Clock Out, Click In

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.

 

 

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!

 

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.

Back on My Mountain Bike at Starr Pass

Mountain biking Starr Pass after work yesterday, I wondered what had taken me so long to get back on my mountain bike! Thanks to a tune-up from Scott at Arizona Cyclist, my bike sailed up the rocky climb out of the trail head parking lot. Facing directly into the late afternoon sun, I see a tourist family of hikers just in time to shout RIDER and they move out of my way.  THANK YOU, another shout and I’m on my way into the glare.

I ride one of three switchbacks, just a little too tight, too steep for me this evening. The deep blue sky frames Cat Mountain and the sun makes the cholla glow with halos.   A jack rabbit bounds away from my bouncing bike and a few quail scatter too.

 
I’m training for the Whiskey Off-Road 50-mile event in late April, but haven’t managed to ride more than two or three hours on my mountain bike over the past month. Sickness, Tucson Festival of Books, even snow (yes, it snows in Tucson!) are my range of excuses.  I’ve had some great road rides with my new road team, Southwest Hand Cycling, but need to hone my technical skills on the trail.

 

Starr Pass includes medium-steep rocky climbs and mild descents,  sandy  and rocky wash bottoms, and a couple small drop-offs. Veteran riders ask, “what drop-offs?” But to me, they are drop-offs and in one case, a spill-off.  My front wheel jams on a rock, my weight is too far forward and over the side of my bike I spill. I click out in time to catch myself and land on my feet.

I see a few other riders, runners, and dog-walkers.  I’m descending south toward the Tucson Mountain Park boundary, and the dirt road to connect to other trails.  Near Tucson Estates, a golf cart pulls up, and a woman hangs out for a smoke while a man walks a Chihuahua-esque dog, no leash. I’m cruising through her waft of weed, and the man thankfully picks up his dog so it doesn’t run under my front wheel.

The trail loops back toward the trail head, with a few climbs and another ride through a sandy wash.  I hit the rockier section of wash and it’s getting dark faster than I realized.  The ride back to the trailhead is mostly downhill and something about the creosote smell in the air reminds me of when I was a kid. We would race to get home before dark, after playing around on jumps and trails in the desert all afternoon.

 

I’m so at home in the desert, and glad to be feeling the last cool evening breezes before summer hits Tucson and stays for awhile.

Does an hour and fifteen minutes on my mountain bike make me ready for the four-hour marathon race I’m doing on Saturday?  I don’t care, I’m just happy to be riding my bike.

Dragoon Mountain Bike Ride to Petroglyphs

 
Rocky Dragoon view from small stream.

For Saturday's jeep road ride in the Dragoon Mountains, I join Southern Arizona Mountain Bike Association riders Tom, Dick and Susan. We drive to Tombstone and take a left on Middlemarch Road toward the Dragoons. We hit National Forest roads and stop at Tom's campsite to begin our ride. It's hot in the mid-day sun, and I can't belive Tom's weather forecast of "50% chance of thunderstorms," never mind those dark clouds in the southern sky.

The jeep road meanders over the rolling foothills at the base of the Dragoons as we head toward West Stronghold Canyon where the Apaches hid among the rocks for years, evading U.S. Army cavalry troops. But that seems many miles from here in the grassy valley. (Click on any picture in this post to see a larger image.)

 

 
Susan rides up the hot road through valley grasses.

Improbably balanced rocks at possible future campsite.

Photo break in the heat with Dick, Tom, Susan, dark cloud approaching.

I bump along the rocky road with Dick and tell him,"I just felt a rain drop." I look up and there is a black cloud above, with the sun next to it. "I felt one too," says Dick. "It's just sweat," says Tom in disbelief. Five minutes later, we're all believers as giant raindrops pelt us with no shelter in sight. After  few minutes riding with splattered sunglasses, we huddle beneath a scrawny mesquite. "At least it's cooling off," says Susan optimistically. In fact, it gets so cool so fast I wonder about the need for a space blanket for warmth. Reading my mind, Tom says, "We'll get warm once we start riding again."

Sun and shadows play among the Dragoon peaks.

We stand in beneath the dripping mesquite and snack and chat. The rain lets up slightly,  we remount, and ride toward the sunshine. The rain has cooled off the high desert road, but we soon start sweating again. Soggy from rain, then sweaty, no real escape from wet shirts today.  We reach the event ruttier road to West Stronghold Canyon and gain elevation, riding through juniper trees which would have been better protection from the rain.

We ignore the lightning and thunder to the north. "The storm's moving north," I say, because that's the way I want it to be moving. And it turns out I'm right--no more rain for the rest of our ride.

We cross a dry and sandy stream bed, then Tom leads the way up the Conchise Stronghold singletrack, followed by Dick. I push my bike, remount, can't quite get going and fall, butt-first, into an agave plant. Ow ow ow ow ow. For the five spikes that drive through my bike shorts into my skin. So I wait for Susan, and we push on a bit, I ride a bit, then Tom and Dick return saying that the waterbars are getting too steep and it's not ridable.

Cochise was chief of the Chiricahua band of the Apache tribe during a violent time in the mid-1800s. Although he was captured by the U.S. cavalry and escaped several times, he was undefeated in battle.  U.S. troops "captured" him on peace and trading trips.  For ten years Cochise and his warriors raided ranches and attacked stagecoaches and miners in and around the Dragoon Mountains. The Butterfield Trail stagecoach route at the north end of the Dragoons was a favorite target.

When Cochise retired, his son Taza succeeded him as chief.  Cochise died in peace on the Chiracahua reservation in 1874, and legend says he is buried somewhere in the Stronghold.  Not surprisingly, no Apache told the white people where he is interred.

We debate merits of hiking and/or biking trail over the pass on the Cochise Stronghold Trail.

After a brief discussion, it's time for lunch! During lunchtime's show and tell, Dick pulls a random seed pod from an oak(?), and pops it open to find air. It's the size cherry, and sort of fuzzy inside. I'm actually much more interested in my sandwich than in non-edible empty seed pods.

Trailside lunch view, perhaps of Cochise's final resting place.

After lunch, the fun descent down the hiking trail is without agave incidents. Soon,we're back on the jeep roads, riding downhill out of the juniper forest.

On the way back, we visit Council Rocks, the site of huge boulders covered with petroglyphs.  Some believe Cochise signed the treaty with the U.S. Government here. Archeologists believe it was an important gathering place for ancient natives related to the Mogollon people, as well as 18th century Apache tribes.

View from Council Rocks and petroglyph area.

We hide our bikes behind one of many large boulders and scramble up the hill. Mountain bike shoes are not the best for climbing over slick rock, but we quickly reach the shade of Council Rocks. We climb in and out of narrow "caves" among the boulders.

 
Overhanging boulder formations protected petroglyphs and the people who made them.

Dick studies 1000-year-old petroglyphs.

Below are close-ups of the images:

 

 

The pictures below show ancient grinding mortar stones for nuts and seeds, located next to the rock art.

 

We admire the petroglyphs, view, and Tom searches the landscape for single track to explore on his solo ride tomorrow.

We finish the ride in the shade of overcast skies. Bombing down the jeep road, I reluctantly stop when I see Tom stopped ahead, his hand raised in the air. A four-foot long rattler lays across the road. Tom can't get it to move, so I ride around the far tail end of it, even though it is a slow plod through sand. Dick and Susan arrive and the snake finally slithers to the side of the road. "No rattle," I comment, surprised by its silence when surrounded by four mountain bikers. "It's too young," explains Tom.

 

Clouds shade the west slope of the Dragoons.

After about 4 and a half hours in the saddle, we dismount by the cars and enjoy beer and limonata. I dream of my next trip to the rocky Dragoons for camping, hiking and biking.

For more information about Cochise and his Apache descendents, check out this article from the Tucson Weekly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sedona Hike and Bike

Red dirt isn't any softer than beige dirt I learn when a juniper tree grabs my handlebar and flings me to the ground below Courthouse Butte near Sedona, Arizona.

 
Courthouse Butte looms over junipers and pinons.

Up to that moment, I enjoyed the easy trail, the red cliffs framed against the brilliant blue sky, wildflowers, and surprise cacti beneath the pines.

 
Hedgehog cactus displays fuchsia flowers

 
White flowers of daisy variety and not so soft red dirt.

I ride assorted trails between Courthouse Butte and Bell Rock, including the Bell Rock Pathway which feels like a city sidewalk busy sidewalk with all the vortexing tourists from around the world.

 
Bell Rock Pathway and Tourist Superhighway

Bell Rock is a vortex that has "masculine electrical energy" according to the helpful Sedona Vortex Map given to us at the hotel. We stay near the Airport Rock vortex, but don't feel too much of anything except fear that we will run over meandering hikers on the shoulderless road up Airport Hill.

 
Vortices aplenty in Sedona.

Bell Rock with the edge of Courhouse Butte on the right.

 
Lovely yellow flowers pop up everywhere in Sedona.

After riding around Bell Rock, I choose the Llama Trail over the Baby Bell trail, and I'm happy to be alone and headed into the pines. I cross slickrock areas, dry creeks, and ride on rocky trails into the shade. I see the back of Courthouse Butte and gaze north across the valley to other beautiful rock formations around Sedona, including the massive Cathedral Rock.

HIKING

Scenic and shady, the  HT Trail Loop hike transports us from the agony of the freeway to the peaceful beauty of the high desert on our first afternoon in Sedona. It's an easy hike that could also be part of an extended mountain bike ride in the Bell Rock Area.

On another hot afternoon, we headed north to Oak Creek Canyon with about a million other people and found the access parking lot closed. Determined, we drove north and parked on the side of the road behind other cars, and asked some teenagers how to get to the creek. "Oh! you just go through this tunnel right here, and climb down to a great swimming hole." Teenagers always know. After climbing down the near vertical cliff, we found a beautiful place to take a dip in Oak Creek's ice cold water, then lounge in the sun.

The final day in Sedona, we explored Brins Mesa Trail which took us high above Sedona and over the ridge to see nothing but wilderness. On the way back, we saw Mitten Rock.

 
Brins Mesa Trail view of Mitten Rock.

Breezes cooled us on top of the mesa, but soon we headed back down into the heat and the familiar desert flora. An excellent weekend of biking, hiking, and splashing!

 

AZ Trail 300 Race--Day 3

 
Trail heading toward Rincon Mountains. 

Pre-dawn light comes too soon after the full moon light faded, so I’m awake at 4:50 am. I linger in the warmth of my sleeping bag for a little while, mentally planning exactly how I will pack everything quickly and get on the trail. My cold hands fumble with various stuff sacks and straps; so it still takes me 40 minutes to get going.

Before 6 am, I’m riding on beautiful singletrack through rolling hills, headed toward Rosemont Junction. Again, I’m walking too early in the day over stuff I should be able to ride. Coordination skills and quads take awhile to warm up. I switchback down to washes and switchback out of them.  I follow cattle running down the trail in front of me and dodge their fresh deposits.

I wish good morning to Ian, cocooned in his sleeping bag on the side of the trail. I stop for breakfast as the rising sun warms my soul, what a great day to be on the trail! Chocolate covered espresso beans make me happy. Enjoying the view of snow-capped Mt. Wrightson behind me, I realize that I’ve ridden all the way around the Santa Ritas!

I roll on, feeling better and stronger until I reach the bottom of a wash and a near vertical trail up the other side. I take half steps up the trail, dragging the heaviest bike in the world behind me. Take half step, lurch bike up next to me, bring other foot up, suck wind, repeat. “This is my Everest,” I think, as my inner drama queen takes over. When what I really need is my inner Wonder Woman.  Fortunately, the cliff trail is not very long and I'm at the top, still walking because the trail is thick with yuccas and prickly pear cacti—can’t someone cut this back?

At last I come to the jeep road descent and bomb down past The Lake with the beautiful wind in my face. I turn north, returning to singletrack toward Twin Tanks. I reach the tanks just as a huge bird of prey (Golden Eagle?) takes off from the water. The trail meanders pleasantly over more small hills toward Sahaurita Road. The day is heating up and I take refuge in the shade of a palo verde tree for snack time.

I reach Sahuarita Road, my first milestone of the day and aim for the next one: the I-10 culvert. Many flowers line the trail, including bright fuchsia hedgehog cactus blooms. I reach the culvert and love it’s cool shade.

 
Another milestone: the I-10 culvert. 

On to La Cienega! I ride along the top of Davidson Canyon, and soon reach La Cienega, an oasis of cottonwoods in the small canyon below Three Bridges.  A train runs over the bridge above me as I aim for Colossal Cave and La Posta Quemada Ranch.  I’m loving this trail, but feel really exhausted. I have to push over small inclines, and when I ‘m done walking, it’s a big effort to swing my leg back over and remount.

 
Trail view of the Rincon Mountains. 

Trail magic! My friend Tom appears on the trail, he’s ridden out to cheer me on. But I tell him this is my last day on the trail because I’m cooked. He starts to encourage me to keep going, but realizes from my face that I am really really done. So we ride together to La Posta Quemada Ranch where we inhale  giant burritos and cokes.  Ok, I inhale, Tom eats like a normal person. I wish I could bathe in coke, I’m so desperate for caffeine and sugar.

 
AZ Trail and Pistol Hill, near La Posta Quemada. 

We continue riding on the trail, through beautiful wildflowers and reddish hills. We head toward the Rincon Mountains on singletrack that flows like a dream. I’m still tired, but we seem to be going downhill, and the sugar and caffeine help a lot.

 
Trailside saguaro and hill of saguaros. 

I bid farewell to Tom at X-9 road, he’s continuing on the AZ Trail; I’m following the course along Old Spanish Trail to Saguaro National Park. I plan to just ride back to my house in Tucson from there.

Except it’s a million degrees and there’s a headwind. I call Tom’s cell phone and request a ride from Saguaro National Park.  At the park, he reads my mind and buys me a coke, I can’t get enough of the stuff.

My legs are thrashed, my mind is mush, I can barely put two words together. I’m beyond exhaustion.  I have absolutely no regrets about leaving the race early. It’s 2:30 pm on Sunday, and I’ve ridden 135 miles in about 3 days. Of course, I’ll be back!

Special thank you to: Team CarboRocket, Craig the Bike Monk, Lee Blackwell, JP & friends, Meg & Julie, Mark, Tom, Ryan & Nate at Arizona Cyclist for my awesome Niner bike. You've all been an inspiration to me--thanks so much for your support!