Brief Gear Note

I had something interesting happen with my saddle bag which has never occurred before. The two cartridges actually went through the material above the upper zipper during the race in Colorado. I love this Specialized bag, but it did not last very long. Will have to keep cartridges pointed the other way in the bag in the future. The above Bontrager shoes were a quick replacement for the ripped Adidas and worked pretty well. The shoes still need some breaking in. I'm not too crazy about the eSoles, and they are not very stiff (though they have carbon soles); however, they were very reasonable (especially with the deal Pete gave me) and given how fast things break anyway, they should do fine.

Two Races the Weekend of 9/5

Park City Point to Point 9/5
Butte 8 Hours of Labor 9/5
Park City Balloons above from trip down to Leadville after picking up Max.

Georgetown Lake

We managed to get to Georgetown Lake (below the Pintlars above) during last weekend for some family R&R. This is one of the most productive little lakes I know of. It is loaded with large rainbows that are often rising to various hatches. The caddis hatch was great right at dusk.If you want to teach a child to fly fish, I recommend this water. Simply canoe out and start casting adams flies with olive droppers. The rainbows are large and healthy. If the wind picks up, just keep your head down because fly line is going to be going in all directions.The above bald eagle kept threatening the ducklings, but their mother managed to get them into the cattails each time trouble loomed above. We killed and ate a few fish. Tasted great!

Utah's Green River

Max said it had been over two years since he had fished the Green, and part of me was pretty certain this was part of the reason he was in on the Leadville trip. He had mentioned driving from Salt Lake to Colorado that he had almost insisted that I brought my raft down and we parked it near the river at a spot he knew and then we had a friend of his shuttle the truck while we fished on Monday.
We were going to fish above the Little Hole which is not too far below the Flaming Gorge Dam. The man was almost down right giddy with excitement as we got closer to this drainage. It is the chief tributary of the Colorado. The Little Hole area had had a pretty significant fire as can be seen above. The Green has an A (the Red Canyon Stretch above Little Hole) and B section (the Devil's Hole section). We were staying above, but the lower section was a great float according to my trusty guide and an excellent area for on river camping.We wound up in a section he said was known by locals as the Mother-in-Law hole, having walked a few miles up from the boat launch. The good news was that there were not many bank fishermen this far up and being a Monday did not hurt either. There were however a ton of boats coming down from the Dam floating to the Little Hole take out. I would say it was about an even split between fishing outfits and general rafters out for a nice leisure float on the river. Boats came down often.
There were a few critters about as well and Max hung out with the above lizard for quite a while offering him part of his Safeway sub. The old lizard literally just hung out with us for most of the afternoon while we fished. It got pretty funny.

We stopped off at one of the fly shops above the dam to buy some flies I had pretty much never heard of, let alone fished with. Things like WD40s and Rainbow somethings which were wet flies in like size 22 and smaller. These were 18 inches below a brown/tan San Juan as a double nymph rig. Ginger Wolly Buggers were popular as well, with a peacock prince or equivalent below it or a Zebra Midge or Scud.
Max knows all of the details of this sort of thing. I stick with things I know, though I went with these wet flies for a while. He was catching fish after fish on the dropper wet fly, getting the perfect drift in the Mother-in-Law hole and other spots above and below this area. The water was as clear as I've ever seen. The level is changed at different times each day, rising quickly as much as 4 feet depending on what the boys at the dam are up to and what the Colorado needs I guess. I caught a few nice fish on the WD40s, but kept seeing some caddis on the water coming off and decided this was baloney and took off the indicator, weight and two flies and tied on a size 18 or so parachute adams. I quickly caught about 6 very large fish. The caddis coming off were grey. Max insisted on staying with the typical cream colored actual caddis, but as usual, the adams won the moment. My box really only needs stimis, adams files, prince nymphs and bead head hairs ear nymphs. Those flies usually suffice.As we were fishing, many rafts and drift boats were often coming down. However, at one point I noticed a large cooler float by followed quickly by other large bags and debris and then oars. This was extremely unsettling and I yelled up to Max to keep an eye out for floating bodies. We were both watching very closely and ready to start swimming in to retrieve people. Scary moment. All boat traffic came to a complete halt for about 20 minutes. Finally, a tight group of four boats came down together and one of the rafters yelled back to me from the far bank that they were ok and there had been an accident not too far above where we were fishing. The retrieved the oars which were across from us and then went down stream still looking for items.

The browns in this drainage were incredible. I only caught one rainbow [seen above in post with the rod]. As can be seen, the above brown hit the adams. It was a great fight. I had the 5wt three piece WT, which is not a stiff rod. Max said I'd probably wish I had brought my 6wt XP. After Max came back down to me he asked me to look up above almost around the bend. He said the white thing I was looking at was a $5,000 Hyde drift boat completely destroyed on a large rock where he knew there was a large sweeper. He said the best way they would get it out would be at about midnight when the flows were down to 700. We walked out in the pitch black of night under a clear sky full of stars. The original plan was to camp above this section and get up early to shoot to Salt Lake; however, we changed plans and got to Salt Lake at two in the morning which made for an easier shot back for me to Missoula early the next morning.

The Frying Pan

Rather than drive over Hagerman Pass Sunday morning, we (Max, Sox and I) decided to play it safe on the tires and drive through Aspen and then to Basalt and up the Frying Pan. Basalt reminded me a bit of Bigfork, small and tourist oriented. Gierach has written many of his humorous stories in this area and I had to go there for myself since we were in the neighborhood anyway. [Max and Sox scout out a hole above]. We drove up to the Reservoir where there actually was a yacht club and there were many boats sailing. The lower section up to this point had many anglers, especially right below the dam. We decided to head to the upper section to hopefully avoid the crowds and find a nice place to camp.On the upper section, the Pan gets quite a bit smaller. The bottom is a tailwater and we wanted to fish that section, however, being a Sunday afternoon it was jammed with locals fishing. Max pointed out that the power lines going through this drainage were probably the same that I was racing under the day prior. The attendant at the campground confirmed that on top of the pass were large boulders and though I had high clearance, there still could have been issues. I felt better knowing I still had to get back to Missoula shortly!We caught many smaller fish on this upper section. Max casts into a nice little hole above. Mostly browns and a few brookies. The camping consisted of a lot of catching up with Sox on the goings on in his life and trying to figure out where all of our CMA classmates were now? Max built up a great fire and the night sky was crystal clear, loaded with stars. Max cooked up a couple of his fish which we enjoyed as a snack among dogs and burgers.
The success was mainly had on stimulators with small nymph droppers [like the small brown I caught below]. Once the sun went down, things pretty well shut down on the fishing front. We stayed up pretty late, but I was tired from the ride the day prior and when I crashed in my tent, there was no getting up. I slept great with a couple of bags and thermorests. I just laid there initially trying to take everything in that I had just been through and the friends I had just caught up with. Unbelievable. The next morning, Sox headed back to Golden and Max and I headed for the Green prior to going to Salt Lake to get Max back home. It was hard saying goodbye to Sacco and I thanked him for being a part of the Leadville experience and said the door is always open in Missoula.

The Lemhi and Birch Creek

Max convinced me to drive down 93 to Salt Lake, rather than take the quicker route down 15. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. It is a more scenic route and the options were pretty limitless.

The Bitterroot, the Salmon, the Lemhi and then a new discovery I had not yet fished, Birch Creek. In the past, prior to and post the Salmon Grand Prix (Jenna Brimmer Memorial) I had always fished these drainages. One year standing in the middle of the above section [top pic] the night prior the the race in Salmon, a salmon drifted half dead down literally right next to me. At first I thought it was a log coming down the drainage, then it moved. It was amazing.

It was a favorite activity camping around Corn Creek at the very end of vehicle access on the Middle Fork of the Salmon post race. The Frank Church River of No Return is something I'd like to experience as a float at some point. Heading down to Salt Lake, I was not going to be able to make the detour at the North Fork and headed straight to the Lemhi in Salmon, Idaho. All of the above shots are of the Lemhi in areas I like to fish. The drainage is very accessible and is a popular fishery for trout, steelhead and salmon.After fishing the Lemhi, I stopped to do some brief tempos for fun just below the above single track and discovered Birch Creek opposite of where I was riding. The regs said it was family water and it looked good, so I hit the below hole and promptly caught the above rainbow. It was beautiful in this area. The ranchers are pretty patriotic, flying Old Glory at the end of their irrigation systems. This guy had numerous flags flying on the end of his systems.

I had no idea what I was driving through south of Birch Creek, but the signs said INL and no trespassing, government property. Max said it was a big controversy. I was looking forward to getting to Salt Lake and then heading to Leadville. However, the fishing had been just fine!

Leadville 2009

A couple of days prior to the start, I got the green light from Max. He was on board for the trip. We both had made the decision to put in for the Leadville 100 mountain bike race, but unfortunately only one of us got in. Max was pretty down about that, but he decided to make the trip from Salt Lake City with me to Colorado to help me get this race in the books.

This was my second high priority (A) race of the season, following the Cascade Cream Puff last month. I thought of titling this post From the Ocean to the Alpine, Leadville '09. That about sums up my summer. I was not sure how to fully prepare for the elevation at this race, so I did not make a big production of it. In late July, I stayed on some threshold intervals blowing out my lungs (when I had a cold to boot - stupid), and then on Saturday the 1st I rode to the helepad on Sheep Mountain in 1.58 from the Rattlesnake parking lot and then quickly again in about 2.17 in major heat. Then, on the following Tuesday, Aug. 4th, I broke the number 5 erg at the U of M, rowing a 1/2 marathon, quickly hopping over to a recently fixed number 1 and completing the row in 1.22 knowing it would have been better w/o the stop. The goal of these exercises was to be two weeks out feeling pretty confident for Colorado and that is how I felt prior to driving to Salt Lake to pick up my friend, Captain Max.

I got some significant further good news prior to heading south as well. The wonder of e-mail and technology! I sent an e-mail to a friend in the area (formerly Bitchn' Richards) that I would be just outside of town shortly for this race and could he come down to help at a station? Also, how could I get in touch with the Trash Can Man, whose two e-mail addresses kept bouncing back and I had not been in touch with in a long time. Richards said he had not kept in touch with Roelke, and to ring up Sox to see if he had his contact dope. Bobby Sox, man the name was distant. It had been over two decades since I had been in contact with Sox. I sent him an e-mail to see if he could come down and to find out if he knew how to reach Trash? Trash cancelled a camping trip (thanks Cindy!) to come down to Leadville to help out. Both Sox and Trash were in. Turns out Heap (Trash) got free reserved seats to Green Day anyway following the race in Denver - dog!

Things were quickly coming together. Capt. Steve had to fly on both Saturday and Sunday and was out. This was a bummer for sure as I wanted to plan a fishing trip. Sox could come down early the morning of the event and meet Trash at a station and Trash was going to have to leave early Saturday to now catch Green Day. It was still looking good for sure though. I'd put Max at Twin Lakes, and Trash and Sox at Pipeline. Below is Heap grinning with Max relaxed in front of our high-end Timberline room. To our left were racers from B.C. and our right South Carolina. On the internet, a lady had written she would not let her dog sleep here following her experience, but I'm pretty sure my two labs would have been right at home.One day recently, I'm having coffee with 50 Eggs at the Good Food Store in Missoula and in walks a guy who looks over at me and we both do a double take. Richards. He had lived across the hall in the Company C barracks at C.M.A. in 1987 and here he was in the store in Missoula picking up some friends to fly to Alaska. He flew cargo missions Afghanistan during the war. We knew him as Bitchn' in the 80's, but now he was the real deal for sure and I was bummed he was out for this event. His roommate was Sacco (Bobby Sox), a tough NY kid who played hockey at C.M.A. and kept everyone on their toes. Trash Can Man, where do I start? I gave him this name after reading King's The Stand. From South Bend, he fit the part. My roommate, a free wheeling rock'n roller who loved the B52s and was always up to something. I was 3rd generation at Culver. My best friend Gaujot (a fellow Snowshoe, W.Va., ski racer) goes to Burke in Vermont and my ski racing was over, going to the Indiana corn fields. Argh! Anyway, four years away at high school, living in the barracks and marching to breakfast, lunch and ten buck two freezing your tail off on a lake - these guys were immediate brothers. I, however, had not visited with them in decades. Now, two of them were coming down for the race and then Sox was in for some fishing as well! Max, Sox and Trash - we were in business. The Mission: A. Finish. B. Do it in under 8.30. If things came together, these were achievable goals.

First priority prior driving down to Salt Lake to pick up Max, was to determine do I want to fish the Lemhi and the Salmon on 93, or the Beaverhead on 15 South? I figured I could hit the one I missed going down on the way back, so I chose the Lemhi going down [report to follow]. Following the fishing , I headed to crash at Max's girlfriend's, Kristin's, and then head out Thursday morning to Leadville with Max from Salt Lake. I gave Kristin an honorary Sheephead Top Gun hat and thanked her profusely for letting me sleep on her couch and borrow Max for a few days. Max was still grumpy for not getting into the race itself, but we had some serious fishing ideas immediately following the race. This helped.

Once we arrived late Thursday, we checked in and then headed to Columbine to check out the climb that everyone writes is a tail breaker. [Max below at the Twin Lakes area at the base of Columbine]Max had pretty well decided on Thursday he was going to the top. I said have fun, I'm only going one hour today and easy going up. Also, please don't get hurt so I have to find you. He called me finally at 7:00 PM, near dark and without a light, from the top. I was half asleep in the truck after checking my gear for the race which was in a couple of days. I took a pic of the C/D trail when I climbed up the lower section, tucked among a stand of Aspens below: This was extremely tempting, but I left it alone. I slept pretty well Thursday and got up early (7:30 check in) to get my packet in the Leadville gym prior to the mandatory race meeting. During the race meeting, Max and I stood in the back, outside of the building and I got to briefly visit with Wiens and get a photo. Wiens (who has dominated this event for many years) is a very generous and outgoing person. It was a pleasure to meet Dave. I asked him if his teammate Kerkove was here and he said he was racing somewhere else this weekend. Kerkove had written a nice race report for the '08 race and followed it up with an interview of Wiens which I read pretty thoroughly prior to this race. [Rusch, the female winner at Leadville and the winner at the 24 Hour Worlds, is behind us in the above photo].

During the meeting , Ken announced that there were 1400 of us and we were from 47 states and many countries, including, for example, Hong Kong and South Africa. Following the meeting, Max had decided he wanted to explore the other half of the course, so we headed to the Powerline section, which I was not going to climb and play around on the night prior to the race. Max, however, went over it and called me from a section near the top and said I should descend it at least once to get the line. I punted on that, hiking up the base of it and meeting Ken there who was about to give an interview for a kind broadcaster who took our picture together. We spoke about elk hunting in Colorado and he told me a funny story about darting an elk and I mentioned a few things about the game in Montana where we use live rounds. I told Ken to feel free to look me up and I'll put him on the game. He reminded me of Kilgore in Apocalypse Now, he "Loved his Racers." Good guy. Trash had called and said he was heading down now and was out of work. At Leadville, they fed not only the racers, but any support staff and friends and anyone else really who was involved in this race. All part of the entry. Very nice. John (Trash) got to the room just prior to dark. We had a great visit and Max could not understand why he kept calling me Jeff instead of Garland. I went by Jeff, my middle name, until college at Northeastern, when I got tired of professors calling me Garland, my first name, and decided at that point to just go with it, maintaining Garland through the U. of M. which I transferred to in 1990. Max crashed again on the floor in the room on his blow up mattress and Heap crashed also on a blow up mattress in the back of his rig in the parking lot. I gave Sox the rundown on the phone prior to sacking out and he was to meet Heap out 300 at Pipeline in the morning to help at that station if I needed anything. Then, it was fishing and some beer post race.

This was a new venue for me, and that usually means no sleep the night prior to the race. Max asked the next morning, race day, if I got any sleep, and I said no and he said he knew the answer prior to asking. The race started at 6.30. I was out of the sack at 5.00. I ate a peanut butter sandwich made with a beagle. Trash said riders were already everywhere on the street. I saddled up and said thanks and I'll see you later and headed out. It was 5.45 and raining and cold and already the start area had filled! No way. I did a sprint up to the top of 6th anyway to semi warm up. I was like 3/4 of the way back and it was a shotgun start. Such is life. People were cutting their way towards the front and guys were getting mad saying "Hey, I got up early for this, get back there!" Jarod, the MST ski coach in Missoula and a Leadville native, said to get to the start early not because of the shotgun, but the traffic jam that occurs going up the first dirt road climb section. After the gun, I passed as many folks as I could prior to the first climb, and then continued to pass folks but also keep my h/r within range to not blow up too early. Everyone was frozen and miserable due to the prolonged wait in the start area with rain.

As I had mentioned to Heap the night prior, I planned on skipping his station going out and stopping at the Twin Lakes Station to fuel up prior to the climb, getting more gels and bottles there. However, be ready with XYZ if I need it when I come through there on the outbound anyway. I never saw him going outbound, and he said later he called Max and said he never saw me? He was supposed to let Max know I had gone through. The Culver boys had never been to anything like this and it was pure misery in the rain and cold. I was half frozen when I got to Max at Twin Lakes prior to the climb up Columbine. Outbound coming down the Powerline section was some of the most miserable mountain biking I have ever done. We were all already soaked to the bone and frozen, but now the mud from the other racers was flying up under my $10.00 Uvex clear e-bay purchased glasses and overwhelming my contacts. I did not stop or change a thing, however. Riding on half vision impaired. The other racers were in the same camp. One guy I passed was complaining about the new single track adding at least "15 minutes" to our time at a minimum. Hell, I welcomed it. The race could use a bit more single track and it was pleasant. Wiens heads through Twin Lakes outbound below (Max photo with my Canon). The wind was blowing like crazy along the lower roads and the rain pelted us hard. I grabbed a couple of gels and some new bottles and basically did not stop. Max was standing tall among hundreds of people in a tunnel in the area. I had my lite shell on from the start to the top of Columbine and back down to Twin Lakes. Armstrong comes through Twin Lakes in the lead below heading outbound and soon up Columbine.The Columbine climb was difficult only because I was totally miserable, mud covered and soaked from head to tail. My lungs felt perfectly fine, which was truly surprising. Also, my h/r was not a problem. Cold fatigue, that was a problem. I could not feel my fingers and shift gears. A bit more than half way up, Armstrong came screaming, and I mean Body Miller screaming, down, descending on the right as one comes down. If a rock had gone into his spokes or another climbing racer dipped to their left, it was for sure all over for Armstrong. Honestly, I loved his courage and determination. He was going all the way this year, clearly. In shape and back on his game. Wiens came flying down shortly after as well. The difference was that Wiens was telling the climbers to hang in there and keep going and not to give up we were almost there. I just yelled at the top of my lungs to hup up and pour it on and go get Armstrong. The other racers who followed these men were determined as well, squinting as the hail pelted their eyes on the descent. It was an incredible sight. The winds on the upper deck were gail force and we were all struggling to maintain ourselves. We were now racing at 12,600 feet and pressing. I did not stop at the aid station, choosing to head down immediately. It was almost 5 hours to this point and I was mad at myself, knowing I was off on my time. Frozen. I needed to be here in 4.30. My fingers were worthless on the descent. The upper jeep trail is a bumpy, rocky mess. I did not want to hit any of the climbing racers. I looked into their eyes, hundreds of climbers who were strung out like a train coming up, each determined to get this climb done and finish this race. I too tried to encourage them.

Sox with me on Independence Pass (12,000 feet) above. I was pretty down when I got to Max at the Twin Lakes. My transmission was toast from the mud on the Powerline descent and I was frozen though the sun was finally coming out. It was now around noon. Max gave me my peanut butter beagle which I went to work on while he cleaned my cables which he said were the issue. I did not stick around too long, eating somehow half of the beagle. That is so hard for me, eating that damn sandwich. But I got half down and then hammered as hard as I could go. I ate a gel and some more endurolites (a couple each hour or close) and soon after a cliff bar as well. Max later told me he befriended some of the volunteers in the area and used all of his lube helping racers with their chains and cassettes which were all a total mess. A great person, Max. He said a small child almost got annihilated walking into the middle of the lane as a racer who did not stop ripped through.

I passed quite a few folks getting over to Sox and Trash at the Pipeline station, and if John (wearing his Culver Maroon sweatshirt) had not startled me by yelling at the top of his voice JEFF!!! in the middle of the tube of fans, I would probably not have stopped. I skidded to a halt and there before me stood Sox and Roelke, my brothers. Right then and there I was having a Class Reunion. Man, I had not seen Bobby since 1987. Incredible. I grabbed a bottle and said I'd see them at the finish, knowing Heap would probably be off to the Green Day concert unfortunately by then. I put the hammer down as hard as I could go at this point, finding energy I did not know I had. The food is critical, and what I ate at the Twin Lakes was reinvigorating along with the sun that was now out. I was pretty sure I was not going to make the 9.00 cut off [for a gold buckle] though, but I was going to press none the less. [Armstrong coming through Twin Lakes inbound - Max photo]I rode up most of the Powerline section, having one racer tell me I was his hero for staying on the bike during the climb only to get yapped at after I jumped off during another section on the climb. "I just said you were my hero," he stated... I said it ain't going to happen. The Powerline section had umpteen false summits. You look up and see a power pole on a flat section, get there thinking thank God it's over, and then more poles and climbing. It never ends it seems. One very funny thing happened during this climb. A guy on a single speed standing up climbing out of the saddle, wearing tights under baggy shorts came literally by blaring Toole from speakers he had some how Jerry rigged onto his frame. Another racer and I just looked at each other in disbelief. A true Leadville moment for sure.

I think some of the race fans recognized that I was going all out, as a couple of guys went crazy when I came by yelling YEAH, YOU GOT IT, YEAH!!!... I guess part of me felt I could still get done under 9.00, though the first half had killed me. I passed another guy who said he really liked my jersey and I thanked him and said I had made it myself. "Old School" he replied. I liked that. I asked another guy I passed on the St. Kevin's climb if we had a chance and he said he did not know and his knee was toast. I kept pressing right down through the ranch and down the rail road. My watch said 5 minutes, 4, 3 ... 0. Game over, it was now over nine hours and the riders around me, in front mainly, you could see the wind go out of the sails. Good bye gold. Hell, I just got mad and busted up a final climb still passing guys and trying to finish strong. The locals were great looking on at me like this guy really cares or something. My mind said my best friends had come down to help me with this race and I was going to stay on it to the end. [Armstrong finishes on a rear flat below - Max photo with my Canon]. I rolled up to the red carpet, still pulling on the bars. They anounced my name and Missoula, Montana, when I crossed the line. 9.12.57. Max and Bobby Sox were at the finish and kept my spirits up. At first I was pretty mad at myself for not going out harder, but I soon got over it and realized this was a tough learning experience. Part A of the Mission was accomplished anyway - and that is part A for a reason. Max got Armstrong to sign his Sheephead hat. He said Lance just turned the hat around and said "Missoula Sheepheads"? He then signed it. Max, Sox and I immediately headed for the Arkansas below Twin Lakes to fly fish. I caught a beautiful cut throat and more importantly enjoyed the company of my friends. Sox, below in a nice section on the Arkanses following the race, explained to me that he was a U. of Montana grad and had been in Missoula in the early ninties! He's now with the Colorado Wildlife Dept. and I asked him if he had had Erick as a professor in the biology dept. and he said he was his favorite professor. I said we are squash buddies, and Erick had recently served as the dean of the school. Talk about a small world. We crashed in Leadville Saturday night after eating at Quincy's where I ate a 20 oz prime rib. Then we attended the morning awards ceremony at 7.30 AM. Then, Sox, Max and I decided to head to the Frying Pan to camp and fish. [report shortly above].

Early Monday morning we got up and I said goodbye to Sox. The night prior we had visited extensivly over Max's blazing camp fire about our families, and how we are not getting any younger. Where were our friends now Sox and I asked each other? Departing that morning was pretty tough medicine and I gave Bob a huge hug. Max and I headed for the next stop, the Green in Utah, for more fishing.

After dropping out of the Frying Pan, we stopped at a Safeway in Glenwood Springs to buy some Joe at Starbucks and get a sandwich. When we were about to leave, a guy parked next to us came over and asked if we had just been to the Leadville race? We said yes. He said he had also. He said his name was Manny and somehow we got on the subject of fishing. He said he had spent yesterday fishing the lower Frying Pan (below the reservoir - we were above camping) and that he was now addicted to fly fishing. Max and I laughed our tails off. Here was a guy we could relate to. He said he got 8th in the race and then we knew who he was. Last year he got 3rd behind Armstrong. He asked about me and I said my time and he said that was a good time and that this was the most difficult Leadville yet in his view and that he had gotten sick during the race going hypothermic. Max went in to get a sandwich and Manny ducked into his Subrau and pulled out his phone and showed me a picture of a beautiful brown trout he had caught on the lower Pan. We determined he had been using a brown mayfly pattern. When he found out I lived in Missoula, he asked if I knew the Shutltz brothers and I said no. I said I knew their father though. We visited extensivly about the fishing around the Missoula area and he asked if I had a twitter account and I said nope, but I write a blog and gave him a Sheephead lid and business card and said call anytime and we'll get the raft out if he comes up. I said fall is one of the absolute best times to fish as most folks are already in the hills thinking of game. Nice fellow Manny, from Orange County [above was posted with Manny's permission]. Manny's '09 Leadville Race Report on Cycling Dirt here.

Manny did not realize he had just met Max, a Bitterroot fly fishing Zen Master who not only ties his own flies, but builds his own rods as well. Max and I headed for the Green in Utah [report above shortly].Following the Green, we decided to head back to Salt Lake at dark from the Green rather than camp, cook and then get up early to drive to Salt Lake. Max thought about driving up through Wyoming and then over. I said that was fine, but if we were going to go into another state, we would have to get a one day license to fish and that may be difficult, though who knows, at 12.30 AM, maybe it could be done? He agreed that we could not go into another state without fishing in that state, so we drove to Salt Lake staying in UT via Vernon. The next morning I left for Missoula and skipped the Beaverhead, though it was beyond tempting! When I left Salt Lake, Max concluded that this was indeed an epic trip. 09 Results here. I concurred. [Max with a lunker on the Green below Monday afternoon]Looks like our proxy bought a 4-H lamb at the fair auction for the Sheepheads to donate to Missoula 3.16 while we were out racing as well!