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| Matt and I at the EMGT finish line |
Skiing
is my passion and it is what brought me to Western, the vast expanse of the Elk
Mountains promised me endless opportunities for my favorite type of
adventuring, backcountry skiing . With the passing of two winters now in the
range I have to admit the mountains have shown me more joy than I ever believed
possible, and have cultivated multiple friendships that will stand the test of
time. People find bliss in many different places; and for me, my place is the mountains,
on the East Face of Gothic Mountain and at the finish line of The Elk Mountain
Grand Traverse. This year our range was blessed with epic amounts of snow and
it kept my friends and I on ski’s, earning turns all the way into June. I finished my season on the 5th with a very
special descent of the Refrigerator Coliour on Ice Mountain a remote peak that
is home to sustained 50 degree slopes and near vertical rock.
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| Half way down the East Face of Gothic on our last day of spring break. |
So with
the thinning of the snow pack and the blossoming of the Cottonwoods I began to
feel a bit out of places. Lost in a world without white, ecstatic about having
just experienced the best and most progressive season of my life; I was stoked
but I was not content. I longed for pow. And soon I would find it in a place that
I had almost forgotten.
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| Last few steep turns on Ice Mtn with Dylan and Matt. |
Pedaling
along, the sage fly’s by my side in a blur, the colors of a lush high desert
pallet; green’s, gold’s and grey’s are all vivid in there spring infancy. The clouds
are breaking above my head and the sun is dropping into an orange sky that lies
between the horizon line and cumulus above. Hartman Rocks and its miles of
trails north of the power line are now open. I turn onto Rattlesnake stand up
out of the saddle and begin to power through beautiful burning legs. Down the
first rock moves and onward to a glorious re-acquaintance with my second
favorite thing BROWN POW!
Riding
your bike is fun, it is fun in the hills, it is fun in town, it is fun with
friends and it is fun all by yourself. Last year in the dog days of summer it
may have even saved my life. At home in the California heat ,hanging drywall
for cash, depressed, questioning, and in content, I forced myself out on a forty
mile high country ride and somewhere between Coyote Flats and Baker Creek I
found a new happy, healthy energy. I
came home that day, quit my job the next, traded in my burnt out steel hard tail
for a new aluminum one, split for single track ridge riding in Lake Tahoe for a
few days, came back to Bishop for a couple and headed out to Moab and the La
Sals just a week later. Single track
salvation! Soon I was at home in Gunnison, riding above tree line in the Elks,
and through the sage again at Hartman’s.
This
summer I chose to make Gunnison my home, avoiding the 100 degree temps in
California and enjoying the splendors of life in the Elk Mountains with gratitude.
My mountain bike season began in unison
with the close of my ski season, and the decreased objective hazard in the
snowless hills has lent itself to daily exploration and long weekend epics, one
of the most beautiful things about dirt is that it doesn’t develop depth hoar.
In late
June I raced The Original Growler a 64 mile cross country race at Hartman Rocks
on a single nights notice. My co-worker and Mountain Sports Teammate Alex
passed his registration on to me because of a hurt knee and plans of an
upcoming trans-America mountain bike tour, GO ALEX! The Growler was short
enough for me to think I might be able to kind of race it but long enough to be
seriously humbling. I flatted twice, had to hike about ten minutes to get
another tube on my second, and cramped pretty darn bad at the Top of the World
on lap 2. For off the couch racing it was long, muddy, technical, and awesome!
I was stoked to finish in six hours and forty something minutes, and can’t wait
to try to go sub-six next year, better conditioned, and hopefully flat free.
As June
drew on I knocked off a few new and obscure rides feeling liberated by the
adventure of exploration and hard effort. One ride took me on a long climb in the West
Elks, up mining roads and down barely scratched in elk trail, another started
right out of campus headed east to the Fossil Ridge, where Mule Deer were my
only witnesses and the climbers at Taylor Canyons First Buttress must have
thought I had just finished Doctors Park.
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| The top of 401 at seven in the morning. |
As my Legs
started to get tired my head seemed to be hungry for a bit of fear, because I
began a three week climbing bender with my buddy Elias in late June. We were psyched on rock, making our way
through the grades at Taylor, and even putting up a few of our very own on
first ascents in the 5.10 range at splitter crag I had found out on a long ride
west of town. Rock climbing is a funny
sport for me, when I am motivated the fire burns hot and I cannot get enough,
but somehow it dies out overnight. I grow tired of pushing myself through the
fear and movement. Maybe it is too sedentary; to slow to reach the final
destination, I prefer the movement of a bike, the feeling of covering tons of
country, seeing many things, not having to stop at a belay. Unless of course it
is in the mountains, mountain climbing is different.
June
has become July and the high country riding is in full effect, wild flowers are
chest deep on the 401, and the alpine brown pow is being rejuvenated nearly
daily with afternoon thunder storms. Two
weeks ago I went big and failed on an all dirt Crested Butte to Gunnison ride,
it was to include, Trail 401, to Deer Creek, to Block and Tackle, to Reno,
Flag, Bear, Doctors, to Forest Road 586, and finally descend Signal Ridge. I
came up short at Harmels after ten hours, the climb up Forest Road 586 sounded heinous,
I was out of food and decided it best to throw in the towel and ride the
pavement home to Gunnison.
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| Coming down Flag Creek in the CB Classic |
The Crested
Butte Classic a 100 mile race came up a little less than a week later, and with
the absence of an entry fee or really much organization at all it seemed like
just my type of ride. A mellow scene and awesome course that included; Strand
Hill to Teocali Ridge on lap one, Reno, Flag, Bear, Deadmans from town on lap
two, and finished with Kebler Pass, the Dyke Trail, and Wagon Wheel back to
Crested Butte. A little nervous at the
start because of my recent big effort, I was stoked to fly through lap one feeling
great on the new Teocali re-routes. That trail is awesome and if you haven’t already
ridden it you need to get out there! Lap two was really hard, the climb up Reno
Divide seemed endless and I was alone for most of it not knowing if I was going
fast and suffering or going slow and suffering. My friend JP caught up to me at the bottom of
the Flag Creek descent and we pushed each other through the rest of the lap,
enjoying the best Bear Creek descent ever, filled with hollers of stoke and
all. I dropped JP on the road back to Crested Butte, and set out for lap three
all alone again. The Kebler climb went well, and I cleaned the entire Dyke
Descent but had no hope of clearing the steep single track climbs by that time
of day. I battled hard to keep up the cadence from Horse Park Ranch to the top
of Kebler knowing the end was near. Finally I was descending Wagon Trail completely
exhausted. I pulled into town in sixth place over all with a time of 10hrs
17mins. Cool!
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| Camping out at Emerald Lake. |
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| Ellie Coming down Agate Creek. |
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| Angela and Ellie Cruising along The Continental Divide Trail. |
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