P
Paladin
Guest
I'm dreaming that a waterfall next to me is being turned on and off by some celestial being.
Heavenly music reverberates. Slowly wake having to take a wizz like bad, but its cold, even in the
tent. Get up, quietly step out and see flocks of Canadian Geese landing on the lake just 20 feet
from my tent. They take off, another group lands. Mist rises off the water, as the sun's not up yet.
We're at 7,000 feet, camped on the shore of Bull Trout Lake, in the Sawtooth mtns of Idaho, and not
another soul around. No hot showers, no phone booths or Ranger Rick programs for kids. This is
waaaay back. The way we like it, uh huh.
Start the jabba brewing, and its gonna be strong, at 630am, 35 degreesF, as I stumble around, sun
just peeking over the jagged mountains on the far side of the lake.
So get the lizard drained for now and tucked in, stumble over to the female's tent: "Psst, Bones,
we're burnin daylight!" A musical voice mutters, "what? O yeah-OK." Over to Patrick's tent, lean
over the top, which is screened to the sky. My best Almighty imitation: "This is God, get ye up to
ride!" His eyes pop wide open, with a "where am I?! who are you?!" panicked look on his face, then
he remembers and gets a move on.
Load up, grab some fruit & post-ride refreshments, run back to kiss the spousal unit adios, "don't
worry, just work hard while we're away, dear," and we three pile in the cab of my Idaho-to-the-bone
pickup & go bouncing out of the campsite, hit the main road into Stanley, and we're jacked.
This was to be a debut special, and might take a little exploring and trial and error to find the
start of the trail and get oriented.
Looking for Elk Mountain Trail next to Stanley Lake, one of my all-time favorite alpine lakes closed
to motor boats. We pull in, drive past the campground, and find this parking area. A big new sign
reads: *Elk Mountain Bike Trail*, with an arrow pointing up a fire road. Jimminy! if I always had it
this easy finding trailheads!
A warm-up spin a couple miles *up* the fire road, until there's a turn off onto single-track into
dense forest. Hang on friends. We enter this steep, rock filled creek bed that reminded me of a
downhill race course 100 miles west, but we're light, movin and groovin, poppin through that
stuff. Lots of 6" to 24" rocks to negotiate with gnarly roots thrown in. Too much fun. Dark, cool,
and it's all happenin in real time. You can't get here with the click of a mouse, boys and girls.
Fun, fun, fun.
For example, I dropped my front wheel over a root, fell about 24" down, and stopped against a
boulder. Then had to turn sharp right without any way to go forward, as my wheel was in a 3-sided
natural box. So rather than biff it or walk it, I did the crux move: nose wheelie to whip my rear
around to the left, cranked the bars to the right, spit and yelled, and pedalled out with another
shout! Whooda man?
Stop to take a picture of my compadres negotiating down this, and will post them, soon. I doubt they
will capture the drama of the moment, but hey, just stay tuned.
After that awesome drop of a thousand feet or so through mostly dried creek bed, we spill out into a
huge, high-grass mountain meadow, grinning like fools on Holiday from a loony bin. A couple creek
crossings, we get muddy, sandy, cool and even more loony. Look for the trail, and we're flummoxed,
so back track until we find the little tiny sign that says go right.
We go right, and hit this narrow side hill climb that parallels another lake below to our left. Man,
this is getting even better in a hurry. So I stop and snap a pic of the female following. You'll
just have to wait, friends, but use your imaginations, OK? It was pretty grand. Then she takes my
picture, and one of us snaps Patrick, our token newbie that I've mercilessly dragged around the
state to get him up to speed on a mtnbike this summer.
Climb out above the lake, and hit a little used fire road that meanders up through the forest to
regain the altitude we'd lost on the rockin descent earlier. The tougher climbs, I'd say to the
group, "Spin Class!" and other corny comments to keep us humming along. The effects of 7,000 to
9,000 elevation was being felt, but none of the climbs were that bad, really. We were just keeping a
pretty brisk pace to get back to camp in time.
Come out into the open at one point, and there's nothing but a field of wild-flowers and
grasshoppers between us and the mighty Sawtooth mountains. Too cool. Then around a corner to another
kodak spot, down a descent, back into the woods, and now it's coming at us like a mad hounddog! Sit
down, Shut Up, and Hang On!
This singulated double track is fast! Smooth, level or slightly downhill, only occasionally rocky,
and we're hauling outta there. Banked turns, water bars to jump, I go into a 2-wheel fade on a right
turn, hit the front brake, the rear keeps going and lines me up to shoot through the corner. You
know what I'm talkin about.
Before we know it, the drugs wear off, wake up from this dream and we're back on the campground
road, 3/4's of a mile to our right is where be started this escapade. Guess that's why they call it
a loop. Get back to Bull Trout late, but hey, that's how it goes some times.
Register that hombre in my top-10 Hall of Fame.
Paladin (photos later, but had to share the love, right away)
Heavenly music reverberates. Slowly wake having to take a wizz like bad, but its cold, even in the
tent. Get up, quietly step out and see flocks of Canadian Geese landing on the lake just 20 feet
from my tent. They take off, another group lands. Mist rises off the water, as the sun's not up yet.
We're at 7,000 feet, camped on the shore of Bull Trout Lake, in the Sawtooth mtns of Idaho, and not
another soul around. No hot showers, no phone booths or Ranger Rick programs for kids. This is
waaaay back. The way we like it, uh huh.
Start the jabba brewing, and its gonna be strong, at 630am, 35 degreesF, as I stumble around, sun
just peeking over the jagged mountains on the far side of the lake.
So get the lizard drained for now and tucked in, stumble over to the female's tent: "Psst, Bones,
we're burnin daylight!" A musical voice mutters, "what? O yeah-OK." Over to Patrick's tent, lean
over the top, which is screened to the sky. My best Almighty imitation: "This is God, get ye up to
ride!" His eyes pop wide open, with a "where am I?! who are you?!" panicked look on his face, then
he remembers and gets a move on.
Load up, grab some fruit & post-ride refreshments, run back to kiss the spousal unit adios, "don't
worry, just work hard while we're away, dear," and we three pile in the cab of my Idaho-to-the-bone
pickup & go bouncing out of the campsite, hit the main road into Stanley, and we're jacked.
This was to be a debut special, and might take a little exploring and trial and error to find the
start of the trail and get oriented.
Looking for Elk Mountain Trail next to Stanley Lake, one of my all-time favorite alpine lakes closed
to motor boats. We pull in, drive past the campground, and find this parking area. A big new sign
reads: *Elk Mountain Bike Trail*, with an arrow pointing up a fire road. Jimminy! if I always had it
this easy finding trailheads!
A warm-up spin a couple miles *up* the fire road, until there's a turn off onto single-track into
dense forest. Hang on friends. We enter this steep, rock filled creek bed that reminded me of a
downhill race course 100 miles west, but we're light, movin and groovin, poppin through that
stuff. Lots of 6" to 24" rocks to negotiate with gnarly roots thrown in. Too much fun. Dark, cool,
and it's all happenin in real time. You can't get here with the click of a mouse, boys and girls.
Fun, fun, fun.
For example, I dropped my front wheel over a root, fell about 24" down, and stopped against a
boulder. Then had to turn sharp right without any way to go forward, as my wheel was in a 3-sided
natural box. So rather than biff it or walk it, I did the crux move: nose wheelie to whip my rear
around to the left, cranked the bars to the right, spit and yelled, and pedalled out with another
shout! Whooda man?
Stop to take a picture of my compadres negotiating down this, and will post them, soon. I doubt they
will capture the drama of the moment, but hey, just stay tuned.
After that awesome drop of a thousand feet or so through mostly dried creek bed, we spill out into a
huge, high-grass mountain meadow, grinning like fools on Holiday from a loony bin. A couple creek
crossings, we get muddy, sandy, cool and even more loony. Look for the trail, and we're flummoxed,
so back track until we find the little tiny sign that says go right.
We go right, and hit this narrow side hill climb that parallels another lake below to our left. Man,
this is getting even better in a hurry. So I stop and snap a pic of the female following. You'll
just have to wait, friends, but use your imaginations, OK? It was pretty grand. Then she takes my
picture, and one of us snaps Patrick, our token newbie that I've mercilessly dragged around the
state to get him up to speed on a mtnbike this summer.
Climb out above the lake, and hit a little used fire road that meanders up through the forest to
regain the altitude we'd lost on the rockin descent earlier. The tougher climbs, I'd say to the
group, "Spin Class!" and other corny comments to keep us humming along. The effects of 7,000 to
9,000 elevation was being felt, but none of the climbs were that bad, really. We were just keeping a
pretty brisk pace to get back to camp in time.
Come out into the open at one point, and there's nothing but a field of wild-flowers and
grasshoppers between us and the mighty Sawtooth mountains. Too cool. Then around a corner to another
kodak spot, down a descent, back into the woods, and now it's coming at us like a mad hounddog! Sit
down, Shut Up, and Hang On!
This singulated double track is fast! Smooth, level or slightly downhill, only occasionally rocky,
and we're hauling outta there. Banked turns, water bars to jump, I go into a 2-wheel fade on a right
turn, hit the front brake, the rear keeps going and lines me up to shoot through the corner. You
know what I'm talkin about.
Before we know it, the drugs wear off, wake up from this dream and we're back on the campground
road, 3/4's of a mile to our right is where be started this escapade. Guess that's why they call it
a loop. Get back to Bull Trout late, but hey, that's how it goes some times.
Register that hombre in my top-10 Hall of Fame.
Paladin (photos later, but had to share the love, right away)
