...but I gave up trying to come up with something better. It's LONG, so
I don't really expect anyone to wade through the whole thing. But here
it is, and thanks in advance for giving it a shot.
(also available at
http://hwdinc.posterous.com/needs-a-better-title-than-moab with fully
embedded photos,if you'd prefer)
About 5 years ago I was flying back home from Colorado, early in July. I
was sitting in a window seat and the airline had recently installed a
flight tracking display in the backs of the seats. As we crossed into
the airspace above Utah I could see the most amazing landscape begin to
unfold. You could see the corrugations of the rock layers as it had been
pushed and pulled and uplifted and eroded by faults and gravity and wind
and water. It became more and more spectacular as we flew over the area
along the Colorado River, before it made its way into the Grand Canyon.
I knew then it was a place I had to explore.
I found out it was one of the Meccas of the dirt bike world, usually
simply referred to as "Moab."
I often came across reports from riders who'd been to this mythical
place. The reports only reinforced the idea that this was an area I had
to go ride. About 9 months ago, friend and Moab veteran HellSickle
mentioned that in his experience the first week in May was the perfect
time to ride in Moab. Any earlier and there'd be a good chance of snow
and cold, any later and a good chance of blistering heat and dust. I was
filling out a calendar/schedule/to-do list at the time, so I put down
"Moab May 1-9."
A few months later in January, Julie was putting in her annual request
for the upcoming year's vacation schedule at her work and based on my
calendar entry she asked for that week off as well. I only mention this
because I'm pretty certain that if it hadn't been on her approved
vacation schedule I probably would've found a reason to postpone the
trip and we never would have done this. And that would have been a HUGE
mistake.
I had assumed HellSickle would be going to Moab at that time and we
would have a resident guide of sorts, at least an on-site resource to
help plot the day's activities, but his life took some dramatic changes
over the winter--for the good--with the result that he was going to have
to pass on his annual Utah trip this year. Oh well, why should that
change my plans, right? I've got maps and a gps... Julie almost seemed
more excited than me to go; she loves getting on the road and finding
new things.
As the date approached, my work had evolved to a job 350 miles away from
home. It wasn't an ideal situation but something that makes sense for
now. I'd also started a major rebuild on my YZ back in December, and due
to the inefficiencies of working away from home and a mistake by the
cylinder re-plater it was still stripped and in hundreds of pieces in
late April.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4142/4742895572_ba8995ba95_b.jpg
Another problem gnawing at us was Julie's bike. She'd been riding a
kid-sized YZ80 and needed something that fit her better and was more
suited to her skills. I'd figured an XT225 would be a good way to go but
it was less than a month to go and I still hadn't found anything
suitable. As I prepared to head down south for another stint of
away-from-home work, on a fluke I opened up the Los Angeles craigslist
and found a great XT, barely broken in, for about a third of its msr
price, about 2 miles away from my job site. Four days later it was
sitting in the garage, waiting patiently for Moab.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4116/4742895586_ddcd6f6dab_b.jpg
I wrapped things up on my job, loaded the XT in the truck and headed for
home on April 26. I'd been emailing Hellsickle and WoodsChick about
where to go and what to do, searching maps online and advrider trying to
get a handle on just where "Moab" is and felt like a blindman trying to
describe an elephant by feel. It seemed very confusing, with dire
warnings of eminent death via something called "5 Miles of Hell,"
private KOA-style campgrounds with cheek-by-jowl sites full of packed
motorhomes bragging of satellite tv and internet hookups booked up weeks
in advance, and ads for hotels, dozens of hotels, everywhere I googled.
This didn't seem like the place I'd seen from the Frontier Airlines 737
or read in those glowing ride reports. I got home late that night,
wondering how this was all going to come together.
I spent the next 4 and a half days in a whirling fog of studying maps,
dealing with the piles of bills waiting for me from our own household as
well as my mother's, rebuilding my YZ, going over the XT to make sure it
was going to be rideable, and preparing and packing for a 10-day dirt
bike adventure. In the middle of all this, WoodsChick mailed us her
private collection of Moab area maps and guides, as well as some tips on
where to find camping and some of the infrastructure needed for an
extended trip in a self-contained rig (e.g., where to empty a black
tank...) She'd done good for us recently in helping us find a good place
to camp during the Bearfoot Enduro, so I had high hopes this information
would prove to be just as useful. I didn't have any more time than to
just glance over it, put it in the map bag, and get on with the next
thing on my list.
Finally, about 6 pm on Saturday May 1, we were loaded up and ready to
go. All I had decided on as far as planning the trip was that we would
head south on I-5 towards Bakersfield, east to Las Vegas, and then
northeast to pick up I-70 and on towards Moab. I'd been checking weather
reports and it looked like this would be a prime chance to drive through
the Mojave Desert with spring temps in the 70's. We knew we could spend
the night at a Wal-Mart or a casino if we got desperate, so I pointed
the Super Duty south and took off. I was exhausted.
I drove for 2 or 3 hours, until somewhere outside of Bakersfield I began
to get sleepy. Julie took over and got us through the Tehachapis and
down into the desert. As we climbed the pass the moon rose, yellow and
pale and surreal in a misty haze. The only other vehicles on the road
were long-haul truckers. Once we got down into the desert we were
surprised to see trucks, hundreds and hundreds it seemed, just pulled
off the highway onto the wide sand shoulders spending the night, resting
for the next leg of their run. We made it to Barstow about 1:30 am,
found a Wal-Mart with the help of a gps, and collapsed into our bed
along with a few other travelers in the parking lot.
We were on the road by 9 am after a nice breakfast that included, of
course, Peet's fresh brewed coffee in our trailer. No showers this
morning, we just wanted to get going :) The desert seemed fresh and
green, for a desert at least. It had rained a bit a few days earlier,
and the scenery out the windows was as refreshing as I'd hoped.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4120/4742895596_5799ba0c49_b.jpg
I held my breath as we made it through Las Vegas, exhaled as it
retreated in the rear-view mirror, crossed the northwest corner of
Arizona, and then motored into Utah. St. George was an amazing contrast
to Las Vegas. Everything seemed so neat and orderly and polite, the
perfect Mormon town. Not all Utah towns are that way, but St. George
seemed to be glowing that day.
We finally hit I-70 at Salina, gassed up again, and headed east into
Fish Lake National Forest. The plan, developed on the fly earlier in the
day from the navigator's seat was to find a quiet dirt road in the
national forest to spend the night, and then make it into Moab at
mid-day on Monday when all the Colorado and Utah weekenders had been
long gone. I didn't know if that was what really went on, but it seemed
like a reasonable assumption. The first road into the national forest we
could see was called Gooseberry Road, so about 30 miles after Salina we
took the exit as the sun began to set and headed into the Fish Lake NF.
We drove 4 or 5 miles along the road, not seeing anything suitable. The
road was built on a fairly steep crown with narrow shoulders and it
passed through what looked like leased ranch land, with numerous private
roads branching off Gooseberry Rd., behind closed and locked gates. I
was just about ready to give up when we came up to a wide area with a
perfectly designed pull-through dirt road, adjacent to a deserted and
ramshackle--though perfectly usable--cattle pen. We pulled into the
spot, chocked the tires, dropped the tongue jack to get us level, and we
were set for the night.
It was cold that night, and clear. The stars were amazing, we stood
outside for a short time, absorbing the night and the silence, and
climbed back in to our heated snug and amazingly comfortable trailer.
Had the first of our usual amazing dinners, and slept peacefully. That
morning after coffee (OK, after 3 cups of coffee) I went outside and
found the bikes coated with frost, the ranchers were irrigating the
fields across from us, and it looked like a beautiful blue sky day.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4078/4742895632_95ba8bd01a_b.jpg
Back to I-70, up over Emigrant Pass, and down into the western edge of
the San Rafael Swell. The camera came out, and it didn't get a break for
the rest of the week. This was what I'd seen from the airplane and we
were both pretty stoked on what lay ahead. I was tempted to unload the
bikes right there, but figured Moab, magical-sounding Moab, must be even
more amazing so on we trucked.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4094/4742895636_295e6d28e5_b.jpg
We passed through the town of Green River, and I began to get a little
unsettled. We seemed to be leaving the spectacular scenery behind. By
the time we got to the intersection of Highway 191, about 30 miles north
of Moab, the unsettled feeling was impossible to ignore. The landscape
was decidedly desert. Mojave Desert-like desert. I like the desert and
all, grew up riding in it, but I wasn't really keen on driving 1000
miles just to ride in the desert that was like my backyard. As we
approached Moab, the ridges began to slowly pop up, and I could see some
isolated areas of red rock. Then a sign for Gemini Bridges, a name I
recognized from my friends recommendations. I could see a fairly
spectacular formation in the distance. A little relief, but still,
unsettled.
We dropped down a half-mile long grade, turned through a small pass, and
hit...traffic...road construction...the Colorado River...and there
was Moab. The town, yes, but certainly not the dream-vision I was hoping
for.
Moab is a small city in south central Utah. Twenty years ago it was a
sleepy little village that no one really cared much about, except maybe
for the people who lived there. Somewhere along the line it has
developed into a resort destination as well, much like a ski-town like
say Lake Tahoe (without the gambling), or Estes Park in the Rockies. It
caters to the slick-rock crowd, retirees who are touring the 4 National
Parks in the area, Jeepers, mountain bikers, rock climbers, hikers,
atv-ers, and--the nastiest of all--dirt bikers. Catering is too strong a
word though, at least for us dirt bikers. For the most part we are
ignored which is about as good as we can hope for.
The plan was to head for Sand Flats Recreation Area, a BLM operated
campground and riding area northeast of town that WoodsChick had
recommended. I had assumed we'd see a sign off of Main Street directing
us to the area--it is a pretty big place--but as we passed the dozens of
hotels, tourist bars, curio shops, gas stations and restaurants and
finally headed into the thin outskirts on the southeast end of town I
hadn't seen anything. I pulled over into a wide spot near a gas station
and we studied the gps. It directed us down this sleepy little road
called Mill Creek that was populated with run down businesses and
residences that looked like the main occupation was collecting junk
cars. Turned onto Salt Flats road and were treated to the town dump. OK.
This is...kinda different. My internal vision of Moab was doing some
major re-calculating as we headed up Salt Flats Road. The road narrowed
considerably, we made a couple of hairpin turns, and, like stepping into
a time machine or tessaracting into another dimension, we were, finally,
in Moab. The Moab of my vision five years ago, from that airplane
cruising at 40,000 feet.
My plan of arriving on Monday seemed to work exactly, well, as planned.
The camping areas were less than half full, and as we drove by the
staging areas for the SlickRock Trail, we were in awe. Nicely planned
primitive campsites, widely spaced, and amazing vistas of red rock
ridges, slickrock and desert flowers every where you looked. We had our
pick of spots, and found one right next to the start of Fins N Things
trail complete with our own slab of slickrock. Dropped the trailer, and
smiled like kids at Christmas.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4095/4742895646_0fe04c9e25_b.jpg
We got our camp set up, geared up and headed out Sand Flats Road for a
warmup ride. Julie hadn't even had a chance to ride the XT yet, so the
dirt road seemed like a good choice.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4078/4742902178_10810a7f7f_b.jpg
We went out through the rest of the BLM area and on into the edge of the
Manti-La Sal National Forest, about 10 miles. It was a beautiful start
to the trip, sunny and calm, quiet and spectacular at the same time. The
rock formations, colors and smells just have to be guessed at from the
photos. Julie loved riding the XT, and we came back to camp feeling
extremely lucky to be riding and just plain having fun in Moab.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4118/4742902188_096cbc5a23_b.jpg
The next day (breakfast menu: fresh baked chocolate croissant, Peet's
Sumatra coffee, bananas and strawberries) I explored the Fins N Things
trail by myself, just to see what riding on slickrock was like. I'm not
sure why the term "slick" came about, because the rock is about as slick
as sandpaper--it's sandstone, more or less--and rubber tires stick to it
like velcro. It's pretty amazing to ride up and down the rock face,
following the trail marked by stencils of a stegasaurus.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4077/4742963270_dc89314a74_b.jpg
The trickier parts were the sand washes between rock areas, and they got
my attention. I came up to one section that was a steep climb up a rock
that was a series of harder rock ledges sticking out from the face. It
was clearly the "special" and there was a bailout route off to the left.
I stared at it for a couple of minutes in the morning light, decided to
bailout and as I wound down the trail realized--hey, I can do it. I
circled around and looped back to the ledge. Chose my line, and went for
it. Just as I was about to the top I hit a ledge with my front tire,
gassed it, and almost looped out. Saved it, and as I rolled over the top
gave out a loud WHOOP! That was fun. Turned around, and did it again,
this time without nearly as much drama. That felt good.
I headed back to camp, and we packed a lunch and loaded the bikes into
the back of the truck to find a trail called Chicken Corners. The trail
got its name from a section that makes a sharp turn on a narrow ledge
high above the Colorado River, where trail guides would offer to let the
spodes walk ahead if they were too "chicken" to ride through the
passage. Sounded perfect. The trail--a dirt road for most of the
route--begins along a sweeping corner of the Colorado River. We parked
next to a few other empty trucks and trailers, geared up, and headed up
the road. It meandered along a creek that feeds into the river, climbs
up past some petroglyphs and then makes a steep descent into a canyon.
Julie much prefers uphill over downhill, but she did great and made the
first downhill hairpins in great shape. We crossed the creek, running
about 6-8 inches deep, and her new Tech 3's kept her feet dry. She was
pretty excited to make her first water crossing, and on we went. The
canyon was inspiring. The rock walls were massive, red and black,
seemingly painted and sculpted by some unseen being. It felt spiritual
and from a different world than we'd been living in, almost melancholy
in its quietude. Amazingly, we were part of it all, riding within an
arm's length of this geologic wonder.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4079/4742902260_b95eac549a_b.jpg
The first few miles of the trail are passable by cars in good weather,
and there are some cool BLM camping areas tucked in along the way. They
look like they'd be fun to try on another trip. The trail keeps going
and heads up into a ridge and Hurrah Pass. There are some interesting
rock ledges that have to be negotiated and Julie did great. We made it
to the pass, and stopped to eat lunch.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4102/4742902296_8cdfff1f38_b.jpg
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4079/4742902332_d66f5877ea_b.jpg
Our usual trail lunch normally consisted of pbj sandwiches, omega trek
mix, apples and coffee rios, washed down with water from our camelbaks.
Nothing could've tasted better. Back on the bikes. we headed down the
other side. The trail goes past some hanging rocks that feel like the
source of inspiration for Disneyland's Adventureland. Only these aren't
foam and stucco, held together with steel. It's the real thing.
We continued down a long straight stretch with some tricky rock and sand
wash areas. Julie did great, and we kept going.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4100/4742274041_c75300a006_b.jpg
We were approaching the 20 mile point, and I realized this was a far
longer ride than anything Julie had done before. She was getting tired,
and at one point had her first tipover in a rocky ledge. I started to
worry I'd pushed her too far, but she said keep going! Turned out
Chicken Corners was only about a half mile further down the trail. We'd
made it! The wind was howling around the famous corner, and we stopped
the bikes there to look at the river far below us. We were happy we'd
made it this far, but I was also worried about the trip back. We had 20
miles to go just to get to the truck, and I knew Julie was tired. It was
getting late as well. We fortified ourselves with a couple coffee rios
and some trek mix and set out for the return trip.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4140/4742274095_7bfac4b1ab_b.jpg
My worries were for nothing--Julie did great. Ever notice how the return
trip always seems to go faster? We had plenty of daylight, and made it
back easily. What a great day.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4139/4742274149_a7cae7c4e2_b.jpg
Ended it back at our trailer and Julie made me a great
dinner--hamburgers, grilled zucchini and fresh cold mango for dessert.
We always eat well...
The next day was reserved for Gemini Bridges trail. It starts a few
miles north of town, and oddly there is a small private chunk of land
just as you pull off highway 191 that is signed with a notice that
requires a fee to park for trail use. There were a few vehicles
dutifully parked there, fees paid. But if you drive another 100 yards
closer to the trail you're on BLM public land, with open space as far as
you can see. We parked on our public land, thank you very much. The
trail takes you through more similarly amazing beautiful scenery, but
unique at the same time.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4098/4742274159_f393443ed4_b.jpg
We explored up some of the canyon trails and eventually made it to
Gemini Bridges. They are a matched pair of natural rock bridges, about
200 feet above the valley floor below. The bridges are below me.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4117/4742274163_b11e4d84ee_b.jpg
It's hard to see from this poor photo, but the first bridge is at the
top, and the valley floor is...straight down from where I'm standing.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4098/4742274171_b0274c6189_b.jpg
Julie doesn't really like heights, or at least being close to an edge,
so she stayed well away from the best views.
I climbed across from her safe zone, and kinda sorta tricked her into
stepping a little closer for this photograph.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4079/4742917864_381cdefdd7_b.jpg
It looks like she's a lot closer to the edge than she really is (trust
me, I couldn't have dragged her within 25 feet of the edge) but she had
no idea what was (or wasn't) underneath her when I took this photo. She
can't even stand to look at this photo now from the safety of our house.
I wound up riding by myself for a bit while Julie waited in a shady spot
in a rocky canyon, and made it back up the valley to the base of the
bridges. A very cool day.
What to do for the next day? We decided to explore farther up Sand Flats
Road. From the maps it looked like there were hundreds of miles of
trails up toward the La Sal mountains--there are 6 peaks over 12,000
feet in this short range and they were all white with snow. The plan was
to head towards Adobe Mesa. From the topo map it looked like Adobe Mesa
would be a great viewpoint. We retraced our route from the first day's
test run, got into the Manti-La Sal National Forest, and kept going.
There were some private ranches along the way, and again, just
spectacular views and landscapes. Slickrock, canyons, pine forests and
meadows, creeks and ponds and cattle grazing. We were climbing pretty
steadily and despite the sun shining brightly the air was getting
colder. We found a nice little sunny and protected spot just below the
intersection with La Sal Mtn. Loop Road and stopped for lunch and to
warm up in the sun.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4078/4742917874_7e2d501824_b.jpg
We'd climbed about 4000 feet since leaving the trailer, and I put on my
fleece sweater. We got cell phone reception there, and talked to our
daughter in Colorado. She wasn't doing well, and as it turned out wound
up having surgery later that week for an intestinal blockage. She was on
our minds, and we talked about whether we should just call off the rest
of the trip and either head straight for Colorado or head home and fly
out to be with her. We wound up staying in Utah and driving home on
schedule, and her surgery went well thankfully.
We'd warmed up and filled up, so off we went for more. We headed up to
another pass, and then began dropping down through a ghost forest, trees
that had been killed in a past wildfire but were still standing,
complete with branches. We crossed onto Gateway Road and kept climbing.
I knew Adobe Mesa Road was close, but somehow missed it--it was getting
colder, and finally as the altimeter read 8400 I figured we'd passed it
somehow. We turned around and found it about a mile or two back. We
headed down it and it quickly grew difficult, full of deep ruts and
narrow turns. I decided to stop when we came to an abandoned
tent-trailer stuck in mud off to the side of the road. We'd travelled
over 30 miles at this point, another new record for Julie!
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4096/4742917894_2427427021_b.jpg
We still had a long road ahead of us, so we decided to start back. We
froze! We hadn't expected it to be quite this cold. There were still
snow drifts alongside much of the road, and dirt bike gloves aren't the
greatest when it comes to keeping hands warm. Finally as we dropped back
below 6000 feet the air didn't sting quite so bad and I started to thaw
out.
I wanted to check out one place that I'd spotted as we'd ridden up
earlier in the day, something called Castle Rim Overlook. I turned off
the main trail and headed down a narrow double track trail. It was
pretty sandy, and sand is second on Julie's list of Least Favorite
Riding Terrain (after "downhills") but she followed along, I was a
hundred yards ahead, and the trail went past a small camping area, an
outhouse, and then a small climb up some rock ledges. As I negotiated
that I could see the trail headed up between two large rocks, but I
couldn't tell where it went beyond the rocks. I slowed down a bit as I
came up to the gap and quickly stopped. About 10 feet in front of me,
the trail went, well, straight down. I quickly got off my bike, leaned
it against the rock to the left, and made sure Julie stopped well short
of the end of the line. Didn't want to have to drag that bike back up
600 feet.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4102/4742917918_ceae787bc6_b.jpg
Simply stunning.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4115/4742917922_bc0847aa1a_b.jpg
We continued down back to the trailer. As we got closer to camp, I got
the feeling that I didn't want the day to end yet, and somehow came up
with my Caveman Plan--I would take Julie to the one technical section on
Fins N Things and show off my skills. Yeah, that's the ticket! So we
turned off the main road and headed down a deep sand trail to the
section. Without going into too many details, I'll just summarize it by
saying I managed to crash not once but twice while my wife, along with
the group camped right next to the section, watched.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4122/4742917932_6a1c5bca97_b.jpg
I tried to drag her back one more time, and Julie dropped her bike in
the deep sand bruising her knee almost as much as my ego was
bruised...We limped back to camp, and I was so frustrated I rode back by
myself and went over the top successfully--it wasn't even that hard, but
somehow with an audience it was like climbing Widowmaker. I probably
went through that section 10 times while we were there, and the only
times I didn't make it were the 2 times Julie was watching me. Next
time, I'm leaving well enough alone, and will try to be content with a
good ride and a calm end of the day.
We had a great dinner. Steaks, salad, fresh fruit, and more good Peets
coffee. The trailer was a haven for us, and we lasted the entire week at
Salt Flats being self-contained, with one exception. The only thing we
couldn't do was carry enough water, so we headed in to town with a
couple of empty water jugs to see what we could find. We figured there
had to be some provisions for supplying water to all the people camped
nearby. As we drove around town nothing seemed promising. I turned into
a grocery store lot, thinking there might be a filtered water kiosk out
front but no luck. I did see a gas station attendant hosing down the
pump area and I was tempted to ask him if we could fill our jugs from
his hose. Garden hose water always tastes plastic-y to me, and I wasn't
quite that desperate yet. As we pulled out of the lot into a side street
I looked into the buildings across from me, and it was like manna from
heaven. A big sign, proclaiming "FREE FILTERED WATER." Huh? Could it be?
Yes it could. A mountaineering supply store--GearHeads--has a
purpose-built camping water supply fountain inside their store.
Absolutely free. Of course, we were so happy to find the water we would
up spending $30 on maps while we were there. Mission accomplished, on
both sides. We got in the habit of filling our jugs up almost daily,
whenever we were in town. A great place.
We had just one more full day to ride before we needed to start the
return trip back home. By unanimous decision we returned to the Chicken
Corners trail. I spent the morning exploring some of the marked jeep
trails near our camp, and looking at flowers
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4075/4742920530_b9bf9636f2_b.jpg
and then we loaded up and headed back to Kane Creek Road. We stopped at
Hurrah Pass, and rode a few hundred yards off the main trail into a dead
end area with magnificent views of Kane Creek Canyon.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4134/4742920538_ac2bf132ff_b.jpg
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4095/4742920550_98ae2f1ec5_b.jpg
It was a great way to finish off our trip.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4143/4742920560_1c00244b6f_b.jpg
Saturday we packed up and headed out. The campground had filled up by
Friday morning, but some lucky family got our spot. We headed to the KOA
to empty our tanks and said good bye to Moab. The return trip was just
as much fun--we drove back on Highway 50 for the first time, and spent a
night at Great Basin National Park. As we woke up Monday morning outside
of Truckee it started snowing, and we just about had a blizzard as we
climbed Donner Summit and made our way back down to the foothills of the
Sierra. We got home safely, dirty, tired and exhilarated.
We can't wait to go back again next year.
--
Charles
'99 YZ250
"It's bad luck just SEEin' a thing like that..."
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> I don't really expect anyone to wade through the whole thing. But here
> it is, and thanks in advance for giving it a shot.