A brief respite from the cold during our second season snowboard bumming.
Halfway between the ski mountain we were at (Monarch, by Salida, CO), and the ski mountain we were going to (Sundance, by Provo, UT) was 100 miles of desert. Not just any desert though; this desert is home to what many consider to be the country’s best mountain biking. And so we loaded up the van, packed the snowboards away, and prepared for a biome-traversing road trip in hopes of finding a few chances to bring our bikes out to play.
Part 1: Koko for Kokopelli
We arrived in Grand Junction, CO around 3pm. Over the past three days since departing from Salida, we had passed through Arctic-like tundra and dizzying displays of frosted mountainscapes. But on day three in Grand Junction, when we slid the van door open, warm sunlight slid in. Soaked in its soft rays, we shed our winter skins to face the sun. We had emerged upon a Colorado that felt brand new; the snow was gone, and in its place was the warmth of spring.
After asking around for the best short ride option we could get in before sunset, Fruita’s Kokopelli Loops emerged as the clear local favorite. Legs fresh but green from months off the bike, we decided to do a few easy loops to get a taste of what Colorado’s mountain biking mecca had to offer.
We parked at Rustler’s Trailhead and began to prepare our bodies and bikes. By the time butts were padded, hydration packs filled, and tires and shocks pumped, the air had begun to cool, and the light warmed. A few minutes into the trail, we came face to face with dramatic sandstone cliffs, softened by afternoon shadows. We stopped often for pictures.
The first few miles took us on a gentle climb, surrounded by sage brush and sand. Soon, we reached a lookout where the Colorado River made its first shy appearance, and the curving descent of the trail could be seen swooping below. Campsites, accessible only by steep, jagged switchbacks, stood starkly on the other side of the river. We continued along the well trodden path, sometimes riding side by side, sometimes squeezing tightly into a line to dodge sharply edged rocks guiding us to ride single track on the narrowed trail. Suddenly, the trail dropped, and we were swept downward through a current of gently winding curves until we landed, deposited, back at the trailhead where we had started.
With about another hour left before sunset, we set off from the trailhead again, this time to start down Mary’s Loop. After a steep, rocky climb from the parking, Mary’s evened out and opened up to stunning views of the valley. A left turn led to several sharp drops into an expert trail, while keeping to the right brought us easily around juniper pines, over bouldered rock paths, and to even more gorgeous views. Mary’s continued to increase in difficulty and the sun continued to creep closer and closer to the horizon, so we turned back to complete our ride via Wrangler’s. Turning onto Wrangler, we were surrounded again by sagebrush and sand. We rode along through this lovely, gentle terrain before finishing at the trail head again, right as the most beautiful lighting of the day illuminated the snow-capped mountains in the horizon. It was good to be out of that snow!
It was a wonderful start to our mountain biking retreat.
Part 2: Tour de Moab
The next day, we began the drive to Moab. We pulled into the Bar M parking area around 11am, just one of many vans and RVs already by the trailhead. Families dotted the dusty, red parking area, and children on tiny bikes toddled to and fro. Red rock loomed over the entire scene, and the dirt beneath us similarly glowed. Once again we had landed in another world.
We had a few hours to spend before the duties of the day called, so we again decided on a short loop to get our feet wet. Starting out counterclockwise from the parking onto Lazy EZ and then onto the trail system’s eponymous Bar M Loop, we turned onto Rockin’ A and entered slick rock country for the first time.
So called for its smooth, wind-swept surface, slick rock’s true name is Navajo Sandstone, and it is most recognizable by its layers of cross-bedded sandstones. Found across the Colorado Plateau in colors ranging from bleached white to bright red, this is the rock that makes Utah famous. It forms the main attraction at a number of Utah hot spots, such as Zion and Arches National Parks, in the forms of dramatic cliffs, rounded domes, and spectacular bluffs. For us, however, the main attraction was right here, on the tricky trails of Bar M.
Hay colored rock, smooth and bare, spilled into view in every direction. We followed the lines of the trail up and down, over and around the sandstone formation, as the curious figures of Arches National Park peeped out against the horizon to the East. North Window (prominent enough to be seen even from here!) seemed to wink at us from across the park. From the end of Rockin’ A, we had the choice to turn back onto Bar M Loop for an easy ride back to the start, or continue on to Circle O for a circuitous route on the perimeter of the trail system on more slick rock. The choice was clear. More slick rock.
Circle O granted more expansive views, a few sudden drops, and a handful of steep climbs to return from the outskirts of the trail. Sadly, all good things must end, though we found ourselves then on the equally good North 40 for a short and twisty return to parking.
I settled in for a few hours of work in the van, and when I emerged again, the sun was still out, but barely. With a few hours left in the day, we didn’t have enough time to do the full Slickrock Trail – nor did we have the legs! As beginner mountain bikers, the trails of the last day and a half had felt surprisingly good, but fatigue was quickly setting in. Slickrock Trail attracts mountain bikers from around the world, and is considered one of the area’s more challenging playgrounds, for bikers and off-roaders alike. Setting off with soaring spirits but depleted legs could be asking for trouble, so we knew we needed to keep expectations in check.
We decided to try out the 2 mile practice loop (“no less difficult than the main loop!” signs warned) first to test out this highly technical trail. If the practice loop went well, we’d continue on to the main loop until the setting sun told us to turn back. (Daylight was running out, so even if our legs could hold up to the challenge, we wouldn’t have time for the full 12 miles.)
Sit bones already beginning to groan from the last two rides, we plopped back on our saddles and set off onto Moab’s most famous bike trail.
Yet again, the landscape changed so suddenly I wondered how it was possible how so many new worlds fit inside only 100 square miles of land. Now our world was a planet of bumps. Bumps and humps and lumps, not unlike the dimpled surface of a freshly poked focaccia. Each dome was a climb we had to power up, then descend, only to face the sharply angled edge of the next dome, to be powered up again. Rounding out the edge of one rock brought you to a new area of this strange planet’s map. The far side of this behemoth sandstone is home to a 4×4 trail, and in the distance we saw Jeeps in a line similarly traversing this alien land. Like Mars rover cruising for samples, they climbed and descended in their careful, mechanical way, one by one disappearing from view.
An arrow on the ground pointed us towards the Echo Point view point, and we descended down a steep grade of sandstone to find an open view of Echo Canyon hidden below. The climb back up was excruciating. Many of the climbs were excruciating. I walked up many more than one, huffing and puffing, the steep grades making climbing even off of the bike a challenge.
When the practice loop was done, so was I. Jason still had some life left in his legs, but mine were jello. He went off onto the main loop while I laid down at the junction and caught my breath. The wild spring winds of the Southwest had been howling since we started, and as my heart rate slowed, it soon became too cold for me to idle there any longer. I picked up my bike and headed off towards the parking lot.
I had thought the hard part was over, but Slickrock still had more to give. As I huffed towards one final imposing wall, a couple of bikers rode towards me from the opposite direction. The hikers off to the side, seeing all of us congregate at this point, began whooping and howling, cheering us on. Encouraged, the biker across from me pulled onto their back wheel and wheelied through the flat as I passed him. I just gritted my teeth to finish my one final climb before the end. This 2 mile loop had shown me what Moab was made of, and it was tougher than me.
At the top of the climb, parking lot in view, I chatted with a fellow biker. He was 82 years old, a good 50 years my senior, yet riding to the top where I could only hike. Moab mountain bikers were serious business. Back at the van, I let my heart slow again, and shielded myself from the wind until Jason returned.
That evening Jason surprised me with dinner reservations at Il Posto Rosso, a farm to table restaurant in the lobby of the Radcliff Moab. It was a day after my birthday, but no less special for it. Before we had even ordered, a blackened tofu and brussels sprouts starter appeared at our table, courtesy of the chef, who prepared it for the occasion. Though no tofu is on the menu, the restaurant keeps it on hand and was able to make a delicious vegan appetizer for us. We ordered cocktails, focaccia, and off menu vegan pastas, and quickly got tipsy off strong drinks and good food.
At the end of the meal, we thanked the chef for the wonderful experience (a far cry from our usual celebration of Whopper Wednesday), and returned to the van, where we chatted with some friends back home over a small birthday call. It was a lovely cap to a beautiful and challenging day.
Part 3: One Last Hurrah
We had to arrive in Provo by noon the next day in order to meet a friend. With 3 hours of driving in standing in our way, we woke up early to fit in one final ride in this famous stretch of desert. The wind hadn’t let up, and just as it did the van all night, it whipped us around as soon we stepped out onto the KlonZo Trails parking lot at 7am.
The morning was cold but pleasant. KlonZo is on the north side of town, slightly north of Bar M with a stretch of Arches in between. Having already been stunned three times over by all of the different worlds of the past two days, Klonzo felt familiar for a change. It contained the ordinary magic of mountains and sand, of rock and pinyon and brush – a magic that is never really anything but extraordinary.
We started on the Dunestone trail, planning to make a counterclockwise loop from Dunestone to Boondocks back to the parking, but instead found ourselves a bit off course. To maximize the trail ridden before Jason’s 8am meeting, we turned onto Cross Canyon. So as not to miss his meeting, Jason broke off onto Borderline to return to the van. My morning, on the other hand, was open and free. I continued off on my own, thinking about how to extend my journey through this beautiful land. As soon as I turned back to Cross Canyon, the shifting terrain exposed me to new winds which blew at me, stronger, colder. I decided my extension would not be long after all.
Taking Cross Canyon to the end, I turned onto a long section of Wahoo, which popped me onto slickrock as I turned onto Borderline to take me home. This stretch was delicious, rushing me down smooth sandstone, dodging gentle dips and fissures in the ground until the earth below me turned back to dirt and leveled out. I reached the point where Jason and I had split, and I knew it wasn’t much farther to go. Borderline continued to descend in swooping lines, the edge of the park on the left, and all that we had previously crossed on the right. The wind was biting but it was beautiful. Fingers frozen by the time the van came into sight, I wasted no time dropping my bike at the bumper and moving to warm myself inside our metal edged home, a fabulous windbreaker.
By 9am, the bikes were strapped to the rack and we were on the road again, saying goodbye to the desert. As if bidding us adieu, drops of rain began to splash on the windshield, soon followed by snow.
There would be plenty more snow in the coming days. A snowstorm was making its way to Provo shortly behind us, bringing upwards of 30 inches to the Wasatch range. Winter was welcoming us back, full force.
Our evanescent 42 hours in the desert were already beginning to feel like a dream.
