Oh Sedona

The SBFL is probably one of the most technical endurance races anywhere. I’ve always been excited about it, but the timing has never been right for me (it is often too close to the AZT 300). This year the 300 is late and the SBFL is early, so I finally got a chance to join the fun.

Chad was sick and a bit preoccupied running the Arizona Spring Fling, so I took over trying to herd the 30 or so riders out onto the route. I was hoping to enjoy a little anonymity at the start, hanging back until the first creek crossing. But everyone seemed to know who I was after the start, yet I didn’t know who they were. They thought I knew where I was going, but only when I slowed and strained enough to see the GPS did I have a clue.

Eventually a good group of us formed at the front, and a few people even took the lead from me at times. A couple people went the wrong way on a small turn and instead of backtracking to join us, they just waited at the next intersection. I guess you get penalized for having a GPS and strictly following the route sometimes… (!)

I think the lead group of five was all riders from Durango (except me). It seemed like a good crew, especially when one of them took the lead and I noticed he was on an ‘all mountain’-ish bike. He was burning energy launching off stuff and hitting some B-lines. Sweet. Others in the group were telling stories and making jokes. This was shaping up to be a good race.

We descended to Oak Creek and made nervous jokes as we caught glimpses of the water between the trees. When we got to Buddha Beach / Red Rock Crossing one among the group (Greg, I think) did a cyclocross dismount and without any hesitation plowed right into the creek. Wow. He was soon up to his waist and fumbling a little, but he made it.

I should explain that I’m a coward when it comes to river crossings. I have very little water experience, whether canyoneering, rafting or what have you. This Morris cat does not like water. So I stopped on the red rocks, pulled off my knee warmers and observed everyone else cross before attempting myself.

It didn’t seem too bad. I hoisted my bike up above my waist and went in. In the deepest channel my foot slipped on a slimy rock and I had to put my hand into the water. The current picked up my bike and before I knew it I was holding on to my bike with one hand and trying to swim with the other. It was an adrenaline charged moment of struggle, but it wasn’t too hard to get off to the side where I could stand up again.

I was soaked head-to-toe, and ever so thankful that the sun was out and that there was no wind. Knowing that this was going to be the easiest of the three crossings on the route, I immediately knew there was no longer a race for me. Once was enough, and I was worried about other people being in ‘race’ mode and trying to cross something they wouldn’t normally attempt. So I stayed at the creek for a while, drying out and trying to yell advice / observe as other people came to the crossing.

I ran back and forth on the sidewalk, trying to get feeling to return to my feet. It was quite a while before the next rider came. Sure enough, he got swept in, just like I did.

photo by Jeff Ziemski

There’s the crossing, with a rider in the thick of it (I believe he was about to cross with his shoes in his hands, until I strongly suggested against it!). That’s me and Handlebar Nate on the other side of the creek, observing and I think Nate is going to grab the guy’s bike. The guy in blue behind Nate also got swept in.

A number of people bailed on the idea of crossing, and found a (not public) bridge across, a little ways down. Unfortunately most of them went the wrong way on the route after returning to it.

After about an hour it seemed like anyone in a ‘race’ mode had already passed, so I saddled up to continue on the route. I skipped out at Airport Mesa, cruised through town and out to the supposedly more dangerous crossing, at the bottom of Damfino. When I got there I was very happy to not be on the other side, faced with crossing or a huge hike-a-bike to get back out.

I figured the leaders would be there shortly, so I hung all my soaked clothes on trees and set up to enjoy a nap and some lunch next to the rushing creek. As I was nodding off a couple guys in kayaks came cruising down. We stared at each other in awkward silence for a moment, each a little dumbfounded. It hadn’t occurred to me that there was enough water for such things (duh!), and they were wondering who would be foolish enough to cross the creek with a bicycle. I told them “you guys have got the right idea!” as they swooshed out of ear shot.

I waited over an hour, but the leaders never showed. Water too high? Bailed? Lost?

I went back to the route, just happy to be outside, in beautiful Sedona, and with miles and miles of techy trail before me. It was hard not to be disappointed when I crested some of the hills and felt the strength in my legs. I had come to race and was really bummed I wasn’t out there duking it out. At the same time, I had no regrets, and it was hard not to be stoked for anyone that braved that crossing and made it. I was pretty sure at least a few of those guys would make it, and one of the things I love about self-supported endurance events like this one is that they are emphatically not just pedaling contests. Route finding, planning, self-support, changing conditions… it’s all part of the challenge. This was just one challenge I was not ready for, and if others were, then all the better.

I ended up riding a pretty satisfying friggin’ Sedona loop, at 50 miles and hitting most of the route. I paid my $3 at Red Rock State Park in order to cross Oak Creek on a pedestrian bridge. Best $3 I spent all weekend. I rolled in around 3pm, and the first finishers came in about an hour later. It was fun to hear their stories and observe how totally stoked they were with the whole experience, especially the crossings. Awesome.

I camped with Chad, Vern, Kim and other Spring Flingers, then we headed south for an easy ride on the Black Canyon Trail.

I was pleasantly surprised by how fun this trail is. I still wouldn’t consider it a destination trail (meaning I wouldn’t drive all the way up here to ride it). But if passing by (like we were) and looking for a nice ride, it’s perfect.

We rode south from the Bumble Bee exit on I-17, until we hit the Agua Fria river. It was running pretty high and I was in no mood to freeze my feet or get swept away again. We turned around.

It was really a treat to see a new piece of Arizona, all from a very well constructed trail.

I hope to one day tie the whole of BCT into a bikepacking loop, or perhaps a cross state tour/race.