It’s easy to overload on politics. When I was little I did a class project to trace my family history. Part of the assignment involved interviewing relatives about their lives. Some of the questions were about politics and I can only imagine what people will think of this election when looking back say, in 30 years. I mean, I’ll always remember where I was for this election and what I was feeling and thinking. To stay sane, we keep doing what we’re doing. Riding our bikes.
We knocked out another section of the Arizona Trail though a couple miles into it we realized we’d ridden this section from the other end last year. No worries, it’s a great section with lots of good singletrack. Our ride was 22.5 miles with 2792′ of climbing. We parked at Helvetia Road and headed north on the trail. This singletrack is so fun because there are easier sections that flow around the mountains and also technical rocky sections that are challenging. All the time though, there are wonderful view of all the mountain ranges in the area. The only bummer is all the gates you have to open and close since it’s cattle country.
The book I’m reading now ties into our experiences in New Mexico and Arizona this summer and fall. In April 1989, Douglas Preston and Walter Nelson set out to retrace Coronado’s 1540-41 journey through the Southwest in search of the fabled seven cities of gold. They talk about fence in and fence out rules in the West. Arizona is an open-range state. That means that the responsibility for keeping livestock off property falls on the property owner, not the livestock owner. So as a farmer, if a cow gets in your crops and starts eating them all, it’s your fault for not fencing IN your crops.
Cienegas Gravel Exploration Ride
One day we did a tour of Las Cienegas on our mountain bikes. If you stick to the main road you could ride gravel bikes, but a couple of the offshoots were definitely mountain bike worthy. Our ride was 27.5 miles with 1430′ of climbing. For the most part, this area is all rolling hills of grasslands with a couple pockets of cottonwood-willow riparian “forests”. Pronghorn herds dot the hillsides every once in awhile but being hunting season, they were pretty quick to run from us. The wind was fierce and out in the open like we were, it felt a little silly at times.