Day: March 24, 2024

Mr Bear had been on many adventures with Mo and Bill, but he had never seen an ocean before. One day, they decided to take a road trip to the Oregon Coast.

On the way, they made many stops, but when they reached the coast, all Mr Bear could do was stare in wonder. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

Mo and Bill lost track of Mr Bear. He had no idea how to get back to them. He searched high and low, but all he could find was sand and sea.

Just when he had almost given up hope, a kind-hearted octopus came to his rescue. It showed him the way back to Mo and Bill, and it reunited them at last.

The moral of the story is that even when things look bleak and there is no way out, help is always nearby if you just look for it.

It’s like I’ve wandered into a scene straight out of a snow globe, except this one’s missing the usual hustle and bustle. Thanks to COVID-19, Livingston, Montana, has transformed into a #ghosttown, wrapped in a thick blanket of snow. I checked out the Instagram link, and let me tell you, those snow-covered streets are both haunting and stunningly picturesque, as if Mother Nature decided to tuck the town in for a long winter’s nap.

Just read the recent article in the Missoula Indy about our “incident” with the Gallatin National Forest. I think Alex Sakariassen did a nice job too. But then as I finished reading it my eyes were drawn to the comments below. And I know better then to read comments on something so close to home.

As she came to a stop to see what it was I was taking a picture of I mentioned that it was pretty risky crossing a creek with open running water. She was shocked and reportedly was just following the trail. Isn’t it weird that sometimes you think your safely in a certain space and then find out it is not what you expected.

Now back to the comments on the article …

They were OK, except for one suggesting that other forests “beware”. The Gallatin is a odd egg. All other forests you can approach it’s supervisor and ask questions. The Gallatin you can not. This place, Bozeman, or BozAngeles, or Bozone, is not your place. It is not like other places. I can not put my finger on it but there are powerful forces at play in this “last weird place”.

I moved here thinking it would be open and free and then got into some trouble for riding my fat bike. I am not shocked any longer because I am  aware I am riding across unstable land. No, other lands, other towns, other forests … don’t fret. Don’t beware, this is not your place.

It was determined that today for the first time we, as a household unit, would go for a hike.  And we choose the Wallman Trail of the Rattlesnake Recreation Area as the destination. This was the first time I have been on an outing with my usual hiking partner’s roommates   And it was fun. I was able to do my usual 4 X 15 minute zone 3 efforts off the front and later join them for a hike back to the car.  And by that time had expired some 3.5 hours later I was froze to the bone. And what does one do when they are frozen. They go to the Big Dipper Ice Cream Shop and the Bridge Pizza for recovery.

Today I embark on the Trans Missoula Triplica Run Bike Beast where I run over Jumbo, bike trough urban Missoula and run back to camp via the North Hills. Hopefully a 5 hour adventure.

Could be I’m a tad on the grouchy side today. There’s a fair chance of that, seeing as how during my entire ride, I found myself pining for the solo race I’d ambitiously penciled into my weekend plans. On paper, today seemed ripe for a bike adventure. That’s what I told myself as I bid farewell to Lincoln Hills, setting my sights on conquering the Rattlesnake. And for a while, it was all sunshine and rainbows, or so I thought. Even as I pedaled through mud and slush, optimism had me believe I could emerge from this challenge with both my dignity and bike intact. However, as I ventured further into what I’ve now dubbed “the trail of mandatory single-track sorrows,” it dawned on me that I was in for a soaking of epic proportions, with my bike likely to suffer a fate akin to a battle-worn chariot. I managed to dodge the grim reaper on what felt like a slushy slope designed for ice skating rather than biking, but by the time I was homeward bound, the day’s ride had officially plummeted from “adventure” to “misadventure.”

Missoula, in its whimsical way, seems to have a talent for humbling the human spirit. Today’s escapade put more wear on my bike than six months of daily rides in Bozeman could ever dream of. Such is life around these parts, it seems. Today felt akin to bouncing back from an injury – moments of deceptive progress suddenly undercut by petty setbacks, grounding you once more. Yet, deep down, there’s that flicker of hope that enduring these trials will somehow steer you back to a sweeter slice of life. Or at least, to what one imagines that sweet slice to be.

Lately, my job has been like a black hole, sucking up all my bloggy energy and spitting out a shell of a writer. But fear not, dear readers, I shall rise from the ashes of my to-do list like a phoenix, ready to regale you with tales once more. Managed to escape the clutches of work for a bit yesterday for a soul-rejuvenating sunset watch. Fingers crossed, toes crossed, even eyes a bit crossed, I might just make it to the Thursday Night Ride tonight. Until then, it’s back to the grindstone for me.

I don’t know exactly the name of the trail but there are new signs. I think it is MoZ. It zig-zags down the side of South Sentinel in the vicinity of the fire road a beast of a climb straight out of town to Crazy Canyon.

People been thinking I have been scouring the trails looking for the dry single track but in fact I have only been on this little route not even 1 mile in length. I do venture up towards Crazy Canyon once and a while but always find that icy stuff when I hot the trees.

I took this photo with my friend Ed in tow up the climb one evening. We were doing a “quick and dirty” ride. A short “must get out and do something” ride. We were presented with this spectacular view.

Tonight I suspect Ill be up there testing out the equipment before this weekend’s Devils Slide race.

Good, wonderful, sunny, and courageous Monday!  Well, it is not great because although it looks sunny out it is brutally cold.  If the wind were not blowing 140 mph we could maybe, just maybe, warm up.  Yesterday was good though and I got in a good ride to boot. Check out my photo gallery for an album full of awesome pictures, look for “March 23rd, 2008 – Bearmouth Road Ride”.

I went with my buddy to ride from Bearmouth to Drummond and back.  It takes just a tad under two hours at a moderately easy pace.  it was the perfect ride for yesterday.  Heck, the temps even got into the upper 40s. Now that is spring weather!  Keep it fast!

I got to Missoula Bicycle Works at 10:15, thinking I had time for a warm-up before the race at noon in Clinton, about 20 miles away. Realizing too late how far it was, I had to maintain a 20 MPH pace to arrive on time—and I made it.

I raced in the B group, not quite pro but eager for a challenge. The race began smoothly, with a pace line quickly forming. Despite only a few of us taking turns at the front, I pushed hard, even taking multiple shifts leading.

Ultimately, the sprinters took the lead in the last kilometer. Despite my efforts and leading the peloton for most of the race, I got boxed in during the final sprint, finishing in the top 10 but with my legs spent. The 32-mile race was flat, but smoke in the air from local yard burning gave me a headache, and the ride home against Hellgate winds was tough.

Exhausted, I struggled with recovery, my body cramping and refusing food after a smoothie. Tomorrow, I plan to tackle Saint Joseph pass and do some laundry, reflecting on today’s race. Despite the challenges, I’m optimistic about improving my strength for the upcoming mountain bike and cyclocross seasons.

Good night!

For more on my season highlights, check here.

Yo Missoula! Sipping my coffee at Break Espresso this morning, I had a close encounter with the resident “barista bruja” – let’s just say, free samples weren’t on the menu. But that’s not why I’m here today. What’s really brewing my morning rage is something happening right here in our beloved Garden City: the treatment of cyclists.

First up, a sub teacher gets slapped with a $400 fine for not “keeping right” on his bike after a storm. Seriously? Did someone forget bikes are vehicles too? This jury clearly hasn’t felt the wind in their spokes.

Then there’s the police car casually blocking a bike lane, nearly dooring a cyclist who gets the audacity to remind them to watch out! And guess what? He gets a ticket for “obstructing a police officer”! Talk about adding insult to injury.

Remember the Missoula we knew? The one where cyclists roamed free, wheels singing the sweet song of freedom? Now, it feels like we’re public enemy number one, even as the roads get more dangerous for us every day. I moved here for the cycling community, the shared love of two wheels and fresh air, but lately, it’s been smelling more like exhaust fumes and frustration.

Rant over. (For now.) Taxes and the Missoula Bicycle Works training race in Clinton await. But before I hit the road, remember: watch out there, folks. Especially from those who seem to have forgotten the rules of the road, or haven’t learned them at all. Let’s keep Missoula a city for everyone, two wheels or four. Peace out! ✌️

P.S. No shade to Break Espresso, just the “barista bruja.” And hey, have you tried their lavender latte? It’s a game-changer.

It is suddenly mountain bike season. It seems too early for me but this Sunday there is a mountain bike race in Idaho and I am currently receiving offers to go on a ride tonight. Could it be because of the 60-degree weather suddenly upon us? The problem is the big snow pack in the mountains that will keep us all low in elevation and forever cleaning the mud off our bikes.

The web site I am working on today relies upon a state run database and it is offline permitting me to break for a blog.

I tried a ride last night up Kim Williams and around Deer Creek then to Pattee Canyon and down. There was deep mud and ice along the railroad tracks. On Deer Creek Road it was Ice covered with 2 inches of slimy mud. Pattee Canyon Road is finally dry.

Alden reports that he part of Mount Jumbo south of the saddle road opened on March 15. ”From the saddle road north is closed until May 1. However, one can go around by going up the Plum Creek road on the east side of Marshall canyon to where it crosses the Woods Gulch to Sheep Mountain trail. The Woods Gulch trail is open but probably still has snow.“

So yea! Tis the Season. On tap tonight is a ride with Alden and down to the Kettle House for a beer and maybe I can get a load of laundry done. Tomorrow it looks like a trip to the Pass for some tele skiing! Sunday is the race. I still have not herd back from friends that want to go so if interested give me a call.

Oh, sounds like you’ve hit a bit of a snag with the site, huh? But hey, moving’s got its own kinda chaos, doesn’t it? And Gilford, CT – that place you’ve pegged as your spiritual biking nirvana? Must be something special if it’s leaving you lost for words! I can almost picture the trails, winding and beckoning, each turn promising another slice of serenity.

Once you’re all settled and the internet’s back in your life, getting that site up will be a game-changer. Imagine, a digital haven where all your biking adventures, those journal entries pulsing with your passion for the pedal, find a home. Can’t wait to see it, really. And hanging out there, virtually biking alongside ya? Count me in! Here’s to hoping Monday’s the charm for wrapping it up. Keep that biking spirit alive!