while out riding

Vuelta al Cotopaxi, Primera Parte; Ecuador.

While Out Riding — Fri, 01 Jun 2012 12:38:15 +0000

I’m just back from the Vuelta al Cotopaxi. Ok, not the official mountain biking race around Ecuador’s most famous volcano, but a similar route of our own doing. More photos from this bikepacking adventure soon…

Onward plans are now almost fully formed, though typically subject to change… I’ll be heading south from here, looping round to Lago Quilatoa, before picking up some dirt roads to Baños. From there, I’ll backtrack to Amabato, and follow a trail that wends its way between the twin volcanoes of Chimborazo and Carihuairazo, down to Riobamba. Then, I have a choice. Cut down to Macas in the Amazon basin lowlands, or stay up high towards Cuenca and pick my way down a dirt road further to the south. Once in the Amazonas, it’s a paved road to Loja, then more dirt into the mountains to Zumba, on the Peruvian border…

Summer seems to be coming to Ecuador, so I’m hopeful for some dry days!

After a high traverse from Pintag, we approached mighty Cotopaxi – one of highest active volcanoes in the world – on this wisp of a jeep track.

And the following morning, under clear skies.

The remote jeep track that leads to the lone hacienda at el Tambo, 3700m, on the eastern side of Cotopaxi – by now lost behind a thick halo of cloud.

Ecuadorian farmers on their way up into the páramo, the treeless, barren, high altitude plains typical of Ecuador.

This ‘road’ barrelled us down from our highest pass, 4200m, hopschotching crevasses and watersnakes as we went.

Picking our way across the various mini-canyons in El Morro.

My Ecuadorian riding companion, Michael, shared a love of exploring each and every singletrack opportunity that came our way…

Biking up Volcán Pichincha, Ecuador.

While Out Riding — Mon, 28 May 2012 00:54:34 +0000

With Ecuador famed for its Avenue of Volcanoes – as coined by German explorer Alexander von Humboldt in the 19th century – I took the opportunity to stretch out my legs (and see how well I was acclimatising), by tackling the climb up to Volcán Pichincha, whose crater rim lies at a lofty 4780m. Rising up like a jagged crown to the west of the capital, it’s very much an active volcano: the last major eruption was in 1999, smothering the city with a thick layer of ash, darkening the sky and grounding air traffic to a halt.

From Tumbaco (2250m), I headed up to Quito (2850m) via the cobblestoned Avenue de las Conquistadores, crossing the city and hurdling another pass to the small settlement of Lloa. I left late, so broke the ride up with a night in a hacienda there – a dairy farm – run by mountain biking enthusiast Gabrielle.

Then began the hard graft in earnest: a gain of some 1450m over just 14kms in distance, following a dirt road that wound its way up to a mountain refugio at 4550m. From there, a short section of singletrack lead me to the crater’s edge, peering down into a steamy cauldron of bubbling sulphur.

With a crack-of-dawn start, you could tackle the whole ride in a day. But it would be a long one…

Quito is more bike-friendly than you might expect, with several bike paths crossing the city, as well as the weekly Ciclovia, when much of the centre is closed to motorised traffic.

The route I took wended its way through the historic part of town, where steep, cobblestoned streets are the order of the day.

I’d paired down my belongings to what I needed for the night – a sleeping bag, Thermarest, extra layers and food. This grafitti reads: no hostage taking, no coup d’état.

Refuel. At a few cents a banana (Ecuador was dollarized in 2000), they’re almost giving them away.

As I climbed up towards Lloa, the full extent of the city sprawl could be seen – Quito extends some 48kms in length.

More cobblestone conumdrums.

This time I came prepared. I wrapped Ogre’s chainstay with an old inner tube to silence the clatter and rattle of the chain.

I was tempted to help myself to this mini mountain of bananas, cow food at the dairy farm I stayed in for the night. Gabrielle kept me company for the afternoon, exchanging travel stories – as well as being a keen mountain biker, he’s bike toured from Honduras to Ecuador. Then he left to go home in Quito, claiming it was too cold for him up at the hacienda, so I rolled out my mat, put on the TV and watched the Simpsons in Spanish.

In the morning, Gabrielle returned with his daighter, Allesandra, also a mountain biker. We rode the first few kilometres together, before the altitude forced her back. She’d been working for the last few weeks by the coast, so hadn’t had a chance to acclimatise.

I pushed on up the dirt road, which corkscrewed its way every higher. The grades were steep in places, then eased up with more gentle switchbacks.

Welcome to the Ecuadorian páramo, the ecosystem squeezed between the continuous timberline and the permanent snowline in the northern Andes of South America.

Chuquiragua - the flower of the Andes – up at 4200m.

Finally, at close to 4600m, the Refugio emerged briefly into view, before being enveloped by cloud cover once more. This last 200m was the hardest part, a muddy climb that felt a lot steeper than it looks in the photo. The altitude might have been part of that…

Ogre at the Refugio. I jettisoned the rest of my belongings at the hacienda in Lloa.

Me being me, I figured I’d struggle on up the singletrack that links the refugio to the crater’s edge, rather than hike up, as most sensible people do.

I have yet to find out the name of these bizarre, finger-like plants that probed this humid, high altitude landscape. UPDATE: I am informed, by the venerable Simon Giles, that they are a sub-genii of the Huperzia Crassa… or Club Mosses in colloquial English.

They came in several tones.

By the time I’d made it up, clouds were hurtling by overhead, so I huddled behind a rock, out of the wind. Before long, there was nothing but a thick bank of swirling mist to be seen.

Then, just when I was preparing myself to head back down, the clouds parted, revealing a rugged, Middle Earthean land…

I hiked up quickly towards the peak of the crater to get a better view…Until then, I hadn’t felt any of the effects of altitude. But as I balanced on a ledge to take a photo, I became aware of how wobbly and light-headed I’d become…

Looking down into the crater. Plumes of steam came belching out of its belly and the smell of Sulphur wafted through the air.

Heading back down again – you can see the singletrack I rode to the left.

Heading back down the volcano was a blast. The disc rotors on my bike pinged and hissed as rain began to fall.

In Lloa, I refueld on a warming glass of colada morada, a warm, thick drink made from forest fruits, typically prepared on the Day of the Dead. It helped wash down a donut-like empanada de viento. Viento means wind in Spanish, and it’s no named because of the way it exhales with air when you first take a bite.

Retracing my steps back through the city, with a view of Cotopaxi in the distance.

Getting back into the swing of things: Tumbaco, Ecuador.

While Out Riding — Fri, 25 May 2012 12:12:16 +0000

After a medley of trains, planes and even a nocturnal bicycle ride across LA (with dumpster-diving feed en route), here I am back in Quito. Or rather Tumbaco, a small town squeezed between steep, quilted hills, set some 12 kms to the east of Ecuador’s sprawling capital. And sprawling it certainly is. Despite its relatively modest population size – sub 2 million in number - this runner bean-shaped metropolis extends some 48kms in length, draped between a rugged corridor of active and dormant volcanos.

The culture shock of such an arrival can be intense. It’s a time when senses are at their sharpest and their most impressionable; before the brain has a chance to adjust to the barrage of sensory experiences that bombard it. After a smooth transit through Ecuador’s immigration, I crammed my bicycle into the trunk of a cheap taxi sedan, resuscitating my neglected Spanish into life over small talk with its driver. Luckily I had a home to head for that night, courtesy of Steve Tober - a teacher at a British school near Tumbaco – and his Colombian, elite-level mountain-running wife, along with their two kids.

Steve has a passion for bicycle touring that courses strongly through his veins. Nowadays he concentrates his two-wheeled explorations around Colombia and Ecuador; pre-kids, he travelled all over around world. Check out his excellent blog if you ever question the plausibility of touring as a family in South America – his stories are inspiring. In fact, it was Steve’s local route-finding expertise and enthusiasm that I have to thank for one of my favourite rides: Tulcan to El Angel, via the otherworldly Paramo. And, no doubt, his guidance that I’ll be grateful for when it comes to the adventures that lie ahead. Indeed, it wasn’t long before we’d cracked out a collection of well-thumbed maps; now my head is spinning with possibilities for unbeaten path travel to Peru and beyond.

It feels good to be back on the road, especially given my happier state of health than last time round. Although the sensation of returning to a nomadic lifestyle, after so long, is overwhelmingly one of excitement, I have to admit it’s tinged with apprehension. I’m back on my own, dealing with whatever life throws at me. Last time my journey to Ecuador took months; a slow, natural adaptation to Latin America. This time it’s been accelerated into a handful of hours. Almost immediately I’ve had the realisation – or rather the stark reminder – of how much more intense bicycle touring is here, compared to my recent journeys in South West USA.

Which is probably what keeps drawing me back. Aside from the physical challenges of near vertical climbs through the Andes, there’s that infamous Latin American edge to contend with. And the cars too – and the frenzied, diesel belching buses – that drive with wild abandon. The glass-littered roads, mined with unexpected, cavernous potholes, or protruding with sculptures of contorted rebar.

Of course, these challenges are more than offset by the vibrancy of life here, the warmth and curiosity of those I meet and the natural beauty and diversity of the land. Not to mention the wealth of new foods to savour – streets and markets resplendent in mysterious produce awaiting the intrepid, hungry cyclist…

The Tober Rig: a hardtail pulling a tag-along pulling a Chariot trailer… Incidentally, the tag-along bike is 9kg, Ramon is 17kg, the Chariot trailer is 15kg, and Carla is 12kg. Add Steve’s bike and 10kg in the panniers, and you have some serious load hauling… Every Sunday, a car-free route – the Ciclovía - runs much of the length of elongated Quito, so we headed out en famille to rub shoulders with hundreds of Ecuadorian cyclists. The Tober Rig proved to be quite an eye catcher.

The historic centre of the capital, which lies some 25 kilometres south of the equator. Hence the name of the country.

Room for two in the deluxe Chariot. After a long day out, treats help keep smiles on faces…

The next morning, Steve and I awoke at the crack of dawn to head out for a day ride to Cumbre del Llalo. A chance to refamiliarize my legs with relentless Ecuadorian grades, the route covered the full gamut of terrain, including cangahua, dry mud moulded into a curious lunascape.

And, of course, the classic Ecuadorian cobblestone – empedrado – a filling-loosening surface that defies even the benefits of 29er wheels.

During much of the ride, we were engulfed by a thick veil of cloud cover. As we neared the top, we weaved our way through an alleyway of eucalyptuses poking out of the swirling mist.

A triumphant Cass and Ogre at Cumbre del Ilalo, 3200m. (photo Steve Tober)

Let the street food feast begin… These tortillas de tiesto are made from wholewheat or corn, stuffed with cheese and sweetened with panela – unrefined whole cane sugar. Prepared on a traditional ceramic bowl, they go down a treat after a ride.

I did, however, pass on this poor fella – hornado de chancho – cooked in a large dome oven and served as seen.

A devout vegan, Steve had rustled up some of his delicious powerbars, laced with all kinds of nuts and flax seeds for a slow burning, long lasting and nutricious energy boost. Recipe below…

’Endorphin Adventures Vegan Powerbars’

tahini

peanut butter

ground flax

chopped brazil nuts and walnuts

chia seeds (indigenous to South America…like poppy seeds)

sesame seeds

oat/soy flour

oatmeal

cinnamon

vanilla

agave syrup

honey

chopped raisins

Mix ingredients, adding water until consistency is that of thick cookies dough. Bake in cake pan for 45 mins or so. Cut into squares and freeze until jet power needed!

Another healthy boost: lush, tropical fruit sold at almost every street corner in Ecuador.

Sometimes you don’t even have to go looking for it – it comes to you. This open air fruit truck passes by Steve and Maria’s home every week to unload the latest in fresh produce.

Alternative uses for a stroller…

Incidentally, the Ogre arrived safe and sound. Although the flight was operated by American Airlines flight, booking through LAN Ecuador meant there was no excess baggage fee to pay, saving me the $150 charge I’d have been hit with otherwise. As usual, I used my Ground Effect Body Bag, bolstered with locally sourced cardboard. It folds down small to be forwarded onwards or sent home.

When I flew home from Quito last year, I’d left some panniers and gear at the ramshackle Casa de Ciclistas in Tumbaco, so I headed over to sift through long forgotten belongings.

Resident hound Luna.

I set up camp in the open garage at the end of the garden, protection from the afternoon deluges typical at this time of year, before the dry season takes a firmer hold.

My neighbour, Frenchman Arthur, who has ridden down from Mexico City.

And Miguel, from Asturias, Spain, who’s pedalled up from Ushuaia, Argentina.

Of course, no self-respecting Spaniard begins the day without a cigarette and a cup of coffee…

For the perfect cup of coffee you need, of course, a miniature caffettiera in your panniers.

Gear talk… I hadn’t realised the Truvativ GPX crankset fitted to the Ogre wasn’t Shimano compatible – even standard Shimano chainrings won’t fit without modification. Luckily (for me at least), someone else had run into same issue. There was a damaged crankset amongst Santiago’s treasure trove of spares which I cannibalised for parts .

For aspiring 29er riders, the good news is that the big wheel revolution has made it to Ecuador – or at least, to its high end bicycle shops. I noted an impressive collection of Maxxis 29er tyres were available, for as little as $23 each.

Our hosts. Santiago and his wife Ana Lucia have been receiving roving cyclists for over 20 years, offering them a place to pitch a tent, a workshop to repair their bikes and warmhearted, Ecuadorian hospitality.

Back, but going.

While Out Riding — Tue, 15 May 2012 16:44:03 +0000

I’m back from a few nights camping with James, whose company I greatly enjoyed riding through Utah’s Canyonlands in 2010. This time, we biked from Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon, following the pavement-free Arizona Trail. If you’re lucky enough to be visiting this part of the world, I can’t think of a better way of arriving at the Grand Canyon – 100 miles of sublime trails and idyllic camping spots, preluding one of the most surreal, larger-than-life views I’ve ever experienced. I’ll get a trip report up at some point, just as soon as I get through a backlog of writing.

Flagstaff has made a great base this last week. Come 7pm, I’ve headed out of town to freecamp on a hilltop in the national forest, enjoying a city overlook under stars, and awakening to a soul-warming sunrise each morning. It’s helped reset my body clock. My daily ritual has been simple: loading up my gear by 6am, rolling down the hill to Macy’s cafe to write (and enjoy budget-friendly, delicious Day Old pastries). My days here have offered the chance to see friends, ride wonderful trails and soak up some of Flagstaff’s hip, North Arizonan lifestyle. I’ve also been fortuitous enough to meet up with Megan, passing through town on exactly the same weekend. The third member of our Canyonlands posse (another of the South West’s premier 100 mile dirt road loops), we hadn’t seen each other since Nicaragua, when she came out to ride with her incredible little baby Neva.

Last time I was in Flagstaff, I based myself out of Josh’s burgeoning Bike Shop Hub, so it was good to visit and see how the business has developed. Incidentally, Josh has offered to affiliate this blog to his shop. This means that if you order online anything via this link, I’ll get a small cut. In the interests of transparency, I’ll talk more about this business deal at some point soon; ultimately though, it’s a way of supporting this blog, without influencing actual content. The good part is that buying any gear through these links won’t cost you a penny more than it would normally. As Josh stocks the likes of Tubus racks and Ortlieb panniers (including all the tricky-to-find extras), it’s hard to go wrong (-:

Lastly, my big travel news is that I’m finally booked to return to Ecuador! It’s been a long time coming – I left South America almost a year ago after riding down from Alaska, to return to the UK for some unexpected lung surgery. I’ll be catching the train this evening and flying out of LA on the 17th, destination Quito. So, if anyone wants to meet up in LA on the 16th, I’m around and about. Better still, if you know a place I can crash for the night, please let me know – otherwise I’ll be kipping in the airport before my morning flight back South.

Weaving between ponderosas synonimous with the higher elevations of the South West. For this part of the AZT, James tried t pulling the Tout Terrain Mule, which worked perfect with his lightweight Gunnar mountain bike.

Not a car in sight. Just 1oo miles of trails, jeep track, big skies…

And then this…

In time for sunset…

James communes with four legged locals.

Perfect camping out in high meadows. James carried his Tarptent Double Rainbow, while I had a chance to use my new solo Moment, both of which are ultralight and great value.

Note to self…

Back in Flag, I hung out amidst the inner workings of Bike Shop Hub. As ever, thanks to Josh, Robin, Robert and Ted for welcoming me in. Whenever I’ve passed through Northern Arizona, Josh has always offered me a workshop to service my bike and an address to receive mail.

Pack ‘em high. Panniers, racks and trailers galore…

The place to come for all your Ortlieb bits and bobs… Bike Trailer Shop even stocks Revelate gear too.

Have you ever seen a bubble wrap roll as gargantuan as this? I’d have had a field day as a kid.

As well as selling a dizzying range of trailers, Bike Shop Hub build their own. This is their fully customisable cargo hauler, the provisionally called The Really Big Bongo, soon to be available in two sizes. It’s rated to pull some 200lbs (90kg), and is aimed at tradesmen who want to go car-free, amongst others.

It’s expertly crafted in Flagstaff by Stu Henderson, who also forms a third of Sendero Cycles. The arch design stops water pooling in the waterproof cover.

Quick releases allow the angle of the arm to be easily adjusted, so the trailer can be pulled by hand, or to form a stand.

I also had the chance too to scrub my dust-ingrained gear Rocket bag. A tip for long distance bikepackers – keep your framebag’s zips clean to ensure years of rugged use. I popped it on the scales too: 1.1lbs, or 500g. It’s more than most framebags as it has secret compartments, extra padding and bonus sleeves. But it’s certainly useful enough to be worth its weight in gold.

James has a Long Haul Trucker, so I borrowed his rack and panniers to experiment with trailer-less riding on my Ogre. Using a blend of Porcelain Rocket bags and small Ortlieb front roller panniers, the above setup includes everything I’d need for indefinite travel…

Beady-eyed gearheads might have noticed that I have a Porcelain Rocket Anything Bag (100g, or 4oz) strapped directly to a Profile Kage. As much as I love the concept of Salsa’s all-embracing Anything Cages, I’m not finding them burly enough for my uses – perhaps because I have a habit of throwing down the bike for a quick photo. My take? Great idea, but best treated with care. Bring on some chromo versions, Salsa!

I’ve opted to take the Surly Ogre away with me, despite its awkwardly sourced 29er wheels and tyres. Which means taking care of them. Seen here is non other than mountain biking legend Joe Murray, of Kona and Voodoo fame, showing me how best to keep my Deore hubs running smoothly.

Jumping back to cages for a moment… Joe sold me a limited edition, titanium, triple eyeletted King Kage I’d been coveting – the perfect fit for a 1.2l Kleen Kanteen. Be great to get another run of these going…

We also went out for a ride, climbing up to the Overlook and looping round the challenging terrain of Rocky Ridge.

Even though Joe retired from racing in 1990, he still comprehensively crushed me on the climbs. And the descents… In my defence, I should add that Joe was a NORBA national champion with an as yet unmatched streak of 12 straight victories…

His weapon of choice: a prototype, rock-munching Voodoo Zopob 29er.

Talking of munching… Aside from sustaining myself with Day Old pastries, I’ve enjoyed wholesome home cooking too. James is the master of conjuring up delicious food on the tightest of budgets… like these sliced corn tortillas snacks. The trick? Fry with a touch of olive oil, salt and pepper, until crispy.

Or this, a simple mix beg special.

James’ Mix Veg Special:

Chop up celery, onion, carrots, zucchini, garlic and some fire roasted red pepper (to fire roast, simply place directly on burner, for a sweet, charred, South Western flavour).

Saute in a touch of olive oil.

Add in kale towards the end.

Squeeze in the secret ingredient, lime juice, which adds acidity and brings out the vivid flavours of each vegetable – without the need to add fat or salt.

Enjoy!

He rustled up some polenta too – a stone ground corn – prepared with smoked gouda, pepper, salt and olive oil. incidentally, corn, beans and squash form the ‘Three Sisters’, combining to make a complete, energy-rich protein. Great cycling food.

The full effect. Perhaps unsurprisingly, James has worked as a chef in France…

To round it off, homemade coconut macaroons, on a bed of farmer’s market strawberries, under a topping of homemade whipped cream (simple: place heavy cream in jar and shake!).

Little Neva joined us too. As expected, the dessert went down particularly well…

More Coco-di-loco…

While Out Riding — Wed, 09 May 2012 16:24:15 +0000

As I mentioned in my previous post, the Coconino Loop is a bikepacking journey around the Coconino National Forest, Northern Arizona. Concocted by Scott Morris, of Topofusion fame, and his buddy Chad Brown - both bikepacking fiends – it knits together 250 miles of trails and jeep tracks, with only a handful of paved miles to its name. It’s an incredibly diverse loop, flitting from corridors of ponderosas pines to the open, red rock desert of Sedona, via Cottonwood, Mingus Mountain, the Verde River and Williams.

I say ‘bikepacking’ because the route claims to be almost 50% singletrack, much of which is relatively technical. Between the slabby trails of Sedona, the medley of rough jeep tracks through the ponderosas, and the vertical challenges of Mingus Mountain, it’s certainly tough enough to warrant packing as light as you can – so forget panniers or a trailer on this one.

The loop is raced in 4 stages, or even by madmen who tackle it in one fell swoop - for the grand prize of a box of donuts no less. Yes, that means riding 250 miles of technical terrain straight through the night…

As mortals, we rode it in 4 and a half days, largely due to my obsession for taking photos and a couple of late starts. I’d add to that our first day out of Flag was slowed down considerably by tacky, clay-like mud on the Anderson Plateau, having rained the night before. A tenacious compound, it ‘slo-moed’ us down to a literal standstill, jabbing hopelessly with twigs to clear clogged drivetrains. So, keep an eye on the weather if you’re planning the ride. Spring and Fall are best, to avoid the sweltering heat of Sedona.

We ran fully rigid setups, but agreed front suspension would have made for less exhausting days – we were both pretty spent by the time we were done. Although you can trim this ride down to three nights, four felt good to us. We certainly didn’t feel like we were slacking…

For stat-heads:

Distance: 253 miles

Average speed: 7.4 mph

Elevation gain: 20 671ft (the official taly is 28 000ft. We diverted round the infamous Mingus Mountain hike ‘n bike and stayed on forest roads, which might account for 2000ft of the shortfall, but I’m not sure where the rest of the discrepancy lies)

Time: 34 hours moving time

GPS:

Although the parts of the route that follow the Arizona Trail are well signposted, you definitely need a GPS for this ride. All the relevant info can be downloaded from the bikepacking.net. I used my lovely new Garmin Etrex 20 (thank you Nancy!) and though I have yet to unearth all its secrets, I’m now a GPS convert. Battery life was great – at least 40 hours with lithiums AAs, leaving it on and not fiddling with menus during the day.

Coco Lite

I’m all for shouldering the bike if it gets me to places I’d otherwise not be able to reach – or to avoid pavement. But if there’s a good dirt road alternative, I’m happy to take that too. To avoid the route’s most infamous hike ‘n bike, I’d recommend taking the Mingus Mountain Bypass (there’s a separate gpx file) which skirts round the top of the mountain, keeping to mellow, scenic forest roads for the most part. It meets the main route some 10 miles later. We noticed that it’s also possible to turn off onto a graded dirt road at a couple of points on the way up to the Bill Williams Overlook, saving yourself some potential off-the-bike toils. If the trail on the other side is littered with blowdown, you can follow the dirt road down into Williams too.

Rigs:

I rode my Surly Ogre with my usual Porcelain Rocket kit. I was travelling light, but not as light as most. The Ogre carries a few extra pounds round its waist (easily slimmed back with a lighter wheelset) and I had some 6.5 lbs (3kg) of camera kit to lug round too – my DLSR and a few lenses, plus spare battery – so I certainly wasn’t riding as light as I could have been.

Gary took his AM Peirce, fitted with a 1×9 drivetrain and Stan’s ZTR tubeless rims, weighing in at around 25lbs. His full rig (minus food and water) tipped the scales 34lbs 12oz (15.7kg), plus 5lbs 10 oz (2.56kg) in his pack. Gary knows how to pack! He had tubeless tyres and I ran sealant in my inner tubes.

We both packed lightweight tarps (only used one night), and made sure we had enough layers for cooler conditions. I carried my Clikstand cookset, while Gary relied on cold food.

Here’s just an overview of the ride – I’m saving some photos for a story I hope to write up… You can check out Gary’s pics here.

The two bikepacking steeds. My Surly Ogre, and Gary’s AM Peirce.

Easing into the ride on the Arizona Trail at our start point of Flagstaff.

Unfortunately, rain the night before had transformed what should have been 10 miles of blissful singletrack in a sticky, treacly brew. Definitely not derailleur friendly: where’s that Rohloff when you need it…

Much of the AZT picks its way through corridors of ponderosas and alleyways of rock gardens…

Linking one grassy plateau to the next…

We met this Japanese AZT through-hiker on the route. Apart from in Sedona, we didn’t see anyone else on the trails.

Dropping down from the Mogollon Rim at Schnebly Hill Overlook. Built in 1902, the Old Munds Wagon trail was used by homesteaders in the Verde Valley to sell produce and livestock in Flagstaff.

Spring is in the air – a wonderful time to be in the desert.

Our descent into Sedona marked a change in flora – we were entering the land of agave and cacti.

Sedona is said to be a centre of vortexes to heightened spiritual and metaphysical energy…

It’s also a mountain biking mecca. The Coconino Loop weaves one trail together with the next – like Broken Arrow, a Sedona Classic.

Cathedral Rock. Note Pink Jeep in the background. At the risk of sounding like a zealot, these jeeps disgorge tourists too lazy to hike the few miles needed to get here. Not ideal for desert peace and tranquility…

Spot Gary if you can…

There he goes…

Catching these miniature barrel cacti as they began to flower was a highlight of the desert experience for me.

The waters of Buddha Beach were so tempting we crossed them without even needing to, straying briefly off route.

Leaving Sedona for solitude once more.

The Lime Kiln Trail was originally constructed in the 1880s to burn lime; now it’s just the wisp of a sandy path across the desert.

More splashes of colour…

And the desert rat’s favourite, the spindly, spikey occatillo cacti.

No need for the tarp… A perfect camping spot on a plateau above Cottonwood.

Cottonwood lured us in its grocery store, where set up camp for an hour of feeding and gear repairs. Climbing back out from Cottonwood towards Mingus Mountain was tough in the heat; sweat flowed off my helmet peak like a waterfall. That’s San Francisco Peak in the distance, where we began.

Tired legs and loose rocks = some pushing.

The classic hide of an alligator juniper, as we climbed up in altitude once more.

The route unearths all kinds of rarely used jeep tracks. At one point, we followed a powerline for a few miles across the valley.

Coyote Springs offered a welcome chance to stop for lunch and refill water bottles. Despite the life forms, we didn’t bother to purify it, and lived to tell the tale.

Stopping to soak it all it up, before the gravel road descent back down to the Verde River, where we camped the night.

Which, of course, was met by a drawn out climb back out of the valley. Foolishly, we’d expected an easy trail to round off the morning, before lunch in Williams…

But we ended up climbing back up to 9000ft, culminating with an infamous hike ‘n bike. Blowdown made our much anticipated descent from the Bill Williams lookout more of an assault course than a ride.

Eventually, the trail opened up once more for some sweet riding.

Williams – on the National Register of Historic Places – boasts some classic signage that harks back to the historic Route 66. I’m a sucker for ’50s Americana.

It was also home to the most excellent Rolando’s Mexican Restaurant. This double burrito special cost $9, and fed me for both lunch and dinner. You need to stop at this place if you’re doing this ride.

A good excuse for a break: waiting for the cargo train to chug by.

Before long, we were back amongst the avenues of ponderosas once more.

Then, we turned off onto trail again, following singletrack around Sycamore Canyon, dodging volcanic babyheads as we went. Given our tired legs, some sections were more than a little awkward to ride…

Don’t look down…

Great views and campspots abound… The latter part of the trail smooths out, reward for previous toils!

Maybe one day there will be a picture of a bikepacker…

Eventually we closed in on Snowbowl, back up at 9000ft, at the foot of the lofty San Francisco Peak.

From here, 14 miles of AZT awaited, a ribbon of singletrack perfectly crafted into the hillside. We weaved between rock and tree with effortless grace.

So good!

Back in Flagstaff, where a shower at the $40 dollar Canyon Inn Motel (eventually) shifted ingrained dust and mud… But not memories (-:

Cheers Gary! End of ride celebration at the Dairy Queen.

Talkin’ ’bout a revolution. Flagstaff, AZ.

While Out Riding — Sun, 06 May 2012 16:02:51 +0000

If truth be told, I’ve become a lax mechanic since owning a Rohloff. Internal gear hubs will do that to you. My Rohloff has run faultlessly for the years I’ve owned it, bar a change of bearings after many thousands of miles of rugged use.

Now that I’m back with derailleurs, the price I pay for my slothfulness is a worn chain, cassette and middle chainring… to the tune of a hundred greenbacks. I used to sing the praises of maintaining clean cogs and rotating chains regularly on a long tour, both of which will eek countless adventures out of your drivetrain, and help keep your bills down. Now that I’m riding derailleurs again, I better take my own advice and pull my socks up.

Still, if I have to spend cash on my bike, I like to do so in a shop like Flagstaff Bicycle Revolution, Arizona.

In my mind, this is how a bicycle shop should be. It offers a wide, idisoyncratic range of bikes and parts to suit all budgets – high end full sussers and utility bikes alike. A choice of $70 WTBs, or $20 CSTs. A sofa for lounging about on, wifi on hand and good music. Friendly, helpful staff. For those in need of their pre-ride caffeine fix, I’m told the coffee is the tastiest in town.

Best of all a bicycle tourist like me (with only a multitool to my name), the Bicycle Revolution offers a full equipped workstation to install your own parts. Yep, you read that right. Work stand, wheel truing stand, headset press, cone spanners, allen keys, crescent wrenches are available for free… Add to this an impressive selection of bikepacking kit, and even a couple of fat bikes for rent, and you have yourself a bike shop that stands out from the ordinary.

Not to self. Pull up (New Mexican) socks and maintain bike better…

Revolution this way.

Any shop with a Big Dummy longtail parked up outside and bikepacking kit in stock gets an appreciative grin from me.

2 Salsa Mukluks amongst the rental fleet. Fat Fun for just $25 a day.

Fitting my new cassette.

This parts bin reminded me of the bike co op Mayapedal, in Guatemala.

Lucky dip.

Tools to hand include a headset press and a wheel jig. Impressive.

$30 well spent: a stainless steel Surly chainring, heavier but longer lasting than its aluminium counterpart. I’m using thumbshifters and it works fine without ramps, which would normally help ease the chain move between chainrings. Update: I’d only recommend doing this if you’re running an 8 speed drivetrain, as the teeth on the Surly ring are wider than normal, causing a 9 speed chain to occasionally snag.

New chainring, cassette, chain… Cables next…

Flagstaff is uber bike friendly. Someone left this on the Ogre while I was tucking into one of Biff’s Bagels.

There’s good camping just a couple of miles from downtown, where we enjoyed the rising Super Moon over the forest.

What to do if you forget your fork/spoon/spork.

Or, head 30 miles out of Flag, and you can get yourself a red rock view like this…

Coco-di-loco: Back in Flag, AZ

While Out Riding — Wed, 02 May 2012 21:05:52 +0000

Just a quick post to announce that I’m back on the road, making my way west once more…

I’ve stopped in Flagstaff, home to some of my favourite trails in the States, to meet up with ‘Minimalist Master‘ Gary Blakley and tackle a ride that’s long been on my hit list…

The Coconino Loop is a 250 mile bikepacking journey linking Flagstaff with Sedona, Cottonwood and Williams, via the mighty wall of Mingus Mountain. With over 20 000 feet of climbing, the terrain is unrelenting as it is varied: snowy mountains, shaded pondera forest, baking desert, dusty red rock… the lot. Almost half of the ride follows singletrack trails; the rest traces roughly hewn jeep tracks and gravel county roads. Of course, no bikepacking adventure worth its salt is complete without a few gruelling hike ‘n bikes thrown in too. Curses and all.

I’m resting my sore butt and sifting through pics for a full report soon. Here’s a few for starters…

Headin’ west on the South West Chief.

Travel Light. Have more fun…

The Arizona Trail. Unending miles of Great Stuff.

Just tarps or sleeping out under the stars on this trip.

Good to be shiver-free camping again…

Overlooking red rock Sedona at Schnebly Hill. Perfect for feet dangling.

Broken Arrow trail. Keeps you on your toes.

The desert blooms.

You say. We follow.

San Francisco Peak. Arizona…

Sweet Flagstaffian singletrack…

More pics and words here…

Singletrack Mag – Big Bend Bikepacking Feature

While Out Riding — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 15:24:53 +0000

Who needs paper?

Over winter, I made the long journey south to the land of Texans, with aspirations of bikepacking around Big Bend State Ranch – just across the river from Mexico.

The full story has just made it into the glossy pages of Singletrack, an independent mountain bike magazine out of the UK. It’s a 2500 word tale spread over 8 pages, fleshed out substantially from the original blog post. I hope you enjoy it.

There’s lots of cool stuff in this issue, including a great feature on urban UK riding, a profile on 29er pioneer Wes Williams and musings on the impending 650B wheel phenomenon. Steve Worland’s pieces are always a favourite of mine.

You can download the latest magazine as a pdf (best to click on ‘two pages’ in the view option), or buy it from the App Store in itunes. The Singletrack App is £2.99 (or $4.99), and that includes any chosen copy of the magazine – Issue 73 is the current one. Or you can order yourself a lovely print version for £5.

Pictures of Texan singletrack. And prickly things…

Lost and Found: bikepacking around Hermit Peak, NM.

While Out Riding — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 23:18:00 +0000

Not all trips go quite to plan. In fact, not all trips even have a plan…

Last weekend, I delved into Santa Fe National Forest, home to the crumpled folds of the Sangre de Cristo mountains – Spanish for ‘Blood of Christ’, so named for their red hue come sunrise and sunset. In fact, the Sangre de Cristos form the southernmost subrange of the Rockies, stretching some 250 miles from Santa Fe to Salida, up in Colorado – which is where I’d first encountered them.

My companions were two long term Santa Fean residents: bikepacking eccentric Tim – I say this in the most endearing way – and aspiring bikepacking racer Joanne. Having driven out to Las Vegas (New Mexico that is, not Nevada) over on the eastern side of the forest, our plan was to ride back west to Santa Fe. Or maybe we’d make a loop north round Mora. Or perhaps even strike out towards Taos…

In any event, there’s nothing like getting completely, hopelessly lost for a refreshing sense of unabated exploration. It’s a good reminder too that at times it’s ok to forget the destination, and simply enjoy the moment. Even if it’s not the moment you had in mind…

Despite several valiant attempts at formulating a plan, by the time we'd unloaded our bikes, we were more focused on getting riding than worrying about details like direction. When the roads are as scenic and quiet as they are in northern New Mexico, sometimes it's hard to stop moving...

Pavement gave way to dirt, as we followed a gently undulating road beside the Sapello River westwards. Things were looking good... until it dead ended in a private ranch. That night we pitched tent beside a grove of wintery aspens.

Part of the enjoyment of camping with new friends is the chance to nerd out on gear choice. This is Santa Fean Tim with his titanium Vargo Hexagon wood stove, after a frosty night under the stars. This stove tips the scales at a paltry 4.1oz (116g). Abundant twigs and leaves provide the fuel.

We tried to follow a singletrack from our campsite, in the hope it would link us with trails on the western side of ridge. But it proved more hike than bike, so we opted to retrace our tyre tracks and look for a more rideable exit strategy. Did I mentioned we had a GPS? Unfortunately we left it in the car...

Luckily Tim had printed out detailed 1:20 000 topo maps. Unlikely, they didn't quite cover where we were heading...

Furthermore, our attempts to head north were foiled by a boundary of impregnable private land, despite public access indications on our map. So we settled on skirting round to the south towards Las Dispensias and Mineral Hull, via a well-packed gravel track that climbed once more into the forest.

Soon, we were picking our way along a rutted dirt as we closed in on Hermit Peak, a jagged granite monolith that marks the extreme southern end of the Rockies.

The cemetery here claimed to be established in 1985... but it looked more like it dated back to 1885.

The trail between Las Dispensas and El Porvenir was unkept, overgrown.. and suited our tastes quite perfectly. South West USA - and New Mexico in particular - is blessed with an enviable network of forest service roads that all but guarantee traffic-free riding.

Trailside tweaking. Joanne is prepping her rig for racing, so was using the trip as a chance to hone gear choices.

Here she is stretching out her muscled legs, shaped by many miles of riding and racing around the world - including with the US national team in the Pan American Championships in Cuba. More racehead than rambler, she was riding a custom carbon Crumpton cyclocross bike and left us in the dust on pavement. But her skinny tyres struggled more than our plump 29ers when the going got rough.

A nosy llama in the meadows below Hermit Peak.

Scoping out a suitable spot for our second night's camping.

We stopped early to enjoy the afternoon sun from our vantage point above Mineral Hill.

What's on the menu? For me, it was Trader Joe's brown rice and ready-made chana masala. Quick 'n easy. Good 'n wholesome. Camping food for just a few dollars.

I'm rarely without my tub of peanut butter and a 'honey bear' to sustain me during the day. But in a ploy to shed weight, I'd transferred a few helpings into smaller Nalgene containers, more appropriate for miniature adventures. They were joined by Tim's secret energy boost formula: pure coconut oil. Coconut oil contains tryglycerides, which unlike other saturated fats, are burned immediately rather than being stored in the body. It also has healthy, fatty acids and all kinds of nutritional benefits - it's good for skin, hair and the heart.

Similarly, to shave valuable grams from my packlist, I'd taken advantage of a clear forecast and borrowed this 11oz (311g) 6 Moon Designs Gatewood Cape Tarp. It also transforms into a rather unfashionable (but eminently practical) poncho. More on this nifty little tarp later...

The next morning, Joanne peeled off east to put in some road miles and return to her car, while we pressed on with our freeform adventure, Santa Fe in our distant sights. Hermit Peak - originally known by early Spanish settlers as El Cerro Del Tecalote, or the hill of the owl - loomed impressively behind us. In the 1860s, an Italian missionary made his home in a cave below there, trading carved crucifixes for food.

The village of San Geronimo reminded me of an aldea in backcountry Northern Mexico.

It seemed to be comprised of little more than a collection of dishelled houses, a weather-cracked church and a few rusty pickup truck fading in the sun.

From San Pablo, we unearthed a trail that worked its way up slabs and steps of bedrock, back into the Santa Fe National Forest.

It's not always easy to discern what is a public right of way, and what might drive a gun-slinging rancher to arms... Unfortunately, it seems that many of the roads that historically provided public access to the National Forest now fall in private land.

Finally we emerged onto a ridge, home to fingers of rutted trails that pointed in every which direction. Unfortunately, any efforts made to strike west towards Barillas Peak were met with improbably steep grades, disappearing trails and intense hike n' bikes.

Another (scenic) dead end...

The mighty ponderosa.

And a miniature barrel cacti, a little out of place amongst the pine needles.

Finally, after an inspired, freeform bushwack (via dry creek beds and chicanes of pine trees) we emerged into the open sunlight of a beautiful meadow, marked with crumbling, red stone ruins. Bikepacking: takes you to places other tours cannot reach...

And the steeds that got us here. My Surly, dressed in Porcelain Rocket gear, and Tim's dropped-barred Raleigh, adorned with Revelate garb.

Tim was running both Anything Cages on his Reba suspension forks and water bottles. Another novel invention included running an upside-down aero bar, hoseclamped round the headtube to support a roll bag, rather than hanging weight of the handlebars.

From here on - given that we were well and truly off the pages of our map - we kept to the main thoroughfare and resisted the urge to explore further. Even it meant undoing the work we'd done all day, as we swung round back to whence we came...

Classic New Mexico triptych. One...

Two...

And three...

Finally we emerged onto the fringes of the I-25, just a handful of miles from Las Vegas, and many more from Santa Fe. Not quite as planned... Still, even dining by the stained forecourt of the gas station couldn't take away from a superb weekend of camping, riding... and the unexpected discoveries of getting lost.

Thanks to Joanne for driving us out to Las Vegas and joining in the adventure, and Tim for his sheer enthusiasm for bikepacking in New Mexico… and his inimitable style of journey planning (-:

The Farfarer: one who travels far.

While Out Riding — Sun, 15 Apr 2012 01:06:59 +0000

I’ve been harping on a lot about trailers recently. So I figured I should also mention the Farfarer, which I had the opportunity to try out in Santa Cruz, just after my visit to the North American Handmade Bicycle Show in March.

I have to be honest and say I only rode it for a couple of days, with a relatively light load, as I was making the most of an unexpected opportunity to take it for a spin. And, I should add that the model I borrowed was built for 26in or skinny-ish 700c tyres, rather than the voluminous 29er rubber I was running on the Ogre – which resulted in some clearance issues.

Still, despite my limited time, I was quite taken by the Farfarer. It’s light in weight (just 4.3kg, or 9.5lbs) and simple in design, with a coupling that allows the trailer to be split into two for ease of packing or multi-modal travel. The hitch – while not being as easy to use as that on Tout Terrain’s Mule – uses a delrin bushing that’s supremely straightforward in its engineering, with very little to go wrong as a result. Spares are featherweight to carry too.

Like most singlewheel trailers, the Farfarer is rated to around the 30kg mark (70lbs) – I didn’t have anything like that amount during my short tour so I can’t comment on how it would feel. For the style of riding I do and the gear I carry (namely, my laptop, and the rough and tumble trails I drag it across) I’d spec a wider tyre than the one fitted, to offer more cushion. This said, the 20in, high pressure model rolled extremely nicely on the coastal highway – which leads me to believe this trailer would be perfect for adding extra capacity to a road bike, if that’s the only bike you have to tour on.

With its exposed but easily repaired Cordura load bag, there’s a nod to the Carradice school of aesthetics. In fact, the bag also acts as a hammock of sorts, helping to stabilise the trailer. Knowing the kind of conditions I always find myself in, I’d liked to have drain holes worked into the sling to limit water pooling during monsoonal downpours.

The bag itself is versatile though – it can hold your groceries or nest your backpack. Light objects, like a roll mat, can be strapped to the rails. If you’re looking to combine a hike into the wilderness as part of your bicycle tour, this trailer could well work out to be an interesting option.

Lastly, for those who like to support small businesses, the fact that the Farfarer is lovingly crafted in the backyard of an old, ramshackle house in sleepy Santa Cruz, may well appeal too.

All the spec is to be found here. The price is $400, plus shipping.

Update: Quentin mentioned he’s now designed a longer ‘stem’ with a higher rise for more clearance with FS/29er bikes.

The Ogre and the Wayfarer. I've come to appreciate the extra stability that a seatpost-mounted trailer affords. As a seeker of singletrack, the downside to this design is that it cuts corners during tight turns. As you can see, clearances for a 29er wheel are a little tight, with the rear wheel rubbing occasionally on the canvas in certain situations. However, for general dirt road touring, this is unlikely to be an issue.

Although inspired by the dirt roads of the Californian mountains, the Wayfarer's designed for both on and off road riding: its elegant, curved chromo tubes even offer a little passive suspension. I tried an older version without couplings that would be tricky to box. The newer version can be split into two pieces.

Leaving Santa Cruz with Daniel and Matt, via a singletrack running beside the old railway. The line was originally used to transport strawberry crops to San Francisco - and later redwood lumber.

Unearthing dirt roads amongst Santa Cruz's towering redwoods is a highlight of any visit to California.

Sadly I didn’t get the chance to write up this beautiful ride from Santa Cruz to San Francisco, following dirt roads when we could find them – but luckily Daniel did. We have Quentin, half of the team behind the Farfarer, to thank for route advice in traversing this serenely beautiful part of California. For sure, it’s an area I hope to return to.

If I get a chance to try this trailer out in more detail, I’ll be sure to post some more thoughts. But in the meantime, have a look at the website to get more of a feel for what it’s about. And be sure to check out Quentin’s nuggets of wisdom if you’re thinking of touring the dirt roads of Northern California – his notes will have you itching to head west, to ride amongst the towering redwoods and along the windswept Pacific Coast.