Blodgett Canyon

The other day and noticed my adolescent progeny in the house watching TV or maybe it was videos on an iPad, or texting on their phones, and since it was a particularly pleasant day, I put them in bear hugs and dragged them outside and locked all the offering devices in a safe. All the time thinking, how can you waste a day, there is so much to experience. Don't they know that eventually they will end up decrepit, and the things that are so easy now won't always be so.


Over last year or two, I have noticed lingering aches that never seem to quite disappear like they used to, a tennis elbow that aches despite never playing tennis, an IT band that doesn't like deep squats and lateral movement, a need for reading glasses when trimming my increasing abundant nose and ear hair.  While I can still maintain a steady slog, power and fast twitch movements seem to be in shorter supply.  Not only is my temple showing signs of abuse and overuse I know have friends with titanium hips and ceramic knees; a colleague laid low by Parkinson's disease.  I'm not sure if that means I'm starting to feel my age, but I no longer feel 30.

I have read that the last things to go are your endurance and the ability to suffer.  If I was smart I would be embracing this new reality and be preparing for long slow slogs on gravel backroads between here and the Teton Valley.  Instead I find my self  wishing that Skalkaho Pass was open so that I could spend my weekends on lift assisted laps  at Discovery.

So there I was yesterday putting on pads for the climb up Blodgett, wondering how many more years of rock gardens and guarantees falls I had left, appreciating the irony that now that I final have the skills to enjoy the ride, I may not have the resilience much longer. How much 5 years? 10 years? Probably not much more.

 The summer doldrums were upon us with only the residual core crowd ready to ride, along with Bret, who made the journey down from the big city determined to prove that not everyone was Missoula was  ironic plaid wearing, gonadal atrophic poseurs.

I'm glad to report back to the surrender monkeys who hid at home as if there was a duck and cover drill in progress that while the valley remainder sweltering, up in the hills the clouds had rolled through leaving behind a film of rain.  After playing human squeegee for the undergrowth it cold be described as chilly.

This year we decided to postpone the ride long enough to allow the trail to dry out. As a consequence we renamed the ride above the bridge to West Weasel.  The good news being that the huckleberries farther up the canyon rival Hungry Horse for their size and number.  I can't remember a previous ride with so many frequent if brief grazing breaks.

So for those of you who waved the white flag, just remember that your days of riding Blodgett are numbered even if you  don't realize it.

Buckhorn Saddle

When we took off to ride there were only three of us, and I was creating a whole blog on a Three Musketeers theme which would have been great since in coincided with the birthday of Alexandre Dumas.  I was good all the way the searing heat on wet facing climbs and I was good through the rumble of Thor's hammer higher up. I was even good when we reached the saddle, took a break and started the last climb to the ridge.  At that last moment Dean and Jeff caught up, and my post was screwed. One more person I could handle since there are four friends in the three musketeers, but two, nope.  My whole theme blown to crap.

So I guess instead I'll poach some links.  July's epic fails.  Makes my glad I've gained I small amount of wisdom in my old age.  Butte Urban Downhill.  Too bad I'm working today.  Electric mountain bikes?  Hey, I don't mind the occasional shuttle, and I'm not crazy about forest service road climbs, but I still a believer to earning your downhills

Bald Top update. Last weekend we detoured to Bald Top during the Tour of the Bitterroot, and Dean is finally free of his curse.  He made it down in daylight and without a mechanical, and wearing Tevas to boot.  Joel paid for his three week layoff, and promptly returned to his layoff for this ride.  Sorry I missed Sean's half braked idea to also ride Bald Top later the same day.

Palisades Update.  Vince missed the arrow for the short cut last week, probably since I put it there after he had already passed by. Instead he made a visit to the Willow Mountain Lookout and visited with the lookout. I hope she was cute and lonely.

Lost Trail Bike Fest is coming up. Time to sign up.

 I know who hasn't renewed with the BBC and I'd hate to start naming names.  Support mountain biking in the Bitterroot.  More members means more influence with the Forest Service. Want more trails? Want to make sure trails stay open?  We need to be organized and we need your help. Now that we are part of IMBA, you can even get yourself some socks, a T shirt, or a jersey if you donate enough.

How was the Buckhorn and Brennan Gulch. It started hot and I was looking for every bit of shade I could find. Some thunder later on, but no rain unlike town.  Brennan Gulch and the new straight shot to the parking lot need to be ridden in.  The grass was so high in Brennan  Gulch that the kelly humps were hidden and caution lead to a lack of epic fails.

Tired of the long road climbs on the last three rides? Me, too.  Jeff is out of town and appointed me as the picker of the ride. With a predicted heat wave on tap for next week, I'm in no mood for baking in the sun on an east side ride. Calf Creek will be a sandy hell. Instead we will be doing Blodgett.  Letting everyone know now, since I've heard rumors that some Teabaggers may head our way.

Palisades

I was about to give out either the first FI or WTF award of the year, but decided that would be too harsh. Instead yesterday we had our first Oopsie Daisy award, that I'll give to the group. Yesterday was another one of those long rides where no one wants to linger at the trailhead waiting for the laggards so everyone took of on their own as soon as they were ready to ride.  The effect of this was there were two main groups and and one loner stuck in between.  Unfortunately for the lone V, this was his first attempt of Palisades, a fact not known to the lead group.  So stuck in the gap he missed the gated road short cut and ended up alone on the fire road.  No one saw him for the rest of the ride and when the groups reassembled at the top he was missing with no one having passed up.  After a long wait we hoped he turned around since we were burning the remains of the day, and had to proceed on. On our return his car was gone.  If it hadn't been, a FI award might have been in the offing.  In the future, keep an eye on your buddy, and if this is your first time on a ride, even if seems like a straightforward road climb, make sure you have a buddy.

A bummer that V missed the fun part of the ride.  Having been previously cleared, the trail was in prime condition after the previous day's rain had left the dirt optimally tacky.

Hard to believe, but I used to hate this trail, falling in the mud, walking my bike out in the dark with Dean making sure I made it out alive.  Now this is one of my favorite local downhills. Amazing what a little confidence can do.  Short report today. Go ride.

Bald Top

OK everybody, everything is all right. Chad can get out from under the covers and and let go of Tracy's hands. Warwick can open your eyes, get your hands off your ears, and stop saying, "Na na na, I can't hear you.  Joel, unbolt the doors and take the magazine out of your AR-15. The ride to Bald Top is over and no one is going to make any of you go.

We managed to find five brave souls willing to confront this menace.  So feared is this ride that it has been at least seven years since anyone has ventured onto its forsaken terrain on a Wednesday night.  Memories of bloodied faces , thuds and grunts just of the trail on moonless nights, and the possibility  of spooning with Shrek still haunt many of our dreams.

Climbing fifteen miles of fire roads is enough to depress anyone, well anyone not named Beau or Dean, or Fitz-Barn participants, or the Montana Hell Ride organizers.  I guess quite a few people like it, but in the words of Rob. "I don't do roads. I do singlet track," and that is how the Wednesday night ride rolls.

I know I was fearing a searing ride up south facing sun blasted Two Bears road.  I filled my water reservoir to the brim, brought a filter and electrolyte tablets and ended up barely drinking half the water. The clouds that rolled in for the afternoon turned Bataan into a pleasant jaunt.

When I started the ride I had a fantasy, several actually, but only one that applied to the ride.  I had discovered that some Missoula scumbags had come down and created a Strava segment on our turf. One that happened to coincide with the ride, all the up Two Bear to the saddle, and I hoped maybe I could reclaim the KOM for the Bitterroot.  Unfortunately those interlopers were of the fast Thoroughbred variety on skinny tires, and I'm at best a fast donkey. Plus they weren't saddled with one of Leon's lambs that I had borrowed from my pasture (It's not stealing if they are on your land is it?) and now had slung over my shoulders as a sacrifice to the Bald Top Demons.

So when everyone else stopped at the usual pullout on Two Bear to recover, I plodded on, failing to redeem the Bitterroot trailing the KOM by a little over 4 minutes.  If there was any satisfaction was the knowledge that if John or Travis were being timed they would have taken the honor back for us.  John started after me, caught up, took a break, passed  me again and was long gone before anyone else reached the saddle.

Once the rumors of our successful ride and return permeated through the community, people sidled up to me and whispered, "What was it like?  Would you do it again?"  If my name was Dean, probably not.  I would be three for three on coming back out in the dark.  While the lamb seemed to satiate the demons and allowed the rest of us to pass unmolested, Dean seems to have his own personal curse.  Not sure why maybe he used to rock a mullet or has contemplated hair plugs.  This year atop a new Horsethief on it's virgin ride he managed to flat and then puncture the spare tube while attempting to fix the flat.

For anyone else, I'll be honest.  I'll ride it again as long as it has been cleared, maybe not right away, but it is worth a repeat.  On top the trail is sweet between the false summits, and would have been more fun if I hadn't toasted my legs chasing the Strava KOM on Two Bear.  The top of Bald Top has some of the best views I've seen in awhile.  It appears to be the high point of the Sleeping Child area with great views of the Bitterroots to the west and the Kent, Congdon, Fox collection on the Sapphire crest to the east.

The main downhill is one steep mother.  IMBA recommends a grade of 10% for flow trails, and I was recently working on some mapping of our trails and for the ratings a difficult trail (black diamond) has a 15% grade and an extremely difficult (double black) has a 20% grade.  Bald Top maxes out at 40% and averages somewhere around 25%. The last half mile reminds me of the switchbacks at the end Buttercup except looser and steeper.

While hanging my ass way back over the rear tire is fun for awhile, I could have used a few more chances to let my rotors cool down and maybe the chance to make a few turns in the last 2500' vertical.

Next week, another chamois cream ride, Palisades.