Trails / Rides - Trail Tales
When we got to our logical time vs. daylight turnaround spot, Tim suggested we keep going to the top so we could use the last remaining light to descend the western aspect of the mountain, which was clear of trees. I seem to remember Tim screaming “To the summit,” in a battle cry similar to Mel Gibson’s “freedom” in Braveheart. We kept going. When it was finally pitch black and we were all walking our bikes with one headlamp, I realized we might be spending the night up there. Nick and I had nothing with us in the form of warm clothes. Around 1 a.m. we got to a wall of snow, so we kick stepped up the snowfield and summitted Columbia. We could see the lights of the valley, but knew that we would not be descending with only one headlamp.
The next logical step- start a fire. We found a little depression next to the trail and gathered wood to make a fire. We spent the next 5 hours huddled over our heat source trying to not think about the cold. Luckily, Tim had a jacket and a space blanket. I wrapped myself in the blanket as Nick just inched closer to the fire. We all were so close to the fire that the next day our legs were burned, as if we had been in the sun too long. At 6 a.m. we decided to descend the frontside. Nick and I ripped the space blanket in half and stuffed it down our shirts. My teeth would not stop chattering as I tried to mount my bike. My reflexes were painfully slow after no sleep, and at about the 4th switchback I went down. Those who have been up Columbia know what the trail looks like up there- loose, sharp rock everywhere. I tore up the right side of my leg pretty badly and had blood running down into my sock. Gotta keep moving. It took us just an hour to get down the front, and 5 hours going up the back. Most of that was stumbling with our bikes in the dark. We made it back to my house about 7:30 the next morning with Erin wondering what the heck happened to keep me out all night. She thought I was just passed out at a friend’s house, unaware that I was trying to make it through the cold Montana night.
I’ll never forget that night with two of my best friends atop Columbia. I’ll also never forget to bring extra clothes, extra food, and to always let someone know where I’m going. No one got seriously hurt and no search parties were organized. We were lucky.
“The Epic”
“The epic” has really two meanings in my mind. One is a long ride in which everything goes according to plan and you finish it feeling beat, but extremely satisfied. You drink a beer and rest your sore muscles. The other is a ride in which nothing really goes right and you never get to drink that beer because you don’t make it home. Our epic started as an evening ride after a day at the shop. Tim, Nick and I were going up the frontside of Columbia Mtn. until we got tired and then heading back down. Only, on the way to the trailhead, Tim suggested we ride the backside trail- Trail 51. That’s when it all started to go down hill, or “up hill” if you will. Knowing that we were going to just ride the frontside that night, I did not pack any food or even a jacket- a big no-no in Montana, even in late June.
So we started up the back around 7. When we arrived at our first blow down, Tim broke out his folding pocket saw and we hacked through the small 10” tree. It took us forever, however it felt good to clear a tree. When we arrived upon the next blow down, and the next one, we realized Trail 51 hadn’t been cleared in quite some time. We were crawling over and under some of the biggest trees I’ve ever had to deal with on a mtn. bike ride. At one gargantuan tree, Nick fell trying to get over it and landed on his head, cracking his helmet. We still pushed on.
