Baby Heads and Galoshes

You never hear the word 'galoshes' any more. At least not out here in New Mexico. Yet sensible people might have wanted them if they were attending this years Signal Peak Challenge. For the record, I didn't see any. I did, however, see a bunch of fun-loving people getting out for a good old-fashioned mud-fest on their mountain bikes.


What in blue blazes?!

Another phrase you don't hear very often. And I didn't this weekend either. But what made me think of it was what they told us during the racer's meeting before hand: Follow the blue blaze markers and you'll have no problem staying on route. They also told us not to pay any attention to those other blue blazes. You know, the ones the loggers use to mark trees to be cut. Yeah. Ok...

Oh, and "there is water on the course". Both to drink and to ride through, apparently. I don't know why I race with my camelbak. Security I guess. That and safety (I keep one of those Mylar space blankets in there along with my "first aid" kit -- what's that? You broke your leg? Well I have some band aids and an antiseptic wipe here. Will that help?).

Undaunted by reports of the rain-soaked course, I patiently waited for the call for cat-3'ers to line up. And when the call came, I immediately executed the plan-of-the-day: easy rider mode. That's right -- aiming to avoid an early blow-out similar to last year's race, I was gonna take it easy and keep my motor running steady for all three laps. I love it when a plan comes together.

Sadly, it didn't. Planning some things well and others poorly is sufficient cause to cancel out all those good intentions. Ask any pilot.

So what happened? Low air pressure. Double pinch flat on the first major downhill. No serviceable spare. Four (count them: four!) holes to seal or I would be walking the last 2.5 miles of my first lap. I got it fixed. Which is to say, I got it to where it leaked slowly enough so that I didn't have to walk back. Yay.

Baby What?

But was that it? Not exactly. There were still Baby Heads to crush yet. I put that in capital letters so that people don't think I'm into infanticide.



These are not real baby heads, but rather Gila Baby Heads. And yes, I had to have someone explain that to me. Am I really a mountain biker at all if I don't know this? They are, apparently, the semi-large rocks that one tends to try to avoid when going uphill and especially when one is going downhill. Hence the subtitle of this year's race.

Fun for riders and the kiddies alike, as racers were invited to crush some Baby Heads when coming round to the start/finish line. Yay, right? Aw, come on now -- it's all in good fun. And the level of realism was way up there too! I leave you with this... This event is a classic and I'm looking forward to next year already.

Winning the High Desert way...

Alright, so what is this? A shameless appeal to the makers of Santa Fe Pale Ale for sponsorship money for a fledgling race team? Damn... caught out. Gotta stop being so transparent. But hey, if it works, it works.

Actually, the reason I'm posting this is because I shamefully haven't done a bit of riding at all lately and therefore have nothing to talk about. But I did find the time to make this little mandala showing my fervent devotion to the brand -- the beer that started it all. "What?" you say, a mountain biker inspired by a beer? As shocking as this is for some of you, I must report it happens more often than you think.

I remember it like yesterday... winding through the pine trees on my mountain bike in the Enchanted Forest of north-western New Mexico. And when the riding was done, there was beer, and it flowed freely for 24 hours (more or less). No really -- I finished my single-lap, 16-mile ride and had a free beer provided by Santa Fe Brewing Company. And it was during that weekend that the very seed of the kernel that later became the idea for High Desert Race Team began to form.

Well anyway, with any luck, SFBC will be at 24HITEF this year again and I'll ride many more laps than just one. Ok, maybe three. Alright, seven tops. I really don't think I could do more than that. But that's the plan.

Meanwhile, I'd like to report that no beers were harmed by being wasted (not properly consumed) in the making of this High Art. It was an idea born in the long cold winter down here in the south, where we think winter means "less than 50 degrees" and "art" is something you do with beer bottle caps. Meh... what are ya gonna do? If I get so much as one free beer for posting that photo, then I'll be a "professional artist". Imagine that...

And if I don't, then I enjoyed a nice afternoon down at the river, a beautiful sunset and time spent watching my two dogs act like lunatics running all over the place. I'm a winner either way as they say.

Southeast Mesa Long Loop

Conditions proved pretty ideal for a 32 mile ride on Saturday. So while others were preparing for 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo (one state away), myself and a friend decided to tackle a route we'd talked about doing for a while now. Well, I talked. He'd done it a time or four already. His comment, about two thirds of the way through, was "I always forget how rough that part is."

'That part' == the Sierra Vista Trail that runs up along the southern part of the Organ Mountains. If you're talking highway exits, it connects University Ave in Las Cruces with the Mesquite exit via one nicely paved road and one horribly wash-boarded dirt road. So add in a bit of frontage road and there's the loop. But the fun part is of course the single-track.

This trail has obviously seen a lot of use in the past few years since I first road it. What were sections of trail covered with small loose rocks have become either gravel pits or sections covered with large loose rocks. Sometimes both.

The essential fun of the trail is still there. How fast can I go and not take a spill when I miss a turn? Or, how slow can I go to avoid the cactus, but still have momentum to ascend the other side after crossing a major arroyo?

It is also the trail where I learned about 'tenting' -- something for which I mercifully have no pictures of. Please put your minds at ease, this is not what you might be thinking... It is what happens when you crash into a cactus and thorns break off underneath the skin. I'll say only that extraction involves lining up the holes with the thorns underneath, pushing and then using a pair of needle-nose to remove it. (If a thorn offend thee... pluck it out.) Enough said. Now you know why pliers are considered Essential Equipment in the High Desert.

No catastrophes this day however. Just one long steady fun ride where your eyes are glued to the trail and each time you stop, you notice just how much the scenery has changed. It doesn't pay to be a sightseer while riding this trail, but you're welcome to ride it and give it a shot. It is very scenic. Let me know how it goes.

Side note: Been messin' the MyTracks app on the 'droid phone. Here's a couple of GE views created from the GPS data. Enjoy.

West Mesa Long Loop training run

Woke up barely in time to have a couple lattes to go with my breakfast enchiladas. Mmmm... Now that's eating for the road! I threw a pear and some cereal bars in my pack and headed out.

The Goal: 40 miles
The Plan: West Mesa Long Loop
Mental State: Ready to roll and overconfident

We're in a buildup phase here at High Desert Racing, meaning I'm in a buildup phase, being the sole member of the team. But I managed to talk a friend into this little venture. It was as easy as saying "Hey, it'll be fun..."

Most folly starts that way, I'm sure.

So we begin executing The Plan. It's five miles to the river and then there's a long one and a half, maybe two mile climb up 300-400 feet up to the mesa top overlooking the Mesilla Valley. From there the plan is simple: ride, turn left, ride, turn left, ride, turn left, ride some more.

Couldn't get any simpler, could it? Up on the mesa there is generally nothing but long straight roads. Only problem was the particular directions they go, after doubling back on ourselves with the first two left turns. We end up getting dumped back into the valley about 15-20 miles from town. My compadre, being smarter than me, announces at our last rest break before descending back into the valley that he is calling for a pick up. At this point, I'm still thinking "I can make it". Yeah. Uh huh.

Rides between 15-20, maybe even 25 have become somewhat of a staple. I've even done another nice long loop that ended up being 35 miles. Rock and roll. I'm thinking "50 can't be so bad... I can do this". We ride on to the pick up point and we're early. I decide to press on. After all, I haven't even done my 40. My friend has, but I lacked the few miles he got a head-start with, so I felt like I needed to prove something.

I'm sure most folly continues that way.

So I ride on, and the miles don't seem to be clicking by so fast. There are several little towns that need to be ridden through. In between, it's cars and trucks passing at 50 mph with no bike lane on a two-lane road. Not my favorite riding conditions. Finally, the aching in my legs and a certain desire to stand in the saddle caught up with my foolish ambition. Hoping my friends weren't far off yet, I texted my friends and asked for a ride. One minute later they pulled up. Nice service!

I hit stop on the GPS and read the mileage -- just over 40. Though I will admit they offered to drive home at 10 mph just to make it look good. But no, I could never do that. Well, unless I was so exhausted I just forgot to turn it off... But then I'd edit out the in-vehicle miles later if that happened. Hey, so far this race team has perfect continuity in terms of ethics. Whatever I do, no matter how bad it sucks, I'll stick to what happened, not what I wish had happened.

So I got dropped at home, legs really screaming at this point. Check the photo below for a candid look at how I felt. Yes, that is my own dog laughing at me.



On the bright side though, I was given leftovers from a pancake breakfast. And a bit later another friend came by with a growler of Stout from High Desert Brewing Company. The day was just getting better and better. At least the pain had stopped anyway.

I'll take the 40. I'm happy. I met my personal goal for the day, but WTF? How am I going to pull 50, much less the 82 miles of a one-loop pass at the San Ysidro Dirty Century? How do people do the full 123-mile full two loops? I'm fricken delusional if I think I can do this.

¡Ay, caramba! This is a team in crisis.

The plan may need modification. Alternatives may have to be explored. Passive voice may have to be used in the writing of this blog.

The bottom line is that I'm not going to get a 2X performance increase over the span of the next 5-6 weeks. That's ok though. I'm an engineer. Time to set the mind to work and find a set of problems and start solving them. I might even use science. Perhaps even logic and reason... But I don't want to overdo it. There's room for much foolish thinking yet. Plus I should never underestimate the motivational power of a beer after a long day's ride.

Clearly though, the road to success is going to involve lots of riding.

Actual training begins...

Damn last night was cold. But it is good to be out here, I think as I wake and stumble around making breakfast. First surprise of the morning: no silverware. I took it out to wash it after my last camping trip and never put it back. Lesson learned: never wash the campware at home.

I'll skip the gory details of what ensued, save to say that oatmeal eaten with spicy corn chips is... well, good enough to eat anyway. I succeeded in getting down some calories so I go in search of trail head. And find it I did. I saw a few RVs near the 24HITOP start/finish, but few other signs of life. I powered up the laptop to take one last look at the map and didn't really have a clear idea where things went. I knew I could find a cutoff near Willow Spring Tank that would let me shorten the ride to the time I had available. Given my recent history trying to navigate with memorized maps, I was a little hesitant to set out solo. But then I remembered that if I had common sense, I wouldn't find myself in these positions in the first place.

Fact is, I've ridden solo a lot. I can't always have the sense to tell someone where I am going, or -- for cripes sake -- drag them along with me as insurance against breaking a leg (or worse) in some inconvenient location. Nah, riding solo is part of the deal. Not knowing where one is going: slightly more concerning. Not having a helmet: forget it - I ain't discussing it. I mean, I would wear one if I had the good sense to pack it. But having failed to plan, I just can plan to fail (to not go ahead with the plan, that is). Let's just let that one go. Besides, if I don't wreck, I won't need the helmet, right?

So here's my summary of the 24HITOP course, about a month or so before the official 2011 event takes place or at least the part of it that I rode: beautiful. Smooth as a babies butt. Ok, that's pushing it, but hell and damn! All there is to land on around here if one does take a spill are soft sand and cactus! My training ground is rife with "don't land here" places where the rock speaks louder than the cactus. By comparison, what I rode today is like a Kansas prairie. Please don't think I have any misconception about what it will be like during an actual 24-hour event. It would be a completely different story if I were there then.



In fact, don't tell me I have no idea, and this is why: Because I have no idea what a 24 hour race is like. But I will... and in the meantime, my imagination is good enough that anyone who gets any number of laps in has my respect. As I said: it is a beautiful course and I rode about two thirds of it, once, and in under the pleasantest of conditions. I look forward to reading about people's experiences once it happens. Good luck if you're one of the ones going. It should be a fun one.


Ok, now back to the story of today. The ride was great, the view beautiful, and although I saw plenty of cars at the main parking area by Willow Springs Arch, I didn't run into a single rider on the trail. I guess I was not only going the right direction, but keeping a pretty steady pace.

The last little addendum to this day was a trip into Tucson and riding with friends at a place called Fantasy Island. Thankfully they had a helmet to lend, because there was zero chance I've come out of that ok without one. I didn't take a spill, but had I been *worried* about taking a spill, I would have. Without a doubt.

I can't say enough good things about that place either. The number of options is insane and the trails just double-back on themselves so much that a few square miles becomes and endless playground. Glad for my guide, we did the Lone Cactus Loop, Burro Pit Loop and then Bo's Loop. Opportunities for more than a little bit of air-time exist as well. Wish I had whatever sense it would have taken to know when to go all out and when there was a cliff with a 90 degree turn just out of sight. Oh well, I won't spoil it for you -- just go. Find someone fast and follow them. What could go wrong, right?

Overall, 22-something miles of mountain biking in a day, topped with some truly excellent pizza (Tuscon's best, I'm assured) it was an excellent day. With training like this, I forget that it's work...

And so it begins...

The Mission: 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo (solo pre-ride)
Location: Precisely known, but nevertheless Mostly Lost ™
Status: Good. No - Great.
The plan: Get one.



Being here is mostly by circumstance. Business meeting in Scottsdale, Arizona all week and Tuscon is on my way home. Those cramped confined hotel rooms and hot tubs get to be too much to endure after a while. I needed to find some open space and remember what it feels like to type with frozen fingers.

I bring one thing with me that will figure prominently in any team moral building or training event: beer. Ya might need a closeup to see what it is on this, the inaugural event of the High Desert Racing Team.

Made in Tempe, this beer worked for post-business meeting social events, so I figured it ought to work for mountain biking too. Mmm... Washed down some artisan bread stuffed with ham and pepper-jack just a bit ago. Now the second one is helping wash the events of the day out of mind and onto this page.

And what were those events? Well, driving mostly. Then trying to follow directions from memory. For the record: bad idea. I'm somewhere near the actual venue, but I think I took a wrong turn somewhere. It was supposed to be 9.3 miles from highway 77, but I was not paying attention and went farther, doubled back and as twilight loomed, said the hell with it and found a place to camp. Rode up a likely road and went about .3 miles up a hill and got a good look at what lay ahead of me: rolling foothills and a disappearing road.

But wait a minute... What about that bit of orange tape that I saw right before I had the rental car traversing a washout in the road on four wheels? (Hey, who cares? It's a rental...) Mountain bikers use that stuff all the time to mark trails. I thought it meant I was on to something, so I rode back down to investigate. I saw more orange tape just off the road and decided it must be there to mark a turn. Getting closer, I realized it wasn't going anywhere but to a short metal pipe sticking up out of the ground. Oh...! Having seen these before, I got out the camera because (praise be!) I was No Longer Lost. I had found a US-GS survey marker with coordinates telling me exactly where I was. So if my smart phone had a connection at that very moment, I would have been able to enter it directly and see where I was on a satellite view of the area.

As if that would do any good. As I said: Lost, but location known precisely.
The morrow brings a chance to redeem myself in terms of navigational skill and find the actual start of the 24HITOP course, ride it, then go have breakfast. When I get back to town, I get to go visit some friends and go for yet another ride. And, if they let me mooch off there internet, I can enter those coordinates and find out exactly where I spent the night. Yee-haw. Mostly I don't care. But I do care where the 16 miles of mixed single track are, and I think I know... We shall see.