North Rim Capes of the Canyon - Day 3 - Gunsight Point and Warm Springs Canyon
Date: 5/27/2024
65.61 Miles
5,144 Feet of Gain
Fredonia, AZ to Jacob Lake, AZ
Night was the perfect temperature, but dawn in the desert wakens quickly. And with it I awake with open eyes to the pastels of sunlight-yet-come. I feel the fatigue of school once more in my bones. That, and the lack of consistent riding I had done this past spring. But my thirst to ride the route is strong. Nonetheless, I planned a zero day tomorrow after three days' riding to ensure no injury from overuse and to provide my rear the opportunity to condition to my saddle. Dawn comes on, and I need to bike to accrue miles before the sun brings temperatures in the 90s again.
I pack up from the great campsite at Country Rose RV Park and head out along the highway before a turn on paved FR 22. This portion of the route heads down a lonely road arrowing across the broad sage flatlands of the Great Basin Desert here in the southern stretch of the desert's range on the Arizona Strip. Solitary is this pavement where cars are infrequent and the views engulfing of self in the arid brush and sand. It seems incredible that the small rise ahead in the distance is actually the hulking mount of the Kaibab Plateau. It seems so shrunken, and so far, that all I can focus on is the cold desert sagebrush-grasslands now hot in mid-summer. Jetties of barbed wire fence roadside become corrals for sizable catches of tumbleweeds. They roll and bumble across the basins here only to pile up in desiccated catchments behind these western fences. I dip to another low-point of the route before snakebrush and sage begin to give way to true bunchgrass. I keep stopping my riding to look back at the horizontal pillars of the Grand Staircase.
A couple of hours later find me swinging right onto BLM land at the old sign for Gunsight Point. Pavement erodes to broad dirt that starts across hillsides topped with pinyon-junipers and infrequented by cliffrose. Some old wooden cattle corals stand guard at a quick transition to the sagebrush sea. I look down in the dirt and see remnants of others' bike tread; I am excited to know others are out experiencing this stellar riding. I feel that energy. This portion of the ride, for those unfamiliar, can be questionable at first. It's remote, arid, exposed to the sun and wind, and seemingly featureless in geology one-way across an expanse of desert heading supposedly to an overlook. The tread is so good that gravel riding seems possible for large portions. But Gunsight Point is worth it with its massive, unexpected views as it bellows forth as a cut gorge gashing a spread of colored layers into Kanab Creek.
Half-way out along the ride, I come to a small stand of juniper-pinyons providing the only shade and wind protection so far. Some riders who rode the route last year reported finding a water source that I want to confirm myself. I head down some rocky doubletrack to a fenced water-catchment sheet that ends up funneling into an algae-filled trough. Solid, reliable, and something to update on my maps confirmed, I move back out onto the road where the dirt quickly becomes red then tan again. Bold yucca spines rise from the sagebrush as the first glimpses of canyon-cut came up on my left. I make it to the terminus of land as the peninsula stops at Gunsight Point. It is just before noon and cooking heat already. But the views are spectacular here. Below, red dirt tumbles from cliffbands to mix with tans, browns, and yellows down towards Snake Gulch and a riparian spread of cottonwoods along Kanab Creek. Distant and south, the distinctive shelf of the esplanade all mottled and vermilion begins birthing from the stratification as benchlands pink and complimentary to the dark greens. This view always gets me and is so little visited. It's seeing the outer edge of what's to come.
A few juniper trees sit at the point, and after a series of photos, I climb into their shade to eat my lunch and escape the noon sun overhead. It is simply hot. I relish the solitude, the views so rarely glimpsed. But I know more heat is to come, and I still have many miles to pedal. I start back the way I came and see my first blooming cacti as hedgehogs' maroon petals open to the sky. I take a remote side-spur dirt doubletrack that climbs an adjacent hill only to head down the other side to a large black rain tarp catchment that funnels into a tire trough. The water in the tire is opaquely green with algae. With a bit of balance and stretch, I am able to balance my water bottle under the faucet in the center while simultaneously pushing down on the float valve to allow clear water to pour into my bottle. My water filled, I continue to bike down the hot desert under a speckling of clouds that smear a bit on the horizon near the Kaibab Plateau, suggesting the rain they are releasing. Edges grayed above a canvas of yellow grasslands; I am excited for the prospect of rain.
I rejoin paved FR 22 heading upwards ever so gradually as grasslands steadily became a full pinyon-juniper forest. I cross into the Kaibab National Forest. At the first dirt pullout I climb into the shade to cool down, take a salt pill, eat some salty food, and drink a good bit. I am dripping with sweat and my clothing is striped with perspired salt. Definitely upper 90s, I'm feeling all that heat. I bike more, feel hot, and take another break in the shade. I know that elevation is cutting the bite of the temperature, even in the afternoon sauna. Finally, the day's heat breaks in later afternoon as I round a bend out of White Sage Flat and pass by Jacob Canyon. The walls of conifered land rise up dramatically next to me. Red stands out prominent from oxidized stone in contrast to the deep greens of the pines. One more turn and the gaping unpaved entrance to Warm Springs Canyon comes up on my left. A chorus of clouds builds up the head of the canyon casting sure the presence of rain. It's dramatically backlit and fantastic to view. I lay my bike down to gaze around and scramble over the adjoining rock bed to explore the wash. Then, I press forward as this is the biggest climb for the day.
The road is lightly graveled and relatively smooth although a few sections of washboard stand out. It's wide and but sure in its elevation gain so I jump to my granny gear to continue on. Large spruce start to pop up within the confines of the Warm Springs Canyon, indicators of increased moisture, decreased temperature, and increased elevation. A turn round the bend reveals a stark vertical wall of burned conifer skeletons from the Mangum Fire a few years back. Luckily, their bones are immersed in a wave of short green from the successive growth of the plant community. Another bend near the base of Buck Ridge brings spilling red rock and dirt kicking out from new layers of rock now climbed to. The road fork to Buck Ridge appears and I take the left towards Jacob Lake. The climb grows even steeper to gain the ridgeline as it weaves between black hulks of burned trees. I get off to hike-a-bike some sections with sweat pouring down my body once more. Some time later, I pop out on top, exhausted but excited peering back down into Warm Springs Canyon.
From here, it's a relatively easy meander on Buck Ridge towards Jacob Lake. The start heads through the burn scar, but soon healthy mature ponderosa woodland gathers up in clumps that become contiguous forest with vast carpets of neon green grass aching for summer. It's absolutely beautiful, and I'm enjoying every moment as shade gathers up over me. I arrive a couple of miles later at paved Highway 67 where a turn north shortly brings me to lush and green Jacob Lake. I've made good time and it's only later afternoon with the slant of light filtering through pine boughs. I'm so hungry and bonked that I grab a milkshake, a famous Jacob Lake cookie, a Native taco, and a hamburger to eat. I sit outside on the picnic tables drinking liquids and relishing my food while I call Janna. As part of my end-of-the-school-year self-congratulations, I had rented a room out at Jacob Lake for both tonight and tomorrow on my zero day. I check in as dusk gathers shadows, and I work my bike into my hotel room. I take a thorough shower, and my weary body passes out for the night.
