In his latest epic adventure, Bobcat alum Rob Landauer is bicycling from Mexico to Canada
There’s more than meets the eye when it comes to Rob Landauer. A mild-mannered high school physics teacher by day, the Texas State University alum spends his free time conquering epic bicycling and hiking adventures that span thousands of miles across the continent.
Landauer has bicycled numerous cross-country routes, including a 14,500-mile solo trip from the Arctic Ocean in Alaska to the Antarctic Ocean in Argentina. He’s hiked mountain ranges throughout the United States, including the storied 2,200-mile Appalachian Trail. And he’s run 36 marathons and ultramarathons across Texas and the West, setting 10 course records along the way.
In late May, Landauer embarked on the Great Plains Gravel Route, his 10th multi-state bicycling adventure. The 3,800-mile trip starts on the Mexican border in Presidio, Texas, and travels north through Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska, South Dakota, and North Dakota to the Canadian border. This type of multi-day excursion, in which the rider packs all their camping gear on their bicycle, is known as “bikepacking.” Landauer aims to complete the ride in about six weeks.
“Every summer, I disappear on another long-distance hiking or biking trip. I’ve already ridden coast to coast and all the major bikepacking routes, except this brand new one—the Great Plains—which is why I’m excited to do it.”
Landauer graduated from TXST in 2012 with a master’s of applied geography in geographic information science. He moved to San Marcos following his undergraduate studies at the University of Texas, where he majored in environmental science and minored in electrical engineering, math, and physics. “I love San Marcos and the Hill Country,” he says. “I like the size. It’s big enough to have everything you need, but small enough that you feel like you know the whole town. I miss it down there.”
After his studies, Landauer worked at Google and taught at Wimberley High School before returning to his childhood home base of North Texas and a position teaching at Emerson High School in McKinney. Despite living in the Metroplex, he rarely drives, opting to commute by bicycle for work, shopping, and recreation. As he pedals the trails and roads of Frisco and McKinney, he’s also plotting his future adventures.
“Every time I set out on a big adventure, I expect my favorite thing to be the land,” Landauer says. “But it always turns out to be the people. If you ever feel like the world is a mean, nasty place, do something like this and watch the outpouring of support.”
Hillviews visited with Landauer before he left on the Great Plains trip to learn more about his hiking and biking adventures.
A college roommate at UT got me to do the Texas 4,000, which is an annual ride done by students, from Austin to Anchorage. At the end of the ride, most people said, “Oh, this was great, a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I’m so glad I did it.” And I’m thinking, “Why has it got to be only once? I want to do something like this again.” I was hooked. A few years later, I went on my first solo bike tour from Austin to Pocatello, Idaho, and back over the summer in 2009. It was a whole new experience because with Texas 4,000, we had a van, and you’d throw your duffel bag in the van. When you go solo, you strap everything to your bike and carry it all yourself.
When I thought about getting a master’s, I knew Texas State’s Geography and Environmental Studies program is top notch. My undergraduate degree in environmental science focused on energy and natural resources, but when I went to get my master’s, I wanted to focus more on GIS, and I wrote my thesis on transportation networks, something I’ve become very passionate about. Texas State and San Marcos have gotten the ball rolling on that line of thinking. Fourteen years later, I still think about it all the time because I ride my bike everywhere, so I’m effectively doing field research on a daily basis. Texas State made me think about transportation in a different way and how those systems work.
The average mileage per day for a bicycle trip varies dramatically. People who do this competitively can average over 200 miles a day, which is insane. Most people like me, who are in pretty good shape, will average anywhere between 50 and 100 miles a day. I usually aim for 70 to 80 miles on average. If the weather’s nice, and the road is flat, and you’ve literally got all day and you don’t get bored easily, then 100 miles in a day isn’t bad. But 50 miles in bad conditions can be worse than 100 miles in good conditions.
This gets a little easier every time, because by now I know what I’m doing, and I already have pretty much all the gear I need. I always create a spreadsheet with the gear I’ll bring, including their weights. My packing list usually gets a little lighter each time, since I usually learn a trick on each trip. An example would be saving weight on clothing by picking clothes that work equally well on and off the bike, or on and off the trail if I’m hiking. I’ll usually also create a spreadsheet with destinations, distances, and dates, so I can get an idea how long the trip will take as a whole and how many days between key destinations. On some trips, particularly hiking trips, it can be several days, or even more than a week, before you get the chance to buy more food. As far as physical training goes, I simply run and bike a lot!
I use different bikes depending on where I’m going. If I’m riding on pavement, I use a touring bike, which is like a beefed-up road bike with wider tires for more stability and comfort. The bike is built to be stronger, so you can put all your stuff on the racks. If I’m going on an off-road tour, like the Great Plains Gravel Route, I use a mountain bike. I custom-built my mountain bike starting with a generic Chinese frame and adding all the parts, and it’s performed well on two tours already.
All my bikes have names. My touring bike is Valeria. The mountain bike’s name is Teeder. I also have a classic three-speed cruiser-style bike. Her name is Ellie because she’s elegant. My road bike’s name is Invictus, which means “Invincible” in Latin and is named after the poem by William Earnest Henley. My e-bike is Eva, named for the character from Wall-E.
I eat a lot of granola, peanut butter, nuts, dried fruit, tortillas, instant potatoes, and oatmeal. I carry only two spices with me: cinnamon and creole, and those two get you pretty far. It helps that I happen to like camp food! If I didn’t, I probably wouldn’t like hiking and biking as much. I typically don’t bother with a stove anymore; they simply take up too much room. When I finally get sick of cold food, I’ll buy a hot meal somewhere, but I often don’t even need to, thanks to the kindness of strangers.
My favorite bikepacking trip is definitely the Western Wildlands route, which goes from Arizona to Idaho, and a close second is the Great Divide route, which goes from Alberta, Canada, to New Mexico. They’re more similar than they are different, and they’re both remote and very scenic. I like the Western Wildlands a little more simply because I thought the scenery was a little better, especially once you get into Idaho. When it comes to hiking, my favorites would be the Sierra Range in California, which is part of the Pacific Crest Trail, and the Sawtooth Range in Idaho.
They have a lot in common. When I make a packing list for either one, more than half of my list is the same, especially clothes and camping gear. In order to decide which to do in any given summer, it’s pretty much what do I feel like doing next? What have I not done yet? I’m starting to run out of things to do, at least stateside. I’ve almost finished hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. I would still like to do the Continental Divide Trail.
Two come to mind. Once I was hiking on a snow-covered slope in the San Gabriel Mountains in California and lost my footing. Within seconds, I was sliding down the mountain at lethal speed. If I’d hit a tree or rock, I would’ve either died instantly or gotten severely injured and frozen overnight. For a few seconds, I sincerely believed this is how it was going to end. Luckily, after probably four to five seconds (it felt like longer), I slid into a pile of soft snow and came to a stop, completely uninjured but a little shaken.
Another time, I was mugged at gunpoint. It was broad daylight on an isolated road in the mountains of southern Colombia while I was on my Pan-American ride in 2014. Two guys came down the hill on their motorcycle and pulled over to ask about my bike, where I’m from, how long I’d been on the road, etc. I was already stopped, taking a picture of the mountains. As the conversation wrapped up, one of them stood up, pulled out a gun, stuck it in my face, and snatched the phone out of my hand. Two seconds later, they were gone. In the end, all they got was my phone. It was under warranty for theft, so I had it replaced a week later. It could’ve been worse.
Nothing but good experiences! I’ve never had a bad run-in with anything. I’ve probably seen about two dozen bears in places like Canada, the western U.S., and on the Appalachian Trail.
Nearly every time, it’s the same thing: The bear sees me, takes one step back, then takes a good long look, likely thinking, “What is that thing with those big circular feet?” Then it walks off.
Probably the rarest sighting was a lynx in Yukon territory. I mentioned it to a few locals, and they said I was lucky. Lynxes don’t like to be seen, and a local can go years without seeing one. I suspect it didn’t initially notice me coming because bikes are quiet. Other cool animals I’ve seen in the wild include moose, penguins, monkeys, otters, and too many llamas to count.
One might think the obvious kind of fatigue is physical, but when people quit in the middle of a long hiking or biking trip, the reasons are usually mental. Rarely does anyone get to the point you literally can’t take another step. I’ve said this many times: It’s not what you have to do that makes it hard, it’s what you have to give up. Anyone can walk or ride a bike. That’s not the hard part. What’s difficult is giving up sleeping in a bed. Giving up most of your favorite foods. TV. Internet. Toilets. Air conditioning. Having somewhere to sit. Soft cotton T-shirts and comfy pairs of jeans.
You definitely want to train yourself into good shape though, or else the experience won’t be any fun. I’ve found the second week is the hardest. It usually takes two to three weeks before your body and mind both adjust to the physical demands and the routine. The first week isn’t the hardest, because you’re still on a high, excited to start the trip. But in the second week, the excitement has worn off, and you haven’t gotten used to it yet. Push through the second week and it gets a lot easier. Proper training and prior experience will make that two-week curve less steep.
I get asked, “Don’t you get lonely?” a lot. The answer is yes, but “solitude” might be a better description. I’m at my loneliest when I’m surrounded by people and yet by myself. All these people, and none of them seem to notice me, approach me, or talk to me. For that reason, I don’t go out much. When I’m on my own, I don’t feel nearly as isolated, strange as that may seem.
Hostile strangers are extremely rare. No matter what part of the world I’ve visited, people are kind, generous, and friendly. The number of strangers who have taken me in for the night and given me a hot meal is probably in the triple digits. Hiking trips are where you’re more likely to make friends with fellow travelers. Some people will find themselves in a “trail family” that hikes together for months at a time. The longest I’ve hiked with anyone is only about a week, but I’ve made long-distance friendships with people I still routinely talk to 10 years later, and I’ve even wound up dating another hiker after we both finished the Appalachian Trail.
Hikers usually go by a trail name. Mine is Coyote. I’m terrible at remembering people’s names in everyday life, but for some reason, I can remember trail names more easily—Rocket, Barefoot, Hell Yeah, Avatar, Business Time, Miami Vice, Copperhead, and dozens more. Adventures like these are memorable, and the people you meet are a big part of that.
Part of my motivation is to challenge myself. And part of it is because I like it; what’s wrong with that? In the short term, instant gratification feels good. In the long term, it’s smart to put in hard work to improve your future. But in the very long term, how will you wish you had lived your life? When my time is nearly up, I want to look back on a life full of adventure, packed with fulfilling experiences and meaningful accomplishments. And ideally, in good company as well.
Starting at the Mexican border, the trail meanders north through Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska, and South Dakota until ending in North Dakota at the Canadian border. The route, which was established this spring, covers 3,800 miles and gains 130,000 feet of elevation. Landauer plans to complete the ride in about six weeks.
