Author: Bill

We are nearing the end of our lease (http://bozeman.craigslist.org/apa/4372053813.html), and we’re excited about embarking on a journey across the valley (https://williammartin.com/2014/03/26/aero-cafe/). At work, I’m currently navigating through performance reviews, which have become somewhat complicated due to a past mistake.

Regarding my “mistake”? Well, I generally avoid discussing work issues on my blog to maintain a sense of professionalism. However, since I’ve faced challenges that have highlighted my imperfections, it seems only fair to express my disappointment with my employer.

In essence, I was initially hired to develop web-based applications using PHP and MySQL. Unfortunately, the arrival of a new CIO drastically changed my job landscape. He eliminated the position I was passionate about, quite ruthlessly, and reassigned me to the database administration group. This shift has left me feeling out of place and struggling, a stark contrast to my previous performance levels. I jokingly refer to Bozeman as “BozeAngeles,” a place I never envisioned living in, if not for my ill-advised decision to apply for the job. Nevertheless, I find myself having to play the hand I’ve been dealt, which has seen my performance decline from excellent to poor.

Yet, I remain optimistic. Life has a way of working out, doesn’t it? Finding a paradise to live in, or having the courage to move on if it turns out not to be one, is all part of this grand circus we call life.

It’s my birthday and I am 48. I bought a movie for myself called Summits of my life and plan to watch it tonight. And maybe get inspired to try something new. Who knows.

Last weekend I did try something new, although not as extreme. I walked through “the strip” in Las Vegas.

I went with 3 other Bills. Actually my partner’s dad and brother are both Bill. I kind of see a trend for her but that is another story. So we all set forth on the adventure from our casino Circus Circus, which is a weird city in and of itself with a creepy clown out front. We hit up the Monorail which zipped us to the Bally’s & Paris Station. After navigating throughout the required casino exposure we popped out across the street from the Bellagio.

As soon as we crossed over the street the fountains started spraying water and music suddenly came out of these hanging plants. Pretty cool stuff and actually it didn’t surprise me at all. in fact we were expecting to see it. It was not as grad as others have told me but it was cool. Probably 3 out of 5 stars cool. Check out video 1 and video 2.

Other things in the same area were cool. Mostly because the probability of me wanting to visit the actual Paris is minimal. I mean there are mountain ranges out there in line first. So since I will never go there seeing the miniature Eiffel Tower was nifty. Nifty for photos too.

My partner and I split up with her family to extend our adventures south down the strip some more. We walked by futuristic skylines and into the New York New York casino property. My big goal of the evening was to walk across the little Brooklyn Bridge. I was disappointed and will probably go to NY to do the actual thing. Then there was “da statue” and an evening ending visit to a cafe decked out with rain forestie stuff. The sounds were pretty annoying. Who wants to sip coffees with a baboon screaming in your ear?

Feeling old we hopped on the Monorail back home to complete the evening. Looking back it was a old thing to do … go to Vegas. I really have to get out for a real adventure tonight.

As we approached the creepy clown sign I shivered and felt afraid. This place seemed evil. This place was nothing like people said it was. I wanted to twitter about how f’ed up this place was but held off. People would come out of the wood-work to oppose me.  I will say this just once, I am mostly kidding half the time to introduce a point. Then my feelings would get hurt. And then the online mud sling would begin. All good, but then there are those who send me a private message.

Ok, I am sidetracked. Should I get back to the trip I had recently? Oh darn I can’t. I have to get some things off my chest. I am a legitimate separate human and that my life is just important as the next person. Yea, I am a three ring circus but at least I put it out there.

Don’t you hate it when someone thinks they know you and feels the need to “correct” your actions. But then the worst is those that send private messages. They “Friend me” on a social level and then whisper bullshit in my ears.  And I lash out because they assumed and placed me in a tiny little category in their heads. Why should I care though. If you assume you know me … I hate you. I hate people like that. I hate their problems and their manipulations. But that is enough about my online problems … back to the Vegas story.

After checking into the motel and resting a bit we met up with some others and proceeded to go out and see Vegas. So far my opinion is that most of the strip is fake kind of like a fake online friend. They seem cool but when you get to know them you realize they suck.  Of course I am not saying anything bad here about the REAL people of Vegas, I am sure they would not be caught dead on the strip. But I wanted to give this place a open mind until I got wind of any thing askew.

Rummaging through town it seems like there was a fake element of our world everywhere, like the Statue of Liberty.  And then my mind went to a online message I received earlier, like last week.  One of these people actually asked me to be more sensitive to others and be careful to not hurt some advocacy efforts. How is this for sensitivity … blogging about it. No need to pm me about this post. I know you know, whatever.

And screw advocacy groups, it is just another term for politics. F politics.  Who are you? The underlying force of justice that secretly trolls online looking to give out some bullshit advice in a private message?

But I am not fooled, this was not the real Statue of Liberty. And what the hell does Liberty mean anyway? This town was all about anti-liberty. You are forced to use taxis and walk through casinos.  Yuk.

We walked to the end of the strip and where there is this entire casino built to look like disney land or something. All fake, just a building with casinos. And I wonder what my building would be like.

Ok, so I entice you to read my bullshit with pretty pictures and then unload some crap onto you. Oh well.

Go ahead tell me I am not sensitive and that I am a self centered jerk.  Publicly I think is best … but  can just send me a personal note. You know … to make yourself feel better.

As we headed back to our casino/hotel/whatever-it-is we encountered the evil clown again. It was like it had discovered that I found out about the fakes. It wanted to kill me.

“Yes you tiny human … I AM FAKE. If you continue to think separately and express yourself the way I do not like … well … I will kill you. He he he he he……”.

So yea, the gig is up. All the secrecy and weird posts on twitter a couple days ago should of led everyone to believe we visited Las Vegas. And we did. And yes it sucked and I would not recommend it. And I was not in my element. So we took a day and rode our bikes that we carefully packed and sent to ourselves in the desert. We rode just out of town a tad. Forgot what it was called.

It was good to be together alone. In Vegas you are never alone. Sifting through huge crowds. Trying to sleep while a party rages next door. Trying to not get ran over by traffic. No this was just us out on the trails all alone.

In places the trail was narrow with some decent cliff exposure. But with smiles instead of fear. There are plenty of places in Vegas to get exposed. From the hot sun to wild rides that take you to places of extreme exposure and terror. But here in the dirt we are right at home.

I rode my fatty because it was her 1,000th mile birthday party. I felt even better then expected. Lots of traction meant lots of fun and cushy speed. In Vegas one would say there is lots of speedy cars and fun “joints” to party. But not for me. Out here I find all the fun, grin inducing speed I need.

I linked together some nice corners and stopped. I wanted to see if my partner could do them as fast as I could. The beautiful curves of dirt … so sexy. Back in the “city of sexy” I wondered how many realized they were missing out on real beauty. My partner arrived in a cloud of dust and ripped by me. Oh, that’s sexy too.

I followed her down the remaining single-track until I found a line around her. I zipped by with a “wahooo” and she latched onto my rear wheel. A little competition developed as we snaked our way down a washout.

What is that? Why does the sign in the image say Jefferson River Canyon?

April Fools! We are at the Lewis and Clark Caverns. Had you fooled … right?

Ruby just turned 1,000 miles old. And if it were not for the fact that her friends are so far away we would throw a huge party to celebrate. What kind of party? Well maybe a ride … because that what fat friends do.

Ruby had a rocky start getting a ticket on her inagural voyage up Buck Ridge. But her second chance at happiness came the week after at the summit.

It has been 2 months since the Global Fat Bike Summit in Ogden.

Ruby was literally in the throws of small mileage and a green horn to group rides when we arrived there.

But by the time we left she had ridden with numerous fatties.

After the summit Ruby shined and floated me over a thousand miles of snow and wintery goodness. To show my appreciation here is a gallery of the fatty party in Snow Basin … a virtual fat party for Rubs.

Rubs has become my best friend. She held my hand through the JayP’s Fat Pursuit and took me to a win at Togwotee. Thanks Rubs.

Paul’s Visit Part 4

Day 4 rolled around, and there I was, drowning in a sea of guilt because I hadn’t whisked Paul away for another ski escapade. So, after clocking out from work, I was all, “Hey, let’s make a run for the hills!” Our mission? Lick Creek – the infamous spot for a post-work ski “quickie.”

And boy, did it live up to its reputation. As the sun took its final bow, we hurled ourselves off the wind-battered headwall. The landscape was a barren wasteland, save for a snowy oasis to the North. Despite the lackluster snowscape, the adventure was a blast, matched only by the Thai spot we stumbled upon afterwards. My bad, Paul. Trust me, our skiing usually isn’t this sketchy.

Paul’s Visit Part 3

Sounded good. Camp where Lewis and Clark stayed in 1805. This park encompasses the confluence of the Jefferson, Madison and Gallatin Rivers. Actually sounded pretty cool and a perfect day off from adventuring. So off to Headwaters State Park.

Paul traveled 2,300 miles to come see us so it was only fitting to see the headwaters of the Missouri. Within the boundaries of this scenic park the Jefferson, Madison, and Gallatin rivers merge to form the 2,300 mile Missouri River.

The area was a geographical hotbed to Native Americans, trappers, traders and settlers. Coveting the regions bountiful resources, the Flathead, Bannock and Shoshoni Indians contested control of the area … then later the trappers and settlers who followed.

Lewis, of Lewis and Clark fame, wrote, “the country opens suddenly to extensive and beautiful plains and meadows which appear to be surrounded in every direction with distant and lofty mountains.” As we walked around this place. A place I find very bland and void of really pretty stuff like waterfalls. We discussed how much of a bad ass Sacajawea was. It was here that she was captured as a child and eventually returned as a member of the Corps of Discovery. Oh yea and the badass, John Colter, later made several trips to this area in search of furs and began his famous run nearby. For us it was windy and cold. Hard to believe settlers would flock here to try and transform the land into farms and ranches. I started to fidget.

But not my best friend and my partner. They were enthralled in the history and in reading all the trailside interpretive displays. The park also provides 17 campsites, a freaking tipi rental, and foot trails to these points of interest. Ho hum … I started walking back to the car. Maybe I could take a nap.

Of the park’s 532 acres I found little to take photos of. Maybe this was a bad time of year. i could just imagine a nice summer day being a lot nicer. I was now in full gait towards the car. I hear people behind me and discovered that my compatriots were in agreeance … too freaking cold.

We dashed to the car and jumped in. The perfect primer for a stew-lash night.

Paul’s Visit Part 2

After missing the first part of the adventure weekend Paul did finally show up. And promptly got the car stuck. The recent snow storms had not only delayed his plane but also made for driving a beetle up to Hyalite a losing battle. No matter, we would dig the car out after our stay in cabin #2.

Window Rock is a great cabin and after figuring out the stove we had that place as comfy as the Taj Mahal Hotel in Atlantic City‎. Not that I know how comfy that place is but I can only imagine. We caught up over brats and suds then fell fast asleep in comfortable beds. Well my partner and I did our customary “pull the mattress onto the floor” trick. The next day we set forth to play in the mountains.

Being a host it is always the goal for your guests to have fun. It did not take me long to determine Paul was having a blast. For my partner and I we kept apologizing for the “weak” adventure but to him it was just right. We climbed to the top of the Elephant Mountain Ridge. On the other side was the Blackmore Drainage.

The wind was howling and it was a tad bit nippy. But just like old times we stood on top of the ridge and discussed important things. Like what was for supper. And whether or not we had a Thai restaurant in town. Then it was time to bomb down.

The two night three day weekend adventure we had set up for Paul’s visit was a success. Capping it all off with a successful digging out of the beetle we headed back home. Sno-mo-beetling is what we coined the evening extraction.

Paul’s Visit Part 1

Starting out way too late we did our “usual” arrive at the cabin completely after dark and desperate for comfort. But comfort is not what we found. A broken down stove with wet twigs was about all there was in this tiny shanty. Eventually we made a fire and drifted off to sleep upon mouse infested bunks.

The next morning we awoke to a raging sleet and snow storm. Thankfully the weather was not super cold or that night would of been very miserable. But the weather was at least in the 30s so it all turned out OK. The climb back out of the valley was not as bad as I thought it would be. Wow! We could be back at the car ahead of schedule.

But then I found it necessary to “try” a run down a huge open slope that supposedly would run into our trail again. After a couple hours of bushwhacking our way down the hill we were out. Half the day was done. Now to get to Window Rock Cabin. And to meet up with Paul.

The sign said Crescent Lake. And I have never taken the trail to the right. So when my partner inquired as to if I wanted to try and find “the lake” I was all in. We were skiing and so as everyone knows I was slightly out of my element. I just wanted to get the adventure over and go home to be warm and cozy. I am so over winter.

It didn’t take long and the trail stopped climbing and started to traverse the ridge to Elephant Mountain. Below us Hyalite Lake. I thought to myself, “great, this would be the upper trail in the winter that gets groomed so cross country folks can do a all day ski around the lake”.

And then the trail turned downward and towards the lake. I have to say I felt disappointed. And then when the lake appeared I announced we were right next to Hyalite, maybe just up a few hundred feet. I mean, I thought this lake was higher and that we could bomb back down to the car. The way things were turning out we had to take the West Shore Trail back to the car which meant a hilly flat ski back. I kind of wanted a reward.

We got to the WST and headed right towards the Window Rock Cabin. I was hoping my partner didn’t think we could ski all the way to the cabin. I mean, what a huge ski back to the car. I just wanted to go home. I lagged behind a bit and even tried to derail the day by saying things to suggest we should turn around. But of course I was ignored and we made it to the cabin. Once there I was relieved that we were going home.

But no, instead we tried to discover and investigate another way back. Darn this adventure would never end. And then we found that all options were leading us back to the WST. I grabbed an opportunity and talked my partner into skiing towards the lake and make things go faster.

But instead of faster it just got more interesting and beautiful. Wow, I was in no mood for this. So I endured the cool parts by taking photos and making believe I was in Alaska lost on a arctic adventure.

Our route did finally lead us back to the car. And I ended up having fun. Darn these adventures that I get dragged out on. Even with distracting things happening in my life. Things that tend to make me stay home and obsess. Things like waiting for a call about a big life change. Getting out does make things go faster. Thanks to a partner that drags me out on them.

Just read the recent article in the Missoula Indy about our “incident” with the Gallatin National Forest. I think Alex Sakariassen did a nice job too. But then as I finished reading it my eyes were drawn to the comments below. And I know better then to read comments on something so close to home.

As she came to a stop to see what it was I was taking a picture of I mentioned that it was pretty risky crossing a creek with open running water. She was shocked and reportedly was just following the trail. Isn’t it weird that sometimes you think your safely in a certain space and then find out it is not what you expected.

Now back to the comments on the article …

They were OK, except for one suggesting that other forests “beware”. The Gallatin is a odd egg. All other forests you can approach it’s supervisor and ask questions. The Gallatin you can not. This place, Bozeman, or BozAngeles, or Bozone, is not your place. It is not like other places. I can not put my finger on it but there are powerful forces at play in this “last weird place”.

I moved here thinking it would be open and free and then got into some trouble for riding my fat bike. I am not shocked any longer because I am  aware I am riding across unstable land. No, other lands, other towns, other forests … don’t fret. Don’t beware, this is not your place.

The morning discussion included proposals to relocate to other places to ski, a hiking option, and a personal favorite, to just sit around drinking beer. My partner and I were locking horns over the latter two when the other parties involved just gave up and went with option 1. Then we were alone and lagging behind. The usual.

My mind kept drifting back to the view of Sphinx Mountain from the night before.

“I want to go back up the canyon and see if we can not ski up the trail that branches to the right”, I blurted out suddenly.

“OK ….ok, damn Bill that is what I said”.

Oh shoot, I wish I listened better.

And we were off. And we did not find any more snow. There was just enough for me to go off on a side trip and scrape the p-tex off the bottom of my skis when I raked over a rock outcropping. By the time I got back to the valley the sun was setting. I should of listened better, to the warnings from my partner that, “… if your into climbing over downed trees”.

My partner was no where to be found. We were supposed to meet in the open meadow. To pass the time I got off a couple shots of Sphinx and Helmet. I started to wonder if I had the facts of our previous conversation right. Meet in the meadow where the trail forked. Gosh, I sure wish I listened more.

Then she appeared and just like that I forgot the promises to myself to listen better.

Heck my listening is just fine.

Once in a while you have to post a boring blog post. This is my entry.

Last year we got to the Bear Creek Cabin a day late but this year we cemented our arrival by planning a meet up with friends.

Upon arriving at the bunkhouse we quickly geared up for a ski with everyone. We had our new back-country setup and were excited to try them out. What we encountered was rocks and a case of “big lack of snow”. At one time I ended up walking. But we made it up to view the Sphinx Mountain.

The ski back was in the dark but there were no casualties. Later on there was food and drink. What you would expect from a outing of this type, slider type, ski for bill language defecient. Sometimes an outing doesn’t include a big story or lots of photos. And this was one of them.

Happy Friday everyone.  For us it is finding a place to live weekend. Gone are the days were we just laid around and occasionally headed out for a ride. I have been asked numerous times, “whats your next race”. And I have to say that everything is on hold until we find a place to live. Anyone got any ideas?

A couple of days ago, it snowed again. While the locals are complaining about the storm, I have been taking advantage of opportunities to ride in the snow. Soon, it will all be gone. I have been riding these trails to, from, and around work since I got the new bike last December. Wouldn’t it be cool to reach 1,000 miles riding in the snow before spring arrives? In this photo, we were at mile 10… today we are around 40 miles away from reaching the grand total of 1,000 snow miles. Anyone interested in a long ride after work?

I picked up Ruby Monday December 9th las year. Since then I have ridden this bike 95 times for 171 hours riding 938 snowy and tough miles. Yea. Rubs is almost a thousand miles old. I wanted to document the entire romance but life interrupted and since then it has been a blur.

I named Ruby during her first night at the apartment. It just felt right. I wasn’t thinking of my grandmother or any thing like that. Well, there is a possibility that “Ruby” by Kaiser Chiefs was playing on Spotify.  Or a subconscious voice was yelling Ruby AK, a stop on the ITI. I would like to think Ruby named herself. In short … dunno.

So now after 48,000 vertical feet of climbing in the snow spring is right around the corner.  And new surfaces. I think maybe Ruby will be my mountain bike this summer. Really she is that fun.

You know, there are those folks who can hop on a chunky-tire bike and zip from A to B without breaking a sweat. They’re just cruising along, wind in their hair, grinning like they’ve got a secret. Then you’ve got the worrywarts, obsessing over every little thing. “Is my tire pumped to the perfect PSI?” “What’s that creaking—oh no, am I losing the pack?” Not that I’m throwing shade at either type of rider. Each to their own, right? But let’s take a moment to think about how this bike tale mirrors the rollercoaster we call life.

*Please note that the fat bike model in this post is a paid professional and in no way represents the second person I mentioned above.

For some reason I am not completing my usual chores which I have been able to pull off in the past during my life. Is it age? I don’t know. I used to pull off blogging, taking photos, and racing with relative ease. At least I think. Lately it is all I can do to get a blog out let alone brush my teeth and exercise. Am I fretting over the details now? I find stressfully situations much more organized and easy then real world living. Or shall I say times when your forced to be the rider that stays focused.

Yea, so you’re in the thick of a blizzard, battling the elements on your trusty fat bike. Suddenly, it hits you—the snow’s stacking up quicker than likes on a viral cat video, and you might just have to bail on your two-wheeled steed and hoof it. There you are, a soggy mix of sweat and melted snow, teeth chattering like you’re trying to Morse code your way out of this. But hey, life’s got a funny way of simplifying things, doesn’t it? Keep pushing forward, one foot in front of the other. It’s like assembling furniture without the manual—it somehow just works out, right?