Kentucky Camp Epic

Been kind of toying with the idea of running the Kentucky Camp Epic, but wasn't sure how I would do. One way to find out: I loaded the GPS with the short loop route (~29 miles) and gave it a shot. Turns out I'd have finished 8th or 9th in last year's running with my 4:17 time.

Enjoyed the mixture of tough climbs, techy descents and fast doubletrack. Don't think I'll sign up for the race, but I will return to explore the lower loop of the long course, or maybe run the whole thing (46 miles).

Map of the run is here on everytrail.

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.

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.

Wheelset Musings

Lately I've been considering a new wheelset for the Redline D460. On a par with Breakfast is the most important meal of the day is the bike wisdom that New wheels are the first upgrade you should make.

A Ripped Sidewall to Boot

Just 2.5 miles north of Three Bridges I was climbing out of a wash crossing when I heard the hiss. I tried to tell myself that it was just a puncture, but the tire was completely flat before I could dismount. One of those scabby rocks embedded in the trail had reached out and slit the sidewall of my back tire, a lightweight Vulpine.

I had a replacement tube, but no spare tire, so I'd have to install a reinforcement (a boot) to prevent the new tube from protruding through the  rip and either blowing out or getting damaged by some other trail debris. Since I wrap all of my bike tools in short sections of innertube, I decided to use one of those pieces--the one I keep the tire levers wrapped in--to back up the slit.

I provided trailside entertainment for other trail users. A couple of runners that I'd passed near the trailhead pulled up; they had reached the turnaround point in their five-miler. Not typical runner physiques. He was shirtless with a broad, muscled back and a slight gut. She was more curvaceous than girl runners tend to be. But both had made excellent time on the trail and seemed fresh enough to run quite a bit further. He was sporting Vibram KSOs and while he'd done some distance on pavement in 'em, this was his first trail run. His feet were not particularly happy with the hard, rocky trail surface, but he figured they'd get used to it.

As I was finishing up, along came a fella on a blue Redline Monocog. He offered assistance, which I declined, and complimented my bike, which I accepted. "Glad to see that somebody else out here is crazy enough to ride this full-rigid!" was his heigh-ho Silver line. Heh. I don't need suspension, just tougher tires.

I got the tire back together with its reinforcing boot and pumped it up, all the while expecting it to blow out. The tear opened up a bit like a coin purse, but did not rip. Very gingerly, I rode down to Posta Quemada Ranch, where I picked up pavement to Pistol Hill Road. I stopped several times to inspect the repair, which held admirably. I opened up my pace on Old Spanish trail and averaged 20mph all the way to the rendezvous at Broadway and Pantano.

I might be able to salvage the tire by gluing in a more robust boot, but it's probably not worth it. I'd never trust the repair, and the tire is one of the wire-bead OEM jobbies that came with the Redline D440, so it's heavy and fragile. Probably time that I remounted the trusty Panaracer Ram-pazhes anyhow.

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?

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?

Rosemont AZT Trailhead to I-10

Although I was busy inspecting the bike for damage and brushing the twigs and leaves of a demolished packrat midden off my clothes, I still had time to ask myself, "Well, how did I get here?" The immediate answer was by blowing a switchback turn at the bottom of a steep downhill. The deeper cause was the usual one: hubris.

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.

Three Bridges - Pistol Hill Shopping Shuttle

OK, so I didn't have much luck hunting down roadies on Old Spanish Trail, but other than that today's singlespeed outing was perfect. On the trail, I never wished for anything other than my unalterable 33:16 gearing. Going uphill, I stood. Going downhill, I tucked. Clearing rockgardens, I dabbed. Those moves, plus a few dismount-and-tippytoe episodes crossing fast-flowing washes, took me from Three Bridges to La Sevilla campground in an hour-ten.

I was ahead of our rendezvous schedule, which called for meeting Amy at Pistol Hill and Old Spanish Trail in two hours, so I continued north on OST. I coasted the downhill sections and spun up and over the mild rises. Waved at grim-faced roadies heading south and got a few waves in return. Passed the Rincon Valley Farmer's Market and a ghost-bike memorial. Oof. Watched the traffic a little more closely thereafter.

Roughly even with the entrance to Saguaro National Monument, I saw Amy's Cherokee flash its lights at me and I made a quick U-turn to catch her by the side of the road.

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.

Yetman - Robles Ride

With the local trails covered in semi-frozen slush, I headed to Tucson Mountain Park to thaw out. Enroute, I passed through gauzy fog between the Mustang and Whetstone Mountains. When I broke clear, near Sonoita, the mist over Mount Bruce was backlit by the rising sun:

 

I parked at the Camino de Oeste trailhead and pedaled south. No fog, no slush, no mud, just firm desert hardpack.

I had a GPS route derived from the "Rock n Road Challenge," but I still managed to get off course a few times. Fortunately, one of the other bikers I met on the trail gave me spot-on directions that took me to the Robles Pass trail system. Stopped to admire the view of my old friend, Cat Mountain.

Just as I was beginning to think that I might never find my way out of the rat maze of Robles trail, I met a couple more bikers who pointed the way. A short sojourn on Ajo and Kinney, then back onto the Yetman trail.

 

Yet again I got off-course, and was set straight by another pair of bikers. They pointed the way to the saddle that leads down to the parking lot at the base of Gates Pass. I gamely lurched my way up most of the rocky climb, but decided to take the easy way when I reached these steps.

 

When I hit pavement, the final obstacle was the steep climb over the pass. Here I lucked out; I had the road to myself all the way to the top. Once over, I was able to coast faster than the posted speed limit.

Trip stats: 21 miles, 2400' climbing.

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.

Sunday Morning Ride: Perimeter Practice Session

Returned to Perimeter trail this morning for some remedial work amongst the gardens of rock. I wasn't particularly systematic about it, just toiled up the rocky approach from the Carr Canyon trailhead and noodled around for a while, the idea being to dull my aversion to the nasty tire traps of the trail. I'm still experimenting with gearing. It's a dilemma: lower gears provide ready thrust for overcoming sticky spots, but higher gears let me steer with greater precision and confidence. It probably boils down to momentum. If I can pick a line far enough in advance to avoid slowing down on approach to an obstacle, I can stay in the higher gear that I prefer. Or I need to buy another bike, one with suspension. Nah. I'll figure this out.