School of Bikes: Two Stories from the 2025 Pinyons and Pines

Photos by Wyatt Spalding

Editor’s Note: Starting and ending in Flagstaff, Arizona, the 2025 Pinyons and Pines bikepacking race dished up a challenging 340-mile route on some of the most magnificent terrain the state has to offer. This year’s route consisted of a southern loop that takes in some of Sedona’s finest singletrack and a northern loop that winds its way past several extinct volcanoes. There are also two mandatory out-and-backs to summits, adding an interesting twist to an already monumental undertaking.

Two weeks ago, over 70 riders lined up at Flagstaff Bicycle Revolution for the 2025 grand depart. Despite ideal conditions, nearly half the riders failed to complete the route, which isn’t totally surprising when considering the amount of technical terrain and elevation gain. Rodeo Labs co-owner Stephen Fitzgerald took first place after finishing the route in just 1 day and 19 hours, but the unsung heroes of the 2025 Pinyons and Pines were 16-year-old McKenna Marino and Cruz Blue. Not only did they finish, but Cruz snagged 10th place overall, and McKenna was the third woman to finish the route this year. We can’t imagine the list of riders who had to take a couple of days off from school to participate in the Pinyons and Pines is that long, and it’s incredibly inspiring.

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With help from organizers Dana Ernst and Dylan Turner and photographer Wyatt Spalding, we worked with Cruz and McKenna on a two-part recap of their experiences riding the Pinyons and Pines. Read both of their stories below, and let’s take a minute to celebrate the next generation of bikepackers.

Peer Pressured into 332 Miles of Type 2 Fun

Words by McKenna Marino

I still had four hours until sunrise, and I was stuck out in the cold rain with a failed emergency bivy, a soggy sleeping bag, a canister of bear spray at the ready, and 260 miles of dirt roads and trails behind me. How the heck did I get here?! Blame it on Cruz Blue for peer pressuring me into riding Pinyons and Pines. Although preparing for the race proved to be more of a challenge than I anticipated—with AP tests, finals, and teachers who don’t understand that you cannot, in fact, do homework while bikepacking—on May 15th, I pulled up to the start line of what would become both the hardest and most meaningful adventure of my life so far.

The race started out fast and smooth, with my overly ambitious starting pace allowing me to ride side-by-side with some very accomplished ultra-endurance athletes. The best part of this was experiencing how kind and welcoming everyone was. When I got to mile 101, I set up camp, sat in a tree to enjoy my dinner, and watched the sunset from the Schnebly Hill overlook before crashing out for a solid eight hours of sleep.

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Day two started at 6 a.m. with a bumpy (but fun!) descent into Sedona, a glorious smoothie from the Local Juicery, and the terrifying knowledge of Casner Mountain looming in the distance. Luckily, I had pre-ridden this section a few weeks back with my high school friends Cruz, Nixon Twomey, and Shad Phillips, but this only served to increase my dread knowing what lay ahead. Arriving at the base of the Casner switchbacks, I may or may not have audibly cursed whoever decided to build this ridiculous road.

The difficulty of the climb might have been increased because it was noon and 98 degrees. Or because I got swarmed by bees (I escaped unstung, but others were not as fortunate). Or maybe because I almost ran out of water. That’s all to say that I was very happy to arrive at Power Tank to refill my bottles with water and my stomach with 1,100 calories worth of Fritos (which my stomach later informed me was a bad decision). When I finally reached the Route 66 pavement and saw my mom there, I was absolutely exhausted and spent the next 10 minutes crying onto her shoulder. Then I pulled myself together, got dinner at Maverick, and rode my last few miles of the day before camping in a beautiful meadow near Lowell Observatory.

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The theme of day three was headwind. Well, the theme of the second half of day three was headwind. The first half started out with a leisurely stop at the Marathon gas station, some unexpected visits from friends and family, and coasting down some fast dirt roads after both Schultz Tank and O’Leary Peak. I was still feeling good after the Sunset Crater Visitor Center but then the headwind began and never relented. My legs were hurting but my spirits were still high when I reached the AZT water cache. I decided to go six more miles and camp just before Highway 180.

As I was setting up my camp, I was startled to shine my headlamp on a deer carcass. This discovery motivated me to relocate my camp, but my fear of feline predators in the area was now heightened. I strategically placed my bear spray within hand’s reach (thanks, Mom, for insisting I bring it, despite my resistance!). As I drifted off to sleep, I could still feel fear tingling all down my spine… Wait! That wasn’t fear! That was rodent-sized feet running across my sleeping bag! And maybe a little bit of fear, if I’m being honest. A few hours later, I was woken by raindrops. In my half-asleep state, I delayed pulling out my (older-than-me) emergency bivy, but as it started raining harder, I scrambled to get it open. It immediately shredded in my hands. In my cold, wet, and now slightly panicked state, I remembered that I had another bivy sack with me that I had been using as a lightweight ground tarp. It resembled Swiss cheese but kept me dry(ish) for the rest of the night.

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The sun finally rose on day four, and I extracted myself from my soggy sleeping bag. By the time I rode into Parks, I was tired but happy to order a sandwich at the General Store and see Cruz (who had finished the previous day) there to cheer me on. As I left Parks to embark on the final stretch of the race, I opened Spotify and let Led Zeppelin, Joan Jett, and Def Leppard songs “rocket” me all the way up to Aspen Corner. When I got to the top, I turned off the music and let gravity do the rest. Watching the “Miles to Finish” on my Garmin tick down from 10 to 8 to 5 and finally to 3 as I turned onto Highway 180 was the most surreal feeling.

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Pedaling down the smooth pavement, I immediately forgot how tired I had been, and I was almost sad that the ride was about to be over. But of course, all good things must come to an end. As I pulled into the finish at Sosta 3 days, 11 hours, and 15 minutes after starting the race, I was overwhelmed by the beautiful sight of my friends, family, fellow racers, and even people I didn’t know cheering me on. Their incredible support nearly brought tears of joy to my eyes as I dismounted my bike and soaked in the feeling of having completed all 332 miles.

Miss school to ride my bike? How do I sign up?

Words by Cruz Blue

I have been accused of having a superpower named Oblivion. Like any good superpower, it allows me to accomplish unthinkable feats (because I literally don’t think about it) but can also be my downfall (I just never see it coming). Some would say this has a lot to do with being a 16-year-old boy, but some would also say that the Earth is flat, so who knows what to believe?

This year has had its share of peaks and valleys. After the high of completing Pinyons and Pines a year ago, I managed to contract pneumonia a few months later, snap my tibia and fibula, get severely humbled by the AZT and had to endure the worst hardship of all… attending high school. I was so happy to simply be back on the bike giving the event another go.

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The morning of May 15th started a little too early for my body. I wanted to continue sleeping but then realized, and actually shouted out, “Wait… I don’t have to go to school today!” While my sisters shipped off to school, I would only have to ride 330 trail miles and climb 27,500 feet.

I did feel a little funny that morning. I visited the bathroom a few more times than normal, and could barely stomach any food. Later, this would be categorized by words such as anxious, excited, or nervous… but my Oblivion wasn’t allowing me to recognize any of this. I was excited to see my high school pals Nixon Twomey and McKenna Marino lined up for the start. We had all trained together and were equally enthusiastic to be on our bikes.

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The neutral rollout was led by Dylan Turner. I was feeling great. While other riders advised me, “Take it easy, this is a long race,” Oblivion shouted at me, “This is awesome! We feel great, and there is no way we will ever feel any different!” The climbing began immediately reaching the top of Mt Elden (~9,275 feet). Miles of flowy descending singletrack followed. I was staying near the front with a few riders. Professor Hindsight would later inform me that half the riders in this race and all of the riders ahead of me at this point would scratch… but hoarse cheers from Oblivion didn’t have me contemplating any of that. Professor Hindsight’s lectures are boring, anyway. They are usually just a bunch of charts and statistics that nobody cares about. It’s hard for me to listen to his monotone voice and smell his musty tweed suit, so I usually just skip his class. I was doing exactly what I wanted to do: having fun on my bike. What lay ahead didn’t really matter.

At the Country Store after 60 miles of mostly singletrack, I was still smiling. The smile was a little weaker and harder to see through the dirt. During the following gravel miles out to Schnebly, my legs were starting to mysteriously lose strength. “Is this what it means to tire out?” I almost questioned. “Naaaw,” Oblivion replied… but it was getting hard to hear ol’ Oblivion over the wind.

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Dropping into Sedona around 4,500 feet was hot. Oblivion had deserted me. I stopped in the shade a few times on the chunky Wagon Trail descent to pour water on my back. I’d been dropped by the group I was with. I reached the Chipotle near mile 108, and something was wrong. Oblivion had definitely clocked out. I guess it was only scheduled for a 10-hour day. I was shaky and oh so weak. I felt dizzy and thought I would pass out. In Oblivion’s absence, Wherewithal suddenly showed up. Do you ever notice that Oblivion and Wherewithal are never in the same room at the same time? There is a real Superman/Clark Kent vibe to their relationship. But I digress. Wherewithal tells me to leave my helmet on so that when I do faint, at least my head won’t crack open on the floor. The line was taking forever, and all I needed was a drink cup to get some lemonade. I had to lean on the counter to be able to stay upright. Everything was very foggy.

I finally got my lemonade and went outside to collapse in the shade. I forced down some lemonade and morsels of burrito while I was sprawled in the shade of the short brick half wall. Matt Annabel showed up smooth and steady on his single speed bike. I think he whispered something like, “You have to learn the hard way, grasshopper,” but I don’t know what he meant, and he probably wasn’t talking to me.

Finally, after about an hour sprawled out in the shade as a tourist dis-attraction, Oblivion showed back up unannounced in a bit of a tizzy. It looked disheveled with messy hair and bloodshot eyes and mumbled a quick apology that had something to do with a vortex. Immediately, Oblivion got back to its old antics. It smoothed out its skullet and covered its bloodshot eyes with some Pit Vipers as it exclaimed, “What are we doing?!? Get up! We feel great! Let’s go have some fun on the bike!” And Oblivion was right. He catapulted me right back into the moment with a spectacular Sedona sunset and classic Sedona singletrack that rattled the restorative juices back into me.

I had toyed with the idea of riding later into the night. I figured I would experiment with napping. After sundown, Oblivion jumped in looking like Jack Black in a Hawaiian shirt and board shorts with a piece of advice. “Lie down right next to the trail on the bare ground with nothing more than your shorts and jersey on. When the next rider shows up, you can just jump back up and keep riding! It’s gonna be awesome!”

“Okay,” I replied, and did just that. I closed my eyes but didn’t sleep before Matt Annabel showed up strong and steady. I blurted out, “Can I ride with you?”

“Hmph, you okay bud?” he questioned before watching me stumble confidently to my feet.

“Great!” I replied before proving it to him as I confidently stumbled onto my bike. Very soon, I began looking for suitable patches of dirt to spend the night. Around 9:45 that evening, I stopped short of the imposing Casner climb, threw down my sleeping bag, and careened into sleep. Matt chugged ahead.

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I awoke the second morning with the dawn… no alarm. Oblivion was strong. Another day of school missed and another day on the bike had me giddy. I stopped halfway up the Casner hike-a-bike and crawled under a bush to finish off what was left of a Chipotle burrito that had been bouncing along with me since the night before. I was back to smiling. Yesterday’s troubles were long gone and locked up with professor Hindsight preparing an inevitably boring lecture I would hopefully never have to sit through.

Back near civilization, finishing the southern loop, I filled up on gas station delicacies then charged head on into the punchy climb up Big Bang Trail leading up out of town and onto the northern loop. Some fast gravel miles to the base of the Oleary climb had Oblivion and I belting out our best Rage Against the Machine covers. I played air guitar while Oblivion took care of the vocals. As always, Oblivion was a couple octaves too high, but it didn’t seem to bother him. I don’t use any earphones out there or listen to any music or podcasts. I keep my phone in airplane mode to save battery, and Oblivion says it helps him stay focused on not being focused.

Several miles winding around meshed into several more miles then several more miles after that. Winds are at my tail, in my face, then at my side. Oblivion never seems like it is gonna quit but always rapidly changes its tune once the sun goes down. Oblivion and Wherewithal apparently had some sort of an argument while I wasn’t around but decided we would ride until nearly midnight. The blinking lights from the windmills in the distance contributed to a quixotic feel of the landscape.

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I rode without a bike light after dark because Oblivion asked me, “Why not?” It seemed like he made a solid and complete argument. A tailwind had me feeling great and strong again… then things got squirrely. The earth rapidly moved up toward the direction of my face, and I was able to block its advance with my forearm and right cargo cage on my fork. My forearm got cut up, and the cargo cage didn’t survive the impact. I rode with a light the rest of the time while Oblivion whistled innocently in the corner.

After another failed experiment napping in shorts and shirt in below-freezing weather, I got back to riding. Oblivion had left long ago but said its second cousin twice removed, Slog, would keep me company. Oblivion bellowed that Slog was misunderstood and really not as bad as people tend to say. As Oblivion mysteriously faded away, Slog silently slithered up until he was humming in my ear. He was cold and tired and asked if I wouldn’t be able to give him a piggyback ride just until he could warm up a bit, which would “probably be around the next bend.” Stan, a fellow participant, kept trying to shoo Slog off my back for me, but every time he did, Slog just gripped my rat tail and squeezed a little tighter to brace against the cold. I couldn’t shake Slog, and he was starting to bum me out. At the agreed upon time of 11:30 p.m., I told Slog I was done riding for the night. I forgot to eat and instead tumbled into sleep.

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The third morning, I awoke to in the predawn to Oblivion bounding like a puppy who just heard the words “take a walk?” We headed out in shorts and a jersey in what was near freezing weather. Classic Oblivion. A breakfast of a few gummy bears chased by a fig bar had us daring to think about finishing.

A final stop at Parks allowed a pair of ice cream sandwiches to slide smoothly into my belly. Soon enough, I was intersecting with the AZT on the north side of the peaks. This is a glorious section of trail. It climbs up gently to around 9,000 feet before gifting a rowdy descent back toward Schultz Creek and Flagstaff. I was feeling strong. After about eight hours of riding since waking up, I was celebrating another Pinyons and Pines finish with family and friends. Oblivion gave me a giant stinky bear hug and literally vanished into thin air as a distant voice shrieked, “Don’t forget about your AP World History exam Monday! Oh, and you have an appointment to get your wisdom teeth pulled Friday.”

Further Reading

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