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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.

 

 

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)