traffic issues in the past, just a walking route. BUT, you can ride your bike around much of the park and right through another stunning light show. Such is the life of an urban fat biker.  

Justin Short will be out there turning pedals in the rain, hail, sleet, and snow all winter long, hopeful that he will once again dodge the invite to go winter bikepacking with the Idaho Bikepacking crew. This, however, may be the year his luck runs out. 

The post Riding the Urban Winter Wilds  appeared first on Out There Venture.