Of course that’s January, and April’s pollen and May’s heat will give plenty of reason to head elsewhere.

But for now it’s still January, and we’ve had I think one slightly rainy/cool day.

tire compression!

Can’t believe we had to ride awesome trails with a few minutes of drizzles…

shin compression!

Krista should have run the shin pads, not the knees, I guess.

There we go, a nice sunny day. Well, nice climbing away from 2000′.

Not quite as much as the sun dipped down and we forced our way into shady Bear Canyon. I pulled out the arm warmers, but they were not enough, even climbing. My jacket wasn’t nearly enough for descending, either. Luckily I didn’t make it too much further past Bug Springs trail.

Even wasting energy trying to ride the scar failed to generate much warmth. I gave one chemical hand warmer to Krista and put the other in my glove, but our hands still froze as we made our way down the dark woody canyon. Great riding, cold hands. Better than no riding and warm hands, no doubt.

We popped up the second ‘hike-a-bike’ to see the sun’s last firey composition. I reached my hands for it, but only the zoom lens could get close enough to capture any warmth.

blur I

Once on Bugs ridgelines the lack of moisture and lack of settling evening air made for much more pleasant conditions. The trail requires enough muscle to yield body heat too.

blur II

“Brrrrrrr!”

But on the pavement below Molino there was no trail to keep us warm. An earlier start or three more layers would have been wise, but so it goes.

never thought I’d see Krista ordering here

Hot chocolate and coffee at Mickey D’s. She ordered a Big Mac next, don’t let her tell you otherwise.

Riding with Bruce of ProGold lube. We tried to scare him with rocky trails, lots of cactus and drops out of stone houses, but he handled his first ride in the Sonoran desert quite well.

The classic quote from this ride was when some hikers asked us what happens when we fall. “You just get back up” was Krista’s immediate answer. “OK tough guys!” was their response.

Look how high the sun is this time on Lemmon! And look how high I got before ‘time’ was up!

No need for extra layers today, just a need for the ability to coast and smile, carve and slice.

Did we really climb up this high from town?

Arizona Trail down to Molino. My favorite pic of the week.

No pics from a surprisingly fun afternoon out at Fantasy Island of all places. Krista didn’t get enough of a workout riding with her roadie buddies in the morning, so she enlisted me to give her someone to chase around as we timed ourselves on the “Rocks and Clocks” courses out there. We put in a good ripping lap on main Fantasy Island with crazy timing so that Krista rode right above me on the bridge of the “over/under.” We couldn’t have timed it better if we had tried.

Then, the loop of the Bunny Trail was pretty silly. We were both fairly trashed and not that motivated to ride hard, but the difference in our bikes and fitness set up the perfect little battle. I could get gaps on her by leaning my 2.4 tires and staying off the brakes, but any time it was open/straight she would zip right back up. Eventually she passed, sending me into a bit of barb wire — I tell you, she was out for blood on the bunny loop! I’m not serious at all, but it was too fun to be close and fighting it out a little.

I met Duncan for my first taste of Techy Tacos in quite a while. I think this is the first time I have ridden it without Chad, and it showed when we fumbled around in the initial wash behind Honeywell. Chad, we’re lost without you!

Showing Duncan a new line since the last time he partook of the tacos.

photo by Duncan Caldwell

The green bike is so happy to be seeing trail time again!

Stick it!

Yeah!

I’ve tried to talk myself into this drop on previous taco rides, without success. Duncan was just the right guy for the job. Really glad to see it finally ridden! “Woah, it really drops out from under you.”

RAM had some new rocks dislodged by horses, but when the level of rocky mayhem is already 9.95 out of 10, it doesn’t do much to increase it another 0.01. Such a brilliant descent where you are guaranteed to not be smooth, no matter how smooth you think you are. Release all notions of going exactly where you want your bike to go.

So, yeah, just a small sample of January in the Sonoran desert. Love it.

I didn’t even make it before the 10am shuttle left, ferrying a huge group of MTBers out to ride some sweet singletrack.

“it’s all going according to plan… heh heh heh”

Chad Brown, mastermind behind the Jamboree, giving us an evil grin. He was the only one there when I arrived. We left with Pocket in tow, for some chill AZT miles.

check out the tire compression on the rear wheel!

Chill, until we started riding that rock, I guess.

photo by Chad Brown

My bead-flat from the Gila bikepack did not stay sealed.

photo by Chad Brown

Then I pinch flatted the tube I put in.

Chad and Pocket turned back and I kept rolling a little, running into several friends before finally turning around myself.

As always, it’s great to see so many people come out to support the AZT (almost $9k raised for the trail in the last 3 years) and also come out to enjoy the AZT. We hung out all day talking trail, rides and whatever else.

The next day I got the chance to test bikes with Aaron Gulley for Outside magazine. I got to ride a Cannondale Scalpel 29 (above), a Scott Spark, Niner RDO and a Diamondback FS 29er. It was interesting to ride something other than a Lenz on trails that I know well.

another double flat? no way

Unfortunately they were all set up with tubes which meant a harsher ride than I’m used to, and also lots and lots of flats.

Still, one conclusion is that riding super light bikes is FUN.

Todd Park climbing Hooligan — perfect testing grounds for new bikes.

Chad shows us that even an ultralight race bike can schralp the gnar.

Overall I decided I really like my bikes, but when racing a super light one sure would be nice.

Krista is back on the MTB, and that means I can throw technical trails and other surprises her way so I can better keep up.

Only problem is she’s killing the tech terrain. Skills are up, or maybe just adapting to the Tucson Mountains rock style. It was really cool to see her clean everything on the “inrockable” loop out at Robles.

We gave Charouleau Gap a nice solid pedal, and unfortunately the tech challenges were few and far between. I was disappointed to see how much the upper half of the road has been “nerfed” in the last year. Fortunately Cherry Tank and the midgate/deer camp loop still have plenty of rocks and tricky spots on the descent.

Yep, Tucson, it’s the place to be in January.

The conclusion? It was an awesome year on the bike. I like to compute yearly GPS stats, if only for my own curiosity.

6575.78 mi
862,748 ft total ascent
28 days 13:03:28 moving
9.4 mph average speed

Not bad for my “short” year, where I really, really tried to limit my long rides (6+ hours). I strayed from the straight and narrow a few times of course (cough cough Vapor Trail) but the result is still interesting. Compared to last year, I only rode 100 miles less, but several days less moving time. So, I rode just as many miles, but rode them significantly faster. Maybe not so much a short year as a fast year!

I don’t buy the 862k climbing number, by the way. It’s a product of running 1/sec GPS logs all year. Since elevation gain is a sum, the more times you sample (with error) the more error you will accumulate, (and the more impressive your stats become!). I guess I could be filtering those numbers… too bad I don’t know anyone that programs GPS software around here.

Like last year, I flipped on the “GPS Art” boolean in TopoFusion and let my wheels and legs do the painting. This year I went a bit less impressionistic. There’s more definition, and individual rides are a lot easier to pick out. The width of the brush is proportional to the time spent ‘out’ and the color is set by an equation based on speed, grade and heart rate (where available). There’s no justification for it, I just played around until I got something I liked. It’s art, you know.. .. I get to do whatever I want!

Tucson’s canvas is first, followed by Salida. I had to let it run for a while in Salida so that my poor little Vapor Trail ITT paintbrush could make it home. I was really surprised how many dots are out coloring the Arkansas Hills and the Sawatch Range. It was a short summer, but long lived.

It didn’t seem too likely, but Lee and I were trying to make a bikepacking trip happen. We were about to hang up. I still had the calendar open. Wait, what about day after tomorrow? It was a longshot, but neither of us had considered the immediate future.

Weather is good now… no time like the present!

The Arizona Trail is complete, and so is the (soon-to-be) legendary Gila Canyons (*) passage. But it’s not open yet. They are still drilling test pads near Kelvin and the road has not yet been converted to non-motorized trail yet. It’ll be a few more weeks yet.

(*) Formerly the White Canyon passage.

The singletrack west of the road is brilliant, wending its way through a thick stand of saguaros.

photo by Lee Blackwell

Plummeting down to river level, in a tidy set of freshly cut switchbacks.

Back to the railroad bridge, back on familiar ground.

Familiar and beautiful ground. The trail seemed to have more flow than ever. A product of more traffic? Less overgrowth and less of those pesky flowers we’re so used to on spring Gila bikepacking trips?

photo by Lee Blackwell

Doesn’t really matter, the riding was good, period. Over analysis might only spoil the moment. Why question things when they are going so well?

I brought the “big” camera along, and with my pack loaded with food and water it was a bit of a pain (literally for my back) to drop the pack and get it out. But super fun to play with, too. I blew quite a few shots, thinking myself to know more than I do, but even if I didn’t get the exposure quite right, the clarity of the images and the speed the camera operates at is pretty impressive.

I brought my “point ‘n shoot” too, knowing I’d see shots I couldn’t get with the big camera in time. I much prefer ‘in situ’ photos, anyway, so we didn’t fiddle fart about setting up shots. Ride ‘n shoot, try to keep the rhythm of the ride going.

We rolled onto new-to-us trail after looking somewhat longingly toward Walnut Canyon and the Battle Axe (the old route for both hikers and bikepackers).

photo by Lee Blackwell

Some of it was grassy (and barely there) trail near river’s bottom. It’s nice to find a little shade (yes, it was warm enough to appreciate it) and ride a little in the bosque, but portions might get a little interesting in the rain/mud.

Portions had hike-a-bike, too! A couple wash crossings aren’t quite finished yet, and in general the trail needs a bit more benching / work. It’s still quite passable, with misgivings only a blip on the radar. It was brilliant to stay on singletrack nearly the whole time, and save oodles and oodles of climbing compared to the Battle Axe / Martinez 4×4 extravaganza we used to ride.

We (mostly I) had some tire inflation issues (some kind of non-cactus stickers) that slowed our progress and cramped our style. Both of us (without saying it) felt like we wanted to be a little further into the upcoming big climb before nightfall. So we skipped checking out and (possibly) refilling at the flowing creek we spied on the last trip.

And besides, the evening was just becoming itself.

Light beginning to bend.

Air falling to stillness.

Imagination coming to life.

By happy coincidence, we ended up on the same ridgeline as our last trip, right at the same time of night, right when we started thinking about a place to call home. A minute’s twilight pedal took us to our campsite, where we pushed aside the rocks we had brushed back in before leaving last time.

We started a little stick fire, consumed left over subways, and settled into a nice evening under the stars and nearly full moon. I played with my camera (how are you supposed to focus in the dark???) and reviewed some of the best shots of the day. It was 8pm when we called it a night, and Lee discovered that his thermarest was no longer holding air. Doh! That combined with a bit of a hydration pack leak made his beddy-bye not look so hot anymore. It was a bit of a long night for Lee, but at least it was never too cold, and you wouldn’t hear him complain in the least.

We commenced the climbing of magical singletrack once the sun graced the spires and crags around us.

We had rushed through this part of the trail last time, so it was nice to approach it with a fresh morning and fresh eyes.

The colors in the rock and veg were so bright they pained our poor little morning eyes.

We climbed amongst cliff and saguaro, reaching ‘the top’ all to soon, for this is trail to be savored.

There the view shifts from the rugged ridges of the Gila River to the depths of upper Martinez Canyon. We stopped for a ‘nibble on cheese’ brunch.

But not for long, the upcoming trail was pulling us in like a magnet.

This is the small piece I helped lay out, and this time besides enjoying it we were doing a small survey of construction notes for anything that we thought needed work or was unsafe. It’s all pretty good, though we made note of a few things.

I love the wide and (almost) overbuilt nature of the trail. It gives you plenty of time to spin the head as you pedal along, instead of focusing on negotiating rocks and steeps, challenges I hear some mountain bikers are normally known to enjoy.. ..

Either Tim’s or my handwriting. Based on how legible it is, it’s gotta be Tim’s.

By the time we were done rubber necking and taking waypoints above upper Martinez, it was a bit later in the day than we would have liked. Since we failed to get water last night, our supply was looking a little thin. Original plan was to turn around to ride Gila Canyons back, but with our water source unknown and significant riding between here and the only reliable one (the artesian well by Battle Axe), we opted to continue north on the AZT. So we climbed by the big marbley rock, caught our first view of picketpost, then kept descending down mucho fun trail.

At Telegraph Canyon we opted for the more direct route into Superior — the 4×4 road. Beautiful in its own right, it has been a while since either of us have been on it. On one of the rubble strewn ramps I was ripping along, admiring my Lenz 29er’s ability to make rocks disappear, when one particular rock made its presence known in a big way. Never saw it or adjusted line or weight, so it slammed the rear rim and cut a hole in both the tread and near the bead.

It was looking like tube time, which was OK since we were done with cactus and stickers, but at Lee’s suggestion we aired it up as much as we could, then vigorously bounced the wheel up and down to make the Stans sealant bubble and foam, getting it to the hole right by the bead. I only had to air it up once more as we descended, then it was golden!

Picketpost reflection. Water, but it was too late to turn around. We also noted that Trough Springs was not that far off route, full of water, and trickling audibly from our vantage above it on the road.

photo by Lee Blackwell

We had other plans for refreshment! I was able to finally repay a longstanding debt to Mr. Blackwell. The origins of said debt have been obscured by the fogs of time, and obfuscated by so many good rides in the area. We think the debt arose on our 2005 thru-trip on the AZT. In any case, the fact is that at some point I promised him Dairy Queen would be open so he could secure frosty blizzard blissment. But alas, DQ was long closed when we got there.

The OPEN sign was lit as we pulled in. A great wrong has been righted, the balance of a debt settled. Ice creamy goodness was quenching our thirst. All was right in the world. Until, we got cold sitting in the shade! Simple fix — go sit in the sun.

Alright, the ride wasn’t quite over yet. We tried to hit the balance between gluttony and gut bomb since we still had to do the ‘shuttle’ portion of the ride. Self shuttle on pavement, that is. It’s not a bad ride, really. As long as you don’t consider long 10% grades to be ‘bad’. Before we knew it we were cruising by the Ray mine, and coasting into Kelvin to the completion of another amazing Gila bikepack.

I must have misunderstood the plan, but I was thinking only about a single big ride on the weekend — my own concoction of a big loop around the Santa Rita Mountains. Only after I had finished drilling 60 miles of singletrack and dirt roads in the Tucson Mtns did I get the text from Krista, “TMP Big Loop tomorrow, then Scott Special loop Sunday right?” Wait, what?

Well, the weather was so incredible that I couldn’t see any reason not to spend as much time as possible outside, sore back willing.

We started the TMP big loop in record time, near dawn. Where by ‘near dawn’ I mean nearer to dawn than to sunset, which is how we usually start this loop. It’s a big one at over 60 miles and a fair chunk of technical trail + connecting roads.

Adam Kroger came along for the ride, wanting to scope the whole loop since a lot of it is new to him.

Krista has ridden the whole loop several times now, and with some shorter versions and aborted attempts, she’s really got it dialed in. It showed on “Cool Cat” and Golden Gate — we were moving along nicely and making quick work of the chunky stuff.

I took a short pit stop and then spent the whole west desert singletrack section trying to bridge back. They were flying! But it was good — those trails are better the faster you go.

Hike-a-bike up Brown Mtn for the time bonus? Sure! A good break and a beautiful, if somewhat spiky trail.

Steep, too. I remember how nutty Krista thought going up this trail was, now it’s no big deal.

And besides, you get to ride Brown’s ridgeline once you are up there, a reward better than any time bonus or ‘name on a web page only you check.’ Especially a web page that is currently down, and is now one that no one checks. (We are going to bring it back.)

I think Adam and Krista got tired of me commenting how nice it was outside, but then I had been in Salt Lake just a couple days before. No matter where you have been, it was an amazing day to be out riding.

We flashed through the roads, then onto the gasline and neighborhood roads en route to Sweetwater.

Adam’s happy to be back on singletrack. I’m looking for a fast loop of this course from him. It’s about time someone put the screws to it and knocked the undeserving guy off the top spot.

We finished up the loop out by Starr Pass. As we made our way there it almost felt wrong. “The sun is too high in the sky. We must have missed something. Shouldn’t it be dark or nearly dark by now?”

But no, we finished the whole loop, plus the short out/back to the loop. And there was even a little time to get groceries, recover and prepare for the next challenge.

I haven’t ever started a ride with Krista before 9am, so this was truly unique. Looking at an 80 mile circumnavigation of the Santa Rita mountains, we knew we would need all the daylight we could get.

Luckily the warm temperatures continued (high was 80 in Tucson!), so the morning wasn’t even cold. Last year’s big ride for Krista was around Mt. Lemmon, and the distance/remoteness made her nervous (remember she races 1.5 hours on taped courses), which was especially evident while packing. This ride was a step more difficult and more committing, but she seemed a lot more confident. At least it’s not another never-ending base pace road ride!

We pedaled slowly towards Madera Canyon and the Elephant Head trail, waking body and mind up.

Elephant Head is a great trail, but one you need to be loose and awake for. It was a little awkward so early in the morning and so early in the ride.

Dramatic views, though. I am (somewhat) sad that this is no longer the AZT-bike (race) route. I love the area, but the trails are pretty brutal, and slow. After the Devil’s Cashbox it was decision time: continue getting punished on rocky Bull Springs Road, or use our legs on smooth surfaces, climbing Mt. Hopkins.

We opted for the big climb. Up to 7,000′ we went, seeing snow a little bit earlier than I wanted to. The climb was super pleasant, giving our backs a rest and some idle time to chat away while we gained elevation.

The caveat for the “big climb” option is that there’s only one way off Hopkins, and that is Tia Juana Ridge. It started in the snow.

I believe the caption is, “ewwwww.. .. yucky!” What is this white stuff? It’s so easy to forget about winter in Tucson.

photo by Krista Park

I think I’ll stop riding, right, about… HERE! Downhill hike-a-bike isn’t anyone’s favorite way to lose elevation, but at least the elevation was easily gained. Easy come, not so easy go.

It’s one of the stupidest roads (*) I know of, worth traversing just for the sheer craziness of it. And also the connection it provides…

(*) Krista questions my definition of “road” after experiencing Tia Juana.

Krista piloting her 26″ wheeled hard tail through baby heads most would balk at on a 29er full suspension. I almost did.

Tia Juana is something else. Just when you think you’ve got a good line and some good momentum going, there’s a tree branch in your face, or a baby head comes out of nowhere and bucks you off line. Somehow a couple of motorcycle riders had traversed it just in front of us (they passed us on the Hopkins climb), leaving a nicely churned up half inch of dirt in the middle of some of the ruts — bonus traction! I’m not so sure how they got their bikes through some parts of it.

There aren’t too many riders that would enjoy, or even keep a good composure, while making their way through something like this road, or indeed even the whole first 25 miles of this route. I was a little worried that Krista might wonder what was wrong with me for suggesting all this. But I think she’s got adventure in her blood, or maybe was just so sick of road base miles that anything seems better — even sliding down Tia Juana ridge.

We emerged from Tia Juana unscathed, then rolled on to slightly more civilized surfaces, along the Salero Ranch Road, inbound for Patagonia. The first 25 miles of the loop had taken 4.5 hours to traverse. But I didn’t point that stat out at the time. I knew better surfaces would mean good time, but I still doubted our chances of finishing before dark.

As we coasted down the last couple miles to Patagonia, the two motorcycle riders we had seen before came cruising up the road. They recognized us and pointed, slowing down. We did the same… pointing incredulously. “I can’t believe you guys rode down that thing.” “Us? We can’t believe you guys did it.” “You’re crazy.”

Pit stop in Patagonia. No luck at the store, which was closed for new years. The girls at the park yelled “happy new year!!” to us each time we passed, finally settling on simply watering up at the colorful bathroom in the park. All was quiet — even quieter than normal, and it was almost a shame to leave.

I had it in my head that it was time to make some miles, still sitting with half the loop in front of us. I also had in my mind ‘base pace’, so I took off at a nice steady tempo out on Highway 82. I remembered how broken I was at this point in the loop when I did it solo back in 2010. Pacing, pacing.

It was a bit too fast for this loop, but we kept it above 15 mph despite the wind, then got the junk calories we wanted from the store in Sonoita. First thing the lady behind the counter said to me was, “boy, you’re behind the pack.” My brain short circuited for a second… I’m in a convenience store and other riders have been through… am I bikepack racing?

OK, it was just a group of roadies out from Tucson. I assured her we were riding trails, not roads, and while that may have been true earlier in the day, we left town to rip through still more roads. The wind was at our backs on those roads, so speeds in the twenties were no big deal. I did a double take at my GPS… Gardner Canyon already? Can’t be.

I gave us the option to skip some climbing and stay on the pavement a bit longer, but we opted to get off the highway. Another good choice. Coming back on the Kentucky Camp AES course the wind was still at our backs, so even the climbing was inconsequential. It was so warm, and the lowering light made for the perfect evening. I started realizing that we might finish this thing with daylight to spare.

We whisked down Box Canyon, and I tried to prepare myself for washboard torture. This section had destroyed me the last time I did this loop.

Pacing, fueling (Carborocket!) and (most important of all) a hefty TAIL WIND made the last miles not torture, but pure bliss.

The sun was still above the horizon as we floated over the washboard and breezed up the climbs. There’s nothing like knocking out a difficult ride, on tired legs, and having it go better than expected, be easier than expected. Success.

I had to tell Krista to try riding back up the road we just came down to see just how much of a tail wind we had been reaping. She didn’t believe me. It only took a few seconds of pedaling into it before she turned around and said, “yep.”

We made it back to the Corsica in just under 80 miles and just over 9 hours. That makes for 200 miles on the MTB in 3 days. I think that should suffice for ringing in the new year. Great weekend, thanks for the idea of putting two big rides together Krista, it was a good one. “You guys are crazy.”