There is nothing sexier then a cute woman handling a fatty bike wheel. And there she was and I needed to stop starring and go help unload the snow bike. We arrived pretty late as per usual and we needed to get down the trail a bit before setting up our first camp of the long weekend.
The trail started off innocently enough. I usually find a extremely large amount of anticipation before an adventure. The unknown. The beauty. To me like a Christmas morning for a child. I couldn’t wait to unwrap our adventure.
And … if you can find a friend that enjoys the same thing … go with it. I mean go for all of it. For me I am lucky to have a partner that interestingly enough wants to push her bike for days on end and lounge around a campfire at night. And so we were off.
Within literally 20 pedal strokes we were neck deep in shrubs and stream crossings. Ok, now I understand why most of Alaska is unavailable for travel. That is why I like the Beartooths, because it is like Alaska as I remember. For some reason the thin air up near 10 grand intoxicates you and we just stumbled along dumbly … silently.
I finally broke the silence and reported that this weekend would probably be all bike walking. I needed to gauge my friends enjoyment level. I looked back down a hill that I tried to climb but succumb to falling off my large fat bike. What did I see? A large smile. That is all I needed and continued down the trail.
It had been only a tad over 2 miles when the sun started to set and we came upon a beautiful lake. In fact it was called Beauty lake. To us though, after a couple hours pushing the bike, it was home. At least for the night. The rest was a blur, not because I cant remember what went down but due to the conditions that the Beartooths are famous for. A storm blew in and it was all we could do to hang out food and dive for the tent before it hit. And hit it did, all night.