Two Brothers Big Fall Adventure--Sedona (Day 4)

Today was the day of flat tires.  Last night when packing for today's ride, I discovered a flat on my bike.  Diligently, I went about my tire change, and discovered at small gash in my tire.  No problem!  I taped the inside of the tire (that'll hold it!), put in a new tube, and--voilla--ready to go for the next day.

Then, as we are getting ready to load the bikes on the rack behind my Toyota, Kent discovers that he as a flat.  So he goes about a tube change, and begins to fill it with air.  POW!  Ok, so the pop resembles that of a small pistol, but I know the sound--a new tube pinched again the rim.  We have only one tube left between us, so Kent carefully replaces the tube, this time successfully.  We haven't even pedaled a stroke and we've had three flat tires.  Not a great omen.

Being that we have no spare tubes, we have to wait until the local bike shop opens at  9 AM.  We buy three of the thickest tubes they have (seems to be thorn theason, I mean "season," in Arizona), and a patch kit (which we forget to put in our "fix it" bags on our bikes, DUH!) and head off for Cottonwood, Arizona.

We park in the Denny's restaurant parking lot at the intersection of Highways 260 and 89A.  So far, no more flat tires (but the day isn't over yet).  We take off to the north on 89A, climbing toward the red rocks of Sedona.  About 10 miles into our trip, the terracotta-like color of the landscape begins to appear.  Welcome to Red Rock Country.

The sign for Red Rock State Park, our first destination, appears.  We turn right down the road and enjoy skirting a large rock outcropping, then descend into the Park.  The gentleman at the gate is friendly and welcoming.  He informs us that there is only one bike trail that will take us across to the other side of the park.  While not our original plan, it sounded intriguing.

"Hard pack?" I ask, wanting to make sure that our cycles meant for the pavement could tolerate being off road for a bit.

View from Red Rock State Park

"Sure!  Just follow the signs and it will take you to the East Gate, then onto Highway 179," he says while fumbling to make change for our $3 entry fee to the State Park.  "You'll have to pay another $1 to the National Forest when you come out on the other side."

It's probably worth a dollar.  However, hindsight revealed that this man definitely wasn't a cyclist.  One look at our rather "dainty" road bikes would have elicited a very different response, had he ever been on the trail he was directing us to.  It was clear that he had not.  No worries, because this "accidental" adventure turned out to be a one-of-a-kind experience for us.

Shortly after entering the Park, we hear a loud bang and the long and distinctive "psssssssssssssssssssssss" of a blown tube.  I flip my bike over by the side of the road, remove the back tire, and proceed to do yet another tube change.  We discover that my tape didn't hold, and the tube protruded through the tire--what we've coined as a "tubal hernia."  Good thing we stopped to get spare tubes.

"Give me a dollar bill," I demand of Kent.

"What?!"

"A dollar bill.  If you don't have a one, I'll take a five or ten."

At this point, he was sure I was playing some mean "big brother" trick and seeking to rip off his hard earned money.  He reached into his backpage and handed me a Washington.

I folded the dollar bill, placed it inside my tire where the small gash was, and carefully put in one of our new, heavy duty thorn-proof tubes.  We inflated the tire and we were as good as new!  (That night I took out the tube and gave him back his buck, now in two pieces.)  And off we go!

At the end of the paved road was the Visitor's Center, and behind the Center was the "trail."  It was hard, wide and suitable for our equipment, although we definitely weren't going to set any speed records.  Oak Creek was clothed in green and red and gold from the changing vegetation, offering a pleasing contrast to the red and grey rocks and dirt.  We crossed the creek on a narrow bridge, optimistic that this was going to be a fairly easy and tranquil ride.

The "trail" out of Red Rock State Park--just rocks!

A few yards past the bridge, the "trail" began to diminish into washed out watersheds and sections of flat rocks.  Sometimes it was a bit difficult to discern exactly what was the trail and what wasn't.  We contemplated for a moment turning back, but according to the "map" given to us when we entered, we couldn't be far from the East Gate.  So we committed to carry on.  We alternately rode at a snail's pace, walked our bikes and sometimes even carried our rides over boulders.  Then we were there... at the East Gate!

When our cashier took our cash and talked about the East Gate, I had (erroneously) pictured something like where we were standing when we entered the park--where cars would enter, money and smiles would be exchanged, and we would exit the park on a smooth paved road leading to Sedona. WRONG!  The "East Gate" at Red Rock State park is a chain-link fence, with an entrance about the size of the waist high gate entering the back yard at my house!  And it is out in the middle of nowhere!  No paved roads, no guard, barely any trail.  Nothing except a sign that reads, "East Gate.  Please keep the gate closed."

Sculptured landscape before Red Rock State Park.

A path went to the left... and the right.  There were no directional signs at all.  We were now in the bowels of the Coconino National Forest, with not a clue where we were or which way was "out."  A small sign to the left said, "Private Property. Keep Out!"  We figured we should abide by this request, and headed right, mostly walking and carrying our bikes.  I figured if we kept heading for the red rock cliffs we could see in the distance, we'd get to Sedona--eventually.

After trekking about a quarter mile, we saw telephone lines.  Civilization at last!  Well, almost.  We intersected a gravel road, again with no signs or clues.  Left went downhill, right went uphill.  We had seen a jeep heading uphill, and arbitrarily decided on this course of action.  After a short ride on the gravel, we hit pavement--again, at a crossroads with no signs.  We see two bikers heading to the right, and begin to follow them.  But it doesn't feel right.  We're traveling away from the red rocks.  A lady in a pickup truck comes up to the stop sign.  We motion for her to roll down her window, which she does reluctantly.

"Does this road (pointing to the right) take us to Sedona?"  Ever since my California Missions bike trip, I have no problem asking people in motorized vehicles seemingly dumb questions.  I hate the sense of not being sure where I am.

"Nope.  Private Ranch.  Go to the left and in about four miles you'll hit Highway 179."  The "look" we got from her was one which could be interpreted as, "What planet are you boys from?"  At least the road was paved.

About a mile down the road, we realized we had stumbled into the Land of the Rich and Famous. Beautiful, BIG, gorgeous homes, nestled with a spectacular view of the fabled Sedona landscape.  Movie stars?  Political big wigs?  We continued to pedal, eventually merging into a bike lane and into Oak Creek Village.  And Wendy's!  Now THIS is civilization.  And we were famished.

Right next to Wendy's was a booth for "Tourist Information."  I went over, and a young man had his forehead laying on the counter, apparently catching a few winks between tourists.  "Excuse me," I uttered quietly.  He lifted his head a smiled wryly.  "How far from here to Sedona?"

"About nine miles."

"Thanks."  He resumed his previous "position" at the desk.

Bell Rock from the vantage point of Oak Creek Village.

After induling in Single Burgers with Cheese, fries and (of course) Dr. Peppers, we headed toward Sedona.  I had not been on this road since they finished construction.  Part of the rework includes absolutely fantastic bike lanes all the way from Oak Creek Village to Downtown Sedona.  These were the best lanes we've had all week.  On the gently curving but substantial descents into town we hit over 35 miles an hour--a genuine thrill ride!

Once we hit Downtown Sedona, traffic increased substantially.  We turned south for the 18 mile ride back to Cottonwood.  Our "detour" through Red Rock State Park and the Coconino National Forest had cost of quite a bit of extra time.  We were racing the sun now.  The big orange ball dipped down below the Mingus Mountains just before we arrived back at the car.  We had spent four hours in the saddle, almost seven hours total on the trip, covering almost 50 miles.  Tired, but not totally exhausted, we threw the bikes on the back of the Corolla and headed home.  We slept well this night.

Sunset over the Mingus Mountains.