We have visited Twin Lakes Cabin 6 years in a row now. Lets look back and then look at this years photos … shall we? Okay, let’s see, year 1 (2011) was the hardest because we actually Ski Packed in … and documented it in 2011 Ski Into Twin Lakes Gallery. Year 2 (2012) was epic. Our Big Hole respite was really our best adventure to date. Truly epic and one that I consider our best adventure. Our 3rd year (2013) we did a Twin Lakes Bike Pack only. Year 4 (2014) Twin Lakes fat bike day 1, Twin Lakes fat bike day 2, and then Twin Lakes fat bike day 3.
Category: Galleries
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Paria Canyon, Out Into The World
I finally got some decent sleep and was overjoyed because today was extraction day. At least this time I could help my partner carry out stuff. Like our shit. Yea, you must carry your shit out. It is really shocking how heavy two mornings worth of crap can be. Well … at least … the hike out wasn’t crap.
And a super bonus is that I discovered that my phone had reverted to cell phone mode and all my photos leading up to the last day were crap. Some expletives echoed of the canyon walls when I discovered that little nugget. So the photos today were going to be real photos at 16 megapixels … previously … like 3. Damn.
Emerging back into the sunlight and the warm sun of the desert we discovered what had happened while we were in ‘there’. A person at the trail-head gave us the news. The dawn of a new time in America. Data and good science is out … Idiocracy is in. I had this desire to run back into the canyon.
The drive home was really quiet. Except for the discussion on where to move next.
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Paria Canyon, On To Buckskin’s Omen
I don’t know. Maybe it just sounds cool. Buckskin! And what is even more intriguing is why they would name a canyon, a Slot Canyon, Buckskin Gulch. As I wonder these thoughts one might ask … isn’t it winter. Better yet like -15 outside last weekend. Yea, well, I am just picking up where I left off with the Paria Canyon series. In this new year I can not even remember the exact details from so long ago. I can’t even remember what ground looks like. Smells like. Or even feels like.
I do remember my injury but just hints of it. The pieces that one needs to log into the security folds of the brain. The section that makes one think and maybe even pull on the brake levers when entering a corner in the middle of the night pedaling full tilt.
Yea, back to it. Well after our morning’s excursion down the canyon I faked like I was ok so that we could do a canyon that was intriguing to me. So we went on to this slot called Buckskin. They should have called it spooky. I kept looking back and felt like someone was watching. I mean more than all those shady faces looking down upon us. Like ghosts. Ghosts that got trapped in the narrows as they flowed upon the desert winds. Ghosts of natives. Ghosts of plans. Dreams, Passions, and relationships.
I could handle it no longer and wanted to ask if we could return to camp. My partner screamed to watch out. I jumped back. Gosh, I just about killed a tiny snake. Sorry buddy.
We returned to camp to find a dead owl. Something bad happened last night, Tuesday November 8th. Something so terrible that wisdom would no longer mean anything. Something dark. Only snakes survived … but also hiding in deep caverns. Something that killed even the tarantulas around us. A bizarre world where nothing made sense. What could be so bad? What happened? No matter, my back hurt and I passed out on a tuft of grass.
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Happy New Year 2017
Well the sun did come up. As it always does. And right on time. Google said that it would be up around 7:55 am. Great I had time to make myself a cup of coffee. I looked out the window and slowly turned the crank on my burr grinder.

Waking up at first light. I needed to melt some snow for water so opened up the back door to the cabin. A streak across the sky caught my attention. A meteor … wow. On the first day of the new year. Was this a good sign?

Horse Prairie Guard Station I finished the coffee preparations around 7:50. I grabbed my gloves and went out side. The first lightshow of the year and I didn’t want to miss it.
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Paria Canyon, Day Hike
Wow, how fabulous is it to hike without a backpack? After the day before hiking into the canyon today was a cinch. And I felt better. Maybe the back injury was going away. I was on the mend. And on a big march deeper into the canyon.
Our plan was to do half a day deeper into Paria … which is weird because it doesn’t mean the walls are bigger and in fact we are on our way to the exit towards the Colorado. Then if we felt like it head into Buckskin Canyon as well. We hiked until the scenery was not as exciting as what we went through and turned around. We had seen the best part of Paria.
I was actually filibustering to turn because I was really excited to go to Buckskin. And even though my back started to hurt I kept my mouth shut. Didn’t want Mo to suspect a thing and cancel the evening leg.
“How do your feel”, she asked.
“Good … let’s do it”
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Paria Canyon, Into The Light
I just remembered something that I read once. Not exactly as it was written, but as I understood it. Or misunderstood. To heal from something maybe it is not as much as focusing on what is wrong but training your attention on the things that are right. Key word, heal.
As we left camp I totally forgot all my ills and found myself immersed in all the things that were right. The sun rise for one. Spending time in a canyon makes you worship every bit of sunshine you can find. For me it is rejuvenating and warm. I like warm. But one thing I was surprised by was the way the sunlight would sculpt visual displays bursting with color.
Reflections in the river and warm hues across the colorful canyon walls … even the reflection of rocks on other rocks. As curtains drew back with every mile the sun was putting on a display of cool presentations of light. Never to be the same at any angle or time of day. Always changing.
Maybe life is that way. Just a matter of how one looks at it I suppose. For me … on this day … my back was not injured as much as everything was just right in the world.
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Paria Canyon, The Morning After
The ongoing saga of the hurty-back trip. Well that is what I called it. Looking at the photos one would think it was a outstanding adventure of a lifetime in Paria Canyon.
I did not sleep after the long haul into the canyon. Well maybe I did but not much. I needed to be turned like a fried egg on a skillet. And Mo just wanted her sleep. I didn’t blame her. She hauled all our shit into the canyon last night. At one point that night I almost suffocated because upon attempting a spin around and then getting paralyzed in pain I found myself face against the side of the tent without arms. I could’t move. I stuck my tongue out to keep the tent wall away from my airway. And to keep breathing.
Upon waking I took no time crawling to the stove to make coffee. With fresh bean juice in my system and a handful of fish oil I could stand. We explored camp as the sun finally beamed down into the canyon and warmed our spirits. And I forgot all the pain. Wow! It was a outstanding adventure of a lifetime in Paria Canyon.
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Paria Canyon, Reaching Further
Our friends had turned around and Mo reluctantly agreed to go for camp 1, a mile or so after the Buckskin Gulch intersection. I figured we were almost there. Well, never just figure that yo are almost there. We were not almost there. It got darker and darker. For me this was my first canyon. The water got deeper and the walls closed in. It kind of gets spooky in there when night comes. Finally using our headlamps we found the little oasis that we would call home for two nights. I can’t remember the rest. I think Mo set up camp and stuffed me into the tent. Maybe even fed me … don’t know.
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Paria Canyon, Why Not
So I got up and tested a backpack. It was assumed I would try and then I could wave good bye to my friends as they headed out for an adventure. My plan was to just lay around camp and sleep. I couldn’t sleep since the accident that injured my back.
The pack was heavy enough to duplicate what we would carry if I did not get hurt and we continued our plan to fulfill the back-country permits in Paria Canyon. I launched it from the picnic table. I hefted it on and disguised my grimace with a smile. Interestingly enough when I cinched it down it felt better then if I didn’t have anything on my back at all. It was like this big heavy back brace. Cool, let go hiking.
I felt bad Mo was going to carry all the supplies … almost as much as her own body weight. I left with my friends all starring at me for just a hint of pain. They would force me to bail. I showed no such thing. Why not backpack with a injury?
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Which Wolf Do You Feed?
I may have the details wrong but the message is the dame. An indigenous person once told his grandson that he had a huge battle inside him. And that it was between two wolves. One was full of gratitude, love, and kindness. The other full of hate, resentfulness, and sorrow.
“Which on do you think will win grandpa?”
“The one I feed grandson.”
I am grateful to have experienced the desert with my partner and friends. Specially after the accident. They wondered why I endured the pain instead of just resting in a motel bed at Saint George. But to me I would rather be in pain in a beautiful place then in a boring place.
Looking back it was so much good memory. I loved the trip. And I feel I should be more kind to myself now that I am back.
So I bought myself a new mountain bike.
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The Frog Hollow Account
I am finally feeling a tad better. Although there are times I can’t move or roll over. And finally I am feeling like blogging again. A lot of things piled up since the Frog Hollow Race. With it taking me all day just to get around I haven’t found extra time to write. It is true I am biking more and more again but biking has always been manageable. It is when I step off the bike or try to rest that I feel pain. That and every god damned bump I hit. Did I mention that I am getting a full suspension bike next year. Have to.
So we did make it to the 2016 Frog Hollow. And we did get off to a great start. By nightfall we both felt like we needed to investigate full suspension bikes. I forgot how rough and demanding the course could be. It was near midnight and I was starting to come into my own in the dark. I knew Mo had two more laps in her before she would unleash me to attack and do multiple laps while she slept. I couldn’t wait.
Half way around the course there is this transition section where the trail takes a hard left. Kind of a long sweeper that tightens up at the end. Previous years past I would eventually tap the brakes to avoid overshooting the turn and hitting a big rock. But this year I was elated to be able to rip the corner at full speed. Gotta love the 27.5+ bike. Again as I approached the corner I grinned and dived into it full-bore. Fade to black.
Sometimes something happens so fast that the brain must black out while it catches up. By the time my mind caught up to what was happening the face plate bolts of my stem were piercing my abs. But I was still not conscious to as what was happening. A little bit later my mind finally caught up enough to turn on some vision and all the sound.
While the sounds of gravel were scrapping across my helmet I knew that I was crashing and that I was apparently upside down. And doing a break dance move I have seen in some 80’s flicks. I became aware that there was some speed involved and that I needed to wait until the crash was over. I feared the worse.
Suddenly it all stopped with my back slamming full force into the trail. It felt like I was dropped out of a helicopter. And then everything went silent. No more crashing sounds of gravel and knobs burning flesh. All there was now was myself moaning and trying to catch my breath.
After some time I rolled over and slowly got to my feet. I tested all appendages and it all worked. I mean there was immense pain but it was working. So nothing broken, right? Just some really bad bruises maybe and some pulled muscles hopefully. So I needed to get back to the start line. But where is my bike?
I finally found it behind some sagebrush. I just followed the crash site indicators and did some quick physics to determine where my bike may have gone. I grabbed it and tried to prepare to pedal. Get leg over. Brace against the pain. Put one foot on a pedal and step down. Didn’t work. No seat.
So I did find my seat and it’s post about 90 degrees from the crash site and the final resting place of the bike. I had no time to sit and figure out how that magic trick happened. I restarted the ride strategy. Get leg over, brace, push.
I pulled over within 20 feet. The handlebars were crooked. Fixed! I was off again. It was painful. So painful the lap was actually going by fast. Just a lot of pain. I was amazed I could still ride. I knew if I got back and recovered while Mo was out … all things were still possible. But all the pain … did not know what to do with that.
On a downhill I lost control and crashed into some rocks. I really was not all there. As I hit those rocks I thought to myself and wondered why it was so hard to keep the front wheel straight. I kept leaving the trail and hitting rocks. Finally with the latest crash I stopped to assess. Well there you go! Front tire was flat. I was riding a flat tire. I just need to fix it.
Fixing the tire took time. It was like 30 minutes before I finally got it. As time wore on the more my back was getting stiff. I reached back and found my left side to be swollen and basically … well … not like a back at all. More like I swallowed a beach ball.
I got to the finish line and did my best to send Mo along on her next lap. Just when I thought she had left I slipped out of the timing tent and then realized I needed to find help. Someone was there immediately. Got me back to camp and as I waited while she prepared a place for me to try to lay down I realized it was Mo. I tried to understand why she was here and not out on her lap.
I woke up on my side and wanted to leave the tent. To go pee. When I went to move all the memories came back. But I did manage to get up and walk to the port-a-potties. On the way back I started to prepare my bike. I would never be able to ride with this pain but I could walk a lap … god damn it!
I went to the tent and asked Mo where our baton (a hand off thing that teams use) was.
“I handed it in … and told them to never give it back to you …. so just go back to bed”, she said, rolled over, and drifted back to sleep.
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Seasonal Exposure
We have been out training our ass(s) to be more durable for the 8th Annual 25 Hours in Frog Hollow. And thus exposing ourselves to the changing of the season. Or changing of the guards as you will. From green life on the summer landscapes to death and decay. The horrid advancement of complete frozen death. Black and white. Good and Evil battling to take your life and freeze you to death. Brrr … right? I can’t wait.
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Flanders Lake
Flanders Lake … a hidden gem. Well not hidden really. One can get to it quite easily. Just that there is no ‘official’ trail on a map and thus can be overlooked.
We are with snow now and it was just last week we were discovering new parts of the world like Flanders Lake. And that bums me out, the snow that is. Why, well because if we can not go high then we are left with low. And I think low is boring and discovered. I did low and got the tee shirt. Right?
Flanders is tucked away and surrounded by cliffs strewn with goats. Side note from Mo is that you will not find sheep and goats close in proximity. OK where was I …
Sure, sure, we could ski up high now. But everything is covered. If it is going to be snow and cold then I want the worst of it. Blowing, cold, and at night through a raging blizzard. And that is not physically exploring the planet but interacting with it. Living with it.
We enjoyed Flanders. And at a good time of the year too. Colors about and a lake that we marked as a re-do complete with an overnight stay. You know … after the snow is gone. When we can go high again.
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A hidden gem
The difference between pleasure and pain is … well, kidding, maybe that is a little dramatic for today’s post. Let me just say this. When you have a choice between forcing yourself to go out and doing something you have already done and something that is new, choose new. For instance. When we were deciding on what we needed to force our lazy asses to do we had a trail we had done before and one we didn’t know if it existed or not. We chose the latter. And it turned out to be the best hike of the year. So get out today and do something new to you.
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When storms roll in
It happens every spring. The first low temperature of the season. For us here in Bozeman that will be tomorrow. A high of only 36 during the day. And then that night getting down to 19. Very exciting. I can’t wait.
Like trees. Some grow at lower elevations and some up high. The mortality rate is higher up in the mountains. Sure, there is the global warming element that is killing some. But the ones that I identify with are the others. Some survivors and some killed in a avalanche or huge dump of snow being snapped off or uprooted under the weight. I like trees and I would like to identify with them … the ones up high. Down low it is all cushy and pretty. Little waterfalls give off a serine sounds as the lush forest around them sleep in. All nice … but boring.
Do they get exited when storms roll in? If you were a tree would you be excited? I am … because this is the excitement of life. Go out into the elements and face life. It is more exciting to ride a bike into work and be extremely cold then drive a car with the heater turned up. Yep … I’ll take the ride. And I am not wearing any coats … time to get ready for when a real storm rolls in.



