What about fatty-packing?

Let’s just say my bike ain’t no featherweight. Feels like 50 pounds, easy, maybe more. Didn’t weigh it, wouldn’t you know – all part of the glorious chaos of learning this bikepacking thing. I gotta say, though, I’m smitten. It’s the freedom, man, the open road (well, mostly trail for now). Speaking of mobility, gotta give it up for the fat tires. Like, when you’re blazing a path through the untamed wilderness, nothing beats them. Now, work today? Brutal. Felt like I got hit by a rogue tumbleweed of exhaustion. Turns out, being “fat bike fried” is a real thing (more on that later, stay tuned!).

Back to last Saturday. On the trails, this beast is a dream – plush, stable, basically a rolling living room. Road performance, though? Yeah, that’s the supposed Achilles’ heel, right? Wrong! Leaving Bozeman, I was cruising like a boss, averaging a cool 13.3mph. Doesn’t sound impressive, but trust me, it felt like 20. Okay, maybe not highway-racer fast, but hey, it held its own. Gravel roads? Not quite 29er hardtail speed, but I dug the vibe. Then came the Battle Ridge Pass climb. Picture this: me, crawling uphill at 2mph under the scorching sun, sweat dripping like a leaky faucet. Brutal, sure, but mostly thanks to the sun being a jerk. Slow and steady, I conquered the beast, meeting Mo at the top, my trusty steed propped against a tree like a loyal metal steed. Part one of the fat bike packing test complete: brutal, hilarious, and just the beginning. Stay tuned for more fat-tastic adventures!