Approx. 750 miles in the car to do 12 miles on the bike over 4 hours
Apologies for the infrequent blogging but the past three days have been all about me being on a once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage to go anticlockwise round a lump of sacred rock along with fellow believers. My trip to the holy land of mountain biking that is The Slickrock Trail at Moab, Utah has been completed, and I am a believer.
With my new machine being prepared I picked myself up a hire car and set off northwards (not east) with a long trip ahead but a very definite purpose to reach my destination. However, it wasn't all about arriving though, as I would be travelling through numerous sights along the way including the legendary Monument Valley.
The 170 miles up to the Valley went through a chillingly harsh, hot and desolate desert landscape in which the most notable event was being stopped by the locally sheriff - I honestly didn't see the sign! He either believed me or didn't want the trouble of filling out a ticket for someone from out the country so I proceeded on until I caught my first sight in the distance of the towering monoliths of rock. It really is a weird, weird place. At least with the Grand Canyon it's possible to fathom an explanation for how it formed, but this place just doesn't seem to make sense neither geologically nor gravitationally. Still, as impressive as it was, I must admit that it was one of those sights of which I've probably seen far too many perfect pictures in glossy tourist magazines, and in guides, and on TV for it to really have that much of an impact. So I pressed on, ever so slightly disappointed.
The next 170ish miles to Moab were far from disappointing, though, as the route passed through and around unexpected geological gem after geological gem from the sublime beauty of the Natural Bridges National Park to the wonderfully ridiculous stone that is Mexican Hat to the downright insanity that is the gravel hairpin climb on Highway 261 somehow taking the road up the seemingly sheer cliff to look down on the Valley of the Gods. Now there's a place to be.
I think that having been brought up in Scotland I'm so used to scenery being rounded and smoothed by millenia of wind, rain and ice that, as a result the huge, dry, angular rocks around here are such a contrast to what I'm used to I find them fascinating.
I finally arrived in Moab seeking out a motel located directly across the road from both the bike shop and the microbrewery. An above average motel but absolutely perfect place.
The next morning I set off with hired bike to grace the hallowed ground where I proceeded to get all of 15 yards down the trail before being dumped unceremoniously off the back of the bike on the first sharp climb. Not the graceful beginning I was hoping for. Still, I didn't care, I was grinning like a fool and didn't stop doing so all the way round in the 95F heat with the sun glaring off the pink rocks.
The track itself is a twisting, undulating roller coaster along unfeasibly grippy rock causing the unclimbable not to be so and rendering slopes ridable that would normally send you down sideways straight to the bottom. And in this place the bottom can be several tens of feet below. 'Experienced riders' only it says on the sign, and rightly so. The route is marked out with road-like white dashes on the rock which you might be able to make out on the pic. If there's a bigger high you can get from chasing white lines then I don't know it. So, is it the best mountain bike track I've ever been on? In all honesty probably not, Glentress and the Corrieyairack Pass both beat it in my book, but this place is about so much more than just the quality of the trail. It's about a magazine article I read over 15 years ago announcing this place to the world and knowing then I wanted to ride it someday. After all, is St Andrews the best golf course ever? Or is Monaco the best Grand Prix track? They're probably not but is there anywhere else you'd rather drive or drive.
On the route back I took a rather long detour to stop in at the Four Corners monument, the only place in the US where the borders of four states meet (and yes, I did check on a map cause I didn't believe it either). Then, having been not entirely blown away by Monument Valley on the way up I decided to give it another chance so set off in the hope of seeing it in the sunset. As I approached Mexican Hat I noticed that the cloud low on the horizon to the south was not a type or colour I've seen before. As I drove further towards it I hoped and then realised what it was, it was a duststorm, heading my way. Then just as I realised the near-setting sun emerged from below the low cloud spectacularly illuminating the approaching wall of sand. I practically crashed the car off the side of the road such was my desire to get out and watch the event unfolding and I stood transfixed in my socks and cycling gear. Who knows what the locals must have thought. As the combination of dust and darkness engulfed the Monuments I sped down the road to home for the night which saw me settle down on a campsite in the middle of The Valley to be awoken this morning by the eerie yet enchanting howls and barks of the village dogs echoing endlessly off the towering cliff walls. I left the Valley for a second time, though this time with not a grain of disappointment.
Looking to tomorrow, I've just picked up the new machine and all looks well for now though I'm not entirely convinced the wheels will survive with what I'm about to put them through.
Here's hoping though.
