Riding in the Desert

As you might expect, mountain-biking in the desert is different from riding the mixed deciduous/evergreen forests back home in Ontario. Not only is it different but it is demanding and dangerous. Here is not the place to hone your bike-handling skills or bring your buddy for his or her first ride of the season on their $300 dust-covered Walmart special. The ground will break you, the plants will lacerate you and the climate will dehydrate you. With medical assistance hours away, the experience just might kill you. But, if you are careful and use your brain, you’ll be treated to a piece of mountain-bike heaven; breath-taking, humbling, rewarding.

In southern Canada and the northern United States, most trails roll across the forest’s supple floor, soft and forgiving. If you do crash, invariably there is a mattress of dirt, sand, leaves and assorted flora waiting to absorb the impact. As such, riders can afford to take chances; the consequences for failure often result in little more than a muddy jersey and bruised ego. Even the trees themselves may soften an unscheduled dismount or extend a life-saving limb to grab hold-of. Though there are many trail networks in Ontario built upon the mass of rock that is the Canadian Shield, offering all sorts of opportunity for broken bones or bent derailleurs, most provide a more gentle terrain upon which to ride. In the arid desert of south-west Texas, however, such is not the case.

Mountain-biking in the desert, the consequences of misadventure are significant. First are the trails themselves, cut across a huge expanse of pre-historic ocean floor. Flying through the lush singletrack of Ontario, one can usually avoid any rocks along the trail. In Texas, rocks are the trail. Imposing mountains slowly surmounted, montrous boulders grunted over; gnarly decents strewn with skull-sized stones and fist-like pebbles, all quick to jump up and sucker-punch your down-tube. Dry creek-beds thick with soul sucking sand; mesas blanketted with dust-like polvo, both nullifying any speed you once had. In the forest you may occasionaly struggle with the inconvenience of mud gumming up your tires. In the desert razor-sharp rocks form and line the trails, always ready to disembowel those eighty dollar knobbies.

As a result of this terrain, you are obliged to be on the strictest look-out, always paying close attention to the trail and what might be lurking around the next pile of volcanic rock. There is no opportunity to sit-up, take your hands off the bars and mindlessly take in the stunning views. The moment you stop paying attention you will crash upon those mercilous rocks and, you will crash hard. End of story. If you are lucky, a few cuts and bruises will be evidenced through your torn shorts. If not so fortunate, broken bones–or worse–will result. You can count on it.

Along with a very healthy respect for the terrain, you must also consider the nature of the vegetation out here. To protect themselves from predators, retain water and withstand the apocalyptic heat, cacti and other desert plants are a very hearty bunch. In most cases they are covered in sinister-looking spikes and thorns just waiting for some unwitting cyclist to come rolling by. The spikes of the lechuguilla; the thorns of the pesky dog cholla or the cats-claw; the pretty though prickly pears and my favourite, the ever-so striking ocotillo [which are actually plants, not cacti], all of them sit waiting for you to drift off course, ready to draw blood. If you don’t crash-land onto one of these desert beauties, then perhaps you’ll simply get half a dozen thorns protruding from you tire. Again, if you are not paying strict attention to the trail and if the rock doesn’t get you, the cacti just might. It is also worth mentioning that slime-filled tubes are an absolute necessity down here. There is no discussion; run slimed-tubes or be prepared to fix a flat every ten minutes or so.

The third and possibly most important thing to remember about riding in the desert is water; rather, the lack of easily-available water while needing to drink lots of it. As with any physical activity, hydration is essential to survival. If you don’t take in enough water, your trip to paradise could end in hell or the hospital. At this time of year, free of wind and under sunny skies, the temperature tends towards 15-25deg.cel.[although, there certainly have been times well below and far above] As spring turns to summer, however, that raging ball of fire will crank the heat up to well above 50deg.cel. Unlike the forest, there is very little shade from the oppressive sun and if you run out of water, your ultimate demise can come very, very quickly. Example:

Last spring, myself and four other experienced cyclists went out for a 100km, 9hr epic where the temperature quickly reached 40deg.cel. Despite having already refilled our bottles and hydration-packs, by hour eight we had again run out of water. Any remaining water was too hot to drink. Were it not for Mike, his camping water-filter and one of just a few water-holes, we all would have been in a lot of trouble. Now, whenever I go for a ride, I am always sure to take more water[and food] than I think I might possibly need. Even if it’s not such a hot day, attempting to walk back from the trails with a broken arm but without water, a bad situation could become fatal.

Related to water is the clothing. Heading to the trail-head at 8:30-9am, it may still be only 5-10deg.cel. Within two hours, the temperature will have risen another 10-20deg., even more by mid-afternoon. You will soon find yourself stripping layers. Conversely, if you get stranded on the trails as the sun goes down, you’d better be sure you have warm clothing with you, because as soon as the sun sets, those balmy temperatures will plummet to near-freezing. So not only must you be sure to bring plenty of water, but almost as important is having sufficient clothing to deal with huge temperature changes.

One last thing to consider when riding out here in the Big Bend area is proximity to medical assistance. Back home, even if deep in the forest, there is a likelihood of other people eventually riding by who can offer assistance or race back to the trail-head and make contact with emergency services. Equally, when out in the woods, you are never more than an hour or two hike from the parking lot and from there, maybe an hour’s drive to the hospital. Heck, there’s a good chance you’ll have cell-phone service and can call 911 as you stumble along. In the desert, it’s not that simple.

Out here, there is no cell-phone service unless you miraculously happen to have a satellite phone, which you won’t. If you are able to walk it could be two to six hours before you reach the trail-head. Once there you still have to drive/be driven well over an hour to find medical help. All-in-all, assuming you can walk, then drive and are very fortunate, you might get to a doctor in five-six hours. If, however, you are unable to walk it might be twelve hours before you get medical attention. In fact, it could easily be eight to twelve hours before your broken body even gets out of the trails and to the trailhead, then a few more to get to a hospital. Oh, and the quality of service at the closest hospital is reputed as dubious at best. Worse still, if you are forced to stay out overnight, you will quickly find your broken self frozen, dehydrated and disoriented. That is, assuming you survive the night.

You may be asking why on earth I, or anyone for that matter, would want to ride bikes in such a place. Well, like most things in life, it is the effort, the struggle, the suffering that brings the greatest reward. Not only is the riding rewarding in and of itself, but reaching these remote spots really does provide an incredible sense of accomplishment. If the riding was easy, everyone would do it and that would tarnish the sacred nature of this place. In short, if you don’t respect the land, you won’t have the chance to enjoy it’s remarkable beauty. Inspired? All right, let’s ride!