How to Host a Backyard Bikepacking Rally

Darlene Usi doesn’t believe in small talk or dry socks. That much was clear the minute I met her. We had been internet pen pals for half a year after a mutual friend connected us. “You need to talk to Darlene,” she said after I told her about my bikepacking trip in Denali. “She’s about to bike a thousand miles across Alaska.” In this internet era, it’s not uncommon for friendships to start over text threads with the hope that with a bit of luck or effort, two people will eventually be in the same place at the same time.

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That moment came in January. Darlene was visiting San Francisco and decided to stay an extra night so we could finally meet and ride for the first time. The next morning, the city was sealed under a ceiling of rain clouds. I floated the idea of indoor coffee instead. She was committed to our original plan. The Marin Headlands, usually buzzing with sunrise-chasing cyclists, was a ghost town. It was just me and Darlene.

Darlene was beaming. I’m not even exaggerating. She radiated the kind of stoke that almost convinced me this might actually be better than a bluebird day. We coasted down to the beach under a steady drizzle and saw a pod of dolphins surface near the Golden Gate Bridge. It was my first sighting in nearly a decade of living in San Francisco. Before she headed home, Darlene extended an invitation to join a women’s bikepacking rally she was organizing in San Diego in the spring. I didn’t need to think twice before saying yes.

What is a Backyard Rally?

The San Diego Backyard Women’s Rally was inspired by the Komoot Women’s Rally, a series of non-competitive bikepacking events designed to “connect, unite, and break down the barriers in adventure cycling by making adventures by bike more accessible to women of all backgrounds.” In September 2022, Darlene joined 50 other riders for the second edition of the Komoot Women’s Torino-Nice Rally. In November 2023, she and 70 others explored Lael Wilcox’s “backyard” at the Komoot Women’s Arizona Rally.

The spirit of the rally spread as participants spun off their own unsponsored, weekend-warrior “backyard rallies” in their hometowns. Following the Arizona rally, participant Jamie Delton hosted one in the San Francisco Bay Area. A few months later, Jodie Lyons, another participant in the Arizona rally and founder of Goldilocks GRVL, organized another in Bend, Oregon. Darlene rode both rallies. Friendships and inside jokes formed fast.

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Darlene wanted to host the next one. She mapped out a three-day bikepacking loop through the mountains of San Diego County, totaling 176 miles with 15,000 feet of climbing. Thirty women from six states arrived by train, car, plane, and bike. Some had thousands of miles in their legs. Others were strapping a sleeping bag onto their handlebars for the first time. 

So You Want to Host a Backyard Rally?

I started taking mental notes when I joined the San Diego Rally. As a friend who was lucky enough to hear Darlene’s behind-the-scenes perspective, I pieced together a few guiding principles that made the magic happen:

• Overcommunicate. There is no such thing as too much information.
• Hosting is a team sport. Build with others and let them surprise you.
• Design for dilly-dallying. Incorporate moments of pause for riders to regroup.
• Send it (to the group chat). A group thread is critical for last-minute updates or just a much-needed laugh.
• If you build it, they will come. Anyone can host a rally—use this as your blueprint!

Overcommunicate

Darlene held onto one simple but key piece of advice she had learned from Sarah Swallow: overcommunicate. When it comes to event organization, there is no such thing as too much information or too many reminders. 

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First came the website. In this case, it was a Notion page, but even a Google Doc would suffice. Nothing fancy. It laid out the essentials: the rally’s ethos, a day-by-day route breakdown, details about the welcome and finisher parties, a link to the sign-up form, and an FAQ. Modeled after the Komoot Rally application process, Darlene capped the group size to 30 riders and used a lottery system to draw names.

Then came the hype: an Instagram reel stitching moments from Jamie and Jodie’s backyard rallies featuring snack breaks, group stretching sessions, and animal encounters. “I wanted people to see the silly things I see,” Darlene told me. When people scope an event, they’re not just noting the mileage and elevation stats. They also care about the energy. Will it be serious and competitive or supportive and goofy?

Three months out, the lottery results were emailed to riders, along with a link to sign up via Eventbrite. The Eventbrite ticket wasn’t for payment. Rather, it was for accountability. This was another tip Darlene learned from Sarah Swallow. People show up when they feel committed. This free digital ticket represented a commitment: I’m coming and this matters.

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One month out, Darlene held a virtual info session. With a wide range of experience levels from seasoned veterans to first-time bikepackers, she wanted to make sure everyone was prepared. She created a detailed slide deck covering the rally’s backstory, a route deep dive, packing lists, repair kit suggestions, and even nutrition strategies. It was equal parts logistics and pep talk. In the weeks that followed, a steady rhythm of updates in a WhatsApp group chat with all the riders kept the energy going. It set the tone and meant people showed up ready to co-create the spirit of the rally.

Hosting is a Team Sport

No one hosts a rally alone. Even as Darlene led the effort, the rally was less a top-down event and more a web of kindness. People stepped up. Everyone played a part. Andrea and Chuck at Adams Avenue Bicycles opened up their shop for the welcome party the evening before the rally. Riders gave each other a hand, offering in the group chat to help with airport shuttles to the welcome party.

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Alexa designed custom scavenger hunt cards and stickers. Pam brought a Polaroid camera to take portraits of every rider at the starting line, an idea borrowed from Rue Kaladyte, who did this at the Komoot rallies. The finisher’s party was coordinated by local friends who wanted to chip in. Some of these things didn’t come from a checklist. People showed up and added their special touch.

There was teamwork behind the scenes leading up to the rally weekend, too. Darlene scouted the route months in advance and again two weeks before the event with locals Karlene and Luisa, double-checking trail conditions and making minor GPX tweaks. Darlene met Karlene during a fall equinox campout hosted by Adams Avenue Bicycles. Darlene and Luisa met at a surprise aid station in Spain during the Komoot Women’s Badlands Rally only to find out they lived just blocks apart back in San Diego. Cycling connects in weird and wonderful ways.

Design for Dilly-Dallying

Not everyone rides at the same pace. No surprise there. You can’t expect 30 people to sync to the same cadence, but you can give them reasons to come back together. That’s where you find the real magic of a thoughtfully planned backyard rally. You’re not only designing a route. You’re designing for encounters.

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Good route design reflects values. When crafting her route, Darlene wasn’t just thinking about water stops and elevation gain. “I’m building in excuses to dilly-dally,” she told me. Dilly-dallying was an inside joke born from a past backyard rally, and it stuck around for good reason. Rallies aren’t races. Rallies are for bringing people together to bond over the slow moments. While riders naturally splintered into smaller groups on day one, the route was designed to pull everyone back together every now and then. One of these moments was in the mountain town of Julian, famous for its pies, where we were challenged to a very unserious pie tasting contest between rival bakeries.

 
Pie battles. Oddball roadside attractions. Sunrise selfies spots. These were pinned on the route map and woven into a scavenger hunt challenge, an idea borrowed from Darlene’s Alaska bikepacking odyssey. As a finalist of the “Lael Rides Alaska” Femme-Trans-Women’s Scholarship, Darlene had imagined an epic ride acround Alaska as a scavenger hunt, an homage to childhood by playing a larger-than-life board game on two wheels. That same spirit made its way back home to the San Diego rally. 

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Camp was the ultimate regroup at the end of each day. For a week-long Komoot rally, riders were encouraged to choose their own nightly stopping points. For a two- or three-day backyard rally with a smaller total group size, it made sense to camp together at pre-booked campsites. On the first night, friends Avery and Sarah brought enormous trays of lasagna to camp. Gathered around two picnic tables, we passed plates and shared conversations ranging from the topical—bike maintenance tips and interval training—to the truly random—submarine cables, dairy cow genetics, and hyperspheres. These moments gave the rally its heart.

Send It (to the Group Chat)

Then came the rain. San Diego, usually California’s sunniest child, decided to throw a little tantrum. A 20 percent chance of rain in the forecast turned out to be a 24-hour soak. Maybe the rainy ride I shared with Darlene back in January was a funny omen for what was to come. We were all skeptical it would actually rain, but most riders packed rain gear just in case. A few brave souls risked the 20 percent and didn’t bring rain jackets or tent flies. Rain clouds rolled in overnight, and by the morning of day two, everything sloshed and squelched.

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That’s when the WhatsApp group chat came alive. Soggy tent snaps. Muddy selfies. Memes. Someone posted a photo of Hock’s tent, half-covered by a Twister game mat that repurposed from the night before, when it served as a camp game. The caption read: “Hock, are you okay?” Kristen’s bivy turned into a bathtub, which was hard to believe until she uploaded video proof of her tipping a waterfall out from it. “Surprisingly, the best I’ve ever slept camping.” She was serious. The group thread became a communal diary of wet misery and the tiny victories in overcoming it: trash bags as rain ponchos, dishwashing gloves as rain mitts, and a ragtag peloton parading off, less like cyclists and more like models in an upcycled fashion show.

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Beyond humor, the group chat also served as a coordination lifeline. Yuko, Sarah, and I were the first to hit the dirt trails on day two, only to start slipping and sliding in thick peanut butter mud. Yuko posted a warning to the thread, suggesting everyone else reroute onto pavement. I posted a selfie of the three of us in good spirits, ready to navigate our own sticky situation. Miles away, Pam saw the update and quickly pieced together a reroute that she shared to the chat. Everyone followed.

We agreed this was far better than facing inclement weather alone. Solo, or even as a pair, stress often has a way of compounding. In a larger group setting, stress seems to diffuse. Someone always has the calm you need. One person maps out the detour. Another person cracks a joke about wet disc brakes wailing like seagulls. Someone else passes around extra energy chews. A group can be an emotional buffer where no one person has to be everything. You draft off each other physically and emotionally.

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By the end of day two, the text thread had racked up 100 messages. Our devices are often blamed for pulling us apart, and while that is mostly true, they can sometimes be the glue. The group chat thread had become a second rally consisting of jokes, updates, and the quiet comfort of knowing someone else was out there as soaked as you were.

If You Build It, They Will Come

I asked Darlene how it felt to host a rally in her own backyard. She told me it was special being a participant herself, moving through familiar turns with a new group. What meant the most, she said, was how many people said yes. They said yes to something that didn’t have sponsors or slick marketing. “You know that phrase…if you build it, they will come.” And they did. From Alaska, Arizona, California, Minnesota, Missouri, and Oregon. Women broke down their bikes, transported them halfway across the country, and showed up. 

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For some riders, this rally marked their first time bikepacking with other women. It was the first time they felt like they could just show up and ride, without needing to justify their place in the group. For those of us already embedded in this community, it’s easy to forget that for every one of us who has had this experience, there are a dozen who have yet to ride with an all-women group. That’s why women’s rallies like this one matter.

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A good rally doesn’t need to be a polished one. That weekend in San Diego was comically soggy and borderline absurd. Darlene wasn’t a professional event planner, and she had nothing to prove. She had seen others pull it off and simply figured she could do the same. The effort isn’t small—routes need to be scouted, lasagna doesn’t bake itself, and the weather has a mind of its own—but this rally, like the ones before it in Bend and the Bay, prove that it is worth it. The blueprint exists. All that’s left is to pick it up, add your own twist, and keep the wheels turning.

Editor’s Note: Looking for an easy way to find riding partners to tackle one of our routes around the globe or organize a group ride? Be sure to check out our newly launched Ride Rendezvous tool!

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