Winter Forgot Montana
Ice, then audacity
It was survival day, the kind you white knuckle through with coffee and stubbornness. I was almost clear of it and needed out. Blue Mountain was a sheet of ice, warm air doing that fake kindness thing, and it was grocery run day so I was heading that direction anyway. Obrian Creek felt like the smart bet, snow instead of ice, a compromise that still counted as getting outside.
Turns out Obrian had jokes. Icy as hell on the way in. I climbed anyway, slush grabbing at the tires, telling myself to be careful on the way out. Then I popped up top and… nothing. Dry dirt. Brown, exposed, mid winter cosplay with no commitment. Missoula might just skip winter this year. Long term forecasts whisper the same thing, warmer, wetter, fewer freezes, a slow erasing of what we expect January to look like.
So I adjusted. Slowed down when the mud showed up, treated the rare crusty snow patches like collectibles, savored them while they still exist. The ride turned out fine. It always does. I got home, ordered new tires, and stared at the fat bike like it owed me answers. If winter won’t show up, I’ll adapt. Road adventure rig, bike paths, whatever it takes. I will ride this thing. Climate change doesn’t get to cancel my coping mechanism.
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