There's a lot that could be said about 2020...most of which has already been said by countless others. I can think back to January of this year...and to all of the fun adventures I had penciled into my calendar for 2020. Nearly all did not come to pass for the obvious reason that was a worldwide pandemic. As disappointed as I might have been that many of my adventures were canceled or postponed, I was never once truly salty about it, as I was fully aware of the scale and significance of what was happening. In truth, it has been over 100 years since the world faced a pandemic of this enormity and of this risk to the public health. So while my spirits may have been dampened a bit by the many cancellations, my heart was always thinking of the many who were dealing with the pandemic from a much closer (and more personal) level. What's more, is that in spite of the many cancellations, I managed to discover many places and go on many adventures that I otherwise would not have. In addition, I don't think C and I would have welcomed our wonderful new four-legged family member into our home. So...I guess for me, there were still many silver linings.
2020 In Review
I started 2020 in what seems like a ridiculously unusual way now. Having survived my first full semester as a new Assistant Professor, C and I celebrated the new year in downtown Flagstaff by attending the annual "Pine Cone Drop" in the downtown square. This is a somewhat goofy tradition, but it would mark the last time in the last 12 months that I found myself in such a large open crowd of people.
Nearly midnight on Dec 31st!
Everything about this picture seems so wrong now.
As January rolled in, two annual traditions came into focus: My 3hr loop run that I always do on the first weekend in January, and my month-long streak I do every year to pull myself out of my winter idleness.
So, on January 3rd, I headed up to Buffalo Park in order to complete as many 1.9 mile loops as possible on in 3hrs, and managed to come away with 22 miles again (for the 3rd straight year!). I also managed to maintain a very healthy running streak for the entire month (with the help of my apartment complex's treadmill). I even threw in a couple of shorter races at the Coldwater Rumble, the Elephant Mountain 50k, and the Little Colorado River Half, to keep me motivated.
Without hesitation, I can say that I was firing on all cylinders in January. I felt good and the miles felt good. By the end of the month, I felt fit, and strong again. It was going to be a good year for running! At the Elephant Mountain 50k I even finished in 3rd place!
After completing the Little Colorado River Half a week before the Black Canyon 100k...I felt primed and ready. I was in great shape, and ready to break 12 hours on the course. What I wasn't ready for was the desert. This east coast, humidity-driven runner, struggled quite a bit with the dry/hot air. Regardless, I still enjoyed my time out on a a lengthy course with my body in true runner shape!
I ended up having a mixed-day....really good for the first 45 miles or so, and then really rough for the last 15+. I slowed down to a walk the last few miles which pushed me over the 12hr mark by about 15 minutes. Still, I couldn't complain. I mostly had fun, and just notched an early Western States Qualifier for next year to boot. Nice. Following the race, I also would have the Boston Marathon in April, and of course, the Hardrock 100 in July (which would be my pinnacle and focus race of the year....at least I thought so in February).
Following Black Canyon, I was I was excited to shift my training regimen to more hard and fast road miles to start prepping for the Boston Marathon. I would be running it with my great friend, and former running partner from Boston. It would be her first time running (and my second...although my first was pretty awful). It was going to be a GOOD year! My new semester was also starting off well. My teaching methods and style were getting better and more honed, and my students seemed content as well. I was getting some new co-authored papers out and all seemed to be on track to be somewhat of a predictably good year both academically, and from and adventure perspective.
......
And then March came. And with it, the SARS-CoV-2 virus. I had recalled hearing rumblings of this strange new pneumonia in China back in January, imagining "what if" it became a crazy world pandemic! Little did I know that it was inevitable at that point. I wrote at length about my experiences through the first few months of 2020, and the difficult adjustment to a "New Normal" here:
The last thing that C and I had planned before the world around us came to a screeching halt, was a fun camping trip down to the Mogollon Rim area. We had planned to swing through the town of Pine, AZ to visit with an old Barkley friend ("Frozen" Ed Furtaw). We booked a small teardrop camper for our Subaru to test it out (we were thinking of maybe buying one), and I even installed the hitch and wiring harness myself. But then right before Spring Break and our trip, the entire University and City of Flagstaff shut down completely. Our lives outside of our small apartment, effectively stopped.
Newly installed wiring harness
Life for the next few months became all about sheltering in place. We did a lot of cooking, baking, and small gardening....and I stayed centered by still getting out on solo runs into the woods. We got a lot of take-out meals too, to try to support our favorite local restaurants...but otherwise only ventured out once a week for mandatory groceries. We also started getting weekly COVID testing.
Our classes went fully online for the remainder of the semester, and the enormity of what was happening began really setting in. This would be life now for the foreseeable future. About this time, I was also starting to get regular notifications of various adventures and races being canceled. First it was Boston (postponed to September), then the ultimate gut punch, Hardrock. I was really looking forward to circling the San Juans again.
During my many runs, I came to learn about quite a few new favorite places around town. I fully explored the trails of Tuthill, and discovered the Woody Mountain area (still one of my favorites). I explored Sedona a few times, found out about Sycamore Rim, and played around the trails near the big peaks and over along the AZ trail near Fisher Point. I spent many hours on Caltopo and Gaia learning of fun places to explore. C and I started a daily habit of walking 2 miles each morning to help clear our heads and stay focused. It seemed to work well.
Homemade bread
One of many fires we burned while sheltering in place
Hey look...new sprouts!
....and more Sprouts!
Time lapsed plants in the Sun!
Woody Mountain Tower
View from one of my many March runs
The local Elk herd that roams near Fisher Point
Another new running route.
Baby Horned Lizard we found on a hike in late April
During a Sycamore Rim run
As the semester ended, we found ourselves facing another dilemma. Our apartment lease would expire in July, and we really wanted to buy a house, but it just seemed like such a daunting endeavor, especially during a pandemic. Would we have to tour a home virtually? We knew the housing market in Flagstaff wasn't going to wait for us and prices would continue to climb quickly. If we were going to get a place we could afford, we'd have to act quickly.
Through some serendipity, we managed to connect with an incredible agent who helped us quickly navigate a difficult housing landscape, made even more difficult by a global pandemic. After viewing many properties, with nothing "clicking", and feeling overwhelmed and burnt out by the process, we were ready to give up and re-sign our apartment lease. But at the last moment, we came across a property that was for sale by the owner. We quickly set up a viewing, and decisions had to be made immediately. Needless to say, we pulled the trigger quickly (with a few stomach knots and general nausea thrown in) and managed to secure a bid that was accepted! We feel so fortunate at how everything transpired and do love our new little home.
Our new home...and....our first home.
As May turned to June...and then to July, we began frantically packing and prepping for our big move. During this time, we also learned that our University would not be renewing contracts for over 100 non-tenured faculty. This was going to cause so many problems both within our department, and across the entire school.....nevermind so many of our new friends would now be unemployed. Well we did what any good colleague would do. We protested internally and on City Hall...calling for jobs not be cut. Unfortunately, no matter how much we protested, it made little difference and to this day we are still woefully understaffed at the University. The one beacon of hope that we all see, is that our very-disliked university president just announced that she is stepping down. With a new administration coming to the campus, the universal hope is that some positive changes will come with that transition.
Protesting with others on the lawn of City Hall
At the beginning of June, C and I decided to take a short (and isolated) camping weekend down to the Mogollon Rim. We wouldn't be using any sort of camper, just the two of us, and our tent. We wouldn't visit any place, just hide in the woods for a few days. It was definitely therapeutic.
A much needed respite along the Mogollon Rim
View from our campsite
A swing near our campsite
View from the hammock, down the Rim into the valley
A couple of weeks later, we were blessed with a very unseasonably cool Monday for the area near the Grand Canyon. I did what any good adventurer would do....and made a quick trip for a Rim2Rim2Rim run. I was a bit undertrained, but the bonus was that the park had only recently re-opened. It was a Monday to boot...so I literally saw almost no one the entire day through both crossings. I wrote about my adventure extensively here:
North Rim at 21 miles...ready to turn around and head back
Half-way back down the North Rim
Heading back to my car after completing the R2R2R
Before our big move at the end of July, we took one more short vacation...this time up to the San Juans of Colorado. I figured with Hardrock being canceled, C and I could still do some backcountry camping up there and explore some trails and mountains. It was a really nice little escape.
Standing on a corner....in Winslow, AZ
....it was such a fine sight to see
Our hidden little backcountry site in Colorado
Hiking near Hermosa Creek
Hiking along the Hardrock Course near Cunningham
Looking down into Cunningham
Along the Colorado Trail
The big move finally came, and with it the craziness of U-Hauls, dozens of trips to Home Depot, and various other stresses....and strains (both mental and physical). Thankfully, most of it all went off fairly smoothly. One of the first modifications we made to the new home, was installing a cat door into an enclosed litter box in the garage. It felt weird cutting a hole in our new wall after having only just moved in. But, the solution worked out swimmingly!
Empty Apartments
Uhaul Rentals
Installing LED lightbulbs in the new House
Garage wall before....
Garage wall after...
Completed cat bathroom
Covered and inconspicuous
I made a quick trip down to Sedona in Late August to visit with fellow Barkley runner Nick Hollon (now "de la Rosa") and his wife Jade. He showed me some of his favorite trails. We had a splendid time...
Enjoying Sedona
Elephant Rock
Nick, Jade, and I having some fun
Climbing some of Sedona's famous red rock
....But then something happened which C and I weren't anticipating. After a whimsical trip to a local animal shelter to get in some fun cuddle time with a few pups....well.....we came home with one. We realized with a new house, and a new enclosed backyard, we could finally realize our dream of owning a dog. So, on September 1st, we welcomed Molly into our lives. For the first few weeks it was a struggle. She was very needy and scared. We don't know her full history, but we do know that she was about 1 year old when we adopted her, and that she was a Rez dog. Over time, she eventually warmed up to us and we are now completely inseparable.
The day we adopted Molly (pic taken at the shelter)
Molly a few weeks after we adpoted her....what a ham
Molly last week. I mean...c'mon. Just look at that face!
Fall semester began, and with a new large cohort of students coming in the Climate Science graduate program here at NAU. I prepped and began teaching a new class in Climate Science Mitigation which included a large tree-planting group effort. It was a bit difficult to organize during a pandemic, with covid tests, social distancing, and masking...but we made it work safely and successfully and planted over 200 Ponderosa Pine trees.
Students prepping for planting
Your's truly proudly displaying my first planted tree
Our finished plot of over 200 trees, with our weather station recording data
In mid-September, I managed to still run the "Boston Marathon"....virtually. I got a bib number, plotted a 13-mile out-n-back along Lake Mary Road, and ran by myself for over 4 slow hours. Along the way I managed to video chat a couple times with my good friend back in Boston (who I was planning to run with during the actual race). It was nice to run "with" her, even if only virtually.
The semester progressed in somewhat of a blur. We continued to grow plants, I made another trip to the Grand Canyon...this time with some students, and my grad students moved on to working with elementary school classrooms on outreach projects.
At the Finish Line of the Boston Marathon (C printed this out and put it on our door!)
Tomatoes!
North Rim Camping with students
Rim 2 Rim (one-way) with some students
Climbing up from the river on the Kaibab trail on the South Rim
But then...something else happened that I wasn't anticipating. After much research, and almost a 15-year wait, I finally bought myself a small adventure dual-sport motorcycle. I ended up buying a 2021 Royal Enfield Himalayan (single cylinder, 411cc) after much internal debate and vacillation. I wrote all about my multi-year interest in this pursuit, as well as the eventual purchase here:
In the two months that followed, I have been out on dozens of adventures and covered more than 1300 miles on two wheels exploring various backgrounds and trails in and around Flagstaff. It has been just as fun and soul nourishing as I had hoped. I cannot wait for more-involved adventures next Summer up in the San Juans of Colorado that will undoubtedly involve camping and 14er summiting. I have a full list of upgrades and gear that I plan to outfit the bike with in an effort to prep it for some multi-day camping/adventuring trips next Summer. My skin tingles just thinking about it. I've even managed to record a few youtube videos of my recent adventures.
The day I picked up my bike, after just a few dozens miles.
On a trip up near the Arizona Trail outside Flagstaff
Before my trip down to Sedona and the infamous Schnebly Hill Road
Youtube clip from Schnebly Hill Rd
Youtube clip from Sunset Crater Loop
Over Thanksgiving break, C and I took a socially distanced trip to visit with her sister (after negative covid tests of course), and it was nice to spend some time on trails and let our doggos play. It was the first time Molly has been around another dog for more than 20 minutes at the dog park. We learned quickly that she likes to play....and never gets tired.
Molly and Quinn playing by the river near Lake Isabella, CA
Molly experiencing a flowing creek for the first time
A beautiful and stress free hike after a taxing semester
On a soothing trail run in CA
In November, my birthday came and went, as did our National Election. As I sit here today on Jan 5th, our current president has still refused to accept the outcome of said election, or to concede. Not that it's any surprise at all given the character of the man. Once December rolled in, all thoughts shifted to Christmas, and to prepping for the looming Spring semester. C's sister would be coming to stay with us for a couple weeks over the break, and again bringing her dog (Quinn). We were excited to share our new home with family (since we wouldn't be making our normal excursion to Florida to visit with everyone). Over the past few weeks, we witnessed an amazing celestial conjunction between Jupiter and Saturn, visited several parks and monuments, and had a lot of fun cooking new meals. We even completed a couple of fun puzzles together. All in all...not a bad way to end a rather difficult year.
Our Christmas set up
My new backyard "beginner" telescope
The best I could get with my little scope
Jupiter and moons on top, Saturn on bottom
Another trip to the Grand Canyon
Sunset from the South Rim
I found a bow on my Himalayan one morning....
Santa must have paid me a visit
Molly very confused and excited about this weird white stuff
A doggo trip down to Sedona
1000 pieces of pure enjoyment (well maybe a little frustration too)
The year ended on many positive notes for me. COVID vaccines are rolling out, we have a new federal administration about to take over (one that is much more interested in the impacts of climate change and what we might do about it), and C and I are hopeful for the future. Sure Hardrock was canceled, and I had to postpone many of my anticipated adventures....but I found new adventures on the motorcycle and explored so many new trails on foot. Just this past weekend, I started off my new year as I always do, by completing 1-mile loops as part of my annual CJ's Resolution Revolutions Run. This year I managed only 20 on my very-out-of-shape legs, but was thrilled to have had a beautiful day for the outing. This makes it 8 years in a row now. Not too shabby.
About to head out on my 3-hr annual CJ's run
My 20 miles this year
(my very first loop was a bit longer, hence the extra bubble)
...and that about wraps it up. 2020 was definitely an interesting and challenging year, but one that I am still grateful for.....on many levels. I am incredibly hopeful for 2021 and the thought at maybe being able to visit with family and friends again. I am also excited for many new adventures as I have quite a few good ideas swirling around in my head...
I had just completed my first year of graduate school at Penn State, and was about to take part in my first stint of actual lab work at the National Ice Core Lab (NICL) outside of Denver. While I was prepping for this field work, it occurred to me that I could potentially stay a bit longer than planned in Colorado after my work was completed, and go after a thru-hike of the ~485-mile Colorado Trail. I had wanted to get a taste of true alpine hiking ever since finishing my AT hike the previous summer, and figured this would be a chance to make it a reality. I calculated that if I hiked at a similar pace to my AT hike, I could finish the entire trail in about 3 weeks.
...And so the planning began. I bought the requisite maps, went through scores of online thru-hiking journal entries, and picked up the necessary cold-weather/alpine hiking gear. I was genuinely excited for a true alpine adventure. What I wasn't expecting though was the ridiculous amounts of snow I'd encounter in late-June in Colorado that year.
Pulling out an ice core at NICL
After my 3 weeks of preparing ice-core samples at NICL, I gathered my things together, stored my non-hiking supplies at a friends house, and got a ride to the Waterton Canyon (Northern) CT terminus.
All of my new CT gear laid out and ready for a hike
Day 1 of the CT in 2008
The hike was absolutely incredible. I experienced true snow field traverses, crazy afternoon thunderstorms, insane amounts of elevation gain, and of course, alpine vistas that brought me to tears. To this day, hiking the CT back in 2008 is still one of the most profound and poignant experiences of my life.
Along the Continental Divide just outside of Silverton CO.
CT Thru-Hike Slideshow Video
As I was making my way through the rugged terrain of Colorado, something interesting happened just a few days from the end of my journey. Something that has stuck with me for over 12 years now.
About 3 days and 75 miles from the end of my hike, I came to the last trail-town of Silverton. As usual, once in town, I made my way to a local motel, took a long shower, washed my stinky hiking clothes, and eventually made my way to a local restaurant to fill up on as large a meal as possible. By that point, my hiker appetite was ravenous.
I eventually found my way to the restaurant in the Grand Imperial Hotel, where I enjoyed the entire dining area to myself (it was early on a Sunday night). I spent about a half-hour rummaging through my trail guides and maps to see what sort of terrain and trail conditions I might expect during my last three days, when I noticed a very large group of individuals coming in. I had no idea what their group was, but at first glance they all appeared to be a part of some kind of "off-roading" group. Silverton is a known hub for groups looking to explore the famous "Alpine Loop" by ATV or 4x4 Jeeps. These guys were all decked out in padded gear and some had helmets, so I just assumed they came off the loop for some dinner.
But....as they sat down and started talking, I couldn't help but listen in to their conversations. I started hearing really interesting comments like,
"Remember that time we broke down going across Kazakhstan?"
"I can still recall getting mugged while making my way through Colombia."
"How about that flat tire you got while moving across the North Slope of Alaska!"
I was sitting there thinking to myself, whatever these guys are doing, or whatever group this is...it sounds pretty awesome. Here I was thinking that I was rather "adventurous" for having just hiked over 400 miles along a rugged mountain trail in Colorado....but after hearing some of these guys' stories, I couldn't help but be a bit envious.
Eventually I scooted my chair over and asked one of the group, "So what's your story? What group are you with?"
He went on to tell me that he was part of a worldwide adventure motorcycle touring group called "Horizons Unlimited" and they basically deck out their Adventure motorcycles with full gear (including camping gear, spare parts and equipment, and repair tools), and spend months out of the year traveling. It sounded amazing and I was baffled that I didn't even know that was really a thing.
Sure, I had heard of people taking long trips or touring on motorcycles across the country...heck one of my favorite books in High Schools was "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance"....but I guess I just didn't realize there was a sub-group (and sub-culture) of "Adventure Motorcycling". I had heard the term "dual-sport motorcycle" before, but not really "adventure motorcycle".
After eating, I went outside to look at some of their setups...and was astounded at some of the bikes and gear they had mounted to them. It was truly a combination of ridiculous and captivating. I reflected on this experience for a moment thinking about how I was there, carrying my entire life on my back, and traveling by foot. And here were these guys, basically following a similar path, but through the use of a very-capable two-wheeled machine, and covering a lot more ground.
I spent the last three days of my thru-hike between Silverton and the Southern Terminus in Durango thinking about these guys and the adventures that they've been on. I imagined the things that they must have seen, and experiences they must have had along the way. I told myself at the end of my hike that one day....I wanted to experience a similar kind of adventuring.
Typical "Adventure Motorcycle" Setup
But then.....my life went back to graduate school, and the thoughts of adventure motorcycling were shoved back into the deep recesses of my mind...being replaced by thoughts of ice-core climate modeling and glaciology. Days became weeks...weeks became years.
Every once in a while I'd see a really nice adventure bike parked somewhere and I smile to myself remembering my Silverton encounter. Occasionally, I'd even spend a few minutes surfing the web for different makes/models of bikes to see what was out there, and the respective price ranges. But nothing ever came of it.
PAUSE THIS STORY FOR A SECOND....
Let me rewind once again, but this time even further back to 1993. It was the Spring of my Junior year of high school and my dad agreed to let me learn how to ride a motorcycle (after an unhealthy amount of pestering). He himself rode a 1992 Kawasaki Vulcan 750...and was admittedly excited at the prospect teaching me how to ride as well. I remembered taking many trips down to the lake or the ice cream shop in the summers as a kid with my dad...on the back of his motorcycle. So naturally, as a now-spry 16-year old about to start my senior year, I of course was excited about the thought of learning how to ride and get my motorcycle endorsement myself.
My dad was very clear however. He told me he would only allow me to learn to ride a motorcycle if:
I bought the bike myself,
It was under 250cc in size.
So I spent the next few months busting my ass bagging groceries and picking up extra hours at the local supermarket in order to save the several hundred dollars I would need to buy my first beater bike. Once I had a decent amount saved up, we started looking around the classifieds (remember when that was a thing?) to find the perfect "starter bike". My dad warned me...it was not going to be pretty. Functional? Yes. Sexy...hell no.
After a few weeks of searching, we finally stumbled across the absolute gem that was a 185cc, 1978 Honda Twinstar. Let me be clear, this motorcycle was an absolute dinosaur and clunker, and had zero charm or appeal....but I was at peace with that. My dad and I drove out to the next county over and he 'test rode' the bike. I still recall my 6'2" father putting around on what was basically a glorified moped. It was as ridiculous as you could imagine. I ended up buying it and I think my dad rode it home while I drove the car home (I had my drivers license for a few months by then). The very next day started the lessons in the local elementary school parking lot. I distinctly remember the first few lessons....where he didn't even allow me to turn on the motorcycle:
Lesson 1....ATGATT (All The Gear, All The Time). We spent over an hour talking about how no matter how far you are going, or the conditions you are in, ALWAYS wear All the protective gear, All the time. Is it 98 degrees out? Want to wear shorts and a t-shirt? Too bad, wear all the gear.
Lesson 2....Assume all other vehicles can't or don't see you. I specifically remember him saying "I know they taught you defensive driving in Drivers Ed. Well on a motorcycle, you can be the most defensive driver in the world, and about the best that will do is make for a nice epitaph on your gravestone. You have to be more vigilant than you can imagine...ALWAYS scanning, all the time, and assuming all other vehicles are going to cut you off or pull out in front of you". I remember him asking me after this lesson, "So...do you still want to learn to ride?"
Lessons 3-10 included things like how the transmission works (where each gear is and how to get to neutral), how to properly balance the bike while stopped (what feet to put down etc), how to brake properly, how to pick up a tipped over bike properly (without straining your back), how to switch to the reserve gas tank, how to troubleshoot common problems, how to change the spark plug and perform basic maintenance and oil changes, how to practice good habits like turning the engine kill switch to "off" every time you get off the bike, always turning off turn signals after completing turns, performing proper visual scans, etc. It was all a LOT to keep in mind. I recall thinking as a 16-year old, that this is supposed to be "fun" and "cool".... and it's actually a lot of work, and would require an enormous amount of responsibility. The most I ever got to do those first few lessons was sit on the motorcycle while it was turned off. I remember my dad quizzing me and throwing scenarios at me while I sat there to see how I'd respond. At the time, it was frustrating as I just wanted to ride.....but looking back now, I realize now how valuable this type of training and education all was.
I think it wasn't until day 3 or 4 that I actually turned the bike on. Even then, I didn't get to ride it. I simply practiced shifting, stalling, engaging the clutch, etc. Thankfully, I had just learned to also ride a manual transmission car, so at least understood how a manual transmission and clutch worked. I just had to transfer the mechanics of my left foot, to my left hand; and my right hand, to my left foot...
My glorious first ride: 1978 Honda Twinstar 185cc
Eventually, I progressed on to actually doing circles around the parking lot, doing figure-8's, taking small trips around the neighborhood, and eventually taking a few longer trips alongside my dad. After a few months of practice, I took my road test and passed thanks to his good training. That winter, I learned how to properly store a bike, and the following Spring and Summer, I got to ride my motorcycle around town and to work every day...enjoying that freedom and enjoyment before going off to college. I sold the old beast before leaving town and never really looked back.
Fast forward to 1998-99. I had just finished college and moved into my first house in Cleveland. I started reminiscing about my old motorcycle and found myself surfing the internet (with my dial-up connection) for any local used bikes. I stumbled across a used 1993 Kawaski Vulcan 750 and was immediately excited at the prospect of riding the same bike that my dad had a few years prior. So in a wild fit of impulsiveness, I went down to the shop that day and bought it. Little did I know that it was WAY too big of a bike for my 5'9", 155lb frame. I rode it around town for a couple of summers, but never really got too excited about it. It was too big, had some electrical issues, and I just wasn't getting out on it enough. Ultimately, I sold it after two years and sort of gave up on motorcycles.
It was almost 10 years later that I would have my experience in Silverton meeting the Adventure motorcycling group from Horizons Unlimited.
My 1993 Kawasaki Vulcan
After almost 8 full years in graduate school pursuing both a Masters and PhD, I had finally graduated and landed a new job at the Cold Regions Research Lab up on the border of NH and VT. In the Spring of 2016, I was driving around rural Vermont, when I came across a guy selling a 125cc scooter at the end of his driveway for 500 bucks. I thought...what the hell. Sure it may be dorky, but it will give me a way to get around town easy, get to work in the Summers, and simply see if I even still enjoy getting around on 2 wheels. Deep in my mind I still found myself thinking about those adventure motorcycles, but honestly wasn't even sure I would still like riding on 2 wheels (especially after my uninspiring time on the Kawasaki Vulcan).
So...for the next 4 years, I found myself touring around the winding backroads of Vermont on my 125cc scooter (affectionately named Scootie McScootface). What I learned from this experience was that I did still absolutely love the freedom of two wheels, and the experience of riding. I didn't care how dorky I looked, I absolutely loved scooting around.
Scootie McScootface....replete with milk crate
Touring around some Vermont back roads.
Last summer (2019), when C and I moved out here to Flagstaff, I strapped Scootie into our moving truck and brought it all the way across the country where I've taken it out on more than 1000 more miles of trips around town. It is a surprisingly effective and efficient way to travel around Flagstaff (especially considering how many sunny days we get).
Something else that I came to appreciate about my time with Scootie, was that it allowed me the opportunity to really "tinker" on motorcycle that wasn't incredibly valuable. In the four years that I have owned Scootie I've learned to clean a carburetor, adjust valves, replace brake pads, change odometer cables, swap out electronics, change fuel filters, replace resistors on dash instruments, replace gear oil, and a whole mess of other maintenance. I think this sort of practice is necessary and invaluable if one ever expects to take long-distance trips by motorcycle. As weird as it sounds too, I also simply found a lot of peaceful enjoyment out of simply working on the bike. I suppose there is a "Zen" to motorcycle maintenance.
BUT THEN IT HAPPENED....
So...now that we're essentially caught up, I can tell you what transpired starting around February of this year. As the COVID-19 pandemic began to reach its first peak, and the realization that we'd be quarantined at home for potentially long periods of time, I found myself finally looking up what types of "Adventure Bikes" were out there. I spent about a solid month really researching what I was hoping would be that Golden Unicorn perfect adventure bike for me. What I learned with the Vulcan, was that it was simply too big and not my style. So I started putting together my "Wish List" that included, preferably:
300-500 cc (although I'd maybe consider a little bigger if the bike is not too heavy)
< 400 lbs
Under $6000-$7000 if possible
Dual-sport or adventure capable
Meant for on- AND off-road (and can handle single track and even some technical terrain)
Decent clearance
Can carry a lot and/or has panniers
More of a classic look (no crazy pointy fairings or futuristic plastic bits)
Nice suspension
Not too tall (I have a 31-32" inseam and wanted to be able to flat-foot while stopped)
Probably single cylinder
Simple machine that I can maintain and service myself (not crazy complicated)
Nice protection parts and guards
Good parts availability and aftermarket parts
Reliable with good reviews
Switchable ABS
Has a center stand
Nice console, dials and readouts (not all - crazy digital)
So the search was on....
I found many bikes that fit many of these conditions....and many that even got somewhat excited about.
Let's see. Probably the bike that found its way to the top of my list throughout my searching was the BMW G310-GS, although to be fair, I didn't love it. It was a bit more complicated than I wanted, and definitely more of a sport bike styling. Still, the reviews were excellent, and it was the size and fit I was looking for. I especially liked BMW's bigger bikes like the 800GS, but something that size was just too big, and way too expensive for me.
BMW G310GS
BMW F800GS
I also really liked the Suzuki DRZ400, but it was a bit too much dirt-bike for me, and really tall. It got great reviews, and performs amazingly, but it still wasn't really getting me as excited as I wanted.
Suzuki DRZ 400
I went on to research the Kawasaki Versys 300, the Honda CRF250L and Honda CB500X, all great machines, but again, not quite what I was looking for.
Kawaski Versys 300
Honda CB500X
Honda CRF250L Rally
KTM motorcycles are very popular here in AZ...so I researched the KTM 390 Adventure, and it was definitely a top contender (very powerful), but it was quite expensive, and I really disliked the look. Heck from the front, it looks like a friggin' insect.
KTM 390 Adventure
Looks like an insect...
Lastly, I researched the newly released Yamaha Tenere 700...which was getting incredible reviews, but it was creeping up to the 700 range that I already knew was quite big for me (plus it was pricy at $10k)
Yamaha Tenere 700
After about a month of trying to convince myself that one of these motorcycles was going to be my dream adventure bike, I essentially gave up after not ever truly feeling inspired by any of them. There were also all so modern in design, with too many plastic fairings, and too sporty of a look. So...that was it I thought.
But then something else happened. As I was reading a few last reviews online, I stumbled across a comparison between the G310GS and a bike I'd never heard of before: a Royal Enfield Himalayan. The reviewer actually argued that despite the Himalayan having less power, and being rather "utilitarian" in styling, he much preferred it.
2021 Royal Enfield Himalayan - Such a beautiful and classic design!
...And that's when the obsession began.
I spent the subsequent month researching nothing but the Himalayan, and every time I saw it, every article I read about it, it became painfully clear. I was finally, and truly, excited about an adventure motorcycle. I had found my golden unicorn.
On September 1st, Royal Enfield launched their a pre-order for the new 2021 model which would now include switchable ABS and better brakes (a complaint about previous models). I eagerly put down a deposit, and took a trip down to a local shop to test ride a 2020 model. I instantly knew it was a done deal. For the next month, I patiently waited for my preorder to come in. Two weeks ago I finally got the call that it was in, and I asked C to drop me off at the dealership about 60 miles away in Cottonwood.
As soon as I saw it, I knew it was going to be the start of many amazing adventures.
2021 Royal Enfield Himalayan sitting at the dealership...waiting for me
After finalizing paperwork, I strapped on some new riding gear that I had just picked up, and rode over 100 miles of backroads back home. It was an absolute blast and I was practically giggling every second of the way. I stopped many times to let the bike cool off (as it was in the break-in period), and simply enjoyed the scenery. I also got so many questions/comments about it....i.e. make/model, styling, look, etc.
By the time I got home, I couldn't wait to ride it again. The very next weekend I drove it all the way back to the Phoenix area to get the first major service (300 mile) and have gone out several times since.
Along the backroads of AZ
As the weather begins to turn here in AZ, I will sadly have to put the new machine up for winter storage, but I'm happy to have had a nice little taste of adventure on it. I will be spending my winter dreaming of the adventures to come next Summer in the San Juans of Colorado!
Apparently it is also customary to name your Adventure Motorcycle. I thought about some of my past adventures and kept coming back to to my time in Iceland, and to Icelandic names. So everyone....I'm very happy to introduce you all to Freyja. May we have many amazing, and safe, all-terrain adventures together in the coming years!
Meet Freyja
Ready to explore!
But sadly....it's time to winterize...but we'll be back!
This past weekend, while I was flipping through my weather app, I noticed that Monday was forecast to be an unseasonably cool day for June in Arizona. Here in Flagstaff, there was actually a frost warning for the morning. The high in town was only going to be around 60.
An idea popped into my head....
'I wonder how how hot it'll be in the Canyon....'
Back in November, C and I took our first trip up to the Grand Canyon. It happened to be on a day where everything was covered in 6+ inches of snow. As we walked up to the Mather vista point, we both were utterly speechless. As magnificent as I imagined the Grand Canyon would be, let's just say that apparently my imagination had horrendously underperformed. We spent the next day snow-shoeing around the South Rim and taking in the sights. Upon leaving, I told myself that I definitely would be back to do a Rim to Rim to Rim hike or run at some point soon.
Some pics from our November trip are in my Year-end post here:
The problem with going for a R2R2R attempt, is that unless you go in late Fall or Early Spring, you are likely to have a really miserable/hot time down at the bottom (or a really cold and icy time during winter at the top). Typically, Phantom Ranch (down at the river) has daily highs over 100 degrees in Late Spring and Summer. Spring and Fall are tough for me with the semester being in session though. So when I looked up what the projected Monday high temperature for Phantom Ranch was, and that it was only going to get up to 80 degrees, I immediately made plans for an attempt. This epiphany was made even more exciting by the fact that I had just learned that the not only was Hardrock 100 canceled for the year, but that my entry was not going to be rolled over. I was in need of a wee little adventure.
So...I did what any ultrarunner/adventurer would do. I re-activated my Inreach, bought some supplies, dug out my National Parks yearly pass, and made plans to drive up to the South Rim at 3 am on Monday Morning.
Most R2R2R runners utilizes the South and North Kaibab Trails as they present the shortest total route. I debated whether or not to start at the Bright Angel trailhead as there is parking right at the start, but ultimately decided to stick to Kaibab. The downside was that I did have to hike 2 miles from my parked car, just to get to the trailhead, so it effectively wasn't any shorter overall.
After poring over the maps and info online, I learned that a full Rim to Rim to Rim, would entail 42 miles, with about 11,000 feet of gain (~46 miles if you include the walks to/from the trailhead). This was honestly not as bad as I thought. I began doing math in my head on what time I needed to start by to avoid hiking in the dark.
My goals were simple: I wanted to enjoy the day, and take in the sights as much as possible. I wanted to marvel at the different geologic formations, and not feel rushed. With that said, I still wanted to move with purpose, and try to average at least 3 mph. I really didn't want to 'run', and instead wanted to rely mostly on my fast hiking skills. My back-of-the-envelope calculations had me doing the full out and back in about 14 hours (15 if you include the ~4 miles to/from the trailhead). I figured if I started by 4:30 am, I could be back to the car by dark (or at the very least back to the trailhead), as long as I didn't run into any issues.
I spent Sunday night packing and prepping, and decided to go with my larger hiking pack (as opposed to a running-style vest). Again, my plan was to mostly hike, so I wasn't too worried about awkward running with a bigger pack on. With that said however, the pack I went with was my old FastPack 20, which I can run fairly proficiently in.
At 3:00 am on Monday morning, my alarm chirped and I was out of my bed in an instant. It was going to be a good day. I churned out some quick coffee, taped my feet, gathered my pre-packed gear, and was out the door by 3:20.
The drive to the South Rim went smoothly. It was the first time in a very long time that I had made a longer drive by myself in the car. It was somehow soothing listening to my music and drinking my coffee on a solo drive. It's weird to think that just a year ago, I was driving over 300 solo miles a week just going back and forth from Vermont to Boston...and now I barely drive at all. In the entire year we've lived in Flagstaff, we've only put a few thousand miles on the car.
I hit the main parking area at the South Rim about 4:35 am and then took about 10 minutes prepping my sunblock and gear before starting my hike over to the trailhead 2.25 miles away. I briskly walked along the paved rim trail and got some beautiful pre-dawn views. The sun was not up yet, but it was light enough out that I would not need a headlamp. At around 5:15 I hit the South Kaibab Trailhead. I took some pictures, activated my InReach, sent a 'At Trailhead' message to C, and officially started my Garmin watch. The R2R2R had begun at 5:18 am.
At the South Kaibab Trailhead (5:18 am)
(Note: AZ doesn't do Daylight Savings, so we get very early sunrises)
Obligatory start selfie
Within minutes I was already at the first vista point, the appropriately named, 'Ooh Aah Point'. It was right about then that the sun finally made an appearance. It made me feel slightly 'behind schedule' despite it still being before 6 am, so I did actually do a little jogging on the descent. I recall the first few miles going by extremely quickly. In what seemed like minutes, I had already dropped over 2000 feet in elevation.
1 mile down the trail at Ooh Aah Point
About 2.5 miles down trail
About 4 miles down, hiking through the 'Supergroup'
(These precambrian sedimentary rocks are only exposed in a few areas)
I passed a couple of people on the descent, including one park ranger who brushed me up on my Grand Canyon stratigraphy. About an hour in, I was already getting views of the river. The descent had not been nearly as steep as I was expecting, and there were a lot of forgiving switchbacks. I was constantly switching between hiking, and light jogging. Once I saw the foot bridge over the river, I knew I was getting close. I had remembered from the map that it was about 6 miles to to the crossing, and I had already gone past five miles in just a little over an hour. I was making great time.
View of the river from about half-way down.
First view of the bridge about 1200 feet down.
I made it to the river after just 90 minutes from leaving the trailhead. I was greeted by a rock tunnel just before the footbridge crossing. I hadn't realized just how high up and scary the bridge crossing would be. Needless to say, I stared at my feet to prevent getting vertigo. It was a little unsettling.
Last switchback before the tunnel and bridge
Tunnel just before river crossing
Tunnel Video
Suspension foot bridge....VERY high above the river.
I took a short break on the other side, and then slowly began the long slog up the North Kaibab Trail. I hit 7 total miles and Phantom Ranch right at 7:00 am and it was still quite cool there. I knew on the way back many hours later it was likely to be much much warmer.
For the next 9 miles the trail wound its way around canyon walls without gaining much elevation. This section definitely dragged on a bit, but was at least gentle enough that I could still get in some intermittent jogging.
After about 3 hours, I finally made it to the Manzanita camp and the turn up the Roaring Springs canyon. This is when the trail finally starts to climb steeply up to the North Rim. I took a 10 minute break at a picnic table and refilled my water bottles (the taps were turned on thankfully). As I left to start the more difficult stretch of the North Kaibab trail, I also noticed it was beginning to get a bit warmer. The trail not only began to get steeper, but also a lot more precipitous. There were sections that were reminiscent of the Hardrock course where the trail was maybe 2 feet wide along a steep canyon wall, with at least a thousand foot drop just a step to the right. I found myself really 'hugging' the walls on those stretches.
Over the next five miles the trail wound steeply up the Roaring Springs Canyon, and over many switchbacks. I also noticed I was finally out of the basement rocks, and back in the sedimentary geology going through various recognizable formations. I crossed a foot bridge about 2 miles from the top that I had recognized from a video clip online, and so knew I was getting closer.
Starting up Roaring Springs Canyon towards the North Rim
The white limestone formation at the very top is where I was headed
View from the N. Kaibab Trail
More views from the climb
The last 2 miles were the toughest of the North Kaibab section. The trail got noticeably steeper, but thankfully it was also cooler due to the elevation. The North Rim trailhead is actually over 8200 feet elevation (1000 feet higher than the South Rim). I did some rough math and realized I might actually make the trailhead in under 6 hours if I pushed it a bit. It was an arbitrary number, but it still gave me a little extra motivation to get there without dawdling too much. I kept checking my altimeter and my mileage and it felt like it was taking forever to get to the top. Even though I knew it was 21 miles, somehow I felt like I'd get there sooner. My watch read 5:58 total time, so I figured I wasn't going to hit 6 hours.
But then I turned a slight corner and saw the steps leading up to the recognizable trailhead sign. I looked down....5:59...so I sprinted and made it to the top just before my watch flipped to 6:00 flat (or clock time 11:18 am). YES! I treated myself with a 15+ minute lunch break. I destroyed my PB&J sandwich, and downed a full liter of water. It felt nice to take a well-earned break. I think I put down a full packet of sugar gummies as well. Eventually I topped off all of my waters, and slowly packed up for my return.
North Rim Trailhead - halfway done
Definitely a bit spent, but happy the long climb is over.
I started back down the trail at trip time of 6:15 (or about 11:33 am). It was nice to know that I was already heading back for a 16+ mile downhill stretch, and it was still before noon. I felt pretty confident I'd be able to get back to the South Rim by dark (but definitely still had my headlamp packed should the need arise).
Along the descent with some clouds overhead
I made pretty quick work of the upper descent through the Roaring Springs Canyon. I was entirely hiking, but it was my goofy trademark trekking pole scampering that I do that averages over 3 mph. At one point on the descent, a mid-afternoon monsoon cloud formed over head and the temperature noticeably plummeted. I felt almost cold...but I wasn't complaining. For about 2 minutes I noticed very small specks floating through the air and thought, 'That's a strange type of pollen..."
Turns out it was actually small snow flakes. Yep...it was snowing in the Grand Canyon, in June. I laughed at the ridiculousness of it and plodded on. When I made it back to the Manzanita camp about 25 total miles in, I took another short break. I was starting to get a bit tired. I hydrated fully, and topped off my bottles again before continuing on. The next ~9 miles I knew would be long, hot, and mentally slow. I put my head down, and did my best to power hike as fast as I could. I still didn't feel like running.
Is that snow??!!
For the next several hours, the trail wound its way around one canyon wall after another. It seemed like no matter how many turns I made, I just wasn't getting any closer to Phantom Ranch. The sun was also sapping my energy quite notably. I was hot, tired, and a bit cranky to be honest. This section of the route just isn't as appealing geologically either. Still, I thought of how lucky I was to be there, and any negative thoughts quickly eroded away (pardon the geology pun).
View from the winding lower canyon in the hot sun
When I did finally hit Phantom Ranch, I decided to push through to to the water pump 1 mile further down the trail right at the River junction. I had tested it in the morning and it was working. Well, When I made it there almost 20 minutes later, I learned that the pump had been shut off. So I had a decision to make.
I had 1 full liter of water in my pack and 6 miles (and 5000 feet) of gain ahead of me....during a hot part of the day. I wasn't a fan of treating Colorado River water, so made the rather stupid decision to just do the last 6 miles with my 1 liter. I figured I'd be fine...temps were ok, and there was bound to be potable water at one of the camps on the ascent.
I took a break at the bridge, ate the last of my food, swigged some water, and prepped for the 5000 foot climb. It was about 3:30 PM at this point. The first 2 miles of the ascent went quickly. The switchbacks were forgiving, and I was making great time. I only swigged a few gulps of water, and the trail was mostly shaded. I figured I'd have no trouble.
Turns out that I was a bit wrong. The last 3 miles of the climb are really tough, very exposed, and take a really long time. the 40 miles of the day had caught up to me and over the last two miles I struggled immensely. I found myself stopping several times to rest and actually had to ration my water. When I finally did hit Ooh Aah Point, I knew I had less than a mile and less than 800 feet of climb to go. Not long after I finished the last gulp of water, and I realized that I didn't remember a water tap at the South Rim trailhead. This would mean I'd have to not only finish out the last 1/2 mile of climb without water, but also hike the 2.25 miles back to the car dry as well. Yep...I should have refilled at Phantom Ranch. Lesson Learned: never pass by a water tap without topping off!
I hit the last set of switchbacks just 100 feet below the trailhead and slowed to a crawl pace. When I finally did top out, I lumbered down the short paved section back to the official trailhead sign a few meters away. I was utterly relieved to find a working water tap. I noted the time: 6:29 PM. It had taken me just under 7 hours on the return leg and 13hrs 10mins total time from trailhead to trailhead, including breaks. My average pace over the entire endeavor was about 3.2 mph, so I was quite thrilled.
I was not, however, looking forward to the 2+ mile slog back to the car. Thankfully it was all flat and with nice views out over the canyon. I noticed a very large smoke plume coming from the direction of the North Rim and wondered if was from near the trailhead. Apparently there was a wildfire burning in that area.
Along the walk back to the car with a smoke-filled sky in the distance
Forty short minutes later, at exactly 7:10 PM (about 14 hours and 20 minutes total time from car to car), I was back at my car, finally ready to head home. I had done it. With a proper smile on my face, I made the 90 minute drive back home, and pulled in right at 9:00 pm. In all of my many adventures and ultra endeavors, I can say without hesitation, that doing the R2R2R was definitely right up there as one of the most visually breathtaking. I consider myself extraordinarily lucky to now live so close to such a ridiculous place. I will gladly do this adventure again with any of my friends that want to come visit....so....just let me know if you're headed out this way ;-)
Some Stats:
In total, I covered 46.5 miles, including the walks to/from the trailhead.