Whoa red, whoa old boy, I said whoa.......

If you have been reading lately you know I am trying to get some miles in on dirt to prepare me for the Dirty Mogollon Mormon Madness permanent I will be riding in a few weeks up on the rim. This morning's adventure would be climbing the Hewlitt canyon road up to the Woodbury Trailhead. I had originally intended to go up to the Roger's Trough trailhead but I ran out of time. Anyway, I am getting ahead of myself.

I had a terrible night sleeping. I woke up constantly. So, when 4:30 rolled around it wasn't hard to get out of bed. Fifteen minutes later I was in the Jeep and speeding down the road sucking on a juice box (yeah I know, breakfast of champions). D'Net had a recital we had to setup at 10:30 and a dance recital for our two daughters right after that so I had to be home around 9 ish. Well, I had to get out early to get a good ride in. Let me tell you it was a good ride. Maybe a little more than I bargained for in fact.

I opted to park at the fork in the road where Hewlitt Station road meets Hewlitt Canyon road to get me in the thick of things quicker since I would be short on time this morning. Dawn was in good progress at 5:30 in the morning as I got the bike ready and headed off up the road. I was not able to maintain a very fast speed due to a few factors. The lower part of this road is a fairly constant 4-5% grade with big dips down into each gully and creek. Also contributing were my "slicks" (treadless tires for mountain bikes for greater efficiency on the road). I had the slicks mounted as I figured they would be the most efficient on the forest roads of the rim. I currently am re-evaluating that assumption as it is much hard to steer the bike in dirt going fast, and the rear traction is not as good with the slicks.

A few miles from the car I had my fall. It was kind of a stupid fall really, my front tire caught some rocks wrong and I couldn't unclip fast enough so down I went. I just received a scrape or two and stood up and rode on again, remembering to be more careful. Everytime I should have been enjoying a good descent (however few there were going up) I always had to put the brakes on because the front wheel was just too squirrelly. I am sure I lost a few mph on average over the course of the ride due to this. As the sun came out and I moved farther up the canyon I hit the hill below. I had to walk down this one, and had to walk up it coming back.


It doesn't look that bad in the picture, but let me tell you, I saw trucks slowing to 2-3 mph on this thing and they were still sliding. This road is recommended 4wd not because it is a bad road per se, but because some of the grades on this road are really nasty. So why was I out here? Good question. Well, I uh, hmmm, I guess this really is a much harder road than any I will be riding up on the rim but...., well...., dang it sure is pretty.

Apart from the occasional truck or ORV it really did have the feeling of solitude out here. In the desert one often sees windmills out there standing as lost sentinels forlorn and forgotten, no longer worrying about pumping water for the cattle. I spotted one though that was spinning and it was actually pumping water. Next to it was a corral that looked like it had been maintained lately. There must be a ranch up in this here neck of the woods.

A little while after passing the windmill things started to get tough. The road was steep but at least it was rideable unlike the above hill which had too much scree on it. Still on some of the steeper pitches I could feel and hear my back wheel spin in spots. Checking out the elevation gains on my map software the last 2 miles of this ride climb around 1000 ft. Grades go anywhere from 10% all the way up to 20% in spots. Let me tell you it was hard work. There was one spot where my heartbeat was throbbing so hard in my ears I had to stop and let it slow a bit.

Reaching the fork in the road where the Woodbury trailhead road turns off I realized I had a command decision to make. I had to turn around in 15 minutes and I had 3 miles of road left to get up to Rogers Trough, combine that with another 800 feet of climbing and it didn't look like 15 minutes would do it. The Woodbury trailhead however was only a mile and a half so I figured I would knock that one off and call it good. I still had 350 feet of climbing to go though. I knew I had done some good climbing this morning when I noticed the Saguaro cacti were gone and here and there I could see Juniper trees. Of course there was the cooler air and the fact my ears had popped twice too.



Upon finally reaching the trailhead I noticed that I was on the edge of the Superstition wilderness. Bicycles and Hangliders not allowed. I knew I should have left my hang glider at home.

Just down from the trailhead old red was parched, and being the good old steed that he is I thought I would oblige him with a drink at the trough before we headed back.

Good old red. We've been through a lot together. I bought this bike around 17 years ago right after I got back from Japan. Suspension was just being invented then, and rear suspension was not even a twinkle in anyones eye yet. It was kind of a mid range bike back then. It was the first bike that I owned that I really rode a lot on. Every kid has a kids bike. This was not a kids bike, this was my first real bike. The bike I rode to all my college classes on. The bike I rode to the top of Mt. Elden in winter in the tracks of a snow cat and melted my brakes on the way down. The bike I road from my house to the inner basin and back on. I rode this thing everywhere. After I got married and graduated I stopped riding it. I moved to the valley and it sat forlorn in my parents garage until we moved into our house. It is only recently that I have started paying attention to the old boy again. Fortunately old friends are quickly forgiving. He may be a little small for me but hey, he's my buddy.

On a side note, I should have been a little more wary when the bike shop guy said hey, we have a last year model bike that is exactly your (and every other customer we have tried to sell this thing to) size!

Descending down those steep roads on old red I am reminded of a time last time I was on a trip with him. I had to put old red in the trailer (it was a boy scout trip where we were doing a mountain bike trek on the Arizona Trail from Flagstaff to Payson) due to a broken spoke and had to pull the bike out that my brother in-law lent us to use as a spare in such a situation.

No one in the camp wanted to ride up to the railroad tunnel just under the top of the rim so I went up alone. The trail/road had similar grades to what this road had. It was raining slightly making the stones slippery and on my way back I was cruising a long when suddenly the bike was out from under me and I gave the ground a big hug with my right shoulder. The ground was not very receptive of my affection and cracked one of my ribs and seperated my shoulder on that side. The ride back to camp would have been a lot less painful with some suspension.

Today I was reminded of that and took it easy. I would have been much faster if I had left the knobbies on instead of using the slicks. I made a mental note to ride old red on the commute this week with slicks one day and knobbies another and see exactly how much they slowed me down as this being super careful business was also a pretty hard blow to average speed.

Yup, that is the road in that picture heading right down the bottom of the canyon. Even after all the steep grades it was still slow going as I nearly ate it a few times hitting little holes full of loose rocks. I was seeing traffic increase on the road and as I descended it was getting warm. Almost too warm actually.

I stopped to take a few pictures but it was getting awful close to 8:30 and that is the time I had to be at the Jeep if I wanted to get back in time. In the end I made it 6 minutes late. Not too bad.

Well, I didn't wander into any ghost towns this time. I got between 2500-3000 feet of climbing in (topo usa says 2500 but it doesn't account for all the dips into the washes), in 20 miles. Not bad for a mornings work. I think I might bag the idea of using slicks for my adventure up on the rim. The knobbies absorb more shock, steer better, and grip better on steep climbs. If they are not that much slower then I am going to put them back on to avoid another cracked rib. In the end I averaged just under 8 mph and had a ride time of 3 hours.

100k Breakfast

Mmmm. Bacon, Eggs, do I catch a whiff of Sausage? Yes, definitely sausage. Smells assault me as I ride down baseline road. Yes, I could afford the calories but I would be feeding elsewhere this morning. Out before the sun I make my 26 mile approach to the mountain, yes, the same mountain I climbed last week. This week I am out a little earlier. I am more rested this week as well. Tomorrow is a busy day but that matters little now. I continue the ride down Baseline until I am at last turning onto Central Ave. The lady at the park entrance tells me they are filming up on San Juan road so that road is closed but the towers are OK. Apparently the towers are being closed tomorrow for a time trial.

I pass the guy that was visiting with the girl before I drove up and he lets me know my blinky is still on. Soon I see the helicopter flying all over the valley with it's camera bubble on the front. At the junction with San Juan a guy in a shiny black car sits. I think he is the guard to keep people from riding down the road and goofing up the filming. On I press up the hill. About now there is probably some big film producer looking at the footage saying "Hey, wait a minute! What is that little yellow and blue speck there in the background? Blow it up. Wow, look at the physique on that guy, we need to make him a star!". Soon I would be looking eye to eye with the helicopter as I climbed further up the hill. Just before I turn the corner to the saddle I see the helicopter in hot pursuit of the black car heading down to the park entrance. It must not have been a guard after all. Soon the copter is gone. Must be off for some more gas. On I climb.

7-8 years ago I climbed south mountain by bike for the first time on a GABA ride. I remember thinking how terrible breakfast would taste after it came up in the last section of the first major climb before reaching the dobbins lookout road. I remember thinking that I was at the top at dobbins lookout road and that the radio towers were just a quick hop skip and jump over a few rollers. I remember trudging along having blown myself up on the first hill and then turning onto the radio towers road and beating myself more over the rollers and thinking I was almost there when I saw the towers loom overhead. Then I turned the corner and saw the 13% grade just under the towers. I thought my heart would pound right out of my rib cage as I stood and hammered, breathing oaths not to stop until the top. I made it but I had to lean on the bars and heave my lungs in and out for a good 4 or 5 minutes. The road surface was rougher than many dirt roads I have ridden on and on the way down my frame pump was jarred loose and broke on the pavement. It was a long weak ride back to the parking lot among the slower group on their way back from San Juan that I caught on the way back. That ride came in at 35 miles or so. I was spent for the rest of the day.

Today I pass the dobbins lookout road pedalling strong and climb up the radio towers road without even getting my heartrate into the 80% range. I am starting to breath a little but not super hard when I get to the top and give the garbage can a victory slap. Were it not for the hazy cloud of the valley I could probably pick out the area my house is in to the east. Today I would have to just settle for seeing the mountains that are around my house off in the distance.

On the way down I have some extra time so I head down San Juan road as I have never been out there. I am surprised to see that it goes down right off the bat. I risk 2 miles of descent down the road and decide I am out of time and that if I am to get to work I need to turn around now. Apparently I had a few more miles to go. The climb back up is not too bad. I think I am a little slower just due to the fact I climbed the towers just before this. At the road junction the helicopter is back and filming the landscape around here. Down in the roadside parking area the filmcrew is sitting outside their cars as I whiz through eyeing the police officer and trying not to whiz too whizzy if you know what I mean.

Soon I am on Dobbins and heading back into this little burg we call Phoenix. The smells of breakfast are gone. Which is ok as the time to eat breakfast is gone too so I will make due with the raisin bran that awaits me in my desk. Breakfast of Champions.

Swooping Ravens of fury.

Once upon a lunch hour dreary, I was jogging, weak and weary,

Over many a drab and tedious road outside my back door.

While I stumbled, nearly crapping, suddenly there came a flapping,

As of strong wings quickly flapping, flapping above my bald head poor.

'tis some garbage' I muttered, 'Flapping, above my bald head poor'.

Only this and nothing more.

Ah, quite distinctly I must say, Twas on a gentle day in May

And each separate passing car, all wrought cool wind upon my face,

Eagerly I ran from sorrow, that I might some fitness borrow,

That I might run fast tommorow- Less weight gain for to stay.

For the intrusive thing called weight gain for to stay.

But of this more I cannot say.

And the quiet flapping air uncertain, from a large black talon'd curtain,

Thrilled me- Chilled me with fantastic terrors never felt before,

So that now I heard the beating wings to start, I glanced retreating,

'Tis some dumb bird entreating perch upon my bald head poor'

Some big black bird, entreating perch upon my bald head poor'

That's enough and nothing more.

Presently the bird grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,

'Caw' he said, 'Caw Caw', and tried to make my poor head sore,

'Dang bird better stop that flapping! Or busily I'll start a slapping'

I yelled to the swooping bird hoping he would fear my roar,

'Don't you try to chase me further ' I said in a voice I used before,

just "Cawing" there, and nothing more.

Down the road I went a peering, Turning my head ever fearing,

The winged assault, cawing and flapping I had heard before,

"Surely" said I, "Surely I've passed this birds nest by now",

He will likely not chase me further down here anymore,

No, he has given up and returned not to flap anymore,

To his nest, to fly and nothing more.

then behind I saw a flutter, and through my person I felt a shudder,

and at me flapped a black raven, an in flight raven with fury sore.

Not the least reluctance showed he, not an instance stopped or stayed he,

But with eyes of fury, focused, focused, on the patch on my bald head poor.

For to perch on with talons of malice, just atop my bald head poor.

A 'caw' he spat and nothing more.

Round the corner, post retreating, Spied a stick I saw for beating,

Beating, at this deranged bird, with enflamed zeal and talons sore.

'Bring it on' I began to yell, 'I'll smack your raven butt n' make it swell',

hating the bird fell, hoping at last i'd even the score.

But trees, and air I saw, only trees and air as those I saw before,

Only this and nothing more.

Sorrow is such sweet parting, I thought once more starting,

To run back through all those roads of which I'd gone before.

But as I returned to pace, I saw a shadow before my face,

Soaring from a hidden place, with flapping fury as he had before,

and regardless of my stick, at my sweaty bald spot his claws tore,

just a flapping felt, only this and nothing more.

Wildy I swung my bow staff, trying for his life to quaff,

Swinging, stinging, my ears ringing, at this bird of forgotten lore,

Flew he then upon the lamp, far above my head so damp,

Cold black talons to slowly stamp, upon the lampost fore,

Sitting staring, cold eyes glaring, from the lampost fore,

Only this, and nothing more.

Ever more I looked behind me, wondering if he would find me,

Looking away from his taloned fury, he held back in store,

But still and solemn he stood, Upon the lamptops hood,

Bidding farewell for good, to my balding head so poor,

Sitting laughing, insolence strafing, upon my head so poor,

humbled by fury, only this and nothing more.

Left turn to nowhere.

Arising at 4:30 AM I was mired in odd jobs I had to accomplish before I would actually get out the door. The front wheel needed truing on my dapple(my 17 year old mountain bike). I needed lots of water/drink. I also needed to get a doughnut for breakfast. All told I was out the door and on the road at about 20 after 5. Since I am riding my new dirt road permanent in a few weeks (Dirty Mogollon Mormon Madness, it is 200k of backroad fun in Northern Arizona) I have been looking for dirt road routes to ride in the meantime for training. Today I would be looking to make a loop of Queen Valley to Ajax Mine Road to Hewlitt Station road. Not all was as expected though. I headed out to the highway from the start of Hewlitt Station road with my trusty GPS logging away. Soon I was out to US60 and riding along until I would take a right out into the desert to head over to Ajax mine road. One of the construction workers inquired what I was doing on their brand new road and told me there were big trucks up ahead but when I told him I was turning soon he was cool about it.

The road heading south had a warning on it saying their would be artillery fire in this area ending today. Hmmm, that's a little unsettling, yet still I pressed on. The road was a little bumpier than I expected (especially seeing as I was using slicks on the tires since I am training for a long ride on dirt roads and not harder stuff). I kept climbing up into the foothills, up and up. After awhile of climbing through the desert and passing a few turns to the west I figured I had to be getting close. I didn't know for sure as I had forgotten to download the route into my GPS. After climbing up into a few hills I found a road I thought would take me up to Ajax mine and then into Superior.

The road quickly descended into the river bed and worked it's way up the canyon. Occasionally a bird would fly away frightened but other than that it was dead silent. On I pressed, up the non-descript desert wash pedalling through sand, gravel, and rocks. Just when I thought the road would never leave the wash I saw a road turn off to the right and climb out of the wash. Tire tracks continued up the wash but in my desperation to get out of the wash I turned right and climbed up the road and into the ghost town of Reymert. I saw the remains of what I now know to be an old processing kiln up ahead. Small roads headed off in all directions but the main one headed off to the right. I had not gone more than 30 feet when a dog started barking and I noticed an old beat up blue pickup ahead with it's hood up. Could it be a ghost? A loony desert dweller? A smuggler? Judging by the honda generator next to the truck I eliminated the ghost. When a rather oldish and weatherbeaten lady came out and called the dog off. I asked her about the way to Superior and she made a comment about nothing in here leading out of the valley and the BLM closing all the roads down.

I thought perhaps of all these roads leading up around the hills one must at least go somehwere. The first one I tried went up to a mine. The second one ended around the corner of the hill. Another leading straight up the hill had small paths branching out off of it which all came back around to the same path. At the top I found a road cut through the side of the hill and knew that this had to be it but it dead ended a hundred yards away. I have no idea why anyone would cut a road through solid rock and then end it. Anyway, I had just blown 40 minutes wandering around what I now know to be the remains of the mining town of Reymert, which had about 75 people living in it in the 1890's, and was bulldozed in the 1970's. I dropped back down into the creek.

At this point I knew I wouldn' have enough time to get up to Superior even if this was the right road. Heading up the creek further I slowly reached the conclusion that I shouldn't have used slicks for this little expedition today. I also decided that if this was the right road I would likely not ride this again as this sand was a major pain in the kiester to pedal through. I finally turned around when it was pretty clear this road would not leave the wash until it hit the end of the canyon and I barely would have time to get back if I did turn around now.

Descending the canyon hammered my hands pretty hard even despite my new ergo grips. I have to admit sometimes I wish I had suspension on the front. I had climbed a bit more than I thought as I emerged from the canyon and headed down the main road to US60. By the time I got back to the car I had 22 miles logged and I was back into civilisation 25 minutes later. What ghosts await me on my next ride to call me into the middle of nowhere?

My ride may have been a bust but if you have to wander into the middle of nowhere, wandering into a ghost town is pretty cool you have to admit. What did the people that live there do? It is hard to believe that all that barren rock and roads had tents and buildings all over it and even a post office. Then one day they all left and the only thing left of all their thoughts, hopes, and dreams was a burnt out old building and a mine shaft up the hill in the middle of nowhere, sitting forlorn through the years and waiting for people who don't want to be found, and the lost souls of misguided randonneurs wandering in the desert.

King of the Mountain

Well, the early bird gets the worm so to speak. Having to take my kids on a church campout tomorrow my chances at a long Saturday ride were nil. So I decided to do an early long ride before work. I figured 55 miles should do it, I also figured this ride should include climbing so I could get some more use out of what I now call my humility gear. I call it that because many cyclists for reasons of vanity push a gear in the hills that does not allow a proper cadence and thus promotes anaerobic effort. Well, I myself prefer a good spin to lugging the engine with a tortured look of pride on my face.

Bruce made a mention of riding up South Mountain in the comments in my last post, and well, goll durn it, I haven't been up there since they put that new fangled "pavement" in. Last time I was up there I broke a frame pump when the extremely rough road jarred it loose and the head snapped off on the road. I would not have that problem today.

The first reason I would not have that problem is because the road is now wonderfully smooth. The second reason I discovered about 2 miles from home. I had forgotten my pump. Well, I knew I would be pressing my luck if I continued seeing as my back tire has over 6000 miles on it and it is getting close to the end of it's life. Well, I was a punk that was feeling lucky with a tight schedule so I took the gamble.

I love riding in the hours between dawn's first light and sunrise. It seems the traffic is lighter and the roads are mine. They also tend to be less windy. I had a wonderful trip across Mesa deciding to bite the bullet and ride Baseline instead of Guadalupe to save 2 miles and around 7-8 minutes as I thought I might need them.

For some reason it seemed like I hit every traffic light in Mesa, but as I drew near to Tempe I found I was hitting more and more lights. I think I had a slight tailwind and that was keeping me up around 20 mph most of the way. After I crossed under I-10 I headed up baseline to where the canal path joins it. I like taking the path even though it is a bit slower but having no pump I noticed several things on the path this morning. Behind one of the new subdivisions some genius decided to plant thorny bush's next to the path, the street crossings are a pain as there is gravel and dirt you have to go through to cross the road, and then there is all the Billy Bob Bottle fragments one occasionally sees (and I did stop to check my tire after the larger patches).

When I finally got to Central Ave the traffic died down as I drew near the park. At the guard station I chatted up the worker there a bit, he has been a roadie before but is a bit rusty. He offered me some bottled water but I was still good on liquids so I thanked him and headed up into the park past the infamous scorpion gulch, which faces another historic building but I guess if one old building looks like an old abandoned bar/fruit stand it gets fenced in and hung with a no trespassing sign. Now, if an old burnt out building has stone walls and a little character and a spiffy name like "scorpion gulch" written on it, well then, that is something worth being proud of people! All it is missing is an old cowpoke laying in the doorway drunk as a skunk with empty whisky bottles laying around him, of course they couldn't be glass whiskey bottles as those aren't allowed in the park.

Climbing up further into the park I have to hit humility gear once or twice on the climb up to the turnoff to San Juan. It was in this stretch that I got passed by the only car I saw between the bottom and the radio towers (andI would later see him parked up at said towers). I also noticed up the road a cyclist climbing up the mountain. Would I be able to catch him? Would the secret weapon humility gear be any match for him?

The answer is yes but seeing as he was on a squeeky old mountain bike I didn't chest thump or call him a sissy girly pansy or anything like that (fact is there are many sissy girly pansies that could serve me a nice cool dish hill dust seeing as many sissy girly pansies are of smaller build and therefore make better climbers). He was the only bike I saw climbing up the mountain (I would see one more on my way down). It was a beautiful morning, the sun was shining, the feet were spinning and all was right with the world.

Cadence you ask? What was my cadence? Well, readers, I am proud to say I did not drop below 75-80 RPM or so all the way up including the bit of 10% grade near the top. I did not go anearobic at all and was in a nice aerobic range most of the way up. I like this humility gear thing.

Passing the rollers at the top I sped back to the turnoff to the towers. I climbed the first couple of blips that remind you your are still climbing, and try and fool you into thinking this is it, you are almost to the top and it is easy to believe them as the folds in the hills hide the bit of the hill that really kills people. Nearing the base of this hill I can look up at the towers and over on the knob next to them I can see a tiny hanging garbage can sillouetted against the sky. Time for pain.

In the end it wasn't bad despite being a 13.5% grade for a quarter mile. My heartrate monitor was beeping me sure, but since I had my upper range set conservatively I can't have been much over 82% of my maximum heartrate. I will say it again, I am really loving this humility gear. I was a little out of breath at the top but not gasping by any stretch of the imagination.

I rode my victory lap around the parking lot and gave a hanging garbage can a good victory slap and I was off to descend and get to work which as the crow flies was only a few miles away but as the Randonneur rides was over 15 miles away.

Going down I saw 2 cars and as I was passing the guard station another cyclist going the other way. Yes, I did have the mountain to myself, yes,I used all the real estate I could get in the corners as I descended and no, there was no park speed enforcement out since it was just lil ol me up on the hill. It was a beautiful thing fair readers.

The ride back was nice and all but compared to the main attraction was dull and similar to my regular commute. Is this route a keeper? Yeah, I will ride this baby again. At 3 hours and 50 minutes of ride time (including lights) I will need to get out just a touch earlier next time though.

Boom ba boom boom.....boom ba boom boom.....

A weathered randonner went out one sunny day,

and on his way to work, he found a brand new way

He figured that he'd find a hill and make the rubber fly,

He set his sights upon, hangin' garbage in the sky...

Yippy yi yayyyyyyyyyy, yippy yi Yooooooo

Hanging Garbage cans........ in the sky.

Now many an old roadie, has climbed this hill so steep,

and panted out his lungs til he thought he'd pass to sleep,

Those big ol radio towers, how they taunt you from on high,

just yards down the road, from hangin' garbage in the sky.

Yippy yi yayyyyyyyyy, yippy yi yooooooo

Hanging Garbage cans........ in the sky

Now our weathered randonneur he spun fast with his poor feet,

And he climbed upon that hill those mocking towers for to meet,

He spat upon the last steep grade n' let out his fearsome cry,

He'd beat those cursed towers, and that garbage in the sky.

Yippy yi yayyyyyyyyyy, yippi yi yoooooo

Hanging Garbage cans......... in the sky.

Paul's deep dark secret.

One night as my wife was heading out the door for some sanity shopping as I put the kids down to bed she announced I had a package sitting on the front step. Could it be my super secret bicycle weapon? Yes, I would need to get the kids to sleep first before getting started. Soon they were asleep and under the cover of darkness I stole to the garage to begin my dark labors. The patient was my roadbike. I hung her up by the ropes I use to work on her. I removed the back wheel and deftly removed the rear cassette. Making sure that no one was looking I installed something every roadie would look at with shock and horror.

If you have read my last few entries you will remember one particular hill that made me bow in abject humiliation. The hill that made me do the walk of shame and battered my thirsty soul. Since then I had been thinking of things I could do for vengeance. Losing weight was an option but not a complete solution (I am down about 10 pounds since my last brevet but I am still in the big guy class and not the puny little but fast climber class). No, we would need to attack this problem from two fronts, and so with the performance bike website up I found my deep dark secret and purchased it. A part that looked so innocent, yet, used in the wrong place could make road cyclists everywhere gasp in horror. Yes, on the backside of my bike, attached to the rear hub, was a Mountain Bike Cassette. It has an 11 tooth high gear, which is the same as your average road cassette, but the low gear is 32 teeth of hill eating fury! At first the idea seemed preposterous but having looked at Sheldon Brown's website I did see that people out there do offer cassettes with lower gears than your average road cassette, and a few posts on bikeforums.net mentioned that it might be possible to even go as high as 32 teeth on the rear with a 105 long cage derailleur(apparently Shimano's specs are very conservative). Let me tell you it is possible, albeit a bit uncouth in the fashion sensitive world of the road cyclist.

My first impressions are that the gears are a little farther apart but if I switch around between the big chainring and the middle one I can find the sweet spot usually. Using Sheldon Brown's gear calculator I only have 2 gears that kind of overlap which is better than your average road cassette on a triple. Best thing of all is the chain no longer skips (the old cassette was really old). So, I have been commuting on this thing and it has been good, but the whole purpose for this cassette is to allow me to tackle 10% + grades without driving the heartrate above 82% percent or so, so I don't go anaerobic. So, Friday morning an opportunity to take a hilly ride occured.

I would warm up on the long 4% grade up the front side of Usery Pass. I laughed at it's insolence. I smirked as I road the whole way up in my middle chainring with my heartrate in the lower end of my aerobic zone and me with the freedom to push it more without having to worry about shifting down. After the long descent down the backside I would then make my way over to a hill known as King Kong that used to be the coup d'etat of El Tour de Phoenix before they changed the route to go up the backside of usery pass which is a longer hill, but only a 4% grade over 4 miles. Kong is much shorter, yes much shorter, but it has a half mile section of 10% grade. Yes, fair readers, 10% grade, that type of hill which spanked me on the climb out of Winkelman and made me ride back to the car with my tale between my legs. I wondered how much of a help this new cassette would be when faced with such a foe. I arrived at the bottom of the hill and looked up the long and steep climb up to the Central Arizona Project canal high above me where the sump under the Salt River pushes the water up the inside of the mountain to emerge in the canal at the top. I would climb over 260 feet in the next mile and most of that would be in a steep half mile section of 10% grade.

Well, fair readers, I am pleased to say as I shifted down, down, down into that Franken Granny gear, my heartrate slowly began to rise. I climbed on, we were pushing to the middle of the aerobic range, and still it climbed. Around the middle I heard my heartrate alarm go off, but the heartrate seemed to peak at a beat or two over the conservative value I had assigned the alarm to. I was still climbing at a sustainable heartrate. That means, with this gear, I could climb 10% grades over a fairly long distance without going anaerobic and burning out. After topping out I found that I still had energy where I usually was gasping for breath and then relied on the downhill to get me home. I pedaled stongly forward and quickly sped home in time trial mode delighted at having so much energy at the end of this ride where before I had been weak. So, next time I see that hill behind Winkelman, he will not be so lucky. I shall stare him in the face and say- "Hallo...My name is Indigo Montoya, you made me walk, prepare to die!".

A day in the life of......

Here is where it all begins ( at least since D'Net broke her leg and I have had to strart driving part way). This is the Gilbert park and ride. From here it is a quick jaunt through scenic downtown Gilbert down to the consolidated canal.



Ah, the beautiful bank of the consolidated canal. I don't know if this shortens my route or not but it sure is more quiet.

More consolidated canal. I take a lot of pictures of this 2 miles of my commute because it is actually maybe a little pretty.
Auugh! Town Manager-Hey mayor, I know how we can really tick those roadie bicyclists off, lets build a bike path to the middle of nowhere and then force them to ride on the dirt with their pretty little racing tires!

Thenk Yuh, Thenk Yuh very muuuuch.

Heading under the 202 and into.....More Chandler.

A hot and Tired Randonneur crawls out of the desert, throat coughing up dust, and lo! Is it a mirage? Out in the distance there is that savior of many an Arizona Randonneur, that oasis in the desert, the local watering hole, the ever present Circle K.

Ok, back to real pictures from my commute., Yes, the now defunct SOMA healthfood cafe has been redeveloped as the "Heart Attack Grill". Featured on the menu are the Angioplasty triple beef quad cheese ultimate burger, the fried chicken stent surprise, the triple bipass bacon burger, the My-O-Cardial infarction fry basket, and the Chest Pain fried cheese sticks to name a few.

Great place to do business right? I always get a bit of a chuckle when passing this sign.

And, lastly we arrive at our destination in the shadow of the radio towers on South Mountain.