Good Night 2024 Roundup: Editors and Top Picks

The idea for the inaugural Good Night Campout in 2020 was to unite people and end the year on a high note following the COVID-19 pandemic. The success of that first year inspired us to continue this overnighter challenge as an annual tradition, encouraging hundreds of people from around the globe to spend a night outdoors during the busy week leading up to New Year’s Day. Once again, we saw images and videos from late December overnighters across several continents via the #GoodNight2024Campout hashtag on Instagram and in the comments here on the site. A few of us on the team managed to take part and ride out for a night of our own, too.

As a bonus for those participating, we put together six great prize packs from our friends at Revelate Designs, Teravail, and Wolf Tooth Components. Six lucky participants will take home one of the following items: a Revelate Designs Pronghorn system, Wolf Tooth Encase Pump and Tools, or Teravail Rutland or Ehline Tires. For this roundup, we chose 10 of our favorite submissions and randomly selected winners from that group. Find their stories and photos from Good Night 2024, paired with a couple of from our editors.

Logan Watts

location Oaxaca, Mexico

Within a week of being back in Oaxaca, Virginia and I pedaled a few familiar loops to soak up the rays of the high desert sun and emblematically thaw out. One of those rides was a lovely overnighter relatively close to town for our Good Night 2024 campout, where we rolled through a distinctively artistic pueblo, enjoyed some excellent tamales, and camped among cacti, enjoying the sounds of crickets and a stellar view of the valley.

• 
• 

• 
• 
• 

As I’ve reported on various pages of the site, the Oaxaca Valley is a uniquely enchanting place, brimming with energy and vibrance from its rich and fertile history. The city and its suburbs can be dirty, dusty, congested, smoggy, and raw, yet it’s easy to be swept up by their charm. Better still, you can quickly veer off onto a dirt road, escaping the hustle and bustle to be captivated by the area’s striking architecture, unique art and craft, diverse high desert flora, and the warm, welcoming people who call this place home.

• 
• 

What I love most about this area—and what keeps drawing me back—is its artistic and creative energy. The valley is dotted with dozens of small pueblos, each with its own endemic craft and community of artisans. One of our favorite pastimes is planning rides that revolve around visiting these villages, stopping to admire their work along the way. For me, this often means buying something. I’ve pedaled away with woven rugs, ornate baskets, and other such treasures, but most often, the prize I bring back is a mezcal cup—which happens to fit perfectly within a frame bag, or any bag, for that matter.

I’ve built quite a collection over the years, with cups showcasing everything from smooth, hand-burnished finishes to intricate face carvings. There’s something magical about enjoying a few sips from these handmade works of art while tucked away among the desert underbrush at camp.

• 
• 

• 
• 
• 

On this particular ride, we worked in a stop at San Bartolo Coyotopec, a small town in the Valles Centrales about 15 kilometers south of the capital, Oaxaca de Juarez. San Bartolo is best known for its barro negro (black clay) pottery, which has a shiny black or matte charcoal finish and takes a variety of forms, depending on the artist who makes it. On the surface, much of it appears very similar, and there’s a lot of it, but there are also some extraordinary gems hidden away within the small shops or among the dozens of vendors at the massive Mercado de Barro Negro Plaza Artesanal. We rolled or bikes into the plaza and perused several booths before a small engraved cup caught my eye. Virginia bought two delightful silbos (whistles) in the shape of a cow and rabbit.

From there, we each scarfed down a delicious fresa paleta from a shop just off the town square, which I truly believe might be the best in the valley, and then started our meandering climb into the small mountain range island to the east. Fortunately, the valley had a fairly productive late wet season this year, so there was enough of a trickle in the spring at the top of the climb to top off water bottles for morning coffee, and better yet, the high desert foliage was still alive and verdant. We found a great campsite out of site and off the beaten path, enjoyed our tamales we bought from the market earlier in the day, and toasted a glad farewell to a tough year with a few sips of Tepextate from my new cup.

Wojtek Waloch

location Zielona Gora, Poland instagram @coffeeteatrip

I didn’t plan on a solo trip, but the weather and illness severely limited the number of volunteers. Ultimately, I went alone to say goodbye to the old year on the Oder River. I left early, at 5:30 p.m., but it was already completely dark. There was also a thick fog. I had to give up my headlamp to see anything at all.

• 
• 

• 
• 
• 

I arrived at camp completely soaked, even though it wasn’t raining, and the first photo I managed to take was of the already set up and lit hotel under the stars, which were not visible anyway. After warm borscht for dinner and some reading, my eyes closed by themselves. In the morning, visibility improved. You could see the outline of the other bank of the river. The fog that had settled on the tarp turned into frost. The atmosphere felt like a post-apocalyptic movie. Peace and quiet.

It was only my second solo bivouac campout of the year. The dampness and cold were slowly starting to drive them away. There’s always time for a warm coffee before packing and heading home. This camping trip flew by, just like the year that’s passed.

Annie Evans

location Scottish Highlandsinstagram @a_girl_outside

New Year, there’s so much pressure, isn’t there? To go out and party, to have the best night, or at least the most epic, even if you can’t remember it. But what if you don’t want to go out with a bang? What if you just want to slide 2024 quietly into the back of a drawer to gather dust and hopefully be eaten by spiders?

Rather than be Eeyore, gloomy in the corner of the room, I thought it best to disappear alone for the bells. When I’m sad, being around others having fun can feel like shining a spotlight on the sadness and make it harder for me to manage.

With big floods the days before New Year and the stormy weather for the night, I decided to stay close to home. I rode up flooded forest tracks, new, deep ruts formed by the overflowing rivers. The trees silhouetted against the deep blue remnants of daylight danced wildly in the gale. The tracks ended at a fast, deep stream, which I cautiously crossed before wading through a gloopy bog on the other side. I couldn’t quite remember where the cabin was, somewhere in the dark forest. I pushed my bike up a steep, rooted slope, my headtorch light reflecting off the rain. Eventually, I found it: a tiny, perfect, one-person refuge from the mad celebrations and storm.

• 
• 

• 
• 
• 

Curling up with a book and brew, the pressure of the year’s end fell away. Awakening at midnight to the sound of distant fireworks, I had my first wee of 2025 feeling peaceful, cocooned in woods. I climbed back into my cozy sleeping bag and listened to the wind and the sharp, splattering rain. The sound softened as the temperature fell and the rain became snow. I felt full of gratitude for life and, for the first time in a while, calm and curious about the future.

Wakening to light peering through the gaps in the hut, I opened the door to a world dusted by snow. Sitting and watching snowflakes drift down through the trees, I gathered myself, ready to head out of my forested bubble and into a shiny new year.

Megan Dunn

location Alberta, Canadainstagram @evilmoosemegan

The bikepacking friend bat signal had been lit, and four of us answered the call. Of course, we wanted to bikepack together on the longest night of the year! Lake Minnewanka was an obvious choice for a winter solstice campout—close to home, with easy access and beautiful views.

• 
• 

It barely felt like winter as we biked in long, thin strips of snow and long stretches of bare dirt singletrack. Our tent sites were nestled along the shores of the lake, which hadn’t frozen over yet, adding to the feeling that maybe it was just late autumn. It was hard to deny winter’s arrival when the sun disappeared at 4:30 p.m. Wwe gleefully took up the invitation to use deadfall for our campfire and spent the next few hours keeping our roaring fire stoked, reheating burritos, and toasting miniature marshmallows.

The forecast was calling for a chance of snow overnight, and as we crawled into our sleeping bags, we heard the pinging of freezing precipitation starting to hit the tent walls. It was gradually replaced by a quieter and more steady fall of snowflakes through the forest.

• 
• 

• 
• 
• 

Waking up and poking our heads out of our tents the next morning, the forest had been transformed. Everything was coated in a few centimeters of snow, and the mountains looked glorious. The sunrise turned the world into shades of glowing pink and orange, and we celebrated the return of the sun and the beginning of longer days, biking out through a wonderful snow-covered world.

Stef Ghillebert

location Belgiuminstagram @stef.ghillebert

December had been dark and grey, and for the first time in a few weeks, the forecast looked good. We loaded our bikes with all the essentials for a cold night out camping. It was a good excuse to try our new cargo bike for an overnighter and take enough layers to make it comfortable in our tent.

• 
• 

With the sun finally back out, we set off on our small adventure. We left the city behind and ventured into the backcountry towards the famous cobbled climbs of the spring classics. My girlfriend had never climbed De Muur, so this was an excellent opportunity to climb this one. We didn’t go as fast as the pros but both made up the hill in one go. We enjoyed the evening sun at the chapel and set off towards the camping spot for the night. We were gifted a tremendous pink sunset and arrived just after dark at our bivvy spot.

We quickly set up the tent and put on more layers before enjoying a great camp meal of instant noodles, tuna, and nori inside our quilts. Satisfied with our beautiful and cold ride in the sun, we bundled up to prepare ourselves for a long, cozy night in the tent. By then, it was only 6 p.m., still 14 hours until sunrise. You have to love those long winter nights. Luckily, we brought our books!

• 
• 

The following day, we woke up in a damp tent under grey skies, so far from the sun. We took the short way home along the canal. Living in Belgium, adventure isn’t always easy to find, but these micro-adventures are always a great decision. We appreciated the warm shower back home, but the best nights are still those spent in the tent.

Miles Arbour

location British Columbia, Canada

It’s safe to say that December didn’t go quite as planned. Emily and I canceled a multi-month trip to buy our first home, I spent a week on Vancouver Island working through a family emergency, and Emily and I were left with just a few weeks to prep our new home and move out of our rental. As “first-world” as these problems may be, it was an unusually stressful month. So much so that I was nearly ready to abandon Good Night Campout plans in exchange for a relaxing night at home. In order to participate and end the year on a positive note, we leaned so heavily into glampacking to the point that I’m not even sure we followed the rules of the challenge. And guess what? It was fantastic.

• 
• 

• 
• 
• 

We had already visited the new Rocky Valley Resort on Texada Island as a day trip a few months prior but decided the sauna, hot tub, and rentable tiny homes would make a pretty deluxe final campout for the year. We convinced a group of friends to ride over with us for the afternoon, with just one other couple staying the night. The ride was unusually dry, which we celebrated over and over on our relaxing paved ride from the ferry terminal to the resort.

Our group spent the next three hours jumping between the massive cedar sauna, cold baths, and hot tub. We lucked out and were the only people staying at the resort, so our group was divided into two smaller parties to stay warm and relaxed. After the day-use folks left, our overnight crew enjoyed barbecued steaks, our infamous Christmas Nachos, and an assortment of fizzy beverages. We capped the night off with another soak in the hot tub before retreating to our tiny home. Is this bikepacking?

• 
• 

• 
• 
• 

Texada Island is one of my all-time favorite bikepacking destinations on the coast. The Texada Ridge Runner route follows a mostly gravel road loop around the island, with stunning ocean views, beachside camping, and quaint resupply points that make for a relaxing and care-free weekend trip. Emily and I usually ease into warmer weather biking with an overnighter to Texada, and we hosted the inaugural Slow Coast event there this fall, so it seemed fitting to end the year off on Texada as well.

There’s something about the quiet gravel roads and bear-free forests that make it easy to slow down. We stopped at the infamous Gnome Village on our ride back to the ferry in the morning, exploring the cute miniature handmade cabins and structures tucked between the moss-covered forest floor, twisted roots, and towering trees. On the ferry home, someone overheard us talking about the Gnome Village and explained how his sister was responsible for starting the project, but it needed repairs after some vandalism and storms. I plan to contribute a gnome home of my own this year.

Hans De Neve

location Belgiuminstagram @deneve.hans

December had been a bustling month for Silke and me, and we couldn’t wait to escape into some solitude and unwind over the holidays. After an autumn that had been dull and hazy, our bodies were craving fresh air and sunlight. When the forecast promised three consecutive bluebird days in the southwest of Belgium, we knew we had our cue. Fuelled by a few back-to-back family gatherings and eating our body weight in kroketten, we were ready to hit the road.

• 
• 
• 

• 
• 

Winters can be cold in the Ardennes, so we carefully balanced our gear to handle freezing temperatures while keeping things light enough to tackle some trails along the way. Winter bikepacking brings its unique charm and challenges. Short daylight hours make for tricky navigation in the dark, but the beauty of the low-hanging sun piercing through the forest canopy and warming our faces made it all worthwhile. Even nightly river crossings, frozen gears, and numb toes didn’t ruin the fun as we glided over the frost-hardened mud. We couldn’t think of a better way to end the year!

Kiseok Uhm

location Yangpyeong, South Korea instagram @kiseok.uhm

Riding a bike in cold weather and camping outdoors is not easy.Many parts of the world get quite cold in winter, but on the other hand, they often have beautiful scenery. Some areas may not be wintery because of the high altitude. That is why my friends and I ride our bikes outside and enjoy riding and camping despite the cold.

• 
• 

When we entered the mountain path, the snow that fell the day before was still on the trees and the road, making for a fantastic view. Many trees had fallen because of the heavy, wet snow that fell in early winter. We brought three small portable saws to prepare for this situation, which is a lesson learned from our experience during the Korea Epic Ride last summer. We rode much shorter than we had initially planned because we had to remove the fallen trees with the saws. A successful ride is not about riding the planned course completely but about riding happily according to the given conditions and returning home safely. We all had fun.

• 
• 

In the evening, we enjoyed a small party in the mountains with various foods, including unique liquors that each person brought, yak cheese from Nepal, biscuits from Italy, amazingly delicious pork, and fish cakes. The most memorable treat was makgeolli, a traditional Korean liquor, that one of the riders made himself.

Dwayne and Michele Allgire

location Florida, United States

When it comes to bikepacking destinations in the United States, Florida is usually not what comes to mind. What does is the crowded amusement parks, white sandy beaches, and urban sprawl that blend one city right into the next. However, there is still a wild natural side of Florida left. You just have to look for it. We wanted to celebrate the closing of 2024 and could not think of a better way than to spend it with Karlos, the Singletrack Samurai, and 20+ friends on his last event of the year, Bikepacking the Suwannee River Trail.

• 
• 

The start and end location is located in north Florida within the small town of White Springs, right by the headquarters of the Suwannee Bicycle Association. For three days, we rode on quiet dirt roads with few cars and never strayed far from the Suwannee River, fed by nearly 300 documented freshwater springs. The weekend’s weather was on the colder side for Florida, as it got down to freezing the second night, making it a challenge to swim in all six springs we stopped at. Karlos and one other were the only two to swim in all of the springs. Spending time on and off the bike at camp with like-minded individuals, sharing stories, and even some fireside karaoke was a perfect way to say good night to 2024! With all of the ups and downs of the year, it was a great way to end on a high note and renew our spirits for epic adventures in 2025.

Nicholas Tartaglione

location New Jersey, USA instagram @n_tartaglione

When I think of visiting family in southern New Jersey over the holidays, bringing a bike doesn’t usually occur to me. Instead, I’m planning around the dreaded pilgrimage through I-95 traffic from where I live around Boston. At this point in the year, the bikes begin their winter hibernation while the skis return from summer vacation. Before Christmas dinner, I’m already tracking the next snowstorm and planning my escape up to the mountains. But this year, I was home for a week and wanted to switch things up with the Good Night Campout. I noticed the day after Christmas would be a perfect cold night with clear skies and no wind. What better way to relax than a solo overnight bikepack in the woods to close out 2024?

• 
• 
• 

South Jersey isn’t known for its access to the outdoors, yet it’s home to one of the largest, undisturbed ecosystems along the I-95 corridor: the Pine Barrens. These coastal pinelands encompass nearly a quarter of the state, remaining largely undeveloped due to sandy soil unsuited for farming. As a kid, the only thing I knew about the Pine Barrens was folklore tales of the Jersey Devil. The area was dull woods, or so I thought. A quick internet search showed massive potential for bikepacking, with nearly 50 miles of mountain bike trails, hundreds of miles of dirt roads, and several campgrounds! It’s funny how these areas that look like a whole lotta nothing suddenly become more appealing with a loaded bike in mind.

• 
• 
• 

After a short drive from the Philly suburbs, I rode down a quiet gravel road in the state’s largest tract of public land. I traversed a unique landscape that showed me a visual history of the place: pitch pine forests and cedar wetlands. Wildfire burn scars showed the natural growth cycle of the forest. A historic 18th-century village. I biked through all those areas on gravel roads, sandy doubletrack, and flowy singletrack. I didn’t see a single stretch of pavement over a 50-mile loop. It was a surprising discovery since New Jersey is the most densely populated state in the country. How have I never bothered to visit this incredible landscape after all these years?

At camp, I spent the night in peaceful solitude. Alone, I could easily hear the distant owls and coyotes. The stars were bright in the clear sky. I stoked a fire, reflecting on how happy I was to visit this place finally. Solo bikepacking wasn’t initially on my radar for late December, but trying something new for Good Night Campout was the perfect adventure to end the year.

Machiko Threlkeld

location Washington, USA instagram @jarikozo

The 2024 holiday season was set up to tackle challenges Alder and I had in our minds for the last few years. Despite the short, wet days in the Pacific Northwest, as any other winter, we were riding every day for the Rapha Festive 500 and wanted to include the distance from BIKEPACKING.com #Goodnight2024Campout challenge! Our friend Michael joined us for the overnighter.

• 
• 
• 

The beauty of living in Seattle is that we can ride out of our doors and take a ferry over to the other side, making us feel like we are far from home. Our home for the night was Kitsap Memorial State Park. We created a loop route to take the Edmonds-Kingston ferry, ride through Kitsap, and the Bainbridge-Seattle ferry back. Even though we made plans, itineraries, routes, food stops, and so forth, in the end, our trip was dictated by hour-by-hour weather forecasts to avoid the heaviest rainfall. As things sometimes go, we picked the meeting time when the rainfall was the heaviest. Within five minutes, we were all drenched. When we reached the ferry terminal, my waterproof gloves were soaked because rain got in from the cuffs. A 30-minute ferry ride didn’t dry out our layers of clothes completely. Once we got to the other side, the rain clouds receded. We rode the backroads to the Port Gamble Forest Heritage Park and enjoyed the hilly but quiet gravel roads and some singletrack. Our destination was just a few miles from there.

What to do with wet clothes was one of the challenges we discussed. We picked the campsite based on the availability of firewood onsite or nearby. We decided to pitch our tents quickly and headed to the shop. We bought Cup Noodles and two bundles of wood. We were good to go! Surprisingly, the weather cleared, and we saw stars by bedtime (at 8 p.m.). Popular topics of conversation included waterproof gear that worked, how to stay warm at a campsite, rides/adventures of 2025, etc.

• 
• 

We slept in or refused to leave our warm tents until after 8 a.m. because the clear sky brought on the cooler morning. The only incentive for us to get going was that a wave of wetness would roll through the area in the late morning, and there would be a planned bakery/breakfast stop in Poulsbo. We filled ourselves at a local breakfast eatery and replenished our bag with pastries from Sluys’ and sparklers! We headed to Bainbridge to catch a ferry back to Seattle.

On the ferry back, snow-covered Mount Olympus peeked below the cloud line. We could also see Mt. Rainier. I said an orca sighting would make this trip even more perfect than it was, and guess what? The ferry engine stopped, and the overhead announcement called for the orca! Now that made this whole bikepacking trip and challenge all more memorable! Honorable mention: Chris, who left his house only to DNF because his pedal came off (thank goodness it happened on the Seattle side), and Austen, who couldn’t find a dog sitter, so joined us for a day.

McKenzie Stock

location New Mexico, USAinstagram @kenzstock

“Hey, want to go bikepacking tomorrow?” That’s all it took to set our Good Night Campout in motion for 2024. On the afternoon of December 23rd, Danielle, Abby, Josh, and I rode from our houses and met where the pavement ends before entering the rolling desert west of the Organ Mountains. We climbed up a mix of dirt roads and singletrack trails and watched the sunset above Las Cruces. As darkness fell, we rode the final stretch up the La Maria trail, our headlamps illuminating the familiar path.

• 
• 

At the top, Danielle transformed a yucca into a makeshift holiday tree, stringing it with colorful lights while we set up camp. One of my favorite parts of living in the desert is cowboy camping without fear of rain. I laid out my pad and sleeping bag, ready for a night under the stars. The crisp wind carried the earthy scent of the desert as we spent hours talking, laughing, and sharing stories until we drifted off to sleep.

• 
• 

If you celebrated Christmas as a kid, you might remember that giddy, butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling on Christmas morning—an almost magical anticipation. As an adult, that magic often gives way to the whirlwind of obligations, errands, and busyness. But on this trip, those long-lost butterflies returned. I woke just before sunrise to the coyotes’ morning song and watched the stars fade into the orange and yellow of dawn. The stillness of the desert and the glow of the rising sun reminded me that magic doesn’t disappear, it just becomes quieter, waiting for us to notice. This morning felt special. It was as if Christmas had delivered its gifts early: a backyard adventure, breathtaking public lands, and time on bikes with dear friends.

In the morning, we packed up and zipped down flowy singletrack and smooth roads, pausing for coffee, burritos, and pastries at a favorite local spot before heading home, feeling thankful for a good ride with great company.

Good Night 2024 Prize Winners

Thank you to everyone who participated in our our annual Good Night Campout, to those who shared their campouts on the site, and everyone who used the #GoodNight2024Campout hashtag on Instagram. We’ll be contacting the randomly selected winners of the six prize packs over the next couple of days, so keep an eye out for a message!

Further Reading

Make sure to dig into these related articles for more info...