Burgeoning confidence in my ability to knock out a long day has begat an addiction to big adventure rides. After the PMC, I was fired up and full of aplomb for this ride. It was largely on jeep roads, so an easier 100 than singletrack. The concept of dropping into Sedona from Flagstaff and climbing back was seductive.
I didn’t do any particular training, just my normal routine, and initially intended to do the 50 (nee 60) one way into Sedona. Chump change. But the overhead started to creep in: leave home the night before, get a ride or drop a shuttle car in Sedona, back to Flag, all to only ride 50 miles… James decided to go big about when i did, and our goal was set.
Maad and Gordon get their game faces on in the Safeway parking lot
Nacho Libre es mas macho!!! Noel and his family put me and BrianC up at their cabin. Close proximity to the start made the 6am launch tolerable.
16 riders started, most of whom were faster than me. This ride was, ostensibly, a group ride, but I had no expectations of that happening. Neither the fast guys hammering to Sedona nor the touring guys heading to Oak Creek Brewery were a fit. I felt much better when i let go of the pack and turned on my music, trading company and a draft for a pace i could maintain. Losing the push to keep up with others was a vulnerability, so i broke the ride down into splits to keep on pace for finishing in the 13.5 hours of daylight. 6 hours to Sedona, 3 hours out of Sedona and up the rim, and 3 hours back to Flag left me 1.5 hours to rest, resupply and puke. This translated into about a 10mph moving pace, Schnebly Hill aside, which became my metronome – each swing of speed, each slowdown, i had to target at least 10 mph or I’d never get done.
The first 25 miles were surprisingly tiring fireroads, ripples of washboard and strips of sand forcing constant activation instead of easy-spinning. I quickly got hungry, which was a huge red flag. Driving north during dinner and getting up early set me down at least 1000 calories, and suddenly managing my hunger became as big a deal as hydrating, but harder, since I usually pig out at home and don’t think much about food while riding. Experience helped me adapt, which wound up saving me. I finished all the food i thought i wouldn’t need by mile 70, but carefully avoided bonking the whole ride.
a tornado came through here last fall
hello, welcome to my Happy Place. Can i get you anything?
After 2 hours and about 25 miles, we neared the end of the Mogollon rim and got a glimpse of Casner Mtn. Vistas of Red Rock Country surrounded the steep powerline road across the ridgeline. When I saw this stretch on the topo profile, i thought it was a mistake in the track since the pitches shot straight up and down in rapid succession.
powerline roads are mountain biking’s Martin Luther King Jr Blvd
somebody ran this guy over. I’m blaming my friend Raybum, who I saw at mile 15 and then again at mile 70
wildflower season in the Valley has been pretty tepid, but looked good in the high country
throwing my bike down in frustration on this gang-banged hike-a-bike led to the above pic
approaching the 2k descent
these endurance rides bring out different kinds of riders and bikes, which is part of the fun…seeing others’ styles, strengths and weaknesses, goals and ambitions for a given day, how each person solves the problem of The Perfect Ride on The Perfect Bike. This guy (forgot his name) was on a rigid single-speed cross bike, and had us thinking of a Medivac as he slipped side-to-side down the babyhead-filled ruts. I was at the back of the fast pack for the entire approach, but led our group down, then got smoked again by the guys on CX bikes.
James in the switchbacks on the 3 mile descent off Casner
behind James, the switchbacks are scarred into the mountain
We were still only 35 miles in, and elation from the descent quickly turned somber, then got smacked in the mouth by the heat radiating off the red rocks during the 15 mile approach to Sedona.
By now the group had irreparably fractured, so James and I re-synched for the long haul as we began 10 miles of singletrack through West Sedona.
Sedona singletrack is slow, sandy, rocky and roasting. My last few years of Sedona renaissance has been on the spectacular all-mountain trails like Hangover and High on the Hogs, not the XC stuff that I largely ignored for 10 years. After 4 joyless dry creek crossings along the Corkscomb trail, I voted we eject onto a road asap and get to our resupply at the Burger King in town. Another 30-60 minutes of slogging would have a big ripple effect; I was already aggressively managing Team Chollaball to finish the day.
20 minutes of adding this and discarding that in the BK’s AC, and we marched out to face the ride’s biggest challenge. At 1pm. Which dumbfuck thought that up? Schnebly Hill Road goes up 2200 feet in 8 miles. Its a tolerable grade, but the surface is full of embedded rocks and puddles of powder. The geologically accurate term for this terrain is ‘suck-ass‘.
We went about 2.5 miles, took a break, went another mile, ate, repeated. 1.5 hrs and 1600 feet later we got to the lookout, and had our pic taken by a dude from Florida who had flown in to attempt the Coconino 250. That put our day in perspective. The cool thing about guys like that, the AES races, my buddies today who were faster or slower, is that this whole scene is about the effort and the journey. If yours is legit, so are you, and will find gracious company.
I sunk into a pool of shade on the roadside at the summit, and ate everything left in my pack. The end was in sight, but where? Neither of us knew much what to expect other than 25 miles of mild elevation over dirt roads. more washboards? 2 hours? 4? A couple fast miles down and onto the shoulder of I-17, where easy spinning outweighed the windblast from passing trucks. We hit a convenience store at Munds Park, then an awful ATV-sculpted double-track. 5mph, 7mph, 4mph…3, 3.5 hrs til finish…7:30 sunset, temps rapidly falling…click clicking in my head. James counseled me to stop looking at the garmin. He has a point. He is also much stronger than me. I require reminders to drink every 15 minutes in cool weather, every 5 when I’m tired. I need progress reports cross referencing mileage and time and vf. If I rode more and worked less, riding would be zen and effortless, and work would be so hard. If I worked more and rode less, I’d be rich, live in Silicon Valley, and have kids writing sonatas in Montessori kindergarten. Instead i flail at each, and a descent into the depths of my endurance leaves me so empty i find a rare moment of peace with both goals.
Mile 77, my music died.
Mile 85, after 30 min of gravel roads just deep enough to be bland and awful and utterly uninspiring, I stumbled off the bike and held a safety meeting with myself. Emptiness flowed into my numb hands and feet. We saw a gift from Noel and Amy’s kids. I sang to myself, angel’s wings won’t you carry me home. Social Distortion was on when the mp3 player died.
We had just packed up the signs and rolled out when Noel drove up the other way with chocolate-covered donuts that sugar-coated the last remnants of pain and frustration. The road turned down, and paved, and for the first time in almost 13 hrs we saw the Peaks. Breckenridge Vanilla Porter awaited.
94 miles, almost 9k vf, ~10.5 hrs moving
And a few more pics from James’ trip last year, and from Yuri and Gordon’s blogs.