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55 Miles; 6,700 Feet of Gain; Horseshoe Dam to Bloody Basin Road I woke up in the dark and immediately set to task to dismantle and get ready to ride. The two bikepackers next to meet were quitting and already leaving the route in the pre-light. As sunlight spun into the eastern sky, a flaming sunset strewn amongst the clouds began to really open up. I finished packing and pedaled up the dark hill in the last remnants of night. Once on top, the surrounding desert peaks tinged pink, then orange as sun slid down granite sides. I pressed ahead to a lookout over Horseshoe Lake which was remarkably low (but unsurprising given our drought-monsoon this summer) as compared to when Janna and I rode the Sheep's Bridge Loop this past spring. A long bathtub-ring-shoreline circled white with dead branches left from higher tides. I realized I had made a wrong turn in my desire to see the overlook, so I backtracked and proceeded downhill to the Catfish Dispersed Area. Here, I walked my bike towards the front of the dam proper. In the spring, the mad melt and wet conditions led to the dam overflowing through this second spillway. The walkway below the dam is just wide enough for my Walmer bars. In April, released flow made a waterfall curtain the whole way. Now, it was dry and cool. I saw several anglers in the churn below. I walked out on the other side to pedal hard along the dirt road leading away. The next several miles were a rock-choked push. Again, the contrast with April was strong. The rains of spring earlier in the year melted the road and smoothed most washboard. Any boulders and stones were buried under sediment packed flat by compressing vehicles and the wash of water. After the heat baked summer, quads and ATVs had ridden so often that boulders were exposed, washboard was the frequent terrain, and CRAZY deep powder silt looked like dunes of sand awash across the land. Hike-a-bike was frequent. I had wanted to hit Sheep Bridge by 8 am. But 8 came and went, and then 9. After I hit of section of silt dunes so deep that I could tell that ATVs had become stuck in it, I attempted to walk around. Instead, I sank in silt like quicksand up to my calf. Never had I seen so much dry silt in my life. I got down to the Verde River and pulled up next to the cool water. Some campers on the other side called out wanting to know where I came from. They said there had been multiple families of river otters swimming by all morning and that there were some hot springs on the other side if I wanted to try them out. I pushed my bike up the gnarly granite wash trail to the top and walked out across Sheep Bridge over the Verde. The views were spectacular on this fall day. Cottonwood and tamarisk were honey-dipped in autumn hues along the deep sky blue and utterly clear water will deep navy blue. A bunch of ATVs were showing up. I hurried down to a rock outcrop to fill my water before beginning the relentless up and downs from this low point to over 5,000 feet. In lowest gear, I started up. The heat of the morning was now rising. I kept it steady on my lowest gear and tried to avoid as many babyheads, washboard, and ruts as I could in the pummeled road climbing up the mountain peaks. All morning I kept my head down and legs moving for climb after climb. Simultaneously, every off-road vehicle came peeling in the other direction, tearing into turns, and contributing to more washboard. Eventually, I came to a downhill filled with loose rock fists. As I barreled down it, my back tires slid on one, causing me to fishtail before I caught myself from flipping. Steady and slow, I got to the bottom of Tangled Creek which had a small flow going above ground that then plunged under. I crossed several small washes and the road eventually began to improve in quality as I neared the intersection with Seven Springs Road. The temperatures continued upward in the 80s. I could definitely feel that I was well acclimatized to the Grand Canyon cold and equally not so here. I pushed on north and almost any semblance of traffic disappeared. I was now in the heart on the Bloody Basin on its namesake road. With less ATV traffic and power driving, the washboard lessened up a bit. It was a vast undulating set of ranges beet-red with prickly pear interspersed. The last saguaros faded as the altitude gained. One jeep passed me and this wild-eyed dude yelled out in passing, "You're the real fucking deal yo!!" I was sweating profusely and took note that I had not urinated since before Sheep Bridge at 9 am despite many liters of water consumed. The road continued to climb. I continued to sweat. The balance between sweat and exertion became so great that I stopped pedal-pushing up the steepest inclines and began hike-a-biking to keep my core temperature lower. Around me, the chaparral and desertscape of the Bloody Basin stretched to peaks I knew not of. Ahead, the last significant climb of the day reared. It was a steep set of switchbacks up the side of a mountain that led to the upper plateau of Agua Fria. The grade was so steep I was walking several portions. I was feeling a bit nauseous from the heat and dehydration and my water supply was dropping very low. I turned a switchback and I saw some trash up ahead on the side of the road; for a minute, my heart leapt thinking it was some sort of liquid beverage, but I chastised myself for that thought. Then, I came upon it. Behold, it was an entire pack of sun-cooked water bottles that must have fallen off the back of some truck. I tore into them, guzzling, pouring them on my head, back, and neck. I packed the plastic trash out with me and felt deeply grateful for the find. I continued on before topping out where the desert scrub immediately became high desert grassland. Golden dried grass swayed interspersed with mesquite and juniper. I pedaled on to the top of the peak. Below, the vast plains of Agua Fria National Monument spread forth. The road was almost all downhill for me to the broken horizon of the Bradshaw Mountains. I coasted down feeling like this was the win I needed at this moment. Down and down I coasted past the monument-entry proper into this awesome land of black soil, cut canyon plateaus, and historic pictographs. I biked for several hours until I entered a canyon to climb out of. In the far distance, I could just make out Cordes Lakes. At 4 pm, I suddenly felt the urge to urinate. My legs and body felt exhausted so I welcomed the short break. I looked down to check the color of my urine for dehydration and was aghast to find I was urinating what looked to be straight blood. I ceased peeing immediately as blood droplets splashed down my legs and clothing. The burn of the liquid caused my eyes to tear up. This was bad and I knew it. I did a quick assessment of symptoms and potential causes. I settled on kidney stones or rhabdomyolysis. Rhabdo seemed more probable given the heat and exertion occurring. Regardless, it scared the shit of me to be urinating blood. I knew I needed to self-evacuate. I turned on my phone and was able to get just enough of a signal to reach Janna. She said she could drive out to the I-17 which I was fast approaching. I put my bike in gear and continued on. Now, I was guzzling tons of water knowing I needed to flush my kidneys and system. Even with all the liquid, when I stopped again, it was a straight flow of cola-colored urine deeply enriched with red blood. By dusk, I sat down in a ditch next to the road waiting for Janna to come off the highway. Janna came and grabbed me. We stopped at a gas station for food and liquids on our way back to Phoenix. As soon as I got home, I urinated again only to find fluids didn't seem to be diluting the blood I was excreting. I drove over to the Emergency Room and checked myself in. After running urine analysis and metabolic tests on my blood, they determined I had rhabdomyolysis and a UTI (courtesy of bacteria in my urinary tract) concurrently. They immediately began pumping IVs through me to dilute and prevent the proteins from clogging my kidneys and causing renal failure. For those unfamiliar, rhabdomyolysis is when your muscles break down, release proteins into the blood (which in high levels clog or overstress the kidneys) causing them to dump your blood into your urine in an effort to clean that stuff out of your system. I caught it early enough and mild enough that they were able to flush my system and discharge me the same night around midnight. But, I'm now on strict directions not to work out for a couple of weeks and to drink fluids all the time. 75 Miles; 4,600 Feet of Gain; Home to Horseshow Campground by Horseshoe Dam Business defines the norm throughout this fall season. Most of my riding and hiking has been confined to smaller allotments. With no fall break, Thanksgiving has presented the first real week-long opportunity to get away on a backcountry trip. I originally aimed to do the Stagecoach 400 in southern California, but the rising cases of COVID-19 made it increasingly untenable and unlikely. I cancelled those plans and decided to stick locally by doing The Fool's Loop The Fool's Loop - Bikepacking.com The route starts from the heart of Phoenix before entering the Tonto National Forest, ascending to Cordes Lakes, take a southward bend down the Black Canyon Trail, and then reentering the Valley of the Sun. I really had never thought of doing it because (a) riding singletrack isn't what I love to do when I bikepack, and (2) it's so close to home I over overlooked it. This changes when local is the song to play. After driving to Phoenix on Friday from the Grand Canyon, I spent the evening packing. Betsy joined Janna and I for the morning start. I wanted to ride from our place down to the official start at The Velo Cafe. We took Washington east to the heart of downtown where little traffic and great weather started the day. Turning north on Central we did find the café, but it was closed permanently. We headed on up Central by avoiding the 3rd Street official route as it had no designated bike lane. Betsy peeled off near Brophy leaving Janna and I to press on. My mind was smashed nostalgic by everything in this morning ride. First, I hadn't spent a proper amount of time in downtown in several years, and even then, it had to have been for only a few visits here and there. This was contrasted to my first ~6 years living here. Everyone in TFA moved downtown for that "central urban life." Janna and I would consequently travel downtown to visit people for our social scene. Lux, Slippery Pig, The George and Dragon, plus others made up our weekly circuit. In addition, I had worked at Teleos Preparatory Academy located at 15th and Jefferson, which I accessed daily by a bike commute from our apartment. Lastly, I spent two years taking my Master's courses downtown at ASU. After those first three years, most TFAers left Arizona to other states and other jobs. Yet, we still had friends who lived downtown. Then, all those friends either moved to the suburbs or the friendships faded, leaving us only First Fridays to have a reason to hit up Roosevelt Row; and we hadn't been to that in maybe 3 years. The ride to downtown along Washington awakened me to the fast-paced building and construction happening around the city. I recently read that Phoenix was experiencing the greatest residential construction growth in the nation and this was pretty much confirmed by what I saw. What were once industrial parks, old buildings, and concrete abandoned pads were now being turned into spruced up lofts, new apartment complexes, and chic restaurants. I just couldn't believe how much had changed and how much would probably continue to change. The urban environment born of building. Heading up Central, the route jumps onto a bridle dirt path that flanks the main road through high-income homes. A right on Glendale brought us to Sprouts where Trailhead Bike Cafe used to be before going out of business. From here, we headed up to Dreamy Draw and passed through the Phoenix Mountain Preserve. On the other side, Janna decided she would turn back to complete her loop. I sped northward before jumping on Reach 11 and crossing easterly into northern Scottsdale. Along with the boom in building has come the ever-rising presence of private property. Three times the route GPX took me through areas that were either newly gated, had large "no trespassing" signs, or (in the case of one cul-de-sac) an entire trail and desert wash had been replaced by straight-up homes. I had to backtrack and reroute around them all, but I found a way. I eventually made it to Brown's Ranch where I entered the McDowell Sonoran Preserve. I rode gorgeous and smooth singletrack across the Preserve along Brown's Ranch Trail and the Stagecoach Trail before being deposited in Cave Creek on the Maricopa Trail. I then rode the Maricopa Trail singletrack across the desert before ending up at the Bartlett Reservoir road. From there, I headed down the steep incline, swung a left onto Horseshoe Dam Road, and did what I consider to be the steepest downhill gravel road for length in Central AZ. Janna and I had ridden up this dusty, washboarded, rutted, insanely graded ride back in April. I would say going downhill definitely made me have to stop to cool my brakes several times. I reached the bottom right after the sun set with evening curling cool toes around every bend. The vast riparian spread of the Verde River cast parallel to me, filled to the brim with water, golden-yellow autumn cottonwood trees, and reeds to fence it all in. I made my way exhaustedly to Horseshoe Campground where I was able to locate a campsite next to two other bikepackers. Turns out they were a father and daughter team out on their first bikepacking trip. They hailed from Chicago, had rented their bikepacking Surly ECRs from The Bike Cellar in Tempe, and were doing the same route as me. They both seemed exhausted by getting here; they noted it took them two days to do what I did in one. We talked for a while before they went to bed. The next morning I would only briefly talk to them as they were awake and gone before first light, telling me they were quitting and heading back to Phoenix. As sure darkness enmeshed me, I bushwhacked through tamarisk, reeds, and river stone to try to access the Verde River with no luck. I asked around the campground for better river accessibility. An awesome group of campers pointed me in the right way but just told me to take their water instead as they were driving out the next day. I drank tons of water because the heat had been killing me all day. The evening was body-temperature perfect with a quarter moon. I sat and just walked around, staring at the sky, and taking a moment to enjoy it all. |