Author: Bill

Missoula holds a special place in my heart. It hit me when a friend shared why she loves it here – it mirrored my own feelings. Especially the part about endless rides under stunning sunsets. I truly adore this place.

But recently, my heart’s been tugging me westward, towards Seattle. Where you live shapes you, and you shape it. It’s crucial to be where you belong. Sometimes, I gaze at the sunset, thinking of Seattle, and just appreciate the view.

I once lived in a city where a friend, Paul, said I was withering. Moving to Missoula revived me. I’m in need of some healing again, and I trust Missoula will be my sanctuary once more.

Tonight, there’s the Missoula Thursday Night Ride (http://www.thursdaynightmtbr.org/). I’ll gear up with my night lights and hit the trail, right where I’m meant to be.

Missoula to Elk Summit Shit Show is a very misleading label for a ultra endurance event. It starts out self explanatory but ends in a way that gives one a feeling that this is an unusually messy event. I just did the M.E.S.S.S. and it was not messy but now understand the “shit show” part. The “shit show” is the production going on inside the body after a 40(ish) mile road bike ride over Lolo Pass, a 25(ish) back wood road climb to Elk Summit, and then a 25 mile wilderness run back to Montana and eventually Blodgett Canyon in Hamilton. The body goes to shit shortly after the 5,000 feet of climbing on the bike and 10 miles into the “run” which in my case turned into a “crawl”. 100 miles of sweet misery is what it should be called.

My alarm clock rang at 3 in the morning and I sat up in bed trying to figure out why I had set the alarm to an hour and a half before I was to be at the start of the event. I searched my mind and found nothing. I was dead tired from staying up until midnight packing what I need to support myself for the days ultra. By 4:25 I was riding around Missoula’s traffic circles all alone with a huge back pack full of the days essentials. No cars to deal with and the streets were deserted. I arrived just as Matt was walking to Josh’s front door.

There were 3 100 mile starters. Dave, Matt, and I started out around 4:45 a.m. and cruised out of town on streets that normally were crowded. It was early and we were the only lights heading out towards Lolo on what I call Montana’s version of the Merritt Parkway. Alden was along for the bike leg only.

At the first sag stop we were alone as Alden called back to Josh about something to do with his car. We all kind of looked at each other and decided to carry on. I rode out front. If anyone wanted my wheel I was perfectly happy to haul them along. After some time it seemed like everyone was falling back so I turned off my headlamp and rode under the moon’s silvery glow. I heard a elk bugle off to the left. Just a few paces down highway 12 I saw a herd of elk in the field. The moon was so bright I could see everything.

“ali, ali, ali – up, up, up”, I yelled and induced a stampede. The elk herd rumbled along side of me for about a quarter mile before they settled down and I left them behind in the darkness. The ride alone under the moonlight was surreal and almost spiritual. I could hear Lolo Creek just over the soft hum of my small block eight cyclocross tires. Yes I went full knob all the way.

I noticed that my lack of bike preparation had left me with a saddle too low. In the late night dash to get my bike ready I changed over my seat from my mountain bike for more comfort but didn’t test the saddle height. I pulled off the road at the Lumberjack Saloon turnoff. Again sag station 2 was deserted just like the first. I envisioned doing an ultra world championships and I was so fast I beat all the officials to the check points. After fumbling just slightly in the dark for my bike tools I got the seat adjusted and prepared to take off when everyone else started in.

“My toes are #$&@ing cold”, Dave reported to everyone.

It seemed everyone was in agreement that it was WAY colder up route 12 then back in Missoula. Later I heard reports it was in the 30s. Matt took off first as I adjusted my base layers to accommodate the lower temperatures. Soon I caught up to him and went off alone again into the ever brightening sky. The morning was at hand and I could feel the daylight stretching its arms and waking up behind me. Soon I would see the sun rise and I wanted to be on Lolo Pass.

As the daylight filled in behind me I reached Lolo Pass and rode up it with the greatest of ease. I thought to myself that this was going to be such a fun and adventurous day. Just as my mind drifted a vehicle pulled up behind me and people started whistling and shouting. It was the sag vehicle with Josh and the crew. Just in time too because without my down jacket at the top of the pass I would of froze to death going off the other side.

The ride down the pass was more comfortable then I could imagine. With temps possibly in the 30s it was a recipe for a bone chilling and eye watering decent. In a last minute decision I had put on “big red” my winter parka. The ride down was toasty and nice. Without shivering violently I was about to take in the beautiful morning views and even draft a semi truck half way down the pass. I arrived at the last sag station very quickly after the high speed decent.

I slid into the last bike sag station and went to my knees. I bent over and kissed the dirt. The gritty texture stuck to my lips as I rose up from the Elk Summit Road. Some people were taking photos as I yelled, “oh dirt .. how I missed you”.

Finally I had arrived to my surface. It was all dirt road to the transition area. I knew it could be like 10 miles and maybe more but I was in store for more then I thought. As I mounted my bike for the last wheeled section and rode aggressively (the “every man for himself” section) I was confident that with a cross bike setup I would be ok on the monster climb.

Monster climb is what Josh called it and his recollection of a out of the saddle death experience consumed my mind as I ticked off the miles heading to Elk Summit. Then it happened. The pitch increased, standing on the bike started to wear on me, and I found myself looking up to the next “possible” flat spot where I thought the road would level out. Level out for just a moment so I could collect myself and sit down. It did not and the climb took about an hour. It was all that Josh had described but soon enough I did find the top and rode the rollers with great glee on the last stretch.

9 mile
s of rolling dirt road in which I found myself in a race with a 4 wheeler. On the climbs it would surge ahead but then on the descents I would blast down at speeds that the balloon tired vehicle just couldn’t obtain. I would come right back up to it and endure rocks and dust until the next climb. Soon the little vehicle which contained an elderly couple found a hill that was long enough to put my too far back to catch up and they disappeared down the road. I easily peddled into the transition at Elk Summit.

“Would you like to sigh our guest book”, a sweet older woman asked me as I tore off my sweaty gear.

“Sure”

“Would you like some water?”

“Oh that would be great. My support hasn’t arrived and I need to mix up some stuff before running to Hamilton. Is it really 25 miles away?” I motioned off to the East.

“I don’t know, come on in I’ll get you some water”

I signed the guest book and noticed Larry and Julie’s entry. I couldn’t wait to catch up to them. I knew that if I could then the pace the rest of the journey would be fun. Until then however I was going to run. My running record is like 13 miles and maybe I could get in 15 before I slowed to a hike.

About 45 minutes passed and I was wondering where the sag vehicle went. Did they get a flat? Or worse yet, maybe someone got hurt.

I really needed my running shoes so I could get started. I needed a big buffer before the trail running crew showed up. Alden would end his day but then we would pick up two fresh runners to pace Matt. Dave would round out the 100 mile crazies. I figured when they caught me I would do whatever to stay with them until we ran into Larry and Julie.

My day’s expectations decided to go from exceeding my goals to failing at simple objectives. Finally the sag wagon appeared but just moments after Dave pulled into the transition area. Obviously we were all grouping up and running out together. I knew I was doomed and fiddled around in transition way too long. My buffer was gone and I feared I would be the last straggler out of the woods later that night.

We finally jogged out of Elk Summit and into the wilderness heading East toward Montana and Blodgett Canyon. Instantly my back started to spasm. After that lengthy climb on the bike and then a transition to running with a pack was too much for my back. I struggled to keep pace and was worried that I would have to go back or walk the rest of the route some 25 miles thought the Bitterroot wilderness. 25 miles would take like 9 hours which meant coming out in the dark.

Dave slowed to a hike reporting that he had learned his lesson at the Grizzlyman Adventure Race. This did slow down the progression a bit but soon after a water stop it became evident that the group was here to run and off they went. I took time out to take photos and wait up for Dave. I decided to go his pace since obviously he knew about how to pace this leg and I didn’t.

That lasted about a half an hour then I started feeling pretty good (damn Carbo Rocket). In fact I wanted to run it again so I set fourth on a pretty good pace. I ran up to and past the 10 mile mark and finally felt like I was settling into at least a sustainable ultra pace. A pace that would help me achieve my goals of running past my 13 mile personal best. Suddenly the path turned rocky, rutted out, and hidden by tall grass. I kept falling down and stumbling. I realized I was going to get hurt and once again slowed my pace to a hike. Damn, I was no trail runner. Mentally I threw in the towel.

I looked back on a exposed area and saw Dave ripping up the trail with a mean gate. A very quick hike pace and he was overtaking me very quickly.

“Just gorgeous up here”, I shouted back.

“Yes, yes it is”

I gave up the ghost and stood by a stream that looked to me like a great place to get water.

“Do you think this is drinkable?”, I asked Dave as he approached.

“Yea, I am going to fill up”

After the stop I struggled to hang onto Dave’s heels but I knew I didn’t want to be walking at the pace I wanted to walk which would have put me at the finish in 2015. For me the event stopped being a solo attempt and became more of a team effort. I would need to rely on others to pace me out. At times I was able to recover enough to lead out and put in a decent pace myself but for the majority I was on Dave’s heels enjoying the company in probably one of the most beautiful places around.

After what seemed forever we finally made it to the top of Blodgett Pass where the rest of the trail running crew was waiting up for us. We had to make sure everyone got out alive. After discussing our statuses we headed down the other side. They told us that we were just moments from catching Julie and Larry. This seemed to make things look up because if we could catch them I could definitely walk it in with them.  Little did I know Julie would become this ultra endurance running star and they would not only hold us off the rest of the way but actually put distance on us. Julie actually finished and went for another 1 mile run to capture a marathon distance. 

Soon the running crew took off with a goal of finishing the rest of the event in 2 hours. We were 10 miles out and I was figuring we would finish in around 3 hours.

So there we were again, me nipping at Dave’s heels, and taking pulls at the front when I could. My pace quickened as I approached what I thought was the wilderness boundary. I need to make it to the boundary because I had been there before and it would symbolize that were within reach of finishing. I knew it was a long trail from there but a trail I have been on and could count off the landmarks.

The last 5 miles was grueling. We kept stumbling on the ultra technical trail. It was beat in by horses and the bear grass had grown up so big that you couldn’t see the ground in spots. There was pitfalls and lots of places to break bones. I eventually gave up looking for Julie and Larry. I eventually gave up looking for any sign that it was going to be over. I even stopped talking big pulls at the front. I just stammered in behind Dave. If it wasn’t for him pacing me in I would still be out there walking.

About 14 hours and 13 minutes since we started the 100 mile trek we spotted a paved road. It was the end and we made it. Dave and I celebrated and proceeded to throw down a million calories. We craved beer and meat. I proceeded to crawl up in a fetal position and lay on the ground.

This weekend I want to try running a 23-25 mile wilderness run. Who wants to pick me up at the Bass Creek Trailhead late Saturday?

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Last night was the Missoula Thursday Night Ride and it is quite possible more then a dozen people showed up. I don’t know the exact numbers but we seemed more like a peloton going out to Deer Creek Road then a small band of mountain bikers. It was a quant ride around the Deer Creek Sneak and ended at “Da Bridge”.

I seemed to be having a good day as I rode with this big ol grin on my face. This was due to many possible reasons. Could it be that a recent conversation with “someone” in Seattle was to blame? Or could it be that tomorrow I will embark on a journey that I feel I cant do without visiting the pain cave in a BIG way. Whatever the case today I gathering supplies and courage to do a 80 mile bike and 25 mile wilderness run tomorrow starting at 4:30.

The event is called the MESSS and is the brainchild of my friend Josh. I really don’t know what it stands for but it goes something like Missoula Elk Summit Shit Show … or is it Shit Scramble. Or is it Shit Show? Someone did tell me that there was the word shit in it. Way to much Cold Smoke going around the table last night.

It starts in Missoula and goes over Lolo Pass to Iderhoo, up to Elk Summit all on a bike, and then you run through the wilderness to Blodgett Canyon. Yea! Should be fun. I hope to be providing updates via twitter and Facebook so keep checking.

See you at 4:30 AM…o/o

I texted my friend to see if we could meet for a mountain bike ride but received nothing in return. I shrugged it off and went out alone for a ride at Blue Mountain Recreation Area. It has been three days since I swung my leg over Turner. The suspension had leaked air and the tires were a little soft. This was all probably due to sitting in the back of trucks and cars since last Thursday. None the less, even with these subtle changes, the ride was perfect. Because I was there. The dirt was there. My bike was underneath me. These things all solid cornerstones in my life.

Solo is the word I prefer. There are times in transition where you need the help of your pit crew and friends but mostly you are out there solo. Riding on solid ground with the belief that when you travel just a bit further you can find that different life, that other piece of you, that has been missing.

My mind drifts off to last weekend at the base of Borah Peak. I had transitioned there the night before. Transitioned from the world of work, daily pressures, and society. We stayed up late sharing details on trails traveled. The team was preparing for an adventure into this giant mountain that itself has been transitioned from a gentle landscape to a fractured rock and churned soil.

For whatever reason I always find myself alone while the world slumbers. I am solo and I embrace the moment to walk around and take in the solid details of the world around me. Things that have been there for centuries and will be there for decades to come.  I am solo and just one element. One element in the landscape.

Others will come and go but one thing will remain a constant. A solo human on soil that is as solid as anything can be. In a landscape that may change in little subtle ways. None the less, the ride will be perfect.

It is hump day and I have made plans with some friends to go hike Borah Peak. And to make the weekend more fun to go see more friends in Pokafello. Another weekend with friends is at hand. So now I transition from recovery from last weekend to ramping up for another. But first … a ride into Pattee Canyon tonight.

As I floated up the hills like a butterfly and hammered down them like a bus I couldn’t help but think ahead to next weekend. A big road bike ride into Idaho that is like 60 miles. A gravel road climb to the backside of the Bitterroots which could add another 15 or so miles. I am guessing at the mileage here folks. Then to top it off a 25 mile run through the Roots coming out at Blodgett Canyon. Yea! its MAD.

 

Then it happened. I realized how fun mountain biking is. Missoula in the fall is beautiful.

It seemed as though I was doing something against the grain. I was headed to Caras Park alone for the Missoula Brew Fest. Why against the grain? Because it seemed like all my friends were out of town and I was going alone. For some reason alone out in public is too scary for me.

I wondered through the crowd with my empty mug in hopes of running into someone I know. I know that I SHOULD be going through the crowd looking for NEW friends all the time. But I like the friends I have … thank you very much. I am an introvert I think.

As I strolled through the crowd a woman took my hat and ran off. I chased her down and introduced myself. She got my mug filled. I got my hat back. Her boyfriend looked pissed. As I looked at her I realized that I am an introvert and this was just to scary. I ran off.

Then I ran into Jim York and hung with him a little bit telling of my hat snatching story. Then Pat Scharfe Came strolling by and gave me a sweet I Bike MSLA tee shirt. Thanks Pat!

The rest of the evening the beer kicked in and I became a socialite. I had a nifty tee shirt and even got Pat some referrals.

“I just have to have one of those shirts.”

“They are $15 and you can get them from that guy over there.”

Thursday I was gearing up for a trip to Seattle to visit someone when it was pointed out that I would be traveling much more then I thought, somewhere in the neighborhood of 8ish hours.

It would go like this … drive my ass off followed by a brief day of hanging out to a evening camp out. The next day I would watch a triathlon and jump in the car for a return trip home and arriving mucho late. At the time it didn’t seem like a good idea and I bailed.

On Friday the more I thought about it the more I realized I should of made the trip. I was feeling pretty low and knew I should fill up the week as much as I could so as to not think about “things”.

Enter Friends Fest a new category of ultra endurance activity. 48 hours of endurance activity and challenging tests of strength. All done with friends or in adventure racing terms a “team”.

Stage 1, hour 1: The event starts at Brew Fest in Missoula where I must enter a crowd of drunken people and seek out team members, get extremely drunk with them, and then jam to a funk band late into the night. Bob Skogley and his family teamed up with me and together we finished out stage one in the main peloton.

Stage 2, hour 4: This stage is to go to the Union Club in Missoula where one team member would play the drums while I was to dance with at least three other tem-mates. The stage was scored by style points, endurance dancing time, and presence.

I scored highly on all three counts. I quickly learned some dancing moves that wowed the crowd. Team-mate Ed Stalling was on the drums and my main dace partner was Laurie Stalling with supporting roles by their friends. I put in a decent amount of dancing time. My presence was scored highly due to the “hotties” I was dancing with. I pulled ahead on this stage because I shut the place down.

After this stage was a bike ride to the camping facilities where after only 3 hours of sleep I had to rise and take on Stage 3.

Stage 3, hour 13: Climb Squaw Peak. I teamed up with Joshua Phillips and friends. This stage started out rough as fatigue settled in and had to endure a extreme hangover. I was a tad late to the first check point and I fell behind a bit. As the day wore on I caught back up and we topped out on the peak to some great views. On the way back to my car I decided to pick up the pace and soloed back trail running. I was getting a second wind.

Stage 4, hour 17: A quick transition drive to Missoula to check point Stalling. I arrived in the nick of time to be stuffed into the back of a Subaru and hustled off to Snow Bowl. This test would be the hardest. The stage comprised of first overcoming vertigo, second was to run to the top of Point Six, and third another vertigo challenge that was even more extreme then the first.

The first part was a chair lift to the top of Snow Bowl and I handled it quite nicely due to being distracted by a bear sighting and casual talk with team mate Ed. On top we took in nutrition and headed out for the run up Point Six. This is where I came face to face with Kelsey a two time marathon runner who was half my age. At first we were neck in neck but I was to fake her out by a sudden surge to the halfway point of the climb.

The final dash up the “Skin Trail” and I was becoming the super star of the day. There were fans lining the trail up and they were quite inspired. At the top I was surrounded by mountains in every direction and the Mission Range to the north.

I faltered on the third part as we rode the chairs down the mountain. I felt like there was this force pulling me forward and out of the chair. I was to fall to my death and knew my moment had come. I don’t know how I made it through.

My team mates Ed, Laurie, and friends greeting me at the conclusion of the stage and reported that I was as white as a ghost.

Stage 5, hour 21: This stage was in direct contrast to the endurance activities of the morning. I was to put down around 8000 calories in 1.5 hours interspersed with a acting session where I was to pretend to be a family dog .

Again I teamed up with Ed and family and we decided upon Old Post for massive food overload. This is where the “team” element paid off. I was able to catch a cat nap in the trunk of their Subby as they drove me back into town.

After consuming about 7000 calories I used my surroundings, a trunk of the Subaru, for my acting section. I barked like a family dog at passing pedestrians, cyclists, and cars. I really did quite well.

On to my final test of strength and we pulled up to the Big Dipper for a session eating Cardamom ice cream. While deep into this test I ran into day 2’s team mate Sommer and her friend Jenny. We briefly discussed the next day’s stage options and then I turned to my team to finish up the caloric event.

Does Cardamom ice cream taste like fruit loops?  Back to the story …

Stage 6, hour 34: Sunday’s first stage was a TBA ride. It was a test of negotiation and compromise. Sommer was the first to call and I agreed immediately. We would do the Sheep Mountain Trail Loop.

Our team of 4 was well balanced and ready to rock at the trail heading out at around 10 AM. The group included Ed and Laurie Stalling, Sommer, and Jenny. Laurie was the first casualty who had started the ride feeling sick and left the group about a thousand feet up.

We arrived at Blue Point about 3 hours later feeling our oats. We all climbed strong while I cleared the headwall in the woods and was on a roll to set a personal PR for “dabbs”. Then we reached Wishard Ridge and finally Sheep Mountain. 4 hours into the ride we set forth on the long and demanding decent. Through the rain forest and BC ravine. We rolled back into town around 6.5 hours later.

Sommer, Ed, and I hit up The Bridge Pizza to recover enough for the last stage of the “fest”.

Stage 7, hour 44: This was the final stage and I was already in the lead and virtual tour winner. All I need to do was finish the stage. The stage included and impromptu judging of a fashion show followed up by more caloric intake. This stage was really a “wind down stage” kind of like the last one in the Tour Dah French.

The event ended at the Hip Strip Block Party here in Missoula.  7 stages, 46 hours, 11.4 miles on foot, 28.7 miles mtb, and 9,000 vert feet. I spent the weekend with quality people … good friends. I am thankful.

Hey, who wants to go riding?

The day after the 8 Hours of Labor we went into Butte to enjoy a rather large breakfast. When we got back I discovered all our stuff was on the way out of the lodge. Chris and Mandy were busy preparing the lodge for some new clients. I had to dig my food out of the garbage which was quite amusing to Chris. I explained that a half a loaf of Udi bread and some turkey cold cuts were all I had for the week.

On the docket for the day was a ride on some routes we had not taken before out at Homestake lodge. Eric, Julie, Sten, Christy, and myself headed out as it started to rain.

We hit up some cool dirt roads and manage to almost get lost.

We made our way around to the Butte 100 course and just for kicks decided to go up the Power Line Climb.

Just as we finished up the sun came out and we headed down the road for some afternoon fun (Tomorrow’s blog).

August 30th, 2010. Everyone was “floating the Missoula Sewer System” while I craved something a little…sturdier. Finally, Lydia agreed to tackle the elusive Trapper Peak with me. Confidence inflated, I volunteered for a race in Bozeman, only to be hit with Saturday night blues. Ditching the trip seemed tempting, but Lydia’s unwavering spirit reignited mine. “Crappy weather? Bring it on!” she declared.

Hiking in cold rain? Sure, why not. To top it off, silence on the phone – just Lydia and I, ready to tango with a potential “epic.”

And epic it was, in the most unexpected way. Rain clung to us like a jealous lover, morphing into snow at a thousand feet. Summit fever clouded my judgment, but Lydia, ever the voice of reason, kept me grounded. We trudged on, exchanging lies about the lack of snow and fantasizing about escaping the white abyss.

Then came the frat house on the mountain. Yes, you read that right. Job Corps kids cheering our ascent like rockstars. We signed autographs and disappeared into the blizzard, feeling a bizarre mix of exhaustion and hilarious empowerment.

Next, a sobering dose of reality from a couple turning back: no visibility, slippery rocks, a summit shrouded in white. Undeterred, we pressed on, our resolve forged in shared determination.

The final obstacle: a treacherous scramble over car-sized rocks. Lydia, sensible soul, took the safer route. Me? I clung to the ridge, relishing the mini-downhill thrills (and cursing my stubborn streak).

After battling false summits that felt like cruel jokes, we finally saw it: the summit cairn, our Everest in a winter wonderland. Summit dance in the snow, geocaching with an Action Wipe (because someone might need it!), and then…down we went.

The descent was clearer, revealing the mountain’s breathtaking beauty: snow-dusted trees clinging to black scree, a scene painted in stark contrasts.

At the car, we grinned at each other. Trapper Peak had tested us, challenged us, and ultimately, accepted us. Even with the unexpected snowstorm, it was a good day. A reminder that winter comes early, and sometimes, embracing the “fail-tures” leads to the most epic victories.

Resources

Trapper Peak: This is the highest peak in the Bitterroot Range at 10,157 feet¹²³. The climb is a steep, strenuous hike³. The trail becomes indistinguishable beyond the wilderness boundary, but is marked by cairns³. It’s necessary to pack water as there is none along the trail³.

Winter Hiking: Hiking in winter can be a unique and rewarding experience, but it also presents its own set of challenges. It’s important to dress appropriately, check the weather conditions, understand winter trail conditions, and prepare for shorter daylight hours⁴.

Photography in Snow: Taking photos in the snow can be tricky due to the bright, reflective nature of snow. Overexposing your photos can help avoid grey snow⁵. Using manual focus can also help achieve sharp images⁵. However, sometimes the beauty of a winter hike is best captured in the memory rather than in a photograph.

The rain lashes against the windshield, a cold symphony mimicking the tremor in my hands. Trapper Peak looms ahead, shrouded in mist and promising an icy welcome. It’s August 29th, and instead of sun-drenched summits, I’m facing a gauntlet of hypothermia. But hey, what’s a little discomfort when a mountain whispers your name?

Yesterday, I was basking in the warm glow of camaraderie at the Leverich Canyon Crankup. John Curry, as always, left the competition in the dust, a blur of wheels and grinning grit. But the real win was catching up with friends, their laughter a balm to the recovery fatigue lingering from those endless 100-milers and 24-hour races.

Evening saw me huddled around a table with Sten and Kristy, the clink of cutlery and murmur of jokes chasing away the shadows. It was a simple moment, bathed in the golden glow of friendship, a reminder of the quiet joys that fuel every uphill battle.

But the road always beckons, and tonight, it leads to Trapper Peak. Rain whispers of retreat, paints doubt on the windshield, but the mountain’s call echoes louder. This isn’t just a hike; it’s a dance with the elements, a test of spirit against the bite of the wind.

Maybe I’m crazy, maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment. But when the world shrinks to the rhythm of your own breath, to the crunch of boots on wet earth, that’s when the magic happens. That’s when the chill becomes a baptism, the rain a cleansing storm, and the summit, a hard-won crown forged in the crucible of discomfort.

So, Trapper Peak, here I come. Hypothermia be damned, my spirit’s a furnace that won’t be doused by a little rain. This mountain may test me, but I’ll dance with it, embrace the icy wind, and claim that summit as my own. Stay tuned, folks, for this is a story written in raindrops and etched in frozen footprints. The adventure awaits.

Resources

Trapper Peak: This is the highest peak in the Bitterroot Range, standing at 10,157 feet¹²³. The climb is a steep, strenuous hike³. Beyond the wilderness boundary, the trail becomes indistinguishable but is marked by cairns³. It’s necessary to pack water as there is none along the trail³.

Leverich Canyon Crankup Mountain Bike Race: This race takes place on the Leverich Canyon Loop, a popular mountain biking trail⁴⁵⁶⁷. The trail is known for its steep but smooth singletrack trail up the mountainside⁴.

Recovering from 100 milers and 24-hour races: Recovery from such intense races is crucial. It’s important to rest, hydrate, and replenish your body with proper nutrition^89101112.

Preventing Hypothermia: As you’re heading out in cold and rainy conditions, it’s important to take measures to prevent hypothermia. Wear synthetic materials or wool, which can keep you warm even when wet^1314151617. Stay hydrated and snack often^1314151617.