Miles from home

It may seem that I've been lost, with the lack of posting on FBR.  I guess, in a way, I have been.   Since that wonderful, moonlight ride through Yellowstone N.P.  I have traveled 1500+ miles to the south.   I landed in Ventura, CA after an awesome trip through remote eastern Oregon and Nevada.  Along the way I rode and ran in some lonely places.  Along with my solo drive, it made for a good decompression from the work and remodeling work over the past six months.

Taking in the waters at a hot springs near Denio Jct, NV

Hot Springs creek

I think that the decompress was good for me.  It freed me up physically and mentally so that I could get back to running, cycling and even some swimming.   Fishing in southern California is for the birds, so that one will just have to wait until I get back up to Montana later this year.





The Ventura cycling scene is unreal.   Weekly rides hammer up and down the coast and through the coastal canyons, over their passes.   I hooked up with a group called Metal MTN Cycling, aka "The Hammerheads."   We would ride on Saturday and Sunday mornings at 7:30 am and tear it up for 2.5 to 3 hours.  Every ride would be 30 plus riders, all in great shape.  Even the fat guys (like me) were fast.  It was a great environment and really got me back on the road bike.  At best guess, I logged 2000+ miles in the 3 months that I was there.

On an open road...

And since we were living at the beach, what a better place run!  I began running more consistently and even found some trails to run up near Ojai, CA.   Susan even clocked in many a 2 or 3-miler up there.

Oak grove in the Ventura River Preservation Area

Now we're in Lompoc, CA, home to Vandenberg AFB and quite a cycling group called the Village Dirtbags.  I just happened across these guys when a co-worker of mine, when she found out that I was a cyclist,  handed me her cell phone with one of them on the other line.    On the line was local chiropractor,  Gene Pritchett,  an avid cyclist and honorable member of the Dirtbags.  I talked my way into a Wednesday night road ride with Dana Manchester.   We rode (under the full moon no less) for 30 or so miles, talking about all the heavenly local cycling there is here, and by the time we finished, Dana had offered me his old MTB and an invitation to ride with the Dirtbags.   The rest, one would say, is history!

These pictures are of my first Sunday morning group ride.  It was a gray, drizzly day today, but the riding was fabulous as usual.  Everyone has been so nice and welcoming.  These guys (and girls that ride too) are a class act and I hope to enjoy many more MTB rides with them.


Cheers!

Yellowstone by Moonlight

The Clock Strikes Midnight

Last Friday night, Susan and I drove to West Yellowstone so that I could ride with some of the Billings cyclists on their annual West Yellowstone Moonlight Ride.  I was excited to go because of how close it was to Dillon (about 2 1/2 hours), that we haven't been to Yellowstone yet this year and it's something we have wanted to do.  So we packed up our camping gear and headed for the park.

We got to West Yellowstone about 9:30 pm and went to my first campground choice (FULL)  so we had to drive about 10 miles out of town to set up the night's camp.  "So much for me riding to and from the starting point of the ride," I thought.  'Oh well."

The West Yellowstone version of this ride would take us from the Park's entrance to Old Faithful and back, for a total of approximately 62 miles, or 100 kilometers (a metric century).  The start time was to be midnight and the return time was to be 6:00 am Saturday morning.   Yes, we would be riding all night long.  The overnight low was to be below freezing.  This was going to be interesting, to say the least.

I awoke after a 30 minute power nap and got dressed to go.  It was 11 pm and not that cold out, so I opted for leg warmer vs. tights, a base layer with jersey, arm warmers and my rain jacket.  I have winter gloves and a fleece head band to cover my ears.  I felt good at the time, but would soon find out that I was under dressed.  I was fooled further by seeing one of the riders, Mike, dressed in baggy shorts with knee warmers and not much on top.  

DJ Mike and his Pimped Ride

 "How cold could the park be in early September?"  I thought.

We got all our gear together (I didn't have anything extra to bring along).  Joe would be our sag support, while ride leader, Spencer Stone, Mike, Dick and I would ride.  Miked finished his cigarette and we rolled out at 12:15 am.

Dick on the Long Road into the Park

Captain Spencer

The nearly full moon was high by then.  It was quiet and we had the roads all to ourselves.  I think I counted only two cars passing us on the way in, and Joe kept a good distance away and drove with only his parking lights on.   I was using my new headlight, a 350 lumen light (normal headlights are about 50 lumen), that I got just for this ride  (and for early am or late pm commutes).  It turned out to be a spotlight and made us feel like we were riding in a parking lot, so early on in the ride I shut it down and rode without anything.  (Note: We all had flashing tail lights for safety.)

Riding in the dark with only the moonlight MADE this ride.  I have been through the park in all four seasons, but never at night.  It is a magical place any time of the year, but the moon gave it a completely different feeling.  We could have been on Venus or Mars, or on a haunted trek through the wilderness.  It was eerie, to say the least. 

It was very cool.

My riding mates were cool, too.   I'd only ridden with Spencer before, on a club ride in Billings, a year and a half ago.  Dick and Mike I just met this night.   Mike was a character.  An engineer, 24 hour MTB racer, smoker and lover of vintage music, Mike provided the music, via MP3 player and speaker on his bike rack.  We were serenaded by Jimi Hendrix, The Grateful Dead and  countless others as we rode in the darkness.

"Sugar Magnolia" at 1:30 am.

Like I said, this ride was going to be interesting.

The ride went off without a hitch.   I got really cold about 5 miles from Old Faithful and I began to question my ability to finish the ride off.  "At least we have the sag,"  I thought.   But when we finally got to the Old Faithful Lodge and sat in the warm, cozy and quiet great room, I began to feel better.  We had the place to ourselves and we spent nearly an hour refueling and thawing out.  It was sublime!

A little bleary eyed at 3:30 am

Old Faithful Lodge...the next day.

But alas, we had 30+ miles left to go and after we all accepted this, we mounted up and headed out.  It is here that I have to give big props to Dick, who furnished me with a long sleeve jersey as a fourth layer.  Man did that make all the difference on the cold descent back to West Yellowstone.  All was good on the return trip, but I did get cold about 5 miles out from the finish.   It was pre-dawn and at the coldest part of the day.  Joe said that he saw 32 degrees, but Susan had 28 on her thermometer.  I'll take the average and just call it COLD.

Dawn Patrol...post ride.

We thawed out in the lobby of the start/finish motel along with 150 Asian tourists, getting their breakfast buffet.  Their presence seemed to add to the dream-like state that my sleep deprived, cold induced body was in.  

It was interesting and then it was over.  Spencer and my new friends were on the road, heading for Chico Hot Springs for a soak and snooze before heading back to Billings, the tourists were loading up for a busy day of sightseeing and Susan would soon pick me up and take me back to camp for a nap.   It still feels strange as I write this, but it was an incredibly fun (and interesting) bicycle ride that I would recommend to any and all adventure seekers.

If I'm in Montana next year, you bet I'll be on this ride again.

Backroads to Bannack

Two weekends ago I rode the cyclocross bike to historic Bannack.  Bannack was the first capital of the territory of Montana.  It was a true wild west town.  They mined gold, hung thieves and cattle rustlers, and drank plenty of whiskey!  It is one of Montana's famous ghost towns and like the Coolidge townsite, is a piece of Montana history.

It started with listening to an old timer's stories of the wild west.  This man grew up in the mountains and canyons to the south of Bannack.  His grandfather homestaded here in the 1800's and his father and now he lives in the same log cabin (c. 1860's).  He told of stories of cattle rustlers and a lawless land.  And there was gold...

I'm living in Dillon, Montana.   It is a cow town of about 5000 folks, sitting in a wide valley at about 5000ft elevation.   The Beaverhead River runs through town, site of some amazing fishing, and the Big Hole valley and river a few miles afar offer up even better fishing.   I've landed several 18" browns and rainbows with an occasional 20+ incher.   I can definitely say that I live in a pretty special place.

So after listening to this man tell his story, I decided to check out Bannack via bike.  I've been to Bannack by car (about a 25 mile drive from Dillon), but this time I decided to take the road less traveled.  I mapped a backroads route that would take me past a few different mines, along the old stagecoach route and finally down Hangman's Gulch to the old ghost town.   Soon it was Saturday and I was off.

I headed out from the KOA campground that I have been calling home and immediately started climbing my favorite local hill,  the two mile long ascent up Ten Mile Rd.   Ten Mile climbs about 500 ft to the Argenta Flats...my playground.  It is here that I take my CX bike on a weekly basis.  There are miles of dirt roads and tracks to explore and I can ride anywhere from 20 to 50+ miles into Pioneer mountains from here. 

I rode out to the Ten Mile Stage Stop then crossed highway278 (the only asphalt road I had to cross today)  and continued to climb up toward Badger Mountain.  I worked steadily through 7000 ft elevation and arrive at the New Departure Mine.  Road Closed!

I didn't know it but the road ended at the private property of the mine.  No problems, I would just go around, but instead of backtracking, I turned up a single track and kept climbing.  The CX bike did its best, but I finally had to perch it on my shoulder and hike it.  I stumbled across a closed mine...maybe it was the Old Departure Mine, and continued up.  At the ridge I hit the next FS road, and with Badger mountain to my direct north, began to tear it downhill.

The backside of the mountain was amazing.  Awesome vistas in every direction and not a soul to disturb me.  In fact, I only saw three vehicles the whole ride, another thing I love about Montana.

I took a short detour to the DelMonte Mine to check it out.  it was too cool.  Then it was past Road Agent Rock, site of Bannack Sheriff Plumber's lookout for unsuspecting miners and coaches.  He robbed several of them of their gold before being hung in Bannack.   There are still remnants of the old coach road along side the rock.

I tore off the the hillside on my descent to Bannack. I was looking for the second lefty into Hangman's Gulch and almost missed it.  Due to its lack of use, it was overgrown and easy to miss.  This rocky trail was slow-go, but very scenic.   The gulch dropped me off at the gallows and then the town.   When it was all said and done I had biked or hiked 22 miles.   Susan arrived shortly there after and we had lunch at the creek.

This off road ride did just what I had wanted it to do, give me an escape from my reality and transport me back to a time of pioneers.   I am so fortunate to live where I do!

Back in Montana...and Loving It.

Well it has been 9 weeks now since we packed up and headed north.  It is FINALLY warming up here, but we are still getting weekly storms and our rivers are swollen with 100 year flood runoff.

I fished until the water really began to rise.  It has been a torrent of chocolate colored rapids for a few weeks now.   It was a blast and I hooked and landed several 16-18" fish.  Of course, I lost a couple that were significantly larger, but still managed to enjoy myself.   :)

With the weather so rough, and the new job, it has been easy for me to put off cycling (and racing for that matter).   It seems that this year is not going to be the year that I get back into racing.  Instead, I am going to ride for pleasure.  I have been doing a lot of off road riding at a much slower pace...all solo, since I don't have any groups like in Roanoke Rapids or Clovis.   It has been nice to take in the county side and to get reacquainted with my home state.  

Man have I missed the Mountains!

Running has been my main source of therapy and training though.  It's nice to still be able to put in some long runs on the weekends and the endless trails and forest service roads have made running a real joy.

I raced 11 Miles to Paradise back in May and had a blast.  I finished 15th male at 1:21, 5th in the 40-44's.  Not bad on a challenging up and down, singletrack course. 

It has been nice to mix up the elevation on both the bike and the run.  

Next up is a Century around Anaconda this Saturday with TONS of climbing, then I am riding the RATPOD, a 130 mile charity ride for Camp Mak-A-Dream, a summer camp for seriously ill children.  I haven't ridden this ride for several years.  It used to be 154 miles, but was shortened a few years ago to its current distance.  Everyone seems to like the new route as it is more scenic and has much less traffic.  I can't wait to ride it. 

And if anyone would like to donate to Camp Mak-A-Dream, please go to my Firstgiving link.  It is tax deductible.

Last but not least, I have put together another Web Album.  It has some nice shots of the Dillon area from my perspective.  We have a lot of town photos too, but I just haven't gotten around to organizing them.  So there will be more photos to come.

Adios for now.

Humble New Beginnings

Okay, I have now realized three things:  I'm old, I'm slow and I'm fat.

Granted, I've got loads of endurance, but all that the past six months of marathon training has given me was a distant view of the peloton racing on up the road.

It wasn't entirely my fault, or was it?

We began the Roubaix '11 all together, Bob and I setting the tempo as we rolled along the Frenchtown Frontage Road.  I could feel that my legs weren't great, feeling sluggish as we rolled along.  We hit the first climb on Six Mile Road and topped it with the bunch.  Sure, I was winded, but no big deal.  Racing is about  suffering and surviving. 

We go speeding down toward the Nine Mile valley and the three loops to follow.  Then we hit a really rough section of road with foot deep pot holes and I am in the middle, unable to get a good line.  I'm rattled, I lose both my water bottles and slow to a crawl trying to get a better line.  I'm instantly at the back of an accelerating pack and have to sprint to get back up to speed.  I'm in the red zone, am sucking wind and I am losing contact with the peloton.  Yikes!  This wasn't supposed to happen.

I shouldn't have lost my focus.  I should've been with the group, but instead, I screwed up and got gapped.  I chased for the entire first lap, giving it the best tempo and intervals that I could.  It was then that I realized that my cycling fitness just wasn't there.  My race was over.  I DNF'ed after the first lap.

On a positive note, Bob and I allowed Big Alex Gallego to get up the road and to hold onto the lead to win the Master's A race.  John finished second to win the uphill finish over a chasing peloton for a 1,2 for MBW Racing.  Woohoo.

Big AG across the finish

John busting a mov

 Lesson number two:  I suck at fishing!  My best bud and fishing partner-in-crime, Morgan, and I headed out to Rock Creek for some spring fishing.  I got schooled as he landed five to my one in our afternoon on the river.  man, have I got some work to do!

Next up, the spring Skwala stonefly hatch and the Bearmouth Road Race.  Have I got a lot of work to do!

Fish Today and Roubaix Tomorrow

RMR circa 2008 edition

 Well I'm back in Missoula, Montana for the week.  It's been good to be back, though it's been a little chilly.  Good news as I'm on the new team,  MBW Racing, from our home shop, Missoula Bicycle Works.  They have a great Cat 1-2 and Master's A (40+) team.  I'm stoked to be riding for their Master's team.
 

 I've got the CX bike all dialed in with a 50 tooth big chain ring and brand spankin' new 25c tires.  Forecast for tomorrow is light rain and snow.  Should be in the low 30's at the start.  Looks like things are shaping up for a great race. Let's just hope that I have good luck and can stay right in the mix!

Today was Fishing 101, and by that I mean that I got schooled by my best fishing buddy, Morgan.  He landed 5 of 6 that he had on the line.  I landed 1 of 5.  Whoops, looks like I'm a little rusty.  Anyhow, it was cold and windy today with not much of a bite until about 2pm when a nice March Brown hatch came on.  I had a poor selection of dries, so Morgan hooked up 4 times before I got a suitable pattern on that the fish would hit.  All-in-all it was an OK first day, but I can't wait to hit the Skwala stonefly hatch that should kick in over the next few weeks.

Be sure to check in next week for the race report...and maybe some trout picks, too.

Spring and the Budding of the Clovis New Mexico Cycling Club

All Smiles

It's my last weekend in good ol' Clovis, so I thought that I had better post one more time before I go.

The last three weeks have been fun.  I dusted off the 'cross bike and started hitting the road.  It has felt good to spin after all of those cold winter running miles, and besides, heading back to Montana means two things:  Big Fish and Big Bike Rides.

So I thought it might be a good idea to get back on the saddle and start riding.  Here are pics of the Clovis cyclists I rode with today.

Starting out on Llano

Acqua e Sapone

Greg catching a break

I'm getting back to Montana just in time for my favorite local bicycle race,  The Rocky Mountain Roubaix.   This "spring classic"  takes place on the same day as the Paris Roubaix race in northern France.   Paris Roubaix is known for its foul weather and 27 sections of 'pave' or cobblestones.  Our Rocky Mountain race can have very ugly weather and has several sections of rough dirt road as a comparable challenge to France's pave.   It is the must race of the spring.  It attracts riders from all over the northwest and is talked about for months before and afterward. 

Okay, so now you know my motivation for getting back on the bike.   Yes, it mostly because I don't want to get my @ss handed to me by the boys I'll be racing with.   That said,  this year I will be racing with the Men's Masters A category.   This 40+ men's group is always stacked, but hopefully those aging hearts, lungs and legs will falter just enough so that I can hang with them.

Today was a typical spring Saturday in Clovis.  The sun was shining, it was warm outside, and the wind was blowing 30 mph out of the west.   Joy.

New acquaintance,  Carl,  had sent the email.   "Saturday ride to Melrose...3hrs...9am."   I replied,  "I'll be there, and I'll be bringing a new guy from the Trailer Park,  Danny."   Danny's a young gun in the Air Force, fresh off a 5 year tour in England.   I saw him ride out one WINDY afternoon this week on his bike and thought,  "he might be alright."   See, that's what you've got to do around here,  just get out and do it, wind or no wind.

Carl, AKA the Instigator

So we rolled out of the RV Park and headed east with the wind to our backs.   We FLEW to the meeting point and then turned around to begin a 30-mile slog into the wind.  JOY.   We started off easy to let every one's legs warm up and get used to the resistance that Mother Nature had given us.   Ugh!

We rolled for a few miles with Carl and I taking the front.   He and I are both used to many solo miles.   Carl is an Ironman and I, a Nomad.   Things didn't seem all that bad. 

After my pull (and a few photos)  I happened to look back...and I saw what looked to be a cyclist chasing, so I told the guys to soften it up a little and I turned to fetch him.  It was Greg, owner of Leslie-Gibbs Candy, and a regular rider to the Saturday ride, so I'm glad I turned around.   And he, too.   Greg had been chasing hard for a few miles, solo, and was cooked.   I spelled him and then we worked for about 15 minutes to get back to the group...hmm,  I don't know how much they slowed down for us.   But, ah, who cares.   I need the work.   I haven't been feeling very strong in the legs since Austin and I've got to get the lead out!

Finally together, we kept it a very sensible pace out to the base.  Nick turned for home and the rest of us forged on for Melrose, still about 20 miles west...and into the wind.  

We struggled.  I pulled...a lot.

We complained.   We joked.   We all hurt.   It was a good time (seriously).

Randy and Wayne turned for home several miles from Melrose, but still got in at least 40.   Danny and I got the green light to go on ahead, so I pushed it a little harder just to see how my legs would do with the resistance.   Man, is it gonna be a long season if they don't get a little stronger!

Finally, the remaining four of Carl, Danny, Kirk and myself, refueled at the truck stop and then bolted for home.   What took nearly 2 hours going out was about 45 minutes coming back.   Kirk and I led the charge, the wind to our backs.  It felt like we were flying, and we were.   We averaged about 26 mph, but there were a few times we were over 30.  Nice!

Back in Clovis I wished my compadres a good ride and a good day, and then it was off for home. 

58 miles.   Thanks boys!

3 Amigos on last week's ride