Going the Distance
The White Rim trail is 77 miles of jeep track along high cliffs overlooking the Colorado and Green Rivers near Moab. Including the dirt roads at either end which connect it to the paved road, it works out to about 95 miles of off-road pleasure. Ever since I first saw the White Rim trail, from a cliff high on the edge of Island-in-the-Sky national park, I've been obsessed with riding the whole length of it in a day. When Dan, my friend and teammate, told me about his impending marriage, I had a great idea. What if, instead of drinking shots of tequila and going to strip bars, we packed up and went to Moab for a wholesome bachelor weekend of biking, including the object of my obsession? What better way to get approval from the local authorities? ("But honey, it's a traditional celebration for Dan's wedding. I have to go.") Surprisingly enough, everyone's wife and/or girlfriend fell for it.
First, I had to research. I knew that Mark Riedy of Mountain Bike magazine had done it, so I wrote him for particulars. He was not altogether helpful, but he did admit to having a sag vehicle, which sounded like a sissy outing to me. We were resolved to do the ride completely self-supported.
Next, I posted a query on an internet newsgroup. I actually got even less help there. One kind soul wrote that it took him 8 hours to do the trail on his motorcycle, so we'd better abandon our foolish endeavor. Most of the other writers were less encouraging. Finally, we stumbled on a website (http://www.xmission.com/~epicride) which contained a hilarious (only because it happened to someone else) account of two guys who rode the whole White Rim on the summer solstice and almost died of heat stroke and dehydration. It made me awfully glad to not be them, but it also reassured me that the trail was doable. Assuming we were smart enough to bring plenty of water and not try it in the middle of summer, I thought we could even avoid near-death experiences.
With that in mind, we got together a group for the trip. Besides myself and Dan, we brought Keith, a pro bike mechanic and exceedingly funny guy, Eric (picture Krusty the Klown on amphetamines riding a bike), and Brian (a couch potato whose only training is commuting to junior college).
I sorta thought we might not feel like riding too much after the big day, so we planned to spend the first two days of our playing on the other trails of Moab. Brian was intent on riding the White Rim too, so we secretly planned to ride hard enough the first two days to discourage him from attempting the big day.
After driving all night Thursday, we had a king sized breakfast in town and parked at Slickrock. We rode the Porcupine Rim trail, then back up to Slickrock and rode that too, for a total of 5.5 hours. Saturday we spent 6 hrs riding from our hotel up to Gold Bar Rim, along part of Poison Spider Mesa and back down on the Portal trail. By this time we were starting to get slightly more than warmed up, but Brian was still planning on hanging in there.
The big day dawned. We got up at six and headed down to Denny's for a round of slugger grand slam breakfasts. All five of us looked pretty grim after 2 days of hard riding. We finally dragged ourselves out of the warm, safe confines of the restaurant and headed up to the trail. We elected to do the ride in a clockwise direction, dropping in at the Shaefer trail and climbing out at the Horsethief trail. We were too lazy to drive the 12 miles out and back to the top of Horsethief, so we parked Dan's car where the dirt road hit the pavement, and drove to the park visitor center, near the top of Shaefer.
As we were getting dressed and taking pre-ride pictures Dan expressed how stoked he was about the whole thing. I said "you're not getting my Bud Light." Dan replied "I don't want your Bud Light, I want your thigh." ummm… If you watch South Park you know the way Stan and Kyle look at Cartman after he goes off about getting dressed up like a mailman and dancing on the table. That was how we looked at Dan. He mumbled some kind of explanation about how he meant we'd be getting really hungry later. We all decided that no one should be left alone with him.
Somehow, we managed to squander half the morning and didn't actually get riding until after 8:30. Fortunately, our delay allowed the day to warm up enough that we could do the descent without heavy clothing. I brought arm and knee warmers and a wind vest. We were all carrying around 150 oz of water. I had a full camelback, a 1.5 liter bottle tied to my pack and one large bottle, along with 8 granola bars, a power bar, 2 apples, 2 bananas, a small bag of dehydrated pineapple, a handful of caramels, a half pound of ham and a loaf of bread.
We set off down the descent in pretty high spirits. As soon as we reached the bottom, the previous day caught up with me. Hours of pounding my granny gear up vertical walls of slickrock had destroyed my legs, so I watched unhappily as Eric and Brian launched away from of us, taking advantage of their squishy full-suspension bikes on the rough jeep trail. On the gentlest of slopes, I was considering reaching for my granny gear. Dan confided later that he had considered turning back at that point, 5 miles into the ride. The only thing that stopped him was that Brian was too far ahead for us to go tell him our plan. I was getting bounced all over, so I finally stopped and put my tires back at my trademark 25 psi, which smoothed things out considerably.
Eric and Brian seemed long-gone by now, so we gave up chasing and stopped for snacks. I remarked to Dan that they'd just have to wait for us at the end, since we had the keys to Dan's car. "umm, oops. Actually I left the keys in my bag in Brian's truck" Dan admitted. Doh! When we got going again we rode all of 200 yards before we came across Eric and Brian, waiting for us. We three stragglers were warmed up and feeling much better by then, so we pretty much rode together after that.
We came across a tour group that was camping and taking 4 days to ride the trail. They were just breaking camp as we went by. A few minutes later Joe and Joan Roadie came flying up behind us, determined to prove to us just what bad dudes they were. Joe went by, ignoring us, focusing intently on his front wheel as he showed us how real men ride. All he needed was one of those wacky rear-view mirrors with the pink dog on it (cultural note: the true sign of geekdom in Northern California). We continued our conversations with each other and wondered what the hell was wrong with this goofball. Shortly after that, we stopped for lunch and they stopped too (after all, they'd ridden almost 5 miles!). 5 miles later they turned off to spend the night at the White Crack overlook (heh-heh, you said crack), leaving us with only 50 miles to go.
Up to this point, the trail had been rocky, but flat. After we left the tour group, we ran up against Murphy's Hogback, a viciously steep granny-gear grunt that only Dan cleaned. We hit the downhill on the other side just as another tour group was heading down. I jetted in between their support vehicles and boosted fat-monkey-air off the lip at top. We all raced down the hill pretty much hell-bent for leather, trying not to actually run over anyone in the tour group. There's nothing like roosting a bunch of beginners to make you feel good about yourself, so we were feeling pretty smug at the bottom until Dan found he had a flat. Doh! We had visions of the riders we had just passed extracting their revenge on poor Dan ("Hey there, sissy-boy, those are pretty lycra panties you got. You ain't such a big man with a flat tire, heh, heh.") Fortunately, the tour riders were too polite to laugh at him when they went by.
After a few more rolling climbs, we hit long gentle downhill section that was pretty darn sandy. We were thankful that we weren't going counterclockwise, because we would have been walking a great deal of it I think. We were starting to feel pretty blessed in general. After all, we were riding with a group which had collectively experienced disasters like a tree branch through the knee (mark), 8 spokes pulled through a rim (Brian, 2 weeks ago), 6 spokes removed from a wheel due to foot insertion (Dan) and others too numerous to mention. So far this trip the only bike problems were Dan's flat and Dan's fork. The fork was spewing forth oil, making for an easy trail to follow, but it was still functional at least.
After round about 8 hours of pedaling I was starting to get pretty fatigued. My butt, feet, shoulders, arms and upper back were probably worse off than my legs. All that flat ground leaves you stuck in one position for extended periods. Fortunately, just past the Potato Bottom campsite on the Green River, we ran into another steep climb from hell. This was the kind of climb where, if you concentrate, you can just barely get enough traction to keep moving in your smallest gear. Just what you want to see after 73 miles of bouncing and bumping off-road.
From the top, we checked our position on the map, and saw we were just about done with the White Rim. We had about 8 miles to go before we hit the Horsethief trail back up. For some reason, I had it set in my mind that we would have it made at that point. After all, how hard could 10 miles across the plateau be? I was tired but joyous to reach the bottom of the Horsethief climb. Some ATV-ers there offered us water. A few guys accepted, but I still had some left, and I was determined to be self-supported, so I politely declined, and started up the hill.
could not believe how strong I felt at this point. I flew up the hill, powerfully turning my middle ring all the way to the top. The ATV-ers, who were also headed up, gawked in admiration of our power as we dominated the terrain. At the top, I waited briefly for Dan, then we set off across the last stretch. We were pounding our big rings (pumping the big meat, they call it) across the plateau, drawing ever nearer to the car.
At least we should have been. Right about the time I expected to see the car I started to see spots instead. I slowed as the bonk strengthened, and Dan forged ahead. Every time I crested a little rise I could see the road extending further and further. The Eric Cartman part of my subconscious spoke to me; "Hey, you get your bitch ass in the kitchen and make me a sandwich!" I finally stopped at the bottom of yet another long hill to fix myself a big fat ham sandwich to make the spots go away. Like a wild animal, I desperately tore at my crust of bread, ripping it open so as to have a place to insert the delicious slabs of dead pig which had been curing in my fanny pack all day. Sandwich in one hand, I climbed back aboard my trusty steed to forge ahead into the twilight.
Cresting the hill, I saw a stop sign. The road, at last! I rolled up to the car and was even more overjoyed to see Dan's bike but no Dan. He obviously had convinced someone to give him a lift down the pavement to get Brian's truck. 25 minutes later, we were all together again, including Brian the couch potato. As Brian crested the hill and came into view he was greeted with a loud chorus of moos from the local cows, who obviously recognized one of their own. How in the name of God someone with so little training could complete such a ride, I'll never know. Perhaps it was his squishy full suspension bike that allowed him to effortlessly coast over so much of the trail. Perhaps he was lying about school and had just returned from months of seclusion at an EPO research site in Italy. Or perhaps we can all push our limits and go the distance if we just believe.
Day 4, Moab Rim