SAUER: Sonoran Ultra Endurance Ride - Day 3 - Slow Crawl along the Black Hills and Cerro Colorado Mountains
Date: March 9, 2025
44.4 Miles
3,753 Feet of Gain
White Rock Campground in the Pajarita Mountains to somewhere near Bolas Blancas Wash
We all slept thoroughly. But at the crack of dawn, my body jolted awake ready to go. I felt strong, electrified to see the beautiful Pajarito range just ahead having spent time here a few years ago. I got up and exited the X-mid only to realize everyone was still completely asleep. I tiptoed around camp taking care of personal needs and then realized there were half a dozen tents next to us in a site - turns out they were all bikepackers riding the Sky Islands Odyssey West Loop. I went over to strike up conservation; we all remarked how beautiful and accessible this campground was and how only bikepackers camped here last night - no one else. The group was from all over the States and having a great time. We talked for a bit before I heard Josh and Steph begin to rouse back at our site. Now that they were up, I was itching to get going. I knew today would start with areas I had ridden before as we traced the US/Mexico border through the Pajarito Mountains all the way to Arivaca. However, everything north of Arivaca was brand new to me, and the SAUER route noted miles and miles of chunk.
The neighboring bikepackers packed up quickly and pushed out as dawn crested the neighboring desert ridge and poked sunlight through the eaves of thick oaks. I really got packing and then basked in the sun waiting for Josh and Steph. SAUER may having a racing component - but I treasured the time with friends and companions more. Steph announced she was going to take a bit longer and that she would catch us on her gravel rig; Josh was prepped so the two of us started riding down the dirt roads of the Pajaritos.
In stark contrast to yesterday morning, I was in shorts and my base shirt only as soon as we were riding in the sun. Josh shed his layers while I took photos of Castle Rock standing prominently ahead in Alamo Canyon. Again, I noted how desiccated and brown the Sonoran landscape was here - spring was present but the dry winter had left most plant life dormant. I shrugged off arid contrast and embraced the golden hills and craggy reliefs of the peaks. Scrub oak dotted the landscape in iconic bunches. I rode ahead of Josh to turn around and take photos of him coming around curves and pushing up hills (let it be known that I did way more hike-a-bike than him). We turned a corner and, true to our southerly location, the black mark of the Border Wall streaked across the tope hills. That, and dozens of Border Patrol vehicles passing us back and forth all morning along our ride.
Josh and I continued our upward push until a crest was reached along a sandy-colored mountain edge, and we plunged down the chunky dirt road on the other side. Down and down into a bushel of oaks and pinyons dotting a wash and small valley ahead. I remarked on our proximity to Ruby, AZ - the mining ghost town once open for visitation along this ride. Sure enough, we rounded a corner and there it lay. Unfortunately, it has since been gated and closed by the new owners. We gazed and pondered what it would be like to stay a night there and then turned and continued north away from the border. The two of us paused on a subsequent hilltop to eat snacks and drink water. I saw a bikepacker ahead and sprinted to catch him. Dean, from Ohio, and I got into a long talk about the region since I had grown up there. The day's heat (again, so much contrast to just days ago in snow) was taking a toll on him. Josh and I both have roots in the Midwest so we were excited to indulge in reflections contrasting AZ with it. With Arivaca so close, we left as a group to head into town. I could feel the pull of water and food so I rode ahead and told Josh to meet me at the Mexican restaurant I fondly recalled in town.
The dirt road tumbled out of the mountainside and became smooth new pavement as hills flattened out into the flowing lowlands around Arivaca. I pulled into town at about noon and beelined it for La Gitana Cantina and Café. Shade provided by a front overhang was welcome respite from the sun, so I collected myself there until Josh pulled into some time after. The two of us headed in to grab seats and eat copious Mexican food in A/C; the restaurant even let us charge all our electronics while we ate. After Dean arrived to join us, I headed outside to do a phone check-in with Janna who was many months pregnant and now in Ohio spending time with her family. After I finished the SAUER, my plans were to get on a plane and go join her there for a family baby shower. I told her how I was feeling (good!) and the welcome companionship quickly turning friendship I had found riding with Josh Chapple. Our food came out so I wrapped up and joined the two riders inside for the big meal.
Josh and I wrapped up our meal, bid Dean goodbye, and we headed outside to walk over to the Mercantile to resupply for dinner tonight. Kindly, the store workers pointed us to the back soda machine where we could fill up our water reservoirs from the machine. I grabbed some fruit/produce to supplement my lunch. We walked outside to be greeted by Steph who had headed over to our bikes as soon as she rolled into town and spotted them. We caught up with her about the morning's riding. She announced that she was pulling from the race because she realized she wasn't going to finish on time; her husband had also pulled from the race for time, and he was going to drive here and pick her up while she was accessible in town. We talked to her for a bit, and then I got ripping with excitement to see the new-to-me track ahead.
The climb out of Arivaca started on doubletrack through wide rolling desert hills just studded with ocotillo and creosote swaying in the light breeze. The doubletrack was smooth and buttery. But a few turns later, and it became decayed, eroded, and chunky. The sun was right on us bringing all the heat of the mid-afternoon. Dry yellow grasslands swept among the Sonoran thornscrub as the hills deepened around us. The chunk continued to build until we were both pushing our bikes up and down deep rutted chutes in the mountainside along abandoned mines. I laughed at the classic AZ riding this terrain presented. Josh yelled from up ahead with a throated noise of disgust. I quickly pedaled to catch up to him. He realized that the water he thought he was filling his bladder with in Arivaca was not typical water but instead unflavored soda water. I burst out laughing and literally fell to the side of the road. I offered him some water but he declined saying there was a source marked up ahead on the SAUER route.
We approached Montano Ranch in the later afternoon sun that left the day cooking. The ghost ranch was still stocked with an active windmill and pump that watered a cattle tank. Josh dumped all his carbonated water (I couldn't stop laughing again) and got to work filling and treating a new supply. I wandered the grounds to look at the empty ranch house in this completely new-to-me area. I felt relaxed and utterly curious about what scrape of land we would camp on tonight. Josh finished up and we agreed to keep on riding. My original plan was to get close to Three Points but the chunky doubletrack made that goal impractical. Now that the sun was slanted in the sky, we both agreed to just ride and ride until we found a suitable spot in the night.
Josh and I turned back into the desert where doubletrack sped through yellow hills. We climbed one in golden hour. A turn in the ascent revealed a red pickup long abandoned, stripped of parts, and used now for target practice and demolition. It always amazes me when I come upon a car abandoned in the spread desert scenery; Josh elated in it. We climbed the rest of the hill and stared off into a golden landscape of pocked mountain cliffs and desert scrub. The sun was crooked in the sky; night was soon to arrive. This put motivation in both our legs. We stopped less, moved more, and declined for photos unless the extreme beauty begged it.
And just like that we turned a corner as sun skipped behind peaks and the Cerro Colorado Mountains lay out before us all lit up amid a foreground forest of ocotillo shaded in the coming eve. Despite the chunk and fast descent, despite the cooling air, and despite the losing light, I slammed my brakes to a halt to capture a slice of Sonoran beauty thick with crimson shading on distant jagged hills dotted with sprightly hued chollas. I was breathless.
Josh pushed ahead amid babyhead rocks and rutted track. I pedaled to keep and catch up. Night fell as doubletrack led to old barbed wire fences. We jumped and slid under them making sure to lift and pass our bikes to each other. The darkness came quick and thorough as the road finally became smooth and wide. Josh and I bellowed our glee in the twilight. The last shades of day backlit the hulking silhouette of the Baboquivari Mountains to our west. And then the light sang out and we breathed in the night a little deeper. Stars spurted out of dusk becoming rivulets of light above. We pedaled and pedaled into the night. At some point, some hours after dark, we took a bend in the road and clearly saw a camp-worthy pad of Earth calling for our rest. The conversation to decide was quick and agreed. The two of us set up camp under the sprawling Milky Way while range cattle called from thickets of mesquite. I was enraptured by the bright night so swift with its sure beauty and awesome spread. I tilted my head to look at the stars for long bouts feeling nothing but raw appreciation to be bikepacking across the Sonoran Desert at its finest time (spring). The combination of starlight and moonbeam produced moonshadow bright enough that I wandered the area without headlamp just because I could. Satisfied with a day so complete, I slid into my X-mid and wrapped myself in my quilt to the echoing cries of coyotes on a night like this.
