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I hit Kentucky Camp with a 13 ½ hour split….ugghhh, fuck me! It was
also really cold out. I was psyched for my dinner though- tuna, potato chips and
Slim Jims all smashed up together. I was hunkered down eating at the lower spigot/
picnic table below the camp host’s rv. I could see headlamps throwing light
inside the main house up on the hill. Come to find out, a bunch of racers
had found the building open and rolled on in. I encountered the caretaker as she
made her way back from the building in the dark. She told me I was free to stay
with the other folks inside. Although I appreciated the offer, I was not
tempted in the slightest. It was time to make up some time and I was psyched
for some night travel.
I layered up and prepared myself to ride most of the evening.
Not long out of K-camp, as I was slowly grannying my way up yet another
non-descript section of canyon road, my light illuminated what appeared to be a racer sitting on the ground. It
was pitch black. There was no moonlight. I could just make out a navy blue rain
coat and a figure slumped over with a pale face peeking out under the hood.
Wow, this guy looks beat all to hell- As I walked by I asked,
“You okay mate?” A grunt acknowledged my query but no answer or reply from the lump. Well at
least he’s breathing. Chalk this pathetic pile of human up as another day one,
AZT casualty.
I moved passed the rider and stepped around his bike. I saw
the blue, yellow and red Geronimo shield on the racer’s seat bag. Fuck… this
was Mark!
“Camnitti, it’s Michael” I said. “Are you okay?”
“Ugghrrrhhhahhhh” he grunted again.
I hunkered down next to Mark, careful not to sit down in one
of the many great lakes of vomit surrounding him. He looked incredibly tossed.
I’ve seen Mark look bad before. We had spent time together at the end of last summer's CTR-when he was also totally wrecked. But this was really bad….Like stomach sick
bad. He said he had been unable to keep anything down all day. When he
tried…well…evidence of that choice was everywhere.
I hungout with Mark and gradually he started to talk more. I didn’t want to burn more time or get cold sitting there on the ground, but leaving him seemed to be the wrong decision. When I was fucked earlier in the day, his presence on the road helped me make it to Sonoita in positive spirits, focused on pedaling forward after the ER. Now I would pay back the favor. We began slowly walking up the road together. We hit the single track and walked on.
I hungout with Mark and gradually he started to talk more. I didn’t want to burn more time or get cold sitting there on the ground, but leaving him seemed to be the wrong decision. When I was fucked earlier in the day, his presence on the road helped me make it to Sonoita in positive spirits, focused on pedaling forward after the ER. Now I would pay back the favor. We began slowly walking up the road together. We hit the single track and walked on.
The walk would last almost all night. Gradually, the
Caminitti I know returned and Mark started to hydrate and eat again. By 1 am we
were really moving and we established a great rhythm swinging leads. I’d grease
a climb or HAB only to have Mark pass me on the descent. Man that dude descends!
We traveled deeper into the night and onward into the hilly Las
Colinas section. I was tired but convinced myself I still had plenty left in
the tank. My original goal was to make it to La Seville picnic area approx. 100
miles deep into the race. That was out
of reach but maybe I could get out of these hills and get myself poised atop
the I-10 single track for a dawn descent? In the end, I racked out for a 180
minute nap at 3:00AM. I drifted off the second I was horizontal and my final
memory from a harrowing day one was watching Caminitti’s headlamp disappear
down the next pitch. Traveling thru the night with Mark was a neat experience
and a memory I’ll cherish.
Passed out trailside. All crooked on my half pad. After the
third racer rolled past me, I could no longer sleep. The hour and a half would
have to do-I had a big day! Could I make it to Prison Camp or higher tonight?
My people couldn’t be that far ahead? It was time to make miles.
The I-10 singltrack lifted my spirits!
It didn’t take long to catch Mark again. The heat was
already getting to him and he was taking shelter in the sketchy culvert running
under Hwy 83. I chatted him up and suddenly caught movement in my peripheral ….Dude,
Rattler!
Only ten feet from where Mark was resting, an aggressive
looking serpent slithered towards us. I’ve got a healthy respect for these
creatures and have logged enough time in the desert to steer clear. But this little guy wasn’t about to yield the track. And since we were in a cement culvert, our
options for forward progress were pretty limited. After a few minutes of
yelling, pounding the ground, grouping up, spreading out and trying to walk
past it with my bike as a blocker, Caminitti finally grazed the rattlesnake
with a rock. The resilient fucker was now really pissed off but dazed enough
for me to slip past. Mark quickly gathered his stuff and got out of there too.
Somewhere outside of Tuscon, I lost Caminitti and encountered
Todd D and Sam the Ghost. We rode the Hope Camp segment together, which had
running water in the drainages! When we finally hit the pavement at the NPS trailhead,
I hung back from the two of them to clear my head and get right with an action
plan Resupplies and population centers are tough. You can easily get trapped if
you don’t have a plan. I had momentum now and I didn’t want to lose that
inertia in town.
But then Eliot Dumont SPOT stalked my ass. And there were wings
and french fries. And cold cokes and free refills. And good conversations and a
sweet patio…. And….well, you get the point. Belly and soul recharged it was
time to grind the Reddington Rd.- I bid farewell to ED and left town with Todd
and Sam. So weird- here I was heading out of town as the sun set on day 2- I was now about an hour or two behind my race pace from last year. I had aspired to shave
a whole day off my time this year but all things considered, I was okay with my
current position.
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| Fast guys get beers- I get lukewarm cooler water. |
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| Heading Out Reddington followed by a ghost |
Into the night we traveled. We lost Todd. I rolled the 4X4
road with Sam. Todd catches us at I-trap. We lose Sam. Todd and I continue
grinding and make our way to the Lake. The lack of sleep is beginning to
confuse my mind and definitely contorts my decision making. I notice it first
when I begin screwing up basic trail navigation. It becomes more pronounced as
I eschew my own self care. I stop drinking and snacking. My lack of slumber is
making me sloppy. I continue to get worse. I’d hit the forty hour mark with only an hour and a half of sleep in the tank. It seemed a little early in the
race to be playing games with the monster.
Needless to say, bad stuff continued to happen as I moved deeper
into the night. Todd and I were focused on making it to the Molino HAB, going
up an over and then calling it a day at the campground. But I kept doing
incredibly stupid things. We passed some random water gallons and although I
still had plenty of H2O in my bags, I took a swig off this knarly, sunbaked,
discarded thru hikers jug- “Excuse me Todd, I’m gonna puke” I stumbled off the
trail and hurled hard. Todd moved forward. I wiped the dribble off my face and
soldiered on.
Hitting Molino Basin under the full moon was a blessed experience. There’s some absolutely fantastic trail back there and I wish I was in better shape to enjoy it. At this point, I knew I needed to sleep. The sloppiness had resulted in a few minor crashes. My leg hole hurt and I wasn’t feeling very well. The HAB would have to wait. I got into the shadow of the final headwall and threw out my bivy. I would catch three hours of sleep and would then charge up Mount Lemon. I could be in Oracle by the following afternoon and then…..Enough thinking, it was late. I needed to shut off the brain and sleep.
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| Awakening from a quality 3 hours. |
I awoke and actually felt pretty great. I packed up and rolled to the old
tank at the base of the HAB for a quick meat cookie breakfast. I started my stopwatch. 46 minutes later, I had destroyed the climb to the saddle and was rolling and
carrying the chunky bits down to Gordo H campground. In my haste, I skipped filling
up at the spring tank and resigned myself to gathering water at the bullshit
puddle at the bottom of Prison Camp. At least I’d have enough H2O until the spigot at Palisades.
I quickly dispatched with the Prison Camp section and ran
into some of the same day riders that I met last year on course. I didn’t hang
to chat and hit the asphalt, excited for the big climb up Lemon and feeling
really good! In retrospect, I could have grinded the climb out quicker. I did
charge faster than 2014 but still lost time fucking around with my phone,
taking picks, doing things off the bike, etc…. Inefficiencies aside, I finished
the last of my water and rolled into Pallisades right around noon. I proceeded
to waste more time. Lunch, bathroom break and then it was time to get out onto Oracle Ridge!
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| Tuna times at Palisades |
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| Spigot is on- Life is Good! |
I was fully focused on crushing O-ridge this year. I do not
find the ridge intimidating. An alpine traveler at heart, I find the terrain
inviting. I headed out from the Control Rd. TH and quickly encountered a day
hiker with a thick NY accent. “You might want to bundle up-It’s get’s really
cold and windy out there!” Nice, I thought to myself, I was totally in my element. The
same hiker also told me there was a pack of five riders ahead of me on the
ridge. I wasn’t checking dots so I assumed this intel to be true. And as you
can hear in my call in below, real or not, I was chasing these guys…..
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| Downright rideable on Oracle Ridge....WTF? |
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| The ridge had been manicured and was easy going |
MOUNTAIN JAH CALL IN FROM ORACLE RIDGE
I hate that sign up on the end of Oracle Ridge proper-
“Oracle- 10 miles” FUCK YOU sign….you lie- It’s not going to be ten miles
direct.. And I know that, stupid sign….you suck! And then those water bars down to the
ranch….and more rattle snakes……and then batteries die on my GPS and SPOT…..All
in all, a real suckfest mentally.
It was Easter and I hoped beyond all hope that the Oracle
Inn & Steakhouse would still be open. I was very fickle and mighty hangry. I hit
the wash below the state park and began a mad dash down the final bits of trail to the highway. Another empty cooler greeted me under the highway. I hit
pavement and raged the three road miles into Oracle. Mr. Positive had made it with
twenty minutes to spare.
The food at the steakhouse was shit. There was a group of locals, piss drunk and
arguing at the bar. Although I needed the calories, the scene at the restaurant
was too much. The bunny eared server behind the bar was anxious to close. I boxed up the
remainder of my food and went to get my head right at the Circle K. This year,
I’d pimp the 24 hr. dip, deeper into town.
The gravity of the K held me close. I didn’t want to leave.
I knew what challenges lay ahead. Leaving Oracle and tackling the Tiger Mine section had been a low
point for me last year. But I felt different about leaving there this year. I had
drank a shit ton of coffee, ate a bunch of vittles and had a solid resupply. Any moorings to the Circle K were cast off upon the arrival of the Butcher. She's got a warm shower, cool sheets, hard liquor and soft meat..... Ask me
about that story sometime…..it’s a good one to hear over beers! Needless to say I quickly motivated out of town...
I felt it was important to get as deep as I could into the Gila 100 section of
the route before the heat of Day 3 would scorch tomorrow's progress to a crawl. I
passed a lot of racers racked out in washes throughout the first ten miles of trail. It was a
beautiful evening, it was warmer and I was flying high. I felt invincible, like nothing could
stop me now. In my mind, a finish, however slow, was inevitable at this point.
