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Lolo Pass

On this trip, I joked that Jesus must hate me for being an atheist. Things did not go exactly as planned...

When it's a bit below 0 outside, a fire can be nice

Laura and I rented a cabin in Lochsa Lodge, a cozy little 200 square foot ordeal with a nice wood-burning stove for about $40 a night (more expensive due to the holidays). The lodge is about an hour and change west of Missoula, Montana, and only about fifteen minutes away from Lolo Pass, a wonderful little backcountry skiing area. What an hour it can be where Missoula is concerned...

Looking out on Lolo Pass

We headed up on Christmas Day, and went straight to the Pass to do a little skiing. We arrived with not a whole lot of sunlight left. After getting the heart going and doing a few turns, it was time to check in to our cabin.

When we arrived at the Lodge, I got out to hear a very definite leaking sound from one of my rear tires. "No problem," I thought, "I have a full-sized spare." Some story from my mom's boyfriend, Jack, came to mind almost immediately. When I first drove home with the Volkswagen (back in 2006 I guess), he said, "Oh man, I hated my Audi. One time, I got a flat tire, and the wheel had this stupid special bolt on it that I couldn't get off."

You could imagine where this is going. It turns out that my VW also has a "security nut" on the wheel, which requires a special adapter to remove. Unfortunately, while moving, I mistook said special adapter for a bicycle tool and put it in my bicycle repair box. Doubly unfortunately, I don't bring my bicycle repair box with me when I go skiing very often.

Without the tool, it was impossible to remove the wheel. The friendly folks at Lochsa Lodge loaned me a portable air compressor. With it, I was able to drive to Missoula on Saturday. I was greeted in Montana by a nice piece of gravel hitting the windshield, putting a good-sized crack squarely in the center.

The VW dealer in Missoula could not locate the special tool that I needed, two auto parts store and a tire store said they were unable to remove the wheel as well. Eventually, I talked Les Schwabe Tire into trying, and they were, at least, able to get it off and patch my tire.

Another unfortunate event was noticed on the ride home. My other rear tire had developed a leak. This one wasn't as quick (a few hours from fully inflated until flat, I supposed), so I decided to worry about it later.

Saturday was more or less shot for skiing. We opted to go to Jerry Johnson hot springs instead. Jerry Johnson is without a doubt the finest spring I have visited. The pools are deep, hot, silt-free, and not so backcountry that you freeze on the way back to the car. This last bit has one sad side-effect -- bathing suits are more-or-less required.

And then...

Sadly this trip was just not going to go my way. I managed to jump onto an ice-covered rock while navigating the springs by moonlight, and landed squarely on my chin. It is my reward to nurse a nice gash for the week. Mayhaps I'll gain a nice scar from it. I hear women love those...

I managed to squeak back on my bad tire. It had perhaps 2 pounds of air left when I rolled into Pullman (and my what a drag that makes on the old fuel economy). I guess I'll take this as the same sort of sign that I treat flats on my bicycles -- time to get new tires all around. It's sad, as they have tread left. They're just dry-rotted from lack of use...