A new story by Max:

Big Chief, No Fart

There once was an Indian tribe where the chief ruled over the tribe with great wisdom. It was expected that the chief also demonstrate his leadership, prowess and manhood with supreme and overruling flatulence.

In this tribe however, no matter what the chief did, he could not fart.
This was embarrassing and he was concerned deeply that he would not maintain his dominance without the ability of passing gas. He sent a message the shaman/medicine man.....
"Big Chief, No Fart!!!!!"

The medicine man sent a message back that he must become the air and imbibe it into his being in order to fill himself with air and fart loud enough to echo through the canyons and startle a herd of buffalo.

He sent the chief on a vision quest high in the hills where he was to go to the windiest part of the overhang of the canyon and only breathe the air and drink a small amount of water from a buffalo skin bag for three days.

This the chief did.

He returned in three days and visited the shaman.

He said, 'Big chief now purified but big chief still no fart!!!!!!'

The shaman sent him off again to a cave with a peace pipe full of tobacco and a box of sage brush.
He told him to stay in the cave and to smoke the pipe and burn and breathe in the sage for three days while trying to swallow the smoke and pass it through his intestines. He returned again in three days to the shaman and said

'Big chief still no fart, big chief getting concerned!!!!!!' the shaman again sent him off as he had just received a codified text written by the essenian community that lived near the dead sea from which Jesus is said to have lived and studied before his ministry.

He had sent a raven to fetch these texts from the secret archives of the Vatican as he was highly interested in improving his skills as a healer. He then summoned spirits to translate the text from Aramaic into the aousiclitlveogkedog language. He told the chief- "Jesus once said, I tell you truly, the uncleanness within is greater by much than the uncleanness without. And he who cleanses himself without, but within remains unclean, is like to tombs that outwards are painted fair, but are within full of all manner of horrible abominations. So I tell you truly, suffer the angel of water to baptize you within, that you may become free from all your past sins, and that within likewise you may become as pure as the river's foam sporting in the sunlight.'

"Seek, therefore, a large trailing gourd, having a stalk the length of a man; take out its innards and fill it with water from the river which the sun has warmed. Hang it upon the branch of a tree, and kneel upon the ground before the angel of water, and suffer the end of the stalk of the trailing gourd to enter your hinder parts, that the water may flow through all your bowels. Afterwards rest kneeling on the ground before the angel of water and pray to the living God that he will forgive you all your past sins, and pray the angel of water that it will free your body from every uncleanness and disease. Then let the water run out from you body, that it may carry away from within it all the unclean and evil-smelling things of Satan.

And you shall see with your eyes and smell with your nose all the abominations and uncleanness which defiled the temple of your body; even all the sins which abode in your body, tormenting you with all manner of pains. I tell you truly, baptism with water frees you from all these. Renew your baptizing with water on every day of your fast, till the day when you see that the water which flows out of you is as pure as the river's foam. Then betake your body to the coursing river, and there in the arms of the angel of water render thanks to the living God that he has freed you from your sins. And this holy baptizing by the angel of water is: Rebirth unto the new life. For your eyes shall henceforth see, and your ears shall hear. Sin no more, therefore after your baptism, that the angels of air and of water may eternally abide in you and serve you evermore."

The shaman said after this to call on the spirits of the ancestors and of the west to fill him with fragrant lavender that he may be filled with a flowery scent and relaxation of the sphincter and anus that he may pass gas. The chief followed the instructions and returned after three days and said, 'this Jesus is full of shit, that is why he recommends nonsense, this is what he needs, not chief, big chief still no fart.... BIG CHIEF GETTING VERY MAD!!!!!!!!!!'

By now word had gotten out to the tribe that the chief was inept at farting and the tribe was concerned that their tribe would be scorned, ridiculed and laughed at because there chief could not fart.
The shaman was concerned because he knew that his life could be at stake if he did not find a cure.
He went out into the plains and thought long and hard and studied the world all around him for two and a half weeks trying to contemplate an answer. He returned and summoned many of the elders. He told them to collect buffalo patties and to buy many beans from the cowboy cow herders in the grasslands. He said to especially collect many heaps of cow dung and grass. He called the chief after they had made a ten pound pie containing all of these ingredients. He said, 'Chief, I listened with eyes closed for many a long night and day thinking about your problem.

Chief, cowboy eat beans and fart all night long, even when sleeping; cow chews grass and fart all day and night, even when standing on feet and sleeping; buffalo fart and then run as fast as the wind...
We make you a big pie with big farting potential for big chief. You eat whole pie and go home to sleep. In the morning you will have results.

The Chief went home and slept. He awoke in the morning with a peculiar sensation in his stomach. He called the oldest of the elders to tell him that he thought something momentous would soon happen and to call everyone from the tribe and the shaman for a meeting. The shaman arrived last to find everyone weeping. He asked what was wrong and in unison with great anguish everyone exclaimed

"BIG FART NO CHIEF!"

Another one of Adam's races. Maybe we should call this section Adam Bartlett's Story Time Page for the Sweetly Retarded:

Subject: My latest adventure

Hello, Just had some fun up here in a 200 mile mountain bike race,
thought I would tell you all about it...

Any race where the start, finish and pre-race meeting are at a
bar is likely to be a good race. After the meeting we all went to our
respective camping spots. It was there that I discovered Mike Curiak's
"major weakness" and formulated a "brilliant" race plan. M.C. has an
easy laugh and will laugh readily at bad jokes. I figured, that using
my natural gifts for bad jokes, I would try to cripple him with
laughter on the climbs. The glaring flaw in my plan is that you can't
really fire off bad jokes at someone if they are hours ahead of you.
But this sort of "planning" was in keeping with the rest of my race
preparation. For me a lot of the Sweet Roll was about getting beat up
by my own bad ideas. In Alaska believing that you know anything for
certain about nature, the outdoors, weather or animals can be a
dangerous thing. And by that standard I am a very dangerous man.

Right from the start Mike, Eric and Peter, the race favorites,
took off. We hadn't even left the pavement, which was probably only a mile
or so, and they were out of my sight, I drifted off to the back of the
pack and settled into a pace I felt I could sustain for the next 200
miles.

There were nine of us and I was riding second to last. The
first hundred miles or so were okay, but not great, for me. My hamstrings
were cramping right from the start as they had been for the last two
weeks or so. I think this was a result of fiddling around with my
seat/bar position and seat height. Although it was uncomfortable it
wasn't really slowing me down, my average speed was right where I
wanted it to be and I could go even faster if I had too.

By the time we hit the southern end of Resurrection Pass, I had
passed a few riders. Pat Irwin was at the trailhead chatting away with some
of the folks there. I stopped briefly then Pat and I rode on over a
brief section of pavement to the next section of trail. As soon as the
trail started climbing Pat rode away and I settled into my own pace.

The next section of trail started as a wide section of
handicapped accessible trail, after a few miles we came upon race volunteer Chirs
pointing us around a corner. The trail then closed in around us.
Close, dense overgrowth so thick that at times you couldn't even see
your handle bars, let alone your front wheel or the trail. Also this
section of trail was grizzly country, and ran along a salmon choked
stream. I should also mention that the trails were choked with cow
parsnip which is a plant like poison ivy, if it gets on your skin it
causes your skin to react to sunlight, causing blistering boils like a
second degree burn. Charming stuff. This section went on for miles.

To keep the bears away I had a little bell ring ding dinging
away on my handle bars. Also I would yell out whatever I could think of,
usually something about how I am all gristle and taste really
bad...."Nothing to eat here". I would also repeatedly reassure any
bears in the area that I DID NOT intend to steal any of their
"delicious" rotting salmon. Overgrowth, aggressive poisonous plants
and large predators in a feeding frenzy do not make for a fun ride,
even by Alaskan standards.

The next section of trail was, for obvious reasons, a relief.
Nine miles of clear singletrack and seven miles of gravel road were just
what the doctor ordered. On the gravel road section I stopped to
stretch my aching hamstrings and eat a little food.

Eating and carrying enough calories for a self supported race
like this is a big issue. I had just switched to a new energy drink for the
race. It provided everything my body needed, fat, protein and carbs
without upsetting my stomach. On a ride like this I need more than
just fluid replacement and carbs from my drink, I needed a constant
source of protein and fat as well. I've always thought that, if you go
strictly by nutritional value, whole milk would be the ultimate race
drink. Unfortunately I can't imagine anything worse for my stomach or
palette than a camelback full of warm whole milk. My sports drink
worked great, it made my body feel strong, supported a continuous
effort and did not upset my stomach. BUT, it tasted like a mixture of
public bathroom smell, dirty socks and chalk. I guess everything has
its price. I should probably also mention that at one point while
refilling my camelback from a stream and mixing up a new batch of drink
I managed to spill the stuff all over me. So I was riding through bear
country covered with a sticky, smelly sports drink.

The next section of trial had us climbing back up a pass and
into Alpine terrain. Great views and a good reward for suffering through
the overgrowth. The climb was followed by a steep and fast decent down
Devils Pass. This section of the race always gave me a chuckle. I
like to let my mind wander during these events and it occurred to me
that the race started in the town of Hope followed an uphill and
difficult path to Resurrection pass then went down a steep and fast
decent via Devils pass. I repeatedly thought to myself it is a
difficult uphill struggle from Hope to Resurrection, but if you stray
from the path it is a fast and dangerous decent down Devils pass. Such
were the epic implications of this race (and the epic implications of
my own capacity for B.S.).

At the base of Devils pass I had a gear drop. I went through my
drop and selected what I would need for the next section of trail. I was
about to make two decisions that would have a profound impact on the
rest of my ride. After going through my gear drop and restocking on
food, I decided to leave behind my waterproof rain gear and my eye
protection. These were two very bad decision.

Johnson's pass was really the turning point of the whole race.
This is where things either came together or fell apart for all of us
racers, in my opinion. The trail was a deceptively gentle climb. The
terrain was technical when compared with the rest of the course and it
was densely overgrown. However, it was an out and back approximately
in the middle of the race. It gave you a chance to see the riders
ahead of you after they turned around. After the out and back there
was only about thirty miles left in the race and you would know exactly
how far behind you were. It was a crucial portion of the route. Going
into Johnson's I felt great, my leg cramps were gone. In general I
reach a balance point after 12+ hours of riding, I always feel stronger
and more settled after I reach this point. Sort of like a "second
wind" but better. My body and mind, aside from the obvious fatigue,
felt great.

I entered Johnson's Pass. It was getting dark and the dense
forest in the first part of the trial made me turn on my lights. Eventually it
was pitch dark. I found myself riding through a thick pine forest with
my lights bouncing off of piles of bear droppings. I met Peter and
Eric coming the other way. I talked with each of them for a bit and
they both told me that there were two riders just up ahead of me. I
resisted the temptation to try and catch them and just held my pace
figuring that if I caught them that would be fine and if not then they
are just faster and that's fine too. It's funny when you meet another
racer coming the other way. Even though its a race we each stopped and
talked for a bit. After so much time riding alone it was just nice to
stop and see someone else doing the same thing. Eric and I agreed that
the dark forest was scary in a basic Grimm fairy tale sort of way. In
fact, by wandering sleep deprived through a dark predator infested
forest we were defeating countless generations of evolution. There is
just something basic about the human experience that we all know (or
should know ) to stay out of dark places where the things that eat you
live. After a bit I caught and passed two riders. They were pushing
their bikes, cold, wet and shivering. The trail was overgrown and the
overgrowth was covered with dew. In addition the nighttime temperature
had dropped to about 40 degrees. I was wet and cold but not too cold
just yet. After passing the riders I broke my little rule about riding
my own pace. They were pushing, and I was riding. I felt good. So I
picked up the pace a bit. Unfortunately the overgrowth was so thick I
could not see the trail. It was still dark. Coming up to a bridge
over a creek crossing I did not see that the bridge was about a foot
higher than the trail. Instead of lifting my front wheel onto the
bridge deck, I slammed into the bridge at full speed. I was thrown
from my bike, and knocked the ringer out of my bear bell. So now I was
riding through bear country with a mute bell.

I was now riding in fourth. As I neared the turnaround of the
out and back I was surprised that I had not yet seen the third place rider
coming back. When I got to the turn around, he was asleep. I stopped
for a minute and realized that if I turned around right now I would be
in third place. I knew that sleeping beauty was a much stronger rider
than I, but I also knew that if he slept long enough (several hours at
least) I could open up enough of a gap that he would run out of trail
before he caught me, especially since once out of Johnson's Pass there
was only 30 miles of race left. As I thought about this I started to
shiver. I was soaking wet and cold. My teeth started chattering and I
could not stop shivering. I should have brought my rain gear for
riding through the dew. My legs still felt strong, but my core
temperature was dropping. I made a decision to stop for the night and
wait until it warmed up a bit to continue through the trail.

The two riders behind me arrived at the turnaround in bad shape.
I suggested that we all wait out the night and ride the trail together
tomorrow. They went to sleep. The next morning one rider dropped out
and two riders were sleeping, so I left and went back into Johnson's
Pass. This was the lowest point of the race for me. I lost a contact
lens about midway through the trial (remember when I decided I didn't
need eye protection). This led to some blurry vision and mild vertigo.
Bad stuff.

It took me almost an hour to ride the 6 mile road section from
the Southern Johnson's pass trailhead to the Devils Pass trail head.
During this section I decided that if Carlos, the event sponsor, was
there I was dropping out of the race. As I neared the Devil's Pass
trail head I hoped that Carlos would not be there, but he was. I rode
up and told him that I would be dropping out. Carlos offered some
words of encouragement but no real pressure either way. He did make me
think about the issue. I went to my gear drop and repacked with food.
Carlos told me that everyone else had abandoned the course. I only had
thirty miles left. But I was dropping out. I kept repacking my gear
like I was going to keep riding but kept telling myself I was dropping
out. I got on my bike and rode around the trailhead parking lot, but
kept telling myself it was okay because I was dropping out. I started
riding down the trail, still telling myself that I was only going to
ride a little bit then I was dropping out. I kept going.

The last thirty miles were the best and strongest I have ever
ridden. I felt great. I picked an average speed and stuck to it like glue.
There's not much point in telling you how great this part of the ride
was because I don't know how to tell it... but it was the best.

I finished in third with an elapsed time of 40 hrs. It was a
good race.

Adam

We just recieved this letter from our dearest friend and long lost soul-brother Adam:

> To the Hog-Tie boys
>
> Seems like every few years we folks encounter each other, like the
> mutha fuckin planets passing in orbit around our own little love sun.
> Well boyos it sounds like all is well for you in Ithaca, been about ten
> long hard yeers since I been back that way. I'm way up here in the
> north country (funny word cunt-tree) and slowly growing roots. I like
> the cold the mountains and the animals. Everything is a little wilder
> and more primal up here in Alaska. I'm playing less and less classical
> guitar these days. I did a few formal concerts, a competition and
> lots and lots of weddings and thankless cafe gigs... then about a year
> ago I realized that no one gives a fuck (not even me really) so now I
> spend my time playing a wide variety of stringed instruments and making
> weird music on my computer, sometimes pushing my way into little bands
> as long as they let me play weird shit like electric guitar-banjo with
> distortion in an inappropriate and suggestive manner. Or a folky
> sideman to a crunchy singer songwriter. Still no one gives a shit
> (except me) but I am having more fun and making better art.
>
> I've also gotten into solo ultra-marathon wilderness racing which is
> taking a lot of my time, it is a spiritual and physical jackhammer.
> Most of the races are 24hrs or so of nonstop full on exertion, sleep
> deprivation, loneliness and isolation coupled with fatigue..it is a
> wonderful magical thing. This winter I was riding a frozen river bed
> miles from bumble fuck no where, on my bicycle, on this river of ice,
> alone tired 15hrs into this slog fest, getting sad and tired, when BOOM
> the sky opened up with northern lights like you would not believe green
> lights streaking across the sky and no one around for miles but me, it
> was cold, below zero and there were wolves, fucking wolves, howling on
> the banks of the river above me. If anything went wrong I would have
> been fucked but everything was perfect it is always perfect even when
> it goes wrong it is perfect out there. I don't respond well to that
> unspoken and "spooky" hoo-boo jeeby type spirituality but this type of
> experience drives home the spiritual and magical aspects of life in a
> bone crushingly obvious manner. Most mother fuckers go to church one
> day a week, but I am out in the mountains training and bleeding for
> this shit every fucking day, thank you Jesus. Fuck. Amen.
>
> I'm married. Did you know that? Found me a good solid woman and I
> grabbed onto her like a drowning man clawing his way into an overfilled
> life raft pushing women and small children aside. Life is a lot like a
> trapeze act. You cling and swing on the safety of your birth family
> for years then briefly let go, free, floating, scared and falling, then
> you grab some woman to cling to and she swings you to safety. My wife
> really keeps me centered and focused gives me the balance to do
> whatever the hell it is that I want to do in life. A good thing.
> Speaking of good things its 12:49 am so I gotta go get some sleep, I'm
> a big fan of sleep and take all I can get.
>
> Hugs and Eskimo Kisses from Alaska
>
> Adam