Dirt, sweat, and blood...

That, pre-Julian, used to be more or less my definition of a successful ride. If I didn't get covered in dirt and mud, pine needles plastered to various locations on bike and body, then there was obviously not enough fun happening. Physiologists will tell you that sweating is a natural biological response to increased work, designed to aid in thermo-regulation. I think sweating is a natural reaction to there being sufficient quantities of fun involved in my ride. And, of course, we would all prefer that our blood stays in the convenient container of our body most of the time, but it is good to sound out the limits, push a little bit, and get some warpaint to prove that you discovered where those limits were: at the outside envelope of... you guessed it... having enough fun.

Nowadays things are kept a little more conservative. Sweat is a given, especially when pulling around a 30 pound child up and down singletrack and forest roads that are hard enough solo. Naturally, the mud washes off... but his mother would just kill me if we crashed. So we stay inside a margin of safety which is quite restrictive. I know the terrain, our equipment, and my abilities well enough to have an enjoyable time without pushing up against the limits.

Today I got in a solo effort which put me right back square in my old definition of a successful ride. A grey, drizzly day and some trails to explore.

I started up the Pattee Canyon road and headed up the Sam Braxton trail. I intended to just follow the loop, but was sidetracked by a side track. Little did I know that it would lead me up to a bit of steep, fall line singletrack through tight trees... which would have been ridable had it not been for the recent rains making things quite soft.

I crashed. On purpose. It was better to have a semi-controlled laying over of the bike than a full on faceplant through the trees. About a mile later I noticed my knee dripping with blood, but I didn't care. The trails were great, I made it back to Sam B and rode the loop, riding light and shouldering the bike over numerous logs and fallen trees.

A quick road decent, and then up the Crazy Canyon trail to Crooked trail. I swooped around the downhill singletrack on the flank of Sentinel, and burst out into the fields of wildflowers and wide open views of the Missoula valley. I thought about continuing the ride, but opted to head home instead. I got some strange looks on the way. Here I am, covered in mud and blood... and I'm smiling and waving at everyone I pass.

I didn't take very many pictures, and I figure no one wants to see pictures of my leg or my dirty bike... so here's some flowers instead.

Indian Paintbrush

Shooting Stars.

Lupine and Arrowleaf Balsamroot.

Looking northwest into the valley.
That precipitation over Rattlesnake is why I opted to head home.
There is fresh snow on all the mountains.

All in all, 20 miles and 2500 feet of climbing. A beautiful day, and a successful ride by any definition. After a shower, the knee wound turned out to be not much more than a scratch, the mud and sweat washed away, all that will be left are memories and a few pictures. As it should be.