Late September rocks for a bike ride in Utah!
While the weather was perfect (sunny 80s) for a 91-mile mountain bike journey through spectacular Canyonlands National Park, a price must be paid for the privilege of witnessing this unique part of the world up close and far from lights or cell coverage.
A friend who competed multiple Ironman Triathlons said part of that race’s allure for him was not really knowing if he was going to be able to complete it. The same could be said for biking the White Rim, but not for me. I was more concerned with survival than personal challenges.
They call this “mountain” biking for a reason. Because you can get through one phase of the ride doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll have the gas necessary for another section somewhere down the rocky or sandy road. Much of the trail is either relatively flat and features enjoyable downhills, while other sections are frighteningly steep and nearly impossible to traverse.
No matter, once you begin this course there is no turning back. You are out in the wilderness now, and your very survival depends on the water and food carried by your guides in their impressively packed truck, as well as your ability to keep moving and not crashing. Our guides, Emily and Dan, are masters at their craft and your biking experience rests with their ability to move the group through this wonderland of gargantuan rock structures, endless vistas and searing heat. With 0 shade on the trail, what would normally be a pleasant day is hot, especially since the sun’s heat doesn’t let up until it fully sets. It’s a landscape devoid of trees so there’s nowhere to hide.
Ready, set…
Thirteen of us joined the Moab-based tour group Escape Adventures. Our fearless leaders are incredibly fit people who lugged and set up all of the camp site equipment, cooked the food, repaired the bikes, took turns riding the trail with us and endlessly fielded questions like, Are we there yet? How many miles to lunch? Is that the last big climb? Have we all lost our minds?
The team, from Wisconsin, New York and Colorado, included four physicians and one psychologist. But all the medical and psychological prowess available doesn’t change the reality of the ride. It’s surprisingly hot in the desert in late September and you must drink regularly to stay alive. The trail is physically demanding, though the rented bikes are first class, light and dependable. And that makes the journey manageable and pretty fun in most circumstances. Ultimately, every rider had to do what was necessary to make it through the four, often grueling days on the trail.
Starting with a downhill
Day 1 began with a short and thrilling downhill. Clutching the brakes for dear life, you let the bike do its thing and try to avoid rocks on the way down. It wasn’t as intimidating as I thought and making the first descent helped build my riding confidence. The giant tires, excellent disc brakes and smooth gear switching seemed to make the bike ready for just about anything. We were headed for the White Rim Plateau, about 1,000 feet below our starting point. I was relieved that there weren’t any scary cliffs to ride off of, as there was plenty of room to stay out of that kind of danger. After a much-needed lunch break, we continued down the path, enjoying incredible red rock views all around us.
When we finally arrived at the gorgeous location where we’d set up our campsite, I was out of breath and not the least bit hungry. Not good signs after exerting that much energy in the heat. The other riders seemed to be doing better, though one doctor decided to drop out and ride the truck. He hurt his leg and didn’t want to risk further injury. Winston never returned to the trail.
I was still in a mental haze from completing that day’s journey when I learned we had to set up our own tents upon arrival. That was not my idea of “first class camping.” Not being a camper, this was the very last thing I needed to do upon completing my first mountain bike ride, in a desert no less. Maureen wanted to get going on tent set-up and couldn’t understand why I was just standing there and not responding to her exhortations to grab this and set up that. I still hadn’t caught my breath from the ride and that uneasy feeling continued throughout the evening and into the morning. Anxiety was now affecting me.
By the time we packed up all the camping gear again, and had breakfast, I felt uneasy but ready for Day 2. Anxiety about what was to come persisted, as our leaders said the route was going to get tougher and “gnarlier.” Great.
Day 2
Once on the bike, my breathing seemed to improve and I was enjoying the ride. Still, there was a sign of trouble. On this leg, I was biking alongside my neighbor Dan when his chain slipped off. I stopped to hold his bike while he reset it and noticed something amiss. The name on his water bottle was Rusty. I said, “Dan, you grabbed the wrong water bottle.” When I looked up, it was actually not Dan at all! I had been conversing with Rusty from New York City the whole time. Clearly, I was not all there after so much time in the sun.
By the time we reached our lunch spot, I was spent. When I rolled in, fellow bikers were telling me I didn’t look well. No kidding. Our guide, Emily, said I was in danger of “bonking.” I didn’t know exactly what she meant by that at the time but apparently it means being on the verge of a total collapse. Again, I was in a daze, and not hungry at all, despite everybody’s insistence that I eat. I must have looked something like Smithers from the Simpson’s, as he and Mr. Burns collapsed their tandem outside of the ER.
An afternoon bike ride now was not in the cards and I joined Winston, the doctor, in the front seat of the truck for the rest of the day. This was the best decision for me, as I was rejuvenated by having time to recover from the previous biking miles I had put in. It’s possible I was feeling the effects of altitude sickness. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a whole lot to do about that with no handy drugs available. On the positive side, the view from the truck was amazing, as you had more time to gaze and photograph. When biking, you need to pay attention to the road or you could be in trouble. That’s why you sometimes miss things you’d normally stop to marvel at.
As we snaked along slowly in the truck, we came to a group of our riders resting on the side of the trail. They were getting ready to attempt a climb known as Murphy’s Hogback. To call it a hill doesn’t do it justice. It’s extremely steep with rocks littered all over it. There is no path, per se, to ride on. As the truck approached this monstrosity, I mouthed to the resting riders—Oh. My. God. How would they ever ascend? They just grimaced.
I later heard only two people actually rode it all the way up. One, an experienced mountain biker named Jay from Colorado, did it in stages, riding and resting, riding and resting, while the other (Peter, also from Colorado) had a magic carpet disguised as an e-bike and managed to make it up to the top. All the rest literally pushed their bike up that monster grade. Never in my life did I have greater admiration for a group of friends than I did for those still pumping away out there. I was both worried for them and amazed that they could keep on going!
Although I am in the truck, I’m a bit worried for us too as the truck must strain to climb this section of the trail. I’m hoping like hell there won’t be some horrific mechanical failure that sends us plummeting to God knows where. Although the truck whined loudly as it mightily fought gravity, it did its job. Dan had driven this trail multiple times before, showing his skill as he carefully and slowly maneuvered the truck up the long climb and around this relatively small path. If even one tire leaves the ground, it could be curtains. Scary as that was, being in the truck beat the hell out of attempting that afternoon bike ride.
By now, we are getting better at setting up the tent but we gratefully accept assistance from our friend Jeanne and fellow rider, Peter. A good night’s rest is essential for all of us, as we’re only halfway home. The nighttime temps are in the 50s so it was good sleeping weather if you have to be in a tent.
Day 3
Refreshed from being in the truck the previous day, I rejoined the others on the bike trail. More big ups and downs, fabulous scenery and hot, hot weather. I’m not too far behind the fast riders but they’re ready to take off again shortly after I arrive at a rest stop. When you’re really winded and anxious about whether you can keep going, it makes enjoying the surroundings secondary. You’re focusing on breathing, drinking and keeping up and not so much on the landscape that dinosaurs roamed 144 million years ago.
Again, it became clear that an afternoon ride for me would be out of the question, so back in the truck with Winston and Dan. I am still witnessing climbs that dumbfound me. Winston and I knowingly look at each other, comfortable in the front seat. As if the trip itself isn’t remarkable enough, Dora from Colorado makes it more exciting than I wanted as we gathered at our latest campsite.
“Where’s Maureen?” Dora asks me.
“Down by the river with Jeanne and Mike,” I replied.
“I was just down there. Maureen isn’t there,” she says.
Crap.
Maureen must have missed the turn to the camping area and was riding off into the desert alone! Dan dropped everything he was doing, hopped in the truck and we roared off in search of her as fast as this lumbering truck could go on this rapidly changing path—sand, curves, hills and cliffs. Dan was sure we were hot on her trail, saying he sees her single bike tread on the road. He knows the bike’s exact tire tread! She’s on this path and we will find her. Luckily, we see some other bikers and ask if they’d seen a woman biker riding alone. Yeah, she’s just down the way! Within minutes we found her sitting on the side of the road, resting before heading in the opposite direction, having realized she missed the sign. She was only three miles away but that’s forever when going up and down, around cliff ledges, through sandy sections of trail, especially after she’d been riding all day.
It is so easy to miss a sign because you are concentrating on the ride, not crashing, pushing through sand, etc. Once we found her, Dan tossed her bike on the truck and we all drove back to camp. Scary situation. Remember, it’s boiling hot, we don’t know the trail and she was visibly upset about the circumstances. Thankfully, we managed to get through day 3 without a disaster.
Day 4
The next morning before taking off, I urged our group, that included Maureen, to really pay attention to the morning’s directions so we don’t have anybody getting lost again.
“I’m sure that was meant for all of us,” deadpans Eric. The whole group erupts in laughter.
It’s supposed to be an easy day but I no longer trust what is supposed to be easy, hard, short or long. My prior experience on the White Rim Trail found all of those words grossly out of whack with respect to what they were describing. The word “relative” never had greater meaning than in Canyonlands National Park. I now only asked how long it would likely take to get from here to there. Miles at home and miles here had no commonality or practical meaning.
Having said all that, I embarked on the last day committed to completing it on the bike. And this time, it was actually a pretty easy ride. It included lots of greenery and nice views of the Green River. We enjoyed fun downhills and fairly easy riding. The last leg of the 13-mile segment, however, included a long uphill to where we’d have our final lunch. Afterward, we’d hop in a van and get released back into society. Before that happened, we needed to make the final trip up the mountain. The road was steep and at this stage of the trip, neither Maureen nor I felt like trying to bike it. We opted for simply walking our bikes up. Most of the others biked halfway and walked the rest, waiting for us at the lunch site.
The White Rim was not what I expected but that doesn’t mean I regretted the experience. Surprisingly, the things I feared most turned out to be non-issues:
No aching butt from consecutive long days in the saddle. Ass management efforts paid off (standing on the pedals over bumps, wearing fancy bike pants, etc.).
My legs felt just fine, as did my back. I credit the mountain bikes and the substantial front and back suspension.
I never came even close to zooming off a ledge into the great abyss.
I managed to complete the trip without wiping out, even once. Others on the trip were not so fortunate, sporting bloody arms and cool, bruised legs.
No sunburn, despite being in full sun almost constantly
I still wonder if I might have made the entire route, had it not been for the altitude sickness or possibly dehydration. My mountain biking neighbor, Jon, was mostly right when he predicted success here hinged on aerobic fitness. As a daily walker and generally active person, I do consider myself fit but out in Canyonlands, not quite fit enough. Still, even strong riders can get sick along the way or struggle in other ways. Winston puts in 100-mile road biking weeks back in New York City but this level of mountain biking is not what he signed up for.
Nevertheless, we all emerged dirty, dusty and stinky (no showers) but grateful for having experienced the trip of a lifetime with a wonderful group of people.
I might have done one thing differently had I better understood the reality of the trail: rent an e-bike. If ever there was a valid justification for a little help up a “climb,” it is on the White Rim Trail through Canyonlands National Park.