Yellowstone Camp

Guest post from Deano.

The weather forecast for Yellowstone Camp wasn’t as nice as last week: Highs around 50, Lows near freezing, large chance of precip – unclear whether solid or liquid.  The forecast was right on.  Probably as a result of that, we had just over 50% of the headcount of last week.  10 riders for about 19 miles.  Every warm layer we had (including body armor) was in place for the descent.

Several of us spotted 2 bighorn sheep just ¼ mile from the parking spot at the start.  One of our group seemed seriously concerned that they were experiencing signs of pertussis (perhaps they had been hanging out in the Pinesdale or Corvallis schools) and that he should “do the right thing”, FWP-style and shoot them.  An hour or so later I should have been more concerned about his enthusiasm, as, after chasing the 2 leaders up the 11 mile/2,700 ft (3 Warwick) climb, I was exhibiting some of those symptoms myself.  

We never quite made YC.  By the time we all reached the top, we realized that we were flirting with daylight issues and had only 3 headlights between us, so we took the first left.  We had also passed through sunlight, drizzle, snow and back into sunlight.  There was a bank or two of old snow in the shadows near 7,000 ft, a few patches of fresh remaining from the night before, but the snow that was falling wasn’t accumulating and the trail was clear.  The descent was challenging, but sweet.  Enough rocks of sufficient size that you had to pay attention.  While the air was cool, the ground conditions were perfect: no mud, but moist enough to stick to your wheels and not to your lungs.  Eight of us descended Rocky Gulch, one back-tracked the road, and one came down Sawdust.  By now, everyone is accounted for.  No mechanicals, no injuries.  The 2 sheep managed to NOT be guests-of-honor at the post-ride barbeque on Aaron’s tailgate. 

Discussion of Lost Horse to Como Overlook/Jenny Ridge next week, with some possible investigation of a purported trail system ABOVE the Overlook.

Calf Creek 2012

Before I get too far into the antics of this Wednesday's wild forest rumpus, I want to take a short detour to a solo ride where I had an uncomfortable revelation about my subconscious and a wonderful insight into the healing power of single track.

Last week I heading out in search of some after work trail, wishing I was heading out for some after work tail.  Every so often the lack of a feminine presence in my life explodes from a small annoyance into a cavernous maw of frustration. It may have had something to do with asking someone out, and getting a yes, although a fairly ambivalent yes. Something along the lines of:  "I guess so,  my favorite contestants on Dancing With The Stars and American Idol got kicked off and having a beer with you is marginally better than trying to improve my scores in Angry Birds." It was the kind of response that leaves you sensing that the evening will be one of awkwardly feeling each other out, rather than passionately feeling each other up.

Having tip toed back into the pathetic totally happening middle aged Bitterroot Valley dating scene I have discovered, much to my consternation, that my deep and abiding knowledge of Westeros is no more the aphrodisiac than my deep and abiding knowledge of Middle Earth was in college.

So while driving to the trailhead I was reminiscing on past relationships, and more signifanctly the gaps between relationships, and contemplating whether my passion for mountain biking was some sort of unhinged transference, to compensate for the deficiencies in my social life.

After parking at Como for a quick jaunt on Shannon Ridge, once I hit the trail, the MMA cage match between Jung and Freud came to an abrupt end when buddha came into the ring and used them as a recliner while he meditated on nothingness and nirvana.  I forgot about everything else, and followed the thin ribbon of dirt. I may not returned enlightened, but I definitely returned better appreciating the value of dirt ribbons.

Whatever everyone else motivations, I'm not a shrink and do got around psychoanalyzing, there were 16 of us packing the parking lot of calf creek with some of us having the chutzpa to park on the horsey trailer side, which seemed to really chap the hide of one horse lady, with a saddle horn wedged up her nether regions and who had mistakenly put the blinders on her own head which prevented her from seeing all the cars already filling the opposite side of the parking lot, and assumed we wanted to park in the horse shit just to piss her off.

Whatever the origin of anti bike bias, I'm glad out negative interactive with her is the exception. Instead I want to thank the horse people have been out in force this year, cutting a new section of trail along the south boundary and clearing a section of trail beyond the meadow that has been out of commission from downfall for at least three years.

With Aaron missing it was up to Dean to do last minute bike maintenance,  replacing the temporary road tube from last week with a real 29er tube.  A black chevy pickup with a yellow bike in the bed pulled into the lot as we climbed up the hill from the parking lot. If you hoping to ride with us, sorry we missed you.  We went left at the first intersection, and then left again at the meadow, and right just past the creek crossing.  Hope you had fun wherever you rode.

Dean claimed he saw a bear near the top of Butterfly Rd, and Bo who was riding far ahead of the rest of us with Dean claimed he also saw a bear. The way the two of them looked at each other I wondered whether they had truly seen a specimen Ursus Americanus or whether while looking for where the wild  things are, they discovered they were the wild things. A subsequent discovery answered the question.

The downhill was as fast and fun as usual, more so for those in front.  Farther back in the pack, the setting sun refracting though the cloud of dust managed to obscure the trail.  The choose your own adventure on the grassy knoll was not universally appreciated, even if everyone agreed that trying it with rim brakes shows either a serious lack of judgement or a degree of skill rarely seen outside of the Red Bull Rampage.  Must be why everyone was back to disc brakes this year.

After missing most of last year I would like to welcome Kevin back.  Please inform your lovely wife that she doesn't need to bribe us with fresh chocolate chip cookies, homemade buns, and grass fed burgers to let you ride with us.  We already like you, and you didn't hold us back. Despite having a larger group, we rode the loop 19 minutes faster than last year.

Plan on putting some air in your tires for the climb up Two Bears toYellowstone Camp next week, and remember if you go for a ride looking for wild things, don't wear your wolf suit.

Buttercup 2012

There a times that I appreciate the presence of a vibrant and active mountain biking community in the valley. Not that yesterday was the ideal example, bundled up in hats and puffies on the side of the road with lum, but in a complete reversal of the last few rides,  no grill.  I assumed we would go back to the barn for the as we traditionally do after riding Buttercup, since the turnout next to Little Sleeping Child Road lacks a decent place to relax post ride.  Whether it was because it was already 9:00 and cold, or because we have turned into a bunch of road weenies, no one was motivated to relocate. Luckily we at least had beer and chips, otherwise we had totally lost our credibility as a beer drinking club with a biking problem.

Before I moved here, I was living in southern Colorado in a small town about twice the size of Hamilton. There only bike shop in town only sold cruisers, and after 10 years I managed to find one other guy who mountain bike, but at heart he preferred shaved legs and skinny tires.  Plus, there were at most three or four trails worth riding. So living here I'm constantly amazed that you can 8 people to get together on a Wednesday night regardless of the weather for ride.  I'm even more amazed that some people will even go out on the preceding days to make sure the trails are clear.

Many thanks to the Bitterroot Backcountry Tree Service for clearing Buttercup from the bottom up. Somehow they missed the memo that the early spring heat in late April had melted the snow and the trail was accessible from above.  More thanks to Warwick, who anxious to try out the fancy saw he won at the Bitterroot Backcountry Cyclist's movie night, made the first foray up into the Sleeping Child hills to discover the premature melting of the snowpack, and along the way cleared most of the downed trees.

Despite the fact the I was much closer to Moab when I lived in Colorado, my visits to the canyon country were usually solitary affairs, that ceased entirely with an ill fated decision to get married. So I was stoked that I was finally able to arrange my schedule to head south for a few days, just like it seems everybody else in the valley was doing. In my case to it a few of the Moab classics like the Porcupine Rim and Sovereign before heading over for a ride on the White Rim.  I thought about writing a post about the trip, but there were no fire jumps or drunken wrestling matches to report. In general the riding on the White Rim reminded me of riding in southern Colorado: hot, dry, with a bunch a plants with pointy pieces. Although the views in Moab were significantly better.

As glad as I was in Moab that I was using the Lyrik DH fork, sometimes you see something that helps you realize that we are too obsessed with fork travel, wheel size, gears and discover that the Chicken Crit had it right.

And sometimes you get a second reminder.

As I have mentioned in the past, past Buttercup is one of my favorite nearby trails.  Even being one of favorites, I always wished it could have more downhill, more single track with several more steep climbs that leave you wondering whether you had your pertussis vaccination, and less time on fire roads.  Wishes do come true. We discovered that taking the dirt bike track at the main fork in the road rewards you with all of these things.

 As much as we bitch about the road portion up Sleeping Child, with a consistent amnesia regarding it's length ( the origin of the famed, just a couple of Warwicks), it has one advantage. It gives you time to talk. Something that is challenging on single track.  I'm not sure if it was this ride, or on the tree clearing ride, but somehow the subject of crotch comfort came up, and someone mentioned that his all time favorite saddle had been previously contoured by Heinzen's hind end, and that a new replacement saddle, identical to the original, except for a lack of previous exposure to flatulence didn't fit the same.  Personally I'd rather have my saddle broken in this way.

Our rides on Buttercup are a harbinger that the days are getting longer along with the rides. Hope everyone has been riding. Get ready for the big days.