Last night the clouds really let us have it here in Tucson. A half inch to inches of rain all across the valley. At 10pm I glanced at our thermometer: 68 degrees.
Since this represents the coolest temperature we’ve seen since our return to Tucson, we celebrated by going for a short run. I ran painfully slow, but felt great. The pace was too slow for Paula–she grew bored before we got back home which was a complete reversal from the summer’s riding of me waiting for her.
The storms continued throughout the night. Life not on the road is just too easy. Our house keeps us safe/dry and if it continues to be nasty tomorrow, we can always just not ride. Storming at night meant a cool and cloud shrouded morning. We didn’t even have to get up early to go for a ride. It was almost the perfect morning to go for a ride.
So we headed out to Tucson Mountain Park for a nice, regular old normal mountain bike ride. You know, the kind that normal people do. Get up in the morning, ride for a couple of hours, eat some good food then relax in the afternoon. Not 8-9 hours, not miles of hike-a-bike and no camping gear. Of course we started in Greasewood park and rode the ‘standard’ Starr Pass loop backwards, so it wasn’t exactly a normal ride. Paula came along, proving that the summer’s epic did not completely smash her desire to roll the two wheels. The desire is still alive, but I think it’s just barely hanging on in the intensive care unit.
I found it a different Starr Pass than I left it. The continual (de)construction of the desert and the transformation into houses and hotels was not a surprise. Neither was the effect of the rushing waters of monsoon season on the trails. Old lines have been shut down and in a few places the trail is completely different. The ocotillos are sprouting leaves and barrel cactus are beginning to bloom. Of course the views of Cat mountain and the basin were just as striking as ever. Man, I missed the Tucson Mountains.
On the backside I told Paula I’d meet her at Starr Pass proper while I instead climbed over the so-called tech pass. Going from this side is indeed a challenge and one I’ve never successfully bested. I had no problem on the lower section, but I knew what was coming up: a short pitch that I’ve only ridden once in my entire life. That one attempt was a glorious combination of pure luck and raw energy that I’m not sure I can duplicate again. As I approached I walked through the line I had used to clean it in my head, but as I approached I found the section almost unfamiliar. The monsoons had ripped a new rut running straight up to the first rock face. I stalled, balked, then went for broke on the far right line. My front tire made it past the threshold but my rear had not a prayer of keeping its momentum. I walked. And it felt good. Challenge.
We rode past 11am, which in Tucson during August is almost unheard of. What a morning.
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