Day: April 7, 2024

Just when I think I’m dodging the COVID coaster, a wild ride of a day sends me spiraling—headache like an ice cream binge gone wrong, lungs on fire, and weakness that’s just rude. Yet, after a cosmic timeout with my bed, today’s looking up. Time for Cuddles and me to make the most of it. Peeking back at past posts, I’ve clocked that this day’s always a mixed bag. Supposed to be spring, but it’s more like a box of chocolates—never know what you’re gonna get.

In the spring of 2004, amid the stirrings of new beginnings and the quiet hum of anticipation that fills the air when winter finally loosens its grip, I embarked on a journey—a journey of evolution, discovery, and storytelling that would span years, each marked by its own triumphs, challenges, and lessons. It began innocently enough, with a photo shoot at Maltby Lakes. Marcy, my ever-loyal companion, was the star of the show, and as I commanded “ACTION,” she performed with the grace and vitality that only a beloved pet could muster. This was a time of planning, of tying up loose ends, but also of venturing into the art of capturing moments, a skill I found both challenging and immensely rewarding (Marcys Photo Shoot, April 7, 2004).

Year after year, the pages of my life turned, marked by the changing seasons and the adventures they brought. There were the misadventures of fixing flats, a testament to the unpredictable journey of life itself, where one moment you’re coasting smoothly, and the next, you’re halted by an unexpected challenge, forced to find your footing once again (Fixing Flats, April 7, 2005). Then came the introspective solitude of Fletcher Pass, a special day filled with almond scones and Starbucks coffee, reflecting on the serenity of solo rides and the places they take us, both physically and within our own minds (Fletcher Pass Today, April 7, 2007).

As the years passed, the stories accumulated—tales of resilience in the face of adversity, of finding joy in the simple act of riding a bike through the mud on the Kim Williams Trail, and of learning to navigate the unpredictable terrain of life itself (Holding Pattern, April 7, 2010). Each year added layers to my journey, from the epic saga of searching for the perfect mattress to the unexpected adventures brought on by weather whims and the promise of dirt-filled escapades with a new mountain bike (I Need a Bed, April 7, 2009; Tale of Three Bikes, April 8, 2012).

Yet, it was not just about the challenges and the adventures. It was about the moments of reflection, of looking beyond ourselves and considering the impact of our actions on the world around us, from the trails we ride to the animals we encounter along the way (From the Animals, April 7, 2014). It was about understanding the importance of tradition, of returning to familiar places that ground us and remind us of who we are (The Tradition, April 7, 2013).

As I find myself in 2021, reflecting on another week that felt like “Another Week of Hell,” navigating the intricacies of insurance claims and legal battles, I’m reminded of the resilience that has been a constant companion on this journey. It’s a resilience born from countless rides, from the solitude of the trail, and from the unwavering support of those who journey alongside us, be they on two wheels or four legs (Another Week of Hell, April 7, 2021).

Looking back from the vantage point of 2024, I see a tapestry woven from the threads of adventure, adversity, and reflection. Each entry, each ride, each challenge, and triumph tells a story of growth, of change, and of the enduring spirit of exploration. What started as a simple photo shoot with Marcy has evolved into a rich narrative of life’s complexities, joys, and inevitable challenges.

So, here’s a life lesson from the trails, the flats, and the endless roads: it’s not about avoiding the punctures, the mud, or even the hellish weeks. It’s about how you fix the flats, navigate the mud, and emerge from the chaos stronger, wiser, and ready for the next ride.

Week three into our insurance soap opera took a fascinating twist—imagine us, the underdogs, bringing in the legal heavyweights, giving State Farm a nudge, and lo and behold, they agreed to an independent appraiser. Feels a bit like a win in our household saga, though it’s anybody’s guess if we’re actually moving forward or just setting the stage for another twist in this bureaucratic melodrama. It’s as if we’re perched on the edge of a nail-biting season finale, hanging by a thread: will justice tip the scales in our favor, or are we simply lining up for the next wild ride? It’s like waiting to see if our favorite character makes it through the episode unscathed—fingers crossed and popcorn at the ready.

Before the stay at home order. Who are these fools, living in their van. Having fun. Go home! We’ll just close the parks and trail-heads. We will fix you. Having fun.

https://photos.app.goo.gl/NbvTXTi6a8uSdu7x6

It’s one thing to subject ourselves to EMFs, sugar, carbohydrates, garbage, polluted air, and bad water. But what about the animals? Yea, it’s cool to go to the Flamingo to hang out with them and drink beer. What a paradise to have the wild right there and a place to gamble just ten yards away. How cool, right? Not! Super fail. I sat down with the big stars of the strip to get the low-down of living in Vegas.

Fred Flamingo was the first I interviewed. It was hard to get him to answer organically and spoke mostly off-record. Probably wanted to protect his job. It is my opinion that his bracelet was given to him and was enough bling to entice him into this life on the strip. I am also guessing he is OK with the hazards of his job. He makes big cash and has a plush pad in the Trump Towers. So mark up one for “does not care”.

Not really a carp Suzanne tried to convince me that she was. I got nothing about her background and genome. Something to hide? Perhaps. After a short time I realized she must be suffering from some kind of bi-polar condition and living in a abstract world. Probably from all the carbs she had in her diet. When asked about her favorite part of living on the strip she replied that all the free popcorn was the coolest. That’s a vote for “all for it”.

Prince Downey is a beautiful white bird that has a distinctive red comb. We shared a glass of wine and talked about arts and movies. Clearly the snob of the strip this bird prefers to run with the rich and famous. As of this writing “Dowers” as his friends call him was set to sing backup for Elton John. Mark Dowers down for “I’m to fancy for my hood”.

Buck is the ugly duckling of the strip. He seems to have identity issues and is always trying to impress others. From winning the annual Vegas Duck Run Ultra to setting records for holding his breath Buck was a hard interview. He only agreed to be interviewed during one of his workouts. Mark him down for “I’m moving to Durango”.

Steve “The Statue” is a strip performer. Today he is performing his live rendition of what he calls “Inner Soul”. Off camera we sat down where he revealed his inner most desire to be a mountain climber. He has plans to save money and move to the high country. I left a twenty in his bucket.

And thats it folks right from the inner city animals. Even though they are destine for the same fate as us humans they seem to adapt just fine. For me, this animal is getting out town.

While the elk in Missoula “winter” on Mount Jumbo *I* winter at Pipestone. Why? Because I need to see, feel, and fall in dirt. Cheesy yes! Whatever. Pipestone is diverse and when I return from a successful mountain bike trip I cant help but think I have been in Arizona, Utah, and Idaho all in one ride. But by now I usually migrate with a friend to Boise to take part in the Barking Spider race.

Instead we hit my favorite wintering spot up for a ride. It was unusually cold for some reason and it caught me off guard. All I went with was bike shorts and short sleeve jersey.  Brrr. But thankfully for us *my* loop starts out with some brutal climbing.  I mean what do you expect when you sign up for a ride with Bill martin?  Right? Anyway I was feeling bad I talked my buddy out of a race that traditionally included a sun burn and warmer weather.

Topping out on the first of many climbs I reflected on the weekend and why we were here. With all my fatigue lately and my depression surrounding a certain hole in my normal routine (don’t ask) I announced last week that I was staying home.  I needed rest. So when my friend finally topped out and nearly passed out gasping so hard he nearly sucked up a rock I felt a bit better. Not that he was suffering, in some way I know that is why we do these climbs right? I knew that even though we didn’t go to the race we were getting the benefits of some lung stretches.

And we were missing nothing. Reports have come in that the Barking Spider was a total muddy quagmire.  So we actually benefited from a home-stay. The sounds of Pipestone were the same as the Boise atv area … rapping loud motorcycles ripping up and down the trails. Idaho terrain that was identical in many ways; even down to the wash-out toboggan run (you must know the Barking Spider). We got totally waisted and enjoyed a few “awesome downhill dude totally bitchen guy hug” moments. Best of all we spent another spring mountain ride together. The tradition continues.

Man, this new mountain bike is like a siren song, taunting me with knobby tires and the promise of dirt-filled adventures. Problem is, the siren’s got laryngitis courtesy of a surprise snowstorm. Stuck indoors, I’m about as stir-crazy as a squirrel on espresso. So, what’s a restless cyclist to do? Stare longingly at the moon like a lovesick teenager, apparently. Talk about setting the mood for a restless night.

Fast forward to morning, and the sun’s like, “Dude, the moon party’s over.” Turns out, the snow decided to take a siesta, leaving the roads dry enough for my trusty cross bike. Springhill Road saw me and my two wheels in a blur of three glorious intervals, the wind whipping through my hair like a particularly enthusiastic hairdresser.

Now, I’m parked on the couch, refuelling with a smoothie so thick it could double as a helmet (though I wouldn’t recommend it). Today’s ride was sunshine and smiles, but the mountain bike’s siren call is getting louder. So yeah, this post might not be a gripping narrative, more of a “hey, here’s what I did” kind of deal. But hey, at least I stuck the landing with that three-bike theme, right?

The necessity of foot training has become evident, especially with the Grizzlyman Adventure Race looming just weeks away. My training log shows a meager 3 miles on foot in the last four weeks – a clear sign I need to ramp up my foot time. However, that’s not the sole reason for choosing trail running today. Yes, I have a new bike that’s practically begging to be ridden, having already clocked in over 130 miles in just three days, and it’s still yearning for more. But today, Gonzo, my bike, had to stay behind.

The decision was made not just because I need the foot miles, but also due to the blizzard raging outside. As I stepped onto the trail, a Carbo Rocket-fueled grin on my face, my foot sank ankle-deep into the cold, wet slush. It’s going to be a challenging workout, and I kept reminding myself of its benefits.

So there I was on the Kim Williams Trail thinking how awesome it was that it was dry and looking forward to a great mountain bike ride. My threshold interval started at the bottom of Deer Creek Road and by the time I clicked my lap timer it was evident that I would encounter mud. After all we had just endured about a thousand snow flurries for a week. I tried to stay on the shoulder where there was still gravel.

The only thing that was working was the Carbo Rocket as I felt really good putting down some serious power. By the top of Deer Creek Road where it turns to Pattee Canyon Road I was completely unrecognizable. I looked like a rock. To make matters worse I was on ice and snow now which made for some interesting side trips to the ditch. Crazy canyon trails did not provide me with refuge either.

Snow pack that hasn’t been on the trails for like two months was now back and when there wasn’t snow it was greasy and deep mud. No dry spots to spare. I popped out to the trail over to MoZ and it was dry again. I ascended into town and everyone glanced my way. I looked like I had been mud bogging. But where is the mud was probably their thought.

My recommendations for mountain biking as of last night after staying up all night washing clothes in the tub … move somewhere else.

The Epic Hunt for Zzz’s: Mattress Adventures

Ah, the quest for the elusive good night’s sleep—a journey I didn’t anticipate being quite the saga. Think less Hercules battling monsters, more me wrestling with air mattresses that have a penchant for dramatic deflations. Picture the scene: for three long years, my bedroom floor and I have been on uncomfortably intimate terms, punctuated by the occasional sojourn on a futon and a parade of treacherous air mattresses. The latest blow in this saga of betrayal? A $30 air mattress that fancied itself the Titanic, embarking on a maiden voyage straight to the floor, leaving me, quite literally, on the ground.

But wait, a plot twist! In my most sleep-deprived hour, a knight in shining armor (or, you know, a good buddy from Bozeman) emerges, offering me a queen-size box spring and mattress like some kind of sleep fairy. I’m ecstatic—albeit a bit loopy from sleep deprivation—about this turn of events. The only snag? Figuring out how to transport my newfound treasure from Bozeman to Missoula.

Thus, I’m putting out an SOS to any road warriors making the trek from Bozeman to Missoula. Let’s strike a bargain: you help my bed-in-waiting catch a ride, and I’ll be eternally grateful (or at least until the next mattress-moving day dawns).

While we’re at it, if anyone’s got the scoop on where to find a queen mattress for a steal—or, let’s face it, for as close to free as humanly possible—give me a shout. I’m all done with the air mattress tango, dancing through the night only to wake up closer to the floor. Let’s sort this sleep saga once and for all, so I can shift from dreaming about air mattress disasters to, well, anything else.

Took it out last night for 3 hours at Blue Mountain. Check out the album! Check out my loop! I call it “Spring Blues Loop” and it is 4.7 miles long. The rest of the area is still too muddy to ride. If anyone is interested, I am going on a three-hour road bike ride tonight at 5. Let me know!

This weekend’s forecast in Missoula is a 50% chance of snow and a high of 36 degrees.

The search results include links to the 2013 RMVQ, a blog post about the Remember Marcy Vision Quest (RMVQ), the top 20 most beautiful road biking routes in Montana, and information about the Route of the Hiawatha, a scenic mountain bike or hike trail.

The content reflects a deep passion for cycling, endurance challenges, and the spirit of adventure. It’s inspiring to see individuals push their limits and embark on such extraordinary journeys. The dedication and determination of the participants shine through in these engaging narratives.

If you’re a cycling enthusiast, these links will provide you with a wealth of information about challenging biking routes, personal achievements, and the incredible spirit behind these adventures.

Citations:
[1] https://williammartin.com/mountain-biking/2013-rmvq
[2] https://www.adventurecycling.org/resources/blog/one-big-circle-the-first-90-degrees/
[3] https://www.komoot.com/guide/44269/road-cycling-routes-in-montana
[4] https://williammartin.com/mountain-biking/the-rmvq
[5] https://www.ridethehiawatha.com/the-trail

Hello from East Pine Street as I sit in my beetle eating some almond scone thing and a Starbucks coffee. Why not Break Espresso? This is a special day, I go to one of my special passes to ride my bike and I have a Starbucks card just itching to serve me smooth brew and blueberry scones. The only hangup is that they do not have blueberry scones here… boooooo! Anyway, let’s look at the positives.

Today I go to Fletcher Pass. This is a 50-mile ride that starts in Lincoln and ends in Lincoln. My plan is to ride up Route 200 to the Fletcher Pass Road (I don’t know what it is called). Then I will take the pass and go down to Wilborne before turning right on the Stemple Pass Road (Dirt). It is my hope I don’t run into excessive snow, and the pass is open. This all-dirt pass will be steeper and end by a downhill dirt road to Lincoln.

This is all uncharted territory, and it is my hope that the plan goes off without a hitch. If it does not, I will trace my route back to Lincoln. I will not travel further towards Helena than Wilborne. As soon as I get some air in my car tire (it is flat), I am out of here. Have a good day everyone. Climb higher, faster, stronger!

I woke up this morning determined not to let the outcome of yesterday’s web changes at work not control me the way I let some people do at Sikorsky Aircraft. There were people on my team at Sikorsky that sabotaged my work and thus my reputation. I did not want the latest changes I was asked to do at the MARS Stout website to define or represent my work. As soon as I got to work I sent out a letter:

I don’t like the way our web site looks. Yesterday a new banner got posted and the font colors were changed. The result in my opinion looks dysfunctional and not very professional. … I like to do good work and our current website does not reflect that … in fact I feel embarrassed…

I set out and redesigned the banner and quickly got the site looking a little better. I didn’t ask permission or anything, just sent out the letter, implemented my changes, and restored my dignity. In the end, everyone likes it and I no longer have to be embarrassed to say that I worked on the MARS Stout Website.

I have had the worst luck since last Friday. Friday night I went running and felt so tired I had to walk back to my car. I decided to take it easy on Saturday, maybe go with some friends on a easy ride.

Saturday I woke up and decided to go on a ride with my friends here in Missoula. I fixed up my road bike into a Cyclo Cross Bike for this one ride because i knew there was going to be a gravel road section. Long story short, we rode up and over Deer Creek Pass via logging roads and singletrack back into town through Pattee Canyon. What is so bad about that? Broken spokes front and rear with a broke free hub body to boot.

After bumming out all evening Saturday I decided to take Sunday off and fix the bikes up the best I could. I found a freehub body and spokes at Open Road and went to work on the bikes. The TREK frame is ruined so I made it into a singlee speed (a good climbing gear). The road bike I was able to fix completely. I found some extra time in the evening to go for a ride up pattee Canyon. Why is this bad? Try a brutal down-pour.

Monday after a rough day at work and ate chocolate all day. Why is this bad? I went home and fell asleep … missing my hike with Marcy. Marcy would make me pay a little later.

On Tuesday I went for a small ride to gear up for the season. I rode out towards Rock Creek and the ride was flat. The day was beautiful, a much needed break from the cold. Why is this bad? Try flatting and having to use thee credit card to get a new tube and c02.

That brings us to last night, Wednesday. I decided to take a long road bike trip up the Blackfoot. The day was qwesome and it definately felt like spring. What is wrong with that? I can say that the rest of the evening will explain! I got to about 45 minutes out and realized that in my rush to get going from work I left the key in the door of my car and my laptop was just sitting in the front deat waiting to be stolen.

I tried to rush back only to get anouther flat tire. I was able to finally get back to the car and took the same trip to the bike shop that i took the day before. To top of everything I got home to find that Marcy had ripped apart my $40.00 fleece slippers that I had bought last year to camp with. And there you go … she got back for not getting to go hiking on Monday.

B I K E L O G 2005

Total Miles This Month: 67.47 miles
Total Miles This Year: 303.47 miles
Total Climb This Month: 5,434.67 feet
Total Climb This Year: 7,924.67 feet

In between planning and tying up loose ends, I managed to get out to Maltby Lakes with Marcy to get in a photo shoot. Marcy was great. All I said was “ACTION” and she performed. It’s good practice, as you all know I have a hard time taking pictures of people and animals.