Unlike most times I have written a “part 2” to anything, I resisted the urge to name it “Electric Boogaloo” or something else closely resembling the subtitle to the sequel to the classic movie “Breakin.” Breakin was an inspirational movie for me, watching it at a young age on HBO, I decided I wanted to be a DJ. That dream was never realized, and with that I give you part two of my disjointed rant on the Closely-Related-To-Walking sport of Bikepacking.
So when we left off last, I was getting ready to kick off on a Dirt Bagging expedition which turned into a Tandem Bagging run to test out our collective camping gear at the Whistlin Donkey camp grounds in Woodward, IA. There was no dirt, but there WAS an actual donkey (although, when pressed to produce a whistle it failed miserably), some really drunk people, and a live band who’s singer was hung up on his gout affliction. It was quite an adventure, in its own special sort of way. Consider this past paragraph my ride report on that. Oh, and if it’s going to get down to 45 degrees, make sure you bring enough sleeping bags for everyone, or remember your emergency bivy. Lesson learned. Check the weather, dummy hahaha.
Dirt Bagging is the new Bikepacking. You can spend a lifetime making up names for the same exact thing, but once Bob uttered the term Dirt Bagging, Bikepacking was officially OVER. No more naming, no more pretending that it’s a thing. I mean, we will still talk about it like it’s still alive, but in reality it is over. We are cyclists, not walkers/back packers. Already covered, right.
Honestly, I don’t know where this is going. You probably don’t either. It’s late, this post is over. I’ll try again tomorrow.