Gone Fishin'


I'm not actively blogging here anymore. But if you got here because you were searching for something about bikes, you might want to check out my latest project, Vermont Goldsprints. In summer of 2014, I bought a used goldsprints racing setup and have made it a mission to get more bikes in more people's faces by putting on fun races in unexpected places. Come join me!


Early Spring and Welcome Creek

Kate and I have spent our last two Sundays hiking up Welcome Creek off of Rock Creek in the southeastern corner of Missoula County. Getting to the trailhead involves a 30-mile drive out of Missoula along the Clark Fork River and a 14-mile drive off the highway up Rock Creek to where Welcome Creek joins it. Rock Creek is a blue-ribbon trout stream and thus the drive is peppered with Brad Pitt- esque views of fishermen rolling their lines out in gorgeus arcs, though few seemed to have ventured more than a few hundred yards from where their pickups were parked on the side of the road. Today, we hiked up Welcome Creek to Cinnabar Cabin. The cabin is half-collapsed but I was able to get in to shoot a panorama of the remaining interior: Not visible in my photo is the shredded sleeping bag, broken cutlery, and meticulously zip-locked pamphlet titled: "The Gospel of John" that had been left in the cabin. Somebody also tore up the floor on one corner and dropped in a fire ring. Ben climbed in and took a look. Here is the outside of the cabin. It was a great hike and a nice time outside. The walk began and ended with a pretty bouncy traverse over a high suspension bridge. I put a couple of apples on ice in a small cooler in the Jeep, which tasted better than anything when we got back to the trailhead. Spring is truly upon us here in Missoula. I went to take out the garbage tonight and took in the stars. I noticed something moving up high, ghostly as it reflected the orange streetlight back at me, right at the edge of vision. It seemed like a silent helicopter at first, no lights, no whoof of the blades. Then, is started to change shape like a collapsing hot-air balloon. As I stared harder, the fading mass took the form of a V, and I heard the honking. Geese, heading north. The trash bag was low-slung by my side as they finally faded from sight completely.