Tucson on 2 Wheels

Posted on February 26, 2018 by Molly

The good news is that Tucson has an extensive network of bike lanes. They go everywhere, are well marked, and respected by cars. The not so good news is that there is a lot of traffic. Even out in on the fringes of town, in the Catalina Foothills, the roads are heavily traveled and cars whiz by constantly. Hailing from Duluth, I am just not used to that level of population.

The Loop by Rillito Rivery

Enter The Loop. The 55 mile loop that circles the city has just been completed, but it’s much more than that. It is a network with 131 miles of wide, paved, shared use trails that run across vast portions of the city. Most legs run along “washes” – dry river beds that fill with runoff during the rainy season. In fact, The Loop grew out of the 1983 flood disaster. Realizing the need to reinforce the banks of the major washes, the county took the opportunity to create river parks and trails atop the new soil-cement banks. It has become one of Pima County’s most popular recreational features.

It’s not often that bicycle trails are truly vehicle-free. But great pains have been taken to shelter The Loop. The trail dips under streets and bridges cross over side washes. Many stretches are landscaped with gardens or simply feature desert environs. Railings carefully guard users from the steep banks that dip into the wash.

The nearest entry point to The Loop is 4.5 miles from our condo. It is worth navigating that stretch of bike lanes to reach carefree cycling. So far, I have covered only about 50 miles of The Loop, but have returned to some sections multiple times. Coordinating a ride with Rich one day allowed me to venture further afield, from our place all the way out to Catalina State Park – a good 30 mile stretch.

The Loop is open to any non-motorized use, and just in the last two days I have seen all types of transport gracefully coexist on its paths. There were plenty of cyclists, runners and walkers of course. I also passed strollers, scooters, recumbent tricycles and dog walkers. The most unusual was a woman on a standing elliptical bike, doing her first 50-mile ride! It is cycling at its easiest – level with good pavement and well signed.

Molly with bike at Sabino Canyon

Despite the appeal of The Loop, sometimes challenge beckons. Then I return to Sabino Canyon to climb into its depths during cycling hours. Or I find my way onto smaller local roads. Inevitably they rise and fall. We are in the foothills after all.

It was well worth the long drive to bring our bikes on this trip. I’ve spent many hours in the saddle this week, exploring Tuscon on two wheels.

Owning the Sabino Canyon

Posted on February 24, 2018 by Molly

I’ve traded tall pines for stately saguaro cacti. A frozen creek for dry riverbeds. Cross-country skis for my bike. Winter storm warnings and deep snow for sunshine that warms my bare limbs. A woodland park for a desert canyon.

Sabino Canyon 1

It’s this last trade-off that feels significant. We bought our lot across from Amity Creek for its proximity to nature, the convenience of the trails, the white noise of the waterfalls at night. Living next to Lester-Amity Park is a statement about who we are, and what we like to do.

Seeking a mid-winter warm-up, Rich and I chose a condo on the outskirts of Tucson, nestled in the foothills of the Catalina Mountains. Within minutes of unloading the car, we set out exploring, and Sabino Canyon Recreation Area – just a mile away – quickly became our neighborhood park.

Sabino Canyon 2

The park has one 3.5 mile road that snakes up into the canyon. The road mostly winds uphill. There are undulations to provide a bit of climbing relief, but the pitch is reasonable – at least until the last half mile. It travels through dry mountainsides populated by the mighty saguaro, prickly pear, barrel and other abundant cacti. Mountains rise in every direction, rocky angled faces dotted with small bits of vegetation.

Pedestrians walking Sabino Canyon From 9-5 daily, open air shuttles own the road, carting hikers to their trailheads or sightseers merely wanting an easy narrated tour. Pedestrians are allowed on the road, but bicycles are restricted to the park hours before 9 or after 5. It doesn’t take me long to discover that those are the prime hours anyway. The golden hours.

Sabino Canyon sunrise

Early mornings are my favorite for cycling or running the road. I have plenty of company, as a whole generation of gray haired hikers seems to be striding purposefully up and down each morning. It’s brisk out there, with temperatures registering in the 30s and the canyon still in the shade of the mountains until well into my workout. The sun gradually finds its way onto the hillsides, illuminating select bits of the landscape as it works its way above the opposite mountain range.

Sabino Canyon morning

Numerous stone bridges mark my progress. Having arrived in town following a 3-day rainy spell, the normally dry riverbed is still brimming with flowing water. As designed, the current flows right over the bridge surfaces, and I follow the example of the hikers who plow right on through. It’s a cold, wet sensation. Even on my bike, it’s deep enough to splash my feet.

I save the afternoons for less strenuous pursuits. A hike on one of the many trails or a slow shorter bike ride up the road still gives me access to the day’s fading light.

Hiking Sabino Canyon

Sabino Canyon sunset

Proximity is everything. We’ve explored and enjoyed other parks and wilderness areas here, but this one easily keeps calling us back. It’s our own park away from home.

The Alternative to Skiing

Posted on February 11, 2018 by Molly

The shuttle deposited us in a sea of deep white snow. Just me, Susan and our snowshoes, and a big sign marking the entrance to the Superior Hiking Trail adjacent to Sugarloaf Road. “It’s well marked,” the driver told us. But once in the woods, the trail was just a vague indentation in the snow.

She promised us we’d need our snowshoes, as opposed to the other trails near the highway. “Those are so well used, you can walk them in your boots.” We went for virgin territory, and we got it.

Snowshoeing SHT

Ahead, tall tree trunks cast long shadows, crisscrossing the soft white snow. Baby pines, the next generation of towering trees, added green décor complimenting the deep blue of the sky beyond. The enticing scene beckoned.

This was a cross-country ski trip, but we had abandoned our skis for the day. The day before, the cold temperatures and chilling wind tested our mettle skiing the frosty trails, speed whipping away our meager warmth faster than we could generate it. So we decided on a day tromping through the woods instead.

We didn’t have to go far before we had tracks to follow. Animal tracks. Plenty of deer scampered around. Rabbits left their signature imprint. Some tiny critter stamped out a precise symmetrical trail, a perfect wintry zipper. But it was the wolf imprints that held our gaze. Impossibly large, they forged ahead on the trail. Other padded feet came and went, but these tracks stayed with us for the duration of our hike. I hoped our canine companion knew how to read the blue blazes to keep us on the right trail.

High in the sky, the bright sun delivered warmth whenever it reached us. In the dark shadows of the trees, the temperature plummeted. The deep silence of the woods was broken only by the plunge and shuffle of our snowshoes. Gasps of delight, and “oh this is so beautiful” escaped our lips, confirming the choice we’d made for the day’s activity.

Susan snowshoeing SHT

Reaching the ridgeline, the trees thinned and we had the promised expansive views of the lake. Traveling high above the shoreline we could see for miles, a full 180° or more. Each creek we crossed had some form of a wooden bridge – a reassuring sign we were still on the trail. Crossing Crystal Creek was the most challenging, scrambling down a deep ravine to reach the covered bridge at the bottom. Climbing back up the other side proved to be easier.

Snowshoeing SHT 1

The sudden appearance of numerous snowshoe tracks marked our approach to the Caribou River. The spur route down to the parking lot was impossible to miss. Already missing our wilderness route, we followed the river and admired its icy formations as we returned to our car.

I’ve hiked bits and pieces of the Superior Hiking Trail through the years. It’s a treasure that’s easily taken for granted. This winter excursion reminded me how the seclusion of the trail works its magic. During that trek the rest of the world fell away. My mind rambled as I paced. I reveled in the nature surrounding me. And I never regretted skipping skiing that day.

Molly snowshoeing SHT

Gliding Again

Posted on January 17, 2018 by Molly

Fickle winter. It teases us with cold weather but fails to deliver on the snow. It wreaks havoc with my motivation and my love of the outdoors. My identity as a cross-country skier is in shambles.

For weeks I have been unable to get excited about skiing. I can’t drag myself across the street to ski on trails that are barely covered, and I convince myself that I’d rather go running anyway. Despite slipping and sliding on the icy or snow-clogged Lakewalk, I take refuge in the familiar. I just can’t get over the hurdle to embrace skiing instead.

But the recent snowfall engineered a shift. It actually looks and feels like winter. Distant memories return. Suddenly I feel the draw of the trails. The pull of a new blanket of snow. The sun filtering through the trees and glinting off the soft white powder. The crisp air brushing my cheeks. It is mine for the taking. This time I can’t help but answer the call.

On my first foray into the woods I discover that I beat the groomer to the trails. Instead of crisp firm corduroy, I find soft untouched snow with a packed base not far beneath. All sounds are muffled by this new fallen splendor. The hush quiets my mind as the powder slows my skis. I am moving in slow motion, but it makes no difference. For once it’s not about the pace, it is all about the experience.

Lester on groomed trails

Day two and I’m eager to return. The groomer has worked its magic in my absence. I am early enough to enjoy some virgin terrain, cutting my own diagonal slices through the sculpted surface. The tall pines still wear their mantle of white and the forest floor is a series of soft undulating mounds pocked with occasional animal tracks. Whether real or imagined, the air feels fresher than ever.

I knew there was a reason I loved winter, I’d just forgotten what it was. I’m glad to be out gliding again.

Following the Elephant Tracks

Posted on August 24, 2017 by Molly

There used to be loads of blackberries on this trail. I remember a year when we picked two full ice cream buckets full. Today we each carry a bucket in hopeful anticipation, but it seems to be overkill. Where are the berries?

I’m at the cabin, with my sister Betsy and her husband Bill visiting from New York. Deciding to hike the nearby trails in Suomi Hills, I see a good opportunity to take stock of the berry status. Normally we pick blackberries over Labor Day weekend, but just in case we tote buckets on this foray.

The trail is overgrown with high grass and thick foliage. The well worn path in my memory has disappeared, but is still navigable. The side growth is equally dense, packed with tall bushes, ferns and vegetation that is not blackberry vines.

Long past the point where I once found the first blackberries, I spot some. Sparsely intermingled with the other plants, they are far from abundant. The vines we do find are anything but ripe. They range from green immaturity to pinkish red “getting there.” We call them vines with plenty of potential. Just now, they hold only one or two fully ripe blackberries ready to fall from the grasp of the vine. And we claim them. Oddly, others look past their prime. They have either lost their berries already or literally withered on the vine into hard brown dried up knobs. Our harvest is meager.

The hike turns into a stroll. A search for the berries. Eyes scanning the undergrowth, we seek out our treasure. Farther along the path, the blackberry presence multiplies. More ripe berries per vine, more vines per square yard. Hope is renewed. Venturing into the brush to reach the more succulent fruit, the persistent thorns tear at our clothing and skin. We are ill clad for this endeavor. Sweaters and fleece are prime targets, catching on the least of the prickers. Exposed skin below our shorts take the brunt of the sharp barbs, bearing scratches in all directions. But still we pursue those berries just beyond our reach.

In the deep thickets, there is evidence of those who have preceded us. They leave behind large swaths of trampled vegetation in their efforts to reach the berries beyond reach from the trail. I call them elephant tracks. Making no effort to walk with care, these foragers leave destruction in their path. Unkindly, I am convinced the culprits are of the human variety. Berry pickers with no consideration for nature. I dismiss the possibility that it could be animals on the same hunt.

These blatant paths lead to more blackberries, I’m certain. And I make a mental note to pack my hiking pants and a windbreaker for my next trip to the cabin a week hence. Because I will be back. Hopefully my timing will coincide with the next round of ripening. And I will be fully equipped to reach the farthest berries. When I follow the elephant tracks.

Our sweet reward

Looning

Posted on July 3, 2017 by Molly

I'll be the first to admit, birding is not my thing. I have tremendous admiration and respect for Rich's dedication and boundless patience in pursuing his birds, and the amazing photographs that he captures. But he no longer asks if I would like to come along. He knows better. Loons, however, are a whole different matter.

I spent several hours in the kayak today, cruising the calm water of the lake in the afternoon sun. On my travels I spotted several loons with baby chicks. The fluffy little fledglings paddled behind mama, an entrancing sight.

Rich was thrilled with my reconnaissance efforts, and was eager to photograph the young loons. Immedately following dinner he announced he was heading out in the boat to look for the loons. This time he asked, would I like to come? The answer came without hesitation. Yes!

The sun dipping low in the sky lent a beautiful golden hour light to the scene. Evening's calm stilled the waters, and the waterskiers had been replaced by boats claiming their fishing spots. All was quiet on the lake.

We found mama loon and her twins in the same bay where I'd seen them. At first, they were hidden in the reeds, but they soon obliged by swimming out into the open where they didn't seem to mind us watching. We could hear soft sounds made by mama to her chicks – something entirely new to me. Never before had I been close enough to hear their nurturing murmurs.

Papa soon materialized and proceeded to hunt for dinner. He repeatedly returned with food to feed the chicks. We could tell when he was coming as he would swim under water but near the surface, creating a v-shaped wake above him. By this time the chicks were nestled on mama's back, well situated for papa to bring them tasty treats.

As we watched, a chorus of frogs suddenly broke into song, croaking mightily around the bay. It was magical witnessing nature in the warmth of the setting sun.

There is something deeply compelling about loons. From their haunting cries to their mottled black and white coats, they are are undeniably special. It is an honor to share our lake with them. I never tire of their majestic presence. I may not be a birder, but I'm always game to go looning.

When the Sun Shines

Posted on May 31, 2017 by Molly

The wind whips through the newly sprouted leaves on the trees, their shadows a fluttering dappled pattern on the deck. Beyond, the sky is that classic deep blue with small cottony puffs floating here and there. The sun is warm on my face as I type, drinking it all in. When the sun shines, I have to be out in it. I’ll endure the dim laptop screen in preference to my superior computer setup inside. The sunshine is too precious to waste.

One of the greatest benefits of retirement is the loss of distinction between the days. No longer do we have to confine our activities to weekends. Nor do we have to take our holidays when the calendar schedules them. So we took our own Memorial Day Weekend early, based on the weather forecast. We chose the days when the sun would be shining.

Our first priority was to do some cycling. Between Rich’s back injury this winter and alternate travels by car and plane this spring, we had yet to cover any significant miles. Finding that lodging was difficult, even midweek, we chose two 55 mile out-and-back day trips using the cabin as our base.

The first followed the Great River Road from Jacobson to Palisade. The Mississippi River meandered back and forth in that stretch, greeting us roadside every now and then. We had the route to ourselves, and reveled in some wildlife sightings. A deer crossed in front of us, followed by a wolf. He paused to give us a glance but resumed his original pursuit. A skunk stopped me abruptly, blocking my path down the shoulder. I felt it was not worth risking his wrath to pass. Rich followed a porcupine into the woods, as the critter spread his back quills in a showy display as he fled.

We found lunch at the Palisade Cafe. Your typical small town cafe with ceramic roosters and memorabilia adorning the shelves, the waitress knew the locals’ orders before they uttered a word. Sampling the local offerings, we recharged our batteries for the return trip.

The next day took us far north. Driving to Littlefork we cycled from there to Lake Kabetogama on the border. The sun shone gloriously all day and like the day before we benefited from good pavement and lack of traffic. We made our way to the Voyageurs National Park Visitor Center. Although it was not yet open for the season, it did give us access to the lake and a view of its blue expanse. This time it was breakfast that we ate at the Rocky Ledge. The area was heavily populated with resorts, and the staff was bracing for the onslaught of the holiday weekend. That morning, however, we were the sole customers.It felt good to be back in the saddle and doing multi-day rides Naturally I became anxious to get out touring again. It also told us we were not quite ready. We were grateful for a tailwind to push us home that day as we began to tire, and our sore bottoms were evidence that we needed more time in the saddle. But it was a start.

Nestled back in the cabin, we stayed on for two more days, while the sun shone. The lake was still quiet, with few cabins occupied yet in advance of the weekend. We had the place to ourselves. It reminded me why I love being there so much, particularly when the weather is nice. By the time it began to cloud up on Saturday, we were packing up to go home.

We missed spending Memorial Day at the cabin. But we also avoided the rainy days. We made our own holiday weekend, when the sun was shining.

El Viejo Wetlands Day Trip

Posted on April 27, 2017 by Molly

After a week of taking in all the outdoor activities, beauty, beach and ocean that Las Catalinas has to offer, it was time for a field trip. Rich took off his birding hat long enough to put on his travel planner persona, and came up with a destination that appealed to both of us – El Viejo Wetlands.

The preserve is owned by a successful sugar cane family that has set aside 5,000 acres of land as a wetlands refuge. Their boat trips offer views of not only birds but wildlife as well. Arriving plenty early for our 9:00am boat trip, we met Kevin our guide. As luck would have it, we had a boat and Kevin all to ourselves! The river was a fair distance from the main entrance and other facilities, and we had ample opportunity to learn how Kevin became a licensed guide and honed his English reading birding books available only in English. His expertise soon became very apparent to us.

We boarded one of the smaller boats and Caesar piloted us up and down the river. With thunderstorms the last two evenings as well as more rain in the mountains, the river was swollen and the current swift. Kevin pointed out the high water point much higher on the bank. That's where the river will be when the rainy season kicks in soon.

It didn't take long to begin sighting birds and animals. Both Kevin and Caesar were good at spotting them, and Caesar would maneuver the boat over for a close look. They had an eager customer in Rich, and indulged his enthusiasm for photography and finding new species. I left the little birds and far away specimens to Rich, but tried my hand at capturing the larger birds and animals.

I sensed a bit of friendly competition between Rich and Kevin, vying to be the first to name each bird! Rich was a formidable opponent, but ultimately Kevin had the advantage, being more familiar with the local birds. As we drifted close to shore, Kevin challenged us to find the next specimen. He pointed out the tree, and it took a while before we could see them. I am proud to say I got it right – bats! Long nosed bats like the underside of trees he said, because they are so well camouflaged there. That's for sure!

Crocodiles were abundant along the shores. Most of the time all we could see were the tops of their floating bodies and an eye peering out over the water. But one in particular gave us a great show. He'd found a cache of fish and opened his mouth to strain them in, showing us his gruesome teeth. Suddenly, he was thrashing and splashing, having caught a good size fish. It was clear that the river was not a safe place to swim!

The day was cloudy and humid, which kept the sun at bay. With a good breeze on the river and the movement of the canopied boat, it was very pleasant out there plying the water. We were sorry to see the boat tour come to and end, but still had a treat in store.

Lunch awaited us in the beautifully restored Casona Hacienda El Viejo, a large wooden open air building. We enjoyed a typical Costa Rican meal, then spent time walking through the grounds. There were ample iguana present, including one that looked like a dinosaur and two fighting iguanas. They also liked to perch on the roof and supports for the building. We had to be careful where we walked!

My travel guide did well. It was well worth the journey, and we both enjoyed our day trip to the El Viejo Wetlands.

Santa Fe al fresco

Posted on March 28, 2017 by Molly

Every tourist has his or her own motives for visiting places. While Santa Fe is rich in art, history and Native American culture, that's not what drew Rich and me to the area. It was the setting. The outdoors. The climate. And we were not disappointed.

Just before reaching Santa Fe, we stopped to see the Upper Rio Grande. We started off driving down the canyon on a small lane next to the river, when it suddenly occurred to us that we had bikes on the back of the car. A quick change in the campground and we were soon cycling instead of driving. Much better!

From the start, we opted to stay on the outskirts of the city. We were attracted to a VRBO home which offered a peaceful and attractive rural setting. The unique aspect was sharing it with owner, Kevin. After years of staying in host homes while cycling, we welcomed the opportunity to meet new people and take advantage of their local expertise.

We immediately felt at home in Kevin's comfortable adobe house. Just being there was vacation enough for me. My favorite morning spot was on the sunny front porch with my coffee and breakfast. For writing, I retreated to the back patio. One of our best evenings was spent watching the ever changing colors of the sunset from the patio over a glass of wine with Kevin and Jen.

Saturday morning was Farmers' Market Day, and Santa Fe has one of the best. It prides itself on the requirement that all produce be locally grown and that those who do the growing are the same people selling it there. I indulged in one of my favorite ways to spend a morning, wandering among the tables with fresh coffee and scone in hand. Admiring the colorful produce and listening to local music was great home grown entertainment.

Rich's pick was the Randall Dave Audubon Center. We arrived before dawn for prime birding opportunities. I will admit to going for a run while Rich sought out new bird species, but I did join him to hike in the beautiful environs preserved by the Natures Conservancy.

In between cycling the local trails and countryside, we did make sure to get to the historic areas of Santa Fe near the Plaza. We especially enjoyed visiting San Miguel Chapel, the oldest church in the country. We also ate well, sampling New Mexican cuisine and local organic foods thanks to recommendations from Kevin.

We went for the outdoors, and Santa Fe treated us to a record warm spell. With unrelenting sunshine and temps in the 70s, it was the perfect escape from the cold Northland. Every moment spent al fresco was a delight.

Grand Canyon on Our Terms

Posted on March 24, 2017 by Molly

We did two things right on this visit to Grand Canyon National Park. The combination of the two allowed us to avoid crowds and have easy access to all the best vantage points.

The first is coming in March. This is shoulder season in the park, with many of the amenities just opening up for the season and service just gearing up for the upcoming crowds. There are plenty of people here, and at times the parking lots have been full. Lines for the shuttle buses exist, but it appears most riders get on the first bus that arrives. Restaurants are busy, but it hasn't been hard to get in. All we can think is “What must it be like in the height of the summer?” We are die hard off-season travelers. It has certainly paid off this time.

The second is bringing our bicycles. There are greenways throughout the park, enabling us to walk or cycle just about anywhere we want. We haven't set foot on a shuttle bus, and don't have to worry about car traffic.

A few portions of the Rim Trail are open to bicycles. We made sure to ride those. In addition, the road from Grand Canyon Village to Hermit's Rest at the western end of the Rim Trail just closed to cars on March 1. Shuttle buses own the road, but bikes are allowed. We covered that over the course of a sunny, warm afternoon, with frequent stops for the views.

This is definitely our type of tourism. We get to see the Grand Canyon on our own terms.

Superior Footprints

Life and the Outdoors in the Northland

Category Archives: Outdoors

Tucson on 2 Wheels

Owning the Sabino Canyon

The Alternative to Skiing

Gliding Again

Following the Elephant Tracks

Looning

When the Sun Shines

El Viejo Wetlands Day Trip

Santa Fe al fresco

Grand Canyon on Our Terms

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