The Second Half

Four years ago today, I rode out to Walnut Canyon for a night ride. Walnut Canyon has a lot of historical significance to it, primarily because it was home to many Native Americans. Cliff dwellings still exist, as well as certain off-limit burial ground sections.

I remember the night being warm, and I was riding well, cutting through the darkness with an HID light that could pave the way for a car. It’s a 20 mile out and back ride, and I reached the half way mark after a twisty, technical drop into the mouth of Walnut Canyon. I stopped, turned off my light, looked at my watch – 10:55pm, and took a look up at a moonless night and an abundance of stars. With shadowed 500 foot rock walls on two sides – it was sight I won’t forget.

‘ching ching’….’ching ching’. It was as if someone was maybe 50 yards away – into the mouth of the canyon – shaking chains in a semi-rhythmic pattern. ‘ching ching’…..’ching ching’.

Now I know that there are occasionally homeless people that sleep in the woods, and Walnut Canyon is within 5 miles of a Wal-Mart – so enough said there. But, it was late at night, a long way for someone to haul chains so they could shake them, and it was pitch freakin’ black. Indian Burial ground was all I could think of in that instance.

‘ching ching….’ching ching’. It wasn’t stopping and it felt like it was getting louder. My heart stopped, resumed, and got louder too. I turned my light on, flipped 180 degrees and hammered up to the rim as fast as I could. A sign at the top indicated that a right would take me to the overlook and a left would take me home. I chose overlook, turned off my light, and walked carefully to the edge to surely catch a glimpse of the A-hole transient who was messing with me. Darkness. Just the breeze blowing the trees. No chains. A million stars, but my heart was still racing.

Once again, I flipped it 180 degrees and was ready to wrap this up. ‘click’ – my light wouldn’t come on. ‘click’ again, no luck. OK – my mind is now one step away from freak out mode. I let my eyes adjust to the dark as much as possible, and pulled the battery and bulb connections – gave them a quick dust off – reconnect them…..’click’. The bulb came on, and I was in business. I glanced at my watch to see where I was at time-wise. 10:55pm? That was the time when I had stopped at the bottom of the canyon. My freakin’ watch had stopped?!

Hauling ass, and headed for a shortcut back to town, I was ready to be home behind a locked door. I was apologizing to unknown Indians all the way home (I sort of lost my political-correctness at that point), when pffffffffffffffffft. Flat tire. I’m running Geax Sturdy 2.5 tires and I flat? I changed that thing frantically, pounded the pedals home, got inside, locked the door, and told D what the hell had happened. She said off the cuff “that’s Indian Burial Ground out there”. Then she asked me if my watch was working….man, I totally forgot about that. It said 12:05am. You gotta be kidding me. It was 25 minutes behind and was working again. 25 minutes was the time it usually takes me to climb out of the canyon.

I haven’t been back there since.