Chasing Winter
Rest Week, Oops
I went down the Bitterroot to grab Hendrix, my enduro bike, from Chad at Red Barn. The plan was simple. Pick her up, say hi, maybe talk tires for five minutes. Instead we did what bike people do and talked until time bent. By the time I broke free, the sun had opinions and I remembered I actually wanted to ride. Not Hendrix. The fat bike. Skalkaho. Now.
I bailed mid sentence, drove like the idea might evaporate, and popped out at the snowmobile lot feeling slightly late to my own life. The kind of late that still works if you move fast.
Driving up, my brain started doing that laminated thing where years stack on top of each other. 2007, snowless and wrong. 2008, Paul in town, winter redeemed. 2012, a very serious rest week. 2016 desert escapes. 2017 skiing into cabins at night. 2018 Goose Creek Gander. All of it sliding by the windshield while I wondered what this winter wanted to be. Also, briefly, what Winnie the Pooh might be doing right now. Probably not resting.
This should have been a rest weekend. That was the rule, written somewhere official, probably in capital letters. But Chad had said Skalkaho was running great, and that kind of intel carries weight. Some days the window opens and you either step through or spend the rest of the season talking about it.
Turns out it was one of those days. Twenty miles. Nearly to the pass. Perfect snow, the kind that makes you forget effort exists. Quiet, steady, honest riding. No drama, no bargaining. Just forward motion and a growing affection for wide tires and winter silence. I love fat biking now. The only problem is simple and eternal. We are going to have to go find more snow.
Past Posts On This Day
2007: Snowless in Missoula
2008: Paul Has Arrived
2011: The lie
2012: Rest week
2016: Contrasts
2017: Light Test
2018: Goose Creek Gander