Jamboree

The belief that you can do more can be a powerful thing. Sometimes it leads to amazing stuff. Other times it leads to running into the cold hard wall of reality, and, well, that hurts.

Better than the other way ’round though — wondering if you could have done more, or believing that you can do less than you can actually do.

Optimal training? Laughable. Testing the limits? Sure thing.

I knew my upper body was smoked from hauling rocks on Thursday. I could barely hold onto a cup to drink orange juice on Friday morning. But otherwise I felt fine, and my legs felt good. So I joined Todd Park for a ride on Milagrosa.

We fought some stiff wind climbing the Catalina Highway. I say we, but I think I drafted off Todd, on his SS, most of the way.

I expected the downhill to be rough and painful, but the climbing was the problem. I had the ability to pedal and even some energy, but I couldn’t get my bike to do what I wanted it to do. I have climbed over the Molino saddle feeling much worse, yet fared better. It was interesting how much a lack of upper body strength crippled my ability to ride.

Descending Milagrosa into a setting sun is among my favorite ways to spend life.

On the Behemoth it’s hard to get too beat up by the trail, though I needed frequent stops to rest my hands. Luckily Todd decided his first Milagrosa run was going to be on a rigid fork, and he had to make a few adjustments in tire pressure (well, a few adjustments were made by rocks and ruts… buuurp!) as we made our way down.

I was looking forward to another 20 tries on my ‘nemesis’ move, out of the wash near the end. All three of my attempts were pitiful, so I called it at that.

The next morning was the Jamboree, bright and early. It was awesome to see so many people out to support and ride the Arizona Trail!

That was the last I saw of Shouse or Ty. Or any of the 10+ riders in front of them!

Tim and I investigated some agua, just off route.

Taking off his helmet to walk through the gates, Jonesy displays some serious panache.

In all seriousness, he rode the Jamboree route with more style than any of us shuttle monkeys. He pedaled ‘out’ the night before, camped on the side of the trail, then rode back with us. Too cool.

Vern rocked the rigid SS, and that switchback.

Some of today’s AZT was new to me. Mark Flint and I spent some pretty epic days combing this area for the perfect line, but our route was pretty much scrapped in favor of, well, a less sustainable and less rideable one.

But in some ways that’s not a bad thing.

Being completely out of energy was definitely a bad thing. It’s rare that I get the feeling of being ‘trapped’ on my bike in the mountains. Like I’m losing my ability to get myself out of there. I was starting to dread every rock and small incline. My arms were twice as sore / weak as the day before.

Was I unhappy? No way. I was outside and on a bike, but man was I falling apart. Part of me was just curious where this would go.

I seriously considered turning around within the first ~5 miles, but the ride must go on!

Eventually we caught up to Lee. He built that gate for the trail. It used to be self-closing but he had to turn it into a regular gate, just last week.

With Jonesy, Tim, Lee, myself, and Chad (off tearing it up at the front) it was almost a Coconino Loop finisher’s reunion.

Thru-hiker sighting! A winter traversal (he started around Thanksgiving at the Utah border and is almost done) of the AZT is pretty hard core.

OHHH YEAH! Smooth and fast downhill AZT. This is where it’s at.

I found it ironic that I was suffering so badly on a trail I consider so easy. And it is easy, in the AZT scheme of things.

I started coming alive just in time — the trail just gets better and better as you go north. I really wanted to be able to enjoy it.

And enjoy it I did. Great job, Chad, this was such a great idea.