Let Feral Girl Summer Begin
It’s 2 am on the 50 highway bound for Tahoe, Ca. Me and two other girls with makeshift bikepacking gear are about to make camp for the night on the side of the road before embarking on a 72 mile ride around the perimeter of Lake Tahoe. As of four days before this, none of us had bikepacking gear.
The sky is clear and the night holds a dry, crisp chill. I’m two Redbulls in, wired and ready to finish the drive. We banter excitedly, anxious to start the ride in a few hours.
I met Mabry and Sarah last year. My boyfriend at the time was roommates and good friends with their boyfriends. All of them share a love for maximizing free time outside and participating in extreme sports, guided by a philosophy rooted in “dominating” as they love to say and doing anything and everything hardcore.
Two of us are no longer involved with our boys, but we’ve taken the lessons we learned and started our own version of these maximized weekends outside. We’ve deemed it “Feral Girl Summer,” which means going outside and going extreme every free moment we have.
We decided to kick off Feral Girl Summer with this Tahoe trip.
Around 7am, we call our five hours of sleep good enough and begin preparing eggs, oatmeal and instant coffee. The mosquitos are already picking at us, one even being so bold as to leave a small pinprick of blood on my left temple. Sarah wipes it off for me.
It takes almost an hour to sort our gear and strap items to the bike racks with ratchet straps, bungee cords and prayers. Mabry used to work at a bikeshop and she patiently answers our questions while helping us put everything together. She makes our necessary tweaks with confidence and ease.
After a test ride around the block, we’re nervous, but ready.
We start at South Lake, planning to slowly make our way north. The makeshift panniers hold to my surprise and the added weight doesn’t seem to slow us down.
We power up hills to be rewarded by steep downgrades and gorgeous peaks of the lake. We take breaks when necessary and remind each other to hydrate, snack and reapply sunscreen, sharing our resources.
We hit our destination early and head straight to a restaurant to eat. Sticky with sunscreen and burnt red from alpine exposure, we quietly devour our burgers and fries. We can’t believe how well everything has worked out so far.
There’s enough sunlight left for a swim. Mabry shares her goggles with us and tracks the activity in Strava so we can do “mermaid training.” I stay after the girls have left to float on my back and watch the thunderhead develop nearby, so unbelievably happy that we’ve pulled this off.
The night presents a minor challenge due to a lack of gear to keep the bears from our food. So we get creative with a sleeping bag sack and a frankenstein combination of our ratchet straps.
It takes almost an hour- the tree branches keep snapping and the straps keep getting stuck. But eventually, we’re able to haul the bag safely into a tree and hunker down for a restless night of sleep.
By sunrise the next day we’re back at the beach. Sarah is cooking up a quick breakfast and we’re filling our bottles with water from the foot rinse stand by the lake. Then it’s back to the grind.
The Nevada side proves more difficult, with less of a shoulder to ride along and more reckless drivers. Some cars get so close that I can feel passenger mirrors within inches of my head.
We get yelled at by some inpatient man in a Honda Civic. That won’t stop us.
This section of the ride isn’t as rewarding. We reach the top of the worst climb and tiredly munch on our snacks. The sun relentlessly beats down on us, sucking our spirit slowly but surely.
Sarah rallies us with gummy fish candies. She reminds the group that we have less than 500 feet of climbing left.
Then we hit the big downhill on the 50 highway. The wind picks up, roaring so fast that a few bugs smack us in the face. The lake is finally in sight again, welcoming us with cool air and clear green water.
Our final dash back to South Lake is fueled by a burning desire to jump back in the water. We ditch the bikes at Riva Grill for a quick dip. The end is almost here.
One last six mile push (after getting a little lost) and we’re back at the car, chucking our chamois off and laying out our gear for a final exchange. Our first trip together is coming to a close.
Two days, 72 miles and 4,000 feet of elevation gain.
Not only did we prove we travel well together, but we can also do difficult things together. Morale stayed high and when one of us was fading the others helped to pick up the slack. Sarah was especially good at keeping up our positivity.
We looked out for each other, went at our own pace, and most importantly, had a kick-ass start to feral girl summer.