That Bikepacker Look
So I’m sitting in the dining room of the Formerly Blackball Hilton, a formerly classy hotel in the formerly mining town of Blackball, seated before an empty plate of formerly ginger pudding, when out of the blue a woman asks me if I’m a bikepacker. An oddly specific question, no? But it takes one to know one, I guess. I say yes and she high-fives her partner and says, “I knew it!”
Apparently we have a look, we bikepackers. Definitely not the look of locals from Blackball, anyway. For one thing, apart from me these two are the only ones wearing Patagucci. For another, my first thought when I walked into the Formerly’s bar earlier that afternoon was the distinct impression that all three of the old-timers in there could have died 100 years ago, perhaps when some mining accident sent a cloud of noxious gas through the town, and their ghosts just kept the tab running. All three looked at me without speaking, while the bartender gave me this baleful look that said don’t ask, just walk away.
Our bikes have a look too, even when most of the bags are in our hotel rooms. “We spotted your Bedrock,” the woman tells me. She and her sweetie-pie recognized my handlebar roll from Bedrock Bags because they also ride with Bedrock bags, which for them is shopping local. They live in Durango, the lucky ducks. Just being there levels you up in mountain biking. I’m not even sure you need a bike; I think you just absorb skills and quad strength from the air.
Her name is Nichole and his name is Payson. She’s got an easy Liv Tyler charm and he has a mustache worthy of Nietzsche. They’re young and fit and yes I think I would look just like them if I lived in Durango. They’re at the Formerly on their way to ride the epic Old Ghost Road, a nearby MTB track. This is their idea of an easy little ride to do for fun after work, the work being the documentary they just finished shooting in Tasmania. It turns out both of them are a Very Big Deal in the world of mountain biking. They both have corporate sponsorships, they both ride seriously kick-ass bikes, and they both go on epic quests with writers and camera crews in tow. The most recent of these was Payson‘s ride across Tasmania in 32 hours. Yes, that’s 360 kilometers in 32 hours. All in one push. He is a reigning world champion bike marathoner, and Tassie is the latest of many feathers in his cap.
I pull my chair over to their table and we get to chatting, and somehow this turns into an invitation to be interviewed for their podcast. At this point I have no idea who these people are. I wouldn’t find out they are a Very Big Deal until later. (I will say going into an interview blindly is certainly better than going in starstruck.) They’re just really nice and we have some strange commonalities of recent experience, including Nichole’s nonprofit work in Uganda and Payson’s recent ride in Tasmania—though it goes without saying that my ride doesn’t resemble Payson’s in the slightest. All the venomous snakes were still hibernating when I was down there, and I had already left before a biblical flood hit. The Mersey River was my deepest crossing at about chest-high. It’s twenty feet deeper now. Booster would be ten feet underwater in this photo.
Anyhow, the upshot is they have a pretty cool podcast called The Adventure Stache, and Yours Truly is in what would have been the most recent episode if I were up to date on this blog. Here’s a link. Or you can find it wherever you get your podcasts.
As the Worst Bikepacker in New Zealand, I now have two claims to fame. One: thank you, Nichole and Payson, for making me episode 200 of your show. Two: you’re welcome, Payson, for me loaning you my bike pump. Get it together, man. A pump is literally the first piece of equipment you need after the bicycle. I mean, I’m happy to bail your ass out, but seriously, you need to step up your game if you’re going to make it in this sport.
