Dogfood, with some A-1, Please.

Fall is slowly marching down the mountain slopes, and I fear this may be one of the last really nice weekends for mountain biking for the year. I made it a point to go out today, and after getting a very late start, I headed out.

I beelined through town to the Schultz Creek trailhead, and set course up Dogfood. I made it to the top, turned around and blasted back down, which was the primary goal for the ride today. I just wanted to ride down Dogfood, something I had yet to do, and it was very fun.

After that, I decided to try to avoid riding through town, and found a route from Highway 180 that took me right by A-1 Mountain and across Observatory Mesa to the Tunnel Springs trail, then home in the dark from there. A little exploration to round out the ride... always nice.

The San Francisco Peaks, from Hidden Hollow.

Mileage: 35.2

What a slacker.

I had been intending to make a post a week or so ago... but I got busy and lazy. Four letter words, they are. There's only so many hours in a day with which to ride and be distracted by shiny objects, and let's face it; Riding, and shiny objects are just a little higher on my list of priorities.

So, what have I been up to, specifically?

Well, I broke my first spoke:
I was cranking up a hill, and heard a plink that shook the whole bike, which left me frantically looking for what broke, until I saw the rear wheel tweaked. D'oh. Another broken part for the wall.

I've also been testing the load limits on Henry.
So far the heaviest load stands at about ~150 pounds, comprised of various boards, anywhere from 2 feet to 8 feet long. Stuff like this is why I got the Big Dummy, and boy do I love it. I like the weird looks people give me when I haul something big, too.

And then there's the actual rides I've been going on. I've been on a bit of an exploration kick lately, finally taking that left or right turn that I've never taken, but always wondered where it would take me, or what the trail looks like, what sights there are to be seen. Sights like a different view of Fisher Point, looking down the very beginning of Walnut Canyon:

Or looking up Sandy's Canyon:

I decided to ride up Fay Canyon, one I've surprisingly never done. I ride through Skunk and Sandy's Canyon all the time, and Fay Canyon sits between them. I wanted to collect the whole set. It's not the most scenic canyon out of the other two on either side of it, but it has its moments:


What Fay Canyon lacks in views, though, the trail itself more than makes up for. It's beautifully laid out, following the terrain like Laguna Seca, as the trail swoops from the canyon walls to the very edge of the wash, before doubling back on itself to sweep through the bottom of the wash and up the other side. The fast rolling sections are smooth and free of large rocks buried in the trail bed, with some mildly banked turns, so you can roll at speed with confidence. The technical sections are challenging, but not so much as to make you walk. It's unbelievably fun.

I can't believe I've never ridden it before now, though I'm sure there are a lot of trails like that.

Quack.

This... brings us to today. I got off work early to take care of a few things, and ended up going for a ride of undetermined destination and duration. I ended up doing Soldier's Loop to the Highlands, out to the Kachina Wetlands, before heading out a dirt road and following a game trail up to the top of a hill off Woody Mountain Road to see the sunset.

Fall, coming to a tree near you.

Fort Fork, on the Bridge trail.

Completely random balloons in a field.

Sunset from near the top of the hill off Woody Mountain Road.

Now, it's no secret I love riding at night. The last few weeks in summer saw me riding with the Absolute team on their Thursday night rides, but with the sun going down earlier for Fall, they're done for the season, though obviously that doesn't stop me.

That said it's cool when you're riding at night, and you see an animal of some sort. A rabbit, a squirrel, maybe a fox, even. It's really cool if you see something a bit bigger, like a deer, or a coyote.

Want to know what awesome is?

I was rolling down a dirt road tonight, the sun's down, I'm running full lights, but there's still a little light in the sky. All of a sudden, I hear an elk bugle, long and loud, and CLOSE. It scared me half to death and raised the hair on my neck. I whipped my head around, with the helmet light lighting everything in it's path.

And about 60 pairs of elk eyes, the closest of which were only 20 feet away, all stared back at me out of the darkness.

Awesome.

Mileage: 31.6

So that's the Pain Cave they speak of.

So I finally decided to ride STeve up Snowbowl Road after work today. That was hard, and painful, and my legs are pretty fried. I kept asking myself why I thought this was a good idea, of which the answer was "To see if I can do it."

Of course, there's also the fact that I get to come back down the 7 miles of twisty-turny goodness.

My goal was to make it up to the lower parking lots in time to see the sunset, a goal that seemed to creep further and further away with every "I've gotta stop because I feel like I'm going to cough up blood."

Looking downhill.

But I did make it to the top, and more than that, I made it in time for the sunset, which in itself made every tortured turn of the cranks worth it:

The blast back down the hill, setting a new top speed of 44.9 miles an hour was just icing on the cake.

I'll do it again.

Mileage: 37

Expecting the Spanish Inquisition

So, there's a thought in my head as I lay here trying to sleep.

There was a bike vs. car collision last week in an intersection near work that I pass through on a nearly daily basis, which turned out to be fatal for the cyclist involved. It's made me sort of hyper aware of the goings on around me while I'm riding, moreso than usual, as well as it's got me thinking, which is never a good thing.

Today I was browsing the bike forums and blogs, reading about other riders accidents, near misses, and other run-ins with cars on the road, and realized, that most (not all) of the incidents people post and rant about could be avoided if the cyclist rode more defensively, expecting the driver of the offending vehicle to do something stupid/illegal. In a perfect world, yes, everyone would obey the laws, and there would be no accidents of any sort, with the exception of those caused by mechanical failures or freak accidents due to any number of environmental variables.

But, we don't live in a perfect world, and with the ever increasing number of in-cab distractions, impatience, and generalized I-don't-give-a-fudge attitudes, the roads can be a dangerous and scary place to be. One way to deal with this is to stay at home, inside, as much as possible, never leaving except to take out the trash. But let's face it. That's no fun. And there's only so many places that deliver.

The other option is to expect the Spanish Inquisition.

See the car rolling down the street perpendicular to yours, and ask yourself if they're going to actually stop at the intersection before they turn right on red, or just roll it, and broadside you.

Don't go speeding along in the bike lane passing that backed up line of cars snickering to yourself about traffic. One may get sick of waiting and right-hook you as they decide to cut through a parking lot.

Even though you might legally have the right of way given to you by a green light, don't expect anyone else to respect that, especially police cars.

Bicycles are small vehicles, that are hard to see in a passing glance. So are motorcycles. I ride both. I ride like I'm invisible, as though other drivers can't see me. This makes me prepared, it helps me expect the unexpected. The vast majority of the time, it's unnecessary. People see me, yield to my right of way, and we all go on our way without incident and a minimal amount of annoyance.

But there's always that one time, when I think to myself "I bet they're not going to stop." So, like always, I back off, I cover the brakes, I check my escape routes. They blow the stop sign in front of me, nearly take someone else's front end off, and I'm left shaking my head, and glad that I anticipated it.

Some accidents are unavoidable. But I think if we all drive a little more defensively, and look out for ourselves, instead of counting on everyone else on the road to be responsible, we'll be a little safer. We just can't rely on the other guy.

Tonight, I rode home after midnight. There weren't many cars out on the road, and those that were out gave me plenty of space. Everyone saw me. I didn't need to be ready to try to avoid a run-in with a car.

But I was still ready.

Mileage: 10.4

Le Tour de Lake?

I do enjoy riding out Lake Mary-ward. Usually Northern Arizona is fairly dry, and any water, streams or otherwise near town is pretty seasonal. A trip to a lake or other body of water is a nice change of pace, a treat.

The downside is people. Specifically, what they leave behind, or en-route.

I've never seen so much broken glass on the side of the road as I have today, and it really makes me wonder why. Along with the shattered bottles on the shoulder was the rest of the garbage littering the ditches. It takes away from the view, as well as adds to the flat potential. Fortunately I didn't get any flats; Excuse me while I knock on wood.

I did have an idea as I was riding home, though. One common complaint from motorists is that cyclists don't pay any sort of road tax, yet claim the same rights as a car. (I take issue with this for a few reasons, which I won't go into right now.) But maybe one way to give back in a visible way, to show cyclists care about taking care of the road, might be to organize a group of people, anyone with an Xtracycle, bike trailer, or any bike that can carry a decent load, and collect trash off a mile or two of road, hauling it away on bikes.

I know it wouldn't work the way I see it in my head, and besides, I'm sure it's been done before.

AAaaannnyways.

So, I took off out towards Lake Mary. Made it to the far end in pretty good time, and decided I'd go to Ashurst Lake, up on Andersen Mesa. I've never been to Ashurst Lake, up on Andersen Mesa, so why not?

The road to Ashurst Lake, framed with pretty yellow flowers.

One of the many little lakes of Andersen Mesa.

Annnd, Ashurst Lake.

After that, I tried to circle Mormon Lake, but smoke from the Weir Fire to the south was drifting across. I didn't feel like choking on the smoke, so I turned around.

Good ride.

Mileage: 59.4

Chasing that epic ride.

I rolled out this morning at 10:30. So much for leaving early. I started off on my usual Arizona Trail E loop, first taking the Loop trail to Skunk Canyon. What better way to start off a day of riding with a nearly all downhill cruise through an open canyon, that suddenly closes in on you as you round a corner? Now, down to and up Fisher Point. It's a long 1.2 mile technical climb, with something like 600 feet of elevation gain. Nothing terribly interesting, aside from grinding up the hill and looking back to a smoke plume:

Turns out it was a prescribed burn.

I was down there!

From Fisher Point, it was a nice cruise along the rim of Walnut Canyon, though it seemed much easier. I hadn't ridden this loop yet this year, which was odd, since it's one of my favorite trails. I ended up running into a trail crew doing some work on two major re-routes of the trail, bypassing a couple of really tough/scary parts. My feelgood moment of the day came from the lead guy, when he turned to everyone else and said "You wanna see hardcore? He's got no suspension, and only one gear!"

That may make me hardcore, but it doesn't mean I'm any good.

They offered to let me ride on the new section of the trail, which I turned down. It would have been cool to lay the first tire marks on fresh trail, but I didn't want to mess up their hard work by locking up my rear brake, what with the tread on my rear tire worn down. I also wanted to have a goodbye roll on that scary section. I ended up clearing it nearly perfectly, one of the few times.

It's nice to part trails with a good note.

Of course, I can't go on a ride without breaking something, it seems...

*plink!* It still held the bottle, though.

On past the Old Walnut Canyon Highway, to the Monument road, and out to Cosnino. I love these segments. It transitions from big pines, oak, and cedar, to pinyon and juniper, with open grasslands. The trail has good flow, with little climbing, and just enough rocks and loose sand to keep things interesting.

Under an old alignment of Route 66, I-40, and the railroad tracks. I always ring the bell through the tunnels, something TC and I started a while ago. It's all about the echos.

The trail on the other side loses some of its flow. It winds between trees, which become more and more densely packed. Looking through the trees, I see a corpse of a car, and decide to have a little fun:

I'm still not sure what I was trying to do.

Not long after the car, the trail takes me through a big field. Usually it's filled with sunflowers. The trail cuts through the middle of it, which always makes for some fun with my allergies. But it's late in the year, and most of the flowers have shed their petals and lost their pollen. My allergies rejoice, but not me, because this field is the end of the easy riding.

The trail takes me behind the cinder pits, through hillsides overgrown with nettles, thistles, and goathead thorns. This year is worse than last year. Nettles cling to my socks and make their way into my shoes. Thorns toss themselves across the trail, going for my tires. I ride with my fingers crossed, which makes it harder to grab the brakes, as I roll downhill into the Rio de Flag valley.

Now begins the slog uphill, as I call it. I could easily do without this section of the trail. It's mostly soft cinders, and it's mostly uphill, as you may have guessed. I ride as much as I can, which seemed to be more than I managed last year. Before too long, I wind up at the tunnel at 89:

The cinders are behind me now, the trails are made of dirt and rock now. But now, I'm faced with a question.

Where to from here?

I usually follow the loop trail to the Christmas Tree trailhead. and ride home through town, as I'm usually tired, or don't have much daylight left. But I've made it to the Winona/89 intersection faster than usual, and I still feel good. So I head up.

Up the Heart Trail, up the side of Mt. Elden, on a steep washed out trail made of loose rock shards and switchbacks. I'm not doing that again anytime soon. It was not a ride, since I pushed the bike probably three-quarters of the way. It was worth it for the views, though, and it did sap my energy, and tire me out. Now I wanted to get home, since the sun was getting low in the sky, and I had no lights. And I was out of water. On top of a mountain.

Down Sunset Trail, through the Hobbit Forest. Contemplate riding down Little Bear, just to the fire burn line, just to see, but decide against it. I'll miss that trail. Ride down Onion to the lookout road. I try one of the logjams on Onion for fun. I clear it. I try the next one. Tri may never forgive me for that, and I walk the rest of the jams. Blast down the Lookout road to the gas station on 180, and get a Sobe to get me home, and some soda for when I get home. It's all about priorities.

I couldn't see Fisher Point from the saddle on Elden, but I could see Walnut Canyon, and some of the route I took from there to get to Mt. Elden. Close enough.
It's interesting to realize I just pedaled (and hiked) from the hole in the ground over there to the mountain over here. Interesting and cool. It gives me a moment of "There's nothing I can't do!" But then I read about Noodle and her TransAmerica tour, and I come back down to Earth pretty quick. I wish I had just a bit of her stamina. And willpower.

Maybe someday.

First colors of Fall.

Mileage: 41.5, plus about 2 miles hiked.

On Sunsets

TC's knees felt good enough to ride to Fisher Point last night. It was a nice ride, and we saw a huge herd of elk crossing the trail on the way there. I also did a bit of wandering up a drainage run to see where it went. (I thought it looked like a trail, and I've always been curious about where it went.)

I see you!

As the sun set, and lit up the sky, we sort of got on a bit of a discussion, about how it's very rare that anyone ever sits down and just watches a sunset. A sunset is no longer a show to be enjoyed as it happens, it seems, but now it must be captured, stored, and shared on blogs and facetube. That said, I fully include myself in that statement:

Because she took a similar one of me... we really are twins.

I love sunsets, and sunrises. And for me, taking pictures of them is a part of enjoying them, because I can share it with people who may not have the opportunity to see the show in the sky, even if my pictures don't do it justice. Nevermind the fact that with pictures, I can look at a sunset anytime. Some people may say that that lessens the feeling of awe when watching a real sunset, but I don't agree. I find myself more captured by the real thing, after looking at pictures of sunsets.

All that said, after the last picture, I put the camera away, and we watched as the sun sank lower and lit up the hanging wisps from the clouds with fiery reds and oranges, making the entire sky glow before fading to purple, and eventually gray as the last rays faded.

I'll admit, it was hard to keep from taking a picture of it.

Mileage: 21.3 yesterday.

Lupine Betty 7 Bicycle Lighting System

It is not very often that I get the chance to test new equipment. So when I was asked to test a "Really bright light" of course I said yes, which is how I found myself with a Lupine Betty 7 light system. This system is rated at a max output of 1,750 lumens, with a claimed 3 hour burn time at full power, from a package that weighs in at about 485 grams.

The first thing I noticed with the Betty 7 system, besides how bright it was, was how small the battery pack is, not much larger than a D cell battery. I had expected something larger to power such a powerful light. After that, was the solid feel of the light head, the body of which is machined from a solid piece of aluminum. A hefty rubber band mounts the lighthead to the handlebars, while the battery mounts to the frame with a large velcro flap, and a smaller strap to keep it from spinning around your top tube, should the ride get rough. The power leads are long enough to give you plenty of mounting options, and are pretty well reenforced.

Use:

I took the Betty 7 on a few night rides, the first of which saw it mounted on the bars of my cross bike. With the battery pack attached to the stem, the lighthead mounted on the bar top, and the extra length of power leads wrapped around the stem and battery pack, I set out on a group ride over MUPs, streets and some rough fire roads. The light never flickered, and the default light settings (high beam, low beam, and flash) let me chose how much light I wanted based on conditions. Everyone I was riding with was very impressed by the light output and small size of the system, especially when I lit up trees 200 feet away with the low beam. Despite the high pressures I run my tires at, and the rocky roads we rode over, the light never flickered or dimmed on its own, though the light head did tend to move a little, requiring position adjustments now and then.

The light then got moved to my full rigid single speed mountain bike for some true trail testing on some local singletrack. Once again, no matter how rough the trails got, the light never blinked or flickered, and delivered consistent light on the trail in front of me for the entire duration of every ride. I found myself blazing through familiar trails just as fast as I would in sunlight, and new (to me) trails I was able to tackle with confidence. Once again, the light head moved around, which got a little annoying on more technical sections.

One thing I did notice on tighter trails is that despite having a 16 degree lens, with a lot of spill light outside the focused pattern, the intensity of the main beam tends to wash out any peripheral view. In sharp turns and switchbacks, the trail would disappear into the darkness, and even with a helmet lamp, was hard to discern, due to my eyes being used to the bright patch of light in front of me from this light. A brighter helmet light would aid with this, of course, but Lupine is also releasing a 22 degree lens, for greater light spread.

I also took some time to explore the programming options. Out of the box, the light is set up with a high beam, (100% power) low beam, (55%) and a super flash setting. But it can be programmed for any number of stepped dimming and flashes, including an SOS beacon. The programming chart looks a little daunting and hard to understand at first, but a little trial and error didn't hurt anything when I tried it, and it is easy enough to revert back to factory settings. Before long, I had it set up for 2 step dimming, 3 step dimming, and a stepless setting that adjusts from 5% to 100% power, in 5% increments. I did find that at the lowest (5%) setting, the light did flicker badly, but anything higher and it shone steadily.

There were many "Wow! This thing is bright!" moments as I used this light. Moments such as lighting up part of the side of a mountain to show the group I was with how bright it was, and being able to say "Wait, let me turn it up!" Moments like realizing that this light is nearly as bright as some car headlights, so maybe I should turn it down a little so that I am not blinding them. It is far brighter than many people think necessary, including myself, until I rode at night with it. It was really nice being able to have my own swath of daylight in front of me on the trail.

A few quick numbers and features: The Betty 7 lighthead uses 7 Cree XP-G LEDs, for a combined output of 1,750 lumens, adjustable from 23 watts down to .25 watts, with programmable steps between. It has a claimed burn time from 3 hours all the way up to 168 hours, as well as a half-hour "reserve tank." It is powered by a 7.5 amp-hour lithium ion battery, which takes 4 hours to recharge. The light body is machined from a solid piece of aluminum, and acts as a heatsink for the heat generated by 7 LEDs, to keep them from burning up. The light also has a temperature management system that shuts it off if it gets too hot. A titanium ring wraps around a polycarbonate lens, similar to what is used in motorcycle helmet face shields. The system weighs 485 grams.

All this highlights what this light would really shine at, which is 24 hour races. Lupine offers a 14.5 amp-hour bottle battery as an upgrade, for nearly 6 hours of runtime at full power. Between its rugged construction, light output, and battery life options, it seems ideal for night races. The only potential problem is the mounting system, which did indeed keep the light attached to the bars on rougher trails, but didn't keep the light aimed where I put it.

All of this comes at a price, though, as a system similar to that which I tested retails for around US $995. If you want the brightest light made for a bike, there's not much that even comes close to the Betty 7.

This is the best example I can give of the power of this light:

A 160 lumen bicycle headlight.

Motorcycle headlight, on high beam. The fence visible is about 100 feet away.

Lupine Betty 7 Light system, on high beam.

Test Mileage: Around 62 miles ridden with the light.

Thanks to Absolute Bikes for loaning me the light to test!

Wind, Rain, Lightning, and all that kind of thing!

So as I sit here in the apartment listening to the wind whip around trees and buildings, I've got one thought in my head, besides Billy Idol's White Wedding.

Boy am I glad I decided to turn around and come home yesterday, or else I'd be riding into the wind all day today.

Wind is at the top of my list as far as conditions I don't like riding in, right up there with mud and washboarded roads. Keep that in mind, there will be a quiz later.

Riding to the Grand Canyon on the Moqui Stage Route has been something I've wanted to do for almost 2 years now, and on Friday morning, I loaded down Henry with food, lots of water, a change of clothes, and some camping gear, and set out for adventure. Let me tell you, nature certainly delivered.

Aww, Henry thinks he's cars now!

Nice view of the Peaks. It looks like it's going to be a nice day.

Darkening clouds 10 miles later... What was that about a nice day?

Rain falling right where I want to go.

At about 1 in the afternoon, I tied up the tarp and huddled with Henry while the rain pounded away, and lightning danced around. Four times, lightning struck within 50 feet, shaking the ground and leaving me deaf for a few minutes. After about 4 hours, I decided to call it a day, and pitched my tent under the tarp, figuring the ground there was fairly dry compared to the rest of the forest. I had only gone 27 miles, but I figured I would make it up the next day.

Camp.

It then proceeded to rain off and on all night, stopping just before dawn, when it started to clear out.

I broke camp, packed everything up, and set off down the road, meeting up with the Arizona trail, to follow it through an area called Lava Wash, which would take me to the Babbitt Ranch.

Remember what I said about mud?

The road through Lava Wash is a winding rocky road, with deep ruts and decent drops. And, because of all the rain, it was now a mud pit. 15 miles of it. I had to stop 3 times to clear mud from Henry's fenders, because it was binding the tires. It took me almost 4 hours to make it 15 miles.


I was not happy, nor was I having fun. And because of the progress, I wasn't going to make my mileage goals. So I called it, made it to the Babbitt Ranch, and took the dirt road (Which was dry, and only mildly washboardy) to Highway 180, to ride back home.





But I wasn't home free, not yet. Remember what I said about wind? I fought a 20 mph headwind all the way back to Flagstaff, with higher gusts. Finding the fun in that was hard.

Frustrating? A little. Disappointing? Mildly, but weather happens. Fun? Overall, yes. Would I do it again? Now that I have a better idea about certain aspects of bike camping and touring, absolutely! Though, preferably without the mud.

Mileage: Nil for the day.