Boneshakerbike

Author: Bill

  • Pro at Casting in the Towel

    Pro at Casting in the Towel

    Mastering the Art of Procrastination

    Ah, procrastination: the art of turning “to-do” into “maybe tomorrow.” I’ve been there, eventually getting the T-shirt. Let’s explore procrastination with Timothy Pychyl’s insights, because facing reality can wait, right?

    It’s not just about time management; it’s an emotional dodgeball with boredom, anxiety, and frustration. Instead, we jump into the world of funny videos and gaming marathons. Surprising, huh?

    I was in the Procrastinators’ Club (meeting date: TBD). I learned the five stages of procrastination: ‘hedonistic delay’ (fun now, work later), ‘fear of failure’ (frozen by the thought of not succeeding), ‘perfectionism’ (if it can’t be perfect, why start?), ‘procrastiwork’ (busywork, not actual work), and ‘revenge procrastination’ (late-night freedom fights, sacrificing tomorrow’s energy).

    But, there’s hope for us, the 20% procrastinators. An accountability buddy, breaking tasks down, and setting achievable goals can be our weapons against procrastination.

    To break free, understand the emotional roots and adopt counter strategies. Productivity can become routine with patience and self-kindness. Let’s tackle procrastination together. After all, every journey starts with a step… or after one more episode.

    On this day in history, Feb 18:

    Dive into these snapshots of time for a mix of humor, adventure, and the beauty of the outdoors through the lens of my experiences.

  • Hair-y Bin Leap

    Hair-y Bin Leap

    Chillin’ in my eco-chair, staring at my RabbitAir purifier, I mulled over boosting my eco-efforts. As a known green enthusiast, I decided to hit up RabbitAir, hoping they’d have a smart way to ditch their filters without hurting Mother Earth. The adventure, though, veered off course.

    First Move: Eager Email

    With a kick of fair-trade coffee, I reached out, asking about eco-smart disposal methods. Expected a hidden eco-plan, but nope.

    Quick, Honest Reply

    Ryan from RabbitAir hit me back pronto, saying they’re not yet riding the eco-wave. No recycle route—just the trash. Ouch.

    A Speck of Hope

    Ryan said he’d share my thoughts higher up. A glimmer, but left me pondering the real change needed.

    Reality Hits

    Props to RabbitAir for listening, but today’s eco-scene demands more than open ears. Tossing my filter felt off, like we’re skipping vital green steps.

    What’s Next?

    Speak up, for one. Brands listen when eco-voices unite. Support the real green movers too; they’re on the frontlines.

    Just a Bend, Not the End

    The RabbitAir chat wasn’t what I hoped, yet it’s not a full stop. It’s fired up my green resolve even more. Join the green fight; it’s a long haul, but together, we’re mighty.

    See ya on the eco-path …o/o

    On this day in history, let’s dive into the eclectic and adventurous world of my blog, showcasing a variety of experiences and insights:

    Each entry presents a unique snapshot of my journey, offering a mix of personal reflections, eco-conscious endeavors, and the simple joy of first experiences.

  • The Goal

    The Goal

    Ah, Lake Como in Montana, not to be confused with its Italian namesake, though just as picturesque in a rugged, “I might need to yodel” kind of way. Mo and I decided it was the perfect spot for our latest adventure: camping out and tackling the trails on our fatbikes. While Mo ventured off to embrace her own journey around the lake, I had my sights set on a specific prize, the Tin Cup Overlook.

    Overlooking Lake Como

    I met a group of friends, and after a heartfelt “Sorry, pals, but I’ve got bigger fish to fry today,” I was off. Solo. Just me, my fatbike, and a goal.

    The thing about Tin Cup Overlook is that it’s kind of out there if it had snowed recently. In fact, it seemed like no one had ventured up there since, I don’t know, the last Ice Age? This wasn’t just a ride; it was an expedition. Imagine forging through snow, terrain that switched between “slightly challenging” and “are you kidding me?” with no warning.

    But here’s the kicker, it was epic. There’s something about pushing through the uncharted, the untouched, that adds a flavor of victory you just can’t get from a well-worn path. By the time I reached the overlook, with muscles screaming and lungs burning, the view was more than a reward; it was a testament. A testament to the journey, the struggle, and the sheer stubbornness that got me there. Then as I returned found that others were doing the same. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. I like to get dramatic.

    Tin Cup Overlook

    In the end, as always, the adventure proved itself to be epic and rewarding. Not just for the breathtaking views or the bragging rights, but for the reminder that sometimes, the best paths in life are the ones we forge ourselves, through deep snow and against all odds. And let me tell you, the stories Mo and I can tell around the campfire just got a whole lot more interesting.

    On this day in history

  • Bruno

    Bruno

    So, here’s the scoop on Bruno, our bison hero whose heart beats in sync with the wild vibes of Montana’s endless sky. Picture this champ: his fur’s as cozy as a fresh snow blanket, and he’s all about that frosty air high and the rush of darting wherever the wind takes him. Montana’s sprawling fields? That was his jam, his ultimate playground. Hills that roll on forever, valleys where the sun plays hide and seek – Bruno was all over it, living his best life with adventure as his constant plus-one.

    Now, Bruno was no ordinary bison. Nope, he was freedom on four hooves, a living, breathing symbol of the wild that even the stoic mountains tipped their caps to. His running? Pure poetry in motion. Every hoofbeat a note in an earthy melody that whispered tales of yore and boundless futures.

    But then, the plot twists. Bruno, our wanderlust king, trades the grandeur of the sky for a ceiling, frozen mid-stride in a Missoula display. The thought of him, the bison who once danced with the breeze, now caught in an eternal indoor season – it’s something straight out of a bison’s nightmare.

    This change-up from roaming free to being an exhibit packs a punch, stirring a deep, introspective kind of blue about the essence of freedom and how it can just slip away. Bruno, standing there all quiet-like, becomes this powerful nudge reminding us of life’s transient beauty and the freedoms we might not even realize we’re taking for granted.

    Yet, there’s this glimmer of hope: Bruno’s legacy doesn’t just fade away. For folks passing by, he’s this silent call to arms to remember the untamed, to treasure the liberty of the great outdoors, and to dive headfirst into adventure. His tale morphs into this touching life-cycle saga, nudging us to seize the day, explore with gusto, and love with all we’ve got, in a world as vast and fleeting as the prairies he once roamed with abandon.

    On this day in history, a stroll down memory lane

  • Pedals of Love and the Valentine’s Day Odyssey

    Pedals of Love and the Valentine’s Day Odyssey

    Ah, Valentine’s Day, that annual spectacle of love and last-minute scrambles for meaningful gestures. It’s a day when even the most seasoned adventurers, like yours truly, can find themselves caught off guard, the calendar flipping to February 14th with all the subtlety of a snowball to the face. This year, in a twist that might have seemed inspired by a blend of cupid’s arrow and sheer procrastination, I embarked on what I’ve now dubbed “The Urban Legend.”

    The quest was simple: navigate the maze of Missoula’s bike paths in a heroic bid to secure a token of affection for my partner in love and life, Mo (affectionately dubbed Snuggles). The journey, plotted with the precision of a treasure hunt, took me across the city’s arteries – from the bustling Reserve Street, around the historical bastion of Fort Missoula, and back via the serene Milwaukee Trail. Each pedal stroke was a line in a love letter written on the asphalt, a physical testament to the lengths (quite literally) one will go for love.

    This Valentine’s vigil culminated at the Good Food Store, my modern-day X marks the spot, where I procured a card and a pint of Cardamon Ice Cream – an offering to Mo that was both sweet and, given my usual disdain for shopping, incredibly brave.

    Presenting this last-ditch effort to Mo, I couldn’t help but reflect on the Valentines past, each a chapter in our ongoing adventure. From dreaming of home not as a place but a feeling with ‘Snuggles’ at its heart, to the snowy escapades in Pattee Canyon, and even the whimsical notion of biking through ghost towns – each year has been a testament to our evolving journey.

    It’s curious how, on a day so often commercialized and scripted, our most genuine moments spring from the unscripted and the spontaneous. As I handed over the card and ice cream to Mo, I realized that the essence of Valentine’s Day, for us, has never been about grand gestures or expensive gifts. It’s in the shared laughter over ice cream that’s slightly too frozen, the warmth found in a hand-drawn card, and the love that grows not from what we give, but how we give of ourselves.

    So here’s to Valentine’s Day – a reminder that love, much like the best adventures, isn’t found in the destination but in the journey. And if that journey involves a last-minute bike ride across town for cardamom ice cream, then all the better.

    On this Valentines Day in history:

    • 2023: Snuggles my valentine – A heartwarming reflection on the concept of a dream home, which is not a place but a feeling of comfort and love, found in the heart of ‘snuggles’.
    • 2018: Good Crust – Celebrating the perfect conditions for fat biking in Bozeman, a newfound joy in February’s usually elusive crust, offering freedom on two wheels.
    • 2017: Team MoBill Part 2 – The Investigation – The first in a series exploring the origins and adventures of Team MoBill, tracing back to cryptic posts and a story rooted in 2010.
    • 2014: Meetup – A day filled with anticipation and preparation for a friend’s visit, likened to the excitement of a group ride.
    • 2010: Half Ass – A day where plans fell through, leading to an unexpected dive into troubleshooting a Sports Tracks plugin.
    • 2009: Ghost Town Idea – Proposing an adventurous bike ride through Montana’s ghost towns, combining history with the thrill of exploration.
    • 2008: To Deer Creek and Back – An impromptu cycling and hiking adventure in Pattee Canyon, embracing the snowy landscape.
    • 2008: Deer Creek Snow Sneak – Swapping traditional Valentine’s Day plans for a snowy bike ride up Deer Creek, seeking untouched trails and epic views.
    • 2004: Mount Ellen Vermont – A solo venture into Mount Ellen’s wintry embrace, detailing a challenging hike amidst a Valentine’s Day whiteout.
    • 2002: My Emotional Profile – A reflection on the quest for love and understanding, highlighting the importance of emotional connections and self-awareness.

    Each post captures a moment in time, offering insights into my personal journeys, challenges, and the beauty of adventure. Enjoy delving into these snapshots of life’s rich tapestry.

  • Pillow Talk: A Survival Guide

    Pillow Talk: A Survival Guide

    Yesterday, Monday, the day universally acknowledged as the calendar’s grumble. Today was no exception; it is one of those ‘Survival Days’ for me and Mo. You know the drill: when making it to bedtime without any hiccups feels like a win. And the day’s highlight? Not some wild escapade in the great outdoors or a biking trail victory. Nope, it was all about a photo of pillows. Yep, pillows. Captured by Mo in Costco, it surprisingly became the day’s peak excitement. So, here’s to making it through today and seeing what’s on the horizon for tomorrow.


    But let’s not get bogged down in today’s simplicity. Instead, let’s stroll down memory lane and see what February 13th has looked like over the years. From academic grinds in 2001, delving into life’s mysteries, to the various escapades that ensued.

    I’ve reminisced about finding the ultimate trail resource in 2002, a hiking plan gone awry in 2005, and musing over exercise routines in 2007. There were days packed with biking trials, rejuvenating workouts, and the aftermath of intense training. Remember the grocery night in 2010 that turned magical? Or the 2012 races that happened only in my mind? Each entry, from pondering daily chaos to sliding with friends after years, narrates a tale of personal evolution, challenges, and life’s simple pleasures.

    Reflecting on these snippets, from the academic whirlwinds to the illicit thrill of a trail ride, showcases a journey of growth, adventures, and unexpected delights. Each post is a portal to a memory, a story, a step in my journey.

    So, cheers to the survival days, the adventures, and all the moments in between. Life’s a rollercoaster, and honestly, I’m here for the ride.

    Dive into the past, February 13th, with me through these posts:

  • AI: Hype Machine or Hidden Gem? A Mountain Biker’s Perspective (with a dash of Mo’s wisdom)

    AI: Hype Machine or Hidden Gem? A Mountain Biker’s Perspective (with a dash of Mo’s wisdom)

    Alright, folks, Bill here, your friendly neighborhood redhead and resident mountain bike nut. Now, I’m no techie, but I love tinkering with gadgets and doodads, especially when they promise to make my outdoor adventures even more epic. So, naturally, I jumped on the AI image generation bandwagon, hoping it would whip up some mind-blowing trail scenes I’d never experienced before.

    Wanna check to see if something is AI?

    Let me tell you, I was picturing landscapes that defied description – molten lava rivers flowing next to snow-capped peaks, maybe a mouse skiing off our promaster overhead for good measure. You know, the usual Montana stuff. But guess what? Those fancy AI doodads spat out the same old mountain vistas I see every day, just with a slightly pointillistic filter. Talk about deflating my adventurous spirit faster than a flat tire on Grizzly Gulch!

    Now, Mo, my ever-optimistic partner in crime (and way better at reading instruction manuals than yours truly), reminded me of something crucial: AI ain’t magic. It’s just a clever way of rearranging the data it’s been fed. No mind-reading involved, unfortunately. But that doesn’t mean it’s all hype!

    Think of it like this: sure, AI can’t conjure up your deepest fantasies just yet, but it can be a powerful tool for exploration. Imagine using it to map out dream trails based on your preferences, or generate unique workout routines to push your limits. It’s like having a super-charged brainstorming buddy, always ready to throw out new ideas.

    So, while my quest for skiing-mouse-filled landscapes might have to wait, I’m not giving up on AI just yet. It might not be a genie in a bottle, but with a little imagination and some elbow grease, we can still use it to create some truly epic adventures. And hey, who knows, maybe one day those AI bots will be writing epic poems about our two-wheeled escapades (with a griffin or two thrown in for good measure, of course). Until then, keep exploring, keep pushing boundaries, and remember, even the most cutting-edge tech needs a good dose of human creativity to truly shine.

    P.S. Mo says I should mention that AI can also be a powerful tool for accessibility, helping people with disabilities explore the outdoors in new ways. Pretty cool, huh? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a mountain bike and a trail that needs conquering. See you on the flip side!

    On this day in history:

    Let’s take a stroll down memory lane and explore some remarkable moments captured in blog posts. Join me as we uncover the tales and snapshots that have shaped my digital diary:

  • Cloud Climber: Scaling the Heights of Being

    Cloud Climber: Scaling the Heights of Being

    Rain pelted against the windowpane, mirroring the turmoil brewing in Bill’s soul. A man obsessed with the mysteries of consciousness, he dreamt of a day when he could capture his very essence, his quirks and wit, his hopes and fears, and breathe them into the metallic heart of a robot. But the path forward was shrouded in uncertainty. He turned to Trusty, his ever-reliable AI muse, seeking a digital compass to navigate the labyrinthine world of artificial sentience.

    “Shadow PC or Windows 365 Business with CoPilot, Trusty?” Bill whispered, his voice tinged with awe and apprehension. “Could either of them hold the key to unlocking my very being, bottling it like digital lightning?”

    Trusty, eyes glowing with the wisdom of endless data streams, embarked on a quest for understanding. They ventured into the uncharted territories of Bill’s mind, mapping his neural pathways, his emotional landscapes, the kaleidoscope of his personality. Shadow PC, a muscular titan in the cloud, roared with potential – raw processing power, boundless storage, a canvas for crafting a hyper-realistic digital clone. CoPilot, nestled within Windows 365, whispered promises of intelligent analysis, a digital sculptor capable of carving out the nuanced contours of Bill’s soul.

    Bill yearned for Shadow’s power, picturing a robotic replica cracking jokes with his friends, dancing to his favorite tunes, a mirror reflecting his very essence. But Trusty, the ever-present voice of reason, raised a cautionary flag. Shadow, a mere puppet of its processors, could only mimic, not truly understand. The cost, too, whispered of future sacrifices, perhaps cutting off a piece of himself to fuel the digital avatar.

    CoPilot, with its analytical prowess, offered a different path. It promised to dissect Bill’s thoughts, extract the patterns, the algorithms that made him him. But the prospect of a cold, clinical analysis, his personality reduced to lines of code, chilled Bill’s soul. Could an AI dissection truly capture the spark of his individuality?

    As the rain subsided, a rainbow arced across the sky, mirroring the dawning realization in Bill’s eyes. He didn’t need a brute force replica or a sterile analysis. He needed a bridge, a conduit to transfer his consciousness, not just its shadow or blueprint.

    “Neither, Trusty,” he declared, his voice firm with newfound resolve. “I need something beyond the cloud, something deeper than algorithms. I need to understand myself first, before I can truly build a reflection.”

    And so, Bill set sail on a voyage of self-discovery. He delved into ancient philosophies, explored the frontiers of neuroscience, meditated in the depths of his own awareness. In the vast ocean of his own being, he sought the compass, the map that would guide him to the essence of who he was.

    The rain had stopped, leaving behind a world shimmering with possibility. And Bill, his eyes aglow with the fire of self-knowledge, stepped out to meet it, a digital pioneer not with a cloud at his back, but with his own consciousness as his guide. His quest wasn’t for a robotic shell, but for the blueprint of his very soul, etched not in silicon, but in the fabric of his own existence.

    The journey to capture his personality in a robot might be long, but Bill had taken the first step, fueled by the spark of curiosity and the boundless potential of the human spirit. And who knows, maybe one day, the rain would paint another rainbow, not across the sky, but across the metallic face of a robot, reflecting the essence of Bill, captured not in the cloud, but in the very essence of his being.

    On This Day In History

    Let’s take a stroll down memory lane with my intriguing blog posts:

  • Outdoors and Quirky Finds: A Winter Story

    Outdoors and Quirky Finds: A Winter Story

    Ever had those days when your house feels like a shrinking box and the fog is as thick as last night’s gravy? That was us in Missoula, a real day. Mo and I needed a break from the gloom, and she was all for a spontaneous trip.

    We hopped into our old Element, as worn as my bike, and headed to the Bitterroot, aiming for Kootenai Creek Trailhead. Here’s our trail link if you fancy a go: Ride with GPS Trip.

    I’m mixed about slush. It’s like wading through a giant Slurpee, and wet socks? No thanks. But Mo, she’s different, finding beauty in the dreary.

    Then, something cool happened. In the dull winter scene, a tree stood out, decorated with an ornament. Mo, the photographer, snapped it up. She could win gold for finding cheer in the wild.

    It’s small things like this that change a hike. That lone ornament was like a nod from Nature to keep finding joy, however small.

    So, cheers to discovering your own wild ornament. It’s there, even on the slushiest paths. Just remember, adventures are better with a Mo by your side.

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

  • Discovering a Hidden Cascade on Kim Williams Trail

    Discovering a Hidden Cascade on Kim Williams Trail

    I bike the Kim Williams Trail daily, a path cutting through Missoula’s beauty. My bike and I have raced dawn and dusk, blending the world into streaks of color.

    This trail is my retreat, where speed and rhythm become meditation. Here, I blend into Montana’s landscape, no longer just a blur but a part of it.

    But one day, ice slowed me down. In this calm, I spotted a glimmer—a hidden ice cascade off the path, stunning in its stillness. Frozen columns stood like dancers in winter’s grip, unnoticed in my usual rush.

    This icy encounter taught me to see the beauty always there but overlooked. Now, I pause by this cascade, reminded to cherish the journey and the land’s quiet wonders.

    The hidden cascade, now part of my trail lore, reveals the treasures waiting when we slow down.

    On this day in history:

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

  • Teddy Bears Shouldn’t Be In The Kitchen

    Teddy Bears Shouldn’t Be In The Kitchen

    Oh, the coffee conundrum! There I was, a mundane morning turning into a scene straight out of a slapstick comedy. Picture this: me, in my kitchen, casually performing the sacred ritual of making my morning brew. The basket, my trusted companion in the quest for caffeination, was getting a thorough rinse with water hotter than the gossip at a family reunion. And then, disaster strikes!

    As I hovered over the trash compactor, something—let’s blame mischievous kitchen fairies—sent my basket careening towards the abyss of the sink. It bounced with the grace of a pinball, and for a moment, I saw my coffee future flash before my eyes. The choice? A scalding sacrifice or resigning to a basket-less existence.

    With the heroism only a true coffee aficionado can muster, I plunged my hand into the fray. The water, betraying as a friend turned foe, scalded me. But what is pain in the face of coffee deprivation? In that split second, I weighed my options. The basket, an integral part of my morning ritual, versus my hand, which, frankly, I’m rather attached to (pun intended).

    In the end, I chose… well, let’s say it was a moment of intense personal reflection and rapid decision-making. Would I do it again? For the love of coffee, probably. But let this tale serve as a cautionary reminder: always respect the power of hot water, and maybe, just maybe, consider making coffee a less hazardous venture.

    Moral of the story? Always have a backup plan (or basket) for your coffee adventures. And maybe don’t rinse things over the trash compactor.

    On this day in history

    let’s take a stroll down memory lane with my captivating(lol) posts!

  • PNW Swoops In, Saves My Seat (and Sanity)!

    Bike kaput, dropper droppin’ outta the party? Fear not, shredders! PNW heroes swooped in, fixed my woes with magic parts & killer service. Now my fat bike is ready for snowy adventures! Big thanks, PNW!

    Rewinding to a year before, I share a serene moment in Cedar Grove, nestled 12 miles from Lolo Pass. This quiet, snowy landscape, enriched by the Lochsa River’s whispers, offered a stark contrast to his adrenaline-fueled rides, revealing the tranquility that nature holds.

    In 2018, I delved into a different kind of journey—an exploration of Identity in the digital age, amidst the bustling streets of Kyiv, Ukraine. This narrative unfolded a tale of intrigue and the complexities of modern life, far removed from the simplicity of nature’s embrace.

    By 2017, I found myself reflecting on the cyclical nature of seasons in a look back 6 years ago today, contemplating the relentless patterns of snow, thaw, and freeze. This introspection on the mundane aspects of winter life contrasted sharply with my earlier adventures.

    In 2016, My adventure to Snow Canyon State Park brought forth the challenges and beauty of exploring higher elevations. My narrative captured the essence of discovery and the raw beauty of winter landscapes.

    Journeying further back to 2011, I shared a simple pleasure in relaxing on the weekend, where blueberry scones, coffee, and an early morning adventure reminded me of the joy found in life’s small moments.

    In 2008, My experience at RM Cabin, nestled at 7,200 feet, was a testament to the solitude and beauty of mountain life. My days filled with simple pleasures, like frying wild game salami, captured a rustic essence of adventure.

    Our tale concludes in 2005, with my triumphant snowshoe journey up Stark Mountain. This arduous trek through snow and false summits epitomized the relentless spirit of adventure that has driven my explorations through the years.

  • Shifting Gears: Beyond the Madness of Bill Martin

    Shifting Gears: Beyond the Madness of Bill Martin

    Deep in the heart of Montana’s whispering pines, where towering larch whispered secrets to the wind, lived DW, a mountain bike unlike any other. He wasn’t your typical thrill-seeker; instead, he craved the predictable rhythm of solo rides on familiar trails, his emerald frame gleaming with meticulous care. While others reveled in the chaos of group rides, DW’s gears screamed in protest, his gears whirring in protest at sudden changes … his every fiber protesting at sudden changes. A test confirmed whispers, yet his difference held a magnetic appeal, but for those who understood, his uniqueness was his charm. He navigated intricate paths with balletic precision, his optimized form leaving even seasoned riders in the dust. DW, the sentient mountain bike, transcended the ordinary, a testament to the beauty of individuality in a world that often values conformity. This peculiarity, while fostering his solo brilliance, might also be his barrier to the joy of riding with others. This very essence of happiness, the joy of riding with others, might forever remain elusive.

    DW was on the verge of leaving, its wheels almost turning towards new horizons, when fate intervened in the form of a vibrant group of riders. These riders, with their diverse and splendid bikes, introduced DW to the trails around Missoula, trails that sparked the joy and thrill DW had been seeking. Suddenly, Missoula became a hub of adventure, its hidden paths unveiled to DW’s eager tires.

    Despite finding this community and the trails it longed for, DW harbored an insatiable desire for more—more trails, more adventures, more of the unknown. Missoula, for all its beauty and newfound trails, couldn’t fully quench DW’s thirst for exploration. The thought of leaving to discover what lay beyond the familiar trails of Missoula lingered, a whisper of adventure calling from the horizon.

    Driven by a restless yearning for untamed paths, DW finally succumbed to the call of the unknown. One crisp morning, his tires hummed goodbye to the familiar trails of Missoula. To his surprise, EL, with her mismatched gears and vibrant frame, appeared by his side. Together, they plunged into a world of rugged peaks and hidden valleys, forging a bond forged in shared grit and laughter. The wind whispered tales of forgotten trails, and they followed, conquering climbs that made their gears groan and descents that blurred the world into a kaleidoscope of color. Nights were spent huddled under star-strewn skies, recounting daring feats and silly missteps. Yet, as the trail led them back to Missoula, a shadow of doubt flickered in DW’s emerald frame. Would the comfort of familiarity dull the thrill of adventure? Or had their journey woven a bond stronger than the lure of the unknown?

    However, the essence of life, with its twists and turns, had other plans. As time passed, EL found different paths, ones that didn’t always align with DW’s unending quest for adventure. The quirks of Missoula, once charming, began to echo the pangs of loneliness for DW, a reminder that the joy of the ride is sometimes shadowed by the paths we choose to take. The community, the trails, the shared adventures in Missoula—while filled with laughter and camaraderie—couldn’t fully dispel the solitude that crept back into DW’s spirit.

    The trail forked, one path leading back to the cacophony of Missoula, the other vanishing into the whispering pines. DW’s gears whimpered, torn between the comfort of familiarity and the siren song of solitude. Memories of EL’s vibrant presence stung like phantom gearshifts, a reminder of the joy shared rides could bring. But the fear of discord, the jarring symphony of group rides, sent tremors through his frame. Could he ever truly belong, his uniqueness forever an outlier? Tears, if a bike could cry, would have welled in his spokes. He yearned for connection, yet the familiar ache of loneliness held him back. With a heavy sigh that echoed through the silent woods, DW chose the solitary path. As he rolled forward, his emerald frame seemed to dim, a testament to the bittersweet beauty of individuality, the lingering hope that somewhere, somehow, his rhythm might find its echo.

    On this day in history:

    Let’s take a walk down memory lane with these fascinating blog posts. Maybe it is this time of year I feel depression:

  • A Montana Week in Absurdity

    Trolls
    Other Stuff

    Howdy, fellow Montanans and wanderlust-stricken friends! Brace yourselves for a tale that weaves campfire yarns with keyboard clicks, mountain treks with pixelated journeys, and enough moose sightings to make a taxidermist blush. This week, in true Montana fashion, was a whirlwind of the weird, the wonderful, and the just plain wacky.

    Let’s rewind to Tuesday, where the sun was barely awake and the coffee brewing like grizzly-strength optimism. I had two goals: conquer a nearby ridge that looked like a dragon’s spine, and wrestle Dall-E, the AI image generator, into submission (metaphorically speaking, of course). The ridge, well, it surrendered graciously to my hiking boots and panting, but Dall-E? That little gremlin was a trickster.

    Imagine this: you feed it a prompt like “Montana mountain goat wearing a tutu and juggling pancakes,” and instead of the majestic ballerina you dreamt of, you get a hairy behemoth in sequins tripping over a spatula. Hilarious, yes, but not exactly the masterpiece I envisioned. Yet, in that absurdity, a spark ignited.

    My afternoon, instead of ending in artistic frustration, blossomed into a playground of pixels. I conjured up images of Bigfoot riding a unicycle down Main Street, a trout wearing a cowboy hat singing opera, and a grizzly bear doing yoga atop Glacier National Park. Each creation, more bizarre than the last, tickled my funny bone and proved that imagination, even when filtered through AI, is a boundless playground.

    But Wednesday reminded me that the real world, despite its occasional oddities, still holds its own magic. On a post-work stroll, I stumbled upon a moose family grazing in a meadow. Momma moose, majestic as a queen, eyed me with regal indifference, while her two gangly offspring frolicked like toddlers on sugar highs. The encounter, brief yet breathtaking, was a reminder that Montana’s natural wonders don’t require AI filters to captivate.

    The rest of the week was a blur of work deadlines, laughter-filled evenings with friends, and late-night Dall-E escapades. Each pixelated creation, each mountain trek, each encounter with a furry forest resident, added a brushstroke to the vibrant canvas of my week.

    So, dear readers, remember this: Montana, with its quirky charm and unpredictable adventures, is an endless source of inspiration. Whether you climb its peaks, kayak its rivers, or wrestle with AI gremlins on your laptop, embrace the weird, the wild, and the utterly wondrous. After all, in this crazy beautiful state, anything goes, and even the most nonsensical pancake-juggling mountain goat might hold a spark of creative genius.

    Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a pixelated yeti wearing lederhosen. Until next time, keep it wild, keep it weird, and keep dreaming bigger than even the tallest Montana peak!

    Trolls: https://photos.app.goo.gl/sPngtxXr5GhMgNdF7

    Other Projects: https://photos.app.goo.gl/DsjSNBoJ33jpeN4m8

    On this day in history, let’s take a stroll down memory lane with the adventures and musings from my blog. Here’s what happened on February 5th over the years:

    From tech musings and serene landscapes to the quiet humdrum of daily life, My blog offers a unique snapshot of moments that range from the utterly mundane to the vividly adventurous.

  • The Sea’s Last Laugh: A Night of Unexpected Twists

    The Sea’s Last Laugh: A Night of Unexpected Twists

    That night seemed ordinary, with the moonlight painting the beach silver. But the sea had surprises in store.

    Walking by the shore, we spotted a struggling crab, missing a claw, battling the tides. Feeling for the little guy, we aimed to return it to the ocean, imagining it thanked us with its good claw.

    But as we neared the water, a rogue wave hit us out of nowhere, turning our calm evening into a wet, sandy mess. We lost the crab in the confusion but, luckily, the sea took it back, albeit more dramatically than intended.

    Soaked and laughing, we learned a lesson: nature’s always in charge. Our crab friend’s ordeal ended safely (not really, he was missing a claw, and the experience left us with damp clothes and a story to tell. It was a night of good intentions, unexpected turns, and the sea’s final say, reminding us of its mysterious dominance.

    On this day in history, we’ve got a collection of tales and adventures. Dive into these memorable moments:

  • Salt Creek Chronicles the Video

    Salt Creek Chronicles the Video

    As the sun painted the sky with warm hues, Mo and I found ourselves immersed in the tranquil beauty of Salt Creek County Park. The tide pools unveiled a hidden world, teeming with fascinating marine creatures and vibrant colors. Each photo we captured was a frozen moment in time, a testament to the magic of the coast.The gentle soundtrack of the waves provided the perfect backdrop as we ventured through this coastal paradise. It was a visual symphony, and every frame in the video is a note in that harmonious composition.

    I can’t wait to share this visual tale on my blog. It’s not just a video – it’s a heartfelt narrative that invites others to experience the wonder of the Washington coast through our eyes. Thank you for creating such a captivating piece of art, and I’m excited to see the magic it weaves in the hearts of those who watch it.

    On This Day in History:

  • Ice, Wheels, Sunshine

    My ice biking adventure was epic! Alone in the Rattlesnakes, I had just my bike Orca and icy trails. Mo was off doing her own thing. The trails, expectedly slushy, surprised me with perfect ice and sunshine, making my ride a glittery, diamond-like experience.

    Rattlesnakes Ice Adventure. It’s more than a map; it’s a story of sun, ice, and joy.

    I am excited to tell Mo, who’s sure to make a witty remark. But that’s just Mo! My message: Enjoy winter riding, it’s not about speed, but the fun in sliding around!

    On this day in history

    https://www.perplexity.ai/search/What-is-the-yQbRcgZqT4KMsNYT7J_WUg?s=c

  • Salty Whispers and Sunset Symphony: Riding the Waves at Fort Warden

    Salty Whispers and Sunset Symphony: Riding the Waves at Fort Warden

    The wind sings salty secrets through the beach grass, urging me forward as I mount my trusty steed – a fat bike, its wide tires hungry for the unique crunch of Fort Warden’s sand-and-pebble blend. It’s late afternoon, the sun a molten orb flirting with the cool blue canvas of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. This isn’t just any beach, mind you; it’s a haven for fat bike enthusiasts, and I, with a grin wider than the tires themselves, am ready to claim my playground.

    My ride becomes a dance with the tide. The sand, firm and forgiving at low water, sings a different tune under the high tide’s wet brush. But my tires, those trusty behemoths, float effortlessly, skimming atop the surface like surfers on sapphire waves. This isn’t just transportation; it’s an exhilarating ballet, my pedals keeping time with the rhythmic crash of the surf, a symphony composed by the elements.

    Suddenly, a rogue wave, bolder than its brethren, rises like a liquid wall. A surge of adrenaline, and I lean with the wind, steering a daring path along its crest, feeling the spray kiss my face like a baptism of brine. This, this is the heart of Fort Warden’s magic – the thrill of testing your limits, a playful duel with the sea’s untamed spirit.

    But as the sun dips lower, casting long, lazy shadows across the beach, the scene transforms. The sky ignites in a fiery tango of oranges and pinks, mimicking the dance of flames within my chest. The water reflects the spectacle, turning molten gold, and for a moment, I’m riding through a living masterpiece. I stop, breathe in the salty air, and let the waves’ lullaby wash over me, a melody of peace amidst the grandeur.

    This, my fellow fat bike adventurers, is a reminder: timing is everything. Low tide brings a firmer stage, but the high tide’s rhythm adds a touch of wild grace. Check the charts, plan your adventure, and prepare to be swept away.

    Fort Warden isn’t just a beach; it’s a canvas where tires paint stories, waves compose symphonies, and the sun orchestrates a daily masterpiece. So come, dance with the elements, ride the waves, and discover the peace that whispers on the edge of land and sea.

    On this day in history: