Day: August 29, 2022

To protect the innocent I will change the names in this post. I am part of an underground investigation. We investigate the worlds contradictions and act accordingly. Like when we see “Natural Bridges” on the map and realize almost every state has a “Natural Bridge Park”, we investigate. This usually means visiting for research purposes. I am agent … let’s just say … snuggles. But I am not. Let me explain.

My partner could also be referred to as agent snuggles. But we need a way to protect our identities and to verify our “informants” and “partners” are valid trustful people. To do this we need a special order in addressing us.

And all you as a reader needs to know is “Snuggles” before “Cuddles”. You get the order mixed up and we are on to you. Good day!

 

My plan is to create a impossibly hard loop that someone could never possibly conquer in 24 hours or even ever in a single ride.  Maybe this loop could be a extreme bikepacking endeavor.  In any case my expedition to GPS and discover another section of the Foothills Trail continues with a ride from Truman Gulch to Middle Cottonwood.

So I parked at the Middle Cottonwood Trailhead and rode the dirt roads over to the Truman Gulch Trailhead. It was like 100 degrees out and the washboard loose gravel made the beginning part of this ride pretty challenging.  But little did I know i was out for some even more challenging sections.

It wasn’t long before I was climbing and then more climbing … and … climbing.  As I broke out to a open meadow I jumped on the Foothills Trail running South.  And, you guessed it, started climbing some more. Finally I gained the saddle that so many times I have turned around upon. And then I rode off the other side.

 

I was happy to be finally on new trail and decended to a meadow. Then I noticed that my climbing power was gone as I headed up to the next saddle.  I felt a little wore out from the previous sustained grunt. So I walked the uphill to what I thought was Bostwick Pass. And I paid the price too because the climb was straight up now and it seemed as thought the only trail users were motorcycles. At one point I had to carry the bike on my shoulders and scrabble for footing.  It was super steep.  And up I went to the next saddle.

 

As I gained the ridge it was all I could do to keep from collapsing. but I couldn’t because to the right of me was a huge drop off and again the trail was so steep I was struggling for traction. But I did finally gain it with the thought that thankfully this was the last pitch.  And I was glad because it would get dark in an hour. But as I crested the saddle I was horrified to see that Bostwick Pass was the next saddle over.  At least I hope it was Bostwick Pass.

 

As the sun started to set I gained the next ridge and indeed it was Bostwick. From there it was all downhill to the car.  A long downhill. In the day time this trail would be fun but very technical. At night it was freakishly frustrating. At one point I glanced off a rock and went down. It became obvious that I needed to go slow and walk all the ricky steins. I reached the car in complete darkness.

The rain lashes against the windshield, a cold symphony mimicking the tremor in my hands. Trapper Peak looms ahead, shrouded in mist and promising an icy welcome. It’s August 29th, and instead of sun-drenched summits, I’m facing a gauntlet of hypothermia. But hey, what’s a little discomfort when a mountain whispers your name?

Yesterday, I was basking in the warm glow of camaraderie at the Leverich Canyon Crankup. John Curry, as always, left the competition in the dust, a blur of wheels and grinning grit. But the real win was catching up with friends, their laughter a balm to the recovery fatigue lingering from those endless 100-milers and 24-hour races.

Evening saw me huddled around a table with Sten and Kristy, the clink of cutlery and murmur of jokes chasing away the shadows. It was a simple moment, bathed in the golden glow of friendship, a reminder of the quiet joys that fuel every uphill battle.

But the road always beckons, and tonight, it leads to Trapper Peak. Rain whispers of retreat, paints doubt on the windshield, but the mountain’s call echoes louder. This isn’t just a hike; it’s a dance with the elements, a test of spirit against the bite of the wind.

Maybe I’m crazy, maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment. But when the world shrinks to the rhythm of your own breath, to the crunch of boots on wet earth, that’s when the magic happens. That’s when the chill becomes a baptism, the rain a cleansing storm, and the summit, a hard-won crown forged in the crucible of discomfort.

So, Trapper Peak, here I come. Hypothermia be damned, my spirit’s a furnace that won’t be doused by a little rain. This mountain may test me, but I’ll dance with it, embrace the icy wind, and claim that summit as my own. Stay tuned, folks, for this is a story written in raindrops and etched in frozen footprints. The adventure awaits.

Resources

Trapper Peak: This is the highest peak in the Bitterroot Range, standing at 10,157 feet¹²³. The climb is a steep, strenuous hike³. Beyond the wilderness boundary, the trail becomes indistinguishable but is marked by cairns³. It’s necessary to pack water as there is none along the trail³.

Leverich Canyon Crankup Mountain Bike Race: This race takes place on the Leverich Canyon Loop, a popular mountain biking trail⁴⁵⁶⁷. The trail is known for its steep but smooth singletrack trail up the mountainside⁴.

Recovering from 100 milers and 24-hour races: Recovery from such intense races is crucial. It’s important to rest, hydrate, and replenish your body with proper nutrition^89101112.

Preventing Hypothermia: As you’re heading out in cold and rainy conditions, it’s important to take measures to prevent hypothermia. Wear synthetic materials or wool, which can keep you warm even when wet^1314151617. Stay hydrated and snack often^1314151617.

If Roland of Gilliad were here he would say, “Come come comalla! Come on down to the halla!  And do 8 hours of labah!”

It’s at the clearing at the end of the path, say true. Tomorraw at 10 of the clock in the Bethany of Butte.  Say true! Say true!

The mule in black fled across the great divide, and the gear slingers followed.

Cummon tet, it is Khef that we meet. Help me beat an-tet. It is ka, and ka is a wheel.

“For, what with my whole world-wide wandering,
What with my search drawn out through years, my hope
Dwindled into a ghost not fit to cope
With that obstreperous joy success would bring,
I hardly tried now to rebuke the spring
My heart made, finding failure in its scope.”

~Robert Browning’s Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came

The race will be held at Homestake Lodge Cross Country Ski Area. The course is a 7 mile loop of double track and single track.  It will be fast! Register at 8 AM and the race begins at 10 AM. It is only $40 bucks and you can race in teams or solo … say true! Still not to late to register [sportsbase online].

Roster as of this morning:

1. Chad Dexter of BSC Racing
2. William Martin of Team Muleterro
3. Sten Hertsens of Team Muleterro
4. Max Mcneal
5. Garland Thayer of Missoula Sheepheads

Life is still stuck in my living room where my 4-room apartment has become a one-room studio. My landlady has given me next months rent to relocate until she can rebuild the apartment. If I do that, why would I come back when she has it done? Anyway, I haven't taken a bath or went to the bathroom in my own place since Thursday. Can you lose your job for not taking a bath? Oh well!

Last Thursday I came back from the Thursday Night Ride to sewage still all over the floor. I thought my landlady would be down because she knew I had arrived home. I stayed until 11 PM taking all my stuff and putting it out of harms way for the crew to come in on Friday … hopefully. My landlady did not come down and I fell asleep waiting to talk to her on my front room floor.

I awoke and had to go to work on Friday morning and I was glad to have at least gotten my stuff out of there. I was a little upset that I did not get to talk to my landlady. After work I arrived to find oil (I was taking my old oil in to recycle and had it sitting by my door) spilled all over the entrance to my apartment. I went in and found that it was cleaned out, gutted, and sanitized. I was happy that there was progress so I left to meet up with a friend at the Kettlehouse. Needless to say I got home a little drunk but in good time to talk to the landlady. She didn't come down and every time I went to talk to her I heard her on the phone. So I waited … and fell asleep on my floor again. I awoke with the screaming melees, probably from the Bongwater Beer!

I spent the night in the park so that I could use the port-a-potties. The next day I would definitely talk to the landlady. I finally did at 8 or 9 PM. She basically told me that she couldn't have me staying in an un-inhabitable place and that she would give me rent credit to move or stay somewhere else. I mean I was sitting there needing to shit and all she could say is, ”get a chamber pot!“ I had to laugh.

So that is the last time I talked to her. I need to move or hang out with limited use of my apartment while they re-build. I need the money so I may just hang out and wait. I know that she would prefer me to move …. Maybe this all happened because it is the only legal way to get me out of there.