Greetings from Midnight Sun coffee house in Whitehorse, Yukon. The end of the world for most people, but for anyone with a penchant for pedaling around on fat tired bikes through endless miles of singletrack, this is without a doubt the hub of it all. Think Durango on crack, and you begin to get an idea of the sheer quantity of trails here. Actually, until yesterday, my only experience riding around Whitehorse was at the 24 Hours of Light race course, a very sweet - albeit somewhat monotonous after 24 straight bloody hours of mountain bike racing - course at that.

A quick rundown of the 24 Hours of Light race. There were about 125 people competing, and a whole three entries into the solo category. Things were close with me and another guy who drove up from Moab, Utah for the first eight hours, and until the "special event" began I only had a one lap gap on him. However, being a veteran of this race now, I took advantage of the special event, in which you get credit for two laps for every lap taken, to complete three laps, which gave me an actual total of six laps. Moab man unfortunately did not take part in the special event, so when all was said and done with the special event, I had a five lap lead, which kind of sealed the deal. Ended up completing 22 laps, and felt pretty good throughout. Finished the race by downing Twizzlers and a 2 liter bottle of Coke, which oddly enough seemed to be the only items that didn't make my stomach feel like death. Got to see a moose about 10 yards off the course, and the sunrise was blood red, as they are having massive forest fires here, giving everything a smoky reddish hew. A great event all in all - without a doubt one of the coolest little races I have ever done. Rumor has it they may hold the event on a different course in 2005, which may make another visit up here a necessity.

Been staying up here with some awesome people, Chris and Kelly. Both are awesome mountain bikers, and seem to have a very healthy desire for exploration. And why not? There is a hell of alot to do here. Been combing through maps lately, and it seems that a little old mining town named Keno City may need to be the next destination for the Intergalactic Pilots. Look it up and you'll see what I mean. Also trying to convince the locals to put in a bid for the 2005 World Singlespeed Championships, as the endless trails and the hoopty nature of the towns would make it perfect.

Yesterday, rode with Chris on something called the Yukon River Trail. Rode for about three hours until 11 p.m., as it really never gets dark here in the summer. An amazing trail - the only thing I can compare it to might be the old Pollock Bench route in Fruita. Smooth, windy, swooping singletrack and a massive banks along the Yukon River. I can't express this enough - this may be the best ride I've ever done in my life in terms of endless, flowing singletrack. And there are literally thousands of kilometers of similar trails in just Whitehorse - not to mention the rest of the Yukon Territory, which is covered with old trails, mining routes, game track and more than a few purpose built riding trails.

A rather interesting experience yesterday. Did a trail assessment of a local riding area with a friend and photographer, Derek Crowe (two photos in the 2005 IMBA calendar!) on ATV 4-wheelers. If you've read this blog for any amount of time, you know my feelings towards motorized off road vehicles. Somewhere between loathing and hatred. But I figured I'd keep an open mind, and give it a go. A few assessments. They are, without a doubt, quite fun. In sort of a rip it up, rock em sock em way. It's really hard to ride them sedately, as it's quite boring actually, given the massive amounts of suspension and such. I now understand the roost mentality. It's fun to rip along at 70 kilometers per hour, haul ass into turns and be pretty much idiots. Fortunately, we were on wide, dusty nordic trails, so I allowed myself this guilty pleasure.

Despite the initial fun, however, the thrill wore off in about 30 minutes. Eventually, the sheer tremor of noise, the inhalation of gas fumes and the lack of effort required sort of dulled the experience. I'd almost compare it to going to a nice, new mall. Fun, in sort of an indulgent way for a little bit. But there is no real satisfaction at the end of the effort, that I feel everytime I go for a bike ride or hike in the silent outdoors. By the end of the ride, I was thrilled to just kill the engine and get some damned peace and quiet. Tired at the end, but not in a good way. Felt sort of dizzy, like I'd been traveling all day. I saw almost nothing of nature, as you develop something of a tunnel vision, and I can't imagine any critter sticking around with the roar of an ATV coming up the path. I'm glad I did it, since it's good to see the other side. But to me, ATV's are a hollow experience, and I have no burning desire to ride another one anytime soon.

Another big ride today. Six hours on something called the Sam McGee Trail. An old mining route that crosses mountain ranges, rivers and all sorts of crazy ass stuff, with a posse of singlespeeding Yukonians. We're should wrap up the ride around midnight. A damned perfect way to spend a Tuesday night I'd say.

Tuesday, June 22

Another full session on Johnny Rotten, up in the high country, on a picture perfect June day. Did the hell climb out of Happy Valley, always fun after having logged lots of miles and vertical feet in the previous two days. Was greeted up top with a stellar view of the divide, capped with a fair dusting of snow from the abnormally chilled past few days. Up on the flats, a few patches of quickly melting fresh snow, and a few remnant drifts lingering about from winter. Through ghost land, into the land of many puddles. Crossed the stream, hike-a-bike style, freezing the feet. Prepped today though, with dry wool socks, as this would be a long enough day out without cold wet feet.

Up rocky hell trail. Not your typical smooth singletrack, but who cares, we live in the freaking Rocky Mountains! If you want smooth move to Arizona or some cush place like that. A gyrating climb, deceptively tough with the 34x18. Not a soul in sight though on this Tuesday afternoon, and the fresh smell of pine at 10,000 feet is definitely worth the effort.

My new gig is carrying a water filter on big rides. It's fairly light, and is a hell of a lot better than running out of water. Plus, I tend to carry a lot of clothes as conditions change rapidly out here, and it sort of sucks carrying 100 ml. of water plus a plethora of clothes on your back. So two water bottles and a filter will have to do. Used it today. Seemed a little silly filtering this high alpine water, but it's better to be safe than get giardia.

Explored the final link of the old railroad route. In some sections, completely untrodden from 100 years ago, forcing significant hike-a-bike sections. Old trestles strewn about, a crumbled bridge, a dilapidated old depot, in the midst of an Aspen meadow that has reclaimed the land. Not particularly easy to follow in places, but in the end it went. Very cool stuff, and at times I swore I could hear the ghostly sound of an old narrow gauge railroad off in the distance. Either that, or I've been in the woods for too long the past few days.

Running out of time near the end, so had to cut the route short and do the steep huff back to the main road and reality. 50 miles, 5,000 feet of up and out. I could get used to this eat, sleep and ride lifestyle. But, work awaits, and, as chance would have it, tomorrow is bike-to-work day. So ride on in folks!

Monday, June 21

On this, the first day of summer, I slept in. Till 11 a.m. to be exact. Taking a few days off of work after a rather hectic schedule of late to ride a lot and decompress. A cold rain falling this morning. Perhaps the grey, and the monotone sound of rain let me sleep more, but whatever the reason, 11 hours sure did feel good. Fried up some swedish pancakes, and made the plan for the day. No high country today, but perhaps a repeat of yesterdays route? Dressed up, outer shell layers and all, and headed east. Into an ice storm. As the ice penetrated my pants, gloves and numbed my face in the first 2 minutes of the ride, I turned around and decided to opt for plan B. Whatever that may be.

A quick trip to the hardware store to get some scotch gaurd for my no-longer-at-all-waterproof Patagucci shells. Spent some time at the laundry applying the stuff, and by the time I got home it was actually snowing. Welcome to summer at 8,700 feet. Decided to do a backwards day, take the bus down the hill and climb home. Climbing is the only real option in weather like this. On the bus ride down, watched the creek, turbulant, ripping down the canyon. A few patches of blue sky appeared here-and-there...this plan may work.

Not feeling overly eloquent of late, so I'll just leave it that this was an amazing ride. A cocoon of fog hugged the ridge line, and the climbing was a metronome trance. Headed north on the old railroad route, for some fresh new climbing options. Huge valleys to the south, shrouded in a dreamlike mist. Saw a coyote, many rabbits, a fox and - a rarity - a black bear. Lumbering across the deserted dirt road about 50 yards in front of me. Thought it was massive dog at first, but it moved too slow, and was way to big. I don't even think it saw me, and I was relieved, as I was on a rather steep, mucky dirt climb going nowhere fast.

New mapping software, but I will never print an actual map here, since the goal is to encourage folks to figure this stuff out for themselves, solo. The whole allure is being out there alone (another time, another place for that rant). Picked up this adventure paper stuff at REI the other day, so I've been making my own maps before rides. Plotting out the course, printing the route and profile. Feeling like Johan freaking Bruneel charting out each days exact route. Above is the profile of todays ride home. Higher and higher, as a dreamlike female voice from a very old Lisa "Julliette" Kappelas trance remix in the iPod told me today. My only companion today, save the mist, coyotes and bears.

Sunday, June 20

Wussed out of the big planned ride. This decision was made at around 7 am this morning, upon waking up, when the skies were black and lightning was striking all around in Happy Valley. This may be the first time this has ever happened since I've lived here. Mornings are inevitable bright and blue, and the showers don't start until afternoon. It was not really that hard a decision to make, although I did belabor over it for some time. Much of the planned route called for time over timberline, and above tree line is NOT the place to be when lightning starts cracking. A sheit weather pattern for this adventure the past week, but so it goes. Live to fight another day. The maps will be stored in the book shelf, at least for a few weeks until things get high and dry around here.

A make up ride instead. And a good one. 50 miles with mucho climbing. Felt good until the end, when I ran out of food and rolled in on a minor bonk. A simple lesson - eat more food! Near the end, I could see why folks have been subtly convincing me not to do the CT on the 1x1. Legs definitely were feeling it by the end, and the CT is higher and has more climbing. The highlight of the ride was a super cool rainbow over Nederland as I rolled back into town. Seemed kind of fitting, since this area is definitely the best place I've ever lived.

Tomorrow, another big day. Early start, higher. Let the beat down continue.

Saturday, June 19

A frustrating past few days, scrambling around, preparing for a couple of adventures. Very little riding, which was a bummer, because this rainy Seattle weather is my favorite. Hopefully there will be some left over for July!

Anyhow, finally ready to go. Was planning to leave this morning, but the skies were darker than I liked. That may have been a mistake, since things cleared up by mid-day. but it is what it is now. Tomorrow, it's over Rollins Pass to Winter Park. The warm up day. Day 2 is intimidating, as much of it is above timberline and very exposed. Three huge climbs as well. Trying to cut the gap between Winter Park and Dillon, straight over some pretty burly terrain, including multiple crossings of the Continental Divide. Will have to be on it that day.

Day three features the biggest climb of the trip over the highest pass in Colorado, Argentine Pass, but at least it's a known entity as I rode it last fall. I end this day in Georgetown. Then, home via a combination of old mining roads connecting Empire and Happy Valley. High chance of potentially getting lost this day, but at least I don't have to cross the divide. Anyhow, wish me luck. I'm going to need it.

After I get back, it's off to the Yukon for six days for some work related presentations and the 24 Hours of Light mountain bike race. Reliving old times. Psyched to go for sure, but looking forward to just settling into a work/commute/weekend play schedule in July. It's all good. There's a Bjork line I like: If travel is searching, and home what's been found, I'm not stopping.

A full report upon return!

Wednesday, June 16

A rainy day. Good for planning. Maps strewn about the office, determining where to go for a mini-riding camp Saturday-Wednesday. Or maybe Saturday through Tuesday, since I don't want to miss Bike-to-Work Day. One of the few holidays I actually like! Was planning on going to Crested Butte and just riding for 4-5 days, but now I've got something more ambitious in mind. A big ride, from my home in Happy Valley, for four days. Up and over the divide on day one to Winter Park. WP to Summit County day 2. This is the big unknown, as I'm not sure it can be done entirely on dirt, although it seems it should be possible. The county to Georgetown on Day 3 over Argentine. Georgetown back home on Day 4, near St. Mary's through James. All on dirt, a combo of mining roads and singletrack. A singlespeed and a backpack. Meeting with the map people tomorrow for a sneak peak at the summit county map to determine if this is even possible. We'll see.

Tuesday, June 15

Full days recently. The weekend was packed. No rides, but played a surprisingly intense game of paint ball for four hours on Saturday, and then up Luke Skywalker on Sunday with DK. Luke Skywalker is a chute that comes off the south side of South Arapahoe Peak, and is one of the classic climbs in the Indian Peaks. Conditions were a bit colder and windier than initially anticipated, which made climbing up the snowfield without crampons a sketchy proposition. Still, we managed to get about 4/5ths of the way up, before turning around at the section where the slope steps up to 55 degrees and climbing sans crampons would be downright stupid.

Climbing snowfields is a fantastic way to simplify everything. Your thoughts are reduced to a few essentials: a good ice axe hold, at least one good foot hold, and an awareness for rocks tumbling down above you. Scary if you let it be, which is when it's even more important to just focus on the task at hand. After about an hour of this, it was a rather harrowing strap on of the snowboard, and then hop turns down 1,200 vertical feet of exceptionally variable conditions. Sort of a hard pack, drifted mix up top, followed by beautiful corn near the bottom. Always a little sketchy making your first turns in two months on a 15 foot wide 45 degree slope, but you do what you have to do. A little unfinished business - need to get some crampons and finish Skywalker off next time around.

Yesterday, a mellow, conversation filled ride with Meriweather up the old rail route. Chatted about everything under the sun, and it was good to catch up, as I have not spent much time with him this year. Near the end of the ride, we were fortunate to witness perhaps the most spectacular sun scape I've ever seen. Of course neither of us had a camera, so I'll try to describe it. We were overlooking a huge, deep green valley, which rose up to the gray rocks of the continental divide. And then, above that, darker gray clouds, layered with white, but thick. They soared up 5,000 feet, and then suddenly ended, the edges like cotton balls high in the sky. The sun was positioned just behind this point, which lit up the whole edge of the cloudline with a color that can only be described as golden. And then, rays of light, blasting off in every direction, shimmering reddish colors across the very deep blue sky. A spectacular light show that makes the most elaborate fireworks or laser light show seem pitiful.

This morning, back on the bike and the trails. Yellow flowers everywhere. The peak of summer in a way. Not in heat, but in life. In July and August, things dry out and die because of the intense heat. The brown season. But now, everything is colorful, green, yellow, purple, red.

A sad, sort of pitiful moment on the way down Mag. Was riding downhill fast, and saw a caterpillar frantically crossing the road. Had to swerve to avoid it. An then decided to help it out. Braked hard, and turned around. Climbed up the hill, and just as I was about to get to the caterpillar, pick it up, and transport it safely across the road, and Isuzu Trooper passed through, smashing the caterpillar dead. And as sappy as it may sound, this made me a little bit sad.

Reading this book lately that compared life to boxes. We wake up in a room (a box). A little box that beeps tells us to get up. We go to another box to get food. We leave the first box, and drive another box down to work, at which point we enter a big box broken down by lots of little boxes. We stare at a computer box all day. Then it's back in a box to drive again, home to our box, where we sit down and stare at another box (TV) until we go to bed.

On my ride down today, came to a revelation. A bike is two circles and three triangles. Not a box in sight.

Saturday, June 12

A nice mellow Saturday morning, kicking back at home, sleeping in, sort of debating what to do for breakfast. One of a very few such free times for me in the coming two weeks, as I'll be starting a road "training" trip this Saturday visiting great singletrack around Colorado, and then following that right up with a trip up to the Yukon to participate in the 24 Hours of Light and ride the trails up there. Not that I'm complaining at all, mind you, but it's nice to have today to relax at home and decompress before the time away.

This weekend is one full of volunteering. Last night, I was out at Golden Gate Park helping Brian H set the course for the initial Golden Gate Grind. Have not hung out with him since a ride back in '99, so it was good to catch up, while trying not to stumble on the pitch black trails while carrying a 50 pound pack full of rebar and PVC piping. Should be a sweet course that will definitely have the roadies whining, as a section involves a riverbed with rocks everywhere and about 10 stream crossings.

Today, it's off to play Paintball and attend the movie Shrek with a host of Nederland middle school youth. I've never played paint ball, but rumor has it that I'm going to a be a target, so hopefully some of my dad's military background has been passed on and I'll be an expert at the dive, drop and roll avoidance move. Either that, or I'll be taking paint ball canisters to the side of the cranium.

Tomorrow, I start my docent training at the Nederland Mining Museum, but not before hopefully busting in a quick ascent and descent of Neva with King Nimby himself. I have not been up to make turns yet this spring, and it would be a damned shame to not get at least one day in.

Yesterday, went on my first ride in years with the Intergalactic Pilot himself. The theme of the ride was eroded gullied out trenches, as that was pretty much all we rode on our path from 9,000 feet to 5,400 feet. The pilot doesn't ride slow, or wait long, so it was without a doubt one of the brisker paced rides I've been on in this year, which was a bit painful after a couple hard rides the previous two days. The pilot has been hopping in a few Cat 3 road races this summer, and given a certain natural talent, is in fine form this season. Needless to say, I had to work hard at times to hang. A good sign that it's time to ramp it up a bit and do some faster rides occasionally as we head into zuma season.

That's about it. Make it a great weekend wherever you may be.

Thursday, June 10

Is this heaven? No this is Iowa. Funny, I could've sworn this was heaven.

After spending this past weekend in Maryland as part of a work engagement, Happy Valley seems more like heaven than ever. No offense to Maryland, but the humidity, heat and disorienting thick hardwood forests were hard on the senses. Not to mention the crazed hectic work pace of five straight days of 18-20 hours of work with around 5 hours sleep each night. A lot of running around, sleeping very little, and riding not quite enough. Important stuff for sure (just in case folks from work are reading this!) but not the way to lead a long life, thinks me. Once in a while it's OK though.

And actually, there was some salvation, found of course, on the bike. One ride, in a classic east coast downpour, pedaling a Specialized Stumpjumper converted 1x1 along country, rolling roads. And the next, in the land of rough roots, on a gear that seemed fit for take-off at DIA. No matter though, a good time for sure. Even got to ride with a guy from Sri Lanka and a women from Mexico, both of whom ripped. Even in the midst of an absolutely hectic schedule, a ride, and the sanctuary of the woods, goes a long way to keeping things sane.

The past two days eased back into things with the standard commute ride home up the railroad route. And while the path was identical tonight and last night, conditions were anything but. Last night was a magical, soupy quagmire, with intermittent rain showers, and dense, deep fog. My favorite conditions. Near the top of the climb, white scattered the side of the narrow dirt road, as hail had fallen probably about a half hour before I arrived. I like this route in stormy weather, as it completely avoids any ridge lines, which can be deadly when lightning starts cracking

Today was slower, thanks to a constant head wind that seemed to gain steam the higher I went. Crisp out too - felt like autumn at 9,000 feet as the storm clouds swirled overhead and a cold stiff wind gushed off the divide. The highlight was actually the 40 minute hike-a-bike, out of the wind, with firm traction from recent rains. Tossed around on the freak highway bypass, and struggled up the last climb into a 40 mile headwind reminiscent of the Meadowlands stadium in January.

Feeling good all in all though, and enjoying these early stages of summer. Enjoying it more this year, and it seems to be going quite fast. Off to the Yukon in 2 weeks for the 24 Hours of Light, and then zuma soon after that. I anticipate the new bike arriving around then sometime, which will definitely keep the stoke going until snow flies. Right now, riding home even after zuma seems appealing, as it's just so much fun this year for some reason. Have not felt that way since 1999, really.

Living young, working hard, playing harder. That about sums it up really. And ready for a little mischief tomorrow night, if anyone is game.