Please be sure to read the piece “Stealth” before you read this one.

I was concerned about the extreme amount of physical effort and commitment this trip would require. Six weeks earlier, Luke and I had gone on a climbing trip that involved a lot of biking – I was disappointed with my performance, to put it mildly. There was no way I was going to fail like that again, so I took some steps. As soon as I was back in town, I joined a gym and met with a trainer, telling him that I needed to strengthen my biking muscles. He started me down the right path, and I followed his advice religiously. Also, I started riding my bike on dirt roads, at least 6 and up to 14 miles each time. One day I’d work out in the gym, the next I’d ride my bike, and I did that without ever missing a day right up to the day we left for this super-stealthing. Luke, from his side, did more than that, with one to three hours a day in the gym for an extreme workout, including spin classes, seven days a week. Our birthdays are coming up – Luke will be 60 and I’ll be 70, so obviously we don’t have youth on our side. It was incredibly important that we be totally ready for this grueling climbing trip.

There were also things we did to our bikes to make them more stealthy. All reflectors, front and back, and even those on the spokes to reflect from the sides, were removed. Even the reflectors on the front and back sides of the pedals were covered. At night, any reflection from even one reflector could give us away, making us visible even in distant headlights, and that could blow our cover. When you’re depending on secrecy, the tiniest slip-up could, at the very least, cancel the rest of the trip, and, even worse, could result in arrest and punishment.

Some headlamps have a light on them which indicates the remaining strength of the batteries, and ours were no exception. Those lights were covered so they couldn’t be seen – we only wanted the forward beam, not any other light that could give us away from the back or side.

The second morning of our trip, we arose and ate some porridge; then, with light packs for the day, we biked out to the road and headed in the opposite direction of yesterday’s adventures. The road was good, and we sped along. This picture shows our bike tracks on the gravel road. It concerned us that they were so visible, but there wasn’t much we could do about that. It turned out that several vehicles drove the road each day and obliterated our tracks.

The day was fine, and we were excited about our climbing. After a few miles, we reached a large open area that had been graded clear of all vegetation – there were what appeared to be bombing targets strategically placed along it. We biked through that area, and as abruptly as it had started, it ended, and we found ourselves biking along a narrow road.

A few minutes beyond where the above picture was taken, the road changed, with twists and turns as it went over a series of small hills. There, in a heartbeat, everything in our world was turned on its head.

We were down in a bit of a dip, and looking uphill to the next rise. Luke shouted out a warning, I can’t remember exactly what he said, but something to the effect that something was coming. Even as he said it, he got off his bike and quickly pushed it off the road, over a small hill and then he disappeared. I stood there, caught totally off guard, looking ahead along the road, and I saw a large military truck painted in camouflage colors coming straight towards us. It was a hundred yards away and had an excellent view of us, or at least me, as it was on a higher part of the road than my position. My slight hesitation would have made certain that those in the cab of the truck had seen me. I hopped off my bike and pushed it in the direction where Luke had gone. Within moments I was over the small hill and careening steeply down into the wash. I dropped my bike on the downhill slope and ran to hide over near where Luke was waiting.

My heart was pounding – was this the moment we’d dreaded, getting caught red-handed. In my haste to hide, I hadn’t taken my bike as far as I could have – by all rights, it should have been down where I was, not up on the slope 5 or 6 feet above me. I’d panicked and dropped it, then hid myself lower down. Luke was a few feet above me, hidden by some brush. I was in a sort of hole that the wash had carved out, perhaps 10 feet away from him. We were close enough that we could whisper to each other.

Would the truck stop? As we listened carefully, we could hear it grinding its way down the road, getting nearer to us. It was a very tense moment – we were praying that it would drive on by and keep right on going. The sound of it was very near, then we heard it apply its air brakes and stop – it then shut off its engine. Crap, we’re done for! We crouched down in the hole, holding our breath, afraid to even whisper. Moments passed, all seemed quiet. We heard the distinct sound of boots crunching on the desert gravel, getting nearer. They might not see us, but damn, that bike of mine was out in the open, in plain view. The tension was unbearable.

The footsteps didn’t seem to get any closer. Perhaps 15 of the longest minutes in history passed. Luke and I dared to whisper to each other. Do you think they saw us? It doesn’t look like they did. What do you think they’ll do if they catch us? I don’t know, but I’ll bet they won’t be happy. Do you think they’re done looking? I hope so. Let’s see what happens next.

We then heard the sound of the truck engine starting up, and the crunch of its tires on the road – it moved slowly away from us. Whew – what a relief, that was close! It hadn’t traveled for even a minute, though, when it applied its brakes and turned off its engine once again. Now what? Had they had second thoughts? Were they coming back to look again? They were now far enough away that we couldn’t hear any footsteps, but that didn’t make the situation any less tense. What was going through their minds? They must have seen at least one of us to justify all this time they were spending there. Another 10 minutes passed. Because we couldn’t see the truck, and couldn’t tell how far away it was, we still spoke only in whispers. Were they out on foot looking for us?

Again, the truck started up and moved on – but not far before it stopped again. Were they serious about finding us? We knew for sure that there was no way they could see us from that distance, down in our hidey-hole as we were. Another 10 minutes passed. Once again, the truck door slammed, the engine started, the truck moved on. Surely they must be done with us by now, but no – the truck stopped again. Hell’s bells, just go away and leave us in peace! Luke asked me if I could see the truck. I stood up, still concealed by brush, and gazed in their direction. Yes, there it was – parked on a rise in the road. It was a big truck, and I could see a man standing up high on it, gazing around. In another minute, we heard a new noise – the crackle of a radio. I couldn’t make out any of what they were saying, but for one word – “bikes”. Hmm, so they’d seen us all right and knew how we were traveling. What next? A few more minutes passed. The truck started up again and kept on going, getting farther and farther away. It seemed like our ordeal was over.

Our nerves had been totally jangled. As we calmed down, I pulled my bike down off the bank and into the hole in which I’d been hiding – we’d been there for 45 minutes now. Since we’d come here to climb, it seemed the logical thing to do at this point. We couldn’t hear any vehicles or voices as we readied our packs for the day. Here’s a picture of the exact spot where we’d been hiding (this was taken many hours later, and things had been moved around by the time this picture was taken). I’ve labeled it so you can better understand what was going on. The yellow dashed line shows where the road was, hidden from view, 100 feet away from our hiding place. The number 1 shows where Luke crouched down; 2 is where his bike lay beside him. 3 shows where I was hiding, a few feet below Luke – there was a sudden drop in the bed of the wash separating him from me. 4 shows the open bank where I had left my bike.

Ever so cautiously, we climbed up out of the wash and took a look around. Nothing in sight. We could now clearly see that we’d been hiding a mere 100 feet from the road, and that guy’s footsteps we’d heard must have been only 30 or 40 feet from us. Way too close for comfort. The bikes were well hidden, and we marked the spot with GPS. It was 9:30 AM.

Already, we’d had our share of excitement for the day. Whatever we did next, it had better be on the down-low, as we were plenty paranoid. Crossing the road quickly, we ducked into a shallow wash, using the vegetation for cover, and managed to travel about 2,000 feet before we merged into the lowest slopes of the mountain we were heading to climb. By this point, we were in the shadow of the peak, and that took us out of the spotlight, so to speak. Our 600-foot climb took us through a notch in the cliffs above, and while near the top we saw a white truck coming along the road below – it was following on the heels of our military truck earlier.

We were now on a high plateau, far from prying eyes, and could relax. Our next task was to make our way to a peak, 45 minutes away, by crossing a series of small bumps and saddles. Along the way, we found this mask – was it something from an airplane?

This was an enjoyable time, and we talked non-stop about our earlier excitement. The summit afforded views of the huge valley below, criss-crossed by military roads, but all was quiet down below.  Here are some photos taken from up there.

This next photo shows a look back the way we’d come across the plateau.

We spent half an hour up there, wondering how things would be back down at the bikes. As we headed back, we saw a single deer, the only animal we’d seen so far on the trip. Before we knew it, we’d crossed the plateau once again and stood at the top of a band of steep cliffs. We weren’t prepared for what we saw next.

Remember the road with our nemesis, the big military truck? Well, we were looking right down on it. Parked along the road, at intervals. were old military vehicles which are used as targets. Another military truck was stopped by one of the target vehicles. A guy was walking around the target vehicle, doing who-knows-what. He spent about 15 minutes there, then got back in his truck and drove a few hundred yards to the next target, loudly honking his horn all the while. Once beside the next target vehicle, he’d stop, get out, spend 15 minutes there, then get back in and honk his way to the next target vehicle and repeat the process. We have some great telephoto shots of all of that action, and I’m just itching to show those to you, but I can’t – sorry.

Although the truck was in our way, we couldn’t wait up there forever for it to leave. Nearby was an iffy break in the cliffs, a possible route through – all in shadow, we started down, quietly, through a whole bunch of Class 3. Our guy (we’d now named him “Honker”), kept going until he finished with the last vehicle and then continued on and out of sight. We quickly made it to the bottom of the slope and re-gained our bikes – they were just as we left them, nobody had found them. It was a little after 2:00 PM. Here’s a look back across the valley showing where we’d been. You can see the long band of cliffs at the top of the slope. On top of the cliffs sits the plateau where we spent those few hours.

We got ready and started out again after only a few minutes. There was another peak nearby (our nickname for it – “Honker Peak”) and we still had to climb it to stay on schedule. We had only gone a few hundred yards when we heard, then saw, a vehicle coming back along the road below. We flattened ourselves against the slope, out in the open, and hoped they wouldn’t spot us. It appears they didn’t, and soon we stood up and continued. Due to the sun angle of the lengthening day, we were able to climb our peak mostly in shadow, and stood on the summit just before 3 o’clock. In the distance, other vehicles had been moving around ever since we’d left our bikes to start on the first climb – we knew they were contractors working for the military. While on the summit, we saw the last of them leave, and finally had the desert to ourselves once again.

We made good time down to our bikes, where we extricated them from their day-long hiding-place. Up on to the road we went, and started biking back to camp. It took a little more than an hour, and we were able to do 6, 7 or even 8 mph at times. Using the bikes was so much more efficient than walking. Back at camp by 5:00 PM, we still had plenty of daylight to cook a meal. Some form of pasta was always on the menu, so we could load up on carbs for the grueling work of biking and climbing for the following day. Since our camp was so well-hidden, we felt comfortable leaving all of our gear and food where it was each morning when we left for the day. As it turned out, everything was always right where we left it.

Our first two days of climbing had been filled with plenty of drama, more than we’d hoped for. What we needed now was a day of peace and quiet, no drama, just good climbing – hopefully tomorrow would fill the bill.

Please stay tuned for the next chapter in this adventure – “Even More Stealth“