Author: Bill

Lately, my job has been like a black hole, sucking up all my bloggy energy and spitting out a shell of a writer. But fear not, dear readers, I shall rise from the ashes of my to-do list like a phoenix, ready to regale you with tales once more. Managed to escape the clutches of work for a bit yesterday for a soul-rejuvenating sunset watch. Fingers crossed, toes crossed, even eyes a bit crossed, I might just make it to the Thursday Night Ride tonight. Until then, it’s back to the grindstone for me.

Tonight, I’ve stumbled upon a rare gem of an evening where I can actually plop down and watch a hockey game. Usually, my routine is as predictable as a sitcom rerun: clock out from work, dive into training, blend up a recovery smoothie that’s probably too green for its own good, and then crash harder than a clumsy figure skater. But lately, my job has been giving me a mental workout that’s tougher than any gym session, leaving me gasping for a breather like I’ve just sprinted through my entire day. Wrestling with a solid nine hours of focus feels like asking my aging brain to run a marathon without training. Luckily, my knack for juggling time like a circus performer means I’ve still managed to squeeze in those all-important workouts. Today, I was on fire, knocking out both sessions by 6 PM. Escaped for a lung-busting hill session on Sentinel at lunch and wrapped it up with some much-needed regeneration after battling the commute home.

As I’m sifting through photos, half-watching the Avalanche attempt a Hail Mary against the Blue Jackets, I can’t help but think Colorado needs a miracle lineup to dodge missing the playoffs.

Stumbled upon this snapshot of Moonlight Basin and, honestly, it’s hard to believe this gem is tucked away in Montana. Sure, the commercial glitz is hard to ignore, but you’ve gotta tip your hat to the sheer bliss of living it up there like you own the place. Took a spin there about a month back, cruising the snowy streets on my new bike. Felt like a breath of fresh Montana air, a sweet escape from the same-old Missoula that’s felt a bit more monochrome these frosty months. It was like stepping into another world.

So here I am tonight, a change of pace with my feet up, hockey on the TV, mentally mapping out my next great adventure on two wheels.

Bacon tastes so good. And if it is cooked just right, the fat becomes crispy and just a wonderful explosion of hickory smoky flavor. That is what I am experiencing now. Also, the smell of my freshly made espresso wafts through my apartment, and a fresh toasted raisin bagel (gluten-free, of course) eagerly awaits its turn to be eaten. I have already visited my local free Wi-Fi haunt to check on some of my favorite blogs and post a plea for someone to ride with today. The weather channel barks out the reason no one has answered my cries. Wicked winter storms are barreling their way up the Western coast and headed our way. But I don’t care about all these details right now. The biggest question is where to ride. I am using a topo map program to rummage around for a local place to explore. I use the TopoFusion program. I love TopoFusion.

Yesterday, I found plenty of people to ride with, and plenty of miles were recorded. I rode out to Clinton for the yearly Missoula cyclists’ right of passage. Well, if you are a road racer. I am not, but I like those dudes. Um, most of them anyway. Some jerk-weed started yelling at me that I had caused an accident. In reality, I was behind two junior riders who collided with each other and went down. I proceeded to ride over a back wheel and continue but had nothing to do with it. Once accused, I quickly defended myself and slowed the pace for a possible fist fight. After it was obvious this guy was just being a jerk, I returned to pursue the main field. But they got away, so I towed a small pack around the course twice, finished up, and rode 20 miles back home. I think I better stay away from that sport. I just don’t fit in and can’t seem to conform to the “laws” of road racing. I hope I didn’t piss too many people off. Well, maybe a few. Ha.

As my program loads map tiles, I get excited. I love planning a new adventure. Somewhere you haven’t been. Mysterious landscapes which topo maps only provide tiny details. What that land has in store for me, no one can tell. I just know where I want to go. Then I go out and see what the land has in store for me.

Time to head out. At least today, I know I will not piss anyone off or get into a scuffle. I will be alone. Just the terrain, a network of gravel roads, and some possible single-track.

I really don’t know what drives me to go harder when my entire biology says that I am about to die. But I do. I was climbing up Pattee Canyon in my large ring, two clicks down in the back. It was a 3 minute sprint and I felt like I just couldn’t muster the pace for three minutes. But I did. I was thinking about how Missoula has changed in the last week. And then I turned around to go back down the hill to do it again. I passed a single deer in a yard half way down.

“I’ll name you Dipper”, I said to myself.

I tend to name all animals I encounter frequently. I would go by Dipper 7 times today so I had better give it a name. It gave me a look and went back to eating. A cyclist on this stretch is not a uncommon occurrence.

I finished my 3 minute sprints, 3 of them, and coasted around for 5 minutes in recovery.  Suddenly I mounted one of 3 two minute attacks on the hill. I was in my large ring and four down in the back. Holy cow. Just as I thought I would bust my leg off at the hip my interval was over.

“That damn Carbo Rocket 333 is kick ass”, I thought to myself. I mean what the heck is with all this power. I turned around to coast back down the hill. If only this interval session would free me up for a ride with a friend later after work. Just as I came down the hill again there were two deer.

“I’ll name the other Borah” “Hi Borah… Dipper”

Borah looked a little uneasy with it’s new name and Dipper just ignored me. We had a special kind of relationship, Dipper and I.

After my 3 two minute assaults on the hill I rested again. The last big attack would last one minute and I wondered if I could go all out biggest ring and 6 down in the back. I spun around for five minutes.

Bam! Just like that I attacked one last time and ripped out a perfect sprint up the hill. Absolutely great to go 26 mph up a hill climb.  Too bad I couldn’t do that for 20 minutes. I would be freaking awesome.  I coasted back towards town. I passed Dipper and Borah but there were 3 deer this time.

“Wow, that is weird. I’ll name the third … “

But couldn’t think of a name. And then the moment passed as my mind wondered what Missoula would be like this summer. Would I see Dipper and Borah again? Where did that third deer come from?

As I barreled down the track with my heart thumping at a rapid 170 bpm, it seemed too intense to be real. Yet, there I was, carving through a hairpin turn, leaning into it with all my might. My bike, my dream machine, hugged the curve with the tenacity of Velcro, and I couldn’t help but marvel at its precision. Inches from the apex, I was tearing it up, fully immersed in the moment—except, this was no figment of my imagination. I was genuinely racing against time to catch the starting line of the Devils Slide 2011.

Barely making it, decked out in Team Muleterro colors, I arrived just in the nick of time for the brief, two-minute racers’ meeting. It went something like, “I won’t be timing, so we’re going by placements. Any questions?” No sooner had the front liners, the Cat 1s and pros, agreed to let one of Vertical Earth’s riders lead the pack, than we were off. Contrary to our gentle start agreement, our leader blasted ahead, setting a fierce pace until the first ascent, where he gracefully bowed out, letting the heavy hitters take the reins.

Amongst the lead pack, Kevin Bradford-Parish of EMDE Sports and Kris Holden were the titans to beat. As we tackled the climb, I resisted the urge to push too hard, opting instead to stay tucked in the draft. Looking back, I should’ve seized the moment to break away. Before I knew it, the race’s dynamics shifted, leaving just four of us to dominate the field by the climb’s end.

The Devils Slide was my proving ground, where my new bike’s mettle was truly tested. It soared down the descent, keeping pace effortlessly. In previous races, this segment had been my downfall, but not this time. My only hiccup came when Kevin outmaneuvered me on a “safer” route, demonstrating that my cautious approach had cost me precious speed. It was a lesson in the art of featherlight braking.

Suddenly, I found myself in third place, wary of Kevin possibly letting the leader, a fellow Vertical Earth rider, slip away. Amidst tactical silence and unspoken strategies, I saw my chance and surged forward, clawing my way to second place by the end of the first lap, with the EMDE rider breathing down my neck.

Determined to shake up the race, I ramped up the intensity. If it came down to a sprint, I doubted my chances of victory. So, I pressed on, widening the gap with each pedal stroke. But as fate would have it, my handlebars chose that moment to loosen, turning my ride into a cautious balancing act.

As the climb loomed again, my competitors mistook my sudden deceleration for exhaustion. Frantically, I worked to tighten the screws with my multitool, cursing my luck and the potential wrath of my dad for the damage to my carbon bars.

Yet, despite the setback, my bike responded like a dream, catapulting me past my rivals on the climb. The race’s dynamics shifted once more, with Kevin making a bold move up the climb. Not to be outdone, I gave it my all, my bike ascending like a spirited gazelle.

As we neared the Slide again, I sensed Kris’s strategy to shadow my moves. My bike, however, was unstoppable, even with the handlebars askew. By the second lap’s end, I was hot on Kevin’s heels, with the trio of us jostling for the lead.

In the final moments, tactics and endurance were put to the ultimate test. Despite my best efforts, Kevin’s adept maneuvering on the final climb sealed my fate. I crossed the finish line in his wake, gracious yet hungry for victory.

Reflecting on the race, under the sun’s perfect glow, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. It was a day of intense competition, camaraderie, and the sheer joy of riding.

NOTE: Many thanks to Doug Goodenough for capturing the essence of the race with his photography. Visit his gallery to show some love and check out the race results. Here’s hoping he’s cool with the photo use!

Ross and I just stood there dumbfounded at our surroundings. The sun hit our faces and we squinted to look around at all the things we once knew but have somehow forgotten. Bare ground for one. This simple element can not be emphasized more. There was plants, animals, and amazingly enough not a trace that snow had ever visited the area. It was a look into the future. A look into what spring will be like when it finally visits Montana. For now we just stood there with our faces towards the sun soaking it all in.

Last weekend was the 2011 Devils Slide, our 6th trip. Check out past Devils Slide History. 2007 blog. 2008 blog. 2010 Part 2 blog and part 3. There will be the traditional race report tomorrow but for now a weekend overview report.

I didn’t get any sleep Friday night and when I arrived at Ross’s house had been awake all night. My body was all a-buzz with sleep deprivation numbness. We had been waiting for this moment for a while now and I was not about to miss it. I switched into using pure adrenalin and caffeine for energy. We headed out for Lewiston Idaho in a blinding snow storm with out new bikes in tow. For Ross he had his new Strong 29er and me my 2011 Turner Flux. Thankfully Chad at Red Barn had us both up and running in time for the weekend. Thanks Chad 🙂

I started to identify with Lewis and Clark as we busted into Idaho with snow so deep on the roads it was about bumper deep. This kept us pretty alert until all at once we started to see a change in scenery. Dark patches started to appear in the landscape and grow in size and numbers until finally it was all bare ground. By the time we arrived at the venue it was all out spring conditions. Temps hovering in the 60s and full sunshine. It was quite refreshing and it gave me energy I didn’t think I had.

It wasn’t long before Ross and I were riding our new bikes. Hoots and hollers came out as we churned the cranks through the single-track and up the only big climb. I discovered that my bike could climb like a goat and Ross just kept sporting a big ol grin and rode quite fast. Down the Devil’s Slide we gathered to express the horror of suddenly riding bikes and plunging down a steep cliff first thing. Welcome back to mountain biking fellas.

My plan was to ride until sunset but a session of extreme coolness was to much for a suspension bolt and it snapped. A run into town to a local Napa store was necessary and the days riding ended with two laps.

The run into town for replacement parts turned into a taste of the local culinary fairs. Soon the night was upon us and we returned to camp to sit next to a crackling fire. Sleep deprivation caught up to me and I barely made it into the cabin before I completely passed out on the cot.

The next day we enjoyed racing and meeting up with old and new friends. I took a extra lap before and after the race for good measure and apparently everyone else was too. It was a gorgeous day. Of course the best part of the Devils Slide is the swag giveaway and this year like all the others everyone got something. I ended up with some cool pool clogs (for some Montana hot tubbing) and Ross I think scored some gloves.  I usually end up with a helmet but this year was not meant to be. the ol Lazer has to endure another season.

Of course we stopped for the traditional pizza. And there was the traditional pee stop on Lolo Pass to freak out at the size of the snow drifts in front of the lodge.  All traditional stuff but this year a much needed distraction from the changing landscape in Missoula Montana.

It is upon us. The weekend that my friend Ross and I have been waiting for. It is the 2011 Devils Slide Mountain bike Race weekend. This is one thing we look forward to every year. It is all about spring time temps, camping out for the first time, and comforts of good friendships. And it is finally here.

Oh, and there’s my new blue bike, ready to tear up the trails, backed by an awesome crew of sponsors and teammates. Life’s been hitting the refresh button lately, what with a new apartment and a change of scenery in town. So far, so good. But then, why did my bike’s top tube look like it had been caught in a rainstorm of my tears this morning when I got to work? Sometimes I think my emotional brain is more like a secret agent, leaving me out of the loop until the last possible second. It’s only then I realize how deeply I care about the folks in my life.

But wait, let’s hit the rewind button…

Riding through the fresh snow, I was unfazed. Tomorrow, I’d be off to muddier, but snow-free, pastures. The snow was just a minor character in today’s story, and besides, it added a bit of sparkle to the morning. With my iPod shuffle cranking tunes and the scenery looking like a Bob Ross painting, life was good. Then, the next track came on, a song that wasn’t exactly a tearjerker but had become special to me because it reminded me of a friend who thought of me when she heard it. Every time it plays, I can’t help but laugh about the Big Dipper reference – a nod to a friend who’s been a constant in my blogging universe.

That memory took me back to our chat on Borah Peak, geeking out over state flags and admiring Alaska’s for its stellar design. Fast forward a week, and there we were, spotting the Big Dipper over Mount Sentinel. That sight inspired some of my best, most introspective blog posts.

Before I knew it, the song was over, replaced by a Modest Mouse track about life’s resilience (yep, “Float On”). The commute flew by in a blur of nostalgia, and I might have navigated a couple of crossings on autopilot, tears obscuring my vision. Lost in memories, I hardly noticed the real world around me. Yeah, I was a mess by the time I reached work.

Tonight, I’ll be saying farewell to a dear friend, something I’ve done before but never with such heaviness. Maybe one day, my brain will sync up its emotional and rational parts. Until then, I should probably avoid cycling on autopilot, eh? As Modest Mouse says, we’ll all float on, alright.

But here’s to the weekend and the race season kicking off. With a new bike and a fresh start, I’m ready to channel everything into speed. There’s a lot I’m working through, but I know I’ll come out faster for it.

I think I huked. Is that what you call it when you ride off a big drop?  In any case I took the new rig off a big ol drop between Taco Bell and Burger King yesterday. I was just out playing on the bike when I was forced to ride into TB’s parking lot because of an overly aggressive motorist. I decided to run it out and see what happens. Problem being that there is a 4 foot elevation difference between the parking lots. Lucky enough for me they filled the 5 foot gap with small boulders. Dropping off that thing I imagined I was at a Mount Snow World Cup where I handled the section perfectly. The crowd erupted into a roar of cheers as I cleared what no other rider even attempted. I had no fear and felt at home on my new bike. Betty is inspiring.

I am doing that same maneuver with life right now. Just aiming my front tire forward and just going. Even at a time when I don’t feel like going forward it is all that I know. A friend … no a best friend, the rare kind … is moving away from Missoula and I am not sure how I will handle the drop. Front wheel forward and pedal. The crowd is silent, waiting.

I don’t know who started calling my coffee cup “Black Betty”.  I think it was my friend Paul and he was referring to a popular song. The cup was large enough to hold gallons of coffee to get me through my computer science classes at Plattsburgh State. I still have black betty.

Chad wrote me a message the other day to tell me something blue had arrived in his shop for me.  All night I starred at the photo of the 2011 Flux I obtained from the Turner website. I started singing the Black Betty song.

She really gets me high (Bam-ba-Lam)
You know that’s no lie (Bam-ba-Lam)
shes so rock steady (Bam-ba-Lam)
and shes always ready (Bam-ba-Lam)

Next thing I knew I was calling my bike Blue Betty. Don’t know why. Its got fat tubes, its light (which will get me high), and the first time I threw a leg over it I just knew I was going to fly. This thing will bring 26 inch wheels back into vogue. I know I was going to stop naming my bikes but I couldn’t help it.  Stay tuned for some adventures with Betty.

This year I guess I am right were I am supposed to be. Not really in my best fitness but I am pretty fit. I am fit enough to ride all day and into the night. It is like breathing. This kind of fitness plays havoc on friendships. Come to find out, not EVERYONE wants to spend their entire life on a bike. Go figure.

Still looking for that someone. Or at the very least someone that exposes me to something more fun then riding a bike. Like that even exists. I am not going to dwell on that because it may not exist. So for now I just like riding.

Last night for instance I reportedly had some “chores” to do but once outside on my bike the sunshine hit my face. I found myself hitting every path and road in the greater Missoula area. Once home I went to bed to wake up this morning totally discussed disgusted. The chores did not get done and my training plan was ignored. Instead of a rest day I just had a Bill day. Some call it a Jill (Date with Pugsley) day but that depends on your alliances.

So today I will get to the chores, maybe, and I will train. But most of all I can assure you I will ride my bike.

On this day in history, a stroll down memory lane

• 2010: Wrong Zone
• 2008: Pedal Punk
• 2008: First epic stage race
• 2007: Exhausted But Riding Strong
• 2005: Can’t Sleep
• 2002: Paul and Lucy in Glen Falls
• 2001: Work Study Sucks
• 2001: Quiet Embrace of Sorrow

“You are ruining our track. Why can’t you go ski Pattee Canyon and leave our trails alone”, some man yelled to me as I skate skied my way back to the trail head in the Rattlesnake Recreation Area. It was 2005 and I haven’t been to the Rattlesnake corridor on skis since.

Since 2005 I have learned that the Rattlesnake is a public access area and I have every right to recreate out there. I am a considerate person and respect the ski track set down. I hike and bike in the center were hundreds of others do but even then I usually can not bike it anyway. I do run in the Rattlesnake as well.

Then there is this stupid rule I just read about over at GrizzlyAdam.net in his post entitled “Skinning is Not a Crime”. What is up with skier mentality? Maybe I am just profiling. I just don’t get it. It could very well be my own problem but they just rub me the wrong way. Even if I do ski I want to do it in private and not let anyone know I am doing it. I just feel I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing what I am doing. Because I really don’t enjoy it much but it is one of the only options in the winter.

Last night Jill and I meandered up to the Rattlesnake to check out the conditions.  just as I was walking my bike to a bridge to take some photos I hear a vocal skirmish unfolding.

“Why cant you go ride on the road?” … bitch, bitch, bitch, blah, blah, blah, blah.  I really couldn’t make out the other stuff he was shouting. Maybe it was because he was so angry he was splurting stupid stuff. Hmm, maybe I should blurt out some stupid stuff.

I can’t say I am proud that I decided to engage in the scuffle but I did, “You go ski on the road, common if you do I will”

Like that even made sense. Feeling that my statement may have not hit home I decided to come up with some extra verbiage.

“You just want something to bitch about don’t you?”

“What? What did you say”

As if skiing away and saying that is intimidating. I stood there waiting for the sounds of skate skis sliding to a stop. But they didn’t. I reflected on my last statement and decided it too was pretty stupid. Why couldn’t I ever come up with intelligent things to say during vocal disputes?

So it was another bully incident in the Rattlesnake. What is up with that area anyway?  Tonight is another installment of the Missoula Thursday Night Ride Group but I think I will show up with my bike. Not to irritate but because I want to. And I am bringing the much loved snow shoes. That will really rub the Rattlesnake bullies the wrong way.

On this day in history, let’s take a delightful journey through time

• 2010: Start Of A New Block
• 2009: 09 24Hour Nats
• 2008: Ward Mountain Farewell and Narring the Nar Nar
• 2004: Cascade Full Moon Party and Dads Chemo From Mom

Cinnamon, orange peel, raspberry leaf, lemongrass, licorice root, papaya leaf, strawberry leaf, and cardamom. A tea that I have been sipping on for the last hour called Night on Glacier Bay by Montana Tea and Spice Trading. Sigor Rous I believe is playing on Pandora. It is early, 2:11 in the morning to be exact. No I did not stay up all night but just woke up about a hour ago. This is when I made my tea. At first I wanted to just transfer my dead body to bed where I could resume slumber and rest my weary bones. But then I remembered what had happened earlier this evening. I had come home from a ride to just fall asleep on the couch.  I was planning a regeneration session, a shower, and some recovery. But while I was warming up from a frigid ride I actually just slumbered off. I awoke with a slight twitchy pain in my back from the way I was laying there.

So I made some tea and did some regeneration after the guilt of things undone got to me. I knew I would lie awake for an hour so why not get up, do what I was supposed to do, and maybe start to type out a blog post.

Earlier in the day at noon I discovered that riding after our recent storm was pretty much not a good idea. I was frustrated when I sent my friend a message about the dismal conditions. As always Jill pushed through with a idea to still go biking even if it was just doing the Deer Creek loop. It is so nice to have such a friend. So there we were in the setting sun climbing up Pattee Canyon Road around 5:30 last night. It has been a while since I have rode with Jill and being out on bikes with a friend felt so good after so many solo sessions trudging through the dark winter evenings.

Actually Jill has already posted about our ride. Damn, beat me out in print again. She is so efficient. But she IS a professional and I will be the first to tell you that she is darn good at it. Breaking away from this blog post I truly enjoyed her recollection of how the last two days has gone down. I fully recommend abandoning this read and heading over there for something more descriptive and refreshing. My favorite part, the description of a morning yard sale … Jill style.  I am laughing right now. My eyes are now starting to shut so maybe I need to put an end to my attempted post so here it goes.

It was a frigid ride but not noticeable until the long Deer Creek Road decent where my toes ran away and my fingers checked out. I was left trying to break and steer the bike with just my shoulders and thighs. But up until the bone chill decent it was good warm companionship with a hint of crunchy snow as background music. It felt good indeed.

The pace into town picked up as both my friend and I felt it was time to seek the warmth of indoors. Soon enough we were zipping through the urban bike paths in Missoula now becoming a staple in my commutes.  We passed the Bridge Pizza but I didn’t ask about stopping. I was really wanting to warm up and do what I do best this time of year. Crash on the couch. Well that is what it seems like but tonight’s little oasis of activity should make things better. After all I feel regenerated and ready for slumber.

Good night all.

ON THIS DAY IN HISTORY:

Dive into these posts for a glimpse of history, from thrilling adventures to thoughtful musings!

• 2009: 24 Hours of Rapelje Update
• 2008: Rested Now South To Hamilton
• 2006: Weeping Woman
• 2002: Dropping Out Of School

Dawn approached and I stuffed myself with blueberry scones and coffee. One of my favorite “off season” things to do. It was cloudier then the day before and that meant a storm was fast approaching. I made a decision to head out as early as possible to get in a 5 hour adventure before it started to rain. Its hard to plan for a 5 hour adventure as apposed to a 8 to 12 hour adventure. I know plenty of stuff that is big. But for a tiny session of 5 hours it is tough. My current training plan had me down for a relaxing recovery day so big things must wait. For now I would just head out and see what kind of trouble I could get myself into.

A good place to start is up Grant Creek. As I rode up towards the Snow Bowl Ski Area I was pleased to find the roads in good condition. I paused several times to get some photos where I always seem to stop.  My enthusiasm started to turn into dread as the roads began to deteriorate. As I gained ground into the upper reaches of the valley past the Snow Bowl road the entire surface resembled a frozen riverbed. I struggled to stay upright. Sometimes just sheer concentration was the only thing keeping me moving along without smacking the ground. After what seemed to be hours I reached the Ravine Trail head.

Finally a trail. A place where I was sure to have traction on packed snow. My tires really hook up well on hard pack and as I climbed up the initial “right of way” it seemed I was in store for a great day of riding. I reached the first switchback and successfully navigated around the turn and pedaled smoothly towards the next. The Ravine Trail starts out with a dozen or so switch backs and the first two went pretty well. Then things started to fall apart.

At first I didn’t mind it. A little icy patch that I seemed to go over with no problem. The screws in my tires had worn down with excessive commuting this winter and I was afraid that they would not be adequate on a real icy test. But the first set of icy patches proved to be no problem. Then I slid off one. Then on another I lost nerve and dismounted before to walk around. Big mistake. Walking proved to be seriously dangerous. I slid off the trail and continued to “boot ski” down the hill and crash into the trail below. I took an internal self note to wear screw shoes on the next big adventure.

“Screw this”, I blurted out to any animal or tree that would listen. And with that I climbed straight up the ridge kicking foot holds into the ice incrusted snow. I kicked and climbed for about 30 minutes. Finally I reached the top tier of the switchbacks on the ridge. I was past the ice and now in large amounts of snow.

I was able to ride for the next half mile until the sides of the trail closed in and the track just got too loose for traction. No worries, I would just start walking. It was refreshing to at least have good footing. I hated the ice down below and wondered how much Ice I would have to deal with on the other side (Rattlesnake Valley). It was relatively easy going and even broke out into the sunshine a couple times. Ahh yes, the sun. I had to stop and just let it soak in. This gave me new energy and optimism.

I walked and walked. I tried walking on both sides of the bike. My friend Jill walks on the drivetrain side and is one of the ways I have found to indentify her tracks in the snow. Like there is many people in Missoula that walk their bikes in the wilderness … right? Anyway I was interested in which side was the best side to walk on. I soon just settled on on my usual no-drivetrain side. This is where I usually dismounted and a habit just to hard to break. All this thinking passed the time and it is only here that I get to wonder and contemplate these pressing issues.

Now with the serious issues of which side to walk a bike from out of the way I was free to tackle a trail that seemed to be getting harder to push said bike on. The remnants of traffic started to seem to be vanishing. After a while the trail was nothing but a small ditch like indention in deep powdery snow. With the bike getting hard to push I realized that I didn’t need to do my “core workout” that I had planned for later in the day. My arms started to burn and my shoulder that I had injured last Thursday was really bothering me. Grouchiness set in and by the time I reached the top of the Ravine Trail I was so ready to ride again.

That was not meant to be. The other side which is now the Rattlesnake drainage seemed to have a larger stash of snow. Still though, I expected to see slider (people that ski) tracks. I trudged for a half hour, twittered my location, and trudged for another. It wasn’t really a pain but I was kind of wanting to ride. Plus all this walking was really putting a dent into my mileage goals. If I didn’t get on the bike soon I wouldn’t get my planned loop in before night fall.

I finally reached a trail I call the “Idaho Surprise”. I called it this because the route is generally done coming up from the valley floor and includes some open switchbacks that reminded me of Sun Valley Idaho. I named it accordingly.  I am sure it is called something else by other bike groups. Funny thing … the names of our trails and how they came to be. And idea for a book indeed. I wondered if my friend Julie would be interested in this project since she is the unofficial guardian of the area trail names.

Soon I no longer needed to entertain myself because I was able to jump back on the bike and ride. It was not a quick transition though. At first I got on and rode about 3 feet until I stuffed the front tire and vaulted over the bars. Then on down the trails a bit I could go for at least a hundred yards before I was launched … I really need to learn to get back more.  Soon though I was on the bike permanently but it was not all that speedy coming down because of the layer of ice on everything. The snowy trails glistened with a frozen layer of a recent storm. I couldn’t catch a break. I just wanted to go like hell. Like in the summer time.

As I squinted to overcome the extreme glare of the ice something caught my eye. Black tents dotted the hillside down below. Were we being invaded by enemy forces or was it a special black ops training camp below? Stupid to use black tents on a white landscape I thought. But then again what if those were alien pods that landed overnight. In any case I descended quietly and as stealthy as I could get. As I emerged on the valley floor I discovered that they were brush piles covered by a strange plastic covering.

I continued to ride to the beginning of the Rattlesnake but icy roads made things so treacherous I couldn’t mentally handle it any more. It was more butt cheek clinching then I had done in the morning. By the time I reached the US West trail I was mentally fried. My plans were to ride over to East Missoula and finally Turah was not as tantalizing as before. Then I felt the rear of my bike go soft. I was actually relieved to watch my back tire loose it’s air right at the base of a icy climb. I quickly pumped it up and scrambled home.  Too much relaxing for the day.

I stepped outside for fresh air and could look back into my apartment from the outside. It was a new kind of perspective. A glance into my life from the outside. I could see myself inside.  I had a glass of wine and appeared at the window. I was starring so far away it seemed as though the glance peering 27 galaxies away . I looked  back into my own eyes to see emptiness. I looked behind myself to see the rest of the apartment. Empty, the TV on, and it looked like a movie was playing. I stepped closer to the window to see who I was with. No one. I was alone.

I turned and looked out across the street. I reflected on the ride that I went on in the morning. I went mountain biking at Blue Mountain. The ride almost took three hours. In the summer under perfect conditions I can do the same loop in around 50 minutes. But that does not mean the ride was not worth while. On the contrary it had character even though it took a little more struggle. Icy conditions and sometimes shin deep snow meant I was off the bike pushing at times.  In perfect conditions you can ride the entire loop. Today sometimes there was no control, no traction.  But the same silly grin covered my face as I approached the end of the loop. That silly grin would of not happened if I would of given up on the loop when I ran into a little imperfection.

The ride this morning, the movie tonight, all done alone. My take on this is that I am much like today’s ride.  I can be hard to be around. Things take longer with me, and sometimes we will be walking when it seems we should be flying. We will have no control when ideally we should have things under control.  I am not like that perfect summer loop. I look at things differently and I have some pretty interesting perspectives.  I just don’t fit the perfect mold of someone everyone is looking to be with. And I resist being so.

There is no perfection in life or we would live forever. You must compromise, learn to live with others as they are and love the ones your with. Life will deal you your destiny. It is what it is. In the end it will be what it was. One thing will be certain … it will  end. Did you fail to find perfection or did you live with character?

The last one really hurt. Only 30 seconds long the high cadence sprint up the biggest pitch I could find in the South Hills seemed like a 20 minute time trail. It is hard to believe the ground you can cover going uphill in 30 seconds. In a race the same distance would of taken me like 40 seconds, maybe 50. I did 25 of them and the last one is where the stars came out and blackness started its accent onto my consciousness. One more and I really think I could of induced a blackout.

I have a lot of skill at appearing stupid. So as people gathered in their driveway to see how many climbs I would do it made me aware that I may be a penguin. I am always thinking that I appear stupid. But as I did climb after climb I thought that maybe I was like a penguin. Penguins do stupid things but it doesn’t necessarily make them stupid. Almost everything I do in life is penguin like.

Then I got so dizzy I toppled over backwards. As I lay in someone’s yard looking at the sky I thought about the penguin theory.

“Antarctic penguins are reputed to become disoriented by watching overflying aircraft. These tales insist that the birds get so dizzy that they topple over backwards. This makes penguins appear rather stupid, when in truth they are being very smart.

Penguins, like most animals, are counter-shaded, dark on the back, light below. When the penguins are swimming, avian predators have difficulty seeing them against the dark sea. Marine predators below tend to lose their white bellies when seen against the bright sky.

But when the penguins waddle across the white snow, the avian predators can spot them easily. Unless, of course, the penguins are clever enough to flop over on their backs exposing only their white tummies. Since they perceive aircraft as threats, they topple backwards intentionally. Pretty smart of them!”  ~Science Frontiers

Just before I got up to bike back to work a dozen or so alien aircraft hovered over Missoula. Next thing I know everyone around me was zapped. Little patches of black coals lined the roadways. Like little abandon camp fires. Everyone was dead but me. I guess since I was unzipped and laying on my back my white undershirt made me blend into the snow bank. Not so stupid after all. Am I?

As I approached the California Street Bridge on my way to work I stopped to take a photo. Through the trees I could see the bridge outline with pink colors of the morning sky and the beauty captured me. I snapped off a quick shot and headed to work. Crossing the bridge I thought ahead to tonight’s plans. I was hoping to do a quick core session at home and ride to the Bridge Pizza to meet up with my friend Jill for a couple slices.

 

“Another beautiful cold day … So are you interested in riding tonight”, the message rolls across my screen. It was lunch time at work and I was reading my messages. This one was from Jill. I contemplated a second and made my decision.

My decision took into account that I needed to move back my training plans until later that night. This didn’t seem like to big of a deal. The other things to consider is that I was not equipped for a mountain bike ride. But I did have my booties, facemask, goggles, and cold weather gloves. I would leave work and chase her down. Jill on her pugsley would start about 10 minutes ahead of me. I thought I could do it. The ride would be fun and this would be the first time I have actually seen her in daylight since last year.

I approach the hill and don’t see anyone on a pugsley climbing. I am thinking I beat her to the trailhead. As I approach the steep hill I look up and nothing, I look back, no pugsley pedaling friend. I geared down and started out slowly. I needed to keep things on the down low because I was tired from the previous day’s intervals and I had a core session in the pain lab later on. I started thinking ahead to the pizza we were going to be devouring a little later.

The sun was still out but barely. I had to stop a few times to get some photos. As I neared the first gate I spotted fat tire bike tracks. Shoot she was already up the climb. I looked ahead but saw no magical figure riding a pugsley. Was she really up there?

As I neared the steepest part of the climb I ran into a familiar face. I closed my eyes and took a re-look.  Yep. It was Norman. I searched my brain for my schedule. Lets see what day is it?  No … no … it was not Thursday night. I hadn’t planned a hike with Norman. A greeting followed and he told me that Jill was on top of the climb already. Oh yea, I was supposed to catch up. How in the heck did she get up there so fast I wondered. I took off my coat exposing my office “outfit” and pants stuffed with garbage bags.

“Expecting to drain the sweat”, Norman asked referring to my garbage bags.

“No, its to keep the boys from freezing. I am just wearing my work clothes and have nothing on underneath except some tighty-whiteies”

I start up the climb again and think I’ll catch her just around the bend. The bend came and no pugsley riding figure. It was if I was chasing a ghost. I saw the tracks but no rider.

All I see is snow covered hillsides with a ribbon of double track leading to the far side. I felt hungry, under dressed, un prepared mentally for anything over two hours. I made plans to ride to the first intersection and then back to hit the Bridge Pizza around 7. My mind drifted as I felt a slight nervousness about not having any water to drink.

I picked up the pace and started hammering the side hill single track. I couldn’t believe the great conditions. Suddenly, just like that, I was smashing into the hard frozen trail and a searing pain shot up my shoulder blade. I had hit some glare ice which was hard to see because it was dark now and I didn’t have much for a headlamp. I tried to get up but three times I fell back down each time utilizing a different part of my body. One must spread out the bruising. Right? I was wearing booties with zero traction on ice, snow, or anything remotely slick.

I thought back to the last time I was out on this stretch with such a dim light. It was with a ride with Alden the night I lost him out here. I shuttered. THAT will never happen again. Shaken I powered up to the Crazy Canyon Road trying to forget the images of myself searching through the bushes alongside the trail with a dimming headlamp looking for my friend. I almost called out … “Alden”.  I remember thinking the worse. One minute he was behind me and the next gone.

I made a decision to turn around. Only because my shoulder hurt and I was hungry. I looked at my gps and noted that if I started back now I could be at the bridge by 7. I didn’t think I could catch the ghost rider ahead of me and who knows I was not even sure it was who I thought it was. I was confused a little as I turned around and bumped slowly back the way I came.

The ride back out of the woods was harder then coming in. I bounced along and was thrown off the bike a couple times. I kept thinking the ghost rider would be coming along behind me if I just kept going slow enough. Just as I was doing when Alden disappeared about 4 years ago.

I made it back all the way to the top of the final decent into town and I stopped. I didn’t know why but I started to worry. Maybe it was all this thinking about what had happened 4 years ago. Maybe it was because my friend had reported to be slightly sick. I don’t know but I decided to climb up on the bank and wait for a light to appear on the horizon back towards where I just emerged from the woods. I ripped open a pop tart that I found in the bottom of my camel back and wolfed it down. Boy ! Was I hungry.

And I waited. I needed to go back. I would just head back slow and wait for the headlamp. Wait to see if my friend was alright.  As I rode I began to go faster. What if he fell down and hit his head. I rode faster.  NO! Stupid!  That was four years ago … no one was lost or needed help out here.  Still though I felt driven to slowly walk back to where I turned around. This time I would follow the tracks until I found who was making them. Who would I find at the end of those fat tracks?

I didn’t get far up crazy canyon climb when I saw two fat tracks. Obviously one going up and one coming down. I turned around and returned to the intersection, Sure enough someone had come down and returned by going down to the Pattee Canyon Road.  I was relieved because I wanted to go back to town. I wanted to go back fast. I wanted some pizza damn it.

No, tonight was not like that night 4 years ago when I thought I lost Alden and searched the woods through the night. But just like then tonight my friend had taken another route home. I pulled up my face mask and put it in the big ring. I would be home soon.