It became increasingly clear that it was time to pull the emergency exit lever. Go outside. Get away from the qwerty confuzer. Hold onto a continuous thought process and see it through. Clear all distractions. (*)
An outing, a vision quest. Solo and simple.
(*) Also, 7-8 teenage girls (Paula’s XC team) were about to take over the house for a sleepover party.
my touring bike
What do you really need?
To survive. To be happy. To be outside.
Not much. In less than two hours I’m ready, from only things lying about the house. Cut corners, make non-optimal choices, but I’m out the door, pedaling and smiling.
Bike is heavy, but so stable and steady that speed is of no concern. Sit and spin, look around, smile at people. In forgetting about time, I move fast.
Go slow, move fast.
Stay away from cars and the people trapped in them, as much as possible.
This way to discovery. I hope, anyway.
Hi there! Can I join you, young coyote? Outside the city, outside the norm. Lurking in the shadows, sleek and quick. Fearless. Seen by people, but not by choice and only in glimpses. Out in the desert, looking, listening, feeling.
As the light turns gold my legs turn faster, without thought but not without reason. The trail calls.
Rock fins and tall sentinels call even louder, but they are so far away. I’m out of time. I can’t make it. I can stop wherever I want.
Galloping together, ridgelines above, towards the color of the failing light. You can make it.
Dance on the pedals, surfing the deep December thermals, into and out of washes, knees icing and thawing. Tires churning sand, buzzing on hard hits. Sharp acacia, and the desert, reach out, and I reach back in return.
Ranch dogs barking, snarling, chasing. Speedwork! Protecting their herd? Or encouraging me, giving me the excuse, to go faster. I don’t mind.
I’m not even sure where I’m going, haven’t been on this road before, and no GPS track to guide me.
The rock fins come into view, glowing white in the final rays of bending light, pulling me in like a magnet. Coasting. Coasting and smiling.
I search the passageways for access points, for flat spaces and for higher ground. I search the darkness, look to the stars for perspective. The coyotes wail and yip, first from the left, then the right, all around. There are no answers in the deepness of the night, but a stillness and a sense of peace, that decisions are only decisions, insignificant in the big picture. I am thankful that the world is a big place. That there is room enough, allowance enough, for one man to sit perched on a tower of rock, alone in his thoughts, joining the coyote chorus that fades into the night.
sunrise view from the sleeping bag
First light, I notice the outline of something that wasn’t there before. Something on top of one of the fins. I pretend to look away, then look back, but it’s still there. A distinct triangular shape, like a coyote or cat sitting, watching like a statue. The first time I actually look away, get distracted for a moment, it disappears.
I’m not the only one perching high on rocks, to look at the world.
Breakfast of yogurt, blueberries, strawberries, clementine and granola.
And of sunrise colors, revealing texture and lines that were only dimly visible before.
I love waking up in a place like this. Time to leave camp and drop in!
Time to see where my bike can take me. To see what’s possible.
Spines, steeps, drops, micro-hucks, gaps. Just use your imagination.
Whoooooooooo. I lose myself in the rock and time flies. I stand and pedal up the steep ramp to camp, finding a squirrel scoping out my food stash, but not brave enough to go for it (yet). I also find that I don’t have nearly as much water as I thought. Time to pack up and ride back… or is it? One more loop around the main fins turns into another hour of rock revelry.
I didn’t notice that area before! That looks rideable! Oooh, I bet I can make it up that.
OK, OK, I reluctantly pack up to leave. AZT singletrack and Milagrosa are my route back to Tucson, and a finer route I could not beg for. The sun grows in strength, and though I am rationing water, I welcome the heat. This is what AZ is all about. Spinning granny gear on a loaded bike, scorching in the December sun, and loving every second of it. Each sip of water is liquid gold, still cold from the long night.
I didn’t expect to ride through the ‘gauntlet’ clean, but things just click. Solo, tired, dehydrated and with camping gear? Oh yeah!
Though the more civilized route would take me to water more quickly, I take with the back way, legs on auto-pilot on flat pavement and dirt paths.
I take the hidden trails and passageways only the coyotes and I know about.
Almost exactly 24 hours after leaving, I roll back home, sufficiently tired and remarkably rejuvenated.
amazing!
wow scott, now thats a great read!
Makes me feel like getting out there!
yes that is pretty awesome. looks like a great way to cleanse the mind.
Good stuff!!!….clicked over from Jill’s blog….what an awesome ride!
that making coffee pic is super schweet, thanks for the stoke!
Great trip Scott. It makes be long for the desert. I’ve been away from AZ way to long. Nice solitude, cool rocks and warmer than here. What more could you ask for.
You could make children’s books with posts like this and make a real difference in the world. Very nice!
nice speed graph in image 16.
Nice pics! What a great landscape.
I like the minimalist, lightweight set up. As far as equipment goes, do you carry a sleeping pad for insulation, or just sleep directly on the cold rocks?
Great stuff. That’s the first camping Behemoth I’ve seen.
Nice work. There is nothing better than a 24 trip to clear the head. I learned of the 24 Hour trip from Ryan Jordan of Backpacking light. (http://ryanjordan.com/blog) From that we were inspired to camp at least one over night every month in 2010. It’s cold as a …. here in Missouri this December, and we have one more overnight to schedule…looks like Christmas Day we may head out or New Years Eve. It has been an awesome experience and I am pretty sure we will do it again next year. Ps…send us a heat wave for Christmas.
Thanks for the kind words, everyone.
Durango Joe – I (almost) always bring a pad. In this case a nice thick insulated one (it’s the little bag under my handlebars). It was probably in the 30’s at sunrise. The rock was cooooold.
Thanks for the info. I’ve been mt. biking since 1982, but never done a minimalistic camping trip like yours. I need to do some similar, spartan trips to blow out the cob webs (once it warms up). So pad strapped up front, sleeping bag under the seat, and all your clothes, food, stove, tools and most of your H20 in your camelback? Oh yeah, I see a spare tube strapped to the downtube….
Try it!
Clothes and sleeping bag under the seat. Water/food/stove/tools in pack. I usually have a frame bag (on my lighter bike, this bike is rarely used for bikepacking) that carries food, tools, tubes and spares.
Check http://bikepacking.net
Thanks very much for the info and the link. I think after 28 years of mt. biking I’ve become a little bit blasè. You blog reminds me of the enthusiasm I used to feel, and maybe a few “emergency overnighters” will rekindle that feeling. BTW, used to live in Jerome, AZ, cycled AROUND Mingus Mountain countless times, can’t believe you actully pushed your bike up the front side of that friggin’ mountain!
Hey Scott, Nice post mate! I am thinking more and more of doing something similar. I have been looking over the bikepacking site, and I hope I will be able to get out soon. Just one thing, being fairly new to AZ, what do I need to be concerned about in terms of wildlife at night? I am pretty used to daytime experiences, but nighttime is a whole different animal for me, (pardon the pun).
Hey rockerc — I think the chances of any bad encounter are pretty slim. That said, it’s hard to completely ignore it. I was glad I didn’t see the cat/coyote sitting on top of the fin of rock at sunset, otherwise I would have been thinking about it all night. I’ve never had any issues beyond maybe a skunk or little mouse trying to find some food. I wouldn’t let it stop you from making a trip happen!
Thanks Scott, I am not too worried about the coyotes, I would think any cats a little timid to bother me, and bears are probably not too much of an issue round here, but I was thinking more of the snake/scorpion thing. I once went mountaineering in Northern Iran, and scorpions were always a pain. We had to regularily check everything for them as they would sometimes get into clothing or shoes in the night.
Yeah, cats aren’t really worrisome until you see one. I have seen a couple bears at the mid-elevations of the Catalinas and Rincons, but I don’t worry about them either.
Snakes are sleeping now (though I saw a nice 5′ rattler just a few days ago!) but even when warm they are never a problem in camp (in my experience). I have only seen a small handful of scorpions in the last decade down here in Tucson. Almost all of them were when I was doing trail work and overturning rocks. I do look around for them at night and in the morning, but have never seen any.