Singletrack/MTB
Gravel/All-road
Dirt-road Touring
Fat-bike
The Idaho Women’s Bikepacking group recently tackled its first campout of the year, and more than 30 women were in attendance. In this piece, Lauren Melink shares a recap of the group’s 40-mile overnighter to Loftus Hot Springs. Find that and photos from the trip here…
Words by Lauren Melink, photos by Scott Conover and participants
“I just have to make one quick fix. I’ll catch up!”
Aside from breaking a critical piece of your bicycle, getting lost, or bonking, there is one thing I believe will rattle any bikepacker to their core: being that person who can’t seem to ride a quarter mile without having to stop for an adjustment. Amplify that feeling tenfold when you’re with strangers.
On this ride, that person was me.
After one stop for a tilting cradle, one for a strap brushing a tire, one for rattling tent poles, and three for a leaning rack, I had started to wonder if riding with anyone other than my husband was a good idea. The thing was, these strangers were so darn friendly. Painstakingly nice. Like, they-must-be-messing-with-me-kind-of-nice. Every time I had to tighten, turn, straighten, align, push, or wrench, they held my bike and promised they’d been there before and it would be them next time, and they needed a snack anyway, even though they’d had a snack four minutes prior when I had to fix the tent poles. But that’s the thing with the Idaho Women’s Bikepacking (IWBP) group: it’s not about the workout or the rush; it’s about genuine people who want strangers to succeed, no matter how much it slows down their day. It’s the rawest form of support I’ve seen in a long time.
On this spring ride, there were a lot of ladies. More than 30 women joined for the ride, many of whom were on their first bikepacking trip. They were called to action by the inspirational and charismatic Laura Guymon Heiner, who started the group a few years ago, making it her mission to get more women bikepacking and more women racing Idaho’s infamous Smoke ‘n’ Fire 400 (A note to Laura: I think you did it!). The group has grown to nearly 900 members, and Laura continues to provide new riders with everything they need to know to get started in a sport that would otherwise be intimidating while also providing seasoned riders with the motivation they need to challenge their riding in ways they didn’t think were possible.
For their first ride of 2024, IWBP tackled a route that might be better known by ATVs than by cyclists: an out-and-back overnighter to Loftus Hot Spring. The route runs along Arrowrock Road, which turns into Middle Fork Road, and (as with most rides) can be as long or as short as you want. Most of the women rode about 19 miles to the hot spring, for a grand total of 38 miles and about 1,000 feet of climbing roundtrip. Other riders started further away, riding between 30 and 45 miles one-way. The shorter route begins about 25 miles east of Boise, a few miles after pavement becomes dirt. Although “dirt” is a nice word for how fully rigid riders might describe it. “Pot-holed, “washboard,” and “ouch” would be other words. And yet, the bumps and line-finding are, without a doubt, worth it. The road skirts along the north side of Arrowrock Reservoir until the reservoir shrinks to become the Middle Fork of the Boise River, and as it does, the landscape transforms with it.
In the blink of an eye, the sagebrush-dotted high desert is rearranged into a ponderosa pine forest. Needles cover the forest floor, patches of snow remain in the shade, river rapids sparkle in the sunlight, and the scent of new growth and spring are in the air. It is lovely, particularly on a 60-degree day in March when sunscreen is a necessity for arms and legs that haven’t seen the sun since September.
As we meander along the winding road, there is a pit stop that can’t be passed by. If it weren’t for the iPhone in your feed bag and carbon fiber fork, it’s a place that might make you think you’d taken a step back in time. Twin Springs Resort, the roadside attraction, has a mining history dating back to 1898. These days, several cabins offer visitors a rustic getaway, and an eclectic general store offers bikepackers $3 Coors (Banquet or Light,) $1 coffee, and a friendly barkeep.
Once the Coors has been safely stored on your bike, there are only about seven miles to go until it can be appropriately cracked open for ultimate enjoyment. As mentioned earlier, Loftus Hot Springs is the final destination, and for good reason. Situated across the road from the river, the natural hot spring is a welcome sight for sore butts. Big enough to accommodate at least 15 people, this forest hot tub comes complete with a built-in waterfall, adding to the ambiance and also making it difficult to hear anyone talk, which is okay because it’s all about serenity anyway, right? The hot spring is halfway up a little hill, about 50 yards from the campground, which is quite hilly itself. I don’t know about you, but I sleep better when blood isn’t pooling in my head or feet, so when we finally pulled into camp, I was on a mission to seek out the flattest tent spot and get into the water.
As riders pulled in, tents were assembled, dinner was made, Coors were cracked, and hot springs were enjoyed. Temperatures dropped dramatically as night fell, and riders-turned-campers scuttled around with headlamps and Jet Boils, scarfing Subway sandwiches and sipping ramen broth. As with summer camp, the people with whom you share a sleeping space and dinner ground become your buddies, resulting in natural groupings of women chatting here and there and everywhere—a welcome respite from forced circles of icebreaker games that often coexist with organized adult meet-ups.
It was cold that night. I don’t know how cold, but I do know my swimsuit was stiff as a board in the morning, and my water bottle cap kept freezing shut. When I woke, I put on my stiff suit and ran to the hot spring because you can’t camp at a hot spring and not get in at least twice. I listened to the birds, watched the sunrise, and relaxed until I realized I’d forgotten my towel. I realized it was probably frozen anyway, so I shook off and hurried back to camp for more layers. When I returned to camp, riders were hard to recognize in their attempts to stay warm. Helmets upon heads, upon beanies, upon buffs. Down pants, puffy jackets, windbreakers. I think most bike bags were empty because all the clothing was being worn. So, we didn’t linger. Collectively and quickly, we stuffed our sacks, chugged some coffee, chowed some oats, and hit the road for home.
Save for the first 10 miles when I couldn’t move my jaw because, like my swimsuit, it had frozen solid, the ride back to the car was just as glorious as the ride in. Blue skies, glittery water, sun shining, and a sense of luck. We’re just all so damn lucky to be able to do what we just did. To be brave, healthy, and strong enough to escape the commotion of everyday life for 22 hours and simply ride our bikes into the woods with good people. While stopping for adjustments (and snacks) all along the way.
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