Bob, Doug and I left Phx early to meet Helimech and a big group in Sedona at 8:45.   The stated goal was Sedona’s new 3 crown jewels: Hangover, High on the Hog, and H***.   This day would be my 5th time in Sedona in the past year, after riding it only 2x in 9 years.   The right trails and the right guides make all the difference.

Within the first 20 minutes in the parking lot, with our group of about 15 slowly assembling,   it hinted that we would not hit all 3 trails.   Before the ride was over, most everyone had some issue or another, and along with lunch and shuttling 2 times, the best thing I did was lose track of the clock on the seemingly-endless 30 minute climb up Munds.   No rain made lots of sand, which made this much harder than I remembered.   Doug also put his hand into the exact same cactus I did last year.   Along with Bob and Kenny,   the 4 of us were our own little group of pretty good climbers, but we all struggled up the hill.   The beautiful day and incredible scenery kept us motivated for the first reward – the ledgey traverse over to the Cow Pies saddle.

Bob

John (Traildoc) – I followed him whenever I could, he knows every line in Sedona

Grunting up over the saddle with my bike on my shoulder, I forgot how quickly the gnarly drop-in to the Hangover trail arrives – just shy of an hour.   Last year, the newness of this type of terrain had me already sketched when we reached the saddle. This year it felt good and I was calm and determined to try the bowl.   I watched Aaron (Lostboyz) plunge down the blue line, ending in a little double drop — there was no fucking way I was trying it.   Then Traildoc smoothly went down the pink line, which still looked hairy but doable.   I walked it, and watched Bob get almost all of it before skidding the finish, then hopped on my bike and went over the lip.

For about the first 2 seconds, I felt good and in control, then the back wheel started skidding sideways downhill, and suddenly I was prone facing into the hill and the bike was sliding down the face below me.   A couple of guys were on the ledge under the drop, and stopped my bike from going completely down the face, and then pandemonium ensued as everyone was sure I was dead.   Amazingly, I was unscathed, and felt really calm and never like I was in much danger.     Maybe cause it all happened so fast, but I think its more due to snowboarding, where you embrace the ground and its relationships to you, never losing focus on the triangle between it, balance and momentum.   Its clearly made me better at bailouts on the bike, cause I’m always moving and planning right upto the moment when I smack into the rocks. This time I consciously twisted around and fell into the hill with my toes digging in to give me purchase.   The bike would have been at the bottom of the butte were it not for my friends’ help, but it too suffered only a small tear on the seat and a lost endcap off one of the grips.   I couldn’t figure how the damage was on the right side, as I thought the bike fell on the left as the back slipped downhill, but maybe i spun it around and pointed downhill before flopping – who knows with all the drama?

Some guys later told me that the trick on that terrain is to use your front brake.   Bob had the same issue, thwarted by all our practice on Somo dragging only the rear brake down the chunky slots.   It was a good lesson for slickrock, and payed off before the trail was done.   Part of me thinks I should make more of this than I am, that I should really be freaked out — its a scary pattern if you line it up with my falls over the past 3 months on Wasabi, at NRA, plunking my forearm on Pass Mtn, eating pavement after the Halloween ride, avoiding cars on my commute.   But I’m no more hurt than when I fell on TRW 10 yrs ago, and didn’t ever get further beyond my ability than I did back then.   I think dwelling on it some is good.   Fear is good.   Pads are good.   But it was just one slip, and not a reckless one. I am at a point in my riding where this is a regular conversation, and I need to remember to always stay focused, stay within myself, and respect danger.  

I dusted myself off, and rode all the traverse and the exit off the high butte with no fear.   I went slowly and methodically, the deep sand making balance and acceleration a constant challenge, the narrow trail on the cliff totally unforgiving of sloppy leans. I got off many times to push sections that were too sandy or tight to roll, and stopped to preview all the hard moves at the end, but Hangover was simply not the same boogeyman that had been in my head since this time last year when I was nearly-paralyzed with fear.   When I came to the first tough switchback leading from the traverse out onto the exposed face, I easily cleaned it while recalling how last year it felt like a punch in the throat.   The seat was 4 inches down, runs down Holbert and Goat Camp and 24th St and Wasabi were in my mental well, the crash on the bowl blocked out of it,   and my confidence a stronger foundation than concrete and rebar.   It was just another thrilling double-black trail, and getting all of the switchbacks probably was the highlight of my riding year.

Josh coming down The Nose

A rip-roaring descent with more gnar and more challenges led us to the bottom, where we piled back in the trucks before stopping for lunch.

The consensus was to skip High on the Hog, and do the longer loop featuring H*** and several other superfun trails.   That wound up being a good decision, as most of us were gassed by the end of our ride.   It was only 20 miles and 4 hrs riding time, but with over 4k in vertical and practically none of it smooth rolling.   Some riders joined our group, others left, the slow technical climb up to the face of another butte consumed my focus. More ledges, more exposure, but somehow with a different feel from both Hangover where you dangle next to the void and HOTH where you hug and flow along the steep insides of a butte. H*** was longer and more epic than both, giving you a feeling of *mountain* biking that you don’t always get in Sedona, with its many short trails and rapid ups and downs. The pics, the laughter, and the contagious grinning carried us over a saddle and into a 1000 foot descent down to Buddha Beach. It was the longest continuous descent I’ve done in Sedona; a technical candy store full of slickrock, steep slots, switchbacks, whoopdies, and rock gardens.

I’m Helimech, your host, welcome to Fantasy Island

I learned not to follow stud riders like Kenny and Mitch through slickrock gardens if self-preservation is a goal, but riding near them was like being in a video game – I would lean and jump a little, and they would fly across the sky. I flowed right behind Aaron through the whoopdies, the big air he caught at every opportunity serving like signal flares for each moment I too should throw my bike skyward.

Doug flatted at the top of this rock garden, but it was such a fun stretch I didn’t mind walking back up to the top to help him, since I could roll it again.

Bob and Aaron waited with us.   My new fancy-shmancy pump got put to good use.   Other things from my camelback that were gainfully employed on the day:   spare derailleur hanger, multitool, and zip ties for Aaron, who yanked off his fubarring a landing through the whoopdies.   I was psyched to help him with the ties, especially after his help made swapping the derailleur hanger a no-brainer task.   Karma is good like that.   I shared with the assembled pilgrims the Riddle of the Roll of Duct Tape, then we climbed 800 feet in 3 miles to the top of Slim Shady before plunging the last few miles to the Bike and Bean parking lot, where Helimech and the shop guys supplied the beer.   The broken derailleur hanger again served us well as no one had a bottle opener.