The Mantra Loop

The Mantra Loop A Meditative Hot lap with Mike Harrelson

Not far from the bumping burb of Bozeman, MT, a peaceful ribbon of dirt winds through the woods.

Intimate—like a rarely traveled game trail—its entrances and exits are cryptic if not camouflaged. You might call them filters. Regardless of when I ride this lonely trail, be it Tuesday at dewy dawn or Saturday at high noon, I never encounter other riders. While not necessarily a secret, this gem simply eludes most folks’ detection.

In a world gone mad, some of us need peaceful places to ride our bikes. Far from the trendy trailheads, this is where we go in search of singletrack therapy—to tend the dirt, to lop and clear downed trees, to hide a Pulaski in the limestone outcrop so we can fine-tune the drainage on that chossy corner.

I’ve begun calling this close-to-home escape my Mantra Loop. A gauntlet of sporty moves, connected by flowy singletrack, it’s a place to escape the mayhem, a sanctuary in which to draw a restorative cleansing breath and reboot my increasingly jaded outlook. It’s where I take friends who’ve ridden here for 20-plus years, just to watch their excitement on something fresh and obscure.

We all need mantras to soothe our overstimulated gray matter—hidey-holes where we can quiet our monkey minds and stir our creative soup. These are places to regularly pack soil under our fingernails in pursuit of Zen garden hot laps, to slow down and zoom in on shooting stars, glacier lilies, Indian paintbrush and blur through lime-lit conifers at Mach speed.

These are the rides we spin and rail from deeply embossed muscle memory. Each uphill heartbeat serves as a cardiac metronome, keeping time with the trail’s pulse. We ogle and milk speed from nature’s pump track. We know just where to pre-brake that blind tree-gap corner. Even with the home-court advantage, roosting ahead of friends serves as a guilty pleasure.

Sweat equity is a key ingredient of my Mantra meditation. I never embark without a handsaw and clippers tucked in my pack and, when necessary, we deploy Greg’s fat bike fashioned with a custom-welded scabbard to tote his chainsaw. Blowdowns are frequent, and require regular chop/chop care. Keeping the Mantra Loop open provides both functional and cerebral purpose.

Abundant mega fauna makes us humble. One time a large mountain lion passed right behind my unknowing ride partner, a phantom feline with stealth pounce potential. Two of the loop’s segments have unofficial names paying homage to close encounters with Bullwinkle, the resident moose. There are many secluded hollows where we bump out elk, or marvel at generous piles of huckleberry bear shit.

Breathe deep, grasshopper, and go forth to find your own personal Mantra Loop. Ride fast, and think slowly. Smell the blooming lupine and poke at the telltale scat. Listen to the Doug firs moan in the breeze while Bambi tiptoes on muted loam. The reward is solitary nonconfinement.

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Freehub Magazine Issue 8.3, the Montana Photo Book, is a visual guide to the trails of the Treasure State. We selected four local photographers, Reid Morth, Jason O'Neil, Tom Robertson and Nick VanHorn, to document their respective hometowns of Big Sky, Helena, Missoula and Whitefish and capture the experience and vibe that fill the mountains of the Montana high country. Be sure to check out all the other articles!