Waking up Sunday morning on the top of Murphy’s Hogback with 360 degree views of the desert below gave me a shot of energy equivalent to a 55 gallon drum of Red Bull. There is just something about waking up on a cliff that makes it impossible to have a bad day. After breakfast Josh, Jo and I jumped into action cleaning everyone’s bikes. Murphy’s Hogback, being the half way point of the 103 mile ride, is where chain maintenance starts to become an issue. I wanted prevent any moral-ruining chain suck issues before we clipped in for the day. We started an assembly line; rinsing, de-greasing, cleaning, drying, and re-lubing everyone’s chains and bikes. I’ve learned from past trips that a hand pump pressure sprayer is an invaluable piece of equipment in such a water deprived environment. It’s great for cleaning bikes, trucks, tents, people, and squirting unsuspecting victims when they least expect it. Eric had come down with a cold the day before and spent all night sleeping, even missing dinner. In the morning he was determined to ride, but as he sat on a rock waiting to start you could see he was in pain.
Breakfast on Murphy's Hogback
Warm Toes and Burnt Socks
Bike Cleaning
Breakfast on Murphy's Hogback
Warm Toes and Burnt Socks
Bike Cleaning
The Mighty Superfly
The Lovely Ladies of Our Trip
Eric in Pain, but Ready to Ride
Our group had settled into the groove of the trip by day 3 and we were collectively packed up and ready to ride in half the time of the previous morning. The day’s ride was a net downhill, descending down to the Green River and ending with a steep climb and fast descent over Hardscrabble Hill and Bighorn Mesa. The ride started out with a super steep and fun descent down the backside of Murphy’s Hogback to Soda Springs Basin. Jon drove my truck with David so I could ride again. After bombing the descent I floated from the back of the group to the front, stopping frequently to hang with different people, chat, and take pictures. As the trail followed the White Rim through Soda Springs Basin we had great views of Candlestick Tower above and the Green River as it wrapped around Turks Head below. The Turks Head is a wide, flat topped mesa that sits in a horseshoe shaped bend in the Green River.
The View from Murhpy's Hogbag
(if you click on the image you can see riders descending the trail)
Jon and David with Grant Behind
Chris Bombing the Descent
A & J at the Bottom
Todd Frustrated with the Superfly
(because it kept blowing by him - Ha!)
Ben Watches as it Crashed Below
Grant, Dan, Todd, Chris, Eric, Conan, Alex, & Ben
Soda Canyon, Candlestick Tower in the Background (HDR)
The Turks Head, Ekker Butte in the Background (HDR)
After riding by the Turks Head we took a break on top of Turks Pass, a small hill the trail climbs up. There was a crow ridge-soaring on the west side of the pass which would hover just above people’s heads. Jacki thought it was following us because at a previous stop it got quite close to Jo, hovering directly over her head. This theory actually makes sense as humans are a rich resource in a land lacking an abundance of food. I once shared an overlook with a local Native American in Canyon De Chelly who told me that the crow was so perfect that it decided to stop evolving thousands of years ago. I’ve never forgotten the conversation and if you think about it, it’s true. Crows are one of the most intelligent and versatile birds in North America, they live in every region of the country; cities, towns, mountains, coasts, and are the most common bird seen in the desert.
Conan and Nick on Turks Pass
Ben Riding on One Wheel
Eric Fighting the Hill and His Cold
Jo and the Crow
(look in the band of rock directly above her head)
After Turks Pass the trail dropped down into Holeman Basin. I was riding fast trying to catch Grant, who always seemed to be riding point, when I saw that Jon and David had pulled over on a piece of slickrock. Jon was lying on the ground and appeared to be vomiting up water while David was sitting calmly on the tail gate looking in the opposite direction. David’s ambivalence wasn’t consistent with the apparent seriousness of Jon’s condition, but I jumped into emergency mode anyway just in case. Jon said he “tossed his cookies” all over the inside of my truck. That would have sucked, but I ignored looking in the truck and went straight to him to asses his condition. He stayed in character while insisting I look in my truck. Thinking he was sick and was just being irrational I continued to gauge his symptoms and ignored the truck. Finally, when I looked in the truck there was a neatly stacked pile of cookies on the driver’s seat. Both he and David broke into laughter, simultaneously. They got me, but I’ll get them back…
We stopped for lunch at the Holeman Slot, an easily accessible slot canyon directly off the trail. I’ve always wanted to explore it, but could never afford to give up the time on one day rides in the past. As the rest of group trickled into our lunch area Mike, Nick and I had a challenging game of bike tag on a pad of slick rock off the trail. It sounds odd, but playing bike tag on challenging terrain is probably one of the best ways to build tech skills. We enjoyed a lunch of more PBJ tortillas and Cristi’s cookies while Conan impressed us all with his mad yoga skills.
Lunch
Conan's Yoga Skills
After lunch we ventured down into the Holeman Slot. Slot Canyoneering can be a dangerous activity, but the rewards far outweigh the risks. The Holeman Slot was an easy canyon not requiring any special skills or equipment, plus the lack of rain in the area meant that the flash flood danger was virtually nil. I made the poor decision of not changing out of my cycling shoes again (see Day 2), which would haunt me later. Jacki had done her research and warned everyone not to continue past “the point of no return” which was an obvious overhanging drop off that due to the smooth water-sculpted rock was impossible to climb back up without ropes. The only way out was to continue to hike down the canyon and then 15 miles upstream in the shallows of the Green River to rejoin the White Rim Trail in Potato Bottom.
Descending in to the Holeman Slot
Slivers of Sunlight
After Turks Pass the trail dropped down into Holeman Basin. I was riding fast trying to catch Grant, who always seemed to be riding point, when I saw that Jon and David had pulled over on a piece of slickrock. Jon was lying on the ground and appeared to be vomiting up water while David was sitting calmly on the tail gate looking in the opposite direction. David’s ambivalence wasn’t consistent with the apparent seriousness of Jon’s condition, but I jumped into emergency mode anyway just in case. Jon said he “tossed his cookies” all over the inside of my truck. That would have sucked, but I ignored looking in the truck and went straight to him to asses his condition. He stayed in character while insisting I look in my truck. Thinking he was sick and was just being irrational I continued to gauge his symptoms and ignored the truck. Finally, when I looked in the truck there was a neatly stacked pile of cookies on the driver’s seat. Both he and David broke into laughter, simultaneously. They got me, but I’ll get them back…
We stopped for lunch at the Holeman Slot, an easily accessible slot canyon directly off the trail. I’ve always wanted to explore it, but could never afford to give up the time on one day rides in the past. As the rest of group trickled into our lunch area Mike, Nick and I had a challenging game of bike tag on a pad of slick rock off the trail. It sounds odd, but playing bike tag on challenging terrain is probably one of the best ways to build tech skills. We enjoyed a lunch of more PBJ tortillas and Cristi’s cookies while Conan impressed us all with his mad yoga skills.
Lunch
Conan's Yoga Skills
After lunch we ventured down into the Holeman Slot. Slot Canyoneering can be a dangerous activity, but the rewards far outweigh the risks. The Holeman Slot was an easy canyon not requiring any special skills or equipment, plus the lack of rain in the area meant that the flash flood danger was virtually nil. I made the poor decision of not changing out of my cycling shoes again (see Day 2), which would haunt me later. Jacki had done her research and warned everyone not to continue past “the point of no return” which was an obvious overhanging drop off that due to the smooth water-sculpted rock was impossible to climb back up without ropes. The only way out was to continue to hike down the canyon and then 15 miles upstream in the shallows of the Green River to rejoin the White Rim Trail in Potato Bottom.
Descending in to the Holeman Slot
Slivers of Sunlight
Slot Canyon Fun
When we reached the first big ledge we thought it was the point of no return, but the climbers of the group (which was pretty much everyone) quickly jumped off knowing that they could confidently shimmy back up. Ben sacrificed going any farther to wait on top just in case people needed help getting back up. Not wanting to miss out, I jumped down too and soon found out that my slippery cycling shoes offered no grip against the rock. If I committed 100% and ran at the ledge I could get back up, but just barely.
Ben on the Ledge
Seeing if I Can Climb Back Up
Jacki, Chris, Grant, and I continued down the canyon. It opened up into a series of large dome shaped rooms connected by narrow passes. Soon we encountered natural water for the first time of the trip. The stagnant black pools collected in narrow low points of the canyon. They were filled with rotting leaves and the occasional dead crow and were not something you would want to drink from or even get on you. There were several spots where we had to wedge ourselves against the canyon walls to shimmy over the pools, which was harder than it needed to be in my cycling shoes. At one point I lost it and fell towards the toxic pool below, but the thought of smelling like death for the next 2 days was enough motivation for me to pull off a “cat in the toilet” maneuver and wedge myself using all four limbs against the walls just above the water’s edge. Jacki quickly came to the rescue and tragedy was averted.
A Narrow Pass
Jacki, Chris, Grant, and I continued down the canyon. It opened up into a series of large dome shaped rooms connected by narrow passes. Soon we encountered natural water for the first time of the trip. The stagnant black pools collected in narrow low points of the canyon. They were filled with rotting leaves and the occasional dead crow and were not something you would want to drink from or even get on you. There were several spots where we had to wedge ourselves against the canyon walls to shimmy over the pools, which was harder than it needed to be in my cycling shoes. At one point I lost it and fell towards the toxic pool below, but the thought of smelling like death for the next 2 days was enough motivation for me to pull off a “cat in the toilet” maneuver and wedge myself using all four limbs against the walls just above the water’s edge. Jacki quickly came to the rescue and tragedy was averted.
A Narrow Pass
Looking Up
Natural Water
(death water)
Alex, Jacki, and Chris Shimmying Above the Death Water
Water is magic in the desert and even the tiniest dark flows of moisture trickling down the canyon walls were surrounded by cliff dwelling colonies of moss and plants. Stopping frequently for pictures we eventually reached the real point of no return. It was a steep overhanging ledge with a pool of brown water below. The only way down would have been to jump off into the pool. Past the ledge the canyon made a sharp 90 degree turn with only water visible on the floor. It was impossible to tell how much farther it extended or how deep it was. Falling or jumping off the ledge and trying to stay afloat if the water was deep to stand, plus the inevitable hypothermia re-enforced Jacki’s warning. Without ropes you would be trapped because the canyon walls were too wide to wedge against and climb back up.
The First Sign of Non-Arid Plants
Moss
Flowers
Water Sculpted Rock
The Real Point of No Return
After lunch, Jon who had just finished the hardest Ironman triathlon in the country one week prior, started to feel ill for real. I hung up my bike and drove so he could have a rest. The descent down to the Green River is one of the most rewarding sections of the trail. I’ve always felt like a rock star as I blazed down the false flat descent on past rides until I realized that my speed was coming from the slope of the trail and not my own mysterious burst of energy. Starting out behind the group we rallied down the trail in the Tacoma, working our way up to point by Potato Bottom. It was just as much fun driving on the trail as it was riding. I got a little carried away at one point and bounced my bike off the rack, but luckily my canvas top cushioned its fall and the carbon frame wasn’t scratched.
Talking with Chris and Jo
Josh, Chris, Grant, and Jo at the Green River Overlook
Amy
In Potato Bottom the surface of the trail changed from hard pack to loose beach sand. There were long, rutted sections of beach sand that were potential death traps for the vehicles. The only way to hit them was at full speed which kicked up dramatic amounts of dust. Jon and I blasted through the first one, accidentally dusting Nick who was waiting on the downwind side of the road. The dust cloud was so big that it was visible 10 minutes later as it floated gently skyward. Jo got the worst dusting of all when Ben didn’t see her riding in the sand trap and blasted her with the Phoenix Mobile. Once he saw her he had no choice but to keep his speed up due to the risk getting stuck.
Nick After I Dusted Him
Riders Struggling in the Sand Pit
In Potato Bottom the surface of the trail changed from hard pack to loose beach sand. There were long, rutted sections of beach sand that were potential death traps for the vehicles. The only way to hit them was at full speed which kicked up dramatic amounts of dust. Jon and I blasted through the first one, accidentally dusting Nick who was waiting on the downwind side of the road. The dust cloud was so big that it was visible 10 minutes later as it floated gently skyward. Jo got the worst dusting of all when Ben didn’t see her riding in the sand trap and blasted her with the Phoenix Mobile. Once he saw her he had no choice but to keep his speed up due to the risk getting stuck.
Nick After I Dusted Him
Riders Struggling in the Sand Pit
(most people made it)
Jacki Piloting the Syncro through the Sandpit with Nichole
Jo After She Got Dusted
The trail followed the Green River through Potato Bottom to the base of Hardscrabble Hill on the west end of Bighorn Mesa. The climb was similar to Murphy’s with a series of steep ramps and flat sections. At the bottom Josh switched driving duties with me so I could ride with Jo who was bringing up the rear of the group with Chris. The three of us were the last riders up the climb with only the support vehicles behind us. About halfway up there was a super steep switchback that held its grade to the top. In a repeat of the day before, a crowd had gathered at the top and was cheering us on. I reacted by going no-hands, but couldn’t keep my balance and tumbled down steep sandy hillside. To the laughter of everyone above I dusted myself off and coasted to the bottom to start over. Determined to redeem myself I rode hard up the climb, not stopping again until the top. The views on the top were well worth the suffering, with Bighorn Mesa above, the Maze District to the east, and the Green River snaking out to Ekker Butte on the horizon to the south.
Bighorn Mesa
The Crowd Cheering Us Up
(can you see them)
Jo Riding up Hardscrabble
The Tacoma and the Syncro
(Potato Bottom in the Background)
The Group up Top
A & J on Top
David under Big Horn Mesa
After the climb, the trail followed a ledge high in the cliff band that wrapped around the tip of Bighorn Mesa. From the ledge we had great views of the Green River as it flowed through Labyrinth Canyon and Hardscrabble Bottom, where we would be camping that night. As the sun got low on the horizon Bighorn Mesa’s long shadow engulfed the trail and valley below. The trail skirted the ridge for a bit more then started a long fun downhill. I raced to the front of the group and beat everyone to the bottom. I wanted to get to the bottom first so I could photograph everyone as they went off a nice ledge with a sloped landing. As the group trickled down I was able to get shots of almost everyone, but the shady light was dim so that even with a flash they were still a little underexposed. After everyone passed, Jo offered to take a few of me (the ones I posted earlier).
Jacki Piloting the Syncro through the Sandpit with Nichole
Jo After She Got Dusted
The trail followed the Green River through Potato Bottom to the base of Hardscrabble Hill on the west end of Bighorn Mesa. The climb was similar to Murphy’s with a series of steep ramps and flat sections. At the bottom Josh switched driving duties with me so I could ride with Jo who was bringing up the rear of the group with Chris. The three of us were the last riders up the climb with only the support vehicles behind us. About halfway up there was a super steep switchback that held its grade to the top. In a repeat of the day before, a crowd had gathered at the top and was cheering us on. I reacted by going no-hands, but couldn’t keep my balance and tumbled down steep sandy hillside. To the laughter of everyone above I dusted myself off and coasted to the bottom to start over. Determined to redeem myself I rode hard up the climb, not stopping again until the top. The views on the top were well worth the suffering, with Bighorn Mesa above, the Maze District to the east, and the Green River snaking out to Ekker Butte on the horizon to the south.
Bighorn Mesa
The Crowd Cheering Us Up
(can you see them)
Jo Riding up Hardscrabble
The Tacoma and the Syncro
(Potato Bottom in the Background)
The Group up Top
A & J on Top
David under Big Horn Mesa
After the climb, the trail followed a ledge high in the cliff band that wrapped around the tip of Bighorn Mesa. From the ledge we had great views of the Green River as it flowed through Labyrinth Canyon and Hardscrabble Bottom, where we would be camping that night. As the sun got low on the horizon Bighorn Mesa’s long shadow engulfed the trail and valley below. The trail skirted the ridge for a bit more then started a long fun downhill. I raced to the front of the group and beat everyone to the bottom. I wanted to get to the bottom first so I could photograph everyone as they went off a nice ledge with a sloped landing. As the group trickled down I was able to get shots of almost everyone, but the shady light was dim so that even with a flash they were still a little underexposed. After everyone passed, Jo offered to take a few of me (the ones I posted earlier).
Nick, Patty, Grant, Todd, Ben, Conan, Chris, Mike, Jo, & Alex Descending Off Bighorn Mesa
The turnoff for Hardscrabble Campground was at the bottom of the descent. The campground was nestled in a large bowl on the shore of the Green River. As we rolled into camp the setting sun lit up a disorganized cirrus cloud layer which radiated a distinct orange hue onto the walls of the bowl. The red cliffs reflected the tones back making everything appear to be pink and orange. Each night’s sunset was a different experience as the varied clouds (or lack of), shape and texture of the surrounding rocks, and angle of the sun combined for a unique show at each campground. We set up camp in the fading light and enjoyed a dinner of chili and more of Cristi’s cookies. After dinner Jo and I turned in early because Jon and I would be leaving well before the group in the morning to set up for my cliff launch off of Mineral Bottom.
Hardscrabble Campground (HDR)
Chilling Out after an Epic Day
Last Light
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Pranking is fun
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