Anthony Sloan <[email hidden]> wrote in message news:<[email hidden]>...
Quoted message said:Whoops, this:
anthonysloan.comfruitadeathmarch.htmlOpen ↗
rather
I must add a disclaimer before posting my account. It took a
few days and the reference to the train as a bad omen was
written before you posted your page, A.
The Western Slope can be sketchy in the Spring, which can be
easily found out when one gets above the Transitional Zone.
Some of the best rides start out in conditions that can be
described as "utter [censored]" and end beautifully. Those that
don't end beautifully can push you right to the edge of
one's limitations. I'm sure that the next time I invite a
few of those whose limitations were tested Friday for ride
will think twice before readily accepting. Such is life.
Most of us met at the Shack, milled a bit and then headed
out. A common shortcut I use to avoid downtown was blocked
by a train, so the three vehicle caravan had to flip a u-ey
and backtrack to the main artery. Some might have called
this a bad omen, however I just saw it as a minor hassle.
After threading through the usual downtown GJ nutty drivers,
we headed to a remote intersection of the "Lonliest Highway
in America" to meet Matt and proceed to the trailhead. A
quick trip a few miles up an improved dirt road had us at
the trailhead in a few minutes.
The skies were threatening in places, but increasing patches
of blue were encouraging. A vehicle with a local license
plate was at the trailhead and there were fresh bike tracks
headed up the singletrack, which didn't look wet. After a
few minutes the people who made those tracks came rolling
off of the trail on bikes that looked pretty clean. I asked
them how high they had ridden and one advised that they had
stopped on the first bench and turned around because of mud.
Apparently they had not ever been there before because there
is a short section that stays wet a little longer than the
singletrack on top, which is loamy and drains really well.
That tidbit of information made the decision to proceed
under sketchy conditions much easier.
Brian S, Brian C and Scott decided to forego the twelve mile
up-canyon warmup spin and drove to the BLM border with the
map to park. At this point, Brian S was officially made the
keeper of the map and he did well with those duties, which
became very important later. The spin up the canyon was
pretty uneventful, with the exception of Pete ripping by me
through a puddle and splattering me with mud. There were a
few slow downs and stops to take photos, though one historic
dwelling was being overrun by a local county school, evident
by the bus and kids crawling all over the place and canyon
walls above it. That's the last time we saw anyone other
than our group of ten for quite a while.
The Brians and Scott were ready to roll when the last of us
coasted in to where they had parked, so we decided to not
waste much time there and pressed on up the doubletrack off
of the main canyon road. The doubletrack surface started out
relatively dry and there were still patches of blue
occasionally cruising overhead from the Northeast. Some of
the low spots were a little soft, but the South facing
sections that had gotten a little Sun were not too bad.
Then the fun began. I had warned about the last 800' or so
of climbing being a bit of a beast. Well, it became even
more beastly with the rude introduction of the first really
steep section and its damp condition. Anthony and Matt both
made valiant efforts to climb it, but were impaired by
slippage that was caused by this wonderful thing called
bentonite clay mud. Wonderful because it makes one wonder,
"What am I doing in this [censored]?" It didn't get any better,
but we all pressed on because of the proximity of the days
apex and a loamy descent that promised to be long and fast.
There was no pushing your bike up after the first steep
section because your wheels would pack-up after a few turns
and you were resigned to scraping this clayish goop off of
your tires for just a few more turns. It was time to pack
the bikes on our backs. Most of the group scraped or beat
the mud off of their tires with a stick, but I just tossed
the muddy 50lb pig that used to be my bike on my back and
pressed on. Since only I knew exactly where the apex was, it
had become paramount that I arrive first, or at least as one
of the first few. The weather continued its schizophrenic
ways by snowing, raining and even letting the Sun shine as
we slipped and slid our way to the top. Brian C had stopped
about 100 yards shy of the top, right before Craig and I
slogged up and we finished the main climb together, followed
closely by Scott.
One by one, everyone else started filtering in to the small
clearing off of the road where we had staked a claim to
recuperate in. I grabbed some sunshine while it was peeking
out and then switched to keeping out of the wind when the
overcast returned. Somewhere in this I had managed to eat
the food I had in my pack and everyone else was digging for
and relishing whatever caloric intake they could find.
Pete's entrance was rather odd. He came walking up to the
clearing sans bike, but still clad in his pink lycra and
matching helmet. "Anthony, do you have a zoom lens?" "Yeah,
why?" "Grab it and check this." Though we were all pretty
beat up, we had to take a look. Pete was walking back to his
bike, which was sticking straight up in the middle of the
road and we all knew it had no kickstand. The clearance his
Maverick fork provided had let his tire grow with mud to
about a seven inch diameter and it had become a kickstand
unto itself.
After Pete's stunt, I took a count and noticed Brian S had
not arrived yet. Though all in attendance were responsible
individuals, I knew it was up to me to check on Brian's
progress and assist if needed. Jogging down the road sure
was a lot easier than carrying a mud-laden pig on my back up
it. I found Brian at the top of the last really steep
section, scraping his tires and getting ready to heft the
bike some more. I asked him if he had any food and how his
water was holding out and he said he was out of food, but
still had plenty of water. A few words of encouragement
later and we hit the final stretch, cruising into the
clearing. After asking if anyone had any food to spare,
Brian was on the road to recovering enough to press on.
Before I had run back down the road to check on Brian, I had
asked Anthony to check the conditions on the road we were
supposed to head down from the top. Apparently he had taken
Pete and Matt with him and their telltale footprints in the
mud were obvious. There was no losing them.
While Brian was recovering and the others were scraping mud
from their bikes, the familiar "[censored] [censored] [censored] [censored]" of an
atv became present from the direction which we had come. Up
pulls Grizzly Adams at 60 and about 100lbs heavier, dressed
in camo. He had the decency to park it on the road and then
decided to saunter up to our little clearing. As he walked
up, he pulled out a tobacco pipe, filled the bowl and fired
it up in what appeared to be a single fluid motion. He and I
talked a bit our conversation revealed that he was a pretty
friendly dude and out hunting turkey. He had never been in
this particular area and was getting skunked, so I suggested
a place not too far away that has plenty. He knew that
place, but said it was still closed, though my guess was
that it might have required too much walking for this
particular sportsman. He bade us a good day and got the same
in return and then [censored]-pooped his way up the ridge above
the intersection.
Anthony, Matt and Pete had not returned yet and the others
were getting a little cold from not moving much and I told
them to go ahead and press about two miles on to the first
intersection where we needed to turn next. I started out
with them, but then decided stay back to wait with the bikes
left behind by the scouts and to give them the skinny on the
plan. The turkey hunter returned and followed them down the
road a ways, but I could hear him turn around and come back
after only about a quarter mile. He paused at the cattle
guard to tell me that we were in for more mud, but I had
faith that the loamy downhill was not too far off from where
I stood. That was the last time we saw anyone else the rest
of the ride.
When the scouts returned and gave me the grim news that it
didn't get much better, I reminded them that the sandy soil
on the downhill was a much better alternative to trying to
ride down what we had slogged up and they gathered up their
bikes. I caught up to where Rich and the others had stopped,
which was the first intersection and apparent turn we
sought. I broke out the map (which I had decided to become
the keeper of at this point) and checked the intersection
against terrain features and it looked like we were exactly
where we needed to be. The others caught up and we wasted
little time in the waning day by heading on down the road.
There was a campsite about a hundred yards in and then the
route became strangely narrower and quite a bit more
untrammeled. That little voice in the back of my head told
me this didn't look right, but others had pulled ahead and I
decided to wait a bit before consulting the map again.
It didn't take too long. I pulled up to the main body of the
group where Pete was saying to stop and that we had been dead-
ended. Indeed we had and at a nice, mucky abandoned
bentonite quarry. The view to the South of the canyons we
had ridden up affirmed that we were a bit off from where we
needed to be. Rich's GPS didn't help for much more than
orienting the map because the lat/long graduations on the
margins were too infrequent to triangulate our exact
position. Looking at the map and surrounding terrain told me
enough and I knew we had somehow turned a little earlier
than we should have. The only thing to do was buck-up and
backtrack to the last intersection where we would make a
decision on what action to take.
I arrived with the first few back at the intersection and
decided to take the time to check down the road, past a
cattle guard I could see just before a slight downslope. I
told the others that had already arrived to wait for me
there and then rolled down the muddy track towards the
cattle guard. Just after passing the cattle guard, I could
see a road veering off to the right and when I rolled up to
this intersection, a large sign indicating our original
intended route greeted me. We had missed it by a mere 200
yards. I dropped my bike and hoofed back to the
intersection, arriving just as Anthony was donating some
food to Brian S.
The rain started spitting a bit as I addressed the group,
"This is it, either we turn around and go back the way we
came, or we use the intended route, so let's put it to a
vote." There may have been a little reluctance, but the
general consensus was that we press on. After finding the
real turn so quickly after the miscue and knowing our
proximity to the trail we sought, I was confident that
pressing on was our best option. The only other thing that
I stressed at this point was that we all stay together from
then on because of the weather conditions, our condition
and the fact that darkness would be upon us before we
finished the ride.
The mud wasn't too bad on the approach to our intended
turn, but we all managed to find the worst mud of the day
as we dropped down towards a low point before the last
sustained climb of the day. Everyone was stopped at the
next intersection, cleaning their wheels off in
preparation for the last climb. As soon as we all were
there, the ascent started and the trail conditions
improved almost immediately. It went from the hellish clay
goop to damp, sandy loam with half-buried chunks of
sandstone here and there. Even though it was now raining
more steadily than it had all day, I knew our deliverance
was imminent. I celebrated by stopping and entertaining
Rich while he passed by with my own demented rendition of
the "I Dream Of Jeannie" theme and a little footwork to
accompany it. He laughed and shook his head as I finished
with a loud "WHOOP!"
The main group had rallied up at the apex of the ridge and
was huddled under a large Pinyon. Our drivetrains had taken
a mud beating all afternoon, but at least enabled us to
finish the climb and gave hope for keeping up a decent pace
on the long, gradual downhill ahead. Anthony had been
leading from the decision point and I had consulted the map
with him there, showing him the topographical features in
relation to our intended route. I reminded Anthony that our
last turn was not too far away and in the apex of a turn to
the South and the group pressed on.
The route turned and headed eastbound and then took a sharp
turn to the South, where in the apex of the outside of the
turn, was our trail. The first few had missed it and I
immediately yelled for them to turn around, which they did
as I pulled the map out one last time. Anthony rolled up, I
confirmed our position with him by showing the track in
relation to the jeep trail and surrounding terrain features.
Some atvers had pushed the trail in from the top and I knew
we were less than two miles from where I had ridden the
trail out and back from the bottom. The atv presence was
evident by the unblocked barricade that appeared to have
been constructed by the land management agency to keep them
out, as well as other routes ridden in that circumnavigated
the barricade. Some people's kids...
After about a mile of twisting down the trail, the group
had stopped at an apparent intersection. The low road
looked a lot less traveled and after a minor bout of
indecision, I pointed up the trail where the atv use had
been most prevalent because the other direction had not
seen as much traffic as the lower section I had been on
before. This was the last intersection and that was
confirmed shortly thereafter as the trail led us through
the large meadow that I had turned around in on my previous
visit to the area. Familiar terrain, sandy soil that was
hardpacked, and the rain letting up seemed to brighten
spirits and pick up the pace. Unfortunately, we were now
racing the rapidly setting Sun.
The track was still atv width for the time being and at all
of the pauses, Pete was asking where the singletrack was. I
kept telling him "about three or four miles", which became a
subject of jest after being repeated about three or four
times. The first time I had ridden this trail, I was a lot
fresher and the conditions were about as perfect as they get
for so early in the Spring. This day was obviously a
different scenario and I think all of us were at least a tad
off-kilter at this point. It really didn't matter though
because as we cruised down the fast and twisty atv tracks,
we were treated to a spectacular sunset and pretty solid
trail conditions under clearing (though darkening) skies.
The only thing that bothered me was how far the atvers had
illegally pushed their way back in on the singletrack. In
the three weeks since I had ridden up there, they had gone
another two to three miles beyond where previous atv
scofflaws had stopped, lessening our singletrack mileage
even more. I'll never understand the mindset of those who
perpetrate such deeds.
We rallied-up right before it gets rocky and hard to
follow and I noticed that Matt was MIA. I was informed
that he had jetted ahead at one point, which might have
been reason to be concerned. However, I've known Matt for
about five years or so and have ridden some pretty big
rides with him and know he is a man who knows his
limitations well. Pete suggested I lead from this point
and I agreed because following the cairns in the daytime
on this section was difficult enough and it was now dark.
Right after starting, Pete announced "Man Down!" and we
all paused to see if whomever crashed was ok. It was Craig
and he wasn't hurt badly, but had now crossed the
threshold to the point of walking more as an act of self-
preservation. That seemed to be a consensus as everyone
filed down the first difficult section.
I decided to let the front runners go after Craig's crash
and caught up by riding a cool switchback series that I had
cleaned on my rigid singlespeed in the daylight. Pete had
said that nobody needs to be a superhero, but if I can clean
it on a rigid in daylight, I can ride it in 3/4 moonlight on
my fully. Call me a freak (and many do), but I don't mind
finishing a ride in the dark with no lights sometimes and
have done it on occasion with success. The group was waiting
at a reroute and it was insisted that I lead from here on,
so I dropped the double switchbacks to a steep traverse into
more rocky moves. I had my miscues with dabbage, as did
everyone at this point who decided to ride the more
difficult sections. Pete and Rich were right behind me,
meeting with as much success as anyone was having.
That difficult series ended in a meadow on a bench, where we
all rallied up and paused for a couple of group photos in
the moonlight. The flash on Pete's camera would normally
have left me blind for at least 20 minutes in the darkness,
but the Moon was shining brightly by now and the trail was
unbelievably visible. The call to continue was made and I
led across the narrow strip of singletrack that snaked
through the moonlit desert meadow. Back in the rocks and on
the final descent, the ranch house we had parked across from
became visible by a light in the window and we all knew this
was the home stretch.
I continued the lead with a few dabs here and there and one
walked move until I reached the cattle fence. I made sure it
was completely out of the way and warned each passerby to
squeeze to the right at a visible right turn around a huge
boulder below me and of some pretty big waterbars to the
finish. Everyone filed by and then Brian C and Scott who
were making sure Brian S made it out ok were the last to
pass and we were all esentially out and unscathed. As we
rolled in to the parking lot, I hurried with my pack so we
could get to Scott's homebrewed pale ale in my truck and
make a toast. Toast we did and we were all pretty toasted
from nine hours and three minutes (as noted by Pete) out on
the trail.
JD
