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MOAB, Mountain
Bikes...etc. Click Part II if you have already read Part I |
My
14 day Wild West Moabian-Utahan Adventure began early, Saturday, March 30.
Nephew Joey was supposed to go along, but at the last minute he panicked in a
fit of anticipatory homesick jitters. I was not too bothered at this cuz I had
fears it would be a pain having him along for 2 weeks, fears which were borne
out by the actual trip. I'm glad he didn't go. My Safari Van was stuffed with
bikes and accoutrements. I had decided to go the longer route via I-90 and
then south on I-15, rather than the more direct interstate diagonal via I-84,
I mainly decided on this route, though longer, to avoid caravanning once more
with the bizarrely erratic Jack and Lulu, due to our last trip's multiple
unplanned detours caused by Jack's sugar-level drop confusions. The first stop
of the trip was the mandatory Marysville McDonald's All You Can Eat with
sister Jackie and nephews CJ and JR and others. Once that was out of the way a
few hundred miles of fairly familiar interstate were passed over. And then
Montana. Hadn't been there for a few years. Not since they'd totally tackied
the state, legalizing virtually all types gambling everywhere, so any small
little bohunk dump now advertises itself as a casino, with the requisite video
poker and slots. Montana showed us some snow and icy roads, but the unlimited
speed limit was kinda fun in the safe zones. I like being where there ain't
many people and the freeway is empty. The first nite was spent in Idaho Falls,
a nouveau high-tech urban escape wannabe cool sorta town. The next morning saw
some more snow on a pass south of Pocatello. The miles seemed to melt away
rather quickly. By late morning the entering Utah sign had been passed.
Nothing much had seemed to have changed in the Salt Lake zone, except for a
new roller coaster at the Lagoon, which wasn't there last year. To get to Moab
you have to cross the Wasatch Mountains via a shallow pass which connects to
I-70. I'd driven this 20 years ago and remembered it as a pain in the butt
narrow road. No more. Totally rebuilt. All the character gone. My memory was
oddly being very faulty and usually I remember such stuff quite well, I kept
waiting for a dramatic redrock zone which I was sure I remembered. But it
never came. I am still baffled as to what became of it. At the redrock zone
there had been a park, with a waterwheel and a trail into a narrow canyon
where years ago I'd lost a camera. I know this was the road. But I saw no
redrock. I continue puzzled by this and have tried to figure it out, but I
remain vexed. Anyway, this two-lane connects with I-70 which junctions with
the road to Moab. A short 40 more miles or so and you are finally, completely
in the redrock Zone. Our reservations were at the Super 8 at the north end of
town. Checked in. The rooms were nice, but they'd jacked up the rate on the
last 2 days to 88.88 cuz of the Jeep Safari thing that began on Thursday. I
complained that this was not what I'd been sold and so they reduced the rate
back to the 50 buck zone. These things matter when one is not on an expense
account!
SCROLL DOWN TO SEE SLICK ROCK TRAIL / ARCHES / CANYONLANDS NP PHOTOS
Once in Moab Ed and I unloaded the bikes and proceeded to tour
the town. I saw a cool t-shirt stand with these redrock shirts which I had to
have. They are dyed using the pigment from redrock. Very cool. So we talked to
locals, found out how to get to the Slick Rock Trail. Decided to leave that for
the next day. Rode back to the Super 8 just in time for the predictably late
arrival of Jack and Lulu and their entourage. They had been hung up in Logan due
to a Mormon on board who's parents insisted he attend Sunday Tabernacle.
Religious Zealots. Or Religious Nazis as Roseanne puts it. So, there is a
Denny's next door to the Super 8 so we all went for some red meat with bun. And
Fries. It was carbo-load time. Which basically meant Lulu guzzled down the
majority of a carafe of orange juice, meant to be shared.
The next
morning Jack scheduled the first ride. Up something called the Poison Spider
Mesa. It was to begin at 7 AM. I bailed. Jack went with the Microsoft guys and
this guy named Bill and Annette and Craig who were all staying at a camp south
of town. When I finally got up and around, Lulu and Ed and myself went to
Denny's again and had omelet's. Actually Lulu
had a plain bagel spread with cream cheese out of a tube and some more OJ, as
if she hadn't drunk enough the nite before. After that Ed and I decided to try
the Slick Rock Trail on our own. It was pretty easy to find. You go up a
switchbacky paved road, up one of the canyon walls. There were lottsa jeeps
doing their bizarre Jeep Safari stuff on the steep Lion's Back thing you may
have seen in pix and on TV. We came to a BLM paybooth. You pay 3 bucks for a 3
day Slick Rock Pass. A couple more miles and we were at the Slick Rock parking
lot and trailhead. I was giddy with anticipation. I unloaded the bikes, checked
my camera. My camera was dead. Ed got on his bike. Two flat tires!! We loaded
back up. Drove back to Moab. Dropped Ed's bike off at a bikeshop, found a
photoshop. Got a new battery for my camera. By the time that was done, Ed had
two new tubes. His bike had been done in by something the locals call goatheads.
He must have run over a patch the nite before while we were riding around Moab.
So
now, properly outfitted, we headed back to the Slick Rock Trail. Unloaded.
Headed out. Right from the start it made me nervous. You follow white dashes
painted onto the rock. Yellow means caution. All intersections are marked.
After a bit of strain we came to the Practice Loop. A 2 mile supposedly
easier version of the full Slick Rock Trail Experience. There were 4
femmes contemplating
the junction and we all sort of decided to do the Practice Loop together. At
first I hated it. Way too steep. Both up and down. And treacherous. I thought,
my god, what is the real Slick Rock Trail like. And then something sort of
clicked and I realized the power of the incredible traction. Soon I was
whooping down the steep stuff and pumping up the steep stuff and loving it!
The Practice Loop took about 2 hours. It was now pool time. Back to the Super
8.
click a thumbnail to get the BIG picture
I hung out with Lulu, pooling, til about 2 when I asked if she wanted
to go to town and shop. So I went and bought that redrock shirt I wanted and
some other stuff. We shopped in one t-shirt shop after another with the most
varied selection of t-shirts I have ever seen in a tourist town. Lulu got
annoyed at me for repeatedly striking up conversations with locals. She can be
so anti-social sometimes. A couple hours of Lulu-shopping and I had the first
pangs of the only tiny minor headache I was to have on the entire trip. So I
insisted we cease shopping at once. It was hunger time. Back to the Super 8 we
gathered up Jack and others, now back from Poison Spider and headed back into
town to Rio's, a local Tex-Mex place. Very good. Jack and Lulu created an
incident with the waitress regarding her shoes, which was not pretty to witness.
Back to the Super 8, a slight rest, then Jack and the campers from south of
town, plus the Mormon and Jack's kid, 
Andrew, and Ed and I all headed back up to the Slick Rock Trail. I was
ready for the Main Show! The Slick Rock Trail shares the Practice Loop for a
bit, and then, virgin territory. It was much wilder. At one point you come to a
yellow marked zone, with 'Danger' and 'Caution' written in stone. I was a little
concerned. And then you see what you have to do. Sort of cross a very narrow
little section with a steep dropoff, which then begins a descent, traversing a
steep slick rock dune, with 3 turns necessary in mid descent. A photographer
waits at the key scream point to catch your look of horror! But it wasn't too
bad. In fact I thought it was kind of fun. On the Slick Rock Trail it is one
surprise after another. You gradually gain altitude til finally you are on 
the crest of the canyon looking into Moab. It is beautiful. But a wind had come
up. Quite strong. We were almost 5 miles into the Slick Rock Trail, it was an
hour from sunset. Time to head back. Both Ed and I
took a couple good spills, Ed's the worst. They are called Slick Rock kisses.
Somehow I scraped the entire backside of my lower leg, but I don't remember how.
It's sort of intense. Ed and I had split from Jack's group, inadvertently, cuz,
predictably, Jack did not go where he said he was going, so he did not show up
at the meeting point, we had agreed upon. By the time Ed and I made it back to
the van, exhausted, exhilarated, we had conquered the worst of the Slick Rock
Trail, Jack had been waiting an hour for us, due to some ethic that you don't
leave til your entire group returns. Plus, Jack had gotten himself into some
good Samaritan routine with a wounded biker and his butch girl friend. After we
finally returned to Moab I don't remember much of the rest of that evening.
click a thumbnail to get the BIG picture
The next day was the Gemini Bridges Ride, which I thought was to be a sedate
little ride, suitable to lardasses, such as myself. I knew those delicate
flowers of female gentleness, Lulu and the infamous Zelda had managed this ride.
Previous to seeing them I thought the Gemini Bridges were normal
human-engineered bridges across a creek or river. I was mistaken on all counts.
I entered into agreeing to ride the Gemini Bridges Trail with minimal
information. I knew Jack and Lulu were hosting the ride. I knew it is a popular
ride. I knew the young beauty named Zelda collapsed and lost control of her
bodily functions the last time Jack and Lulu hosted this ride. I did not know
that hosting a ride consisted solely of providing dried gruel sticks called
Power Bars, a piece of licorice and directional confusion. I did not know that
the Gemini Bridges were not river crossings, but instead are treacherous eroded
arches crossing hundreds of feet above perilous Bull Canyon, information one
would think a person hosting a ride would think germane to the safety of those
they are hosting.For the majority of us the ride began just off the hiway to Islands in the Sky, near the turnoff to Deadhorse Point. Jack and Lulu left 8 of us at the trailhead and told us they would meet us at the Gemini Bridges turnoff. I had never been so rudely abandoned by a 'host' in my life. The eight of us began our descent down the rocky, dusty, sandy jeep road. All the riders, but Eddie and myself, had shock absorbers. The ride was jarring and became chilly when the wind chill factor caused by our careening speed lowered the temps out of the comfort zone. After awhile my brainpan began to numb from the steady bump drumming. Ahead I saw Lulu, slowly ambling her way up the grade. She claimed she wanted to experience the exciting 'Whoops' section. I detected no exciting 'Whoops'
section. Finally we came upon Jack. He was circling an area of broken rock and
various trails, desperately searching for the Gemini Bridges. A portly Jeeper
held an electronic directional device searching for the same thing. Finally Jack
found the way. It was one
more short, bumpy descent. I crossed what I thought was the Bridge, having now
been told it was a 'natural' bridge. I sat down at the edge of what I thought
was the Bridge, next to Annette, and began to drink some water and chew on one
of my pieces of host provided licorice. Lulu began screaming at me, asking me if
I had any idea where I was sitting. I realized I did not. So Annette and I
walked over to Lulu and looked back to where we were sitting---on top of a thin
thin piece of rock, a sort of ledge, cantilevered way out over Bull Canyon. My
knees sort of turned to jello when I saw where I'd been sitting. Then I learned
that one of our co-riders, Daniel, 18, Mormon, had almost fallen off the actual
Gemini Bridge when he didn't realize there was a gap between the two arches, the
gap being the reason for the name Gemini, with two parallel twin bridges. Only
the scream of the ever vigilant Craig stopped Daniel from going over, and
repeating the grisly death of another teenager earlier in the year. 
At Gemini Bridges there were dozens of bikers riding over the bridges and
climbing the surrounding slick rock. It was a surreal scene. And then it got
more surreal. The previously mentioned, overweight Jeeper and his equally obese
wife showed up in their green Jeep, slowly bouncing over the rock ledges til
they were in sight of the Gemini Bridges. The
portly Jeeper got out of his jeep and slowly waddled across the bridge,
surveying as he waddled. His wife stood in the distance making panicky noises.
The Jeeper walked back to his Jeep and the crowd of Bikers sort of collectively
held our breath as we contemplated that this guy was actually going to drive
across the narrow rock bridge. He slowly inched his way to the precipice and
then gingerly rolled out to the middle of the span. He got out of the Jeep and
his wife continued to make panicky noises as she photo-documented what
apparently is a major accomplishment in the couch potato Jeeper World.
click
a thumbnail to get the BIG picture
After
the Jeeper exhibition we watched an Aussie do an exhibition of Mountain Bike
acrobatics near the canyon edge. He was very good. Jack took photos and the
Aussie claimed to be familiar with Mudsluts. Later when we were at the hiway to
Moab the Aussie bared his buttocks to the crowd, apparently as much an Aussie
thing to do as German woman baring their breasts poolside. It seemed a fat butt
for someone so athletic on a bike, but I digress.
After the Jeep and Aussie Exhibitions we continued on our way down the Gemini
Trail. There were dozens of us now. I hung back with poor Lulu. She is such a
good sport, going on this brutal ride, but her hubbie Jack has not put shocks on
Lulu's bike and the bumps were very punishing to her. This section of the ride
is fairly adventurous and fun. At one point we passed the soon to be barebutted
Aussie fixing a flat tire. The trail descended into Goony Bird Canyon, named for
a rock spire formation which looks like, well, a Goony Bird. In the canyon the
temps rose, sweat began to appear, we were nearing the point where Zelda had
lost control on a previous Jack and Lulu hosted ride. Goony Bird Canyon is very
reminiscent of the canyons of Lake Powell. It is dusty, however, no water in
view. Several Jeeps and various motorized devices detracted from the peace and
tranquility. The canyon eventually ended and the road began a fairly steep
ascent. Near the crest Arches National Park came into view, with blue sky
peeking through a large arch. And then the road to Moab appeared far below and I
finally knew where I was. I reached the summit and then began a long, bumpy ride
down. A strong wind came up. Dust blew. It was hurricane-like. The temps
dropped. I struggled against the wind and made my way down the dirt trail, for
what seemed miles, finally reaching the parking lot where the co-riders where
shivering. We waited for awhile. This was a better coordinated post-ride shuttle
system than other Jack-planned rides, so with little wait, I was back in a
comfortable vehicle, being driven to my van. I think I had hit the proverbial
wall and I was being naturally medicated by endorphins, because I was oddly
happy considering the hellish nitemare I had just been subjected to.
The day after Gemini Bridges was Wednesday. A non-bike day. We had reservations
for the 3 hour ranger led Fiery Furnace hike in Arches at 2 PM. We bought picnic
fixins at the local deli and in the morning went to Deadhorse Point, which I
hadn't seen on my previous visit cuz we ran out of time. It was pretty cool. A
couple thousand feet up on a narrow mesa connected to the main mesa via a narrow
neck, upon which cowboys placed a narrow fence,
trapping horses out on Deadhorse Point. Sometimes they didn't all get rounded
up and they would die of thirst, looking down on the Colorado, trapped. Hence
the name. After Deadhorse Point we went into Canyonlands National Park,
intending to go all the way 
to
the Grand View from Islands in the Sky. But our stop at the perilous Shaffer
Trail overlook found us short of time, so we had to go to Arches in time for our
picnic and our hike. But not before gazing upon the twisting turning switchbacks
of the Shafer Trail long enough to want to come back and ride down it on bikes.
A plan discouraged by Lulu as being dangerous. An ironic claim considering the
unknown danger that lie ahead from a trail named Porcupine.
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The
Fiery Furnace was lottsa fun. It is sort of a maze of these things called fins,
think steep narrow canyons, just a few feet wide in places. The ranger leads you
thru this stuff, lecturing at times. There are a lot of cool arches, and a
couple very amusing tight spots. I got some great shots of Lulu trying to
get thru one particularly trying passage. By the end of the hike it was 5. An
eclipse of the moon was supposed to happen but thunderclouds had rolled in and
the temps had dropped. We had planned on hiking up to Delicate Arch after Fiery
Furnace, but now Moab sounded better. 
bit. It was being stormy and windy. Lottsa people. I liked it. Back at the Super
8 Jack and Lulu made a big fuss about my plan to ride down the Shaffer Trail and
do the White Rim Trail the next day. They thought it was too dangerous to do
without support. They were downright vehement about this. So I caved. But the
ride Jack had planned was Porcupine Rim, known as the most brutal ride in the
Moab zone and infamous cuz it was the ride that made the national news last
summer cuz of two Iowa kids who died on it. I didn't really feel up to such a
thing, but I caved to endless peer pressure and agreed to it. We agreed to be
ready to go by 8 AM. I went to bed a bit nervous about the following day, but I
slept anyway. 
The next morning we rushed around, ate a quick muffin, caravanned south of town
to round up the campers. Previous to that Lulu, Jack and Ed had moved my van up
the Colorado to the end point of the Porcupine Rim Trail. Once we got all the
bikers assembled we headed up to the Slick Rock Trail Road, to Sand Flats, drove
past the Slick Rock Trail another 11 miles, looking for the Porcupine Rim Trail
head, marked by two water cisterns. Finally we found it. We prepared. Group
photos were taken, soon available for viewing via the internet. It was at this
point I was first told the story of the two Iowa kids who had died on this trail
last summer. It was time to start. Lulu took off in the Izuzu, heading back for
a day of sane pool time back in Moab. 7 of us began the 16 mile plus Porcupine
Rim ride. We were at almost 8 thousand feet elevation at the base of the La
Salle Mountains. The trail would take us down a multi-thousand feet descent back
to the Colorado River.
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But first we had to climb another 700 feet of elevation, before our descent
would begin. The first two miles of the trail rose gently, there were small
juniper bushes, we were slightly out of the desert zone. At about the two mile
mark there was a fun descent for a bit, then a rather taxing climb. A bit ahead
of me I could see that bikers were stopping. I did not know why. After a little
more climbing I understood. It was the summit. High Anxiety Point. The very edge
of Porcupine Rim, a 2000 foot cliff looking down on the Castle Valley, a sort of
Monument Valley look-a-like. At this point there is a rock jutting out over the
cliff about 10 feet. A major famous Utah photo op. So multiple photos had to be
taken of these fools who would stand out on this thing with their bikes. Jack
has a morbid fear of heights so he was in a major state of high anxiety. But,
being a photo-journalist, much less the Mudsluts guy, he had to do his photo
thing. He took down names of his posers and promised to send them photos. A
couple of them knew of Mudsluts. We were all wearing our Mudsluts t-shirts and
had taken to calling ourselves Team Mudslut. So, after a bit of water drinking
and food eating it was time for the next phase. We were about 4 miles into the
trail. 12 to go. Mostly downhill. The last 5 miles supposedly narrow single
track. We began the downhill, Annette and me taking up the rear.
The trail changed character several times, at times soft and sandy, then
turning rocky and wild. You had to be totally focused, never wavering in your
attention, sort of like an intense video game. After much terrain change and
getting in sight of the Slick Rock Trail and the cliffs of Moab we came to a
canyon edge, the trail followed it, narrow, steep, scary. And then suddenly the
Colorado appeared, way down in the distance. I thought, omigod, we have to get
all the way down to that! And then we hit the single track, this was the
dangerous part. It sort of followed a narrow ledge with steep cliffs rising way
above on your left and a steep long drop off on your right. I couldn't not get
over the incredible scary implausibility of the fact we were riding bikes on
this. Maniac Acrophobic Jack had a couple incidents of having to take a time out
to calm down.
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After a bit we left that scary zone, the Colorado finally seemed a short
distance away. But no, it tricked you. We had to enter one more canyon, then
cross a narrow stream and then finally a long easy descent to the road. At the trail's end, all I wanted was to know where my van was. I was totally exhausted. Jack tried to call Lulu on the Cel phone. No service. Finally I got Jack and Ed to focus enough to point me to where the van was, I rode there, desperate to sit on a comfortable seat. Then I drove back to Moab to get Lulu and the Izuzu, but Lulu pitched a fit when she learned Jack had once more misplanned one of his rides, and that she was required to drive to the rescue once more. It was very ugly. Well, a little ugly, but as I always do, I smoothed the rough water and calmed Lulu down. So we returned to the trailhead, picked up some of the bikers, returned them to their campground, while I vented my litany of complaints about the bizarre ending to the ride which had Jack blissed out in some sort of sweaty ditziness, laying on the ground, taking photos of fellow fools riding over a jump til Craig-Cliff had a major wreck which had him draining an artery. But within an hour of reaching the trail's end I was soaking in the Jacuzzi, recovering and in a strange state of endorphin bliss. A fitting end to the Moabian Bike Rides. That nite Jack and Lulu tried to drunken me with Margaritas, but I would have none of it. Well, little of it. But Lulu is so much more pleasant with a little liquor in her, it rounds out her mean streak. Jack just seems to pass out after the first ounce of any liquor product.
The next morning it was time to leave Moab. Jack and Lulu and the others all had to return home, some for school, the Microsoft guy cuz he'd already extended his vacation twice with bogus sick calls, Jack cuz he had a photo assignment on Monday. So they all took off north. Ed and I headed south for the next week of trekking.
To be detailed in 'Moab-Utah..The Road Trip, Part II' coming soon................make that now!!!!!!