Bike, Fly, Paddle, Oh My!
Last summer, Nick and I schemed up a one-day, human-powered, house-to-house adventure. The long summer days in the PNW made us eager to find out just how much adventure we could have in our local backyard.
The rules were simple:
We can only travel by bike, foot, paraglider, or packraft,
We must carry all our gear and supplies self-supported,
We have 24 hours, and
We must start and end at our homes in Bellingham.
Spoiler alert, we broke the last rule. But only because the rules of true, proper adventuring declare that you must end any adventure at the local brewery.
The idea was not so simple: bike from Bellingham to the North Twin, climb the North Twin, bike to Slide Mountain, hike up Slide Mountain, Paraglide, packraft down the Nooksack until it gets dark, then bike home.
The trusty stallion
I left my house in Fairhaven at 3:58 am. Everyone knows a true adventure starts before 4 am - or at least that’s what my alpinist friends tell me. Within the first 10 minutes of leaving I had strong doubts that I wasn't going to make it more than 2 miles down the road. My lightweight composite gravel bike was definitely not the right tool to carry the 100+ lbs of gear I strapped to it.
When I stood up on the pedals, I could watch the bike wobble and flex. Slightly concerning, considered we had 90+ miles ahead of us.
Nick was waiting for me on the other side of town. With equal amounts of stoke and cautious optimism, we rode out hwy 542 towards our first objective - the North Twin, one of two major peaks in the Twin Sisters Range.
After a quick ditch of our paragliding kits and the packrafts in the bushes, we filled up with water from the Nooksack River, and rallied our gravel bikes up the approach road to the North Twin trailhead. Being a Saturday, the road up was busy with e-bikers. They passed us with ease as we pedaled head-down, twisting up the loose gravel road.
From the trailhead, we hid the bikes in the woods and started up the climbing route. The path quickly turns from exposed hiking into some of the best 3rd to 4th class scrambling terrain in the Cascades. Nick and I are both comfortable with exposure and we moved fast through this terrain. The view of Mount Baker from the top inspire ideas of every bigger days. After a quick snack break at the top, we headed down. Once done with the scrambling, much of the trail is runnable, and we quickly covered ground.
We rode all the way down from the trailhead, past the parking gate, and down Mosquito Lake Rd. I once again tested the durability of my gravel bike, as we blasted down the dusty washboard road, holding onto as much momentum as possible.
We made it to the base of Slide Mountain, a local spot we frequently paraglide from on the west end of the ridge. The day was now getting hot and we took a break to swap out gear and shovel calories into our mouths.
The hike up to launch is not long, but it's steep, humid, and bushwhacky (there’s not really a trail here). When we got to the top, the conditions were “full on”. The wind was strong, thermals were cranking, and birds were climbing high - typical mid-summer conditions. Given our fatigue and state of dehydration, we opted for a quick power nap to let conditions chill out. An hour later we geared up and launched into near-perfect conditions. Strong, smooth thermals took us high with views over the Nooksack valley.
Just past an hour in the air we decided it was time to get down and onto the river. The afternoon thermals were strong and we had to work hard to get down. A few spirals later and we were back on the ground.
Going into this trip, the biggest uncertainty about timing was definitely the packrafting part. It's difficult to accurately guess how long a paddle will take, not to mention the time needed for setup and teardown. Needless to say, we put very little thought into where we’d get on the river, when we’d take out, and how long we’d paddle for. But that’s part of the fun in these unplanned epics. You go with the flow and wing it.
After the shenanigans of loading up the packrafts with all our gear, we strapped the bikes on the bow. I was about 60-percent sure that we wouldn't immediately tip over or capsize with all the weight. Despite this, we set out down the Nooksack River. This stretch of river is only class I-II; however, I insist it receives its own unique classification system from all the braided channels and countless opportunities for taking the wrong branch only to bottom out in shallow water or end up in a twisted labyrinth of deadfall.
At one point we limboed under a large hanging tree truck in swift moving water while simultaneously paddling hard on the river to avoid a nasty alder tree sweeper. In hindsight, the whole situation could have (and should have) been avoided by a small portage over the gravel bar. But where’s the fun in that?!
We were running out of daylight and made the decision to get off the river at the hwy 9 bridge just above the confluence with the South Fork of the Nooksack River. If we continued below here, we’d be paddling in the dark. Considering our recent sub-par decision on the river (the limbo log), I’m thankful we still had enough calories in our system to result in some level of critical thinking.
On the sand bar we re-loaded our bikes, albeit way less meticulously this time, and started on the long ride home. Nick insisted we took turns leading while the other drafted to conserve energy and we pedaled hard down the highway. One small pebble or quick slip in focus and we’d probably both crash in the ditch.
Night fell quickly and I realized that I misplaced my bike light while packing up on the river. I flipped my headlight around and wore it backwards on the setting that flashed red, giving passing semi-trucks a visual of our whereabouts. I thought about what the passing cars think as they see our life jackets flapping in the wind, paddles strapped to handlebars, and large dry bags tipping off the backs of our bikes. Do they think we’re badass? Maybe, but most likely they just think we’re crazy.
We coasted into downtown Bellingham just after 9 pm and declared our finishing line at the brewery. Another epic day in the books. My only regret: we never actually drank a beer to celebrate. Both Nick and I are flat out wiped. Feeling slightly nauseous from the significant calorie deficit we declared a rain check on the beer and headed to our homes.
Looking back on this day, these are the types of adventures that stand out the most. Something memorable comes out of an adventure that is born without a formal plan and requires a “let’s-just-go-for-it” willingness and mentality.
Some stats from our trip:
Total distance covered: 92 miles
Total elevation ascent: 10,653 ft
Total time: 17 hours 50 minutes
Bike parts broken: none, surprisingly
Average moving speed: 7.7 miles per hour
Pounds of artificially flavored sugary gummy snacks in the form of a snake, worm, or bear consumed: >+1 lb.
