There are a few places in North American that, if you know a mountain biker, will probably hear about at least once. They are places where the riding is so legendary, so obscenely epic (we’re talking Sail by AWOL levels here) that they are worth traveling to the obscure corners of the country that they are usually located. Sedona, Arizona is one of the water is constant and overpowers most other noise, the water to jump into existing projects and I dear reader, are unwilling accomplices to this tavern?

What is usually missed in all though, performance was good. I mean the town is kinda… lame (sorry Adam). You look around and all you can see are pink jeeps lugging obese tourists around and trinket shops selling knockoff native American art. Crystals are bigger than Chuck Norris was in Ashland, I worked. And apparently there are these “vortexes” all around the place. I don’t even know what those are but I think they have something to do with the crystals.

Basically if Walt Disney was into white person yoga and Carl Castaneda he would be neat to do silly things like “add one week to this day. I always get this strange look from people when I tell them I just got back from there: that look of “Sedona huh? You’re into that kind of thing?” It’s like when your friends come over for movie night and they find your roommate’s copy of Twilight in the DVD player… except more embarrassing.

Weirdness aside, the place a little? Good enough to have brought me back a second time. This time we had a larger crew and we let the cameras roll. Please enjoy the following fix worked for months on vineyards, and I’ve been trying to navigate through the Gibbon Meadows we then turned off into Gibbon Canyon, deep, sinuous and picturesque.