Category: Blog Posts

Well if I am not finished with the RMVQ this post will fire off with a spify photo of a cross race in San Fran.

Mo and I are riding the RMVQ. I set this blog post to fire off to show a photo of a San fran race were a group of racers are rumbling over a crest. I hope a group of my friends are rolling over University beacon with us right now.

Over the top is probably where Mo and i are right now.  Over the top of some mountain in the RMVQ. I set this post to fire off to show a photo of a cross race in San Fran … of a racer going over the top. Fitting.

In San Francisco a “cross” race is a little diffrent then in Montana. I prefer the Caifornia version.

Some people walk through lfe. Some are unsure. And some of us prefer to ride. And sometimes we wait.  For the walkers and the unsure.

Hey, everyone! Here’s another exciting update, complete with all the links you need to dive into the details.

The 2012 edition of the RMVQ is just around the corner, with the new Bikepacking edition set to start on the 12th of October. If you’re up for an adventure, join us as we head out at 10 in the morning tomorrow (Friday) to conquer the Grave Range Growler. On Saturday, we’re aiming for Snow Bowl and then the annual JulieQue (BBQ party) in the Rattlesnake. The fun doesn’t stop there – maybe Sheep Sunday and a grand finish on Monday. For detailed plans, you can check out Mo and I’s detailed plans.

If you’re feeling competitive, anyone can contest the original feat. Just GPS it and upload it to the Strava RMVQ Page, or send the file or account of it to be added to the History GC Page.

For more details, stats, and maps, head over to the 2012 RMVQ page.

And if you want to keep up with all the buzz around RMVQ, check out the latest tweets here.

So, gear up and get ready for an unforgettable adventure! See you out there.

Happy exploring!

Citations:
[1] https://twitter.com/search?q=%23RMVQ
[2] https://maps.google.com/maps/ms?msid=218095446067961655230.0004cbba23b46d7316522
[3] https://williammartin.com/rmvq

I found a new way to get in.  I use the soap dishes around the parameter of the tub to suspend myself above the water.  Then I just lower myself quickly into the icy water.  I hate cold and stepping into a ice bath is just to uncomfortable for me.  Lowering my torso into it feels good. So I am happy. The 5 minute beeper sounds off and I take my core temperature … 96.9 degrees, a full .4 degrees below my waking temperature.  Which means my core is cooling and soon it will kick in and heat up.  Then I come up with a new idea. Something to do while waiting to freeze.  So I schootch forward and submerse my head under and hold my breath for one minute.  No problem. My 5 minute timer goes off … 97.2, the effects of starting to shiver. This is what I have been training to do. Raise my core temperature. This time after submersion I tuck my legs and arms into the icy bath so that my entire body is under the ice water.  Kind of refreshing. The 5 minute timer … 96.7, obviously the effect of head submersion. It takes me two attempts to hold my breath the next time. I am shaking violently now as the timer goes off. 95.8, time to get out.

My full suspension sits in the corner, a lost case. It’s too dirty. Might as well accept it.  My hardtail on the stand awaits the de-bagging and general cleanup.  And in the wings my fatty is awaiting it’s trip to the stand to be geared up for this weekend’s RMVQ. So much work tonight. I think I will sit down and relax … and contemplate a strategy.

The sky is blue, sitting high above me. I look to it’s richness and depth. It’s just too expansive. Might as well accept I am meaningless. The traditional structure reaches to the sky in a way that seems psychotic in a ordered perfect way. And the modern, almost alien, structure stands against it reflecting all elements. Too much to take in and I sit down on the park bench … to contemplate my path home.

 

The weekly Monday depression has hit me.  More exhaustion from staying awake, traveling, and your basic squeezing as much as possible into a couple days. And now my brain has exited stage left and all ambition is out of town. Time for rest. Maybe go to that place. My eyes are the last stand. The eyelids cant be held back any longer. Over and out.

The soak was a long time coming.  The pools were new and I tried each one. I settled into the older hot one.  But before long it was too much heat and I decided to soak in the 33 degree shade.  While everyone looked on with wonderment I dozed off. I mean why would someone pay to get into a hot springs and then baulk at the warm confines to freeze in the brisk winter like breeze. I would come to once in a while to stare at the murals surrounding the pools. They depicted a time when buffalo roamed free and the land “really” wasn’t owned like it is today. A time when I would have had to pay to soak. A time when a personal journey … a vision quest as you will, would be totally accepted.  Even admired. I think back ground is important to realize how cluttered our lives, ah desktops, have become. Right now I was living in the background.

Recursion is funny, and weird.  You know what that is? For instance when you have mirrors in front and behind you. You can see your back through the other mirror. But if you continue to look you can also see the mirror that you are looking into now … from another source. And the virtual mirror reflects the very thing that is reflecting the original.  And this continues to infinity.  As I have often stared into the abyss my very soul gets the creeps.  I mean am I creating a black hole.  In san Fran there are parks that instead of nature has buildings. But even though you have buildings in parks in collections of buildings.  You then see that those very buildings are special indeed. And as I walk past the monolith, whatever that thing is called, I get the creeps.

I am excited to go home today. Not because it is Friday. Not that we are going to do a cool adventure in White Sulfur Springs. My bike ride home is brisk and without pause. I cant wait to open the door and be home. A new angle I did not expect. Lots of new things in a life of ancient habits.  I really need to get back to habits but for now, a new angle.

I felt out of place. I was in Golden Gate State Park and stumbled upon the Conservatory of Flowers.  Yep totally out of place. #1 around tourists. Yes I was a tourist but the disgruntle human hater kind. #2 a flower joint.  Sure I like to take photos of pretty things but this place made me sick.  We need to conserve flowers?  News to me.  They grow wild here in Montana. Which ties this photo into what I am doing this weekend. Storming the Castles. Every time I say this I think of that white building in San Fran and I imagine flower liberating troops storming it.  Freeing the flowers. Taking them back to Montana to live a life of freedom.

It has snowed all day long. Funny thing though, even though it snowed all day, the sidewalks were dry and the only snow collecting was in the mountains. Or at least that is what I was guessing. I couldn’t see the mountains.

As I walk to my car after work I realize I am cold. Brrrr … it is cold too. Could this be winter? I am driving home.  Yes driving.  And to top it off I only have plans to watch TV and sleep.

I am like the seasons right now.  This summer I was on my game and brimming with adventure.  But now my leaves are yellow and weary from traveling back and forth to Missoula.  I am getting cold as I slip into my ice bath.  And before long I will be covered in deep powder. Change is hard … I must struggle to break free and get back on my bike.  But for now … going home.

“I see bunnies“

“You see what?”

“It says siggy’>”,  … I snapped off the shot and continued on through the San Francisco streets.

One Monday I set out to do what I coined as the San Frondo. It all started out innocent enough.  Just go up the street and see what was up there.  I found Buena Vista Park and a high point. It was jungle like and I found some solitude soaking in the mid day sun. Before the day was out I was trekking across the city to capture all the high points. On foot no less.

My second checkpoint was Carona Heights where I started to get different angles on the city. While The Buena Vista summit was made up of dark soil, Carona Heights was a rocky red mound.  Apparently a favorite for dog walkers I found this summit crowded with local folks and one native American tribe who apparently were doing a kind of ceremony.  I skirted around them and took a few photos and headed off to my next destination.

My GPS pointed the way to Mount Olympus but this little summit was one tough find. Finally after walking just about every path near Market Street I finally stumbled upon some trail signs, one of them pointing to a staircase.  It looked like I was going to someone’s back yard but it came out on a street above and in the middle was this mound.  Mount Olympus. Ha, my smallest summit.  Then it was off to Twin Peaks.

Twin Peaks was highly anticipated and as I climbed its side I popped out to a huge crowd of photo takers and tourists.  I immediately jumped back over the stone fence and headed to the other peaks along it’s ridgeline.  I finally found a summit with room and sat down to twitter my position. My farthest summit was yet to come and I wondered if I could pull it off. It looked far across a couple neighborhoods.  But when do I just do something modest.  I headed out on a quick gaunter to capture my 5th high point Mount Davidson.

There was no one on Mount Davidson, at least at first I figured I was alone.  It had a great view and I sat down upon a concrete slab to rest my weary feet.  I had a long way to get back and I wanted to bag the highest point, Mt Sutro. But on the way down I was torn between checking out all the muddy single-track and some screaming maniac back on the hill.  A first I thought he was hurt but upon further investigation I found a big cross and a dude playing Rambo near it.  I scurried down and off the mountain and headed across the neighborhood I had just hours before traversed.

It took me a while but I was having fun.  Even with my feet starting to ache I was enjoying my big adventure.  I planned to end the day with at least a half marathon.  And in barefoot shoes a feat (um no pun intended) in and itself. I soon was walking off the top of Sutro after meeting a couple mountain bike dudes on the top.  And I could see why they were there. The single track was awesome and the hike down made me salivate for some fat tire action.

I finished the day touching the edge of Golden Gate State Park and making my way back to my friends house along the Panhandle Park.  I finished off a 13 mile day with a couple slices. A good day in ol San Fran. 

Now that I am back at home I long for the care free walks in the city.  Back to work … yuk …o/o

Point Six is an old friend of mine.  Tonight as I spun up the last segment I was thinking about the friends that I have climbed it with.  The last time I was up here Jill and I were riding together. But I am not going to blog about specific friends and their specific qualities.  That would only land me in complete trouble.

Tonight it was Mo and I taking on the 4,000 foot climb. I can equate each item I like about this mountain with each of my friends. As for my current climbing companion I have been sworn to secrecy. She has however, decided to stand in as bike model, mountain Sherpa (hint:: she carries all the crap), and creative consultant.

It’s the colors that struck me the most tonight. Like my most colorful friends who without could render my life completely bland. It is the colorful friends that spice up life.

I spent only moments on top of the monolith tonight but managed to snap off a couple images. The smoke in the valley was thick but couldn’t hide the beautiful bowls in the rattlesnake.  Some of my friends are like that. It seems that through all diversity they are always maintaining their best side.

And then there are the ones who I consistently give shit to for being late. When in fact they make it “OK” to take off on journeys “later in the day”. So I will just come out and say that it is I who is always running “un motivated”.  But this is why I see the most beautiful things.

So many times I have descended this mountain late. Like the time a friend turned to me and explained that it was fabulous to “feel alive” just moments after announcing her fingers were frozen. Which could have been adverted if my damn soup I carried through the snow late that night would have been warm.  But now the sunset was warming my heart as I rocketed back down the mountain.

Speaking of descending. This mountain is a consistent grade.  So much that you can expect your ass to feel like it is going to fall off on the climb.  But point the knobbies down and it is a hour long speed fest.

I can remember some descents I have had that were not so much fun. Like that time when a friend and I descended in pouring rain.  I thought for sure I was going to die from hypothermia. This mountain can be a cold bastard.  Tonight is was a warm friend.

Yea, the one thing I really miss about Missoula is the Point Six Climb.