Two Brothers Big Fall Adventure-Montezuma Castle (Day 5)

They call it a "recovery day."  That's what we did yesterday.  After four days of pretty significant riding, including our 48 mile ride to Sedona, we decided to give our bodies a rest, sleep in and enjoy Carolyn's company and our environs in Prescott.

Today we are off to the Verde Valley again, this time to the Verde River south of Camp Verde, Arizona.  Our destination is Montezuma Castle National Monument, 16 miles away.  Our route will take us up and down the hills alongside the Verde River, across to Historical Camp Verde, then up into the Middle Verde to Montezuma Castle.  The weather is great, and we're on our way.

Kent at the top of Heartbreak Hill #2.

We parked down by the river, as far south as we could drive and still be on pavement.  Actually, we parked on a gravel road adjacent to the pavement.  Our first mile was uphill on what we labeled "Heartbreak Hill #2."  We later found an even steeper, more challenging hill we named "Heartbreak Hill #1."  But we both made it up both inclines without stopping and without massive heart attacks.  For that, we are grateful!

About half way to Camp Verde we discovered Heartbreak #1.  At this point we are going downhill, very steeply.  At the bottom of the hill is construction on the road where backhoes are taking away part of a mountain to widen the road.  We sneak past in between heavy equipment scooping and dumping dirt.  Up over another hill on our path, Salt Mine Road, and we arrive at the outskirts of Camp Verde.

Coming into Camp Verde from the south on Salt Mine Road

Rounding the corner, we are accosted by three dogs--two of the large to medium variety, and one small but very hyperactive beast.  The larger two bark big, but really don't seem very interested in our flesh.  Not so with Pipsqueak.  The tiny mutt takes after me with a vengeance.  I downshift and hit the gas (meaning I start pedaling like a madman).  The little monster is nipping at my heels.  The faster I pedal, the faster he runs.  I figure I'll just out last him.  No way.  He keeps closing the gap, his eye on the flesh of my right calf.  I gun it like I'm trying to win the Tour de France.  He shows no sign of letting up.  I'm having visions of half-moon pieces of muscle missing from my leg.  Finally, at about 27 miles an hour, with my heart beating over 150 beats per minute (probably more out of fear than exertion), he starts to drop back.  I live to cycle another day.  However, I realize we'll be coming back this same way.  This time, I'll be prepared.

The Infamous Three-Legged Horse

I had never been through downtown Camp Verde.  In some ways, it's a bit depressing.  It seems like the economy has hit the place pretty hard.  On the roof overhang of the local tack (saddle) shop stands a large sculptured horse, who is missing his left front leg.  In some ways, this horse seems symbolic of the community in general.

Once past the historic downtown, we connect with Montezuma Castle Road.  Now, I normally have my cell phone on, but for some reason today I had forgotten to turn up the ringer.  I get to the top of the hill and wait for Kent.  And I wait.  And wait.  I'm starting to get concerned, because he's usually not very far back.  I see his yellow  bumble bee-like jersey in the distance.  Squinting in the sunlight, it appears he may be walking his bike.  I turn back down the hill and ride down toward him.  As I come closer, he is indeed walking his bike.  "I've got a flat," he dejectedly announces.  This makes Deflation Number Six for the week.

He did try calling me on my cell phone.  I've saved the message.  Here, I quote it in it's entirety:

"Turn around!  Look, look... I have a flat tire. I'll keep walking.  Eventually you'll realize I'm not there!"

I did.  He wasn't.  But he performed his first "on the road" flat tire fix.  Way to go, Bro!

Yavapai-Apache Cultural Center

Very shortly after the flat tire incident, we passed the Yavapai-Apache Cultural Center at the turn off to the Monument.  These two tribes came in contact in the 19th Century when the U.S. Calvary marched the Yavapai tribes to Eastern Arizona to place them on a reservation.  Later, they were able to return, and two tribes eventually registered as a group, and coexist to this day..

A few miles later, we're racing downhill toward the Visitors Center at Montezuma Castle. The posted speed limit is 25 miles an hour.  We hit 31.  We confessed this sin to the Rangers, who conferred and granted forgiveness to us (considering we had only two wheels and no motor).  The 1/3 mile loop to view the ancient Sinagua Cliff Dwelling is right next to Beaver Creek.  The riparian area provides and peaceful and pleasant diversion from the road.

Montezuma Castle, a Sinagua cliff-side village.

Misnamed because the Anglo discoverer's assumed that this was the work of natives of Mexico City under the leadership of the 16th century chief Montezuma, the prehistoric Sinagua were only aware of their kin further to the south by means of complex trade routes from the South.  These people practiced basic agriculture as well as hunting and gathering from the surrounding river areas from 900-1400 A.D.  They literally disappeared from the area between 1400-1450.  No one is quite sure why--perhaps disease, drought or warfare.  Because they left no written records, chances are we will never now.  What we do know is that were very skilled builders, and their works have stood the tests of time (thanks to many preservation efforts and the vision of former President Theodore Roosevelt, who actually established this site as a national monument).

"Cows" still in their Halloween outfits.

On our way back, we spied some very interesting sites.  One of them was these "cows" dressed in their Halloween outfits.  The yard art on Salt Mine Road just southwest of Camp Verde is worth the trip in itself.

We were coming up to the corner with the dreaded dogs.  Kent took the lead this time.  He had a large styrofoam cup filled with water to deter any attacking animals.  I called this his "dog bomb."  Sure enough, the meat-eating runt dog went on the attack.  By the time he saw Kent, my brother was well past him, but he pursued anyway.  As a consequence, it put the ferocious canine between Kent and myself.  I think I surprised him coming up from behind.  As I pedaled past the stunned creature, the owner (who had been yelling at the dog in vulgar desperation) yelled out, "Run over the #%&! thing!"  I was tempted, but exercised extreme self-control.  This time, I let HIM live.  I think we're even.

The Verde River near Clear Creek

Soon we encountered our road construction site again, and Heartbreak Hill #1.  At one point, I was speeding up the hill at an almost supersonic two and a half miles an hour.  I literally could have walked faster.  But there is something about a cyclist's pride that, even though this is an easier and perhaps even better option, makes it impossible to stoop and get off two wheels onto two feet.  I made it up to the top.  The rest of ride to the car was pleasant in terms of scenery, temperature and the sensation of the ups and downs along the river.

We stopped at the Clear Creek turn out, where we walked down to the Verde River and took in its unique beauty.  Eventually this water would flow into the Salt River in east Phoenix, collide with the Gila River in southwest Phoenix, run into the Colorado River near Yuma, Arizona and empty in the Gulf of Baja California and into the Pacific.  The headwaters of the Verde River are near Chino Valley, not far from Prescott.

Whitewater on the Verde River near Camp Verde.

The last part of our ride was down Heartbreak Hill #2.  Going downhill is a great way to end a good ride.  A sign announced the end of the pavement.  We could go no further. On our way back to Prescott, we just had to stop and visit what is proclaimed to be--right there on the sign itself--the world's largest Kokopelli (the mythical flute player in Arizona Native tradition).

World's Largest Kokopelli, Camp Verde

We had covered 32 miles on an absolutely gorgeous day.  It is indeed good to be alive!