I feel I have a listening problem. Which is why I feel introverted and not very proficient at communication. To make up for these deficiencies I blog and always, when trapped in a social situation, blurt out full disclosure things. Like how I feel. Sometimes this absurd honesty is misunderstood. But what ever.
“So what do you want to do today”, my partner asked me one morning as we were packing the car. I thought about it. Honesty or something diplomatic? A snow shoe or a epic multi day trudge over a mountain range carrying our bikes?
“I kind of want to ride the fat bikes all day. Maybe even bivy out in the snow. Wake up frozen and ride to warm up. Maybe even ….”
“Lets do a short ride at Chief Joseph”, she interrupted be knowing full well to never ask that question.
On this day in history, Back in the mystical land of ’04, I found myself perched on the edge of destiny, with the “2004 EFTA Race Schedule” in hand. Picture me, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to etch my name onto the unforgiving terrain of cycling lore..
The new Bill showed up in the Teton Valley this past weekend. Screw competitiveness and hello fun was now the new motto. Learn, observe, and soak it up. Being almost 48 now it is a must. Enjoy it while you can remember the good times, right?
We stopped into the Togwotee Lodge to grab a map. And then drove over the pass to our cabin we rented. Shocker … at 3 in the afternoon. If anyone knows us at all then they know we don’t arrive until like 10 or 11 in the evening. Being there so early and in daylight was weird. So we went on a quickie fat bike ride and took a look around.
When we returned we partied like it was 1999. Beer, brats, and staying up late doing cross words. Like I said party!
The next morning we woke up and drove to the start of the The Togwotee Winter Classic and prepared for our race, me the 35 miler, and my partner the 25. Without nerves everything was easy. Get the bike out jump on and start. For me I just wanted to ride the loop and have fun. To be in the moment and not expect to keep up with the leaders or go for the win. Nothing to fuss over and no scrambling with last minute details. If I needed to adjust the air in my tire then I could do it out on the trail.
And we were off like a swarm of bees making our way up the initial climbs. The race director had mentioned that the lodge groomer had broke down and the trails were not groomed. But thankfully the great folks at Togwotee Lodge did do a last minute groom the night before after their rig got fixed. So at least the start was groomed. That meant a fast front group followed by all the stragglers. I choose straggler for a bit.
Soon though the front group slowed down to a reasonable pace and I joined them. I wondered to myself why all these years I worry about starting so fast. So this time I did not burry myself and still made it to the front feeling fresh and excited. Very fun to be riding with blue skies overhead and the most beautiful scenery around.
There is a beast of a climb just before the 35 miler turn. JayP actually climbed the beast and left everyone for dead while we just trudged up on foot. Some even managed to do a respectable job getting back on and climbing the rest. Me, I just walked up it thinking that I was on my own from here. That was OK, in fact I didn’t expect to stay with the lead. I was right where I wanted to be. Riding my bike in a beautiful place. Well … soon would be riding.
On top of the climb I saw Jay and a bunch others heading up the 25 mile route. They turned to see who would go off to do the 35. I stopped and looked left down the hill. OMG, no fresh snowmobile tracks, just powder. Now I understood the directors warning that it wasn’t groomed. I waved good bye to the group and bombed down the hill. I was in the lead.
For a while I wondered if I was the only fool to take on this walk-fest 35 mile today. Last week I did JayP’s Backyard Fat Pursuit so I was no stranger to walking. And I did not have any expectations. Just wanted to be out there. And I was … alone. Now walking.
My elbows started to hurt. And for the rest of the day this was the only lagging problem. It felt like tennis elbow, probably the effects from the week prior at the Pursuit.
Then I was caught by a rider, I think Paul Nash. Then two more, Adam and Chris Leiferman. The day even got better. People to ride with … walk with.
Two of us had like 4.0 wide tires and the others, Adam and Paul, had real fatties. I am guessing 5.0’s. Every time I got off to walk Paul would catch me and Adam and his brother would extend their lead. I did not expect to ride and got on when I could but I did have that observation. This fits into my new motto. Fatter tires for more riding pleasure. I made note to get fatter next year. But no worries. It seemed Paul and I were putting out the same effort and would end up riding together today.
At the end of the valley farthest from the lodge I went poking around and found a half buried solid track. I was able to ride back to Adam and Chris. This was fantastic, what a bit of luck. All three of us walked the next series of hills coming out of the valley.
Soon it became apparent that we could ride and to our joy we could. The day was turning out fabulous. As we headed back towards the CDT trail Paul caught back up to us and then we became the 4 amigos out on a sunny winter day. The next hour or so was filled with fun decents, animal tracking, and funny jokes.
There was a pause at the CDT junction for a bit while we debated on which way to go. I reported that we were to go right due to my recollection from two previous years. Finally we found a sign to validate my claim and we were off again, this time with a rider trailing us. Wow, could this party arrive at the finish line with 5 riders?
The pace slowed so I took the lead. I reported that someone was joining us but no one looked back. It seemed as if everyone was kid of at the end of their rope. So I just set a reasonable but quick pace. Nothing that would burry me but enough to at least have a fun race to the lodge.
“Your’e dropping everyone”, came a voice behind me. I just pedaled on figuring I could make a little break and make it interesting. It was close enough to the finish I could get a little competitive and still have fun. Not like starting out wanting to win and getting buried and passed like the year before. I was having a blast.
I pulled away and had a sizable gap. I had tested my legs on a couple climbs and realized I should settle down a bit. Then it came to me … I was going to win. But thinking that was a mistake.
It was a mistake because I formulated an expectation. I was leading and far enough out to assume I would win, right? Soon I started seeing things I have never seen. And making climbs that were not in previous year’s courses. Yep, I was lost. Seems like the old Bill showed up just in time to mess up the expected win.
So I slipped back into my new self, stopped caring, and just enjoyed the ride. The view was outstanding and the sun was out. Fabulous day. I was able to determine I had passed the cut off to the lodge and rode backwards on the trail we started on. The view of the Tetons was outstanding.
I rolled into Togwotee Lodge and took a moment to turn off my GPS. I was dragging my feet because I was a little embarrassed to go inside. I got lost while leading the race. And by now everyone I had been riding with was probably waiting for me. I went in to the “sign in sheet”.
“The winner!”, someone yelled from across the room. Everyone started clapping. All racers seemed to make the wrong turn and do the extra 4 miles. And as a bonus, I won.
And that is the most interesting part of the weekend. But not all of the fun. The entire weekend was fun, and relaxing. We hung out at the lodge and ate Elk Burgers. Then we stayed another night at the cabin and enjoyed a scenic drive home the next day. All fun. Not just fun “except for the race where I got waisted”. Without expectations fun just happens.
On this day in history, ‘Hey Zeph! Want an Action Wipe?‘ I asked, after cleaning the blood from my shin.
Hello, guest blogger Lamie here. Our clan is worn out from travel and to make things worse we arrived back at the pad after the Togwotee Winter Classic, a 6 hour drive, to a 3 day eviction notice. Seems the front office “missed” the auto payment check from our bank. So now we are “running” with the mishap and looking for a new place to live. We have some leads so please stay tuned. in the meantime Bill will be back tomorrow with a race report blog.
On this day in history, ‘Hey Zeph! Want an Action Wipe?‘ I asked, after cleaning the blood from my shin.
I awoke to Kim covering me up with a blanket but drifted off again. Then my eyes shot open and found that I had been out for 30 minutes. By the time I got myself together and out the door to the Man Cave I had been stopped for an hour.
I rode to the end of Quaker Lane and then over to the Sawtell Resort then doubled back on what seemed to be the snowmobile trail West. But soon I realized something was wrong. No fat bike tracks and the snowmobile trail seemed to disappear underneath drifts. I climbed drifts and walked for about 15 minutes before consulting my GPS. It was now obvious I went off course. I tried to cut over to what I “thought” would be the official route. After 20 minutes of swimming through arm pit deep snow I just returned to the point where I left the course. Which I may add is what you are supposed to do.
Once on route someone pulled up to me looking for Rebecca. I gave no advice because I only knew she was out here somewhere and reportedly “hurting”. The person convinced me that I was “almost there” … “closer then you think”. Which … I was not.
But in perspective to the entire ride I was almost there and the energy started to return to my pace. I even started to hopefully catch people. I was flying and hoping I was indeed almost there.
Then a rider appeared. I stalked them for about 30 minutes and when they stopped and started walking I rode up. I didn’t want to start racing now because I felt I was getting shelled again.
It was Rebecca.
“Are you OK, is there anything I can help you with”, I asked.
“I don’t know, I am spitting up blood and have asthma …”, her voice trailed off.
She looked pretty bad and my concerns were that eventually she would stop and get cold. “Do you want me to send help”, I inquired.
“No way”, she came to life for a moment. “I don’t have $500 bucks”, referring to the “rescue fee” in the race rules.
“Well you know what to do then …”, I suggested while at the same time berating myself for saying something that stupid. I meant that I had respect for her and I knew she had the capacity to make it out. This was Rebecca Rush for god’s sake.
As I rode off wondering if I should of done more I realized that my energy levels was also draining. I flicked on my GPS and calculated that I was going to be out there maybe three more hours. Still on Stamp Meadows Road I really did not want to ride any more. I thought. And I went into my “safety place”, a dream state where I could sit on the couch and think about things while outside in the real world my body would be on auto pilot.
I thought about expectations and perspectives. One should not sit in a certain perspective where expectations were possibly unattainable. I mean for me to expect this trail to be groomed was the wrong expectation. And this is what the adventure has taught me. My mind raced back to the last check point when I asked JayP if the rest of the trail was groomed. The answer was a snicker and finally “No”. I ran into a snowmobile ski rut and stepped off my bike. Nope, not groomed.
When people, both real and imagined, tell you that it is “all downhill” or “your almost there” you should just smile and giggle. Who cares. No expectations means not to buy into it. Be comfortable in the moment and don’t expect these things. I came out of my dream state to focus on my GPS. I was lost again.
I went back and forth on Old Shotgun Road, one of the very few times we got to ride on a road, about 50 yards worth. After settling down I found my way again and rode with new enthusiasm, new trail, maybe almost there, maybe downhill. Good thing I now was not expecting it … because it was all false.
A hard mile or two of power line riding lay in front of me. I checked in with my body and it told me no way. I immediately went into my dream state. I could not bare reality.
I was alone and really I had to keep going. I had been going for almost 30 hours, right? I knew I could keep going. I really did not need didly-squat. I was right where I wanted to be. I was content. I slipped out of my dream state to really savor the rest of the ride. I passed the final test … and was about to graduate from JayP’s “Facts of Winter Life Challenges”.
The last three miles I soaked it all up. This spaces I experienced both real and in my head were rare. It was finally over but it did not need to be.
I rounded the last corner to see my partner waiting and one person who obviously was going to document my finish. I stopped to hug Mo and searched inside myself for the old Bill. The one everyone knew. But he was missing. Nothing left. No competitiveness. Just a mellow adventurer with a new perspective. With appreciation. And no expectations.The goal really wasn’t the finish and the journey became the teacher.
On this day in history, ‘Hey Zeph! Want an Action Wipe?‘ I asked, after cleaning the blood from my shin.
I was finally at the West Yellowstone checkpoint. I had been at it for 14 hours and it was a welcome thing to be indoors and get warm. Bonus! There was tons of yummy looking food. But I needed to stay on my diet of fats and stay away from carbs. I had not bonked yet in fact felt nourished … just pooped from riding. And I did realize that I had not eaten anything in a while. I looked around for my drop bag, because inside it was a soup mix I made special for this time of the event. Soup with chia seeds, butter, and MCT oil.
No drop bag. JayP scoured around and others looked around as well. Couldn’t be found. I felt a little discouraged. Trouble with the stove earlier in the day and then all the flats. And now my food was missing. I did what any panicking long distance racer would do. Served up a huge serving of stew and settled into eating a pound of candy nuts…. so much for the diet! Then I went next door to a toasty fireplace, put my feet up, and devoured 4 poppy seed muffins. It was like a luxury cruise.
I knew I was no longer in ketosis and if I wanted to continue I needed to take along a garbage bag of carbs to keep going. But I was not going anywhere. Not while I had good eats and a comfy spot in front of a fireplace. Then T-Race stirred … seems it was time to head back out. I searched my mind for excuses but they all seemed lame. Shoot … I might as well get going too. Besides I was feeling great now… high on poppy seed muffins!
Just as I asked to be “signed out” Jay approached me with my drop bag. I figured great I was all set and stuffed it into my frame bag. Yes, stuffed it into my frame bag and set out into the night. No, I did not get hot water and make my soup. I have to plead insanity because without a bunch of carbs … or any nutrition besides jerky bars this was a suicide mission.
It didn’t seem like a suicide mission … at least in the beginning. The trail was now groomed and hard as a finely packed dirt road. The riding was really enjoyable. In fact I could say suddenly I was having fun. Then the pitch turned upward. My mind went back to a discussion at the last checkpoint where Jay described these climbs as “punchy”. I was off my bike and hiking straight up to the Continental Divide. There is a range of mountains between West Yellowstone and Island Park where the trail called Two Top Divide Trail runs. Once upon the divide it wiggles into Idaho, back out, and then returns a couple times before dropping back down towards Henry’s Lake and the winds coming out of Red Rock Pass.
Once into a place called Tygee Creek Basin I was becoming exhausted and searched my bags for some carbs. Nothing but powdered mix and jerky bars. I should have stopped and made hot water but it was cold and I spotted lights coming my way. I climbed over the high point at about 8,200 feet and paused before descending.There were these ghostly white figures in the landscape. Beautiful monoliths that were once trees and rocks. But now they where huge statues of ice and snow. The stars above me were out in force and seemed to engulf me and the white goblins on that ridge.
My surreal world was interrupted by bike lights coming my way. I turned and bombed off the ridge. The decent was huge and I wanted to take advantage of any gravity fed “Free” cycling I could. I figure if I am not walking it is a good thing. And if I cover ground fast … well that is just pure awesomeness. The goal was to cover 125 miles as quick as possible right? My tactical error was to not stop and put on an extra coat.
At first the descending was fast and furious. Then after 10 minutes it became soft and I stopped paying attention to the contours of the trail and forgot about crashing. My pedaling became effortless and my wheels left the ground. I floated down the mountain in a dreamy haze. I let mother earth take over and let my senses drift off until I was in this world of comfort. No longer did I even need to breath. Everything was being taken care of.
I woke up to bright lights combing my way. I was picking myself off the ground and decided to bundle up. I was shivering when the light reached me. I expected it to be Tracey but instead a man’s voice shot out, “are you OK?”
“Yea, just putting on a coat”
“Pretty cold out eh?”
“Yea,” and as I pulled my puffy coat over my head the man with the light disappeared. Then I woke up from what seemed to be a dream. Did I really see someone just now? I started riding again. But the trail would not stay in focus. I fought back the urge to fall asleep.
Every time I encountered another person I shook my head and it made them disappear. I was involved in so many scenarios I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming or awake. I started to make a check list to determine if I was awake. If the scenario did not include a bike I was asleep. I sifted throughout the worlds until I found the one where I was riding my bike and put on the breaks. I stopped and stood there for a moment to give myself a pep talk. “Do not sleep, you will freeze if you sleep, do not sleep”. Something hit my leg, maybe a crocodile. I looked down to discover the biggest snake I ever saw. I screamed.
Something woke me up, I think it was someone screaming. It was cold and my bike had pinned me down holding my leg stead fast into the snow bank. I walked my bike to an intersection 20 yards down the trail and flipped on my GPS. We were to go right. I spotted a warming hut and recognized it from a reconnaissance photo Jay posted a couple weeks prior. I ran to it and looked for a way to turn on the gas. I wanted to warm the place up and catch a nap maybe. But no cookies … the gas valve to the heater was locked. But all this excitement did wake me up and I felt like I could ride again.
I rode the rutted and difficult route into the valley and as the sky turned from black to dark blue Tracey finally caught up to me. I was relieved to have someone to ride with. To keep me awake. And safe from the sleep monsters. We rode exchanging leads and words here and there. Companionship is what I need at this point. I needed reality, something concrete. And chasing Tracey through the drifts did just that.
When the sun rises it changes everything. In 24 hour racing all you have to do is make it to daylight and you get this extra surge of energy. The sun is a beautiful thing. When it came out on day 2 it did it’s magic again making my mood change from despair to hope and optimism. Tracey and I pulled into the final checkpoint at around mile 100 called “The Man Cave” at about the 25 hour mark. I proceeded in taking all my gear off dreaming of a hot bowl of my soup I had been carrying around. Word at the checkpoint is that Rebecca was “hurting” and everyone looked “ragged”, much like I probably felt. Tracey came alive and was out of there in a flash. It was the last dash to the finish line. I felt no such urge. I had this weird feeling that I needed “a moment”. I made my soup and fell back onto the couch.
In moments the dreams started up again but this time I knew I was safe. I welcomed them … fast asleep upon the couch in a place called “The Man Cave”.
On this day in history, ‘Hey Zeph! Want an Action Wipe?‘ I asked, after cleaning the blood from my shin.
Between the adrenalin from the send off at the first checkpoint and riding pretty hard the warmth was finally coming back to my body. I paused at the base of the Chick Creek Climb to take off all the layers. I was really excited that 40+ racers from this morning had packed the trail up the climb that I had to walk earlier.
The route basically makes a lolly-pop. Then on the second time around the loop we take a right onto a trail to West Yellowstone. The climb was perfect and I barreled down the Fish Creek Trail. I kept my eye on the GPS and 6 miles from the checkpoint I stopped.
I starred in disbelief as two or three fat bike tracks made a right and went up a narrow snowmobile trail. Walking tracks confirmed my fear that this ride so to speak was over. To the left was a sign signifying that indeed this was the trail to West Yellowstone.
After two hours I managed to walk 5 miles. I ran into some snowmobilers stopped alongside the trail. One was taking photos and the others cheering. It really lifted my spirits. Gave a reason to the walking. As the evening wore on I got on my bike more and more. I imagined that Andrew Kulmatiski had rode all of it and must be ages ahead by now. I just wanted to get to West.
I was at mile 46 when JayP came by on a snowmobile again. It was all I could do to crack a smile. It was so hard to keep riding in the unsettled terrain. And it was snowing again. And apparently we were near the top of the climb for the day.
Earlier on the climb someone had passed me riding his bike. I was astonished to see someone riding. I was getting killed by everyone that found a way to ride. So after the sound of JayP’s machine faded in the distance I let out air until I had 3 pounds or so in the back tire. I jumped on and was happy to learn I could start riding. With just under 20 miles to go this was great news.
Think about it. Walking at 1.5 miles an hour just how long would it take me to get to West Yellowstone? Right! And I was starting to believe I would not make the cut off. But now I was riding and it felt good. I caught back up to the fella that had passed me earlier.
“When is the cut off in West, do you know”, I asked.
“I think it is 6 in the morning”, he answered.
Darn … I could definitely make the cut off. I kind of wished I could be taken out for going to slow. But now with my new found riding skills on a super soft tire I was guesstimating I could make it by midnight.
I passed one more person who announced that he “sucked at this kind of riding” to gain 3rd place. I started watching Rebecca‘s and Andrew’s tracks. And it looked like Rebecca caught up to Andrew. And at times maybe even took the lead. I could only imagine the battle unfolding at the front.
It got dark and I made note about the beautiful alpine glow … but did not care. Seems I was getting close to West Yellowstone and started to descend, which seemed more cool then the great views. The riding got better and better. And so did my hopes of finally getting to West. Beyond that … I had not made up my mind. About continuing past West. It was incomprehensible. Then the grade turned upward again. Not another climb? No way? Or was this flat and I was just not able to pedal any more?
The climb out of Dry Canyon was brutal. Finally I succumb to the torture and stopped. I looked down and I had been ridding the rim. I had a flat tire which made this seem like a steep climb. Maybe I had let out to much air, or maybe it was the drop in altitude, or the temperature. Whatever the reason I decided to just pump it up and continue.
I had stopped drinking and eating thinking I was so close to West. But really how stupid is that? The GPS clearly showed I had ten miles to go. I wasn’t almost there. But I just trudged on and wanted to get this leg over. And besides the pedaling was a lot easier now. When I passed a sign for Whiskey Trail I picked up a fresh groomer track, nice and hard. Sweet.
I could start to see lights, West perhaps? But then the pedaling got hard again. Another flat. Shit! I proceeded on pumping it back up … again. Mike Barklow pulled up.
“Are you OK?”
“Yea”, I lied completely, “just had to air up a flat.
“I know how that goes”, he shouted and accelerated down the hill. He could smell the barn as well. I finished up and headed down after him.
Then he pulled away and I knew why. And I was right. Stupid tire was flat again. I took a break and change out my tube, something I should of done the first time. After 20 minutes I was on my way again. Completely proud because this time I took off my gloves and did what needed to be done and then got warm stuff back on. Previously at the “boil water station” I failed to take off my damp gloves and waist time. I was starting to feel like a pro out here. Two miles down the trail I was warm again and on the outskirts of West Yellowstone.
“Yea Bill”, I heard Jay yell as I opened the door to check point two, a nice condo in West. “How do you feel?”
“Yea … ah … OK I guess … kind of destroyed … a little”
On This Day In History
2004: Comanche For Hire – Ah, the Sikorsky Comanche, envisioned as the James Bond of helicopters, decked out in stealth technology and promising a new era in aerial missions. Yet, like a Bond movie taking an unexpected turn, its fate hangs in the balance.
2006: lodge rEBUILD – Attention, Web Lodge dwellers! Gather around the virtual campfire, for news abounds! As you know, our beloved chat haven took a tumble recently, leaving us lost in the wilderness of silence.
2007: 1st Place Expert Overall – Hello everyone from sunny and warm Missoula Montana. Last weekend I traveled to Lewiston Idaho and competed in the Devils Slide Mountain Bike Race. Here is my story.
2008: Difference a day makes – Just two days ago, I was battling hypothermia in a snowstorm. Contrastingly, last night’s ride was in sunny, warm weather, albeit brief.
2010: Thrust – This is part 12 in a series of blog posts that I am dedication to my favorite photos of 2009. Today’s inductee and now a resident in my “Mountains” photo album is “Thrust”.
2011: Devils Slide weekend – Ross and I just stood there dumbfounded at our surroundings. The sun hit our faces and we squinted to look around at all the things we once knew but have somehow forgotten.
2012: Path narrows – Ah, the morning ritual, my friends! You know, the one where you’re not waiting for that pesky alarm clock but rather the sweet beep of your trusty heart rate monitor.
“Expectations … and perspective. Have no expectations. Don’t expect a groomed surface, or to ride, that it is all downhill from here, or even that you are almost there. F all of that. Just be content that you are alone and you don’t need didly-squat. You can be right where you are and sleep, eat a warm meal, be warm, or fix any situation that comes your way. You have everything you need. You don’t need to be anywhere but the place you are right at any given moment. And enjoy that space. That space is rare … soak it up.” ~post race thoughts
I just helped Rebecca Rush power on her bike light when the countdown started. 3 – 2 – 1 and everyone exploded out into the frosty morning. And just like that there was a huge bottleneck. I saw T-Race go up and over the snow bank first. the racers in front of me decided to hike it. I kept my balance and powered over. Oh yea, I got skills.
The speed at which the big group rode together amazed me. I was expecting a slow roll out where everyone just settled into their own pace. I powered past Rebecca and she returned the favor. Wow, this was like a cross country race. My mind raced back to the 2009 world solo champs where Reba and I duked it out much the same way.
Soon the pace became reasonable and I took my turn plowing through the new layer of snow. The surface went from wind swept hard pack to rutted fresh powder and the pitch turned upward as we began the Chick Creek Climb. Everyone was stopping to let the air out of their tires and the field finally spread out … way out.
I held on as much as I could with the denial that I had the best tire pressure. That is until I spun out and started walking. As soon as I reached down to turn the presta-valve on my back tire Andrew Kulmatiski rode off up the hill as if he found magic tires with plenty of traction. I vowed to get the widest rim/tire combination for next year.
I succumb to the reality that I needed to walk the climb. By the time I got back on and stabilized two feet later I would spin out and jump back off. So I walked, mostly. I decided to try to let more air out. That is when Mike Barklow passed me. As he rode off I jumped back on and got a little farther before dismounting to walk.
Once on the Fish Creek trail it leveled out and I was able to get going again. Damn it was nice to be riding. And at a pretty good lick as well. Soon I caught up to Mike and passed him. Then the pitch turned downhill and I ripped down it with reckless abandon. Wouldn’t it be wild to crash out before the race even started? As I neared the first Checkpoint I started shivering. I made the decision that I was almost there and would throw something on there. But one should never assume that they are “almost there”. Right?
I knew I was close when JayP came by on a snowmobile and shouted some encouragement. I picked up the pace. Soon I passed some pink flamingos. I should of taken the flamingo sighting as a sign of disillusionment.
I Rolled into the trail side tent station at about mile 30 and looked down to my GPS. 4:20 elapsed time … funny. I felt relaxed and reveled in the thought that my first “break” was at 4:20. As I put my bike down and surveyed the station Jay told me that he needed me to boil water. Sounded simple enough.
As I pulled my coat out of my seat-bag Andrew rolled out. I started the break out by making a tactical error. On my hands were my smart wool liners. Inside my pogies they seemed nice and toasty but outside they chilled my hands instantly. I didn’t notice it until I tried to put my jet boil together. My thumbs seemed like frozen franks and I tried to turn the knob. Rebecca puled in and was ecstatic about how things were going. My stove lit and I put the pot on to boil.
Usually you can hear a jet boil but this one was silent. I pulled the pot away to discover the wind had blown out my weak flame. It was so cold my canister wasn’t pressurized to sustain a strong flame. Now my fingers were really cold and I started to shiver.
“Put on your puffy Bill”, Jay walked by. Wax on …. wax off I thought. I nodded.
I searched around for my lighter. It had fallen into the snow. I put it into my coat as well. Now I was shivering so badly that when I pulled the canister off to warm it the burner fell into the snow. Shit … I stood up and announced, “I’m out”.
And as quickly as my fleeting thought to bail I grabbed my puffy and ran up the hill out of view of everyone. I needed to calm down. Rebecca had boiled and now was out of there. I just needed to calm down … and to warm up. Somehow.
As soon as I pulled on my puffy and started to walk back down the hill my body started to warm up. Upon arriving at the aid station it seemed that everyone in the race was there scrambling to boil water. One guy had a jetboil with a ignition switch … why didn’t I think of that?
I tried to light mine with matches and failed again. The ignition strip on the side of the match box had finally succumb to old age. I put the entire stove into my jacket and ran up the hill again to warm things up.
I returned to the aid station and moved my little cobbled operation into a snowbank, out of the wind. I made a little snow cave and turned on the gas. Almost a hour after arriving … BOOF! The stove lit and I put water on to boil. And just like that I was back in the race.
On This Day In History
2002: Great Training Weather – Good morning world! It has been great weather here although it has been cold. I have taken two days off to recover from last weeks training. I seem to be on track to have a great season.
2006: Stupidity Lives On – Ah, the early days of March 2006. The internet feels more like the wild west and less like a valid tool. Let’s dive into the chaos and charm of these times, shall we?
2008: Morning Commute – Riding my K2 to Univision Computers each morning is my mini-epic: me, weaving through the city like a caffeine-fueled hero in a budget action flick.
2008: Makes For Indoor Training – Good morning from Missoula Montana where today is stacking up the be a great day for a road ride.
2010: Meadow Of Giants – This is part 11 in a series of blog posts that I am dedication to my favorite photos of 2009. Today’s latest entry goes by the grand title of “Meadow Of Giants”.
2012: Snow – Oh man, talk about a winter wonderland adventure this morning! The snow was just pouring down like crazy when I decided to brave it on my trusty “fatty.”
2013: Traveling by snow bike – Probably my all time favorite thing to do in the winter is cabin to cabin snow biking.
JayP’s Backyard Fat Pursuit, a 200k fat bike race from Island Park to West Yellowstone. I am questioning why I signed up for this one. Yes, it is what I always wanted. And yes I always tell everyone that my “comfy zone” is all alone on a 100 mile stretch in a raging blizzard. But that is what I say. It is what I dream. That gives me no authority to sign up for one. But I did and I don’t feel ready.
Mo beside Wise River Creek
If I would of stuck to a training plan I feel I could be ready. Even if I could of done some big long rides, maybe I would be ready. I do not like going into something unprepared. These are my reasons for not feeling ready. And I can tell you my ass is DEFINATELY not ready to sit around for 125 miles. But I did try, once, last weekend to gain some confidence.
The project was to ride from Wise River to Elkhorn Hot Springs and then back the next day. And I talked my partner into it as well. She is more “thoughtful” about these things and as of this writing is not signed up even though she wants to try the 60k. So we figured this would give us a feel on what to expect.
Getting Late
Last Saturday we set fourth on the 23 mile leg to Elkhorn. I was in pure bliss and felt pretty good. My partner seemed to be doing well too. The conditions were not so perfect due to the new snow and we were averaging 3.5 MPH. When it was time to bail we decided to go on through knowing it would be a long ride at the current pace. Then she started looking un-shuffled … then it got dark … then it got cold.
Slide
I stopped to look back to see if she was still moving but saw no headlamps. The vapors from my baklava looked cool in the lights of my headlamp. When my hard breathing subsided the vapors cleared to reveal a mini slide. I gasped and looked around. Where were we? As my partner rolled up I pointed it out. We decided to keep pressing forward … we were 3 miles out. It was “uneasy” to say the least.
Out
We finally rolled into Elkhorn Hot Springs 9 hours later. My partner was so worn out she announced that her bike was for sale and that she was retiring from fat biking. Our friends who were gathered in one of the cabins just looked on in what seemed half entertainment and half horror. We promptly ate some pea soup and crashed.
“I am not riding tomorrow”, came a voice from the darkness.
“That’s OK, I understand”
“What are you doing?”
“Well if I don’t complete this adventure then I will have no confidence for the race next weekend. I feel like I must do it”
Half Way Party
I awoke to a fresh 6 inches of new snow and went to the hot springs to see my friends. I guess the previous night this place was all-a-buzz about these fools that were biking in from Wise River.
Leaving Elkhorn Hot Springs
I decided to stick to my decision and head back out to complete the adventure. I had to know if I had what it took to push through 23 miles of fresh snow.
Deep New Powder
As I topped out on climb to Crystal Park the new snow depth went from 6 inches to a full foot. Then on top the winds started howling and the trail disappeared. I pushed through. And pushed. And pushed.
Pushing Through Storms
After what seemed an eternity facing the cold winds of the plateau I dropped into the Wise River Valley. The skies kept getting dark and then it would snow. But the winds were gone. And then I found snowmobile tracks for the first time all day.
Suddenly a snowmobile towing another one passed me. We chatted and was relieved to find that the sled being pulled by the other packed the trail so nice my average speed tripled. Finally a groomed surface … right?
I came out the other end at 4 hours and 44 minutes. I piled my gear into the car and awaited for my partner who was hitchhiking back to Wise River. I drifted off to images of the last 4 hours. I would endure this 5X over next weekend.
Last weekend my partner and I did a ride from Wise River to Elkhorn Hot Springs and then back the next day. On my return trip I thought up the name of our adventure and coined it “Fattening The Pioneers“. I plan to blog about it complete with some images. I also plan to finish the ever dragging blog series Trans Zion. I plan to do a lot of things. But ever since our ticket up on Buck Ridge my routine has fallen apart. In attempts to get back on track I signed up for JayP’s Backyard Fat Pursuit, a 200k fat bike race from Island Park to West Yellowstone. And now things are really in flux. I am freaked out that this will be the end of me, dying in a 50 below blizzard near West Yellowstone. but that is what I have always wanted to do … right?
On this day in history:
2012: SMSS – Alright, listen up! Sunday morning? More like Sunday Mourning Shit Show, or SMSS.
2010: Push – This is part 4 in a series of blog posts that I am dedication to my favorite photos of 2009.
2008: Cyclist v.s. Mother Nature – Oh, today’s the day for a beastly two-hour spin! Who’s up for the challenge?
2006: Blackfoot Ride To Potomac – Hey there, friends! Bill checking in after a fantastic day that ended with me glued to the closing ceremonies of the Olympics.
2005: Lolo Peak Area Today – My friend Alden Wright and I have teamed up this weekend to snowshoe up a East ridge of Lolo Peak.
2004: JOB UPDATE – As you all know the government has canceled comanche. Sikorsky aircraft along with UTC has no clue what to do with us.
2003: Computer Funnies – At a recent computer expo (COMDEX), Bill Gates reportedly compared the computer industry with the auto industry.
2002: Me Fat – Today is blue. I am blue because my body fat reduction and/or weight are not where I want it to be. I seem to be gaining weight with muscle mass.
From the latest outdoor misadventures back to a time of personal reflections and career uncertainties, this list offers a chronological reverse journey through the captivating and varied experiences shared in blog form.
This morning much like yesterday I leaped out of bed to get cracking. I needed to get the house ready for a friend that was visiting from afar. It feels kind of like those group rides. Your excited all week and then the time comes and “today is the day”. Your doing last minute things at work and then scrambling out the door to make the ride. It’s busy but when you arrive and settle into your peloton position everything seems right where it is supposed to be.
On this Valentines Day in history:
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.
I went further on this trail then I ever have today and now I am back to the car just at dark. A satisfied grin spread across my face as I tucked my fat bike into the beetle’s rear compartment. About a month later this same trail has become illegal to ride. I can relate this experience to another that I have. Just like available trails for fat bikes have become inadequate in my life here so too has blood become ischemic to my brain. For me 12 concussions started to show it’s signs in my late 40’s and has prompted me to use things like thermogenesis and ketosis to stop the dying brain. In addition I have been using N-Back training and a Heart Math Institute’s EMWave to try and bring back the flow. The number of available places to ride my fat bike will change. It is a easier battle then brain perfusion.
And so we tried something new, at least for her. For me I have rode this route once before, last year. The first time on our bikes in a while. And it was just as I left it. Fun. Quiet. And Fat. For her … new. And cold. And Fat.
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:
Quick and dirty. It is a term I made up on evening after work when the world seemed impossible and I felt like a fat lazy turd. I got trapped inside and online, the inter webs, looking to connect. But all I find is garbage and soul sucking comments. I forced myself to get out for a small hike. It was not a big adventure. In fact it lasted 30 minutes. But it served a purpose. I felt better and most of all I got outside. The “quick and dirty”. Today was one such trip, a quick and dirty to Fairy Lake.
Fairy Lake
I reached my destination and already I felt detoxified. So much poison staying indoors I feel. The serenity and beauty of this place alone is like taking a big ol detoxification pill. I turned around to bolt down the hill. It would be dark soon and a storm was approaching.
Weeeeeee
There are many poisonous things that trap you inside. The one I hate most is social media. I know, I am the biggest culprit for sharing. And sharing my opinion. I wonder if I upset others with what I say. In any case; getting away from a family member that spews hateful right-wing political bullshit is poison control number #1. As I stopped face to face with a snow man I figured that I was in a place that really mattered … not on Facebook. Those people really have lost all connection. I quickly twittered a photo … my bad!
Fall colors
An emerging storm chased me down the hill and I let out a big joyful howl. I was truly happy now. I was reading nature and it was posting that it needed to dump some snow on un-attentive adventurers. For me this kind of thing made me feel alive.
Sun setting on the Bridgers
As I approached the car I looked back and my friends. the clouds, the mountains, the trees, all of it. I made a new promise to never return to the online and indoor world. But I knew once home the poison would be everywhere. And then I will have to return to the woods. for a quick and dirty.
Just getting out of the house is all it takes sometimes. When you are sitting there and procrastinating it seems like nothing is do-able. For once just try to go outside.
Tobacco Roots
One weekend, near the end, we baited ourselves with a visit to Norris hot springs. And that started the ball rolling. Next thing we know we are on the East side of the Tobacco Roots biking down a dirt road.
Later as we soaked and the sun left the sky we were thankful that once again we talked each other into going outside.
Fresh off a morning of biking a single-track loop around Jardine and a smoking downhill into the town of Gardner I sat in the passenger seat of my partner’s Focus wagon. I leaned my head against the window. Sight seeing in a car is just not my cup of tea.
Blue
But then again we were driving into Yellowstone Park. And if all things turned out right I could get a few cool images. Dreams of grand mountain bike adventures faded when we pulled into Upper Terrace Drive. I started to see color and geological formations that were simply beautiful.
Hot pool
But then we ran into the reality that this area is as busy as a port-a-potty at a mountain bike race. We decided to move on. And then we spotted a grizzly and her cub. Suddenly a mob of people swarmed by our car and the natural sight disappeared into the abyss of human ass. We stayed only to see who won the bet on which ass would get eaten first.
Edge
Then evening came and all the little sight-seers started leaving. After all they had to get out of the park to hit up the nearest McDonalds. Delighted, I had the Norris thermal area all to myself. Also I was able to snap off a couple of cool photos before darkness enveloped us.
Lone death
It is amazing how this wonderful land becomes smothered every single day by the curious dreamers who have imprinted in their mind the wonderful stories of Yellowstone Park. I usually do not partake in this type of thing. I mean all I have to do is go out my back door for adventure.
Color beach
With the hordes gone I was able, for the first time, to see what the fuss is all about. But only because all the humans were gone. With people crawling all over it is hard to see nature.
Spew
We left this wonderful land satisfied that the adventure by car into Yellowstone park (Brought to you by Toyota) was worth it.
The yearly trip to Billings Montana was going well but one thing was bugging me. I wanted to ride my bike. Last year we rode the “big ditch” which if you own a fatty is a blast. This year there was too much snow.
So why not take the fatties down the alley to City Brew to have a coffee and get online? It was horrible. First off I believe we had the only bikes in Billings. Cars travel down the streets at around 150 miles an hour and have no clue what to do when they see, god forbid, a bike on the street. Many slam on their brakes and freeze. As if a wounded deer we needed them to wait until it could limp off the road.
The coffee shop stop was no better. We had to dig the lonely bike racks out of a snow bank. As if discarded as a weird metal contraption in the corner. Inside I ordered a triple shot. You know to make sure I got good flavor. It tasted like skank dish water.
Fish out of water. I IS nice to be back in Bozeman.
Bill Time! These days it is cold enough that I just stay in bed. But during warmer months I sneak out for some alone time. Today I was on Gonzo my Salsa mountain bike. I lifted it onto a log and crossed the raging creek. I was now on the other side and I was hoping the trail was going to pan out.
Bear
It was going well. The trail all rideable but sometimes rocky. On one such dismount to scramble over a muddy section I spotted some tracks. Gulp. I sure hope this trail pans out.
Ghost
And it did. Pan out that is. No bear encounters, only beautiful meadows and sweet single track. I rolled through Jardine and crossed the bridge in town. I was now back on the side we camped on and I was hoping the climb would pan out.
Rest
And it did. The climb anyway. The grass is greener and the trails just as fun. On the other side. Both has its scary moments. But it all pans out.
Boneshakerbike 