Apache Trail Under A Full Moon

My new bike, X-man.

A couple of weeks ago Mr. J helped me buy a used Yamaha XT250. I've been wanting to explore the endless dirt roads I'd been watching from the airplane window every time I traveled to PHX. They've been calling my name.

Mr. J: "We're going there".

After a week of necessary maintenance,  Mr. J escorted me on my first off road adventure. Riding around in the middle of nowhere isn't the smartest thing for a girl to do on her own, and I'm fortunate to have a willing and able guide by my side. He challenges me to do things I might not do alone, rides his big bike so he won't go too fast for me, tells me how great I am, and we have a good time. Lucky girl, even though I don't believe in luck. 

Our destination for night one was Mormon Lake, and our goal was to hit as many dirt roads as time would permit. We started with Seven Springs Road north of Cave Creek and took it all the way to Bloody Basin & I17. With a

Just Mr. J, Mrs. J, Big Tigger and X-man in the whole world.

late start (imagine that!), and travel taking "a lot longer than I thought", we did a 40-mile stint on I17 to get us to Stoneman Lake road. I was never sure if the "lot longer" travel was due to my slow pace or his underestimation of time, but the full rainbow we saw over the Verde Valley made the interstate detour worth the ride. I began the day pretty sure that my front fender was a sail made to lift the front end, that the wobble created by the knobbies would send me skidding, and that each semi would be my cartwheeling demise. I got used to all that quickly, and by end of day one, I'm all good at speed.

Coffee in the mornin'.

A room at Mormon Lake Lodge, a steak at the bar, a few games of pool with the locals and a PBR or three made the after dark ride to finish the day worth it. I'm amazed at how relaxing off road riding is, was thrilled when I climbed my first rocky hill, and I'm already in love with the views of nothing but nature. This stuff is for me.

No pants, no problem.

Day two was an earlier start and delicious mounds of breaky in Happy Jack. Our goal: upper Rim Road, Young, Roosevelt Lake and Tortilla Flat via the Apache Trail. We got soaked with rain coming into Young, and I got a big chill in my bones. Eight cups of coffee and hot soup still didn't set me right, but when the owner of The Antlers ordered me to remove my pants so she could put them in the dryer, I knew things were looking up. I described the underwear I was wearing (to assure her they were demure enough for public), and when she said "I don't care",  I knew I was in business. Ashley was busy entertaining himself with the white Nigerian he met at the bar and none of the other patrons seemed to mind that I was pantless and barefoot.  I sipped my coffee and waited for the rain to stop, then announced that it's time to go. Off we went, over the pass and down to the back of Roosevelt Lake. 

The stunning view from Upper Rim Road.

Even though we didn't get much more rain, the road was soaked and muddy. I now consider myself fairly comfortable with a little tire spin and movement on the bike, and even though I'd still like to avoid both on the streets, I got enough of a taste to say it doesn't freak me out. Ok, so I never exceeded 30 MPH: I road up and down rocky passes, through mud, shivers and frozen fingers, and along the edges of cliffs. I earned some stripes.

The road from Young was challenging for me for all those reasons, and also because I knew the rest of our journey would depend on it. If I was too cold and tired, dropped my bike or generally lost bodily function, we'd have to play it safe and come home on the highway. On an adventure trip, highway = defeat. And I'm not a loser or a quitter. Smart, cautious and risk averse, yes, but once I set my mind on something, I don't give up.

I felt a big high when we hit pavement on the other side of Young Road, and the view of the back side of Roosevelt Lake brought tears. (Didn't mention that I'm also a cry baby). The view, the warm light from the storms, and the sense of accomplishment was overwhelming. It didn't hurt that the road was smooth and twisty, and after a couple of days of rough terrain, I was comfortable throwing my X-man around a little bit. We crossed a bulging Salt River and zoomed into a gas station for fill up and pow wow. We now had a decision to make.

I took the road last traveled, and it has made all the difference.

I love to think about how a motorcycle trip can be a metaphor for life. You make a plan, and things don't go to plan. You make decisions, and circumstances change. You make good decisions, and bad decisions. You can whine about not getting what you want, or you can find the best in what you have. And most of the time, if you're willing to open your eyes and accept it, life turns out to be beautiful.

That's what we did with our ride to Tortilla Flat on the Apache Trail. It was going to get dark: on a steep, dirt canyon road along a river. With no guard rails. After a rain. It was dusk when we started, and the light and views were breathtaking. As dusk began to fade the sky turned a sultry blue, setting the canyon walls aglow. I was concentrating on "my line", taking every opportunity I could to look down at the river hundreds of feet below on the right, and up at the cliffs hundreds of feet high on the left. I turned a tight corner, and looked up to see the full moon. Wow. We're about do do the Apache Trail under a full moon.  

 
The sky eventually turned black, and the views of the canyon and river disappeared, but the moon only got brighter. We did the longest climb in pitch black, which may have been just as well, because I couldn't see the sheer drop just feet away. Mr. J loves to call me a scaredy cat, but I wadn't scared at all. Just in awe that our trip that didn't exactly go to plan turned out to be an experience of a lifetime.

And now, I'm an off-road rider!