I expected the heat from the incessant sun. But at sunrise, it was the cold that gave me grief, numbing my fingers as I fumbled with my tire’s Presta valve. I wanted to make sure everything was perfect for my ride across Death Valley, but I was challenged before I even started.

The idea was simple: ride west to east along California State Route 190 across Death Valley National Park. I’d start at the entrance sign near Darwin, California, and pedal 68 miles to the entrance sign near the Nevada border. It was a chance to challenge myself outdoors only a few hours’ drive from my home in Los Angeles.

The distance didn’t worry me too much. But the 8,000 feet of climbing, combined with the desert heat? That’s what cast doubt when I told friends my plans earlier that week. I tried to ignore the uncertainty as the morning sun crested the eastern mountains and warmed my face. I tucked my chin into my jacket and started into the valley.

If I was going to do this, it had to be now, not only before rising global temperatures made the place uninhabitable, but in early March, when temperatures usually hovered around 80 rather than peaking deep into the triple digits.

The relatively mild heat didn’t concern me nearly as much as vehicles. On climbs, descents, and flats, the scariest moments came from cars passing uncomfortably close, uncomfortably quickly, heading—where? I couldn’t be exactly sure. Heat doesn’t hit you hard at 80 mph. It creeps up, sucking energy until all that is left in its place is the doubt. Why am I so tired? How many more miles do I have to climb? Why am I doing this?

I hit my darkest moment around mile 58. The road extended cruelly straight into the mountain pass. I had already climbed thousands of feet, but there were ten miles and thousands more feet to go. It was 95 degrees. I stared at the asphalt between my handle bars, sweat dripping onto my headset from the tip of my nose, and tried to think of little more than the up and down motion of my legs.

Then, something caught my eye at the side of the road: the nickel-sized purple flash of a spring wildflower surrounded by a sea of lifeless brown dirt. The two of us, survivors in an inhospitable place. Just another unexpected surprise. I kept pedaling.

About seven and a half hours after my dawn start, I rolled out of California and into Nevada. As I touched the eastern welcome sign, I felt relief, joy, and appreciation for the beauty and challenge of this unforgiving place.

I relied on my bike and extra gear to keep me moving through Death Valley. From grippy bar tape to a carbon fiber wheelset, here’s what I brought with me on this long-distance desert ride.

Dermatone SPF 50 Sunscreen ($19)

My skin is not made for the California desert sun. That’s why I rely so heavily on SPF 50 sunscreen on big outdoor days. My favorite is Dermatone sunscreen in a three-ounce tube. It isn’t greasy and didn’t make my hands, and therefore my handlebars, feel slippery. I reapplied a few times during the ride to avoid burning, even on my especially sensitive cheek bones. Another perk: It doesn’t get runny when mixed with sweat, so I never had to deal with stinging eyes.

Apidura Backcountry Full Frame Pack ($189) + 3L Bladder ($63)

Staying hydrated was one of my biggest concerns on this trip. There was only one place—Stovepipe Wells—about halfway through where I could refill. Bottles tucked into my jersey weren’t going to cut it. The and r did the trick nicely. The triangular bag straps with Velcro to your bike’s frame without getting in the way ofĚý your legs. The bladder fits snugly in the bottom of the frame bag near the bottom bracket. Not only is it easy to fill and load the bag, but the bladder’s low placement lets you carry a lot of water without feeling sluggish or top heavy. My bike felt almost as nimble as when completely bare. A long tube and valve snakes out of the bag and attaches near the handlebar for easy drinking, even one-handed. The bag even had plenty of room for my tools, extra layers, and snacks.

Velocio Radiator Mesh Jersey ($149)

There is nothing worse than a sweaty jersey sticking to your chest and chaffing. The jersey was a lifesaver. The front mesh is made of Polartec Delta fabric, a plastic-based knit that uses hydrophilic and hydrophobic yarns to disperse moisture and increase cooling. It felt great when a breeze hit my chest. Even with all that air flow, it still offers sun protection. The recycled polyester fabric on the shoulders and back has UPF 30 protection to prevent burning while you’re bent over your bars. This has quickly become a staple for hot, sunny rides.

Bontrager Velocis MIPS Road Helmet ($225)

When the afternoon heat came, my head stayed comfortable thanks to Bontrager helmet. Not only does it have the features you want, like a BOA tightening adjustment and aero design, it is also specifically designed for high air flow to keep your head cool. This is one of those helmets you forget you’re wearing because it is so comfortable. It is exceedingly lightweight, so it didn’t bother my neck even after hours of looking up over my handlebars. I also have an exceedingly large head which means I don’t fit in most cycling caps. Thankfully, the pads on the inside are supremely comfortable and do a great job of soaking up sweat without causing any rash or irritation.

Silca Bar Tape ($46)

The last thing you want is to slip off your bars on a descent because of your own sweat. Embarrassing and terrifying. Silica Bar Tape is particularly tacky and grippy, even when wet. Even though it’s thin, the tape feels as cushioned as a much thicker tape. This is a huge relief after hours of road chatter. But it also wraps tightly to prevent bumps and wrinkles. It costs a bit more than other tapes, but for long rides, a tactile grip is absolutely worth it.

Gnarly Nutrition Pre-Workout ($42)

Of course you need water on a big ride, but you also need to replace the salt and calories you lose through rigorous movement. I started my day with , a flavored powder mix with beta alanine, citrulline malate, and caffeine (there’s also a non-caffeine option).. While I love coffee, it never sits well in my stomach on long rides. This pre-workout was the perfect way to get my fix without turning my stomach. It tasted great, though I ended up diluting it with water so it would last longer through my ride. When I needed more mid-ride, I drank water blended with .

Spy Monolith Sunglasses ($190)

When shade is minimal, wide coverage becomes essential. are massive, which may seem ridiculous, but I was grateful for how much of my line of sight was protected from the sun. The glasses vent well so you never have to worry about any fogging, and the lens curves with your face to minimize distortion, even looking outĚý over desert expanses. The thick arm and rubberized nose keep the glasses in place at any speed, no matter how sweaty your face gets.

Knog Blinder V Bolt ($50)

When drivers are distracted by great views, visibility gear reminds them of the cyclist in front of them. Knog rear light puts out an impressive 100 lumens to grab people’s attention in daylight, and you can change the light pattern from solid to a variety of blinks. My favorite graphic flash pattern is the lightning bolt, which makes me even more noticeable. When it needs more juice, the USB charging plug is built in so you don’t need a cord, just a cube. One fewer cord to pack is always appreciated when you’re distracted by your other gear.

Hunt 48 Limitless Aero Disc Wheelset ($1,399)

If you’re looking to make a big change without buying a new bike, wheels are one way to modify your current setup. Before this ride, I switched from aluminum wheels to carbon fiber Hunt wheels with new hubs. I was hoping for more speed with fewer watts, and I got what I paid for

The change was noteworthy. The bike felt far snappier, my speeds increased, and the bike felt lighter beneath me, even when weighed down with all my gear.I couldn’t believe the change these Hunt wheels made on the flats and on my descents. Just be careful with strong breezes because the wider wheel can catch more wind than you expect.

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Ten hours into the first day of riding, after nearly 100 miles, doubt crept in. My knee started locking up, causing sharp pain. Five days earlier, when I came up with the idea to bike the 370-mile in under four days, the plan had seemed like no problem. That confidence now faded with every twinge.

Although I consider myself a cyclist, I’ve never biked more than 50 miles in a day. This route across New York State, from Albany to Buffalo, was my first tour, yet I hadn’t done any sort of training or preparation. On top of that, I didn’t really have any touring-specific gear. What I did have was four free days between two weddings and an unwillingness to sit at home. So I started pedaling.

After about 25 total hours on the bike, three flats, and six Slim Jims, I completed the trail. I was thankful my body held up but also for the gear that helped me ride and loosen up that stiff knee. Here are the things I was glad to have in my kit.

Bike Computer

When you’re trying to cover 100Ěýmiles in a day, nothing slows you down quite like stopping for directions (or the fear that you’re going the wrong way). Before I set out, I downloaded the entire route onto my bike computer so I’d have turn-by-turn directions on my handlebars. The Ěý($380) helped me navigate paths, towns, and intersections confidently and quickly. I’ve tried other bike computers, but I love the Wahoo because it’s intuitive: I can easily flip between checking my route map and diving deep on stats like time on the road, outdoor temperature, and elevation gain.

Heart-Rate Monitor

Having never done a ride like this, I had no idea how to pace myself and was anxious that I’d burn out and miss my daily mileage goals. To be safe, I wore this monitor and made sure I kept my heart rate under 140 beats per minute. This helped me manage and maintain my consistency, and it reminded me to calm down (and slow down) when I got too excited on a fun part of the ride. Many companies sell heart-rate monitors that can connect to your bike computer and show live readings; some, like Wahoo, sell bike computers and heart-rate monitors bundled together. That’s how I wound up using a Ěý($50).

Speaker

Five hours into a ride, a little bit of music goes a long way, but it can be dangerous to wear headphones on a bike. The Ěý($60)Ěýis the answer to that dilemma:Ěýthe speaker has a strap that attaches to your handlebars. It only lasted me four hours of play per charge, but it’s waterproof and impressively loud. In my darkest moments, I blasted the album Sports, by Huey Lewis and the News, and when I needed quiet to think or check directions, I simply paused or turned down the volume by pressing the speaker controls.

Light-Sensitive Sunglasses

When you’re riding ten-plus hours a day, a lot of crud comes up off the ground and toward your face. I always keep my eyes covered, no matter the time of day. Photochromic sunnies, like theĚýĚý($230), are the perfectĚýpair for all light conditions. The Rush’s lenses are dark gray on bright afternoons but go completely clear for night riding. And I love its large frames, which cover much of my face while staying securely beneath my helmet. Integrated vents and an anti-fog lens coating meant that I could always see, regardless of how hard I was breathing or sweating. They were essential for keeping my eyes safe and comfortable without having to carry two pairs of glasses.

Electrical Tape

Over the course of a few hundred miles, even a small amount of dust beneath a bag or strap can rub the paint off your bike frame. Before I started my trip, I wrapped a layer of electrical tape ($6) around any part that might eventually have a strap on it. It’s an easy trick to prevent paint wear, which can lead to rust. I also wrapped about three extra feet of tape around a piece of cardboard, so I could reapply it if it wore off. Plus, this strong, sticky tape can solve numerous other gear problems—from torn fabric to broken buckles or tent poles—when you’re in a pinch.

Lacrosse Ball

I almost didn’t bring my lacrosse ball on my adventure, but forgetting it would have ended my trip. After the first day, I realized that my knee pain was due to tight quads. So at night, in the morning, and about every two hours during the day, I stopped to sit on the ground and press the ball ($30 for six) into my leg to loosen up my quads. It kept me pedaling.

Fanny Pack

A frame bag is crucial for carrying snacks or your phone in your cockpit (i.e., your handlebars), as it offers easy access. If you don’t want to buy an expensive bike bag, just start with a fanny pack. Some companies, like Ěý($80), make models with extra straps that you can loop around your handlebars. But even a simple fanny pack can do the trick: just wrap the waist strap up, over, and around the handlebars, and tighten.

Chamois Chafing Cream

If you’ve never heard ofĚýĚý($10), you’ll quickly learn of it when you go on a tour. Rub this cream inside your chamois or bike shorts to help keep things lubricated, which prevents chafing and hot spots. It is truly an ass saver. I might just have to name my firstborn Butt’r, after all this stuff did for me.

Off-the-Bike Clothing

Comfort is crucial on the bike, but it’s equally important when you are not riding. You’ll want to change into something simple but cozy to help you rest up for the next day. This merino-wool Ěý($65) from Minus33 is soft and naturally odor-resistant, even after a few days of camping. It also looks like a plain black T-shirt, which I appreciate, because no one has to know that I’m traveling or from out of town. I combined it with a pair of Patagonia baggies for a lightweight set of clothes to wear after every ride.

Drink Mix

I sweat a lot on this trip. So making sure I had the right fluids was essential. There are tons of great sports drinks out there. My choice for this trip was Ěý(from $5), which pumped me with electrolytes and vitamins mid-ride. This mix has just enough sugar for easy drinking but isn’t overly sweet—something that always turns my stomach. The orange-pineapple flavor is my personal favorite.

The post The Gear That Got Me Through My First Bike Tour appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

If you’re trying to live in your vehicle or head outĚýfor a weeks-long road trip, you’ve probably heard of popular hacks to make life easier: cheap gym memberships, baby wipes, quaint campsite string lights.

After five months inĚýmy truck during a cross-country road trip, I can confirm that those are all wonderful ways to make yourself more comfortable. But over the course of those 30,000-plus miles, I was constantly experimenting with my setup, tweaking and perfecting it. The smallest changes often made the biggest difference.Ěý

Self-Adhesive Velcro Strips

Velcro is not just for kid’s sneakers anymore. It’s an incredible tool for keeping the things you need most in the exact same place every day. I used these self-adhesive to keep my sunscreen and bug spray stuck at the edge of my tailgate, within arm’s reach for any hike or bike ride. I never had to dig for them, and the Velcro was strong enough for even the roughest roads.

Bungee Cords

are versatile, strong, and easy to use—an unbeatable combo in the cramped quarters of a vehicle. I brought a box of various lengths. They were essential for strapping downĚýmy clothing and food bins inside my truck so they didn’t move. When my bike rack broke, I was able to use a few bungee cords to keep my ride tucked away inside my truck. If I knew I was going over rough road, I’d even throw one over my bed setup so my mattress, sheets, and pillow didn’t spill onto the floor.Ěý

Selfie Setup

Just because you’re driving alone doesn’t mean you don’t want photos of yourself. I got really good at using the phone’s self-timer, but leaning my phone against rocks has its limits. has bendable legs that make the phone sit flat on uneven surfaces and even grip onto ledges and pipes. Once I upgraded, the quality of my photos vastly improved.Ěý

Orca Cooler

Too often, people on road trips buy too much cooler. A massive ice chest takes up a lot of room whether it’s full or not, and if you are living out of your car, space comes at a premium. I went for this modest model from Orca. It had room for breakfast, lunch, and a few beers and only needed a little bit of ice to stay cool. Rather than buying five-pound bags of ice, I always asked for a cup of ice at whatever coffee shop I stopped at for Wi-Fi. Since my cooler was small, just this modest amount of ice was enough to keep everything cool. If you need something bigger, still try to keep it as compact and full as possible to maximize space and cold retention.

Bike Rack and Bicycle

When you live out of your vehicle, you don’t want to move it after finding a good camping spot. That’s why I loved having a bike with me. I wanted a versatile gravel rig that was equally apt on potholed city streets and forest service roads, and the worked perfectly. I could park, set up my campsite, and then pedal into town for groceries without bringing my entire home with me. When I drove through cities, I could park my truck in cheap lots at the outskirts of town and bike in for baseball games and museums. from Yakima withstood the roughest roads and made it easy to quickly and securely pack up my bike without having to take off the wheels.

Discrete Dopp Kit

If you’re too embarrassed to bring your face wash, toothbrush, and washcloth into a grocery store bathroom, you may find yourself skimping on personal hygiene. I often spent my mornings using Walmart or grocery store bathrooms to brush my teeth. Since I didn’t want people to think I was, well, heading in there to brush my teeth after sleeping in my truck, I made sure I used a rather than a toothpaste-stained plastic baggie. It helped me feel more confident walking into a store like it’s the bathroom I shared with my siblings at home—and confidence is comfort.Ěý

Audio Recorder

Everyone wants to keep a travel journal, but hardly anyone ever does. Rather than cursing myself for not sitting down and writing for an hour after a 12-mile hike, I got an and recorded voice notes all day long. You can even turn it on, stick it in your cupholder, and talk to it as you drive. At the end of a trip, sit down and transcribe it into a journal, or just leave it as audio notes.Ěý

Plastic Tubs

Keeping your gear dry is crucial when you’re on the road. Wet boots and tents stink up a small living space very quickly, and there is no way to tell when you’ll find a laundromat or a sunny day to air things out. That doesn’t mean you need to buy expensive drybags. Cheap are your best friend. They are easy to stack, and they nest together when they’re empty. The clear ones also make it easy to see what’s inside. Very important: they also keep mice out.Ěý

Bear Spray

In many places, is an essential safety tool for hiking. But I found that I loved having it on me even when bears were nowhere to be found. When I went to sleep, I always felt more secure knowing I had strong pepper spray within reach should anyone be too curious about who or what was in the back of my truck.Ěý

Black Felt and White Linen

Waking up to the sunrise in the forest is one of the best parts about living out of your truck. Waking up in a Walmart parking lot is not. I cut two sets of Velcro curtains for all my windows: one set made from thin white linen, and the other from heavy black felt. Both fabrics were exceptionally cheap. I put up the white curtains in crowded campgrounds to let in light while saving my privacy. In more public places, the black felt curtains kept anyone from knowing I was even in my truck at all.Ěý

USB-Powered Fan

Sleeping in your car can get hot. Rather than getting some fancy rechargeable fan or cooling system, I bought a that could plug into I used to charge my phone. I never had to take the fan out of my truck. Instead, I just brought a charged battery bank to sleep with me to keep the air moving inside an otherwise stuffy flatbed.

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It was only 14 degrees when I arrived at the base of Vermont’s Lincoln Gap late one afternoon. Grimy, bumper-stickered cars and trucks lined the narrow road, pressed up against the snow. Their ski racks were conspicuously empty, but not because everyone was out skiing. This day was for a different adventure: sledding.Ěý

Lincoln Gap is the steepest paved mile in the United States. Located in the Green Mountains, it connectsĚýthe towns of Lincoln and Warren. Some sections exceed a 20 percent grade, which is why the road is closed from mid-October to mid-May—it’s too dangerous to plow, and the consequences of sliding off the road are too great. So what would be a nightmare for drivers isĚýa wintertimeĚýnirvana for those willing to hike.

From the blocked road, folks trek 600 unplowed and vista-packed vertical feet to the top of the 2,428-foot pass. I respect thatĚývertĚýand didn’t want to be unprepared. In anticipation, I spent days researching sleds andĚýheading to smaller hills with an arsenal of test rides.

These were no toy sleds. They were all ready for the adventure. I had the traditional-lookingĚýbut obscenely fastĚý,Ěýthe juiced-up ,Ěýand the local-favorite , a kneeboard-style rig designed right at the base of Lincoln Gap. For this mission, the choice was soon clear. After every test run, I reached for the Hammerhead. It’s designed to pilot lying face forward, with your chest cradled on a trampoline of mesh fabric stretched across an aluminum frame. Your hands reach ahead to clutchĚýrubberized grips thatĚýturn the sled’s short polycarbonate front skis. A single leaf spring lets thoseĚýskis flex while staying connected to the body of the sled andĚýtwo high-density polyethylene rear skis, which are flat, fixed, and fast.

The forecast was clear, which meant packed-snowĚýconditions on the gap, perfect for the Hammerhead’s ski runners. What’s more, I knew the gapĚýhad big, steep curves with not much past them but air, which meant the sled’sĚýshort convex front skis gave the Hammerhead a huge advantage in what I came to understand as the great sledding differentiator: steering. That said, I still wasn’t sure how the sled would stand up to itsĚýbiggest challenge.Ěý

I’d never seen a Hammerhead other than the one I carried. But after three steps toward the blocked gap road, I watched a middle-aged father hurtlingĚýdown atop a Hammerhead of his own. He maneuveredĚýaround the barricade without slowing down, and when he reached his minivan, he jammed the steering skis sharply. The back end swung around, skidded, and stopped. He hockey-stopped. On a sled. I started walking faster.

We’d had a good snow the week before. It piled high on the skinny branches of maples that lined the road, shadows in negative. The first half-mile was a gradual uphill, a dose of false confidence.Ěý

AĚýclearing expanded out before the truly steep sections started. The road curved up and around aĚýcorner, out of sight, into the trees—a wide, white ribbon like some theatrical ramp a winged Elton John might descend from. Three or four locals stood in a circle at itsĚýbase, surrounding a small dug-out fire pit that had burrowed its way into the snow over the season. “Is that a Hammerhead?” one of them shouted at me.Ěý

My legs were heavyĚýbut moved quickly as I approached the crest of the gap. It’d been about half an hour since I’d left the truck. Just as the road rounded off and headed down in the opposite direction, I tossed the sledĚýin front of me, panting. Wind gusted up from both sides. The snow here was tamped down from snowshoes, alpine-touring boots, nordic skis, and the fat soles of sledders’ shoes. A nearby signpost read “Grades over 20 Percent.ĚýCyclists Beware.” At least bikes have brakes. I Velcroed one end of the carrying loop around my backpack strap as a makeshift leash. I didn’t want to chase the Hammerhead down the mile-long road should anything go wrong.Ěý

I mounted the sled, andĚýas the front skis edged over the road, the Hammerhead attacked the hill. The ride was nimble and responsive, like a go-cart. With a light twist, the sled glides to the side;Ěýturn it sharper, and it carves;Ěýcrank as hard as you can, and the front skis sideways.Ěý

I kept pushing the limits, trying to findĚýwhen the skis would fail to catch an edge, forcing me to bail off the sideĚýas the sled plowed forward. But they never did. I windshield-wipered myself across the hill, legs whipping back and forth off the back. Laughing. Laughing. Laughing.Ěý

As the road steepened, I straightened the skis downhill, lowered my head close to the handles, and started to pick up speed. Forest sped byĚýandĚýthe sound of snow muffled by my ski helmet and the air rushing past. Approaching a tight turn,ĚýI twisted the front skis. They stuttered across the snow before the edges sunk in, tearing through the apex of the turn and picking up even more speed into the straight stretch ahead. The rear skis washed out behind me, then swung back in line, like a wagon following a spooked horse.

I was on the border between control and recklessness, just along for the ride. I shoutedĚýinto the sky, snow shooting up into my face and burrowing in my beard, the cold tightening skin already stretched wide in a smile. Two minutes after I’d begun my descent, I spilled out into the clearing, coasting past the small fire pit. Yes, the Hammerhead really was sweet.

A few hours later, I pulled my heavy boots up the hill for my fourthĚýand lastĚýrun of the day. The wind chilled my sweat-dampened chest. A man stood at the top, staring me down, waiting. He wore Arctic Cat snowmobile pants, with a fur-lined hat framing his wrinkled face. “I’ll race you to the bottom,” he said.

The Sleds

Best Overall
Yukon Hammerhead Pro HD ($220)

The is the almost illogical conclusion of your childhood dreams. It seems as unlikely as a carbon-fiber Lego. But its performance on a mountain will make you a believer. Not only is it obscenely fast, but it offersĚýa level of control that elevates it fromĚýcommon toyĚýto true adventure machine.

Best Value
Slippery Racer ($63)

The looks like any sled you might find at the gas station: classic red plastic, white rope out front, cut-out handles, and a channeled bottom. YetĚýits performance is anything but typical. The plastic bottom feels fast, even when just running your hand down it. On snowĚýit absolutely tears down hills, gaining acceleration quickly. It’s also easy to ride, either sitting upright or lying chest down andĚýhead first—butĚýtake note: the rope is more for holding onto than steering. You’ll have to drag a hand or foot to tilt the Racer where you want it to go.

Best forĚýPowder
Mad River Rocket ($170 and Up)

The looks more like a kneeboard than a traditional sled. Kneel on the pads in the bucket of the sled, pull the strap over your thighs and Velcro it down, and you are attached. This lets you maneuver the sled with your hips and core. In deep powder, the dramatic bottom grooves channel snow and allow you to carve with your whole body—great for anyone who chases untracked backcountry adventure. However, it struggles in packed snow, where you lose much of the steering control. I didn’t useĚýthe Rocket on the gap because much of the hill had firmĚýsnow.Ěý

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