Dickhouse: Winter "Training"

I have been dreaming of doing something like this for years. Being a snow-bird. Running from winter. Escaping the onslaught of unpredictable and nasty weather that invades Indiana and the rest of the midwest during the winter months. And now that I am so heavily obsessed with mountain biking, it only made sense to chase some of the best mountain biking in the country, in the couple of places where you can during the winter. So after a short stay in Boulder, I decided I better hit the road again. With gobs of time and money, both of which would run out sooner or later, and probably at the same time, it was now or never. I headed to a place that I had been looking at pictures of, from my desk at work, for over a year, dreaming of going to and wondering if I ever would; Moab, Utah, making dreams come true.


A full week of freezing nights...

...and warm sunny days.

Moab was wild, wicked, untamed, unforgiving, and unforgettable. The moonlike landscape is breathtaking. The mountain biking was like none I had ever done before. The "trails" were actually just painted dash lines on the enormous sprawling beds of slickrock that Moab is known for. My first ride was on the famous Slickrock Trail; I was joined by two German travelers, on an American ski adventure, who had escaped to Moab because of the lack of snow in the mountains. All of us being newbs to slickrock riding, we were all blown away by the amount of grip and the challenging nature of riding of this stuff. It doesn't "give" like soil. It doesn't "give" at all. On the contrary, after a few hours it feels as if it is fighting back, punching your taint with every pedal stroke. Maybe a hardtail wasn't the best choice, but it was all I had, and I made it work.

The highlight of my week was actually on the last day of riding. I met up with some locals and got a free shuttle up to the newly designed Mag7 trail. They were more stoked than me, claiming that the trails at this elevation are usually snow-covered this time of year. What ensued was all new to me. A nearly 2-hour ride dropping thousands of feet in elevation with a mix of red dirt singletrack and slickrock, cliffs and high exposure, and spectacular views.

After getting beat up for 6 straight days in Moab, camping in single-digit temperatures, and generally just dealing with this harsh desert environment, it was time to go. How would I offset this period of roughing it in solitude? Hmmm.. how about go somewhere warm, stay with old friends, and get some home-cooked meals. Okay.

Phoenix. Urban sprawl at its finest. Smog, traffic jams, heat, but also good food, diversity, palm trees and pools. It was the perfect change. On only my second day there, I walk into the Slippery Pig bike shop and what do I see...

...but a brand new Specialized Camber Pro 29 frame. Could things fall into place any better? I was already selling an old Santa Cruz Superlight that same day, and was in the market for a full-suspension frame (my taint still hurt from Moab) to replace my Qball hardtail. I could search for months on Craigslist and Ebay and not find a deal like this. $500 was all they wanted for it. The bike retails for $3k. I sell the Santa Cruz, make a deal with one of the shop employees who has an eye on my Qball frameset, and bada-bing bada-boom, walk out that same day with a brand new frame without spending a buck.

Out with the old...

...in with the new.

Oh ya, and there's some fun riding in Phoenix too. Nothing blew me away, but there was some fun desert singletrack. South mountain will test all the skills you thought you had. I failed. The week was mostly spent relaxing in the comforts of home with old friends and enjoying the weather. I was doing it.

Phoenix. Top of the city, escaping the smog!

Next it was on to another place which frequently haunted my dreams and gave me that warm fuzzy feeling in my gut; Sedona, AZ. And what a place it turned out to be. It was all of Moab and Phoenix, and all that they lacked. It was warm, the people were warm, it was small town convenience, it was unbelievable landscapes, it was the smoothest most flowy red dirt singletrack imaginable, it was slickrock, it was weird and spiritual, it was sunshine, it was canyons and cliffs and rivers and bluffs, it was green, it was red, it was rough, it was cactus and spruce, it was beer and new friends. My week in Sedona was the highlight of this adventure.

On my first day into town I met up with a friend of a friend in Indiana, Luke, who would more or less be my tour guide for the week. He took me on a ride that had me instantly hooked. Smooth grippy flowing red dirt singletrack through spruce trees, down washes, across slickrock, jumps, pumps, tech and more. All from the front door of the famous Bike and Bean bike shop. What an awesome, fun, and welcoming group of guys there at Bike and Bean! They have a tap-wall, sporting 2-3 microbrews at a time, with a sign above that reads "Beer not for sale, unless you are on a group ride". If ever in Sedona, MAKE SURE, you stop by, chat it up, and go on a group ride with these guys. Not only do they show you new and uncharted, sometimes unfriendly, unrideable, yet always undeniably fun trails in the Sedona area, but they are more than happy to fill your glass once the ride is over! This is the highest form of hospitality I've ever experienced. What made my week in Sedona so great was the influx of others like me, who had traveled there, in the "offseason", to get some great winter riding in, and the locals that were more than ecstatic to take us around. I did some of the most fun, most challenging, and most scary white-knuckled rides, specifically "Hangover" that week. Can't wait to get back!