[Note: In their farewell ride to the high country for what turned out to be a grand 2010 of epics, our sanity-challenged duo decides to spread its wings a bit and pays the price with a passel of hassle.]

Day One: North Twentymile Creek Grind

Sometimes you have to try something new even when common sense militates against it. That was the scenario for Team Mojo’s recent foray to the Methow Valley. For our final high-country epics of the season we wanted to explore new ground and complete some unfinished business. Our destinations: Twentymile Creek and Falls Creek/8 Mile Ridge — both up Chewuch Road north of town. For the capper we’d do Sun Mountain’s bevy of loops — the old race course.

Above North Twentymile Creek, and the world.

A group of clued-in locals are trying to reboot Winthrop with a nod to what Oregon’s once-similarly-underappreciated town of Oakridge has done. Oakridge’s “Mountain Bike Oregon” festival is drawing raves and making the town a prime destination. Winthrop has all the terrain and tools necessary to pull off a similar campaign; all that’s needed is leadership and some elbow grease from the Methow Valley denizens.

Stoked to cap off a great great 2010, Team Mojo was blessed with the best weather this late in the year that we can remember. Sunny, mid-70s, balmy at night. Having been rained on in days previous, the trails were tamped down and tacky — really perfect for riding.

Methow Cycle & Sport: Right on way into town

On the way into town we stopped in at Joe Brown’s new Methow Valley Cycle and Sport digs right before the barn on Highway 20. You can’t miss it, and it’s worth a stop if for no other reason than to take the Surly Pugsley — with its morbidly obese 4.0 tires and low-rider geometry — for a test ride around the parking lot. It’s a perfect snowmobike or sandmobile. Other than that, it’s just something completely different to ride.

Smilin' Joe Brown tried to warn us off.

Joe’s recommendation was Horsehead Pass-Foggy Dew, a monster circuit with a blazing downhill that unfortunately pretty much requires a shuttle. Since we had access to only a single vehicle, Jim’s CR-V, that was out. But we’ve done the Horsehead Pass loop (up Martin Creek Trail to Cooney Lake, over Angels Staircase, around Boiling Lake and back down Eagle Creek Trail) numerous times and were more up for exploring some untrammeled stuff.

We asked Joe about Falls Creek and North Twentymile Creek, the latter the scene of the tragic forest fire a few years ago. He kind of hemmed and hawed and tried to warn us off — not much trail maintenance up there, lots of blowdowns — but would we listen? No way. We hadn’t come 198 miles from Seattle to be influenced by common sense.

After touring the Twisp farmers’ market Saturday morning, an attraction we never miss given its $1 a pound apples and tomatoes and lots of fresh bakery items, we headed up West Chewuch to the Camp Four campground, turning right over a bridge onto Road 700, then left on 740 to park at the North Twentymile Creek trailhead. There’s actually a sign at the trailhead, and be sure to pay it some respect. It’s the only sign you’ll see on the whole ride.

Like I say, Joe had tried to warn us.

The only sign you will see.

The lower trail is climbable and quite pleasant. You ride the ridge above Honeymoon Creek and have respectable views to the west. It’s rocky in places but the trail is in pretty good shape.

Climbing through the burn.

Alas, things don’t stay that way. After a couple of fairly benign miles, it all goes sideways in a hurry. We started running into blowdowns every 100 yards or so, several of which we managed to clear with our own gloved hands. But some we couldn’t and just skirted. Further up we encountered some nasty switchbacks, made all the more unpleasant by boggy drainage. We even ran into a three-foot culvert. God knows how it got that high up on the ridge.

Trail clearing with our bare, er, gloved hands.

Bottom line: The trail had turned completely unrideable. But we slogged on. After a mile or so, lo and behold, things took a turn for the better. Literally. The switchbacks got rideable, the slope got more friendly. We were close to topping out. Up here the fire damage was more noticeable, but despite it all the trail was recovering and vegetation making a nice comeback.

Near the top I checked my iPhone and MotionX-GPS tracking software. We’d gained 4,000 feet in just over 4 miles. If you’ve ever climbed 1,000 feet in just one mile, you know what real pain is. We’d done it four times over — average speed, including trail clearing, 1.2 miles an hour.

MotionX-GPS topo rendition hints at our pain.

You’re up around 7,000 feet, you can’t see any signs of civilization anywhere, the wind is whipping around and the mountain is stone quiet, and you think hey, isn’t this great. Far away from computers and email and calls. Then the phone rings.

The Lookout: So close, yet so far.

The ride back down turned out to be a real hoot. The upper stretches of trail were rocky, rooty and challenging while still offering a fair degree of speed and flow. The middle section forced dismounts of course, but at least it went a lot quicker going down than up.

As for the final couple of miles, they were a real rip. The closer we got to the trailhead, the higher the doubles became. Someone has put a bit of thought into the lower trail. It’s a ton of fun. If I lived in Winthrop I’d go out there a couple of times a week just to do the lower section over and over.

We hated to miss the lookout, but we’ll file it under unfinished business. The next day we had some more to attend to.

[Mileage: 8.6 / Elevation gain: 4,220 feet / Maximum grade: 22 degrees / Time: 5 hrs 14 mins.] North TwentyMile Creek Trail can be found on Green Trails Maps 52 and 20.

Day Two: Falls Creek/8 Mile Ridge and a world of hurt

Day Three: Revisiting a favorite — the Sun Mountain Race Loop

Older. Wiser. Better?

Sun Valley’s most famous mountain bike ride is the Fisher Creek loop, which in five trips there I’ve never actually done per se. You climb up Fisher Creek road, then circle back and absolutely rip one of the world’s great cross-country downhills, Williams Creek. The reason I’ve never done Fisher is because I typically combine it with a wider adventure, including one of my all-time favorite XC rides, Boundary Creek.

We’ve rhapsodized before about Boundary, running a 2004 version as one of our “Classics” during this most recent trip even as we rode it again real-time. It’s a true epic: 6 to 7 hours long, 27-plus hard miles, with just about every type of terrain you’ll encounter riding cross-country, from powdery singletrack to rocky descents. In 2005 it even added a forest burn with the epic Fisher-Williams fire. The good news is that stuff is already coming back, even though the trail remains post-burn limp and sandy.

Green is returning to 2005's Fisher Creek burn.

There’s even a big-chainring road ride at the beginning. The way we do it is to take Highway 75 to the Williams Creek trailhead, then ride road around 6 miles to Boundary Creek’s trailhead. You climb Boundary all the way to Casino Lakes, take Marten Creek down to Warm Springs, cross a vast ethereal meadow and then dive through the Fisher burn to Williams and back to the trailhead.

You have a number of options in this region just outside of the bustling little burg of Stanley. You could do Ants Basin, a giant shuttle. You could go up Fisher Creek and take Warm Springs down to Robinson Bar, another big shuttle (you’d get to see Carole King’s for-sale estate this way). You could take Boundary up to the Casino Lakes intersection and take one of the Casino trails down.

Of them all, Boundary is the most challenging, epic and rider-specific. No shuttle is required.

We were gearing up when who should pull up but a pickup jammed with bikes … from Seattle! It was a group ride of fellow Evergreen Mountain Bike Alliance bros. Unbeknownst to us, a gang had come over and was renting a house near Ketchum for the week. We found this out just by striking up a conversation, which we always try to do at trailheads. You never know what connections you have in this small, small world.

In this case, our old riding buddy David James was the link. When someone mentioned he was part of the group, Dave popped his head around and we got to say hello. Some of the gang was doing classic Fisher, others were crossing the meadow to Warm Springs and down to Robinson Bar. It was going to be a memorable day for all. You can check out their adventures via Erik Alston’s posts on GotSingletrack.com.

Erik Alston's Seattle group at Fisher-Williams.

The road ride at the beginning of Boundary isn’t much fun. The road lacks shoulder space, but vehicles tend to give you wide berth in Idaho. It helped that a big road bike event was going on in Stanley; there were plenty of compatriots out flashing colors strung out along 75.

We registered at the Boundary Creek trailhead and began the long climb up. Around 9 miles up, the climb is a gradual ascent punctuated by a few wicked switchbacks. Most of it is rideable, and when I say that I usually mean by someone other than me. Especially on this long, long ride, you don’t want to burn out your jets early on.

On the way Jim reminded me of a pushing technique he had been introduced to by a riding buddy we would eventually hook up with in northern Idaho. Instead of the usual technique of pushing a bike alongside, left hand on bars, right hand on saddle (or whatever), with this maneuver you reverse the bike and push it backwards up the hill, both hands on the bars.

A new way of pushing up the steeps.

It feels funny at first and looks even funnier. But there’s an innate efficiency to the process that immediately clicks. Despite Jim’s snickers and ridicule, I found myself adapting to it quickly. Steering is at first a bit awkward, but soon enough I was negotiating rocks, step-ups and switchbacks with little trouble. Because it requires reversing the bike, it’s only practical for extended pushes. But try it sometime — you may like it.

As we continued to climb, the scenery got more and more stunning. Your backdrop is Idaho’s majestic Sawtooth range. Snow still strewed the peaks, and the morning sun gave an iridescent glow to the bluish massif. We don’t have mountains like this on the West Coast. Jim’s a Colorado native and says the Sawtooths are the closest he knows comparable to the commanding sweep of the Rockies.

The higher you climb Boundary Creek, the further your jaw drops.

About two-thirds of the way up a group of riders, led by a powerful pro (we guessed from his colors), came rolling by. They were strung out along the hillside, but to their credit all were riding all the way to the top. Several — the tall ones — had 29ers. A couple were out of Tucson, one woman was Australian, and the rest were locals. We’d see them again at the top but for now they were way off the front.

There’s a false summit on Boundary where you think whew, the climbing’s over at least. Far from it. You’ve got another thousand feet or so of really steep stuff before you crest for the best lunch spot.

Atop Boundary, you look down on the Sawtooths.

We encountered the group eating and laughing on slickrock boulders — perched on a ridge that made it seem like you were looking down on the Sawtooths. One guy in particular caught our interest. Dressed in a buttoned and collared short-sleeve shirt and natty creased shorts, he looked like he’d just stepped out of a Herb Allen conference seminar. It turned out he was Mike Herlinger, the founder of Club Ride Apparel, a clothing line represented in the Northwest by none other than former distance champion John Stamstad. We took Mike’s photo (he’s on the right) and made a mental note to follow up once we got back home.

“You don’t even look like you broke a sweat,” we commented.

“It’s all in the attire,” he said with a smile.

Club Ride: Dressing well is the best revenge.

That reminded us of a previous ride we’d done in the area with a dapper Boeing engineer named Steve Van Patten. Throughout a day-long epic in blistering heat, Steve wore a long-sleeved pinstripe dress shirt. We had to admit, for all the eccentricity of dress, he brought a touch of class to the proceedings.

The gang — whom we later learned comprised in part Team Niner-Ergon — soon departed after donning helmet cams (one had a GoPro Hero mounted on his handlebars; see video here). They were headed down Casino Lakes, the opposite way from us but an alternative we plan to do the next time. For now we were looking forward to a monster downhill.

If there’s such a thing as a challenging descent, Boundary Creek is it. Rock gardens abound, and the late spring had left creek crossings dicey. It’s fun, but you don’t want to hurt yourself or even get a mechanical this far from anywhere, and you don’t really get a lot of flow. I was heartened by Jim’s recollection of several crashes I’d had last time. This time out I stayed upright. Older, yes. Wiser, yes. Better? It must have been the Mojo.

Sometimes ya eats the rocks, sometimes the rocks eat you.

One interlude I always take advantage of is an alpine lake fairly early on, where you can take a cool dip that brings down the core temp fast and relaxes you for the rest of the ride. I had jumped in and was floating on my back when Jim, scanning out across the lake, said bemusedly, “Hmmm, there’s a water snake out there.”

A snake! Where there’s one, there’s got to be more! After I’d finished splashing to shore, cracking up Jim to no end, he explained that we probably weren’t talking water moccasins here. In any case, I was ready to roll on in no time at all.

A snake you say? Yeeeoooowwwww!

We rode down, down, down … through the ghostly burn, where underbrush is coming back to life … through creek crossings that were higher than normal … through the vast upper meadow bowl … up riser after riser on Fisher. The latter, coming late in the ride and the day, was leaving me pretty gassed, wondering if the intersection with Williams is ever going to show up.

But then you’re there.

It admittedly would be nice to do Williams a bit fresher. It’s one ride that invites speed so tantalizing you simply cannot resist the perfectly timed berms and roller-coaster straightaways. For the most part Williams has terrific sight lines and plenty of clearance. And you can go as fast as reflexes and fear factor permit.

You finally break out into a meadow at the bottom, then have a little 200-foot climb before the final rip to the trailhead. As much as I love this ride, it had pummeled me into submission by the end. I guess that’s one thing that keeps bringing me back. Maybe one of these days I’ll get the better of it rather than the other way around. Either way, it’s an incomparable mountain biking experience.

Warm Springs meadow, in the eye of God.

Back at the trailhead we’re packing up when we hear a voice … “Jim? Jim Lyon? Paul? Is that you?”

We turned around to see none other than Mr. Sartorial Splendor himself, Steve Van Patten.

After much exclaiming, hooting and greeting, we learned he was with the Seattle clan, having just been dropped back off at his camper after doing the Robinson Bar option. He had a different bike than in 2004, sans rack, but the camper was the same and Steve still was living large.

We told him the story of Club Ride Apparel.

“Was the material cotton?” he asked.

We weren’t positive but thought it a blend.

Steve shook his head. “Has to be cotton,” he said. “Cotton all the way.”

So there you have it. The last mountain biker in America to wear cotton on day-long rides. Boundary Creek truly has it all.

Elevation gain: Around 5300 feet. Miles: 27 plus change.

[Next up: Big Boulder/Little Boulder ... and medium boulders, er, road apples, too!]