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Access to our remote backcountry trails aboard a mountain bike is becoming more and more challenging. Ride along on the Fun/Suffer Divide with Chris Shalbot, Scott Rinckenberger and Justin Olsen as the trio discovers a stretch of the Continental Divide Trail between Montana and Idaho in the hopes of shedding some light on this beautiful stretch of country, all while inspiring others to explore too. Rewarded with views, memories and most importantly, a sense of accomplishment that will last a lifetime, the crew proves that a pathway to preservation exists through discovery and use.

the landscape

One of the great benefits of covering big mileage is the opportunity to move through multiple landscapes and ecosystems in a single adventure. Our trip began in a forest killed by wildfires, trees strewn across the trail from countless blowdowns. Eventually we found ourselves in the alpine, making our way along ridges and dropping down to re-supply and make camp at water sources. The southern leg of our journey found us transitioning out of alpine terrain, and into long rolling ridge lines with endless views. Watching the show of light and shadow rolling across the landscape with the movement of the clouds was one of the most iconically Montana moments. Trail surfaces varied as much as the views, with everything from massive boulder fields to rolling singletrack through well-spaced trees, to old roadbeds, dinner sized plates of shale and everything in between.

The nearly excessive use of bells to keep bears at bay also kept wildlife sightings to an unfortunate minimum save for a few deer, a fox, a coyote and hawks. It was slightly ironic that the only grizzly and moose sightings were driving to our drop locations.

I wanted to put together a trip to show that the simple act of participation can truly be an act of conservation.

Chris Shalbot

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It took only a small amount of persuasion for good friends Scott Rinckenberger and Justin Olsen to come on board, but it wasn’t until we put tires to dirt that we realized the sheer scale of the journey ahead.

Chris Shalbot

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You get into this mode where everything in your world becomes really simple. It comes down to covering the miles you need to cover, making sure there’s enough food and shelter. And all the distractions you’re used to all kind of fade away.

Scott Rinckenberger

Photographer

A fire in the summer of 2000 burnt thousands upon thousands of acres of trees near Chief Joseph Pass. 17 years later, forest fires outside nearby Missoula draped the skies in a veil of smoke.

Having never set eyes on the trail, this was what I imagined it to be like - vast views, massive peaks, endless singletrack shared by only the three of us.

Salmon, Idaho to the right, Big Hole Valley on the left. At times, we had one hundred mile views in any direction.

Buff singletrack, lodgepole pines and the setting sun back-lighting the last few miles of the day.

A cattleman's fence line divides his land and the national forest. 95% of the riding was singletrack, the other five was made up of old roads like this one that followed the ridges along the southern part of our journey.

the adventure

When planning this trip out we wanted to compromise as little of the riding experience as possible. The solution was to stage lockable YETI coolers. We would ride two or three days, hit our cache, leave our garbage and load up with enough food to get us to the next drop without weighing us down. We could also stage a lens or a tripod needed for that specific section, or batteries to charge our cameras and phones to access GPS. If we had a mechanical on the trail, we were equipped for quick fixes that would last us long enough to limp along and properly take care of the issue at our third drop.

The timing of our trip also lined up with awesome astronomical phenomena - meteor showers to start the trip and finishing with the eclipse. Wildfires to the north filled the sky with smoke early in the trip, but eventually we got into the alpine and a steady breeze helped clear the view. We learned that there is a vast difference between the 99.9% eclipse we saw and true totality that was witnessed roughly 20 miles south.

The fun/suffer divide – we’re right on it! I like trips like that. If you have a good attitude, you can make it fun while you’re doing it. Then they’re always fun in retrospect.

Scott Rinckenberger

Photographer

I felt like all the planning was going to be done and nothing was going to be a surprise. But everything was a surprise.

Chris Shalbot

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This will be the last indoors we will know for a long time here…

Scott Rinckenberger

Photographer

Chris Shalbot

Scott Rinckenberger

Justin Olsen

We rendezvoused at our southern terminus - Leadore, ID, loaded up the truck with bikes and supplies, and left Justin’s van for a return shuttle. We headed into the Beaverheads to drop off our caches on our way north to the start of our ride.

Sometimes it was a game of self-preservation. With 5 days down, fatigue was in full effect and pushing the bike was a welcomed break to take in the views.

After a rough day of lifting bikes over fallen trees and storms looming overhead, Justin's face spoke for all of us - we were ready for camp.

Between the downed trees, rough trail, water hazards, heavy loads, route finding, and generally challenging nature of riding on a trail that existed before the advent of mountain bikes, we grew accustomed to slow movement both up and down the countless hills and mountains.

While planning, we identified access points to stage YETI Tundra coolers with enough food and supplies to get us to the next stash, minimizing what we had to carry at one time. We were able to leave our coolers in the woods, locked around trees hoping they'd still be there, un-tampered with by large furry animal looking to pack on winter weight.

Gear up for adventure

camp life

Aside from the lone backcountry cabin early in the trip, camp was wherever our legs and daylight dictated. We usually arrived at camp with enough light to make dinner and set up camp. We went to bed each night dirty and tired. We awoke still dirty, still tired. Our camps varied from cooler locations, to the shore of an unnamed alpine lake, to the bottom of a cold, dark gulch with a raging creek. Breakfast was a combination of oatmeal, chai seeds, nuts and dried fruit. By day 7 we were sick of oatmeal and began experimenting with anything and everything we had at hand. Highlights included chocolate covered espresso beans and gummy bears. Lunch was a variety of bars, jerky and summer sausage. What little room remained was filled with random, last-minute snacks packed in haste. The excitement of opening a cooler to not only to find coconut water, but beer, tortilla chips and a small bottle of salsa probably resembled a child receiving their first bike. It made for a great mental recharge every couple of days.

After a long push we found ourselves near dark, unable to find a space large enough to place our tent. This old roadbed was good enough to hunker down im, using our quilts, bikes and packs to shield us from the wind. We awoke to a glorious sunrise and frost on our gear.

Digging out every last bite. We were never short on food but left no crumb behind.

Alpine lake, babbling brook, towering peaks, flat ground. We could have stayed here for a few days if schedules and supplies permitted, which of course, they didn’t.

Waking up to this view, I couldn't help but slow down and hit pause on the travel. It was bittersweet - we had to leave so soon but were grateful to catch the sunset, meteors and sunrise at this unnamed glacier fed lake.

The Forest Service has several cabins available for rental, including this one at May Creek. Good timing! It sheltered us from an unexpected thunderstorm that night.

Gear up for camp life

Inspired to go on a similar trip?

We hope this trip inspires you to seek out your own adventure, get creative with the resources at your disposal and explore beyond your backyard. Over the course of our trip, we saw no other mountain bikers on the trail. And while that may seem ideal, the fact of the matter is we stand a greater chance of losing access to trails like this when they don't see respectful use. Ask your local trail advocacy group about a work party on one of the more remote trails in your area, or if you're interested in this particular stretch, support the team at www.ridesalmon.com. They're a small group committed to keeping hundreds of miles of amazing, backcountry trails open to bikes in and around the town of Salmon, Idaho. Hundreds, if not thousands of hours have gone into trail building along our route, but many more are needed!