AZT 300 ’09

It was a great year for the 300. I couldn’t have been happier about how it all turned out. Well, except that I didn’t finish it myself.

11 riders started out from Parker Canyon Lake. I took the lead, with Kurt on my wheel. Somehow we got far enough ahead in the first 1.5 minutes that we slipped onto the first singletrack reroute unseen. Everyone else but Tim hiked their bikes to the top of the original ‘hike-a-bike’ hill.

Eventually Chris and Stefan joined our spirited but reserved pace.

We hiked our bikes some, but as I commented to segment steward Zay Hartigan, the tide has turned in the Canelo Hills. I smiled big when I realized I’d been clipped in for 2 miles, where before it was on/off again riding.

I was having too much fun. I rode something I shouldn’t have. Probability of riding out of it was low, but you only live once. Not a smart ‘race’ move. I got stuck and laid the tire into the rock. Instant flat.

I set about to booting the tire. The rest of the guys lingered for a bit, slightly hesitant to forge on without me. They had GPS tracks to follow, but there’s no substitute for a guide. I’d already called them back on a few wrong turns.

I continued solo, cognisant of the chase, and reveling in it. I planned ahead for the store at Patagonia, and was back on my bike before the rest of the crew was quite ready.

We rolled Salero, and now on roads, had a chance to chat a bit. To my surprise, everyone enjoyed the Canelo Hills. “Awesome!” “Good riding!” The tide has turned, but perhaps even moreso, these are just positive thinking, strong guys I’m riding with.

Kurt and Chris set a pace a notch higher than I wanted to go. It seemed like every time I wanted to slow down and pedal easier a gale force wind would come and shove me up the road. A few times I stopped pedaling twenty feet from the top, only to be blown and coast over the hump. Awesome. I lost track of the number of times I laughed out loud at the sheer force (and unearned effort) of the tail wind.

Stefan and I settled into an easier pace, catching up here:

Wonder how the race would have gone if not for this flat of Kurt’s…

We left Kurt to his tire, and climbed behind the Smithsonian.

I sucked my bladder ~dry. Doh. I turned left to refill on water, Stefan and Chris climbing to the right. It didn’t take long, and once back on course, Kurt quickly caught me.

All day I’d looked for any sign of weakness in Kurt, but found none. Everyone else seemed human. Still strong, but in most people you can see tiny cracks here or there. Kurt rode by me (above) climbing Agua Caliente road, and was as solid as a rock. There was no way I was going to try to stick with him.

The singletrack was a blast, and I got pretty stoked about rounding Elephant Head proper with just enough time to bust out the singletrack before dark:

Thank you tail wind, and thank you ‘competition.’ I found the guys next to Madera creek. The spigot wasn’t working. I rolled up to test it, eventually rolling back to get water from the creek. We used Stefan’s filter, and generally took a break from the bike after 10 solid hours of pedaling.

We headed up the Box as a group, but I was falling off the pace. I didn’t get a chance to eat much at the Madera break. Chris was held back a bit by the SS on the initial flats, so we ended up climbing and chatting together. Some great conversation that made the climb go by in a blink. So fast that we rolled right by the singletrack turn off.

It’s good trail, but I could feel a crack growing. Dark time is much less precious, so I decided I wanted to eat more than I wanted people to ride with. I pulled out the stove and cooked up a freeze dried meal, bidding Chris farewell.

It took a good hour on the trail before I started to feel myself. By that time I was onto the Cienega Corridor stuff, climbing to Swecoville, grooving on the stillness of the moonlit night.

It was a good time to be ‘back.’ Light tail winds livened up the already swoopalicious singletrack. I clicked my power lumen light into high and carved it out. After a while it was hard not to feel gluttonous. Am I really getting away with this? Can it be this good?

Midnight on a moonlit trail. So alone and so alive. Coasting and smiling. Lots of coasting and smiling. For what seemed like hours my only concern in life was seeing how much speed I could get away with on the next corner. The darkness, instead of being fatiguing and a challenge to work through, was becoming a hyper focusing agent. There was only the trail, and only the ride.

After closing the gate at Old Sonoita Highway I checked the skies. The moon was still in full force, but its brightness was lending a false sense of security. To the south I could see a faint outline of an anvil. Pausing another moment, I saw two flashes of lightning.

Time to move! I thought about the I-10 culvert, but it was too early and also not safe. I rolled through and started pushing hard, thinking the incoming storm could be pretty serious. More hyper focused riding — my knowledge of the trail paid off big.

As I crested the pass above Posta Quemada’s ranch house I saw Chris Plesko’s light below, making his way around the east side of the ranch. I looked over my shoulder and again saw two lightning bolts. I decided to head for the shelter of the ranch house.

I hesitated at the turn off (it’s off route, on singletrack). I wasn’t tired and didn’t want to stop, but thinking ahead to tomorrow’s task (Mt. Lemmon and Oracle Ridge) and the projected temperatures / snow, I thought it wise to keep my gear dry.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that the corner of the porch was perfectly tucked away from the wind. There was no detectable breeze. I ate the rest of my freeze dried meal (cold) and crawled into the bag. Minutes later the wind howled and the rain fell. I thought about the guys up the trail, riding (I thought) and getting pounded by the storm. I was pretty happy: dry, warm, out of the wind and soon asleep, but feeling somewhat wimpy for stopping.

I was so comfy that I hit ‘snooze’ on my GPS a few times — a new first for me. I got moving before sunrise, but it was a lazy start.

Sunrise and moonset from singletrack designed by yours truly. I’ll always enjoy riding this, regardless of circumstances. These circumstances were ‘pretty good’ — stillness of the morning, tacky trail and fresh, allergen free air. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh….

I saw three tire tracks that began after La Sevilla — ah ha, they bivied! I guessed they weren’t more than an hour old.

On to the blissitude of the Rincon Valley AZT…

I hit Old Spanish Trail with some gusto, climbing out of the saddle on the hills. To the west the Tucson Mountains were under a barrage of rain. The Catalinas looked like this:

Behind me, more dark clouds loomed. Hmm. This may not be a good day to head up the mountain, but keep pedaling…

Approaching the grocery stores at Broadway/Houghton I got pummeled by a short but powerful storm. It was frightening how cold I got, even though I was already wearing my rain gear when it hit. In fact, I was wearing all of my clothes save my warm gloves. “This is not good,” I said out loud. I’m cold at 2500 feet, what’s going to happen when I’m at 5000, or 8000?? “I’ve frozen enough on that mountain for one lifetime,” thinking about ‘over the frozen lemmon’ rides of yesteryear.

Bottom line, I decided I wasn’t prepared (mentally or gearwise) for how cold it was, and how widespread the rain clearly was. I sat by the window at McDonalds, scarfing hash browns and OJ, watching the rain continue unabated throughout the Catalinas.

“No thanks.” I pointed my bike west, homebound. I was completely aware that I was wimping out, and completely fine with that.

I was not surprised to find three SPOT units heading up Redington Road when I got home and fired up the computer. Impressed, but not surprised. They were about an hour ahead of me, but light years ahead of me in bravery/fortitude.

I sat back, grabbed some ice cream and watched the show unfold over the next two days. I fixed a few bugs in the tracker, learned a lot about the process. But mostly I was just impressed and inspired by the guys out there and what they accomplished on course, despite the brutal conditions. Kurt’s push up the mountain (and then down Oracle Ridge) blew me away. Stefan’s blistering pace and bypass of Oracle was a big shock as well. The SPOT system worked well, and made for an exciting view-at-home show. Seeing other peoples excitement about the event and its amazing riders was really rewarding. Jefe pulled a negative split ride, nearly challenging the win and the record. Chris rocked the course on the rigid SS — how, I don’t know. Max, Fred and Rob finished strong and well under 4 days. Those guys pulled off an amazing ride, even if they did stay at the Hilton! Marshal rounded out the finishers, chopping a half day off his finish time last year — I’m very glad to see him back at the event and improving.

All and all a roaring success. Big thanks to everyone that lined up. Thanks to Jobie for the ride down, Matt Lee for the SPOT idea / hookup (Thanks to the following generous Tour Divide riders for the use of their units: Dave Nice, Mary Metcalf, Mike Dion, Steve Macguire, Felix Wong). And finally thanks to everyone that followed along and supported the event.

I’m inspired. I want to race this route again, hard. So I think I will. See you next year.