After yesterday’s lethargy, I was up and keen to get to Sedona for a ride. Over breakfast, the thought came to me that the gate I’d driven through to get in would likely be closed and I’d be locked in. This made my morning ritual pretty quick since I wanted to know if my hunch was right. For the first time in forever, I had simple cereal for breakfast. I drove out of camp, feeling lucky to have had the place to myself. On my way to the gate, I came across a man and two young boys, on their way to fish at the lake.

Sure enough, at the gate, it was locked. Hmmm. I drove back along the road to find the fishermen, hoping they were locals. When I stopped alongside them, they asked me how much further the lake was. Damn, that meant they weren’t locals! I told them it wasn’t far and they confirmed that the white truck parked by the gate was theirs. I drove back to the gate and tried calling the ranger’s office but got no reply. Then I tried a few different combinations on the four-number combination padlock but had no luck there either. Right, next step. I drove back along the road to the Methodist Church retreat camp and pulled in at the camp office. A golden lab came out to greet me, a good sign that someone would be around! Monty was very friendly, pawing me all over to get some attention. I followed him to the back of the office where I called out to see if anyone was home. After a few goes, a scraggly looking man came to the door. I explained my situation and he was sympathetic, telling me that it had been some of the campers at the Methodist retreat that had left the gate open in error. He told me the combination, 2-2-4-6 and just asked that I lock the gate after me. I stayed and chatted a while as Monty put his front paws on my shoulders so I could give him a stand up hug. What a beautiful dog. I thanked his owner profusely as I left.

On my way back, I figured I’d help the fishermen out. I stopped at the lake and walked along the bank until I found them and told them I had the combination. The Dad, which turned out to be the Uncle, accepted my offer of a ride back to the gate to get his truck and drive in. The boys stayed at the lake with their fishing rods while we drove back to the entrance. Somehow, the Uncle and I got talking about hunting after he received a phonecall and he told me how he often goes out hunting with bow and arrow, taking down deer, fox and even bears! If you get them in the heart with an arrow, they hit the ground within a few seconds apparently!

At the gate, I tried the combination and sure enough, the padlock popped open and we were in business. The Uncle wrote down the combination and I drove out, then closed the gate after he’d driven in. We wished each other a good day and I told him not to tell anyone about me!

A few minutes up the twisty, winding road, I drove into Jerome. Dan had told me it was a small town built into the side of a hill and he wasn’t wrong. Houses and tiny garages were nestled beside the narrow road with barely enough space to park a scooter out front. The houses were aged with character, the balconies not quite straight, the paint peeling where the weather had battered them. It was quaint and, so early in the morning, quiet. Once I got into town, I parked to walk around a bit. My eye was caught by an old building, the external frame of which had been left as a historic landmark with pennies in the courtyard, thrown there for luck. This sort of place would be just perfect for a beer festival or something similar, the streets meant to be lined with people. Dan had been here a few days before with Banjo Bobbie, a guy we’d met at camp and I could just imagine him busking on every corner, filling the narrow streets with music.

I spent about an hour wandering around the mountain town before getting back to the car and driving on. The familiar surroundings of Sedona came into view and I couldn’t help but smile, it almost felt like home. I parked on Schnebly Hill Road, the trailhead to the Hangover Trail. There were others in the carpark, buzzed to be trying Hangover for the first time, same as me. I was nervous to be riding this trail alone, but also excited to ride the best trail in Sedona. I took my time getting the bike ready since it had been a while and was happy to ride off.

Apart from a small detour at the start, I rode along “Munds Wagon”, climbing up to Hangover. Along the way, I passed a group of six riders from Utah, then a pair of guys and also a solo German rider. We would all continue to leapfrog as we climbed/hiked-a-bike up Munds. I got talking to one of the girls in the Utah group, Christine, about where I was from etc. and she welcomed me to ride with them. As the group waited for everyone to catch up, I rode on, tagging on to the pair of guys, Mike and Sam, who had enthusiasm seeping from their pores. I rode with them along the short “Cow Pies” trail to the top of “Hangover”. On the plateau just before Hangover, the views were stunning so we stopped for photos of each other. While we hung out there, the boys attached their full face attachments to their helmets and the big group caught up to us. I took a photo of the lot of them before they rode off. Mike, Sam and I watched as the group tackled the first technical feature of the trail, a big drop/slide down a cliff edge with a bunch of rocks thrown in at the base. Eek!

I intended to wait for the German guy, Tobias, since he was on his own, but he was taking a bit too long, so I set off on Hangover with Mike and Sam. Sam couldn’t contain his excitement at the trail. Right from the outset, it was on the side of a cliff with plenty of slide-potential features. Just after we got onto the cliff, I saw Tobias on the plateau so decided to wait for him so we could ride together. He eventually caught up to me and he was happy to ride together. I lead on and hit the first technical feature, giving it a go since I had a rider behind me to pick up my body should I have fallen, but I didn’t. My heart raced as I dropped down the feature, my bike half rolling, half sliding down the rock. Damn! I waited at the base for Tobias, my heart still pumping. When he reached it, he took a photo, then walked his bike down. With a flight back to Germany in two days, he wasn’t up for risking any injury. We rode on, but after a while, the speed differential between us became very obvious so I decided to ride on. I felt a little guilty leaving Tobias behind, but this was to be my only time on Hangover and I wanted to enjoy it was much as possible.

I could hear Mike and Sam’s cries of joy as I approached them. I caught them at switchbacks that were formed by white dots on the mountain side. Traction anyone?!?! We all came together at a second plateau; me, Mike, Sam and the Utah group. The timing was perfect since there was a 30-person strong hiking group that had just walked up the section of trail we were about to ride. More photos for the boys and Sam still couldn’t contain his excitement. It was contagious. Again, we watched the Utah group hit the lower section of trail, dropping dozens of feet in the space of a hundred meters of trail. I rode off in front of Mike and Sam, taking my first excursion to the ground when I lost traction on the cliff edge and slid down the rock a ways. Nothing major, I jammed my foot in between my fork and front wheel to stop the slide, picked up and carried on after giving the thumbs up to the boys who were watching from the top.

The trail followed the cliff edge, with high rock on the mountain-side to push you off should you lose your concentration for a second. After a while, I caught up with the two girls from the Utah group. I passed both of them, then rode with Christine and her dog Thor on my tail, talking a little on the way, but not much since I needed all my brain capacity to stay on trail. At our next rock drop, I lost my place since I couldn’t find the trail, but soon enough, found the way down after watching Christine navigate it. I followed her lead, my eyes as wide as dinner plates, praying for the best line to be forgiving to my tiny wheels. We all made it down no issue. The rest of the Utah group were waiting at the base and shouted encouragement. When Mike and Sam came along, they bombed down it, Mike having a minor stack near the base but Sam perfectly manoeuvring his bike right the way down without a foot hitting rock. The whole crowd cheered as he nailed it! I followed him down and carried my momentum through the rock garden below. The whole thing was an absolute blur. I was stoked that I’d come across these guys that gave me the confidence to ride this stuff, knowing someone would be there to help me if I hurt myself.

I stuck with the Utah group as we continued our descent through the mountain. At a tight switchback, I managed to have the most slow motion stack I’ve ever experienced. I went off line and got caught up. I tried to put my feet down, but the back of my bike was tipping over and it slowly pushed me off the trail and into the rocks slightly down-mountain. Thankfully it was a relatively soft landing and there were hands pulling my bike off me within minutes. The guys had said it was a painful one to watch since it happened so slowly, which I could relate to. I dusted myself off and walked my bike down to the bottom of the feature. Christine nailed it and joined us before we rode on. From here, we descended into the forest and the trail got very fast and flowy, a perfect end to the best trail I’d ever ridden. At the end, I just wanted to do it again, but I knew I’d probably used all my luck already.

We all rode back along Munds Wagon, the way we’d come and I had one more stack left in me. At a set of big rocky steps, I forgot to put my dropper down so got myself mixed up and got bucked off the bike. I don’t know how it happened, but I landed in a sitting position, my bike off to the side. I swear, video of my stacks would be bloody good entertainment. I got straight back up and rode down the rest of it, completely fine except for a fresh graze on top of my recently-healed elbow. Bugger. I didn’t care, I was on cloud nine! The rest of the trail went smoothly and fast.

The Utah group were off for lunch, but I was keen to carry on riding, so I shook their hands all round, thanking them for the ride and hoped to see them in Utah when I get there in a few weeks for some riding. I had a chicken wrap for lunch at the car, then rode along the road to the “Broken Arrow” trailhead. The north side of Sedona was covered in black cloud which made for a dramatic setting as I got back on singletrack that navigated me through the mountains. I rode out to Submarine Rock, riding right out onto the ridge, then sitting on the top of the submarine, the whole of Sedona laid out before me. Knowing it was my last day riding here made this special.

I took the Jeep road back to the singletrack, the Pink Jeep Tour operators radioing to each other to look out for me. At the end of Broken Arrow, I’d climbed to another ridgeline. After taking a few photos for a family on the rock, I got onto “High on the Hog” which lead onto “Hog Heaven”, then “Hogwash”. I had planned to do a longer loop, but after “High on the Hog”, I could feel tiredness creeping in so decided to make it a short one. The Hog trails are also considered classics in Sedona which I’d completely agree with. Singletrack on the edge of the mountain with stunning views. I did a lot of walking on this section since I was on my own again, but I didn’t mind, I made the most of it.

I was wrecked by the time I got back to the trailhead and took the ride back along the tarmac slow. I was happy to see the Astro waiting for me. After a bathroom break, I threw my stuff in the car, put the bike on the roof and made off for camp, figuring I’d put everything away properly once there. I went straight to Angel Valley Road, the regular camp where I had so many good memories. At the bottom near the creek, every spot was taken, but I managed to fit the Astro into a narrow space that was half-blocked by boulders but was just big enough for me to fit, with a fire ring at the side.

I was happy to find a secluded spot at the creek where I could have a nude shower to wash away the evidence of my visits to the ground. It was refreshing. Noticing a truck with a couple of mountain bikes parked in my usual spot, I cracked a beer and went over to make friends. The two guys there was Truckee were pretty-boy snobs who hadn’t learned the art of conversation so I ditched that attempt pretty early and went off to find firewood. It was a challenge to find some decent-sized logs amongst the driftwood, but I eventually had success. I sat by the fire ring with my beer and read for a while then decided I needed a nap. I packed my riding stuff away and about 5:30pm, lay down in bed and snoozed for a good hour. I needed it, my body was exhausted. I got up, started the fire without hassle (I’m getting better and better each time) and started an easy dinner of noodles and veggies.

Just as I was sitting down to dinner, I saw a white Astro van drive past me and pull in to where the pretty-boy snobs had been parked. He waved and shouted over, “Nice van!” “You too!” I shouted back. Before long, he was over at my camp and we were talking about all things Astro. I invited Ruben to pull up a chair and join me by the fire. He went back to his van and returned with a Home Depot bucket to sit on, a poncho and a joint to smoke. Ruben was a well-bearded man with plugs in his ears and a black wide-brimmed hat, probably in his late twenties. He had the aura of a free man, enjoying the van life like me and he sought peace through meditation. We talked the night away by the fire, finding that we were like-minded in many ways. Eventually around 9:30pm, the fire dwindled and we called it a night with a hug.

I did the dishes and retreated into bed, sleeping like a starfish again in my big double bed.