Gallatin Valley Botanical by Chris Bangs

Sat. July 28,,, Week 3 of the Bike to Farm group rides.  We had 15 people show up and make the ride out GVB, Gallatin County's largest organic veggie farm.

Matt Rothschiller met us with his daughter Anya in his arms and guided us on a tour of their farm.  We were dazzled right away with the two nearest greenhouses.  Inside bursting with micro greens, tomatoes, basil, peppers, and cucumbers.  Next we went out in the fields and ate peas, and other goodies ripe on the vines.

The Rothschillers have done well for themselves in the local farming movement here in Bozeman.  This is such a great thing for people to see; happy farmers doing their thing, with kids right along side, living outdoors, working the land and the fields. As I pondered the idea last week of sourcing more and more local food, I began to think about the farmers I know in this valley, and how I'm glad that I am getting to know them, and to know their farms.
This idea of eating local food, and creating strong communities, supporting our farmers personally, being a part of our own food network, healing our relationship with food and world.  IT's crazy to think about.  Not long ago, everyone was apart of a community, supporting the local agriculture.  It was how we lived and survived. Now things are weird,,, Really Weird... Now we have sporty little acronyms that people are either hip to, or not; "cause like, I'm apart of this groovy CSA man, you know,"  Crazier even more, is how little we care.  I know, because I care, I just don't care enough, and now compare that to someone who doesn't even know what a CSA is, and well,,, you get the picture. You see it everyday. The modern American waste land; with neat and tidy Wal-Mart parking lots mixed in with the bright lights of a Disney tailgater, drunk college types, some ornery unhealthy people, a McDonalds/Monsanto (McSanto) add campaign manager, and VOILA,,, Madness, all wrapped up in a pretty little black dress, stuck on cruise control in our fancy hybrid SUV, and enslaved by the most corrupt (read largest) government history has ever known. Generation Triple Weird.

Wow, Weirds-Ville USA, generation WWW triple weird.  Or Not. You decide. Your dollar is your vote, not the names on the ballet. (not the names on the ballet)

Simply buying local organic food will change the world we live in.

Simply ride bikes,,,

Be the revolution...

Is anyone with me?

Human-Powered the Great One (Bridgers)

Billy followed me around licking my pee.  Yum....

Wednesday June 27th,

I rode out to the Bridger Mountains with my skis attached to my bicycle and skied a run that we call the Great One.

This may be the first time that the Great One has ever been skied by "fair means" to quote Reinhold Messner.

Awesome full value experience just 28 miles from home.

The ride was a bit of an ass kicker, and I had to throw down a little, or a lot to be honest, and I wonder sometimes, is this really this hard?, am I a wimp?, and how come there aren't more human-powered people out here raging with me?

I camped at the lake and was honoured to hang with a Mountain Goat, and a Moose during the evening hours.  Both of my four legged friends were about 10-15 feet from my tent, and I'd forgotten how big Moose are up close like that.  Obviously they did not feel threatened by me, so I naturally didn't feel threatened by them either.  Probably because we're all vegetarians and smell good, and don't put off that "I kill things" feeling.

My friend Pat Clayton came out and took pictures, which I haven't seen yet, but I hear that we rocked it, so stay tuned for the follow up photo album.  You can check out Pat's work at Fish Eye Guy Photography, his photos speak volumes!!

Blah, Blah, Blah. Here are my photos from the trip, enjoy.

Baby Budda sits at the helm of my command center

Looking down the second half of the run

When you've earned it, it tastes so much better!!!

Schlepp and Bob at Fairy Lake, um my skis have no name.

The Great One is the couloir on the left.

The Denali Orgasm

Twenty Thousand Three Hundred Twenty Feet,,,, high!

Reaching the peak, or the climax, of "The Great One" on a clear day in June.  I pause to give special thanks to my friend and climbing partner Chip Snyder for inviting me on this trip, and to the mountain itself, "The Great One" for allowing me summit her, and to play out my own personal fantasies of being a pilgrim and a pioneer.  Learning the ways of nature through my own deep and meaningful relationships that I have with these mountains that I climb.  Thank You.  That was the best summit climax, mountain orgasm, that I have ever had.  Cheers,

Sitting in Talkeetna, waiting for the flight in.

Somehow ended up at the Brewery and got drunk.

Then wandered through the grave yard to sober up.  This is the grave stone
of the late great Mugs Stump, RIP.

No better way to start a big trip than being hung over.

Super psyched, and still drunk.

Mount Hunter seen from the landing strip on the glacier.

Camp one at 7,800 feet on the Kahiltna Glacier.

Day 2, still hung over, slogging up the glacier.

Searching for crevasses in a white-out is an easy way to have
a good time.

Pushing 17,000 feet on a warm up hike.

Over looking Camp 3 and all the tiny little tents.  Mount Foraker
in the background.

Heading for the summit on a beautiful day.

Descending the 6,000 feet back to Camp 3 after the summit. 

Looking north into the great expanse of the land we call Alaska.

So yes, it's been a month since I checked my email, or changed my clothes.  My fingers have forgotten how to type, and full decompression will take another week or so I imagine.  Please stay tuned for a full trip report.

Post Holes

Ever had the chance to post hole for miles up a hill by yourself?  Yes, no, didn't care to?  Well it's tons of fun.  Just like it sounds.

What is post holing, for those of us who aren't savvy in ski bumming lingo.  Post holing is when your hiking in deep snow and each step creates a post hole to put your body into.  Your leg is the post and the snow is the hole.

In fact I was having just as much fun as the caterpillar I saw slinking across the snow field the other day in the middle of the Mount Cowan Cirque.  I thought to myself that maybe I should go over there and pick him up and carry him over to the nearest trees.  I also thought how crazy it was to see this little guy at this high elevation this time of year.  Then I remembered that I'd seen a quite a few butterflies out up here as well, and right then I saw another butterfly.  Cool, I thought.  This is cool.  Then I realized that my plight at attempting to climb this couloir was much like the plight of the little caterpillar.  So I honoured the plight of the little caterpillar and stood there and just watched him as he made his way towards the nearest grouping of small trees.  Then I continued plodding through the snow towards the couloir.

22 miles, 5500 vertical feet, and 15 hours later I was back at my car.  It was dark and I was sure that Justene was in bed already, watching a movie without me.

Elbow Lake in the Beartooth Mountains. 

Left to right; Enie, Meenie, Minie, and Mo.  I'm not sure who
named these sub-peaks in the Mount Cowan Cirque, but
they sure are easy to remember.

One of my favourite past times, drinking fresh water in the Mountains.

Sure enough, when I got home I can hear the faint hello from Miss Sweet in the bedroom. Laying there calmly watching a movie without me.  Perfect I thought, she's not worried at all.

Looking back down the couloir.
Climbers never ask the question "Why do you climb?", and the only
real answers are what we see and feel while we are up there,
and you can't explain that to anyone else but your self.

Elk are symbols for stamina, and hitting ones stride.
 8 is the number for infinite.
Paying attention to how the natural world is communicating to you is key.

When I left home at 5am to go on this climb, I brought an orange, an apple, and two energy bars.  Not very much food for a 15 hour climb, but that was the plan.  I had to do it.  I had to push myself in every way possible, and running out of food half way through the day was one of the ways I was going to train my body run more efficiently.  And it worked.
I ran out of food at 4pm where I ate the apple standing at the top of the couloir.  Now I have an eleven mile descent through snow, mud, and beautiful forest.  Crazy as it sounds, I felt good about this.  I felt that my diet and my training were paying off, and if I'm going to be able to push myself to new levels, then this is how I'm going to do it.  So off I went, butt glissading down the other side of the couloir that was a lot less steep than the side I had climbed up.
Half way down the couloir I got out of control and started sliding to fast to control my speed and my direction.  I got spun around onto my back and was bouncing off the snow, breakdancing down an old avalanche path.  Snow was flying all around me as I blasted through it.  Man that was fun.  Can we do it again, PLEASE!!!
At about 8pm I hit my stride.  And that was when I came around the corner and saw the Elk.

Joining the Minksy Expedition

The Cassin Ridge on Denali (center of photo)

I have been given the distinguished honour to join the Minksy Expedition this May in Alaska.  The leader of trip Sir Charles Edward Snyder III sent post inviting me on this exciting and grand adventure.  The task of the expedition will be take our dear friend Minksy to the summit of Denali, the highest peak in all the land, and spread his ashes there in salute to his brave and courageous life.

Sir Charles Edward Snyder III, or Chip as his friends call him, is letting me
know that we only have two pitches left to climb.
East Buttress El Capitan, Yosemite California

I first met Chip on a grand California Odyssey.  One that is sure to go down in the history books of dirtbag royalty.  I was sunning myself near the large boulder rocks of the Buttermilks in Bishop California, when this strapping young lad and his trusty dog approached me.  In a gesture of good will Chip offered me a smoke and sat down next to me to ask me where I was from and how I had managed to make it all the way out here into these vast and rugged hills.  

As we sat there enjoying a peaceful afternoon, smoking under the California sun, I told him about how I left the quite territory of Montana by way of a new contraption.  The bicycle, I told him, was about to change the world and would be forever known as one of the greatest inventions of all time.  I regaled him with the grand stories of adventure that I had had, peddling my little legs round and round in circles to propel my steel and rubber carriage.  I had ridden through many a new land to reach the golden mountains of the Sierra Nevada.  The Great Basin of the Nevada Territory, the strange and nuclear sites of backwards Idaho, and along the River of the Snake. And I told him that it was here in California, that my future was to unfold in a plan destined to make me rich beyond my wildest dreams.  

Chip listened closely as his faithful companion Cooper sniffed about looking for rodents or maybe a hare that she could bring us back for diner.  Those first days together in the golden mountains of California intertwined our lives together and we sealed our friendship by way of the rope.  

My California Odyssey, in the end, brought me wealth and riches far beyond the mark of material possession.  In what was to be a two or three month exploration.  Where I was supposed to climb the highest and most famous cliffs of California.  Turned into an eighteen month long voyage that brought me from the peaks of the Sierra Nevada, to the Mojave Desert of Joshua Tree, and back up the coast of the Pacific Ocean through the alien landscape of Orange County all the way to the Great City by the Bay.

By the time I made it back to the Montana Territory, the bicycle had made a small revolution in the quite hamlet of Missoula.  There one could see families on day long outings, cruising the river side, picnicking in the meadows beneath the mountains, and stopping by the markets, overlooking the days fresh made goods that smell of fresh herbs, and ripe fruits and vegetables.

Denali,  The Great One, or The High One, as the Athabascan Indians
kindly referred to her.  At 20,320ft Denali is the highest peak in
North America.

Equinox Ski Challenge

Hi there everyone....   A little catch up on this springs events.  I just competed in my first bike race ever at the West Yellowstone Equinox Ski Challenge.  I rode in the solo 12 hour category.  This being the first year that they have allowed snow bikes on the ski trails.

I recently purchased a Surly Pugsley snow bike from the guys down at Summit Bike and Ski here in Bozeman.  And with a tender spot on my ass from a season of skiing and not biking, I saddled up for the 12 hour race.  There were 4 categories at the event; 3,6,12,&24 hours.  You could enter as a team or as a soloist, and you could run, ski, or ride; or do all three if you wanted.  The event was to raise money for the Big Brothers and Big Sisters of Montana, and all prizes were awarded through a raffle at the end of the event.

This was a place that people came to set personal goals, and personal bests... I set mine, for sure for sure.  This was also the first snow biking that I have ever done, and it took me getting spanked down hard to figure out the tire pressure thing.  These bikes can be ridden as low as 5 pound of pressure (psi) in the tires.  At about mid day I had let out a ton of air from my tires and I was still struggling hard.  I had an impossible time keeping up with the other riders, and at one point I was pasted by a jogger.  The conditions mid day were very sloppy in the soft snow and the bike course was getting rutted out and difficult to ride.  Finally a nice lady passed me and shouted, "Let some air out".  This was the best advice I heard all day, but by this time it was 6pm and I'd been on the course for 8 hours of butt blistering punishment.  I had been riding at about 9-10 psi, so I dropped down to 4-5 psi and my world changed.  The bike bounced on each peddle stroke on the soft tires, but at least I had traction and I was moving.  Then the sun went down and the course started to firm up again and I caught my second (or third) wind and road a couple of fast laps before my finish at 10pm that evening.

They were fast, I was slow
They were brave, I was just a happy fool

The night time riding was a blast and I wished at one point that I could have ridden the whole 12 hours at night instead of the day.  I even thought for a moment that I should have entered the 24 hour category.  Maybe next year, eh.

I was super impressed with everyone of the athletes that showed up.  Kat Hinkman won the 24 hour ski (again) this year. Way to go Kat!!!  She skied 291km in 24 hours.... ouch!

And Alex Lussier almost broke the course record with 319km skiing and biking for 24 hours.  He missed the course record by .9km... ouch!!!

It was so impressive to see these people set a pace and hold it all day, and then all night long... again,,, ouch!

In the 12 hour solo category I place 4th.  Riding 120km (74.5 miles).  I was also the only person that did not ski in the 12 hour solo category.  Which for most smart people, they started skiing sometime mid day when the snow conditions got to soft for riding in.

Other highlights where the very large bear tracks on the trails in the morning, the big face plant that I performed at high speed coming down a hill, barely missing a collarbone crushing tree, and right in front of the camera man.  I hope he got the shot.  I landed arms and head deep in soft snow and had to laugh a little at myself as this was my first face plant from off of a bicycle.

And finally the food...  We (Justene I mean) made a ton of amazing food for me for the race.  We had veggie meat patties, rice and beans w/ spinach, and the best damn date balls that I've had.  In fact, the food was too good and I ate a little to much at one point during the race and had to ride a couple laps burping up the sweet flavour of dates and honey.

Cheers everyone,,, go ride a bike!

Letting more air out of the tires 

into the night
all photos by Justene Sweet

Junkie

by Dr. Muse

My friend is a junkie
He says we're the same
Mountain climbing to him
Is like his needle in my veins

He wanted to get me high
And take me for a ride
We'd go up and down in the his basement
He said I'd see the other side

So climbing and smack
Are a lot the same
That's what my junkie friend said
That's what he claimed

All that night
And thru the next few days
I assisted him with his arm
As he continued to get blazed

And I sat there and watched him
Like the mountains sometimes do
Even from this point
We just can't know someone else's view

Now I like to joke
About my own junkie
The difference between smack
And climbing around like a monkey

I wonder if some day
One of us will know
He'd have to climb mountains
I'd have to do more than blow

Now as I prepare
For my next trip
My junkies all jacked up
He needs to get a grip

But once we get on the mountain
That place we go for fun
I'll put my junkie on a leash
And watch that monkey run

Sometimes I even go alone
So I can surrender
To the ego and voices
It's climbing in December

The cold weather seems to work wonders
And sometimes it burns
My poor hands and my poor feet
Someday I'll learn

I have to keep telling myself
That everything will be OK
Even though it's starting to snow
And the sky is turning dark and even sour grey

I'll summit this mountain
And descend to the city and the pit
As long as I can handle myself
As long as I can handle my shit

So I check in with my junkie
To see what he has to say
He couldn't care less
He's having another wonderful day

At least at this point
At least I can say
My junkie's a monkey
And we love getting high this way

My monkey my junkie
My king my queen
There are angles and demons
If you know what I mean

Someday soon
You'll learn as I did
There's a price for you life
And it's cheaper to be a kid

So why grow up
It's totally up surd
We're allowed to have fun
Or haven't you heard

This is not a discouragement
To be telling the truth
It's far better than some sex counselling
From that old Dr. Ruth

It's going to be rough
And at times I despair
I'm a mid thirties adrenaline junkie
With minimal cares

There's even the depression
Since my last dose
My junkie does the monkey
So well so gross

So just what is it here
That I'm trying to say
It's what the mountains do for us
It's where we go to pray