But, we don't really live in the woods; we live in a modest neighborhood, surrounded by houses. I can see The Peaks from my backyard, but from my house, I can only actually see one trail; I can see it when I'm standing in my driveway. It's called The Lost Burrito.
The Lost Burrito is one of the oldest mountain biking trails in Flagstaff. It was here long before I got here in 1991, making it's official debut as an aptly-named-trail in the very first-edition of my friend Cosmic Ray's Fat Tire Tale and Trails guidebook, which is now in its umpteenth revision. In fact, before it was a mountain biking trail, The Lost Burrito was a sheep driveway which lead from the Schultz Creek drainage up to the bucolic meadows in the twin
Thing is, almost nobody rides The Lost Burrito anymore.
I hadn't been on the Burrito in several years... perhaps as many as five, until today. Since moving into our new house in June, I've been staring at it daily... and it's been calling to me... quietly but persistently coaxing me to come ride it.
So today I did.
No longer merely a hairball, the upper quarter of The Lost Burrito, quite frankly, humiliated me. What had once been a rideable test-of-courage was now nothing more than a near-vertical screefield, a rockslide, a viscous, unpredictable talus-slope-of-terror. I walked several parts of it.
If you're curious you can view my entire Lost Burrito Loop at Everytrail; it was a shortish ride for a Saturday morning... Dogfood to AZ-Onceler to Little Gnarly to The Lost Burrito... about 11 miles... but a perfect just-one-waterbottle ride. Watch as I descend at under 4 miles an hour! Better yet: Watch-and-learn as I avoid Schultz Creek Trail in its entirety on a Saturday.