19 Things I’ve learned while bikepacking the world – JUNYUAN Bags

I didn’t know anything when I started bikepacking—besides how to tighten a few bolts here and there, change the chain, put some lube on it and hope everything will work out.

Travelling the world on two wheels has taught me a lot—from
bike mechanics and one pot wonders, to gear choices and priorities. Most
importantly, it’s taught me more about myself and what I would like to get out
of my journey.

Through experiences, we are always learning. And any journey
on bike is wrought with unforeseeable experiences—from non-stop flat tyres to
unexpected friendships. It’s what keeps me going back for more.

Here are some of the more important things I’ve learned
through the twists and turns of my road. Things I wish I knew when I started
and things I am still trying to master.

1. Ask questions

Everyone starts somewhere. I myself was never a cyclist, but
I’ve always enjoyed learning new skills.

Over the past year I’ve asked for advice from more
experienced bikepackers and sought information on online forums—from cooking
recipes and lighting alcohol stoves at 5300m to how to refine my kit for such a
long ride.

The bike community is STRONG! People are very generous with
their time and knowledge.

2. Weight is the enemy

Every single pass, I wonder why I am still carrying a
four-season tent, a five-season layering system and that half a pack of pasta
I’ve been holding onto since Chile.

In my experience, if you haven’t used something for a whole
month, chances are you won’t be using it next month either.

To keep weight down, look at what other people are carrying
on similar trips. What clothing and tools did they bring? Do they have a pack
list you could look at? The wealth of information is out there, just ask.

You can shave off a lot of weight by planning meals and
researching water sources and times between towns. And if you’re on a shorter
trip near home, dehydrating vegetables is an awesome idea.

Before your trip, consider the duration, the temperature
range and climatic conditions to know what your best and worst days will look
like.

3. Some things are worth the extra weight

It’s inevitable that with limited space, and a desire to
travel light, compromise has to factor in somewhere. Just remember that some
things are worth a little extra weight.

Think about the intention of your journey. What are you
looking for? Where are you going? What do you really need?

On my journey, I am predominantly riding my bike, but occasionally
I like to go for longer hikes and find trout-filled streams.

It’s nice to have the option to change up the day to day.
So, in addition to bike stuff, I like to carry, a 35L hiking bag and a
seven-piece fly fishing pole. That way, on my days off, I can climb mountains,
enjoy multi-day hikes and sometimes even land a nice sized trout.

4. Invest in the good stuff

Beautiful morning in Bolivian dry season

Buy reputable stuff, with warranties. My lifestyle at the
moment can be arduous—and stuff breaks often. But I can breathe easy because I
get my gear from companies that back their products—and are willing to help you
out when you’re 4000km from their nearest retailer.

Invest in stuff that you want to use! My two favourite
pieces of clothing were bought second hand just over two years ago. I wear them
so much that they have become an extension of myself. Through the years, the
discolouration, tears and paint stains have created a canvas of memories that I
value deeply. I hope will one day these will keep my kids warm.

My bike is second hand too! That’s the beauty of good
quality stuff—it really goes the distance.

5. Ride and DIY

Attacking endless drive train problems

If you don’t want to be disappointed by a service or repair
job, learn to DIY. The sooner, the better.

Use YouTube and ask your bike mechanic if you can watch them
during services. I am constantly hearing stories of people leaving their
beloved gear, and bikes, in the hands of people without the same love. It’s
disheartening, but it happens.

Bikes are incredibly simple machines. You can solve most
problems using very basic tools.

6. (Almost) all people are good!

Some of the very generous Bolivians met along the way

Before my departure, my mind was constantly rambling with
thoughts of worst-case scenarios. I was terrified of having things stolen,
being robbed, losing things, lightning storms and not knowing where my campsite
would be—amongst a million other things.

Once the wheels start rolling and you see the smiles, feel
the hugs and smell a free meal cooking away, all these terrifying fears
evaporate. Strangely, but surely, things always work out.

Generally speaking, most people around the world are incredibly generous towards travelling cyclists. I’ve been force-fed lunch by numerous people whose yearly wage would total less than my camera. I’ve been trusted with the keys to a local artist’s house after knowing her a mere minute. I’ve even been given gear to support my journey by some generous companies.

Though sometimes bad stuff happens, for the thousands of
good deeds, it’s hard to be let down by a couple of bad ones.

7. It’s possible to avoid most of the bad stuff

One of my favourite trail tales is of a fellow that rode a bike around the world for four years. The only bad thing that happened to him was a theft in remote Siberian Russia, leaving him with an empty cartera. He then proceeded to ask his robber for directions, which he happily provided.

Although it does happen occasionally, I think prevention
goes a long way regarding bad things happening. Some general rules I go by to
avoid the bad stuff are:

• Trust your intuition—if something doesn’t feel
  right, get out of there.
• If you feel like you should lock your bike, lock
  your bike.
• Minimise time spent with people who are drunk.
  It always ends badly.
• Avoid congested areas with human traffic (the
  only time I’ve ever encountered pickpockets).
• Seek out gravel. Avoid roads with masses of
  traffic, trucks and fast moving cars.
• Don’t ride at night.

8. Out of sight and out of mind

Camping in an icefield at 5300m near Corona Del Inca

If I’m wild camping I always remain out of sight of nearby
roads or gravel—away from footpaths or trails that might see early morning
walkers or animals passing by. I never set up my tent if I know people are
watching or can see me, and I always wait for any oncoming cars to pass before
slipping away for the night.

I very rarely have fires unless essential for cooking. If you’re doing a lot of wild camping, fires are a sure way to draw unnecessary attention to yourself. And, without attention, they can leave a lasting stain on beautiful places. Additionally, I try to keep lighting to a minimum if I know there is the potential of people seeing me.

9. You are what you eat

The body needs nourishment, vitamins and minerals to power
your journey and to recover. As often as I can, I carry fruit and vegetables to
supplement my meals for as many days as possible.

Lots of vegetables are portable, including onions, potatoes,
garlic, carrots, beans, beetroot and, with some care, tomatoes and even greens
can last a while. Additionally, spices and stock cubes will make you wonder how
such a delicious meal could ever be made in a single pot.

10. We can do better than Leave No Trace

Approaching Volcan Uturuncu

Go beyond Leave No Trace principles—and try to leave places better than you found them. Let the next person who visits be as inspired as you. Your hard efforts will be rewarded in good karma.

To maintain good river ecology, don’t wash your dirty pots
or clothes in rivers. Get what water you need and wash anything on dry ground.
Frogs, fish and a whole host of other beautiful aquatic creatures are affected
by the residual oils, food waste and soaps.

11. Organisation makes life easier

An organised morning.

To avoid miserable days and nights, invest in some dry sacks
to keep things dry and organised. They make things easily accessible and help
you breathe easy when tough times strike.

I use my dry bags to separate day-to-day essentials like
warm clothes and rain gear, electronics, tent and sleeping bag. Bulky stuff
like my tent and sleeping bag get a dry compression sack to maximise usable
space. Everything has its place and its own colour.

Organisation is an ongoing battle, I have found that
matching specific tasks to different areas of my bike helps avoid time fluffing
around and repacking.

When laying my bike on its side, I can access all food,
water, fuel and cooking utensils I need for any meal.

If going on longer trips without resupply, don’t worry if
your bike looks a little silly. Strap extra pasta, rice and food to your frame.
Use 4–6L dry sacks to carry extra fruit and veg. They can be clipped to your
handlebars to free up space in your bags.

Don’t underestimate how good collapsible water storage
is—especially for those dry camps. They use little space, are very durable and
can serve as a part of a water filtration system. Just strap them anywhere you
need.

12. You’re never alone!

I went a really long time before finally feeling lonely on
the road. But when it did finally hit, it was a solid blow.

Having so much time to yourself accentuates both the highs
and the lows. I’ve had tears freeze to my cheeks from being overjoyed and I’ve
had 10 punctures in a day. Life on the road can be super tough. Especially when
you have compounding factors such as prohibitive budgets, bike problems,
weather, dirty clothes and a brutal headwind.

Reach out during the hard times. Sometimes all you need is a
hug or someone to talk to besides the llamas. By sharing my story, I’ve gained
so many new friends and an incredible support network for when things get
tough.

Tell people if they inspire you, ask others about their
story. Tell them they take sweet photos or have a great smile. Something as
simple as a nice comment truly makes my day, I cannot emphasise how valuable
such small acts of kindness can be.

13. Try to hide your monetary wealth

When the road ends and climbing the contour lines starts.

Some roads out here have never seen a gringo’s bike tyres.
Let alone a gringo. The sight of me has even resulted in screaming, terrified
children—which is super disheartening and burns pretty deep.

I often think about the impact of my journey through these
areas—and try really hard to minimise any real effect on the local people.
Mostly, this just requires being respectful.

Don’t point a camera at locals, until you have the general
vibe of the town. Always have a conversation first and always ask for
permission.

If I’m unsure about a town, I dismount my solar panel. And,
even on my toughest days, I try to maintain a smile and offer a handshake and
some small talk for anyone curious enough to say hi.

Most importantly. Avoid talking about money. If someone asks
you how much your bike is worth, don’t tell them. Make up anything to avoid a
monetary figure. I tell people that my bike was a present from my family and
that I have no idea of its true cost. The last thing you want to reinforce is
the toxic ideology of western wealth as happiness.

14. Blend in

Be respectful. If there are cultural norms, social norms or
dress codes, follow them. Try to learn the native language if it differs from
your own. Even the most basic attempts to fit in are appreciated by locals.

15. Love your bike

Camping at a cliff’s edge abandoned Bolivian Soccer Field.

Basic bike maintenance goes a long way. Take care of your
bike and it will take care of you. Replace necessary parts and components
before a long journey, especially when visiting countries with limited bike
services. Listen for strange sounds and try to fix problems as they arise.
Avoid punctures and save weight by going tubeless, if possible.

16. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it

It’s easy to get caught up in the endless cycle of wanting
more, replacing gear and fitting a certain image.

Social media is a total gold mine for ideas on packing, gear and set-ups. However, it’s a double-edged sword. You don’t need all the latest and greatest to get started or to string together a multi-year journey. Some of the most inspiring people I’ve met on this journey are the ones with nothing. I met one guy who had ridden 7000km over six months, without spending a cent.

You’ll have more fun riding remote gravel trails for longer,
than buying a carbon fibre wheelset. I often relate purchases to days on the
road. I could buy this new thing, or spend a month creating memories climbing
mountains and riding remote Andean gravel.

17. Staying mentally fit is half the battle

Scenic river crossings in Patagonia.

I often need to remind myself what it is I want to get from
such a journey—inspiration, experience, valuable human relationships and to be
overwhelmed by our earth’s wild places.

Be prepared for your goals to change, as they do often. This
is totally fine—as long as you are still enjoying yourself. It’ll quickly
become evident what’s important to you, where you like riding and the kinds of
roads and places that inspire you. With or without other people.

I have met many people whose journeys are dictated by
numbers, rather than their experience. From people trying to cycle the
500,000km distance to the moon to those counting every daily dollar spent on a
worldwide tour. Some people enjoy this challenge, but it’s not for everyone.

I was once in a similar mindset—goals, kilometre counts and budgets were part of my day-to-day. But somewhere along the way, I found a love for more remote, isolated roads that sometimes don’t even make the map. I’ve since realised that, for me, keeping count adds unneeded stress to my journey. It takes away from my experience and chance encounters along the way—so I’ve tried to let go of them.

18. Bike adventures are for everyone

The power of such a simple machine to break down barriers,
forge friendships and create lifelong memories blows my mind every day. I’ve
met families travelling on tandems, heard of pregnant women touring and have
met many solo female travellers. All have a story, and all are equally
inspiring.

Bike adventures can be as difficult or as easy as you like,
or as long or short as you please. The rewards are still the same—and even the
smallest outing is enough to relive childhood memories, spark a sense of
adventure, help you breathe a little easier, or clear the cluttered mind.

19. Paying it forward keeps the dream alive

I never really rode bikes before my recent journeys. Now I wonder what my life would be without one. It’s hard to explain how two wheels has added such direction to my life. Through my journey, I’ve made lifelong friends and slept on many lounges—and have cried from the generosity of total strangers more than once. What goes around, comes around. If you want to become part of this awesome community, try signing up to warmshowers.org.

Follow the journey:

@thenathannorth

nathannorth.wordpress.com

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