The challenge is as follows:
Ride your bike from Tucson to Mt. Lemmon, on as much trail as possible.
– Park at the base of the Catalina Highway (or, bonus points – ride there). (2500′)
– Stage 1: Ride up Milagrosa to the AZT (4000′)
– Stage 2: Follow AZT over the saddle, descending to Molino Basin. (4800′)
– Stage 3: Continue on AZT, climbing to Prison Camp (4900′)
– Stage 4: Climb Bug Springs Trail to MP ~12, near Bear Canyon Picnic area (6200′)
– Stage 5: Climb Green Mountain Trail to the San Pedro Vista (7200′)
– Stage 6: You ride the highway until the connector between Green Mtn and Butterfly is completed
– Stage 7: Butterfly trail to Mt. Bigelow (8400′)
– Stage 8: Bigelow access road to Catalina Highway, Sunset Trail (?) to Summerhaven
– Stage 9: Aspen Draw to Mt. Lemmon (9100′)
Completion of this renders the rider immediate and irrevocable status as a mountain bike god.
I took the challenge this weekend and failed. Terribly.
Things started out well enough on Milagrosa: with hike-a-bike.
With 24 hours of rain, there was plenty of traction, so no excuse there. But I sure didn’t fare well technically. Feeling wimpy on the Lev (compared to Behemoth) was part of it, but the idea was to conserve energy, not burn it trying to clean every move. So, I walked the expected sections, somewhat frustrated, but happy to be saving energy for the climb ahead.
Water was flowing in places I’ve never seen it. Better than a hearty monsoon – the rain was so steady and so widespread.
As I joined the Arizona Trail and began climbing still more, I realized I was failing to meet my goal of conserving energy. Things were rapidly falling apart. Part of it may have been the water vapor and high humidity. It’s true, I was sweating my eyeballs out, and was having vision problems. Us wimpy desert rats can’t handle humidity, or at least this desert rat cannot. It was strange, because it couldn’t have been more than 55 degrees, but in direct sun and working hard (in granny gear) I’d alternate between sweltering hot and bone chilled. Always uncomfortable.
I think the temps and “humidity” were just what my declining mind fixated on, grasping at straws. The truth is I just couldn’t find a climbing rhythm and was having a shit day. This is not a challenge to lose your climbing rhythm on.
Maybe a week of sitting at the computer, finding trails with MCMC, on a diet of pizza and candy isn’t good for climbing stoke. Actually I was stoked as ever. My paper deadline was extended by a week (in a completely unprecedented move), so instead of a dinky hour ride, I had the whole day to climb, or to die.
I chose die.
The Arizona Trail wins again.
After drying my skin off at the Molino saddle, I blasted down the switchbacks to the highway.
Hmm. Uphill rhythm ain’t there, but downhill I’m nailing things.
I turned right on the highway and decided if I can’t ride trail up, I’d ride trail down. Great plan – the climbing was effortless on the highway – for a while. 900′ up I was falling apart again. What the hell? Yeah, climbing Milagrosa burns major energy, but my eyes are shaking and all I want to do is stop.
So I did, and at the bottom of Bugs Springs I scarfed as much food as I could.
I debated about riding Bugs up, or down. The (unfinished) trail follows a drainage for 2 miles, and from what I’d seen, it was likely it would be running – potentially quite high. It was safer to hit the trail from the bottom and turn around before the wash.
Mostly I thought about turning back and taking the highway back to town. It would be 100% coasting, after all, and I was toast. But what was I going to do back home, more keyboard time? Ugh.
So I saddled up to climbing. As the highway paralleled the Windy Point ridge I was crapping my pants at the amount of water pouring out of the mountain. Every crack seemed to be running, and there were waterfalls galore. Seven Cataracts was just raging. Bear creek a torrent. What was I getting myself into?
I couldn’t imagine what could be feeding the Bug Springs Wash, but I also couldn’t figure out what was feeding the cracks on Windy Point – there’s not much acreage up there. So I knew there was going to be water – 6 inches was no problem, but feet of water would be show stopping (a 2 mile hike in the water).
First I climbed one of the worst designed trails I’ve seen. Here’s an example of the erosion already happening:
Nice job, FS. But it doesn’t take long to ride/hike this hill; even in my weakened state I rode a fair amount.
I dropped down to the drainage and sighed some relief at the sight of ~3 inches of water. It’s time to put my free-ride shoes on and go to town.
It was great fun. Especially hilarious was seeing how long my tires would hold to off-camber rock with water streaming across it.
A long time, was the answer.
There were a few moves that I’ve ridden up, but ended up walking around today, unwilling to completely test the limits of sheeting water on rock. I was also in solo riding mode (there’s been some e-chatter, instigated mostly by me, about the “dangers” of solo riding, so not taking chances was firmly in my mind). There were no tracks on the trail (or in the wash) and a zero percent chance anyone would walk or ride down this way anytime soon.
After a sketchy portage around a pour-off, tiny bits of trail materialize on either side of the creek. Tasty nuggets of singletrack bliss. This is my new favorite trail.
Every single side drain was running, amazingly. I didn’t see even the slightest little depression that didn’t have a small flow. I sat at the next pour off,
contemplating how long this water has been making its way through cracks and gravel to get where it is now. The rain had ended over 24 hours ago. The pic makes the falls look small – you could easily stand behind the water and not get wet.
That pic is for Louis. Totally unnecessary “cairn”, probably built with rock from the trail surface, worsening the erosion.
And this one is for Mark. “A water bar is an admission of trail design failure.” I shudder to think what they are going to do with all those timbers.
Ah, the Hoodoos. Slick rock leads to constructed trail and it’s time to let ‘er rip. Riding stoke was back x103.
Good rhythm continued on to Prison Camp, back on down the AZT. I turned down the highway, coasting at 30 mph with Rage blasting into my ears.
30 miles
5 hours moving time
6300 ft climbing
I should also mention that the previous day I rode “Suburban Assault 2” and posted a record time (by 15 minutes). No, I wasn’t riding hard, but all the sand was (hard). I was tickling myself at the dream conditions. It had been the perfect rain, turning what is normally unrideable sand into soft pavement. I’ve never taken the same exact route down the big wash, always trying to find a better horse trail or slightly firm section of wash. But Saturday it was a free-for-all – it was all good, including pedal mashing right down the biggest channel.
Great storm.
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