“This is the afterparty.”
- Tommy Rivs
Lessons from the Saddle.
Last week, I decided to try something new for the first time—something that has always sparked a very high interest on my to-do list: bikepacking. The goal? To bikepack from Adelaide to Portland. For those who don’t know what bikepacking looks like, I'll borrow the words from my good friend,
Simply put, bikepacking is the synthesis of all-terrain cycling and self-supported backpacking. It evokes the freedom of multi-day backcountry hiking and travel off the beaten path, but with the range and thrill of riding a nimble bicycle. It’s about venturing further into places less traveled, both near and far, via singletrack trails, gravel, and forgotten dirt roads, carrying the essential gear, and not much more
The only task at hand is to ride from point A to point B and, along the way, try to get enough calories in to keep the engine working at its finest. It's a fun process. I enjoy the days that seem to be just simple and monotonous—like riding 120+ km a day back to back or engaging in multi-day hikes. Maybe it's because it means I’m escaping the real world and all the other tasks I have to think more about, like making money, keeping my room tidy, or even just showing up regularly for those around me. While I was out on the bike, there was no point in worrying about how much money was in my account because while I was out there riding 120 km, my only real worry was googling the next cafe or service station as I battled my way along the Princess Highway with direct 38 km headwinds. Sure, I could sit out there in the elements on my bike, pondering about getting back to work or worrying about a certain areas in my life, but what good would that have done for my brain? Control the controllables.
I dedicated time to ponder on some different subjects —some of it important and some not so much. I thought of new analogies, and as I passed a letterbox, my mind went down this path—thinking to myself how society endeavours to confine us to a box filled with blueprints on how to navigate life. But out on my ride, I saw all sorts of different letterboxes—microwaves as letterboxes, old bird boxes as letterboxes, and even old-school fridges painted bright blue being used as letterboxes. There are no rules in the outback on what you use as a letterbox because when you drive past it at 100 km/h, you aren’t really noticing the letterbox; it's not until you slow down that you see these things. I guess, like life, there are no rules on what you do. You can be a postman delivering the letters in those funky letterboxes, go be in the circus, or become a professional Parkour athlete for all we care. And because everyone around you is normally going at 100 km/h past you, they aren’t looking or even caring about how you spend your days. We, I also, sometimes get into the headspace that everyone around me is watching how I spend my days and how I'm doing navigating life
outside the box of what society is trying to put me in. But in reality, no one actually cares. While your mum cares, and your closest best mates are curious, but like having a house, you need a letterbox, and the postman doesn’t care what kind of letterbox it is—you’ll still receive the love letters. Like us humans—as long as you are a kind soul to those around and spreading smiles as often as you can, no one is looking too deeply into what you choose to do with your days because they are generally too occupied with their own life.
Every house requires a letterbox. Every human has the right to spread kindness.
Geez, you can tell I’ve had some time to think. Just wrote a Substack about letterboxes, haha.
Anyway, happy Monday.
Hope it's filled with laughter, love, and pasta.
Big love, Jono.
Frames from the past week:
