The grips of my handlebars slide beneath my fingertips as rain runs down my sleeves and into my gloves. The black sands of the Icelandic mountains ripple and sift through the current. With certainty, my chain rotates and marches to a monotonous, steady beat, unwavering like the sound of a freight train. The scent of moss and wet earth fills the air with endless possibility. How did I get here, biking through the highlands of Iceland with 70 pounds of bike and gear carrying everything I need to survive? The easy answer: adventure. 

As a competitive woman who naturally likes to make things harder on myself, I chose the two hardest routes in Iceland to link. Not only that, but I decided that choosing a country with some of the most unpredictable weather would be a great plan for our first bikepacking trip. With 24 days in the saddle ahead of us, we knew we were in for a serious feat, but I had underestimated what bikepacking truly meant. Spoiler alert: it was harder than I had imagined.

I anticipated this journey would push me physically, and I thought my fitness would be my biggest limitation. However, as the trip went on, I quickly understood that the real challenge was learning to rely on my team. We became three pillars holding each other up as we braved the environmental pressures and emotional challenges of the journey. Alongside me were my two teammates, Jake and Anna, who were crazy enough to take on Iceland with full force. Each brought a unique light to our backcountry adventure. Anna’s laugh could brighten even the darkest storm, while Jake’s stoicism kept us steady. We braved the remote backcountry of Iceland with unexpected challenges hiding around every corner. 

Though I have worked on many teams, when it came to my sports and my need for achievement, specifically in adrenaline sports, the reliance on my team was something that felt foreign. I have felt the effects of competing with men in the outdoor space more than once in my life, but for the first time it wasn't me against them but rather us against the road. I couldn't have asked for a better support system. With fluid motion, we helped navigate the boulders in our path. Navigating a foreign country on the back of the bike was full of mechanical malfunctions and public transportation nightmares. Together, we laughed and pushed our way through it. Like downhill biking, we had to make certain but quick decisions about our trip, and like a true unit, we trusted our team to flow through the track without going over our handlebars. 

Now that we were moving in unity, there was something else we had to learn to trust: uncertainty. One second we are on the gravel and the next we are cycling the road. When you partake in a trip as long as this, the path is constantly changing and shifting. With raging weather patterns and the unpredictability of our days, hour by hour, we became very comfortable with adapting. Throughout the journey, we also wore Curious Creatures gear, which quickly became an unexpected constant in an otherwise unpredictable environment. Often tucked beneath our rain pants and jackets, we were thrilled to have clothing that was both comfortable and practical enough for the demands of the trip. The pants were especially invaluable. They dried quickly, and during the weeks when we barely saw the sun, they dried faster than any of our other gear. In a landscape where staying dry and comfortable could make all the difference, having gear that we didn’t have to adapt to became priceless. 

Pivoting or straying from your original plan is something that the outdoor sports world can make us forget. It is so easy to get caught up in the Strava-driven, boastful nature of these sports that we forget why we are doing them in the first place. At the end of the day, we aren’t professional athletes. We bike because it’s fun. We bike because, for a few moments in the saddle, we can forget about the real world. 

Being on the back of the bike for that long, I had a lot of time to sit and think. With the endless decision-making, we were forced to be in the present and back to the simplicity of life. One of the things that made this trip so incredible was that it brought us all back to the simplicity of life. No stress over the bottomless emails or family matters; It was just living and experiencing life the way that it should be! 

Golden rays of sunlight ignite my soul as I look out at the vast ocean. My wheels move under me with steadiness. A glacier towers over me to my right as I soak in the sea air to my left. As I push over gravity-defying hills, I think back to how I exist in this world. Life is one big hill: uncomfortable, unpredictable, and occasionally exhausting. But all of those factors are what make it worth experiencing. Whether or not we have to get off the bike to walk, the hills are what make the down so worth it. Learning to love the hills of life, supporting your team, and enjoying the burn is what this is all really about. Maybe the point isn’t about conquering every hill; maybe it's being curious enough to ride toward it anyway.