Up and Over

The target. Saturday's early morning view as the ride began.

Like most mountain bikers, I drive to trailheads more often than I pedal to them. So on Saturday, I decided to start my ride from home instead of a parking lot. The added bonus was that our group was riding over Powerline Pass, which meant I could look at the Chugach Range as I pedaled away from my house, and have the satisfaction of knowing I would be riding all the way over the horizon on the east side of town.

Sean and Chris head toward the pass as they
close in on a woman
who wasn't feeling gravity's love.

Think about that. To look at a mountain and know you’re going to ride up and over it—all of it—without driving up through the foothills or to some high-elevation trailhead. Riding across town, aiming uphill, then pedaling until you can drop down the other side and return to sea level somewhere else. No lifts, no cars. Just your legs and a grudge against gravity. Most of us should try it more often.

Sean pushes his singlespeed Karate Monkey
up the final approach to the pass.

It’s a nice way to remember that mountain bikes were made for riding up mountains, despite whatever you may hear from those lazy-ass downhillers.

The reward for a big climb: beauty

There’s no better way to earn your post-ride beer.

Sean heads down the back side.
Down there by the sea, cold beer waits.

A big load of bull

Every summer, I post at least one shot
of a moose blocking the trail.

This well-fed bull was in no hurry
to get out of our way on Sunday, but
he was tolerant enough to let me pass
so I could get a shot of him
with part of our group.

(At least, I think that was his reason
for letting me get by.)

A pissed-off moose can easily
stomp a mountain biker into little more
than a big stain in the dirt.

But the nice thing about moose is that,
if you don't piss 'em off, they'll eventually
get bored with you and move aside.

Then, you can just carefully slip by.

And you can go on with your ride
and enjoy some incredible scenery.

I sometimes miss long summers,
but I can't imagine ever again living
and riding full-time in the Lower 48.

Routine standoffs with 1,500-pound
critters might sometimes be a hassle,
but life without them wouldn't
be as interesting.

Back on the bike

Last week was bad for biking. Between sketchy weather, recovering from the Fireweed 100, spending two nights at The Beartooth theater sipping beer and watching flicks (including The Flying Scotsman — great movie) and spending a very long day flying to a remote spot to shoot photos for a magazine story, I barely put in any miles.

That finally changed Sunday. Once the rainy weather moved through, we headed up high to ride the Powerline Pass trail, with a fun, muddy descent down Llama.

Damn, it was good stuff.

John climbs Powerline (just before

flipping me off for shooting his pic).

Maura rides above the upper lake.

The lower lake. This is the kind
of view that reminds me why
I live here.

That lake is so pretty,
it might look even better
than my sweet bike.