My partner went away for the weekend and my mind went into plan mode. Where could I go and what should I do? It had to be something that normally she would not do with me. Bivvy out? Multi-day ride trying to cover a big distance. At this time I didn’t even know enduro existed; otherwise, I would have booked two days at Big Sky to do some downhill.
Well, it was spring. And I had not done Little Bear Cabin yet. It was not a bivvy, but at this time of the year, the snow was still low. We have done this one together previously and it was a little hard. How much worse could it be? I needed to keep my mind off the new bike and its possibilities. One last fat bike pack.
I got going a little late so I knew the snow would be soft. Last year was a slog but I managed to ride most of it. After two hours of spinning along, I stopped for a water break and to text my partner. Mostly to let her know how fantastic my adventure was and to spark some jealousy. How dare she find something better to do and leave me to my own devices. I was going to have the greatest adventure for f^%$’s sake.
The first time I got off I figured it would be for just a little while. When I get to another aspect I could ride again. The spirits were high. The new bike at home was the farthest thing from my mind. Wow! is that bear prints I am following? Freaking cool!
After quickly taking an image and posting to Instagram I set forth. Then an hour went by and wow was the soft wet snow hard pushing through. My heart rate now going up past where I was comfortable another hour ticked by. Then another hour … and another.
By the time I reached the cabin it was getting dark and I was so exhausted that I didn’t feel like I really wanted to be adventuring any longer. I definitely was not posting messages to Snuggles how fun it was. Why was I doing this shit instead of mountain biking with my new ride? Why? I ate dinner, started a fire, and dozed off without even taking my bag off the bike.
When I woke up I packed up as fast as I could. This adventure was over and I had to get on the snow before it got warm. Problem was, it was already warm out. And it did not cool down much overnight.
By the time I started finding patches of ground I could kiss and try and ride, it started to rain. Really? Rain? F this.
Eventually, I got out. Back in the valley, there was no time to rest much less to start having a great time again. I had to outrun an impending downpour. It chased me all the way home. About a mile out it unleashed its torrent upon me. It was then I made my pledge. This was the last ride on snow I would do this year. I hated it. I wanted to ride on dirt. And … I was reading about how my new bike was designed for Enduro. That had to be better than this … right? It would be the ultimate break from bike packing gone wrong. I mean it is the opposite, correct? How hard could it be?