"You are goin to make that trail your b**ch". That's some swagger I got from a friend and the words I kept in mind as I rolled up to the set. Confidence is good, but cockiness will just get you in trouble against Mother Nature; she always wins. A lot can happen in 100 miles and an estimated 20 hour ride, and most everything did. Nobody wants to hear excuses and I'm guilty of telling my own. I really wanted to finish every race this year at all costs. But like I said, there's a story to tell.
So here's the premise: A 100 mile rugged, remote self-supported mountain bike ride in the pristine desert of the Arizona Trail from Superior to Oracle. We would shuttle up to the Picketpost Trailhead Friday night, camp and start at 5am Saturday morning. The vibes were good. The AZ mtbrs are a friendly and tight knit group. It was cold and a surprisingly damp night. Setting up and tearing down camp in the cold dark was not something I was particularly looking forward to. Camping fast and light is something I don't have much experience with. Coyotes cried through the night, which was actually comforting. I consider them my friends and it let me know something was alive out there.
Flaw 1: Roll out time came quick and I started a few minutes late. I had way too much gear, and I was not efficient with my tear down and morning preparations. Once I started on the trail though I felt good. It was cold, but I was used to that and I knew the layers I chose would keep me warm enough without overheating. This and living at a higher elevation might be my only advantage as all the others would be in the height of their race season. I think of the AZ Desert like the Southern Hemisphere - The seasons are opposite where everyone wants to be outside in the Winter, and inside during the Summer. The only problem with that is the lessening of daylight especially for a monster event. There would only be about 11 hours of it. However, my light set-up worked great. This was the first time I used my Fenix PD32 as a helmet torch and the beam angle was perfect. I had two EOS mounts on the handlebar, but only used one. The Fenix out-powered the the EOS (at only 70 lumens) anyway, but it served as a constant direct light down on the trail. The Fenix has a "turbo" mode of over 300 lumens, but I never even had to use it. The EOS' got me through 8 hours in the Durango Dirty Century, so I think having a super-bright light is overkill anyway. Keeping everything simple with no wires and external battery packs and just normal cells is the way to go for an event like this.
Flaw 2: Shortly into the trail I got off the track. There was a short jaunt up a wash and then the track split off to the right. I turned back once, but still couldn't find the split. I continued up another offshoot of the wash running parallel to the track hoping it would curve and meet back relatively close. Suddenly I ran into an 'Arizona Waterfall' with pools of water on the bottom. There was no way up it. I knew I was less than 100ft from the track on my GPS, and because I am a man I refused to turn around so I scaled up perpendicular out of the steep ravine until I met the trail again. In all I only lost a few minutes, but this was a race where I needed everything to go right to finish in a respectable time. I looked back and Nancy was coming up close behind me. She started even after I did. I got going again and made some distance between us again. I was climbing good and I could see the others' lights ahead of me; I was making some progress. The rest of the section went good. I came up and over the last ridge of the Picketpost section. The sun was making it's way up, I had just finished 1/4 of the climbing for the day and I was stoked. I bombed down a short descent to Telegraph Rd but noticed the rear end felt very soft.
Fail #1: Sure enough I had a flat. I cursed a lot and out loud. I checked it out and of course it was the sidewall. This section of trail has claimed 3 of my tires now, just about everytime I have ridden it. I had added plenty of sealant Friday, but I knew I should have put on some fresh tires, at least the rear. It was already frail and worn out, but the tires I wanted to purchse were out of stock. I could've put on a slightly used one, but we'd just had a snowstorm and the weather turned cold and I just didn't want to deal with the hassle of changing tires. Idiot!
I did get air to hold in the tire and then Nancy rode past. Nancy and I ride at a similar pace, only to opposite ends. She is a great climber, but then I will catch up through a techy or fast descent. So it was a good gauge to know how I was doing. I was 10 minutes ahead, now I was last. I rode slightly up the trail just hoping it would stay sealed but but as soon as any weight was applied it blew out again. I knew there was no use to sealing a sidewall. I took off the wheel and put in a tube. All the fresh sealant made a huge mess. It was still cold and the sun hadn't quite popped up yet. The tube was a 26 inch I believe, what weight weenies use in 29ers for racing. But this made the fit really tight in an already tight fitting tire. My hands were freezing and messy from the sealant and I got blood blisters on the palms of my hands as I tried to mount the tire over the rim. Finally I got the tire on. Started pumping and the air came back out as soon as it went in.
Fail #2: I'm not sure if I snake-bit the tube trying to get the tire on or if it already had a hole in it. I didn't check beforehand to make sure my tubes were either brand new of free of holes. I wiped off the tube and tried to racer patch the tube, but because of the sealant, it would not stick. I went for a second (and last) tube. Now it felt like having to start a fire with only one match. This one fit easier though; it may have been a 29er. And I figured a better way to fit the tire on the rim - end at the valve core instead of the opposite end. This time success. It was now light, it would get start to get warm, but I was still frazzled. I had just lost an hour in dead time. Moron!
I was rolling again, the light was good, but my 'race' was over so I snapped some pictures. I was looking at the canyons from a different perspective of what I was used to in a Jeep: Telegraph, Martinez, Box... I was cruising at a steady and relaxed pace when I heard a pop. It was a sound I had never heard before. I took a glance back, the tire seemed fine so I kept rolling. Shortly later I noticed the plastic cap that seals and connects the stanchion to the lower on my fork was popped up. I had just had my fork serviced and this was my first ride on it. I did test it out in the parking lot and set the proper air levels. The shop obviously had not assembled the fork back together correctly. This is a pretty big deal. Now my fork was shedding oil and the ride was harsh. I was only about 20 miles into the ride. I tried to seed it back down, but no use. I tried not to let it bother me; there was nothing I could do.
I had made it down to the Gila River. It felt good mentally at first. You would think that the trail would just meander along at the river bottom until you got to the crossing point. But the trail continuously takes you back up into the canyons, then back down to the river - over and over. It dives you in and out of washes - zapping all your energy. I was cursing the designer of the trail then, but if you're not trying to cover linear distance, it really is a fun and well constructed section.
The day turned hot, at least for me - mid 70's. A while back I was developing some cramps. They were in my front leg muscles though (quads), something I'm not used to. Usually If I get them they're in my hams or calves and I can get them to go away. I took some endurolytes, twice. I thought I had been drinking enough water - I had been peeing good ever since Thursday. Nothing was helping. If I put in too much of a climbing effort they would totally cease up; the worst I've ever had. It's not scientifically proven what exactly causes cramps anyway. There is some thought now that it could be more of a sleep/rest issue rather than dehydration. I believe it. The two nights prior I had 2-3 hours sleep each night. My first night I just slept in the back of the car in Grants, NM. It is high desert there at over 6k ft and got very cold at night; about 10°. I had taken my bike out and put it on the roof to make room for me. In the morning it had developed so much frost, it was almost like snow. Picking it up instantly froze my hands to the point that it hurt. Needless to say it wasn't the warmest and most comfortable night's sleep. Again the next night I wasn't quite in tune with my sleeping system at the campsite. Plus I never sleep good anyway the night before a race just from being anxious.
It's been a bad day. Honestly I think I could've ridden with a broken fork, but the cramps were the last straw. It didn't seem I could recover in the heat of the day and still ride the singletrack. I thought at about mile 30 I would bail at the Kelvin Bridge. Past this there was no bailout point, really. And even at that there would still be a 50 mile road ride back on an unfriendly highway. The last few miles seemed to take forever and now I had resorted to walking up the climbs. I had passed one hiker, another biker, and a runner near the Kelvin trailhead and when I got to the parking lot there were several trucks all with multiple bike racks. I thought this was my ticket back to Oracle! With Tucson (the direction of my travel) being closer than Phoenix I was hedging my bets that somebody would be heading that direction and have room for me. I waited for a while contently and took two naps. It felt good. I waited for 3 hours before the first trail-users arrived. Turns out all the trucks were part of a group from PHX. Obviously at this point I was committed to the idea of hitching a ride so I waited one more hour for all the known people out to come back. Not one was heading South. It was now turning dark and I had to either ride 50 miles on the road in the dark with no bike lane where half to population drives a monster truck, or just walk the bike, wait and hope, and hitch-hike as is if I couldn't ride it at all. Nobody will (in AZ) will pick you up if you are at least riding.
I was frustrated with being hopeful of others to be able or willing to help out so I set out to ride the road. The idea of road riding on a weighed down fully suspended bike in the dark with speeding traffic on a constant elevation gain of over 2000ft was a dreadful idea. But now it was really just a matter of time. I wasn't worried about water anymore as I'd be passing through a couple of small towns. I still had plenty of food (a burrito in cache) and enough clothes. The first few miles seemed to pass by quickly. I stopped to pee and after I got rolling again I felt the bike handling very squirrelly. Was it the fork? ...it felt solid. The back wheel felt solid too, but the tire was flat. Somehow I must have punctured it off to the side of the road; a piece of glass or cactus, who knows. Now, was I really stuck just walking and trying to hitch-hike? I tried it for a few hundred feet and as cars whizzed past I figured it was no use and I'd be waiting much longer than if I just rode. I really didn't want to take out the tube again and try to patch it in the dark. So I just pumped up the tire to see how long rideable air would last. Turns out it wasn't that long - a few furlongs and I'd have to pump up again. But I also had the hope that if somebody saw me off the side of the road with blinking lights and my bike laid down, they'd be more apt to stop and help. After a few pump attempts that was the case and a couple of bumpkin fellas (nice enough though) said they could take me to Winkleman, about 6 miles down the road. I was thankful 'cause any little piece helps at this point. There was also a gas station there so I got some Gatorade and was set for the big stretch down 77.
At one point a truck had pulled over up ahead in a pull-out. I started to feel relief as I assumed he pulled over for me. He was just leaking his lizard though and said that he was only going about one more mile ahead. Yeah, right. There was nothing but open desert for about the next 10 miles. I wouldn't have gotten in with him anyway - he was slurring drunk. Another laid on the horn as he flew past (surprisingly this happened only once). If you ever want to see me get into my first ever fist-fight just have somebody honk at me when I'm on my bike. I moved along for another 15 miles, sticking out the thumb whenever I refilled the air.
Oddly enough a truck coming the opposite way pulled over ahead of me and asked what was up and if I was alright. I told him I was just trying to make it back to Oracle. Not expecting it (because of the opposite direction of travel) he said he would turn around and take into Mammoth. Not questioning why he would turn around in the middle of nowhere, I was grateful and giddy about getting another free 5 miles and hopped in the back with the sweetest Chocolate Lab (my favorite), "Madison". We got to Mammoth and pulled over only for him to tell me he would take me the rest of the way into Oracle, about another 10 miles. I was ecstatic! I was home free, my night would be over. I only had now to withstand another 10 minutes of freezing in the back of a pickup at 50° going 65mph. That was it. We wished eachother good luck. I offered the remaining $17 in cash I had, but he would not accept. Needless to say he was the friendliest young fellow. I only had 2 miles to go up the dirt road to the AZ Trail terminus and it felt good to get moving again after the frigid haul.
In all my ride stats break down like this in order of sequence:
38 miles singletrack, 12 mile road ride, 6 mile car ride, 15 mile road ride, 16 mile car ride, 2 mile dirt road to finish. So 67 total pedal miles, and 22 miles of hitch-hiked assistance. I arrived at the finish at 9:45 pm. Had I just pedaled the road after Kelvin without waiting I could've been back right around dark.
I was disappointed that I had not completed the trail. It would've been one of the most epic one day experiences for anyone, anywhere. I was feeling that such a long trip to AZ wasn't worth my efforts. But I learned a lot that day. 1: Double-check and test all your gear before such an adventure. One small overlook can ruin your entire day. 2: Get enough rest, although easier said than done. Don't rush getting ready 'til the very end and leave plenty of time for travel. Driving such a great distance is very tiresome even though it seems like you are not doing much activity. Have as much as you can all ready to ride so you can just relax upon arrival. 3: As long as you still have food and water you can still recover during the day and finish strong. I felt fine and maybe as well as any other point in the day at the finish. I never had any more cramps on the road ride. But I'm not sure if that was due to the naps in the parking lot or the much cooler night temps.
I got to know better some superior athletes famous in the mountain bike world: Max Morris who is doing the "Triple Crown" this year - Arizona Trail Race 750, Tour Divide, and Colorado Trail Race; Kurt Refsnider who is featured in Reveal the Path; The illustrious Chad Brown with a killer blog and the founder and organizer of the Arizona Endurance Series; The old coot Lee Blackwell, whose portraits can be found all over Scott Morris' blog; I met a fine chap Mark Allen whom we shared stories and ideas about the Colorado Trail; and of course Jeff and Nancy were there.
As I wrote this I realized a vital piece of literal trail magic that I had found. It was a red rear blinky light just laying there, and it worked. I snatched it up cheerfully because I lost the one I had had once that fell off my pack somehow earlier last season. At the time I didn't think much of it because at that point I thought I would just be on singletrack all day. As it turns out it would've been near impossible or absolutely too dangerous to be on the road without that. Think about coming up behind a car on the road at night with no taillights. In the end the main thing that matters is I returned safe.
The only thing that I made my b**ch that day was the dog, Madison, that I made lay across my lap to keep me warm and protect me from the wind. The same friend had also given me some serious words of wisdom - "God has already been creating some incredible backdrops just for you. So when you are tired lonely just look up and see what God has done special for you." This could not be any more true as you will see from just a few of the views that I stopped to capture:
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| The obligatory camp picture |
