Author: Bill

So where was I. My last blog was about a month ago right after a weekend with friends. In fact my last blog was written while I was waiting for a phone call from someone to set up the next weekend in Missoula. So what has happened since then? How about a super speed train ride over the last month or so to get caught up.

I did the MESSS (No photos : photos by friends in Facebook … I hate Facebook … only friends of my friends can view them. Stupid Facebook) in under 12 hours and spent quality time with some friends in Missoula. I really do miss them. The week after the MESSS we back packed into Pine Creek Lake and spent the weekend. That place is truly amazing. Then last week I traveled to Missoula where I spent time with some friends riding down in the Bitterroot. And that is about it in a nutshell. So now that were are all caught up I will proceed to blog about the most recent adventure. Last weekend we went down the Bitterroot to do some mountain biking. We visited Como Lake and then the Warm Springs area.

Friday after work I joined up with Mo at the Larry Creek Campground to enjoy some Adventure Cycling festivities. Who can pass up an opportunity for beer, cheer, and smores by the campfire. The next morning we were off to find some mountain bike trails and stop in at the Red Barn Bike Shop to visit with Chad.

Path of sun

After trying out some snow bikes we headed to Como Lake and decided to camp there. We did a loop around the lake. The day went by pretty fast and the next thing you know the sun started setting. Of course we wanted to try and fit in a swim but that didn’t pan out for me so I just went back to camp and Action Wiped up. I gathered up some wood and started a nice little campfire and looked around for Mo.

I found her staring into the trees with a weird look on her face.

“What’s wrong”, I asked as I took a step forward. Problem was that my step forward didn’t turn out so well. I fell off the bank and nearly into the creek. By the time I got up and the dust cleared I suspected that whatever she was looking at had eaten her by now. She pointed up into a tree. I cleared the dirt from my eyes and strained to see what she was pointing at. it was a pine martin. Pretty cute little guy who was just wishing we would stop shining out headlamps at it.

The wildlife exhibit didn’t stop there either. As we sat by the fire we noticed eyes darting across the field in front of us. I jumped up and aimed my headlamp in the direction of the glowing eyes. It was a fox. Pretty cool. Didn’t see any wildlife in like three weeks and all of a sudden Saturday night was like a circus.

Sommer and Mo riding Porqupine Ridge

The next day we met up with Sommer and Jenny just past Darby on the Warm Springs Road. My plan was to take them up to and over Porcupine Ridge. It was a ambitious plan and maybe should of disclosed how much effort was needed. We all were juiced for new adventure and headed off to the Togood Cabin. It was a great ride and instead of completing my entire plan we opted for the shorter version down Fire Creek Trail.

We had to rush back to Missoula to make the Bridge Pizza before it closed but also needed to stop and look for a lost car key at our camping spot. No keys found but we did make it in time for a couple slices and a pint.

I stayed in Missoula and woke up early to drive to Bozeman. I barely made it to work on time and the work day was super hard. Now after a good nights rest I am planning another weekend of adventure. Before this weekend though, I need to do some compressed training to prepare for the RMVQ and 25 Hours of Frog hollow. Today included freaking out that I don’t have enough Carbo Rocket and some last minute ordering. Now after a power session of training plan juggling I am ready for 3 super hard days on the bike or running up a trail. on tap for tonight is some cyclocross training with the GAS team.

This weekend looks promising as I head out with Mo for some road riding and hiking just north of here. I can hardly wait. Loving love in Bozeman/Missoula Montana.

Adventures, by their very nature, are unpredictable. They’re the stories we tell with a mix of pride and a hint of disbelief, the kind of tales that start with a plan and end with a lesson in humility and the unexpected. My recent escapade into the wilds of Corbly Gulch serves as a perfect testament to this truth, a narrative of intentions gone awry and the unforeseen challenges that truly make life interesting.

The original plan was simple enough: head up to Corbly Gulch for a run, a straightforward mission that quickly unraveled when my beetle hit ruts from hell, stopping us a mile short of the trailhead. So, adapting to the hiccup, I switched gears—quite literally—opting for my mountain bike with a revised plan to ride for an hour before heading back to tackle weekend preparations.

But, as fate would have it, the presence of motorcycle riders on the boulder-strewn single-track I was navigating presented a new twist. Determined not to be outdone, I set a new goal: to go farther than these motorheads, a decision that shifted my day from a simple ride to an impromptu competition against the elements and engine-powered adversaries.

The challenge escalated on a loose, steep climb, where the sounds of struggling motorcycles ahead piqued my curiosity. What could possibly halt these powerful machines? Upon finding them hindered by the trail’s eroded steepness, pride took the helm. I attempted to surpass them on my bike, a move meant to demonstrate my prowess, only to be humbled by the mountain itself. A misplaced foot sent me tumbling down a scree field, a large rock halting my descent with a painful reminder of nature’s indifference.

Bruised, breathless, and momentarily defeated, I pressed on past the motorcyclists with a bike on my shoulder, earning their impressed acknowledgment. Yet, once out of sight, the adrenaline faded, revealing the true extent of my injuries and dousing the flames of my adventurous spirit. The realization dawned: the fun had ended, and it was time to retreat.

Descending back, I encountered the motorcyclists once more, sharing a brief exchange that underscored my decision to bail. As I sped past their abandoned bikes, a small victory in the grand scheme, the truth of Corbly Gulch’s victory over my ambitions settled in.

This misadventure, Mishap 3.0, was more than just a series of unplanned events; it was a stark reminder of the humility required when facing the wild, the respect demanded by nature, and the unpredictable joy of adventures that refuse to stick to “the plan.” And in this tale of plans gone awry, the real lesson isn’t in the fall but in the determination to rise, to adapt, and to find triumph in the journey, no matter how unexpected the path.

Rich asked where I was heading as we enjoyed Cataplooza’s live band.

“I’m off to Upper Cottonwood Trail,” I replied.

He warned it was rocky, a comment I brushed off silently, determined to conquer the trail despite the warnings.

Indeed, the trail was tougher than any I’d faced in Montana, matching the challenging tracks back East. I struggled, nearly walking my bike halfway up, blaming a phone date for turning back. But honestly, the trail had defeated me; I couldn’t bear the walk of shame any longer.

“I’ll conquer you yet,” I muttered, retreating.

Descending was another tale. I rode down entirely, greeted by a stunning sunset at the trailhead. A reminder that even in failure, there’s a chance for beauty. Another trail, another adventure.

I have been exhausted lately.  Some big adventure coupled with some late nights have me is some major need of sleep. So after work tonight I had two choices. Go home and hit the couch or squeak out a adventure. I settled on a “active rest” hike to Frog Rock.

Yet another trail here in Bozeman is just west of town. This tiny hike is great for recovery and some amateur rock climbing. I mean there is some major rock to climb but also for us scary cats there are some side pitches that take you to some rock perches above the canyon. these are the rocks you see between Bozeman and the pass. Yea, you can hike up into them … cool. Again tonight as with the last two weeks my mind drifted in and out of current situations. New job, new trails, and yes some sparks of fondness for someone. Along with that Modest Mouse seemed to find a way to get me running. Yes a recovery hike turned into a great trail run.  I cant wait for this weekend.

The day was almost a “loss”, well if you subscribe to my definition of “loss”. Loss occurs when you have a beautiful day and don’t utilize it for an outdoor adventure. I mean we all sit around waiting on summer and when it arrives we take it for grated sometimes. I wouldn’t allow it and so I finally jumped in my car to drive up to the Fairy Lake Campground in the Bridger Range here in Bozeman.

The trip up was a bit longer then I thought. You see on the map there is a dirt road that leads to a public campground. So one would figure you could drive a beetle up there, right? Not so here in Bozeman. These roads are called jeep trails and let me tell you a jeep would of been nice. I did make it to the Sacagawea Peak Trailhead but after a bit of constructive driving. I like to call it “Mountain Beetling”, a close cousin to “So Snow Mo Beetling” which is done in the winter.

Now I was looking at a ridge line that reached into the sky and was illuminating by a setting sun. At first it looked like a little rock but upon closer scrutiny I determined this was a beast. So dramatic that my vertigo suddenly kicked in. I looked down and then to my watch. “Well, I should turn around anyway”, I said to a marmot close by. “I mean I did get up here late and it would be nice to get back home before ten”. I snapped off a photo and decided to continue until at least 8.  I could at least gain the ridge maybe.

Out of the tree line I was greeted by two towering peaks. It was so dizzying that I forgot which one was Sacagawea and assumed it was the hard one on the right. Of course this was a mistake. In the end it made no difference anyway because I had already determined I would not attempt a accent this late. I headed towards the saddle and started to think about the number two. The dual beauty above me seemed to make the scene more beautiful then a single peak scene.

Why the wonder? I don’t know, but for some time I figured solo was the way to go. But as this remarkably beautiful terrain seemed to bring up a recent development in life I found myself in a quandary. And this scene I realized, as I have many times in the past year, would be nice to share it with someone. But then what about group hikes and rides. I wonder … what is the optimal number of people to enjoy this kind of adventure; to enjoy life?

One seems best but then there is that urge to have a black and white scene painted with an array of beautiful colors. I can enjoy something but when I am with others it seems more colorful and meaningful.

On the other end of the spectrum a large group, say 4 or more, I believe something gets lost. It is noisy and everyone has their agendas and different ways of looking at things. It gets complicated. Magical and fun but something is lost. I think the most importnat element, earth, is being diluted.

Three maybe? It seems three can be more intamate with the surrounding beauty.  I guess what I am saying is that the less people you share something with the more you can focus on the earth, others,  and your inner self. So is one optimal? I am starting to believe that 2 may be optimal. Two is as intimate as you can get before the total focus on the experience starts to dilute. For some reason 2 brings out a bonding element, a intimate element. I don’t know ….

Before I could make my decision I reached the saddle to a beautiful sunset. My mind drifts off to next weekend. This would be a nice place to test my optimal number theory.

Today is my friend Jill’s birthday and I told her that I would do an epic in her honor. I said this because she is injured and cannot go epic … so I went epic.

I started the day going up a trail called Bozeman Creek. It is the drainage to the East of Hylite. Which means a hard ass climb to get over the ridge. Once over though, the scenery opened up and it was like a postcard.

Once in the Hylite Valley I headed up to Emerald Lake. The trail up reminded me of the Lolo Peak trail. It went up and up and had great switchbacks with great scenery at every corner. Soon, too soon, I arrived at the lake.

There were wild flowers in abundance and the streams were cold and refreshing. I only took a bag of Carbo Rocket so all I needed to do was stop to mix every hour. Then it was off to a lake up from Emerald called Heather.

Heather was tucked away in the upper reaches of the valley just below towering cliffs. The mountains just up from it were all 10,000 footers, Chisholm and Overlook.

To ride a bike in such beauty is hard. The trail is technical enough to require the utmost attention. But that is nearly impossible with all the beauty towering around you. So falls are totally acceptable … and expected.

After bombing down from the lakes …. wait …. more like totally blissfully hauling ass over twisty single-track bombing. Where was I , oh. I didn’t have enough so I spent the rest of the day poking around where I could. I even went up one ravine to find a rain forest like cove. Totally cool. In the end I hit up trails like they were chocolates. After it all was said and done 66 miles, 8,000 feet of climbing in a little over 7 hours http://connect.garmin.com/activity/108080480.

Mom always said, “Life is like a box of chocolates … eat them all and don’t forget to GPS  it so as to marvel at what you have done”.

I left work facing a weekend that barring any surprise visits will be my first alone weekend at home in Bozeman. I felt kind of sad because I was trying to schedule another weekend like last. But a trip down the canyon on the South side of Bozeman has renewed my enthusiasm. As I sit now in my living room looking at a trail map I just obtained from REI my heart is leaping with excitement. There are literally hundreds of trails and epic adventured around these parts.

I zipped home from work and exchanged my bike for my trail runners. I arrived at Hylite Lake about 25 minutes after leaving my apartment. Getting there was simple. Just drive up 18th, the street next to my apartment, take a left on Hylite Lake Road and follow it to the lake. I cant believe I live so close to paradise. I almost had flashbacks to being in Canmore and Alaska. It was that cool.

Near the end of the lake I could see the drainages that I will be mountain biking up this weekend. To the Left is the  Emerald Lake drainage and tomorrow’s destination. Then to the right is the way to Hylite Peak for Sunday’s frolic. Up the valleys are snowy expanses of high peaks and razor sharp ridges. Like a mini Glacier park right in my back yard.

I arrived at the first trailhead that had the word “Falls” in it. I am a sucker for water falls. I grabbed my Carbo Rocket and camera then started running up the path. The falls were not that far up the path and I was really amazed at the size of the drop. I noticed a trail up the side and headed up to get a better perspective. That is when mishap 2.0 happened.

Keep in mind that last week I came out of the woods late after a fall running up in Truman Gulch. Well tonight instead of falling on my face I fell on my ass. I was climbing some sharp rocks when I misjudged a rocks location and fell backwards and onto my back landing on a sharp rock. Now I have this grapefruit bulge on the bottom of my spine. As I lay there wriggling in pain all I could think about is if I ruined my weekend of biking.

I heard some voices coming up the trail so I quickly regained my composure and faked like I was enjoying the view. I took a couple more glances at the waterfall and started to jog back to the car. As soon as I got out of sight of the hikers I started running with a limp as to accommodate my new ouchy ass.

Now back at home the pain in my back is not at the forefront of my focus. My focus is on a map laid out on the living room floor. New excitement and possibilities. I am no longer alone.

My heart was about to explode out of my chest and I glanced at my GPS watch to see just how high it was. I couldn’t make heads or tails of the display because I was running up a mountain and between the moving display and my anaerobic daze things were a bit confusing. I did see that I only had been at it for 20 minutes.

“Holy cow, I am running up this mountain super fast”, I thought to myself.

I had left camp after mulling around pre dawn with nothing to do. It kind of surprised me that at least Norman wasn’t up. He mentioned a little outing in the morning. I knew Lydia wouldn’t be up and there is no way Mo was going to exist pre 10 AM. It was around 6 when I sauntered away from the lake and headed for the far ridgeline to the West.

Now I was on top of the backbone of the Swan Range. To run along the ridge as the sun peaks up is tremendously moving. I watched as the shadow of the range I was on slowly slipped down the Mission Range far to the West. I was among the company of giants for a early morning get-together. I made my way towards a peak but about 00 to 300 feet away the pitch jetting straight up. This terrain was out of my comfort zone so I turned and skipped back down the ridgeline. Yes! I said skipped. I made my way back to camp to find Norman up cooking breakfast.  Total morning “jog” was about 1:20.

I talked Norman out of a cup of coffee and the bean juice revitalized my systems. Before long Norman and I went on a short walk about to discover the cool terrain in and around where we were staying.  Lakes emptying into other lakes sometimes with waterfalls in between. Really quite interesting.

Mo shows off her “move to the left … move to the right”

You want a piece of me? huh?

Flower

Lydia snuck up some fast food

Norman catching up on some sleep.

Necklace Lake

Camp

Yum, that looks good.

My weird mug

Back at camp we all set forth to packing up and start the trek back out of the interior to civilization. Before us a 700 foot, straight up, accent on the ridge and then a quad crushing 4,100 foot drop.

“Where is Norman and Mo”, Lydia asked me as I closed in on her pace.

“Stopped to look at something”

“I am thinking, we have a long way to go and it is already past noon. And there is a lake to swim in at the end. And a lodge which probably has hamburgers and Cold Smoke”

That’s all it took and my pace quickened.  With heavy packs the grunt was a little demanding.

A shelter on top of the crest

The hut

A view from the hut

On the ridge we climbed to a high point and a hut. What a crown jewel to a already great weekend. We all stopped for a snack between two rocks. In the back of my mind was the long daunting decent followed by a reward of meat and a dip in a “warmer” lake. I didn’t want it to end but all things must … right?

“Well, I am heading down”, and I stood up.

Lydia bolted back to her pack.

“Already, we just got here”, Norman inquired.

“Well it’s a long hike down and I have to get home … it’s a 4 hour drive”, I looked at Mo.

“Um we will see you at the bottom … I’ll wait.

And we were off. A couple hours later Lydia and I enjoyed a dip in Holland lake with a Cold Smoke in hand. Soon Mo and Norman showed up and we all went for a burger and parted ways.  It was a good weekend … in many ways that I cant explain now.  And I continue down the path.  We all continue down the path.

Weekend Stats:

• 21.2 miles
• 10:54:11
• 18,147 vert. Feet

My sleeping bag is the kind that has draw-strings that cinch up the head area so as to keep the heat from escaping. There are two of them, one for the top, and one for the bottom. It can be pretty tricky to get out of the bag quickly.  As my terror grew from being woke up suddenly by some sort of a beast I tried to think of the best way to get out of my bag. To my bear spray which was 10 inches from my head.

“Dude, just spray yourself and let me go back to sleep”, I screamed in my head to that “thing” that was making a ruckus outside my tent. It seemed pissed off that I was blocking it’s path to the lake. Like I was squatting on its “moose path” or “bear commuter lane”.

3 … 2 … 1 … I pulled at the draw strings and almost gouged out my eyes to get my arms free. I wrestled with the cover to the canister. As I was flailing around in my tent I hear the thing turn and run. THUMP THUMP THUMP Crash SNAP. What ever it was decided to take the b-line instead of the way it snuck in. It sounded like a garbage truck trying to drive through a Adirondack trail. Snapping brush and just plain frantically getting the F outta there.

My heart was pounding just enough to keep me awake for another 10 minutes. But I was so sleepy that I finally dozed back of to sleep holding the can of bear spray in my clutches. I could of easily sprayed myself in my sleep. I awoke early morning to the sound of Norman walking by on his way to where the food was hanging.

I emerged from my tent to greet my friends. I decided to share with them my little visitor the night previous. The consensus was moose but I still feel it a bear. I mean what moose will sniff around a tent. And the foot steps running away were not big ker-thumps but ore like thud thud thud.

We spent the rest of the day gaining a ridge and hiking down to our destination a series of lakes known as Necklace Lakes. It is here we established our pace partners. I seemed to be comfortable out front with Lydia and Norm and Mo were content on absorbing more of the surrounding elements. A plan was hatched to do a extra loop but as we approached the top of the ridge Lydia informed me that we missed the turn off.  And that was OK. The weekend was about friends and being together. Why launch a ultra slog fest that would totally demolish any R&R by the lake.

During lunch break with the crew I discovered a fresh snow stash.  Mo and I set forth on a snow man building operation. Seems our little guy ended up with a tiny head. In fact if I didn’t say snow man the photo above wouldn’t make any sense. I added a flower so that the little fella would have something for it’s creator. A flower for you madam. This started a common theme for me this weekend.  Spontaneous play. Funny how some people bring that out in yourself.  After lunch we continued on to the ridge and the scenery just got better by the switchback.

Then spontaneous play broke out again. This time I suggested the activity. Sledding on a big snow field.

Norman posted the distance record but Lydia had the speed. After numerous attempts at making a foam mat slide we moved on to find out final destination. Necklace lakes. We settled on the second one down and found a  sweet spot.

Swimming was on everyone’s mind but as we plunged into the frigid waters we soon realized the activity would be brief.

“Now I know what liquid snow feels like”, Lydia said as I prepared to jump in.

She was right. Then I got into a “little” competition with Mo. I wondered out loud how long one could stay in. According to her she was well adapted for cold water and has been known to have a pretty decent pain threshold. I was in and we sat there up to our necks and Norman and Lydia looked on with worried looks on their faces. I cant say I won but Mo exited the water first. I may have not won because she actually got in before me. I stayed a tad longer to suggest that I had beaten the hypothermia queen. The last time I got out of the water I couldn’t pull myself out.  It took me the better part of that evening by the fire to warm myself up … but I won.

Before we tucked in I found myself down by the lake. Mo joined me and we were discussing the way WE thought the world should work when she spotted something in the water. It was some of bug creature that looked like a rock. Then I spotted some sort of underwater beetle. There we were … like a couple 5 year olds pointing and exploring the underwater world. It was like we were witnessing a small desert where the stone people were battling the beetle people for domination of the desert. Spontaneous play. Thanks Mo for bringing that out in me.

Sleep was not hard to obtain that night. A cold core from playing in ice water followed by an evening of watching the underwater kingdom until dark.

I first learned of my friends plans  around mid week.  I was doing my usual prodding around to get someone from Missoula to visit me. One friend responded that they were going back packing.  I was all in and prepared the rest of the week to join them.

Friday I promptly left work and went straight home to throw my back pack into the car. My plan was entirely WAY to ambitious and that very fact made it exciting. I would drive to the Holland Lake Trailhead and hike up to the upper lake which was a nice 2,000 feet above its larger brother down below. The tricky part is that I wouldn’t arrive until after sunset. The drive over was fantastic. It is always great to get out on the open road with no one around but a beautiful sunset on the horizon.

The hike up was reportedly 7 miles according to a forest service sign that  had a pair of panties hanging from it. I laughed … what a funny way for them to leave me clues. However funny the comedy was only in my mind. Who knows how and why a pair of undies got hung from that sign. To make things even more odd was a pair of house cats sitting at the sign post.

I approached the adventure as an imaginary race and busted up the first thousand feet. My heavy load started to bite into my shoulders and my neck began to ache. I slowed to a pace that would get me up to the other lake around 3 AM … perfect. Too bad I couldn’t hike all night. Just to see if I could do it. And of course to impress my friends.

The moon was out full so everything lit up beautifully. The Mission Mountain Range in the distance with the big lake below. it was quite beautiful. it was almost like a cloudy day in black and white. Silvery moonlit rocks towered over my head and I turned my head lamp off to enjoy the complete solitude. My mind drifted to expectations of what I would find when I got up to the lake and how the weekend might progress. I only knew one concrete detail. Meet them at the upper lake. I wondered if they were up sitting around the campfire. My pace quickened.

The GPS said 5.6 mile at around 1:30 a.m. and I started to stumble my way up the  rocky switchbacks. I started thinking that maybe I didn’t want to hike all night. But I knew that was just the sleep monster talking. I was just over a mile away so thankfully  the anticipation kept me going.

Suddenly I spotted eyes in the forest. I swung my headlamp over into its general direction. It was definitely not a bear or moose. I let out a sigh.  The next thing to figure out is if it was a cat or a wolf … a wolf highly unlikely. Just then a reflective strip from a tent caught my eye. I quickly aimed the light back onto the trail in front of me.  I didn’t want to wake up its inhabitants. I mean at 2 a.m. they could be quite pissed. I noticed in the distance a large flat surface.  I was at the lake!

Quickly realizing I may have just found my friends so I turned off my lamp and approached slowly. The dog didn’t bark and I suspected it was kind of freaked out or maybe just waiting for the initial blindness from my light to go away. I didn’t want to bother anyone so I turned to go hang my food. That is when he started barking. Soon I realized it was Norman’s dog and I walked in to greet him. I quickly hung my food, put up my tent, and drifted off to sleep.

I awoke out of deep sleep to a grunting, almost hog like, sound. I quickly realized something big was sniffing at my head through the tent. For a few moments I froze but then I decided that I better make a move for the bear spray. I counted to myself …. 3 …. 2 …. 1 ….

Late and wary of police, I opt for back roads, cursing my broken headlamp. I ditch the bike, craving a hike instead. I tackle a rocky ridge, tougher than Missoula’s “M” trail, reminiscing about Sentinel’s similar path. I overtake three gasping exchange students, feeling agile. Reaching a larger “M” made of white stones, curiosity strikes at a northward path. I run towards it, enjoying the freedom. The descent offers scenic rocky outcroppings, outshining Missoula’s trail. It merges with the Bridger Foothills Trail, a challenging but bike-friendly route. However, today, I’m solely on foot.