Gooseberry Overnighter
Early Season Option For The Bikecamping Keeners
Every spring — usually sometime before the snowbanks have fully given up and melted into the ditch — people start asking me where they can go bike camping, bikepacking, bike touring, or whatever label the internet has slapped onto “riding a bike somewhere and sleeping outside” this week. And every year I give roughly the same answer: probably not the mountains yet, unless you enjoy post-holing through knee-deep snowbanks or dragging your bike after your tires accumulate ten pounds of glue-like clay mud. Around here, proper mountain riding often doesn’t really open up until June or sometimes July in the high country. Snow hangs around forever at elevation, and the trails themselves become a horrible sticky mess during spring thaw. Southern Alberta clay has a special talent for turning a pleasant ride into a full-body strength workout where your bike suddenly weighs as much as a riding lawnmower. It’s the kind of riding experience that builds character, mostly because it destroys happiness.
But if you’re willing to embrace the ancient and noble tradition of simply riding on roads, there’s actually a fantastic early-season overnight destination just west of Calgary: Gooseberry Campground. Gooseberry has walk-in campsites that are absolutely perfect for bike touring. They’re tucked away from the RV circus and separated from the endless hum of generators, giant LED campsite floodlights, and the soundtrack of exhausted toddlers screaming into the void. Instead, the sites feel quiet, relaxed, and surprisingly adventurous considering how accessible they are. You don’t need a gravel bike with 19 mounting points, an ultralight titanium spoon, or a deep emotional relationship with weather radar apps to enjoy this place. You just need a bike, your camping gear, and a willingness to go outside for a night. I’ve even loaded my fixie and camped out there.
Apparently this year marked the third annual-ish gathering of lovely local bike weirdos making the pilgrimage out to Gooseberry as a kind of unofficial season opener. From what I heard, previous years involved a healthy mix of questionable weather and “type two fun,” which is outdoorsy code for “this currently sucks but someday we’ll laugh about it.” This year though? Absolute perfection. Sunny skies, reasonable temperatures, and wind conditions that, by Alberta standards, practically qualified as divine intervention. Most people headed out Friday evening, but because spring bike shop season transforms life for me into a blur of repair stands, coffee, and mild psychological collapse, I had to work my usual Saturday and leave afterward instead.
So at exactly 5:08 PM, I rolled out from the shop with the goal of reaching camp before dark. The route itself is surprisingly straightforward: From the shop, ride a mix of pathways and city streets, aiming for the area around 69 St SW and Highway 8/Glenmore Trail, west out to Highway 22 toward Bragg Creek, then down toward Highway 66 and the campground. And before anyone panics about the idea of riding Highway 8, hear me out. The shoulder out there is actually enormous. Luxuriously wide by cycling standards. Wide enough that you can ride side by side without worrying about your teeth rattling out of your head on the rumble strips and you don’t spend the entire ride mentally preparing your last will and testament every time a huge lifted pickup truck passes. The rumble strips separate traffic nicely from the shoulder, drivers are generally accustomed to seeing cyclists out there, and you’ll usually encounter plenty of road riders and triathlon folks hammering along looking deeply committed to their personal fitness goals. Depending where you live in Calgary, getting onto the route will vary a little, but aiming for the south end of 69th Street where it connects with Highway 8 is probably the cleanest way to pick it up.
The truly shocking part of my rid, however, was the wind. Somehow — against all known laws of Alberta cycling — I had a tailwind almost the entire way out. I’ve lived in Calgary for nearly three decades and I’m fairly certain this kind of atmospheric phenomenon is only referenced in ancient prophecy. Usually if you manage to catch a tailwind leaving the city, the universe immediately compensates with a brutal crosswind, existential despair, or both. But not this time. The ride was smooth, quick, and genuinely pleasant the entire way, and exactly three hours after leaving the shop I rolled into camp at 8:08 PM.
And honestly, the scene waiting there was the exact reason I love bike camping so much. What seemed like a couple dozen people were gathered around the fire cooking food, sharing drinks, swapping stories, and generally existing in that relaxed, slightly dusty post-ride state that seems unique to bike trips. Somebody had a tiny guitar or ukulele out and was playing tunes while people laughed around the fire. No one was in a hurry. Nobody was doomscrolling even though one could because the campsite is in cell range. There was no productivity mindset, no life optimization nonsense, no “content creation strategy.” Just bikes leaned against picnic tables, tents scattered through the trees, and people enjoying being outside together. It felt simple in the best possible way.
Not a single cell phone in sight
One thing I always tell people about bike camping is that the second you arrive at camp, your first priority should be setting up your tent and changing out of your riding clothes immediately. There’s a dramatic psychological shift that occurs the moment you put on what I like to call “camp clothes.” One minute you’re a sweaty, windswept creature surviving entirely on energy bars and determination, and the next minute you’re cozy and relaxed and suddenly convinced that sitting on your camp chair enjoying a drink beside a fire is the height of human achievement. In my case, though, spring shop season had absolutely flattened me. I was running on fumes. So after inhaling the takeout pizza I’d packed out for dinner, I mostly just sat there by the fire in a semi-conscious state listening to everyone else talk and laugh. Which honestly was kind of perfect too. Sometimes the best part of these trips is simply being there while good things happen around you.
Eventually the stars came out properly and I crawled into my tent, where — as always seems to happen after a day of riding — I slept incredibly well. There’s something about riding all day and then sleeping outside that feels deeply correct on a biological level. Your body finally seems to understand the assignment. I slept solidly until about six in the morning when the increasingly urgent need to pee overruled any desire to remain warm inside my sleeping bag. Outside, my friend Brett was already awake after apparently spending the night freezing and re-evaluating every gear choice she’d ever made. We got coffee going, slowly warmed back up in the morning sun, and spent the next couple hours quietly drinking coffee and eating breakfast while the campground gradually came back to life. One by one, people emerged from tents looking crumpled and slightly feral in the traditional bike-camping fashion.
Because it was Mother’s Day, I wanted to get home reasonably early to spend time with my wife, so I packed up and headed out fairly quickly. And somehow — unbelievably — the wind gods decided to spare me once again. The ride home was absurdly fast. Either there was no wind at all or I somehow managed another tailwind miracle. Whatever the explanation, I made it from Gooseberry back to my house in southwest Calgary in just one hour and forty-five minutes, which honestly might be the fastest I’ve ever done that ride in my entire life. I kept waiting for the inevitable Alberta headwind punishment to arrive and restore balance to the universe, but somehow it never came.
So if you’re looking for an early-season overnight ride before the mountains fully open up, I’d absolutely recommend heading out to Gooseberry. The route is approachable, the shoulders are wide, Bragg Creek is close by if you need supplies, and the campground itself is genuinely lovely. More importantly though, it reminds you that bike adventures don’t need to be extreme epics full of suffering and expensive gear to be worthwhile. Sometimes the best trips are just simple overnighters with friends, a campfire, decent snacks, and a few hours spent pedaling toward somewhere quiet.
Which, honestly, feels like something most of us could probably use a little more of right now.