The night descended as cold as the night prior.  In our shelter, Janna and I wrapped up and slept well.  Kate and Sean cowboy camped and woke up to frost coating their bags and groundtarps.  As soon as that sun hit the horizon, we all unzipped, climbed out, and got moving for warmth.  A waning gibbous moon sat high in the sapphire blue sky as we pedaled across the golden grasslands.  We sped along the dirt and pavement quickly, hitting pavement, passing through ranch-style homes, and then crossing the highway to head up Santa Rita Road.

​A cold night combined with condensation left us frost-born come morning.  Javelina spent the night sniffing along our tent and digging around the area, so I was woken up several times.  But at first light, I mustered the spirit to dawn some warm clothes and climb out of our the iced-interiored shelter into the day.  The four of us had agreed to meet downtown early this morning for breakfast at Gatherin' Grounds before embarking out into the grasslands.  I stashed the ice-crisp shelter quickly on the bike and we spun to the heart of Patagonia.  The sun was now fully out, so I quickly unlashed the tent and draped it across wooden posts in the town center in an attempt to dry it while we waited for Sean and Kate.

​For all the times we've bikepacked, Janna and I have been unsuccessful at convincing friends or acquaintances to join us on some backcountry bike tours.  That all changed this fall after Janna befriended Kate while Kate was shadowing at our school.  Kate enthusiastically jumped on the offer to join us for a bikepacking trip come Veteran's Day for our annual circumference ride of the Santa Ritas in southeast Arizona on the Sky Islands Odyssey.  As the weekend date approached, Kate asked us if her childhood friend Sean could also tag along.  Janna and I were stoked to have two people finally ride with us, so we heartedly affirmed before beginning the long drive down to south of Tucson from the Grand Canyon.

Morning arrived hard and frosty.  The inside of the shelter was absolutely caked in layers of solid condensation.  Janna and I knew the day would be the coldest of the three, with highs in the mid-50s only.  Thus, we stumbled out of the shelter, sat in the casita making breakfast, and then rolled out as the Sun's weak rays spread across the grasslands.  

It was utterly cold as we pedaled towards the Whetstone Mountains and the town of Elgin.  We reached Elgin and still found it too cold to shed much of any layer.  Ahead, a pack of javelinas with their babies tarried along the roadside edge before leaping a small fence into adjoining golden grass fields.  We reached the Las Cienegas National Conservation Area by mid0morning and took in the washed-out views of the distant Santa Ritas rising up the grassy plains.  But this time, the route had changed.  Sarah Swallow (route creator) had shifted the traverse of the area away from some private property and onto type-B paved backroads.  We spun casually through the large ranches with expansive porches looking out over the landscape until we reached the highway.

​Morning arrived at TerraSol slowly and super cold.  We took our time knowing that it was only some 30-odd miles to the Audubon Center for today.  The sun crept in and set to crinkling warmth all the frost that covered everything.  We walked downtown to grab some breakfast at the Gathering Grounds before walking back, packing up our bikes, and pushing off towards Harshaw Road.

The Sky Islands Odyssey was our first off-pavement bikepacking route we ever did, way back in 2018.  It has remained one of our favorites; as tradition, we bike it once a year during Veteran's Day weekend which always feels like the perfect temperature for the route along with the best fall colors touching the desert.  But ever since COVID and its subsequent surges, we haven't had the opportunity to return.  The Appleton-Whittell Research Ranch of the National Audubon Society to that point had remained impermanently closed to visitors.  We tried to come fall of 2021 for a ride, but a surge in COVID forced us to cancel our plans as the Audubon Center confirmed the same.

​I awoke strong and refreshed, but early to get a move on.  The storm that was to hit Thursday was now moved to today.  And today’s route, as much of the whole, is not something to be ridden when raining.  The dirt on many sections has a high clay content that will pack up on bike wheel and grind progress to a complete halt.  My goal was to get up and over Box Canyon on the flanks of the Santa Ritas before the storm hit.

​I slept a bit past dawn today, the previous night’s wear pulling on me.  A slow-rousing start got me back on route and out and heading miles north away from the proximity of the border.  To my left, the Baboquivaris stretched out and Kitt Peak with its observatory came into view.  A few miles later, I curved right to stay on Poso Nuevo Ranch Road.  I made a phone call to Janna (finally in reception) and we both laughed about the craziness of last night.  A call to my family showed that my mom thought I had gotten swept up in an immigration raid and was taken to a detention center.  Harrison for some reason thought I got shot.  Awesome.

​Morning speaks cold in the desert, wiping heat from the lips.  I lay awake under a canopy of oak leaves to washed out light dimpling through the Duomid roof.  I heard neighbors crushing old beer cans - me amazed they could get up after drinking so much.  I roused and pushed flaps open to intoxicating air of mountain clarity.  I breathed in, bent, put on hat and gloves, then hustled camp into morning routine.  Arrival post-darkness meant I had no idea what the Pajarito Mountains looked like, nor the semblance of my campsite.  It turned out I was in a sweet spot.  Giant rhyolite buttes jutted skyward around me with a broad desert wash plain ahead.  Rounded peaks perched golden, both rough and smooth, surrounding.  Their feet sprouted oak, sycamore, and cottonwood.  Freaking gorgeous.

Spring Break has been on my mind, zooming in strong and clear; the radar clearing kind.  Now here, I have myself swept into desire to do the full Sky Island Odyssey.  Janna and I have conquered the East Loop twice now, meaning this thrice attempt is my dodge to add on the West Loop and make the Full circle.  

The West Loop is known as the remote one, the one with more elevation, the one with more vastness.  The East Loop is gorgeous and sweeps you up in cute stops and Santa Rita panoramas.  The West Loop is high desert chewing.  I had to do the West part first.  Delaying the start to Sunday, I moseyed down south in the AM with music playing and opportunity before me.  I swung into Patagonia, AZ around 10 am.  Gravel cyclists, AZT thru-hikers, locals, RVers, birders, and motorcyclists were encircled around Gathering Grounds.  I slammed the car into a spot and smacked myself in line to get a spot in the crowded breakfast queue.  I was quickly offered a seat outside where I put back some wheat toast and egg added to a Green Machine veggie breakfast burrito.  Adding two homemade cookies to carry on the ride was required and slice of Key Lime pie for the now.  As I walked back to the car, I called a hiker in earshot who was laying out wet shelter materials on the city park lawn.  Hailing from Cleveland, he seemed equally passionate but dismayed by the sub-freezing nights found in Arizona.

After a perfect night’s sleep in the Audubon casita in great temperatures, Janna and I awoke early for a big-mile day.  Once again, I felt great both physically and mentally, proving that my two mantras/mindsets/approaches to bikepacking were paying off. Compared to last year, the temperature was MUCH more mild and well above freezing as compared to before. 

The morning held high cirrus clouds to mark our starts.  Before we knew it, we were speeding down gravel towards the “button” mountain and swinging into Babacomari Ranch property.  We spilled out onto the biggest paved section, passing through the heart of Elgin and cycling about 10 miles of road through vineyards and ranches.  Beautiful high bunch prairie grass spilled like an ocean to the gentle curves of the Earth’s horizon.  

​Feeling that morning stretch after realizing the hardest part was behind us, Janna and I slept in knowing we only had ~30 miles ahead of us today.  By the time we climbed out of the Triplex, the start of the Spirit World 100 was rolling down Harshaw Road passing us in the RV park.  We ran out to the road and cheered the slow start front and got to see Lael Wilcox.  With that, we packed up and rode into town to get the best veggie breakfast burritos ever from The Gathering Place cafe.  Breakfast done, we headed to the local organic market and general store to grab some food for the next two days.  

All my bikepacking trips up to this point have been filled with equal parts gnawing hunger to see more of the backcountry and complete and utter physical exhaustion (wearing into the mental realm).  Last year, we tackled the Sky Island Odyssey eastern loop over Veteran’s Day (our first unpaved bikepacking trip), and Janna and I were returning this year because we loved the time of year in this area.  But, I felt strong nerves because of how butt-kicked I have been in body, mind, and confidence by every bikepacking outing.  Bikepacking combines the best of road touring and backpacking.  Yet, I still felt unconfident I could crack that flow state of performance that leads itself so well to mastery and growth.  
I decided on two mantras for this trip:

1. Be in beauty.

2. If it feels like work, you are working too hard. 

At first light, I was like, "Let’s get the fuck out of here."  Janna slept very well.  Me not so much after having a gun and potential threat waved at us.  We packed up and starting climbing up the paved road.  Immediately, the beauty of the day brought me back to the enjoyment of the moment.  

We turned off onto a dirt road and the route just decomposed into rock babyheads and rubble.  This would prove to a repeat terrain theme of the day.  We wound in and out of foothills filled with yuccas and mesquite for several hours until we went up towards the Santa Ritas more directly and passed by an abandoned mine.  The route crossed a beautiful stream with a full side view of Mount Wrightson and the observatory.  At this point, we began hike-a-biking more steadily.  For the next two hours we seemed to alternate between grandma gear pedaling and pushing the bike up steep climbs.  I passed two deer hunters scoping the valley below.  Eventually, we hit a beautiful saddle.  Here, I let loose and flew down into the valleys below.  

​We knew today was going to be our longest day and incorrectly assumed it would also be the hardest.  We woke up and were on route by 6 am, which temperatures about 31 degrees F.  The first dawn lighting up the grasslands was truly magical.  After several miles of pedaling, we made our way through the small town of Elgin and rode the paved road for miles.  I kept checking my phone every little bit to make sure we weren’t off route after our many turn-arounds yesterday.  Eventually, the route left the paved surface as a dirt cross-road led off to our right into the Las Cienegas Conservation Area. 

​“Classic, like all my trips,” I thought to myself.  The night before our first time bikepacking was also the first time I put my bike together with all the foreign bikepacking gear.  Janna and i stayed up late, wedging, crushing, and strapping gear all over our bikes.  Up until 11 pm, after a full quarter and a half of teaching, we both stood back to look at our bikes completely packed out of volume with gear still needing to be added.  If ultralight backpacking makes you aware of gear weight, then ultralight bikepacking made you aware of gear volume.  Taking a razor to the remaining gear, we removed anything that was absolutely essential before going to bed exhausted.