Fall Rides

Lyle on Sidewinder

“I was drinking in the surroundings: air so crisp you could snap it with your fingers and greens in every lush shade imaginable offset by autumnal flashes of red and yellow.” Wendy Delsol

Fall is without a doubt the best time of year to ride. Spring is buggy, muddy and has a chill that I can never warm up to. Summer sticks with the bugs but replaces the cold with sweltering air you can barely breathe. Winter? Well, there is nothing really wrong with pedaling in snow, but it still doesn't quite hold up to Autumn. 

In my racing days, fall signaled the end of the riding year, rolling in the final races of the season, concluding with the Chequamegon 40-the Christmas and New Years of the fat tire world. The workout season is over and it's time to “just ride.” That philosophy of non-training now carries me throughout the year and I can pedal to no strict regiment or because I have to. Okay, not quite true, I do “have to” ride in the fall. As Delsol writes, I so look forward to “drinking in the surroundings,” many times franticly not knowing what to do or where to go first. There are so many things pulling me in different directions, if only October were twelve weeks long. The black lab prances after work, convinced we'll be toting a shotgun chasing birds, the backpack waits to be slung on a shoulder and a tree stand impatiently expects my return. There are leaves to shuffle under foot as well and wildlife to photograph. But the mountain bike leaning in the corner is most anxious because I am. Those knobbie tires need to run over the carpet of yellow, orange and red in the woods, not always quite sure were the trail lies hidden beneath.

Yellow Carpet Ride

Eventually, each fall pursuit will get it's share of my time, but never enough and I feel the same way. Luckily for me, others concur and my bike is more than willing to share some singletrack with company. Biker friends from Madison arrived at their favorite trail (and mine) on what could only be described as a perfect autumn weekend. Trees in full color, that “crisp” air surrounding us and the scent in the breeze that only waifs by when leaves tumble to the earth. 

Like myself, Lyle, Kelsey and Kat had no interest in a discipled ride of heart rates and average miles per hour. We were turning pedals and rolling tires to just soak this season in at whatever pace necessary not to miss it. Favorite routes like Sidewinder and Wolf Run (at Levis Mound) were revisited, this time with so much more color and snap. Riding some in reverse of usual added a new dimension, nearly like discovering a brand new trail. Other mountain bikers had similar ideas and it was nice to meet here and there along the trail. “Remember this,” I thought to myself, as the bike carved corners and scattered popple and oak leaves behind. This season would soon be gone and homage must be paid by stopping frequently, taking a few pictures and breathing it all in. 

Kelsey & Kat & Yellowjacket

Days like these pass quickly and too soon the bikes roll to a stop at the trailhead leaving me to wonder how much I missed out there. There is always more to take in. While my friends refueled and readied for another ride, the other fall interests tugged me away from taking another spin...reluctantly. More hours in a day? More days in this month? I can only dream, dream of just one more ride in this perfect time of year.

Sidewinder in Fall

Wild Ride

The Sweaty Yeti

Bear Den Downhill

THE SWEATY YETI

CA·MA·RA·DE·RIE-NOUN COMRADESHIP; GOOD-FELLOWSHIP.

Origin: 1830–40;  < French,  equivalent to camarade comrade

Synonyms :conviviality, bonhomie, brotherhood.

Sounds legit. And that's the feeling I walk away with after spending a couple days with some of the best people in the world. This past weekend brought the third addition of the Sweaty Yeti fatbike race back to the Levis Mound Trail in south western Clark County. As race director, there is no end to the fretting about having everything ready for a race. This year was no different. Another blast of the polar vortex dropped temps and unappreciated snow on the event the evening before, which just added to the scramble. But, as it all turned out, the worry was for naught. Everyone was happy with the race, the course and the turnout.

The explosion of fatbikes this year was evident just in looking at the starting line. The inaugural event saw just two brands of bikes toeing the line-this year, pushing a dozen, with even the big boys Trek and Specialized in attendance (they finally got the memo that fatbikes are not a fad). The race calendar is full every weekend and the Wisconsin Fatbike Race Series steadily growing with the 'Yeti a participating member.

What was born out of borrowed bikes and last minute rider drafts for teams (and a whole lotta fun), has matured some, with solo riders joining the teams out on course and nearly everyone arriving with their own steed. There is something to be said for keeping a race simple and fun and hopefully the Sweaty Yeti represents that. Times are less important that lap counts (keeps scoring easy) and it's not unheard of for racers to enjoy a beverage between laps. Hydration is important.

For the locals who build and maintain these trails and developed specialized grooming equipment for the snow course, the race is a chance to show off their work. Each lap incorporates some ski trail to maneuver and plenty of singletrack to climb and descend on. The new snow did soften things up some, but the one section of hike-a-bike was well rewarded with a long swoopy downhill. Hopefully riders will come back and explore the much longer loops within the trail system.

The race attracts riders from across the midwest and is a reunion of sorts (for me anyway). Biker friends I may see just at the 'Yeti or fun festivals like Gnomefest seem to gather and pick up those friendship right where they left off. I appreciate that. It is a brotherhood (and sisterhood) of sorts-like minded people who aren't afraid to get dirty, frosty, go fast or slow, and who enjoy the ride- not taking life too seriously. Fatbiking is the ultimate bike ride and as some say, you come back with that “fatbike grin” after every ride. There were a lot of those grins at the Sweaty Yeti-the ultimate payback for hosting our event and why we keep love what we do. See y'all next year!

#1!

Hells Yeah!

Covergirl Tenley

Upper Glen

Jackrabbit Draw

Bear Den

BRRRAP!

SnowBench

Swoopy

Yeti?

Yeti Carnage

Scotty Too Hotty

Faces of the Parade

Homecoming-lots of controversy of one kind or another this year-the merits or not of toilet papering, powder puff football and of course dress up days in school-are they educational?  Are we following PBIS, RTI etc?  ;)  I love that at the very least the homecoming parade skirted rain and still marched down 4th street like usual.  It's a "target rich environment" as photographers say and since I know all the kids lined up at the edge of the curb, it's even more fun to get some portraits.  The younger kids are more fun-they are still full of enthusieasm whereas the older kids see it as a half our out of class-even if it is robbing them of some Friday afternoon instructional time.  Maybe that's why they don't smile as much?  Well, either way, here are the Faces of the parade.

Snow Shadows

Treeline on the Reed Farm

This winter has been long.  And I love winter. I love the snow, the crispness on my face, the cleanness of the white, the quiet of the season. As Ruth Stout put it:
There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you.... In spring, summer and fall people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.  

But  this year winter has hung on, digging it's claws into the change of season and not letting go.  I've never quite seen a drawn out winter like this-consistent snow and temperatures, not the usual warm up melt, then snow and well.... repeat.  Last year I was riding motorcycles and bikes on dirt and about to mow the lawn.  Nature will have it's way and this year winter has endured.

It's not all bad, this extra taste of snow and cold.   March brings longer days, starting very early, and for me, an opportunity to reengage my photography eyes. Looking back over the years, there always seems to be that one day during the season changeover, when my camera is out, snowshoes on and a dog along, shooting images of shadows on white.  It seems that that one day is a day I can "see" pictures.  Maybe just in my eye and maybe no one else will care or like them, but they are shot for me at that moment.  I think Stout expressed so well some of the things I feel when quietly making my way across snow covered fields and threading between dark tree trunks on the woods.  They are all "quiet stretches" to savor.  

I have a thousand pictures of Queen Annes Lace from all seasons-it's everywhere in my part of the world.  In the cold of winter, it's stands silent and delicate and in the dawn of the day casts threads of shadows on the sparkling snow.  I have yet to tire of making those pictures of them. An unimpressive treeline, grounded in fieldstone, now becomes a better subject with layers of grey hills backing it up and limbs of black branches holding still.

A day of enduring wind created acres of farm field drifts and a mosaic of patterns. Almost overwhelming, I had to caution myself not to shoot a thousand frames of these forms.  The lab followed closely behind me struggling in the deep snow until reaching the firmness of the windblown pack.  The way the morning light played off the snow reminded me of water waves gently washing up to a smooth beach leaving behind very similar shapes in the sand.  Others, like waves about to crash, but now frozen still.  Tucked away at a quieter place at the edge of a frog pond, isolated tracks were evidence that life was still tucked in here. Nearby stems of a cattail seemed to be reaching up like fingers freeing themselves from the snow, casting long thin strands in a minimalist, almost zen quality.  At another time I might have walked past, but this day, there was something there-at least for myself.  Perhaps just a simple composition belonging to just me and like in the quote something to savor.

Queen Annes Lace

The Drift Breakline

Snow Waves

Delicate Footfalls

Strands in the Snow

 

The Musical

Like the fall Homecoming parade and the yearly roller skating class in PE, the 5th grade musical seems to always make it into one of my blogs.  Maybe part of the reason I like to shoot it is that I was never involved in plays or musicals at all in school for I am not a stage type person.  I rather enjoy just staying behind the scenes, recording what others are doing, in this case-performing.

It's interesting to see these students in a different light (so to speak) -I have all of them in  my art class as well.  I get to witness a different side of them-singing talent that I never knew about and their acting ability-well, I do have some idea of that!  The cool thing about it all is witnessing them out of their typical element, and there are always some surprises, which are welcome to see.

Some kids have strong personalities or are leaders in their respective classes.  Even though they are still young, as a teacher, you have a pretty good feeling that they will be successful their entire life.

Other students may only get this one chance to be in front of an audience and perform and it'll probably be something they'll remember forever.  Quiet shy kids that honestly stunned me with how they could sing.    Even more so that they were brave enough to be singled out from their peers at the edge of the stage.

An image like this will sure to come back during their senior year to the sounds of giggles and laughter at what once was during an earlier time.  There will be plenty of changes in the ensuing years, but some will still be these kids on the inside.

Will the same personalities be there in later years?  Most likely not-not to be a bummer, but having taught enough years, kids that seemed one way while young do change, and not always for the better.  Thankfully there are always others who are what you saw when they were in 5th grade and always carry that youthful innocent optimism and joy somewhere inside.  Thank goodness.