The Uphill Battle: Idaho

I GOT MY QUIET COUNTRY ROADS BACK!

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 02:33:56 GMT

... sorta.

After we committed to move into the center of town, some co-workers pulled me aside and basically said, "You picked the worst end of town to move to!" They told me some horrific stories. One guy who'd lived there for nine months said they'd been there for three days when someone got shot three doors down. The story that really talked my wife out of it, though, involved a rotweiler (spelling?) being hung by a noose from a tree. Yuck!

So instead, we found a place out in the countryside that is way mo' betta. If you guys wanna come visit, I won't be ashamed to show you our apartment anymore.

Granted, I don't think the roads around here are great—I got a flat on my first ride out here, and there are way too many stop signs. But heck, I commuted to work this morning on my bike. When's the last time that happened? That has to be a good omen.

In other news, some dopers turned the Tour de France into a high-speed soap opera. Botched, you might remember made a deduction about Iban Mayo a few years ago, so kudos to him for calling that one. I'm wondering how long Contador will last before his name is likewise besmirched.

But back to my life. I've had the mountain bike itch lately. I don't know if it's because it's been so hot lately, but I'm craving a ride in the mountains and flipping through photos of last year's races. I think it might be fun to do some big mountain bike trip this fall. If anyone has any connections with the folks in charge of Grand Teton National Park, please start talking your connection into allowing mountain biking. I promise I won't do more damage than the equestrians. Stick a needle in my eye, etc. etc.

So that's where I'm at.

"Weekend Extra" Preview ...

Fri, 28 Jul 2006 23:19:38 GMT

I'm pretty excited for tomorrow's mtb ride. It seems every time I get up into Kelly Canyon, I have some sort of weird semi-adventure, and last week was no exception. Allow me to elaborate:

I'd been having a great workout on Saturday. After riding the initial 40-minute climb with no problems, I was starting to think I'd have a letter day on all of these trails. I was coming up my second climb--a set of granny gear switchbacks on the backside of the ski hill--when I saw a pair of horseback riders (accompanied by horses, go figure) on their way down the same climb. At that moment, perhaps because my concentration was drawn away from the dirt under my tire, my front wheel washed out on some gravel--and it wasn't even on a technical part of the ride!

As I was standing there getting recouped, one of the horseback riders starting talking to me:

"What color is the sky?" she asked.

"Blue," I responded with a puzzled look on my face.

"What color is the grass?"

"Green."

She must think I bumped my head or something, I speculated.

"It's afraid of you."

"The sky's afraid of me?" Is this what mental patients do on the weekends?

"She's afraid of you," she motioned to her horse as I had a sudden "ah-ha" revelatory moment. "If you just talk, she'll realize that you're a person and not something she has to be afraid of. You can talk about anything--it can be nonsense or whatever--what color is the sky?"

"Ah, I see."

I guess you just never know what you're going to run into on these trails during this time of year. Suddenly, the weather's hot and everyone's out here. And who can blame them? I finally got in some exploring on Saturday, and I discovered a bunch of really scenic trails I didn't know about, right out to the borderline of Targhee National Forest. To my shock and amazement, there really is some technical trailage out there. I can only hope to figure out how to use the camera so I can show you details this time.

As an aside, I want you to know that I did check into the price of a brand-new Cannondale Rush 400 today. The best offer the shop could give me was $1,200. I realize that's dirt cheap (especially for a top-of-the-line frame), but purchasing one of those would mean saving up my cash for the next six months, minimum. That's not too far-fetched, eh?

Bright and Early

Wed, 24 May 2006 16:00:56 GMT

It snowed here in June one year. I would know, I worked as a construction laborer that summer and spent the whole snow day pouring concrete. Fortunately, there aren't many signs of snow days here this year, but that doesn't mean Idaho's weather is normal.

One of the reasons I like Idaho is that it reminds me of many of the other places I've lived: Colorado, Canada, or even Alaska. One day, it's 90 degrees and you can't ride a bike more than a mile without worrying about dehydration. Three days later, it'll be 40 degrees, and you'd better be wearing a layer over your knees, lest they start shivering. Today was one of the chillier days.

Still, I'm thinking I like this wake up at six and go for a ride routine. Today was only the second day trying it. But before 7 a.m. I already had 1,000 feet of hillclimb repeats under tires, and I wasn't the only one out there.

To my surprise, there was some woman out there training for duathlons (she looked like a 10 year old until I saw her up close), and yes, I passed her on my second-last lap. I saw at least three other people out on mountain bikes going for early morning rides, and countless joggers out pounding the frigid pavement. Who knew? Heck, I found the new "cool hang-out" spot.

I guess at some point everyone has to face the fact that if you want to stay in shape, you have to make sacrifices. Still, pedaling uphill sure is slow when it's cold out.

Fresh

Tue, 16 May 2006 04:14:17 GMT

I got up this morning feeling stuffed, but it didn't seem to last long once I got outside. The air smelled so sweet and springy. It was gorgeous out. It actually hit 80 degrees (F) today--shock and amazement.

As I walked past the trees outside the office today, it was hard for me to avoid noticing how lush and green they looked underneath their white blooms. All around my feet were fallen buds, springtime and genuine bliss. I couldn't wait for a ride. Of course, I had to wait for the day to end in that stuffy, stuffy office, and then there was a 40-minute commute from the office to home, which left me feeling exceptionally woozy today. But I did manage to get some time on the bike.

Odd though, I didn't feel so hot on the bike. My legs and arms felt a little weak, and I had a hard time getting my lungs pumping. And when I got done and came home, my throat felt scratchy and flegmy. And then it hit me--the sweet smell in the air, the beautiful trees, the lawnmowers, sprinklers and new life blooming everywhere--it's allergy season. Well, at least that means I can take an antihistamine instead of taking a half week off riding to recover from a nasty cold.

P.S. Y'all will have to forgive me, by the way. Office rumor has it that two employees were recently fired for spending too much time on the internet, so my office browser is going to have to remain closed for a little while. Bummer. Don't be shocked if I keep to myself a little more this week.

Kelly Canyon

Thu, 09 Mar 2006 18:25:56 GMT

All around me were fire roads and trails. I could see them weaving up the mountainside through the canyons and ridges, and yet, there I was, riding a mountain bike on the pavement in between them. Why? The trails were mucky and mushy, and my wife would’ve killed me if I brought home some mucky, mushy souvenirs.

It was Kelly Canyon, the mountain bike Mecca of southeast Idaho, home to dozens of singletrack, doubletrack and fireroad trails, not to mention a decent ski hill—Kelly Canyon Ski Resort. So why was I riding up the pavement? Allow me to explain:

Months ago some buddies and I headed out to Kelly for a singletrack ride, and on the way there we spotted some old codger riding a mountain bike up the road. My neighbor, and the author of the entertaining College Battle blog (linked on the left side of the page) commented, “This hill wouldn’t be that tough, don’t you think?” I was about to agree when I stopped and thought about how cars really warp your perception of hills, and then I answered, “I dunno. Maybe.”

Well, I got curious, so a few days later, I mounted the road bike and breezed by the 20 miles of flat road to get to the hill. And when I got there, I noticed a few things about it: first off, it’s a really picturesque area, there’s a brooklet that trickles alongside the road, there are trees all around, and in between them are rock outcroppings that resemble something out of Arches National Park; Secondly, I noticed that the traffic was pretty minimal up there during the off-ski season, except for the occasional cow, mule deer, or ranch truck, it was just me and my bike; thirdly, there’s no wind, all around the canyon are dry, dusty prairies and potato fields with wind gusting sometimes up to 55 mph, but inside the tree-lined canyon, there’s nothing but stillness; lastly, I noticed that rather than being easy, that hill’s a bit of a beast, granted it was no Teton Pass, but the weaving, gravelly 3-mile-or-more road has this tendency for looking as though it’s about to become easy by hiding the next rise behind the next corner, and it changes pitch often enough that it really throws off your rhythm, which can be a really good thing. To top it off, there’s a dirt road that continues after the pavement ends, and it keeps going up to a few trails, one of which leads up to the ski resort’s chairlifts. I don’t know about you guys, but that’s my kind of training hill.

Guess what I did next? Well, if you’ve been reading the blog long enough, you’ll know that I went back as often as possible this past fall season, either on the road bike or on a mountain bike, and climbed back up that hill with whoever I could talk into joining me. For whatever reason, someone re-graveled the road in the middle of the season, though, and that’s somewhat discouraged me from taking the road bike up there (it’s not such a good place to be getting a flat—20 miles from home).

Then, of course, winter came, and all the skiers and their ski traffic came with it, so Kelly Canyon went on the backburner. But somehow, the ski hill started sticking out to me during my commutes to work. As it turns out, I had a gorgeous view of it from across the valley when I left work at night (provided I left before the sunset), and it seemed to get closer and closer to my view as the season wore on.

Monday night, I got off work a little early and noticed a steady rain falling as I commuted home. Of all weather conditions, I prefer rain most of all when it comes to climbing. It keeps you cool, the air stays moist, and it gives the illusion of machismo—you catch yourself thinking, “This would make for a cool picture if I had a camera right now.” So naturally, I called up my little brother, Jord, and the two of us headed up to the canyon. I’m confident we saw more mule deer there than either of us have ever seen in one place. We hopped on and chugged to the top of the canyon, where the rain had turned to snow. We got to the gate of the ski hill gasping for air, and I think that between the two of us, we decided this pavement alone is pretty good exercise.

P.S. Yes, it's true, we've got two or three inches of snow so far today, as well as some 40 mph winds, so I'm pretty much grounded for the time being. Hope everyone's safe and warm.

P.P.S. For today's video entertainment, by the way, visit the Park City Endurance 100 site and see what Botched's arch-nemesis is really like. You may have to download Flash 8 to see it, but it ought to wet your racing pallette for today.

Idaho

Fri, 10 Feb 2006 19:24:00 GMT

I have this career where I do a lot of talking to people over the phone. Over this past week, my company has had a whole bunch of people in town at a convention of sorts where I've been meeting all of these people I've been writing stories about. Most of them stop and chat and tell me how much they like my writing, but one person attended who I've written four stories about over this past year, and who I will be writing another about this month. This is a long intro, forgive me. Over the course of our conversation, she said something about how she'd love to come back for a couple of days and visit Idaho some other time when she could just visit the sites and do touristy things.

I said the first thing that came to mind: "Yeah, a couple of days is about all you'd need."

As I was driving to work today, I started thinking about what in the heck anyone would visit Idaho to see. And here's what I came up with:

Rigby is the birthplace of television, or so a court ruled in the '30s when they determined that it wasn't the media monopoly but Filo T. Farnsworth who discovered and developed the concept. The monopoly gave him the credit and kept the money, so it's no surprise that Farnsworth ended up banning his children from watching television. And he died poor. Somehow, Rigby has had a similar fate. For me, the town is notorious for one thing: people on the highway who like to cut me off and then drive slowly.

Bone was rumored to be the last place in the United States to be connected to telephones. I guess you couldn't get a dial tone there until the mid '90s. People like to visit museums with prehistoric things, so why not Bone, right?

The Tetons! are in Wyoming, nice try.

Yellowstone! Close, but it's in Montana.

Driggs I will admit that this town is near to a ski hill because it's on the border of Wyoming. But the ski hill is still in Wyoming. Driggs does have a claim to fame: lots of California license plates. Rich Californians go there to die, including Mary Ann of Gilligan's Island. She even started up a movie festival: SpudFest. I've never been, but I've passed the drive-in theater a few times.

Ashton is home to the American Dog Derby, an actual sleddog race. You may have read my earlier entry about this. I actually think this is a pretty cool feature of vintage Idaho. You can go to marathons and triathlons in any state, but where can you actually watch a dogsled race? Too bad the Musher's Cafe was torn down during one of the low-precipitation years. That would have been a cool place to visit after the race.

You're probably getting a sense of why road biking is practical in Idaho. There are lots of roads and not much going on on them. The truth is, if you want to do something fun, you really need to leave the state.