That was Western

A dawn to dusk MTB epic around the Wood River Valley

The smoke moved in overnight like a blanket. Particles have turned the sun an ominous red and transformed the mountains into abstract, layered shapes. At the top of the first climb we can feel the destruction of distant wildfires in our eyes and lungs. A sobering, visceral reminder of the new norm here in the West. It used to be that a handful of fires would break out in late August or September. Now they start as early as June, often exploding out of control like those currently burning in the neighboring state of Oregon.

We started early, in the dark, our bike lights illuminating the haze and dust as we began our odyssey. We hope the winds will shift and move the smoke away, and it does, a little. It’s not the best idea to breathe the thick air, but neither is our plan for this day. I’m known for making questionable athletic decisions, and today is yet another. My friend Tucker wanted to ride 100 miles around our home valley, starting and ending at his house. The Western as Fuck (WAF), he called it. So I did what I do, and made what might be the hardest possible 100 mile bike route in the Wood River Valley.

But for a couple short stretches of pavement, it’s all dirt. Mostly rugged, backcountry singletrack. The loop circles east from Hailey, then north around the edge of the Pioneer Mountains into Ketchum, then heads West, under the Boulders, before a grueling slog south through the Eastern Smoky Mountains back into Hailey.

Over the next 15 hours, the three of us would get Western. Hands aching from braking. Legs caked in a paste made of sweat and dust. We’d pedal, hike, and descend 112 miles and nearly 14,000 feet of elevation gain in the smoky heat of an August day in Idaho. Beats brunch.

We started up the first canyon by bike light as the sunrise began its colorful entrance.

Into the first descent linking Quigley canyon into East Fork. Pioneers blanketed by smoke.

We’d be forced to push our bikes. Frequently.

Cold brew and sandwiches.

Alex fixes a flat in Fox Creek…

…but would soon be back to getting rowdy on the descents.

Beginning the long gravel climb up Baker Creek, the Boulder Mountain front in the background.

The heat would prove to be the main foe, requiring many dips in the creek.

Does it get any better?

While I’m well aware of my psychotic behavior, I do think there’s something to going on a spirit quest on occasion. To push ourselves deep into discomfort, to see and feel things most people don’t. I’m not sure why I’m drawn to such things, but I never regret it. Bikes provide the ultimate freedom to move through these places. It’s not about competition or Strava bragging rights. It’s about the purity of me and my bike, fully engaged. Singletrack and wildflowers. The trees and creeks. Stillness broken by whizzing freehubs. Sweat and breath reminding me of my body’s wondrous capabilities.

It’s Western out there. Pull on your boots.