Header photo courtesy of Ashley Gruber
The route planning meisters at komoot ran their first women’s gravel rally back in 2021, with the inspiration coming from the current women’s round-the-world record holder Lael Wilcox. It seems appropriate therefore, that their latest women’s rally was held in Lael’s backyard in Arizona, USA. Shimano Gravel Alliance rider Dalila Lecky was fortunate enough to be awarded one of the places in the entry lottery and sent in a great write-up from the land of sunshine, cacti and industrial sized portions of ice cream.
The komoot Women's Rallies, a series of bikepacking events, are like rare gems in the gravel cycling world. These rallies are entirely free to enter, the komoot team provides the route and some guidance and you figure out everything else. The rallies are not competitive and are a celebration of women's cycling, adventure, and community.
Photo courtesy of Ashley Gruber
The first meet-up of the 2024 Arizona Rally riders was in Lael Wilcox’s backyard. We collected GPS trackers (for safety, not competition), received a short briefing, enjoyed pizza and tried memorising all the new names we’d collected over the evening. Lael, the originator and driving force behind these rallies, was to ride the entire route alongside us - incredible, considering she’d only recently completed her record-breaking round-the-world ride.
The following morning, a group of more than 60 riders set off from Tucson along a traffic-free bike path, the city eventually giving way to a desert landscape dotted with saguaro cacti. The morning briefing mentioned that we would likely encounter people engaging in target shooting practice along Redington Road (the primary gravel sector of the day). Still, no description could have prepared me for the sound. It felt like ear defenders should have been on my packing list. I was glad to leave that section of trail behind as soon as possible.
Most riders diverted off course to stop in San Manuel to resupply and to pick up some dinner and I opted to do the same. The ride from San Manuel to Peppersauce Campground took me into the rapidly approaching night. And the tarmac I’d been following for several kilometres suddenly turned into a gravel track, leading into the foothills of Mt Lemmon. I wouldn't be tackling the entire climb that evening, just enough to get to the campsite where I could hopefully find the riders that arrived ahead of me. The sound of coyotes howling in the distance motivated me to make it to camp. I'd never seen a coyote before and I didn't want to deal with one alone in the middle of the night.
Photo courtesy of Ashley Gruber
The second day featured the almost entirely off-road climb up to Summerhaven. At times, I regretted fitting 40mm tyres to my new Shimano GRX wheels, but, except for one mishap, I got all the way up with no walking (I lost traction on a rocky section, almost crashed into Ashley Gruber and then fell over in front of Lael - peak embarrassment). The highlight of the day was the surprise snack/rest stop put on by the riders of the 2023 Arizona Rally a few kilometres from the top of the Mt Lemmon climb.
We resupplied at the village shop in Summerhaven, where there was snow amongst the pine trees but only a slight chill in the air, a stark contrast to the desert below. It was then time to don all the layers and prepare for a long sunset descent to the next campground at Molino Basin.
Day 3 wasn’t very inspiring; it was almost entirely composed of paved roads and cycle paths, but it was necessary. A small group of riders formed as we rode along the many kilometres of tarmac to take us back through Tucson and onwards into the Sonoran desert. The third night was the first wild camp of the trip, and the selection of a suitable campsite involved a lot of discussion about whether we were currently standing in the middle of a poorly defined unpaved road or the danger of camping in a temporarily dry riverbed. Still, we eventually found somewhere suitable to pitch our tents and build a small campfire.
The fourth day began with us wandering around in the sand as we tried to relocate the trail, but eventually, we were on our way. I was quickly separated from the other riders as my CX skills carried me along the sandy, techy trail. Fortunately, they caught up with me when I was stumped by a makeshift gate which I assumed was a fence.
Photo courtesy of Ashley Gruber
It was another day featuring a big off-road climb. This one was much less rocky than Mt Lemmon, but it also featured a surprise feed stop from the organising crew. As one of the first to leave the feed stop and head to Sonoita, I stopped at the first food place I saw, Corner Scoop. On the menu were sandwiches, burritos, chilli dogs and, of course, ice cream. Someone ordered the ice cream trough. Nobody was sure how big it would be, and the word ‘trough’ inspired a variety of opinions. It was huge, but luckily, by the time it was served, enough riders had arrived, and getting through it was a delicious group challenge.
It was then time to head on to the final location of the day, Patagonia. It’s not the famous Patagonia; it’s much smaller and in southern Arizona. According to Wikipedia, it was named after the more well-known location, as the local mountains had reminded the mining community of the Andes. The campsite we stayed at was fantastic, with excellent facilities, including hot showers and a laundromat, but this would be the worst night I ever spent in my tent. The overnight temperature dropped far below anything I had anticipated when preparing for this trip. It got down to 0o C and my sleeping bag plus liner was only good down to approximately 8 o C. I spent half the night shivering and failing to fall asleep. It forced me to reconsider the plan for the next day.
On the morning of day 5, I opened the komoot app and redrew the route. I would ride approximately 25% of the planned route, then turn off and head directly towards Nogales. It was a good-sized city and I was sure to find hotels that would provide somewhere warm for the night, even if it meant I’d be skipping about 100km of the set route. Except I couldn’t do it. Maybe it was that I didn’t want to leave behind the group of encouraging and supportive women I’d been riding with so far that day, maybe it was that intangible fear of missing out, or maybe it was because my plotted route was due to take me straight up a steep trail. But something told me to carry on to the campground at Parker Canyon Lake, where the others were all planning to finish the day. So, I stuck with it and was rewarded with paddle boat rides, campfire chats, marshmallows and s’mores. And the night wasn’t even as cold as it had been in Patagonia.
Day 6 was different. I knew I’d stay in a hotel at the end of the day. The other riders were planning to camp at Peña Blanca Lake, which, being only 10 km from Rio Rico, would mean that it wouldn’t be too much extra distance for me to head down to Nogales. It was another day of tricky off-road trails, this time featuring deep sandy descents where you have to accept that your wheel will go where it wants and you just have to keep it under as much control as possible.
When I got to Rio Rico, it seemed I was the only one opting for a hotel and everyone else would be camping. The downside of my decision was that I’d miss out on camping with the other women and leave myself a greater distance to complete the following day if I wanted to make it to the final night’s wild camp location.
Day 7 arrived and a quick check of the forecast showed an overnight low of 6 o C at the base of Mt Hopkins, so I knew I’d be skipping the final night wild camp, which would be part way up the mountain. I rode alone for most of this day, having started later and further back than all the other riders. Upon reaching Arivaca, I found a mass of bicycles parked outside a cantina. After a lunch stop, it was a downhill tarmac blast to Arivaca Junction, where a large group of riders gathered for photos in front of a giant longhorn skull marking the entrance to a restaurant. Slowly, small groups headed off in the late afternoon sun, ready to tackle the climb to the final camp spot. I tagged along with one of the last groups to leave and we assured each other that we would make it to camp before sunset - we only just did. But this wasn’t the end of my day. I had booked another hotel while hanging out in front of the comically large skull and I had another 30-something kilometres to ride before I could rest. So, after hanging around to watch the full moon rise from behind the mountain, I left behind the party atmosphere and headed off alone again into the night.
Photo courtesy of Ashley Gruber
I overestimated how early the other riders might set out after the final camp night’s festivities, so I also rode the last day alone. As large groups of local riders came cheerily speeding past me as I slowly made my way up the false flat around Helmet Peak, I asked myself, ‘Could I have camped just one more time?’ No, it probably would have been another night of misery.
I was the first to arrive at the finish location, Mercado San Agustin, where I treated myself to a coffee and pastry and sat out in the sun, awaiting the arrival of the others. I didn’t need to wait long - they soon started turning up in the courtyard in small groups, ready to put aside their bikes, share many hugs and laughs and recant tales of the previous eight days.
Following a short series of finishing speeches and the collection of any as yet unreturned GPS trackers, we began dispersing, although this wouldn’t be the last I saw of some of the riders. Several of us stayed at the same hotel that night, so we got to help each other pack our bikes back into their bags and boxes, ready for the long journeys home.
When I registered for this rally, I was concerned it wasn’t for a rider with my experience level. But I met and rode with so many inspiring and incredible women, some more experienced and others for whom it was their first-ever bikepacking trip. All of us, one way or another, made it to the end. This experience reconfirmed to me what rallying is about. As much as it’s about the distance and the terrain, it’s about the people you share it with. Getting a spot on one of these rallies is incredibly difficult and the ballot attracts thousands of entries. Still, I hope to one day be able to participate in another, next time with a lot more respect for the unique challenges of the chosen location, but just as keen to be part of this rolling community.
Images by Dalila Lecky, except where credited