Items related to Mountain Biking in McCall (Idaho)
Synopsis
This 96-page book details 22 mountain biking trails in McCall, Idaho, a gorgeous alpine lakeshore town two hours north of Boise. Rides include nifty singletracks in Ponderosa State Park, Brundage Mountain Ski Resort (chairlifts run on weekends from Memorial Day to Labor Day), and several expert loop rides to high mountain lakes. Forest environment features cool, shady trails near a number of hot springs pools. Hurry and check out this area before it gets discovered. Bonus: Entertaining short story about an epic mountain bike ride using the latest terminology in mountain bike lingo.
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About the Author
Stephen Stuebner, 40, is the author of five outdoor guidebooks on Idaho and the author of "Idaho Impressions," a full- color coffee table book on Idaho. He is a professional journalist during the week, and an outdoor fun hog on weekends, always seeking new places to play in the mountains. He lives with his wife and two children in the Boise foothills. Roger Phillips, 34, is a reporter, photographer and outdoor columnist for The Star-News in McCall. Roger also enjoys kayaking, fly fishing, hunting and snowboarding.
From the Back Cover
"Finally, an extensive guide to bicycling in paradise. McCall-area trails vary from gentle forest paths flanked by morel mushrooms and huckleberries to technical rock routes and thrilling steeps. Here's 22 reasons to quit talking about it and ride!" -- Kerry Greene, Mountain Cycle and Snowboard, McCall
"It's great to have a cool new guide to mountain biking in the McCall area. Even better, it's written by two Idaho experts who tell us how to tap into some of the best trails in the Rocky Mountain West." -- Mary Naylor, Brundage Mountain Ski Resort
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Foreword by Greg Randolph, professional mountain bike racer for Team GT
Nothing brings a tear to my eye quite like my formative years which were spent blissfully recreating somewhere in Valley County. Thus, as any sappy foreword to a literary work should read, this will prove a full Kleenex moment-at least for me.
I must have been 12 or 13 at the time that I saw my first mountain bike. With the signature howl and whoop traditionally reserved for the ski hill, a buddy came tearing into our driveway on a sunny spring afternoon, locking up the brakes, launching gravel all over the garage. Under him stood the most bizarre set of human-powered wheels I had ever seen. I gaped and gawked, squeezing and manipulating each feature that seemed to meld my BMX bike and my dad's ten-speed into one. I had to ride it. Up and down I screamed, ricocheting off neighborhood jumps and reeling full-bore over the trails behind my house. Once returned to the drive breathless, the quintessential fat tire feature was revealed, blowing my mind and converting another to the religion of mountain bike nuts-the granny gear. For the next fifteen minutes I squirted up hills which had previously required half dragging, half throwing my own bike Huffy-toss style in order to ascend.
Unsolicited, the bike itself bled insanity, gonzo afternoon sessions, manly eco-challenge weekend rides, and most of all purity and freedom. Skiing's summer counterpart had wedged its way into my life. The great outdoors of summertime had been brought up to an adrenaline freak's speed.
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