I put a fun little ride on the SDMB calander. It’s not an easy one, in fact it’s one of the biggest granny gear crankfests in Tucson: the La Mesa de Oso loop.
I was delighted (and also scared) to see six riders show up for the ride. This proves that there is significant interest in riding that makes you question your resolve, your soul and your grip on reality. Or you could just go ride Fantasy Island. Either way.
A 103 degree high is not exactly prime weather for this loop. But we set off anyway, climbing at a single-speed induced clip up Redington road. One of the six had but a single gear and he climbed but a single difficult hill before turning around. Sure, push the pace if you’re going to stick with the ride, but otherwise… Of course, given the alarming frequency with which the granny gear is required on this ride, he made the wise choice to bail. It was obvious that he was a strong rider, but…
Allergies and recovery from 12 HR Insomnia have been my bane this week. Things were not much different this morning, but I climbed my guts out because, well, I can’t resist climbs like these. Some dizziness and allergy induced strangeness, but my legs and system felt OK.
The drop into Tanque Verde canyon was as remembered: technical as hell. I think almost everyone passed me as I picked my way down on my hard tail. The wash was dry (the only time I’ve see it), so we were quickly climbing out of the other side. My endurance and concentration held while I dodged around walking cyclists (this provided extra challenge). I was within sight of the end of the first climb when I failed to provide my rear tire with enough traction. Sorry, rear tire. Next time, next time.
There was no shade so we rolled on. Dave was also climbing well, perhaps too well. I could have used a breath or two, given my aching, stuffy head, but stupid pride kept me climbing. He got off to walk soon later, but instead of walking (that would be too smart) I stopped, regrouped then assaulted the hill again. I actually rode fairly well for a time. Dave eventually ran out of juice and later so did I. So we both walked.
We stopped near the crest of the Mesa de Oso tank, in a tiny bit of shade, to wait for the group. Bryce, Ryan and Greg were not far behind, but there was no sign of our other rider. We waited 18 minutes (I know from the GPS track), but there was no sign (we could see all the way to the top of the first climb). He had been lagging and had talked of turning around, or letting us go on without him. You can bail on this ride simply by walking down Tanque Verde canyon, then back out to Redington RD. When he never came over the hill (and after so long), we all agreed that he must have turned around. Even if he had been walking at a ridiculously slow pace he would have been to us by now. The sun was rising and we had a long ride ahead of us yet. So we rolled on.
What remained was a group of five skilled riders challenging themselves on some impressive terrain. I was blown away by Greg’s ability to descend loose, rocky, technical trails–trails that make most riders slow to the 5 mph range. Not Greg. He blows down them in a style not unlike another rider I know, also partial to riding with white dress shirts (S. Ahlgren). Dave has some serious fitness, I think due to road riding, that makes him unstoppable on the climbs. Like me, he takes it a bit easy on the descents. Bryce and Ryan rode consistently throughout, outpacing me on descents but walking more of the climbs.
It was refreshing to ride with a large (five is large by my standards) group of riders who were so strong, skilled and willing to ride difficult trails. No one whined about hiking their bikes, or about how hot it was.
We climbed near the Rincons (as near as you can), then dropped down to the top of the high Chiva loop. The original ride plan was to do high Chiva backwards, but the majority (everyone but me) voted to head straight for the parking lot on the most direct (still not easy) route. Again Greg disappeared on the descent. I don’t know how these guys ride down that stuff so quickly.
It was getting toasty, but things were tolerable. We stopped to chat with some jeepers who gave most of our group an ice-cold water refill. It was around here that Greg “hit the wall” as they say. We’re not talking a minor bonk. His overall climbing speed dropped to about 20%. Somehow he still had the energy to fly downhill and pop jumps, but climbing looked pretty miserable. We waited a while at Three Feathers, then rode to the parking lot, hoping to see our other rider’s car long gone.
His car sat right where he left it. He was still out there.
We panicked a bit, but running through the situation again (and even knowing all I do now), we made the right choice: to keep going. We knew he made it down the downhill, but he never crested out of the climb. So, he had turned around just like our singlespeeding friend. Or, better, he had walked out of the wash. Even if he had flatted or had some other problem we would have seen him climb over the hill in the long time we waited. But we saw nothing.
There wasn’t anything we could do in our sun baked state, so we left to refuel, cool off and be ready to check back at the parking lot in a couple hours. The only conclusion is that he must have stopped for some reason during the climb, then decided to keep going on the loop. Supposedly he knew the area, had done “60-70” mile rides out here, so we were not overly worried. The assumption on a ride like this is that you are self-reliant. That’s why I rated it at 4D (the highest rating).
It turned out that he had stopped to adjust his derailleur (not a show-stopping mechanical failure!) without telling anyone–and just on the other side of the hill (before the first crest). He did not expect us to wait for him–he completely understood our decision. But why he decided to work on his derailluer at that time (when he was behind everyone) is beyond me. And why did it take him more than 15 minutes? The distance from where I last saw him to where we waited was not far. He made us wonder where he was, and later, fear for his life when his car was still at the parking lot. I apologized for leaving him when I spoke to him on the phone, but he didn’t apologize for leaving us.
Nevertheless, I look forward to more rides these guys. Now it is time for some recovery before the Tour of the White Mountains.
24 miles
5500 feet of climbing
9,999,999 baby heads
9,999 crank revolutions in granny
0 flats
4.5 hours
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