It was Terry’s spring break, and after visiting my mom and step-dad in Mohave Valley, Arizona, we swung over to Sedona to indulge in some riding. I hadn’t been to Sedona in twenty-two years. Back then, the tony desert enclave was known for its Southwest art, energy vortexes and ancient Anasazi ruins cleaved into ruby cliffs. There was also good rock climbing
(home of The Mace
, a classic ascent of a 300-foot tower). All of this is still there today, but what’s new is that Sedona has become the next Mecca for mountain biking—or at least that seems to be the word on the blogs and from riders who have been there. It was worth investigating. Besides, we were past due for a road trip anyway.
We hiked the Munds Mountain Trail in its late day splendor. After four hours of driving, it was invigorating to get out and stretch our legs. The desert was cool and serene, deep shadows etching the bluffs and valley floor while the steep ramparts of Mount Wilson still basked in the sun. The surreal backdrop recalled Castaneda’s
Journey to Ixtlan, and any moment I expected the shaman Don Juan himself to amble up the path with his all-knowing glower. We paused and relished the moment. One never tires of watching a desert sunset.
Our first night, we dined at El Rincon in the Tlaquepaque Plaza, where Flamenco guitars and Spanish love ballads further enriched the ambience. Over margaritas and dinner, we discussed our itinerary—after all, we had come to Sedona to do some biking, had we not? Terry asked: "What trails do you have in mind?” Well, trails that don’t land me in the emergency room
(again) would be a good start.
Conflicting emotions flared in the morning as we geared up to ride. On the one hand
(no pun intended), I was apprehensive with getting back in the saddle just seven weeks after my carpal tunnel surgery. But on the other hand, I was biting at the bit to get on the trail with my new bike. I had ordered up a Trek
Fuel EX9 29’er, and Doug built it and brought it home just days before we were to depart. I was stoked. But I was also worried about crashing and re-injuring my hand. It was classic yin-yang.
The
Big Park Loop trail network was first up in the morning. It was rated “easy,” and having not been on a bike in two months, that was quite okay with me. However, there were loose baby heads galore in sections, which served to be counterproductive to building confidence. This was considered an easy trail? Really? Even more disconcerting, there are scant few “easy” trails in Sedona, so at some point, we’d have to move on to the harder stuff. Nevertheless, my sweetheart was as spry as a jackrabbit through the rocky parts. For me, it took a while. The second mile felt easier than the first, and the third mile felt easier than the second… Slowly it was coming back.
It is said that the portal to one of Sedona’s four geomagnetic vortexes is located on Bell Rock, where seekers clamber up the sandstone monolith to embrace the energy that surges out of Mother Earth like an invisible cyclone. The trunks and limbs of nearby juniper trees have a spiral twist to them, suggesting that something’s going on here. Some folks contend you can feel the “rush” well before you reach the bell-shaped rock. We certainly felt a rush on the approach. But I think ours was caused by the daunting cactus garden we were compelled to ride through, where needle-sharp spines were poised to pierce both tire and hide at your first mistake.
The
Llama Trail was our introduction to Sedona's intermediate-level terrain. It had it all: Twisty turns; fast-flowing singletrack; rock slabs; technical drops and climbs—and a breathtaking photo op around every bend.
In my head, I repeated the mantra again and again: “See the line, BE the line.”
I was barreling down the trail when I came upon a big drop of jumbled slabs, and a klaxon went off in my head and I choked and slammed on the brakes. No way, man.
Ter rolled up beside me, stopped and peered over the drop. “Go for it,” I told her. “I’ll get a photo.”
She fell for it.
Backing up a ways to get a rolling start, she charged down the drop, totally nailing it, and rocketed down the trail, disappearing into the trees. “No problem,” I heard her call out in the distance.
Damn it. Now I had to do it.
See the line, be the line.
I was elated when I shot through the gauntlet unscathed. Then again, there were bigger drops to come.
So we're riding along this big slab shelf on
Llama Trail, Ter leading the way, and next thing I know, she's leading us up a dry creek bed into a juniper forest, and the trail is becoming narrower by the minute. What the heck? Dear, are we off route? She stops, shrugs, and points to a rock cairn and tire tracks in the dirt. Okay. So we forge on. But fairly soon the track disintegrates into a boulder-strewn sand trap about three feet wide with overhanging brush. Clearly we are up the proverbial creek on this one.
Sure enough, returning to the big slab shelf, we immediately see where the actual trail takes a sharp turn and traverses westward. In fact, the trail map we had snagged at the local bike shop made a note of
it: "Trail makes sharp left turn at rock slabs."
That’s right folks, when all else fails, read your topo map.
Livin’ it up on the Llama Trail.
We watched the sunset from a rooftop table at Oaxaca’s in downtown Sedona, tipping back margaritas and winding down the day. My left hand ached from the riding, but tequila and ibuprofen solved the problem soon enough. Life was good.
In the morning, the grind up
Cockscomb was warm. Hot, really. We took an extended break in the shade of a juniper halfway up the grade, quenching our thirst with more water. Silence and beauty pervaded the red-rock country around us. At times like this, the rest stops are the best part of the ride.
Further along, we met two women hiking down the trail. They were looking for the vortex that was supposed to be in the area, and asked if we had seen it. Nope, we assured them, we hadn’t. They thanked us and continued on. We headed down another trail, but it got me to thinking: What does a vortex portal look like anyway?
Durango Bob, our affable campsite neighbor, had recommended a trail called
Aerie, so we decided to give it a whirl. Right out of the gate, we were sucking wind the first mile and a half, steadily climbing the west slopes of Doe Mountain. Had it been negotiable to pedal along in granny gear, it would have been a cruise. But due to the rocky nature of the trail, speed and momentum were your friends, obliging you to use a higher gear and go faster. Uphill.
The highpoint of
Aerie is on the north side of Doe Mountain. From here, it was an exhilarating run down fast-flowing switchbacks.
Hurtling around the bend, I felt a distinct surge of energy and vertigo, and was awestruck by what I saw before us: The trail ran straight into a vortex! Now what? Was it safe? Would we be transported to another dimension where we’d never have to pay income taxes again? Would we find the missing Malaysia Airlines plane on the other side? There was only one way to know. So we pedaled on.
The last blast of the trip was a high-speed romp down
Cockscomb and
Dawa. Just how fast do you wanna go?
The sun was setting when we got back to town: our third Sedona sunset. The margaritas and food at the Barking Frog were out of this world, the best yet. Pulling into our campground, we parked under a canopy of big sycamores beside Oak Creek and settled in for the night. In the morning we would start home. With all the amazing trails here, we had merely scratched the surface. Which meant only one thing: We’ll be back.
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Trails we rode:
BIG PARK LOOP – Darn challenging for an “easy” trail.
PHONE TRAIL – Easy and mundane.
LLAMA TRAIL – Terrific drops in a magnificent setting.
ARIZONA CYPRESS – A cruise along a dry, shady creek.
COCKSCOMB – Fast fun on the downhill.
AERIE – Technical uphill w/ fast-flowing downhill (keep an eye out for the vortex).
DAWA – Similar to Cockscomb.
Places we dined while searching for the perfect Margarita:
EL RINCON – Good margaritas; excellent food; amorous atmosphere with live Flamenco music. Ole!
OAXACA – Okay margaritas; so-so food; outstanding view of the sunset from rooftop dining area.
THE BARKING FROG – The best margaritas; excellent food (try the cactus fries). One of the waiters had a cast on his arm: broke it while mountain-biking. My kind of place.
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