The first ‘wild’ poppy of the season — ones on highway embankments or other cleared areas don’t count.

As in everything, there always has to be a first, and I have a feeling that thousands more poppies are going to follow. Chad is first when it comes to exploring the Tortolita Mountains. I’m a total newbie out there, so when he offered a full Tortolona tour, I couldn’t really say no. I’m not so sure if thousands of riders will ever follow Chad into the Tortolitas, but yes, he is a unique desert flower.

Chad led us onto cow singletrack and barely-a-trail style riding. We dodged catcus and were rewarded with some nice piles and expanses of rock.

The classic quote of the ride was from Nathan, after noticing we had fumbled around for 15 minutes only to return to the same spot:

“Chad, are you trying to write your name with the GPS track, or something?”

Kurt, who is one of Chad’s Spanish students, came along for the ride, and is picking up skills fast. I don’t think he or Nathan really knew what they were getting into on this ride, but they were good sports about it.

We followed more ‘barely-a-trail’ for a while, when Chad got distracted by slickrock. The boy has a bad case of rock lust. I didn’t realize until today’s ride how progressed the condition has become. We need to get him 500cc’s of an extraterrestrial drug called Area 52, STAT. It’s the only hope for curing (read perpetuating) the disease.

Approaching the southern edge of the Tortolitas the ‘Como’ / Mouse trail takes a turn for the legit and also techy fun. The theme, in my mind anyway, was ‘float and carve.’

photo by Chad Brown

I love my new 4″ Leviathan. With the 9mm front axle it’s like a light and XC ready version of the Behemoth. Favorite comments I’ve received about my setup:

“Those grips… those are ridiculous.”

“What is that, a trash bag?” (referring to the feed bag)

From the 24 Hour race:

“Are you running platform pedals?” (looking at my shoes)

“What, are you going camping out there?” (in reference to the frame bag)

Chad and I continued through the fanciness of Dove Mountain and the Ritz Carlton.

photo by Chad Brown

This is the kind of riding the bike excels at, and also the kind of riding that really gets me fired up.

Climbing Upper Javelina / Mustang is now solidly in my top five climbs in the Tucson area. We didn’t come close to cleaning all of it, which is the way it should be. You never push your bike for more than a few moments, and those moments seemed perfectly placed to keep the heart from racing and head from overheating. My legs felt surprisingly good.

It was the perfect temperature — just warm enough that you can feel ‘too hot’, climbing hard in the sun. That feeling is quickly broken by a descent or a breeze, which if sustained, soon makes you too cold. Love the contrasts.

We topped out near the upper reaches of the Tortolitas and the hard climbing was over. The trail had a wonderfully remote feel to it. Tucson was invisible. Saguaro guarded valleys and unknown peaks surrounded us. Grasses grew into the trail, suggesting little, if any, use. It was like exploring a brand new piece of remote Arizona Trail. I couldn’t shake that feeling as we hooted and hollered our way down the trail. Not that I wanted to.

We dropped into Wild Burro wash, and it was time to ride sand. A planned trail will make this part of the ride unnecessary, but today we churned sand for several miles and my legs weakened.

Chad cleaned a steep pour-off in the wash, and I spun out. We ran into a windmill and I knew that meant a 4×4 road was likely in our future. I was right, and after spinning in granny gear for a few hills, we were looking at the Catalinas and the east side of the Torts.

From there it was a long and flowing descent, quite a bit of which was singletrack or twisty ATV trail, back to the starting point and the closing of the ~40 mile, ~7 hour loop.

It was deliciously warm back at the car, post ride bleeding and exhaustive bake in full effect (in reality it was all of 70 degrees). I am so looking forward to the heat of spring and many long days out on the trail.

For now it’s time for a few sunset recovery rides.

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Look how green it is down there!

Who else could lead us onto a trail that’s so steep and loose, it’s ludicrous.

There’s Duncan climbing Suthers. You really have to be there, getting thrown around, to appreciate how relentlessly rocky it is. The human mind simply fails to record or process the experience.

Good try! Note Chad’s knowing and semi-evil grin. The Techy Taco ride strikes again!

Freeride a bit to start Baby J.

Fishies are still in the trough, and the pipe had such flow you could have sprayed the thickest mud off your bike with it.

Green swamps and slick rock.

Water crossings a-plenty.

photo by Chad Brown

Micro-hucks, too! Wheeee!

Wispy clouds and perfectly manicured golf-course-like grass. Spring fast approacheth!

Duncan’s a solid rider.

The great thing about perfection is that it’s a wholly human construct. I’m a human too, last time I checked. So I am free to create my own definition of what it is. I’m also free to let it evolve over time.

This evening it was watching the sun turn orange while zipping down a trail I know by heart. Feeling the strength in my legs and the warm air on my skin. The quiet of the night.

Chasing my friends down the ridgeline by handelbar light, and being chased by bats just the same. Expecting the temperature to drop, but instead finding nothing but blissfully warm air.

Scarfing a plate full of tacos and laughing with friends. Then driving home with stereo nearly blowing out the speakers.

My perfection — today, now. I’ll take it.

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Time to catch up a bit.

I keep finding myself at sunset, on the river path. Part coincidence, part orchestrated.

With the volley of storms we’ve been getting, our little river (Rillito) has been flowing most of the winter. We don’t often get to cycle to the sound of rushing water, so it’s a nice treat.

Sometimes I’m amazed at the simple pleasures of a bike ride. It seems like the focus of my little web log here is often about things like exploration, riding challenging stuff, pushing limits, beautiful landscapes, or riding ridiculous distances.

At times all of that seems so irrelevant, and it is more than enough to simply be outside, enjoying the wind on my face.

I take short rides from the house all the time, and lately I have been surprised how much I enjoy them. I take neighborhood roads, back alleys, little dirt trails and river walkways. There’s never anything new. Never any challenging rocks or big mountains to climb. Never more than a few hours ‘ride time.’ My legs are usually fried enough that I can’t pedal hard, and I don’t have the gearing (no big ring!) to do so anyway.

So there’s not much for the diary, except maybe a sunset pic or two. Yet several of these rides lately have been some of the best riding of the year. Enjoying prime Tucson weather might be part of it, or maybe it’s a reflection of my mental state of late.

My friends Todd and Krista Park are done training in and enjoying Tucson, for now, and have moved on to California. It has been fun to ride with them, and find a little inspiration to take my so-called training a little more seriously. I even did some intervals!

I think I have enough (strong) riders whispering in my ear that life is too short for ‘training.’ I appreciate that, and have perpetuated that idea myself. But life’s also too short not to train, to some extent. I can’t tell you how invigorating it was to blast my way up Agua Caliente last weekend with power to spare. Being “strong“ (emphasis on the quotes) is fun and opens new possibilities. I think I have somewhat neglected the pure fitness aspect of mountain biking in recent years.

Krista is one of the top racers in the country, and besides being super speedy, she trains very seriously (and she is coached by none other than my 24 hour partner and super coach Lynda W). Look out for her this year!

Todd and Krista had a bit of mishap while trying to ride and get out of town, but we still managed a nice 4 hour tour of Robles and Tucson Mountain Park.

Mike Curiak is up to his usual amazing and inspirational antics, traveling the expanse of Alaska, 100% self supported. Yes, that means that he is carrying over 20 days of food and by his own ethic, cannot even enter a building or take a frozen gummy bear from a passing snowmobiler.

Like the two previous years, Mike is carrying a SPOT unit, and I get the pleasure of tracking him. He can’t go inside to use a phone, so it’s the only way to know how things are going. His tracking page is:

http://trackleaders.com/iditarodi.php?name=Mike_Curiak

with written (often speculative!) updates, posted by myself and Jill Homer here:

http://lacemine29.blogspot.com/

Mike’s bike, fully loaded (photo from Mike Curiak)

I’ve got my fingers crossed that this is his year and he will make it all 1000+ miles to Nome. He wrote a very nice post outlining the trip and his approach here. It’s hard not to dream big when you read about a trip like his.

photo by Greg Luck

Finally, Mr. Greg Luck joined the 90’s and got himself a blog:

http://gregandtrina.blogspot.com/

With his photo skills it should be a good one to keep up with on the feed reader. I’m looking forward to his 50 year pics to come. (Above pic is a cool combo shot from the AZT in Colossal Cave).

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saturday evening’s suburban assault ride with paula — we got thoroughly soaked at the end

I had a hunch that I was ready for long ride, or maybe a hard ride. Why not go for broke and do both? I opened TopoFusion, started loading up and looking at tracks.

I was thinking about what I wrote in the last entry, about there being so many aspects of MTB’ing that I’m in love with. I started thinking about a few aspects I’ve been neglecting lately. Nothing wrong with neglecting them, I just knew if I tapped a few it had the potential to be a really good ride.

What have I been missing lately? Steep climbing. Solitude. Tiny (granny) gears. Big views. Jamming to tunes. Long solo rides.

Don’t want to drive — too much of that lately, too. Hmmm, TF says I’ve never ridden to the top of Agua Caliente from home before. A new challenge that would be sure hit on all of the above? How could I say no?

I only do this ride about once a year, because it’s a beast. ~3000′ of net elevation gain in just over 4 miles of Milagrosa style terrain. Better be on your game or you’re gonna walk, a lot.

On the lower pitches I spied a lean and mean looking bobcat, on the prowl. He moved so gracefully through the landscape.

It was the perfect inspiration. Time to prowl and power my way up rugged trail, pawing my way around corners and digging my claws into the dirt.

The pattern goes: climb your brains out until a) you dab, b) you redline. Stop, collapse on your handlebars. Then repeat.

I had a lot more of (b) than (a). Does that mean I’m stronger or weaker than last time? You might think weaker, but I think not. If you’re weak you will dab before you can exhaust yourself.

I thought multiple times, “no way this section is happening” ….
….
“but…. don’t….. give…. UP!” ….

only to ride out of it and laugh and hoot with whatever energy remained (not much).

Of course, I had an equal number of reciprocal moments ….. “I got this….” followed by …. “guess not!”

I realized on the lower pitches that I didn’t have my 36t super granny cog (didn’t put it on for 24OP). But it was no big deal — I rode more and stronger than I ever have. Maybe it was the 16 mile warmup ride from home, maybe it was the lighter 4″ Lev, maybe it was good traction, or maybe I’m just stronger and the 36t really is a crutch!

As expected, I didn’t see anyone the entire time I was on dirt. My mp3 was playing all the right songs as I soared along the ridgeline and gobbled up the enormous views.

The wind was howling, and jellyfish squalls patrolled the Tucson and San Pedro basins. A few drops fell on me, but not enough to raise concern.

I took a few longer collapse on handlebars breaks. It was impossible not to notice how cold it was in the wind. Stop for more than a minute and I knew I’d get super chilled, super fast. But there was no sense putting on more layers because the effort of hard climbing was enough to keep me warm. My comfort and happiness were real and tangible, but also so fleeting, depending on available energy and the will to continue. Stop and it’s gone. Blink and you might miss it. It seemed a fitting metaphor for things of late. As I wrote last time, my torch is glowing bright, but how fleeting is it? How long can it continue and how much does it depend on available energy and general good health?

Best not to blink and miss any of it, I guess.

The last quarter mile is stupid steep and not rideable, even downhill (by me). So I ditched the bike and hoofed it.

At the top, I knelt in the wind shadow of tree, adding layers as quickly as I could, and also ingesting my prize:

A fitting reward for bagging the summit. So is the 360 degree view of the Rincons, the Catalinas, Tucson, all of Redington Pass and even the Galiuros. I watched the sky move sideways, as it often seems to from high places on cloudy days.

I started walking down and my legs responded with pain. Still feeling the effects of the Old Pueblo run… gah!

Back on the bike the gluttony that started with the butterfinger continued… down down down the trail. I took Agua Caliente proper on the way back, wanting some new trail and a chance to warm back up on the climbs. Oops, the climbs stung.

I completely forgot about the water bars at the bottom of the trail. Flying off each one increased the already exploding downhill stoke. A couple were perfectly spaced to do a ‘double kicker’ — manual, land, use the rebound to launch the next one and REALLY fly. Oh yeah!

The butterfinger didn’t last too long and I was already bonking when I ate it. I was trying to convince myself to eat something I had in my feed bag when I looked down and saw:

The butterfinger was good, and girl scout cookies seemed the perfect followup and the perfect anti-bonk. Five hours in, bonking like mad, one hour to go… no one is around… what to do? One of the great moral dilemmas the philosophers are sure to debate for centuries, no doubt. They looked so good, staring at me in all their orange peanut-buttery-ness.

I was tempted, but I figured someone left them recently, given that they weren’t rain soaked. So I left ‘em and instead choked down stale tortilla chips and a balance bar.

Wading across Sabino Creek on the way out was no big deal — a little cold. But on the way back I was wind blasted, bonking and out of energy. My feet froze and I was shivering on the other side. I struggled up the next couple hills trying to gain some heat, and it sort of worked.

By the time the sun set along the Rillito, I was feeling strong and was further energized by the light show. Dancing and jamming to the beats in my ears, I was happy to be riding all the way back, even if it was into the wind. I opted to take some suburban wash trails just to extend the ride a bit later, returning to my neighborhood a few minutes after flipping on my lights.

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Check out Sprocket (the pup) watching from his perch.

A nice & juicy chain fruit cholla. Oh the wonders of the Sonoran desert.

A lap of the chutes was obligatory. Tail breezes made it supa fast and thereby supa swoopy.

Greg rolled all the steeps of the upper 50 like a pro. I don’t think he rode them last time.

So yeah, uh, he’s smiling.

And who wouldn’t be, with weather like this, and the world as it is:

It was a welcome return to challenging riding, my ‘big’ bike, and trigger happy photo geekery. There are so many aspects of riding bikes that I’m in love with, sometimes it almost seems too good to be true.

Greg gets the credit for inspiring me to try a little harder on the photo end of things, and I’m pretty happy with the result. I haven’t seen any pics he’s taken yet, but his approach and focus are hard to miss.

The past four weekends have been pretty intense. I’ve managed to push into some interesting new territory on the bike. First was the APC 115, followed by bikepacking on snow, then a “short” singlespeed race and finally 24 hour lap racing! Phew. My torch glows brightly from it all. But, I think it’s time for a weekend ‘off’ — where by off I mean still riding, but just that. No goals, no focus, just enjoying being outside and on the bike.

Sounds perfect.

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