Long time lurker here, very occasional poster and I've got my first bikepacking attempt coming up this weekend. Will report back afterwards.

All my camping trips so far have been on foot; usually with tents although occasionally I've bivvied and that's what I'll be doing this time around. We're doing the South Downs Way (in 2 days)

Kit:
My kit is generally reasonable but I'm lacking in suitable bags. My mate has bought a rack (it's his first time as well) but I'm going with an 8l drybag strapped to the handlebars, a couple of bottle cages and everything else in a rucksack. I know it's not ideal but in the interests of cheapness (wedding later this year) investing in a decent saddlebag/top tube bag/framebag will have to wait.

Drybag on handlebars (horrible fluorescent yellow Airlok Xtra, 8l) contains summer bag (a nasty Blacks 3 season, but until I buy a quilt it's that or a PD800) plus bivvy bag (Rab Alpine, which is on the heavy side but eVent and robust)

32l rucksack containing tarp (Terra Nova Competition 1), sleeping mat (Hyalite Peak Elite), and all the usual stuff. Total weight on my back is likely to be around the 6kg mark; not ideal, but not too bad in the circumstances (and will reduce as food is eaten). I'll probably carry around a litre of water in a Camelbak in addition to bottle cages.

Going to attempt pitching the tarp using only bike, not poles...I haven't practised this before so could be rather amusing. I have a few pictures but if anyone has any magic tips then please PLEASE let me know this afternoon!

Can't wait...

Good luck. :)

I have my first bikepack trip on the 29th. I will also use a bivi with a bike in place of a pole so going to keep an eye out here for any advice you get!

How are you planning to set your tarp up?

All the best for your maiden voyage :D

Lughnasadh wrote:How are you planning to set your tarp up?

Probably best expressed as odds.

5/2 fav lots of cursing and tears (accompanied by sniggers from my mate who has a natty TN Jupiter, which doesn't count as a real bivvy) finally resulting in sleeping bivvy-bag only with the tarp stuffed angrily into the rucksack
4/1 a solid looking pitch only to be rudely awakened in the middle of the night by the bike falling onto my head
7/1 a fortunate wooded spot negating the need for the bike in the first place
25/1 an ingenious and perfect pitch with bike and front wheel giving a solid basis for the tarp to stay put, even in high winds.

In truth: I've no idea.

Good luck,

My first attempt at Bikepacking was the SDw in 2 days. I abandoned the attempt 35 miles in (Cocking) My mates carried on to complete. I since returned a couple of weeks ago and managed a three day attempt.
I had a 12l on the handlebars, 5L under the saddle and 25l (mostly empty) on my back plus fuel tank for snacks.

If you stop in alfriston for food, go in the post office. :D

Eoghan wrote:Going to attempt pitching the tarp using only bike, not poles...I haven't practised this before so could be rather amusing. I have a few pictures but if anyone has any magic tips then please PLEASE let me know this afternoon!

My only tip is to give yourself longer than you think you'll need as I've pitched my tarp dozens of times now and each time I'm surprised by how long it takes (unless I'm doing something I've tried and tested before).

I often go for pitching the tarp from ground to bike (to the heighest point on the front wheel with the bike upside down). I then insert the back wheel of the bike at the rear of the tarp (the end pegged into the ground) to give me some height at that end. Finally I peg-out the sides and tighten everything up.

All depends on what size tarp you're using and how tall you are as I'm 6'2" and a lot of the suggested tarp set-ups (and tarps themselves) people have suggested on this forum don't work for me as I stick out of the end and get rained on :?

Good luck!

If you have a small (and robust, not essential) dry sack and some strapping take the heaviest things out of your backpack and lash them to your seatpost / below the saddle. Also concentrate on getting heavy things onto the bike and off your back.

Personally, there's nothing less fun than lugging heavy weight on your shoulders, bearing down on your torso and therefore lungs over a long ride. I'd rather have a really heavy bike and nothing on my shoulders when riding, never mind for any distance.

Skinny / small dry sacks can also be lashed under the toptube and stuff can even be trapped directly to forks. A backpack is an easy, "big" storage volume and I think folks often default to it for carrying stuff. For me it's often about getting stuff off your back. Really accentuates the hobbo appearance.

HYOH and have a great ride 8-)

Thanks, both.

I have countless drybags but only the one with the loops - my others are all standard Airloks. I might try putting some heavy bits in a 2l and strapping to the saddle, without the side loops I presume it'll rattle around like mad so probably won't got for anything bigger.

Try it and see. Side loops aren't essential. It's a combination of what is in the bag, how many wraps you can get with the straps and how tight. It's the Hobbo look, it miught not be pretty with random bulges and lumps but these all help to stop slipping and sliding.

Also, and this can be a little gamble but, depending on location usually not as much as you might expect, don't carry too much water. It's heavy and bulky. If you can exercise some foresight and planning just carry enough on the ride to stay hydrated and only pick up what you;'ll need overnight towards the end of the ride.

Alternatively you might be using a filter, in which case my comments aren't so relevant.

Not intending to take much water. 1.2l in bottles, we have puritabs and I've marked on the map grid references of potential water stops (from the handy http://www.nationaltrail.co.uk/Southdow ... 122009.pdf). I'll probably have a bit of water on my back as well; I'm not a MTB expert by any means but from experience walking I've learned over the years that carrying too much water is one of the biggest wastes of weight (and completely negates any efforts to shave 50g here and there when you can ditch 500g without spending anything).

This site lists all the waterpoints (plus QECP) http://www.southdownsdouble.net/routeinfo.html

And here a link to the track/route i used to guide me on my garmin 800 it has all the water stops marked as waypoints.

http://www.gpsies.com/map.do?fileId=gbf ... 3330733421

I think there might be a couple of others who frequent this place riding the SDW this weekend ... but I digress.

Have you tried rigging your tarp using the bike the right way up, without removing the wheels ? If you bicycle as an A frame and fasten the head end line to your saddle then down to the ground that'll give you a very stable base. You can raise the foot end with a stick, etc. Depending how high your saddle is and how long you set the head end guy, you should have a very sturdy shelter with plenty of headroom.

Oh and obviously set the foot end into the wind

A mixed weekend which ultimately ended in failure – for several reasons but, sadly, the biggest one being my own lack of fitness.

We were slightly later out of London than expected, meaning that we didn’t hit Winchester station until 10pm. A seriously terrible kebab later, we set out and peeled off into some woods a few miles (less than 5) outside of the town.

My mate had opted for his 1-man tent rather than a bivvy and pitched it in no time, settling in for his evening’s entertainment as I wrestled with the tarp. Progress was VERY slow as I attempted to work out, empirically, the best way to get the damn thing up. The rain started just as we camped and soon was chucking down. Trying to pitch in a nettlebed isn’t much fun but in the end – after an ordeal – I got up a lean-to by pegging in the long side to the ground, and using a wheel on one short side and the rest of the bike saddle-up at the other end. The rain hammered down and I lay awake for a while, partly ecstatic at the sound of raindrops on canvas – is there any sound that makes you feel triumphant at having braved the outdoors? – partly in trepidation for the whole thing collapsing on my face. It was well past midnight before I drifted off to sleep.

In the event, I had one of the best nights’ sleep I’ve had in the outdoors for a while. I normally have problems breathing but this time I had a pretty sound rest. However, I woke at 6:30 with dappled sunlight on my face and a stunning dawn chorus in full swing. Since Radio 4’s “Tweet of the Day” started airing at 5:58 each morning I’ve suddenly been having a micro-craze for birds although aside from a few obvious ones I can barely identify any. This chorus was magnificent and it’s one of those moments where you feel a lot of emotions but high among them is the feeling that very, very few people ever get to share moments like this...even though they’re free. Waking up in the woods with the sun on your face and the birds singing? That’s one to add to anyone’s bucket list as far as I’m concerned.

My riding buddy didn’t emerge for another two hours – I had mixed feelings about whether to wake him or just enjoy some breakfast at my own pace and the birdsong. In the end, despite my early waking, we didn’t make a move until 10am which among other things was part of our downfall.

There was the ominous sound of what we assumed was a farmer’s tractor close by and we expected to have to wield some uncomfortable questions. As it turned out it was the sound of a tank! We were camping close by to some sort of red letter day centre and there were tanks and quad bikes all over the place.

Not having any specialist bikepacking gear, I was resigned to hauling most of the weight on my back. I used a couple of bottle cages for water, an 8 litre dry bag on the bars and a small 2 litre back strapped inelegantly to the saddle rails. My 32 litre rucksack still weighed nearly 7kg though – far from ideal.

As for the SDW itself, there isn’t a great deal to tell. It’s typical southern English countryside – pleasant but unspectacular and there isn’t much by way of highlights. We set ourselves a target of about 70 miles on the Saturday – ambitious, but would leave a comfortable Sunday and even a pub lunch. But we soon found out that it wasn’t as easy as all that.

Progress was slow. I was constantly behind and really puffing on the hills. There’s no sophisticated reason for this – my fitness just isn’t up to scratch. Rests became longer and ever more frequent. Climbs took longer. The GPS grimly infomed us our moving average wasn't much more than 6mph. There were a lot of miles still to be covered.

We lunched at Queen Elizabeth Country Park. We gave rather short shrift to a woman who waited until we'd unpacked everything and got the stove running before venturing to remark that she had booked the area and was waiting for her friends. Lunch wasn't one of our proudest moments - a particularly disgusting tinned meatball mixture. A lot of rice was needed to disguise the taste.

The afternoon was a long slog. I stacked it on a fast descent - I was being forced to the left of the track by a nasty rut nearly a foot deep. Soon my ribbon of track started to disappear into the bushes. Knowing that my options were to crash into the bushes or have a go at the rut, I made an effort at taking on the rut but went flying over the handlebars, hitting my head pretty hard. No permanent damage to either rider or bike fortunately! I was rather more circumspect on subsequent descents but about 20 minutes later I found myself losing control at the bottom of another fast one. With no run-off the natural path went straight into a deep hollow full of water. Seeing soft grass behind and knowing another stack was inevitable I relaxed and let myself go. I charged straight into the hollow which had a steep rise the other side, found myself about 2 feet airborne and somehow managed to make a perfect landing as if nothing had happened - albeit rather shaken.

By this point the remote lockout on my fork had broken, meaning that smoother climbs were even harder work. Duncan meanwhile was struggling with tyre pressures and balance issues with all the weight behind the saddle. Other than that we plodded on. But my body was screaming.

Each climb a struggle. It's a mental thing as much as physical - I give in too easily, firstly by giving in to the temptation to move to the small chain ring, then by looking up and instantly giving in. Duncan stolidly pulling up each hill and waiting at the top. He did his best to make excuses for me, kindly and untruthfully blaming everything from my remote lockout to the weight on my back. But my climbing was getting worse. Gasping, screaming, mutters of "get a frocking grip Eoghan", tears, inadequacy, a sudden burst of concentration, look down, weight forward, smooth legs - don't create too much torque! - screaming again, move up the gears, the small chain ring, moving up into bottom gear, a sudden thought that walking would be no slower, a fading attempt to banish such thoughts, irregular breathing, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, I can't do this, I can't do this, my fitness is terrible, we're falling behind and it's all my fault, why is everything always my bloody fault, more inadequacy, more tears, shameful, is there ever anything I'm good at, failure, why does it always rain on me, self-pity, another look up to face the fact I've made almost no progress, a sudden despondent slump and my foot touches the ground. poor show. poor show, poor show, poor show, balls, BALLS. A vain attempt to get started again - in bottom gear, on a steep gravelly hill? No chance - and it's hike-a-bike to the top, a muttered apology but I can't look him in the eye.

Rinse and repeat. As my exhaustion grows I start to realise that I'm losing concentration on the descents. This is becoming dangerous.

A while later in a fit of desperation I extract an old packet of Kendal mint cake and devour half of it. I'd never tried KMC before and it's actually not half bad. It works wonders for my energy levels and I make efforts to increase my sugar levels with fig rolls and chocolate at every opportunity.

The light starts to fade - we've made pitiful progress and it becomes apparent that we're not going to manage this in two days, not 70 miles on the first day anyhow. The view down to Amberley and the River Arun is delightful but there wasn't time to enjoy it, just push on.

The post-meltdown Kendal mint cake and regular refuellings help me but the effects are temporary and not long after crossing the A24 I collapse one more time, haul the bike up to the top and declare with what breath I have left "I'm spent. I can't manage any more climbs like that tonight." Duncan generously counters "me too" but his words ring hollow. Fortunately the light had gone by this point and after a few false starts we managed to find a wooded spot somewhere before Steyning.

This spot was a little more cramped and the ground was dusty and stony - horrible to pitch into. Combined with the dark and my exhausted lack of co-ordination, I was even slower at pitching the tarp than the previous night. When it was suggested to me that it would make life a lot easier if I just used the trees to pitch the tarp rather than the bike, I nearly snapped; "I. Have. Come. To. Pitch. The. Tarp. Using. The. Bike. And. It. Will. Take. As. Long. As. It. Takes."

In the interests of efficiency and weight-saving I elected not to take a head torch, rather using a helmet mount for my front bike light around camp. This was a mistake - of course I had to wear the bloody helmet all evening! Quite aside from the irritation, the helmet mount kept catching against the low branches of the hawthorn, meaning that my frustration just boiled over further. Plunging the guylines into 2-foot deep nettles and brambles was the icing on the cake, but by this point my body was too tired to care.

This time my sleep was very uncomfortable - no particular reason, I think it was a combination of aching muscles, needing the toilet, a slope and also a leaky inflatable mat. Unfortunately the wheel at one end of the pitch had collapsed but other than that, it was actually a pretty tight pitch. A bit of practice pitching in a park, some line locks and a bit more confidence, and it'll be much happier. I made a minor change the second night by using the bike upturned on its saddle which made a lot more sense, although I think it would have been better to have my head at that end (more secure, plus more space). Also I must admit that using the trees would of course have made life simpler, although I was determined to use the bike for pitching this time around and glad I did.

The following morning we elected to go a while further before finding a suitable place to turn off and head for a train station, most likely Brighton. In the event despite a night's sleep my body gave up on me before too long, on the climb up to Tottington Barn so we turned off immediately and had a fun descent into Southwick, where we took the sea road through Hove and into Brighton. Where our problems began.

We had neglected to note that this was London to Brighton day! The city was full of thousands of tired-but-happy cyclists, and a sign at Brighton station saying no bikes would be carried from that station today. Fair enough, we thought, and rode to London Road (Brighton is surprisingly hilly if you're already knackered!). Same story there. We checked the website, and the full horror of the situation became apparent: no stations within 30 miles of Brighton were accepting bikes. Pleading got us short shrift and we were advised that while we might get lucky at a smaller/more lenient station, the conductors would throw us off in any event. The nearest station was Horley, the other side of Gatwick. With knobbly tyres, no lockout on the suspension, broken bodies and carrying a load of kit, a 30 mile ride was, by this point, out of the question. It's worth noting that had we got all the way to Eastbourne, we'd have had the same problem as it was within the "no bikes" zone!

In the end we made our way down to the finish line where the British HEart Foundation were running buses (with bikes in the lorry) - pleading with the BHF guys got us nowhere but fortunately a bloke overheard me and had a couple of bus tickets going spare and sold them to us. If I ever meet Tony again I owe him a pint, especially as we didn't have enough cash to cover the face value but he accepted anyway!

From then on the journey was painless. Most amusing moment came as we stopped at a traffic lights when a bloke knocked on the door of the coach, demanding to be let on. The driver opened up and it was Chris Eubank! He was just curious to know why there were loads of people in sportswear. He made a little speech and then hopped off again.

Verdict: my first bikepacking trip was brilliant, at least the combination of cycling and bivvying is a real winner, but the weekend itself wasn't much fun. With better fitness, less weight on the back, better tarp pitching skills, an earlier start, and a slightly shorter/easier route it would have been perfect. There's still no feeling in the world better than waking up with your face in the outdoors - it beats a tent hands down.

Kit:
Alpkit Airlok Xtra (8 litres) strapped to handlebars with sleeping bag (my crap 3-season, it was too warm to take the 4-season!) plus other bits (initially bivvy bag, then first aid kit)
Alpkit Airlok drybag (2 litres) clipped to saddle rail and (badly) strapped to seatpost
2 x bottle cages
32 litre rucksack (Osprey Hornet) containing
Clothes: merino long sleeved base layer (handy at night, but otherwise unnecessary), long johns (lightest way of getting evening warmth, but also unnecessary in the end), spare socks & boxers, midlayer (my trusty old Icebreaker 320-weight), waterproof jacket
Tarp (Terra Nova Competition 1) plus pegs, and spare cord
Bivvy bag (Rab Alpine)
Maps x 2 (covering about 80% of the DSW route) plus compass
First aid kit
Multitool & spare tubes
Camera
Food: hot ready meals plus snacks. Pretty happy with the combinations, although I'd up the Kendal mint cake/chocolate content

I'll get this up on my (rarely updated) blog and add photos in due course, although there aren't many. Be keen to get people's opinions of my pitches though!

Baptism of Fire.

Look on the bright side, at least you're not dead or been assaulted by cows

At least you had an adventure!

It's always a bit of a steep learning curve for your first couple of trips as you work everything out. 6mph is probably what most of us average so I would worry about that. First couple of trips I over estimated the distance I could cover so I just end up planning potential shortcuts if required.

As long as its only type 2 fun it's all good :)

Yarp, I remember being well overloaded on my first bikepacking trip too - all part of the process. Glad it hasn't put you off :)

Chew wrote: As long as its only type 2 fun it's all good :)

Chew - you keep on bringing up various types of fun.

So what is type 1, type 2, etc. etc. How many are there, and what are they?

Ta

Zippy wrote:Chew - you keep on bringing up various types of fun.

So what is type 1, type 2, etc. etc. How many are there, and what are they?

Ta

Type 1 fun - Its amazing now and it will always be
Type 2 fun - You're having a terrible time at the moment, but a week later you'll remember it fondly
Type 3 Fun - Lets never talk about that ever again, EVER

As Chew says, 10k an hour's not a bad average over a couple of days when you factor in stopping and faffing. It's the stopping that'll kill the average speed, it's amazing how 5 minutes here and 10 minutes there eat into it.

Your fitness will increase with time. I think I'm right in saying that for most folk it's the increase in riding time / hours in the saddle which is the biggest shock to the system. In my line of work (stop sniggering at the back) I meet loads of riders who would consider anything over 4 hours or 30 miles to be an 'EPIC', so suddenly being asked to ride for double that length of time is a bit of a shock.

Some random points:

1/ You should have used the trees ... take advantage of anything that makes life easier.
2/ Learn to conserve energy ... if it's just as fast to walk and won't knacker you as much, then walk.
3/ Practice with your set up, even in the garden ... the more you know, the less you'll carry.
4/ Buy your mate an alarm clock

Really enjoyed this post. What an eventful weekend, topped off by Chris Eubank. One for the grandkids eh!

Well done mate, glad it turned out OK in the end. You got further than my first attempt.

I did the SDW at the beginning of June. I had planned to do it last year, but the rain at the window I had booked off work was humungus, so my mate persuaded me to go to Afan with him instead. I broke my hand on a not so difficult decent.
Fast forward to april this year, and i was looking forward to having a first go at bikepacking, planned again for June. I'd sorted out the time off (with work and the other half) and was steadily getting sorted with the kit, and had even got started on a homemade seatpack.
Then my appendix started kicking off, and I spent a week in hospital, eventually getting it whipped out. I really didnt want to miss out again on the trip, so during the free time I had from being off work, I finished off the seat pack and eventually tried to get some sort of fitness back by building my self up on a second hand turbo trainer.
By the time June came along, I felt strong enough to contemplate the ride, I had narrowd down my kit, and one morning, I made my way to Waterloo for the train down to Winchester.

My plan was to ride it in three days. ive only ever camped on campsites before, but I thought I was old enough and wise enough to be able to find a suitable place out of the way if I couldnt get to a campsite. That meant I carried a fair bit of water and food.

Anyway, I also failed.
Not in as I didnt complete the route, but because I knackeered myself out so much, I ended up in a B&B both nights, without spending any time sleeping outdoors and using the kit that weighed me down so much, and sapped my strength.

The first day was good, I felt like I was motoring along nicely, taking on ascents well. But my fitness or lack of started to show going up Old Winchester Hill I had to get off and hike it. That was the first of many times.
But I was still going well, and was on track with my initial plan. I got to QEP at around midday, and had some lunch. I got back to my bike and found it had a puncture. I wasnt too pi**ed off, as I'd expected to get a few along the way. So I got out my repair kit, but discovered, after a few seconds of gently squeezing the brand new tube of glue, that there wasnt any glue in it. After buying a couple of new tubes (I only brought one spare one) I headed on again. Thats where it started getting Harder. The ascents nearly always needed me to get off and walk, and by the time I got to cocking I really wanted my Mum.

Like I said before, I've never wild camped, I was knackered, I felt quite rough, and I wasnt sure what was up at the top of the next ascent (like any where decent to pitch up) and that was if I actually made it up. I made a very very easy decision to coast down the hill to Cocking, where I found a nice B&B, and a Pub. My dissapointment in myself was made just a bit less disapointing by the comfy bed and steak, chips and a pint.

The next morning, I still felt rough, so resolved to see how i felt after the first climb. If it wasnt going to happen, I could bail pretty much from the top of coking hill, and limp to a train station to get me back to london.
It went ok, so I carried on, and made it to pycombe that evening as planned, but also stayed in a b&b.the next day when i crested the last hill before eastbourne, I nearly cried, no more hills, no more walking up them, no more feeling like the saddle had worn its way into my pelvis. I was pissed off at myself for carrying stuff I didnt use, because I'd over estimated myself, under estimated the route, and my none too decent planning. I also spent two days looking at the dry bag on my bars and the seat pack wondering how much easier it would have been without this weight, now I went down the B&B route.

However on reflection, I was on my own. I could have easily bailed out after the first day (that voice in my head was very persistant all the way through). I learned a few things about myself, and what I should and shouldnt pack.

I'm going to do it again next year, but between now and then, I'll get an overnighter in to really test out the kit, and my ability to find a decent pitch (i'll take any advice on that). I'm also going to bang out some hours on the trainer during the winter to improve my fitness.

Congratulations on getting out there and on finishing the ride ...It sound like you experienced all 3 available types of fun

I'd suggest that if possible get out there again through the Autumn or Winter. You don't have to ride far but you'll learn an awful amount about kit and how best to use it in those conditions ... hours on the turbo will certainly help your fitness but it'll do nothing for your confidence in spending the nights outside, eg how to best pitch your shelter, how to keep warm, what you should / shouldn't carry, etc. It's often this knowledge that sees you through the darker times. Once you're tired, hungry and cold, it can be hard to ignore the nagging voice that tells you to quit and go home but if you know that you've a comfortable night ahead (without the aid of a B&B) the nagging voice becomes much quieter

For me the real incentive for not quitting is knowing that I'll have to suffer very large amounts of piss taking if I do ... death out in the mountains seems a much better option.

One of my top success criteria is how much I've learnt. You take those lessons with you in the future so they are valuable wins. A completed route with lessons taken away is a successful attempt. Just different success criteria to the one you set out with.

If i had a pound for every trip that didnt go according to plan, or for every time i get off and push i'd be sleeping under a gold plated tarp :D

Partially just relax and enjoy the journey rather than getting to the destination, have having an adventure where things just happen.

The SDW is quite a big trip which is quite a lot for your first nights out, so dont get disheartend if things dont go too well. At least you have a story to tell. Good trips dont have to be massave adventures. I enjoy my small trips as much as my big ones, so just get out and enjoy being away from all the stuff that modern life brings.