Zen On Dirt

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CDT Day 100 – Real mountain biking on the CDT! Real hike-a-bike on the CDT!

The day started with the soft pitter patter of raindrops on our tarp. Roused from dream-land, I pulled my hat up from over my eyes, it was still the dark grey of not-particularly-close-to-sunrise, so I pulled my hat back down and went back to sleep. Eventually, the rain stopped and I heard Scott get up and head over to pull our food down from the tree. As he got back to the tarp, I looked out again.

“What a gloomy, grey day,” I remarked. The sky was the color of ash.

Breakfast was made and as we were eating, the rain started again. Ugh. It continued as we ate, and when we were done, I declared, “I’m invoking the Brother Bear Clause. I’m not getting up until the rain stops.”

Scott apparently wasn’t going to object as he was the first to lay down, pull his sleeping bag up, and fall fast asleep. In my own half-dream state, I hoped that a bear wouldn’t take advantage of the food scattered all around us while we snoozed.

I’m not sure how long we slept, but when we awoke, the sky was blue and the temperature was warm. We were on the trail at the bright and early hour of 9:45.


We finished the last little bit of our descent from the night before and make quick work of the three road miles to the I-90 crossing. We stopped here for a quick Wi-Fi break and also to let a brief shower pass overhead while we sat under the underpass.

A road climb took us to the Kondo trailhead and we both sighed. Energy levels weren’t exactly through the roof for either of us and we had to make it a few more miles to the Lowland campground until the new trail was supposed to start. Old CDT= generally a bunch of BS.


But, we’d been given wrong information. This trail was newly built too! And really, downright lovely. We cruised happily along with the plan of detouring off route to the campground to eat lunch in a civilized manner: On a picnic table.

When we got to the intersection and saw that the campground was 1/2 mile down the road, we looked at each other, “I don’t really need a picnic table, do you?” So we plopped down on the embankment and pulled out our salami, cheese, and tortillas.

Not two minutes later, we saw two loaded mountain bikers heading up the road from the campground. We were dumbfounded for a second, then Scott realized, “I bet we’re on the new GDMBR that is north of Butte. (The ACA released a new route bypassing some miserable freeway riding north of Butte this year. It’s 11 miles longer, but skips some quality miserable miles.)


Sure enough, Sue and Scott from Anchorage had both quit their jobs, ridden up to Prudhoe Bay and were headed south across the Americas. They were 4,000 miles into their journey and traveling amazingly light for cross-continental riders.

We packed up to start our promised 17 miles of newly built singletrack. We didn’t have to push our bikes once (except to get over a half dozen downed trees), that’s how good it was. Perfectly graded, beautifully built. A dream in the middle of a 3,100 mile trail that has some not-so-dreamy sections. Champion Pass seemed to come in no time.


“So this is where it turns to shit again?” I asked.


But it didn’t. Some (newly?) well built trail helped us gain altitude without walking and a combination of trails and roads kept us moving smoothly northward. A spring that was rumored to be dead was flowing in excess, a plus since we hadn’t see water since morning and were both wanting to avoid a death march to try to find water for dinner.


Then, as always tends to happen on the CDT, the road turned to crud and we partook in our first extended hike-a-bike since who knows when. It was okay. It wasn’t too steep, just loose and rocky, so as far as hike-a-bikes go, the misery factor was rather low.


The descent off the other side wasn’t in much better shape and we bounced along trying to find a campsite. Skies are clear, but I still wanted the tarp up. We are in Montana, after all.


It’s definitely cold, and I’m sort of wishing I had my warmer sleeping bag sent up to Wisdom, but it’s too late now. If all goes according to plan, only 3-4 nights left sleeping out this trip with a stop at the Teepee in Ovando, the Super8 in the Swan Valley (Bear Alley), and then hopefully a night at the Whitefish Bike Retreat. So really, we’re looking at 8 or so more nights total. That’s crazy talk.


CDT Day 99 – Leaving town is never easy, but finding good trail makes it better

Day 99

Leaving town days are always hard for me, increasingly so as this trip goes on. Triply so if we’ve just done a really fun day ride and I remember how nice it is to ride unloaded.

I started the morning with: When we get off the trail, it’s going to be so nice to: Not worry about the weather forecast, to not have the uncertainty of having no clue what the trail is going to throw at us each day, to sleep in multiple days in a row, to eat salads with fresh veggies three times a day.

It’s a bad attitude to have, and I was doing my best to turn it around to: I can’t wait to ride my bike on potentially awesome trail in places I’ve never been. The gloom and doom weather forecast wasn’t helping my cause. But luckily, some sage advice from Chimp later in the day improved my outlook.

“Five months into the Appalachian Trail, I wanted nothing more than to be off the trail. Then you get to being a week from the finish, and you start thinking, “I need to slow down and savor this!”

I think I’m right on the cusp of that point, though I don’t know if we’re going to slow down because the fewer nights spent camped in grizzly country, the better.

We saw our first grizzly poop today, so we’ve entered the zone.


The morning was spent getting stuff together. Continental breakfast. Last minute computering. Take everything to the post office. We finally retired our bounce box. It probably should have been done a few bounces ago, but the safety of our stuff was starting to come into question. A new box cost us $3.50. Back to the hotel. Pack up bikes, Hanging5 for one more meal.

The rain started as we were headed over for lunch. Really? We spent the meal watching it rain and then stop as we headed out. We headed out on the same route that we took yesterday – it was a lot easier yesterday without three days worth of food.


We climbed the railroad to Homestake Pass and started in on the road to Delmoe Lake. Not 200 yards into it, hikers! Chimp and Tootsie! They had their umbrellas out as the rain was starting to sprinkle. I was jealous, I want an umbrella!

They told us of all the people getting off the trail, X and Y went to Burning Man, Z ran out of money, Q ran out of motivation. The trail is taking its toll. It was awesome to see them in good spirits and counting down their last month of hiking. Two weeks, we told them, we’re aiming for under two weeks from here.


A brief window of sun lead to a downpour that we waited out under a tree. More sun brought spirits back up. Clouds brought in darkness like the Nothing and we found ourselves under another tree before turning onto the Nez Perce trail.

“It’s open to motos,” Scott observed.

“Good, the trees will be cut out!”

“It could be fall-line up and down,” Scott warned.

“It’s the CDT, it’ll be fall line whether it’s open to motos or not.”

It actually ended up being not very fall line at all and all the trees were cut out. We ran into a group of motos who assured us of good trail and a long descent. They were right, for the most part.


500 feet of climbing brought us to our local high point from where we started down towards I-90. We picked up the first water we could and found a campsite as soon as the trail leveled out.

The days are getting shorter, we can’t get away with stopping at 7:30 anymore and still not having to use our headlamps. By the time dinner was cooked and eaten, it was solidly dark. By the time we broke the branch we were planning on hanging food from and got the line recast, it was biker midnight.

Tomorrow, the rest of the drop to the highway, then a climb to promised new trail, and then, in theory, we return to classic, old-school CDT and gain every highpoint for a while on fall-line trail. Should be a good time.

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CDT Day 97 and 98 – I love rest. I love day rides. I love day rides after rest days the best.

Day 97

Oh zero days, how I love thee.

Scott and I both woke up with sore legs, which makes me think that the sheer fun factor of the trails leading into Butte made us pedal harder than we normally would. And it’s true, when the trail is good, it’s worth putting in the extra effort to pedal up a steep hill versus sliding out and slipping all over on a rubbly piece of junk road.


Our bikes needed some love…

Anyhow, rest was good. We played computers. We ate lunch at Wetona’s, which now is leading the Best Salad and Sandwich of the Trip competition. We sat in the hot tub. We went and bought a watermelon. I watched two episodes of Project Runway and the movie, The Gabby Douglas Story. I’m fascinated by gymnastics as someone who’s never been able to do a cartwheel in her life. I’m also fascinated by people who can focus on goals for longer than a few months at a time, a skill that I sorely lack.

That being said, the racing bug is trying really hard to burrow itself under my skin, so we’ll see if that turns into anything. I may lack focus, but I have a thing with unfinished business…

All in all, an excellent day of recovery, rest, and rejuvenation.

Day 98

We nearly missed the continental breakfast this morning on account of sleeping until 8:50. This may have been due to me staying up late watching the Gabby Douglas Story and then letting my imagination run with the idea of racing again. It’s an itch that I’m not sure I want to scratch.

We’d decided to stay an extra day in Butte and day ride for two reasons: We’d just put a bunch of new bits and pieces on our bikes (chains, brake pads, cables and housing) and we wanted to be sure that they all played nicely together, and secondly, we (and by we, I mean Scott) are still tossing around different options on how to finish this thing, and a little more computer time would help the situation.


Anyhow, if we day rode, we could ride trail from town up to a section of CDT that isn’t connected yet and ride it backwards to Homestake Pass. We’d been told it was a “local favorite”, so we were a little wary. But, the whole loop wasn’t going to be more than 25 miles, so we went. Rob had told us to ride up Maud S trail, hook up with the CDT south, and then come down the tracks. I was skeptical as it would involve gaining 2,500-ish feet in 5 miles instead of 20, but it’s always good to trust the local.


The climb was steep, exposed, and hot, and we started to question Rob’s judgement. Do people really ride up this on a regular basis? A few bits required hike-a-bike, but for the most part, motivated climbing got us up the steep pitches.

“The downhill on the CDT better be awesome to warrant climbing this,” I declared part of the way up. This clearly wasn’t going the way of an “easy” day.


Our Lady of the Rockies. If you ask the waiter at Hanging5, it’s Mother Teresa. (It’s not, it’s built in the “likeness of Mary”. Yes, we got a good laugh out of Mother Teresa) She’s 90 feet tall and 48 feet wide and her eyeballs are four feet in diameter.

After four miles of climbing, we reached the CDT. After another mile of climbing, we reached the high point at 8,000 feet and sat down for lunch. Ooof, that wasn’t easy.


The descent…yeah, I’d call it a local favorite. It turned and twisted playfully through rocks, used its elevation to perfection making it seem like the descent that wouldn’t end, was shaded, fast, and while probably not designed by a mountainbiker, designed by someone who understood (for the most part) sustainable trail design. It was a total win and we were sad to make it to Homestake 9 miles later.

We cruised down the tracks back to town, thanking Rob for the ride tip. It was a much more reasonable day ride than our last attempt at a day ride…


The rest of the afternoon was spent getting our junk together for a not-too-late departure tomorrow. We found fuel, I got a new pair of socks to replace the ones stolen by the chipmunk weeks ago, and three days and two nights worth of food.


The bikes are running smoothly, the legs feel good, next stop: Some gas station seven miles off route before making another push to Lincoln. We’ve heard rumors of 17 miles of newly constructed CDT. I can’t wait.


Pretty much how we’re feeling about this trip and the ride today

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CDT Day 96 – Dream riding into Butte

The best part of today’s ride wasn’t even on the CDT, which is saying a lot because today had the best continuous piece of 1-track we’ve ridden this entire trip, potentially the best in our entire lives. But no, the best part of the day was our descent down into Butte via a Facebook tip that we got while sitting at the top of the pass wondering how we were going to get down to town.

It was a sub-warm night. Sub-warm to the point that we both got into our bivys halfway through the night and spent the second half of the night trying to sleep next to each other on our sides to share body heat while fighting the ever-present ouchie-hips that come from sleeping on air pads on your side. Hip pain vs warmth, it’s a tough decision.


The days are definitely getting shorter and we’re sleeping later and later. Our fuel bottle was getting lighter and lighter, and it eventually died about 30 seconds into heating water for oatmeal. Cold oats it was. It was so close to making it…

We toodled over to where the trail crossed the GDMBR and found three riders camped in a cow-free enclosure. Headed south, they admitted, “We have the time to do this tour, but we’re not sure if we have the motivation.” Butte’s about the time when Montana seems like it’s never going to end during the GDMBR.


We left them to their packing and continued on the trail, a 600 foot climb littered with switchbacks. Scott put his food down first, “I meant to do that.” I rode by.

“One!” We’ve spent the trip counting up the places that Scott bobbles and I ride. I usually get 1-3 per day. We obviously don’t count the reverse, the number would be far too high.

We continued up, me leading. “Give me some space on this one,” I called back, “Not sure it’s going to go for me.”

I scooted right up the pile of rocks. “Two!” Scott yelled from behind. “You’re winning this one.”

I ended up not having the resources to make it up a steepie, making the final score 1-2 in my favor for the climb. That’s never happened before. Great success!


The trail turned techy soon after a mini-descent and we settled back into the normal routine of me walking plenty of things that Scott rode. What fun trail! Rocky, but reasonably pitched. Meandering, but flowing. Up and down ridges we went, the trail kept getting better. More and more manicured, beautifully built trail. Winter Park-esque to Buff Creek-esque. Decomposed granite, sweeping switchbacks. Woods and open grasslands.

We hit Pipestone Pass, our first bailout down to Butte. We’ve got food, we’ve got energy, and this trail is going to be a lot more fun to ride with half a days worth of food rather than three, we decided, so we continued on for nine more miles of trail to I-90.

Wow. Just wow. It the entire CDT were like this, I’d ride it in carbon-soled race shoes. Absolutely perfect mountain bike trail.


“Embrace the brutality! Fun it not allowed!” We ripped down another fast descent. Is this for real? Nine miles ended quickly, even with 1,000+ feet of climbing in the section, and we found ourselves at Homestake Pass. Our initial plan was to ride new CDT that wasn’t connected yet on the north to a trail that would take us to a trail that would drop us into Butte, but when we found out that it involved several thousand feet of climbing, we quickly nixed the idea. Trail was calling, but town food was calling even louder.

We turned to The Facebook and got a tip: Follow the tracks. They’ll bring you right to town.

Figuring it would beat the freeway, we started down.


What a cool little connection! Spectacular scenery, cool rocks, no cars, and just enough adventure to make us feel like we were doing something really cool. Maybe it was so good because it was unexpected, but I think that it really was just that good.


We went straight to The Outdoorsman, savior shop to many TD riders. Rob got our bikes straight into the shop for new cables and housing and chains. A bit of Stans and potentially new brake pads today and they’re good to go. It’s one of the best shops on the GDMBR route and Rob goes out of his way to help bike tourists and racers alike, which I think it really neat.

We picked up our bounce box and are settled in for a zero.

Scott said the crux of MT was making it to Butte from West Yellowstone. I think it’s the crux of the whole CDT.


The fact that we only have a few more days of actual CDT is starting to hit. My mom sent us our passports for the finish. We’re starting to try to figure out how we’re going to get home, where we want to go on our road trip back to Tucson, and when we’ll actually have a house to move back into.

We’re also mourning the fact that we got word that Mi Ranchito, our go-to hole-in-the-wall Mexican joint in Tucson just went out of business without our patronage over the summer.

It feels a little bit weird. Fall is in the air. The end is near. But there’s still so far to go.

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CDT Day 95 – 40 on-trail miles? Say it ain’t so! The CDT just got GOOD!

I think today had the highest fun to BS factor of any single day on the CDT so far. Minimal slogging, miles and miles of mindblowing reclaimed ATV trail and singletrack. I don’t think we’re alone among CDT thru-travelers who are incredibly impressed with the trail in MT.

It was a wet night. A few drizzles to make us happy that we had the tarp up and then an insane amount of dew. Bags were damp, tarp was soaked, I was determined not to get out of my cocoon until it warmed up at least 20 degrees. But I also knew that once Scott announced that breakfast was served, I’d better motivate or he’d eat it all. He really would, and probably not feel bad about it.


We packed away wet gear, planning on drying it out during lunch.

The day started with a climb. On a well graded dirt road. I joked that if the climb continued like that, I could climb all day. We were both waiting for it to kick up. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Pedaling. Pedaling. Pedaling. Talking. Talking. Talking. Could this be true?

The road turned closed to motorized, but still, great gradient, slow but steady pedaling.


We had a scare for a little bit as the “trail” went up a dry creek bed and we were reduced to hiking. Steep hiking. Eventually, we found an ATV trail and followed it straight up the side of the hill. Here’s the CDT we know and love(?)!

But it skipped the high point. An ATV trail took us down, and then gently up, steep down, steep up, gentle down, gentle up. Switchbacks! Are those allowed on ATV trails?


I’ll trade you a kiss if you pump up my tire for me.

A kiss and two Swedish Fish.

The boy drives a hard bargain and we’re both playing the “We’re out of Stans but we really don’t want to tube it” game.

We ended up on Fleecer Ridge trail, a known quantity (farther south) from the GDMBR. It was beautiful, beautiful, riding. Easy. Straightforward. Fast (ish).


We stopped for lunch and gear drying on the ridge before starting one of the most fun descents on the trip. A wide sometimes singletrack, sometimes ATV-track, blasted down through the trees. Well benched, lush forests, giant dragon-egg boulders everywhere. We couldn’t believe our luck.

It took 7 miles for us to eventually run out of trail and dump out on the GDMBR just west of I-15. We chatted with two GDMBR riders headed south for a bit before turning north, out to the frontage road, under the freeway, and then up.


The sun out, we sweat. And it felt SO good. To finally be hot instead of cold…oooooo-eeeeee! I guess there’s a reason we call Tucson home…


We followed the GDMBR for a few miles before diving off onto singletrack. We’d been promised good trail around Butte. Good is an understatement! Narrow, twisty, wooded, duffy. Small climbs, fun descents, perfectly built switchbacks. Forests inhabited by unicorns. We giggled, and giggled, and then giggled some more.


After getting beatdown pretty non-stop from West Yellowstone to there, it was such a treat. Such a treat. We’re camped just shy of crossing the GDMBR again. We have 10 more miles of trail, then a 10 mile drop into Butte. A semi-nero, we hope. Then probably a zero day to get bikes worked on (mine doesn’t really appreciate shifting or stopping any more), rest a bit, and then off to Lincoln…our last section of actual CDT.


If the trail tomorrow is anything like today, I can’t wait to go ride it.

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CDT Day 94 – Escaping the Big Hole vortex! Onwards!

I woke up, erm, tired. That’s a good word for it. Yesterday was the longest day we’ve done so far, both time and milage wise, and even though it was unloaded, it was hard.

We totally blew all of our recovery, we decided. But we also decided that more than needing physical recovery, we needed emotional recovery. We needed to do something other than slogging with heavy bikes, pushing up all the steep hills, and just sort of plodding. It was a lot of fun to ride at a higher than bikepacking pace, to push the hills a little bit, to actually get behind my saddle for descending (at least until I hooked my shorts trying to get back from behind the saddle…that didn’t end well, to ride long past normal stopping time because we had to get back.


We walked, bleary-eyed, over to The Crossing. “How was your ride?” the owner, Diane, asked. “Did you make it back for dinner?”

“Not even close!”

A couple of cups of coffee later, I was ready to go back to bed. Instead, we got a late checkout, wrote some blog posts, packed our stuff up, and finally left at 12:30. To the store for resupply. “I don’t want to eat any of this,” I whined. I’m sick of candy and gas station food.

There, I said it, I AM SICK OF CANDY!

Back to the Crossing for one last meal. 11th maybe? One final slice of pie. We thanked them for existing and for serving good food. And for having the best pie since Pie Town.


And you thought the lines were bad at bike races…

Had there been any dirt in our immediate future, I would have pushed for another zero, but we had 30 miles of flat pavement to get back on the trail, detouring the Pintlar Wilderness. That, I could handle.


We did our best to go slow, to spin, to make it as recovery as possible. We stopped at a campground 25 miles in for snacks and to watch the RV crowd before pushing on a few more miles to where we rejoined the trail. We found the first patch of trees, ate our burritos and sandwiches (fuel is on the low side…hopefully we can get dinner to cook tomorrow night), watched the sunset, and settled into our little grove of trees.



Tomorrow, into the Hungry Hills (seriously, awesome name), then hopefully across 1-15 and within striking distance of Butte where we have our box waiting and a bike shop for new bits and pieces. The bikes are getting a little tired…


High-five! We made it out of Wisdom!


Frozen burritos and a romantic sunset

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CDT day 93 – An adventurous day ride….because we could

It would have been so easy to skip that section of trail. As far as putting together a “logical” CDT bike route, it made so much sense to drop down to Wisdom from Big Hole Pass. Even going to Chief Joseph was “out of the way” as far as aesthetics go.

But, but, it was CDT that was open to bikes and we had little voices whispering in our ears that the trail on the north side of Chief Joseph was a local favorite and that we should definitely go ride it.

Forget that we knew that there’d be 10 miles of BS trail from Big Hole north, or that it would be 21 miles from Wisdom to Big Hole Pass, or that it would be at least 20 home from Shultz Saddle. Forget that we were working on recovery.

We set an early alarm and were at the Crossing for breakfast right at 7, bikes unloaded, save a day’s worth of food, and ready to roll. The clouds hung low over the surrounding mountains but the chance of rain had diminished significantly. Go time.


Retracing our steps west for four miles on the highway and on to the dirt road that had brought us into Wisdom. We went slowly in the wet dirt, dodging puddles, telling the clouds to go away. It was a wet cold where it doesn’t matter what layers you’re wearing, it’s still not comfortable.

We regained the CDT at the pass. Straight up the hill ATV. Ready, go. It was so nice to ride unloaded. Each pedal stroke brought forward motion, steepies weren’t impossible.


We came upon Unbreakable and NoTrace on the first downhill and stopped and chatted in the cold mist until my body temperature dropped to the point that either movement or a jacket was required. They told us that Marmot and Trail Dog were just an hour ahead.

If the trail would have been fast, we would have caught them sooner, but it was classic MT/ID border trail. Straight up, straight down, straight up, straight down. Hike up, ride most of the way down. The moisture had made the waterbars slick, making for semi-terrifying riding. 10 miles, only 10 miles of BS.


We made it through, counting our blessings of having unloaded bikes, and dumped out on a dirt road that went straight down. Marmot and Trail Dog didn’t stand a chance and we caught them quickly. We hadn’t seen them since Pie Town, NM. They were in good spirits and hiking happy.

Next came Memento, last seen in Pinedale. “I thought you guys would be days ahead,” he said.

“We took some weather breaks.”

All the hikers talked of getting rained and snowed on for days straight from Leodore and were looking forward to hitching into Darby. It sounded miserable.


We ran into Data and Abandoner at the pass, thumbing a ride on the 70 mph highway. Chatting and watching their lack of luck made me really glad that we don’t have to hitchhike off the trail. We wished them luck and continued onto the Chief Joseph XC ski trails.

We wondered about the “local favorite” designation, bumping along on flat XC ski trails. And then things turned good. 6 miles of perfectly built trail, downhill, giggle and smile trail. While we’ve ridden some spectacular trail in the past two weeks, this ranked the highest on the sheer fun factor.

We got to Gibbons Pass at 5:07, our bailout. “It’s nice out, let’s keep going.” The sun had emerged for the first time in days. It’s only 9 miles to Shultz Shoulder, then 20 home, we’ll make it for dinner!


Thru hiker wishful thinking and excellent humor. We hear the PCT is slightly easier overall.

The trail started out well graded, cleared of trees, even though it was going through a giant burn area. We saw a sign: Shultz Shoulder – 11 miles. Ley Map milage estimates…always add 20%. No fear, two hours of riding, 1.5 on the road home, we’ll still make it for dinner and pie.

3 miles in, we hit our first downed tree. Then second, and third, and so on.

“Do we turn back?” I asked. Seven miles ahead, four behind.

“They said it was a local favorite…”

“Might as well keep going. We have food, we have lights.” I gave up on the hope for dinner.

For half a mile, we suffered. Endless trees down, spaced 50 feet apart, that perfect distance that you want to ride…but seems so pointless to ride. It’s got to get better.

We made our way into a live forest eventually and the downed trees lessened, but the rain started. We waited 3 minutes too long to put jackets on, it’s got to pass.

The trail was nice. Gentle grades, lush forest (except where it wasn’t), but when we got the option to skip the last two miles and ride on a road, we took the opportunity.


Based on the troddenness of the trail, hikers make the same choice.

We reached Shultz Saddle 2:45 after we left Gibbons Pass. Whoops? The first sign on the way down was disheartening: Highway 43 – 17 miles. 17 miles?!

Damp from the rain, which had thankfully stopped, we froze descending the 2,000 feet down. The 300 foot climb was a blessing as we lost the last of our light. We sang the rest of the way down the road in the dark. Fun fact: Scott knows all the words to Katy Perry’s California Gurls. It makes for a great bear song.

We eventually reached the highway at mile marker 13. “We’re 12 miles from Chief Joseph Pass,” I pointed out. “And Wisdom is at mile marker 25.” (I was wrong, it’s at 26).

It was a long, 13 miles back to town with a headwind and occasional sprinkles of rain. 88.7 miles. 14.5 hour out. I sort of feel like a truck ran over me this morning.

But it was awesome. It was nice to day ride, It was nice to ride unloaded. It was awesome to do something that we didn’t actually think we’d pull off. It’s good to be able to say definitively that Big Hole Pass is the correct exit for mountain bikes.

Reasonable? No. But when have either of us ever been good at reasonable?

It was good to go on a mini-adventure in the midst of a big one.


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