This article is part of a series called ‘A love letter to…’ where Cycling Weekly writers (usually) pour praise on their favourite cycling items and share the personal connection they have with them. In this case, however, our tech writer decided to pen a break-up letter to seatpacks.
I am not a prolific bike-packer. Let me make that clear right off the bat. I have never ridden around the world, done Land’s End to John O’Groats, or entered the Great Divide race. In fact, on the handful of occasions that I load up my bike and head for the hills, I rarely leave the confines of southern England.
Over the last 10 years, however, I have set out on a number of trips, dabbling in the packing techniques of those who tackle these epic adventures.
I always pack enough luggage to be comfortable, warm, and dry, and plenty of food and something to make myself a decent morning coffee. My kit list rarely gets much longer than a tent, sleeping bag, a change of shorts, a jersey, some layers, and a small stove. I am certainly not one for the kitchen sink, but I splash out on a pillow.
And still, despite my modest load, packing is a nightmare.
The trouble stems from the fact that I ride a small frame. I find it impossible to fit anything inside the front triangle of my bike. Sure, frame bags exist, but can you actually fit anything in them? Even the smallest ones impede bottle placement or make it too clunky to pedal. As a result, I’ve found myself having to run a large saddle bag or seatpack to home my belongings, and whenever I do, it all goes downhill.
Having to run a seatpack comes with its own annoyances. I am lucky to be at the upper end of most small frame sizes, and don’t have to worry about tyre rub. Still, once you add a lot of weight in a seatpack, it inevitably wags like the tail of a Spaniel when it hears the word 'walkies'. No matter how much you tighten the straps, repack or swear at it, the force is too strong. The best of us are left dancing out the saddle like Alberto Contador, but without any of the elegance.
I couldn’t take it anymore, so I bought an Old Man Mountain Rack. It's been an absolute game-changer. It resembles a pannier rack and mostly functions like one, but it doesn’t need mounts to attach it; instead, it links to the front or rear axle. Not only does it easily carry more overall weight than any seatpack I have used, but it's also incredibly sturdy.
Likewise, I can quickly swap it between bikes. For a while, I attached a basket to it on my town bike – perfect for my son's nappy bag, and now great for ensuring my Lidl bakery delights stay intact. More importantly, I have used it on a few trips now on the rear, loaded with my tent and a couple of small dry bags on either side, and I have forgotten it's even there.
It got me thinking: who thought seatpacks were a good idea in the first place?
It must’ve been someone tall who could fit a decent frame bag on their bike and only needed a small seatpack. Maybe the idea came about because pannier racks had fallen out of fashion, symbolising the uncool commuter or old-school Dawes Galaxy owner. It certainly didn’t help that many bike brands stopped providing mounts, especially on road bikes and even on a lot of gravel bikes.
What I’ve realised is that we never needed the seatpack, after all. The best solution has always been right before us. It's time for the pannier rack to get a proper revival. Maybe not with saggy waxed canvas bags or forged in heavy steel, but lighter, slicker options to keep us pedalling with ease.
I’m still not completely decided on my setup, but I know that if I ever did ride around the world, I wouldn’t take a seatpack. Give me secure, spacious pannier bags any day of the week. I’m done with looking like a laboured, long-tailed Contador.
