The real deal is never the same as the ideal.
Take fat-tire bikes for example.
Advertised as the children of snowy Alaska’s Iditabkes, these newly minted cash cows of the shape-shifter bike industry have a magical draw when they are viewed in real life, as opposed to in magazine ads or Instagram photographs. The bikes themselves are borderine cartoonish.
With blocky, simple frame lines, it’s the wheels, no – the tires themselves, ballooning out to five inches in width that elicit broad smiles, and then chuckles on first sight. Then you eventually ride one, and that chuckle becomes a laugh and you are hooked.
Except you don’t float like “a magic carpet on wheels” over just any old snowscape. Snows of up to a couple, three inches are not even worth discussing. The bike goes. However, once the snow gets to be about 5” deep the magic of riding these chunkers fades and we enter the world of sweat, work, and subsequent exhaustion.
At least it is possible to move with a fattie under you, but once you enter deeper snow this happens: you pedal and then experience the disappointment of being propelled forward for a meager distance. The promised magic morphs into a grunt.
Which is not generally a problem for me. I have the 100% package of the Polish suffering gene, which propels me well into longer periods of low level leg work.
A friend of mine just bought a Surly Pugsley. He was surprisingly frustrated that it took hard work to pedal the thing in 5” of snow.
The winter track beneath a bike is best experienced when someone or something has packed puffy snow down.
The packing hierarchy goes like this, from best downward: snowmobile, 4WD truck tread, ATV tread, snowshoe tracks, ski tracks, footprints, and the occasional winter game trail.
So, we pack our own trails to ride on the snow. Last Saturday, I spent the morning helping my next door neighbor Matt cut out an overgrown discontinued snow mobile trail.
Matt had a full compliment of gear, that we hauled into the woods for the morning: chain saw, limb trimmer, axe, files, rope, even a stump vise.
Years ago, the winter landscape around this part of town was punctuated with the sounds of snowmobiles, day and night. Not so much anymore. Times have changed- the snows are often slim, and when there is snow on the ground, many of the locals pack up their sleds into enclosed trailers and head up north to Jackman or Rangeley to ride the snowmobile superhighways that make Quebec an easy haul.
So, we cut away a path for our bikes, and then walk them a bit , and then ride them some more until they are in a state where forward motion is not only possible, but productive.
The moral of this story is find some folks who do regularly ride winter trails where you live and make an effort to contribute to packing a better path for those that will follow.
Right now in Midcoast Maine, that’s the Rockland Bog.
The network of trails at the bottom of the Rollins Road in Camden is now fast, but a bit icy at the start.
Word has it that Camden Hills State Park is getting good and that Tanglewood 4H Camp is ridable but I plan to personally checked those out his week.
And then there’s this project I am working on with my nest door neighbor, Matt. Hopefully, we’ll turn that into something good.
Ride Local, Ride Often!