Day Zero – Sunday – Nervous Failure?

3.57 mi | 2:01 hrs | +1037 ft | -307 ft

Nothing else left but to drive out there and do it. I’d done some fully loaded riding the week before, completely finished packing the trailer yesterday and Emmi’s ballet had been well worth sticking around for. Now it was time to go.

Dan had been amazing throughout the whole preparation process, sitting out by the can with me as I packed, agonizing over what to bring and what to leave behind. He had some great ideas regarding the tie down system, the essentials I really couldn’t do without and overall encouragement.

When Deb asked if I was excited, I said that I felt more resigned to my fate. Of course I was looking forward to trying this out, but I was nervous about the weight in the trailer and the scale of the trip.

The Arizona Trail runs through the whole state, from the Mexican border all the way up to Utah via the south mountains, Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon. I wanted to bike-pack the bottom half from Mexico to the Superstition Mountains near Phoenix. I had two full weeks off over Christmas and it was the perfect time to tackle the 300-ish mile trek. 23 miles a day and I would have it.

With the van semi-packed in case we needed to camp pre-ride, the dream team set off. It had been just over two weeks since Dan’s knee surgery and he’d started driving a few days before so I was lucky he was up to the task.

He drove us out of the big city while I did some last minute trail prep on my phone. Ever the amazing supporter, Dan remembered we needed to stop for stove gas before we hit the suburbs so once I picked some up, I was fully loaded and ready to go.

I’d spent some time in Tucson in the Astro days, but beyond that, I hadn’t spent any time in southern Arizona. We listened to Hilltop Hoods as we left Phoenix’s freeway system behind and descended into barren lands along the forever-straight highway 10.

We talked a lot of shit about the scorched earth that surrounded us. We were in the depths of winter, the shortest day had passed only yesterday and it was high 20s and sunny. I was grateful for the weather but it just made me think of the Summer heat.

By the time we hit Tucson, we hadn’t seen a tree since leaving Phoenix. I looked around at the mountains rising up from the flat desert and figured my trail was somewhere along them but as I’d explained to friends and family, I hadn’t wanted to over-research this expedition. With so much information out there these days, you have to work hard to leave some of the adventure to the imagination. And so that was my (maybe) naive approach.

After stopping for a highway pee, I took over driving and we tore through the town of Sierra Vista, mystified by a white blimp that floated above the place with no advertising and seemingly no purpose.

When we got our first look at the border wall it stunned me. I’ve seen it before but it doesn’t matter. Every time I see the vertical wall of steel that extends to the next horizon, it makes me feel weird.

It’s weird that a wall should ever have to be put up between people. It’s weird to know that on the other side of that wall opportunities are scarce, safety is not assumed and help if you need it may not be readily available. I suppose it always serves as a reminder to me of what I have and that I should be grateful for it.

We turned into the Coronado National Monument before hitting the wall and enjoyed a nice drive through some trees and past a visitor’s center that informed us the park gates would close at sunset.

Having left Phoenix around 10:30am, it was well into the afternoon but Dan would have enough time to leave the park after I rode away.

We climbed up to Montezuma Pass on a dirt road that Berta handled expertly. The view of the wall from on high was even more imposing. Sierra Vista had not been an impressive place but on the Mexican side of the wall, there was nothing, only desert.

We parked up and walked/crutched over to the southern trailhead to read some signs. An older guy who’d been hiking was keen for a chat and his sweat patches and description of the trail weren’t great encouragement for me. At least he confirmed the stairs at the start were the only ones.

Being well overdue for lunch, Dan got to work in the van cooking up some pasta while I rode south to Mexico. This was only the warmup. Of course I’d be riding north but the official start of the AZT was at the border so I had to do a 4 mile out and back to say I’d really started from the beginning.

I’m not one of those people who cares about stats or being able to say I did something in its entirety start to finish, but I was curious to see the wall up close. I left the trailer behind and took Scottie down the Rocky Mountain wasting no time hitting a cactus with my left knuckle.

After a half mile, I turned off towards the border and was a little concerned at the rate of descent. I’d be coming back up the same way and I was hanging onto my brakes over the rocks. Already doubt was creeping into my mind.

I carried on and the wall was suddenly right in front of me. I’d only been stopped a minute when I stood back to take a look at the towering steel and a tumbleweed half my size nearly bowled me over in the wind.

What was more astounding than the wall was the lengths of barbed wire fence either side of it. I was looking at no more than a hundred meters of wall and on either side of it only a few strands of shoulder-high wire stood between me and Mexico. Must have been a test build or something.

I didn’t feel great being down there. The sign stating that illegal crossings are regular occurrences and that you shouldn’t travel alone to remote places didn’t help my feelings. I stayed long enough to send my SPOT message and take a few photos, then I started the climb out.

There was a bit of hike-a-bike but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected and the turn off sign came up quickly. I happened to be pushing Scottie when I saw my first thru hiker! She stopped to let me by and I asked if she was starting or finishing. She was at the end of her journey. I could only imagine how she felt. She’d done the entire length from north to south and while she said she’d taken forever to do it, she’d taken her time having multiple “zero” days and spending a week in Flag. It was inspiring. Before I pushed off she said it was nice of me to be taking my bike out for a hike. Fair enough.

Back at the van, Cleo was happy to see me back and I chowed into Dan’s tuna pasta. I needed something to fill my tummy for the days ahead. We talked tactics a bit and while he said he’d be happy to wait a while when I rode off to make sure all was ok, I told him not to bother. It was getting late in the day. All I was going to do was ride off and find the first camp that looked good.

With the trailer already packed, all I had to do was hook it up to the bike and I was ready. It was 4:30 when we said our goodbyes. A few tears were shed but we were both excited for the two weeks that lay ahead.

Cleo bounced along beside me as I rode away and Dan called her back. I looked back as I rode across the car park and it was hard to leave, especially with Dan propped up on his crutches.

My first obstacle came quickly at a set of boulders right at the trail entry. I tried to hit them at speed but there was no way. I muscled the trailer up and over and carried on. I looked back but could no longer see Berta so focused on the narrow trail in front of me.

It was rocky and the fully loaded trailer felt predictably heavy. It weighed in at 85 lbs which was just below its limit and more than I had towed on a trail before. My training weight had been 20-something lbs but now that I needed to carry water to survive, I had no choice but to ride heavy. My recent fully loaded training ride taught me I could handle it.

Within another few hundred yards, I understood completely that I could not handle it. I couldn’t get the trailer through the second tight switchback. It was such a tight corner it would have been a struggle with an empty trailer and with the weight, I wasn’t strong enough to man handle it around the corner. I started panicking then. I needed Dan to come back. We’d camp for the night and figure something out.

I abandoned the bike straddling the switchback and ran back to the trailhead. I must have only been gone ten minutes. I started shooting off text messages as I ran. At the car park there was no sign of Berta. My messages weren’t going through and when I tried to call, I got an out of service message.

I returned to the place we’d been parked and tried sending messages again but nothing was going through. When I tried calling again, I realized I wasn’t getting Dan’s voicemail but a message from my provider about roaming. My phone thought it was in Mexico where I have no coverage. Shit.

I asked some people that were enjoying the view if they had service and they did not. Still frantically thumbing my phone, I walked over to the east side lookout and saw Berta descending gently along the winding dirt road.

My heart leapt when I saw brake lights and the van veering off into a pullout but then she carried on further into the canyon. I tried yelling but I knew that was a long shot.

Dismayed, I watched as Berta got smaller but knew what I had to do next. I started back towards Scottie to get my SPOT tracker. I’d have to send a message that way.

As I got back on the trail, I realized another crucial mistake I’d made. In my focus on getting past the first boulder, I’d missed the “no bikes” symbol on the trail sign. I’d been trying to ride a fully loaded trailer on a hiking trail. Shit!!!

I got back to Scottie and though I was still trying to message and call, nothing was working so the SPOT came out. I hit the help button and then walked up the trail a ways until I could see the road again. I mumbled pleas under my breath, urging Dan to come back to me. Come back. Please come back.

Looking back on it now, I knew I wasn’t in any real trouble, but I just so desperately wanted my husband back with me to work through the next steps of lightening the trailer and figuring out a support plan so I didn’t have to carry two weeks worth of food and water.

I hung my head when I remembered about the gates closing at sunset. I was on the shaded side of the mountain so for all I knew that had already happened and Dan wouldn’t be able to re-enter the park.

When I saw headlights poking through the canopy of trees below, I didn’t let myself hope yet. But who else would be entering the park at this time?

When I got my first glimpse of blue, I rushed straight back to Scottie. I was elated that my message had gone through, but now I was under pressure to get back to the carpark before Dan. I didn’t want him to worry and get himself into trouble trying to hike on crutches.

I yelled out with the effort it took to get the bike and trailer righted on the trail in the direction I’d come from. I walked most of the way back, not wanting to risk an injury in my haste. I saw Berta’ roof below me as Dan got close to the trailhead. I yelled out, but focused on just getting back as fast as I could.

Dan was out of the car by the time I saw him and he saw me. I told him I was OK as soon as I could, but I knew he’d been worried from the look on his face. He crutched over to the start of the trail as I got the trailer down over those first set of boulders. I was so happy he was there and quickly regaled my struggles as we headed back to the van.

The sun was setting the sky on fire, but we barely noticed. I was safe now and we were together, but we just wanted to get away to a camp. Once we did that we could take our time to figure out the next move.

Dan said about looking for camp while I packed away the bike and trailer. By the time I’d finished, he had spots pegged on both the east and west side of the pass. I figured the mountain biking section of the trail started on the West side so we should head down that road, so that was the plan.

Dan was happy to drive so we got Cleo set up on her perch and I strapped in. When Dan turned the key, nothing happened. we looked at each other. He tried again, still nothing. He opened the door shut the door, locked the doors, then unlocked them again and tried again. Nothing. I got the spare key from under the car and he tried that. Nothing. We couldn’t believe it but surprisingly we weren’t too phased. This had happened before and it had been the starter motor fuse so I was excited.

I tried to ignore Dad‘s voice in my head, telling me it’s never a fuse as I ducked into the driver’s foot well to pull the 25 amp jobbie from its block. Shit. It wasn’t the fuse.

I was already starting to resign myself to the idea that we’d be camping here the night, but we had a couple more things to try. I took both keys from the car and locked the car standing outside in the quickly cooling evening. I gave it a few minutes. Still nothing.

Next step was disconnecting the battery. Dan made sure the house power was isolated and then I got under the floor mat and shut her down completely. After a few minutes I reconnected and we tried again. Nothing.

As Dan tried a few more times with both keys I got under the car to look for any obvious signs of failure on the starter motor cable and no surprise didn’t find anything. It was probably dark now so the rest could wait till morning.

Thankfully, Dan had parked semi-level so we would be more than comfortable. He’d read somewhere that overnight parking was allowed in this lot as long as you didn’t sleep in your car. We would be risking it, but that didn’t bother us none.

And so, we settled in for the night. As we made the bed and fed the dog, we talked about our experience of the last hour. What messages had Dan received? What messages had he sent me that I never saw?

While my spot message had been successful, he hadn’t seen it. Of the dozens of messages I texted him, he only received three and it was the same words over and over again. Come back. Come back. Come back.

Between each message he received, he said something to me and each subsequent “come back” seemed like a desperate answer to get help. Thinking I’d fallen off a cliff and could only manage to say those two words, he’d driven like a world rally championship driver to get back to me as fast as possible. He was convinced that his driving had rattled something loose, causing Berta’s woes. I assured him nothing was his fault and that I was grateful for the speed at which he returned. Berta not starting seemed to be just another sign that maybe I wasn’t supposed to be here. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to be embarking on this outrageous bike packing trip.

With Starlink on, we were able to get in touch with my safety team and let them know what was going on. if nothing else, they were getting some entertainment.

Lying in bed, we recounted everything that had happened, switching between the trail issues and Berta’s issues. We both agreed that everything was telling us to change tact. I was grateful for our light mood. Grateful for the capability we have to fix and problem solve and do so while having a laugh.

In between debriefs, we put a show on to give our minds a rest. After a few rounds of doing this, we were exhausted. I took Cleo out for a bathroom break after she let us know of her needs with a low growl, then we all got settled in for bed.

With so much going around in our heads, we ended up staying up very late talking, but it was what we both needed and made me very happy to be with my family. At times it seemed like we were a pair of teenagers on a school camp about to endure the teacher’s wrath, telling us to shut up and turn the lights out.

Neither of us lost any sleep over the failed AZT attempt or Berta’s issues. We were happy to be together and safe.

Day 1 – Monday – Indecision

13.04 mi | 2:55 hrs | +1333 ft | -2141 ft

We all had a great sleep and Cleo seemed to be especially happy with her new bed. We lingered in bed a little longer than usual, knowing today was going to be filled with unknowns and possibly frustration. As we talked last night, I’d felt so carefree but now we had some serious decisions to make.

During our bathroom walk, we discovered it would be another beautiful day and while there wasn’t another person in sight, we knew we were being watched. Right on 9am, a set of cameras on a swivel at the top of a tower at the back of the carpark turned from their east-facing direction to point straight at us. Ha ha, someone was sitting down to work for the day and we were his first order of business.

Back at Berta, I got the chairs out and lay Cleo’s mat outside. I was prepared to be here a while. As I turned the gas on to make Dan a cup of tea, he opened the bonnet, just wanting to take a look.

Before I lit the burner, I figured we might as well just try it again to see what happened. As soon as the key was in the RUN position, I knew she was going to start and she did, first time.

I got out and asked Dan what he did. Massaged the connections around the ECU and the main harness, then held his hand on top of the engine as I turned the key. Magic. We left Berta running as we decided next steps.

I hadn’t been elated when the engine fired up for two reasons. First, it’s not ideal to have a car that doesn’t start then randomly fixes itself, I’d rather have found a smoking gun and solved a known issue. Now we’ll be turning the key and wondering every time if it will work. Second, now I had no excuse but to get riding and the feeling in my gut told me it was something I didn’t want to do.

I never want to be apart from Dan but after the year we’ve had I was hoping this trip would give me some good thinking time to reflect. Time away would mean a new appreciation for the love of my life. After the night we’d just had spilling our guts to each other and laughing when others would have been stressed out of their minds was all the reminder I needed. Now it just seemed silly to spend any time away from him, especially in the current landscape. We were in a rocky, dry desert. A ride I did in Colorado in the fall sprang to mind. I’d ridden away from camp and gone around Twin Lakes, went into a historic house, wound my way through Aspen, had to do a river crossing to get home and was in Berta by night fall, cooking dinner and watching the full moon rise. Those were the rides I live for. If I was climbing and weaving through trees and lakes, I’d have been happy. Hiking my bike over pointed rocks, getting hit by cactus and constantly worrying where I’d next get water wasn’t my idea of a good time.

When Dan asked me what I did expect, I honestly answered that I didn’t know. Having studied the elevation profile, I thought I was at least in for some trees.

We decided a full tank of diesel, breakfast and a planning meeting was in order so we packed up and drove off the east side of the pass. It didn’t seem smart to drive west towards the next trailhead considering my feelings and Berta’s condition. If after filling up she didn’t start, at least we’d be in a town.

Berta was cured. We filled up and drove off to a cafe for an açaí bowl, then drove off again. After a second breakfast from a Filiberto‘s drive-through, we were on our way to Sonoita. Turning off the highway there, we’d be able to pick up the trail and I could get going again.

I was quiet as we drove, the barren landscape was really eating at me. So much so that when we turned off for the trailhead, I pulled over. It just didn’t feel right. Dan had already cancel his Physio appointment for the next day, so he was free to support me for the next two days, but I didn’t like the idea. He could move around on his crutches, easily enough, but I knew the van was not an ideal environment for him especially without me to help.

We sat in the pullout for a while, talking about my feelings. it just didn’t feel right to leave my family in the scorched earth that is southern Arizona. I wanted to go home, regroup and make a new plan. I could do plenty of shorter rides, maybe even a few overnighters closer to Phoenix while Dan fully recovered.

We carried on, and the more we drove the less sick I felt. We pulled over at the next possible trailhead, but the 10 miles of dirt road in front of us didn’t inspire me. I didn’t want to drive them or ride them and so still, we carried on.

It was about then that Dan suggested it would be good for me to just get on my bike and ride. He had a great point, it’s good therapy for me when I’ve had a bad day at work or need a change of scenery. He was right.

The next trailhead was right next to the highway and had a lovely spot in the shade of a tree for Berta to rest. Dan did some trail research while I lightened the trailer and got the bike back out. If it’s one thing I hate, it’s indecision, so I just got on with it. The only way to know if I was going to like this was to try it properly.

Within half an hour, I’d shed two of my three water bottles, half of my food and some of my warm clothes. I at least wanted to know that I could successfully bike-pack and if that meant sitting in my sleeping bag instead of bringing my down booties, then so be it.

I was satisfied with the new weight. That had been my biggest mistake thinking that I’d be able to carry a full trailer load, even on a mountain bike trail. Dan had a great plan, that I should ride this next section of about 40 miles with an overnight camp along the way, then meet him just north of Highway 10. He planned to do a water drop for me at a trailhead about halfway.

It was a great plan and probably how we should’ve started out in the first place. Knowing he would be close by to support me gave me the confidence I needed and so I rode off into the dry grass.

The trail rolled along an old fire road, and I had some good feelings. It was nice to be out in the wilderness alone. The silence was bliss and the trailer moved along behind me nicely.

When I reached my first gate after 15 minutes, I had service so sent a message to Dan to tell him I was feeling good. Another two gates along, I came to an AZT sign with a bar box attached. Inside was about 10 gallons of water, put there by trail angels for anyone to use. That was a nice sign.

I’d been riding for nearly an hour at this point so I got out my SPOT and checked in, then sent a message to Dan, telling him to move on and go find camp. I was committed to one night at least and I felt OK doing it.

As I rode on, I left the grasslands behind and started on Rocky trails. This black-rated section of the trail at least trended downhill for its entire 20 miles so was it was a good testing ground. I did worry that doing a trail like this in reverse would be a struggle and I got some solid uphill sections to confirm my fears.

The climbs were not impossible, but they took a lot out of me, and when I got off the bike to push, that took even more. I tried to remind myself that everyone must feel this way on their first day of a big journey and tried to focus on the music I’d put into my ears to keep my spirits high.

I rode down into washes and up again over rolling hills with cactus all around and rocks constantly beneath my feet. It was nice riding, but in the headspace I was in, I couldn’t stop thinking about the long game. Could I really ride trails like this every day for two weeks?

I kept my head down, sucked air when I needed to and drank water as I needed. As the afternoon wore on and I was riding more in shade than in sun I switched my lenses out and started thinking about camp. I figured I should ride until 4pm then start looking.

Here’s where I started feeling a bit down about my surroundings. It’s not like I could just pull off trail anywhere and make myself a home, there were prickles everywhere!

Now that I was looking, I saw a few flat patches where people had camped before me but of course I got picky. I didn’t want to be huddled in around a bunch of cactus. With the sun setting, I at least wanted a view. I’m glad I held out. When I crossed a seldom-used road, there was a large flat patch of dirt complete with a fire pit and some stockpiled wood. Yes it was surrounded by cow patties and it didn’t inspire me as the next camp but I could already feel the evening breeze getting cold so figured I’d better stop.

I wasn’t excited when I looked at my watch and saw I’d only done 13 miles and it was barely 6 o’clock. What was I going to do for the next four hours? Why did I want to do this when my husband was just down the road with our dog in a comfortable van?

Whatever, I went through the motions setting up camp, had a mini shower and worried about the amount of water I was going through. I was questioning everything and while dinner was cooking I figured out I could sit in the trailer if I wanted to relax instead of lugging around my small camping chair, that made me feel good about the next trip.

That thought made me realize I’d decided to give this one away. I was not inspired by the landscape and didn’t feel good camping alone.

I got a fire going with a little help from the wind and settled in with a pasta dinner and Gunther Steiner’s latest audiobook. There were hidden lessons in there about trying something and not considering it a failure when it didn’t work out. I tried to take those words to heart.

I heard coyotes howling in the not-too-far distance and thought, typical, just another thing to deter me. After putting the fire out and brushing my teeth while admiring the start on a moonless night, I settled into my sleeping bag. It was barely 7:30pm but it was dark and I was ready to lay horizontally.

As I lay there writing about the day’s events and feelings, I discovered that my air pillow was caput so resorted to using my down jacket which worked just as well. Another bit of weight that could be lost!

Writing about my experience so far helped me process everything that had happened over the last two days. When my thumbs got tired, I got stuck into my book until my eyes couldn’t take it anymore and I was soon asleep. I went to bed comfortable with the idea that tomorrow I’d meet up with Dan and we would go home together.

Day 2 – Tuesday – Settling In

25.77 mi | 5:08 hrs | +1363 ft | -2160 ft

I was awake around 6:45am and while I turned over to sleep some more, my thoughts were loud so I wrote them down, carrying on from where I’d left off last night.

When the sun started coming up on the far horizon, I was up and pretty much immediately started breaking down camp. I got some water boiling for breakfast then worked on the tent. As I packed things away, I saw so many things I could do better next time, like ditching all the little bags and containers for things that do nothing but add weight.

I didn’t quite get into the rhythm of using the trailer as a staging area so things didn’t go on the dirty ground and I got pissed off when I couldn’t get my deodorant out of my storage bottle but besides that, I did alright.

I sat in my chair and read my book as I ate breakfast and decided that yes, the chair is comfy, but I would have been just as happy perched on a rock with my head hanging down to rest my rider’s neck.

I was packed and ready to rock and roll by 9am. That made me smile, Edwards people are always ready to leave camp at that hour, despite not running on any schedule!

I sent my SPOT and let Dan know I was on my way. The hard climbing bits were behind me so I was feeling good about the riding. As soon as I got out of my tent that morning, I was glad that a day of riding was all I had ahead of me.

With Christmas Carols buzzing in my ears, my spirits were good and I was looking forward to the green-rated section of trail coming up. I was low on water so enjoying the trailer’s lightness and surprised when I came across my first natural water source.

The small pond looked terrible but at least I knew there was some water out there.

At the Sahuarito trailhead, I found the water cache Dan had visited. He hadn’t needed to drop any water because there was plenty there and I was grateful to fill up. I also signed the visitor’s book just so there was a record that I’d tried the AZT.

When I can across another water cache at the next trailhead barely an hour later, I was starting to gain a bit of hope. Every one I’d seen so far was full of water so if I could find out where they were, I could be less worried about running out. I put Dan to work, asking him to do a bit of research for me.

The trail flowed and as I rode through a dynamic landscape complete with a train running in either direction and casual trail users, my spirits were lifted by smiling and wishing those people a Merry Christmas.

At the bottom of my first solid climb, I put the music away so I could pay attention. Somewhere in the last 10 miles thanks to the water caches and enjoyable riding, I started thinking I wanted to do this. Not in the way I’d originally planned, but I didn’t want to go home, I wanted to stay out in nature.

I timed myself up the three mile climb. It wasn’t too technical and I only had to push Scottie a couple of times. I said to myself that if I could do the three miles in under an hour, then any sort of sustained climbing was possible on further sections of trail. It took 35 minutes and I wasn’t huffing and puffing – I was managing my pace.

Music back in, I really enjoyed the next ten or so miles. I came across another few riders and shared more Christmas cheer. The underpass that took me across highway 10 was an interesting experience.

The tunnel was long and dark and thanks to the shade out the other side, I stopped for a rest and a snack before carrying on.

I started thinking water strategy. Carrying the one gallon on the trailer was as much as I wanted to put behind me but I decided I’d pick up my Camelbak from Berta and use that if I went on. As much as I was enjoying having nothing on my body, I would need another container to manage water if I had to filter some crappy stuff and I could move the Camelbak into the trailer if I so desired.

As I skirted the Colossal Cave Mountain Park, I did some technical but doable climbing bits and stopped to read all the information signs.

I found myself saying “wow” for the first time since I’d set out and not at an ugly border wall. First was for a ginormous cactus that was at least two storeys tall and then again when I saw a bright red cardinal in a tree. Im not a birder, but it’s nice to some some bright color amid a washed out landscape. I was starting to appreciate my surroundings. Another good sign.

When I saw a rubbish bin at a parking area by the trail, I stopped to ditch a few scraps of trash and my air pillow. Goodbye weight!

At a picnic area, I rode around for a look and followed a sign for drinking water, finding clear liquid pouring from a spigot. AWESOME.

I was only a few miles from Dan, but I was keen for a shower. With no cell service, I tried satellite messaging and shot off a note to Dan. Thanks iPhone 16! Of course Dan’s ancient equipment meant he wouldn’t be able to reply but it was my voice that counted.

I got my toiletries bottle out and gave my whole head and hair a good scrub. It felt good. I’d gotten a bit cold trying to wash late in the evening but this was perfect. While I dried off, I did some research on the trail sections ahead, contemplating the 40+ miles of near-constant climbing in the next section. I could take it slow and Dan could stage a cache at the other end of the mountains so I could stock up on food and water.

When I read the description for the downhill section (F) north of Mt Lemmon, I changed my mind again. For good reason. I’m so grateful to the person who wrote the firm words that this was not a trail for bikers – at all. That took a load off and I moved on to a 100 mile section further north. It was all single track, closer to home and had no black-rated sections. I could see myself doing that.

Feeling almost like I knew what I was doing, after having another power bar, I packed up and set off again. For the first time, I was looking forward to my next adventure on the AZT.

After another stiff climb of a couple of miles, I was listening to my tunes enjoying the challenge of the rocky pinchy sections and cruising down hill. This is what hikers didn’t get – the chance to rest completely while descending.

Once out of the Cave park, my head was on a swivel looking for a bright blue van. I’d left the rocks behind and was now cruising on flowy dirt. Within a mile I’d spotted her and I yipped and hollered like an idiot. Of course there was a rider right around the corner and I scared the shit out of him. He thought I was a coyote! I wished him a Merry Christmas and that seemed to recover him from the fright. I’m not sure how I feel knowing I sound like a coyote, but who was there to judge?

I picked up the pace as I neared Berta and let Dan know he was in my sights. I picked up my hollering too as I got close. After crossing a road, I realized I’d overshot and back tracked. There he was, crutches and all, standing in the middle of the road with Cleo at his side.

Cleo bounced around as she does and Dan gave me a welcome kiss. He’d fed himself with chicken and beer last night and had a comfortable camp but it had come with challenges, like not being able to squat for a poo. I’ve been there.

I told him the quick version of the events and my feelings since last seeing him and we got straight into strategizing. He’d come to the same conclusion as me regarding the Mt Lemmon section and the water caches he’d found were suitably placed along the 100 mile section I’d pegged on doing.

We were set then, we’d drive to the Tiger Mine trailhead then I could camp and he could head home. Berta had all the essentials for a few nights camping but having not planned on it, Dan hadn’t brought his creature comforts, like his toothbrush.

By the time we got going and started thinking about a stop for food on the outskirts of Tucson, I was having the familiar feels from Day Zero about starting off late in the afternoon. When Dan said he could easily manage another night in Berta, especially if I was around to help him, that was a load off and I felt even more confident about this 100-mile plan.

Apparently I will never eat at a Dairy Queen. Dan’s told me so much about their “blizzards” but the one we visited was closed. Maccas it was then. We stepped into the future in a store with no front counter and no menus displayed on the wall. Online and kiosk orders only. Strangely enough, we experienced the best customer service I’ve had at a Maccas with the manager stepping out to make sure we’d been looked after and a young guy who made conversation but could barely understand a word I said.

The drive north between the big smoke and the mountains with the nasty trails was easy and we were disappointed not to see the Biosphere 2 that was just off the road. I though the mountains looked just great from where we were.

After a few miles up a rutted dirt road that I was glad not to be riding, we parked up at the trailhead, meters from an AZT gate. This would be the start of my next journey.

Dan was exhausted from the drive and i was keen to lie flat so I fed Cleo then we hopped in the back for an episode of Ted Lasso. I fished out a toothbrush for Dan from Berta’s stores and we both had a wet wipe shower. Maccas counted as lunch and dinner so we were set, grateful to be in each other’s company again.

Day 3 – Wednesday (Christmas) – Setting Off Again

21.16 mi | 5:25 hrs | +2053 ft | -3094 ft

I lingered in bed as usual reading while Dan snoozed. The routine felt nice but this wasn’t just any day, it was Christmas morning! We wished each other a merry holiday as we woke up together and Cleo soon joined the festivities when we got out of bed.

I tried not to let the prospect of leaving my family all over again get to me as I put Christmas carols on. We were together on Christmas Day in our comfortable home so it was a happy event. Dan put the kettle on and stretched his knee while I readied the trailer making changes that I’d listed last night. I stocked up on a bit more food, lost the shock pump and ditched a few other items to save weight.

This 100 mile stretch would take me at least five days so I didn’t want to be carrying anything I didn’t need. The confidence I had now compared to only a couple of days ago regarding what I needed and what I didn’t astounded me. After only one night in the desert, I felt like I knew what’s what. That and the water source research we’d done had given me a boost.

It was a windy morning and so we stayed in the van away from the cold to eat hot oats and trail mix for breakfast. As I got the bike out, the sun was properly up, but the wind put goosebumps on my legs.

I was getting used to the packing and so it didn’t take me long to be ready to ride. We agreed not to get too emotional and so I got dressed and we only had smiles for each other. Merry Christmas Dan!

I set off around 9:30 AM and our plan was for Dan to stick around for half an hour before heading home for a much-needed shower and some proper knee treatment. It was a good section of trail to ride because he could see me for at least the first mile.

There was a water cache barely 50 meters beyond the gate. That was my first stop, just for a look, but I carried on stopping just to look back and see Berta’s bright blue beacon.

Dan and I called out to each other like the idiots we are and before I got out of earshot, I yelled after him to start the van, just to make sure. He understood and honked the horn to tell me the engine was purring nicely.

It was easier than the first time, but it was still hard riding away from him. Remembering my experience from my first night, I got my head down and stuck at it. Despite the cold wind, I was already warming up in the saddle. After 15 minutes, I messaged Dan and let him know that he should head home. I was on my own again.

I rode through fields of cactus, enjoying the fact that the first few miles of my day was downhill and on relatively smooth single track. After spending Christmas morning with my family, I felt lonely and was hopeful that I’d come across other hikers or riders just so I could smile and wish someone a Merry Christmas.

I came close to that when I came across a huge bull who politely jumped off the trail as I approached. I wished him a happy Christmas and when I rounded a switchback to meet up with him again, I added for him to have a happy new year.

The riding was but it quickly turned rocky and I started out on a very windy climb. I was looking at the map often, trying to get a sense of how difficult a future climb of 10 miles north of the Gila River would be. I set myself a reasonable goal and was happy when I reached the peak of the climb around noon.

Now carrying a Camelback half full of water on my back, I could feel some aching setting into my neck and shoulders, so I had a good stretch session, doing my best to keep upright in the wind.

As I descended, I didn’t try to go as fast as possible, but tried to maintain a flow. The switchbacks were tricky with the trailer, but at least the weight was manageable. Whenever I was pedaling hard in the saddle, I reminded myself that this was the heaviest it would be.

Just beyond a gate, I was stoked to see a human being. A solo hiker in his 60s at least, I couldn’t wait to get out a “Merry Christmas”. It lifted my spirits seeing him and we chatted a little about each other’s adventures. He was only out for the night, allowing himself to pack light and was impressed with my set up.

As I carried on along the edge of a rolling hill, thankfully the wind was now blocked. It made for less stressful riding.

I’d given up the Christmas carols of the morning’s riding for some silence and it meant that my thoughts were going in circles. Did I want to be out here for the next four days? I was starting to get sore, would I be strong enough?

My thoughts were interrupted by more hikers, this time a pair who looked like they were thru-hiking. They saw me coming and hopped out of my way. Since I was on a climb, I didn’t stop to chat but they got their “Merry Christmas”.

At the bottom of the descent, I was feeling tired. I had to cross multiple sandy washes and while I rode the first couple, I walked the next few and it felt good just to move my body in a different way. It was past 1 PM and while I wasn’t hungry for lunch, I needed a rest so I found a bit of shade and parked up to sit cross legged, chew on a bar, drink some water and rest my neck.

I discovered that my audiobooks had disappeared from Spotify, which was a disappointment, but I didn’t let it frustrate me. I got a Jay Shetty podcast going which was conveniently about overcoming self-doubt and just let my head hang, feeling my neck stretching out.

I had 10 miles of climbing ahead of me and had ridden 18 miles for the day. I resolved to get to 20 and then start looking for camp.

When I set off, I didn’t even attempt to ride up the rough fire road. I was happy to just walk it and it worked out fine. After the first steep bit, it flattened out a little and I was able to ride and I was happy to be on double track. I’d been whacking cactus and bush with my legs and knuckles all day on tight single track so it was nice to just sit in the saddle and pedal.

When my watch buzzed to tell me I’d hit 20 miles I was stoked and surprised. I was feeling OK so carried on, pushing the bike on another couple of steep pitches and navigating some gates.

When I crested a hill and saw a huge water tank and windmill down below, I knew I had found camp. This had not shown up on our water source research. What a nice surprise!

It was nearly 3pm and the wind was still blowing a little, but here was a chance to have a full body shower and I was going to take it. Though the water in the huge head-high tank was green, the stuff flowing from a tap into the tank was clear and so I stripped down and enjoyed a glorious wash.

I got out of my riding gear and changed into my evening clothes, feeling blissful that I had clean feet. Happy that I’d timed it perfectly, I wandered off a little ways to find a nice spot and settled in among the cactus on some flat soft sand. I was excited to use the water again in the morning to wash dishes and wash my face without having to worry about using up my drinking water.

I set up the tent, made myself a meal and enjoyed it from the comfort of my trailer lounge. I was starting to figure this bike-packing thing out.

When I went back to the tank to fill up a bottle for washing dishes, I found the pair of hikers I’d met earlier. We had a nice chat. They were from Moab and didn’t like the winter so were in Arizona to enjoy some Christmas warmth. The best thing I got out of the conversation was knowledge that the climb north of the Gila River was easier than what I’d just done. That surprised me because I knew it would be twice a steep, but the guy explained that the trail is better built with less loose rock so it would be easier going. That gave me so much encouragement and I let him know so. They carried on for a few more miles so I had camp all to myself.

I whiled away the afternoon composing Christmas messages, listening to my podcast and reading my book, all while sitting next to a small fire. The wind had died down (or I was out of its reach) but when the sun dipped below the canyon wall, it cooled off quickly.

I wasn’t keen on staying out in the dark so after a second meal, I doused the fire, brushed my teeth and hit the tent. I’ve been looking forward to lying down ever since reaching the top of that climb.

Day 3 – Thursday – Wrong Turns

27.28 mi | 6:05 hrs | +1929 ft | -1656 ft

I woke up feeling pretty stiff and I blame that on too much time lying down. If I hadn’t been so scared of the dark, I would’ve been able to sit by the fire longer.

As soon as I got out of the tent, I started feeling better as I moved around. I grabbed some water from the tank for a face wash and set about de-camping and making breakfast. Though I didn’t have a specific order for doing things, I felt like I was in a routine.

When I was doing a bike check, I realized my front tire was low so I spent a good 10 minutes pumping it up with my emergency pump. It was a cool morning and because I was camped at the base of a shallow canyon, it took a while for the sun to hit me, and even then it was shrouded in cloud so it didn’t warm up too much. 

I set off not long after 9 AM and thanks to the sandy wash I was riding through, I warmed up quickly. I didn’t mind walking when it was too soft and it gave me comfort to see the footsteps of the hikers I’d met last night.

I must’ve been so embroiled in what was below me that I completely missed the turn off to the AZT. I knew my day was starting with an 8 mile climb and the ride through the wash seemed to fit the description, so I just settled in and pedaled.

When I realized I hadn’t seen any other tracks or footsteps in a while, I checked the map and discovered my error. It had taken me 2 miles out of the way. Bugger.

After backtracking to the very obvious sign, the real climbing began. At least I was warmed up! I was happy to be light on water and walk the first couple of rocky switchbacks, but the rest wasn’t too bad. Every steep section that had me walking or huffing and puffing was followed by some flat stuff or slight downhill.

I had a short downhill in the middle of the climb and right when I was about to start climbing again I heard an odd noise from behind me. I had my first flat tire and it was on the trailer.

Of course I was bummed, but it was to be expected, considering the cactus and prickle pieces I was riding over constantly. My body had already suffered over a dozen punctures, so it was the bike’s turn.

I got my bits and pieces out and set about replacing the tube. I’m glad I brought tire levers along because without them I wouldn’t have had a hope in hell of getting the tire off or back onto the rim.

I was thorough in my check of the tire to find the offending prickle and I found two that had pierced the tread. Grateful that Dan had recommended I pack tweezers for any splinters I suffered, they were instrumental in getting the sharp bits out.

Half an hour later, I was on my way again and pushing uphill. Having finished yesterday‘s climbing at noon I was hoping for the same today but with the tire change, I figured it was out of reach. Not so! I was stoked when I crested the last hill and looked at my watch. I could make a habit of topping the peaks at the top of each morning!

I was elated. I had no less than 20 miles of downhill trail in front of me. Mumford & Sons had kept me going all morning and now they sailed with me as I descended over the rocks.

As I approached Freeman Road, I was ready for a rest and excited about the water cache. Just like all the others, the box was full, not only with water but a few beers and some candy!

Not only that, it was here I saw my first rainwater collector. It occurred to me then that it wasn’t the scenery on this ride that was making me go “wow”, it was any source of water along the way.

I debated where I should get my water and decided on the cache because at least that could be filled by people if it was empty, whereas there was no way to tell what level the rainwater tank was at.

I had a spot of service so checked in with Dan and got some great news about the hill, then rested my neck as I sat under a shade structure.

On the climb, I had been grateful for the cloudy day, but it meant I had to keep the pace up as I went down to keep my body temperature up. I was not complaining.

Ever since riding north of Freeman Road, I was riding more on pebbly sand instead of huge chunks of rocks, and the cactus weren’t so close to the trail.

It was my Singapore Grand Prix playlist keeping me company now, and I had enough energy to sing along to Robbie Williams and Kings of Leon.

For the first time, I had the Superstition Mountains in my sights. It was an exciting prospect since they were my finish line.

I rode and rode, thoroughly enjoying the downhill trend and not minding the short climbs that came in between. The cactus were more spread out now and there was nothing higher than knee level unless it was a Saguaro.

I did some rolling on seldom-used fire roads, and my second wrong turn of the day came when I saw single track leading off to the right with a clear Arizona Trail sign. I didn’t think twice and off I went.

I had to get off my bike a couple of times to get up some rocky climbs, and it occurred to me that Ripley Peak was on my left and my memory of the map, it should have been on my right. When I checked, sure enough, I was in the wrong place.

I double and triple checked because this was such a well established trail and I knew the sign that I saw. After nearly 60 miles of riding they had not let me astray. Not wanting to go on an unknown adventure, I turned back. That little expedition must’ve cost me another couple of miles.

Back on the fire road, I was checking the map frequently to make sure I was on the right track and starting to feel tiredness setting in.

I wanted to get to the end of this section, not because there was a particular landmark I was aiming for or a water source, but just because. 

I rejoined the single track and started seeing AZT signs again, though I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to trust another one. There were a couple more spots where the trail faded and I had to check the map to make sure I was on track and when I came to a gate, I knew I’d reach the end of the section.

Now completely ready for camp, I rode slowly along fire road looking side to side. While I was keen for a view of the mountains, any exposed or high ground had a bit of wind. I was trying to keep my options open, but also ready for the first flat spot.

Just after 3 PM, I saw a man hiking towards me and I realized he was the first living thing I’d seen all day. I told him so and we stopped to chat. I’ve been waiting to meet someone walking southbound who could tell me about water sources I was relying on. He was a wealth of information and told me that the water from the Gila River wasn’t worth drinking and the rainwater collector at the top of the big climb was flowing.

He told me of the hikers he’d overtaken so I could expect to come upon them, but his best gem was telling me that there was a great camp just over the hill. He was not wrong. As soon as I saw the flat open area complete with a small fire pit and old concrete structures that made perfect seating, I was done.

I claimed the spot and got the stove going quick smart because my tummy was grumbling. I got changed, having a wet wipe shower and actually got caught with my pants down when a Ute drove by on the nearby fire road! I still had my shirt on so they would’ve had a good look at my arse cheeks, but that’s about it.

I ate in the comfort of the trailer lounge and read my book until the sun came out from behind the clouds. It was too bright to sit there then so I set up the tent and lay flat for an hour listening to a podcast. It was blissful.

An hour after I sat up, I saw two girls hike by, just as my friend had said they would. They looked about ready for camp, so I was happy that I’ve arrived when I did. 

Discovering that I had a spot of service, I managed to get my Christmas messages out to everyone and that brought me to sunset so I started a fire and sat to watch.

I was braver that night, staying out until the stars were well and truly above me and keeping still enough that I was able to watch a desert mouse going about his business. That business was trying to get into my food, so unfortunately, he wasn’t successful.

My body was a little tired, but not too bad. I was keeping up with my stretching and making sure to look after my neck and back. The more I rode, the more tire tracks I was seeing and that made me feel good. I was on proper mountain bike trails now and everything was flowing nicely.

Day 4 – Friday – The Teasing River

33.16 mi | 7:51 hrs | +3212 ft | -4895 ft

I woke from a sleep that was full of different dreams. I must’ve gone on at least a dozen adventures in the night and I enjoyed all of them. I took that as a sign that I was now settled in to this temporary way of life.

When the sun started giving color to the sky around 7am, I was up. The thought had crept into my head that if I had a strong day today, there was potential to finish after two more days of riding. I felt like I moved faster and more efficiently but I still left camp right at 9 AM.

I took the easy way out with my front tire this morning. It had gone flat again overnight, so I obviously had a slow leak. I probably should have put a tube in, but I just pumped it up with a CO2 canister.

I rode off and within an hour I saw my first person which was a huge contrast to yesterday. I was riding up and down through multiple washes and he’d seen me coming so was off the trail as I rode through. I noticed him at the last second so didn’t stop to chat.

It was another cloudy day, so it was chilly in the shade of a canyon. I was actually looking forward to starting some climbing. I had a downhill trending day in front of me, but a stiff 2 mile climb that gained 800 feet in a few miles.

It got me warmed up alright and I was stoked to reach the top only half an hour after I started. Still with the big Gila river climb on my mind, I was gauging my efforts on the shorter climbs to try and estimate how I would go on the 10 mile slog.

Mumford & Sons got me up the hill once again and keeping to yesterday’s tradition, I got stuck into the Singapore Grand Prix playlist again as I descended.

Just after crossing the bottom of a wash, I looked back and realized I lost my first item. It was the cap to my water bottle holding my toilet paper. I wasn’t too upset to let it go, but it meant the trailer was starting to look very used.

Having crested the last hill, a huge copper mine came into view. I didn’t know it was copper when I saw it, it looked more like salt from the white shelves of the quarry. It gave me something to look at anyway.

I was chugging water to get rid of it, knowing that a flowing spigot was in my near future. The cache at the next trailhead was the first one I left alone. It was nice that they noted water was available 24/7 only 2 miles up the road.

I ventured along that 2 mile stretch going mostly down towards the Gila River. With the yellowing trees following its path, it was the most color I’d seen in days.

As I’d heard from other hikers, the water was a disgusting brownish green when I saw it crossing a foot bridge. I waved to a couple of day hikers on the bridge and then found my way to the council depot where I found the water spigot.

It was a nice shaded spot complete with a picnic table and a hiker who was waiting for a lift. He was a lawyer from San Diego, who had driven out especially to do the section of trail I was about to start only he’d done it from north to south.

It was great to have company as I filled my water bottles and got set up to have some lunch. It was just past noon and at some point during the morning I decided I wanted to go long today. I figured having lunch at a usual hour would give me the energy to go past the usual camp time of 3 PM.

The lawyer was with me just long enough to get my water heating up and then he was off thanks to a lift from a trail angel. I was happy to be left with my own thoughts and sent Dan a message letting him know my progress.

My neck was aching badly and I was starting to regret bringing my camelback along, but then again, I would need it the next day. Other hikers had told me not to drink the water from the river if I could help it and so this spigot was my last water source until the end of the big climb.

After lunch and doing some stretching, I was anxious to get going. As I started packing up a rider parked up and got his bike out for a casual ride. He wasn’t much of a chatter, but I did ask him if he had a patch kit in case my trailer tube had another puncture. His answer was a predictable no but it was worth a shot.

After looking at the map and contemplating what I might be able to do, I decided that mornings are for goalsetting and afternoons are for simply rolling on.I put the map away, fed up with constantly trying to keep track of when I’d be climbing and when I’d be descending. I got a radio going based off The Living End and just rolled.

As I joined the single track, I heard the horn of a train and so left the bike and rushed back to the train line. I made it in time to wave to the driver and hear him pull on his horn. It never gets old.

When I stopped for lunch, I’d ridden 15 miles which was a disappointment. I knew I wouldn’t be able to ride the next 15 in an afternoon, but since this trail followed the Gila River, I figured I’d find a camp by the water somewhere.

With the sun now out from behind the clouds and a fair bit of ups for all the downs, I was starting to sweat a bit and feel the heat. I started dreaming of a dunk in the river when I made camp.

I was on proper single track now with technical downhill sections and sandy climbs. I was happy to be riding the majority of it, with the exception of most switchbacks which required some trail maneuvering.

I was grazing a few rocks and one of the front left bottle cages took a big hit, but it managed to stay in place. The trailer can definitely take a beating.

I only had one close call when I was on the wrong side of the bike, trying to get it through some rocks and nearly fell down the cliff side. Thankfully, there were enough rocks in place to put my feet on and after getting on the correct side of the bike, I figured it out.

As the afternoon wore on, I was barely looking at the scenery and just focusing on the trail. My front tire was nearly flat again, and I was losing any small hope I had of getting to the base of the climb today.

It’s not that I wanted to get to the climb, I really just wanted a spot by the river. Any time I looked at the map I was discouraged. Despite the river nearly always being in sight, I was always too high above it, or there was too much brush or a barbed wire fence between me and it for easy access.

As 4PM came and went, I was fairly exhausted. I shouted out at the bulls and calves I came across and they all politely got out of my way. I wanted to tell them to stop shitting all over the place.

I stopped to look for camp a couple of times, hoping for access to the river. I did a trek down a wash through some low brush and got to the water, and though it wasn’t perfect, I was buggered so thought it would do. When I went back to retrieve my bike, I heard ATV engines and then voices. They sounded mostly harmless, but I didn’t get a good vibe. I retreated into some bush until they went by and then decided against camping. It just didn’t feel right so I pushed on.

I went for an explore down a second wash with the bike this time and still didn’t find a suitable camp by the water. I then got pissed off when I twisted my seat post in trying to muse a sharp turn with the trailer. After putting that right, I realized I was pushing too hard because of my flattening tire and my tiredness.

I knew from trail notes that there was good water access at the base of the climb. I would just have to go all the way. I got out my pump and counted out 100 pumps for the front tire and considered it good. I would whack a tube in it the next morning.

That made the rest of the riding go pretty easily now that I had my mind made up. I stopped briefly when I saw the sign indicating the Arizona Trail’s lowest point of 1,646 ft. Just beyond it was a gate and a sharp right turn, indicating the start of the climb.

I carried on past the turn, following a sandy road and when I saw an abandoned red Jeep, I knew I was in the right place. Some trail notes I found while researching water had mentioned the abandoned car and it was a beacon of hope.

Sure enough, there was a lovely sand bank right by the river, which had a tent-sized flat spot. I’d done it! I was at camp. I’d ridden 32 miles and been in the saddle for over seven hours.

The river was at least 10 meters wide and flowing fast and deep. There was a couple with a baby on the opposite side of the river just setting up camp. I waved them hello and asked if they would mind if I camped over-river from them and they said, of course, not. It actually made me feel quite safe, knowing there were others nearby.

The sun was down and I was short on time. A couple sets of eyes weren’t going to stop me from having the river shower I’d fantasized about all day. I stripped down, got in to knee-deep with my feet sinking into the mud and use my toiletries bottle to cover myself in water and cleanse. I kept my back to the other campers so they didn’t get the full monty, but I got the impression they were averting their eyes. It was everything I’d hoped for and I didn’t mind the cold. It did wonders for my muscles.

Having ridden so late in the day, I felt almost rushed to get my camp set up. I managed to gather enough firewood for the night before it got dark then settled in for a night by the river. I was grateful for the sandy ground and low tree logs because it meant I was comfy sitting by the fire reading my book.

Day 5 – Saturday – Done

22.94 mi | 5:31 hrs | +3971 ft | -3226 ft

I’d had to pump up the air mattress twice in the night but I didn’t mind, I was used to it by now. I was up earlier than usual. It was still dark outside so I just lay there listening to the gentle flow of water nearby until it was light out.

I’d only heard the baby cry once in the early hours and when I exited my tent, the camp across the water was quiet.

I set about my morning routine, happy to have the river at hand to wash my face and clean my dishes. After breaking down the tent, I got a tube in my front tyre and pumped it up with CO2. It was solid now.

By the time I got water boiling for breakfast and did my stretches, I saw that my neighbors were packing up too. I couldn’t believe it since they’d brought so much stuff!

Packing the trailer, I broke off the front left bottle cage. It had taken one too many hits yesterday and when bending it back into position, it broke off. I kept the bottle but donated the busted cage to the abandoned Jeep which had already become a trash heap.

I emptied all of my water from my trailer bottle into my Camelbak so the trailer was as light as possible for the climb, then I was ready. Predictably, I set off at 9am. I said goodbye to my river friends then pedaled away.

I’d been thinking about this 10 mile, 2,000 ft climb since starting out from Oracle and now it was time. I was ready for it and ready to do some walking and pushing. I’d ridden past the start of it last night so I got off my bike straight away to tackle the rocky road.

As I reached the top of the road and found an AZT gate, I was hit with a barrage of messages. I’d forgotten to send my SPOT last night so Dan had been trying to reach me. Whoops. I’d been so knackered when I finished that I didn’t send it. I’d sent him some satellite messages but I felt bad that my team may have been fretting. My morning SPOT had gone out at least so I was back on track.

Phone away, I got my head down to sweat. I was grateful for the light cloud cover and cool morning as I got to ascending.

I set myself a timed goal, thinking I could get to the top by noon – just like normal – which gave me great motivation. The Aussie rock playlist in my ears also kept me pumped up.

I was able to ride more than i expected and as I’d hoped, at the peak of every steep stint, there’d be a flat section or slight downhill to give me a break.

While the hiker’s description at the water tank on Day 1 wasn’t exactly true – there was a tonne of loose rock – the trail was wide enough for me to easily get off and push and his words had given me the confidence to be here.

Looking up whenever I took a rest, this was the most scenic part of my ride. The rocks that rose out of the ground were stunning though I don’t know that I’d have done the climb if I knew I’d end up above the tallest peaks.

Every time I looked behind me, I was shocked at how high I’d climbed. I could see the trail cut into the mountainside below me and it almost scared me how steep this was. Steep but doable.

After an hour, I’d managed three miles and in another hour, 11am, I was at 6.5. Come on!! I kept pushing. I wanted to make it to that water tank by noon.

Just before 7 miles, I came to a beautiful viewpoint which doubled as a camp and stopped to take my first real rest. I couldn’t see the river any more and it was here I realized I’d be going higher than the tallest rocky spires I’d seen from the base. A challenge was what I came for and I was getting just that.

Not long after that, I crested my first saddle, leaving the rocky canyon behind. I left my flow behind too. I was starting to understand I wouldn’t make it by noon and that got me a little downbeat. The trail had steepened and wasn’t flowing anymore. I also think my exhaustion had caught up with me. 

On the bottom half of the climb, I’d at least been able to get my head down and pedal at a steady rate. Now, I was getting off the bike more and having to stop for more breaks.

I kept at it and when I saw the water tank for the first time, I got a small burst of motivation but it didn’t last long. When noon came and went, I was disappointed but knew I shouldn’t have been. I was going to make it and had originally thought it would take me four hours, not just over three.

The icing on the cake was the fire road that led to the water tank. It went off trail and it was crazy steep. I had to push/lift the bike, then stop. Push, then stop. my feet were unsteady on the loose rock and I could feel the heat. It took everything I had to get Scottie and the trailer up there with my muscles shaking. I was careful because I knew if I let go, they’d both go a long way down the mountain.

Finally, at the tank, it was 12:10pm. Pretty close. I wasn’t really elated, I was just pissed off because I wasn’t at the top. I could see from the map and the trail cut into the mountain that I had another half mile of steep climbing to go. Damn it!

I took a break and did some water management, emptying my Camelbak into my water bottle and stashing the Camelbak in my trailer. For the last 12 miles I was going to treat myself to a free back.

Instead of grabbing water from the rainwater tank, I took a sealed one liter bottle someone had left. I figure that way I could take some rubbish off the trail. I messaged Dan to tell him I was ready to come home and could he meet me at 2:30pm? Another timed goal.

I set off again, resigned for the last stiff climb but excited for the 12 miles of descending that followed it. My AirPods had died right as I was muscling up the rocky road to the tank so my thoughts kept me company as I walked/rode up to the next saddle.

When I finally got into the downhill stuff, my spirits lifted. I said a huge thank you to Scottie and James (the trailer had suddenly been named) and down we went.

After the nice scenery of the rocky canyon, I was depressed by what I was riding through. This was the definition of scorched earth. Everything was black from a recent fire. Even the dirt was black. There wasn’t a strip of shade to be found and the cactus carcasses were twisted into shapes more contorted than usual. 

I was grateful my headphones charged up so quickly, I needed some happy sounds to get my through this. I focused on the trail ahead of me and didn’t look around much. It was just too sad.

Eventually I came to the fire break where the black was replaced with pale yellows and washed out greens. It still wasn’t a landscape that inspired.

It made me reflect on what I’d seen in the last 100 miles and I realized that nothing had made me go “wow”. The only things that got me excited were the water sources! I think my happiest memory of the riding was coming up on a spigot my second day. Maybe I’m spoiled from my time in the Sierras, but southern Arizona is NOT a pretty placed. It is a harsh and bleak landscape with few signs of life. I question the person who described this last section as one of the best segments of the AZT. Those segments are surely all in northern Arizona where pine trees grow and lakes are a thing.

I rode swiftly but carefully. All I wanted now was a big blue van and my husband. As I got into some sandy rocky stuff, I took care not to do anything reckless. A stack now would really put a damper on things.

As I came to within a few miles of the Picket Post trailhead, I started to think that Dan might be the first person I saw that day. When I came up on a set of overnight thinkers, it meant I was disappointed. I wished them well but didn’t stop, thinking they were crazy to be hiking into that desolate area. Then again, why had I done it?

I saw another overnighter with her panting dog (probably a silly idea) then got really excited when I came across a family who weren’t even carrying water bottles. I was close. They stepped off the trail and asked how far I’d gone. I told them 100 miles and that this was it, so I think they understood me not stopping.

No way was I stopping now. I pedaled hard and when I saw a patch of blue in the distance, I pedaled harder. I started yipping and yelling when I rode across the carpark and there he was and there she was.

Cleo was leaping all over but per usual, as soon as I got close, went stoic. I was back, that’s good, now I’ve got bunnies to look out for. Dan took me into his crutches arms and congratulated me. I was so happy to be finished. I had finish line syndrome for sure. Knowing this was the end, I suddenly felt every ache in my body.

I told him my feelings of the last 12 miles and might have said, “fuck this place” a few times. I’m a positive person who can always see the beauty in a landscape but that tough climb and the sad environment beyond it broke me. Southern Arizona really is one of the assholes of the earth.

I put Scottie and James away, got out of my riding clothes and into a dress. It was such a pleasure to have everything I wanted right at my fingertips in Berta.

We got going back towards Phoenix not long after. I was starving but couldn’t think what I wanted to eat. When Dan suggested In ‘N’ Out, I was sold. We talked non-stop until we got to Mesa and I talked a lot of shit about AZ. I was venting hard and all I wanted to do was dunk my body in a lake. To do that, we’d have had to drive at least 200 miles north.

In ‘N’ Out was stacked, as usual and the food was delicious, as usual. There were a lot of “oh baby”’s muttered as I ate. I was glad I thought to wash my hands before eating because quite a lot of dirt washed off in the sink!

As we walked/hobbled out to the car, the drive-through line had snaked its way over to Berta and so we were blocked in. I went to talk to one of the cars in the queue, to ask them to stay put so we could back out. For the first time in my life, I think I was mistaken for a homeless person!! I had two soda cups in my hands, my hair up in a stupid ponytail, my grey dress on and probably dirt on my face. As I waved at this woman with her window up, she determinedly looked straight ahead, then glanced at me and waved me away as if to say, “I’m not interested”. Ha ha. She eventually wound down her window and I explained, then I couldn’t stop laughing as I got into Berta. Ain’t no one going to knock my self esteem.

We talked and laugh all the way home, Dan telling me about the Christmas antics and me filling him in on my details.

It was nearly dark when we got home so our timing was perfect. Deb was happy to see me and I her, we got straight into the kitchen for a sit down and chatting over a beer. It was devine and I was so glad she liked her Christmas present (a calendar of doors). The three of us were laughing like a bunch of teenagers until I’d all but lost my voice.

Round-Up

143.35 miles, 6 days, 5 nights (1x night in Berta).
Low point 1,646 ft. High point 4,211 ft.

Am I happy I did it? Yes.
Would I do that section of AZT again? Absolutely not.
Would I recommend that section of AZT? Absolutely not.
Would I bike-pack again? Definitely, for 100-150 miles.
How did the bike go? Scottie was perfect in every way, the suspension lock-out was critical.
How did the trailer go? James was excellent. With only a few kilos on my back, I could feel it in my shoulders and neck. Having all the weight following behind is the way to go.
What would I have done different? Once I set out on the 100 mile section, nothing.

It was silly of me to think I could go out and do 350 miles of bike-packing for my first time. In my planning, I made three mistakes:

• Thinking I could carry 2 weeks of supplies and three days of water (80+ lbs) in the trailer
• Thinking I could do the whole thing unsupported
• Not doing enough research regarding water sources and trail difficulty

Thank you to my family and friends who kept me safe out there: Dan, Deb, Mum, Dad, Kevin, Rob, Nick, Katy, Ross, Jen, Dave, JR. You know how important you are to me.

22 – 28 December, 2024.