Looking Down on Sedona
As New Englanders who had ridden in the desert Southwest only a few times, I can confess that none of the plans we made prior to flying into Flagstaff were going to happen. You hit the ground in Arizona and quickly realize that nothing books or the internet could tell you would be sufficient prep for the reality of the landscape, the beauty and the wildness of the place.
Cactus Spines & Tires, Natural Enemies
For example, we thought the 65 miles from Flagstaff to Sedona would be a relatively easy roll, the prelude to a much larger adventure, but the pasture land that stretches between was hard going, rough and rutted, each step the cattle had taken in the drought parched soil was baked solid, and we wondered at the firmness of our fillings before we’d made any progress at all. Given the ground we’d hoped to cover over our week there, we approached Sedona a little discouraged and over-awed. Then came the descent into town. We came around a wide bend, our heads down, churning away at the pedals, just trying to get there, and then suddenly, there it was, Sedona. We almost cried. This is what we came to see.
A Bit Lost
Back at Seven, in the office, we had thought through this trip, a chance to field test our Evergreens, to see how the bikes worked as a platforms for bike packing, and to ride terrain we would never encounter in New England. And in as much as we took our bikes and packed supplies and traveled through the landscape it was a good experiment. But none of that was in our heads once we’d arrived in Sedona and begun working our way through the rideable trails spider webbing out from town.
We just couldn’t look in any direction and not find beauty. Towering red stone spires and hulking sedimentary plateaus vaulted skyward in every direction. At some point, we gave up on stopping to take pictures, we just took pictures when we stopped instead. The trails made for some great technical riding. Our Evergreens clung to the packed sand and clay. It was, as hoped, like nothing we’d ridden before and nothing we could hope to get to back home.
Coyote-less Camping is Good Camping
The camping brought us into contact with wildlife we didn’t expect, but probably should have. We had not seen mule deer before, great lumbering animals, twice the size of our white-tailed deer back home. Though docile enough, the sheer size of the mule deer made them intimidating. We also encountered a small pack of coyote, which we normally only see alone in New England. These were bigger than ours, too. Luckily, they didn’t come into camp, and eating and sleeping was good under the stars. We’ve been riding bikes a long time, all kinds of bikes, in all sorts of places, and we’ve seen some dramatic landscapes, but it’s safe to say Sedona and its surroundings completely blew our minds. The trip was one of those eye-opening, fall-in-love-with-the-world sort of experiences that made us particularly grateful we’ve been able to make a life for ourselves that includes cycling through deserts as part of our “jobs.”
