And so it went for the next 13 days. We camped up in the White Clouds in an electrical storm and flew down one of the best trails I’ve ever ridden. We saw a mountain lion in a hot spring and carried our loaded bikes over more downed trees than I care to remember. We got caught up in a booze-fueled bachelorette party in Warm Lake and chatted with the lone caretaker of the rugged Deadwood Lodge. We soaked in the hot springs of Stanley and glacial streams of Ants Basin. We wound our way through Central Idaho, meandering on dirt roads and rugged singletrack, taking it all in, trying to comprehend this place as best we could. You’d think we’d learn. You’d think we’d shrink our expectations and become a little more realistic. But no, it was go, go, go. We snuck in some trout fishing and made time for the occasional hot spring, but there were no rest days. It was rather surprising how easy it was to adapt to this lifestyle of eating and riding. Deviating from the pattern was chaotic and difficult. We got up, drank coffee, looked at maps, rode, ate, rode, ate, rode, ate, drank, soaked, slept, and got up. It was simple. But it was really hard. It’s something you’d get used to, if only your body would let you. If your mind would let you. But—much to my body’s relief — my mind wanders. There was a lot to look at, a lot to think about. It was my first time in Idaho, after all.
Bunyan Velo 40
BV