Year: 2012

This is the final blog post in a series of three (1st one, 2nd one) about my weekend adventure, which I’ve dubbed #H2H. My trip home from Toll Mountain began later in the day, around 10 AM. This was significantly earlier than the noon start I had when traveling there. And I had an aggressive route planned.

The plan was to ride dirt roads across the Valley to the Tobacco Root Range. Then, I intended to head straight over them through forest service access points and single track. I was set to cross two ranges with an ungodly amount of climbing. I was prepared to hike my bike for hours up steep slopes and grit my teeth on the descent into the Madison River Valley. But a river thwarted my plans. Not because it was in the way, but because the decision to cross involved finding a bridge. This bridge was way off course, and as I approached it, I realized that starting this mountain range crossing without a confirmed route was a risk, especially since I had to be back at work on Tuesday.

I abandoned the route for a later time and decided to return the way I came, with options to take the Madison River Road (dirt instead of pavement). So, a stop at Cardwell for a pint of ice cream was in order. After a thoughtful planning session, I set out to climb over the Tobacco Root Pass, which had nearly defeated me three days earlier.

I was cautious and suppressed my urge to push a big ring. I even stopped once to apply sunscreen. The sun was high and hot, so I just pedaled and waited for the heat to raise my heart rate and the impending heat stroke to take over. But it didn’t, and I topped out on the pass, just flying. It felt so easy… easy peasy.

And that’s how I returned from #H2H. The rest of the adventure was a matter of just pedaling and counting down the miles before I rolled into my apartment complex. Oh yeah… and my plans to ride the Madison River Road, you ask? Well, a huge storm loomed, blew, and rained on me a bit, so I stuck to the pavement and outran it home. Had to skip another future endeavor. Anyone coming along on #H2Hv2?

This is a second blog post in a series of three #H2H about my weekend adventure.

Something like rain simply sucks … sometimes.  If it interrupts a ride with the introduction of hypothermia. And then on the other end of lifes spectrum a trail found is worth a million gold bouillon. Then there are things out there that I just could go either way on like festivals.  Add all these little life elements and make the setting Butte Montana and you will have a great weekend.

It all started with a Saturday wake up call at around 1pm. Hey, I run a strict camp. An afternoon bike ride was in order.  I wanted to introduce my partner in crime to the CDT but that did not happen. Instead we felt our way around camp and than got sidetracked on a trail called Moose Creek or something like that. It wasn’t long before we got chased back to camp by a mean looking thunder storm.

The next day I was determined to make the CDT thing happen but on our way up to Pipestone Pass we encountered two storms which dumped an inch of rain each.  After hiding under trees for several hours we concluded that a dash for camp was necessary.  Once back at camp and quickie car ride into Butte took us to the Butte Folk Festival.

We grabbed a burger and beer and then jaunted up the street to catch the remaining act. Dancing is a funny thing.  For me the urge to dance is very rare but on occasion I can let it loose. But not today. Instead I watched my friends feel the vibe and put it down in Butte.

And that was as fantastic as a weekend can get.  Well it does get even more  fun because I am leaving out some of the little details.  Like brats, beer, camp fires, discussions to figure out the worlds lack of NOT working. All in Butte, a city no one wants to admit is cool.

This blog post is the first in a series of three or four short stories about last weekend’s adventure, which I’ve tagged as #H2H. The ride was conceived while I was driving back to Bozeman from Missoula two weeks ago, but as the sun rose on Friday, my day off didn’t start as expected. I awoke with a pounding headache and nausea, my sinuses completely blocked. Just the thought of getting up to make breakfast was too much to bear.

As noon approached, the Excedrin kicked in and got me out the door. It was a late start, but my plan was to ride to the first town and then decide how to proceed based on how I felt. At 1 pm, I was pedaling down Main Street in Churchill. I still had a headache, but turning back just didn’t feel right. I might as well ride… right?

I arrived in Manhattan about 30 minutes later and actually started to feel better. I wasn’t up for riding hard, but going easy was fine, and I looked forward to the adventure. Around 2:45 pm, I reached Three Forks and stopped at a market to find something appetizing. I settled on sardines and an avocado. However, upon sitting down to eat for the first time during the ride, I quickly discovered that the avocado was rotten and the sardines were packed in mustard. Frustrated at not paying attention and buying the wrong thing, I just jumped on my bike and headed to Milligan Canyon. By 3 pm, I was back on gravel, venturing onto a road that I wasn’t sure would work out.

In the actual canyon, I began experiencing burning in my lungs. Within an hour, this turned into actual chest pains, and I started to worry. I was in the middle of nowhere and, if I had issues, I wouldn’t be found for quite some time. Approaching the top of Tobacco Root Pass on Cottonwood Road, I felt tingling in my arms and the heat caused my heart rate to soar. I didn’t feel well and made a deal with myself: if I could make it to Cardwell, I would call my girlfriend to come and get me. At 4:19 pm, I crested the pass and headed down Cottonwood Canyon.

It took a full 50 minutes to descend a few miles, and what was frustrating is that I had been looking forward to trying out this section of dirt road for twenty years, ever since I spotted it on the way to a cross-country mountain bike race in Billings. As I coasted into Cardwell, I knew what could possibly make me feel better: ICE CREAM. Despite being nauseous and ready to puke, I stumbled into the general store and bought a pint of Blue Bunny Vanilla. It was pure heaven, and within minutes, I felt like biking to the next town, just 10 miles of pavement to the west. Upon arriving in Whitehall, I felt good enough to consider completing my intended route.

My girlfriend was well on her way, but it would take her two hours to reach me. The more I sat near the Interstate at a convenience store, the more I wanted to ride up the two to three-hour climb to Homestake Pass. Next thing I knew, I was off, headed up to find some elusive dirt roads that would take me there.

Unfortunately, my H2H route was not meant to be. Well, it will be, just not last Friday. But it all worked out because my girlfriend called, suggesting we meet at Pipestone Pass near Toll Mountain. Great idea — I was just miles away. And we found a great campsite.