Our social media feeds are full of adventure. Other peoples’ adventures. Often times when we see them our mind immediately goes to our lives and our adventures. And then it hits us … maybe our lives aren’t that spectacular. We don’t have the luxury of a sponsored and fully paid mountain biking trip across the Caucasus Mountains, a weekend rip in Madeira, or racing in Chile. Instead, we’re fortunate in between buying groceries and working on the backyard to peel off for a 1/2 day stint riding local trails on a Sunday afternoon.
So what are we left with? Leftovers? Crumbs? Is that also why we’re not blowing up on social media? We’re not riding in all of the places that are known across the mountain biking world. This article is for you … for me … for us. Oh, it’s about adventure. But our adventure. Your adventure. The kind that leave you grinning ear-to-ear but also ones that are incredibly meaningful. I’m talking about everyday adventures.
Last month was one such adventure. You might’ve seen it already by now. We posted the video with the same title … “Simple Everyday Adventures.” It was truly that. From start to finish we were gone from home a mere 26 hours but it was truly a fun and memorable adventure.
To set the story up, we had been talking for weeks about taking a camping trip. Nothing big, just a quick overnighter in central Oregon. While I love the rain, mist and loaminess of the Pacific Northwest I’m also giddy to know that in a mere hour and a half I can be in the high desert. Therefore, when I want to camp I want to hop over the range of mountains that separate lush from arid. The Cascades. I want to see more sun, more blue skies, and more brown. It’s a welcome reprieve from the overcast gray days and rain.
When we left Portland we were still under stay-at-home orders due to the coronavirus. At the same time little by little rural Oregon was opening up. A couple state parks had begun welcoming visitors. Nothing major, a boat ramp here and obscure rarely used state park there. All or most camp sites and campgrounds were still closed. No worries, we prefer primitive camping on BLM (Bureau of Land Management for those outside the U.S.) managed land anyways.
As we drove south towards Bend we looked over to Smith Rock State Park and wistfully longed for it to be open. It would’ve been fun to walk around, take photos, and soak in the sun and the landscape. On a whim we decided to drive over and take a look. The thought was to at least see how close we could get to take some photos. By the time we reached the main parking we were shocked to see that it was actually open. Adventure awaited. No, not the kind you may think of. No rock climbing, no long hikes or treks, and no bikes. Since we weren’t prepared for much other than car camping we grabbed our cameras and water bottles and set out on foot.
Sure, there were people hiking, running, biking, and rock climbing, but here we were just strolling, laughing, talking and reminiscing living in Arizona that this environment reminded us of. No adrenaline. No heart-thumping descents down a black diamond trail, just rich conversation and making memories. That’s the stuff adventures are made of in the end, right?
As the day wore on we realized the sun was beginning to descend. We had still yet to find a place on BLM land to camp. Sure enough, a short time later we arrived. On a short cliff overlooking the Deschutes River we set up camp. Again, nothing too elaborate. Truth be told, I still use a tent I bought 25 years ago in college. It is a Walmart tent that just won’t give up. The other tent? Believe it or not, I picked it up after stepping into a tiny store in rural Arizona that sold an assortment of lawn mowers, wash machines, and other oddities. I think it was $20. These are perfect for car camping. The kind you don’t pay too much attention to but surprisingly last long and are resilient.
With our camp established next came the most essential … the campfire. A short time later we were roasting hot dogs, eating s’mores, and watching the sun set. As with any camping trip, as soon as the sun sets, regardless of what time that is, all of a sudden our bodies tell us it’s time for bed. We turned in way before we ever would if we were at home. But that’s how camping goes.
One of the realities you always bank on when camping, bikepacking, or backpacking … you’re up early. If coffee isn’t already beloved and central to your morning routine at home it becomes essential when camping. If I had to choose only one for camping … coffee or toilet paper I’d choose coffee every time. In the stillness of the morning the coffee routine begins … weigh coffee, grind coffee, heat water, and then finish the process with an aeropress. Spectacular.
By 7:00 AM we had coffee and breakfast. That also meant that camping was over. Time to pack up and move on to the next thing. You know how that packing-up process goes too … somehow everything doesn’t fit into the bags, packs, and stuff sacks like they did at home. Nonetheless you hastily shove it all in the back of the SUV and soon you’re rumbling down the road for the next stop in this whirlwind adventure. For us it meant a short hike to Steelhead Falls.
Like I shared at the beginning, this was an “everyday adventure.” We didn’t do anything wild or crazy. We didn’t spend money other than gas and greasy Sonic on the way home. That was it. No hype. No hoopla. Just exploring and having fun. Most often life is lived at warp speed. Also, when we ride we’re all about ripping down the trails as fast as we can. I notice than when I ride I rarely slow down. I’m trying to squeeze as much riding in as I can and hitting as many runs as possible. Then of course there’s the adrenaline rush going down new black or double-black diamond trails. If our 26-hour adventure had any classification it would be green.
But I don’t mind. There’s a time and place for everything. Sometimes I just need to slow down and not have a crazy agenda. Everyday adventures are around us. While we ultimately pine for greater and more ambitious adventures, these do the trick in the interim. Give it a shot.
Words and Photo by Sean Benesh
Founder of Loam Coffee