An Introduction to Bikepacking with Trail Mixed Collective
Earlier this winter, Emily Bei Cheng teamed up with Trail Mixed Collective to host a first-time bikepacking overnighter for a group of women of color. Six riders showed up, and the new friends pedaled into the Marin Headlands for a weekend of bonding and learning by doing. Read about the unshakeable power of the overnighter and find a dynamic photo gallery here…
PUBLISHED Feb 2, 2024
This winter, I led an intro to bikepacking weekend in partnership with Trail Mixed Collective, a nonprofit community for women of color outdoors. With the support of a few local organizations, we hosted six women from the San Francisco Bay Area who were bikepacking first-timers. Planning the where was the easy part. We’re lucky to have nature right at our doorstep. I chose the Marin Headlands, just north of the Golden Gate Bridge, with its friendly doubletrack and beautiful ocean vistas.
The tricky part, though, was gear logistics. Unlike outfitters for many sports, no business offered a “full package” bikepacking solution. At a mountain resort, you could rent skis and boots; at a surf shop, you could rent a wetsuit and surfboard; and at a rock climbing gym, you could rent a harness, climbing shoes, and a belay device. Bikepacking? There’s no one-stop shop.
It all came together thanks to the support of two local businesses. Sports Basement provided gravel bike rentals, and Outer Shell provided six full sets of bikepacking bags. Our group pooled together the remaining camping gear for an overnighter. The weekend’s goal was for women of color to get a taste of what bikepacking was all about without needing to invest in the gear upfront. Even with the gear at our fingertips, the real puzzle was fitting it all onto the bike for the first time.
To quote my friend describing their bikepacking setup, “I need to put the toothbrush in the cup with the headlamp, and then the sock in the cup, and wrap it in my tights and put them before my shirt, and squeeze my sleeping bag into this tiny stuff sack that needs to go after my tights but before my shirt…” It’s an intimidating game of bike Tetris. In fact, one woman in the group had her own bikepacking gear but hadn’t found the motivation to test it out until this trip.
Along with the tangible hurdles, there are intangible ones, too. Finding a supportive community to join can be particularly intimidating for a first-timer. The philosophy of Trail Mixed Collective lists the many elements that need to come together, “Approaching new outdoor sports relies on a few things: inspiration from people we can relate to, access to education and gear, safe community spaces, and motivation and guidance from mentors who care.”
To start the weekend, everyone met at Sports Basement on a sunny Saturday to get bikes fit and loaded. My vision of hosting a neat and orderly packing session soon evaporated, and I was soon swimming in a sea of bikes and gear. I so badly wanted to clone six copies of myself to give everyone focused attention. Fitting everything onto the bikes was a collective effort that demanded patience and ingenuity, especially for the smaller 49cm frames.
Tent poles were not going to fit into the frame bags, let alone the fleece jackets or foam sleeping pads that some women had brought. We finally squeezed the last straggling items into packable overflow backpacks (I bring one on all bikepacking trips) or affixed them with Voile straps (ditto). I reminded everyone that while the packing might have been a bit stressful, the trial and error was a good learning experience.
We departed an hour late, riding across the Golden Gate Bridge and into the Marin Headlands. A few miles of pavement dropped us onto the trails, where cell phone bars dropped to zero, and we felt immersed in nature. Being behind schedule was a blessing in disguise as we reached my favorite viewpoint, Tennessee Valley Lookout, right at golden hour. We gazed out at the rugged coastal cliffs, steeply dropping off into a deep blue ocean. Two red-railed hawks circled around a sun that painted the sky in strokes of gold.
Dusk settled over Bicentennial Camp as we rolled in and set up for dinner. We swapped stories at camp not only about cycling but a breath of other sports as well. It may have been the group’s first time bikepacking, but these women were no strangers to adventure. Collectively, they have a wealth of experience in the outdoors, whether it be trail running, open-water swimming, or climbing big mountain objectives.
This is something I have always appreciated about post-ride hangouts. In the saddle, we’re all just a bunch of cyclists, but in conversation, we learn about the other facets of each other’s lives. Cycling may be the first natural conversation starter, but with enough time, the conversation meanders onto topics that have nothing to do with two wheels. Dinner and breakfast routines on bikepacking trips have offered me hours of unbroken time to listen to friends’ musings about the world. It’s one thing I cherish the most about my bikepacking trips.
Something else that stood out to me during the dinner conversation was the prevailing attitude of encouragement. When one rider, Chinue, expressed her skepticism about ever wanting to try skiing, Nafeesa and Liselle chimed in to share their personal experiences learning how to backcountry ski. By the end of their conversation, Chinue had warmed up to the idea.
In this conversation between women, it was all about making something feel accessible instead of inaccessible. It reminded me of the philosophy I carry, inspired by writer Caroline Cala Donofrio. She writes about what she sees as two approaches to writing and life in general: the wizard and the friend. The wizard inspires awe and intimidation. Social media often showcases the wizard with their curated images about their impressive feats. Meanwhile, the friend “lets you into the fold” and is open in sharing their experiences and struggles. It’s natural to feel comfortable and more vulnerable when you spend time with a friend.
As we were winding down from dinner, I floated an idea to the group, “For those of you who have an appetite for more riding, tomorrow I’m planning to do a sunrise climb before we eat breakfast and head back to the city.” The area encompassing the Marin Headlands has a reputation for being notoriously hilly, but a mandatory thigh-burning workout wasn’t on my agenda for the weekend. The goal was to host a fun introduction to bikepacking, so I had carefully planned a route that avoided any major climbs. I knew, though, that the group had a mix of gravel riding experience. I wanted the women to have an opportunity to get in some elevation gain if they were game.
“Let’s meet here tomorrow at 7 a.m. if you want to do the climb. Stay in your sleeping bags if you want that extra hour of sleep. It’s 100% optional,” I said.
In the morning, I was excited to wake up and see that most of the women were mobilizing for the bonus ride. We set off, chasing a cotton candy-colored sunrise. The women spread out along the climb, each settling into their own pace until the top. We reached an overlook and peered down at the city of Sausalito nestled quietly below us. We could be in such proximity to urban landscapes but be completely oblivious to it from up here in the hills. A reliable escape from the city hustle.
Several women shared that they had ridden in the Marin Headlands before on road bikes, but accessing the dirt trails made it an entirely new experience. Riding road and then discovering gravel was like finding out that a good song had an even better remix. It echoed my experience of falling in love with the Headlands all over again when I got my first gravel bike.
At the end of the trip, one of the participants shared, “As someone who is used to not only being the only woman but also the only woman of color in many outdoor groups, I felt like I could let my guard down here. There was nothing to prove. I could just be me.”
Absent in our group dynamic was the covert comparison of gear, achievements, or who was more hardcore. Instead, our interactions were rooted in genuine encouragement and practical advice. In a world where media often portrays an idealized version of the outdoors, our weekend trip was a nod to the real, the attainable, and the inclusive. Wizards look picture-perfect in their trail selfies, while friends admit they farted in their sleeping bags. On this trip, we were firmly in friend territory.
Learn more about Trail Mixed Collective and their mission at TrailMixedCollective.com.
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