One of my riding companions has a shit-eating grin—quite literally. We’re descending Mill Creek, just outside Grand Targhee Bike Park on the west side of the Tetons. This is very much cattle country; reports on Trail Forks reference dung rather than dust (“no cow shit today”). But when the riding is this good—the flipbook-fast flash ...
The sun blasted its way through the large plate glass window of Java on Fourth and straight into my face. I shoveled an omelet down as quickly as I could between intervals of coffee and water. I searched for any excuse I could think of, “I haven’t packed my bags quite yet.” “I have to ...