Progression Makes Actualization: A 2022 Pinyons and Pines Report

Words by Meg Knobel, photos by Wyatt Spalding and Meg Knobel

May is a magic month for adventure riding in the Southwestern US. If you’re lucky, you can link together your favorite winter desert routes with the higher elevation mountainous trails and have some pretty fine epics. For all previous editions of Pinyons and Pines since 2019, the weather dice roll was not favorable: snow, heat, dust, freezing rain, and brutal headwinds. I’d heard about these tough years from friends, yet for some reason, I decided it sounded like the perfect thing to choose to endure this May.

As the date approached, the weather looked pretty dang good, aside from the 25°F start and the night temps at higher elevation. Thank goodness, because my sleep system isn’t adequate for inclement weather. During the Utah Mixed Epic last fall, my seemingly minor allergy to down feathers turned into a full-blown nightmare when combined with the cold and days of exposure in the backcountry. Wheezing, hives, edema, and itchy, swollen shut eyes. I gave away and sold all my nice down gear but still haven’t fully sorted out anything for below freezing, given that I live in San Diego and haven’t needed to. I packed my summer synthetic bag and a cheap mylar sack for a liner.

Unfortunately, the “good weather” also fed a massive wildfire, which engulfed the region north of Flagstaff for a couple of weeks prior to the start, tragically affecting many people and animals. Amid the nearby crisis, organizer Dana Ernst kept everyone updated, creating rendition after rendition of the route, chasing the remaining open trails and forest roads, eventually landing on a safe, legal, and downright superb version for 2022 just days before rollout.

I’d like to emphasize the amount of work it takes to maintain an event like this for 70 people, many of whom are unfamiliar with the region and some who are unfamiliar with bikepacking itself. The pressure is real, and you want to provide a fun experience that won’t get anyone lost, arrested, or killed. Most racers take the organizer’s word as truth and plan around it, and that puts a lot of responsibility and pressure on that unpaid, overtime role. Dana had been dealing with severe ongoing health issues and injury while doing all of this for us, not even able to physically ride, yet he still put so much love and work into the event. Further, he went out of his way to send invites to riders of underrepresented demographics so we would have a more diverse field. I personally loved having more women on the map! While there’s a lot more work to be done in terms of diversity in bikepack racing, I appreciate the goals and efforts put forward by Dana and everyone else involved.

• 
• 

At 6 a.m. on Thursday, we gathered in front of the bike shop in various bundled-up states. Lauren Brownlee of Boise had just finished (and won) Race Across Arizona the week prior, and she was casually in a T-shirt and shorts. Intimidating! A license plate hanging from her rear rack read “2COOL4U,” and it was the truth. A few of us low desert comrades had an embarrassing laugh at how much clothing we had on, but whatever works for your acclimation needs, right?

Soon enough, we were on the singletrack. It was glorious. Mildly techy, little rocky ups and downs, some flow, some hike-a-bike. After a while, it was a little tiresome on a loaded bike, but I was really excited that we rode so much quality trail right out the gate. Downhill flowing for hours, out of the pine trees, and the “Pinyons” part of the name came into focus. Chunky doubletrack and pitchy climbs, riders leapfrogged and chatted. I live at sea level, so the altitude wasn’t my friend, but not the worst if I kept it mellow, so I made the decision to just keep moving. I figured I could avoid sleeping cold at night if I just didn’t sleep and potentially avoid the hot weather out of Camp Verde the next day if I got through there early. It was a plan.

I’ve ridden and watched enough of these events to know that many people go fast out of the gate and stop early to sleep—or scratch—so I generally ignore my dot the first day. Sure enough, my dot booped along through the evening, and when I got to Jerome late that night, I was feeling good. The front riders were just getting down Mingus, and based on their Trackleaders breadcrumbs, they were taking five to seven hours to get to Camp Verde from Jerome, which was sort of alarming, considering it was barely over 30 miles. I settled in for a long night ride.

Turns out, the “road” out of Jerome was rough. A hike. Hours. Some rideable, most not. Some creeks, mud, rocks, and more rocks. A long stretch of fast-riding doubletrack and realize I missed the turn. Where is the trail? It’s dark. And late. And 4 a.m.? Backtrack. There it is: the infamous Mingus Black Canyon Trail, looking straight up like a scene from The Blair Witch Project at that time of night. Overgrown, tall grass, big rocks, unmaintained density. In and out of dry creekbeds. I turn on music on my phone, and the first track is from Wu-Tang. Perfect. Hello mountain lions, I’m here and loud and annoying. I know it’s weird, sorry! Leave me alone, please!

• 
• 

I bushwack to the downhill section, which proves far more exposed than any trail video on YouTube can show. Ride-walk most of it with a leg out, trying not to fall off the side and down the cliff. Several riders went off the sides, you can see in the dirt where their bikes slid. I’m thinking about Lauren, who isn’t far ahead of me, riding through this on her mullet bike with a 40mm rear tire. It keeps me motivated. Lauren went off the edge at some point on this trail and was caught by a very polite tree. Josh Hicks had gone over the bars and into a four-foot cactus a couple of hours prior, rendering his outer layers unusable for the rest of his ride and filling his body with spines. He still finished in 50 hours for third overall singlespeed. What a champ!

• 
• 
• 

Perry Jewitt catches me about halfway down Mingus, and we get the gift of sunrise and rideability. He had a three-hour nap and was fresh, and he leads down the rest of the technical singletrack with gusto. We are flying, and almost forgot I hadn’t slept and was on a loaded bike! This was probably one of the highlights for me. It had almost a Palm Canyon Epic vibe, and the views were awesome.

Checking Trackleaders, Chase Edwards seemed to be stopped in town. Not good, considering she was in the front group and leading the women earlier. Turns out she had a scary allergic reaction and had to abandon the race, but was thankfully okay and on the way back to Flagstaff.

• 
• 
• 

Camp Verde brought the gift of burritos. One for here, one to go. My goal was just to get out of town before the heat hit, and take a long nap at higher elevation, but sometimes plans don’t work how you’d like. The climb out of town is brutally hot before 9 a.m., and I can’t imagine what it is going to be like for the riders behind me. I’m sluggish from fatigue and having trouble regulating my body temperature. I have to take breaks. I try to settle down for a nap, but gnats swarm me—in my eyes, nose, and ears. Heat and gnats for hours and hours. So much the midday sleep I’d been planning. It’s some new form of torture, baking alive and being eaten by tiny insects while in a sleep-deprived state. I’m definitely more of a mountain biker than a gravel grinder, and as the terrain changes to endless rock gardens, the tech engages me and my focus returns.

Andrew Strempke would finish first early that evening, while many of us still had much more riding left. Blazing fast. Singlespeed. Probably around the same time my nose was gushing blood all over my bike thanks to the dry, dusty air.

• 
• 

It’s no secret: not sleeping makes you ride slower as more time passes. But under the circumstances of not being able to ride much faster due to acclimation, or the likelihood of getting poor sleep due to cold, sometimes compromises are what you’re left with. I settle in for another long evening. I wonder, how long can I do this? I’ve gone 33 hours before, but as the frigid cold returns and I enter the “Pines” portion of the route, I know I’ll need to push quite a bit longer than that to get to a place I’ll get any amount of quality rest.

Team Furbo (Freako & Turbo) catches me as the temperature drops drastically. The AZT is very rocky during our midnight ride, and we share stories and pass trailside bivies. I push on a bit more, my sights set on the water at one of the campgrounds ahead. Some steep hike-a-bike and portages welcome me into the late night as I begin to realize I’ve just hit my safe limit for non-stop riding. Then I see it: the bikepacker’s dream. The clean, dry, pit toilet bathroom in a quiet forest campground. I knew it was there; I had checked online prior and looked at the satellite views to confirm, so I carefully wheeled my bike in and made myself comfortable. I rode for 44 hours straight. Good job, Meg, a new barrier safely broken. I didn’t even mind the hard floor on my hip, and I passed out within seconds of lying down. My alarm went off an hour and a half later. I snoozed it twice because it was good for morale.

My brain works again! Pre-dawn, I get out of my slightly steamy mylar sack, drying within seconds in the high desert. I finish the rest of my bean, rice, and cheese burrito, but I’m still very calorie deficient, and my stomach won’t stop growling. With clarity, I enjoy some gorgeous AZT singletrack and doubletrack through the pines as the sun rises.

I check the tracker: Lauren was closing in on Katie Strempke on a singlespeed. Katie would soon finish first, having patched a tire with five bacon strips and part of a T-shirt. Mid-afternoon, I lie down trailside to rest my head and neck, and wouldn’t you know it, Team Furbo arrives. We all pop some caffeine and a snack and get back to business.

• 
• 
• 

Approaching the final climb, I make a mistake. At the last resupply gas station, I’m still sleepy, so I drink a Redbull. I’m sensitive to caffience as it is, and I forget about the pill I took an hour earlier. I say farewell to the climbers. Hopefully, I’ll see them again for some pizza at the finish. The caffeine hits me. I’m on a trail (Little Elden?) that’s full of rock-rolls and rideable fun, fast and flowy and really a good time. Animal Collective comes on, and I’m feeling it, like, too much, and I turn onto Little Bear, the final climb. Higher elevation, steeper pitches, and I start getting tunnel vision. My heart is racing. I stop and turn off my music. Am I having a panic attack? Oh shit. The caffeine. Dummy. Why?! I spend the next 30 minutes chugging water and trying to get rid of it, playing the de-escalation game while escalating in elevation up the trail. I finally get it under control.

The route ends with a ripping hour of fast downhill singletrack. Ending on a high note, for sure. I roll up to the bike shop to be greeted by about 20 finishers and friends. The pizza place was still open! Jesse Boudart hands me a cold Modelo. Lauren says that my not stopping kept her on her toes. That’s pretty cool! Having more women out there definitely added to the camaraderie and friendly competition. We all share stories until we can’t put off sleep any longer, and agree to do the same the following day for the next group of finishers.

• 
• 

As a fellow volunteer organizer who also works a full-time job, I know putting this on takes a lot of time and effort. After managing and riding our local Stagecoach 400 this March, it was an absolute delight to participate and race in a quality event where I simply needed to focus on my own ride and the ethics around that. Huge thank you to Dana, from all of us, for being extremely present and involved in creating this incredibly fun race! The route had great balance, challenging yet reasonable resupply and water locations, and diverse trails. Don’t forget to thank your local volunteer organizer, folks!

• 
• 
• 

Thanks as well to Flagstaff Bicycle Revolution for hosting, Squirrel’s Nut Butter for the samples, and Pizzicletta for the celebratory pies at the finish. And to the locals who scouted trails during the fire reroutes to help Dana out.

Related Content

Make sure to dig into these related articles for more info...