A Red Ridge Epic

Video version:

And now the words……

I can’t help it. I get excited for big rides that start from home and before most people are even awake. There’s nothing like feeling the cold dark wind on your face just minutes after being asleep. Creeping quietly through streets you know too well, yet it’s dark and no one is about. With ears able to pick up even the sound of a distant car, stopping at stop signs seems kind of silly.

I was so excited I couldn’t sleep. After laying idle with mind spinning for a couple hours I started plotting to buzz Chad’s iPhone. “We are starting post haste! The 24 hour Lemmon ride is back on.” But then I fell asleep.

Chad was a bit late at the path. Normally excusable, but I was rearing to go — had been for hours.

I fiddled with gadgets while waiting. Including, la camera…

I couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t riding faster on the flat river path. Oh, duh, he’s riding a singlespeed. Hold your horses there cowboy, there will be plenty of time to burn energy.

Like on the good old inclined plane, our magic ticket to higher elevations and succulent singletrack.

Speaking of the latter, but not so much the former, we hopped on Molino for a pavement respite.

And it was good.

Climbing rhythm found, we motored on up ‘the big hill’ known as Lemmon. I was happy to see a constant correlation between power output and perceived effort, even as we approached the top. I suppose “all day” pace is one I should know well by now.

We debated a minute as to how much skinny track we wanted to ride whilst in the forest.

Turns out it was a good day to ride 1918/Sunset, and Chad showed me a new connection (which he calls Cafe).

Refuel time. Ever since my reverse AZT 300 debacle, bowsers are the way to go at the Mt. Lemmon General Store. Once I saw the enriching life experience that was Chad’s “Big Texas”, though, I realized I had made a mistake.

Red Ridge.

photo by Chad

Worth every foot climbed to get there.

And in great shape these days.

photo by Chad

Elevation was lost at an alarming rate, but blood loss minimal. I think Dejay is winning the war against cat claw on the lower slopes of Canada del Oro’s east fork.

Chad was on fire through the chunk and rubble of lower Red. A noticeable increase in skill and confidence since we rode this trail last February. I’m going to maintain that it was him that started the hootin’ and hollarin’ here (and with good reason).

But it was me that made the fool of myself. Someone had dragged something (McLeod? Horse Trailer?) along the trail, making it easier than ever to follow. That and the lack of spiky things to tear at your flesh (that can be a real speed scrubber, ya know) meant I was getting more and more giddy as we floated through CDO. Just as I was shouting the loudest (and really, have I ever seen anyone back here?!), I turn left and see a group of hunters sitting quietly under a tree.

Busted. Found guilty of having too much fun under the sun.

Climbing Charouleau Gap was a breeze. Yeah, it’s a big hill (that starts with a demoralizing descent!) but it’s all relative at this point. When you’ve self shuttled to 8200′, what’s another 800′?

Chad set an aggressive SS pace, and I did my best to keep him in sight. Soon we were blasting down the slick rock and banked turns of the gap road and… you guessed it, hootin’ and hollarin’ again. This ride has some fabulous techy descending on it.

We skipped the climb to Cherry Tank, testing our Louis free ride voodoo skills. The first line was a bit of a blood bath. I think all the cuts on my shins are from that one section. But it led to the second, and the second was very good.

photo by Chad

Lotsa rock, and it took us just where we wanted to be… which was descending more fun trail.

Maybe climbing a bit here or there. It took a while to get my head around the fact that I was now in the 50 year trail area, and to understand how I’d gotten there. Awesome.

It’s not all downhill from the Gap to Catalina State Park, but again, it’s all relative. It feels like it’s all downhill, and since perception is everything, it was all downhill.

It was impossible not to notice that we weren’t super worked by the time we were pedaling down Oracle Road. I made the mistake of wondering aloud if the ride might have been ‘too easy.’ It was perhaps the perfect day for the ride (weather and conditions). There wasn’t even a head wind on Oracle Road. When was the last time that ever happened? Doesn’t the wind blow both ways there?

Just after Chad turned off towards home I rode through (in the dark) the worst patch of goat heads I have seen in my life. They aren’t all that common here in Tucson, but I got 20+ in each tire and started preparing myself for an epic last ~10 miles. Air escaped as I pulled them out one by one, but they all sealed.

I wrapped up the ride as it began, on the river path, in the quiet dark.

For more pics and some good words from Chad, head over here.