Day: April 12, 2024

As the morning sun played peek-a-boo through the dense canopy, I found myself setting off on a jaunt to unearth the forest’s secret splendors. Ambling along the serpentine trail, I couldn’t help but stop and marvel at the etchings on the tree trunks—nature’s own version of ancient graffiti, each line a silent whisper of the olden times.

Traversing a creaky suspension bridge, my eyes danced to the rhythm of the creek below, its waters mirroring the lush tapestry of the landscape like a Van Gogh painting. As I ascended, the forest curtain lifted to reveal a panorama of towering cliffs and stoic pines, standing like the wise old men of the woods.

With each footfall, a fresh sense of awe washed over me, making me feel as though the forest was peeling back its leafy layers, coaxing me to dive deeper into its verdant mysteries. The adventure was far from over, and I was all geared up for more fairy-tale discoveries just around the bend.

Snap out of it, Bill! Looks like you’ve dozed off at your desk again. What were you up to? “Oh, I was deep in ‘work forest,’ trying not to ‘log’ out too late—typical me, right?” Oh, boy, how am I going to explain this at the office?

Thinking back to those golden days when everything seemed right in the world. Now, as I’m practically drowning in a foot of snow, I can’t help but cling to those happier memories.

Deadman’s Basin. It’s a reservoir just outside of Shawmut Montana.

As a child. I don’t know if I was told or what, but I thought that people would die in this lake because the winds would kick up and capsize fishing boats. And that people will get swept away in the overflow drain. But the fact is that the reservoir was named after a hanging.

People back in the day thought that this guy was stealing horses and so for that, they hung him. For being a horse thief. Thus dead man’s basin.

It was fun to revisit my childhood playground. A place that my aunt and friends used to take me to party and swim and. Try to learn to water ski.

As a child, I always thought this was a huge sea. But now as an adult, it’s just a reservoir. Also as a child, I never saw the mountains. I thought this was the plains and nothing exciting. It was just so boring. Just a place to go party and get drunk and swim. Come to find out that if you look to the north there are the Big Snowy Mountains. And to the South, there is the Crazy Mountain Range. Huge mountain ranges that make this place absolutely beautiful.

Revisit the places you remember as a child because when you do it will be a different experience. Too bad we can not do that with people … ha.

I found a Gravel Roads Needing Pavement document online and it sparked my fancy. Now I cant stop thinking about “gravel projects“. My goal is to put together gravel loops here at home for this time of year, spring. Or at the very least a quick reference for after work as I put together that night’s “long way home”.  Which, if I may add, is my favorite thing to do.  What better way to de-stress from work then to go on a adventure … right?

Oh, this week? It’s been a circus, juggling my full-time gig with way too much travel. You know the drill—yada, yada, yada. I bet you’re rolling your eyes at yet another moan-fest. Trust me, I’m right there with you. Seriously, I’m not even sure who I’m venting to anymore. Sleep’s been on my wish list, but instead of waking up refreshed, I feel like a zombie. What’s missing? Oh, just my entire exercise routine. No cycling, no nothing. Yep, I’ve turned into a couch potato by profession. The grind of the working world really knows how to kick you when you’re down. But hey, no time to drown my sorrows in a beer—I had to hit the road to Missoula today.

But first, a pit stop at Pipestone was on the cards. Despite my best attempts to pack, work a full shift, and beat the sunset, all I managed was to roll into Pipestone with just an hour of daylight left. That’s gotta count for something, right?

The 2011 edition kicked off with me not exactly at my sharpest. Pre-race jitters? Check. Eating a whole pound of toffee-covered peanuts at midnight? Also check. Why? Well, because sometimes the brain doesn’t quite catch up with what the stomach can handle.

So there I was at 1 a.m., trying to cobble together what I thought were “correct” directions to the race for my buddy, while practically sleepwalking. We made a pit stop for coffee, and of course, I thought it was a brilliant idea to add a mountain of candy and trail mix to the mix. Come morning, my stomach was staging a full-blown revolt, complete with cramps and sharp pains. Our remedy? A quick dash to town for the greasiest bacon and strongest coffee we could find. Unbeknownst to me, this combo was about to become my secret weapon.

There I was at the start line, fifteen rows back, wondering if the cramps would hit me like a freight train if I pushed too hard. My starting position? Terrible. Stuck on the far side, a direct bee-line forward would have me plowing right into the scaffolding. So, I just shuffled forward, wondering what the day would bring.

The pros sauntered off the start line with elegance, while us mere mortals in the cat 1 group prepped for the chaos. Last minute, I shot a hopeful glance at the official, half-joking about needing a sudden upgrade. Remembering last year’s crash fest, I took a deep breath. Then the gun sounded. I surged forward, tackling the trail in bite-sized chunks—pass five, recover, and repeat.

By the time we hit the long climb to the course’s main feature, only three riders were ahead of me. I managed to pull alongside the race leader just before we dove into the main attraction: a downhill section, like a dirt luge, full of banked corners begging for a full-speed attack and a few well-timed “yee-haas!” My rival wobbled in the sand, and I filed that away as a prime spot to make my move next round.

Suddenly, I was leading the pack. “What age group are you?” came a shout from behind as I pedaled furiously away.

“45… I’m a grandpa,” I shouted back, grinning.

On the next lap, I mulled over just how fast I wanted to chase the pros. There’s always a temptation to steamroll over everyone in your path, isn’t there? But then, cruising behind a couple of pros, I relaxed into the pace, even letting one pull ahead as I drifted into memories of last season.

Greetings from the picturesque Missoula, Montana, where I’m indulging in a scone and nursing my aching muscles from last night’s epic mountain biking adventure. Seriously, that ride threw everything at me—single-track trails, dusty dirt paths, glorious sunshine, and even a dramatic punctured front tire.

Thankfully, good ol’ Stan’s sealant worked its magic after just three hisses. Today’s agenda? Packing up and gearing up for my upcoming trek to Idaho for the notorious Devil’s Slide. It’s about to get real! So, what’s everyone up to today? Any weekend warriors out there tackling their own adventures?

Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day—or so the childhood chant goes, but here I am, staring out the window at what seems like the hundredth downpour this week. I had grand plans for a hike today, dreams of conquering hills and singing with the birds, but alas, the rain has other ideas. Yet, here’s the twist: I’m going anyway. Because if life gives you rain, why not make a splash? Let’s lace up those waterproof boots and turn this day into an adventure. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even find a puddle or two to jump in. After all, what’s a little water to a determined spirit?

It is Friday. I went on a ride yesterday to Roxbury CT. Check out my mountain bike pages. I am behind on everything and it is such a struggle to get caught up. Damn I hate moving. I still have no Internet service.