Solo Bikepacking to Letchworth State Park — May 2023
My first solo bikepacking trip — 62 miles out, 40 miles deep in the woods, a fall, a repair, and a test of grit.
In May of 2023, I set out on my very first solo bikepacking adventure: a 62-mile ride from Canandaigua to Letchworth State Park. I wanted this trip to be a full gear test—bike, bags, tools, first-aid kit, and my own confidence—before tackling the long Erie Canal tour that July. I packed everything I thought I’d need for an overnight in the woods, loaded up the bike, and rolled out early in the morning.
The route took me through a patchwork of quiet gravel trails: the Auburn Trail, the Lehigh Valley Trail, and then the long, rugged stretch of the Genesee Valley Greenway. The first miles were easy—wide, well-maintained gravel under the tires, birds everywhere, soft sunlight filtering through the trees. But the further south I rode, the wilder the trail became. The gravel narrowed… then turned to packed dirt… then to mud… and eventually, near Letchworth, into true singletrack.
My lunch stop was the Creekside Inn (where my old friend Donna used to tend bar years ago). For some reason when I do bike tours i CRAVE a hamburger. I never eat burgers except on bike tours.
Somewhere in that muddy final stretch, I hit a slippery patch too fast. The front tire jackknifed and I flew straight over the handlebars, landing hard on my shoulder. The shock knocked the wind out of me. When I stood up, mud was everywhere—on me, the bike, my bags—everything. My shoulder and neck started throbbing almost immediately.
There I was, alone in the woods, exactly the kind of moment that tests whether you packed well… and whether you mentally prepared. Thankfully, I had. I pulled out my first-aid kit, cleaned myself up, and then turned my attention to the bike. A bent handlebar, a shifted brake lever, and mud jammed into every moving part—it wasn’t pretty, but it was fixable. I took my time, did what needed to be done, and eventually climbed back on the bike.
It left a mark
By the time I reached Letchworth, the adrenaline had worn off and the pain in my shoulder and neck had set in. I had originally planned to camp in my tent that night, but the idea of sleeping on the ground with a fresh injury was not going to happen. I booked a hotel room instead, grabbed ice for my shoulder, and let myself stop moving.
Serge drove out to meet me for dinner—just seeing him walk into the hotel felt like a blessing—and he stayed with me overnight. But the next morning, even though I was sore and stiff, I was determined to get back in the saddle. This trip wasn’t about perfection; it was about learning what I could handle.
Serge dropped me back at the trail, and I pointed my bike toward home. The ride back was calmer, slower, steadier. I had a different kind of respect for the trail that day. And for myself.
This trip changed something in me. It was my first real taste of the independence, resilience, and self-trust that long-distance cycling requires. A fall, a repair, an unexpected hotel room, and a ride home on sore shoulders—nothing about it went exactly as planned, but everything about it was an adventure.
