Author: Bill

The trouble with ginger snaps is that you can grab way to many at one time. I just grabbed myself a handful, brewed a cup of black cherry tea and now I am ready blog about last nights ride. We did the same thing last night. We grabbed a big ol handful of fun.

It all started innocent enough the group was to meet at the trail head of Jumbo Saddle. 15 of us showed up for the first real sunny evening this year. We rode the saddle and up to the top of Marshall Grade. Then we hit Three Larch like a bunch of butterflies lofting through lavender. I took every moment I could to get some footage on my camera. Movie coming later.

Once Three Larch was enjoyed we gathered for our assault on the Sidewinder Family. This twisty turn enriched decent is one of the best around. Missing were all the wildflowers due to our cold weather. It looks like they all froze. I finally thawed out and bombed down the ridge in style only bobbling on a few switchbacks. Its hard to ride this trail and gawk at the magnificent scenery at the same time.

We all gathered again for a family portrait and discussed our post ride meet up. It is becoming more apparent that this ride is incorporating a post ride caloric festival of some kind. It has been prevalent through out the early season. We decided on Rattle Snake Gardens.

After the beer and chips, your

So there you have it. 3 weeks of me not posting a blog. Sometimes we get a little behind. I have uploaded more photos on Picasa as well and also a video on YouTube. Initially I wanted to post a blog per image because there is a story behind each set. I guess in the interest of time and the need to find work so as to make some cash I will post a condensed version of what has been going on.

It all started with the Grizzly Man Adventure Race when some friends visited for a couple days ending with their departure and my solo bike ride to the start of he climb to Sheep Mountain from the corridor of the Rattlesnake. [big gasp of air] The next weekend I did the Lost Trail Peace Ride where I climbed Lost Trail twice and Chief Joseph once making a peace sign on a map. [big gasp of air]  Went on a TNR we entitled “Dark Side of Patte” where we had to run one of the unfortunates out of the woods before he froze to death. Then not getting enough cold winter weather and the breaking down of my finances to fix my car prompted me to stay in town for the weekend which started with a mine shaft, peanut curry ice cream, and witnessing a great band called Ball and Jack. Whew! [big gasp of air] Finally I did two mountain bike rides (because I love cold weather and getting rained on) out to Turah which on the second day was entitled Alp de Turah because friends proclaimed, “lets just go to that bend that looks like the Alps or something”. [big gasp of air]  Da Bridge!

Endo!

The Trip – Day 1

I took a half day off work so that my accomplice and I could get a good start on a trip to Boise Idaho. I went through the usually Friday follies at work. You know what I mean. The boss pulls you aside and says drop what you are doing I need something done now. So you drop everything and step into their office. “I need you to implement a stock control system into a commerce web site”, says the dude in charge. You look at the clock and it’s 2.5 hours until the time when you were “scheduled” to be leaving for the day. I glossed over.

I basically gave up and decided to go outside and stand by my car. “Fire me, I don’t care” was the motto. My buddy Ross showed up and plucked me from the situation and we drove to our launch pad to begin our trip. The bike rack he had ordered had not come so we stuffed my bike into the back of the car and we headed for the land of single track and sunshine … or at least we thought so.

IT was a great trip down route 12 and then 95. I decided that the twisty roads were just to stimulating to my appetite and reached in the back for some smoked fish. I wrestled with a container as my friend drove around numerous corners in the highway. Varooom, zooom. Suddenly the world started to spin and I sat back down in my seat. I had just made myself car sick.

I nearly blew chunks so I took over the driving duties to try and get my mind from spinning around and around. I started to settle down just in time for the Harpster Grade Road up to Grangeville. Our first official pit stop was in Grangeville. Finally my stomach was back into shape and I could start “socially eating”.

We were having a blast and suddenly we were in McCall. The excitement was building as we looked for our old haunt a sandwich shop just on the south side of town. We finally reached it and it was out of business. Bummer! Down the road we went. We made an agreement to look for a burger joint to supplement the trip with some taste bud festivities. I think we were forgetting we had a big race the next morning and just got caught up in the vacation. A place called “BUffalo Gal” came into view and we took the opportunity to check it out. The town was Donnely.

Turns out it was a sushi restaurant and while my pal was a little concerned I jumped at the opportunity to “eat right” before the race. I would get some good quality protein. So we ordered. 1 bacon cheese burger and a “Snapper”. The order came and my “snapper” turned out to be deep fried fish … doh! I need to ask questions next time I guess.

We found our originally planned camping spot but it was buried under about three feet of snow so we made the decision to go ALL – THE – WAY.

A couple pod casts later we arrived at the venue right at ten or so. Pitched a tent and settled in for a long winters nap. I say winter because I woke up and couldn’t feel my legs. I wanted to see what the temperature was so I turned on my GPS and waited. Shivering in my tent it read 32 degrees and since there was no one around to hear me whimper I posted a tweet.

“sooo cold. Toes are numb and I cant sleep. 32 degrees inside bag. Brrrr”

Have you ever just drove by on on something that you kept saying, “One day I am going to do that”? This post is about one of those times that I got to do “it” one spring day.  Mostly I am about to ramble out my thoughts so the movie is a better source of what went down. Movie!

My friend and I were traveling home from the race and we were in Idaho driving up route 95.  In White Bird he turned into town and I started to wonder what he was up to. I figured he was just stopping in to see where this road I have been talking about begins.

A little history. There is this road called White Bird Grade in Idaho that I have always wanted to climb on a bike. That’s it … the history.

White Bird is a small town that almost resembles a New England style of town. Nestled in a valley with church steeples the most predominant. We went by the school, post office, another church, and kept going. Suddenly I realized he was going to drive it.

I hunkered down in my seat getting ready to jump from the moving car. There was no way I would ride a car up this road I always wanted to ride up. No way! My hand grasped the door handle.

“Boy this would really melt your tires”, he said. For for the untrained reader this statement doesn’t make sense. What that means is that with mountain bikes we try to keep our knobs square so they bite on dirt trails. This road would wear them down.

“That sounds like an excuse”, I blurted out. The handle on the door was halfway pulled to the open position.

“What? You want to ride this”, glancing at the road. Does a bear shit in the woods. “You damn right I do”, scowling back at him. He saw the look of a wounded cougar ready to fight its way free.

The car stopped and quickly turned around. We stopped midway in town and I unloaded my bike. The bike and body was in tough shape from the weekend’s race but this was “the White Bird Grade”. I don’t know, its spiritual. It can not be explained. I set forth to do my ride.

Ross made coffee and waited on a switchback to cheer me on like I was in the tour de Fraaahhhnce. I encountered many mules, brethren mules, which was a sign from all that is. There were many moments but will leave it at that, To ride it is the way to go … not drive up it.

So picture this: me, standing tall at the post-race grub table, salsa-stained fingers clutching a chip, regaling my crew with tales of victory (okay, maybe just finishing). Underneath the “racer” facade, though? A 44-year-old body rebelling like a teenager at a Justin Bieber concert. Later, stripping down for the celebratory fiesta at the local Mexican joint, I discover a war map of scrapes and bruises. Naturally, I whip out the most impressive one for dramatic effect, earning the obligatory “ooh”s and “ouch”es from my fellow warriors.

Meanwhile, Ross, the ever-practical one, is already plotting a more comfortable crash pad. After a valiant attempt at scrubbing my road rash with industrial-strength wipes (think Mr. Clean on steroids), we roll into Riggs, Idaho, and snag a fisherman’s motel for the night. Sweet relief – a hot shower and a bed that doesn’t smell like questionable foot odor. Bliss.

Morning arrives, and I’m up with the rooster (or maybe just the fishermen grumbling about their elusive catches). Feeling spry, I head down to the river for a photo op, only to reenact a clumsy penguin act and nearly take an unscheduled dip. Seriously, universe, what are you trying to tell me?

Now, caught between the siren song of home and the allure of adventure, I’m torn. One minute I’m plotting a glorious return ride, the next I’m open to whatever mayhem the day throws my way. But hold on, gotta run! The Grizzlyman Adventure Race beckons, and I wouldn’t want to miss the chance to trade war stories with fellow dirt warriors.

Here’s the dilemma: do I finish this tale in words, or leave you with a video cliffhanger, forcing you to guess what ridiculous shenanigans we got ourselves into next? Stay tuned, folks, the adventure (and maybe some questionable dance moves) continues…

The Race – Day 2

If there’s an upside to hypothermia, it’s the eternal nap you slide into—no alarm clock needed. Last Saturday, I nearly checked out permanently when suddenly, a voice broke through my frosty slumber: “Wanna hit up town for breakfast?” That invitation yanked me back to the land of the living—or at least, those of us pretending to be awake.

With the others still lost in dreamland, I seized my chance for a scenic latrine tour. The first stop was a frozen wonder, where any contributions simply perched atop the ice. I slapped a Butte 100 poster there and moved on. By the end of my circuit, four posters adorned the facilities of Hemingway Butte Recreation Area, marking my mission complete. Time to hit town.

In Melba, we stumbled upon the Melba Valley Market—a charming hybrid of hardware store, grocery, and café. As we entered, the local eyes sized us up, probably wondering about these odd early birds invading their nest. The place screamed “hardware,” but a warm welcome with coffee and smiles soon had us feeling right at home.

Post-breakfast, we returned to the venue, my stomach bravely bearing hash browns and salsa, hoping it wouldn’t make a comeback mid-race. The wind kicked up fiercely, almost sending our tent flying—an ominous sign for the day.

Geared up for a pre-ride, I was flying on the course, flaunting speed to some youngsters, when my back tire surrendered to a flat—thanks to a skirmish with a rogue goat head. After a grueling repair session, it was clear: surviving the race on mere tubes and patches was a fool’s errand. Resigned, I chose to cheer from the sidelines instead of battling the inevitable.

As the pros took off, I couldn’t help but fantasize about being in that elite group of twenty. Instead, I found myself amidst a sea of eager riders, the start a chaotic free-for-all reminiscent of the Boston Marathon. Once the race began in earnest, I managed to navigate through the pack, dodging missteps and mechanical mishaps alike.

The course threw challenges our way, with climbs and tricky rollers. Following some swift riders, disaster struck when the guy ahead botched a gear change. To avoid a pile-up, I took a detour through the weeds. Despite this setback, I clawed back towards the lead, exploiting a wide stretch of track to overtake a good chunk of the field.

However, my comeback was cut short by a collision that sent me sprawling, with visions of hospitals dancing in my head. Yet, with a spirit unwilling to quit, I realigned my twisted handlebars and continued, the pain in my neck a fiery reminder of the fall.

Throughout the race, I kept overtaking wherever possible, channeling my frustrations into conquering climbs that others shied away from. The final laps were about endurance, sticking close to competitors who matched my pace.

In a twist of fate, a missed turn on the last lap cost me dearly. Unaware that we were racing 2.5 laps, not 3, I lost my lead. The irony? I had overtaken everyone without even realizing it. If only I’d attended that racer’s meeting! Comparing times later, I could have clinched fourth overall—a bittersweet revelation.

Still, I snagged second in my age group. Throughout the ordeal, one thought kept me pedaling: “I haven’t flatted yet.” Call it luck or sheer grit, but finishing was the real victory. Just another good day in the dirt.

Today at noon, I headed out for Barking Spider, much to the laughter of my Aunt Paula. That’s what we call Uncle Dave’s farts. All joking aside, it’s a fun little course.

Last night, I was able to join the Thursday Night Ride, but to everyone’s dismay, I proceeded to smash my bike with my foot, resulting in a complete mental breakdown. I creased the top tube of my Leader, and it was intentional.

This happened after I had meditated to clear my mind of the frustrations stemming from mechanical issues. Just as things started to mellow out, my front tire sprung a leak.

In frustration, I kicked my bike and listed all the things that are messed up with Missoula: can’t make a decent living, waste of a good education, can’t even feed myself, and so forth. I really lost my temper. Usually, I prefer to vent my frustrations in the woods where I can scream and yell.

I am now officially 3 hours away from leaving town, and I’m trying to push out of my mind that my bike is being held together with zip ties and JB Weld. But who cares? I’m going camping and traveling. It’s a break from the brain drain of Missoula.

So there I was on the Kim Williams Trail thinking how awesome it was that it was dry and looking forward to a great mountain bike ride. My threshold interval started at the bottom of Deer Creek Road and by the time I clicked my lap timer it was evident that I would encounter mud. After all we had just endured about a thousand snow flurries for a week. I tried to stay on the shoulder where there was still gravel.

The only thing that was working was the Carbo Rocket as I felt really good putting down some serious power. By the top of Deer Creek Road where it turns to Pattee Canyon Road I was completely unrecognizable. I looked like a rock. To make matters worse I was on ice and snow now which made for some interesting side trips to the ditch. Crazy canyon trails did not provide me with refuge either.

Snow pack that hasn’t been on the trails for like two months was now back and when there wasn’t snow it was greasy and deep mud. No dry spots to spare. I popped out to the trail over to MoZ and it was dry again. I ascended into town and everyone glanced my way. I looked like I had been mud bogging. But where is the mud was probably their thought.

My recommendations for mountain biking as of last night after staying up all night washing clothes in the tub … move somewhere else.

Time for a rant blog. It’s only right since the weather in Missoula has turned from spring to winter. I awoke to Montana Public Radio stating that there is a winter weather advisory today. Oh, jeez. Time to turn off that pesky media; I don’t even know why I turned it on.

Also on MPR, I heard about a child who committed suicide due to bullying. Everyone is blaming the principal of the school. In fact, the principal has reportedly received a bunch of hate mail or threatening letters, with one saying, “Burn in Hell.” It’s not the educators, folks. It’s the parents. The parents themselves are engaging in the same bullying tactics that pressured this teen to take their own life. There are a small number of parents out there who may be the problem. Parents shape the world, and they are f’ing it up. That is my observation and not to be confused with blame. I do know when I am being bullied, though, and even in adult life, you will run into bullies (for instance, a boss or colleague).

There is no room in life for blame if we all just take responsibility because who knows which parent this misbehavior started with. Just as I hope bullying tactics are not used on me today, I hope that all creatures will experience a bully-free day today as well.

On a lighter note, a video.

Ah, Monday, or as I like to call it, “The Great Survival Day.” It’s that peculiar day of the week when the universe conspires to test our will to live, patience, and coffee tolerance.

“Good morning, world! It’s my birthday today! Who am I? Richard Bach might know, or at least he has written the perfect depiction of who I am, what I stand for, and what I’m all about. ‘Jonathan Livingston Seagull‘ is a fable about a seagull learning about life, flight, and the pursuit of self-perfection.

Paul Bardis and Lucy Limberis are the ones who recommended this story to me. After reading the book, I was astounded and nearly moved to tears because I finally found a description that resonates with the passion burning inside me.”

This is my final piece of 4 posts in a tiny series, or stages. My recollection of last weekend’s trip to Lewiston for the Devils Slide Mountain Bike Race. This race has a long tradition. The Brown’s and I have been there from the beginning. The 2010 movie.

2006 : My first race since I had given racing up back in New England.

I finally got USA Cycling to downgrade me to expert so I could race. I was really overweight as far as strength to weigh ratio goes.

I went to Lewiston early on to pre-ride the course. I would meet up with some new friends I met through the Thursday Night Ride group.

When I got there I couldn’t find the course and it was raining hard. It had rained all the way down there and I didn’t even realize what a beautiful trip it was. I decided to camp out at the campground and put up my tent. I had Marcy with me at the time and she just figured we were on another car camping trip. When I went to put my sleeping bag and pillows in the tent I couldn’t find them. I had forgotten my sleeping bag … that was the last straw.

I packed everything up and headed home to Missoula. I started to feel bad that I told my friends that I would meet them so I stopped in at the place they made reservations to leave them a note. Something came over me and I decided to use a credit card and stay in the same motel. I just needed to dry out and get some sleep. I was a wreck.

My friends “The Browns” were excited when they arrived and I got caught up in their energy. The next day it was nice and the trails were drying. So I signed up and raced.

I suffered greatly upon my old K2 full suspension bike but I was hooked from that moment on … or re-hooked anyway.

2007 : The previous year we noted little cabins along the Snake River. Nancy looked into it and booked one for our 2007 journey.

Marcy and I arrived early once again but this time the weather was great. I put together my bike and wet riding. I noticed immediately my fitness had greatly improved. This was the first race for my new Leader mountain bike. A great season was at hand.

My friends arrived and we all stayed in the cabin. We loved it and have done it ever sense (well kind of). I think I got first for the expert group that year and the girls raced as well. I started my tradition of pushing hard to try and lap my friend Ross.

In 2007 we stopped in at a pizza shop in Kamiah ID, another tradition had started.

2008 : I was in serious shape and the entire spring lead up to the slide. We were all excited to be traveling via white van and we all went together instead of meeting up at the venue. I took my tent and stayed just beside the cabin.

The race went very well and I won expert again. the difference this year is that I kept up with the pros and was edged out by two of them and got 3rd overall.

Again we hit the Pizza Factory in Kamiah ID for our traditional post race feast

2009 : This is my world championship year so Ross and I traveled Saturday morning so that I could ride the slide for 6 hours. It was just the two of us and I rode the slide so much that day I had it nailed for the next day at the race. I went exploring under the bluffs along the snake river and found a great little trail. I took quite a bunch of photos documenting the weird rock formation.

The next day I raced in the smallest field ever and it seemed that the Slide was about to fade out. It was a good race and I won overall for the first time.

Again Ross and I hit the Pizza Factory for post race recovery.

2010 : Thankfully a lot of people showed up this year and I think the Devils Slide is here to stay.

This year was also great with the Brown family in strong attendance. Emily and Nancy were in cheering mode as Ross and I posted our best efforts at the slide to date. Ross getting second in his age category and I winning outright for the second year in a row.

The difference this time along was our early departure time so we could enjoy Saturday in great temperatures. We strolled around the campgrounds and really did the camping thing very well. Even had a fireside reading of a Tail of 2 Cities (homework for Emily).

The best year so far has kicked off what is promising to be a great summer.

This is my high drama piece of 4 posts in a tiny series, or stages. My recollection of last weekend’s trip to Lewiston for the Devil’s Slide Mountain Bike Race. It was race day and here is how it went down.

We awoke to a cloudy and chilly morning. Someone mentioned rain but I still think the weather was delightful. Way better than the winter stuff at home. I do my best racing in the cool weather.

1.5 minutes before the race, I decided I was hot and went down to the parking lot to ditch my undershirt and leg warmers. It is a good thing because during the race I felt really hot. A little sunshine and it’s like us northern folk start to melt.

I made the starting line and was a tiny bit late. I lined up behind Joe Chalmers just as the gun went off (a guy shouted “go”). Joe took off like a madman and led the entire group of about ten or so along the equestrian trail leading to the first bit of single-track.

Soon Joe slowed a bit once on top of a plateau and Perry Roper almost ran into his back wheel. It was apparent that Perry had a great pace going and wanted to continue because he passed Joe and jetted across the plain with myself gasping to take his wheel. I looked back and Joe was not going to come along.

The big threat of the day was Kris Holden who kept stealth and rode with Joe a little bit. I did not even know there were any others that were keeping Perry’s pace until we started jetting up the big climb. I was afraid to look around but could hear someone breathing down my neck. As soon as I lost Perry’s wheel, I would be overtaken and I knew it. I held on.

On top, Perry settled down a bit and I was relieved and tried to regain some semblance of composure. Spin, spin, spin, I told myself. I think Kris went back a little on the final push to the top. We blistered down the Devil’s Slide and I lost ground to Perry. I thought he would ride away so I did my best to hit the technical sections fast but not so fast as to wreck and ruin the entire race. This was my 3rd time on the Turner this season and I was still getting used to it.

At the bottom and just about the end of lap 1, I caught back up to Perry immediately and felt strong. I knew this would be the place to make my move if I had a chance later on. I stuck to his wheel to try and never lose it again. If I were to make a move, I needed to be in place. Lap 2 would be my practice “wheel holding” lap.

We started lap 2 and my cheering section featuring Nancy and Emily Brown were cheering me on. It felt good to have some fans even though they were friends. I made it look like I was playing behind Perry but in reality, I was wondering if I could hold his wheel if he went just as fast on the second lap. He did!

Going down the Devil’s Slide a second time, it was apparent that he was losing composure. He went off track and almost crashed once. I was confident that on the final push I could hold on to him and possibly beat him downhill. I settled in to try and compose myself and get ready to take command in 1 lap. That is if I could hold on that long. I felt like these guys were killing me and I was the weak one until now.

Suddenly, Kris Holden rode up to our wheels. He did it so fast I knew he was going to crush us. I had to do something so I quietly passed Perry. I looked at him and he gave me this puzzled look. I think he was tired but that didn’t matter anymore. I had a fresh racer right behind me. This guy rode away from me two years ago and finished right behind Bradford Parish.

Still on lap 2, I looked back on the climb to end the lap. The two riders seemed to be together, maybe talking. I took the rest of the climb as hard as I could without looking like I was attacking. On the final climb, I stood up and hammered.

Starting the final lap, it was well known to the guys behind that I was on the attack. I think Kris was thinking he had to wait and then pass me on lap 3. I couldn’t wait and I knew that if he was with me at the Devil’s Slide, I would lose the race. I got to the big climb and looked back to see his progress. Shit! Kris was closing…big time. I put some blood down on that big climb and absolutely smashed it.

I never looked back because it was all out from here to the downhill. I suffered on top of the Plateau and entered the slide. I ran right into some slower riders. I could hear Kris starting to bomb the slide behind me and I couldn’t wait for the slower riders anymore. I dismounted and ran around them, then remounted. I rode the downhill as fast as I could.

On the last climb with about 2 miles to go, I stood and started to hammer. I sat right back down…I was toast….FINISHED. I looked back.

Nothing! All I had to do was keep from passing out. I rode the last half mile with a big ol’ grin on my face. I had just won the Devil’s Slide outright. It was a great battle.

This post is a second in a tiny series (or stages) of my recollection of last weekend’s trip to Lewiston for the Devils Slide Mountain Bike Race. This is the first race of the season and it was a great time. We left off picking up keys to the cabin.

The cabin wasn’t ready and I jumped to a quick conclusion because I really wanted to go riding. I assumed that if we waited for the cabin I wouldn’t get out on the trails until late. I had some “tweaks” to do to the bike before launching onto the trails. After a little pow wow O realized that we could still get it done by just going into town for a hour and then ascend upon ol “Tamany Lodge“.

In two hours time I was adjusting my grips, tuning up the bike, checking air pressures, and trying to decide how I would carry my tools for 2010. Some big decisions were made and we were off. Sleeveless in Idaho. The temps were in the 70s.

The pre ride was great and we even went exploring on some single track below the bluffs. A great summer like ride on some interesting trails. I even witnessed a ballet like move by Ross on the Devils Slide as he pulled a move to avoid a certain faceplate. It was quite poetic and I got it on film. This morning I lost that footage. It mysteriously got corrupted in transit to my computer (reason for the late blog).

After the riding was finished and the action wipes dispensed we embarked on a long walk to discover in more detail our surroundings. I learned that Lewis and Clark really didn’t have a good doctor and the pills they were using for stomach distress almost killed them. Yea! We found a interpretive trail.

The day ended with a reading from A Tale of Two Cities. What better way to relax … right? We cooked brats over a campfire and chatted about the up and coming season. A perfect day and the race on Sunday was already a success.