Shopping Carts

Yeah, I've been out of the bike groove for a little while, especially the sweet dirt type. But if you can't have the best, take the rest and in this theme I've discovered The Canals. There's a pretty extensive system throughout the city, and I'm lucky enough to have one of these life sustaining veins carry me right up to work so I get to commute as much as I want with minimal cager interaction.

Usually upon my bicycle, I'm far away form the city, surrounded by non-city noises, smelling non-city smells, talking about non-city things, and thinking non-city thoughts. I'm compelled to journey there, really. But alas, my body has borne the brunt of a barrage of beatings upon bone the left knee, and I needed to take a break for some osteopathic upgrades. This break has brought me a cross bike and aforementioned canals.....and city sights, smells, noises and thoughts.

Usually I prefer the desert tortoise sighting, as he non-chalantly non-yeilds upon the trail. Or the buzzards which circle you overhead, as if they know you kinda feel like you're gonna die after this climb. Or the story that the odd ancient ruin, artifact and other broken human memorabilia strewn across the landscape can convey, if only with a bit of imagination. But now, along the Canal, I get shopping carts. At first they didn't say much.

Usually shopping carts don't catch my attention, but ever since I saw the Stray Shopping Cart Project at SMOCA, they've been on my mind, not just for the pure academic practice of classification, but for the city stories they may tell, the humor they hide, or the city thoughts they possess which may be at once enlightening and banal, at chance transcending the city-muck in which we all often live, or just plain being that muck.

And Holy Crap. I found 49 of them in a 4.5 mile stretch of the Canal. And while many thoughts of mine swirled around the carts, the one constant as I gazed upon then briefly at 17mph was the sheer agony of life these carts must have had. These poor things look as if they've tossed themselves over the edge to escape some kind of cruelty that badgered them around every corner in their short lives. So much shopping cart death and despair. Or maybe it's just me, riding in my own Degoba Cave, seeing my dark side reflected back, the Nothing naming itself, my bike stuck deep in the mud. I'd have none of it this day, and struck back by filling in their stories, creating meaning, fleeting mostly, pointless certainly, for what is otherwise detritus, garbage, afterthought. Then again, if you can do that, if even seconds at a time, life will have meaning. My mind is clearly rationalizing for not being out on some far flung trail, seeing the raw natural beauty, rather than this inherent, coached beauty, sticking out from between the cracks in the creations made by Man's tireless, pawing hands. Yeah, I've passed these carts at least a hundred times.

My mind's eye is filling in the blanks, like people that have blind spots in their vision and see cartoon characters dancing within the void, so that it can cope with it's own void and unchallenged body......Rehab can't happen fast enough. Walk with me, through the valley of shopping cart despair.

The first cart I saw on my vision quest. The canal was low, so I was sure to find all the poor souls that sit in Davey Jones' Locker. Bonus points for kid on bike, who clearly doesn't care about the cart. (#1 Cart.)

This poor chap couldn't even make it to the canal. Rather than drowning, perhaps it was going for the guillotine style demise. (#2 Cart.)

This is why you check the depth before diving in. (#3 Cart.)

I think I see who had a hand in all of this.

Admiring the future anthropological puzzles. Who is "Cholola?" Oh, wait, that's the sauce at Chipotle. (#4 Cart.)

It seems this one left a note, but I can't seem to decipher it.  (#5 Cart.)

A lover's triangle done awry. (#6,7,8 Cart.)

So close to getting out...but couldn't manage. (#9 Cart.)

This certainly is a Bridge over Troubled Water. (#10,11,12 Cart.)

Look like Ted had another rough night. (#13 Cart.)

Maybe the note had something to do with this high security shopping cart prison. If you can get past the barbed wire, the sweet canal holds your release. (#0 Cart. Outside the boundaries - don't count!)

Even the wee ones be drivin' their cars into the canal, drunk on Capris Sun.

Vintage shopping cart death I imagine shot with a ten cent pistol. (#14 Cart.)

This suspected Food City cart was taken out back an put down. I'm sure no one cried. (#15 Cart.)

Then the non-city started to creep in!

And then this mac daddy....don't care about the cart either, which is partly Naturalized. (#16 Cart.)

I'm calling Mike Rowe for this one. (#17 Cart.)

A cart in mourning. "Why? WHY?!" (#18,19 Cart.)

We are all but reflections of our thoughts. Clear or murky, focused or disperse, we are that illusion our experience makes, at least until we can break that bond to the tv, then we can be people again. (#20 Cart.)

Ass over tea kettle and you can still land on the bright side sometimes. Make the best of it. The world will soon spin you around. (#21 Cart.)

The water here is never calm. Travel with trepidation. (#22 Cart.)

Sometimes, when you're all upside down, you're actually twice what you were, transformed. Carry on! (#23 Cart.)

Freedom! ...has never been so far. (#24 Cart.)

The way out is through. Right yourself and get moving. (#25 Cart.)

So, many, carts....does it end? Where's the humanity!? (#26 Cart.)

Lover's bones, exposed after time laying together. Was their union forbidden? A Food City and Fry's cart? A Walmart and Big Lots? We may never know....because I'm not climbing down there. (#27,28 Cart.)

Something about this place...it feels like Heaven's Gate. I found no loose change or Motherships though. (#29,30,31,32 Cart.)

Sheesh. Target is miles form here. Clearly a True Stray. (#33 Cart.)

The city jumble. Carts, man with sunflower seeds, sleeping fowl, resting bike, the Spot Parking Shuttle, powerlines, light rail JET! City-everything. (#34,35,36,37 Cart.)

Zenducks.

They never end. (#38 Cart.)

I think this was Hatshepsut's cart. (#39 Cart.)

I need to break their code! (#40 Cart.)

I've concluded that it's impossible for one of these to land wheel's down. In fact I challenge all you vandals! - upside down is so passe now. Improve your craft dammit! (#41 Cart.)

Fatty fisheye cart trying for Dry Land. (#42 Cart.)

This one hit the spot. Turn around time. That's been 4.5 miles of shopping cart greatness, or hell. (#43 Cart.)

Like anything in life, you're not getting it all. You want the last six carts, go find them. They're out there. If I were you, I'd start by looking on the AZT.

Mining the Goldfields

John has been working on a nice bikepack route from his house, now that his obsession is hitting full stride, and we were to do some route scouting through the Goldfield Mountains in north Mesa, which would connect Hawes over to the Superstitions, where we'd pick up the Gold Canyon goodies, then to Picket Post, etc. etc...... It was the last day of the year and there seemed no better way to end it than with some fresh exploration. Let's prime the New Year for new experiences. I've never been familiar with the Goldfields, but I know that Mtbikeaz has an sweet header from there on his homepage, so that is what I was expecting.

Well, that was about what we got. It was chilly with a hint of rain in the air, but the clouds were opening up enough to let spatterings of light through all morning and drifting clouds revealed snow on top of Flat Iron. We didn't know exactly where we were going, or how long we were going to be, but the casual flow of the ride was relaxing. I knew there were no Strava segments out there.

An early morning heading east on McKellips Road. Flat Iron and the Tonto National Forest are directly ahead. The clouds hide a chilly blanket of white.

Excellent morning for a ride.

The patchwork of clouds gave forth exuberant pockets of light that seemed to dance as if they were rocks at the bottom of a crystal clear aquarium that is next to a window with the sun shining in. I felt like a wheeled bottom feeder, taking up all the best parts of the dirt. I was happy with that.

Dance! You magnificent expression of Earthy Nature and Atomic Fusion! Your pallet would tickle Bob Ross's soul. 

So we were only about 20 minutes into the ride, clearly enjoying it to the max. Here I play with a color accent on John's jacket.

Soon enough we get close to the 88 and snow is revealed on the top of Flat Iron. That's at about 3500ft.

I guess you don't have to go too far to find snow in Phoenix.

A juxtaposition of dichotomous natural elements, each representing thermal extremes.

Weaver's Needle peeks out from the Tonto National Forest.

And we broke through to Rt 88. After this we'd head to Jacob's Crosscut or somesuch trail. I've never been there. That would lead around toward Gold Canyon.

Never!

Entrance to the new Secret Trail.

Because it's awesome.

As we made our way back to the TH, we ended up climbing on top of the ridge where we were greeted with this playground looking area 52 type place. We didn't explore much, so there's some taste of the pie to go back for.

I contemplated my short Redbull Rampage career.

Heading off the ridge, we were greeted with this view.  And as I look at it, I think I finally spy where Mtbikeaz got his header from! I've been wondering for years. Ah, Phoenix. For a big city, your mountain biking rocks.

Rockin' National Session Style

So I'm a miles guy, mostly. I like eating them up. Each one is worth about five experience points which I trade in for coins that I use in Strava for powerups, upgrades and nitroboost. Big mile days just tickle my fancy. But you've got to mix it up a bit or you solidify in your routine, your joints  move in pre-programmed, pre-meditated, pre-vious directions, your creativity wanes, your vision blurs, and your motivation is maintenance rather than exploration. The river of life stands still. So this calls for a day of sessioning, or riding over the same shit over and over for experience points, to move the waters along (and buy nitroboost).

JB from Rocks and Blogs was up from Tucson looking for a techy ride, and Schillingsworth was smart enough to advise National over my McD's suggestion. I guess I block out SoMo from my weekend plans, since I'm there during the week often! But with new company and new rhythm, it would be good.

Luck would have it that clouds were voluminous and plentiful! Shade for hours. Very rare for an August day.

Four Peaks. I like their beer.

JB had never been up National so it was fun to see him interpret lines, and give them several tries. Usually by myself I zip up and down the mountain. Today had a new mountain bike chill to it.

I tried and tried on this move, but the closest I came was about half a pedal stroke from getting over. The crease made it tough.

Taking the high left line around the turn.

Working on the center line through the Triangle.

Hey! You're fogging up my lens!

The man is on fire!

MMmmmm....tasty treat the water fall. There were already a few bikers hanging around, debating the merits of giving it a go. One fella had it down and blew through it like a steamroller on crack. All big bike eating the mountain in gulps.

The spine is the easy line to hit, but you've got to commit to the exit.

I was all in. It was time. It was well within my bag of tricks. The OctoCog and I are becoming one. Which isn't hard considering it's 80% Voodoo, which I liked quite a bit.

I was just itching to roll the water fall, especially after my by the lights first run a few days before so I have it to it while those in armor hemmed and hawed about the line and blah blah blah. Get on your bike! Your mouth ain't gonna pedal it! It felt good, but long overdue since I ride SoMo probably the most often of any place and this is one of the more well known features. Scratch it off the list now! I'm done sandbagging on this pile of rocks.

Taking the high road through the Triangle. Heading east on National you get the chance to hop up on the rock face and bypass a nasty little switchback, but you've got to heave to get your bike up there. Bashguard recommended.

Traverse the little left turn rock connector as you get both wheels up then roll downhill to the exit.

It's a bit of a drop, but get back off the seat and it's done.

Sitting at the saddle before turning back. I spied a coyote moving to the east amongst the rock. Can you find him? He eventually met up with another one and it looked like they were flushing rabbits out of the rocks. Teamwork.

I think JB had some fun. National has a lot going for it. Challenging but doable, tough but inviting. I've been riding there 14 years. Sheesh.