Brothers on a Mountain
At 10 years my elder, my brother Matthew’s role in my life has developed from “helping me with cheat codes on Podracer” to “distant college kid who plays with RC planes” to “cool dad” and finally to “experienced peer, compatriot and mentor”. We have never had more in common than after he showed me the magic of pedaling a bike around on tarmac and dirt. Even still, I’ve been playing catch-up on the dirt side, as he’s got years of experience on me.
I’ve had 6 or 7 months with my first substantial mountain bike. It’s a single-speed hardtail 29er, which wraps up a moderate learning curve, a lot of fun, and considerable cred into one lightweight package. Since Matt’s employment requires long periods away from home, I hadn’t the chance to show him the new bike.
Given a brief window surrounding Labor Day to plan a retreat away from the heat of southern/central Arizona, we wanted to spend a few days in Portland. That didn’t work out. Maybe a weekend-long tour around the Mogollon Rim on cross bikes? Too much planning, too little time.
We settled on a super low-effort weekend in Flagstaff with two goals: chill out and ride mountain bikes. Travel-accumulated hotel points made lodging convenient and comfortable. Tucson’s very own Chad came along as well to get in on the fun.
Despite some frustrating Labor Day traffic, we all made it up north Friday night for some dive bar drinks and vicarious karaoke at Granny’s Closet before a full night’s rest in our luxurious Embassy “nonsmoking” suite.
In the morning, we mozeyed through a hot continental breakfast of adequate quality and eventually made it out to the Shultz Creek trailhead. As is tradition, some trailhead beer was consumed, and trailhead bike maintenance was performed using said beer can (thanks Mark Bishop!). Noon was approaching, but the mountain air was breezy and perfect so no worries were had.
Matt plugged the route concocted over decent eggs and palatable danishes into his Garmin, and we rode out. The route started with an ascent up Moto Trail parallel to Shultz Creek, but we missed the turn off, so we just went up Shultz Creek anyway. It was my third time up, and each time I’ve gotten a little better. Leaving Shultz Creek behind, the ride consisted largely of steep fireroad climbs, and some steep technical sections (aka hike a bike for me). Matt put on a good show of clearing 95% of the trail; Chad and I had about equal hiking time.
There was a reprieve from the climbing that involved a loose narrow catwalk-esque connector trail. All the hiking and single-speed-induced leg-pressing induced a bit of jelly into my legs, and so this section was still a bit challenging for me; it was still a welcome diversion between sections of extensive ascent.
After a bit more riding/hiking, we made it to the Sunset Lookout, at 8600 ft. For context, the trailhead was at 7200 ft above sea level, the ski resort is located at 9000 ft, and the highest point on the mountain is 12600 ft (Humphreys Peak, the highest point in AZ). As good of a spot as any to take a break and scarf down LARABARs and take some siq photos. Some friendly hikers warned us of two sets of equestrians on the trail below. We’d have to be on the lookout for these gentle beasts as we descended the trail.
We hit the dirt again, and it immediately turned its neatly-groomed slope down the mountain. We passed the first set of horses after the first batch of fun, and the pace only picked up from there, inversely correlated to the slope of the trail itself. A few more rock and root drops started peppering the trail, but nothing outside of my skill. Some of the eponymous characteristics of my hardtail began to show themselves with more aplomb along these sections; no matter how much the bike tried to buck me off, I managed to stay attached to the pedals with the #rubbersidedown.
Having achieved a sort of zen-like focus on following the trail and staying upright, I was suddenly required to come to a slow as I came upon a bit of a verbal outburst coming from a horse-back rider off trail.
“You guys need to slow down!!! This horse could F%@#ing kill me, it’s only a baby! Go ahead on, she can see you now!”
The excitable horse and human behind us, and with an awkward silence in the air, the three of us continued screaming down Sunset trail. I could detect the acrid smell of burning brakes, a realized combination of my underdeveloped confidence and undersized brake rotors.
Some minutes of pure thrills and weary self-suspension later saw us now at the top of Shultz Creek trail, where we could now cruise along the up and down drop through the creek bed, once again clearing the notable rock garden, all the way back to the parking lot, a certain advantage of this type of route. Nothing better than tasting the so-called fruits of one’s physical labor all the way until the bike gets stowed on the Yukon’s rear bike rack; “downhill to the parking lot” is a trail feature well-regarded by mountain bikers everywhere.
We briefly lamented one oversight now glaringly obvious- we neglected to stash a cooler of beers in the car before we got to the trailhead! No matter, we would reconcile this lack in no time, with great help from local noodle-monger SOSOBA (thanks for the free stout, fellas!). We stuffed our bellies with pork products and udon noodles while decompressing into our patio dining chairs.
In the end, I learned I’d like some lower gearing, and maybe more than just one gear, but I earned a bit more bike cred with my brother, which was just as satisfying as it should be.
