The Arizona Trail: Improbable but possible

The best adventures often start with a dream, a goal, and little consideration for how it will actually happen.

Like in those team building personality type models, myself (and now my son James) are definitely ‘The Ideas Guys’. Come up with something big and push the details of how you will achieve it to the back of your mind.

The Big Idea was the Arizona Trail Race 800 in October. Not the 300. It did not seem worth the time and expense to travel the other side of the world to ride 300 miles. Not when the stretch target of 800 miles was dangled in front of you.

My now 13 years old son James, has already proven his mettle on some very challenging mountain bike routes, including The Highland Trail 550 when he was 11 years old. His almost detached bullet proof personality, combined with very strong trail riding skills and a solid endurance engine, convinced me that he could go bigger again.

Like any conscientious parent, I plant seeds and then wait for the ideas to come from him. With a good knowledge of ‘what’s out there’ he set his sights on the AZT800 two years ago, immediately after our successful HT550 trip.

So that was that settled then. We were going!

Then the ‘practicalities’ began to rear their annoying head. We live in the cold wet and dark north. I’m self employed. It’s during term time. It’s a long time to away from home.

The first job was to find out if we could even get a place in the mass start event. Massive respect to the Race Director for accepting a young teenager into an event that has an extremely high scratch rate amongst competent adults. Was it fair on other applicants to allow a child in to a race which, on paper at least, appeared to be a highly improbable completion? I am so grateful that John took us seriously and took my endorsement of James at face value.

Next, I had to convince James’s High School that this was not just a cycling holiday or a tour. The niche world of bikepacking events does not sit alongside the more traditional, affiliated or mainstream school sports. It took time, but we got through to the Head Teacher and she was one hundred per cent on board. With a broad mind and significant travelling experience herself, she recognised the multi-faceted benefits of the trip and a challenge of this nature. Again, we are extremely grateful. She put her name to the unusual, the unorthodox, and the alternative. James returned with real life understanding of spectacular and unusual flora and fauna, as well as real world insights into American culture and politics seen through the lens of a tumultuous political period. The American Dream was a concept that James and I checked and discussed regularly during our time in the desert as well as our visits to the immaculate towns of Arizona.

And then, after months of waiting, something that had seemed in the far future was suddenly upon us.

The crystal clear air of Phoenix was a blinding contrast to the murk of a washout UK summer.

As was the sharp focus that dawn, on the Mexican Border brought. Were we REALLY prepared? Definitely not to the degree that The Ideas Guys had envisaged. But living on your wits is the great appeal of these events.

Out we rolled into the building desert heat, literally not knowing what lay round a single corner. We were now committed to taking our chances.

This was the magic of this adventure. There is only so much desk research you can do on a trip like this, and only a small amount of that would be actually useful on the ground. This was as blind as I’ve gone into anything. I was fortunate to have a thick skinned tough cookie by my side!

Speaking of which, and early on, I think James presumed I had more concrete knowledge of the route. I explained that there were so many unknowns, and together we would be feeling our way through this massive challenge together. This was actually a very positive mind set shift because, within a short space of time, James became very animated and engaged in the decision making process. We were on an adventure. Together. As a problem solving team.

The desert riding provided extremes of every nature. In the south, the heat was often overwhelming and the fear of running out of water always loomed. The arid climate leeches the water from your body way faster than you realise. After riding most of the year in the saturated UK, the novelty of filtering bright green insect filled water always takes a mental shift but the challenge of surviving this harsh environment is both exciting and empowering.

Evenings were beautifully cool down south. Cowboy camping in the silent desert, amongst the cactus and a million bright stars was absolute magic. Total tranquillity.

However, we needed the respite. Every day brought fresh physical challenges. Hours of hike-a-bike and steep climbs. Shallow angle climbs that frustratingly became hike-a-bikes due to the extremely slippery and fine rounded gravel. Singletrack that required full concentration and steep descents that demanded nerve and focus.

It was the type of terrain that took all your energy to keep moving forward so calories became a preoccupation. Sometimes carrying food for three days at a time, it’s fair to say that the menu was not Michelin Star. James was constantly counting the calories and working out how to ration the often meagre pickings we were left with. Living like this often knocked out our hunger response and there was something wonderfully simple about just having enough to get by, whether that was a couple of spoonfuls of peanut butter or a drip feed of the remaining squashed fig rolls.

But when we did get a good sit down meal… wow! Did we enjoy it! Not only was it restorative, it also provided those golden interactions with the local and Arizona Trail communities. Food connects us all and we had some the best conversations sitting in diners and roadside bars.

Something I loved about the Americans was that they almost always asked you two simple, but very powerful questions: ‘Where are you from?’ and ‘What are you doing?’. Once they heard about our huge journey and that James was only thirteen, the offers of assistance came thick and fast! But this is an unsupported race, and both James and I accepted a drink or an offer of a snack at most.

Leaving the oasis of a town or bar put us back into uncertainty of the huge expanses. More than once, ‘The Plan’ felt shaky and fluid. Judging time between safe havens was nigh on impossible to gauge due to the unknowns that lay ahead. (James had long since accepted this unfolding reality!). We both loved the uncertainty. Besides all the food we could carry, we always made sure we had a jar of peanut butter each. A jar of peanut butter can get you a long way.

Up north now and into often freezing temperatures. Our kit was stretched to the limit during two particularly freezing nights. But this is the conundrum of the AZT800; how do you carry kit to deal with temperatures ranging from 14f to 105f?

North of Flagstaff we shivered out the most uncomfortable night sleep we’d both ever endured. Lying on the bare desert ground, ice crusted over our bivvy bags. James suffered terribly that night but remained stoic. For the first time I felt twinges of guilt. He was only 13 after all.

To my amazement, no towel was thrown in. We got through it. Just the 21 mile Grand Canyon bike carry remained to truly test us.

And test us it did. For only the second occasion, I felt guilt. Carrying your bike and kit for 21 miles on your back through the world’s biggest hole in the ground is without doubt the hardest thing I have ever done. We were both stretched to breaking point. For the first time in his life, I thought James was going to snap but he somehow kept moving forward.

As spectacular and surreal as it was to be in the Grand Canyon, (a childhood dream of mine) the place felt threatening and painful. We both felt mixed emotions and were torn between wonder at our surroundings, and an immense desire to get out the other side. It was a beautifully painful experience.

After what felt like a lifetime, and as the snow fell and darkness came, we crawled out of the north rim. We collapsed, cold and exhausted into a concrete toilet block and fell into a deep sleep. The final major obstacle had been overcome.

We awoke to several inches of snow. However, in contrast with what we had experienced across the length of the state of Arizona, the last two days to the Utah State Line felt like a warm down. They were also time to reflect on what had been an incredible adventure. We had dodged, weaved and prevailed through some seemingly impossible situations. We wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Richard and James will be talking about their adventures in 2025. The first event takes place in the Lake District at Ghyllside Cycles on January 25th. More dates to follow.