Coup de grâce Ride

Coup de grâce Ride

The phrase can refer to the final event that causes a figurative death. After a winter that held all of us so tightly without reprieve, a day in the mid fifties would finally be it's end. Anticipating the season's impending passing, fatbikes would have to roll early to catch that small window of riding opportunity. Temps barely dipped below freezing overnight, but enough to firm the remaining snow and allow the big tires to float on top. A week previous, we could ride the crust everywhere, but the power of the late March sun ate away the surface integrity and now we were left with just ribbons of ice and snow on singletrack. Which is okay too.

It's been a long winter to be sure-record cold and snow and no typical thaw at any point. Our snowbike trails held up great and afforded us a lot of riding, even in below zero temps. In fact, at those cold temperatures, riding was preferred over skiing, where glide would be non existent. This year has really seen the sport of fatbiking explode and more and more riding opportunities are popping up around the state. The Midwest has been called the “Fatbike Mecca” in some national publications and I agree. That fact was illustrated in how many different brands were represented on this final winter ride- six manufacturers toed the starting line- defiantly mainstream now.

Even at an early hour, it seemed the sun immediately started softening the snow-especially on the south side of Levis Mound. Scattered oak leaves soak up the heat and burn postholes in the trail making for a bumpy ride even on big soft tires. Any thought of an nice easy spin was gone as our gang of ten mashed the pedals just to move forward. Switching from singletrack to an old ski trail made pedaling a bit easier until reaching an incline facing the sun-then I found it a challenge to keep traction and the lungs in my chest.

A freshly groomed skate ski trail still remained hard, so that provided an autobahn stretch to click off a few miles to a more shaded bike trail. Our favorite winter trail is Yellowjacket and on this day, some of it was buffed smooth and fast, others a grinder as the surface gave way to the warming sunshine. At the tail end, we gave up, left the struggling behind and finished the ride on the deserted ski trail.

In the end it was perfect, the chatter among friends resumed as we rode in close quarters finally spinning easily. As deemed appropriate, the group finished with one last climb and a blistering frost flying downhill race to the chalet. The consummate end of a great snowbike season. The post ride discussion revolved around the new bikes laying scattered in the parking lot, of brakes and fat tires and of maybe finally riding dirt again soon. I wasn't as keen on the last topic for I love winter riding. I love the pure white around me and the quiet and softness when I hit the perfect day of riding. There was a bit of melancholy when I hoisted the bike into the truck, knowing it'd be 9 months until we had this chance again. It felt like we truly did put the winter to bed and I'm glad I could share the day with so many new and old friends and look forward to the chance to do it all again.

Back to Kick and Stick

“Back in the saddle again?” That might be an appropriate phrase for the state of recovery I'm in at this point, 7 weeks after hip surgery. Although not pedaling as of this writing, I did finally clip into ski bindings, cinched tightly the straps of my poles and took the first baby steps to enjoying winter again. The surgeon gave me the all clear a few days ago, telling me to “wean yourself off the crutches” and “start using the muscles in your leg again.” Okay-that's a green enough light for me. Even though the joint itself feels good, the soft tissue will remain tender for some time. No matter, 4 inches of new snow was calling my name.

Typically, my winter involves a lot of ski trail grooming, skiing and snow biking, but with the lay up, other club members jumped in and did a stellar job keeping trails in shape. So good, in fact, that after the last snowfall, I could wait no longer. Usually I skate ski the majority of the time and even though I was excited by my Dr.s go-ahead, I knew that technique would have to wait. Classical skiing however, would be much gentler, smooth and lend itself to getting me back in ski shape again. So with some trepidation, I clicked in and slid my boards into the tracks at my favorite trail, Levis Mound.

To describe this morning, nothing would be more spot on than “Winter Wonderland. The beautiful snowfall was preceded by sleety rain, which helped glue the white flock to every branch and twig trailside. Simply beautiful.  Leaving the chalet is a gentle downhill, and not knowing what my leg would do, I started with some double poling. I figured two ski poles should equal one crutch, right? As my momentum slowed, I needed to start a little kick and glide to keep up with some imaginary ski partners ahead. Surprisingly, the ageless beauty of striding on classic skis started filtering back into my totally unfit body. Hip was good, muscles and busied tendons seem to work and soon the rhythm of the technique carried me down the trail.

I'd thought before that maybe a little short ski would be in order-just a test of my abilities for the first outing. But, as things usually go, I just couldn't turn back-not yet. Two skate skiers ahead continued on and I took a turn onto a different longer trail. “I'll just go a ways and then come back.” I tried to believe. As the kilometers started passing by and the scenery getting impossibly better, I gave up turning back. I was at the point of no return I figured, “I might as well keep going and do the whole Bad Bear loop.” I stopped more frequently that I ever would, but that was a good thing. I need to rest and more so soak in everything around me in the forest. Lord knows I had too many days and weeks cooped up inside. I was glad to be skiing alone for inside, even though I could give myself a pass, I'd be embarrassed by how slow I was moving. Again, no matter-it felt so damn good to be skiing again, sucking in cold air and feeling the heart pound a little cresting a climb.

The easier flat route was one choice on my return, or there was the hilly shorter route. The logic Steve on one shoulder said take the flat trail, this is your first time out. The “can't-wait-to-ski” Steve on the other side shouted “hills!” Although I'd pay the price on the climbs-on this day, I really needed to smoke down at least one hill-JackRabbit Draw. Upon cresting, and starting my descent, suddenly I realized maybe this wasn't the best idea. Classic skis don't have the stability like my usual skate ones, and my slight snowplow to scrub speed was a shaky at best. Set tracks however, soon had the boards locked in like rails and I couldn't help grin a little as I finished the run out at the bottom. From this point, it was a short ski back to the trailhead and the completion of my first outing. Unclipping and then getting some help removing the ski boots (not all the flexibility is back yet!) I realized how much I missed skiing. It's said you never know how much you miss something until it's gone. I may have over did it a little, but I'll forgive myself this time.

First Dirt

I once wrote about the “in-between season” before snow arrives where one changes outdoor equipment, bikes to shotguns, shotguns to skis.  In the “spring” it usually reverses and skis are traded back to bikes or turkey guns or bows.  With the advent of fat bikes, the two wheels were never tucked away, and ran right alongside the skinny skis more or less.  Maybe there is no in-between season now?  Of all the seasons, spring is my least favorite with the only saving grace being turkey hunting.  This year, not only did spring never really arrive, but the birds seem few and far between as well.  Usually it’s slop for a few weeks, really no fun to bike in and the usual ATV and sno-mo trails take a long time to firm up, limiting riding opportunities. 

Luckily, even with snow stretching into May in places, Levis Mound can dry quickly and get us back to pedaling on decent trails.  With snow and a lot of rain as recently as the past week, I’d been anxiously waiting for a chance to “scout” Levis and report in on it’s drying progress.  With a beautiful day this past weekend providing the opportunity, I rolled out the door to explore.  Levis Mound is all sandstone and the surrounding singletrack, twisting and turning up and over the mounds tend to be sandy and dry quickly.  I stayed with my Salsa fatbike, now being my ride of choice year ‘round, and hit the trail.  

Surprisingly, even the lower trails were dry, with barely a puddle anywhere-I hadn’t expected that!  The climbs to the top of the mound would be bone dry I’d guessed and as I ascended to the upper routes, found I was correct.  Even with all the snowbiking this winter, I am not in bike season shape, so this day was one for just touring, stopping and clearing deadfalls, snapping some photos and just checking my bike handing skills.  An easy relaxing ride.  Levis Mound is blessed with five unique cliff side overlooks, and I had to visit each one-slowing rolling up to the edge and checking out the leafless forest below-an unusual view.  Turkey vultures rode the thermals surrounding the mound and pausing to watch with envy, gave me a chance to rest.  

Although I love riding the snowy packed singletrack with friends all winter, there is something special about the first ride on dirt by myself-almost cleansing after the long cold ‘tweener time of year.  Not wishing to pay the price too much for an early season ride, I exited Levis to start some downhill singletrack ripping, barely keeping the speed in check but smiling all the way.  Although more snow is forecast, the dirt is here to stay and I’ll be back with buddies to ride the rest of this gem of a trail. Lets start summer!

The Snow Flea Ski

The day started out cold and a skim of new sharp snow on the trail.  From all forecasts it also started out as what would be my final day on skis.  Not that it was a traumatic thing, for I’d only skied five or six times this “winter.”  Yes, if I’d made the effort to drive north, I could have found better snow and spent many more hours on skis than on a fat bike.  But this is my home trail, then one I usually spend equal hours grooming as skiing, but not this year.  We really only had a week of halfway decent snow, before giving way to warm temps and dryness which prevented any semblance of a ski season.

So today was the day for the Snow Flea ski-usually taking place later in March, but temps turning to the fifties this week will end any striding or skating on real snow. The snow Fleas emerge from the buried oak leaf litter below the snow on days pushing into the 30’s and they blanketed the surface of the trail- a sure sign that the end is near.  Normally I’d be on super fast corn snow now with no worry of wax to provide glide.  Not today, that cold morning and a continued light snow, made for no glide conditions, despite a comfortable 30 degrees.  It was a day when even on the down hills, the trail seemed to grab at the bottoms of my skis and force me to break into a skate way before I should…I should be just gliding along instead.  It was decided early on that the ski pace would not be hurried then, that I had no agenda on this day, it was just to ski.

It was work to get from one trail to the next, even at this slow pace and effort and I thought about calling it a day and heading back early.  I decided to keep going, to make the circuit around Levis Mound on snow I’d groomed the previous day, to take advantage of my work.  The high sun on this day had already burned thru some spots, and more hikers than skiers had pounded the base.  Didn’t matter, I could pick my way through, dodge a rock or fallen branch here and there and continue.  I took breaks frequently.  Stopped, took in the smell of the spring forest and tried to spot any movement-deer, wolf, fisher, but nothing was out and about.  The woods were so quiet. 

On the final stretch, I paused again to look up at the towering frosted sides of Levis Mound.  On the east side, the sun had yet to claw it’s way into the snow cover and it still had that mid winter look.  I’d wished I’d seen that more this year.  Only skiers really understand the anticipation of ski season, of waiting months for that first round of softly falling flakes, of the first grooming and first glide down the fresh corduroy.  For me, this winter never went far beyond that anticipation.  At that moment, the lonesome whistle of the train headed from Black River to Merrillan echoed miles away and for whatever reason struck me as the signal that for this year, my time on skis, on this trail, were over.  The Snow Fleas, the unseen animals, would have the trail to themselves again.

Mountain Bike Friendships

Steve at the Start Finish

I'm finding that a lot of times a photograph is the instigator of a new piece to sit down and write about and lately the subject matter (of this blog) is less about photography and more about other musings (did I just use that word?).  The photo above was one such inspiration and is of friend Steve Steinke, who I ran into at the Growlers Snow Bike Race this past week hosted by the Bear Paw Outdoor center.  I still remember the first time we met-a warm summer afternoon at Levis Mound.  I had pulled into a  empty parking lot,  with the exception of one older pick-up truck with bikes latched onto the roof.  A small tent was pitched, a lawn chair and a rider sat enjoying a cold beer on the adjacent picnic table.  I went out and put a quick ride in on the singletrack and when I returned he was still there relaxing.   I introduced myself, and he asked if I'd like a cold beverage myself...the best of introductions.  He realized I was a trail builder here and had nothing but complements on our trails.  An hour or two passed and our conversation dove into mountain biking, trails we ride, land use, favorite places and other outdoor activities.  Sometimes you just know a first meeting will become a friendship.

"Steve-O-Punk" Hammerin Singletrack

 Our paths would cross from time to time, for not only is he an excellent rider but also a cross country skier and Levis Mound seemed to be a favorite destination.    Steve is also a fishing guide in Medford, Wisconsin and an artist producing some great work.  Anytime we meet, like this past race weekend, I know we'll have a great conversation and pick up from where we left off, no matter how long ago it was.  He contributes often in MTBR forums, a website for mountain bikers and trail advocates.  He's close in age to myself, but spends much more time on the bike and can hammer the trails to no end, as results from last weeks fat-bike race can attest.

Randy Hammering the Dirt Cat

Finding friendly faces, like Steve's at a race venue, is very welcome-I'd driven half way across the state to just be a spectator and shoot some pictures, all the while hoping to just observe how the folks (whom I didn't know) at the Bear Paw would run their event.    Another Friend Randy Wegener, happened to be  sitting inside the bar area warming up, or contemplating his race strategy for the day.  Or maybe just enjoying a beverage?  Gnomefest brought our circles together a few years ago at Levis Mound and another picnic table meeting.  Randy  from Plymouth and I hooked up while heading out to ride the "Dirt Cat" check point race back then.  Since I set up the course and it was my home trail, he didn't seem to mind tagging along.  He's super fit, and one of the best riders in the state, so my only hope of riding together was that I knew every short cut.  We clicked off the checkpoints and had a blast doing so, and post race we enjoyed some quality times over a beer or two at his campsite.  Since I knew few people at this event, Randy and girlfriend Sara became quick friends and have remained so over every addition of the fest.  Randy is a trail builder down in the kettles and is one of those riders who embraces the sport to it's highest level, but also loves to have fun.  He joined up with two other talented riders at the snow bike race, but was more than willing to take PBR handups during his lap...-they ended up winning, of course.

The O'so Hand-up

 Mountain biking and skiing have introduced me to a lot of friends over the years-during the race years, I think it's the shared suffering of an event.  Or maybe the pre-race preparation or post race celebration that bring like-minded people together?  My long time friend Marvin Schmieser from Antigo, learned through the social network grapevine that I'd be at the Bear paw, so he made the short drive over to just catch up.  It'd been a few years since we'd gotten together, maybe since we both retired from the Birkie?  Marv is still hitting a few mountain bike races and now helps build trail as I do.  I think we met at a ski race a long time ago and at some point we've hit every major race in the state.  We share a love of the outdoors and good beer and expensive bikes, so we never are for a shortage to things to talk about when we get together.  It was just the best to spend part of a day with him.

Races and outdoor events have brought me to meet many new friends-Gomez, of Fat-Bike.com fame, Bethany, Marty, Adam, who so kindly delivered my latest bike, and many others at Gnomefest.  I'm sure Scott Berry from the Bear Paw will be another-there are just too many things we have in common for a friendship not to grow there, and I'll be looking forward to it.   I'm also looking forward to those friendships with people I have yet to meet, but would guess riding or skiing or the trails will bring us together and who I know will enrich this life.

The Trow Wolf Track

Deer Carcass on Moundbounder

Photography isn't always pretty.  Nature isn't either...some would say.  But it's the way of things and it's the reality of how life works.  One of the things I love about snow, and grooming snow, is in the early morning hours, when the sun brightens the woods, the stories of the dark hours begins to emerge.  It's the same when I see tracks, and I wonder what happened before I stumbled across them and what happened after.  On this morning, some of the story was left on the ski trail.

Within the first mile of grooming, I quickly cut a lone wolf track, which seemed content to just follow the powdered surface of the trail heading west.  The meandering tracks were easy to see-sunk deeply into the base getting wiped out by the ski trail groomer passing over them.  I stopped a few times just to get a closer look.  They soon veered off on an ungroomed trail, so I decided this day was the one to catch up and get it in skiing condition...besides, the tracks pulled me that way.  A short trip and we merged onto the Moundbounder trail, the name implies a lot of hills and it does deliver.  At the top of the first climb, the lone track melted into a mass of packed snow-canine tracks everywhere, like a wolf party zone.  It stopped me in my...err, tracks.  I couldn't believe, or understand why everything was tore up. I could see more tracks cascading off the ridge line above me onto this spot.  Further below, something lay in the trail.  The deer skull and spine, with snapped off ribs, had been dragged, pulled and wrestled with from the top of the ridge to the spot where it rested.  That much of the story was now clear.  I may have even disrupted the tug of war or the feeding frenzy that had taken place.

Drag lines and Rib Patterns

In hind sight, I was probably right.  After completing my first pass, I discovered fresh wolf prints in the newly groomed snow.  They were still here, closeby.  I had moved the carcass off the trail and on my return trip, ravens and a immature bald eagle stood watch in the trees above- a sure sign they were aware the deer's body had been there and the wolfs feeding earlier had not gone unnoticed.

There were several places along the trail where earlier in the day or previous night, the wolves had taken advantage of the packed snow to wrestle, play or frolic, (if wolves do that) evidenced by the hundreds of tracks, "skid" marks and body slams in the snow.  I wondered what this must look like live.  The three (it appeared to be three wolves together at several tracking points) didn't appear to be fighting over scraps of food at those places-there was no blood or bone there, just a free for all as they loped along here and there.  I'd seen this behavior last winter while grooming in fresh snow, seeing the imprint of their bodies and heads in the snow.  They also appear to love snow "baths"-something our golden retriever would do, rolling around in the snow back and forth.

Tracks of Wolf and Sue J.

Fellow skier and trail worker Sue had been skiing the evening before and said she felt like wolves were stalking her.  She cut tracks several times during her ski, and as observed, some of her ski tracks lie on theirs, some the other way around.  I don't think it was stalking in any way, she was just skiing in their house.  On one pass, I stopped again and clammored up the sidehill where they had slid down and quickly found three beds directly on the Hermosa singletrack.  They'd slept here and at some point returned to the carcass below, which Sue had dragged off trail.  Apparently, they preferred it back where it'd been.

Tracks on Corduroy-Second Pass

The hours on the fourwheeler continued on and at several places, where I finished up my second pass, I'd cut new tracks...they were still here, and I'd strain to catch a glimpse of their shadows back in the trees and brush somewhere.  A similar scenario played out last year while grooming-two sets of tracks, then one and finally they went off trail.  I stopped and followed the line up hill, below the Sidewinder trail, and "he" stood there-unmistakable large dark shape, peering down at me.  My first wolf sighting.  The moment passed quickly and he bounded up to the ridgeline and was gone.  Unlike some, I feel wolves have a place in our natural environment, so for me, it was thrill.  Should there be a balance?  sure there does...I am a hunter, but I'll share with a creature who has lived here far longer than I, and maybe belongs here more than I.  At the moment I saw him, and when I see their evidence and know they are here, I feel a bit more alive, that I am a part of something bigger than myself and that's worth witnessing as often as possible.