By Justin Short 

Riverside State Park offers some excellent terrain when it’s time to roll the fatties, so I haven’t been in the habit of driving anywhere when there’s snow in town, but I figured it was time to give the (Almost) Annual Methow Fatbike Festival in Winthrop, Wash., a go. 

I’m calling this thing a festival because I like the alliteration, but you must know it’s a low-key affair that, in line with the event’s official name, is more of a “meetup” to keep the production costs as sustainable as possible. Erratic winter conditions have required a few cancellations over the years, and event organizers can no longer count on winter to stay wintery, even in the blustery north of the Methow Valley.  

It’s as much a gamble to attend a fatbike event as it is to organize. The festival is a long-weekend affair, so you’ve got to reserve a room well in advance given that Winthrop hosts a youth hockey tournament the same weekend. All you can do is book your stay and hope for the best. Worst case scenario, the weather goes to hell and you have to reschedule your reservation for a week or two later or come back for the spectacular summer riding.  

Managing the uncertainty is definitely worth the risk, because if you should happen upon the Methow Valley in prime winter conditions you will be confronted with what Jessica Robinson of Sandpoint, Idaho, describes as a veritable “Disneyland for fatbikes.”  

The Methow Valley is known far and wide as a mecca for Nordic skiing, but it has also got a phenomenal network of separate groomed fatbike trails at multiple locations. Of course, by now you’ve noticed that I’m using the term “fatbike” as a single word. While it’s not technically correct, it has kept me from running afoul of social media community standards. We will tolerate no hate speech, not even against bikes.  

The good folks at Methow Cycle & Sport in Winthrop kick this thing off Friday night with a fire pit meet n’ greet before a night ride on the town trails. That’s when you find out how many of your friends from Spokane are regulars at this thing, and you notice riders from the west side having a similar experience. The temperatures plummet as the sun disappears over the ridge, so dressing to stay warm while you’re standing around yacking with folks ends up being the perfect layering strategy for zooming around in temperatures that dipped very quickly down into the lower teens when I was there. Somehow, cold is always less cold when you’re having fun. 

Saturday is the main event, and many riders come out just for this. Riders gather before 10 a.m. at the Pearrygin Lake lower trailhead for a pre-ride introduction to the trail system as well as words of wisdom for those new to fatbiking. A demo fleet is also typically on hand for riders to try some of the new fatbikes available at the bike shop. Riders scatter in all directions after cramming in for a group photo by the lake, and the adventure begins.  

Rolling climbs reveal breathtaking, expansive views over the lake framed in by the surrounding mountains. The climbs themself are somewhat breathtaking as well, but none too daunting and totally worth the groomed flow trail descent that awaits. Zooming back down to valley floor amidst the jubilant hoots and hollers of my friends, I think this may be my best day ever on the big squishy wheels. Returning to the lot for hot refreshments next to the fire pit deepens the social element before heading out to explore another segment. We didn’t explore everything Pearrygin Lake has to offer, but it was still a very big day.  

At 4 p.m. riders regroup at the bike shop for charcuterie, snacks and fizzy beverages until a fireworks show out by the fire pit. Afterwards, my friends and I rode across town to devastate the menu of one of the fabulous Winthrop restaurants. Then we went out for an exceedingly fun evening bonus ride on the town trails as the temperatures dipped into single digits. I was feeling no pain, as I had bought a magic flannel that was on sale at the bike shop—Club Ride, if you must know—and it has become my go-to layer for all rides outside of the dog days of summer.  

Sunday wraps up the weekend with a ride in other areas such as Big Valley or Gunn Ranch. We went somewhere else that was chosen on the fly because it was an area that is not normally open to fatbiking. You may find yourself soaking in the reverie over post-ride burgers in town, vowing to make the Methow Fatbike Festival a tradition. For more info, contact Methow Cycle & Sport or check out their socials. 

Justin Short is a world fatbike traveler, if by the world you mean Riverside and the Methow Valley.  

The post Methow Fatbike Meetup: Winter Riding in Winthrop appeared first on Out There Venture.

Cover photo courtesy of Justin Short

Spokane has a lot of weird bike stuff going on. Twenty-one years ago, one guy goaded a few friends into riding all night, and the Midnight Century was born. More recently, Dan Webber rolled out a couple of signature Spokane events: The Great Spokane Shop Ride, which sends riders scrambling to visit every bike shop in town, and my personal favorite, The Spokane Stair Master, which climbs 25 staircases and over 1,200 steps in 20 miles. There’s really no shortage of eccentric things to do on bikes here, but why not add to the fray?  

Gravel Braintrustee Anthology Johnson had been brainstorming a way to get a bunch of goofballs to ride a century in costume sometime around Halloween. Enter the 7th annual Corbin Park Witches’ Ride. Anthology had been eyeballing Corbin Park as a potential site for something akin to the Ladd’s 500 in Portland, a legendary goofball fest that draws hundreds of idiots out to ride a century on a roundabout in the historic Ladd’s Addition neighborhood. At eight-tenths of a mile and being rectangular in shape, Corbin Park would fit the bill quite nicely. This whole thing came together last minute, so we didn’t have a commemorative sticker or a candle burning on the altar bearing the image of OTO writer Carol Corbin, our patron saint. Perhaps this year she can kick this thing off by anointing riders on the nose with a dollop of magic donut frosting. She’s always wanted to start a cult.  

I spent the afternoon figuring out which lighting system to strap down to which bike, and which snacks to pack—it was a “which’s” ride, after all. I then dusted off my chicken costume and headed for the park. Halfway there, I realized I had forgotten my Conan the Barbarian sized Masonic sword to place upon the altar. Yes, I briefly mentioned an altar in the previous paragraph. The rules of this thing clearly state that riders must lie and say, “I’m all in for the full 100,” even if they aren’t, and they must bring something to sacrifice upon the altar. And, oh, what an altar it was: candles, a skull, a bundle of sage, giant rubber dentures, a mountain bike tire, and a large jug of Fireball for our hydration needs. Snacks and water were piled up on either side for our frequent pit stops.  

The Witches’ Ride, presented by Corbin Park Neighborhood Association, as far as I knew, involved a dozen folks showing up in witch costumes to ride a few laps around the park, then wandering off to hit the bars on Monroe. But it was sooo much more. There had to be more than a hundred witches and various other ghostly and gobliny characters gathered around the basketball court watching a coven of witches do a choreographed dance routine to classic Halloween tunes. Our “baker’s coven” (14 riders) gathered, bedecked in resplendent costumery. We had a mouse, a dinosaur, an avocado, a witch or two, a Spanish Civil Traffic Guard with a Gandalf hat, and a chicken. Anthology was rather understated with a dozen or so fuzzy tarantulas on his helmet.  

As the musical procession concluded, witches took to the streets for a lap or two, cars that lined the park began pulling out, and children were trick or treating amidst the chaos while a couple of guys on e-bikes tossed candy about. We wanted to get the guy on the beach cruiser with a colossal wolf mask to join us, but I’m guessing he couldn’t hear us through that magnificent thing he was wearing. Was it made out of cardboard? Was it made out of quarter-inch steel plate? We’ll never know, but it was by far the coolest costume of the evening.  

As the traffic cleared out, our pace picked up a bit, holding about 13 mph on the front stretch and 17 mph on the back stretch after cresting the “hill.” Our night was mapped out for us: go to the next corner and hang a left. 100 laps would be 80 miles, and 125 laps would be a solid imperial century, or, more appropriately, a “vampirical” century. I lost count somewhere around four laps in.  

At some point, someone suggested we switch directions, and this is where things got weird. For the next couple of hours, I had many moments in which I could not place where I was. Fortunately, there was always a right turn coming up. Our avocado and witch team rode a triumphant metric century. Another witch in an invisibility cloak rode 59 miles, and three of us finished the century while other friends dipped in and out. I’m pretty sure Justin Skay, former writer of this column, had been there for a bit too, dressed as Justin Skay. 

It was well after midnight, and soft cheers emanated from the couple of porches where Halloween parties were still going when the hankering for tacos hit us pretty hard. A 10 p.m. taco drop is something we’ll definitely orchestrate next time around. Anthology’s 125-lap calculation was right on the money. When it was all said and done, I took a few ceremonial glugs from the sacred Fireball jug on the altar and swerved home. I foresee this thing gaining some traction this year, so sharpen your vampire fangs and tighten up the straw on your broom. We don’t know yet if the 2025 Witches 100 will be Saturday, Oct. 25 or Nov. 1, but either way, prepare to declare yourself all-in for the full 100! 

Out There’s “Everyday Cyclist” columnist Justin Short is always looking for an excuse to ride around town in a chicken costume. 

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By Justin Short  

It happens to me every year. At some point while April showers are giving way to May flowers, I’m out riding on a day that is creeping above 60 or 70 degrees after I’ve slogged through a long, cold winter. It always occurs on a tough climb, usually one of those steep roller coasters in the Palouse: I sweat into my eyes for the first time of the season. “Aaagghhh, it buuurrrns,” I invariably shout as I’m temporarily blinded. But it’s a shout of joy, because the season of warmth has returned and the season of having to pack a snowmobile suit to descend whatever hill I’ve ridden up is going away. It’s the season to think less about the layers I’m wearing and more about what’s in my water bottles. It’s time to think about electrolytes. 

It’s hard to imagine that once upon a time I left the house in the dead of summer on a bike with no water bottle. It was 26 miles to the BMX track where I’d meet up with the guys, and smack dab in the middle of that ride was a gas station where I’d get an 8-ounce courtesy cup and refill that thing 19 times at the sink. That got me to the BMX track, where I drank hose water all day until it was time to depart for home, whereupon I’d make a second dromedary stop at the aforementioned gas station. If I was splurging that day, I carried a dollar for a hot dog to pair with the two raw potatoes I had on hand. I did that three times per week and raced on the weekends, and somehow I never cramped.  

The dreaded leg cramp is the arch nemesis of every cyclist, and science isn’t entirely clear about why cramping even happens. But leg cramps in general have a strong correlation with overexertion, dehydration, and depletion of electrolytes, so we’ll start there. For starters, the wisdom of long-distance cyclists says that you can ride in a single day your average weekly mileage. If you join an early-season event like the Lilac Century, you can begin training by adding 10 percent to your weekly mileage without stressing yourself out. If you get conned into the Cascadia Super Gravel in Olympia, you’re going to need some good old-fashioned off-the-bike leg strengthening to deal with the elevation profile in Capitol Forest, because those kinds of hills are still buried in snow out here on the East Side at that time of year. 

 

There’s a good chance any early season bike event you may be targeting will be your first hot ride of the year (if it’s not snowing), so, for the love of God, don’t put sunblock on your forehead or you’ll be blinded until September when that stuff seeps into your eyes with perspiration. A cycling cap will protect your forehead quite nicely and should be worn both on and off the bike so that everyone knows you’re a cyclist.  

But now that it’s hot out and you’re barely acclimated to it, you must get strategic with hydration. There’s a mathematical formula that would boggle the mind of Stephen Hawking to calculate the water-to-electrolyte ratio you must consume while biking in the blistering heat to keep your electrolytes balanced. Electrolytes are ionized minerals that permit fluid to travel inside and outside of the cells in your body. You want to keep these things balanced, because too many electrolytes, and you’ll have problems with water retention, and too little and the water will go right through you, causing dehydration that gets oddly worse the more water you drink.  

Fortunately, there’s an easy way to keep your electrolytes in balance, and that is to carry two bottles, one with straight water and the other with some electrolyte mix or another, then about every 10 minutes or so take a drink of whichever one you thirst for. It’s that simple, your body knows. This method sustained me on a two-day, 300-mile ride out to St. Regis, Mont., for a huckleberry milkshake during one of those early season heat waves we had a few years back. I learned it from Dr. Allen Lim of Skratch Labs on a cycling podcast, and this wisdom has carried me through many sweat-soaked misadventures.  

I tend to carry four or more varieties of electrolytes with me on the bike, Skratch Labs among them. They all have different formulations of sodium, calcium, potassium, magnesium and other stuff. Some electrolyte mixes have caffeine, others have calories. I don’t really pay attention to that. I just know that I’m thirsty for different ones at different times.  

Sometimes, there’s nothing you can do, and you’re going to cramp on a ride. Some folks swear by pickle juice shots; I, for one, prefer leg cramps. As far as scientists can tell, pickle juice confuses your senses to the point that your muscles forget to cramp. In researching this article, I stumbled upon a cramp remedy on the Selle Anatomica website (they make leather saddles): pop a couple of Tums when cramps start. The calcium in Tums doesn’t absorb well, but apparently it’s enough to stave off cramps once they begin. I hope I don’t need to try it soon.  

OTO writer Justin Short has been saving his Oxford commas for years and trading them in for double and triple exclamation points. He also bikes around a bit too.  

The post Sweat, Salt & Saddle Sores  appeared first on Out There Venture.

Cover photo courtesy of Justin Short

The Great Spokane Shop Ride (GSSR) is a sort of hair scramble event in which riders gather on the second Saturday in April (the 12th this year) at the Riverfront Park clock tower to receive a stamp card, and at the stroke of 10 a.m. they scatter in all directions to get their cards stamped at every bike shop in town by whatever route they choose. There is a finish line ceremony at Brick West Brewing where riders will have the opportunity to hoist the Banana of Victory as they tell war stories, laugh, and sip fizzy beverages. There is a banana for the fastest time, one for the most efficient route, one for the most elevation (my personal favorite), and a banana for the Red Caboose (last rider in), which was hoisted last year by Charlie Greenwood, the nutty professor of Spokane cycling.  

The forecast can look grim in early spring, so don’t be at all surprised when you see only two riders standing by the clock tower 15 minutes before the kickoff. Within minutes, though, the numbers will swell into the double digits—we had 13 last year. There’s no sign-in sheet, no entry fee, and no rules other than be safe and have fun.  

Dan Webber, the instigator-in-chief of GSSR, will be there with Sue Craigmile, the chief-administrative-instigator, to pass out stamp cards in protective Ziplock sandwich bags so they don’t dissolve in the threatening rain, because rain is always threatening this time of year.  

It still seems like Spokane has an awful lot of bike shops, even though we’ve lost a few. Wheelsport North, Fitness Fanatics, and the downtown Bike Hub have closed, as well as Rambleraven Gear Trader, and this town really misses Rambleraven. If we lose any more, we may have to combine the Spokane Stairmaster with this event. (What the hell is that, you ask? That’s another Dan Webber creation that involves carrying your bike up 25 staircases in 20 miles.) Though, Spokane Alpine Haus will now be carrying bikes at both of their locations for 2025, and by the time you read this the brand-new Hillyard Bicycle shop will be up and running just a stone’s throw from the Children of the Sun Trail, adding three more shops into the fray.   

The whole inspiration behind GSSR is to step inside each shop, yuck it up with the folks therein, and perhaps have them throw a beer or a sleeve of Girl Scout cookies at you. It’s a community building effort of sorts. Our bike community and shop culture here is the stuff of greatness, and it’s not often that we get to pop into each and every one to say “hi all” in a single day.  

So where do we go when the proverbial gun goes off? As I mentioned, riders scatter in all directions. I like to get the climbing out of the way early, and north is always uphill, so I usually head north to REI, home shop of the aforementioned instigator-in-chief, and in keeping with tradition no one in there will have any idea about GSSR or where the stamps might be: at the front register? In the bike department in the back? Hidden in a tent display? It’s always a mystery.  

Sometimes riders like to go south first and get the South Hill out of the way, as though south could possibly be uphill. We have two destinations up there. Wheelsport and Spokane Alpine Haus, which may still have all their skis on display at that point in the season. But if there’s a single bike in there, that castle is going to get stormed.  

The ride itself ranges from around 42 miles for the most efficient route to somewhere around 56 miles for my adventure route, that for all three editions has climbed over Beacon Hill through the mountain bike park. That’s a big day for most riders this early in the season, so be sure to pace yourself.  

This year GSSR coincides with the Hubapalooza mountain bike race once again. If there’s one way to take seeing all your bike shop friends in one day up a notch, it’s running into a bunch of your mountain bike friends in race mode, and perhaps sharing a fizzy beverage in the beer garden, for those 21 years or older of course. Non-alcoholic options have come a long way, which is usually my preference…unless I’m at the The Bike Hub in the Perry District. Come to think of it, Mojo Cyclery out on Argonne has expanded its floor space and has a pass-thru window into Badass Backyard Brewing. Mojo is the shop that got me into the weird stuff I’m doing these days—riding, not drinking.  

When riders come crawling into the finish line festivities at Brick West, that’s when we find out who lost a limb trying to rub the shop cat’s belly at North Division Bike Shop, that’s when you’ll shoot fizzy beverages out of your nostrils from laughing about all the absurd things that happened, and that’s when you’ll know why the Great Spokane Shop Ride is so great.  

Justin Short is a long-time writer for OTO and keeps his finger on the pulse of the bike community in the Inland Northwest so you won’t miss any of the weird cycling stuff going down.  

The post The Great Spokane Shop Ride  appeared first on Out There Venture.

I recently attended my first randonneuring event, so now it’s time to throw some pretentious sounding French cycling jargon at you. Randonneuring is a form of organized non-competitive long-distance cycling that is very popular in Europe. Riders are self-supported, though they are encouraged to work together to finish a given event within an established time cut, which is usually a 10 mph average that includes stopping to re-supply or sleep, of which there is very little on the longer events. Event distances range from 200-1,200 kilometers with a series of qualifying rides necessary to participate in Paris-Brest-Paris, the biggest and oldest cycling event in the world, which, as the name suggests, takes place in Paris, France, and NOT Paris, Texas.  

Our local randonneuring club is Seattle Randonneurs, which organized a 100 kilometer “gravel populaire” on the Waterville Plateau east of Wenatchee back in September. My introduction to the randonneuring community involved knocking one of the riders off her bike barely a block into the ride. I may never live that down, but she and I were friends by the end as we had teamed up to hunt down the checkpoints and fill out our time cards, which are called “brevet” cards.  

I will now segue into the intended subject of this column by mentioning that the quite delightful hot, steamy coffee beverage called a “breve,” a latte made with half and half, is pronounced the exact same way as brevet, if you’re willing to overlook which syllable gets the stress. It is my belief that the homophonic similarity of these terms, brevet and breve, is what inspired COFFEENEURING, the fantastic new cycle-sport that is sweeping the colder climates. That’s right, there’s even a Coffeeneuring Challenge, and you get a cool patch to sew on your waterproof jacket if you meet all the requirements. I won’t get into the rules and regulations, because that’s almost entirely tongue-in-cheek anyway; let’s just take this in easy stages so we can get you outside on a bike, hunting down some excellent coffee roasted and brewed right here in the Inland Northwest.  

This topic dovetails nicely with the last issue’s EDC column on urban fat biking, and perhaps a future column on the art of cold weather layering strategies. For now, let’s just get out there. You’ll figure out what to wear and what not to wear. There are more than a few destinations to keep in mind, Roast House Coffee is my personal favorite. They support every cycling event in Spokane, and they make damn good coffee. You can go to their tasting room on Cleveland Ave or hit 1st Avenue Coffee downtown. New Love Coffee in Kendall Yards is an excellent place to meet up with friends to sample their mouth-watering hand pies. Ladder Coffee Roasters is not to be missed at any of their three locations. The coffee shop in Saranac Commons features beans from craft roasters out of town, and Revel 77 out on 57th on the South Hill started roasting their own beans a few years ago. 

An official Coffeeneuring ride can be as little as two miles in one direction, but the sky is the limit in terms of maximum distance. DOMA Coffee Roasting Company just opened a destination coffeehouse right on the Centennial Trail on the Spokane River in Coeur d’Alene. I conned two friends into riding out there with me in a cold November downpour. That 100 miles was as satisfying as it was soggy. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t already mapped out an adventure route that summits Mount Spokane and Hoodoo Mountain on its way to Evans Brothers Coffee in Sandpoint, Idaho … but that will be for fairer weather, perhaps during Huckleberry Milkshakeneuring season. Dan Weber who works at REI has organized an event on his own (not affiliated with REI) called Donut Roll that is basically a Donutneuring event, which hits all the donut shops in one go. I think you’d have a panic attack before you got through a quarter of Spokane’s great coffee shops in the same manner. 

I spoke with the good folks at Spokane’s City Planning Department too in an effort to make sure they have your safety in mind for your caffeine-addled quests. Bike infrastructure improvements include expansion of greenway bike thoroughfares and protected bike lanes in key places, and the city has purchased a snow removal machine to plow those skinny bike-only paths that routinely get buried under snow. City personnel is being trained in its proper use, and we will have rideable protected bike lanes this winter. Hopefully they are consulting mountain bike coach Frank Bennish on how to operate this machine. Frank is the guy who operates the fat bike trail groomer in Riverside State Park and elsewhere in the Spokane region; he knows all the best combinations of obscenities to shout at just the right volume to bring any mechanical contrivance to heel. Snow plowed into unprotected bike lanes could remain a problem, but perhaps I could be persuaded to trade in my cushy union grocery hauling gig to drive snow plows for the city, in which case you would never see a snowflake in the bike lane ever again.  

To learn more about the Coffeeneuring Challenge, visit ChasingMailboxes.com, but I suggest just hopping on your bike to get your ‘neur on … it will stimulate your neurons. See what I did there? I might need to cut back on my caffeine intake.  

Staff writer Justin M Short BA has registered for the solo category in this year’s 24 Hours of Riverside Mountain Bike Race. He’s a little unclear if he’s going for a Riverside double century or just trying to get 8 hours of sleep between laps. Either way, coffee will be involved.  

The post Coffeeneuring: Will Bike for Coffee appeared first on Out There Venture.

By Justin Short  

I lived on the west side for 13 years—and by “west side,” I mean the green and rainy side of the Cascades—and was well accustomed to a long, dreary, rainy season that could almost outlast my rosy disposition. When I moved to the Inland Northwest 12 years ago, I was assured that winter here would be socked in with clouds and fog blotting out the sun at least as long as the most depressing Portland winter. “But,” I would always retort, “if there’s snow on the ground and falling from the sky, it’s a winter wonderland.” I know I’m preaching to the choir here with the OTO readership, but seasonal affective disorder has a hard time doing its thing when there’s snow to play in.  

The first snow is always the best for any kind of fat biking, but especially urban fat biking. Snow hasn’t been plowed into the bike lanes yet (because that’s where they plow the snow here. I mean, who would ride bikes in the winter here, anyway? Fill that bike lane with snow!) Given the inconsistency of our climatic weather patterns these days, we might get several first snows during the course of the winter. It’s snow that doesn’t have ice underneath it waiting to take you out. If you don’t own a fat bike, this is the time to hit the streets on your mountain bike, or pretty much any bike if the snow is only two or three inches deep. Beyond that, you kind of need a fat bike. The colder the snow, the better the traction you’ll find underneath.  

When the snow is right, where should you go? It might take a day or two for Frank Benish to groom the miles and miles of trails in Riverside State Park, and that really is some of the finest urban winter fat biking to be found, but there’s something infective and charming about seeing cross country skiers hit the snowy streets that always makes me want to follow suit. For me, it’s the allure of the high alpine region of that which we call the South Hill.  

One of my first urban fat bike excursions that I fondly recall involved stopping for coffee at one of our fine local roasters on Monroe with former EDC columnist Justin Skay. Afterward, we climbed up from the lowlands of downtown Spokane to . . . I don’t know exactly where we were, because everything looked different in the snow. We turned left and right at random, eventually finding ourselves on a corner where every porch, sidewalk, and yard had a multitude of snow bunnies. They ranged in size from a couple of feet tall to darn near the size of a full-grown snowman. The snow was deeper up there (it always is) and the porches were very charming—the turkeys definitely thought so, because every porch had a turkey or three, none of them made of snow.  

Last winter, a snow storm was coming in one evening, with rain in forecast the next morning. I think its the bane of every snow sports enthusiast here that a good snowfall is so frequently followed by rain the next morning that ruins everything. In such circumstances, there is no time to drive anywhere, all you can do is hop on the bike and go for a good urban slog. Good fortune is smiling upon you if you happen to have a partner in crime close by who is typically ready to roll at the drop of a wool cycling cap. I texted Anthony, or maybe he texted me, and a last-minute plan was hatched to go see some Christmas lights.  

We met at Uprise Brewing for a quick pre-ride snack. By the time we left, our beloved snow was tapering into rain. I don’t have fenders on my fat bike, so my tactic was to ride slowly so as to avoid the “wet diaper effect.” When riding in the rain, the average fat bike tire is instantly transformed into a Mississippi Queen riverboat paddle wheel, propelling unfathomable amounts of water from the street onto your back, which then seeps down into your nether regions. I don’t care how much Gore-Tex you’re wearing, that is your fate when riding in the rain without fenders. It wasn’t hard to stay dry, because we were soon climbing the South Hill to our first destination, the light display at Cowley Park below Providence Sacred Heart hospital. It’s quite magical to ride around through their holiday light show.  

The hill gets rather steep from there, and the secondary tactic to stay dry is to unzip jackets and pedal gently so as not to arrive at the top of a climb wearing 80 pounds of sweat-soaked clothes. The rain turned back into snow before we reached the top of the climb, and we meandered our way towards our second destination, the light show at Manito Park. I think every city has that drive-or-walk-through holiday light show that draws carloads of families by the thousands. This year there is no Manito light show car option due to traffic issues in the past, just a walking route. BUT, you can ride your bike around much of the park and right through another stunning light show. Such is the life of an urban fat biker.  

Justin Short will be out there turning pedals in the rain, hail, sleet, and snow all winter long, hopeful that he will once again dodge the invite to go winter bikepacking with the Idaho Bikepacking crew. This, however, may be the year his luck runs out. 

The post Riding the Urban Winter Wilds  appeared first on Out There Venture.

Cover photo courtesy of Tomas Kelley Lynch

The print edition of the September magazine incorrectly captioned the photos for this article. Photos are courtesy of Tomas Kelley Lynch.

The trails where my friends and I rode bikes during my college years had a three-story treehouse that looked like someone threw a dump truck load of scrap wood at a tree and it stuck. That image etched into my memory from more than 30 years ago is an apt metaphor for the way I construct my ride calendar every year. The spring and early summer are packed with multiple events every weekend. I throw everything at the wall, then at some point my wife and I will sit down to nail in place the rides and races that may or may not happen.  

I didn’t get to attend Climb for the Cure, a high-profile gravel race up Mount Spokane organized by Duane Ramsey, but I’m always amazed at what sticks. There’s always a brief lull in bike events during the dog days of summer, and maybe I’ll get a house project completed. Things start ramping up once again with the Midnight Century in August, and oh what a doozy that was this year. There were 60 finishers, which can only mean there were 120 lunatics at the start if the average 50% attrition rate held true. And none of us were expecting all-night rain. Look for a full report on midnightcentury.com sometime in the near future.  

That was my last big ride before Big Sky Spectaculaire, a 900-mile bikepacking race out of Bozeman, Montana, later in the month. There’s always a little time travel involved in print media event coverage. I’m a little bit nervous about an event that will have already happened by the time you read this. So if you wouldn’t mind traveling back in time to tell me, “cheer up, little buddy. It’s just a bike ride,” that would be greatly appreciated.  

Anyway, as the searing summer temperatures—and hopefully the smoke, if there is smoke, because right now there’s not a lot of smoke—begin to recede in September, it seems like riders and event organizers alike are scrambling to get in their last hoorah for the season before the whipping winds and sideways slush storms send us reaching for our woolies and Gore-Tex. There’s an overwhelming number of one day and multi-day events to choose from. I mean, I’m still not sure if the Walla Walla Grit gravel grinder and the Cino Heroica, an overnight ride out of Kalispell, are on the same weekend, but I’d really like to attend both. I can look that up, so don’t bother time traveling to inform me with that little tidbit of information.  

And while you have your time machine all greased up and ready to go, you definitely don’t want to will have missed [time travel verb tenses can get a little strange, so bear with me] the Spokane Bike Party. Organizer Erin Mensing has a fun event planned to bring the community together on bikes: 

“I wanted to create a night where the mountain bikers and roadies and people who need to pull the cobwebs off their bikes can all ride together to celebrate bike joy en masse. Group rides are super fun, but they also help people become more comfortable riding on the roads, which can lead to more people using their bikes as transportation. We will be partly on roads and also using some of our amazing paved trails. We’ve rigged up a trailer with large speakers for music and are expecting a couple of other bikes with sounds systems to be joining the ride to help us out with the music as well. The route is flat and easy, and we begin and end in the same location (Olmsted Brothers Green). Oh, and the ride is open to skaters as well. We are going to make this an annual event (possibly semi annual) with hopes that it just keeps growing each year.”  

Spokane bike party is a week away as I write this and perhaps a month or two back as you read it, so I hope to will have seen you there! You can check Erin’s socials @Spokane_rides on instagram and the Spokane Rides facebook group to see what she and her husband, Kyle, have cooking for 2025.  

One of the final events of the season is the Gravel Flamdangle. It rolls out from the Big Barn Brewery on Sunday, Oct. 6, so at least I don’t have to cause a rift in the time-grammar continuum to tell you about it. You can find more information at GravelBraintrust.com. Whatever you end up doing, though, make sure you get out to turn some pedals during these gloriously comfortable days of Inland Northwest autumn, and perhaps see some larches as the colors change. If you don’t mind reminding me next year when the EDC article is due for the fall issue of OTO, I’ll write about great places to see the larches on bikes. You can borrow my time machine if you need to. It’s a beat up old Timex that only transports you forward in realtime. It won’t be able to transport you back to now, but maybe that feature will come with a firmware update in the not-too-distant future.  

Justin Short is going to will have been writing the Everyday Cyclist column for the as yet unforeseeable past, present, and future. And he’ll definitely be goofing off on bikes for the same duration.  

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My illustrious career as an Out There columnist kicked off with an article titled “Madness and Mayhem on the Midnight Century.” I’ve been accused of being the organizer of the now legendary Midnight Century (MC), Spokane’s all-night gravel ride that goes down on the first Saturday night in August, but this grassroots event predates my arrival here by a good eight years. The hero of Inland Northwest cycling who did organize it enjoys his anonymity, so we’ll just keep his identity a mystery, but he did pull together that first ride 20 years ago as of this issue.  

I’ve heard murmurings in the greater cycling community that riders in other towns would like to have their own MC, and it occurred to me that the “platinum anniversary” would be a momentous occasion upon which to franchise this thing out. Having received permission from the aforementioned mystery organizer, I began brainstorming. Yakima will have already kicked things off by the time you read this (June 21). My local fixer in Sandpoint, Idaho, has gotten really quiet lately (where the hell are you, Grafton?!!), but that one is set to roll out from Matchwood Brewing up there at 11:59 PM on July 20—we just need a route. Missoula, ahhhh, Missoula. That one is slated for 11:59 PM on August 17.  

We don’t have a start location or a route for Missoula just yet, not that I didn’t make one. I’ve been stopping at Drum Coffee out there every week since last fall to doink around on my phone to see where people are riding, all while sipping an exceptional latte and yacking with the locals. I whipped up a sample route for a Missoula MC, which a local rider assured me would be horrible, but not too horrible on gravel bikes. I titled the route “Missoula Rough Sketch,” and picked a date soon after the spring melt to give it a test ride to see just how rough and sketchy this route would be.  

This is where we segue into the “backcountry” theme of this issue of OTO. Adventure rider extraordinaire Sarah Roestel and I rolled into Drum Coffee a little after 10 AM for caffeine and snacks last month. I had already abandoned the idea of using today’s route for the Missoula MC as I had just read an email from a local bike shop guy assuring me that no one in their right mind would show up to ride a route like this, especially at night.  

Lattes swilled and sandwiches stashed, we embarked through some rather impressive bike infrastructure, and within minutes we were pedaling into a delightful mountain valley on the Rattle Snake Trail. The trees were tall and the thick mossy foliage on the forest floor was a vibrant green. We were lichen it. (See what I did there?) The trail was wide and smooth, and definitely receives a lot of love from the many hikers, trail runners, and bikers we met along the way. Although, the enduro mountain bikes we saw folks unloading at the trailheads were a sure sign that our idyllic Cadillac gravel and gentle grade would not last forever. The path meandered for far longer than either of us would have imagined, until all at once we hung a hard right onto steep single track.  

Fresh snowmelt tumbled down the mountain into the east fork of Rattle Snake Creek, giving the air a crisp and clean bite. Some of the unrideable parts of this trail were unrideable because this was the first climb of a 116-mile route with 13,000 feet of climbing, and we would need to conserve legs. But most of it was just plain unrideable. We had been “riding” six hours by the time we cleared the summit of our first climb, and yet it was still our favorite section of the whole misadventure, despite the solid hour of tree hoisting waiting for us up there.  

The day was young and we had plenty of time to cover the miles yet to come, or so we thought. The only humans we encountered let slip that it was after 5 p.m. as we began our first descent. That’s information I prefer not to know in such situations. Sarah joked with haunting accuracy that we might just finish the route in time to check out from our hotel tomorrow. And that’s the danger of whipping up a backcountry route from heat maps and other dotted lines on your GPS mapping platform. You never really know until you get out there what kind of traps you’ve set for yourself: private property, impassible bushwhacking sections, hydroelectric dams that you can’t cross for four days, just to name a few.  

As it was, we really lucked out with this route. There were sweeping mountain vistas that were worth any amount of slogging to witness, more miles of Cadillac gravel than expected, great weather, and a heart-rending sunset. In the end, we skipped the last two mountain segments. We probably had legs for it, but those 24-hour weekend rambles can make it hard to show up for work on Monday and/or get this column submitted on time (sorry Lisa).  

We still haven’t solved the problem of getting a route together for the Missoula MC, but you can check in on MidnightCentury.com. Maybe the 21st anniversary will be the one to celebrate, because then the Midnight Century will be old enough to drink. // 

Justin Short may be recovered by now from PanRam—The Idaho Panhandle Ramble, a 340-ish mile bikepacking adventure out of CDA into the mountains beyond. Hopefully our dear managing editor will approve a feature article for a future issue of OTO.  

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The bike seat is a curious piece of equipment. If you ride bikes and the seat never crosses your mind, congratulations, you have the right saddle for the job. Many of us, unfortunately, have at one time or another considered them to be more like medieval torture devices than a pleasant place to rest our rumps while pedaling. The fair weather is here, and it’s time to turn some carefree pedals in the sun—or maybe that’s the furthest thing from your mind on account of a bad experience with a bike seat. In any event, let’s have a conversation about the part of our bike that contacts a vulnerable part of our anatomy; it’s time to talk about what to do if your bike seat is an A$$ Hatchet.  

“Everyone’s pelvis is different, you can’t just measure it,” explains world-renowned bike fitter Paul Swift as he holds up a model of a human pelvis to demonstrate the change in width of the ischial tuberosities, aka “sit bones,” according to the forward inclination of the rider. Almost no one sits bolt upright on a bike seat, and that’s the measurement you get from sitting on that thing that some bike shops have to measure your sit bones, a device called the “ass-ometer.”  

Swift continues, “You can’t just stick your thumb into a saddle and expect to know if it’s the right one, you have to try it out.” Some bike shops can have 30 or more saddles hanging on the wall, and now you’ve got to pick one? That’s an intimidating prospect. That’s why Swift helped develop the Switch-It, a quick-change tool that allows a customer to switch saddles in a matter of seconds to get an impression of how one saddle feels compared to another right where it counts, mounted to a fit bike or on the customer’s own bike.  

This begs the question, why don’t bike companies just put good seats on the bikes they sell to begin with? Even very high-end bikes are spec’d with throw-away saddles because a bike seat is such a nuanced piece of equipment, the chance of a bike company correctly guessing what will work with your butt is pretty minimal. So companies can keep prices in check by including a place-holder saddle. It’s the same with pedals; high end bikes don’t come with pedals at all, but it’s difficult to imagine test riding a rack full of bikes without seatposts.  

The general rule of thumb when saddle shopping is that the longer you intend to ride, the more firm your saddle must be. If you’re looking at a 10- to 15-mile range, one of those couch cushion beach cruiser saddles will work perfectly. But it’s the fleshy part of your rump that supports your weight with this kind of saddle, and that can be comfortable for only so long. For longer rides, you want something more firm so your sit bones can support your weight. The faster you intend to ride, the farther you will incline forward into the handlebars, and that requires a narrower saddle because the sit bones angle inward as you lean forward.  

You don’t want to lean too far, though, or go too narrow with the saddle. This isn’t good for men or women. A bit of history here: back in the late ‘90s, the editor of Bicycling magazine announced to the world that he had been suffering from erectile dysfunction on account of pudendal nerve damage from his bike seat. Immediately, a bike company released a saddle with a cut-out center. I bought one and very quickly dubbed it “The Emasculator” early into a 500-mile trip. Specialized hired a doctor who designed their Body Geometry line of saddles that came out soon after. It was a big, ugly thing and way softer than it should have been for how comfortable it was. The leather saddle I use on my two long distance bikes is pretty good, but that Specialized BG saddle was the comfiest thing I’ve ever ridden, and I sometimes cry myself to sleep wishing Specialized hadn’t fired their doctor so they could make more fashionable bike seats that suck. I say this in jest; clearly the Specialized Power Saddle works for some riders who probably aren’t riding triple centuries. My neighbor Sam has one of those ancient BG saddles on his bike, and I have to meditate daily on the deadly sin of envy.  

But, never fear, there’s a seat that will help you do whatever it is you want to do on a bike without trying to get a signed confession out of you, and most bike shops will give you 30 days to form an educated opinion about it. If your bike goal is getting groceries, commuting to work, or finishing a century, the right saddle is out there. You can book an appointment with Paul Swift at Thecyclepoint.com. Swift looks at the rider’s point of contact on a bike—saddle, handlebars, and pedals—not as bike parts, per se, but more like things a bike wears, and sometimes these things need to be tailored to fit your needs. He’s developing his own brand of saddles called Ninety K; I have one on my commuter and another on my fat bike. But there’s no pressure to choose those. Your butt will decide what it likes.  

Justin Short’s been dulling A$$ Hatchets on his nether regions all through the winter and spring in preparation for the Idaho Panhandle Ramble in June. Look for that epic tale in a future issue of OTO.  

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