Fat-Bike Ski-Mo Sufferfest Week One

Silver Gate, MT.

From Louis L'amour's book The Warriors Path. The book I read on the trip.

"Yet all men can fail, and each man must somewhere find his master, with whatever strength, whatever weapon. So we must be weary, we must use what guile we had, for it was upon my shoulders that nothing we had ever attempted or done was so fearsome a thing as this we would now try."

Feb. 10, 2015

It's 30º degrees and snowing. The camping conditions are ok and I take a day to rest. I post up for the night at the dump, in my small tent.

The next day I rent a cabin down the road in Silver Gate for a few nights to dry my stuff out, and plan my attack for the month. The 150 mile bike ride from Bozeman felt great, and I silently thank my trainer Hulk Bender for the last year of torture.

It's quite in Silver Gate compared to Cooke City. Actually, it's quite in Silver Gate compared to anywhere. There's nothing going on here, just a few people who stay the winter, and a few cabins open for rent.

Everyone tells me I have to meet the local hero Jay, "cause he's climbed everything around here." So I meet Jay, and like any gruff old school climber, takes one look at my bike, and cusses me out and calls me stupid.

"What the hell are you going to do on that thing when it snows four feet? You moron!"

Days later when we aren't drinking, Jay is nicer, and lets me store my "dumb" bike for a week at his place. I knew I would like it here.

My plan of attack is to ski and climb, but first I have to find a safe place to camp for about a week. Then I'll move camp again, just to be safe and lawful.

After three nights at the cabin, and days spent climbing ice falls behind town with a bunch of great friends, I set a camp on the outskirts of Silver Gate near Amphitheatre Mountain, and the mountain called Abiathar.

Abiathar was High Priest in the Court of King David, and the mountain its self sits upon the earth like an emperor in his thrown. Ridge lines stretch between the two peaks for miles, arching up and down in a giant crown shape, overlooking all of Yellowstone Park from the north.

I had seen these peaks thirteen years ago, maybe earlier. From the first moment, I knew I wanted to go up there. Some peaks do that. They call out, and beg to be climbed. There's passion buried there, and I could feel it.

Climbing is scary and takes skill and courage. For me, the amount of emotional effort must be greater than, or equal to the climb, every time, or it's dangerous. Hell, it's always dangerous.

So why do it? What am I going through during a lonely day in the mountains?

There's the cold, and the cold must be dealt with, and excepted. When you're alone, you can't allow yourself to get cold, but you will, and you have to except it.

I don't mess around. I slam in toe warmers in the morning, and sleep with my boot liners. It's painful and smelly, and not romantic, but that's how I deal with cold feet.

Then there's the mountains. When climbing with someone else, we're always talking about the line, and where we're going. It's what we do.

Climbing alone, there's no conversation. My eyes look up and follow the lines of the mountain. My mind sees the hazards, the safe spots, and the obvious pathways that exist. I love it. I feel totally connected to what I'm doing. My mind's chatter goes away, and I simply observe my surroundings, judging for danger, looking for signs of avalanches, and listening.

If I don't feel safe, I turn around and go home. I pay attention to my gut feelings, and I'm searching for that sense of flow. If I find it, I follow it.

The day I skied off the summit of Abiathar by myself, was one of those days I found it. I climbed between spindrift avalanches that were coming down the face in ten minute intervals.

My sense of purpose for the day was direct, as it would have been hard to talk me down, or ask me not to go up there.

After climbing one ridge line, and dropping south into the giant basin made up of Amphitheater Mountain, and Abiathar, I got my first close look at the face.

I stood there long enough to have a smoke, and I watched the light spindrift avies wash down the face. I was in the zone, feeling the flow, and knew I would be safe, (as long as I didn't wreck.)

Skiing big remote lines that require climbing skills, stable snow conditions, and the right gear, are rare. Skiing them in the winter in boot-top powder is even more rare. And more rare still, is doing it by yourself after riding a bicycle 150 miles to the trailhead.

This is one of the reason my batting average as a human-powered mountaineer kinda sucks. I'm batting at about 220 for skiing big lines, but because I'm one of the only people doing it, by a modern fair means approach, I feel like a top contender, gunning for a shot at the title.

Fire going at camp one. Week one.

The outdoor bike garage at camp one. Needs a roof.

Locking the bike in the forest near the Highway.
Switching to ski gear and skins from here.

Kyle climbing the falls on the right.
A party from Jersey climbing the falls on the left.

Jack standing below on belay.

Sam on Hydromonster.

Adam on Hydromonster.

 Abiathar, and the north couloir.

Nate climbing up the north couloir.

Traversing below spindrift gullies on the climb up.
And skiing the 50º east face of Abiathar in boot-top powder.
Boo-yeah!

Ski tracks on the East Face of Abiathar.

Fat-Bike Ski-Mo Sufferfest Part One:

Fat-Bike from Bozeman to Cooke City

Day 4, mile 140.

Why did I call it a Sufferfest, and give it a name like Fat-Bike Ski-Mo?

Day one; leaving from home and yet still in town, the back-rack explodes off the bicycle, and skis and 50 pounds of camping gear jam into the tire and frame like a woodchipper gone wild.

Oh my! Is this really happening? I read somewhere that expeditions can make you neurotic. Is having a total breakdown in Lindley Park on the first mile of an expedition qualify? At least I have music.

There was a family walking by in the cold who offered help. I'd taken everything apart and was attempting to fix the problem, feeling like a fool, and thankful someone was taking pity on me.

I hadn't even left Bozeman. Did I have the resolve to keep going? A lot of effort was put into getting this expedition together, and it's hard not to get emotionally attached to the success of pulling it off.

Of course the problem was pilot error. I'd forgotten to tighten down all the nuts holding the rack in place, and I didn't use loctite like I'd told myself I would.

After 30 minutes I had the rack fixed, and was ready to go again. The skies were grey and ominous, and there was a strong wind blowing on the ridges. I had chills already, both from the cold and my nerves running amuck.

Keeping morale high can be more important than reading weather reports.

I chose to ride a six mile stretch of Interstate 90, and then the Frontage road, putting me in Livingston in as short of time as possible. Turning south into a strong head-wind and towards the Paradise Valley, I thought, "oh shit, here we go again."

This area of Montana is known for the high winds that can rake through the valley like a constant jet-stream. Paradise Valley is both a beautiful and harsh landscape, and the people who live here reflect it.

My plan for the day was to ride about 50 miles to Paradise Campground on the Yellowstone River, but the intense wind was slowing me down. I ended up camping at Loch Leven instead, 3 miles from Paradise.

Day 2 of the Sufferfest never started or ended like a day should. I didn't sleep at all over the night because I was holding a tent pole with one hand, and covering my ears with the other. The wind blew back and forth, bashing my tent around, smacking me on the head, and making it almost impossible to cook or do anything.

Day 2 of the Sufferfest I rode for 6 hours into that fierce wind, and covered 19 miles. Good thing Chico Hot Springs was at mile 13, and I had good soak, and drank a few beers. My nerves were fried, and my brain could barely hold a conversation.

The best part of the day was when a small 4-Runner unloaded about eight or nine people I didn't recognize and cheered and shouted at me like I was winning the tour de France. I didn't stop, or look happy, and I was riding about 3 mph, just able to keep the bike in a straight line.

I remember trying to smile and wave, but I almost crashed by attempting to take one hand off the handle bars, and I think I made a face at them like, yeah this sucks, thanks though.

Day 3 and the wind was still blowing. I had lunch in Yankee Jim Canyon, and I was getting closer to Gardiner, and Yellowstone Park, and the idea that this wind would somehow stop, or slow down, or go the other direction.

Day 3 offered a soak in the Boiling River, and I camped up the hill at the Mammoth Hot Spring Campground. The wind was still blowing. And camping conditions still miserable. Morale was still high.

Brutal conditions, and beautiful too.

Day 4 was the best of the worst. Why had I called this a sufferfest? Did I really wish this day upon myself? And what good was to come of it?

Day 4 started at 8am and in a light rain. I rode for two hours getting soaked, because I didn't have hard shell or rain gear with me. I didn't expect rain in Montana and Northern Wyoming in February.

I had only soft shell clothing and down layers for insulation. I dressed light so I could ride hard, but I was getting soaked to the bone and could barely feel my hands or feet. As I rode higher into the park,  the rain turned to snow, and I stopped at a rest area and I stood under an awning to dry out. I put my down layers on over my wet layers, and slammed in toe warmers in my running shoes.

I told myself this is what separates the men from the boys, and it was going get real hard for the next few hours. These conversations with myself help. I don't know how, because I feel like a crazy person talking to myself. But the conversations help when I get scared, and when things get real.

My neoprene overboots were soaked. My shoes where soaked. My gloves were soaked and the temperature was dropping. I had 35 miles to go, and rode on.

By the time I got to the Lamar Valley it stopped snowing, but became cold and the wind was blowing again. This time it was a tail-wind and I was on my way to Cooke City at last. Oh yeah! Just keep riding.

The Rangers in Yellowstone that day who were betting against me, lost big. Not only did I make the 53 miles to Cooke in one day, I made it before dark and the bartenders at the Minors Saloon bought me drinks and welcomed me into their little town. Thanks Josh, Danny, Brian and Chris for stoking the fire and keeping the morale high.

Looking back at Bozeman on day one. 

Elk crossing in the river.

Sufferfest selfies. 

A solid fuel stove burning on a rock, in a tent, in a wind storm. Careful.

Another Elk Crossing ahead. And you can almost see the wind in your face.

Breakfast stop on the river. Day 3.

Stoked on healthy things that resemble candy bars. Thanks Amazing Grass!

Stoked on big Bison in Yellowstone.

Light rain, morning of day 4.

Ready to take on day 4.

Fat-Bike, Ski-Mo, Sufferfest

Training starts at Bridger Bowl.

This February, I am riding from home in Bozeman, to Cooke City, MT on a custom 5" wide tire fat-bike, with skis and camping gear for a month.

This will be my seventh human-powered expedition, over 13 years. And my first expedition in winter.

My goals are:

To re-connect with the natural world in a way John Muir would respect.
Ride 150 miles in the winter on state highways, through parts of Yellowstone and the Paradise Valley.
Ski and ice climb in the Beartooth Mountains for a month.
And ride home, all under my own power.

(I plan on shipping extra socks, and food. Maybe even climbing gear? Just don't tell anyone.)

Will it all fit on the bike?

Spending time in the office.

Staying powered with Amazing Grass.

I will also be doing a ton of other stuff. Like test riding backcountry skis for Caravan and promoting a local brand in Bozeman.

Also made in Bozeman from Sklar Bikes, I'm using a brand new ski rack that's compatible with a Dyanfit ski binding. Hopefully this little beauty it will be on the market by next year. Yes, a tech ski rack for your bike.

The custom bicycle from Sklar Bikes is boasting many new features and a sexy new look. It's a second generation fat-bike with wider 5" (non-studded) tires, a one-by-ten gear ratio, Jones bars, XTR, and painted deep purple.

Traction on these bikes are incredible, and I will be attempting historic fat-bike mountaineering descents. This will be the comical trend of the year.

My camp, the dirtbag Shangri-La, will consist of one tent, and a snow cave with solar power. I will lock up my bicycle in the forest when I need to, and/or store it in town for a fee.

I will be near the towns of Silver Gate, and Cooke City, and I am excited to get to know the locals and be shown around town, and the mountains. I love Montanans, and it will be a cultural experience by getting to know the people. (And maybe I'll do a slide show at their school?)

Got out skiing and ice climbing last week with friends.

Riding the sluff. 

Following a fun pitch.

Found a new hat for the expedition. 

Re-connectting with the natural world,  I will be promoting human-powered endeavours that enrich our lives and enrich the world around us, without leaving a toxic footprint.

I will also be documenting the abundance of wildlife in the area and noting the existence of the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem. This is the largest ecosystem of it's kind in the US, and there are MANY issues in Montana right now with the rapid growth of endangered species, caused by the constant pressure of our industries upon wilderness habitat.

As an athlete and storyteller, I find solace in the protection of the world we live in.
Thank you for reading. And thank you for caring.

I will return in a month, and I leave you with a quote from Elizabeth Gilbert's book The Last American Man;

"I think he's reached a plateau in his life. He's pushed himself as far as he can go using his charisma and courage, and now he needs to go on a spiritual journey. He needs to do something that is private. He's postured himself in public for so many years that he doesn't know himself. There are parts of his soul he can't begin to understand, and until he learns these things about himself, he'll never be the nomad he's meant to be. He's a brave man, but he's not a spiritual pilgrim yet. Until he goes out in the world, all alone, and cuts away the ropes and publicity and ego and bullshit and does something truly heroic, he's just blowing smoke up his own ass..."

Sklar Bikes

Last week I went down to visit Adam Sklar finish welding my new bicycle frame. So stoked to see this fat-bike come together. Then we went to the powder coaters and picked out the colour to match my new Caravan Skis.  (My idea not Adam's.)

Awesome! My new bike is being made less than 3 miles from where my skis where made, and less than 5 miles from my house. Yeah!  I love this Montana life.

The old GT Zaskar, packing for California in 2006 at dad's ranch in Missoula.

When I first started riding a bicycle to go skiing and mountaineering, I had no clue what I was doing. I borrowed a bike trailer and inherited a 13 year old hard-tail mountain bike from dad.

The trailer said it would hold 70lbs, so I packed 80. Roads in Montana aren't plentiful (thank god), so I rode on the Interstate Highways.

I didn't think anything of it. I just packed ski gear, ice climbing gear, and rock climbing gear onto the trailer and rode south to the Tetons. 500 miles later, my ass was sore.

My girlfriend allowed me a month long stay at the American Alpine Club Climber's Ranch right below the Grand Teton. I was starting to think I had it made. Then we broke-up, and I rode back to Montana.

By the end, riding north on I-15, then west on I-90, I consumed so much food, I ate my self out of house and home. At one cafe, I order lunch, then I order lunch again, and still wasn't full.

My dollars turned to pennies, and I wondered how much further I was going to make it? I hadn't worked in 6 weeks, my savings were dry, but I didn't care. I was on the open road, slowly crushing it, feeling like a million bucks.

It was also the start of summer, and my house painting business would be waiting. So would the stern eye of my parents and the loud echo of, "get real job, in the real world," as it floated through the Missoula valley.

So how do I get a real job, and be in the real world like my parents, and still be true to myself, and my wandering spirit?  Still working on it.

First-known tech ski rack for a bicycle.

Here comes big-fatty.

Fat-bikes have sexy back ends.

Just a set of wheels and a fork.

Final touches.

Metal. 

Adam the Metalworker. 

Spring Integrative Health/Josh Overcash

About four or five years ago I met Josh Overcash and his awesome family. They were some of the first people I met in Bozeman when I moved here.

Josh told me about Body Talk over dinner one night, and said that he could teach it to me; or better yet, I could see him as a therapist, after those good body thrashings I'm into.

I logged the information in the back of my mind and moved on. Then a year later, after a number of good body thrashings, I bumped into Josh on the street.

I laughed and complained about the woe's of being human-powered; hoping to get a rise out of him. It didn't work. I like Josh, so I boasted and tried to impress him with tales of vertical heights, and dangerous mountains.

Nothing. It was awesome. He wasn't impressed at all. Or at least I couldn't tell if he was.

That settled it. I booked an appointment to see Josh. I wanted to know more. I was also a walking pinball machine, and ached all over.

I had chronic knee pain from two climbing accidents, and twenty years of ski bumming down the Rockies, Canada, and Alaska. My feet, fingers, and shoulders bothered me; and I was starting to show signs of aging.

But it was also the kaleidoscope view of life I needed help with. Let's face it. We are living in a different world today. Our understanding of life is changing almost as fast as our technologies. (Which came first?)

That first appointment three years ago, Josh used a combination of Craniosacral Fascial and Body Talk therapies to clean up old scare tissue in my knee.  The therapy was so effective and profound, it changed my life.

For less than a hundred dollars, I was pain free for the first time in ten years. I couldn't believe it. I almost kissed him.

Starts to work on my knee by moving my head around. 

Still moving my head around.

As an athlete, I don't claim to understand how Craniosacral Fascial, or Body Talk therapies work. I've listened to Josh explain how he's manipulating cerebral spinal fluid in the brain, 'to help the brain breath,' and how that circulates cerebral spinal fluid to the connective tissues throughout the body.

This, with his help, is directed towards my knee. Then Josh changes one of his multiple hats, and goes from being all soft and gentle, to getting kung-fu.

After a couple minutes of discomfort, (which is fun if your into mountaineering) he let's go of the grip on my knee. Woe dude? What was that? The first time it happened, when my knee was scared, it swelled up like a ballon.

"That's the cerebral spinal fluid clearing out the scare tissue."

Directing cerebral spinal fluid to my knee. 

The kung-fu grip on my knee. 

This is one cool dude, I thought. I started recommending my friends see Josh. Then I met other people who agreed Josh is the real deal.  As the word spread, I met therapists, doctors, and health care professionals that all had the same consensus. Josh Overcash has the healing touch.

Amazing Grass Challenge

In good company with The Green Darner and The Bicycling Electrician.
They have real names too, but I like their super-hero aliases. 

This month Amazing Grass is holding a 5 day V-Tox Challenge; with recipes and articles on eating a plant-based diet, ambassador spotlights (I'm on day #2, check out my spotlight here), and a daily challenge; with exercises and activities to keep you excited and stoked on getting healthy, fit, and ready for life.

(Click on the link and sign up with your own email account.)

Recipe #2. Red lentil and butternut squash soup. 

I have been working with Amazing Grass now for a few years and I love their products. I know how easy it is to struggle with eating the "right" foods and staying on track with my "diet."

In fact some of that stuff about eating right and being on a diet, bugs me. Why can't I eat what I want? Right?

Maybe it's not that simple. Maybe food has changed. And with all the people who now have food intolerance's (mine are potato, corn, and processed sugar), eating is even changing.

As an athlete, my health is very important to me. I got into eating a more plant-based diet when I was still a teenager, but I also lived a hard life for many years; drinking and doing drugs. My health suffered because of it. When it came time to restart my life, and focus on the what I loved to do; ski and climb mountains, I had a slew of health problems to deal with that all came directly from my poor diet.

So it's not simple. Not for anyone. And I don't pretend it is easy either. Good luck.

Amazing Grass is the wheat grass company, and they make the best tasting wheat grass powders available. I love these little flavour packets on the trail, at home, and they make a great hit at parties. (Yeah, that's how I party. Hunter S. Thompson did grapefruit. I shoot wheat grass.)