Boneshakerbike

Category: Blog Posts

  • Amazing Things

    Today, my friend Paul reminded me, “there are likely many amazing things right in front of us that we just haven’t taken the time to see.” This resonated with me as I explored the stunning scenery at Blue Mountain just before meeting up with the Missoula Thursday Night Ride group. The day was filled with moments that begged for reflection—first, the breathtaking moon over Missoula after parting ways with the group, and later, an encounter with new riders at the base of a rocky descent. They were done climbing and ready to head home. “Just follow this trail, and you’ll come right out on a road, then take a left,” I advised them.

    Riding up the climb alone, I was struck by the city lights below and the moon shining overhead. In that moment, I felt a profound sense of solitude, reflecting on the companionship I’ve grown accustomed to on these rides. However, my solitude was short-lived. As I neared the end of leg 5 of the RMVQ and descended into Pattee Canyon, I was greeted with cheers from friends waiting in the parking lot. Dave, Julie, Laurie, Norman, and Lydia—all there, reminding me of the incredible support network I have.

    I couldn’t eat the food Dave offered; I was too moved by the realization of what amazing friends I have. And so, the last leg of the journey was spent in good company, reflecting on new friendships and the incredible beauty of my surroundings. This place, these people—they’re truly amazing.

  • Blind Faith

    Our night ride was over and the beautiful landscape in Pattee Canyon combined with another great Missoula sunset made the ride perfect. My friend Jill and I just got done riding the Sam Braxton trails and were enjoying slice of pizza (no need to say where).  We had been presented with larch which were yellow contrasting with the dark blue evening sky.

    “I really enjoyed the way you have been blogging on the RMVQ legs and combining them with the current day’s events”, Jill remarked as I processed the fact that a blogger that I looked up to actually read my blog.

    I realized that I better finish the process that she was referring to and one that I have promised in my last blog. Blogging has been hard to do lately. Not because of any problems with life but the opposite. I have been spending more time with a friend doing what I love. Riding my bike. That takes precedence and my online presence suffers.

    There are things I know for certain. And there are things I don’t or cant know. But I have confidence that in time everything will reveal itself and if this week has been a good example then I can not really make any guesses. Riding a mountain bike at night is much like the suspense of life.  You have limited view and everything is focused upon a minimal set of visual data.

    But it is all there, exposed, and you know what to expect in the near future. Sometimes a corner in the single-track will appear but you have reasonable time to make the proper adjustments to navigate around. Then there are times when your speed is just too fast for the visual data at hand and the corner becomes a “situation”.

    Just as you can see concretely in front of you there is this big unknown that you cant see. The woods make it specially dark and you just have to have faith that when you get to that corner your lighting system will expose it and you will be able to navigate correctly. Its all a part of night riding and the reasons I like it. It is much like life.

    Sometimes your lighting system may be a little inadequate or in many cases you forgot to charge the batteries.  But that is why we have friends right? When you are not sure of what lies ahead and kind of freaked out by riding aimlessly into darkness a friend can make all the difference. Specially a friend with bright lights and knowledge of the trails. The magical part of life and why navigation with another person is almost essential. I have come to realize that the most important part of life is navigating with another person.

    Night riding into the darkness without that friend can be a mixture of pure scary and complete chaos. Without adequate data navigating can be inaccurate and disabling. Like leg 5 of the RMVQ.

    There I was Sunday October 10th at 2 a.m. riding through a Turah neighborhood with the anticipation of a 3,000 foot climb. I was in extreme darkness without hardly any lights to see the way. I left aid station 4 with my lights on emergency backup because my extra battery failed. I was relying on a lighting system that had been burning all night. I fully expected to be navigating by limited moon light halfway through the leg.

    Even in complete darkness there comes a moment where you know you have been in a certain place before. Specially when you have been there just 5 minutes before. I stopped my bike and strained my neck towards a street sign. The low light barely lit up the words and after letting my eyes adjust I could see that I had been riding in circles for the last 15 minutes.  Shit, I couldn’t even get out of town. I became discouraged and contemplated throwing in the towel. As I back tracked I realized abandoning the effort was not an option because the lone aid station volunteer was long gone. Alden had gone home to finally get some real shut eye.

    Eventually I found the logging road that climbed from Turah to the highlands just East of Missoula. I was heading into a maze of roads in a land at an elevation of around 6,000 feet during the coldest part of the morning. Worst yet my lights were not adequate. I was navigating blindly. So faith kicked in and my toolset of life took over. I carried on into the darkness and up the 2 hour climb. Eventually the bad decision to eat solid food caught up to me as well. I felt awful and once gaining the high point I sat in the middle of the road contemplating life and why the hell I was out there all alone depending upon myself to get back home.

    I have been here before. All alone with no data to go on. Hell, I didn’t have the processing power to even evaluate data anyway. I had been on my mountain bike for 19 hours and my brain was just plain shutting down. The only thing I did have was a tremendous amount of faith. I knew eventually this too would pass and I would be writing a blog about it someday.

    I laid back and shut my eyes. I dozed off for a moment then a VERY cold gust of wind woke me. It was like a cold hand gently shaking me and I could of swore I heard someone say, “carry on”. My eyes opened suddenly and the stars above me came into view. They were close and it felt like I had floated high into the heavens to be with them. I was shivering violently and knew that if I had fallen asleep too long I could have been in trouble.

    Shivering I struggled to focus. My eyes adjusted more and I realized I was looking right at a friend. The big dipper once again. I stood up … or … was helped up. And I rode down the mountain pass with a good friend at my side.

  • MITower Lessons

    MITower Lessons

    MITower is a section of the RMVQ in leg 4 and provides some of the steepest continuous grades in the ride.  These are the men and women of Missoula and how they deal with the steep grade of life. Thump … thummmmmmm.  Ok so envision that stupid TV show Law and Order (had to ask a co worker the name of it).

    Last night the Missoula Thursday Night Ride went over to Turah and back via the Deer Creek Sneak. It was a great ride, long, and with multiple surfaces and terrains. Numerous times I was able to ride with others and even by myself with the lights off reflecting on current events, specifically events of the heart. It was one of the best TNR rides of the fall season.

    During the ride there were multiple opportunities to confide in a god friend and got some great support and advice. The advice was remarkably simple. Don’t give up, keep an open mind, don’t sweat the small things, and don’t tackle everything at once. Great advice for most everything in life. Much like in leg 4 of the RMVQ last weekend.

    Leg 4 starts at the Lincoln Hills parking area for the Jumbo trail system. IT runs up over Jumbo Saddle, MITower, around Woody, across the swinging bridge over the Blackfoot River, and down the horse path to Turah.

    As I pulled into Aid station 3 and was dimming my lights I heard cheers. Lydia was the aid station director for this stop and she out did herself from the last one (where she took charge). Everything was laid out and when I stepped off the bike she immediately cleaned and lubed my chain. Lydia you are awesome! Also Norman was there after completing the first two legs and a personal PR. He still had enough left to come up and cheer me on and that is really cool in my books. Tom and Jason were there taking notes and photos for an upcoming article. It was awesome and I was impressed by the attendance on this crucial stop.

    In front of me was a daunting task. I had just come off a leg that surprised me and left me frazzled. Just as I was feeling last night I was skeptical about whether I wanted to continue. But just like last night’s advice from Jill I headed off into the night refusing to give up.

    I kept an open mind and didn’t think about the steep climb up MITower as I crested Jumbo and descended into Marshall Canyon. Then the climb began. First on logging roads which gave away to grassy pathway. As I crossed the stream at the bottom of the hard pitch to the top I started to recall all the small things that I needed to do before I topped out on the climb. I started to get that feeling of doom.

    Again (see the theme here) like last nights advice I decided to not sweat the small things. So what if it got muddy and I had to walk. So what if the pitch got unbearable and I had to stop to catch my breath. So what if the top included loose rocks. For the moment I would tackle these small things one at a time. So I stopped thinking about all the obstacles and before I knew it I was on top.

    I posted a Marcy photo on check point 9 and spun off to the East along the side of Woody Mountain. I stopped a moment to text in a tweet that I was about to descent into Bonner and head into Turah. After a exhilarating downhill I found myself at the Swinging bridge.

    I got great advice from Jill last night and looking back to the RMVQ I had the tools inside me all along. Thanks Jill. Now I am off to contact someone in Seattle to let her know I am still here, thinking of her, when she needs it the most. Open mind and more adventure …o/o

  • A Friend on Sheep Mountain

    A Friend on Sheep Mountain

    In the quiet embrace of night, with the city of Missoula a distant glow on the horizon, there are moments that transcend the mere act of cycling, transforming into a profound journey of connection, challenge, and remembrance. Last night, as I glanced across the street, a familiar smile found its way to my face, ignited by the sight of a dear friend. This friend, unlike any other, has been a steadfast companion through the highs and lows, a silent witness to moments of heartbreak, decision-making, and triumph over fear. Simple yet profound, connected to nature, and embodying the originality and beauty that ties me to the very essence of what I love. This friend, in spirit, shares a bond with the Alaskan flag, symbolizing freedom, adventure, and the wild that calls to me.

    Our latest rendezvous unfolded during the third leg of the RMVQ, an epic journey that promised more than just physical exertion—it was a pilgrimage to the heart of what it means to ride, to explore, and to honor. The Rattlesnake Trailhead was our meeting point, a congregation of familiar faces and kindred spirits like Alden, Sally, Julie, Laurie, Lydia, Tom, and others whose names escape me but whose presence was felt all the same.

    Lydia, with her instinctive grace, tended to my bike and nourishment, becoming an anchor of support in a sea of exhaustion. Tom, camera in hand, captured the essence of our journey, discussing the merits of nocturnal ascents with a passion that mirrored my own. Julie, undeterred by a broken camera, borrowed mine to freeze a moment in time, a precursor to the challenge that lay ahead—a nocturnal date with Sheep Mountain, a test of will and endurance that had beckoned me all summer.

    The ascent was immediate, a confrontation with the mountain that knocked me from my bike and set the tone for what was to become a battle not just against the terrain but against my own limits. The setting sun’s last rays on Sheep’s face were a missed appointment, a reminder of the shifting priorities that this ride demanded. My plan, to pace myself for the duration, fell away as Sheep called my hand, pulling me into a reckless expenditure of energy, riding with a vigor that belied the hours already spent in the saddle.

    Pain became a constant companion as I misjudged a step and collided with my bike, a jarring reminder of the mountain’s unforgiving nature. The “real” climb, under the cloak of darkness, was a world apart, its menacing beauty a stark contrast to the daylight’s warmth. Every switchback, every attempt to ride, brought me closer not just to the summit but to an understanding of what this journey represented.

    And then, there it was—my friend, the Big Dipper, hanging overhead, a beacon in the dark, a reminder of the constants in our lives amidst the chaos of our challenges. At the summit, I paid tribute to Marcy, leaving a part of her amidst the wilderness that had tested and taught me so much. The descent, a rapid flight through singletrack back towards the lights of Missoula, was a cathartic release, a final stretch that brought me closer to understanding the battle on Sheep Mountain.

    It wasn’t about winning or losing; it was about the journey, the moments of connection with the land, the night sky, and the memory of those we carry in our hearts. Far from the aid stations, yet closer to my friend than ever before, I realized that the true victory lay in the experience, in the enduring bonds forged on the slopes of Sheep Mountain, and in the silent conversation with the stars that guide us through the night.

  • Smoking The Bowl

    Smoking The Bowl

    Jill and I had planned a outing that involved mountain bikes and Marshall Canyon. Dave had not responded to a earlier ride request so I pinged him again on my iPhone via a text message.

    “I’ll be there” I got back almost instantly. And the plans were set. One more ride in Missoula for Dave and another chance to be with a good dude for us.

    Jill, Dave, and I started up the Marshall Grade while I wanted to go deeper into Marshall Canyon.  We were headed to Three Larch and planned to have a optional ride in the Rattlesnake. As we climbed up Marshall Grade I was thinking back to leg 2 of the RMVQ.

    Leg 2 is from a place called Kona Bridge and ends up at the main Rattlesnake parking lot. Most of the trails are in the Snow Bowl area and during training I have this loop called Smoking the Bowl.

    The Kona Bridge aid station was staffed by Bob Skogly, Sally Wright, and Marta Shattuck. It was nice to see their smiling faces and hearing their cheers as I approached. Bob raised his arms in victory. They told me that the gang was only about 20 minutes up the road. I really wanted to catch up to Dave so I didn’t dally in the pit and took off in hot pursuit.

    Climbing went well and soon I ran into Rich. He reportedly blew up trying to stay with Ed, Dave, and Aaron. I left Rich at a junction and he agreed to get through to Rattlesnake before he decided to throw in the towel.

    I finally met up with the boys at the aframe on top of the Beargrass Highway. I approached Ed, Aaron, and Dave.

    “I am going to miss you”, I mumbled and I gave Dave a man hug (the ones that are usually one arm and some sort of back pat). We chatted about what lies beyond the Rattlesnake and I wished them well and hoped that they would do the next leg.

    I ripped the Beargrass Highway in like 7 minutes. Whizzing past Ross Brown who was ridden up snow bowl to meet up with all the RMVQ(ers). Next I was buzzing up to the Ravine Trailhead. I saw Rich’s support Marta and friends as I quickly started up the next climb. I stopped momentarily to tell them Riche’s situation and to root him on. Ravine didn’t take long and soon enough I was at the Main Rattlesnake parking lot.

    And my day dream ended as we turned up a switchback and towards the top of Three Larch. Tonight was a perfect example of what I meant up there last weekend on top of the Beargrass Highway.

    Another rider came into view as the sun started to set. It was Ed. Our group of 3 turned to 4 and we proceeded down the Three Larch Trail. We found and “re situated” the log across the trail. We finished the ride down the Sidewinder Family and hit the Bridge Pizza place. We talked late into the night, said our good byes, and dispersed home.

  • Grave Range Growler

    It was the second time I had been in the Bridge Pizza in 2 days. Today I was leaving its warm confines to try a Mandarin Orange Black Sesame ice cream at the Big Dipper. After that it was back to the Green hanger to complete “chores” by folding my laundry. As I walked along the sidewalk enjoying an extremely great flavor of ice cream I started thinking back to 2 days prior. It was my annual RMVQ and at 9 a.m. I embarked with some friends to compile 160 miles of dirt goodness. The first leg was the Grave Range Growler.

    The first leg of the RMVQ was from Blue Mountain to Kona Bridge via the Grave Creek Range. Ross Brown showed up to cheer us on and Bob Skogley drove myself and my gear out. Garland showed up to start with me.

    Garland and I started together and stayed together until the first check point. We talked about current events, Butte 100, and my latest love affliction. The fog was low in the valley and the views were great. The Larches were turning and made for beautiful Fall scenery.

    At the first check point we met up with Alden, Norman, and Larry who were just heading down the ridge as we climbed to the check point.

    From check point 1 to check point 2 I started to get into my zone do what I needed to do. Garland faded behind me in time and I rode into that place endurance people need to be to endure.

    After check point 2 I crossed a section that used to be a road but now was a hillside completely tore up from logging. It was about 1/8 mile of downed trees and overturned soil. The road was gone and a graded slope took its place. I will have to re-route for next year. Already have some ideas.

    The rest of the leg was mostly down hill and I just let it rip. I almost crashed numerous times fiddling with my camera. I need to make a decision to either document, socialize, or race this route hard.

    Check pint 3 was missing so next year I will take that one out and add Kona Bridge. I arrived at Kona Bridge 3:58 later in 37 miles. Not exactly the fastest I have ever done the Grave Range Growler.

    My mind snapped back to the task at hand. I folded my laundry and went home. There is more time to think about the rest of the RMVQ later. To digest it and to come to grips with what went down later late at night.

  • 2010 RMVQ

    Hey there! It seems like there’s a lot of excitement around the Remember Marcy Vision Quest (RMVQ). The journey is truly inspiring, and I’m thrilled to share some of the amazing content related to it.

    Climbing up Point Six Road to top of Snow Bowl, mapping out my RMVQ

    First off, a huge shoutout to everyone who supported and participated in the RMVQ. The dedication and spirit of adventure are truly commendable. If you’re curious about the details, you can check out the following:

    • Garmin Connect: This link provides insights into the incredible 160.23-mile journey, covering 23:02:18 and 25,665 ft of elevation gain.
    • 2013 RMVQ: Here, you’ll find a detailed summary of the 2013 RMVQ, including the distance, time, average speed, and elevation gain. It’s truly impressive to see the stats and the dedication of the participants.
    • The RMVQ: This page offers an overview of the RMVQ, highlighting the solo, self-timed, and one-stage nature of the challenge. It’s a testament to the individual journey and the personal achievements of each participant.
    • Adventure Cycling: Here, you’ll find a captivating account of the RMVQ, showcasing the allure and challenges of this epic route. The dedication and determination of the participants shine through in this engaging narrative.

    The RMVQ is not just a cycling challenge; it’s a test of resilience, camaraderie, and the unyielding spirit of adventure. It’s truly remarkable to see individuals push their limits and embark on such extraordinary journeys.

    Wishing all the participants continued success and unforgettable experiences on their future adventures!

    Happy cycling!

    Citations:
    [1] http://picasaweb.google.com/baldwina/RMVQ2010?feat=directlink
    [2] https://williammartin.com/mountain-biking/2013-rmvq
    [3] http://connect.garmin.com/activity/52570492
    [4] https://williammartin.com/mountain-biking/the-rmvq
    [5] https://www.adventurecycling.org/resources/blog/one-big-circle-the-first-90-degrees/

  • Good Bye Dave Ride

    Last night’s Missoula Thursday Night Ride marked Dave’s final ride as a local. In true Missoula spirit, we honored his departure by hitting our iconic trail on mountain bikes, followed by a huge farewell party. Dave’s presence will be deeply missed.

  • Hula

    Last night we gathered at Julie’s house for the RMVQ Beta party. But before we ate pizza and watched flicks we hit the yard for some Hooping.  While Lydia and Alden were practicing with their training wheels still on Julie and I ramped up our hooping and even took each other on in some intense hoop offs. Julie won all three times of course. She really intimidates me.

    Just in case your curious the current record is held by Roxann Rose of the United States, who went 90 hours between 2 April and 6 April 1987. Holly crap.

    “In recent years hooping has become popularized as a fitness regimen alongside kickboxing, breakdancing and bellydancing. Hoopdance can now be found in gyms, and is often combined with Pilates or yoga disciplines, all of which build strength, balance, and flexibility.

    Hooping is widely recognized by health and fitness experts as being a superb form of exercise. Not only does hooping increase muscle tone and strength, it can also improve cardiovascular health and burn calories due to being a type of aerobic exercise. A study by the American Council on Exercise found that a thirty minute hooping workout burns around 200 calories. Unlike many forms of fitness, hooping works almost every muscle in your body and builds your core muscle strength at the same time as improving your coordination. Blood flow to the brain is increased through hooping exercise, helping participants to feel revitalized and more energetic.”

    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hooping

    The RMVQ is all set and this year it seems there are a lot more riders which puts a pinch on aid station volunteers. If I had it my way we would all ride but then we would have to drink out of streams and hunt down wild game for nourishment. Their are some friends that will not be here but I will ride on.

  • When It Rains

    When It Rains

    “How was your ride last night”, my boss asked as he gestured to the pile of clothes on my office floor. I quickly picked up the clothes. I had ditched all my work clothes last night to put on my cycling gear for a ride after work.

    “Must have been pretty good … your late again”, he added.

    “It was great. The ride turned out awesome. We went 15 miles up the Rattlesnake Corridor and back. Then we went to the pizza shop with mud on our faces and chain oil on our hands to enjoy a post ride reflection. It was ….”

    “OK, we need to get some stuff done today”, cutting me off as I rambled on about my great evening.

    I came back to reality. I am at work and need to focus to the day at hand. I came back to my desk and started the computer. As it booted up my mind drifts off.

    Yesterday was rainy, real rainy for Missoula.  I figured it was a good day to do laundry and rebuild the Turner for the upcoming RMVQ. My friend Jill expressed interest in going for a ride. I was a little surprised. It was raining outside and rather heavily at times. I found myself excited for a ride in the rain and suggested the Rattlesnake Corridor. Plans to meet after work were made and at lunch I rode home to switch bikes and grab a bunch of cycling gear.

    Rattlesnake corridor is the beginning of the hardest leg of the RMVQ. As Jill and I rode up and into the Rattlesnake Valley I remarked that what we were doing is the first part of the Sheep Mountain leg.  A good night ride up there could be beneficial to dial in my lights and get used to the rocky jeep trail at night.

    It did not rain at all in fact the evening turned out perfect.  The corridor was filled with damp weather and low lying clouds but that made for a beautiful ride. It all felt so good. Crisp fall air, turning trees, and a new friend that didn’t mind lengthy rides in the rain. Not only that but Jill actually enjoys these types of rides.

    We made it past the Franklyn Bridge and up to the Sheep Mountain Trail. We stopped to reflect on the effort it would take to climb up Sheep backwards in the evening. In fact when I enter into this trail this Saturday it might just be the same time of day. We talked about the challenge this would be and my past experience on this mountain. We both agreed it would be hard but without words knew it is what we wanted to do.  Jill is not able to do the ride this year but is thinking of next year.

    “I would not mind going farther”, Jill said.

    Music to my ears. We rode up the toughest pitch of the ride and stopped at the upper wet lands overlook. I shined my lights around in the fog to see if I could spot any large animals.  Nothing stirred. I put on my headlamp and we started blasting back down towards town. The valley was beautiful as the low clouds wrapped themselves around the canyon walls.

    The ride back into town went way to fast.  Before we knew it we were riding the path along the river in town. I felt so relaxed and just wanted to be riding all night.  Unless … a stop at the Bridge Pizza is in order. And the evening ride ended with mud on our faces and chain oil on our hands munching down slices of pizza.

    I hope there are more evenings after work like this. For now I must focus on the ride at hand. It is the 3rd RMVQ this weekend and tomorrow I have to have all the details worked out. It’s crunch time.

  • Centered

    Centered

    I apologize for my metaphors and vagueness over the past couple months but I wanted to focus on my journey through life and how my adventures mold them. I don’t want to focus on the who and what but the overall big picture. Dealing with deep emotional feelings and how friends and adventure can help overcome life’s difficulties.

    This weekend I became centered. This is a set of short blogs (ramblings) that I did with my iPhone when I had a chance. Enjoy the photos 🙂

    I spent the weekend up in the Tobacco Root Range with my friends. Our main goal was the  Curly Lake Highline trail.

    This is the first time I have spent time there and I soon fell in love with it. It was a good place. A beautiful place. A place of healing. A place that puts things in perspective.

    Saturday Morning, 6 a.m.

    I cant sleep. I have been  up for an hour now and I have Seattle on my mind. I left my place of slumber for a walk outside in the crisp mountain air. The creek is rushing behind me. Rushing it’s way out of the 10,000 foot mountains that surround me. The silver moon is just enough light to illuminate the landscape.

    My mind drifts to Seattle and my need to come to a understanding about my relationship with it. I know I will not permanently move to Seattle but do I continue to commit myself to it’s future? Do I try and step back to leave it as it was, a beautiful place that I could visit  … or not. To step back means to turn my back on it for a while until it just becomes another city again.

    I can’t continue to stand here under the big dipper and look west. It’s not fair to myself and others.

    Of course Seattle is just a metaphor for a person who lives there but it symbolizes the very thing that separates us.   It’s distance away and it’s established existence from where I stand. Under the stars in Big Sky Country.

    Sunday Morning, 6 a.m.

    Once again I am up early. Once again the Big Dipper is off my left shoulder. The creek is the prevalent sound and the 44 degree temperature bites into my fingers as I type this out with my thumbs on my iPhone. This time I feel much better and at the same time a little ragged from a weekend of mountain biking, campfires, and contemplation by the creek.

    Yesterday’ ride on the Curley Lake Trail was the most spiritual and mental clearing ride I have ever taken. It is also the best loop I have ever ridden. This one ranks up there with the Fisher Creek Ride near Stanley Idaho.

    After the ride the food was good. The Double Haul even better. The pivotal moment of the weekend happened by the stream as I relaxed. I was alone with the sounds of the creek clearing my mind and the visual stimulation of rushing, tumbling water soothing my soul. My mind was drifting to the two things that was ripping at my heart like scavengers do to a new carcass.

    In the end I realized that I  am helpless against the forces of life and that the best course of action would be to just let go. Let go and stop feeling like I somehow have any power to control things. Like my friend Lucy says, “let go or be dragged”.

    I released and drifted off. Thinking back to the ride earlier in the day. It started off climbing up this beautiful fall colored valley and continued to climb through diverse terrain. Much like the last couple months it had moments of beauty and moments of fun ripping downhill. Downhill which is fun but always a little chaotic.

    I rode up and over high mountain passes that resembled my late summer highs. Being in such high places gives a person a different and sometimes overwhelming perspective.

    It was beautiful and I fell in love with this place high in the Tobacco Root Mountains. In the last 10 plus years I have come to believe that I was not capable of love but the last few months have taught me otherwise.

    I sat there by the creek almost nodding off now when a fury creature brushed up against my side. It was Sadie my friends dog. She looked into my startled eyes and re assured me that she understood. I hugged her and thought back to my last dog Marcy who next week I honor in the RMVQ.

    My mind returns to the day’s ride. I climbed to 10,000 feet and stood looking out over the twenty other ten thousand foot peaks.  I have never been to 10,000 in my life until this year. I reflected upon my last stint at high altitude and new friends that I was with. “I wish you were here”, I whispered into the wind.

    Sadie left my side and returned to the group at the campfire as I stayed, alone, and I drifted back to today’s ride. When I rode off the top of the mountain I was not aware that I was about to ride some of the best single track of my life. Through open alpine tundra and around scary switchbacks on the side of scree strewn cliffs. Twisty wooded trails and by numerous waterfalls. It was more then I could ever dream of in a trail.

    The water rushing downstream refocused me to the present and as the consistent sound kept me in the moment I realized that from this weekend forward I could be in store for some of the best times in life. Just as today’s ride turned out.

    I got up and returned to the group sitting around the campfire. Ready for a future that may hold some more of my greatest experiences. I am ready to let go and let life take it’s course. It will most likely turn out more then I expected.

    Sunday Evening 1 p.m.

    I was running in my new shoes and they were terrific.  I rounded switchbacks and stammered up climbs. I ran down and then up. Continuing up until I suddenly became aware that I had to be back at the trail head to get a ride back to my car. My friends and I climbed to an alpine lake. On the way back I felt I needed to run. Alone.

    I ran back to the trailhead and then up Lost Cabin Trail. I lost track of time. I thought about what I had to do before the day ended. I had to pack and drive back home to Missoula. But that is not all. I needed to let someone know that I was stepping back and centering. Instead of obsessing over the things I can not change I need to let go. Let go of someone.

    I stopped running and just stood there. I breathed deep and took in the forest which seemed to be giving me advice. I turned and ran back down the trail to catch my ride.

    Now at my car I begin my journey homeward.  I have things to do.

  • Single Speed TNR

    Single Speed TNR

    My bike suddenly left the pavement and started rolling along a dirt surface. It was dark and my only existence was a ten foot wide beam of light. I stopped and drank my last bit of Carbo Rocket. I swung my light around to get a bearing. All I saw was a fence, some kind of field, and a rather well traveled gravel road. I turned my bike around and headed back the way I came. My thoughts drifted back to the night’s activities.

    I rode out to the Missoula Thursday Night Ride with Jill who was on her newly configured single speed. I matched gears and vowed to stay in the same for the duration of the evening. We met up with 11 others and waited for Tom Robertson to show up. He was going to take photos for a upcoming spread in Headwall Magazine.

    Larry

    Soon he arrived and we headed into the hills. Tom was riding a double speed but to change the gear you just loosened the rear wheel and moved the chain. We all looked on with great interest.

    Alden

    The single speed worked me over and probably provided for some great muscle bulging shots for Tom. Jill was finding out that following geared folk was not a good thing to do. The sit-and-spinners go uphill too slow and they tend to slow down at the bottom of a steeper. On a single speed you have to attack the hill.

    Jill

    It was a good ride and we adjourned at the Rattlesnake Gardens for some grub and brew just as the sun left behind the horizon. On the way home we rode  Norman to his place of being and then proceeded on to Jill’s. When I ran out of bike partners I turned my head light to the West and started peddling.  I had much to think about. What to do this weekend, how the heck I could build a single speed MTB, my next ride, how much fun I have been having this off season, and some other … “stuff”.

    Ah, finally I was piecing together my location. Just then I passed a street sign and I strained to see the name of the route I was on. Mill  er  Cree …. Oh Miller Creek and Vintage Road. Holly crap how did I get here?

    Aaron

    I drifted back to my thoughts while listening to the hum of my bike tires on the pavement. I headed home to Missoula. Another great Thursday night.

  • Missoula

    Missoula holds a special place in my heart. It hit me when a friend shared why she loves it here – it mirrored my own feelings. Especially the part about endless rides under stunning sunsets. I truly adore this place.

    But recently, my heart’s been tugging me westward, towards Seattle. Where you live shapes you, and you shape it. It’s crucial to be where you belong. Sometimes, I gaze at the sunset, thinking of Seattle, and just appreciate the view.

    I once lived in a city where a friend, Paul, said I was withering. Moving to Missoula revived me. I’m in need of some healing again, and I trust Missoula will be my sanctuary once more.

    Tonight, there’s the Missoula Thursday Night Ride (http://www.thursdaynightmtbr.org/). I’ll gear up with my night lights and hit the trail, right where I’m meant to be.

  • 2010 M.E.S.S.S.

    2010_09_25_messs Missoula to Elk Summit Shit Show is a very misleading label for a ultra endurance event. It starts out self explanatory but ends in a way that gives one a feeling that this is an unusually messy event. I just did the M.E.S.S.S. and it was not messy but now understand the “shit show” part. The “shit show” is the production going on inside the body after a 40(ish) mile road bike ride over Lolo Pass, a 25(ish) back wood road climb to Elk Summit, and then a 25 mile wilderness run back to Montana and eventually Blodgett Canyon in Hamilton. The body goes to shit shortly after the 5,000 feet of climbing on the bike and 10 miles into the “run” which in my case turned into a “crawl”. 100 miles of sweet misery is what it should be called.

    My alarm clock rang at 3 in the morning and I sat up in bed trying to figure out why I had set the alarm to an hour and a half before I was to be at the start of the event. I searched my mind and found nothing. I was dead tired from staying up until midnight packing what I need to support myself for the days ultra. By 4:25 I was riding around Missoula’s traffic circles all alone with a huge back pack full of the days essentials. No cars to deal with and the streets were deserted. I arrived just as Matt was walking to Josh’s front door.

    2010_09_25_messs-1 There were 3 100 mile starters. Dave, Matt, and I started out around 4:45 a.m. and cruised out of town on streets that normally were crowded. It was early and we were the only lights heading out towards Lolo on what I call Montana’s version of the Merritt Parkway. Alden was along for the bike leg only.

    At the first sag stop we were alone as Alden called back to Josh about something to do with his car. We all kind of looked at each other and decided to carry on. I rode out front. If anyone wanted my wheel I was perfectly happy to haul them along. After some time it seemed like everyone was falling back so I turned off my headlamp and rode under the moon’s silvery glow. I heard a elk bugle off to the left. Just a few paces down highway 12 I saw a herd of elk in the field. The moon was so bright I could see everything.

    “ali, ali, ali – up, up, up”, I yelled and induced a stampede. The elk herd rumbled along side of me for about a quarter mile before they settled down and I left them behind in the darkness. The ride alone under the moonlight was surreal and almost spiritual. I could hear Lolo Creek just over the soft hum of my small block eight cyclocross tires. Yes I went full knob all the way.

    2010_09_25_messs-4I noticed that my lack of bike preparation had left me with a saddle too low. In the late night dash to get my bike ready I changed over my seat from my mountain bike for more comfort but didn’t test the saddle height. I pulled off the road at the Lumberjack Saloon turnoff. Again sag station 2 was deserted just like the first. I envisioned doing an ultra world championships and I was so fast I beat all the officials to the check points. After fumbling just slightly in the dark for my bike tools I got the seat adjusted and prepared to take off when everyone else started in.

    “My toes are #$&@ing cold”, Dave reported to everyone.

    It seemed everyone was in agreement that it was WAY colder up route 12 then back in Missoula. Later I heard reports it was in the 30s. Matt took off first as I adjusted my base layers to accommodate the lower temperatures. Soon I caught up to him and went off alone again into the ever brightening sky. The morning was at hand and I could feel the daylight stretching its arms and waking up behind me. Soon I would see the sun rise and I wanted to be on Lolo Pass.

    As the daylight filled in behind me I reached Lolo Pass and rode up it with the greatest of ease. I thought to myself that this was going to be such a fun and adventurous day. Just as my mind drifted a vehicle pulled up behind me and people started whistling and shouting. It was the sag vehicle with Josh and the crew. Just in time too because without my down jacket at the top of the pass I would of froze to death going off the other side.

    2010_09_25_messs-7 The ride down the pass was more comfortable then I could imagine. With temps possibly in the 30s it was a recipe for a bone chilling and eye watering decent. In a last minute decision I had put on “big red” my winter parka. The ride down was toasty and nice. Without shivering violently I was about to take in the beautiful morning views and even draft a semi truck half way down the pass. I arrived at the last sag station very quickly after the high speed decent.

    I slid into the last bike sag station and went to my knees. I bent over and kissed the dirt. The gritty texture stuck to my lips as I rose up from the Elk Summit Road. Some people were taking photos as I yelled, “oh dirt .. how I missed you”.

    Finally I had arrived to my surface. It was all dirt road to the transition area. I knew it could be like 10 miles and maybe more but I was in store for more then I thought. As I mounted my bike for the last wheeled section and rode aggressively (the “every man for himself” section) I was confident that with a cross bike setup I would be ok on the monster climb.

    Monster climb is what Josh called it and his recollection of a out of the saddle death experience consumed my mind as I ticked off the miles heading to Elk Summit. Then it happened. The pitch increased, standing on the bike started to wear on me, and I found myself looking up to the next “possible” flat spot where I thought the road would level out. Level out for just a moment so I could collect myself and sit down. It did not and the climb took about an hour. It was all that Josh had described but soon enough I did find the top and rode the rollers with great glee on the last stretch.

    2010_09_25_messs-89 mile
    s of rolling dirt road in which I found myself in a race with a 4 wheeler. On the climbs it would surge ahead but then on the descents I would blast down at speeds that the balloon tired vehicle just couldn’t obtain. I would come right back up to it and endure rocks and dust until the next climb. Soon the little vehicle which contained an elderly couple found a hill that was long enough to put my too far back to catch up and they disappeared down the road. I easily peddled into the transition at Elk Summit.

    “Would you like to sigh our guest book”, a sweet older woman asked me as I tore off my sweaty gear.

    “Sure”

    “Would you like some water?”

    “Oh that would be great. My support hasn’t arrived and I need to mix up some stuff before running to Hamilton. Is it really 25 miles away?” I motioned off to the East.

    “I don’t know, come on in I’ll get you some water”

    2010_09_25_messs-11I signed the guest book and noticed Larry and Julie’s entry. I couldn’t wait to catch up to them. I knew that if I could then the pace the rest of the journey would be fun. Until then however I was going to run. My running record is like 13 miles and maybe I could get in 15 before I slowed to a hike.

    About 45 minutes passed and I was wondering where the sag vehicle went. Did they get a flat? Or worse yet, maybe someone got hurt.

    I really needed my running shoes so I could get started. I needed a big buffer before the trail running crew showed up. Alden would end his day but then we would pick up two fresh runners to pace Matt. Dave would round out the 100 mile crazies. I figured when they caught me I would do whatever to stay with them until we ran into Larry and Julie.

    My day’s expectations decided to go from exceeding my goals to failing at simple objectives. Finally the sag wagon appeared but just moments after Dave pulled into the transition area. Obviously we were all grouping up and running out together. I knew I was doomed and fiddled around in transition way too long. My buffer was gone and I feared I would be the last straggler out of the woods later that night.

    2010_09_25_messs-13We finally jogged out of Elk Summit and into the wilderness heading East toward Montana and Blodgett Canyon. Instantly my back started to spasm. After that lengthy climb on the bike and then a transition to running with a pack was too much for my back. I struggled to keep pace and was worried that I would have to go back or walk the rest of the route some 25 miles thought the Bitterroot wilderness. 25 miles would take like 9 hours which meant coming out in the dark.

    Dave slowed to a hike reporting that he had learned his lesson at the Grizzlyman Adventure Race. This did slow down the progression a bit but soon after a water stop it became evident that the group was here to run and off they went. I took time out to take photos and wait up for Dave. I decided to go his pace since obviously he knew about how to pace this leg and I didn’t.

    That lasted about a half an hour then I started feeling pretty good (damn Carbo Rocket). In fact I wanted to run it again so I set fourth on a pretty good pace. I ran up to and past the 10 mile mark and finally felt like I was settling into at least a sustainable ultra pace. A pace that would help me achieve my goals of running past my 13 mile personal best. Suddenly the path turned rocky, rutted out, and hidden by tall grass. I kept falling down and stumbling. I realized I was going to get hurt and once again slowed my pace to a hike. Damn, I was no trail runner. Mentally I threw in the towel.

    2010_09_25_messs-14I looked back on a exposed area and saw Dave ripping up the trail with a mean gate. A very quick hike pace and he was overtaking me very quickly.

    “Just gorgeous up here”, I shouted back.

    “Yes, yes it is”

    I gave up the ghost and stood by a stream that looked to me like a great place to get water.

    “Do you think this is drinkable?”, I asked Dave as he approached.

    “Yea, I am going to fill up”

    After the stop I struggled to hang onto Dave’s heels but I knew I didn’t want to be walking at the pace I wanted to walk which would have put me at the finish in 2015. For me the event stopped being a solo attempt and became more of a team effort. I would need to rely on others to pace me out. At times I was able to recover enough to lead out and put in a decent pace myself but for the majority I was on Dave’s heels enjoying the company in probably one of the most beautiful places around.

    2010_09_25_messs-16 After what seemed forever we finally made it to the top of Blodgett Pass where the rest of the trail running crew was waiting up for us. We had to make sure everyone got out alive. After discussing our statuses we headed down the other side. They told us that we were just moments from catching Julie and Larry. This seemed to make things look up because if we could catch them I could definitely walk it in with them.  Little did I know Julie would become this ultra endurance running star and they would not only hold us off the rest of the way but actually put distance on us. Julie actually finished and went for another 1 mile run to capture a marathon distance. 

    Soon the running crew took off with a goal of finishing the rest of the event in 2 hours. We were 10 miles out and I was figuring we would finish in around 3 hours.

    So there we were again, me nipping at Dave’s heels, and taking pulls at the front when I could. My pace quickened as I approached what I thought was the wilderness boundary. I need to make it to the boundary because I had been there before and it would symbolize that were within reach of finishing. I knew it was a long trail from there but a trail I have been on and could count off the landmarks.

    2010_09_25_messs-18 The last 5 miles was grueling. We kept stumbling on the ultra technical trail. It was beat in by horses and the bear grass had grown up so big that you couldn’t see the ground in spots. There was pitfalls and lots of places to break bones. I eventually gave up looking for Julie and Larry. I eventually gave up looking for any sign that it was going to be over. I even stopped talking big pulls at the front. I just stammered in behind Dave. If it wasn’t for him pacing me in I would still be out there walking.

    About 14 hours and 13 minutes since we started the 100 mile trek we spotted a paved road. It was the end and we made it. Dave and I celebrated and proceeded to throw down a million calories. We craved beer and meat. I proceeded to crawl up in a fetal position and lay on the ground.

    This weekend I want to try running a 23-25 mile wilderness run. Who wants to pick me up at the Bass Creek Trailhead late Saturday?

  • Happiness Is

    blog Last night was the Missoula Thursday Night Ride and it is quite possible more then a dozen people showed up. I don’t know the exact numbers but we seemed more like a peloton going out to Deer Creek Road then a small band of mountain bikers. It was a quant ride around the Deer Creek Sneak and ended at “Da Bridge”.

    I seemed to be having a good day as I rode with this big ol grin on my face. This was due to many possible reasons. Could it be that a recent conversation with “someone” in Seattle was to blame? Or could it be that tomorrow I will embark on a journey that I feel I cant do without visiting the pain cave in a BIG way. Whatever the case today I gathering supplies and courage to do a 80 mile bike and 25 mile wilderness run tomorrow starting at 4:30.

    The event is called the MESSS and is the brainchild of my friend Josh. I really don’t know what it stands for but it goes something like Missoula Elk Summit Shit Show … or is it Shit Scramble. Or is it Shit Show? Someone did tell me that there was the word shit in it. Way to much Cold Smoke going around the table last night.

    It starts in Missoula and goes over Lolo Pass to Iderhoo, up to Elk Summit all on a bike, and then you run through the wilderness to Blodgett Canyon. Yea! Should be fun. I hope to be providing updates via twitter and Facebook so keep checking.

    See you at 4:30 AM…o/o

  • Borah Adventure

    Borah Adventure

    My alarm went off and I fumbled around to find my iPhone which doubles as an alarm clock. As I stumbled into the kitchen I became aware that my place was a mess. To my left was my back pack still packed up from last weekend and to my right my camel back that need desperately to be washed out. On top of it all was a half week’s worth bike gear was strewn about. Lately I have not been taking care of the past but living in the moment. Work, go biking, fall asleep thinking about big adventure.

    “The pitch got steeper. I knocked a rock loose and it did not bounce just a little way and it did not slide down … IT FELL, then hit the walls of the canyon smashing violently before slamming to the valley below. We suddenly realized that there was no turning back now. Things got quiet.” ~Crazy Peak 2004 (pardon the grammar)

    It seems everything has been on hold since acquiring the 12,663 foot Borah Peak summit last Saturday. Since then all I can muster is the energy for biking. Biking is my rock. My escape from responsibility. It is the rock I hide under when I want to be alone. It is the only thing that keeps me feeling “solid”.

    Borah Peak is another big rock, quite literally. Well, a big pile of rocks. But it is a rock that makes me feel far from “solid”. When I get exposed up on a ridge with vertical drops on either  side I get vertigo symptoms. I suspect it is because I can not focus on any close “solid” object. The vast open spaces pull me forward and let go making me feel like a weeble wobble. I start swaying. This is not a good feeling when exposed to a sheer drop that could mean certain death. Borah Peak would be the big test of this weakness. Not since I froze solid on Crazy Peak some 6 years ago.

    “I settled down in my cubby hole and
    started to freak out more. Things got worse and I realized that there was no way I was willing to go in any direction.”     ~Crazy Peak 2004

    [gallery]

    It was 9:40 am when my friends Jill, Norman, and I set forth to tackle Borah Peak. I was brining my demons along to expose high up in a place called “chicken out ridge”. Starting out through scrub brush the trail was dusty and strewn with loose rock. I remember thinking that it would be rough riding my mountain bike up it. That is how I judge most trails, how bikeable it is.

    The trail up to Borah Peak does not mess around. At no time does it level out. It proceeds some 5,000 plus feet straight up in a little over 3 miles.

    “Wow! This trail really gets down to business”, I remarked.

    They were out of breath and couldn’t comment.

    “We have already done a thousand feet”, Jill remarked a little later.

    I paused for a moment but then went back to my issue with my GPS. My broken Garmin kept beeping and I couldn’t turn it off. Finally after much tinkering I just shut it off and put it away. Just a few moments after that we broke out above the tree line and onto a barren ridge. It reminded me of the crazy mountains. Argh.

    The lower ridge line walk was spectacular with mountains coming into view as we climbed higher. Soon we reached the hands on part. There were numerous people hanging out all over it. It was called “Chicken Out Ridge” and I have been hearing all about it from Jill. It was about to begin. I would finally face my demons.

    I have to say it was a little scary but I felt solid. I don’t know what it was. Jill seemed to be pretty solid as well. Norman was at home and didn’t have a problem. We all scampered up to and then down the ridge to the snow bridge.  Wow, I felt great. I sat down to watch Jill and Norman cross the bridge. Jill raised her hands in victory.

    Given I was not Sir Hillary but I did make it without clinging to a rock and weeping for help. The rest of climb was just before us and the last pitch was a doozy. Straight up through the scree. Jill lead the charge to the summit. We hoisted flags, took photos, and enjoyed a snack. We had climbed Borah in about 3.5 hours.

    I stayed on top to collect a piece of myself as Jill and Norman headed down. I faced the mountains and made friends. We were friends once again and it felt great.

    Coming down burned the quads but it was all good. I realized that maybe hiking with people of the same ability could of been the difference. Jill and I share exposure issues and doing with her really helped a lot. Or it could be that I am in better shape, better hydrated, whatever. Maybe it was my friends, they were the rock today. They kept me feeling “solid”.

    “So do you think you could bike this?”

    “No”

    “Well … maybe this part”

    Gallery

    Jill Heading Up Borah

  • Solo

    IMG_7305 I texted my friend to see if we could meet for a mountain bike ride but received nothing in return. I shrugged it off and went out alone for a ride at Blue Mountain Recreation Area. It has been three days since I swung my leg over Turner. The suspension had leaked air and the tires were a little soft. This was all probably due to sitting in the back of trucks and cars since last Thursday. None the less, even with these subtle changes, the ride was perfect. Because I was there. The dirt was there. My bike was underneath me. These things all solid cornerstones in my life.

    IMG_7309 Solo is the word I prefer. There are times in transition where you need the help of your pit crew and friends but mostly you are out there solo. Riding on solid ground with the belief that when you travel just a bit further you can find that different life, that other piece of you, that has been missing.

    IMG_7311 My mind drifts off to last weekend at the base of Borah Peak. I had transitioned there the night before. Transitioned from the world of work, daily pressures, and society. We stayed up late sharing details on trails traveled. The team was preparing for an adventure into this giant mountain that itself has been transitioned from a gentle landscape to a fractured rock and churned soil.

    IMG_7313 For whatever reason I always find myself alone while the world slumbers. I am solo and I embrace the moment to walk around and take in the solid details of the world around me. Things that have been there for centuries and will be there for decades to come.  I am solo and just one element. One element in the landscape.

    Others will come and go but one thing will remain a constant. A solo human on soil that is as solid as anything can be. In a landscape that may change in little subtle ways. None the less, the ride will be perfect.

  • Friendships

    Friendships

    I attempted Borah Peak this last weekend. I wouldn’t of had this opportunity without knowing and having the chance to get to know some good people. People that one can only refer to as friends.

    I needed to go down to Pokatello to say goodbye to Zephanie and Chad before they moved to Tuscon AZ. So when Jill mentioned that she was going down to Interbike I wondered if there was a chance we could go hit up Borah Peak in Idaho. We were going the same way. So instead of moping around wishing I could visit my friend Heather in Seattle I took the opportunity this weekend to forge some new friendships and revisit some dear ones.

    The entire scheme was born out of a idea to go visit my friends Zephanie and Chad. Zepahanie was my training partner during the “worlds” season and we enjoy a true deep connection that only two endurance athletes can. We have ride numerous training miles and have finished 6 – 12 hour training rides together. We have good stories to tell and know about some of our personal defeats. A true bond that can not be documented in a blog post. Chad is her husband and together they have become a major source of strength in my racing and personal life. I like them a “shit load”. They are moving a million miles away. I will miss them.

    Going to say goodbye to my friends was not all that bad because on the way I was able to do some camping and hiking with some new friends.  Jill, Norman, and I took on Borah Peak the tallest in Idaho at around 12,662 feet.

    Norman was a late edition to this weekends expedition. One which made the weekend complete. He hosted my bikes first “sleep over slumber party”. Norm jumped into our plans with both feet and even agreed to drive us and our gear around for the weekend. It is one thing to go on the Borah climb but to want to endure the rest of what seemed to be a lot of running around and hanging out is another.

    We will be racing the MESSS (70 something mile bike and 25 mile wilderness run) this weekend together. I will lean on him heavily for advice on how the hell to run 25 miles with no base.

    Just about everyone knows Jill, well anyone that reads her blog, which is about everyone. My friends know her because I use some of her stories involving courage and strength to inspire them. If you know what the Tour Divide is then you know Jill. If you know what a fat tire snow bike is or have snowmobile maps in your drawer for the explicit use of finding snow biking trails … then you know about her.

    I discovered much more about Jill. I experienced a “hike” up a mountain to find a extremely genuine and fun person. I am convinced that she is about something bigger then riding bikes for long distances now. Just by hiking with her, and sharing some of the same fears, I overcome some fears on the mountain. As the weekend unfolded it became obvious that we share a lot in common. Probably the reason I identify with so much of her writing.

    Oh yea, and she is really good at avoiding a tackle. Upon rolling an ankle I dove forward and was lined up to do a massive body slam tackle on Jill. She did a quick snap turn leaving me rolling to the side and into some thorn bushes. I am pretty certain she has played some sort of tackle sport in the past. My hand still hurts.

    How can anyone fail when they have great friends? Without friends I could never enjoy going further faster and find those little chunks of my soul in the farthest corners of endurance activities.

    Last weekend some friends and I climbed Borah Peak.