Clock Out, Click In

Scouting the Arizona Trail: Hike and Bike

"This is dicey," says Lee who asked me to join him on a scouting trip to relocate the Arizona Trail near Patagonia.  He's describing anything from steep slopes to rock to canyon fins that end with no way down to the bottom.  His friend Jay, who has US Forest Service trailbuilding experience, joinsus to find the perfect place for a relocated AZ Trail.

Ridgetop view of Santa Rita Mountains foothills.

The trail currently travels seven boring  miles on a fire service road out of Patagonia, then  passes  through the Mt. Wrightson Wilderness for a few miles. The section is extremely steep for through-hikers and mountain bikers aren't allowed on Wilderness trails.  It's Passage #4 of the Arizona Trail in the eastern foothills of the Santa Rita Mountains. Our mission: find a route that is kind to both hikers and mountain bikers.

Jay and Lee ride mountain bikes along a cattle trail.

Lee laid a GPX track using Topofusion, and we're following it on his handheld GPS.  From the Forest Service road, we drive about a mile down a jeep trail just west of the Patagonia landfill. We optimistically start on our bikes thinking the ATV trails Lee found on aerial maps will be suitable for riding. The ridable ATV track becomes a cattle track then devolves into off-camber loose dirt. We soon stash the bikes and continue on foot, along a barbed wire ridge line. It's all Coronado National Forest, but ranchers still like to put up fences to mark their grazing rights.

Lee and Jay hike the fence line with Mt. Wrightson in the distance.

Thanks for turning around, guys!

We walk above Stephens Canyon, searching for a good way to get north and west toward Tunnel Spring or the flume trail, both in Gardener Canyon.

"A Sweco could build this trail in no time, " says Lee. "Yes, but they're hard to find," agrees Jay. Sweco is trail building speak for a small bulldozer-like machine that can operate on mountain slopes. It's an agile trail-building machine, perfect for this rough ground.

"How about a 6," jokes Jay. He's talking about a Caterpillar 6 Bulldozer, that is far too big for this work. I learn all about Swecos and 6s and 9s during the course of the day--what they can do, how much they weigh.

"This is good," exclaims Lee when we come upon a jeep road. We follow the jeep road for awhile and check out an old CCC dam in the distance with a large pool of water behind it.

The CCC dam and tank are at the bottom of these cliffs, wiht Mt. Wrightson above. Manzanita in the foreground.

The jeep trail has lulled us off our GPX track and now we need to find a way down into Little Casa Blanca Canyon. Unfortunately, the direct path leads through an ocotillo and shindagger forest.

We're through the ocotillo, but Lee and Scott pick their way down the shindagger slope.

We cross the bottom of the canyon with its few small pools of water, and Lee heads up the other side.

Another hard rock and shindagger slope out of Little Casa Blanca Canyon.

We reach Casa Blanca Canyon and realize we're still over a mile from where Lee had hiked north from Gardener Canyon on a previous scouting trip. Time for lunch and time to rethink our goals for the day. I admit that my energy is waning. "Ok, we can go back and scout some other sections on the way back," agrees Lee.

Lee remarks that this section with its purple gray rock could be some fun slickrock for mountain bikers; however, it's fairly remote.  After lunch, we push on a little bit farther north for a better sense of where the trail should go.  Then we head back and I wonder if this will be another "hike a bike" section of the Arizona Trail--on the steep slopes in and out of Casa Blanca and Little Casa Blanca Canyons.

Jay and Lee descend into Casa Blanca Canyon with a fair amount of water flowing.

We hike out of one canyon along a horse and cattle route, and note that the Marlboro man has left his cigarette butt here.  Jay teaches Lee how to use a Clinometer to determine the slope here, it's about 10% which is at the upper end of the standard slope for a hiking and biking trail.

Lee uses a Clinometer to ascertain slope suitability for a trail.

We reach the top of the ridge and explore other possible trail connections to the forest service road. We walk down a slope, cross the sandy stream bottom, and head back up a rather steep slope. My calves, which have been asking me politely to stop for the past hour, now start screaming. "Only two more minutes," I tell them.

Lee and I reach the ridge line trail, Jay continues below, off-camber, searching for a perfect contour line for his dreamed of "bench trail." He reminds me of Spiderman, sticking to the side of the steep hill. As he remarked early in the day: "One mile of bench takes just as much time as 100 yards of switchback." Bench trails are also easier to ride.

We're all on top of the ridge line again, heading back to our bikes. We search the hills south for possible easy trail routes from the fire road.  We spent almost all day scouting on foot, or "boots on the ground is the best," as Jay puts it. "We did some good work today," agrees Lee.

On our bikes, it takes us only ten minutes to get back to the car--smooth descending through the late afternoon sun, with 360 degree views of mountain ranges and hills. A glorious ending to a productive day.

Jay and Lee happily back on their bikes.

On my drive home, I saw the full moon rise over the Rincon Mountains.

 

 

Hike to Tucson's Bridal Wreath Falls

I celebrate the new year by hiking to a waterfall in the desert. Douglas Springs Trail, on the northern edge of Saguaro National Park East, begins at the parking lot at the east end of Speedway in Tucson. We head into the rolling foothills of the Rincon Mountains, through saguaro cactus forests punctuated by cholla, prickly pear, and palo verde trees.

Two women on horses pass by on a switchback, amazingly sure-footed creatures on the rocky narrow trail.

 

Part of the trail.

A 9 am start this time of year normally means cooler weather, but I immediately regret the fleece sweatshirt and tie it around my waist. Off comes the winter "technical" long sleeve T-shirt and I'm happy in my power purple "Democracy Now" T-shirt. Thank you KXCI radio!

We're an hour in and it must be 75 degrees already! After climbing and sweating, my long pants come off--thank goodness I remembered to pack shorts. My wiser hiking companion Lisa opted for zip-off pants.

We come to a stream and Lisa soaks her feet for further natural cooling. I assure her that the climbing is almost done, much as I assured her "there's not much climbing in this hike," earlier. How the mind forgets.

Other hikers explore the slick rocks on the stream edge, with view of Tucson beyond:

After another 20 minutes or so along the stream drainage, the trail crosses a flattish meadow with beautiful views of the Catalnia Mountains.

We head south along the Bridal Wreath Falls spur trail, through shady sections of old mesquite and Mexican Oak. Shade, love the shade. A horse whinnies and soon we come upon the horses in the back country hitiching post--hikers only the rest of the way to the falls.

Saguaro cactus finds purchase in cliff above the falls.

Soon, we're scrambling up streambed boulders with water gushing by. This is the most water I've ever seen here, thanks to early winter snow at higher elevations.  We see one horsewoman sporting chaps and salt and pepper hair barely held back by her cowboy hat. Lisa tells her that the horses didn't seem too happy being tied up, they were talking. She replies: "We needed a rest. They're making us work too hard!"

We sit in the cool shade, drinking in wonder of the waterfall that seems to burst from the sun at the top of the 50-foot cliff.

  

Bridal Wreath Falls in video action.

Other hikers are there and explore the top of the falls, we can't drag ourselves from the lovely cove.

 

Hikers above the falls.

I crawl behind the waterfall and attempt a few photos, they turn out badly. But here's a view north from the falls:

Behind the waterfall.

I remember hikes out here with my cousin Jim before he passed away. Once to the falls with his partner Ellen when we devoured Clementines on a Christmas Day hike. Another time in the spring, we hiked toward Douglas Spring Campground until a surprise spring snowstorm turned us back.

Today, New Year's Day 2012, no chance of snow. It's so hot, I  feel my forearms sizzling and I apply more sunscreen. Coming out of the waterfall cove, we pass streamside saguaro and ocotillo:

On the way back, I join Lisa for the foot soak in the glacial stream. My feet are hot, but too tender to handle the icy water for very long.

 

We see more and more hikers coming in as we descend through the ocean of saguaros.

We reach the car and devour cheese puffs, a post-hike reward that satisfies the salt craving.

Happy New Year from Tucson!

Bikes of Quepos, Costa Rica

People living in Quepos, Costa Rica, don't need any bike lanes, sharrows, or separated paths to ride their bicycles.   If Ticos (as citizens of Costa Rica call themselves) can safely ride with cheeks inches from delivery trucks, why are American so wimpy that we need special "bicycle facilities?" 

Perhaps it's because drivers in Quepos in busses and passenger vehicles and delivery trucks  know how to drive on narrow streets.  They know what American drivers don't know: drive slowly and carefully, and share the road.

Photos below show everyday people and everyday bikes, and some cool customization of head gear and carts.

Bikes are used to carry objects big and small, including propane tank.

Sure, there are a few bike racks, but many Ticos simply park in the gutters, and cabs waiting for tourists just park around them.

Kids are often along for the ride in Quepos.

Almost every house has a bike parked outside:

Ticos get their bikes at the supermarket or appliance store:

And ride them to the coffee shop:

Somehow, even pedestrians manage without sidewalks on the main highway into the town of Quepos:

Eek! A pedestrian bridge without a guard rail, how do those Ticos manage it?!

It's pura vida, on bikes and on foot.

 

Morning Bike Ride Around Pusch Ridge

Wednesday night work meeting means I have time to luxuriate in a longer weekday morning ride. I choose my usual route up to the foothills, then west and north to the Rancho Vistoso Loop. Climbing starts early on Via Entrada through desert landscapes under wonderfully overcast skies. (Click on photos below to elarge for full big sky, big mountain view). Or big pricly pear view in the first picture.

Prickly pear fruit getting nice and juicy.

Saguaro cacti frame Finger Rock in the Catalina Mountains.

These phone photos make the desert look darker than it really was at 7 a.m. The rolling road wakes up my legs and I continue to climb up First Ave.  I soak in the Catalinas as I wait at the traffic signal at Ina Road.

 

 First and Ina cloudscape above Pusch Ridge.

I turn north onto busy Oracle Road and come around the west side of Pusch Ridge.

Pusch Ridge with green monsoon desert.

At Oro Valley's First Avenue, I head west then north up more hills to Rancho Vistoso Blvd. The climbing continues through the stucco and Mexican tile roofed houses.  A totally different sky meets me as the road curves east again, toward the Catalinas.

Storm clouds hide the upper ridges.

It's raining in the upper elevations of the Catalinas as I sweat in the valley floor below. Some clouds seep into canyons on the north side of this range.

 Sun tries to break through the mass.

The sunny southern end of Pusch Ridge, with Crestate Saguaro!

More excellent views on the cruise downhill toward Oracle Road. Will rain come to Tucson today?

Catalina Mountains and Palo Verde Tree.

Morning commuter traffic increases south on Oracle Road toward Tucson. I take a final photo at a  shopping center traffic signal.

Pusch Ridge.

The sun bursts through the cloud cover to heat up the rest of my ride. I pass a couple "Team in Training" cyclists who weave and bob uphill and wish them a good morning.  I retrace my path through the foothills, back down Via Entrada and its assorted quail families, and home. Thirty five miles in about 2 hrs and 15 minutes. Endorphin and desert high.

Fantastic ride!

 

Clicking and Clocking: Starr Pass Mountain Biking

“Hey it’s only 99 degrees,” I report to Jonathan. “It’s a beautiful day to ride,” he replies optimistically. It’s 6 p.m. on June 14, at the popular Starr Pass trail head in the Tucson Mountains. But just because they’re mountains doesn’t mean it’s cool.

 I met Jonathan through TucsonMTB.com, and I’m  riding with him and interviewing him for an upcoming article. He created a new website for local riders, RocksNClocks.com, where you can post your times on popular routes and compare to others. Bragging rights are a bonus and trash talking is optional.

According to a recent New York Times story, warm-ups before exercise can be moderate and still be useful. My warm up was five minutes of riding (no intervals, no way), and remembering how to get over moderately rocky singletrack near the trail head.

After Jonathan demonstrates the proper Rocks N Clocks start (one hand touching designated sign or fence post or other trail head object), I discover how useless my warm up was.  I'm immediately out of breath and my leg muscles seize. Jonathan, a good sport, slows his pace so I can sort of keep up.

Jonathan shows proper RocksNClocks start technique.

Except on the descents which he cruises and I bobble.  Jonathan is a self-described “techy guy” who likes technical, rocky, steep trails. Note to self: don’t take same line as Jonathan. It only takes me about ten minutes to ignore this mental Post-It, and follow him down an unfamiliar trail to the bottom of a wash. I descend fairly well, but the sandy wash bottom slurs my speed to almost nothing. I  walk up the opposite bank.

Another wash. Repeat same.

We run into two riders who don't know how to get back to the Genser Trail Head parking lot. One has a GoPro camera atop his helmet so I’m sure they have some excellent footage of being lost. Jonathan directs them to the correct trail.

I enjoy chatting with Jonathan on flat sections near Tucson Estates.  This is about the only time I can really muster enough breath for complete sentences. Otherwise our conversations are like this:

Jonathan: “So this is where this trail and that trail are located and this is what they’re like.”

Mary: “Yeah. . . . uh-huh . . . right.”

About mid-way through our ride, the trail turns back toward the parking area. We enter the shade of a Tucson Mountain minor peak and the temperature seems remarkably cooler at only 90 degrees. It’s a dry heat.

On the way back, I take  some shaky phone video of the trail:

StarrPassTrail from Mary Reynolds on Vimeo.

I should have a GoPro camera! Here's some slightly darkened sunset video of Jonathan on the switchbacks:

StarrPassSwitchbacks from Mary Reynolds on Vimeo.

We return to the parking lot, touch the appointed sign, and clock our time at 1 hour, 8 minutes, 32 seconds. See our official result and comment (excuse) on the Rocks N Clocks Results page.

Here are my additional excuses:

1. I hadn’t been trail riding on my mountain bike since April 30 at the Whiskey 50. Rillito River path ambling doesn’t count.

2. I’m in my off season.

But I am so happy to be back on my mountain bike, back on local singletrack.  Thanks for the invitation Jonathan! Even in the heat, I love these beautiful desert trails!

Prescott Whiskey 50 Race Report

I lined up for the Whiskey 50 along with about 500 other people.  I noticed several men with lips quivering in the cold shadows of downtown Prescott. My wind vest and arm warmers will stay on.  Local Prescottonian Brad told me that the first climb is in the sun, “don’t worry, you’ll warm up fast.”

Smiling, but nervous at the start.

A rifle shot from a period costumed cowboy is our starting gun!  Lots of people try to click into their pedals in front of me.  A few minutes later, I cross the start line and head out onto the course. Riding on pavement for six miles uphill, I resist the urge to chat with my temporary riding companions.  Must save breath; we start at an altitude of 5,200 feet and only go up.

Current mantra: breathe in, power out.

The course takes us up and over some mountains, down to Skull Valley, then up and back over some taller mountains. You can view the course map and elevations here.

Lots of Prescott neighbors are out on the course, with cowbells and cheers for everyone passing by. It’s a great day for a race!

We hit the single track and ride for about 100 yards to a bottleneck. The trail U-turns over a creek then heads sharply uphill. Not everyone has the skills to ride this, so we all are brought to a halt as we congregate and wait for our turn. Some people peel off arm warmers and leg warmers. Others snack. I drink some Rango Juice (green energy drink). At last we’re pedaling again.

We continue climbing. There’s a bit of descending and I’m in someone’s way, but there’s nowhere to go due to the narrow trail. Oh, here’s a wide spot where he could pass, but it was uphill, so he dropped farther behind me. I am a climber.

Current mantra: I am a climber.

We hit the section that Brad and I rode a few weeks before when there was patchy snow on the ground. I recall, and not fondly, upcoming water bars (logs or rubber strips built into the trail to keep it from eroding, 12-18 inches high). They are steep and I have to walk them, as do others. Then we descend over some other water bars, some I ride, some I do not.  At last, the sweet double track descent! People can pass at will.  And a few do, leaving me in clouds of dust.

But I don’t care, descending  is fun and the scenery, spectacular.  I spot a couple people hiking up the trail and know we must be near the campground. This area signals the beginning of a long and tortuous climb up double track. Slow going, but I actually pass a few people, which affirms I am a climber I am a climber.

We reach the Aid Station on Copper Basin Road. I consume orange slices, granola bar, and pretzels. Now the 9-mile dirt road descent to Skull Valley.  What’s this sandy stuff? Can’t fly downhill without traction, so I take it easy for awhile. I see my Southwest Hand CyclingTeammate John and chat briefly. I pass him now, but he passes me later on the climb.

About this “descent,” there are some climbs on the way down. I see the leaders coming back uphill from Skull Valley including enduro kings Beto Villegas and Scott Morris.  They finished 5th  and 7th, respectively. Great to see familiar faces in the middle of nowhere!

The next Aid Station lacks the promised Port-o-potties, so I don’t stop. Instead, I head back to Copper Basin Road and the climb. I stop to jam a hard-boiled egg in my maw for a protein boost, with Clif Blok chasers. Someone passes and asks if I’m OK, and I sputter “yes” through bits of egg white.

Back on my bike, I pass another woman who I had already passed. She is wearing striped socks. I ask “are you not stopping at Aid Stations?” She replies, “I don’t have a plan,” then adds condescendingly, I think: “I usually ride unsupported.” And I almost had to go off on her and say “Hey, this isn’t my first epic ride, cowgirl.” But instead I said “oh, well there’s pretzels  and fruit and stuff if you need it.” Then I pedaled away. Very satisfying.

Of course, she passed me when I had to stop and pee at the tree port-o-pottie, but I eventually passed her again on the endless climb back to the Aid Station.  The climb goes slowly, so there is plenty of time to enjoy assorted mountain range views.  Some people were walking their bikes. Never!

Current mantra: Breathe in, power out

I thought about the zen of cycling, the circular pedal motion, the circular wheels, I almost put myself to sleep.  Need energy.

View toward Skull Valley, photo from pre-ride.

At last, I see mile post 9 and know the Aid Station is nigh. After that station and more orange slice consumption, the 25 proofers were on the road with us. They were feeling a bit more spry than I. We continued climbing ever upward.

Endless dirt road climb, photo from pre-ride.

I heard the sound of drums and bells and hoped for the top, but it was just a forest trio hanging out by the road, encouraging all who needed it.  I reach the false top, but must continue up a different road to Sierra Prieta overlook. I drink some water and grab a couple orange slices and hit the trail again. Looking forward to a long descent, no matter how sketchy.

I try to stay out of the way on the rocky, narrow trail. I’m bounced around so much that my chain jams and I know if I try to pedal, I will fall. So I coast along at about 20 mph, with jammed chain and a rider right behind me. There is no escape what with the trees and rocks and steep slopes on either side of the trail.

I spot a bail out section and yell “I HAVE TO STOP!” I pull over quickly; he brakes, and narrowly avoids crashing into me. I release my chain from frame bondage and continue on.

The trail widens slightly and I can see farther ahead. I am flying. Riding the endorphin and race is almost over high.   Random cheering squad says “this is the last hill, the hill of pleasure.” I ride about 25 yards up it, there is no pleasure. I walk along with everyone else around me. We reach the top and there is more beautiful descending along a creek.

I hit the tricky part of the trail at a creek crossing and walk it. A local photographer has great pictures of the pros at this crossing. A lone spectator encourages me to “ride to the right!” The rest of the trail is a bit rocky and narrow and sort of fun. At last, the pavement of Thumb Butte Road!

From trail to pavement, then 3 fast miles to the finish line.

Number one race fan Lisa and friend Kerri are there to cheer me on. I fly toward the finish and cross the line in 5 hrs, 53 minutes. Under my 6-hour goal!  It’s good enough for 4^th place in the Master’s Women Category. I found out later that I might have won a special flask for being on the podium—first five finishers of each category. For complete results, visit the Epic Rides website.

Yay! Another great ride in the mountains of Prescott.

Enjoy my collage of photos and video from amateur and pro races:

Whiskey50pics&vid from Mary Reynolds on Vimeo.

 

 

 

Elephant Head Mountain Bike Training Ride

On April 23, I joined Green Valley friends to prepare for the Whiskey 50 moutain bike race. Destination: Elephant Head. We hoped to meet up another group who were pre-riding the Elephant Head Challenge  mountain bike race course.

Approach to Elephant Head Trail on a sandy jeep road.

Getting closer and sandier.

 

We hear, but don't see  friends who biked then hiked up to "the cable." on the side of Elephant Head.

We ride along, always uphill, sometimes rocky, sometimes sandy. We meet the other group who are headed in the opposite direction.  Roy from our group encourages everyone to look at the waterfall. But because this is Arizona in a dry year, there is no water. But an impressive cliff nonetheless.

The jeep road/trail continues upward through Chino Canyon with Little Elephant Head to the south.

Little Elephant Head, ocotillo, prickly pear.

Destination revised by Tony: "Let's check out the Quantrell Mine Road, it's relatively flat." Tony's memory is not accurate. He uttered these words from the jeep road. Here is the jeep road and trail far below the Quantrell Mine "Road" trail:

The light colored line in the middle of this picture  is the jeep road.

Little Elephant Head from Quantrell Mine Road

We're not even at the top of the "road" yet. It has diminished to an eight inch wide trail cut into the side of a steep hill. But there is an excellent view of the real Elephant Head from the top of the Quantrell Mine Road/Trail.

View of Elephant Head with ocotillo.

We enjoy the view out to the west, over the Green Valley community, pecan groves and copper mines.

I enjoy the descent back down the trail more than the view. It's downhill  all the way to the car. On the way, we join the race course group and talk to some people on horses who lost their dog.

Roy listens to story of the lost dog.

On the way back down, the lost dog runs in front of me for awhile, then takes refuge in the shade of a palo verde tree.  She seemed to know her way home.

It was a great ride, great preparation for next week's Whiskey 50.  Flat Trail Tony sent this elevation graph of our ride.

Short, but steep!

 

Easy Pima Canyon Hike

We hit the Pima Canyon trailhead promptly at 9:45 am, eager to take advantage of what could be the last cool weekend in Tucson.  We were bundled in jackets; the mountains, bundled in fog. A chilly April Sunday morning at 45 degrees.

  
Clouds roll over the mountains with spiny cholla in the foreground.

Way up the canyon, snow covers the peaks while ocotillo cacti bloom bright orange in the desert on the way to the canyon trail.

 

Octotillo blossoms.

We crossed the dry Pima Creek and continued on the trail up the canyon. It's been a dry winter, so not too many flowers blooming this spring. We saw some thistle and penstemon.

Thistle in the desert.

Arty blurred photo of trailside penstemon.

After Saturday's rain, the Sunday desert smelled fresh and beautiful with sage, creosote, and an unidentified vaguely minty scent.

We easily identified other hikers as locals or visitors by their hiking garb. Visitors were outfitted for safari with wide brimmed hats, SPF shirts and pants, walking sticks. Visitors limited themselves to one color: khaki. Locals dressed in jackets and even gloves, Tucsonans are not hearty when it comes to the cold. We dressed in layers and continually took them on and off through elevation changes, clouds, wind, and bright sunshine.

Snack time view, with desert trees in spring green.

We walked for about an hour, had a snack,  enjoyed the view and headed back out. We noticed some water in portions of the creek bed, but it didn't seem to be flowing. Perhaps the water has already gone underground for the summer.

Mighty saguaro.

 The trail traced the edge of the Coronado National Forest with subdivisions down the hill to our left and rocky slopes up the mountains on our right.  I inhaled deeply and zipped my jacket against the increasing wind. I am happy to be living so close to such a great trail!

Mt. Lemmon Interval Training

Climbing up Catalina Highway to Mt. Lemmon is a perfect springtime training ride. The desert floor warms up, but most of the mountain highway stays cool in the morning. Even chilly in the shade.  My training plan called for 3 x 20 min L4 intervals with 10 minute recovery to L1 in between.  L4 is  a heart rate approaching Lactic Threshold, for me about 159 beats per minute. L1 is a recovery heart rate, below 100. 

My training ride began at home, and my first interval started about 14 miles later at milepost zero of Catalina Highway. After I started my intervals, I didn't see L1 until I was back home sitting on my couch.

My first interval went well, I rode a moderately hard pace and stayed 155-160 bpm. Feeling perky and even fast until a man in a plaid jersey blew past me with not even a hello. Really, who wears plaid? Then I attempted to recover, while still climbing, and my heart rate would not go below 145.

 OK, time for interval number 2--this time, there were some flattish sections and I even passed a couple other riders. My heart rate went into the 160s.  I saw quite a few cyclists descending, most wearing jackets.  On the upside of the highway, sweat dripped down the side of my face.

Recovery in the 140s again.  As I was recovering,  a fellow in a High Road team jersey passed me. It was not Mark Cavendish.  I caught him during interval 3 and we rode together from Seven Cataracts to Middle Bear Canyon. Great to have someone to push me harder!

View up the highway from Seven Cataracts Overlook

 This section I remembered as "flattish" but it wasn't, had to get in my granny gear between Milepost 9 and 11. Oh, I dropped him in the granny gear section, and he couldn't catch me on the flat section! After 11, the road was beautifully flat beneath the ponderosa pines.

Shady pine trees.

Rock formation above Middle Bear Canyon parking area.

I pulled over to the parking area at about Milepost 12 to put on arm warmers and vest for the descent, and my temporary riding companion rode on by, going all the way up perhaps?

Here's a video, start of ride down (Milepost 12 to 11). Beware of wind noise!

MtLemApr 004 from Mary Reynolds on Vimeo.

On the way down, I stopped at Seven Cataracts to take some pictures. Met two U of A students who rode fixed gear bikes up and down the mountain.  They were charming and I was suitably impressed.

Fixed gears skidding into Seven Cataracts Overlook.

Seven Cataracts--not too much water in that gap.

 My fast descent continues with wind making my bike wobbly in certain sections. At about Milepost 6, I started to feel the desert heat again, rising up through Molino Canyon. I took a break to take some pictures of the views toward the Rincon Mountians:

Then I turned the other way and took the obligatory saguaro cactus shot:

 I saw a mountain biker coming up the road, said hi, and he waved back. Then I realized from the Specialized jersey that  it was Todd Wells, U.S. National Mountain Bike Champion! I jumped back on my bike, still in the big gears of descending and rode after him uphill to try to say a real hello.  Unbelievably, I caught him and could gasp/ask where are you headed? And he said "Milagrosa" a technical mountain bike trail. I wished him good luck with the rest of his season and he thanked me for the articles I had written. He was so cordial!

I flew down the mountain, happy to see such a cycling superstar in my hometown. At the bottom of the mountain, the rude headwind impaired my speed. It's not supposed to be hard to go downhill to Tanque Verde Road. But it was hard, and it was hot, and my cross-town journey seemed interminable.

Back on the meandering bike path, trying to spin down, I felt the kiss of a tailwind, enjoyed the blooming yellow palo verde trees and sparkling blue spring sky.

A little more than four hours after I started, I was home with waffles, yogurt, shower.  Sat down on the couch, and finally recovered to my L1 heart rate.

Pre-riding Prescott Whiskey 50 Mountain Bike Race Course

Sunday dawned with sunshine and wind; and I called Brad to pre-ride the Whiskey 50 course in Prescott. We planned to ride Saturday, but I was crushed by illness that left me nauseous or sleeping the whole day. Wasn’t sure how an entire day of not eating would work for me on Sunday. Oh, OK, I had some chicken soup Saturday night. Hardly the carbo-loading I usually do.

Thankfully, we drove the first major climb of the Whiskey 50, up and up and out of downtown Prescott on paved roads that get steeper and steeper including Copper Basin Road. Prescottonian Ann-Marie at the wheel of the Land Rover (so expeditious we were!) provided insights into neighborhood politics of Prescott on our course tour.  I wondered if my granny gear was granny enough for this incline. Number one race fan Lisa was along for the ride—she and Ann-Marie were our rescue team in case I faltered after only a few miles.

View looking west.

At last, we reached the parking lot where the single track starts and stepped out into the chilly ponderosa pine forest. Brad bravely rode his single speed, prepared to muscle up the mountain trails if necessary.

 We hit the single track along Aspen Creek.  And we crossed the creek: splash! “Oooh, that’s cold,” said Brad, riding through the 3-foot wide creek.  I really didn’t think about water crossings, after riding the dusty trails of southern Arizona this spring.   We didn’t stay chilly for long because the trail steadily gained elevation. Saw a patch or two of snow and was happy to be riding in the shade instead of usual blazing sun.

Water bars challenged me: I made it over a few, then couldn’t maintain momentum on ever upward-sloping trail. Another mountain biker passed us chanting something I didn’t understand, but later Brad revealed was “get some, get some, get some!”  Was it self-affirmation or encouragement for Brad? We didn’t know.  I had to walk quite a bit and felt fairly weak, probably due to not eating the day before.

A little ridge-top riding with spectacular views west, south and east and mountains everywhere beneath the brilliant blue. Uh-oh. Water bars on the descent. I had to stop midway down a water bar and Brad sort of tumbled into me. But it was one of those slow motion mix-ups and no one was hurt. Soon after, I decided to let Brad lead on the descents, being more fearless than I.

We hit some fun double track and descended into prickly pear elevation. We passed a sweet smelling lilac bush and saw lots of other purple flowers. We arrived at the bottom of another jeep road climb, this is where I got hot. No more cool mountain air. My geared bike was a lifesaver as we rode a long time back up to Copper Basin Road. I waited for Brad at the intersection.

View toward Skully Valley from Copper Basin Road.

We snacked, we drank, we chatted with another Whiskey 50 pre-rider who of course, had met Brad before.  We didn’t turn left toward Skull Valley (a nine-mile descent, and climb back up the same road).

Instead, we turned right to continue climbing toward Sierra Prieta overlook where we planned to meet Ann-Marie and Lisa. Brad powered ahead, standing on his single speed. Pop. His powerful quads broke his chain. He had a chain tool and set to fixing it in the shade. I took some pictures out toward Skull Valley.

The road that broke Brad's chain.

A ’67 Chevy truck rumbled by downhill, clunking in a broken-sounding way. It stopped.  The driver got out and crawled under his truck to assess. I drank some water.  Brad realized that his repaired chain was now too short to fit. The truck driver backed up and asked us if we needed help and  explained: “my u-bolt is just about shot so I’m going back to the pass and try to coast into town.”

“I’ll go ahead and ride up the hill,” I said, not wanting to be in a broken truck. “But you can get a ride, Brad.”  I’m helpful that way. We had tried to call our rescue team, but cell phone coverage was spotty.

I took off,  and actually felt pretty strong on the climb. Hey! I’m not out of breath from the altitude! Small joys.  The truck didn’t catch me for another mile or so. Brad got out and we headed up the last .7 miles to the overlook. Brad rode the descents and  ran up the climbs with his bike, clearly practicing for cyclocross season.

At last, we reached our expedition team and were rewarded with hugs and Luna bars. We drove the dirt roads back to Prescott and saw a bit of the single track off in the woods.

Great to ride even a short section of the course and understand the magnitude of the climbing. Seemed like I recovered from wicked Saturday bug, and I felt strong at the end of the ride.

Here's the course map. We rode from Trail 393 south, Fire Road 53 North, Copper Basin Road, to Sierra Prieta overlook.

Back in Tucson, Mt. Lemmon Highway will be my training grounds for April. Getting to elevation on my road or mountain bike and doing hill repeats. Climbing the east side of Molino Pass on the Arizona Trail is another training ride that should get me ready for the Whiskey 50.