I was flying. It was night – sure – but I had lights. Good ones. I had already cleared the sketchy part of the descent. The technical section was behind me, the lights of the first houses ahead. The trail was a familiar mix of dirt and ancient asphalt, the kind laid down back when my grandfather rode his tank-like Soviet bicycle and no one worried about silly things like potholes. I knew this route. I own this descent. Over 50 runs down it. Which is why, of course, someone decided that this was the perfect time to dig a trench across it. For a canal. And as it’s customary around where I live, no one gives enough crap to mark a freshly dug canal on a 5th-grade mountain road. Who’s gonna go there anyway, right? Well, I did… in the middle of the night.
I saw it too late. I bunny-hopped, cleared the front… but the rear slammed the far edge at 45 kph. I didn’t crash. I didn’t break my rim. But the tyre? It exploded like a fountain that’s been building pressure for a millennium. I wouldn’t exaggerate if I say that I can still find the sealant on the bark of several trees five years later. Suddenly I was alone, halfway down a mountain, in the dark, silent in places I’m still not ready to share.
Now, you never plan for this stuff before it happens, and I was no different. However, the quiet realisation that civilisation was still way too far to carry my bike in the middle of the night was a good enough reason to think on my feet. Still, I’ll admit, not knowing what to do is not ideal, so today, let’s discuss what you should do if you blow your tubeless tyre far from help.
What did I do (out of desperation)?
The sidewall was gone. Not just a puncture – burst. One gaping wound that the sealant valiantly tried to fill, bubbling away like hot lava. But even the best latex soup can’t fix catastrophic trauma. It was simply too much.
Now, if you’re a responsible rider, this is the part where you’d whip out a bacon strip and save the day. I, on the other hand, was on my first tubeless ride. I had no plugs. Just blind optimism and a small roll of electrical tape I’d forgotten was even in my saddle bag.
So I did what any panicked, underprepared cyclist would do – I wrapped the tape around the tyre carcass like I was mummifying a tiny, rubber-based pharaoh. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t straight. But it held. Somehow. And by somehow, I mean there was a lot of luck involved.
With that done, I re-inflated the tyre to a bold and terrifying 0.4 bar – about 6 PSI, or just barely enough to not ride directly on the rim. The tyre was now less “inflated” and more “vaguely circular.”
But that wasn’t the end of it. The real issue was the second hole; smaller, but still bleeding sealant like a crime scene. Out of options, I took a creative approach: grass, dirt, sticks –whatever the trail was offering. I stuffed it in. Not with skill, but with the determined energy of someone who really didn’t want to walk down a mountain at night. Somehow, it worked. The bubbling stopped. The sealant held. I rode home slowly, cautiously, like I was escorting a wounded animal back to safety. Every corner was a gamble. Every bump, a new prayer. But I made it.
So You Haven’t Bought a Bike in 10 Years – Wider Tyres and Tubeless
What should you do?
Now, I’m telling you this story like an anecdote with jokes and a bit of a grin, but trust me, when I was there on the spot, it wasn’t funny. Being covered in sealant, not really knowing what you’re going to do, is rarely as funny as they portray it on TV. Or in product ads. Or on those YouTube channels where everything magically works on the first try.
So here’s what you should actually do when your tubeless tyre decides to give up on life mid-ride:
Carry a plug kit
Seriously. Bacon strips. Panic noodles. Tubeless plugs. Whatever you call them, carry them. They’re small, light, and about a thousand times more useful than whatever you can find on the trail.
Don’t trust the sealant alone
Sealant is great… until it’s not. It can fix small punctures, maybe even some medium ones, but when you’ve got a hole the size of a coin, it’s not plugging anything. That’s when you need backup. See above.
Always bring a tube (yes, even if you’re tubeless now)
It’s ironic, but the ultimate fail-safe for tubeless is… a tube. Just one. Pack it, forget about it, and feel like a genius the one time you actually need it (if ever).
Boot the tyre if it’s torn
If your tyre is split open like a banana peel, you’ll need a tyre boot – or at least something flat and tough to sit between the tube and the shredded casing. You can use an actual boot patch, an old gel wrapper, a folded banknote or the last page of your dignity.
Bring tape and zip ties
Electrical tape saved me, and it might save you. Zip ties, duct tape, even a small slice of sidewall cut from an old tyre. All of it can become useful when things go sideways and it’s time to go MacGyver mode.
CO₂ or mini pump
Pick your poison. CO₂ is faster, pumps are more reliable, and if you’re fortunate, one of them will actually work when you’re panicking and praying to your deity of choice.
Practice plugging tyres before you’re in a crisis
Yes, it’s awkward to stab a healthy tyre with a plug at home. Do it anyway. Your future self, stranded on a trail and elbow-deep in sealant, will thank you. Of course, this should go without saying, but use an old tyre, not a brand new one.
Live, learn, reinflate
So yes, I rode home that night on 0.4 bar of air pressure, a tyre full of dirt, and the faint hope that gravity would continue to mostly be on my side. And I made it. Which is great. But let’s not pretend it was a victory. The real victory is learning the difference between being prepared and being lucky enough to have electrical tape.
Because tubeless is amazing. Right up until it isn’t. And when it fails, it doesn’t fail quietly. It fails like a firework made of latex and glue. So carry the plugs. Pack the tube. Bring the tape. Prepare as if something will go wrong because, at some point, it might. And when it does? Just remember: one day, this will make a great story. You know… after you stop crying.