Alamo & Telegraph Canyons

This Friday was my "every-other Friday off" which means I try to get out on a "new-to-me" trail for a little exploring. I've been eying Picketpost all summer long, which is segment 17 of the Arizona Trail that winds through Alamo and Telegraph Canyons. Waiting patiently for a cool day after months of night rides and pine rides.....Friday presented itself with high's in the mid 60's.

Riding away from the truck, I was instantly transfixed by the massif in front of me, Pickpost Mountain. I thought to myself how one could get to the top as I climbed gradually, heading south.

The northern section of the trail was very fun, buff singletrack that wound it's way through boulders; up and down through side-drainages descending off of the western flank of the mountain.

Fractured boulders the size of small homes littered the apron of sediment below the cliffs which are the same unit of rock forming the saddle of Pass Mountain. Born of a giant volcanic avalanche of glowing ash and rock, the beautiful multi-colored and layered rock let my mind wander.

Stopping for a break to inspect a boulder closer, I marveled at it's sometimes fine texture; interrupted by the occasional large clast....and a single strand of wild grass.

Moving onward, I was on the lookout for side canyons containing large groves of Sycamore which I hoped were about to start their fall transformation into a sun-burst of yellow....but I was a bit too early. I'll be back to explore, on foot, some of the side canyons pressing into the toe of the mountain where I'll be sure to find some sunlight...

As I continued on, I transitioned out of Alamo Canyon and dropped into Telegraph Canyon where they overlap each other en echelon. As I left the soft formed, tan colored volcanics of Alamo Canyon behind; I transitioned into a world defined by angular, dark and shiny schist propping up magnificent stands of Saguaro. The similarities to Black Canyon Trail were uncanny with the rock type being the same as found on sections of the BCT. However my pace was much slower given the tight and twisty nature of this trail vs. the high speed, run-out spaces within the BCT.

It was at this point I became hyper aware of the absolute sound of silence. Looking around, I noticed the track in front of me barren; behind me, the sole imprint of my leading tire pressing onward presented itself. Save the occasional call from a Cactus Wren or the sign of mule deer on the trail...the environment around me beyond the sights was devoid of stimulus. This was a visual trip for sure, and this trip was dialed up to 11.

Stopping for lunch by an AZT sign; I unpacked a hard-boiled egg, some roasted garlic humus and a pita. I quickly found myself hounded by some curious bees who were trying to get at my carbo drink as it oozed out of the bite valve on my camelback, into the porous soil beneath me. I have a child-like fear of 3 things: flying things that sting, crawling things that suck blood, and clowns......so I mounted up and pushed on.

The post-card views continued to amaze me as I pushed on, the mature Saguaro did not disappoint.

Noticing another change in the rock as I crested a hill, I was amazed to find a granite boulder, fractured and weathered, perched upright in my path. The strength and beauty of the geometric fracture sets resisting the eons of erosional time stood in stark contrast to the rest of the landscape which owed it's existence to erosion.

Turning around to head home, I took another shot of the beautiful saguaro I had previously photographed...this time zooming out to give the riders perspective.

The textural exploration of the trail continued, finding patterns of life and death expressed in equally beautiful ways.
Returning to my truck, I felt a sense of calm much like the moment before one drifts off to sleep. This was belied by the 18 miles and 3,000 of vertical I had just traversed....I felt as if I had done nothing more than flip through a AZ Highways calender. This affection remained with me the rest of the day, until I drifted of to sleep...when one last image flashed across the neurons before fading......

Everyone wins with Brisket (or tofu)

This post is belated, mostly due to the time it took for me to get out of my self-pitty pool....but I've decided that everyone wins, regardless of the games outcome...as long as you have Pecan Pie, Beef and Beer.

Mrs. Maad and I started off early in the week by getting the baking out of the way, so this meant applying the finishing touches to my Pecan Pie....

And a new addition for this year....some longhorn cookies...with plenty of OU themed icing....all served upside down. I even ensured, in a kosher manner.....that all cookies were prepared, inserted into the oven and served upside down....

After picking up Mr. Adams from the airport Thursday night....Dr. Sooner came over and helped out with the prep of the largest piece of Bevo we had planned....a 15lb briskie.....

We had a good thing going...one man on foil...one man on the Tuck Fexas rub....and me...beating and pounding the hell out of Bevo with the rub....

Into the fridge this beast went for an overnight flirtation with the dry rub....only to be kicked out of bed early the next day (Friday) by me to apply a layer of good ole' mustard.......

and then some coarse grained spice to promote a nice thick bark....

Starting the smoke out with a mix of 1/4 mesquite, 3/4 hickory.....

The plan was for a 24 hr cook time at a dome temp of 220 F, cesation of smoke at the plateau somewhere around 165, and a pull at 190 F internal temp...or whenever a probe into the heart of this beast felt like soft butter.....

as you can see from the internal temp....it's got a way to go.....

Leaving this beast for a while with the flowers and smoke (if you're lookin', you aint cookin)....Mr. Adams and I took a quick spin around Hawes before commencing on the beer drinking proper out on the patio.

Since this was Mr. Adams first time out at Hawes....on a loner bike from me....and his first time on the bike in a while...I took it easy....by doing Mudflaps at the beginning of the ride....

At least the air was clear of dust and other inhibiting pollution....

However as we rode on and the temp began to climb......my mind drifted to the sweet smell of mesquite smoke and thoughts of the meat....so we pedaled on...

After getting home, cleaning up, eating some burritos....we went to pick up the keg and prepare the second round of life....Longhorn ribs....

By this time....I was running a fever with chills and cold sweats...I had clearly been coming down with something all afternoon....but I'd be crazy to sit this one out....so chugging down some more beer(which was soooooo good for me)....I weathered on with the able help from the meat crew once more to make a meat train.....

which then transitioned into the Tuck Fexas dry rub train.....

Which were then foiled up for a rest overnight in the fridge just like the briskie which was now at an internal temp of 150....getting close to that heat plateau and stall point....Dr Sooner and Mr. Adams continued to drink and shoot some fuzzy pictures while I collapsed on the couch with a raging fever, passing out with the meat probe alarm next to my ear....

Beep-Beep.....Beep-Beep.....Beep-Beep.....I rubbed the crust off my eyes, looked at the clock which read 2:12am...I had only been sleeping for an hour and 45 minutes...but saw this.....

190 F internal temp achieved over the course of 18 hours, I grabbed my headlamp and headed outside to probe the meat...felt like soft butter...so I grabbed it and brought it inside to be foiled and placed into a cooler stuffed with blankets to continue to heat up and rest unassisted for the next 9 hours.....I was quite pleased with the look of this bark.......

Passing out in my bed this time, still with a fever...I set my alarm for 0500 so that I could get the smoke started again for the ribs....targeting a serving time of 1100. Waking up in the early dawn, my fever broke...I felt like a crisp 10 dollar bill as I lit the fire to keep me and the ribs company....

The rest of the day went as planned (except winning the game and seeing Sam Bradford's last collegiate snap). Folks came and went...no more pics were taken...except for the pic of the spread prior to eating. I was very pleased with the outcome of the briskie....it came out so tender...it was falling apart. I managed to dry the ribs out a bit though...trusting the 2-2-1 formula above my common sense. Lesson Learned....Next year they'll be as good as the briskie....and OU will beat texas! Many thanks to all who came and brought good cheer....and special thanks to the folks who showed up early to help drink some beer, prep food and hang out. I'm not sure how I would have managed through the fever without your help.

You Lie! Black Canyon City Weatherman!!

The Black Canyon City Weatherman lies! And that's the truth. Every time I head out to ride the BCT, I check Black Canyon City weather. The temps should be the same given they are roughly a mile apart at their closest....and in fact, the BCT is a bit higher in elevation...so the temps should be a bit cooler.

In any event....the weather that morning read 78 degrees as a high....so I reasoned the BCT would be a nice 75....I had to go do a lolipop.

Leaving the Borg Collective behind was hard enough with wicked slow traffic on the 202, so I was running 20 minutes late by the time I pulled off the jeep road, pulled LaFawnduah from the back and suited up. The temps felt great....so I set off for some good times.

Heading south, I looked off my right shoulder to see the moon setting slowly above the Bradshaws.

I also tried to turn the moon into a christmas ornament hanging off of this mesquite branch.

Descending down to the first crossing of the Agua Fria, I was met with the pleasing sight of cottonwoods and the wonderful smell of water in the desert....there's nothing like it.

Struggling through the 6 foot tall undergrowth, I was extremely aware of my inability to see snakes...so I trusted that pushing my bike ahead of me through the canes would alert anything out there in time to beat a hasty retreat. Clearing the reeds, I breathed a sigh and started pushing out of the wash when.....

The video is a bit shaky....but I was a bit amped...as was he/she. It was coiled less than 3 feet at my 11 o'clock when I first heard it and jumped back. It then started to beat a hasty retreat, yet keept it's head aimed at me the entire time.

Moving on past the snake beach, I started the big climb on the day....4 miles to go...but a great view of Black Canyon as a reward.

Knowing that I'd get this sweet descent as a reward on the way back, I continued on, dropping down into washes with wonderfully fractured schist

The hydrothermal alteration provided a wonderful background to shoot some closeups

After a few more switchbacks, I became aware of the ever lighter load on my back as I sucked my water down

Looking up at the Bradshaws...I noticed that the moon was now gone....as well as most of my water. I cursed myself for not bringing my water filter....the Black Canyon City weatherman has screwed me for the last time....It was clearly not 75 degrees....it felt more like 90.

I reasoned that I would get to the Pan Loop intersection and make a call there as to if I would do the loop, or turn back. Just north of the loop....I looked down and saw something not terribly out of place in the desert...but an omen nonetheless....I decided to do Pan Loop another day and turn back at the intersection....considering the femur to be another victom of the Black Canyon City weatherman...albeit, the bovine kind.

Returning the way I came...I had a great view of the large quartz veins popping out of a hill to my east....I wished it had been snow.

Climbing up to the crest of the big downhill, I spied part of my future ahead of me...each switchback etched into the dry landscape like a reminder of the times the Black Canyon City weatherman has screwed me.

After the final descent, I rode through the Agua Fria...stopping to splash water on my face and to cool down.

The rest of my ride was uneventful, save running out of water on the last mile. Realizing that over the course of 5 hours, 3.5 liters of water was not enough....I pledged to not do the BCT ever again without my filter....and to never trust the Black Canyon City Weatherman ever again.