What letter are we on?
This year was one that started with lots of plans. Of those plans, none of them considered that the desert was going to be completely saturated with endless rainstorms. And not just our desert, the entire southwest.
It might sound like I’m complaining and that’s because I am. I know that we need the water so we can continue to build houses paving over the desert to keep the hoards coming to So’Tah, but I’m over it. It isn’t uncommon to have to change a plan. Hell, some of our best trips have been Plan Bs, but to have to change an entire season, well, that’s just where we are. This is the first year I’ve ever been chased off the Goose by cold and wind a day early, in March.
As I’m sure you’ve caught on as I backed us into this, this weekend was supposed to be a big ride, out to Toroweap up over Mt. Trumbull. Three days in the desert and mountains and the Grand Canyon riding bikes and camping. Well, Trumbull is still under snow. The NPS closed Toroweap two weekends ago due to roads so saturated you couldn’t get there. Plan A went to B which went to C which… well, you get it. I’m not even sure what letter we ended on because at this point, I’m sick of keeping track of how many times I have to change my plans.
Let’s Ride Bikes
It was an on again off again affair. One thing that stayed consistent was that we were going to ride our bikes and go camping.
The storm that rolled through Wednesday/Thursday was kind of the nail in the coffin. Luckily, we had a Plan Q.
The crew met at Red Rock Bicycle at 10 AM sharp. Or at least I assume they did, I was about 15 minutes late due to some trying new things that didn’t work out so well right off the bat. I’ve been in the process of finding a better way to carry an actual camera. Thus far the better way has continued to be the way I’ve been carrying it for a decade. Which is to say, after switching everything back to the way I’ve done it, we arrived at the shop at 10:13 with everyone else ready to roll, smiles and all.
We, and by we I mean me, had settled on following the Planner’s route out to Rock Canyon. Yes, I had already done this twice leading up to this past weekend. Both times were incredibly enjoyable. It’s a route that, while it doesn’t stray too far from home, has a feeling of being out there. It’s bigger than the numbers show and ends at a particularly pretty canyon that happens to have water, a commodity that makes bikepacking in our desert all the more enjoyable.
The Kids Crew
With a lot of excitement, the initial trip was formed with Womble. Yes, that Womble, like how many Wombles do you even know? As the plans rotated, got slashed, switched back on, rotated again and ended somewhere not even close to the Grand Canyon, well, Womble went wombling and had other plans.
There were several others that had been ecstatic to go. Some of them had the forethought to ask for and procure time off for the weekend in question. Of those, all three showed up. A very high percentage of showing up in my experience. All three are up and coming rockstars at the shop, so the fact that they did show up was not a surprise, it just flies in the face of many of my past efforts to get people out pedaling.
Of the three, I had only bikepacked with Elijah who has accompanied me on a couple of midweek overnighters including the one foray into bikeglamping. He’s got energy to spare, is quick to smile and loves to pedal. He’s the only early 20s person I know that will get up at 5 AM to hammer out a 50-mile gravel ride, consistently, week after week. He shows up. And he showed up, with smiles, energy and all ready to go this past weekend.
Tamra got her start at Red Rock in the Cedar City store. She was hired on to help riders find the bikes they wanted and quickly rose to the top as someone who cared and was capable of getting the task done. She is now working in the STG store and will be taking on the task of leading Hurricane once we have it open. She showed up and was ready to rock and roll on her first bikepacking trip.
Lastly but certainly not leastly, is Jonah. Jonah started working at the shop a couple of years ago and like the others has shown an ability to get things done and take care of riders. His passion has shown throw as he’s built out his recent bike, a Surly ready to rock and roll on long rides heavily loaded. Not his first rodeo as far as bikepacking goes, but the first time I’ve ridden with him. The smile he was wearing all day, even when things were hot and difficult, is evidence of his level of stoke.
Obviously, I was in the mix and where I go you can usually find the bear.
Day 1
The ride started at the shop and the first 10ish miles are paved and generally downhill. We took the bike route using lanes and paved trails to avoid wrestling with traffic. Immediately, it was apparent that the pace would be more or less cohesive. Everyone was cruising along while chatting and we were staying right together. Good sign.
The pavement ends at the Arizona border.
I always get a shot of energy when I hit dirt. It’s not that riding pavement is hard, I just hate pavement in general. Anything I’m doing, I enjoy more when there isn’t a smooth, straight surface and bikepacking is not an exception. As our tires rolled from blacktop to the dirt of NoZona, I just wanted to go. I put my head down and started to pedal trying to ignore the dozen or so jalopies scattered through the desert turning it into their own person shithole. Luckily, our route turns off the main road quickly and we were headed away from where most people tread. I felt the desire to go, but someone had to pee.
With our 2nd potty break out of the way, we headed on. The gravel is pretty easy at the start as we made our way around Little Black Mountain. The cohesive pace had maintained and we felt confident that we had plenty of time, so we took a field trip into the fenced area to check out some of the many petroglyphs and to have a snack. There was one particular glyph that we debated. I’m still pretty sure it’s a map of the Fort Pierce (although it wouldn’t have been called that).
With our cultural awareness successfully raised, we got back to the pedaling. The gravel continued in its mostly flat, good state. As we began to head more and more south, we came to a possible adventure sidetrack. The small wash/canyon that we had used on our last foray to eat lunch in the shade. I knew it went through and would dump us back on the road we were planning to ride. A quick poll and we headed in expecting to just see what it gave us. It gave us a fun little romp. The only real obstacle was a four foot-ish up. An easy push to get through, but also just on the border of maybe being ridable. Jah attempted it and so did I. We both got close on our loaded bikes, but both dabbed before making it over the top. The little canyon continued in its sinuous way narrowing and widening until it dumped us at the Glitter Mine.
Unlike last time, no one was interested in the Glitter Mine. Plus, it was crawling with ants (read people). There were at least six minivans and then a whole bunch of trucks cause you need a big, giant ass truck to go off road… or just a minivan.
A few more miles of pedaling the rolling dirt road and we made our way into Dutchman’s Draw. This was a decision spot. One of the extensions was to turn and go through Dutchman’s instead of over Joe Blake Hill. This would only add a few miles but would most likely require a few, if not several, pushes. The desire to attempt this had apparently waned as there was no one advocating to extend at this point.
Alright, up Joe Blake Hill.
Joe Blake is the first real obstacle and could certainly be considered the crux. It’s not terribly long, but it does have several steep sections and plenty of loose baby head sized basalt boulders to increase the difficulty. We headed up. Elijah was all about doing the thing and took off burning his matches as he went. Mama Bear and I had done this and just settled into a rhythm. Tamra and Jonah fell in and found their own pace. Everyone consistently moved up the climb.
What turned out to be the hardest, or maybe just the most frustrating part, was the 31 go carts that were coming down the hill. The first group hit us just as we were rounding the first switchback. They were super friendly and moved over so we could get by informing us of the size of their group (15 carts) and apologizing for any dust. The first five or so where spaced out and made it easy for us to keep going while they pulled off, but then the peloton of machines hit us and it was just a get off and wait situation. This first group was by far the most friendly and considerate group of side-by-siders I had ever encountered. If all go cart drivers were like this group, the world would be a much better place.
That group moved on and we returned to the grind. The first section is the rockiest and the steepest as it comes out of the canyon. After a couple of switchbacks, the grade lessens and the rocks start to be more intermittent and then kind of mostly go away. There’s several more switchbacks.
This is when the 2nd group hit us. This group was much more typical of go cart drivers. They greeted us by expecting us to move off the road, informed us of their size and then each and almost every one of them stopped to let us know how many were behind them. When you have 16 carts in your group, this is overbearing. I can count. I don’t need you to do it for me, but good on ya for actually remembering how many other mouth breathers are behind you sucking in your dust. The group was tight and as I mentioned, was not interested in letting us through cuz you know having to turn the steering wheel and push a brake pedal is really hard and if you are in a machine you shouldn’t be bothered with such efforts.
We let the entitled Boomers pass.
The climb continued for another mile or so and then we stopped for lunch.
Lunch was had. The next section is or at least should be, cruiser miles. It’s rolling hills on pretty good surfaces. Even on a singlespeed, it kind of just goes. For some reason, any time I’ve brought people out here, this section turns into not cruiser miles. This time around it was an equipment malfunction. Mama Bear and I were just cruising, then couldn’t see the rest of the group, then waited and waited and waited until it was painfully obvious that the delay was more than just a tinkle break. Of course, as soon as I saddle back up and reversed course, the group crests the small hill and makes it to where we had stopped. All was good, just a broken strap that had to be remedied and would become an ongoing issue.
Then it was cruiser miles and the group hit the water tank and then the next tough section of road. After our rolling hills and smooth gravel, the Temple Trail takes us back to the north and through a basalt canyon. The grades get steep and the road is rough as shit.
As you can see in the above video.
Everyone ended up pushing a little. #itsnotbikepackingtillyourepushing (hit me up if you want stickers)
Once up and out of the canyon, the road improves and then drops into wash for a bit that slows our pace once more, but then, then it was cruiser miles to the turn off. The last section of “road” to get to Rock Canyon crosses multiple washes, is rough and steep. It’s only about a mile, but always seems to cost a lot more than a mile should. This crew was still in good spirits and moving pretty good. The last mile wasn’t even that bad and soon we were at the mouth of the canyon.
Time to Camp
Everyone was glad to see the end. One of the many great things about this route is that it is bigger than you expect. It’s probably not going to destroy you and you’re most likely not going to end up bivied in the middle of nowhere, but it’s going to cost you a bit of skin to get to camp. This was no exception. We were all tired and hungry and, at least I was, ready for a beer. Luckily, I had brought two as had Mama Bear, but she had sacrificed one to the trail so she soon turned into a beggar. Granted, if the roles were reversed she would certainly share so I eventually did give her a bit of my 2nd one.
The beauty of this site is that it ends at the mouth of Rock Canyon which is where the Fort Pierce starts. The last few times we had been here, there were big pools of water. Not clear, but clear enough. This time around the creek was actually flowing and it was silty as shit. You couldn’t see your hand if you dipped it below the surface. I had wondered if this would be the case and threw in a bandana to use as a prefilter. It did nothing. The water, with all of its silt in tact, just flowed right through it. Well, shit!
As I sat buzzed and a bit perplexed, Tamra took a hike. She went looking for a possibility, one I was certain wouldn’t exist as any flowing water would keep that silt intact. What she found was a few potholes that were being filled by water filtering up from the bottom. It wasn’t clear, but it was close to what we had experienced in the past and worked perfect for filtering. We all followed her back to these holes and filled all of our receptacles before returning to camp.
This crew is a group of go-getters. As soon as I mentioned a fire, they set off to gather enough wood to make it enjoyable. KB and I just watched as we ate our dinner. As the pile continued to grow, I started to feel like a slacker and wandered up stream looking for spots that were strainers and eddies during the last flood. The pile grew until it seemed obvious that we could have a pretty good fire. Jonah and Elijah brought back some Juniper bark and soon we were sitting around a flame enjoying the sunset.
As the night progressed, so did the wind. When the sun decided to be woke and popped up cheery as fuck, we were doing everything we could to be as deep in our bags as possible to not feel the wind’s effects. The temperature wasn’t too bad dropping to around 40 degrees, but with the wind chill, it was cold.
The efforts of the kids were still piled around our makeshift firepit. We had even saved some of the Juniper bark. I dragged my old ass out of my down cocoon and attempted to get the fire going. I could get the nest to start but the wind, which I hoped would fan that spark to life, was so strong it would snuff it out. I had to abandon my efforts due to frozen fingers. A hot cup of coffee warmed them back up and my second session of about five minutes finally got the nest going and soon we had a horizontal flame.
With a source of heat roaring in the wind, the rest of the crew emerged. The wind was strong enough, you had to stand in the smoke to feel any warmth. We took turns rotating around the fire to warm up. As soon as one was warm, they would wander off to get food or pack something or bathroom or whatever, and the next would move into place.
I had thrown out the idea of hiking to the end of the canyon, if possible, to see the water flowing over the waterfall. This wasn’t even discussed. Instead, everyone slowly but surely got ready, packed and fed so we could ride home and get the fuck out of the wind.
Just as I was starting to think about hiking back up canyon to get some more water to filter, a small roar builds. I look over and the creek has more than doubled in size. This not only made getting over to the other side more difficult, but our potholes that were so perfect the day before were now under water. I wandered around looking for anything. I finally settled on a hole that had slightly clearer water than the stream, pulled some water out and walked back. Luckily, we still had water from the night before and we were able to filter enough that we left camp with water in our bottles.
Day 2
To get back to the main road, we had to cross the creek (see above video). With its swelled volume, this was a bit interesting, but we were able to find a spot with some big rocks placed almost perfectly to get to where we needed to be. Our route home was planned as a bit of an adventure, but that route would also require us to do a couple more crossings and ride some sand whoops. After this crossing, no one was pushing for the adventure route.
Our bail out was to make our way to the Warner Valley Road and hightail it back to Washington. This we did. The road is wide, gets used a lot and has plenty of washboards. We could see where it had been driven wet as the ruts still existed in spots. The only real obstacle we encountered was a cattle drive. This left us waiting for the cows and boys herding said cows to get out of the way. Of course, we hit this roadblock at the one spot where private property borders the road on both sides and is fenced. There was nothing to do but wait, so we did.
The rest of the way back to the shop was uneventful. After cresting by the water tower, we rode pavement till we hit bike paths and then pedaled back to Red Rock Bicycle Co.
Everyone was stoked. It wasn’t what we had planned but it was damn fine Plan Q.
Embrace Chaos. Seek Discomfort.
