Fucking Horrible in all the Right Ways

I toggled the Garmin from the temperature screen, it was 40.5 degrees, to the stats page. Although it felt like we had been climbing all day, I was still surprised that we were now pushing over 5,000′ of total gain. Starting below sea level this meant that we were nearing 5,000 feet of elevation period. It was cold. The base layer and windbreaker I threw into the frame bag as just in case had been a constant for the past couple of hours.

My ratty G-Form gloves, that were completely missing one finger and almost all the others had giant holes in them, were not offering any kind of protection against the cold wind. That’s right, we started with a headwind and it continued pretty much all day. It was still bellowing. The only difference between then and now, was the fact that the air had become a hell of a lot colder and I was now getting a hell of a lot more tired.

And then it started to snow.

This weekend was supposed to be our annual Girls’ Trip. In a twist of events, Kenny’s Dudebro trip wasn’t happening so he would be joining the rest of us and seeing that every attempt to ride the White Rim had been thwarted in the past, gave us a pretty good agenda. We all started riding way more.

Then we had a couple of close calls with COVID that we were lucky to dodge only to have the weather take a shit all over what we had hoped to be a great fall weekend. 60% chance of rain, high in the 40s and sustained winds with gusts over 40 mph. Not exactly what you would hope for when attempting to ride 100 miles in a day.

As is the Alliance way, a Plan B was hatched. A 90+ miles, 3 day bikepacking trip on the Black Canyon Trail would do the trick riding in Saguaros would make all of us forget that we were supposed to be in Moab.

And then the weather did the thing again making our Plan B not probable and probably a complete sufferfest.

Death Valley anyone?

To say this was a Plan C would suggest there was a plan, there wasn’t. The only thing on the agenda was car camping (overlanding if you prefer that term) and one big bike ride, Titus Canyon without a shuttle.

The Lickers (Kenny and Heather) were tucked snuggly away in their van. The Knockers (Cami and Shelby) with KB and I were sitting as close to the wash’s wall as we could get to try and find some shelter from the wind that had been ripping since the day before. The temperatures weren’t particularly cold, but the wind was. The consensus in the wash was that we were open to a shuttle but not really interested in riding in this wind. Kenny wasn’t hearing it and said we should get ready and see what the weather is like at the trailhead and decide then. We all kind of knew this meant we were gonna be pedaling.

I’m doing everything I can to hold on. Shelby is out front being our wind shadow. Kenny is right behind him and I’m following Kenny. The three girls are behind us. With my big tires and no gears, it is just at the edge of my ability to stay in line. At least when things are flat. As soon as the road dips down, I pretty much tuck in and try to use aerodynamics to keep myself in line.

Tuck. Spin like hell. Tuck.

Every five minutes or so, we rotate out the wind shadow. Tuck. Spin. Tuck. This cycle continues for 14 miles as the road oscillates between sea level and slightly below or above. Spinning on pavement on a singlespeed is a special kind of suffering. It’s not necessarily hard in the traditional, it feels like burning, kind of way. It’s more of a bouncing on the saddle legs putting forth insane effort with no resistance. Kind of like running as fast as you can without ever having your feet hit the ground.

Tuck. Spin like hell. Tuck.

There is an information kiosk and bathroom at the junction that will end this spinning hell. I can finally see it in the distance. I’ve never been so excited to start climbing.

Kenny is out front.

I’ve been playing catch up for the past 30 or so minutes. KB was having some issues when everyone took off so I waited for her putting us a half-mile or so behind everyone else when we shoved off. We had stopped about halfway up the first climb for some much needed food. I tore into my sandwich planning to save half of it for later, that didn’t happen. I ate the whole thing without even thinking about it.

The climb was a nice grade. Being on a singlespeed, the grade matters more than almost anything else when it comes to climbing. Too steep and you just don’t have the legs to get up it. Not steep enough and you find yourself constantly moving between sitting and standing because neither is the right gear. This climb had a constant grade that wasn’t too steep, but held the bike back enough that you could chose to stand up and crank or sit and crank, both worked and both had their place.

Climbing up out of the valley places us squarely in the clouds hanging about. We can see precipitation falling on the peaks north of Titus. The temperature has consistently dropped as we gain elevation. When we finally peak out, it’s cold. We put on all of our gear and descend into the valley on the backside. My hands, feet and face go numb. After the initial drop in elevation, the road continues down at a grade that there is no way I can pedal, but coasting feels painful. I attempt to spin up some speed to warm up, no dice.

Then it’s back to climbing, but this time it’s on a gravel road. We desperately seek out the smooth sections avoiding the washboards as much as we can. This is coupled with trying to stay out of the deep gravel. The grade is just enough for it be a slog, or at least until we start up the last climbs. This requires standing which at this point is a chore.

Chasing Kenny, we pop out on the penultimate climb. As I roll up, he says that this would be a great place for lunch. I ate lunch three hours ago.

Usually when one knows there is nothing but downhill to contend with, there is a sigh of relief, a break in the tension of suffering, instead of a release we were staring at a long cold descent. We were finally at the point that we were excited to get to and all we wanted to do was be done. Our legs had been ripped off, the cold had then beat us with them and now we had a freezing, bumpy descent through an amazingly beautiful canyon to finish.

With nothing left but coast, we started down toward Leadfield. The initial drop was cold and a bit dicey. Our hands and feet were still numb making pedaling and braking a challenge. We sped down the canyon toward the valley hoping that we could catch some rays and that the drop in elevation would be a rise in temperature. Both things happened and we got to the point that taking pictures was once again a thing.

Dropping back to the cars, we finished up with about 60 miles, 6800 feet of elevation gain and right around 7 hours of moving. The sun was just setting as we loaded up the bikes and crawled into the vehicles to head back to camp. We were mostly quiet, a little broken from the ride and definitely chilled. The heater was cranked in attempt to remedy the latter.

The majority said they would never do that again. It was cold, long and hard with a ton of paved miles for the little reward of dropping through the canyon. All in all, it was fucking horrible in all the right ways and probably exactly what we needed. Doesn’t mean we “need” to do it again, but…

P. L. and R.