Happy Halloween

We’re headed to Phoenix for a couple of days of riding and trail running. Enjoy your Halloween.

Here’s a reprinted account of a ride I still think about nearly every month.

“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 sections of the canyon that you are not permitted to enter as they were/are sacred burial grounds.

I remember the night being warm, and I was riding fast, 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 I distinctly remember, and took a couple of deep breaths and 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 – in the darkness of the canyon – shaking chains in a semi-rhythmic pattern. ‘ching ching’…..’ching ching’……’ching ching’…… I tried to stay calm, and I did, but I had to work at it. I know full well that Walnut Canyon is less than five miles from two major freeways and local kids will drive out from town, hike down and party hard. But, it was late at night, on a schoolnight, and it’s a long way for someone to haul chains - so they could shake them………..and it was pitch freakin’ black.

‘ching ching….’ching ching’. It wasn’t stopping and it sounded like it was getting louder. My heartbeat got louder too. I turned my HID 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 kids or transients who were messing with me. Darkness. Just the breeze blowing the trees. No chains. A million stars, but my heart was still racing and I remember feeling like I was being watched – from where though, I had no idea-just that sinking feeling that you're not alone.

Once again, I flipped it and was ready to wrap this ride up. ‘click’ the HID – ‘click’ again, and ‘click’ again….my light wouldn’t come on. ‘click’ again, no luck. OK – my mind is now one step away from melting down. 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 and cursing douchebag kids, when pffffffffffffffffft. Flat tire. I’m running Geax Sturdy 2.5 tires and I flat? Physically, I changed that tire calmly, but mentally I was looking over my shoulder the whole time. The winds calmly swayed the trees as I finished the repair, but no sounds of chains. I 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”. I was explaining the part about the stop on the rim, and got a look at my watch. It said 12:05am. You gotta be kidding me. It was 25 minutes slow, but it was working again. 25 minutes was the time it usually takes me to climb out of the canyon.

Friends have offered invitations to group rides out there. Nahhh, no thanks.