About two dozen bikes lean against the back of the Bullet Grill in Point Blank, a village on the shores of Lake Livingston in the Piney Woods. The bikes are laden with luggage mounted to forks, frames, and handlebars. In the morning light, cyclists find shady spots to stretch and double-check their packs. Most riders, myself included, arrived the night before to hear Patrick Farnsworth and his organizing partner Ariel Marlowe offer a brief seminar on the basics of trip planning. Now, we were getting ready to ride many miles across the Sam Houston National Forest.
Farnsworth is the founder of Bikes or Death (as in, ride your bike and avoid death) and produces a podcast of the same name that focuses largely on long-distance bike travel. Based in Bryan-College Station, Farnsworth also stages a handful of multi-day bike events across the state—our route follows a portion of a Bikes or Death ride called the East Texas Showdown—all of which points to his main focus: getting more people out on their bikes.
“I just really love introducing people to bicycling and bikes,” Farnsworth says.
That passion led Farnsworth to launch the Bikes or Death “Bikepacking Basics Group Ride & Clinic,” which gathered for the second time this past April. Geared toward beginning bikepackers, the weekend-long seminar on wheels—with options of 34 and 43 miles—shines a light on gear, route selection, and other preparations for backroads bike camping. For those who don’t know, bikepacking takes place on gravel, dirt roads, and narrow singletrack rather than following pavement, so most riders end up carrying the gear they need. That includes stowing a sleeping bag, tent, a stove, toiletries, and food and water for the length of the trip.
“I imagine some of you are scared or nervous,” Farnsworth says. “I’ve been doing this for five or six years, and I don’t think you ever lose the fear. You just set bigger goals.”
My nerves settle quickly as we steer across the blacktop and onto a dirt road leading into the Sam Houston National Forest. I feel a little sluggish pedaling as I have bolted a rack and saddlebags to the rear of a rigid steel gravel bike, designed to tackle trails beyond the pavement. Farnsworth points out going slow is part of the charm. The group ranges from elementary school to retirement age—there’s a couple on a tandem, a father-son team on their sixth bikepacking trip, and a group of friends who have driven from Dallas-Fort Worth.
At its heart, bikepacking is basically backpacking with a bike, providing cyclists with a way to get off the beaten path. The Sam Houston forest, which is split by Interstate 45 north of Houston, has nearly 170 miles of road and a lot of shady trails for anybody wanting to explore the Piney Woods. Online resources such as at bikepacking.com also show rides through the Hill Country, including a barbecue tour, and options in the wilds of Big Bend. Traveling under one’s own steam with all your necessities bound to your bike, in turn, offers a great adventure.
About half the participants have never been bikepacking before, and when the group fans out, Farnsworth holds up the leaders so nobody gets left behind. During one break, I chat with Mark Hardies, a Florida retiree who traveled to Texas in his RV largely to ride in the East Texas Showdown. “Bikepacking is something a lot of people would consider doing if they knew about it,” says Hardies, who has taken bikepacking trips across northern Florida and other parts of the Southeast. “You don’t have to be an elite athlete to do it. This is different.”
As we roll onward, I glance back and see in the dust cloud our group has the same joy and determination shown by the rag-tag group of rebels in countless sci-fi movies; obviously, without the space-age propulsion devices. Butterflies abound, as do hundreds of wooly-bear caterpillars inching into the tall grasses. A rough green snake lays in the road, alive and well, basking in the sunlight. Later, a bald eagle flies from a snag and soars above the peloton.
About a third of the group, including a pair of young girl mountain bikers and their mothers, takes the cut-off to the campsite. The rest of us continue on to a hidden lake in the national forest. When we finally reach camp, people string up hammocks and pitch tents. After everyone fixes dinner, Farnsworth discusses his favorite bikepacking gear at the campfire, showing off a pack system that stores almost everything he needs on the bike frame—it’s an alternative to the rack-and-pannier system I’m running, an enviably sleek and efficient set-up.
In the morning, we have about 15 miles to ride back to Point Blank. People are laughing, scarfing down breakfast tacos that Farnsworth has delivered. We ride up and I think back on what Ariel Marlowe, who produced a bikepacking film about Black history in Texas, says about getting to know a place, and how bikes offer a pace that leaves room for learning.
As we leave the forest behind and arrive back at our cars, I feel elated. My drive home is just 90 minutes, and I know if I commit a little sweat and muscle—and maybe buy some better bags—there’s a wide world left to explore along the backroads of Texas. No matter if it’s history, birdwatching or just leaving civilization behind, bikepacking’s rewards are many.
