Today feels different, like a leaf that’s drifted away from its tree, lying on the ground, waiting for the next gust of wind. It’s September 22, 2012, and I’m engulfed in a feeling I can best describe as “fallen.”
The plan was grand – a journey from Jill’s place to Oakland, then a flight to Missoula, cycling to my car, driving to Bozeman, and finally, a bike packing adventure into the wilderness. It was supposed to be an epic adventure, a story to tell with a wide grin. But here I am, back home, my ambition seemingly evaporated.
I can’t help but liken myself to a fallen leaf, detached and at the mercy of the wind’s whims. There’s a poignant beauty in it, though. Just like the leaf, I know I’m on the brink of a new adventure, waiting for the winds of change to sweep me off again. Yet, in this moment, I’m static, grounded, “fallen.”
But isn’t there a lesson in every fall? Perhaps it’s about acknowledging the need to rest, to recharge before the next big leap. Or maybe it’s about finding contentment in stillness, in the quiet moments that life unexpectedly hands us.
As I sit here, feeling like a fallen leaf, I remember something important. The most beautiful journeys often start with a fall, a pause. They begin when we’re seemingly at our lowest, grounded, with nowhere to go but up. This isn’t just a fall; it’s a preparation for a rise.
So here’s to the fallen leaves and the adventures they foretell. The wind will come, as it always does. And when it does, I’ll be ready to ride it to my next adventure. Until then, I’ll embrace the beauty of the fall.
I feel like a bad friend. I go visiting and end up pouting most of the time. Why pout? I miss someone…pure and simple. I know, childish, highschoolish, or just plain weak. When asked what my goals were for my vacation I came up with nothing. So what does a good friend do? Suggest a ride and get me outdoors.
This friend knows that eventually one would start bike-pouting and go on a body destroy mission. You see when you go hard enough, long enough, you will eventually not really care much and the world become a more palatable place. And what makes a really good friend. One that goes out on these rides even though she just came back from a whirlwind Europe adventure rendering her fatigued. And then to top it all off continuously produces the biggest smile even on top of the big climbs.
But bike-pouting usually is all about unfocused riding. So my friend points out and guides me to the most beautiful places. Sometimes the beauty can be healing but to share it with a good friend really makes it even more enriched.
Good friends also may know what you are about. Me, I am a sucker for photos. I get in certain places and can spend hours trying to get the perfect render of what I believe symbolizes a place. One such place was a cool beach overlook.
Good friends will wait patiently as you try and capture each element of a special place. Like the sun shining of crashing waves. The world can be so beautiful if you can just get distracted from what ails you at a specific time for a moment. When you slow down, stop, and start looking, there are all kinds of cool stuff.
What is bike-pouting the reader is undoubtedly asking right now. The reader usually being me but sometimes others stop in to read my blog. Anyway, back to my paragraph, bike-pouting. It is a simple phrase my friend coined for times when I get focused on riding until I feel I am over “something” and then return home. Sometimes after surviving blizzards or death marches to the top of ridges in the middle of the night. That is what good friends do as well…coin little phrases that defines you. I am a bike-pouter.
Maybe I am just a sucker from dramatics. Maybe I just strive for attention. In any case a stop at a beautiful location is just what I needed today. The rest of the ride would be cake.
Speaking of cake…a good friend always has underlying motives. The reason you are friends is that you enjoy some of the same things. When a underlying motive to, let say to stop at the coolest iconic rest stop, comes to fruition then it can be the coolest surprise. Like a cool bike stop shop that takes cash on a honor system for cool goodies. How can I pout when there is so much coolness on a ride?
But then a good friend knows when to release the hounds. It usually goes like, “This is a long climb … boy, I just am not feeling it, why don’t you just go ahead and climb at your own pace”.
An I was off to bike-pout. It was a awesome climb. Thanks Jill.
Moving from San Fran to Los Altos I am feeling a little more in my element. Which is to say on two wheels. And while Jill was riding her Element (Rocky Mountain Fully) I was aboard a fatty.
Ocean Blue
There is this local hill climb that goes up something like 2,500 feet from a particular intersection and I attached this climb with vigor … on the fatty. At first i was amazed how I could big ring this hill but as the verticle feet accumulated the more I wished I didnt have this vengance quest tostay in the big ring. I was self challenged andwhen the dust steeled it was a time of 43 minutes. the current road bike record is something a little over 30 minutes. we summized how I might be able to beat this record if I were to slam it with a roadie machine but that is as far as that discussion went. The rest of the day was awesome singletrack as we decended into a local haunt called Stevens Creek.
Coast
The day just got fatter. The trail went down a ridge and into some great forests. The trouble around these parts is that you “should” stay on the trails because of poison oak. I leaned into a couple corners and almost brushed some poison oak laden branches. I cant imagine crashing into it.
Ocean Colors
Down the coast
Some kind of beach cabbage
The trails were fat as well … and smooth … at time a little bumpy. Overall perfect for the fat bike. I ripped down some fantastic sweeping forested trails all the while Jill choked on my dust. Come to find out a fatty really is a dust maker. It is like following a ccement truck on a dusty road.
Awesome Road Climbs
Evening streamers
It was a good day on the trails. Even fatties can have fun in the dirt … right?
I had a big blog post about my experience watching my first San Fran cross race. I am not about to re-create it after 3 attempts at posting to only have something go wrong in the blog-o-sphere. Here is the short story, to be expanded, on yesterday. Attempted San Frondo II, Missed two major checkpoints, Trouble Coffee, and this ice cream joint. Knocked myself out on a tree branch and mangled my ear. And watched men in dresses shred it up and a fully undisclosed area. Pretty cool day indeed.
I have this idea for a hike around San Fran. First I will hike to the top of Buena Vista and make plans from there. I don’t know exactly what i am about to do only that i need to do something. The story will evolve … and in ti?me I will post it here … right
Got up early today to say goodbye to my partner in crime for two weeks. Kind of wondering around now and dont know what to do. I missed my morning yak coffee due to the stresses of renting a vehicle and driving it directly through the heart of San Fran. And I havent eaten all day as well. Kind of an abrupt end to the vacation. Sure miss her. I’ll be wondering around for a couple days for sure …o/o
There will be time later to blog on individual adventures so I just want to post a quickie photo from where we went hiking today with our friend leah. I think maybe it is called Mount Tam-pa-licious … or something like that. A trail new to me. Expect more on this later … as always…o/o
I am at the airport waiting for our flight. My girlfriend has gone off to find water. You know there are no liquids allowed at the super secret gate entrance. Then once inside you scramble to get a container filled. All a part of walking the plank here at MSO. Tonights itinerary is to travel a pretty long way and spend the night in a motel.
Sitting here eating like a buffalo. Big wooly pigs right … or maybe that is a bear. In any case my girlfriend and I are busily preparing for our trip to California. She will be working and I will be sponging off of friends. getting fat … like this buffalo.
I am shaking violently and feel extremely sick. I can no longer walk or even follow Paul. I long left my hate-chant berating him for taking me on this drizzly death hike. To his STUPID last of the 46 Adirondack High Peaks. What a dumb endeavor. Is my need to have a friend to go hiking and biking so high that I would risk my life to endure his finishing campaign to the last peak. And this one so remote that we had to camp half way. There was no way we were getting out of here tonight. And I had no food. It seems to me these Adirondack hiking people love to starve themselves to death. Last nights meal left me more hungary then before I ate it. Now I was going to die.
Paul stopped built a fire and I huddled around it. But it was not until we put the heated rocks in my coat that I started feeling better. I held onto two hot rocks as we hiked back to our lean-to and jumped into bed with more heated rocks. I fell fast asleep.
Now almost 20 years later I am shaking so violently I cant read my thermometer. I strain to hold still just long enough to read the display. 97.2 a long way off of 95, the temperature at wich a human will need help to come back from. I am safe but shivering as though I have electricity running through my body. I have been submerged in ice water for 40 minutes now which is a record for me. Normally in 50-60 degree water it takes only 10-15 minutes for the first symptoms of hypothermia to start. But I know it can take up to 2 hours before I actually die. If the water were less then 50, say 40ish, I would be in trouble in 5 minutes. In any case anything over 20 minutes in this type of environment was impossible for me about two months ago but now I have started to beat it.
I want to become cold adapted. That way I can overcome one more of my many life failures. Anyone want to go walk in the rain in 40 degree temperatures with me now?
I started to come to grips with my first backpacking effort and I “thought” I was on the fast track to completing the much requested blog posts on that event. But you know what? I am not the blogger I once was. My imagination now has definition. I am predictable. And then there is my infatuation in changing my genetic makeup. Sitting under blocks of ice and eating a half pound of butter a day. So maybe what is going on is transition. And I do no longer have definition to my imagination. And I can never be deemed predictable. I am me. And I think my blogs will come in time.
How did it all start? And why didn’t I blog about it back in 2011? Most knew something was up but my posts were cryptic.
Adventure Cycling Party
This story actually has roots in 2010. I was at the Adventure Cycling holiday party as a guest of my friend Jill. I notice this cool character who was doing the Micheal Jackson moonwalk. And rather good at that. I was impressed at how she seemed to be the life of the party. I didn’t have the guts or even more importantly not rehearsed any run-ins with someone as attractive. After that I kind of lost track and eventually got caught up in other things. Like the championship table tennis match … which we lost.
Julie, Norman, and Lydia
So REALLY this story officially starts in 2011 during an outing with my friends up Welcome Creek. A 5 mile snowshoe outting which is detailed in the post. It was after we were back at the car that the subject of closer relationships came up. Maybe the group got me out there to get over my depression of losing a dear friend who was planning a move out of town.
Goal
All of us except Julie were technically single I believe. But I was targeted for some reason, or I must of reeked of loneliness. Maybe I was just finishing off my speech of who would be the perfect fantasy partner for myself. Or maybe Julie was just doing her magic, and connected with my strange wit and humor that lead to an idea. No matter the reason, this was the event that put into motion a string of events that started what is now referred to as Team MoBill.
The group shoeing across the snowy scree
“Oh my god I just realized who you should meet”, Julie blurted out. “I don’t know why I never thought of this before but there is this person … quirky like you … really loves to ride her bike …”
“What? who?” … “Rides a lot?”
“Mo, yeah, you are so much alike. You should meet!”
Pleasure and pain – two sides of the same coin. It’s a pleasure not having to worry about keeping my toes pointed down. But the pain? Forgetting I’m almost barefoot means those sharp, pointy rocks really hurt. Yet, there’s this fantastic relief in reconnecting with Mother Earth. It makes me think: avoiding life’s discomforts might be the same as distancing oneself from truly living. And perhaps, it’s an opportunity to uncover hidden joys.
My pair of Merrell True Glove Shoes has been a revelation, letting me experience life anew in my favorite setting – the great outdoors.
2011 started out so tough. It was so hard and scary at times that it was hard to recognize opportunity. Pure survival. The last thing on my mind was “a girl”. The only thing I could do to keep my mind off things was to train, and train hard. During this time my best friend, who I had a huge crush on, left town. Then I had a bad situation, a sewage flood and subsequent blaming of me, with my landlord. That resulted in a midnight extraction and move to another apartment. Bundle that with a really tough situation at work where my boss turned psycho. All of this putting me in a “I hate Missoula” mood.
Missoula Morning
But Missoula was not my problem. A beautiful town with beautiful friends that I took all for granted. At this point, if this were a movie, the assumption the boy meet girls is forgotten.
Training Intervals
It was survival time and I had to survive. I continued on and do what I did best. Race hard and win when I could. Empty heart and empty town was my window into the world. The January suggestion was all but forgotten.
Missoula scene
I couldn’t sleep, and for once it was not about all the bad things happening. I found a new apartment and things started to look up. I even had a job opportunity, although in Bozeman. No, I couldn’t sleep. Then it hit me. I was wondering about the suggestion that Julie had made a couple months ago. Was this person she was talking about the very same person I remember doing the MJ Moon Walk.
Sunset
I went to the inter webs to get more details. I went to Facebook and sent a message to Julie. I didn’t want to seem like I was interested … but I was. I gently asked for details. Then I got a reply.
Wow, I was wondering if you remembered.
Oh yea, I did, I internally realized. But I wasn’t going to let on that I was up all night rendering the suggestion in my head. I needed more intel. I wondered if we should just start using code names since I was going to suggest maybe being a team of stockers. I mean intelligence gatherers. Ok, yea, stalkers.
My informant assured me that the subject checked out and I was given a couple resources to review. A couple blog posts, and maybe a staff photo or two. With this intel my assumption was confirmed … the subject was indeed the “moon-walker”.
I reported back with some intel of my own. A USA cycling profile. A racer. A cyclocross racer. This was exciting.
You are a good detective. I’ll see if I can talk her into joining us on a hike then give you a heads up…
Hold on, whoa. Huge excitement, sure, then dread. I mean I am not the prince of social situations. Some call quirky, or akward. And that is where we leave it … with a huge foreshadow.
I just pulled Betty off of my bike rack and was getting ready for the Thursday Night Ride. Being it was May 12th we were finally on dirt. I was fresh off an adventure race win and feeling like a superhero. I had a secret weapon too. My green goggles.
Night Vision
I had two weeks before my 24 hour race in Spokane. I came up with this idea to limit my view while riding in the daylight to train for night riding. You know, because at night you are just able to see where your lights shine. Anyway that was my plan for tonight. I would wear my green goggles. This was my last chance to practice because I was on the edge of a taper period. I strapped them on and looked around.
“Are you going to wear THOSE?”, the voice seemed agitated. I swiveled around to come face to face with my friend Julie.
“Yea … because I want to …”, is all I got out before she swiveled around and stomped off. Wondering what was up with her I joined the group. We were doing a local trail called Sidewinder. To get to the top of it we climbed up fire roads. It seems this was perfect to ride up to someone and chat.
Norman and I pose for a pic
“So where is your mother ship”, I heard a voice to my right. I squinted hard to make sure I was seeing what I thought I saw. It was the moon-walker.
“um …”, I struggled with an explanation. Then I decided to just come clean, “I am training for a 24 hour race and want to get ready for night riding. These goggles limit my vision so I can get ready to go fast at night.” I was hoping that had covered it. There might have been an “OK” plus some chit chat. I basically blacked out for around 10 minutes.
It was her … the moon-walker commonly known as Mo. And I didn’t want to bug, or ride with, her all night so as to not give away Julie’s plan. The gravity of the night started to sink in. That was it. My first chance to make a first impression. Short and sweet. And as a bonus, my worst introduction ever.
And what about Julie? I know understood why she was so pissed at me. I later confirmed with her that indeed the night was set up. And I brought my madness. Seems I was destined to always be solo.
“Well, if anything does happen, she saw my worst”, I told everyone later at the pizza get-together. Mo didn’t attend … probably a bad sign.
We finally topped out on our climb and Lava Lake came into view. Our destination for the day and the place I was looking forward to a 20 minute cold adaptation session. Lava Lake. No one told us this was the place to go. We just saw it on a map and thought it would be a cool place togo. And indeed it was a cool place to go. But I believe if we were to have asked others what we should of done that day we would of receive a lot of good well intentioned suggestions. But we would of never found Lava lake.
I dont know why but when I discover something I want to do it on my own. Give someone a complete guide permit to lead me around or just go willy nilly all by myself. So when I am asked what I am going to do when I go to Oakland CA for a week I just say nothing. Because I dont want to endure the berate of “You should doo …” speeches. They are all wel intended indeed. But for me I like to discover by myself. If everyone goes to see the Golden Gate Bridge then that is the least likely place I will be. I dont like to do what others “think” is cool. Maybe to me it symbolizes societies biggest intrusion. Biggest mistake. Ugliest thing to place on planet earth. No I want to wonder off by myself into the woods to find my spirit, my sense of wonder. So what am I going to do when I go to California? Nothing.
I distanced myself more and more from Missoula touting it as a lonely place. Even though I had numerous friendships. I was just feeling sorry for myself and leaving town when I could.
When I was home I would blog about my adventures with embedded messages that said, “help I am lonely”. Embedded because I always cherished my solo lifestyle. I didn’t really understand what was going on.
This long ridge looks like it belongs in Oregon or Clifornia
After one such big adventure into Idaho I stopped by the Orange Street Market for some fake bacon. At the time I was unaware that real bacon was good for you. But continuing on with this story I spotted a familiar face. This person did not spot me and before she could escape I yelled out her name, “Mo”! I waived.
Long climbs is where my heart is
What do I say? What do I say? I talked about my recent adventure complete with photos from a iPhone.
“Wow, that is cool”, she said and I glistened with pride. I felt like a grade schooler showing my crayon drawing to the teacher.
And that was it. That is all I had. Sure I had plenty of questions. But my mind was jumbled. It was all I could do to walk one isle to discuss what I was there for. I grabbed my bacon and ran. I would learn later that I grabbed turkey bacon and that was not a great impression.
Getting Lost
The biggest joy, when I did find it, was riding with my Thursday Night Family. Specially when Mo would show up on her cross bike. This person was so cool. She could ride that cross bike anywhere the group would go. I avoided taking photos because I didn’t want to come off creepy. But then when I stopped for photos of the group going through something like say a creek. And she just happened to be coming by.
Mo joined us on numerous TNR rides
But, if your trying to impress someone don’t just take photos of when they fail. Mo misjudged a creek crossing and put her foot down. What mountain bikers call a dabble. Darn, just when I thought I would capture her greatness on a bike.
In numerous Thursday night rides we started to chat more and I was trying to figure out a way to show her I was interested. For instance one of my greatest moves was to suggest she partake in the after ride social that TNR is famous for. She agreed one time and I think it was because it involved ice cream. A person after my own heart.
At said ice cream gathering I popped the question.
“So you know Josh, right? Well he is having a party. Did you hear about that?”, I stumbled to get out a cohesive question. They both worked at Adventure Cycling and I knew they might already now each other.
“I am not sure, I don’t think so … that sounds fun”
I quickly blurted, “wanna go?”
“I am not sure, I’ll check my calendar … maybe”
So I gave her the details and we all dissolved back into our lives. I never went to parties. By by damn, I was going to this one.
I emailed Josh about his shin-dig and let him know I asked one of the TNR folks if they wanted to go and if that was OK. I was told that she got an initial invite but never replied. Just doing my part to bring people together … right? That felt awkward.
At the BBQ I tried to blend in. Social gatherings made me feel quite odd. I grabbed a beer and joined in on a hula hoop contest. I destroyed it. As everyone walked away from my display of endurance whooping I noticed that Mo had indeed shown up.
Again she seemed to be greatly adored by everyone and a jewel of the party. Just like the previous year demonstrating that moonwalk at the holiday party. She engaged in smart conversation and quick puns. Everyone enjoyed her company.
I found three main instances where I inserted myself into the Mo experience. Once to show a video of my friend playing drums, again with that damn iPhone.
I attempted to talk her into a weekend of riding in the Bitterroot Valley. I was immediately questioned about what time in the morning this be. I suggested a modest 8 am and was told, “good luck with that”. I didn’t press on this issue.
Then with some beer induced conversation about how I should read poetry at my next solo 24 hour race, you know, to pass time. I agreed to do that. And the party dissolved. I went home and thought about missed opportunities. The next day I rode all day in the Bitterroot.
Fresh off a win in Spokane …
I never read poetry at the Spokane race. I got so caught up in winning it that I forgot. Then I won another race in Rapeljie. And of course my good luck rolled into a new Job in Bozeman. Life was looking up. Opportunities abound.
My TNR family threw me a going away party on top of Sentinel. As the toasts were given I did not show a lot of holding back the tear endurance. I started to realize what I was leaving behind and how much I actually was a part of people’s lives here. Was I making a mistake?
Really regretting taking a job in another town at this point
And Mo was there. I found some time to catch up on her adventures and the news that she was buying a new mountain bike. I talked merits of full suspension and gave some advice. She told me about places to go in Bozeman that were cool. As I walked with Lydia back down to the trailhead Mo stopped by on her cross bike.
“Just wanted to say goodbye”, she said and then rode down the hills.
I turned to Lydia, “Am I making a mistake”?
She didn’t answer.
Seriously though, what WAS I doing? Why was I running away from the very town that gave me so much happiness. Too late now. I needed to grow up and get that good job. Make some money. Pay off some bills. And focus on the new opportunity.
And I moved. Just like that my interests in Missoula banished. The new life was in front of me. But first, one more stop at the Bridge Pizza. To get my favorite slice. And wouldn’t you know it? I ran into Mo again … moments before leaving town. I flagged her down for some small talk. Then I drove away with tears welling up in my eyes. And it started to rain. It felt more like a funeral.
As I leave Missoula there were signs that I was making a great mistake
I am about to get on a plane and travel to California. San Francisco to be exact. And I am going to see friends, Leah, Cameron, and Jill. It will be good. But for now all the usual stuff. Planning, scheming, and stressing. And the journey continues. On a trail new to me.
Boneshakerbike 
