Moab/Fruita
April 10-11, 2004
Question: what is Jeep Safari Week?
Answer: take the usual 3,000 fat, beer-swilling rednecks who come to
Moab on an average weekend to ride their motorized couches, then add
10,000 more. The resulting traffic jam of gas guzzling, big-tired,
trail munching machines does its best to imitate LA at rush hour.
So why did we decide to head out to Moab during Jeep Safari Week?
Well, my wife Molly usually works weekends, but this time she was
free. The weather was looking questionable everywhere but Moab, and we
do love that place, so off we went.
Saturday morning we discussed our ride options. Eagle's Perch sounded
good at first, until we remembered how popular the Gemini Bridges
trail is with the motorized couch set. It would be a dustbowl. The
Monitor and Merrimac trail looked interesting, however. We had no idea
how many jeeps and ATVs would be on it, but decided to give it a try
anyway.
The trailhead was a mess. It was packed with huge RV's loaded down
with trailers full of ATV's, jeeps, motorcycles, and dune buggies.
Random kids zoomed around on their motorized toys, stirring up as much
dust as possible. Fortunately, it looked like most of these folks were
staying in the vicinity, not heading out on the trail itself. We
pedaled out and quickly put the commotion behind us.
Our first stop was the crumbling remains of the Halfway Stage Station,
just a mile up the dirt road. Back in the late 1800s, the nearest
train station was 35 miles north of Moab, an eight-hour trip by
stagecoach. The Halfway Stage Station offered a place to stop, have
lunch, and rest before the last half of the trip. Of course, today a
couple of fit riders could do the whole trip on their mountain bikes
before lunch!
We made the scenic trip around Joe Camel Butte without seeing another
soul. After blasting down a section of slickrock at breakneck speeds,
we climbed Mill Canyon toward the two prominent formations to the
west: Monitor and Merrimac Buttes. Thanks to recent rains, the
infamous sand on this section was quite bearable. We made it through
with only a few grumbles, and then climbed onto the slickrock between
the huge rock formations. Molly spotted a pair of climbers high above
us. Though far away, we could hear every word they said. One of them
mentioned that he was "friggin' pumped" and that he was afraid he
would rip all his gear if he fell.
Rounding the far corner of Monitor, we entered a slickrock playground.
The slopes were deceptively steep, however. Fearing loss of much skin,
we didn't stay long.
Soon we ran into a procession of four wheelers creeping along at an
agonizingly slow pace. We zipped by as the procession came to another
halt. Fat men climbed out of Jeeps and UNIMOGs to examine the next
challenge...a steep slickrock section that Molly and I had already
ridden in the time it took them to climb out of their vehicles. I
wanted to shoot some video of these guys tackling the challenge, but
we lost interest and hit the trail again after five minutes.
The highlights on the way out included a trip to the base of the
Determination Towers and a quick jaunt along the Mill Canyon Dinosaur
Trail to see fossilized dinosaur bones and petrified wood. It was a
great ride; much more interesting than we had expected, visually quite
stunning, and surprisingly empty aside from the large pack of four
wheelers we encountered earlier.
That afternoon we had a pleasant run up Negro Bill Canyon ("African
American William Canyon," as my politically correct friend Erik calls
it) to the amazing Morning Glory Natural Bridge, an incredible
formation spanning 243 feet. We finished the day with lots and lots of
food, and a sampling of Utah's finest beer(?) at the Moab Brewery.
Sunday morning we woke up to clear skies and a cool breeze. Continuing
with our exploration of the trails north of Moab, we geared up at the
Sovereign Trail. This relatively new singletrack may not be in most
guidebooks yet, but it's certainly no secret. We would see other
riders on the trail, but fortunately, being singletrack, we would
avoid all the four-wheelers today.
I have to commend the trail builders responsible for the Sovereign
Trail. They did an excellent job creating a superb singletrack that
snakes through the rocks between Willow Springs and Dalton Wells
Roads. It throws lots of little challenges at you here and there --
rock ledges, steep dirt climbs, switchbacks, and slickrock -- but
there are many sections of smooth hardpack that flow like melted
butter. On those sections, I just stood up, lay off the brakes, and
let the trail come at me. As the speed picked up, my grin only got
bigger.
At Dalton Wells Road, we took a left and zoomed down to a parking
area. Here we headed northeast on another dirt road, but soon we found
a faint singletrack heading left up a wash that paralleled our road.
We'd been warned about the trails north of Dalton Wells, but I somehow
convinced Molly that it wouldn't be too bad. She agreed, on condition
that she would be allowed to whine if necessary.
The trail, though officially part of the Sovereign Singletrack, was
nothing like what we'd just ridden. Only a few moto tracks and the
occasional blue blaze indicated we were on the right path. The
technical challenges were a bit too much for us, but the location was
fantastic. We were traveling up a narrow canyon with some very cool
eroded sandstone formations. One place was almost like a cave, but if
you climbed inside, you could see daylight shining through a thin
crack in the ceiling. The trail was steep and loose, and we were happy
to make it back to the main road again. We hit one more section of
Sovereign Singletrack -- this one quite enjoyable -- before hitting
Dalton Wells Road again and backtracking the original six sweet miles
of trail to the car.
It was only 2:00, so we decided to do a ride in Fruita on the way
home. What's a short, fun ride in Fruita that's just off the highway?
Moore Fun Trail, of course. We rode it East to West (the "easy" way)
and I had a great time. Molly did surprisingly well, although she did
mention at one point that she wished she could have a little "Less
Fun". At one point we saw a teenaged Barney scrambling 50 feet down a
steep slope with his bike to cut a switchback.
As we got up to him, I said, "Man, you've got to stay on the trail."
He stared at me blankly.
"All right?" I asked.
"Uh, ok," he mumbled, then rolled his eyes as he passed by. I still
haven't figured out the best way to reach these people, but I suspect
the real problem is diminished mental capacity.
I was having a great day, succeeding on everything the trail could
throw at me (with a few "do-overs" of course). But I still dreaded the
last and biggest challenge: a tight squeeze between two boulders
followed immediately by a big rock ledge to surmount. I had to pedal
so slowly through the squeeze that it was difficult to get any
momentum before hitting the ledge. Plus, I couldn't just hit the ledge
head-on, since there was yet another boulder squeezing in from the
right side. Success would require me to re-align my bike at a very
slow speed, and then do a strong pedal kick to pop onto the ledge.
Try as I might, I couldn't get my bike lined up properly after the
squeeze to make any type of good effort at the ledge. I succeeded a
couple times in getting my front wheel onto the ledge, but had no
chance of getting the rest of my bike and me on top. I positioned my
bike between the two boulders and clipped in. I stared at the ledge,
envisioning the different ways I could tackle the problem. Finally, I
stared at the top of the ledge, and pictured myself getting there. One
quick move, and suddenly I had done it. It wasn't the completely clean
effort I'd ideally like to make, where I ride through the whole
section in one motion, but I was happy. And I'm sure Molly was happy
that I was done, too!
On the drive out, we again pondered the age-old question: why is
Diorio's Pizza closed on Sundays?
Mark Bockmann