Adventures of a Sun Seeker: Saught-After Sedona and Phoenix Cycling (Days 13-17)

My skin is like the back of a croissant; all golden and flakey, I can’t seem to get the dry scaliness to dissipate, because whatever moisturizing substance I apply seems to evaporate before it can soak in. Trying to get the most out of my last couple days of sun here, I’ve bicycled about a 100 miles around Phoenix over the past two days, in 90+ heat. I’m seeing the weather in Ithaca is 43 degrees and raining, so I’ll take it. I wish I could conjure 40 degrees and raining as I’m baking at a cross-walk button next to a triple-wide intersection, cowering in the narrow shade of a phone pole, waiting for the godforsaken traffic to come to a close. Although I am very thankful for the cross-walk call buttons here, as otherwise it would be a deathly game of Frogger trying to make it across any roads.

But I can’t really complain about bicycling in Phoenix/Tempe/Scottsdale, because the local bike shop guy sent me some GPX files to load onto my bike computer so I can happily follow a pre-planned route with lots of glorious bike paths. Otherwise, in a huge new city, how do you even know where to ride?

The bike paths I rode today were through a “greenway” (yes! Actual grass! When was the last time I saw that in a desert!?), and they were pleasingly curvy with tunnels to go under main roads. Cruising along them at top speed was the most fun (the farther you go when its 80 degrees the less you have to go when its 98) because I got to swoop around the curves and dive into the tunnels. There were a couple close calls with inattentive people’s dogs, but everybody survived. While I enjoyed cycling thru the upscale neighborhoods of Scottsdale (more money = more pretty shade trees), the concept of having golf courses with watered greens in a desert struck me as preposterous.

Tuesday and Wednesday I took a brief tangent to visit Sedona. Sedona is basically a town inside jaw-dropping scenery and rock formations, like living in a national park or an amusement park (given all the jeep tours available). There are hundreds of miles of red rock hiking trails within the 25 mile radius of the city; a dream to walk out of your Airbnb door and get to a trailhead in minutes. The median home price is something like 700k I was told, traffic backs up daily on the main road, and you can’t get a restaurant table without a 45 minute wait. Sedona felt like Ithaca Commons during graduation weekend, but just all shopping plazas instead of a pedestrian corridor.

In Sedona I was lucky enough to stay with a Finger Lakes bicycling acquaintance—her friendliness and having been on two rides together was enough for her to invite me to stay and enough for me to accept—in this most coveted and highly esteemed town. To secure their Airbnb in this dream location, my hostess had needed to book it a full year in advance.

About 7 other people—all mountain bikers—were staying at this Airbnb already, and it was a big happy group of people working remotely and riding the rocky trails the rest of the day. There was a single bathroom for everybody, and as soon as someone exited, someone else would dive in clutching their towel. I wasn’t sure what it would be like living for 30 hours in a house full of 7 new people, but I found the mountain biker archetype to be open, friendly, and fun to get to know.

The microwave smelled fittingly like a community microwave, all food was available for sharing at all times, a large chain mail sack held approximately 128 granola bars. “Need a snack?”, explained the tall fit man who was living out of his truck on a biking and climbing adventure, “I’m food insecure so I just have a lot on hand.” Someone was making a grilled cheese on the stove, someone else was eating a monumental green salad, and yet a third person was opening both a beer and their computer to research biking options for later in the day.

We were all headed out to Oak Creek for bike riding and hiking after a great deal of logisticizing (which vehicles fit which bikes, did someone pack the cooler, “where’s my clothing bag?”, did everyone fill their water bottles, Craig will meet us there later…). I hiked a glorious gob-smacking and jaw-dragging 8 miles while everyone else rode their bikes over the rocks. The trail took me hugging part way up a looming land feature, and out across a valley I could gaze at other rocks shaped like bunny ears, a big hat, a huge loaf. As I walked, other stunning rock shapes came into view, shifting description as my vantage point changed, then disappearing behind me as new shapes lifted out ahead around a turn. Different hues of red rock made me feel like I was hiking in a parfait. The temperature difference between the shade under the looming rock side and full sun was striking. After my hike was done my shoes were full of bronze dust.

The next morning I hailed an Uber to take me out to the start of Bear Mountain. I had typed into google “most challenging hike sedona” and the internet gave me this. The hike was rated as challenging because of its elevation climb, slope, and the fact that sometimes it was like climbing a rough stone wall. At 7:30am it was brisk and chilly and I needed my puffy jacket. I’d been told how busy Sedona hikes can become, that people have to wait in line on the path to get to certain formations. But I was happy to find Bear Mountain trail with a only a few other hikers on it this time of the morning, and I was feeling zoomy and lifted on past everybody.

I loved how much mountain goating this hike took, the combination of foot placement choices, balance, and heft to take big steps up huge uneven stairs. I enjoyed how my brain tracks hushed down and the whole movement turned into a sort of meditation. And when I needed a jolt of inspiration I’d just look up from my focused feet and take in the wide expanse of soaring mottled red formations and mountainsides. Climbing up above it all and looking down at the charismatic red rocks felt amazing.

At the top I sheltered from the wind and basked in the long seeing and ate a piece of apple pie. Climbing down took just as much attention, placing each foot fall and trying to attenuate it from being heavy, and I enjoyed recognizing each little chapter of the trail I had ascended through. At the bottom cars now lined the highway, the parking area for this and other nearby hikes had filled, and a jeep tour buzzed by. Humanity was out in the rocks again. I tapped open Uber on my phone and found that I lacked enough service to find a ride back to town.

Oops. I got here, and now I needed to figure out how to get back. After 5 minutes of looking hopefully around the parking lot for anyone who seemed to be maybe heading back, I found a band of three hikers coming off the Bear Mountain Trail. I had passed them a little while back. “Hello gentlemen!” I walked up next to them, “are you by any chance heading back to Sedona?” And thus I bummed myself a ride back into town; I followed the trust-your-gut rule, and I know historically hikers are a trust-worthy bunch. It was fun chatting with new folks, and I was super happy to save the $20 Uber charge too.

After constructing myself a lunch at the AirBnb and saying hi to whoever was around, I walked out the door again to hike one more something before I shuttled back to Phoenix for that night. By the time I was done with Sedona in my 30 hours, I had walked a glorious 20 miles gazing at red rock and filling my shoes with dust. I'm so grateful for that opportunity to visit!