But It’s a Dry Heat

Casa Tierra Adobe B&B snuggles into the delta fanning out below the Rincon Mountains west of Tucson. These rugged hills are home to Arizona’s best preserved Saguaro forest, in the eponymous National Park, and Pinal County’s Tucson Mountain Park. Also hidden here is the Arizona Desert Museum and Old Tucson, a repurposed Hollywood set left over from dozens of mid-20th century oaters set in the iconic cactus country.

But none of this really matters to the B&B experience. Casa Tierra is a hacienda with four guest rooms, spacious living and dining quarters, and a central courtyard complete with succulent plants and a dribbling water fountain. Owner Dave Malmquist, a former mining engineer from Colorado, has taught himself the art of creating irresistible vegetarian breakfast spreads.

After we re-negotiated the 8 AM breakfast time to 7:30, he invited us into the immaculate reception suite, facing down the hill for an endless view of the cacti marching off to Mexico. Doves flocked around the bird feeder; coyote furtively roamed the spaces between prickly pear, just budding with spring flowers. We were a solo pair at the 6 person dining table, each place set with care the same as a fine restaurant.

First off, corn muffins baked in a three-pronged Saguaro shape, with half a grapefruit lightly flecked with cinnamon. Next, a raspberry bread pudding loaf, surrounded by white chocolate and berry sauce. The perfect way to start our morning.

Despite the broad temperature range (47 at night, 97 during the day), the adobe brick kept the interior pleasant, with no need for either artificial heat or air conditioning. Cheryl was off to tour the Park, while I kitted up to join a couple of accomplished triathletes on a 75 mile loop ride around the mountains and down the Rillito wash on the western edge of Tucson. This was my 65th birthday, and they said I needed a birthday challenge of sixty five miles, with “ten to grow on”.

Dave and Tim are both newly minted Kona vets. I’ve followed their progress in Endurance Nation as they marched up the ladder of success, gaining confidence and strength with each improvement. They have each earned a second place at Ironman Florida, and are still hungry for the next step – an age group win at Ironman. At 43 and 52, they’re a LOT faster than I am, and I worry about keeping up on the ride.

But except for two spots, a 4 mile slight uphill gradient Tim treats as an FTP interval, and an 8 mile uphill grind at the end of the ride, I’m able either to stick on a wheel, or even leads the group for a bit. By the end of the ride, we’re salt-encrusted, tired but not exhausted, and planning for an assault on Mt. Lemmon the next day.

To the east of town rise the Catalina Mountains, with Lemmon as the high point. The road tops out at 8300’, starting 27 miles below in the flats at 2800’. But the actual climb covers 20 miles, and 4800’ of climbing, besting the 4000’ in 16 miles up Independence Pass out of Aspen.

Tim makes it up in 2 hours and 20 minutes; it takes me a little longer than 3 hours. I do achieve one personal best: I ride the whole way down, gaining a little more confidence in descending.

I would much rather climb up a long hill than coast down, especially on my time trial bike. I used to be braver, 20 years ago. But that was on bigger, stabler bikes, and before I saw men in their 50s die from taking downhill corners too fast, and before I rode down Haleakala eight years in a row at the Xterra World Championships. And of course before I learned the awful truth about how dangerous a bike crash can be. I’ve since become much more fearful of the shimmy and sway on a descent, worried my terminal speed will carry me away before I can get the brakes to slowly hold should any emergency arise.

But I make it all the way down, without incident, other than the horror of entering the dry furnace blast on the valley floor, where the 101F is a good 30 degrees warmer than the summit. A good way to start my twelve week push to Ironman Coeur d’Alene.