I was overdue for a healthy dose of rock. Going fast is fun and all, but so is going slow. It was high time for some rock crawling and technical madness. With legs coming back online, I could think of no better place than the Tortolitas. I plotted to do something very similar to the Tortolona loop Chad put together about this time last year.
I parked at the closest spot to my house, where I had spied (in TF) a tiny clearing in the desert where I thought a Corsica might rest while a rock crawler seeks his element. Turns out there’s a nice little trailhead/park at the corner of Moore/Como.
The golfer’s version of “tent city.” Dove Mtn’s city is a bit more exclusive than Old Pueblo’s. “Hey! You can’t go down there!” Huh?
I found a different road with a different policeman, who also told me I couldn’t go towards the trail. But he let me go after I promised to head directly into the mountains. No idea what dignitaries or famous heroes must have been attending the tourney, but it almost shut me out of my ride.
OH YEAH! I love this trail. Super steep? Yes please. Littered with rocks? More, thank you!
Awkward corners? I’ll take three in a row.
Stair step climbs? Ooof, that hurt, but don’t stop.
Tight squeezes? I’ll do my best!
That’s a new pack that Mr. Jim Helms made for me, and so far there are a lot of things I like about it. It’s lighter than the venerable Osprey Talon 22, and I’m anxious to try it out on a spring bikepacking trip (there will be Gila River Rambling this March).
I cleaned two switchbacks that I haven’t seen anyone make before. The secret to my success? Waiting for a gust of wind, then attacking the turn! I might have to log an asterisk next to both moves, if such things were actually logged. Wind aided switchbacking!
My favorite moment on Wild Mustang is when you roll over the crest of the Tortolitas and finally catch a view of Mt. Lemmon and the eastern flank. The trail momentarily changes from the techy mayhem that it’s been since the beginning, to buff contour-y goodness. A just reward for the battle it takes to get there. Throw in a little tail wind and you’ve got pure bliss.
Speaking of contour-y goodness, last March Chad and I had to drop into Wild Burro wash and hoof it up the sand/slabs. But this is 2011, and a new trail is nearly complete to stay higher and bypass that.
And it’s classic Mark Flint trail, through and through. It’s a sweet piece, with its own challenges here and there. He’s been having the crew ride the trail to get to the work site, and that combined with last week’s rain meant it’s already riding really well.
Before I knew it, I was at the Goat Corral, and climbing steeply away towards the pass above Crow Wash. Who blanked my memory on how ripping fun (with a tail wind) the 4×4 descent is? I found myself inventing a few new berm lines (too much speed otherwise!) and catching air in some questionable places.
I then stumbled upon two shortcuts, one full of giggle-inducing grinding sand turns, and the other singletrack, bringing me to the “Mouse” trail without so much as hopping a fence.
It wasn’t the best day for camera light, but the blanket of clouds did have some beautiful texture, if you looked closely.
The final challenge of the day was the descent out to Como Road. It’s a wicked trail, reminiscent of Milagrosa 10 years and 10,000 MTBers ago. I seriously questioned the wisdom in trying to ride it all, solo, running low on energy and wind howling. I did have to make some line adjustments due to wind (seems like the slower you go the easier the wind can blow you off line), but pretty much I just got behind the seat and prayed for traction to hold.
“Well, that was exciting!”
Very much so. What a ride. Only 25 miles, but it took over four hours. I needed that.
Coming back from Starr Pass on Thursday was also exciting. A little too exciting. The light at Stone/3rd turned green when I was about a half a block away. Five bikes and two runners crossed from the opposite side towards me. One of the runners was still in the road when I entered the intersection. I know not to trust red lights to actually stop drivers, but the fact that so many bikes and people had just crossed in front, and the light was still red led me to believe it would be safe to cross. I was moving pretty fast and got halfway across before seeing a car to my right, coming fast. First reaction was “that is wrong”, then “who cares, react!!” I grabbed the brakes and turned to my right, skidding the back tire and arcing just behind the car, within feet. The driver didn’t even slow down or see me, just drove obliviously through the red light.
“That was crazy!” a pedestrian yelled. “Yeah, she drove right through the red light!!!”
My heart was racing. That was too close. Luckily Jason Pilarski was riding up on the intersection right then, and we stood and talked for a good ten minutes, about what just happened but mostly about Old Pueblo (he had raced as well) and riding in general. I could still feel the adrenaline as I rolled the rest of the way home, but talking to Jason really calmed me down. Sometimes you need a reminder to be careful and extra vigilant out on the roads, I guess. I thought many times the next day how close I had come to being seriously hurt, or worse. Even riding today, in the Tortolitas, I was taken by a sense of gratitude for everything that I have, especially the health and strength to do what I love.
So how are you exiting to Como? Are you making the turn at the windmill and taking one of the two branches to the creekbed?
If we are talking about the same windmill, there’s a faint cow trail heading south that is a little tricky to find. Then you have to stay right at two junctions. Two different trails drop off to the east into different canyons. If you climb and stay a little higher there’s a well worn trail that drops off the south side, eventually leading to Como. I have GPX if you want it.