Clock Out, Click In

Biking the AZ Trail—Day 1 of AZ Trail 300 Race

Snow so heavy that it bends ponderosa pines on the side of the road makes me wonder if I’m still in Arizona in April. My brother looks out the car window and remarks “wow.” At the start line, the Arizona Trail 300 racers face six inches of snow six miles from the Mexican border.  I start at 8:30 am to make maximum  use of daylight hours, and the rest of the group starts at 9.  So I “break  trail” through  the snow just like a cross country ski race or the Iditarod.

 
Happy to start the 300-mile race! (photo by Mark Reynolds)

The trail is easy to find, a jeep track for the first mile or so, then a brown strip of single track through the white snow. I can’t see the Canelo Hills because it’s snowing and the clouds hang low. Soon, I feel the hills and have to push my bike up some steep sections. This is when Jefe, the eventual winner, and Todd, pass me. They are pushing too, but with greater hike-a-bike speed than me. Next to pass me is Scott, the race organizer, course record-holder, and Topofusion genius. “This is epic, have a good race,” he says merrily.

I have plastic bags over my smartwool socks, and neoprene “toe-sties” over the toes of my shoes. My feet still go numb. I fall in the snow and my rain pants protect me from getting wet. When I hike, I get mud and snow clods in my cleats, so it’s tough to click into my pedals. I notice other racers have the same problem as they pass me. My plastic bags are in tatters by the end of the morning, and my toe-sties shredded.

 
Todd and Jefe on Canelo Hills trail (photo by Scott Morris). 

Chipper Tim passes me and takes a picture of me riding in the snow, he’s still riding the race as I write this. Tim and I ride together for a bit, we pass some people, he stops to take pictures, I press on. I enjoy a sandwich in the sun for lunch. The clouds lift, the beautiful San Rafael Valley comes into view, but there are more ridges to climb before we descend into it. Tim and Lee catch up to me and we sort of ride together for the rest of the afternoon.  They chat, I gasp. They stop for water at the tank, I continue riding. Refreshed, they catch up, chat at me a bit, then disappear ahead of me.

In the last hills before Harshaw Road, a bull is smack dab in the middle of the trail. He is surrounded by some cows. I clap my hands and shout “go away!” None of them move. So I make a big circle around them, remount and speed on down the trail. In Patagonia for pizza at the Velvet Elvis, I learn that Jackson and Corey also faced the same bull in the same place.  Everyone is wolfing pizza and I join Patagonia friends Julie and Meg for calzone and pizza.  It’s about 5 pm; Lee, Tim, Jackson and Corey are out the door and off to Salero Road. Ian and Brad arrive and settle into their pizzas.

It’s very difficult to leave the coziness of Velvet Elvis Pizza. I refill my water bottles, grab a yogurt for breakfast and head out into the cold. Salero Road steadily gains elevation, but it’s in decent condition by this time of day. Not the wheel-stopping mud zone that Scott reported earlier in the day.  The sun sets with a  blaze of pink and orange. I scare a tribe of 15 javelinas from the road, including a few babies.

I turn on my bike light and continue into the darkness. I purposefully do not look at my watch. I pass Salero Ranch.  At last, I see lights on the side of the road and find Jackson and Corey’s camp. I decide this is a safe place for me to camp too, and join them. It’s good to rehash the day with the boys from Austin, speculate about tomorrow, and eat cold pizza.

I’m so excited to get into my sleeping bag atop my awesome new air mattress at 9 pm. At 9:10 pm, my air mattress has lost all its air and its awesomeness. I envy Corey’s hammock. I sleep fitfully on the hard desert ground, with a brilliant sky of Milky Way above me.

Total hours: 11.5, riding hours: 9.5-10, miles: 45-50? (too exhausted to check my GPS)

 

Refreshing rain on morning bike ride in Tucson Mountains

In addition to biking to work, I decide to take a brief tour of the Tucson Mountains foothills this morning. As I leave the house, I think "Do I need a rain jacket?" I instantly determine it will be sunny later in the day, and the door is locked, and I really can't be bothered to get the jacket. I ride downtown in remarkably cool weather (for September in Arizona, about 78) and cloud cover.

Dump my backpack of work clothes and lunch at the office and head for Grande Avenue south to Starr Pass Blvd.  I have a flashing red light clipped to my jersey. I turn west on Starr Pass and face a very dark sky ahead. Hmmmm, what was that about a jacket?

Instead of wondering about rain, I focus on climbing ever upwards on Starr Pass Blvd, through the curves of the resort community, past Genser Trail head and its tempting mountain biking, to Players Club Drive. Turn right and enjoy a lovely descent to Anklam. Turn west and head into the ever darkening sky again, and I see rain falling on the upper peaks of the Tucson Mountains.  I wave to a few cyclists flying down Anklam in the opposite direction--early birds!

Then I  feel rain on my arms and hear the pitter patter of drops on my helmet. It was so peaceful and cool, and not pounding like the usual monsoon rain storms. A lovely morning rain in the desert. I figure that as soon as I head east, back toward downtown, I'll ride  right out of the rain anyway.

Turn downhill and east on Speedway, and the rain continues. This part of Speedway can be amazingly quiet, I can hear  the sound of rain hitting the desert grasses, creosote, hard packed dirt.

Looking north, clouds cover a few peaks of the Catalina Mountains, but the sun illuminatesPusch Ridge. The rest of the Tucson Valley spreads out before me, looking not quite awake and slightly shrouded in misty rain.

Is there such a thing as a dry rain? Because although the rain was light and steady, my body and bike don't seem to be getting that wet. Desert evaporation at its best.

I make my way back to Anklam and tried to take a picture near Pima College West. Cell phone photography doesn't work too well with limited light.

Looking west on Anklam Road toward Tucson Mountains on a rainy morning.

I continue my descent into town, past the joggers and walkers finishing their Tumamoc Hill punishment, through Menlo Park, beneath the freeway to my office. I'm happy my wet tires don't slip on crosswalk bricks.

Great to be on my bike, in the desert, in the rain--perfect start to this beautiful day!

If you want to check out this 15-mile ride, here's the map: http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/12965618

Biking Tucson's Sabino Canyon After a Monsoon

Inhaling the creosote in the almost cool desert morning after a monsoon, I'm inspired to bike out to Sabino Canyon. I dodge sand and gravel pushed onto streets in the usual places by torrential rain.

After pleasant desert smells in my neighborhood, I hit the Rillito River Path, aka "The Loop," and the smells of hay and horse manure waft my way. Still a few ranches along the Rillito, with the standard inputs and outputs. The riverbed is damp, but there's no water running. Perhaps the river flowed during yesterday's deluge, but not now.

I expect some dirt and debris on the bike path, and find ponding and mud.

Tire tracks show some cyclists enjoy riding in the mud. I steer my road bike to the dry alternative hard-packed dirt and cement path.

I continue out River Road and Sabino Canyon Road, with the Catalina Mountains looking tantalizing close on this clear and cloudless morning. I reach Sabino and head up the canyon, dodging walkers and runners in the first mile or so.

I hear Sabino Creek before I see it, the sweet sound of water rushing through the desert!  Water flows beneath the first stone bridge, and sweeps over the second bridge. 

A runner high steps her way through the water. "Isn't it awesome to see water here?" I ask her. "Fabulous, it's just fantastic," she replies in a British accent. 

Saguaro cacti abound on the canyon's slopes, above a mesquite tree:

The road follows Sabino Creek, crossing the swollen stream from side to side. The road gets steeper, my speed slows, but I don't care because I'm just enjoying the sound of water running over the rocks and through the cottonwood trees.

The video below is mostly about the sound (so turn up the volume!), but check for the sun reflecting off the brown silty creek:

 

IMG 1168 from Mary Reynolds on Vimeo.

 

 

 The views up the canyon open onto the higher peaks of the Catalina Mountains:

Canyon wall with more saguaros.

Sabino Creek greens the bottom of the canyon.

 

I climb in easy gears above the creek and see waterfalls I haven't seen since early spring:

 

 I reach the end of the road, and turn around to begin a fast descent. I heed the yellow signs that picture bicyclists crashing over handlebars and slow way down for the bridges. A few sand and gravel sections are ripe for wipeouts.

I splash through a few bridges covered in water.

On the way back across town through the foothills, I ride past great flowering bushes including this Texas Ranger that rained purple on the pebbles beneath it:

Here's a map of this Sabino Canyon and Foothills ride: http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/114341715

So after the next monsoon storm, get on your bike and explore a fresh new Tucson!

Mt. Lemmon Climb: Bike Ride to Summerhaven

I wake up early, but not early enough to make the 6:30 am start time for the Mt. Lemmon Ride.  Happily, I run into Santa Cruz Valley Cyclists friends and make a 6:45 am departure with Chuck Hill. Almost ready for 6000 feet of climbing in 24 miles! We meander through the neighborhood instead of following route directions and hit a dead end. We soon make our way back to the neighborhood bike route and onto Snyder Road.

We obey the law and stop at the stop sign before turning left onto Catalina Highway. Then Milepost Zero and our climbing begins! As we switchback through Mile One, Chuck looks back down the road, across the drainage for Santa Cruz riders, but we saw none.

Onward and upward! Until Chuck needs to stop to put on sweatband.  I'm already wearing mine, the early morning coolness of the desert doesn't fool me one bit. This gives Tom and Tim a chance to catch and pass us. Ha! I will not be dropped this time, and I soon catch up to them. 

Tim and I talk Upjohn of Kalamazoo because he worked there, and so did my grandpa. But not at the same time.

We stop at the first SAG stop. Tony, Larry, and Chuck soon join us for eating and drinking and the collective "wiping of the brow."  Eleanor, age 76, pedals up. There are a few Green Valley folks who started earlier and are ahead of us like mountain goat Bill Adamson.

I wolf down my hard-boiled egg that I was too nervous to eat for breakfast at home. Chuck cautions: "Are you sure it's hard boiled?" Hardy har har har. Also enjoy salty V8 juice and sweet mystery muffin supplied by El Grupo.

I glimpse my Southwest Hand Cycling teammates ride by the snack area without stopping, and I ride off to join them. Hello to Ron, Tom,  and Jay!

I ride with them from Milepost 3 to Milepost 11 or so and the next snack stop.  This section includes an all too brief descent before Seven Cataracts overlook where I use momentum to slingshot ahead of them and ride alone for a mile or so. Then they catch me. Then they pass me.  Touché.

The V8 juice sloshes in my stomach.

I pass Bill Hill of Santa Cruz Valley Cyclists who was grooving up the mountain on his straight bar bike with Vibram Trex shoes upon his pedals. He eventually made it all the way to the top of the Mt. Lemmon Ski Area!

We all regroup at Middle Bear picnic area where I was happy to see my TriGirls teammates Joanie and Eve.  Yay for watermelon. Tim of Kalamazoo squeezes some energy goo into his mouth saying "I like trying new things on these rides." I tell him, "That's sports frosting!"  And I eat another piece of juicy watermelon.

I tell a rider wearing a Fat Cyclist jersey that I like his kit and I have it in pink. He goes on about how comfortable Twin Six shorts are. This discussion becomes tiresome. Look, bearded wire rimmed glasses man I met one second ago, I don't want to spend a lot of time hearing about the comfortable versus uncomfortable seams in your shorts! This is also not part of my anticipated mountain view.

I ride ahead to take some pictures of satiated cyclists riding away from the snack stop:

Southwest Hand Cycling teammates Ron, Jay (out of uniform), and Tom rolling out of Middle Bear picnic area.

 Other riders enjoy the shade, including members of the best-ever team name for this bike ride up the mountain: OMG!

OMG women riding strong in dotted jerseys.

I remember from my last ride up this mountain that Milepost 12 to 13 is quite steep, and I realize I will not catch my teammates again if I keep taking pictures.

I'm huffing and puffing and unable to control angle of Iphone as Ron, Jay, and Tom ride away.

So I take a couple more pictures of questionable quality to capture the beautiful rock formations and blue sky and cyclists.

Tiny cyclists at about Milepost 13, approaching Windy Point.

I ride through Windy Point and then there is a lovely descent to Hoodoo Vista Point where I take a chance on one-handed riding to shoot a video. At the end, you can see the road below that  we climbed up:

 

 

Right after I turn off the camera, I hear this dialogue from two riders cruising by:

Rider 1:  It's like spiritual, dude.

Rider 2: Dude, this is awesome.

Rider 1: Yeah, pretty spectacular.

One dude's bike had double barreled bottle holsters beneath his saddle, and he wore a TriSports.com jersey. Even triathletes can climb! Just ask Joanie, Eve, and Carolyn!

Possibly the dudes at overlook of Hoodoo Vista Point.

After this lovely coast to Hoodoo, the climbing begins again. I pass a man with a British accent who seems to be wobbling. I ask if he's ok, he asks how far to the next aid station. I guess about one or one and a half miles. A thirteen-year-old rider just ahead concurs.

I reach the next rest stop and various theories about the red-faced Brit are espoused:

13-year-old: He needs more fluids

Tom of Green Valley: He's used to sea level.

Me: It's too hot for him

I take some rest stop photos.

Team OMG fuels up.

Assorted salty and sweet snacks.

Now my legs are tired. I ride with Tim and Tom for awhile, and we climb on past The Palisades.  Tom says he is happy for his granny gears, or something like that. I don't know exactly the cog numbers on my chain rings, but it's something like 39 x 20-something-not-high-enough. We have a lovely, if brief, descent near Spencer Campground for a couple miles, but I lose my concentration, and suddenly I am not riding with them.  The climb to Loma Linda and the final SAG stop seems endless.

I pass the Loma Linda rest stop, wave hello to Ron who is heading down the mountain, and continue to Summerhaven. Is this a fatal error?  My mood sours even has the road steeply descends with a rush of wind into the village of Summerhaven. It's an anti-climatic parking lot. I know I have to make a U-turn and climb out.

I am totally alone and totally tanked. I struggle up and out of Summerhaven. No ski area climb for me today, thank goodness I had already made that wise decision!

At last I return to Loma Linda, and some pie pie pie. Actually, I eat only one piece of pie, apple, and it is THE BEST. I also have some more fruit and sit on a surprisingly comfortable hard plastic chair. People talk in my direction about cycling and triathlons and whatever, I'm not interested and let their words float by.

It is time for the big descent! Yay.  The main attraction. It is a fantastic world of speed! Another climb back up to the Spencer Campground, then a long lovely descent to Middle Bear where a picnic lunch with Lisa awaits me. So great to be going so fast. Wheeeeeeeeeeee!

I have descended from Middle Bear to Milepost Zero before, so I don't feel like I am missing anything by calling it a day here. My shoulders, tired from crouching, thank me profusely.

Bike in car, sandwich in stomach. A brief walk around the picnic area with Lisa to stretch my legs.

A nice long nap when I got home!

 

Bike to the Border with Green Valley Cyclists

 I signed on for the Arivaca to Sasabe ride, hoping to enjoy a lovely spring morning in southern Arizona.   It's another Anyday Adventure, this time: a cycling break in the middle of my work week. I optimistically thought we would complete the 50 mile ride to the Mexican border and back in three and a half hours.  But I didn't count on the wind, the border wanderings, the heat, and the wind. Did I mention it was windy?

We meet for carpooling at Amado's landmark restaurants: Cow Palace and Longhorn Grill.

Guess the name of this Amado, Arizona, restaurant.

I met some new Green Valley folks, including Eleanor who is 74 and rides a sweet Felt bike. As we drive to Arivaca, through the rolling hills, Chuck  and I discuss possible bike routes to include on the forthcoming, paradigm-shifting Bike Routes of Sahuarita and Green Valley brochure. I mention, "This is the first time I have ever been to Arivaca, much less Sasabe."

Growing up in Tucson, Sasabe was one of those small towns for which the TV weatherman provided temperatures in the Southern Arizona forecast.  A place that existed, but where no one went.

We reach the Arivaca General Mercantile and park in back.  A pick up truck driver scolds  us for waiting on the side of the road for everyone to be ready.   In contrast, a US government vehicle cruises by on the way to the medical clinic and the young medical student in said car waves. One of our group seems to be taking an awfully long time purchasing water and sports drink inside the store. So I ride ahead to find the appropriate desert tree restroom where the road crosses a wash just outside of Town.

Sue and Eleanor pass me as I get back on my bike and I catch up to them. Chuck soon joins us and we all cruise aimiably along. Chuck and I pull away from the two, enjoying a mostly downhill rolling ride over potholed pavement and next to the Buenos Aires Wildlife Refuge. Some cottonwoods along a creek in the disance is the only patch of green.

We head generally west, then stop in the slight  shade of a large palo verde tree that has not yet leafed for spring.  The other ten or so people catch up, we rest for a moment and prepare for paceline riding for the next 12 miles to Sasabe and the Mexican border.

Tom,  self-designated leader, suggested one mile pulls at the front of the pace line. To which another rider, more clear-headed, suggested "how 'bout we pull as long as we want so we don't get too tired?" Ok! says everyon and we head south on AZ route 286 into a headwind and uphill.  Ah the joys of no trees or buildings to break the wind.

At least the pavement is smooth. And we are still riding through the wildlife refuge, so there's plenty of open space to enjoy.

I'm second in line and pull for about two minutes, float back and attempt to take a picture with my cell phone. I am at the back of the pace line and think this will be a nifty picture. Cell phone drops and bounces along the highway. Thank goodness for the rubberized casing and lucky bounces that didn't crack the screen. I  U-turn, ride back to the phone, pick it up and chase back to the group.  No one notices, which is fine, because I was embarassed to be fooling around with my phone.

Undeterred by phone droppage, I take this picture:

Paceline shadows on AZ286.

 Mile after long mile and at last we see the sign for Sasabe. It's a small collection of adobe buildings with tin roofs, and every one of them seems to be empty or closed.

Sasabe Post Office is open. Photo by Al Miller.

Sasabe Store is closed on Tuesdays, alas. Photo by Al Miller.

There are some houses, a school, a church, border patrol holding facility, and a dude ranch with its own cell phone tower.  The general store is closed on Tuesdays. We roll through a dip or two and head uphill to the border crossing.

We're surprised to see another few Green Valley cyclists there who had and earlier start. From the colonial style house, two American customs agents emerge. They urge us to move our bikes "so you don't block traffic."  We spend about 20 minutes here, during which time, one car comes through the checkpoint.

Tim from Kalamazoo looks fierce in his Froot Loops Jersey at the border.

Larry takes a break with the border fence behind him.

But the agent is pleasant and amused  to have lycra entertainment; he says we can cross the border and come back, even if we don't have the passports usually requried.  So we leave our bikes in the shade and walk through a garden gate and into Mexico. We cross the no man's land between the US agents' little house and the Mexican agents' little converted gas station. The sky is big, and we look lost. Bienvenidos a Mexico!

Walking south to where the pavement ends and the real Mexico begins.

Dirt road into Mexico. Photo by Al Miller.

Sue's husband Tom, attempts to lead the group, but we're in Mexico now, and his American title of leader means nothing here.  Aimless nervous chatter and ambling ensue. I take a couple pictures of the Mexico-side sign and the former customs house, now roofless.

The border fence is ever present, it looks solid in the photo below but it's really a series of tightly spaced vertical steel poles.

Right side=Mexico, left-side=USA

Sue takes my picture in front of the welcoming mural showing all good things moving toward the American side. I get the cows and quails, I don't get the wheat and grape vines.

Proudly wearing my Santa Cruz Valley Cyclists jersey.

Extreme close up of mural round up.

We fill our water bottles from the border crossing sink. The water tastes bad, but its cold, so we don't care.  

Because we have other things to do today, Chuck and I leave the border area and head back to Arivaca. The wind's at our back, and we enjoy a riding north. Kalamazoo Tim and Tubac John catch us and we all whoop with happiness in the tailwind. Then Tim gets to the front of our paceline and hammers.  I want to yell, "Slow down, old man!"  However, I just focus on his wheel in front of me and wonder how bad the crosswind will be when we turn the corner. Later he tells me we were going 32 mph.

The crosswind is fierce, Tim decides to stop and "wait for everyone else."  Not because he's tired or anything.  Tubac John slows down. Chuck and I form a two-person echelon that does nothing to help our speed in the wicked crosswind.  The rolling terrain continues in a mostly uphill fashion. At about mile 40 of our 50-mile ride, Chuck stops to put on a sweatband, and Tubac John sails right on by us.  We see him ahead, but never catch him.

A zone tail hawk sails above and I long for wings. At mile 46, I can only focus on the cold coke waiting for me at the General Mercantile. And some chips. My water is warm and icky tasting.

At mile 47, I suddenly remember that yes, I had been to this part of Arizona on a back pack trip with friends in high school! We explored Arivaca Creek before it was a Wildlife Refuge.
A photo from those backpacking days, taken by someone on the school newspaper.

One last insulting climb into Arivaca, and I arrive at the parking lot. I've dropped Chuck somewhere along the way. Everyone suffers alone in the last few miles of the ride in the heat and the wind.  Chuck arrives about a minute later. The ride lasted about four hours, including the stops.

I eschew coke in favor of chocolate milk to go with my post-ride chips. Most delicious!  Everyone eventually returns; they all make plans for lunch at the Cow Palace. They're retired, so they can take time to eat lunch. 

I have to get to work for the afternoon, I eat lunch in my car on the way. I sit in my office,  slightly dazed for rest of the day.

 

Dawn Hike to Wasson Peak in the Tucson Mountains

A dawn hike to Wasson Peak seemed like a good idea until I  drive down the Gates Pass switchbacks in the pre-dawn pitch dark. That's just after inching around a pre-dawn cyclist on the switchbacks going up the pass.

By the time I reach the trailhead, pitch black turns dark gray and my hiking partner Ellen arrives to begin our ascent.

Yellow wildflowers line the trail. Some bunches are asleep and closed, some half open, waiting for the light and warmth of the sun.

The sky lightens, and the sun pinks up Wasson Peak ahead.

Wasson is the highest peak in the Tucson Mountains, at about 4800 feet.   I'm a Tucson native, but never hiked to the top, and I'm excited to be doing it on a weekday morning.   Weekends are filled with book and biking events, so I'm squeezing in a mini-adventure in the middle of my work week.  Ellen and I estimate our six-mile round trip hike will take about four hours.

"It looks like it might be seven miles," says Ellen after reading a trail sign. As usual, the marker indicates different mileage and our maps from two different sources also fail to agree on exact mileage.

For the first hour and a half, we're in the shade of the valley as the King Canyon Trail follows the drainage. But we can feel the earth and rocks radiating heat from yesterday's sun.

Light skips along the  foothills below.

At last, the light hits us, and the bouquets of flowers along the trail.

We join the Sweetwater Trail and continue up, steeper and a bit rockier.  At this elevation, spikey shindaggers mingle with saguaros. Swtichbacks aplenty. And I'm distracted by all the wildflowers, so Ellen gets ahead of me on a hill.

We reach the saddle where the Hugh Norris Trail intersects and try to figure out which deer path heading left or right  is our "trail." Realizing our error, we head back down the trail a hundred yards or so, read the trail marker arrow correctly this time, and reach the spur trail to Wasson. We follow the ridge top with 360 degree views.

Sooner than expected, we're at the top! Picture Rocks flattens out below with the farm fields of Marana beyond. That's not smog in northern distance, we call it "haze." You know, dust.

Time for a peak pose:

A quick snack and we head down.  After we leave the breezy ridge, we start to feel the heat of the morning, and it's only 8:30 am! In March!  A few groups of hikers are on their way up--natives wearing floppy hats and long sleeves,  pink tourists in tank tops and shorts. Everyone is sweating.

On our way down, we notice fenced off mine shafts and more colors bursting from the trailside.

From the lower elevation of saguaros and ocotillos, we look back at Wasson Peak,  with a brilliant blue backdrop.

We see saguros from different angles on the way down and note a Cactus Wren highrise:

We're back at the car by 10 am, and I make it to work in time for my 11 am meeting. It's a fantastic start to the day,  getting plenty of fresh air and sunshine, flowers and cacti.  A fine morning of sharing trail tales and dreams with hiking partner Ellen.

 Trail Details: Start at King Canyon Trail head, dirt lot on north side of Kinney Road, just west of Desert Musuem entrance.  We went out and back, but loops are possible with Sendero Esperanza Trail or Gould Mine Trail. This route is in Tucson Mountain Park and Saguaro National Park.  Click here for a map.

Sunset Mountain Bike Ride on Tucson's Foothills Trail

I left work early, excited to hit the urban dirt trail that TucsonVelo.com recently promoted.  The weather seemed warm, after baking inside my car on the long drive home, so I wore shorts and a jersey. Jammed the arm warmers and windvest in my jersey pocket just in case.

With lights on my bike, I rode on the paved Rillito River path to Brandi Fenton Park. Short cut through the park up to River Road headed west. At Alvernon, I tunred north and looked for "the wash." Found it, rode into it, and got stuck in sand.

Hoping the entire trail wouldn't be in the bottom of this shallow wash, I rode a little and pushed a lot and looked for harder ground.

Found the hard pack on the upper edges of the wash and rode happily along toward the beautiful Catalina Mountains, pink in the setting sun.

Saguaro cactus with Finger Rock on top of the Catalina Mountains.

This is what bike riding felt like when I was a kid, racing through the desert on my banana seat bike. Like then, I just enjoy the ride, no real destination because I know darkness will catch me soon enough. I weave around palo verde trees and creosote bushes.  A rabbit bounds across the trail then races in front of me before diving into the underbrush.

Video, without rabbit, below:

 

The light is fading on the trail but the mountains are bright and happy. I reluctantly turn back. I ride more of the wash this time. I'm happy for lights on the major roads, and very happy to be back on the Rillito River Path.

It's getting cold and I put on all my clothing. My top half is fine, but my  knees feel the chill.

I meet up with Lisa and we ride together in and out of cold patches (the river bottom) and hot spots (cement bridges) along the path. My light illuminates runners, families, dogs near Brandi Fenton Park. It's great to see so many people out enjoying the warm winter evening in Tucson.

Night riding is fantastic, our senses are heightened and everything smells fresh. The sliver of a moon and stars brighten as the last rays of sun fade.

I'm looking forward to my next urban dirt trail ride, exploring a little more up into the foothills perhaps by day. But preferably, at sunset.

For a map of the entire trail in the foothills, click here.

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!