60th Idaho State Ride
Driving 30 hours to see 3-days of country music before a 3-day epic dirtbike weekend in Idaho seemed like a fine idea when the trip was 6 months out. In the middle of the first 15 hour stretch, I had realized the error of my decisions, I was OVER riding in an enclosed vehicle on paved roads with thousands of others. We were headed to Under the Big Sky Festival in Whitefish, Montana to take in the sounds of Colter Wall, Marcus King, Hank Williams Jr., Zach Bryan, Local Honeys, and a load of others. It was a rockin’ good time with some Outlaw Women!
Mike and I were reunited in McCall on Thursday around noon, I gave him the homemade cinnamon roll I had bought in a tiny town somewhere between Montana and Idaho. We loaded my clothes and hit the road, on our way to some Forest Service land West of Stanley.
We’ve ridden Stanley twice before, and so we knew many of the trails that were on the agenda for the 3-day Idaho State Ride.
The Annual ITMA (Idaho Trail Machine Association) State Ride turned 60 this year. Since the mid-1960’s, the intent of the ITMA State Ride has been to provide an opportunity for members of the 5 Idaho chapters of ITMA to get together, socialize, discuss land use matters, ride Idaho’s Trails, and celebrate another year of trail stewardship. There are five chapters of ITMA: Central Idaho Trail Riders Association out of McCall, The High Mountain Trail Machine Association out of Grangeville, The Magic Valley Trail Machine Association out of the Twin Falls area, The Idaho Falls Trail Machine Association out of Idaho Falls and the Treasure Valley Trail Machine Association out of the Boise area. “You must be an active member of one of these 5 chapters to participate in The ITMA State Ride. This is not an open event for out-of-state pilgrims to just show up and ride for free sans saw. Idaho volunteers have worked very hard to put on this event for our members. “
After visiting Idaho a few times now, we’ve come to realize that having a day for an Idaho-re-introduction is a recipe for success. Ask any interloper who has ridden in Idaho more than once, they’ll tell you. Plan an extra 2 days to get your mind and body prepared for BIG Idaho days. Riding here isn’t like Nevada or Cali, the trails require more of you.
Our first day we covered some trails around the Dry Creek area that Mike and I had ridden last year as our “get re-acquainted with Idaho” time. The trails between Yankee Fork and Dry Creek range from mellow groomer runs, to hard intermediate singletracks. The first day we rode a nice 65-mile loop, made new friends, had no epics, a great start.
Betty braaps into Elk Creek
Me, Mike, KT, and Karter (KT’s 14-year old son) set off seeking revenge. Last year Mike and I got shutdown trying to cross Elk Meadows… this year we were determined to complete our loop. The section of trail that really sticks out is Bench Creek to Elk Meadows, if you enjoy riding singletrack that’s 90% irregularly, angly rocks, you’ll love this 16-miles of trail, it’s a great test of endurance, balance, and send-ability. There’s even a lovely clubman trials braap at the very top. Coming down off Elk Mountain, dropping into the meadow, we hunted around for the “correct” swamp crossing. After some pussy-footing around, and going back-n-forth we found our crossing, it was much less dramatic than we anticipated.
KT and Karter headed back to camp, while Mike and I decided to crape-diem (yeah we know, its carpe diem) ride some more trails, swim in Stanley Lake, and enjoy the rest of the daylight in the mountains. We got back to camp around dusk, just the way we like it.
The next morning we were up early preparing bikes, snacks, and bodies for the big day ahead.
93 total miles, 68 miles of Idaho’s finest singletrack. We left camp far too late, as the day was warm, 90 degrees and sunny, and we had a LOT of miles to cover. This route was recommended by an Idaho Icon, “Sit Down” Brad. We had just met Brad through a mutual friend, we had heard tales of Brad, he hunts wolves solo in winter, he cuts solo in early spring, his ride yesterday was mostly singletrack, all 130 miles. His reputation preceded him. Brad saw the route I had picked out, I talked him through my thoughts, he said it would be great, closer to 100 miles than the 80 miles I had guessed. He recommended going “UP Silver Creek and down Ramey, it’s more fun that way.” I’m always hesitant to believe guys with such a reputation. I asked if he was sandbagging or being kind, he just smiled.
Mike, KT, Karter, and I cruised up some well travelled singletrack, linking familiar sections that we had ridden a few days before; up a drainage, over a shoulder, down a mountain into another drainage, that was the flow for the first third of the day. As today’s navigator I was flying down another mountain on a silty two-track, feeling confident in our progress so far. WHAM! I pulled a Chase Sexton, hitting the ground in a cloud of silt. My only thought was to get off the track before the others’ barreled into me. Mike came sliding in, asking if I was ok, Karter slammed into him, and KT barely stopped in time to keep his bike upright. “Why the hell are you stopping here? Shade!?” KT was pissed, thinking we had stopped by a bush, in the middle of the track, to find some shade. HAHAHA we all had a good laugh. I was a little dazed from my dirt nap, we re-grouped in some nice grass by a creek. KT and Karter walked down to a creek to refill their water, an older gentleman on a quad slowed, “there’s girls in bikini’s down there!” he said as he passed. We thought he was trying to cheer Karter up, as he was visibly already OVER riding for the day.
Sure enough the old man was right, there were three girls in bikinis drinking beers hanging in the river with their fellas. We looked at the river, surely there has to be another way across. Nope!
KT and Karter made it across no problem, I was up next and honestly, I was a lot nervous. The water was over 18” in the holes, with many large submerged rocks, it was easily 100’ across, and, maybe the worst part, there were 9 people just staring at me. I did NOT want to dump my bike. I took a couple of deep “psyche-myself-up” breaths, put it in 1st and uneventfully made it across. Now it was Mike’s turn, last one to go. No pressure, bud.
It took some back-and-forth but we finally found the trail hiding just behind a cabin. I believe this section of trail to be some of the finest in all of Idaho. Technical, narrow, exposed, rocky, flowy, creek crossings, hill climbs, switchbacks, big views, dense forests, cragy mountains, grassy hillsides, it truly has it all.
I’m a “take it all in” enjoy the landscape, come home in the dark type of gal. As we lounged in the grass under some pines staring out at the mountains to the south enjoying a Snickers, another member of our group mentioned that they would like to be back at camp in time for the dinner party and raffle. It was 3:23pm and we still had over 35 miles of singletrack including the infamous Razor’s Edge. (and 17 miles of two track, AND 10 miles of forest service road). Mike and I giggled, put on our helmets, and braaped on.
The Razor’s Edge trail has some high exposure, is breath-takingly beautiful, and is a ton of fun. In hindsight, if we had known about the true nature of the exposure before heading up, we probably wouldn’t have taken Karter on the ride. It’s one of those trails that puts hair on a boy’s chest. Yet, this kid navigated the most technical sections like a pro, no fear, all focus, cruising it no problem…
We made it to Custer, looked around, signed the register, then rode some of the sickest flowy singletrack down to the forest service road that leads to Custer Ghost Town. We stopped at The Dredge to fuel our bodies before our last push toward camp. We told Karter it wasn’t that much further, hell we only had 23 miles till camp, most of it singletrack we had ridden a couple days before. There were a few meltdowns along the way, some gas moving between bikes, and re-filling of water. Getting nervous about gas, we all agreed to put our bikes in neutral and roll the last 5 miles of singletrack, as we recalled from a ride a few days prior, it’s “basically a downhill”. Holy moley were we wrong. Yeah, the trail goes downhill, but not before it goes up, and around, and then down, and then up again, and around, and up and then down. We rolled back into camp as the sun was setting 9:24 pm. The food was gone, the raffle almost over, but we made it back, grins from ear to ear. We pounded some of last night’s smoked sausages, a couple brewskis, and ended the evening with a live band. Killer Day!
