Sometimes it's best to ride alone...
Living along Colorado's Front Range, with the area's huge population of mountain bikers, it's not often that I ride alone. Cycling a basic social pillar of Front Range life, for me it's a way to spend time with Jo, catch up with friends, and be challenged to ride harder. It's also completely different than my roots in the sport. When I first started mountain biking both the sport was relatively young and I always rode alone. It's not that I wanted to ride alone, there just weren't that many people that mountain biked.
I learned to ride in the early 90's in a majestically eerie, old growth forest in the Patapsco River Valley named Avalon. It was (and still is) home to some of the most incredible and technical single track on the East Coast. There was an uncertain, creepy air about the woods in Avalon which may have been the reason part of the Blair Witch Project was later filmed there. I always had a feeling I was being watched, that I wasn't really alone. I was super creepy and I was always on edge. Some mornings as I rode through the dawn mist over a sea of fallen leaves, past the rubble of churches abandoned in the 1800's I would get an unshakable chill. I could never tell if it was from the crisp autumn air or my underlying sensation of fear. Either way it was a chill that cut through lycra, flesh and bone; the kind that takes your breath away. Needless to say, my first couple rides alone in Avalon were terrifying, but eventually I gained peace with whatever it was that scared me so bad and began to enjoy the solitude. Riding alone became a sort of spiritual maintenance, a way to refresh myself from the material details of life. It was something that I didn't realize I missed until I found myself alone on the White Rim Trail last week.
Avalon
I was apprehensive about riding the White Rim from the minute we planned it. My knee took a beating at the 24 Hours of Moab and riding the 103 mile White Rim could strand me in the desert for hours if something happened. To stack the odds of success in my favor I cut out 20 miles of the ride that were on roads outside of CanyonLands National Park. I also planned and packed on possibly finishing after dark or even spending the night on the trail. This added extra gear which weighed me down, but the extra weight was worth the assurance of knowing I could make it through a cold desert night. In 2006 I compression fractured my T6 vertebra which flares up painfully every so often. To prevent this I decided to carry all my gear on a rack instead of on my back. The sight of a rack on my high end, race bike was embarrassing and I was the butt of many jokes for it.
We got to the campsite after dark on Thursday night and woke up Friday at dawn to gear up for the ride. Doug cooked breakfast, Daniel lit the fire, Donnie and I checked out the sunrise, and Ramine hurriedly got ready. Doug and I took our time getting ready, but Chamos Butter was important. If your going to spend all day on a bike saddle riding over bumps and harsh terrain Chamos Butter is your asses only friend!
The Best Campsite on Earth
Chamos Butter, Hmmm
Ramine was going to do all 103 miles so he left from the campsite at about 8:30. Doug and I headed out to the trail head near the CanyonLands Visitor Center about an hour later. We met Ramine and were on our bikes by 10:30. In the back of my mind was the thought that starting this late I would be finishing in the dark. I had no desire to repeat the misery I had in 2005 after the sun went down. We started out together, but Doug and Ramine soon pulled ahead on the spectacular descent from the top of the canyon down to the White Rim. I took my time taking pictures and getting used to riding with a rack.
Departing the Trail Head
Shafer Canyon (first descent)
Ramine Descending Shafer Canyon
At the bottom of the descent I could tell that I was going to be at odds with Doug and Ramine. Ramine hadn't got out on a riding trip all year so he really wanted to hammer. Doug was feeling strong and was driving the pace with Ramine. Meanwhile, it was my 3rd trip to Moab in 6 weeks and after the 24 Hours of Moab race I wanted to just chill and be good to my knee. We had conflicting goals for the ride and I didn't want to be distracted by having to keep up. I decided I needed to ride alone. Ramine and Doug didn't like the idea of leaving me alone for the next 75 miles, but I had the experience and equipment to take care of myself if something went wrong. Over the years I've been in much more critical survival situations, 75 miles on the White Rim just wasn't a big deal. Plus, the weather was good and the weekend was a day away so I would probably see other people out on the trail. I insisted and at the Colorado River overlook we split ways. I stopped to stretch and let them get ahead a bit before starting out on my own.
Colorado River Overlook Sign
The silence was unnerving at first, but like riding alone in Avalon I began to find peace and in short order cherish it. I didn't see a soul for the first 40 miles and the isolation was bliss. My knee began to hurt and I was anxious about finishing, but I pushed on. As I found my rhythm, my thoughts drifted and I began to cleanse myself of toxic thoughts and negativity. I imagined my bike as an old water pump, the kind you'd find on a farm. Each pedal stroke was like pumping the well; pumping the fears, doubt, selfishness, and bullshit I had got caught up in the past weeks and months out of my soul. The desert is a land of extremes, it's unpolluted by man and consumerism. There are no Walmarts or traffic jams there; no M Coupes to distract me from what's really important. Death is a factor and it's possible to perish from mere exposure. I've experienced death, life, and a closeness to God there. These were my thoughts as I pedaled along. It was wonderfully humbling in a way, yet also empowering knowing it was up to me and only me to finish the ride and take care of myself if I didn't.
The White Rim Trail
Labryth Canyon
Monster Tower
Monument Basin
Totem Pole
The White Rim Trail traces an outline similar to that of a giant octopus across CanyonLands National Park with fingers almost parallel to each other separated by deep canyons in between. At times I would see Doug and Ramine on the next finger. They were tiny specs and I could only detect them by their movement. The racer in me couldn't help but estimate my lag time, I figured I was about 20-30 minutes behind them. Murphy Hogback was the first major climb and halfway point of the ride. When I got there I felt spiritually cleansed, which was good because I started to run into other people. They were mostly older recreational riders who were doing the trail over a few days. They told me I was about 15 minutes behind Doug and Ramine. At times, I could see Doug's tire tread pattern in the softer sand. My chain was starting to stick from dust and my rear hub was making a weird noise. I stopped on top of the Hogback to have a bar and clean my chain. It was a spectacular view of the trail ahead. My lag time dropped to an hour.
Top of Murphy's Hogback
After Murhpy's Hogback my knee and back pain started to get really bad. I pushed on, stopping only once for a sandwich and trying to stretch periodically while coasting on the bike. I was so stoked from the first half of the ride that I didn't really mind the pain and definitely wasn't going to let it ruin the fun. I just accepted it and focused on separating myself from it. I should mention that I didn't have a watch or a bike computer. I had no idea what time it was other than positoin of the sun or where I was other than my memories from 2005. I didn't worry about how far I'd gone or how much further I had to ride. I just stayed in the moment and eventually reached the Green River overlook.
Green River Overlook
From there the trail follows the Green River to Hardscrabble Hill, the next major climb. In 2005 I put the hammer down when we hit the Green River because I mistakenly thought the end was near. I think this set me up for my colossal bonk. This year I maintained my fast but steady pace and continued to stay in the moment. Hardscrabble Hill wasn't bad, although I walked part of it. Rather than feeling guilt for walking and that I should kill it when I get back on the bike to make up for lost time, I took my time and enjoyed an apple. Who was I??
Top of Hardscrabble Hill
After Hardscrabble the trail continues along the river past several campgrounds to Mineral Bottom where the last and longest climb is. The sun set and I celebrated reaching Mineral Bottom by enjoying a coke I had packed specifically to prevent another colossal bonk during the climb. It reminded me of Greg Lemond sipping Coke in the 1986 Tour De France (Coke was a race sponsor back then).
100 Calories
The coke worked like a charm and I made it up the Mineral Bottom climb with ease. The whole way up I entertained myself by howling like a coyote and listening to the echos cascade off the canyon walls. Doug and Ramine actually heard me and thought it was a real coyote. If only I had known that the practical joke potential would have been tremendous! I rolled into our campsite just after sunset to a warm fire and a stoked friends. I finished in a little over 10 hours, but more importantly I was physically, emotionally, and spiritually cleansed. Sometimes it truly is best to ride alone.
After dinner I waisted no time getting my hang glider ready for a sunrise cliff launch. More on that to come soon...
This post has set a Geneis Record for the World's Longest Blog Post. I pledge to use my winnings for the betterment of society. If, however, you would like to see more there are pics
Here.
