I was just coming out of my first winter in Republic. It had been an epic one: forty-five days of cross-country skiing! Before that, I think my record for one season was less than five days on the planks. I had put on some upper-body mass and was feeling pretty strong and fit.

Come June, I was ready for a big mountain bike adventure to say "welcome" to summer. I had learned about the Kettle Crest Trail before I moved to Ferry County and I figured that was going to have to be one of my first goals.

Let me just come right out and give away the story now. I went to conquer the Kettle Crest Trail too early in the season, and instead, the trail conquered me. I left to do the trail the way almost all others before me went -- from Sherman Pass to Boulder Pass. A difficult 32 miles (or so), but it loses elevation gong north bound. I made it to the top of the county, Copper Butte, about half way, and it was there that I realized that on that day, I would go no further.

I had come across an impromptu invite for a shuttle from town to the parking lot at Sherman Pass from my friend Ben. I thought I should not, nor could not, resist the offer. It was a good drive. The weather looked promising. Young hikers from Kettle Falls were heading out from the parking lot to bag Sherman Peak. Anything seemed possible. I signed in at the trail head with a full 70-ounce CamelBak and what I thought to be a decent amount of trail bars. I was the first cyclist to register for the season.

I came across my first snow patch as the trail wrapped around to the north side of Columbia Mountain. I say “patch” because it was just a small piece, not more than 15 feet long. It only took a few seconds to walk across it. This was to be the first of many such patches. And then there came the fields of snow as I got farther along and farther up in elevation. Some of the bigger ones were thigh deep.

It was not long after that first patch of snow that I thought to myself that I was going slow. I thought it must be because it is my first ride of the season, because no one else was along to push me, because I was taking it all in. The truth is that The Kettle Crest Trail is not that easy. It is not that easy to cross-country ski in two days. And it is definitely not that easy to mountain bike in one day. Even with modern equipment, a fairly youthful body, and hundreds of miles logged. Even with being lucky enough to have the thunderstorms just miss you. It should not be easy. That is what still makes it so wild.

Usually an average speed of around 10 miles-per-hour can be expected on a mountain bike. The first six miles took me nearly an hour. It did not get any easier or faster. But I was thinking it should be faster going down from Copper Butte. A thunderstorm was chasing me from the south when I got to the start of the climb up to Copper Butte already late in the afternoon. When I did finally get to the top, looking down the north side from the highest point in Ferry County, for the first time that day I could not see the trail in front of me. There was simply too much snow on the north side. I had lost the trail.

I had arranged for my girlfriend to pick me up at Boulder Pass; miraculously I was able to reach her by cell phone and despite the garbled signal we devised a plan B: I would retreat south and west, to warmth, to a land without snow fields, down the Marcus Trail toward Republic. She would drive up past the mine and try to find me as I came down.

The Marcus Trail went diagonally across a big open meadow that faced the southwest and was smooth going at first. But then it came to a water trough for cattle and horses. I could no longer distinguish between the Marcus Trail and animal paths as they came to the trough like spokes to a hub. The first one I took went downhill for about a half mile before it just ended in tall grass and brush. I had to walk my bike back uphill to the trough and pick another route. I got a bit further on the next one before it split again and I made yet another wrong choice. It seemed to be a trend for the day.

I did finally make my way to a dirt road and I was no longer even sure that I had been on the Marcus Trail. Someone could easily get lost looking for a way down from the Kettle Crest Trail and become food. Luckily my noisy mountain bike and strange outfit must have scared the big black bear that was drinking from the trough because it took off into the woods faster than I could come to a full stop.

Another mile down the dirt road I saw my girlfriend’s car approaching. She had Gatorade and beef jerky with her. I put my bike down, took my helmet and gloves off and sat down to enjoy my treats and reflect on my epic adventure.

I still want to accomplish a complete ride of the Kettle Crest Trail, especially before its possible designation as a wilderness area bars mountain bikes. But this time I have decided to wait until summer officially starts in northeast Washington--after the Fourth of July.

Interested in joining Paul on his quest to mountain bike the Kettle Crest Trail this summer? Email pablitolaak (at) yahoo.com.