Here I was, panting hard, sweating harder, pushing my heavily laden bike up a steep, loose hillside in southern Arizona under a blistering sun, just a handful of miles from the Mexican border.
I briefly thought "what the fuck am I doing here, no really..., wtf ?" as I rounded yet another tight, loose, rocky, climbing switchback. I stopped to take a pull on my water bottle, then my eyes swung out to take in the vista of the Miller Peak wilderness.
Holy crap! From up here at 6000ft, the view was magic!
I had been riding/walking with some guy from Idaho or North Dakota for about five minutes and he just kept his head down and pushed on. I felt like saying "look to your right!!"
He was deep in the pain cave, just 45km into this 1230km race. The Arizona Trail does that to people. It gets inside their head. All of the stupid pushing up a fall line trail with no breeze. Have you ever noticed there is never any breeze when you are climbing in the hot sun? No breeze, just the quiet muttered curses? But then the yee-haws of the loose, steep, rocky drop down the fall line on the other side help to wipe that horrible memory of the climb.......until the next steep pinch.......
So, what was I doing, grovelling along the Canelo Hills section of the Arizona Trail on this fine Thursday morning I hear you ask? Lets rewind a little to explain how I found myself in this mess. You may wish to grab yourself a cold beverage before continuing......
