Borrowed Season

One More Dirt (um mud) Ride

Looking out over the Lolo National Forest in mid December, the land felt undecided. Winter was supposed to be here in force, but the snow line looked halfhearted at best. Not enough for the fat bike, not enough to settle my brain into its cold weather groove. So I pivoted. DarkWing came off the rack, the YT Decoy ready for enduro lines instead of snow ruts. COROS on the wrist, late Montana sun dropping fast, I rolled out toward Blue Mountain telling myself this was just a substitute, a consolation prize.

The riding was anything but. Dirt still grippy, tech still sharp, my body slipping right back into summer muscle memory. And that was the problem. I love routine more than surprises. Fat bike season is supposed to be a tunnel, cold, steady, predictable, carrying me cleanly into spring. This sudden swing back to dirt felt like skipping chapters in a book I actually wanted to read in order. Fun, yes. Also unsettling. Like someone moved the furniture while I was out riding.

DarkWing resting above the valley, dirt season pretending it still has something to say.

Then the ride answered for itself. Eleven point two six miles. Nearly twenty five hundred feet of climbing. Descents where everything clicked, where DarkWing felt like an extension of intent instead of machinery. Third fastest times on J’s DH and Deadmans South DH, which felt less like bragging rights and more like a quiet nod from the trail. A late season gift. One last dirt ride before winter decides to be serious.

Seasons do what they want. I just get to ride what shows up.