Fin

Our night at the EDR (employee dining room) on the North Rim was a long one. Several of the employees were partaking of large amounts of alcohol. The big screen was on and the pool balls were rolling. At least it was warm and I was able to write an update on their computers, but as the clock rolled past midnight I wondered if we would have been better off camping. We’d have 3-4 hours of deep sleep by now, followed by 3-4 hours of being uncomfortable and cold. Instead we had 3-4 hours of drunken revelry followed by 2-3 hours of semi-sleep, broken up by the cook blasting Tool tunes at 3:30 am. I wasn’t sure which was better, so I really didn’t mind.

The cook served us up a fair breakfast, then we packed up to roll out before things got too busy. There is so much snow on the north rim that the actual trail would be impossible to follow, let alone ride. So we were doomed to ~41 miles of pavement–waiting and watching for any signs of dry trail conditions. Fortunately the road was still closed, so we had only a handful of park employees out on the road. It was quite a contrast from the world of the inner canyon where I walked around with shorts and sandals the night before. Now I was wearing every piece of clothing I brought and was too cold. As we climbed to the top of the Kaibab Plateau the snow level picked up to where we were riding with two seven foot walls of snow on either side. It was pretty impressive. Huge meadows were covered in blankets of snow and the lakes and drainages were frozen. It was a different world up there.

After rolling for 35 miles at ~8500 feet we began a descent to the ‘town’ of Jacob Lake. Finally the snow began to recede to where we might think about rejoining the trail. However, at our last opportunity from the road it was still on/off snow drifts, so we passed, opting to head directly to Jacob Lake to resupply.

It was a good thing we did. At the road gate were 3 NPS staff and… our two thru hikers!! We have been hearing about these two since the beginning of the trip. We had seen their boots since Flagstaff, but I was running out of hope that we’d pass them before the end of the AZT. Nothing like 41 miles of pavement to give an advantage to the cyclists! What took us ~3 hours took them 1.5 days.

Mike and Kam Watkins are from Georgia and, get this, they started their AZT trip only nine days before we did. We knew they were going fast (25-30 miles a day) but didn’t realize how smoking fast they really are. They were what I would call professional hikers. They aren’t getting paid of course, but they really knew what they were doing. They have thru-hiked the triple crown: AT, PCT and CDT. Their loads were light and well thought out. They knew exactly what they were doing to resupply and deal with the next section. We could learn a lot from them. I liked their map system, but unfortunately they were relying on 4 year old info on the trail, so they missed several new sections and ended up walking roads instead.

It was a real treat to meet them and relate war stories from our trips. They had experienced roughly the same trail conditions, weather and challenges that we had been through. Though we travel by bike, there was more in common between us than different. They were the only two people on the planet who could really understand our trip–the hardships, the challenges and the rewards. Some of Mike’s stories and imitiatons of people we had all met were hilarious.

“You guys doing the AZ trail?”

“Yep”

“Right on! I bike it all the time!”

(Mike’s quote from a guy in Patagonia)

We ended up staying at the Jacob Lake lodge all afternoon. We ate two meals and talked Mike and Kam’s ears off. We could have finished the trip that day, but the time was well spent.

We rolled out of town at about 4pm to enjoy a few hours of evening riding before camping our last night. At the orderville trailhead east of town we hopped back on the AZT and soon found out what we had been missing under 6 feet of snow further south. The 101 Kaibab Trail was an absolute dream. Gently rolling downhill, thick carpets of pine needles, contouring trails, evening light–what more could an AZT rider ask for! It seemed a fitting reward for the hard work earlier on the trail and hiking through the canyon. I’d definitely haul my bike through the canyon to ride this trail.

Of course, it’s never that easy. After 10 miles the trail emerged into a calm meadow lined by cedar trees. Cows had decided to use the trail while it was muddy. The result was potholes larger and deeper than any I have seen on a trail before. And it went on for more than an hour. It was brutally painful. Each big bump sent a biting pain through both of my calves, still sore from the pounding downhill of the Grand Canyon. I was about to cry it hurt so bad, but on my face was a slight grin, an acceptance of sorts. The AZT just couldn’t be so easy, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I also knew that we were close to the end, so it could not go on forever. When Lee’s rear tire finally gave in and flatted, I was happy for the break and feeling weak. After ~900 miles of thorns and cactus, Lee’s Stan’s system finally refused to hold air.

Another recurrent AZT theme: we reached a road that gave us the option of bailing on the bumpy trail in favor of smoother surfaces. Lee knew where I stood, and though he didn’t say much, I knew the same conflict was still present. In this case, our persistance with the trail paid off. In a few minutes we crossed a sign onto BLM land and the cow potholes disappeared. What followed was a swooping fast downhill run that brought smiles to both of our faces. We crossed winter road and decided to camp in the already impacted parking area. We talked about the trip in whole as we enjoyed a small campfire and our last cold dinner of summer sausage, cheese and random snacks.

I was enjoying Marilion’s Ocean Cloud on my mp3 player while reflecting on the trip, but I was so tired that it was only a few minutes before I was out for the night. I slept by the Arizona Trail sign that shows a map of the route, so as the morning light came up I went back to the mp3 player and traced through the trip in my mind with the map. The thoughts and memories were good and I already regretted that it would soon be over.

But first we had a few more miles to ride. I knew it was mostly downhill, but had also heard there was hike-a-bike involved, so I was ready to expect the worst. The hike-a-bike never materliazed. I have nothing but good things to say about the end of the trail. I had one dab for the entire last 25 miles of the AZT.

There were a few climbs that had us dropping to granny gear, which was good — they were fun climbs. A great deal of effort went into this last section, and it shows. Well, built, usually well designed, with a great flow to it. After crossing a few drainages we rolled down a grassy gully, bobsled style. The trail dove into and out of the little drainage as we zoomed through trees and past boulders. Our tires were floating and the riding seemed effortless.

We climbed onto a shoulder of the mountain and were stopped dead in our tracks by the 180 degree view of the dark red Vermillion cliffs. In the valley below us and in front of the cliffs was the end of our journey: the Utah State line. But first we had 1500 feet of elevation to drop.

What better way to end it than with the AZT than with its signature: switchbacks. All were rideable and the fun factor was off the charts. I couldn’t have planned or imagined a better way to end the trail.

Before I knew it I was at the stateline trailhead, wandering around dumbfounded by the concept that there was no more singletrack to ride. This was it, we were done.

Rough totals at this point: 25 days, 950 miles, 100,000 feet of climbing. I’ll have more exact numbers in a few days.