another edition of bikes, and their rides

When an email that goes something like this arrives to the inbox:

 I simply have very little idea what to expect.  I know it's about 20 miles back to the vehicle from where we pop out at Seven Springs Campground.  I know the trail head is about 7-8 miles up Spur Cross Rd.  And I know the trail itself is about 10 miles.  Other than that - blind.  I don't know if this will take us 5 hours or 15.  So I can't make any promises about the ride quality, distance, difficulty, whether or not we can make it, etc.  I know you well enough to know that you will roll with anything - and love it (i.e. "Dang - I'm bleeding out both knees, broke a crank arm, out of water and food, and the sun has been down for over an hour...this is the greatest ride EVER!!!"). 

You know it’s going to be a good ride.  Or at least memorable.

We started early, 615 meeting time to give us first light at the start point, Spur Cross Rd in Cave Creek.  It was 43 degrees, little chilly for this desert dweller.  Had most of the long sleeve jerseys I own on, and I was still wrapping my fingers around the coffee cup to gather a little bit of heat from that hot liquid.  Suited up, headed up the road.  Destination: Spur Cross Ranch Conservation Area, about 7 miles.  Heading up the road in the golden light of the morning was pleasant, blues skies overhead, everything looking good.

Made it to the Conservation Area, came across this AZ style fence.  

Continued on, to the Tonto boundary.   

We came across a dry stream bed, however it was starting to flow.  Never having seen that before, I guess it’s common, desert streams flow in the mornings, not necessarily because of upstream rain.

Made a stop to look at Cave Creek, and scope a way to cross without getting our feet wet.  Ended up hopping rocks, no splashes and dry feet for us.

One healthy, one done.

We climbed the first real climb to the first real vista.  That vista looks back at Black Mountain in Cave Creek.  We’ve come a fair distance.

We continue on across the singletrack, loose as it may be, toward New River Mesa. 

The singletrack also contains flora of the desert, flora which, pretty much is always prickly.  One section of trail, flanked by prickly pear, didn’t appear to be a challenge, but after the shins were flogged by the cat claw and we have stumbled through loose trail conditions, the wisdom part of the brain said “walk”.  So, we pushed the bikes onward.

Along each crossing of Cave Creek, the colors of fall stand in contrast to the colors of the desert.  The sun, lower on the horizon than during the blistering summer, casts a warm glow over the leaves.  Each creek crossing held a small oasis, harkening to less arid climates. 

As the trail continued on, we rode above Cave Creek (the creek).  We came across a crested saguaro, a rather large one at that.

Finally made it to Seven Springs campground.  Fall colors, cool breeze and some place flat to lay down.  Blue sky up above, a little white noise from the waterfall and a good nap would easily overtake a guy.  But, we had time constraints, so refill the water sack, down an e-cap and off we go.  It’s 130 and we still have 20 miles to go.

About 5 miles down the road, Gary took another flat.  Since I’m the slower rider, he flags me on, go on up the road, I’ll catch up.  Alright I say.  Every little hill, I have that distant quivering in the quads, just a slow motion away from a heinous cramp.  As I’m riding, considering how to flag down a truck, but not get separated too far, I hear a shout and a truck pull up.  Gary’s in the back, and they offer a ride.  Oh boy, now that’s a sweet sight at this time of the day.

Most times, the “where” of the ride matters not.  Most times, it’s the “who” of the ride.  Conversation trumps singletrack.  Unless you’re above 10,000 I guess.  But then, who has breath for conversation?