Our First Bikepacking Trip: A One-Night Shakeout Ride from Our Back Door

For years we have rented kayaks, booked rafting trips, and pointed other people toward their first adventures. This summer it was our turn to be the beginners. Julie and I finally took our first official bikepacking trip — one night in the San Juan high country, starting and ending at our own front door in Durango.

Spoiler: it was not the trip we planned. It was better.

Why Bikepacking? I blame our Podcast

If you listen to the TripOutside podcast, you already know where this is going. We have interviewed Ryan Van Duzer, who has pedaled from Honduras to Colorado and made a career of saying yes to the bike, and Kurstin Graham, who runs bikepacking tours across Nevada to fund conservation. After enough of those conversations, “we should really try that” hardens into a plan.

The final push came from our friend Sam here in Durango, who bikepacks the way most people go out for coffee. When your inspiration list includes two podcast guests and your neighbor, you run out of excuses.

The Orignial Plan That Fell Apart (#LIFE)

The original plan was a two-night loop deeper into the high country with some experienced friends who invited us to join. Then, a few days before launch, our water heater died and the only time a repair person could come was the morning of the trip. Many hours of waiting, he never showed up, changing our trip plans.

Old us might have bailed entirely. Instead we asked the question that saved the trip: what is the version of this we can still do? The answer was one night, out our back door, up the dirt road above Purgatory.

The Rigs: Our Existing Mountain Bikes

Neither of us owns a “bikepacking bike.” We own mountain bikes, like most people. The whole experiment rested on making those work — and thanks to thru-axle rack adapters, they absolutely did. Our local mechanic, Matt, once told me, ”the bike you have is the bike you want to use, you don’t need a special bike”. It was so refreshing to hear.

The night before was stressful. First-time packing always is — every strap feels wrong, every bag seems too full and overweight. We rolled the bikes around the living room, re-cinched everything, and went to bed too late. This is apparently a pre-trip tradition.

The Route: A Hermosa Park Overnighter

We are calling it the Hermosa Park Overnighter: from our door in Durango up to Purgatory Resort, then west on the gravel of Relay Creek Road, camp around 10,400 feet, and retrace it the next day. About 25 miles round trip — the map below shows the high-country section we recorded, from camp back down to Purgatory.

Day 1: Out the Back Door, Into the Clouds

We pedaled away from our community, which is a wonderful way to start an adventure — no trailhead, no parking, just the front door clicking shut. By the time we reached Purgatory Resort, some genuinely dark clouds had parked themselves over the climb ahead. So we did the mature thing: hung out at the resort, ate snacks, and waited them out.

When the sky loosened up, we turned onto the gravel and started climbing into Hermosa Park. This is where the trip became the trip: red dirt, aspen tunnels, moody sky, and that loaded-bike pace that turns a road we would normally drive through into a place we actually see.

Camp at 10,400 Feet

We found a flat spot in the pines near the East Fork of Hermosa Creek, leaned the bikes against a couple of ponderosas, and set up our first-ever bikepacking camp. The Dragonfly went up fast, the Jetboil went on faster, and dinner was a Farm to Summit meal — an awesome Durango-based company making dehydrated meals from local farm produce that actually taste like food. Backyard trip, backyard dinner.

Day 2: Camp Coffee and the Long Roll Home

Morning at 10,400 feet: sun through the pines, an instant latte that had no business tasting that good, and the deep smugness of people who slept in the woods on purpose. We broke camp slowly. That is the other gift of a one-nighter — there is nowhere to rush to.

The ride out was the reward lap: mostly downhill, nearly 2,000 feet of it, with the bald summit of the Hermosa Peaks country in view and the loaded bikes finally feeling like part of us instead of luggage.

We stopped at a creek crossing to top off bottles with the BeFree — thirty seconds of squeezing per liter, and suddenly carrying less water on the climb the day before felt like genius instead of luck.

What We Loved, What We Learned

What’s Next

The two-nighter we originally planned is back on the calendar, and the gear list is getting lighter and smarter. The bigger shift is mental: we now know that an adventure does not have to be epic to count. It has to happen. One night in our own backyard delivered about 90% of the joy of a big expedition for about 5% of the logistics.

Huge thanks to Backcountry Experience in Durango for the tent-and-filter wisdom, to Sam for the nudge, and to Ryan and Kurstin for planting the seed on the podcast.