Railbike adventure, ho!

The railbike odyssey continues. I finally decided the test tracks at Wallace and L Streets in Bozeman were destroying my bike. Sure, the first couple of times it was important for me to take care of some necessary tweaking, but after repairing the thing time and time again I finally realized that I was dealing with the worst set of railroad tracks in the state of Montana.

So, onto bigger and better things. Was my bike ready? Who knows. It wasn't ready to take another beating at the test tracks, that's for sure. I had originally considered riding the abandoned line from Wilsall to Livingston, but after a bit of research I realized I'd have permission issues with some of the landowners along the rail line. I needed a place without such constrictions, preferably on National Forest or BLM land. I needed... Homestake Pass.

Here's where Montanans take a deep breath, look at me dubiously, and mutter, "Wow." Homestake Pass is the route I-90 takes over the Continental Divide to Butte, Montana. It's known for steepness and treachery.

The rails running alonside it, however, aren't steep at all. After all, it's rare that any railroad has more than a three percent grade, Homestake included. It takes a big, swooping northward turn before coming back toward the interstate, making the pass in double the distance. Plus, the rails were gorgeous compared to the test tracks: straight, gleaming, clean, and totally gap-free. If it weren't for the large sage and juniper bushes growing up between the rails, it might even be fun.

Yes. Now, the Bentley railbike was not designed for wimps. Two- or three-foot plants, I could ram through them, no problem. Those weren't the problem. It's the four- and five-foot trees that were the problem.

Of course, if you see a big tree growing up between the rails, the common sense thing to do is dismount, lift the bike off the tracks, carry it past the tree, and realign the bike back on the rails. It gets old after a while, but it's the only sensible thing to do.

Other than getting rather repetitive, that wasn't the problem. The problem was the in-between-sized trees, the three-and-a-half-foot junipers in-between the tracks, or the taller ones growing right alongside the rails. For these suckers, I had a choice: dismount and carry, or go to full-throttle ramming speed for the railbike-juniper battle royal.

Knowing me, which do you think I chose most often?

Suffice it to say (as usual), the railbike didn't fare too well. Oh, it won the occasional battle, with me emerging triumphant on the far side of the tree, bushy branches flying from my spokes. But more often than not it sent me crashing to the tracks, right on the delicate front-end guide.

A note to those of you who just can't help taking notes so you can try this at home (not recommended): My two most recent modifications to the front-end guide were smashing successes (literally). 1) Lowering the skateboard wheels with washers was something that should have been done originally, and really helped keep the guide on the tracks. 2) Replacing the guide-springs with a less-tense pair not only made it easier to align the device on the tracks, I think it helped keep the sideboards from splitting from the multiple times the bike sloughed off the tracks.

In fact, the sideboards - both of which had previously split and I had reinforced - were fine. It was the main horizontal board of the front-end guide that split. Yep, cracked right in half... but there were enough bolts in the thing for me to keep on truckin'.

And truckin' I did go. At certain points the bike rode quite nicely, just like in the pictures on the Bentley website: merrily clacking along, swaying gently as the tracks sped beneath my wheels. Then, Clunk!, as I thud inelegantly the seven inches to the rail. Thank God for that foam testicle-protector I put around the top tube. Usually it was plants knocking me off the rails, but I noticed that when the track banked left - which seemed to be most of the time - my rear wheel had a really hard time staying on the rail, even if there wasn't a weed to be found. Conversely, when the tracks were straight and level I had no problem staying afloat.


Which was exactly the case for my first trestle. Honestly, it scared the shit out of me. Sure, it was plenty wide, and if the bike came off the tracks there was little chance of plunging over the railing-less side. But just the idea of riding a hundred or more feet over a gully, staring right through the tracks at it, with no one around for miles, was a bit nerve-wracking. Suffice it to say I went slow. Really slow. Like, barely moving slow. But, as you can see from the picture, it was dead-straight and the most weed-free section of the entire trip. I made it across without incident.


The second trestle was just as long and high, but it had the added bonus of a left-leaning (!) curve at the end. I made it through the straight part with slightly more confidence than trestle number one, but, yet again, the left-leaning rail sloughed off my back wheel at the end. Fortunately I didn't plunge through the tracks to my demise.

I went a little ways farther past the second trestle before running into a whole slew of trees growing between and next to the rails. It was growing late and looking like rain. I looked at my GPS unit to figure out how far I'd gone: 2.87 miles. Yikes! I hadn't even made it beyond the big hairpin back toward the top of the pass. And I had hoped to make it to Butte.



Oh, well. I considered going further - for about a second. I was tired of lifting the bike past trees. Plus, there was the cracked board in the front. I'd be done for if I kept going.

So I turned around and headed back down. Which was great! Even though the grade was gentle, downhill was way more fun than uphill... and, now that the track was mostly right-leaning, I seemed to have no problem staying on the rails. I clacked merrily for about a mile, removing only for the really big trees, ramming through the little ones, and cruising over both trestles. Then... I don't know what happened. I must have hit a gap in the rail or something; all I know is I came to an immediate stop, my left shin ramming the outrigger pole, my front wheel bouncing off the track.

And that was pretty much that. I had split one of the wooden arms holding the front-end guide in place (I had broken this board once before, by the way). Sadly, I removed the front-end guide and outrigger from the bike. There would be no more railbiking this day.

It was raining hard now, and I wasn't dressed for it. I duct taped the contraptions to each other and tried carrying them as I pedaled down a faint trail next to the rails. But the weight-distribution was all off, and that didn't last for long. Instead, I walked the bike and the contraption the mile and a half back to my car.

So now I have a dilemma: Do I rebuild this dagblamed thing for the nth time, or do I just let it sit in the garage, rusting away? After all, there's plenty more rails that need to be explored. And I still have some more wood, and some more metal bars to reinforce things with. And, I'm still the only one in my neighborhood who has one.

Or, maybe I'll just set aside a day to ram my bike into trees and parked cars. It'll have about the same result.