24 Hours of Moab and Bartlett Wash 2008-10-11

The trip is coming to a rapid closure, and I today is my last day for riding. Even so, I was a bit saddened by my loneliness as stayed in bed until about 10. I then decided I'd go off and check out the 24 Hours of Moab race because I was hoping that there would be a big vendor area and the opportunity to get gear at a discount.

I headed south out of town, knowing only that the venue was about 12 miles south of town. But, did that mean 12 mils south of Center St. or did it mean 12 miles south of the edge of the city. Regardless, I assumed it'd be well marked. As I drove south on Utah 191, I just happened to see a plastic ribbon strung to a bush and as I looked back in the mirror, I saw a sign that simply said "24". That was it. It seems like I wasn't the only one who missed the entry, as three other cars turned around with me at the turnout just down the road.

The drive from the highway to the actual venue was down a dusty dirt road. I was in a long line of cars, and when I finally made it to the entrance, I was required to cough up $10 to get in. I continued on, found a parking spot and walked around looking for a vendor area. Amazingly enough, there wasn't one. You'd think that with all the racers, biking families and other bike people, that this would be a great location to at least take orders for items, if not have a stock of various items to sell. But, the only ones who were really there in that regard were the light people (NiteRider, PrincetonTec, etc.)

The wind was whipping up all the sand and the entire area was like a giant dust cloud. Everyone who had a face mask or Buff or bandanna was wearing it. I saw the race get started and then I left to go do my own riding.

I drove north, wanting to ride at Bartlett Wash. I had seen some pictures and I was impressed by the steep bowls and interesting Slickrock formations. About 18 miles north of Center St. I found "Blue Hills Road" (some of the hills here really are "blue") From there, I navigated my way out to the parking lot and campground. I kitted up, as usual, alone, and started my ride. The ride took me through a stream bed and then up what appeared to be an unrideable incline (although from the tracks on the hill, it obviously does get ridden by some.

Unlike the "Slickrock Trail" just outside of Moab, this trail has no painted lines or cairns to locate in the distance. On the one hand, this makes the ride as free-form as you'd like. On the other hand, there was this nagging feeling like I was missing something because I didn't know where to go.

The wind was very strong although there wasn't the amount of dust in the air as there was at the Behind the Stones trail (24 Hour venue). I couldn't help feeling like I was climbing a very steep hill as I made my way horizontally along one of the stepped ridges that ran the length of the finger of slickrock. I zigged and zagged my way upward, always looking for areas in the stepped ridges where I could manage to manual up and over. In some instances I traversed almost the entire length of the finger to find a spot that I was capable of riding my bike to the next higher ridge. In other instances the shortest steps from ridge to ridge were very close, getting me closer to the boulders and trees that lined the top of the finger.

When I finally made my way to the last ridge, I discovered that the area with the boulders and trees was also covered with sand that somehow was very moist (I don't think it rained recently, but maybe it did last night while I was sleeping), and my wheels didn't really want to move through it very quickly. Plus, I was still fighting the wind.

As I made my way along this top ridge, in the direction from which I had started the ride, I noticed two riders making their way up the stepped ridges, but much less eloquently than I had--they just got off their heavy downhill bikes and lifted them up and over the steps. I turned around when I came to the end of the trail--a spot where it appeared that other riders had simply descended straight down the stepped face of the slickrock. Since I wasn't interested in trying my luck and skill on 100cm-150cm hucks, I decided that I'd chase after the two other riders and possibly tag along with them.

Even though we were on a trajectory that would bring us to the same space at the same time, and given how I made repeated attempts to show them that I saw them, they failed to acknowledge my presence even when we were all within just a few feet of one another. So, instead of meeting up with them and chatting and possibly riding with them, I navigated past them as they ignored me. At this point I was on a "flat" section of slickrock, past the finger and the wind was fierce.

I rode into the wind to the edge of the slickrock to find myself high above the sandy wash. I hadn't realized I was so high up, but when faced with what appeared to be a cliff, I decided I'd keep my distance. I turned and followed the countour of the ridge, but the wind was so strong that it was very difficult to keep the bike going in the direction I wanted. After a few hundred meters I decided to give up, and turned the bike in the direction of the wind. WOW! No pedaling needed. I was being blown across the slickrock, my back acting like a sail to the wind. The only time I had to pedal was when I needed to manual up a small step. When I got back to the finger area, I found a few really interesting dips and bowls to ride. One of the hills was so steep that I was a little scared to descend. But, I knew it was smooth and slickrock tacky, so I rode down. About half way down there was a change in the rock, with pockmarks all over the side of the steepest part of the hill. I lost my nerve, and it's probably a good thing, because the trajectory that I had been heading would have put me right in line for the largest of the pocks that might have stopped me and thrown me over the handlebars. To be honest, my leg still hurts and that's giving me some hesitation to try anything that's outside of my known ability level.

I played around on the hill for a while, but I was unable to actually ride back up. So, using the pockmarks as footholds, I walked the bike back to the top of the hill and then continued along the finger toward the place where I started the ride. At one point I was moving across a very steep slope and the bike slid on some sand. Fearing that it'd be a long slide down, I unclipped and tried to catch myself before I fell. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get my foot down. Fortunately, I was wearing my knee guards because landed squarely on my knee. My slide down the hill was avoided, my knee was uninjured and I was soon on my way.

The two other riders I had seen were already back at the parking lot when I got there. I tried to make conversation with them, but they simply grunted and moved out of view. Oh well.

I think Bartlett Wash might be a great place to ride when there's no wind, and if I make another trip to Moab in the future, I'll be certain to go back and explore more.

Gemini Bridges 2008-10-10

Gemini Bridges sounds like one of those nice places to ride until you actually get started. The ride was listed as an easy ride that is usually done as a shuttle, but is also possible to do as an out-and-back. The out-and-back option also can be done from either the 'top' (where the shuttled riders start) to Gemini Bridges and then back, or from the 'bottom' (where shuttled riders leave a vehicle to take them back to the 'top.'

I started from the 'bottom' and rode up to Gemini Bridges. The going was on dirt roads the whole way, and as such the area in front of my wheels had very little of interest to keep my attention focused. There were a few good climbs, and at one point I was several hundred meters above the highway and could look out and see Arches National Park. Otherwise, it was a good excuse for exercise as well as a good way to get my leg moving after the Amasa Back incident two days ago.

As I was getting ready to ride, I was approached by a fellow who had shuttled with a large group. Unfortunately for him, he apparently forgot to bring the keys to the car that he left in the parking lot where I was kitting up. He offered me $20 to drive him 12 miles down dirt roads to get to where his keys were. $20 wasn't enough to eat up what would have been probably 2 hours of my time and a bunch of gas, so I declined his offer.

The Gemini Bridges, themselves, were pretty impressive. When I arrived I just saw this huge hole in the ground with a rope stretched across. Some climbers cinching gear and making modifications to their outfits, but I didn't hang around long enough to see anyone rapel down the hole. I rode my bike around on the slickrock field that was all around me, coming to the very edge of the canyon where I noticed that I was actually quite high above the canyon floor.

The ride back had a good portion of downhill, followed by a very steep climb before heading back down to the level of the highway. All the way back I kept thinking I would catch up with the group I encountered about 2/3 of the way to the Gemini Bridges. I did see them again, though they were waiting for a their shuttle car to return.

It was a pleasant enough way to get my leg moving again, but I wouldn't suggest this ride to anyone who is looking for excitement, technical trails or beautiful vistas.

Arches National Park

Ok, my leg is still not 80%, although after icing it for much of the night and then hiking on it today, it's feeling much better. The major issue seems to be not from where I banged my leg but from the muscles that have had to compensate for the injured tissue.

Anyway, I had a pleasant time at Arches National Park. I stopped to hike at various points; not going far, but usually about a half-hour to explore the different rock structures. As I hiked here and there, I couldn't shake my thoughts free from a repeating pattern of desires. And everywhere I went, my thoughts were reflected back at me.

Amasa Back

I was excited about riding Amasa Back. The drive there was beautiful, driving along the edge of the Colorado River. When I got to the parking lot, I took my time getting ready, but for some reason I forgot to put on my padded shorts.

It started out the wrong way...

From MtB

I should have walked, but I was feeling cocky, and it didn't look like it was undoable. But I was really not feeling in top form even from the start. The first fall didn't slow me down. On the second fall though, I slammed my thigh into a rock and there was a lot of pain in my quadraceps, But I could move and I could pedal, so I continued on anyway with the belief that I just needed to work out the muscle.

But, the pain never went away regardless of how hard I tried to ride. I did make it to the top of Cliff Hanger, where I struck up a conversation with some guys who were 'wheeling'. The view over the canyons around us was pretty incredible.

The ride back down was slow with lots of walking.

I returned to the hotel and iced my leg which made it feel much better. After some stretching, everything was moving better.

Slickrock

Moab: The name means so much to Mountain Bikers across the world. Beyond the oft referenced Islamic connotations, it has other religious inferences.

Slickrock is Moab, but only to a small degree. Slickrock is just about anything but slick. It's grippy and tacky and if you slide on it you're doing something very wrong.

The jagged La Sal mountains, frosted with snow, were a powerful contrast to the flowing sea of rock that I was climbing and surfing.

Inclines that remind me of walls are possible to climb provided you are in the right gear and far enough forward over the bar to keep the front end from coming unglued from the rock.

There were very few people out when I was riding. On the one hand, it was nice because I could take pictures without getting riders. It was also nice to not have to wait for groups of people to ascend or desend. I ran into one group of about 8 people who were going very slowly. They said that they'd been out for 2.5 hours when I had been out for 1.75 hours, and they had more than half the loop left to do.

It was perfect weather for a ride. The sun was shining, but the air was crisp, even in the middle of the day. The average temperature according to my bike computer was 23° C.

Even though there wasn't a whole lot of climbing, with the exception of the hill in the picture, the ride was a constant up and down, and consistantly, steep in both directions.

There were a lot of places there I sabotaged myself by looking at something and thinking I wouldn't be able to do it. Although, on a several climbs I just powered it out and made it without any problem.

I have to thank Joe Lawwill for all the knowledge he imparted when I did the BikeSkills class. Without what he taught me in that class, I would have had a very difficult time riding both here at Slickrock as well as at Little Creek. It's amazing what a manual can do

Hurricane to Moab through Zion

For some unknown reason, I had a hard time getting myself together to leave this morning. Between this and that, it wasn't until just before 11 when I finally got out the door.

I decided to take the advice that John and Steve gave me, and drive through Zion and then up the 89 to the 70 instead of driving the non-stop, cruise controlled I-15 to the 70. It was definately more beautiful in spots than I would have seen on the 15, but I feel the weight of the added driving time on me now.

Along the way I saw a sign for a rest stop and a hiking/atv "trail" (Paiute Side Loop), and I was feeling like I needed to get some exercise, so I got my bike together and set off up the dirt road. I expected it to switch to something a little more interesting, but it never did. It was just a big dirt road for ATVs. The only excitement was climbing up and up and up for 40 minutes before I turned around and headed for the car. It makes me realize that I'm not much of a downhill rider, because I was never shy about handling the breaks.

There was a bunch of snow at higher elevations which was cool to look at. I can only think that winter is going to come hard this year around here.

It was a good feeling to see signs for Moab and know I was getting closer. I easily found the hotel and checked in. Of course, even though I reconfirmed, they didn't have an upstairs kitchen unit. So, I'll move tomorrow.

Little Creek

I met up with Russel, Steve and John, members of the Color Country NMBP, at Over the Edge Sports in Hurricane. We were soon moving down the road to Little Creek. After approximately 15 miles on a paved road, we turned onto a dirt road which lead us gradually upward onto the Little Creek mesa.

This was my first introduction to slickrock and I must say I enjoyed it. We were riding for about four hours over expansive oceans of super grippy rock and sweet singletrack patches of gritty soil weaving through small trees that unlike similar sized trees in San Diego don't bend. In fact, I managed at one point to run into what i thought was a 30cm high shrub that stopped me dead in my tracks. Fortunately, I was able to unclip fast enough to save my body from a hard landing.

Steve, originally from Ramona and then Julian, lead the pack for most of the ride. He was clearly a good rider with a lot of skill and practice in this terrain.

John was usually second and was most often in the gaze of my helmet cam. I shot video of the whole ride and have started to edit it. I'm going to make another music video out of it.

And generally bringing up the rear (and thankfully sweeping me back onto the trail the few times I lost it in the scrabble of rocks.

We rode out to the "North Point", snaking our way along the rim of the mesa, with incredible views, although it was generally recommended to keep eyes focused on the trail and not look out over the cliff. One medium sized error would be all it would have taken at some points to have found flight.

We stopped at a few spots along the rim to gnosh and talk. The conversation was pleasant and it was clear that this group of guys was not of the political and social pursuasion one is told to expect in Southern Utah.

From one of the places we stopped, it was possible to see Gooseberry Mesa in the distance. I'm told that Gooseberry Mesa is much more technical than the ride at Little Creek.

There wasn't a whole lot that was too technical, but it was still necessary to be on for the whole time. We rode waves of stone that had gaps and drops and steps. There were creek beds, and waterfalls and a whole host of great riding.

When the ride was finished, Russel passed around beers and gatoraide. I must say, a cold beer after a ride was very pleasant. I was slow packing up, but I didn't want to hold up the other guys who still needed to drive to Ceder City. So I bid them fair well, and continued packing and changing.

The drive back to the paved road seemed too take much longer than the drive in, maybe because I was able to focus on the scenery rather than the bumpy road.

I took several pictures that I want to stich together into a panarama, but I uninstalled the application a few weeks ago and I forgot to bring the disc with me.

Hiking in Zion

Well, it wasn't much of a hike, but it was enjoyable to get out after sitting around all day waiting for the rain to stop. The sun was going down as I walked along the river, normally on a small ridge trail that ran on about 2m above the water line.

Hopefully the storm will blow over by tomorrow and I can get some riding in. Kind of silly to be stuck somewhere, paying for a hotel room, and have nothing to do. If I can't ride tomorrow, I'll go back to Zion and take the shuttle all the way to the end.

Sitting in the middle of Hurricane

By the time I got up and got myself going, and then going here and there to buy the few little things that I wanted for the trip, I finally made it out the door and onto the freeway at 10:47am. I set the cruise control at 90km/h and settled into the right hand lane for the long haul to Hurricane, UT.

The trip would have been much better to do in the dead of night because at least that way I wouldn't be able to see that there was nothing to see.

Vast expanses of monotonous desert landscape stretched around me without even the suggestion of hidden treasures. The only interesting thing that I noticed were the areas on the freeway tarmac that had multiple skid marks going in every-which direction. There seemed to be too many skid marks to suggest that it had been a multi-car pileup, but on the other hand, the regularity with which patches of cement were dotted with black skid marks made me wonder.

I'm sold on the benefit of driving at 55 mph now more than ever. I left Encinitas with a half tank of gas. When I filled up again, I had gone 80 extra miles on a tank of gas from what I would have used had I been driving at 65. The first full tank of gas had gotten me to 225 miles on a half-tank. When I drove at 65 I would only have gotten to 150 miles on a half tank. It's also a lot less stressful than driving faster because I'm out of that "I'm trying to be first" mentality.

Anyway, I woke up this morning looking forward to riding and enjoying conversation with the Russel from the Color Country NMBP. Then, I rushed though a shower so I could grab something from the free breakfast before it ended. When I opened the door I was greeted with a San Diego winter day. It was cold and raining. Not a great way to start a vacation!

I grabbed some fruit and coffee, headed back to the room and called Russel and we agreed to meet up tomorrow for a ride. Hopefully this storm will blow over by then. Now, at around 1:30 in the afternoon, the rain has mostly ended and the sky is starting to lighten up.

Ready for Moab

It's 2:58am on the 3rd of October. I've got everything packed into the car except the batteries that are still charging, the charger itself, my toothbrush and a few odds and ends that are already in a bag. I was thinking about just leaving now, but I still have a little bit of cleaning and some dishes to do before I can walk out the door. Plus, I'm very tired. So, I'm going to bed, and I'll just hit the road when I wake up.

Next stop: Hurricane, UT for two days of riding. I'll try Gooseberry Mesa and perhaps Thunder Mountain. I'll be meeting up with two of the patrol directors for the Color Country NMBP to learn about their patrol and see them in action as I shadow them as they teach a new patroller.