Where to begin? How about the beginning...

Only about 4 of us showed up. Susan seemed a bit suprised. I don't know if she even made up her gas money for the day. We set out at 6 and left some cue sheets at the cars in case anyone else showed. She said that one guy she was expecting was famous for showing up at the last minute by speeding past the DPS station up the road. He was a no show, so we were off.

Susan led us out of town in her truck. It was mostly a shakedown slow ride to make sure we had ourselves in order. I wanted to go faster just to warmup a little. My toe warmers and gloves were doing nothing for the extremities, and I was glad I was riding a tri bike because I was tucked into a huddle for warmth more than for any aerodynamic benefit. I learned later it was right about at 32F.

Just before we made the last turn out of Casa Grande Susan drove off, and we started to figure out who could best read directions by the light of their bike headlamps. I eventually got the hang of it by resting into aero position with the card between my hands at the end of my bars. We crossed over I10 to make our first self-navigated turn, and Susan was there. "Was she going to do this all day?" I wondered, but it turned out she had some concerns about our tail lights. One guy's had already fallen off, so she gave him a loaner. Mine apparently wasn't visible enough under all my tail baggage around the rear bottle holders. I had to move the troublesome rubber band down around an even thicker section of aero tubing. Luckily it was loostened up and stretched right around. She told the other two of the guys to go on since they had no problems, and I waited while they put on the new light for the other rider.

I rode with this guy for a while, and we chatted. I think this was Mark, but I'm horrible with names. We saw some glimmer of hope for a sunrise as we headed East. For a while there was a smooth faster patch where I picked up the pace a bit and dropped Mark. I actually thought he was keeping up ok, but looked back and didn't see him. I did see Dave's tail light up ahead, so I kept up a good cadence and passed him in short order. So much for having a group to help with directions. I assume the 4th guy (Paul?) must have made a wrong turn because I never saw him again and his car was still there when I finished.

Past Coolidge we started on the roughly 40-50miles of false flat uphill, into the wind, with the sun in our face. Needless to say it was somewhat brutal. First I thought it was just the wind as I looked down and realized I was having a hard time holding 15MPH. That lasted about 11 miles. Susan was stationed at one spot along here taking pics, but that was the only smile I made. I turned onto HWY 79 to realize that's where the wind was really coming from. 15mph became a nice memory for the next 30 miles, and despite the sun it was still pretty cold. I ate my first carboom and had to chew it because it was so congealed.

Along the last 10 miles to the first checkpoint/breakfast stop I started hearing a squeak that I couldn't place. My tires looked ok. Nothing appeared to be rubbing, but it would only start when I tried to push harder. Learning a lesson from Standswithfist, I stopped and let up the brake latch on my rear tire and looked a bit more thoroughly for other rubbing spots. I hoped that was it and that maybe that was partly to blame for my slow speed. It wasn't. A mile or so later I heard the telltale sound of a flat in my front tire forming. It was a slow leak.

I couldn't find a source, so I just changed it and filled it with CO2. My luck with CO2 however continued with rightious indignity. As I pulled off the chuck from the stem, now frozen with dry ice from the fast-escaping CO2, the thing broke clean off. I yelled some expletive at this point, but realized that dang if the thing wasn't holding air! And it was full! I pondered it for a moment and decided to try my luck and ride it to the checkpoint where there would be a floor pump. I smiled again for my picture as I pulled into the rest stop.

I changed the tube again there. The broken tube was holding, but I wasn't going to risk another 40 miles. That was my last tube though. Secretly for the rest of the ride that little fact gave me hope that I'd have an excuse to call for a rescue if I got just one more flat. I had a few laughs about the incidents so far with Susan, and I headed out just after Mark and Dave pulled in. This was the last I saw of them too.

The climb continued for the better part of this leg. I never got it up past 15 or so, and my hopes for getting to the Saturday night BT party were slowly slipping away. Somewhere along here I think I had a short conversation with Jesus. He assured me that I didn't need to be a part of that debauchery anyway, and that this was a little taste of forty days in the desert with temptation at arms reach away. (Hey, at least it got me through the ride.)

I don't know precisely where I finally crested the false flat, but it was a beautiful feeling when I did. The descent into Oro Valley was fan-fricken-tabulous. This was about the only reason why I didn't call my inlaws from Tucson right then and there to come take me back to my car. The only downside to the rest of this leg was when I managed to pass the last turn into the checkpoint. I didn't make it far. I was counting miles and realized just as I passed it that it might have been the turn. I didn't stop for long.

Leg 3 was identical to the Oro Valley section of El Tour de Tucson. This was the one familiar stretch for me, so it went pretty well. The roads on the west side of I10 still suck. (Please tire, please tire, just blow!) No such luck.

I knew Gates Pass was coming soon, so I took it easy for the next couple miles. When I finally got to the turn to go up the hill I stopped for a bit, rested and ate a gel to get my courage up. I had no idea what to expect. The climb started out pretty gradual. I didn't have to granny gear it for a while. It got steadily steeper and steeper until the last 100 yards or so were a real standing climb. Again, I had no idea what to expect, only that this spot on the cue sheet said 4.7 miles. I went into it totally thinking that this climb was going to last that whole stretch, so I was pleasantly supriised to see the downhill part was wrapped into that 4.7. That was a good time, a nice winding steep downhill where you could go faster than the cars. From there it was just a few rolling hills before lunch.

I took a long break at lunch. I totally refilled my bottles and put some in the camelback too. Susan was going to be there at the finish, so I gave her the powder bag again. She had turkey wraps and chips and the leftover breakfast goodies laid out. I had half a turkey wrap and pocketed the other half. We chatted for a bit, and I quized her on the terrain for the second half. She gave me a few pointers about the directions. Apparently she would not be at the next stop. It was a grocery store in the middle of nowhere, about 60miles ride from lunch, and I should expect to see odd things like farm equipment pulling up to the drive through window (at the grocery store). It was going to be flat though, and that's all I cared about.

My biggest mistake of the day came shortly after lunch. The directions said to take Mile Wide Rd to the end and turn right on Sandario. I also misread the next 2 lines which said to continue going straight for about 10 and a half miles. When I turned onto Mile Wide I saw an endless downhill in front of me and I rejoiced. This was short lived. The road started to get rough, so my happy speed didn't last. There were a pair of one lane bridges, and then the road turned to dirt! WTF?! I pulled out the directions and found that the stop sign about a mile or two back was Sandario, the directions should have said to turn at the stop sign instead of at the "end", and the 10.5 miles was actually on Sandario.
DOH!
I found my way back on course, and headed North on Sandario. This was a long slow incline for a while, but eventually flattened out. A few more turns and a few more miles later I was back at I10.

The directions from here were basically to head north to the market and then west into Casa Grande. It was just a good 40+ miles of that. The directions had us skirting I10 for 24 miles through Picacho. There was a marked spot for a food stop at the Picacho Peak DQ. I stopped there for a restroom break and pondered buying something, but I thought I'd get some coffee at the market/checkpoint since we had to get a receipt to prove we stopped there. It got dark on the way to Picacho, so the lights came back on. There was really nothing interesting to do along there except count the beeps from my watch that indicated the passing miles. I tried to pick up the pace a bit to make the beeps come faster. There was a train stopped along the way that started going in my direction. I wondered if the conductor would mind if I hopped on for a few miles. I couldn't make that logistically work in my head (good thing since that means my head was still working). I drank my emergency boost to keep it that way.

There was only one more tricky spot in the instructions. The last turn before a 10 mile straightaway to the market was a weird intersection where the directions again said to turn at the "end" instead of at the stop sign. The "end" was on the other side of the street, and there was a perfectly reasonable stretch of road to take over there. There was a creful hint in the directions though, "Don't go to Eloy!". I went down the road for a half mile or so and saw a sign that said "Eloy 3 mi". Not too bad of a wrong turn. The real disapointment came when I was all happy that this was the last stretch till the market. I looked at the distance to read a big fat 10. Ten miles of nothing in the dark till the end of this leg. Start counting the beeps again.

I got to the market and blew right by it. The place and the whole intersection was dark. I was saved by counting my beeps. When I read the directions for more clues I realized they were describing the corner I just passed, maybe another half-mile mistake. Now here's the dillema. No market, no one to sign my card. Darkness. I thought about it for a bit, then did my best to shine my headlights on the market and take a picture with my cell phone. (see the pic below) There was no way I wasn't getting credit for this one!

From there it was one 11 mile stretch into Casa Grande, the Big House. 11 beeps, a few lights and turns later I was back at my car and waking up Susan who was sleeping in her truck. It was 9 and I had a party to get to.

I would not do this again.

A little stretch and chat with Susan about the directions. The last bit through town was too stop-and-go to go fast, so it was an ok "cool down" (as the temps dropped back into the 30s).


Weather, time of the year, knowledge of the course, and lack of other people were the main detractors. If any of the above were better I think I would have had a much better and faster ride.


This was one of the most grueling and frightening experiences I have ever endured. Not because of the distance, mind you, but because of the combination distance, weather, lack of participation, and course. I was out in the middle of the desert in winter, alone, at night, in litterally freezing weather. Just me and my bike. It was something I won't soon forget, but it was something I'll never do again...until next time.