fleacer ridge

a day off does wonders physically. you ingest massive amounts of calories and sleep without the tug of packing and leaving. you feel renewed.

i’m not sure if there is a recipe for when and how long to rest, but once the brain starts to fire the pedaling synapses, the rest day is done.

we could have easily stayed one more day in butte (that seems so ironic) and had another plate full of those nummy super 8 hard boiled eggs but instead, this morning we pedaled, and we pedaled hard

our path took us up and over fleacer ridge, the trail of which is a seam of gravel and cobble and fractured rock “up” a 20% slope and “down” a 40% slope. it is perilous and “we were warned”, but rode it anyways.

okay, we rode part of it. the rest was a hike-a-bike with brakes locked, under a scalding sun.

if you’ve read this blog, you will recall a time when i made fun of montana horse flies being slow and dim-witted. two weeks later, dipteran retribution was served and the horse flies feasted at first on any bare skin, but later, anywhere. they are still slow and easy to swat, but you can’t swat what you can’t see and you can’t swat when your hand has a death grip on your rear brake lever.

getting up to fleacer involved a long, 8.1 mile trek with an elevation gain of 2,100 feet. our climb coincided nicely with temperatures in the 90’s and the first brigade of the blood-sucking insects.

during our journey, many people have warned about “fleacer ridge”, like it is evil, or leads hobbits the wrong way to mordor. it isn’t. it’s an historic-use trail traversing a steep, treeless ridge and is part and parcel to the rocky mountains.

of course it is steep. of course it is treacherous. of course one must be careful, but in my 19th day of divide experience, it is no worse than the 6,000-foot, rock infested, butt-crack climb from helena to basin, or stemple pass, our first run in with trail hell.

we took our time. we made it, and now? i can tell everyone i rode down fleacer ridge without a care in the world, because legendary rides don’t have to be real…they just have to told.

like fish stories.

we made it to wise river and infused our viscera with cold beverages at the mercantile. two hours later, i am still dehydrated, and sitting like a bump on the porch.

more water. more hard-boiled eggs, please!!!