A group of Tucson cycling friends rode a loop from Patagonia to the U.S. Mexico border and back to Patagonia recently. The loop is 50 miles, about 40 of it on dirt roads. It takes in mining ghost towns nestled in oak covered hills, and a broad expanse of high grassland ranches.
Claire and I rode our road bikes to Cape Royal at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon on my birthday. It was a hilly 45 miles ride all at 8000 feet or more. We were the only bicyclists on the road, but there were many motorcycles. One group of three guys from Italy were impressed that we were managing the ride.
Descending Mount Lemmon was fun as usual. I intended to take it easy today. A week ago I maintained 48 miles an hour for a mile or so through several curves, leaned way the heck over, using most of my lane. After the thrill wore off I realized just how much it would hurt to crash at that speed. Talk die. The fastest crash I ever had was probably 20 miles an hour, and I hurt for a very long time, and that was 20 years ago. The boy is still inside me, egging me on. I tell Claire (she hates it when I ride no hands for miles down the mountain) she shouldn’t complain about my testosterone levels remaining high; testosterone has some positive uses too!