Month: September 2014

RMVQ Main Page  | History GC  

So far after a survey it looks like no one is up for the full RMVQ challenge. So I guess I will go for the bike-pack (fully supported) record that we set last year, 4 days 9 hours and 47 minutes. I freely admit I am striving for an easy record but the solo unsupported challenge will keep me honest. Others are planning a section and I hope to see you out there. Julie Huck is organizing the annual BBQ at the Rattlesnake parking lot. Contact her for details. My schedule is simple. I start at 6(ish) Saturday October 5th, 2013. I can be tracked at https://twitter.com/boneshakerbike, which will also be posted on the blog as a live stream. I want to finish in 24 hours … as always … [more]

Past RMVQ : 2008 | 2009  | 2010  | 2011 | 2012 | 2013

Color, dream, reality, space …
Closing in on me, pushing, squeezing …
Comforting, soothing, snuggling …
Wanting to struggle free, climb, run, bike …
Letting it all soak in, filtering, release …
Heal, mend, strengthen …
Then finally freedom.

It was my 4th visit to the front. With anticipation of it being my last for the season I agreed to travel even further. Friday evening after work I did the usual trek from Bozeman to the other end of the state. I arrived to the Wind Mountain Campground in the shadows of prominent cliffs and peaks. As usual the Front does not disappoint. My partner flagging me down to an awaiting and nicely set up camping spot. It was nice to see her again.

The next day was wide open. We never discussed what we would do that day. As I mulled about the camp during “Bill Time” I began to come down from the work week stress buzz. And by the time she woke up and joined me I was fully relaxed.

“Lets go for a ride”, she announced. Music to my ears. We mounted up and took off.

After much pedaling and poking around to see which trails were open to biking we came to a perfect little waterfall. To get there we encountered some gravel roads, snakes, eagles, a partly eaten carcass dragged behind a bush, and Pine Butte. Which I may add took some time to grasp. What a huge rock. The waterfall marked the turn around point.

Turning around is hard for me. So I have to trick myself by promising food or a reward for succumbing to surrender. I mean to turn around is to surrender isn’t it? As we re-approached Pine Butte it looked angry. As if to say, “go back you trader … quitter”.

As we crossed the Teton River it spoke a different language. The setting sun glistening on the ribbon of water. It was getting darker and the river whispered, “Better go home … it can get quite scary out here”.

OK, rivers can not speak. But I had just read a sign that basically stated that grizzly bears ruled this land.

I stopped to take a photo of a beaver pond that was so crystal clear it looked like I was staring out a window into another world. Just then I heard the bushes move. I jumped back and into the middle of the road.

Reason for my sketch was not that the river spoke of scary things. No. It was actually all the signage around. And for good reason. This was prime grizzly bear habitat. And the signs were doing more than the usual warnings. They actually had step by step instructions on what to do. I tried to remember what I read but drew a blank.

My partner rolled up.

“What is it?”

“Not sure … let’s get back to camp”

The end

All the hardship was worth it and even the last few climbs back to the car was no big deal. Cruising through open fields and down fast single-track smoothed over a trip that started out with impossible difficulties. The trip was now ending with sweet effortless biking and some of the best memories possible.

As I waited for my partner to take a dash at a deep stream crossing I couldn’t help but to think of the future in relation to the past. My adventure to Bozeman and a relationship that started out with some difficulties. Even though I have friends that endured the same for me it was hard to keep the faith. And now the future is right around the corner. Well around a corner and up a hill.

And just like our last hiking adventure; brought on by a persistent faith of more adventure. My partner insisting to stay one more night and climb to an unknown lake. She has led me to keep the faith in my life with acts like these. Many times hanging in there has always reaped its rewards.

The sun likes to set just as we finish up things. Always the last ones to leave any parking lot. Tonight was no exception. We would be driving home late … again. And as always life tries to comfort us with beautiful views.

The trip was, well, some biking. A lot of pushing. And climbing. Kind of crazy if you think about it. But I like crazy. Crazy is good. Right?

And the adventure continues, more to come. Mostly it looks like snow now. But now some hard parts behind us and the anticipation of even greater challenges ahead. We travel home to rest up for the next chapter.

Last best effort

That night was terrifying. I was kind of uneasy that we pitched a tent way off the trail. But we needed to camp out. Riding out to the car at the trailhead was not going to happen. My partner suggested we go up this one trail and we discovered this cute little meadow adjoining a scree slope. It was an obvious animal run-way. Moose poop everywhere and the largest pile of grizzly scat I have ever seen two feet from the tent door.

I went to sleep OK because it started to rain and the sounds on the tent walls lulled me into dreamland. Then it stopped raining. Which meant we could hear things. Things like large animals moving about the meadow. So in all I only slept when it was raining. And did I mention that we didn’t have any bear spray.

I was under the impression that there were no grizzlies in the Crazies. A friend did some research and told me that about ten years ago. And the signs, maybe the sounds, that we experienced may have been just a large black bear. But at 2 in the morning you prepare for the worst. I was ready for a grizzly to come in for breakfast of cyclist and then finish off with a desert of pine bark seeds. Which were prevalent in the scat.

But we did make it through to the next day. Thankfully! Right? At breakfast we felt so relieved we came up with a scheme to hike to Smeller Lake.

We expected a climb because going to Rock Lake was hell and it was shy of 9,000 feet. Smeller Lake was right at or above 9,000 feet. So an uphill struggle was anticipated. The best thing, and I hate to admit it, is that we ditched the bikes.

Yep! Completely went on a hiking effort. Yea, I know. Not part of a bike packing adventure. But up here bikes seemed to be hindersome at best.

We had a fabulous climb that took us to wide open meadows with skyscraper peaks all around.

And at the end of the meadows were waterfalls. Once we spotted some mountain goats and nestled into some high grass to watch. And we saw some impressive white bark pine ecosystem activity. Nutcrackers were everywhere and bear sign abundant.

Smeller lake was impressive. It had a different feel then Rock Lake, which we left the day before. On the South side was this massive snow field. It was mostly covered in scree but dripping sounds and constant falling rock gave us warning not to approach.

To the North was Iddings Peak and the ridge separating us from Crazy lake. Just a beautiful sight.

To the East was deposits of scree, differing in color. And the ridge textured like an alien space ship. At least what I saw in the latest blockbuster.

This place had zen while the day before we had ruin and emptiness. It became clear that if it were not for my partner suggesting this side trip we would be home wondering what to do. I had wanted to cut the trip off early and just go home. But instead she talked me into something off “the plan”.

There is always a place to explore. There is always another perspective. Always another view. Another season. This is why I leave the house. I looked at the screen on my camera and could see new images at every focal length.

“Well we are out of food, out of time, and really need to get back to our bikes pretty soon”, she said.

I nodded and with that turned to head back down.

Today will be the last day of our trip. But when we get to our bikes, another adventure awaited. Another perspective on a trail already traveled. This time back out. Back to our lives outside of the Crazies.

“We need to re-do this one” … it was better than “I will never do this again”.

Leaving

I was starting to make piles around camp. This is what I do at home. I make piles. Organized piles. When stuff gets organized I can then pack or put away the mess. My partner heard me and stumbled out of the tent.

“You making piles?”

“Yep!”

“I’ll make breakfast and join you.”

I flipped the tent over and started to take it apart. It was extraction day. Try to leave and if things get out of hand call in the national guard to extract us. Right? I joined my partner on a rock to plan our get-away.

It was simple. Walk the bikes down the valley. Or maybe try. I attempted to ride a couple of times with not so good outcomes. But the decent was not all that bad. We did have the great views.

Since I have legs like a giant I can cover more ground then my partner’s. This gave me time to stop for photos of some things that we missed coming up two days before.

But then again it was hard only because the bikes seemed awkward in this environment. I think hand gliders would be better suited.

My thoughts kept going back to when we arrived. When she walked passed me and said “never again”.

Morning Coffee

I was up but not before the sun this morning. I glanced out the tent door and there was a big peak beckoning me.

“No thanks buddy … I dislike heights and bill time is about to expire.”

I made myself a bulletproof coffee the best I could being that I was out in the middle of nowhere. And then set out for a little walk about. I decided to go above the tent to have the ability detect my partner’s activity. Not in a creepy way but so she didn’t think I was missing. I wanted to shout and wave upon movement detection. Which meant I was not going far. Just up … a little. To do some reflecting.

About 9 AM it was time to head back to the tent to partake in coffee version 2.0. And good thing. The “one hand holding the coffee mug” rule had just been broken. I had wedged the cup into a crack so I could take a photo straight up. End of climb!

I don’t know how these thing happen and at first I felt intimidated by my position clinging to a rock. But as I descended I found it easy going. The one hand rule really works. But was it the time or the rule that kept me out of harms way this time? Or was it the fact I am afraid of heights. I shuttered to think of falling out here. The rocks were like shattered glass. Very rugged, much more then I.

I descended pretty quickly. Back to solid footing. I am more comfortable on bedrock. Land or air …. I like dirt the best.

When I got close enough to see camp it appeared there was no movement yet. Ah, my walk about undetected. As if I was still sitting there by the fire circle having my coffee. From here I imagined myself down there. A perspective that was pretty moving. Gosh, how small we are.

Bored

As I sat in camp eating a modest lunch I stared at a rock. So colorful and interesting. I grabbed another spoonful of almond butter. It was tasting quite yummy and really the only sweet substance I will have eaten for this trip.

Some people need more. Out of their food I mean. Me, I don’t think of food any more. I have my animal fats, meat, and nuts when I think of it, usually every 8 to 12 hours. But being around camp I grew quite bored. This “day off” wasn’t stacking up as exciting. And I was turning to our sparse rations for “entertainment”.

I jumped up to announce that I was going to walk around the lake. I turned and there was my partner all geared up and looking for adventure. “Let’s walk round the lake”, she announced with a smile.

And we were off. We picked our way around the Iddings Peak side stopping for the occasional cool plant or shroom.

I had lots of down time as well. My partner is still a carb burner so she must stop for snacks and lunch. I fidget and try to keep busy. Eating just seems like a waste of time. Today I feel asleep at “lunch”. Napping in the sun with my back pack under my head.

When I awoke she was gone. Off discovering the latest plant, tree, or rock I supposed. I scrambled to a high point and looked around. I saw lots of beauty but could not see my partner. Gosh, how long was I sleeping for. I looked at my watch … only 10 minutes.

I sat down to stare at the massive Iddings Peak. So tall it towered above me more massive than any building in New York City. And believe me I have been there. No this was more massive. Then something moved. In the boulders high in a scree slope. Something red. It was my partner. She was so dwarfed that I shuttered. It looked as though she could be swallowed up so easily.

We, as humans, are so small in the overall scheme of things. Given the enormity around us we are really all alone.  There is a galaxy between us and our fellow human. Sure we group up as to not seem so small. But alone out here in the Crazies it becomes really clear that we are so alone. So small.

I sat down and waited. Drank some water. And thought some more. Soon she came back from her sabbatical and we were close enough that space seemed smaller again.

“So what about tomorrow”, I asked.

“I havent thought about it. There is no place we can really go but I am wanting to move on.”, she stopped to ponder something.

“HEY LOOK … myrtleberrys!”

Marooned

Breakfast included some Starbucks via coffee, mct oil, and butter, well for me. My partner is more reasonable and fixed herself some oats and coffee. Over breakfast we discussed day two. Even though this was a bike-packing adventure we decided to stick around camp and take a day off. I was reeling from a back strain and my partner was just plain burned out from walking her bike.

The problem in our position was that if we didn’t take a day off we were at the end of this trail. Unless we wanted to hike our bikes over a 10,000 foot pass without a trail. That didn’t seem like to much fun. I wondered if our first plan to move on to Smeller Lake would ever come to fruition. How could I talk my partner into more hike-a-bike. Hanging around camp seemed like fun for mow.

Even though we were camping in a place that seemed like Mars we found it pretty comfy. It was like we landed our space craft on this planet and we were marooned. It was pretty cool. No humans. No trees. No one to keep us company but a couple mountain sheep high on the ridge keeping an eye on us.

We did find other guests on our little planet. By slowing down and taking the day off the focus was more on the tiny things we might overlook as we power our way through adventure. Little creatures small and beautiful. Butterflies, bees, and nymphs. A day off … perfect.

Morning walk about

I woke up and looked out the tent door. We got here last night and were so busy setting up and cooking food I never got to really take in my surroundings. My first impressions the night before was that it felt like we were camping in the Butte Pit. And this morning I can confirm that observation.

Suddenly I needed to take care of morning business. Standing in a light breeze reliving myself it came to me that there were a bunch of waterfalls just waiting like super models. I grabbed my camera and scrambled to a vista to plan my attack.

I decided to just walk down the trail that we came up the night before. Rock Lake is a weird lake. It seems as though it gets drained in a un-natural way. There is no history of it anywhere yet when you arrive you notice extensive discarded equipment. The stuff, if I were to guess, was to mine or control the lake. Really weird stuff like the pulley wheel contraption I was holding up the day before. And just as weird the first waterfall may have been the result of a shaft being blasted through the saddle and into the lake. The water exited this tunnel or shaft and fell down the remaining rock face that made up the last pitch to the lake.

Walking a bit further down is a more natural waterfall. That is if this lake was really meant to drain. Wider and more cascades.

I love the morning hours. The sun is not up and all the lighting is flat. Perfect for those waterfall photos. But the problem within is that every step I find another cool angle, another cool shot. Many times I get interrupted by the sun coming up. So I was racing from spot to spot taking photos not taking any notes on how far from camp I was getting.

When you open your lens for more than 1/1000 of a second you capture a longer amount of time. Sometimes I will open it for like 3 to 6 seconds. This results in the water looking like silk in a photo. To me it shows movement … life … when looking at it from outside a split second shows beauty and resilience. Some things change and flow while the others stay the same.  This is comforting because I know I can always come back.

Speaking, well writing, of coming back I realized that I should get back to camp. But not to early because it was still “Bill Time”. So I looked up … which way to make my way back to camp?

I decided upon a scree filled couloir. Not one of the scary ice filled ones, just a delightful little thousand feet of climbing one. One that would afford me a great view of the lake. It looked doable enough.

My general rule to avoid getting into a “situation” that would become traumatizing is to go with the one hand free model. It goes something like … if you can hold a cup of coffee or your camera in one hand and still hike it is good.  Once you need to use both hands to climb (mountain freaks call it scrambling) it is too much for me. Half way up everything is good.

Then I fall into the “trap”. A situation where you go more than half way on a projected course. You feel like you “Cant go back now”. Sometimes this thought is powerful enough so that you forget the safety model of “one hand mode”. Slipping and then dropping the camera to save my life brought me back to reality.

The camera turned out to be and I did indeed save my life.  I stood, no clung, there attached to a rock just 4 feet from the top.  So I “scrambled” and finished the climb.  How do I get my self into these situations anyway?  It was all behind me now so I walked across the flat saddle to the awaiting Cirque.

The Rock lake basin was ringed by a crown of rocky peaks and ridges. And the sun just started to leak over the rim of the crown as I sat down for a breather. And to collect myself after the harrowing climb.

I wonder how long this perm-a-snow has been here.  I do know there were once glaciers here and some still exist in the Crazies to this day. Sometimes I feel like one of these. I hang out in the mountains but soon enough I will be gone. And this place certainly puts it all in perspective. I feel small and insignificant.

I started scrambling back down to camp keeping in mind the “one hand mode”. By the time I approached camp I could see a tiny spec wondering around. As I got closer and the spec became my partner I paused on a cliff to wave. She spotted me and waved back.

“How was Bill TIme”, she asked as I stumbled across some rocks to where we had set up camp.

“Well it all started …”

Going in

Every summer my partner and I embark on a bike-pack trip that lasts like 4 days. Last year we did the Beartooths (Part 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5). This year we planned to head into the Crazy Mountain Range and do a trip up the Rock Creek drainage and to two lakes around Iddings Peak.

At first we did meet difficulties like trail access due to much of the “Crazies” being surrounded by public land (rich f’ers). And magical parts of forest service land being sold to some entity that needed to build a summer camp. But after zig zagging the complex maze of private or unknown land accesses we were finally in open meadows going up Rock Creek towards Rock Lake. Adventure in our eyes and relief that the tough part was behind us.

We started hitting sections were the trail was gone. Washed out in huge piles of rubble and rock. It looked like a mountain blew up and fell down across our path. We scrambled up and over dozens of these rock slides. We assumed they were results of huge flash floods off of the peaks that one farmer deemed as “tin roofs” … being they just shed everything that fell upon them. Good thing for GPS.

But between the slides we enjoyed the scenery and relaxed grade. Open meadows afforded us beautiful views surrounding us and soon Iddings Peak started to come into view. Not to say it was all bliss. We ran into rouge cattle. Yea, mountain cattle. Were they escapees from a ranch far below? Or does the Forest Service allow the destruction of land by letting ranchers graze their cattle in alpine regions? Whatever the case cattle had turned pristine beautiful land into mosh pit bogs of shit, pee, and muddy post holes. Truly disgusting. I secretly wished a grizzly would ambush and feed off these convicts. And share with us some meat for tonight’s fire of course.

It was nice to finally climb for the only reason that the cattle were to lazy to rock climb. Yea, rock climb. And scree scrambling. And yes we still had our bikes. Which made us wonder what the hell we were thinking. Maybe a better solution would be to carry an empty pack, ditch the bikes, and hike the remaining three miles. But wait, this was a bike-pack trip … damn it.

After an hour of pushing the bikes would go no further. So I picked up the damn 50 pound anchors and hiked them in 20 minute extreme intervals. Being the person I am I took great pride in my feats. I was doing core and burst training all in one. And then I ran out of gas. In one case my last surge to lift the bike onto a rock shelf failed resulting in a tweaked back. Ouch!

After a huge effort we made our way to an area that seemed to be letting up. As my head turned up the valley I could see we were still very far away from our destination. Sure it was like a quarter mile. But it was a quarter mile of rock fields, scree slopes, and creek crossings. Not a chance in hell to ride these bikes. And at the end … another steep pitch.

I found my partner looking down into a deep chasm.

“Thank god we don’t have to cross this”, she remarked and looked to me in hope I had some good news.

“Good news is that we can camp here, bad is that we still have like a hour of hard work to do and the sun is setting.”

I think she said to do whatever I wanted. Or something like that. Maybe it was go straight to hell. And maybe that is why I decided to go to hell and hike the bikes another quarter mile. Our feet were cold and wet and our bikes seemed like dysfunctional baggage. It was like pushing your car to work instead of just walking. No, really, it was.

“I am going to go into a zone and not stop until I place my bike down at the lake.”

“OK”, she had a puzzled look.

“Then I’ll come down to give you a hand.”

“OK”, again with a puzzled look. Or maybe she was contemplating making a run for it. To escape this insanity and never come back. She looked as though she wanted to bolt. I turned, shoulder my bike and headed up the cliff.

The last pitch was almost to much and the only sane thing that kept me engaged was the beautiful waterfalls around each corner. Finally I broke above the cliff and scampered across a rocky saddle. The sun about to set  was casting a red glow on Iddings Peak.

I dropped my bike not caring if it was harmed. I just wanted the damn thing off my back. I turned to go help my partner but she was hot on my heels and stopped to look up at me. I did not see any hint of smile on her face so I did the only thing I could do. Act silly and clown around.

“I will NEVER do this again”, she stated and then walked past me.

I decided to leave it alone and went looking for a tent spot. It was going to get dark quickly and this place was spooky. It was like … camping at the Butte Pit.

At this morning’s breakfast meeting it was decided that since yesterday was nearly 30 miles of pretty technical terrain we would embark today on an “easy ride”. Pardon me … “easy loop”. Like a shorty 10 mile loop. Enter a nice trail up to the base of Crown Mountain and back down the adjoining drainage. With a “modest” climb.

And it did seem pretty easy for the first hour. We had climbed up some really easy switchbacks to a gate. As I was closing it something started crashing through the brush towards us. My partner started announcing our position. Me, I raised my bike above my head. Not to throw the bike at a charging grizzly but to appear larger. And we waited.

Then a cow stuck her head through the brush and stared at us in amazement. We were just as surprised, standing there white as ghosts ready to be eaten. Suddenly we were the ones on the top of the food chain. After that things were a bit relaxed after that.

We had lunch by a stream and decide to continue around our loop. Earlier we decided that we would go to the first junction and make a decision. This would make sure that the day would be “light”.

3 hours later I was waiting at the edge of the Bob Marshall Wilderness at the next junction which would lead us to another trail going back to the car via the next drainage over. I was breathing heavily. I tried to climb most of the trail but it got the best of me. I had walked nearly all of it. We saw two freshly eaten deer carcasses as well. And then I wondered if I should have waited up more for my partner. My anxiety grew as time passed waiting.

Then she appeared looking quite frazzled and discombobled.

“Wow! That was tough”

We discussed going back but that seemed a little hairy. We decided to continue around the loop for no other reason but in hopes the trail would turn out better. And at first it seemed it did not matter as thunder and lightning starting crashing down on the mountain ridge high above us. We scurried across the base of Crown Mountain and over the saddle.

And things changed in an instant. The trail was heavenly. Smooth as butter and the scenery was astounding. And to make things even more cool the storm that was brewing stayed in the basin that we just left. It seemed as though it would be smooth sailing back. Given the amount of descending though I was still pretty skeptical.

Every switch back I gave thanks for the kick ass trail I just bombed down. It was all icing on the cake for me. I wanted to savor every ounce of trail before it turned to hell like the trail that we had climbed earlier. But that did not happen. The more I let go of the brakes and screamed down the trail the better it got. We plummeted down through at least three eco zones and I started to lose track of time. After a really cool wooded section I stopped to wait for my partner.

Again I grew uneasy. My anxiety grew as time passed waiting. I wondered how long I had blacked out in my orgasm of descending. Given, I can ascend pretty fast but I didn’t think I got that far out in front. Or did I? What if she crashed or worse yet run into a griz.

Just then she came screaming past me.

“Yeee hawwww … this is so coooool”, her voice trailing off as she disappeared down the trail.

The trail was bike-able but only 3 feet wide. On the right side was a sheer drop off, to the left a rock wall. To ride a mountain bike through a tight canyon is pretty intense in these conditions. All the reason to keep focused on the task at hand which was riding the dam bike without incident. When I could I would stop. Not to only rest my nerves but to take a look around. I know … sub standard mountain biking, right? This is when I discovered the first water fall.

So I went a little further and stopped. Sure enough another waterfall, even more beautiful than the other. I mean I feel sub expert when I have to stop. The goal is to ride without dabs. Without wussing out so to speak. But this time it was all paying off.

Even though the trail turned manageable and the wish to let go of the brakes with a shout for joy was immense I decided to stop again … just to gawk off the edge. Again another waterfall. All within a mile. Like three levels of water falls. What a beautiful trail. What a great decent.

How many times have you gone through life without stopping in fear that your “progress” is not up to par?

She stopped there waiting for me to ride down a technical section of single-track which may I add seemed to just hang off a rocky cliff. She herself standing upon a hand-built rock bridge. I don’t even know if she realized it.

The trail was, um, kind of dangerous. We decided to take turns riding down the technical parts. Ok, let me clarify. While I rode down the technical parts my partner was perfectly fine walking the scary stuff.

The fact that I could experience this fabulous trail with someone is the bigger picture. What would suck is if I were to encounter this section of trail alone. Maybe that is why I take photos. It is much more fun to share a WOW moment.

And then there is the safety factor. I mean rocks fall all the time right? And I was reminded of that when it was pointed out to me that this kind of thing is sort of risky.

Or one could fall on the rocks. And no mater WHO falls on WHO it was certainly a time for each to stay within their means. For her walking the tough sections and for me to ride with a little brake action here and there.

As we emerged out of the canyon we both were grinning from ear to ear, our eyes full of wonder. Maybe a grin because we emerged safely but for me a grin because I shared such a wonder with someone.

And then we went into an unexpected canyon. My partner was already walking the bike. Compared to the entire loop the next mile would take us twice as long. Not because of technical terrain. And it was technical. It was because we had to wait for each other to absorb and take photos. Myself the major time absorber. Sometimes life can be so much fun you need to slow down.

My pupils were fully dilated and focusing because the trail was extremely technical. Then the trail got smoother and my grip on the handlebars loosened.

Then tightened. I gasped and hit the brakes. Was I going blind? Suddenly I could not focus because of a bright red overlay to what my eyes were picking up. As I looked around I couldn’t believe my eyes.

“What’s wrong”, she said as she rolled up to me. I was still rubbing my eyes.

“Look at this landscape. The red is so bright and for a while I thought I was having a stroke”, I replied jokingly.

“Ha ha … yea … WOW … It’s beautiful”!

Before that moment the landscape was mostly brown high arid landscape with hints of burnt green. The rocks grey with mid afternoon shadows.  Also we were spotting sheep on the hillsides so I was trying the “trick” of focusing while gawking … a tough thing to do.

Once over the saddle between some un-named plateau and Fairview Mountain we bombed down towards Willow Creek. The day already chalk full of adventure. And just like life there are surprises around almost every corner.

As we made the turn towards Willow Creek we were about to drop into an entirely new adventure. Much more exciting then what we encountered. And we didn’t even know it. Yet.

Living in Bozeman at work I only dream of the weekends. Romantically all I need is two things. My bike and a remote trail leading into a place I have not been.  It is my place on the weekends.