Two nights. Three days. Flagstaff to the Verde hot Springs and out via Camp Verde. About 200 miles in all. About half dirt. An unknown shit-ton of climbing. Proper Monster Cross.
After a lazy start in Flag, I arrived in Strawberry 6 hours later at dusk, not ready to be done. I grabbed a coffee and some french fries to go. From there, it was a very surreal “Burtonian” dirt descent off of a massive mesa into the canyon of Fossil Creek towards the now extinct power plant town of Childs and the Verde Hot Springs. The road cut from a seeming cliff, the glowing haze of the Irving power plant just off my right shoulder, hundreds of feet below in an abyss.
I had no lights. Just the vague outline of a dirt road and a goal of reaching Childs. As happenstance would have it, I did not see the turn through the darkness. Instead, long dark and silent climbs flowed into long, black descents until 20 miles later when the lights of Camp Verde, Cottonwood and Jerome came into view, far off in the distance. Far from where I was to be.
The rest of that night was spent under a Juniper, thinking about the options while staring off towards the lights in the haze of the Verde Valley below. In the morning, and 120 miles down, I’d back track and continue on to Childs arriving there, three or four hours deeper into the second day. Precious time lost. The large idea was to cross the river there and continue south on various dirt roads, eventually making it to phoenix. Squeezed for time, my want of true adventure – of uncharted wandering – had waned. Still, I walked a yard into the freezing Verde, looked at the 60 yards left yet to cross, and the massive terrain that lay ahead, and knew I was to quietly bow out.
That day, I would spend lounging, recovering from the onslaught of the previous, while thinking about the next. The options to maximize the days now reduced to two, that night, the weather would bring on more questioning. Soon after lying down with the sun, I felt the beginnings of the storm with subtle drops of rain. The gusts would soon follow. Earlier, I spied one option should this happen. My reluctant haste building to critical mass along with the rain & wind, I escaped the weather though a cut gap in the fence of the now defunct, early 1900’s Childs hydro-electric Power plant. A ghostly relic of Arizona’s mining heydays.
The plant sits atop three canals that are now dry. Their dead travertine leading out to the Verde. They are one of few things remaining after the decommissioning in the late 90’s and subsequent removal of most of the structures of Childs. What is left, is now tagged, smashed, bent or burned proper white trash style. Nothing left to die honorably. I peered through a welded strap steel door barrier, through one of the broken windows to see a podium standing in the center of a large room. A dull green wall full of gauges top to bottom stood just beyond the podium. I imagined whomever, standing there every day, jotting down the numbers, drinking coffee, contemplating the purpose. I half expected some horrifyingly disfigured face to come screaming at me from the other side of that jagged glass portal. Outside, on the front walkway, where I would sleep, I found strange spiral annual charts, and log sheets from years and years ago. 1973, 1952… The light was disappearing. That night, I managed to stay dry along with the rat shit, the broke glass, and the abandoned paperwork. Somewhere in the middle of my vision of the insides of that place, the creaking doors, the howling fence, the rain and the gusting wind, I slept well.
In ways, the climbs were almost unimaginable. Steepness and exposure like that of the 50, but they seemed to lead on forever. I had no idea what was on the other side of the river except for the brief, limited view there was. The road did continue no doubt, but it disappeared up into the massive terrain after only a few hundred yards. Bloody Basin was out there somewhere, and I knew that place would be unrelenting. I was happy to let it go this time. I climbed back out on the roads I came in on. I knew what to expect. An hour to summit just the first ridge out of Childs. Less than 2 miles of unbelievable up. The next climb, out towards Camp Verde again, over an hour easy. The journey out would take the majority of the day. Supplies on low, I pedaled towards home.
I dined on a burger at the Denny’s there in Camp Verde. I told my story to the waitress. She was surprised as they usually are. I made it to Montezuma’s Well before hitching a ride up the hill. It had become too cold up there since I left. The car was warm.
Another epic under the belt. I’m stoked. Full of the usual options and compromises and focus on survival. This time, a little better than the last. There’s always tweaks to gear, food and supplies. The devil is in the details. I look forward to next time, as usual. As well, I left some sweet pics out there while on tour along with the digi camera that took I them with. I have a thing about losing cameras. I’m, irresponsible with technology. I also have a thing about this ride. the terrain is unreal. Like nothing else I’ve ridden. I can’t wait to go back.
December 15th, 2008 at 3:29 am
…awe inspiring ride, gnomer…
…i see you ‘hatched’ a plan so you wouldn’t get lonely out there…
…& speaking of awe inspiring rides, the real deal pedaled by me the other day, looking fine as fine can be…
December 15th, 2008 at 6:53 am
Aww Man…I’m jelous…nice job gnome”alicious”…You can’t find anything like that here unless you want to freeze your ass off…
December 15th, 2008 at 12:58 pm
take me with you please. i wont talk so much i promise.
December 15th, 2008 at 1:17 pm
awesome stuff.
December 15th, 2008 at 1:22 pm
Fuck’n funny shit Marty.
Sometimes this shit is pretty spontaneous. Sometimes it never happens. not that it doesn’t fester in my brains for months and months.
The actual moment shit falls into place, and I get to go is sometimes a narrow window. The green light for this ride happened the day prior to departure. The two attempts to do it prior to that, failed.
You know how this works. Such is life.
Next time, I’ll keep you posted on the plan, and hopefully the cards will fall into place, and it will happen.
Your company is welcomed on any ride…
December 15th, 2008 at 1:26 pm
epical gnarl.
December 15th, 2008 at 2:05 pm
I’m jealous…and in the same frozen-ass boat as The Sage. -7 windchill this morning.
December 15th, 2008 at 4:36 pm
nicely done sir.
December 15th, 2008 at 5:06 pm
nice work Dave.
December 15th, 2008 at 5:23 pm
Way to big it up dave. Can believe you didn’t go to the hot springs though. Don’t fight your inner hippie.
December 15th, 2008 at 6:44 pm
Yea, I hear ya bgr.
I should have crossed the river at least for that, but it just wasn’t to be. I was sullen not having the confidence to cross and head on to phoenix… variables being what they were.
Instead, I made due with quite contemplation on that sandy side of the river which was still excellent as you probably know.
Next time, which will be soon, they will be a part of it.
December 16th, 2008 at 6:52 am
Bitchin Dave! Let me know and I’ll join for the next attempt.
December 16th, 2008 at 9:41 am
Maybe, just maybe, read robert louis stevenson.
Travel was his best subject.
The big rides take the rider through so many mental states.
From exhaustion where a trembling hand can barely hold a pencil, the high the recovery the weird calm.
riding and writing can be gemini twins, improving each other.