Perimeter Ramble

Hiked the Perimeter Trail up from the bottom of Carr Road to Miller Canyon and back via the Clark Spring Trail.
This bit of peeling bark reminded me of the old woodland-camo pattern.

Juniper berries smell enticingly like gin, but I can never find any vermouth trees.

Apart from an early cold snap, it's been a mild Fall, so there are still some colorful leaves clinging to the trees in Miller Canyon. Reminder to self: Some of the bigger oaks near the Perimeter trailhead have potential as rope climbing anchors.

They're slightly beyond the sell-by date, but these madrone berries are still purty.

Carr Peak Bike-Hike

Up ahead on the trail, I heard someone curse sharply. Other voices responded with something unintelligible but sympathetic sounding. I rounded a bend and caught sight of them: a half-dozen Forest Service workers outfitted for trail maintenance standing in two groups about a hundred feet apart. One of the nearer group, a young woman, saw me coming, and said, "I'm so sorry." I made a questioning face. "I accidentally broke their nest and the bees are all stirred up. You might want to run past them." She glanced toward the more distant group, who were rubbing and scratching.

I saw the bees flying fast, tight orbits around their nest a couple of feet off the trail. They looked stirred up alright, but not very numerous or menacing. "I'm not allergic to bees, so I'll try to sneak past," I said. And so I tried. The bugs left me alone until I drew up even with their damaged home, then attacked en masse. One made a direct assault on my nose, seemingly intending to crawl up a nostril, while others stung my nearside arm and back. I had time to mutter "Crap!" before pawing at the nose invader and taking off running. I tore the bee-booger away from my face, only to have another replace him, and sting my nose in the bargain.

About the time I barreled into the midst of the second group, the bees broke off their attack.

I continued up to Carr Peak to inspect the Geocache (A-OK!) and have a snack before heading down. I had ridden the mountain bike from home up to the Ramsey Vista campsite, where I'd locked it to a tree. I'll add the trip stats later.

Carr, with Mushrooms

Carr Road Ride

Rode from home to Reef Campground; roundtrip of 27.6 miles with 3100' of climbing in 3:02:35. Made it from the parking lot to the Reef in 52:35, about par for the course. Felt like I had plenty left in the tank when I finished, as I'd made a conscious effort to take it easy. Pics are from the pasture on the south side of Carr Road, and at one of the final switchbacks near the top.

Miller Peak

My hike to the peak via the Miller Canyon trail was not the unalloyed pleasure of past trips. The heat, humidity and swarming bugs got the better of me. I was soaked two miles in, and remained that way until I toweled off after my post-hike shower. My usual source of solace, speed, just wasn't there today.

At the summit I checked on my Geocache: all is well. I ate lunch and watched crowds of ladybugs milling around on bits of deadwood and leftover campfire char.

The trip down was blessedly fast, given the grumble of potential storms overhead. The grumbling was insincere, though, as not a drop fell.

Brown Canyon to Parker Canyon Lake

Just 13 miles away--10 from the Brown Canyon trailhead--that's how close to home pretty little Parker Canyon Lake is. Of course there's the small matter of the Huachuca Mountains in the way, making the trip to Parker a 38-mile slog on the dusty Montezuma Pass road, a 50-mile slalom on pavement through Elgin, or an extended round of hurry-up-and-wait transiting Fort Huachuca.

The thought occurs, it'd be easier to walk. So that's what I did. Starting from the trailhead on Ramsey Road, I stitched together the Brown Canyon, Hamburg, Pat Scott, Crest and Sunnyside trails to make my way to the Montezuma Pass Road and onward to the lake. Amy dropped me off before six and promised to meet me at the other end at around one. I didn't envy her the drive.

At the top of Brown, I met a lady and her dog, the latter enjoying a canine favorite: the Bath-n-Guzzle. The water in the trough smelled strongly of algae and tadpoles, a real plus in the dog's opinion. The owner asked me where I was headed, and when I told her she said, "That's certainly ambitious." Heh. "Ambitious" is the new "interesting."

I pushed on up Brown to join the Hamburg Trail, then upward toward the Crest. I made this a test run of my new Vibram KSO Trek foot-gloves, and was happy with the extra traction relative to the slick-soled regular KSOs.



I had good conditions for the hike; an unusually cool day (high forecast in the upper 80s) and wind to keep the bugs away for awhile.

I didn't want to get bogged down with sightseeing, but I snapped a few pictures anyway. It's impossible not to.

Golden Columbine. These delicate beauties were everywhere in the canyon, particularly abundant near streams and seeps. I also spotted some purplish orchids, but they were past their prime, already wilted and withered.

I called Amy when I reached the Crest to assure her that I was on schedule for our one o'clock rendezvous. We'd been texting throughout the morning, mostly cussing out SPOT for a lack of tracking. I cycled power several times, but the tree cover is too dense along most of the route. If SPOT can't get a GPS fix, it won't bother sending a track. I tried once more after hanging up, and bingo! SPOT started tracking.

Just a tenth of a mile south of the junction at the Crest, I picked up the Sunnyside trail for the trip down the other side. The western slopes exposed me to an unpleasant southwest wind for awhile, but as I descended I was swallowed up by forest and once again sheltered from the wind. So too were swarms of bugs, and they gathered around me in malevolent clouds. I was ready for 'em, though. At the last minute I'd dropped a headnet into my pack. I deployed it, careful not to trap any of the bastards on the inside, and experienced the snug comfort of isolation from one of Nature's nuisances--like sitting by a window inside on a stormy night.

Pretty soon I cruised into the ghost town of Sunnyside. Wind and bright sunshine kept spooks and spectres at bay, and I was within striking distance of my goal.

Hit the Montezuma Pass road at around noon, and realized that I had a very good chance of making the lake by one. I picked up the pace and reached pavement in about 45 minutes. I turned on a walkie-talkie (no cell here) and immediately received a cheery deedle-deedle alert tone from Amy. She'd just pulled in to the parking lot. I told her I was a quarter-mile away. Made the one o'clock appointment with seconds to spare, as recorded by SPOT, below.

Stats: 19.6 miles with about 3500 feet of climbing (trailhead to the Crest; thereafter almost entirely downhill).

Cooper Brown Mini-Epic

With the wind bending treetops and grassblades alike, it seemed like a good idea to stay close to home. I slapped the new Exiwolfs (-wolves)on the D460 and rode from home down to the Huachucas. Got in 35.7 miles and 3849' of climbing by piecing together routes along Garden Wash, Ramsey Road, Cooper/Perimeter trails and Brown Canyon--a mostly singletrack Tour de Sierra Vista.

A bad omen at the outset of Perimeter--a slow-leak flat. I replaced the tube and pushed on, but didn't put in my best performance on the trail's rockier passages. Don't know whether it was the loss of mental-momentum or the poor traction of the rear tire. (I dutifully followed the sidewall arrow, despite a strong intuition that it'd grip better reversed.)

Lunched in the shade at the Carr Canyon trailhead, then headed off to battle the wind on pavement. Heading west up Ramsey Road was a trial; it was a relief to turn into Brown Canyon and start climbing in earnest.

Brown - Hamburg - Crest Hike

I've been considering a one-way hike from Sierra Vista over the crest of the Huachucas to Parker Canyon Lake. But before I can sign up a shuttle driver to pick me up at the lake, I need a reasonably accurate idea of how long the trek will take. Today I walked the first half of the route, from the Brown Canyon trailhead to the Crest Trail near Pat Scott Peak.

The trek of 16.6 miles with 5000 climbing-feet took a bit over six hours. Uniform of the day was sandals for this trip, but the Vibrams would have been fine, too. Thanks to good trails and signs, there are no navigational difficulties enroute. The snowpack is still melting, so the creeks were running with gusto. When I reached the Crest Trail the weather took a turn: Clouds moved in, the wind came up and, as I was rounding the final bend in Brown Canyon, swirls of tiny snow crystals swarmed down, just to put an exclamation point on a Spring of strange weather.

Spotted these deer just as the snow-sprinkle ended. They weren't sure what to make of it either.

Looks like I'll need to allot about seven hours for the hike to the lake; eight if I want to arrive a little before my shuttle expects me.

(GPS track is for the outbound hike only; on the return leg the gathering clouds degraded reception enough that the track was useless.)

Saturday Ride: Fro and To

Rode the Redline 1x9 counterclockwise, flying the Jeep-road whoopses down to the mailboxes, then--what the heck?--rode back up to complete the trail clockwise. Had the semi-slick Vulpines on, so I wasn't surprised to log a halfway-decent 7:45 to the mailboxes in spite of ongoing upper-respiratory torments. Also not surprised to get a flat from an itsy-bitsy thorn that wouldn't have drawn blood if I'd stepped on it barefoot. You make tires lighter by leaving out rubber, after all. 

Sunday Morning Ride: Counterrevolutionary Brown

A week or so back, I finally pieced together the off-pavement approach to Brown Canyon, linking the Garden trail, Calle Encina, Redrock Drive, and various double- and singletrack trails. Sunday morning I took the singlespeed Rat, still covered with Moab dirt, out to the canyon via the new route. When I merged onto the trail, I was headed counterclockwise around the loop, against the grain of my customary ride. Well, why not?

Perimeter Trail - Clark Spring Loop Run

It's been 24 hours and my calves are still kind of tight.

Under the influence of the book Born to Run, I decided to put my feet to the test: Starting from the lower trailhead in Carr Canyon, I ran Perimeter trail to Miller Creek to Clark Spring and back down Carr Road to the Jeep. Covered the 8.7 miles, 1600 feet of climbing in 2:07, about 15 minutes slower than a respectable mountain-bike time.

My Vibram Five Fingers foot gloves caught the attention of a lady on Perimeter. "You're not barefoot, are you?!" I stopped and showed off my minimalist footwear. She reached down and grabbed a couple of my toes and gave them a squeeze. "Your feet must be really tough." I laughed and said that if they were really tough, the Vibrams wouldn't be necessary. As we parted, I could see the wheels turning; she was trying to figure out who to tell about this strange trail sighting.

I put in my best licks on Perimeter, and arrived in Miller Canyon in 51 minutes. Speed-walked along the creek to the Clark Spring trailhead, where I resumed running. Parts of this passage were a little tougher--steep and somewhat loose. The Vibrams have smooth soles, with just narrow razor siping for grip. They work great on rock, but offer no mechanical assistance (e.g., lugs or tread) for coping with loose soil. Just gotta dig those toes in.

I skipped the John Cooper trail bypass and went all the way across on the Clark trail, reducing my overall mileage slightly from the mountain-bike version of the trip. By the time I got to Carr Road, I was ready to wrap it up. Those overworked calves were mooing a bit, and I was landing my strides a little slower and flatter than when I started. Amazing what a difference that makes; small chunks of gravel bit into my instep at times and I felt that I was jogging rather than running. Just before I ran out of patience, I arrived back at the Jeep.

It's the next day, and the damage assessment is in: No harm done. If I throw a trail run into the mix from time to time I'm sure I'll whip those whining calves into running bulls.

Sunday Morning Ride: Brown Canyon, Singlespeed

Just about done with the cold, but I took it easy on the initial climb. In the back of my mind, I harbored the hope that maybe my time would be a pleasant surprise, that in some counterintuitive less-is-more Zen fashion I'd get a faster climb with less effort. Nope: 9:40. Less is less, only more is more. Got it?

Recuperative Ramble in Brown Canyon

Friday morning rolled around and I still didn't have a workable plan. I had intended to head out to the Ramsey Well area west of the Whetstones and map out the old "pack trail" that leads to the abandoned homestead in Shellenberger Canyon. With a few cairns and other improvements, the trail could be an excellent route to Apache Peak.

Nothing wrong with that plan, except today's forecast for winds gusting to 40mph. With the head cold not quite gone, it'd be miserable. A walk would be nice, but I'd want some shelter from the wind...hell, why not just do the old-lady loop in the canyon?

Manzanita Blossoms

I slipped on my Vibram foot gloves and set off from the trailhead. Wind was already up, but as I got further down the trail the natural windbreaks attenuated it to just a fretful breeze. I set a quick pace to keep warm, and actually started to feel pretty good. About a mile in, a couple of mountain bikers passed me, causing a strong twinge of envy. Damn. I should have ridden today, I'm feeling pretty good. And I could do a helluva lot better than those guys. I jogged a few steps in the choppy, balls-of-the-feet stride necessitated by the Vibrams, and a thought occurred:

I'm almost as fast as they are.

Without pushing too hard, I found that a scout pace of alternating sprints and fast hiking sufficed to keep my prey in sight and even narrow the gap. When I reached the junction with the Pomona Mine Trail, the bikers were taking a trailside breather. I pushed on and made it to within a tenth of a mile of Ramsey Road before they caught up again.

Completed the 5-mile loop in a touch over an hour. I rarely run, so I had some tightness in my calves from the unaccustomed movement, but was energized by the impromptu game. So this is why dogs chase bikes...

Brown Canyon: "You Too"

Singlespeed Rat Ride of the familiar hometown trail. Today was the first warm day in a while, and traffic in the canyon was heavy. Mailboxes to gate was 8:23 (meh), which I pledge to improve as I practice my shiftless skills.

Most of the bikes I encountered were riding counter-clockwise, so I pulled off and let them by in order not to break their momentum riding uphill. One rider rewarded my courtesy with a smart-aleck remark about my helmetlessness, saying "Living dangerously..." I was nonplussed, but muttered "You too." If he heard, I wonder if he knows what I meant.

Amy suggested a response from the Terminator menu. Heh. Tempting. I'm betting that his car was the Subaru at the trailhead with the Earth First! stickers on it. That slogan, and Gas Sucks-Ride a Bike strike me as incongruous messages for bumper stickers.

Carr Creek

Last Friday's hike to Manzanita Falls whetted my appetite for water photography, so I decided to make a short recon of Carr Creek below the falls. When it's running, Carr Falls is visible from town and audible from the Indian-named streets of the foothills. Water leaps out into empty air and free falls almost three hundred feet before crashing to the rocks below. By some counts, 19 hapless souls have followed the same trajectory with similar results. As a consequence, there are unsightly warning signs and fencing at the top of the falls.

I didn't cross the fence or see the dire signs today; I parked at the bottom lot and walked up to the one-lane bridge that crosses Carr Creek, then followed a trample-trail alongside the creek. I let the sound of the water guide me to likely photo ops. A certain volume and pitch of churning indicates that the water has encountered what could be an interesting obstacle. When I heard that telltale sound, I made my way to the creek and set up my camera and tripod.

The pictures I got today are slightly more to my liking than the Manzanita bunch, primarily because of Carr Creek's northern exposure. In the gloom of the shadow cast by the Huachuca Mountains I could stop the camera all the way down and get a shutter speed of one-quarter to one-half second. This relatively long exposure caught the flowing, foaming water as patterns of motion, rather than simply recording its momentary appearance. This is a standard trick of water photography, but it's hard to accomplish in broad daylight. Hence the rather mundane look of the pics shot at Manzanita Falls, and the somewhat artsier appearance of these.

So where's the fabulous shot of Carr Falls itself? It was barely running today, just a garden-hose trickle against the background of a darkly stained cliff. Today was a rehearsal for the day(s), soon to come, when the snow up there starts melting in earnest (or a warm rainstorm comes through and washes it downhill). When that happens, I'll be ready.

Sunday Morning Ride: Brown Canyon

Despite an unfavorable forecast and ominous clouds, I squeezed in a quick lap of of the ol' canyon. Took the D460 with fat knobbies installed and managed a 7:56 climb. Lots of traffic on the trail today, bikers, hikers and dog walkers, all trying to beat the weather. On the ride home I looked back and saw the clouds close in.

Sunday Morning Ride: Brown Canyon, Singlespeed

Took the Rat Ride on a tour of Brown Canyon this morning. The ride from town on pavement was interesting. As a kid, I always rode proper, utilitarian bikes with gears, never a Stingray, Banana Bike or BMX, so I don't have any muscle memory to call upon. Nonetheless, I quickly learned the spin-coast rhythm of the shiftless. And I discovered something interesting: I covered the 8-1/2 miles from driveway to trailhead in about the usual time, but with less perceived effort.

My climb from the mailboxes  to the gate was an adequate 8:23. The smaller wheels and lower frame threw off some well-rehearsed moves, and the gearing (33:16) was a little stiff in a couple of the steeper spots. The final ramp to the gate (the inside turn) slowed me to a near-stall.

At the gate, I was greeted by Lucy, a brown canine cyclone. Her pet mountain biker, Nick, was taking a breather nearby. The duo let me go on ahead, then caught up and passed in the fast section about a half mile shy of Brown Canyon Ranch. Never saw them again--they were flying!

On the chattery passages of the trail, I was aware of how solid the bike felt and how quiet it was. The absence of the jangle of the chain slapping the stay, and the confidence that the chain could not jump off the chainwheel seemed to free up some mental processing cycles that I used to good advantage in picking lines on the trickier parts.

On the pavement heading home, I got to sample the BMX lifestyle again, but downhill this time. Had to suppress a little impatience, as I'm accustomed to making 20-25 mph on the way back to the barn. But  kick-and-coast has its compensations: the commute home turned into a relaxing cooldown after the trail.

Cooper Loop-de-Loop II

I recently ran across an article entitled Being an Expert Takes Time, not Talent. Its obviousness notwithstanding, this revelation is a great comfort to me as a mountain biker. I have given talent every opportunity to reveal itself, but it's so far been a no-show. So, in accordance with the article's advice, I'm putting in the time necessary to develop  some expertise.

Today I spent time on the Cooper Loop, two laps worth, with an intermission to pull a stuck pickup out of a rut. Completed the first loop in 1:51, and felt pretty good about it; cleaned the upper trails and the Miller Canyon speedway, and bumped and bashed my way through the scabby parts of Perimeter trail. Second lap was almost as good until I hit Perimeter, where my expertise factor dropped suddenly and I floundered a bit. Fortunately, time also heals all wounds.

Sunday Morning Ride: Muddy Brown

The slush has melted, replaced by gritty mud. Mailboxes-to-gate in 7:58. Water flowing through the canyon everywhere with a pleasant burble, and only one hiker on the entire length of the trail. He stopped me to ask whether I'd seen anyone else; seemed a little shocked to have this beautiful place all to himself.

Playing Hooky in Brown Canyon

Snuck out of work this afternoon for a quick ride around Brown Canyon. The trail was sloppy, muddy and slushy, and I enjoyed every stolen second of it. Took an abysmal 8:34 from the mailboxes to the gate, but I was rendering a public service by moving half a ton of soil (in the form of mud caked on my knobbies) back uphill, thereby delaying the destruction by erosion of the Huachuca Mountains by a femtosecond of  geologic time.

Past the gate, I spotted bear tracks in the snow. I stopped to photograph them, then had a hell of a time getting going again. Slithered, slipped and slid more than rode the trail. Beyond the trough at the head of the canyon the slush gave way to mud, running water and trail subtly transformed by erosion. Embedded rocks stood out in relief. Loose rocks spalled from higher slopes dotted formerly smooth passages. I was forced to actually see my familiar trail; not necessarily a bad thing.

On the ride home I was plagued by weird noises, particularly a musical guitar-pick-in-the-spokes sound from the front wheel. Stopped a few times to fiddle until I found the problem: the front axle had shifted oh-so-slightly in the fork. Unclamping and reclamping the quick release eliminated the noise.