When I saw Mark last summer he said there might be a spare slot in the roster for the annual mountain bike trek, if I were interested. This is an informal group of friends who ride the White Rim trail in Canyonlands national park near Moab, Utah, every year, sagged by Jeeps. I had been contemplating getting a mountain bike anyway, so I used this as an excuse. My StumpJumper’s odometer had a grand total of 506 miles on it – I’m definitely a beginner – when I packed it up, loaded it on a plane and flew to Denver.
To Denver. 18.47 miles, 50', average 16.7 mph.
Up at 5:30. Loaded panniers with a selection of the stuff I had put out over the last couple of days. I was assured that it would be Indian summer in Utah, but after all, this is October: I included clothes for cold and wet weather, just in case. For the ride to the airport, I put the lightweight stuff in the rack pack (running shoes, empty water bottle), then put the rack pack in my back pack. I loaded the bike rack with tent, air mattress and sleeping bag, and panniers of course. It’s a bit clumsy, but it’s a good way to get everything to the airport.
I’ve never done it before, but I can see why riding with a backpack is deprecated by the cognoscenti. It blocks a lot of my mirror’s rear view and tends to rock back and forth. (Good way to practice pedaling with upper body motionless.) And it’s hot – the sweat doesn’t evaporate from my back.
But I made it to San Jose airport okay. Tried to talk United into taking the bike unboxed, with just the pedals removed, but they wouldn’t. Had to lower the stem, turn the handlebars, remove the panniers. Did not have to lower the seat, remove the front wheel or offload the rear rack. Used lots of flimsy UAL tape, and for good measure, a few swatches of the heavy shipping tape I had brought along.
Mike met me at the airport in Denver. Reclaimed the bike – no loss or damage – and walked to his place. He sees the runways of Stapleton out his back window – when planes land on the near runway, the smell of burned rubber permeates the neighborhood.
Mike is looking for a decent bike in the $200 range. I gave him one vital piece of advice: avoid the department stores! For that price, I recommended he get a knowledgeable friend to accompany him on a visit to a used bike store.
Went out to Pizza Hut, where we shared a large: my half was the vegetarian delight; his half was the super-all-meat special. I showed off my Olympus camera. “Is it loaded?” I said yes, and he shot me! What a pal! Too bad I wasn’t wearing my progressive bifocals – this picture makes me look almost as old as I really am! Terrible!
Denver to Moab, Utah Map
Pat and Mark showed up about 10. Drove to Ken and Loral’s at Morrison, where Dan and Tom met us. We borrowed Ken’s Jeep Wagoneer for the trip. There were Thule racks on top for four bikes, and we put the fifth on a rear rack. Tom had borrowed two of the roof racks from a friend; when we tried to install them, it turned out that not all the fittings were there. So we spent a couple hours scrounging through Ken’s boneyard for suitable scraps of metal, drilling holes in them, hunting for bolts, finally making a run to the hardware store… Loral fed us all and we finally hit the road about 1:30.
Supposed to be high season for aspens, which were certainly bright yellow and visible forever. But many of them were already bare – probably the real high point was a week or so ago.
Stopped at Eisenhower tunnel to check that bikes and racks were secure. A pretty route, I-70. Never been along here before. Tom, from his vantage point working for Colorado’s highway department, had a lot to tell us about the roads. Glenwood canyon was the last major project of the interstate system, 12 miles, cost $485 million. They built the bridges – and much of the route is essentially bridge: raised highway – with gantries that cantilevered the work under construction out into space – some of the finished road comes within one foot of completely undisturbed primitive rock. The two directions of freeway frequently overlap, one above the other; there’s a separate bike path. A narrow, steep, beautiful canyon – although the cost is horrifying, it’s nice that the view has been preserved.
Talk in the car… Pat, Mark, the girls and Grandma went river rafting down the Colorado in the western part of the state two or three weeks ago. Pat said there were 23 people on the expedition, a school administrator, several teachers, pillars of the community. When the Amtrak came by, everyone except Pat and Grandma mooned it!
I told Pat I was disappointed in her. She said she might have, but she was too astonished at the behavior of her husband, her daughters, the pillars of the community… I wonder why Grandma didn’t mention this episode in her letter to Jacky.
Turned off to Cisco and route 128 to Moab. The Dewey suspension bridge has one lane, was built in 1916, is now part of Kokopelli’s bicycle trail from Moab to Grand Junction.
There was more nice rock along the river here, but the light was failing and we wanted to keep moving anyway. Dark by the time we reached Moab about 7:30.
Stopped at Eddie McStiff’s for pizza and beer (root for me – I had a headache). Pat recommended the pizza with sun-dried tomatoes and roasted garlic. Thought the two carloads of fellow adventurers might turn up at the pizza place, but they didn’t.
Stopped for gas. The Jeep ran dry last year (just as they got back into Moab) so there’s an extra six-gallon gas can this year just to be sure.
We drove out toward the Island in the Sky, turned off at a random spot on BLM territory. Threw our sleeping bags on the ground and out we went. Last night was the full moon – still bright tonight, but visibly out of round. So bright I actually had color vision. Could read my (non-illuminated) watch by moonlight. I’m telling you it was bright!
Some time later, our compatriots showed up at the same random turnoff (guided by the fact that this was the same random turnoff the group used last year). There was a little talk. Since I didn’t know any of them, I figured the morrow would be soon enough for introductions. It was pretty late and everyone soon bedded down.
Could see dozens of stars with my glasses off. Glasses on – no improvement. The moon is so bright that only stars of the first magnitude are visible.
Cold. Thought I’d use the aluminized mylar space blanket I’ve been carrying around for years – but it had glued itself into a solid block that shredded when I tried to unfold it. Oh, well – not all that cold. Good thing I didn’t really seriously need the space blanket!
To Airport Tower campground. 43.55 miles, 2120', average 9.8 mph.
Up about 7, along with the sun and a didgeridoo tape on a car stereo – from the sound, I initially thought one of the women had a (defective) hair dryer plugged into a cigarette lighter. Discovered there are lots of cacti around the area, little flattened balls. Glad none of us stumbled into them in the dark.
Started out with polypro undershirt, tights, cycling jacket. That didn’t last long, of course.
Turns out there are 13 of us, three vehicles. We’ll leave one of them at the top of Mineral canyon and use the other two – both 4WD Jeeps – as sags. Charlie is the ringleader. He applies for the wilderness permit over a year in advance: he already has reservations for next October.
Charlie is a building contractor by trade, salt and pepper beard, lean and fit. The white Jeep is his. His wife is Shirley. There’s Larry, a finish carpenter, and Jerry, a mason. Jerry has a titanium bike with front shocks. Mark says he’s an erstwhile bicycle mechanic as well. Talks even less than I.
After a quick breakfast, Tom and I rode from the campsite to the visitor center, where we checked in and submitted to a short talk and a video on the wilderness and its regulations. Everyone was standing around in no hurry to leave… I rode to the Shafer canyon overlook, then back to the visitor center.
Still no evidence of people starting off. Well, I like to ride in the cool of the day, and I like to ride alone… so I took off. Down off the Island onto the white rim.
Figured if I was going off the front, I had lots of time for side trips, so I left the bike, hiked out Gooseneck trail.
Got two pix of the Colorado river – Pat said it would be red, but it isn’t – it’s green! Does that mean the Green river will be red?
The White Rim really is – there’s red rock above and below, with a hard white layer between. The red tends to be vertical: soft and eroded; the white is horizontal: hard and unyielding. Red columns everywhere, wearing overhanging hats of white. The cap helps protect the column from further erosion, resulting in a fairly stable formation.
There’s no question that this is a petroglyph. The question is whether it’s an ancient petroglyph. Don’t know the answer to that one.
Nice to have the Trails Illustrated topo map. I phoned their 800 number last Monday morning; the map arrived Wednesday. Efficient people and a good map. As far as I know, no one else had one of these maps; there was a lot of interest in mine whenever I spread it out, and it was nice to have it when I wandered off by myself.
Stopped again at Musselman arch. Walked across: it’s as wide, and almost as uniform, as a business district sidewalk.
The white rim road consists of soft sand, hard rock and everything in between. A few pretty steep grades. Not too bad on a mountain bike, but a road bike or an ordinary two-wheel drive car would be in a world of hurt.
Saw a green snake, slender, 30" long. He saw me first – gone before I could put down the bike and get my camera. They sure move fast, considering that they just wiggle their ribs! I wonder how fast I could go if I could wiggle my ribs? [Mental instability is a symptom of bicycle touring. It usually doesn’t show up on the first day, however.]
Temperature in mid-80s, no shade. When I stop, it’s so quiet my ears ring. Riding alone, the way I like it. One fast rider passed me. The rest of our group still back there somewhere. There’s terrain along here that makes me glad I’m not driving the sag.
The picture shows Airport tower. We’ll camp over that way tonight.
Stopped at turnoff to Lathrop canyon to wait for the group. Updated my diary.
The soil here is “cryptobiotic” – a potpourri of algć, fungi, lichens. It forms a rough crusty surface that anchors the soil from erosion and provides a substrate to help larger plants get established. The ranger said it looks like dreadlocks under a microscope. It’s destroyed when it’s walked upon, takes a long time to regenerate. So they want us to stay on trails, washes, or slickrock.
Waited two hours, ran out of water, hunkered down in shade of a rock to keep cool. Temperature in mid 80s according to my magic altimeter wristwatch. Where are my friends? I expected them to be right behind me!
Finally rode on into Airport Tower camp, where a fellow surrounded by mountain bikes gave me water. I think he said there were eighteen women in his group; they were riding out Shafer canyon on the morrow and had surplus water. So he was happy to give me some.
When I went back to the Lathrop canyon turnoff, I met some of our people and the sag. Got food from the sag and headed down. It’s very steep near the top, followed by about four miles of flatter country. I encountered my first deep, soft sand – did some flatland walking.
This is doubtless old news to experienced mountain bikies, but it was new to me: you can be going along at whatever speed you like, and when you hit soft sand, you’re down to zero within four or five feet – this is on flat grades, even on downhills. If you anticipate the sand by shifting to the lowest granny gear in advance, you may (or may not) be able to keep going, but if you fail to shift soon enough, you’re probably off the bike. And you typically have to walk out to firmer ground to start up again.
Lathrop canyon is walled by dark red rock, clearly scoured by flash floods. The vegetation implies that flash floods are real, not hypothetical – that’s why Lathrop canyon campground has been closed.
The detail shot below is from the overhanging roof shown in the wider photo above.
There are beautiful graceful shapes, both large and small.
A few cottonwoods and lots of tamarisks. These are fluffy trees, quite attractive, but Pat says they’re an import that has become a real weed – and certainly they have claimed all the riverbanks for themselves; the few cottonwoods grew well back from the water.
Headed back without delay. Several walkers on the way out. Hard work, even if it’s only about 400 vertical feet. Irregular rock, soft sand, abrupt changes of grade: I wouldn’t be a beginner very long if I rode Lathrop canyon every day!
Discovered my (Cateye) computer only works down to 2.4 mph – gives me no credit for these slow steep walkers. If Avocet is the same, that’s another reason to wear your accumulating altimeter on your wrist rather than on your handlebars!
Everyone was at camp by the time I got there. Spread the tent out as a ground cloth for tonight. Putting the sleeping bag and air mattress directly on the ground last night wasn’t a good idea – sleeping bag is now full of dust and whenever I get close to it, I get stuffed up and even sneezy. Into the laundry as soon as I get home!
Woman walking from the road into the neighboring campsite. When a guy on a mountain bike came up behind her, she raced him the last hundred yards and won. Good for her!
The first night’s meal was sponsored by Charlie’s group. He brewed up rice and chicken curry. Pretty good. Salad of lettuce, tomatoes, olives, red bell peppers, fronds of cilantro. Pat and Mark were kind enough to provide an extra plate and cup, since I hadn’t anticipated the situation properly. They even provided a beer for a thirsty bikie. I owe them!
Met more people in the group: there were three Dans, including Mark’s brother. One of them a geologist. Another, also a finish carpenter, had a couple stitches over his eye where he just had a cyst removed. His wife Judy is an alternative health worker, also works one day a week in an outdoors store, where she gets an employee discount on all the latest high-tech outdoors stuff. She had the first aid kit, used it a couple times.
Stripped and sponged down with my tee-shirt wetted from the water bottle. It helps! – I wonder if the tee-shirt will ever come clean.
Here’s Airport Tower in the sunset.
There were lots of stars from sunset until moonrise. The milky way was clearly visible. Why does it run NE to SW? Had anyone asked me, I would have said it was parallel to the plane of the earth’s orbit, 23° away from EW… though upon reflection, I certainly can’t justify that guess.
Charlie played his didgeridoo tape again – loud enough to freak out our neighbors. Then he put on a flute tape. Mark offered a tape that got voted down. Our neighbors returned the favor with a little late night guitar music. Actually fairly pleasant, though silence would have been even better. Too many people, though – no chance of silence!