Easter Sunday may not have been the best day to plan a ride, but there was a good chance such a holiday might leave the trails wide open... or packed to the brim.
I entered the route into the GPS, we figured out where to park both vehicles and when to meet. Around 8:00 AM we met Ken at the Table Mesa trailhead.
Getting ready to go:
As I am sure most are already aware, I find sock selection to be a critical part of any successful epic. Improper graphics, color or lengths can be disastrous. The good MoJo a well chosen pair of foot cozies can provide can of course not be scientifically measured... but you will know when it's there, and when it's gone missing. That I can state as fact! On to the choices that were made.
Micki, flowery aggression:
Ken, big feet:
Myself, rocking the SkoPedal 130 argyles:
Once we got the sock thing nailed down, we left his rig there and then headed back up to I-17 to the town of Bumble Bee. Just short of the bridge south of town, we pulled off to the left and parked. The forecast was for 85, but at 9:00 it was a bit chilly. With nothing but blue skies above, we knew it would be warming up quickly. Packs were loaded heavy with food, water and even a filtration system for refills in case we ran out.
The Black Canyon Trail picked up almost right away just across from where we parked. The first section was a forgotten section of doubletrack that was plenty steep enough to bring us all a tad bit of concern. After all, with around 28 miles to go, we shouldn't already be breathing this hard. After a few uneven rocky sections, the road narrowed down to some primo singletrack. With all the rain as of late, the grasses were thick on both sides of the trail and flowers were starting to show up everywhere.
Ken rolling:
Micki too:
As expected from our previous sampling of the other BCT sections, we were not surprised as to how well the trail was built. Grades were very consistent with many rock bridges being built to cross side streams and prevent erosion. This section was shaping up to be as good if not better than the rest. Flowing curves and amazing views of the Bradshaw Mountains followed you almost the entire way off to the west.
The Bradshaw Range:
An example of how much work has gone into this trail:
Micki attacks the first of many rock bridges:
Buffed out singletrack framed in rare desert greens:
At about four miles in, we made it back to the asphalt road that we previously drove to get to Bumble Bee. There was a marked trailhead here with ample parking, but I'd suggest to others planning to ride in this area to throw in this extra bit... as it's well worth the added time and energy. Back on the trail there was more of the same which brought now complaints. Perfect lines cut into the mountain side for fat knobbies to dutifully follow. Strange outcroppings of rock had been left to allow rolling explorers to test their mettle by winding around, over and through them. Some looked like columns or towers acting as a testament to the trail builders vision and understanding of how to best work with the terrain that was given to them.
Hard to stop smiling:
From here the elevation rolls up and down with no major climbs. A descent deep into a wash seems foreboding as you know you have to make it out the other side. All steep and impossible grades have been skillfully avoided however and with a most enjoyable series of switchbacks, the rider is lead down to a small stream crossing. I'd imagine any water in this creek is rare, but today was the exception.
Curvey down:
Looks deep:
Creative bridge keeps feet dry:
Color was everywhere:
The climb out was painless enough. It was fantastic to see the singletrack continued, despite the obvious dirt road that could have been used just below. We made it to the saddle at the top of the old stage coach road. This was the point were we turned back coming form Rock Springs the time before, so we were familiar with what lay ahead. A rocky, steep, forgotten section of brutality. It's a challenge up or down to be sure, with no real sense of flow to be found in either direction. My suspended trail mates only showed the smallest of smiles, not sure whether gravity would be helpful or painful on this descent. Knowing that such a rough section would be the most technically challenging yet on my new Raleigh XXIX rigid 29'r, I cinched down my Camelback straps just a bit tighter and tried to get my focus on.
With only a cloud of dust in their wake, Micki and Ken were off. I could see Micki's suspension working furiously as it tried to compensate for the loose rock and square edges rapidly approaching. At least I think that was what was happening as my eyes rattled around in my head. I have been finding the challenge provided by this Raleigh to be very rewarding, but was already pretty sure that I was descending something beyond it's intended scope. Much to my surprise, the bike itself was handling it all pretty well. Far better than one would guess just looking at the spec's on paper.
That said, I was pretty glad when we made the bottom and I knew a more "normal" section of trail would be greeting my rigid fork for the rest of the route.
Before I knew it, we had made the first fence. Since the last time we rode here, someone had created gates to be opened in the wire. No longer would we have to lift our bikes over the top and negotiate the perilous barb wire crotch straddle that gave us all so much duress before. It would be nice to see the next step of the trails development using those rainbow style cow grates that bikes can ride over and cows can not (because cow's can't ride for shit). I should not complain however since the amount of work so far is almost unimaginable. But... it's so hard to stop your flow and open gate after gate.
Stop and see the flowers:
We got our first glimpse of the Agua Fria down below us. There was a lot of water flowing, but low enough that a crossing did not seem out of reach. This was good news seeing that we'd need to cross this river four times in total to complete the planned route. Seeing that Ken's vehicle was our only way back, and it was waiting for us at Table Mesa, the crossings were going to be mandatory.
No rock bridge or dry feet for this one:
At the bottom we were able to see that the trail leading out had now been completed. On our last visit, the stages of construction were well underway, but the trail itself was basically unusable. A deep trench was needing to be filled and the major switchback before the bottom looked as if they'd have to carve through solid rock.. While they didn't remove the rock, their final solution is just as impressive.
Brilliant stonework:
So, everything was looking pretty good. The trail had been finished, we were making good time and the weather was just about perfect. Now we just had to figure out a way to get across the river.
Deep and faster flow than we wanted to see:
Micki and Ken removed shoes and socks and I just stomped through to see what would happen. While being over 6' tall and pushing 215 doesn't help when I climb, it sure helps me stay dry when it comes to situations like this. It actually was shallower than it looked and without much issue I was across. Ken soon followed a bit further downstream and with his shorts getting a tad wet, Micki opted to come to were I crossed instead.
Wait right there... it's picture time:
We now rode (all right, I may have pushed the switchback) up the new section of trail and climbed out of the valley. The grade at this point is a pretty good one. Steep enough to get hearts pumping and legs burning but plenty of switchbacks to practice on and even more wildflowers than we had seen before.
Flowers line the trail for DirtSkirt's ascent:
There is a really nice valley just after another gate with some exposure and amazing views down to the creek below. Again with the high water, usually empty bowls of granite were now filled in emerald green. Although they could only be heard from our line of site, each pool fed the next with a series of waterfalls carving their path ever deeper each season. A longish climb awaits before dumping out the singletrack on to Maggie Mine road. It's hot and exposed here as the climb just looks plain evil. Wrapping around a blind curve, your only reward is the realization that the summit you hoped for is still about 500 yards away.
Damn you false summit... damn you to hell!!!
Back on the trail a short section of black rock greets your wheels. Twenty-niner "roll over everything" be well marketed or not, I was stopped dead about halfway up. Tall grasses and banks of flowers encroached the trail, making line selection even more difficult. A few false starts later and I was back under rolling power. At the top, Ken and Micki also expressed their frustration with the gnarled segment. It's very out of character for BCT and seems to get us almost every time. I think we all like the challenge though, so we just have to get a bit better at overcoming this spot.
New fish! New fish on the line:
Orange-xplosion:
Did I mention all the green and the flowers yet?:
As the trail now sloped down, the tight grass on both sides kept things interesting. I found this section to be very reminiscent of Trail 401 in Crested Butte. Tight, twisty, some exposure and bursts of color distract your eye from where it should be... focused on that ugly brown rock planted deep right where you wish to roll. I hit a few here and there. Each one reminding me that this bike has no tolerance for lazy or sloppy riding. Once off line, it's a momentousness challenge to get things figured out quick and avoid disaster. Without really realizing it in the past, I think my front suspension was always giving me a second or third chance to solve the problems presented to me. Now I had only one shot, and I better make it count. I was really liking the new demand however.
More purpley:
Looking down now, we saw the next crossing. The area had been decimated by the high waters a month or so prior. The memory of tall groves of dry cat-tales and brush marking the banks had been dissolved. There simply was no evidence of anything left. The flow must have been ridiculous at it's peak.
Wide open:
Even the strongest had to give a little:
This would be a much longer crossing for sure, but with width comes a reduction in speed. The bottom looked sandy so shoes were removed. Since mine were wet enough still from the last one, I just stormed across once more.
Walking tall enough:
The uber cross:
Relocating the trail on the opposite shore, we readied ourselves for the next big climb. A series of switchbacks would lead us out of the valley towards the junction with the Rock Springs trailhead. Try as I might, I just can't get this big 29 MoFo to turn for doodie when it comes to the tight stuff. It's a major struggle and despite my best efforts, I was forced to dab a few corners... which frustrates the crap out of me. I think with time these turns will come though. My other fears of running the SS were not warranted however as once again the BCT engineers have done such a good job that even a large gain in altitude with such short distance remains relatively painless. Before I knew it, the summit had been reached and we all regrouped to figure out the next stage.
Ken leaving yet another climb's will to exist broken:
At the T we went right to continue towards table Mesa. We saw our first set of fellow trail users here as well as met a few climbing out from the bottom. This section of trail to Table Mesa was going to be all new for me and I was looking forward to it as Micki had described it as one of her favorite parts. A sweet downhill section lay out before us that was tight and smooth with some intermixed exposure and great views.
Looking to where we would soon be:
The Agua Fria waited patiently to meet us again. A sandy and rocky approach brought us to the shoe removal station conveniently located on the bank. We walked across and unloaded our packs to have a food break.
Three cross lacing pattern:
I unloaded the water filter and Micki helped me fill up her almost empty Camelback and a water bottle. I topped off my bottle as well. During this time, a group of cyclists had come down from the top and were probably troubled by our activities. I am sure they thought we started from Rock Springs some 20 minutes ago and were already filling up with water from the river. My bike was checked out by another SS'r and upon thorough inspection of the head badge, I was asked as to how I liked my Raleigh.
I can't remember the last time any stranger asked me how I liked my bike. Yet now I was garnering the interest of a fellow enthusiast despite the amazing Pivot Firebird and Mach 5 literally lying inches away from it. Maybe simple is better... or maybe it was just the sweet color matched rims. All I know is that this bike seems to get more attention than any I have owned. The jury is still out as to whether or not this is a good thing. The weird thing is that no one seemed to notice my amazing color matched outfit that Micki helped me pick out the night before.
No accounting for taste I guess.
It took about 20 minutes to eat and refill our water supply. After that, we went up. I mean up, like for a really, really long time. Don't believe me? Well, we went up some more for good measure just because I knew there would be doubts. The climb felt hot. Very little wind was there to cheer us up as we grunted and swayed and sawed the bars back and forth looking for every available inch of power. A few more descenders were encountered and then finally a rest. Heck, even a short downhill section lay waiting in secret. But, not for long. You know why? Well, because we had to climb some more, that's why.
Chase the snake:
Two ways to go.. but nobody was lost:
Then there it was... the top. Now we were at the beginning of Micki's favorite part of BCT and I would soon see why. A fantastically flowing ribbon of singletrack led us through corner after corner. Some expected, some surprisingly tight. Apexes would occasionally change midway and little rock drops kept all of our fingertips brake ready.
Carving 101:
Rest stop:
Colorado closeness:
Soon enough we crossed a creek that was actually the "Terminator" trail we had four-wheeled some time ago in the 4Runner with friends. Was interesting to simply cross over it instead of grinding metal and rubber to drive up it. From here the trail degrades a bit and gains a far more rocky disposition. The climbs are looser, steeper and in general the trail seems to be far less used. We all were beginning to fade and I started to wonder how many miles we had left to go. We crested a hill and took a moment to refuel once more.
Ken grinding it out:
The trail continued to roughly wind around cactus and stone. It was starting to feel a bit more barren than before until we crossed another dry creek. After the steep climb out the other side, the green once again concurred the desert and left only a fine line of evidence as to where we would need to pedal next.
Slim dirty:
Finally, the Agua Fria revealed itself for the last time. Once again there was strong evidence of how fierce the waters had been with twisted debris tangled high into the trees. We took a short rest in the shade before the crossing. It was deeper and faster than any of the sections before, but not very wide. We'd make our way to the sandbar in the middle and then relocate the trail on the other side. Some cows downstream watched with their usual uninterested lazy gaze.
The attention getter at rest:
Micki in deep:
Whitewater balancing act:
Now we were getting close... much like you are getting close to getting through yet another massive Sticki Chronicles BLOG entry. At least you didn't have to climb this next section out from the wash. It was rough, steep and dusty. Cracked rocks lay earthbound in evidence to the brutal heat that will grace this trail in a month or so. We were all getting tired and wheels were beginning to roll a bit slower than before. There wasn't to much distraction now. The flowers had faded and the desert was beginning to claim victory once again over the tenacious plant life. I was kinda bored and then, without reason, I saw a rather large man standing facing away from me in the next wash... completely naked.
As I was contemplating how odd this was, I was also trying to figure out what to say to him. He obviously wasn't aware of my approach and seemed to be distracted, just staring off into space if you will.
"How's it going?" were the words I decided to lead my conversation.
With a jolt he jumped back, only to reveal a blonde woman on her knees in front of him. Surmising that this was not his doctor nor that they were performing some sort of in depth physical, I could only smile as he rushed to find his pants and she tried in vain to pretend she was looking at wildflowers instead of granting him some sort of oral gratifications.
I have only three regrets about this encounter.
- One: I would have desperately liked to hear the conversation before we arrived explaining to his female companion that they were all alone and she need not worry about being discovered during the act of Felicio in the middle of the desert. Perhaps to prove this point he undressed completely to show her how confident he was of this fact.
- Two: I wished I could have heard the conversation after we left and they realized that their selected destination for isolation was directly inline with a popular and fairly well used section of the BCT trail.
- Three: I ever so wish that instead of simply saying "How's it going?" that I lead with the ever popular "How's it hanging?". That would have been stellar.
Oh well. They were fully dressed and normalized by the time Micki rolled by and she had no idea what had happened. Shame really, as I am sure the embarrassment would have risen ten fold if this brazen exhibitionist had been caught by a female set of eyes instead of mine.
We were really close to the car now. Around the next bend the parking lot was in site and this epic had been completed in full. Victory was ours!!
Ken with no regard for personal safety:
Steve with total regard for personal safety:
Was another great late Spring ride in AZ. My guess is there will only be a few weeks left of quality riding on BCT before the heat hits. My suggestion would be to get out there now and see the desert in full bloom. It's an amazing site that doesn't come along to often... that's for sure.
As you can see from the following pic, any bike can make it. We had such variety this time. From 6" plus travel to no travel. From 27 speeds to 1 speed. I can only imagine those that saw us as a group trying to figure out where the heck we were planning on going together or even where we came from to begin with.
The vast array:
I have this route recorded via GPS. If you'd like a copy, just shoot an E-Mail to info@thestickichronicles.com and I'll do my best to get one sent out to you as soon as possible.
The Stats:
Riders: Ken, Micki and Elvota
Distance: 30 miles
Elevation: 3000 feet climbing
Ride time: just under 6 hours
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