A SEASON IN THE SNAKE A summer of micro adventures in Missoula’s Rattlesnake wilderness

Story and photos by Aaron Teasdale shut the back door, jumped on my pretty cool.” the moon. This held me rapt — exploring radiating out like spokes on a wheel in Silas, to my delight, was not fazed by I bike, and headed for the hills. Through A feeling of giddiness welled in me after the suddenly visible topography, truly see- every direction, it’s a great place to be a the weather. Donning raingear, he prompt- Missoula streets, I rode to where Rattlesnake I said goodbye and pedaled deeper into ing it as a massive orb of rock floating with cyclist, especially if, like me, you favor ly started a fire and nursed it along while Creek flows from the mountains through the wilds, like the thrill of a child heading us through space. As I stood next to the wilder terrain. I cooked up a breakfast of oatmeal and, as the neighborhoods of the lower Rattlesnake into a giant playground. As dusk spread, fire, studying the moon and contemplating My favorite swath of nearby wild coun- insurance against any encroaching lack of Valley. Through a series of forested parks, it occurred to me that I might be the only our place in the Universe, I thought this is try is the 61,000-acre Rattlesnake National enthusiasm, hot cocoa with marshmallows. my front tire traced creek-side trails through human back there. A branch snapped in so worth it. The rushed, post-work prepara- Recreation Area and Wilderness in the Lolo Later that morning, as we packed up our the city’s outer reaches. 25 minutes after set- the forest, and my mind quickly cataloged tions, the being away from the family for National Forest. Home to bears, wolves, wet gear and prepared to ride home from ting out, signs announced the Rattlesnake the large carnivores in the area capable of the night — it was worth riding back here mountain lions, wolverines, and all manner our secret spot, Silas looked up from the National Recreation Area, and I pedaled ingesting me. This is a reliably invigorating just for this. of other untamed creatures, the ‘Snake is dripping yellow hood of his jacket and said into the backcountry. It was 7:30 at night. exercise, and from that point on my aware- not only the largest of Missoula’s protected cheerfully, “We have to bring Mom and Cyclists spun by on their way out, their ness was heightened, my primal instincts nspired by that first, grand overnight areas, it’s also the wildest. Fronted by the Jonah here.” rides ending. Mine was just getting started. revived — even if those instincts, being a I ride of the year, I made a plan for the Recreation Area and a spider’s web of trails, I smiled the deeply satisfied smile of a It was the end of May, Rattlesnake Creek bit rusty, had me springing into defensive summer: head out once a month for an its deeper reaches harbor the Rattlesnake father who’s passed something valuable on was swollen and charging, the forest bril- stances at the sound of rustling chipmunks, S24O (sub-24-hour overnight; see: www. Wilderness, the closest federally desig- to his son and said, “Definitely.” liant green and radiating life. After an hour or jolting my fight-or-flight impulse as adventurecycling.org/s24o) or similar micro nated wilderness to a metropolitan area of pedaling on an old Jeep road, I met three grouse winged up next to my wheel. adventure, and bring car-free, overnight in the country. It’s also just the tip of a few weeks later, in early July, our teenage boys with fishing poles preparing Just as it became too dark to ride, I adventures into my busy, family- much larger stretch of wild-country — A opportunity came to try an overnight to ride out. They saw my extra gear and arrived at a camp spot on a wooded bench oriented city life with minimal planning head north and the ‘Snake links with the ride with the whole family. Silas and I were asked what I was doing. over the creek. Thirty minutes later, with and hassle. After that first ride, I put all the Mission Mountains and, eventually, Glacier fresh off a bike overnight in Banff, so jump- “Heading back as far I can get before the tent up and a campfire ablaze, I’d made needed gear in a box so it would be ready Park and Canada, making it the southern ing on our trusty tandem with a BOB was dark,” I said, “then camping for the night.” my home for the night in the forest. It was to go. Make it idiot-proof, I figured, and I reach of what’s known as the Crown of BOB Trailer. beginning to feel like second nature. My “Wow,” they said, glimmers of possibil- here, while watching the moon rise behind might actually pull it off. the Continent, one of our planet’s greatest Fortunately, the rain held off (and my wife, Jacqueline, rode with six-year-old ity sparking in their eyes as they looked pine-tree silhouettes, that I raised my bin- It helps that my hometown of Missoula, remaining wildland complexes. Needless to legs held up) long enough for us to reach Jonah attached via a trailer-bike. again at my lightly-loaded , oculars and made the joyous discovery that, Montana, is ringed with public land that say, being able to ride there in 25 minutes camp and make a dinner of fire-roasted hot “Daddy, where are we going to camp?” “that’s cool.” along its edges where the light throws long reaches upward into vast sweeps of moun- from my front door is pretty great. dogs and glacier lillies. When it did rain that Jonah asked as the sign announcing the “Yeah,” I said with a chuckle, “it is shadows, you can actually see the craters on tains and rivers. With trails and dirt roads So it was that on the first Friday night night and into the next morning, I woke up, beginning of the ‘Snake passed by. of June, my gung-ho 10-year-old son, Silas, stepped out of the tent, and, hoping to lead “Wherever we get to,” I replied honestly and I headed out on our first father-son by fatherly example, said something con- but curtly, still a bit tense from rounding overnight adventure of the year. It was also trived like, “Ah, rain — invigorating!” up the gear for our adventure while try- the first overnight ride for our mountain- bike tandem, a recent hand-me-down from my father that we’d immediately taken in as a member of the family. “How far back are we going, Dad?” Silas In the Beginning... asked as we reached the edge of the ‘Snake and pedaled into the woods. “Just a couple miles,” I said. With only about 90 minutes of remaining light, I had my sights on a secret, hillside ledge with views over the Missoula Valley that I knew we could reach before dark. The sky was threatening, and the forecast promised storms; I’d even considered cancelling our ride, unsure how Silas would take to camp- ing in the rain. But these family adventures are precious, I figured, and by Jove we weren’t going to let a little rain stop us. Besides, if the rain got Biblical, we were ...there was just one continent, Pangea. only a few miles from home. With its indestructible frame, capacity for all of your essentials and big 26” Once we entered the ‘Snake, however, tires, the Co-Motion Pangea will unify your world’s continents. we were in another world entirely: A world Survive, Evolve, Ride. where Rattlesnake Creek was a frothing tor- rent of spring snowmelt threatening to spill over its banks; where sunburst blooms of yellow wildflowers — arnica, balsamroot, Photo: Gregg Bleakney, www.ribbonofroad.com glacier lillies — carpeted the forest floor; Co-Motion Cycles Inc. Toll Free 866-282-6336 where a father and his legs discovered the Eugene, Oregon, USA [email protected] hard way how much sheer effort it takes We’ll build one for you Like father, like son. Silas and Aaron are all smiles before heading in for another night in the Rattlesnake. to pedal a tandem with a child and a laden

12 a d v e n t u r e c y c l i s t d e c e m b e r / j a n u a r y 2010 adventurecycling . o r g a d v e n t u r e c y c l i s t d e c e m b e r / j a n u a r y 2010 adventurecycling . o r g 13 gushed off my brow and I prayed my quads my shoulder, with what would have been for it all at once. After a brief debate with wouldn’t rupture as we crept up the steep a disconcertingly wild grin had the boys Jacqueline (Her: “It’s his first week of fifth talus slope. been able to see it. “We just have to bomb grade!” Me: “This is way more important “Guys,” I managed to wheeze, “I could down!” than a day at school.”), I pulled Silas from really use your help here.” Everyone was laughing when we reached school just before Labor Day weekend to I wanted to believe that Silas was pedal- the bottom, Jacqueline and the boys with a head deep into the Rattlesnake Wilderness ing, but Jonah, whom I suspected was mer- mixture of adrenaline and relief, I with a for three nights of biking, backpacking, rily counting butterflies or looking around mixture of adrenaline and we-just-railed- and mountain-lake fishing. for mountain goats, was significantly less that-descent glee. After crossing Franklin We spent our first night at the shady, reliable. Bridge, where the main corridor crosses the water’s-edge campsite near Franklin Bridge Soon the battle was lost. I had to stop or creek at the foot of the hill, we stopped for where Silas was now staring open-mouthed explode. While I gasped and attempted to a snack in a shady campsite tucked into at the place where a toothbrush handle reinsert my lungs into my chest, the boys deep forest along the water’s edge. used to be before it was broken off. scampered around and hurled stones down “Can we camp here tonight?” Jonah said, “Who did this?” Silas said, the disem- the talus slope, which was apparently much as we sat back and watched an American bodied toothbrush in his hand. more exciting than pedaling a bicycle up a dipper bob along the rocks in the creek. I “I did,” I replied, turning away to hide mountain. reminded him that we’d left our camping my smile. We did make it to the top, though, even- gear back in the meadow and that we were “But ... why? Why would you do that?” tually and with some pushing. We even saw riding back home after our snack. Silas said, incredulous that his father — a family of nine mountain goats on the cliffs “Next time we will, okay?” I said, rais- who’d seemed so responsible until then — there, with several kids following their par- ing my hand for a high five. Jonah smiled would do something so destructive. ents along impossible creases in the rock. and slapped his little hand against mine. I “To save weight,” I said. “When you’re “Look, they’re just like us,” I said. couldn’t help but grab it and pull him in for carrying all your stuff like this, you gotta “Except those kids aren’t trying to make a hug. We had a new bicycle adventurer in trim weight wherever you can.” their father disgorge his lungs.” the family. Silas considered this for a minute in I did get my revenge, however — on the silence. Our equipment may have been the downhill. As we hurtled back down the omehow, in the maelstrom of life, we state of the art in ultralight camping gear, mountain, rattling across the rocks, Silas Sthen managed to go almost two months but given that we were also carrying a cried, “Dad, slow down! This is freaky!” without another overnight. This greatly backgammon set, two bedtime books, fish- “Can’t slow down!” I yelled back over disappointed me, so I decided to make up ing poles, and an obscenely heavy amount Breakfast storytime. Silas and Aaron start their day in the mountains by reading aloud around the campfire.

ing to corral two young boys whose idea hardy) adults, we’d surely press on, but went to sleep with the boys in the tent, I of “helping” involved some combination with the kids, and with it being Jonah’s laid my bag down outside and crawled in, of playing drums, establishing new couch- first bike overnight, the focus was fun, not back to the earth, bathed in starlight. jumping height records, and seeing how epic-ness. Besides, just getting out of the Morning dawned with cascades of bird- The Casseroll Triple delivers Versa-Thrillity. Sure, long they could balance on their head and/ house, much less riding to that meadow song, and as I awoke my vision was filled that may be a made-up word...but let us explain. or hold their breath. But as we rode along with the boys and camping gear, felt plenty with feathery white cottonwood seeds The Casseroll is a road bike with real road bike Rattlesnake Creek, still boiling white but epic right then. floating through the air like nature’s con- geometry, not a cross bike or hybrid bike. It’s definitely not about road racing though. Casseroll down from its peak of weeks previous, my “We’re here,” I called out. fetti against a brilliant blue sky. I called is about road riding, whether for commuting, tension floated away with the passing cur- “Yaay!” Silas and Jonah yelled before to the family, still asleep in the tent, and fitness, or just looking at the scenery. rent. Butterflies filled the air, a new wave of into the meadow and launching a within minutes Silas had started the morn- Our Casseroll recipe begins with double-butted Salsa Classico CroMoly tubing for both frame and fork. We utilize wildflowers speckled the forest floor, and spirited campaign to capture every living ing fire and Jonah had imprisoned a dozen a semi-sloping geometry to provide a fit-friendly platform sun-warmed air flowed over our bare arms grasshopper there. Later, after the boys had grasshoppers. and increased rider comfort. The frameset accepts really and legs — summer was here, and we were filled several stone grasshopper-detainment As we rode deeper into the ‘Snake that large road tires so you can take on some potholes and rough roads or just add a bunch of comfort to your ride. heading into the Rattlesnake once more. pens and roasted hot dogs over the campfire, morning, the trailer-bike now connected Designed around long-reach brakes, the Casseroll The old Jeep road we followed, called we lay in our tent, the rainfly off, and read to the tandem for a de facto triple, I tried can take up to 700c x 32mm tires while running full fenders. Add a rear rack if you like, and there’s a the “main corridor” by locals, provides bedtime books aloud under the stars and a to mentally prepare the boys for the long, good old-fashioned pump peg to boot. the easiest access to the ‘Snake’s deeper boomerang moon. It was exactly the kind of rocky climb that awaited us when the All this makes the Casseroll a road rider’s road reaches, paralleling the creek for 16 miles idyllic scene you hope for on a family camp- old Jeep road left the creek-bottom and bike, perfect for long miles on charity rides, from the main Rattlesnake trailhead before ing trip, even if the reading was constantly launched up a rocky mountainside. If they credit card touring, and well...versa-thrilling. reaching the Wilderness boundary, past interrupted by the kids yelling “There’s weren’t charged up and ready to pedal, I Casseroll. Truly one hot dish. which are forbidden. We made one!” and “There’s another one!” every time knew there was no way we’d make it. In an it about five of those, or 11 miles from one of the meadow’s unending population of effort to add some excitement to the pros- home, before arriving at a meadow studded bats flew helter-skelter over the tent. pect, I cried, “The Teasdale Train is going with towering cottonwoods. Birds dashed After the boys were asleep, Jacqueline to be on top of the world!” ©2009 Salsa Cycles between the trees, filling the air with song, and I talked about what a treat it was to be Thirty minutes later, things were more while the sun dipped low over the forested sitting around a campfire instead of at home exciting than I’d hoped as I desperately mountains that rose on all sides. Were I glued to the internet or paying bills or some mashed the pedals in a heroic effort to alone or with other like-minded (i.e. fool- other devitalizing domestic task. When she keep our train moving forward. Sweat

14 a d v e n t u r e c y c l i s t d e c e m b e r / j a n u a r y 2010 adventurecycling . o r g a d v e n t u r e c y c l i s t d e c e m b e r / j a n u a r y 2010 adventurecycling . o r g 15 of camera equipment, my answer may have pikas; we weathered hail, winds, and cold. family into the mountains, I needed to do seemed dubious. I reminded Silas that we We read stories by the campfire, listened to something more adventurous, maybe even faced a big challenge right away that morn- bull elk bugle from the mountainsides, and risky, to shake up my comfortable worka- ing: the big talus climb that had defeated caught fish after fish after fish. day life. Something I could look back on BROOKS us last time. But whether he was contem- When we made it home two hours after when my days of high-mountain riding are STYLE ON THE MOVE plating the weight of whatever young-boy dark on the fourth day, after a monumen- behind me and say, I did that. trinkets he had squirreled away in his tal six-mile hike and a 22-mile ride out, As usual, I couldn’t find anyone to come pack (Matchbox cars? Cool rocks from the Jacqueline gave Silas a hug and asked, along, so I pedaled out of town as a lone BRICKLANE creek?) or considering the new reality of “How was it?” rider one evening in mid-September. The life with a toothbrush-destroying father, he “Awesome!” came his immediate reply. I shrubs were turning scarlet and the sum- ROLL UP PANNIERS mer’s butterflies were gone as I climbed the & HOXTON BASKET Woods Gulch trail into the hills overlook- ing Missoula. Lights began winking in the valley below as the sunset’s painted sky settled into a crimson band over the blue silhouettes of distant mountain ranges. When true darkness crept from the forest, I turned on my light and the quest began, as it does every night I sleep out, for the “THEY perfect campsite. At 9:00 pm and 2,500- feet above Missoula — wind swaying the tree branches, stars piercing the blackness FOLD above — I found it: a wide, grassy clear- ing in the forest overlooking the city far below. An owl hooted in the distance while NEATLY I pitched my tent near the matted-down grass of an elk bed, silently thanking it for sharing its bedroom with me. The chattering of red squirrels and AWAY” gray jays woke me the next morning, and I packed up and pedaled away at 8:30, intending to eat my oatmeal breakfast on Creek-side camp. Silas tends the fire at the campsite by Franklin Bridge. Sheep Mountain’s summit. Muscling up the trail was tough, and I walked more than one stayed quiet as we packed up camp. couldn’t have felt a deeper sense of satisfac- steep section, but the golden morning light “We’re going to have to work together tion if I’d just ensured permanent world slanting through the trees and the increas- here,” I said as we began the climb, fully peace. My son loved the mountains just ingly vast views pulled me onward. Then, expecting to be off the bike in minutes and like me. after taking an hour to fill a water bottle reinserting my lungs again. After all, there with spectacularly delicious huckleberries were only two of us, and we had a fully- or the last overnight adventure of the for the family, I came upon a glistening loaded trailer now. But something amazing Fseason, I set my sights high — literally. pile of mountain lion scat not 30 yards up happened. Silas really gave it his all this The trail up and over Sheep Mountain, the trail. My mouth dropped. Had it been time, and we worked together, father and on the eastern edge of the Rattlesnake, is watching me? There was no way to know, son, to pedal that rig up the mountain with- renowned as Missoula’s most epic moun- and nothing to do but continue on. out stopping. It was like he was suddenly tain bike ride. Climbing a cumulative 5,000 I finally reached Sheep Mountain’s sum- growing up, like our summer of riding was vertical feet from the valley floor, it’s a mit in the early afternoon. Sitting on my transforming him. There was some high- rough, narrow trail that ascends ridges throne in the sky, a lone man on a wild fiving at the top, but we didn’t waste a lot of along the eastern edge of the Rattlesnake mountaintop, I breathed clean, pure air time with celebrations. Silas was driven to before topping out on an open-aired sum- from the blue above. Resting under a warm Gwyn, London, England reach the depths of the wilderness and see mit with 100-mile views. From there, it afternoon sun, I scanned the cliffs below the lakes that rested in the high peaks. plummets off Sheep Mountain’s backside for goats or sheep and gazed across a land- photographed on her Pashley Princess “I can do it,” he said whenever I sug- in a switchbacking, 4,000-foot plunge to scape of mountains without end. Sprawling Read more riders’ comments gested we aim for one of the lower, easier- Rattlesnake Creek and the main corridor out beneath me was the Rattlesnake itself on Brooks Cycle Bags at: to-reach lakes instead of the high, distant below. Typically undertaken by experts — the wide, glacially carved valley of www.brooksengland.com/gwyn lake he’d identified as our goal. on mountain bikes, I’d decided it would be the creek and the main corridor 4,000 And, to my surprise, and fueled by fun to ride as an overnight on a Salsa Fargo feet below, where the descent would soon Available online or at your nearest Brooks Dealer of Excellence huckleberries and a desire to see, he did. (essentially a touring bike on steroids) with deliver me. Beyond that was a distant We left the bike at the Wilderness bound- ultralight camping gear. jumble of the wilderness’s loftiest peaks, ary and hiked high into the Rattlesnake A questionable plan, yes, but I craved a Mountains. We saw bears, eagles, and challenge. As much as I love bringing my continued on page 38

16 a d v e n t u r e c y c l i s t D e c e m b e r /Ja n u a r y 2010 adventurecycling . o r g Open Road Gallery

Touring Ride In 26 years & a biker’s dozen Rural Indiana® by Sarah Raz Photographs by Greg Siple 1989 TRIRI® presents three tours in 2010, visiting Indiana’s beautiful state parks along lightly traveled, scenic 2009 routes. Our tours offer something for everyone!

Overnights in state parks

Catered breakfasts Wilderness view. Looking over the upper Rattlesnake Valley from atop Sheep Mountain. & dinners continued from page 16 the main trailhead, then another six miles from home, it would be a cruise compared TRIRI® 2010: and beyond those more peaks still. to what I’d just done. In one of the finest June 20-26 I’d been saving my oatmeal to eat here, adventures in a season of fine adventures, Southeast Indiana - Camp or since there’s nothing quite like cooking a I’d completed the first-ever descent of meal on a mountaintop. But because I’d Sheep Mountain on a loaded touring bike stay in state park inns camped high and ridden ridgelines all day, (even if it wasn’t your typical loaded tour- I’d come across no water sources and was still ing bike). Leaning back against a smooth, RAINSTORM™ 2010: drinking from the same supply I’d left home angled stone, I dropped a handful of huck- with the day before. Though I’d packed leberries into my hot oatmeal and found I July 12-17 extra and rationed, there wasn’t enough left. couldn’t stop smiling. Five century The oatmeal would have to wait. Riding down the old Jeep road in the rides over five Fortunately, the descent wouldn’t, and darkening night a short while later — pass- it was as magnificent as I’d hoped. With ing a bear in a meadow, feeling a bat’s wing days preceding Fo r g e t a b o u t “c a r p e d i e m ,” Bi l l y Mo n t i g n y ’s d i c t u m is “s e i z e t h e s e c o n d !” He visited our office every ounce of skill I’ve accumulated over graze my face, which made me yell and RAIN™ - Ride Across Indiana this August, during his 12th solo transcontinental trip in 26 years. In 1983, having rapidly two decades of mountain riding, I piloted then laugh out loud — I was enveloped in progressed from commuting 15 miles a day to riding more than 400 miles a week, he decided to ride that bike down mountainside switchbacks a weary euphoria. As on every one of the SEPTEMBER across the country. He set out with little knowledge and too much stuff, but was “fueled by a sense and onto a virtual game trail that plunged season’s Rattlesnake rambles, I’d spent the of wonder and intensity and curiosity, a huge heart, and tireless legs.” ESCAPADE™ 2010: and weaved through a deep forest of emer- last 24 hours checking zero emails, receiv- Billy finished his first crossing in just 27 days and was hungry for more. Over the next quarter September 12-17 ald ferns and tumbling brooks for hours. I ing zero phone calls, and driving zero century, he found himself packing up his bicycle and making the cross-country journey whenever finally emerged, thoroughly spent, hungry, miles, and I couldn’t have been happier he needed to reach a place of mental transcendence and clarity. He chose different routes each time South central Indiana - Camp and out of water, at the side of Rattlesnake about it. Better still, my love of wild places or stay in state park inns yet was never disappointed despite the multitude of challenges presented. Billy has pedaled through Creek and just below the big talus climb. was passing on to my boys, who were turn- 600 miles of continuous forest fires, been pelted by golf-ball-sized hail, battled debilitating illness I rode the half-mile down to the campsite ing into bicycle adventurers themselves. I and injury, and camped in boxcars and city parks. He wouldn’t trade any of it. by Franklin Bridge, filled my water bottles, brightened at the thought of them wait- makes the world less complicated, breaks it down to the basics. According to and drank. This is where I’d camped with ing for me back home, but couldn’t bring Billy, “Traveling through America, on a narrow line that’s 15 feet wide and 3,000 miles long, you Silas, and where Jonah had wanted to stay, myself to rush. It had been a great sum- feel every nuance of landscape, every variation of wind and weather.” Billy sets out on each journey and where I’d talked to the boys with fish- mer in the Rattlesnake, for me and for our hoping to find love, adventure, and poetry — and is never let down. ing poles on my first overnight of the year family, and I wanted to savor the final ride back in May. The creek’s autumn flow was out. From Adventure Cycling’s National Bicycle Touring Portrait Collection. © 2009 Adventure Cycling Association. WWW.TRIRI.ORG now just a trickle, but I finally had the water to cook my oatmeal — the last of my By the time you read this, Aaron Teasdale should be (812) 333-8176 food — and brew an invigorating mug of exploring the ‘Snake on skis — while concocting plans Earl Grey tea. for bigger family bike adventures in the future. Follow Though I was still eight miles from his misadventures at www.aaronteasdale.blogspot.com.

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