What do you get when you combine eight mangy cats, gnarly ridgeline dirt-bike trails, a hangover and a hot day?
Camp Cryptic!
As with most things we do, camp cryptic is a fly by the seat of your pants operation. Unofficail Camp Cryptic proprietor "Crypic Phil" made a call to Missoula on Friday informing us that the Tally lake trails west of Whitefish had cleared of snow. A small crew was assembled Saturday morning and that evening we were sipping keg beer in Whitefish on the new Great Northern Cycles patio.
The Flathead valley trails are a different breed than those here in Missoula. Most are made by dirtbikes, they are rocky, very rooty, steep, long, and technical. We rode for five hours and 90% was singletrack. It's fun to brush up on technical climbing and descending, and it makes a guy want to buy a full suspension.
The crew was a motley bunch. Representing the Flathead was ride leader Clint "the lung" Muhlfield and his cronies Matt "ultralite" Butterfield, Ben"decends like the wind" Parsons, "Cryptic Phil", and Ben "all that is man" Ruffatto. Representing Missoula was Bryce "powerstrip" Daviss, Sam "world cup" Schultz, and myself Doug "one is all you need" Dale. A little side note on Ruffatto: He's been in Med school in Seattle for the last year and this was his third ride of the season. Any mortal man would have been eaten by the wolves but Ruffatto is barley human.
Our planned route was Reid Divide to Ashley Mountain trail, but ride leader Clint warned us that it had been years since he had done it. We set out with bottles full of Perpetum and pointed our 29ers toward the heavens! Bryce was having a bit of trouble pre-ride. His new Cannondale didn't arrive on time so he was borrowing Ben "rides it hard and puts it away wet" Horan's Kona Kula. As the name suggests, Horan's whip is in a decrepit state and his brake pad fell out as soon as we got to the trail head. Turns out it was so worn it had basically disingrated. So Bryce took off with only a rear brake.
The first climb was a 45 minute grinder, similar to riding snowbowl overlook backwards but with more roots and rocks. At the top Bryce was no where to be seen and when he finally arrived he was visibly pissed. Part way up the climb, the bike started ghost shifting and if you know Bryce you know he is too strong for his own good. At some point while he was laying down over 1000 watts, the bike ghost shifted and in an instant he turned a deore XT derrailler into a $.15 peice of scrap metal. His day was over.
The rest of us pushed on with Ultralite Butterfield and World Cup Schultz leading the way. The trails are amazing. You can never let your guard down, everysecond it's a rock, a punchy climb, a techi root sections, or a brake burning descent. 31/2 hours into the ride, Parsons has had two flats and our water is starting to run low when we come to a creek crossing. Ruffatto has been powering through his water and decides to run the risk of Giardia and fills his bottles. The rest of us push on, using our water sparingly. The day is heating up fast and the sun parching me. These trails are no place for a single-speed and all the hard efforts are starting to take a toll on my legs.
We think we're getting close to finishing when "the Lung" informs us that there is one more climb. Ashly mountain climb turns out to be a 2000+ feet sun baked grunt. I couldn't sit because it was too steep for my gear and couldn't stand because my heart was about to blow up. For the next hour the seven of us fought and clawed our way to the summit, reaching it almost completely out of water and absolutely exhausted. Word Cup Schultz took the KOM, holding off Cannondale/Sportsman's Ultralite Butterfield and Cryptic Phil. We were starting to worry about Ruffatto when he finally summited looking worse than death. I gave him my last sip of water hoping it would get him home without a helicopter ride. The descent off Ashley was epic and we made it home in one piece.....but just barely. The Lung was so thirsty he was about to drink from puddles and had any of us had a mechanical at this point I think the wolves would have had their way with us.
There will be many more camp Cryptics this summer and I don't think a guy could ride all the trails in one summer. Phil says he's been in the Flathead for two years and has only ridden 10% of the trails. Until next time good-bye to the land of epic rides.
P.S. No one brought a camera but I think Butterfield took a couple on his fancy iPhone. I'll try to get them
Doug
Oh Man! It's been awhile since Old Man Coffee Chronicles has fired off a hot blog post.........I apologize. When La Nina hits the northwest an unemployed landscaper has two options: ski or write blog posts. I chose the former. That being said, the backcountry is getting a little bit dangerous and my uncanny ability to break everything I touch has rendered most of my skiing equipment unusable. Plus I really like to update the blogosphere on the whereabouts and happenings of the Old Man Coffee Chronicle crew. 
