|
This letter covers a vacation in the last week of May. It was an adventure composed of four distinct components. The first, was a camp-out out on Mt. Graham followed by a bicycle ride down that mountain. The second, was a trip to Idaho to ride a highway juxtaposed to the Salmon River (but truncated in Utah by a forecast predicting five days of snow). The third, was a short hike down into the Grand Canyon scouting a route and evaluating the feasibility of a longer one in the not too distant future. Last, was a group ride of about 16 miles along the Coronado Trail (Highway 191) from the top of the Black Hills south of Clifton, to the junction with Highway 70, just outside of Safford. The photos (probably too many of them) are grouped accordingly. |
| This vacation came into being as a bicycle trip involving Nathen, AJ, and myself. The dates were mandated by AJ's school schedule. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your point of view), reasonable employment fell into AJ's lap just prior to our scheduled departure date, and he wisely chose to withdraw from the majority of the trip. |
|
|
After extensive scheming, we devised a stratagem that allowed AJ to participate in two days of the event. The first, was the ride down Mt. Graham (after camping there the prior evening) and the second, was the group ride along the lower portion of the Coronado Trail. |
| Sometimes vacations just seem to flow, with plans coming together almost of their own volition. This vacation emphatically did not fit that profile. Nothing germane to this trip came easily. |
|
|
This started with indecision planning the dates and routes. I assigned Nathen the food and AJ the route and logistics, but when AJ withdrew, the two bicycles and a truck plan, was no longer viable (although I expended an unreasonable amount of mental energy trying to make it so). |
| We, at long last, settled on a Mt. Graham camp/ride, and at that point Murphy's Law took over as the guiding principle. Given that the worst day of vacation is preferable to the best day at work, I'm not complaining, but here are some of the things that went wrong: |
|
|
First, were the unexpected fire restrictions in force (probably due more to the high winds than dry conditions). It was with considerable difficulty that we baked date bars in a dutch oven using only a camp stove (the black stuff chipped off quite easily we ate them cold the next morning). |
| Then came the problems in logistics. Barbara got waylaid, and was late meeting me at Nathen's house in Benson (we drove up the mountain together, but went separate ways from there). |
|
|
Since I had equipment essential to the preparation and cooking of supper, that meal was delayed until well after dark. |
| AJ demonstrated nascent foresight by bring a lantern but, unfortunately, neglected to include a mantel. The mantels in the glovebox of my car parked at Nathen's house, and the mantels in Nathen's Bronco parked next to my car were not particularly efficacious in lighting our environs, so we employed car headlights. |
|
|
Did I mention it was cold? Spring (and perhaps even early Summer) has come to the Tucson area, but Mt. Graham is still firmly in the grip of winter. While it wasn't really cold enough to turn water to ice, our mental discomfort was exacerbated by the fire restrictions. |
| The lack of cellphone service on Mt. Graham also impeded the flow of information and our attempts to requisition items which were lacking. |
|
|
And then there was the air mattress that I knew had a leak, but I thought we had replaced... You get the picture... |
| In spite of all the problems, the lasagna was tasty, even if was almost all consumed before the garlic toast was toast. |
|
|
The next morning, We awoke to a flat tire (4 psi internal pressure) on Nathen's van. Vigorous application of the bicycle pump increased that pressure to 20 psi before Nathen took his turn, and broke the pump (a piece of the plastic housing in the bottom of the housing ruptured--how odd is that?). We decided the van would roll down the hill with that pressure--if we took it slowly, so Terre (as well as the drivers) stayed behind the bicycles (this also served as a screen for cars coming down the mountain behind the cyclist [both of them]). |
| Mt. Graham was not as cold in the morning as it had been the previous night, and when the sun finally reached our campsite, it was tolerable. |
|
|
It took some doing to get the bicycles ready to ride. Each needed a water bag hung on it, and a final check of tires, brakes, etc. |
| I don't know why, but this phase seemed to take forever, and it was almost 10 a.m. before We were ready to roll. Maybe, it had something to do with my failure to take each of the bikes on an extended check ride prior to departing for Mt. Graham... |
|
|
AJ is allergic to riding uphill, so We loaded the bikes in the back of his truck and Nathen, Brittney, and I held them upright and endured the jolts and jostling as AJ "crept" (at circa 30 mph) up the half-mile of rut filled road to the crest of the hill where the pavement started. |
| It took a long time for these photo ops... |
|
|
but at long last I thought we were ready to go. |
| But, then came the sunscreen ritual. |
|
|
I have arrived at the point where a speedometer is as vital a piece of equipment on a bicycle as a pedal, and when one sensor came loose, mandatory repairs were in order. |
| I had the distinct impression that Ethan was looking forward to his ride the following week. |
|
|
If I read the on-line topographical map of Mt. Graham correctly (and my estimation of where we camped is accurate), we started our ride at a elevation of 9,526 feet, and finished at 3,231 feet, for a net change of 6,295 feet. This photo op stop shortly after the start of the ride offers supports for that estimation. |
| As with most mountain roads, there were some breath-taking views along the way... |
|
|
but unlike most touring by cycle, we could only afford an occasional glance at the scenery before returning our full attention to navigating the road. |
| For me it was very enjoyable, even with the 22 hairpin (equal to or greater than 180°) curves, but... AJ seemed to have a few difficulties applying the laws of physics. On two of the first five hairpins, he managed to leave both the bicycle and the roadway. Fortunately, his injuries were limited to minor bruising, and the equipment suffered only cosmetic damage. After that excitement, he managed figured out both the location and function of the brake leavers, and the remainder of the ride went more smoothly. |
|
|
Well that is, until his bicycle suffered a flat tire. I had the intension of replacing these tires (the side walls were old and cracking) but was unable to see a size on the side wall of the rear one. The rim was labeled with what appeared to be a metric size, but none of the three bike shops I visited carried that size (but would be happy to order it...). It wasn't until Nathen read the size (700 by 28C) on the tire (I still couldn't see it after he pointed it out [I really am turning into my mother]) that we managed to procure a replacement. The rim came equipped for a Presta valve, and now that I have an adaptor I no longer object to them so strongly. The problem is that this valve will not admit slime into the tube, and I have become a firm believer in the flat preventing ability of slime. So, with the judicious application of a drill and file, that rim now accommodates the Schraeder valve on a tube filled with slime... |
| Barbara volunteered to watch her grandchildren while their mother accompanied their other grandmother to a graduation in Oklahoma, (but that's Terre's story). While she was there, Barbara was able to watch one of Kyle' T-ball games. She had never attended a T-ball game before. It might be awhile before she does it again. (It was really hot!!) |
|
|
Grandma's are easy marks for their grandchildren, but she thought Kyle was the one of the best players on the team. |
| Ethan is not playing baseball this year, but that doesn't mean he isn't photogenic... |
|
|
We changed our planned route a half-dozen times, and finally decided on riding along the Salmon River in Idaho, and then returning via Denver, Colorado, where we would ride from Mt. Evans to Idaho Springs, Colorado. This is a stretch of road that starts at 14,260 feet, and purports to be the highest paved highway in the United States. In transferring stuff back and forth between vehicles, I managed to leave both the cameras I took up Mt. Graham, and this is an image I found on the camera I borrowed from Ameilia on the way to Utah. (In case you are wondering, Ameilia, I have tasked AJ with returning your camera at his earliest convenience, probably at the Allen Family reunion a few days from now [perhaps a gentle reminder might be efficacious].) |
| The mountains of Southern Utah, most of which reach a height of around 10,000 feet, are snow covered a significant distance down their slopes, so it is not surprising that one in Colorado that is further north and 4,000 feet higher would also be snow-laden. I was disappointed, but not surprised when, after calling the Ranger Station that administrates that area, I learned that the opening of the roads scheduled for Memorial Day weekend would be postponed, forcing us to forgo that thrill on this trip. |
|
|
At Dave's house in Utah, we spent a fair amount of time on the NOAA website (what a useful tool), and finally decided that bicycling through snow just for the fun of it, was best left to people who were more macho than we... (or who had experienced a frontal lobotomy). |
| Finally, after a protracted study of the wind forecasts, the topography of the land, and the direction of the roads, we finally chose to ride from Beaver to Delta (both in Southern Utah). |
|
|
This route is 105 miles long, and follows the Beaver River most of the way, such that it tends to be down hill. |
| Further, the forecast was for 30 mph winds (gusting to 42) directly at our backs. Note: the wind sock highlighted in this image... |
|
|
This ride was very enjoyable, and our speedometers registered over 20 mph much of the time. |
| This area of Utah is referred to as, "The West Desert," and there really isn't much there. Towards dusk, we followed a dirt road that led to smaller dirt road, and after turning onto, and driving a short distance down, a two-rut cow path, we camped pretty close to the exact center of nowhere. There probably wasn't a tree within 50 miles and the wind was howling, so we didn't attempt a campfire. |
|
|
The wind blew fiercely all night, and eventually separated the door zipper on our tent. |
| The next morning we rode from Eureka to Santaquin (again both in Utah), down some significant slopes. I was riding Dave's bike, and reached a speed of just over 37 mph. Nathen's bicycle recorded a top speed of 40.3 mph, and he remarked that he was still able (barely) to engage the pedals at 40 mph. "When I get some time..." I am looking forward to testing the max speed of my "new" (to me) 72 gear Linear Recumbent. |
|
|
I have developed an interest in unusual road signs. This one I found interesting... |
| and this one used to be, but is no longer, native to Arizona. Sometimes I miss the good old days... |
|
|
We left Dave earlier than we wanted to, and drove to the North Kiabab Forest. Using a map Dave generously lent us, we located a campsite near (circa 5 miles) the trailhead leading to Thunder River. |
| We cooked in the gathering dusk and, as has become habitual on these trips, ate well... |
|
|
The next morning, we drove to the trailhead and did a little hiking. I reaffirmed what I had previously discovered, that my balance has deteriorated. I climb and descend like an old woman and, frankly, that is embarrassing. I also learned that the ability to traverse long distances on a bicycle does not translate to the ability to hike. After descending about 500 feet (according to the altimeter on Nathen's watch) my legs had turned to jelly, and I decided to call it a day. |
| Nathen continued on through the Coconino limestone and down onto the esplanade, a drop of about 2000 feet. There he encountered a water bottle (not uncommon) and a tent, marked, "free" and the date. I imagine that someone had carried them up the red wall and across the esplanade, but upon approaching the final climb up the switch backs of the Kiabab Limestone layer, decided that he (or she) didn't value them sufficiently to carry them further. |
|
|
Nathen brought them out, and upon appealing to Google, learned that his new Kelty Cyclone 3 tent was a high end piece of equipment that retailed for $399. What a deal! Unfortunately, the rainfly was missing, and since Kelty no longer makes that tent, is not commercially available. So, if in your internet travels, any of you should stumble across said rain fly for sale, I'm sure Nathen would like to hear about it. |
|
|
|
Exuberance is her name, and she is not going to get a sunburn this trip... |
| Ethan and I had "THE TALK" about bicycle safety and I, (probably like my parents and their parents before them) came away with the impression that I could have been addressing the rocks on the hillside for all that was absorbed from my lecture. Still, traditions persist for a reason... |
|
|
We filled a number of tires with Slime. It is a messy process that tends to clog the valve stem, but I have removed over 200 thorns (three of them mesquite thorns over an inch long) from the tires on my old mountain bike and have only had to pump up the tires four times. How's that for an unsolicited testimonial? |
| Kyle would have liked to accompany us, but training wheels along side semi- trucks is an image that could keep me awake at night. |
|
|
Ethen seemed a bit more competent, so off we went. |
| We put Ethen in the front for a couple of reasons. First, drivers approaching from the rear would see several riders before encountering him, and second, that configuration minimized the possibility of him being left behind or feeling pressured to perform at an uncomfortable level. |
|
|
There was a bit more traffic than I had anticipated, but the shoulder was adequately wide, and other than a little wind and noise from passing trucks, we couldn't tell they were there (Brittney may disagree). |
| After much coaxing and cajoling, Brittney decided she was as strong as a 7-year-old, and rode with us. She did well on the ride, but I am not privy to information concerning any soreness/stiffness/discomfort that may have occurred in the aftermath of the experience. Perhaps she and/or AJ would care to post a letter...? |
|
|
This ride was into a headwind originally forecast at 7 mph. To me, it felt more like 15 mph, but that is probably just human nature. We were under no time or speed constraints, and I came away with the impression that all involved enjoyed the ride. |
| Those who were constrained to the mobile Bronco prison may have come away with a slightly different take on the experience. |
|
|
Still, there was a reprieve for some. I have never understood how children can sleep like they do. If I slept in that position for 15 minutes, I would have to wear my head in a sling for the next month. |
This give a bit of perspective on the length of the ride--it seems to stretch on forever. Ethan was relatively unexpressive during and after the ride, and I lack insight into how he perceived it. One of the down sides to riding a straight road is that you can see how far you have to go, but it is difficult to see that you have gained anything from your efforts. |
| Ethan finally rolled past the finish line. What a trooper. |
|
|
At the end, his speedometer indicated a distance of 15.863 miles, a maximum speed of 16.9 mph, and an average speed of 8.0 mph. That's not too shabby for someone who has yet to turn 8. |
| My impression was that Brittney was also not unhappy to reach the finish line, but I could be wrong. |
|
|
All things considered, I thought it was a excellent ride. Not too far and not too fast, but enjoyable. |
| We then retired to a park in downtown Safford. It was sparsely inhabited (though a nearby swimming pool was doing a brisk business). |
|
|
We grilled Polish Sausage and hot dogs, and augmented them with tomatoes, chips, mangos, pineapples, and pickles. |
| This is a classic pose that has been, is, and will be repeated hundreds of thousands of time each day from the beginning to the end of human history. You gotta love it... |
|
|
This one is less common, but not by much. |
| Do you see the resemblance? |
|
|
I rode home with AJ and Brittney, and we stopped at what AJ calls, "El Capitan" and climbed almost to the top of that little rise. Again, we encountered the plethora of fossils there, but sunset truncated our tour before I was ready, and I neglected to photographically document our findings. |
I lost the thread of my narrative but, for the record, I here enumerate the remainder of the mishaps that plagued this trip: 1. After riding to the bottom of Mt. Graham, Nathen and I continued on towards Willcox. On a slight hill, Nathen pushed on the pedals with a little more force, and the fabric seat back against which he was pushing ripped out. |