Ride Report: 2006 Moab in May

[Tony Eeds]

Participants in the journey:

Gene Johnston
Steve Smith
Tim Arfele
Roger Swaney
Lori Kennel
Dave Kennel
Wally Kowalski
and your humble scribe . . .

“Moab in May 2006” had been on the books for a long time.

L-364

I will not go back and replow old ground, but this is our (Gene and mine) third year making the trek to Moab in May. We began the planning for this ride on Tuesday, May 24, 2005. That is the day that Gene and I drove back from Moab last year. We started the after action report about 6:00 A.M. that morning after I took photos of the moon setting over Shiprock. I was frustrated that my phone did not tell me that Wally had left a message about coming up on Saturday and we made a promise (Gene and I) to make Moab in May 2006 a bigger and better ride.

L-120 (or so)

Things really begin in earnest as I fired my first e-blast related to the 2006 ride. People may have been sluggish from Christmas, as, for the first few weeks, it appeared that it might be only Gene and I again. We needed to get some cabins reserved, so I really stirred the pot. At that point things exploded and it appears we were headed toward perhaps as many as thirty people in attendance. A long shot between two and thirty and I almost had a full scale panic attack. What made me think I could come up with enough rides to keep thirty people happy for a day, let alone a week? Now I began to understand what Bob felt like!

L-60 (or so)

By now the number of attendees had grown and shrunk several times, but a core group had gelled and I felt comfortable because I had ridden with most of them and knew their abilities fairly well. I tied down the cabins for the week and things begin to gin on route selection. For those that have never been to Moab, simply stated they vary from mild to OMG wild! Gene and I were gelling into a finely honed machine. Cabins were reserved at Moab Valley RV Resort (which will be important to remember for later). About this same time I caved on the Arizona trip with Steve. Steve, Tim and Roger decided to join up and come to Moab. Now we were officially past maxed out and only quick work by Tim saved the day, when he found a cabin at Canyonlands Campgounds. I was bummed that we would not all be in the same location, but I decided to suck it up and deal with it.

L-45 (or so)

I took time out for a two-day ride out of Clayton with a rather eclectic group. This ride got me really jazzed and looking forward to Moab. (The ride report is in the works guys.)

L-35 (or so)

Things begin to fall apart. Jim and his boys have to back out because of other family commitments and when I update the news via an e-blast to everyone, Brian Swift emails me back with a change in plans that will take him and his brother out of the mix. Dan officially backs out as well, even though I baited him with allowing him to ride my KTM 400. In full panic mode, I start counting heads, arrival and departure dates and reshuffle the head to bed ratio and figure out that we were overbooked which presented an opportunity, not a problem. Tim bailed on the cabin at Canyonlands and suddenly we were in the same park (remember, Moab Valley RV Resort, there will be a test later).

L-30 (or so)

I tossed all my cares about Moab out the window and began preparation for the Arizona ride looming a week and a half prior to my departure for Moab. Moab was on auto pilot for the moment which was OK, as the participant list had stopped growing and shrinking.

Oh yea, I also took four days out of my schedule and took my family to Galveston with me for the Texas Historic Commission meeting I was scheduled to attend. At this point I began to wonder if I seriously believed that days grew on trees. Was I crazy?

L-20 (or so)

I heard from Kathy (aka RockyRoads on DRN) and she wanted to ride with our group the last two days of the week as the South Bay group was heading back a couple of days early for a quick ride elsewhere. I was totally cool with that and jazzed that I would get to meet another DRNer. I was also looking forward to meeting Jen (aka CJ Rider) and her husband Will. About that time Lori confirmed that they would be showing up on Thursday night, so now all beds at the in were full and we were going to have to do a bit of swapping to boot.

L-13

Arizona is beautiful, but that is a story for another thread.

L-5

With a little help from the garage door code given me by Steve, I recover my XR from his garage. I have four days to check everything out on the bike, wash, pack and do “at least a little” work, before the rocket leaves the pad.

L-2

I picked up my utility trailer from a friend that had borrowed it to haul his Bug Eye Sprite back and forth from body shop school. He graciously allowed me to borrow my trailer for the week. As we hitched up the trailer, we noticed that all the wiring had been pulled loose from the loom. Well, add one more thing to the list.

L-1

Full panic mode had set in by this point. I needed to solder all the wiring back together and the wind was blowing 20 miles an hour, which overpowered the feeble soldering iron I owned, so off I went to a buddy’s shop. By noon on the last day before launch all that was left was loading gear and bikes. Did I mention work? Well, I had been arising at 4:30 A.M. in order to get past a crunch that I was in the middle of. I “had” to get structural slab drawings out for Silsbee Toyota before I could leave.

I finished the drawings right before starting on the trailer. All that was left was the plotting and that went on all afternoon between searching high and low for gear and finishing prep on the bike (the list had shrunk to me checking the oil only) and getting stuff in the truck and trailer.

About 4:30 P.M., I was loaded and off to Gene’s house. Gene is in Denton and starting from there would give me one more hour of precious sleep. Hah, I really believed I was going to sleep the last night before launch.

It took me FOREVER to get up I35 from the intersection of 190 to Gene’s, but make it I did. We loaded Gene’s two bikes and stowed the trailer in his garage and we bolted off to dinner with Maggie. I was finally beginning to wind down a bit.

Here it was the night before Moab, usually my first ride of the year and I already had been to Van Horn, Del Rio, Arizona and Clayton OK with my XR. That totaled up to be about 1000 miles already, no wonder I felt rushed . . .

Launch Day - Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Soon 4:00 A.M. came early and we were quietly on our way west.

Tim and Roger had left Monday afternoon from Houston and had met Steve in Albuquerque at a friend house about the same time I was having dinner with Maggie and Gene. The race to Moab was on and we were about 11 hours from Albuquerque.

Slipping northward on US 287 we angled northwest for a rendevous with I-40 in Amarillo. Wichita Falls, Vernon, Chillicothe, Childress, et al fell by the way side and about 10:00 A.M. we made the merge onto I-40. Now we could motor as the Interstate west of Amarillo is primarily inhabited by trucks, vacationers and a few hardy souls in rental trucks heading east and west toward destinations over the horizons yonder. I say yonder, because EVERYTHING in over the horizon in that part of Texas and New Mexico.

Whoo Hooo, there went the New Mexico State Line, we had gained an hour. It was barely 10:00 A.M. again. We were happy and the speed limit was 75 now, so we put the hammer down. Well we put it down for a minute or three anyway before we discovered that large portions of I-40 between the State Line and Albuquerque were under construction. To add insults to injury, the speed limit in construction zones was 45 MPH. Now I am all for safety, but this is crazy. I did the only thing a sane man could do in a situation like that . . . I took a nap. OK, I will confess that I wasn’t driving.

We stopped for gas in Edgewood with the Sandia Mountains looming in our windshield and decided to substitute a quick burger for the more traditional dinner stop we had employed on the two previous trips to Moab. We calculated that would get us back within 30 minutes of our originally projected arrival time computed some eight hours earlier in Gene’s driveway (dang I love GPS units).

Well, the good Lord was smiling down on us, because we discovered the best burger I have ever found at a Dairy Queen. Man, that baby was good. Sloppy, greasy and dripping everywhere, that cheeseburger rose to the honor roll of burgerdom for me.

Check them out if you are in the area . . .

Exit 187, north side of I40

Dairy Queen
I-40 & S R 344
Edgewood, New Mexico 87015
505-281-3742

Back on the road again, we were soon through Albuquerque and on US 550 heading toward Farmington. Angling across the state, US 550 is the first indication that we are in desert country. Whoo Hooo, I can almost smell Moab.

Farmington, Cortez all fell by the wayside and we raced the sun toward Moab. Soon on the outskirts of Moab, we passed the Hole in the Rock “Tourist Trap” (http://theholeintherock.com/) that I visited with my parents on my first trip to Moab some 40+ years ago. It is worth the time, but ONLY once, so we wave and slip on by.

There is the KOA, so now we are really close. Soon we are waiting in line to sign in at Portal RV Park and find out where Steve, Tim and Roger are. After waiting for eternity (it felt that way anyway), we slid up to the counter and told them that I had reservations. Uh, yea right . . . we don’t show any reservations for Eeds here. I felt the last of my energy drain from my body as I wondered what had happened to our reservations. Finally the fellow at the desk asked if we were at the correct park. I told him I thought so, but apparently not. He suggested that we check out Moab Valley RV Resort just down the road. Gene gentle steered me back to the truck . . .

Well, guess what . . . fatigue had done me in . . . Moab Valley RV Resort was the place we had reservation and we were soon parked by our cabin, catching up with Steve, Tim and Roger.

 

[Tony Eeds]

L+01 - Thursday, May 11, 2006

Day One . . . Whoo Hooo . . . We are in Moab and we are on VACATION

The day started with breakfast at the Moab Diner, an almost traditional stop for every tourist when in Moab, the Moab Diner is always hopping. Arriving early, we tied down a corner table and ordered up some great “stick to ribs” food. During breakfast, we wrapped up discussions about the day’s ride.

Check it out . . .

The Moab Diner
189 South Main
Moab, Utah 84532
435-259-4006
http://www.moab-utah.com/diner/index.html

One of my last tasks before leaving home was to copy various rides for everyone’s consideration. I lobbied for a ride into the La Sals that would bag two passes exceeding 10,000 feet in elevation. In that Moab averages about 5,000 feet, there would be a lot of climbing to be undertaken along the way. The last time I was above 7,000 feet, I realized that my BRP needed to be babied in order to keep her happy.

Back at our cabins, we loaded up gear, warmed up bikes and headed off south through town. A quick stop for gas and we were soon climbing on Geyer Pass Road. An asphalt road, Geyser Pass Road connects Moab with everything south and east of Moab. Based upon the number of road bicyclists we saw, I’m guessing that the Geyser Pass Road is a “major” road bike route.

Departing the asphalt at the intersection with La Sal Mountain Loop Road, we really began to climb as we zigged and zagged up Geyser Pass Road toward the sun. There was a slight chill in the air that was missing in the valley. The pig was beginning to stumble if I snapped the throttle open, so it was clear that I was at the upper edge of its operation range. My lungs were beginning to feel the elevation as well, but that would really become more apparent later.

Sliding through shadows thrown on the road by the surrounding pine trees, we soon encountered seeps and finally around a corner, it appeared . . . snow . . . yep, you read me right . . . snow. Now being flatlanders, we were all excited about the possibility of seeing some, but it was all the way across the road. What’s with this . . . it is May, so snow should be something to be enjoyed from afar. Flipping through my book of ride experience extending back 35 years, I quickly tried to locate all my experience related to riding in snow. There was a problem though . . . I couldn’t find any, except one funny experience while at Moonrocks a few years ago. Well I am in the front, so here we go. Dang. This stuff is slick. Well, it doesn’t matter. Gravel is just ahead. Oops, there is more snow just past the gravel.

Steve tutored us in the “art” of riding snow and we soon found ourselves floundering our way across snowbanks that appeared to be two ~ three feet deep.

Every now and again one of us would fall and everyone would laugh. True to my role as the “ride clown,” I collected the majority of the laughter, not that I really cared. The altitude was really beginning to kick my butt. Filling my lungs with oxygen was beginning to become a real chore. Oh well, onward and upward . . . Roger, Tim, Gene, and Steve were having a great time as evidenced by the grins. The sun was out, so we found ourselves jockeying from shady spot to shady spot to stay on firm snow.

At one point my pig laid down (died) and I had a bear of a time getting it started. The altitude was kicking my butt and now it was playing havoc with me getting the bike started. The end result was me getting to where everyone else was about the same time that Steve returned from on up the road to tell us it was time to turn around as it got no better beyond the curve. Bummed, we turned tail and heading back down the road toward lower elevations.

At one point crossing a bank, I had about the funniest occurrence that I have ever experienced on any bike. My bike broke through the crust of the snow and dropped vertically until it reached the roadbed below. At this point the axles were about even with the crust and my feet rested comfortably about an inch above the pegs. Now this was funny and I have to admit I got a real laugh . . . at least I laughed until I started trying to figure out how to get the bike out of it’s “parking” space.

In that a picture is worth a thousand words, I took one, because nobody but me was still around. Getting back to the gravel was a hoot. At one point Tim augured in and he almost executed a face plant, but pulled it out at the last moment. I wish I had a photo of that. Soon we were unwinding our crumb trail, heading back toward lower adventures. We agreed that the La Sal Mountains would be a great place to go, in July perhaps.

Opinions for our replacement route were tossed out and we all finally bit on one Gene mentioned . . . Porcupine Rim. Not having a real clue as to what we faced, off we went. Early on we were alone on the trail, but after about a mile we encountered a jeep heading the same direction we were. Waved past, we headed farther down the trail, dropping down numerous two and three foot drops, we soon found ourselves at an overlook gazing into Castle Valley.

For those that have never been to Moab, there are a lot of overlooks that are at vertical faces 1000+ feet tall (based on the topo in my GPS, the place we stopped it was 1,100+ feet tall). From our vantage point, the face appeared vertical. The view was breathtaking and we were taking it in.

A group of mountain bikers stopped for a moment and we talked about the quality of the trail. One asked if we intended on going “all the way” to 128. This would not be the last time we were to hear that question.

The couple in the jeep stopped and we chatted about our choices of transportation. The driver quickly told us that he used to ride bikes, but considered himself too old now. I laughed inside and I’m sure Steve did as well. Too old, yea right . . . he was our age.

Porcupine Rim seemed to be a good track and we were having a blast. Swapping spaces, we chased or lead each other on downward on the trail. Clearly the trail was dropping along its journey to the Colorado River. At every encounter with mountain bikers the question was the same . . .

Are y’all turning around or going through? Going through . . . Wow! How are y’all going to cross the creek?

Never one to heed warnings, we plodded on. We did think about it a “bit” more after encountering a mountain biker carrying the “remains” of his bike. He had destroyed the entire swingarm assembly of his bike. Between us, we did not have enough JB Weld to do any good.

After a booboo executed by you faithful scribe, we got an opportunity to modify a Honda clutch handle to work on Gene’s Yamaha. I had my feet pulled out from under me by a bush when I was pushing Gene’s bike off the side of the trail. One minute I am standing and the next I am inspecting the bushes and roots. I don’t remember, but it did happen rather quickly. Lucky for us, Roger had a hacksaw in his remaining (he had lost his tool bag earlier) bag of tricks, so a bit of carving and we were good to go.

Reaching the turn around, we began to better understand the mountain biker’s comments. The trail ahead shrank to about 12 inches in width and clung to the side ov a 30 + degree slope. Off we headed, onward into the fog . . . OK, it wasn’t foggy, but I was sweating enough to fog up my goggles and 1 MPH would not clear them out.

The trail deteriorated even further and we soon found ourselves clinging to the side of a hill that approached 60 + degrees in many places. One false turn to the right and the bike was not going to stop for a while . . . with or without a rider. Feeling the miles and the heat (we were on the west face of the mountain/hill/cliff), we all began to poop out (even Steve got quiet) as we struggled on toward our date with the “creek” crossing.

Finally the trail appeared to flatten out. Yes, it is getting more level. Whoo Hooo . . . Wait a minute, why is everyone stopped? Why is Steve scratching his head through his helmet? Mmmmm, so THIS is the “creek” crossing. Ugghhh! Parking our bikes, we scrambled about looking for a route to the bottom. Mmmmm, ropes appear to be the only answer to this dilemma.

Tying ropes to the rear of each bike, we gently (and slowly) lowered them off a majorly unridable drop off and belayed them as Steve manhandled them to the creek level. One at a time, with five ~ ten minutes of rest between, we labored. Mountain bikers kept coming by us and, at one point, one even ventured to comment that we should not be “blocking the trail.” I thought Roger was going to kick some butt for a moment. Finally at the bottom, we faced our next challenge . . . getting up the other side. Steve “saw” a line up the side of the wash (that I frankly could not see) and we maneuvered the bikes to a level spot above the creek on the far side.

Remember I said I could not see the line? Steve rode my bike out of the hole and we were soon on our way. One quick stop for a lady to take a photo commemorating the “epic” ride in the parking area and we headed toward Moab on 128 along the river. We had conquered what I consider the most difficult route I have ever encountered in Moab. Clearly this was one for the record books, IMHO.

Back at the cabins, we all relished in a shower before heading off to dinner. We were going to sleep well for sure!

Dinner was at . . .

La Hacienda
574 North Main Street
Moab, Utah 84532
435-259-6319

Don’t ask me why, but the first thing a bunch of Texans look for when looking for food is Mexican food. It must be our version of “comfort food.”

After dinner, Gene, not having enough riding for the day, headed off toward Chicken Corners as the sun was heading west. Returning just at dusk, he regaled us with stories of his journey. Knowing that dusk is the right time to be there, I am sure the light was fabulous.

Lori and Dave arrived after a trip up from Albuquerque. Loaded down with bikes and gear, they realized they had room for one more bike, so they ran down to Albuquerque to pick up Dave’s new KTM 640. A beautiful bike for sure . . . someday, I want one.

 

[Tony Eeds]

L+02 - Friday, May 12, 2006

Day two dawned clear and cool and breakfast was again at the Moab Diner. Roger settled in for the #4, which became his breakfast of choice for the balance of the week. Not to be outdone, we all pigged out on the great food.

Bummed, I retrieved a message on my phone from Kathy that she had opted to head back home. Four days of riding and missing her kids had conspired to pull her back to California. Maybe next year! Lori indicated that she doubted that Jen and Will would make it as a job interview loomed (good luck Jen!) . . . double bummer.

Comparing notes and bikes, we opted for the Gemini Bridges area for day two. Steve, Roger, Tim and I would ride our DS bikes out and Gene, Dave and Lori would trailer to the starting point as Dave and Lori’s bikes were not plated. This meant that Gene would get to enjoy his CR.

Getting ready at the parking area along US191, we pondered the approach of a long line of 4x4 vehicles. Uhhhh . . . much of the first few miles had some massive drop offs and was barely over a car width wide. Saddling up we chased the dust of the convoy toward the starting point of the climb. Rounding the last corner before the climb started, I was thrilled to see the column stopped along the side of the road. Without questioning providence, I began to pass them . . . one, two, three, four . . . onward to twenty plus . . . I said it was a column. Just as I passed the last (first) vehicle, I discovered why they had stopped. There were vehicles coming down the trail. As there was room, we skittered by and were soon on our way toward Gooney Bird. A rock formation so named because of the resemblance, Gooney Bird overlooked a valley about half way up the cliff face.

Back to the current challenge . . . although wide enough for a car, the route up the cliff face had clearly been carved out of the cliff as evidenced by the sheer drop offs. There are more than a few blind corners. Clinging to the rock face, the route is scattered with rocks exposed by countless vehicles that conspired to make the trip even more discerning. We were going too slow to allow our suspensions to work, so dodging them became de rigueur.

Regrouping at Gooney Bird, we headed off toward Gemini Bridges and awaiting adventure. A detour onto Metal Masher led us to some beautiful overlooks into the Moab Valley. Banked on the west by 1500+ foot cliffs, Moab spread below us. Arches National Park reached eastward toward the far horizon. Metal Masher proved to be as ugly as its name and after getting schooled on three obstacles in a row, I opted to let Dave take my bike up one particularly difficult climb. Dave, with experience gained riding trials, crested the obstacle with ease . . . thanks again Dave! He did comment that my gearing was a tad low for the trail. Duh . . . Why didn’t I consider changing from desert (15/45) to stock (14/48) gearing before heading to Moab?

At one point we found ourselves at the brink of a large drop off. Steve and Dave stopped beyond the brink . . . on a ledge barely large enough to hold one bike, let alone two. A side trail off of Metal Masher, this loop was named Widow Maker. Now we knew why. Getting Dave and Steve turned around, we were soon roaming around on top of the mesa lost like a bunch of . . . gooney birds . . . that’s it . . . gooney birds. My GPS track loops and loops about on itself.

Wandering about finally cast us on a road we recognized, and we were soon on track, heading toward Gemini Bridges. Named for the fact that there are two arches together, Gemini Bridges is one of the most beautiful arches in all of Utah (in my opinion anyway).

After visiting the arch, we (Steve, Roger, Tim and myself) parted company with Gene, Lori and Dave. We were heading back to Moab via Long Canyon and UT 279, aka Potash Road. The roads out from Gemini Bridges to UT 313 quickly turned into fire roads that were smooth as glass. Power sliding around corners, we soon approached 313. A left onto 313 and another left where the road to the Island in the Sky District of Canyonlands started and we were soon looking for the road to Long Canyon. Named for the fact that it is “long,” Long Canyon descended from the plateau to the river below. I had promised the guys a memorable ride down the canyon and I was about to deliver on my promise!

One of the features is “Tight Squeeze” which is a rock that has fallen across the road. Closing down the road opening too about large enough for a small SUV at the most, Tight Squeeze is the gatekeeper for Long Canyon. One of the neat things about Long Canyon is the decent between two walls that zigs and zags, continually downward, as you descend between two vertical walls. You can shut off your motor and coast, which we did. I had my motor off for almost 8 miles as we coasted back and forth across the face of the wall, chasing our shadows as we silently drifted toward the bottom of the canyon.

Motorcycles are more often that not about speed and noise, but the road allowed us the freedom to silently witness the beauty. Only the mechanical whir of the chain and the staccato of the knobbies on the gravel road pierced the veil of silence as we drifted along. Coasting on a motorcycle can be deceptive and only the great brakes saved me on one occasion as I entered a corner way to fast while contemplating the beauty of the surroundings. Mmmmm, perhaps I should be paying more attention . . .

Soon, Jug Handle Arch came into view and we found ourselves at the Colorado River. UT 279 and its smooth asphalt, tracing the west side of the river, lead us back into Moab. The Colorado River snaked between vertical walls, walls marked by eons of history, both natural and man-made.

Debating dinner, our stomachs overruled our civility and we decided to eat before we headed for a shower. Wanting to branch out, debate ensued and everyone with Moab experience tossed out ideas. Pasta Jay’s won out and we soon found ourselves ensconced on the patio enjoying the laughter and camaraderie of friends. We were waiting for Lori and Dave, who had decided to shower. Wendy circled about, taking great care of us, keeping our drinks full as we waited.

We ordered and as luck would have it, Wendy delivered our meals promptly. Where were Lori and Dave? We had promised to wait . . . well the food WAS here and it would get cool if we didn’t go ahead and eat. About the time we were hitting full on the ol’ food gauge, Dave and Lori arrived on that sexy sweet KTM 640. Talk about turning heads. You would think the bike was a nekkid woman, based upon the stares. We hung out with Dave and Lori as they ate and we were soon on the road back to the cabin.

Dinner was at . . .

Pasta Jay's Restaurant
4 South Main Street
Moab, Utah 84532
435-259-2900

As dinner was early and we were still full of vinegar, we decided to tour Arches National Park as the sun descended into the Pacific. Feeding our money into the automated ATM style Park Ranger (press one for English), we climbed the wall to the plateau above Moab. Racing northward, we were determined to make it to the north end of the park before the sun hit the horizon.

Slipping along toward the end of the park, we passed Wall Street, Balanced Rock and Fiery Furnace as we sailed toward the loop at the Devil’s Garden Trailhead. Marking the northermost point for cagers within the park, the loop would be our turn around point. We were used to formation flying, but this was really cool. We swooped about, clinging to the landscape on a thin asphalt ribbon leading us northward. The inhospitable landscape was taking on a deceptively peaceful appearance in the shadows of the setting sun.

At the turn around we agreed to solo to the next meeting point, the parking area for the Windows. At the far east edge of the park, the viewpoint overlooked North Window and South Window (on the east) and Double Arch (to the west). The sun promised to cooperate as there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I stopped a couple of times along the way to snap some photos in spots that I would never have been able to consider in a cage. This motorcycling stuff can be really liberating.

On the way to the Windows Loop, I passed a highpoint in the road near the Parade of Elephants only to find the road crowded with amateur (I’m guessing by the plaid shorts, hush puppies and dark socks) photographers armed with enough gear to open a respectable photography store. They all stood in anticipation of the final breath of light on the Parade of Elephants and Balanced Rock for their photo ticket to glory. There were tripod holes (I’m sure) to help them attempt to duplicate photos Ansel Adams had taken almost a century ago.

Silently wishing them luck (and thinking it time to purchase stock in Nikon and Canon before the Harley crowd sold completely out for camera gear), I drifted on towards the parking lot. We encountered a fellow at the parking lot that gave us a real boost.

Easily in his mid to late 60's, he had a trials bike and a CRF 230 crammed in his beat up minivan with him. Talking with him we learned that he had been coming to Moab for years and lived in Canyon Texas. He also spoke of trials bikes and Slickrock, which sounded like complete and total fun.

Breaking formation again, Balance Rock would be our next rendevous. Precariously poised, Balanced Rock has silently served as a way marker for travelers across the Utah deserts since . . . since long before there was a Utah, I betting.

Passing the photographer covey, I marveled at the size of the glass these guys carried. Clearly a status symbol within the photographer pack, these folks were the top of the heap, shaman perhaps. They were about to unleash their pixel collectors on many an unsuspecting rock.

Balance Rock came and went and we slipped through the cooling air back toward the entrance and Moab beyond. Rounding Wall Street, we were treated to the rise of an almost full moon right over Manns Peak. Beautiful beyond description, we marveled at the transformation of the valley below from sun to moon light. Softening the features, moonlight soon blended couloir and arete into one smooth shadow. Taking the breath from my lungs with it beauty, the moonrise enticed us to stop at one exposed corner on the switchbacks above the entrance overlooking the Moab Valley.

Blessed with the fact that I had my D20 with me, I reeled in many images of the enticing beauty, experimenting with exposure, timing and f-stop, looking for that one beautiful shot that would capture the mood perfectly. All the while, I was inwardly laughing while thinking about those folks on the road bagging up their equipment while missing the shot of a lifetime, the Moon, Manns Peak and the Moab Valley lit up below.

We closed the night out with a libation around the BBQ table at Cabin 7, basking in the glow of the moon and enveloped in the friendship of comrades with shared secrets of the beauty that can only be discovered on two wheels.

 

[Tony Eeds]

L+03 - Saturday, May 13, 2006

Breakfast was again at the Moab Diner. A real habit was forming here . . .

Slickrock was to be the morning adventure, followed up by a trip up Kane Creek slated for the afternoon.

Wally was expected to arrive today, so I was on the phone attempting to locate him. Cingular cell coverage stinks in Moab and I was having trouble connecting with him. A message from the evening before assured me that he was coming, but we could not seem to connect real time to determine a meeting spot. Usually it is easy to spot someone with a motorcycle, but not in Moab as they were everywhere and of every description.

Well, contact would have to wait as Slickrock loomed ahead.

Three dollars at the gate and we were soon in the parking lot gearing up. There were folks everywhere! This was clearly going to be more crowded than our usual Moab ride.

I had chosen my KTM for the days adventures as my XR had proven too heavy to want to fight on Slickrock and Kane Creek was slated for the afternoon. Steve, Tim and Roger were DSing it as they were slating shopping for the afternoon and would ride on out of Kane Creek to 191 to somewhat shorten the journey. More about Kane Creek later . . .

If you have been to Moab and not ridden Slickrock, you have NOT been to Moab. Slickrock is Moab and we were finally going to ride there. Gene and I had talked about it for two years and we were finally going to “just do it.” Situated just above Moab, it has long been a mecca for jeeps, motorcycles and mountain bikes. There was a slight knot in my stomach wondering what our reception would be. For many years we had heard (and I have experienced) the “attitude” of mountain bikers, now we were going experience it first hand.

If you have not heard of Slickrock, what rock have you been under? Traction is off the map, like riding on acres and acres of 40 grit sandpaper. Wheel spin does not exist, traction on a 30-degree cross slope is normally perilous at best. At Slickrock, cross slope is inconsequential.

Geared up we headed out, only to encounter a maneuver that nearly unnerved me. A 180-degree S turn on a 30-degree cross slope named Faith in Friction! Clearly they were separating the men from the boys. BTW, no disrespect ladies because any woman that will hang st Slickrock is one of the guys in my book.

Deep breaths and walking the obstacle ensued (I have zero . . . ZERO shame) and we were on our way.

Warily I wondered what I would face. Little did I know that I had passed the test because although there were many obstacles left, all paled to that initial test. Slickrock was, is and probably always will be crowded with folks and we encountered folks every few hundred yards. The vast majority (99.99999%) were on mountain bikes, but they left their attitudes in the parking lot. We were all taking the same test and everyone was passing . . . whoo hooo! The climbs and descents were designed for motorcycles and the turns for mountain bikes, so everyone was having to stay on their toes. Crest a rise too fast and you could find yourself in trouble quickly. I imagined that Enchanted Rock could be like this, if only we were allowed to ride there.

Slickrock Bike Trail crosses Hell’s Revenge Jeep Trail and we were treated to watching jeeps scale almost vertical obstacles at zero miles per hour. It was fun to watch, but too slow for my blood. Wanting to see what was over the next rise, we were soon on our way. Slickrock is a 10 + mile loop, so it wasn’t long before we found ourselves back at the start of the loop. Opting for using Hell’s Revenge as the exit route, we descended Mini Loin’s Back to the parking area adjacent to the entrance gate.

I finally made contact with Wally and we agreed to meet at the McDonalds as Kane Creek Road intersected with 191 at a light there. Loaded up, we headed off the face of the rock toward destiny.

McDonalds served up a few munchies, Wally was found and introduced and we were off to Kane Creek. About 10 miles south of the intersection, the parking area would serve as the launching point for one of my personal favorite rides.

Wally geared up and we headed out. Kane Creek starts as a wide (half mile +) canyon that progressively shrinks in width to barely more that the water at points. Along the way, we would cross the water again and again as we climbed upwards in the canyon. Trees, insects and humidity played tricks with our minds. How did this oasis end up in the middle of the desert? The water appears to flow year round through the creek as evidenced by the abundance of life along the creek. Gene warned everyone about the location of his submarine attempt of 2005, and properly warned, we scooted through the Salt Cedar along the creek. The trail was easy to follow and at points even branched into many trails as Kane Creek is a heavily-traveled area.

Kane Creek started on the west end in a large valley and progressively got narrower as we moved farther into the valley. Trees began to appear as they began to find a reliable water source. Back and forth we zoomed, splashing through countless (above 50 by my count) creek crossings. Soft sand interspersed with rocks kept us honest as we traveled eastward into the throat of the canyon.

Glimpses of the beauty appeared within the canopy of the overhanging trees, belying the harshness of the surrounding desert. As the trail continued upwards the trees gave way to the vertical walls of the canyon and only clung intermittently in crags within the walls. Soon we reached a last water crossing where Gene thought he could save time by riding up the stream bed to the last crossing point. Engine sounds echoed through the canyon as I listened to them below me, out of sight, in the creekbed. Wishing them luck, I continued up the trail to the crossing and continued on to the bridge across the canyon, where I encountered Roger. He too had taken the “high road.” Soon everyone appeared around the corner of the canyon wall and we continued onward.

Reaching the turn around point for all but Steve, Tim and Roger, we encountered an obstacle that had long confounded Gene and me. Dave quickly pointed out a line that would result in guaranteed success and topped off the lesson by riding the line. Wow, my hat was and is off to him! Not to be outdone, Steve fired up his 650 and made the 2/3rds point of the climb before regrouping for the final assault. Roger and Tim assaulted the wall as well and soon all three bikes were at the top ready to continue on. All of our antics were under the watchful eye of a bunch of wheelers that had cleared the obstacle just before our arrival.

Waving goodby to Steve, Tim and Roger the balance of the crew turned about to return to the trucks. Before taking off, we added a bit of air to my front tire and “hoped” that the slime would do its magic. Everyone wanted me in front in case my tire went flat, so off I went leading us down the canyon walls, chasing the sun toward the Colorado River.

Gingerly creating smooth lines between the rocks, I zigged and zagged down the trail like a drunken sailor, turning a ten-mile ride into a fifteen-mile ride. At one point I rounded a blind corner to find a LARGE rock in my path.

I warily attempted to use the face of the rock as a berm. Hah! No such luck. My front tire executed the proper line, but my back tire caught the lip and went right instead of left. Executing a 180, I landed on the left side of the trail on a berm with my tires above me and we (my bike and I) sprawled across the trail. It felt like I had been the business end of an eggbeater. Gene asked if I needed help between bouts of laughter. I can’t point any fingers though, as I was laughing too.

Soon I was back upright and we were soon back at the trucks and loading up for the trip to Moab. Twelve miles of dirt and asphalt roads were between us, cold beer and hot showers.

Dinner was at La Hacienda again

I told you it was good . . .

 

[Tony Eeds]

L+04 - Sunday, May 14, 2006

Breakfast was at the Moab Diner . . . one last time with everyone as Dave and Lori would be heading out for home after breakfast.

Back at the cabins, we got ready to ride and after bidding Dave and Lori adieus, we heading off to Dewey Bridge. Twenty-eight miles up river from Moab, Dewey Bridge is a suspension bridge that served for many years as the only link for Moab with the outside world north of the Colorado.

The day was slated to start with a trip up to Top of the World followed by exploration of the Kokopelli Trail.

Gene and I had ridden Top of the World last year and had spent the last few days regaling everyone with our exploits. Now we were going to see if it lived up to our memories, in the eyes of our friends.

The gravel road between the parking area and the start of the trail was quickly consumed as it is graded for cager traffic. The sign announcing the starting point of the trail soon appeared and we were on our way. Leaping between rocks, we scrambled like so many goats up the side of the mountain. Just before the end of the trail we encountered a group of jeeps heading up the trail and we all descended on the parking area at the same time.

Top of the World is a 1500+ foot vertical drop into Fisher Valley. Guarded by Fisher Towers and Titan Tower, Fisher Canyon houses a large farming area. The scale of the view cannot adequately be described. Imagine being on the observation deck of the Empire State Building and you will get an idea of the scale. You could see beyond Arches National Park to the Island in the Sky District of Canyonlands National Park.

After spending a while on the edge of the world, we retraced our steps and headed farther afield toward the Kokopelli Trail. Gene and I had found one hill that we considered difficult too impossible to climb and Steve had found another . . . Rose Garden Hill for those keeping up. Unfortunately, they were difficult from opposite directions, so our options were limited to diverting around the hill Gene and I found.

The detour heads east from the start of the Top of the World Trail, following a well-graded cager route. Sliding eastward the road began to deteriorate a bit and soon it became the quality we sought. First left, then right, we picked our way through the criss-crossing trails further northeast.

Finally reaching the top of Rose Garden Hill, Wally and I turned back as he had no plate and I was on my KTM. Waving goodby to the rest of the gang as they slid down the hill out of sight, we retraced our crumb trail northeastward toward the trucks.

Realizing that time was on our side, I lead us westward toward the edge of the valley, hoping to find another spot like Top of the World. A dozen turns and a few wrong turns later, we were treated to a vista face directly toward the La Sal Mountains. Taking it is, we overlooked the farming area at the top of the canyon.

The silence was almost deafening and we were soon treated to a familiar sound silently echoing through the valley . . . motorcycles. We soon watched Steve, Gene, Roger and Tim snake across the far side of the valley on part of the system of roads that made up the Kokopelli Trail. I took a few photos, but they looked like fleas on a carpet of green at such a distance.

Remounting, Wally and I explored many roads on the way back to the truck, finding places worth checking out further next year.

Back and the trucks and reloaded, twenty-eight miles of asphalt separated us from Moab and a hot shower. The heat had finally kicked up and we were ready for one.

Dinner was at La Hacienda again after finding out that every restaurant that was open was full. Duh . . . Mother’s Day!

 

[Tony Eeds]

L+05 - Monday, May 16, 2006

Monday started early as Steve slipped out around 3:30AM to ride home with Roger and Tim. Houston is a long way from Moab and Roger had to be at work on Tuesday morning.

Grabbing another hour or so of sleep, Gene and I were soon getting suited up for the ride we had been talking about for a year. The White Rim Trail, all 120 miles of it, awaited and we needed to get an early start. Canyonlands National Park is huge, divided into three districts and we were getting ready to tackle the Island in the Sky District.

Wally would be heading home in the afternoon, so he was checking out Slickrock.

Heading north on US191, Gene and I stopped at the Shell station across from SH313, which heads to the park. A splash of gas, a dash of oil and we were off on the adventure we had dreamed about for a year.

Soon we were climbing 313 on our way to the park. Gene wanted to run the loop counter clockwise which was fine by me. He felt we would be battling the sun less that way. Hey, whatever, I’m easy.

For those unfamiliar with the White Rim Trail, it is a one-hundred plus mile (inside the park) loop road that follows the Colorado River as it defines the Island in the Sky District of Canyonlands National Park. With our ticket to ride (obtained from the ranger in the little air conditioned booth), we were ready to go and soon on our way.

The first real obstacle in our path was Shafer Canyon. Back and forth across the face we went, falling lower and lower into the canyon, we descended its face.

Soon at the T with the road from Potash, we took the road less traveled toward the bottom of the park.

First up was Musselman Arch. We stopped for a photo op last year, so we bid adieu the arch and continued on. Shortly after passing the arch, we came upon a sign that said it was 110 miles to Moab. Now that deserved a photo . . .

As we picked up from the photo op, we encountered a jeep heading toward us out of the park. Clearly that fellow had gotten an early start as it did not appear that he had enough gear to have camped. Of course, I was presuming that he had driven the entire loop, but maybe not . . .

Back on the road, we encountered the first of many mountain bikers we would see along the trail. My hat (helmet) is off to anyone that will ride the entire trail on a mountain bike. It was already hot and it was only barely past 10 A.M.. The sun was already relentless in its attack of the environment. Lizards were the only creatures skittering about the rocks.

Over hill, over dale, as we hit the dusty trail . . . Oops, that would be a different tangent, correct? Well, it was dusty. Mountain bikers continued to be part of the scenery and at one point we happened upon two riding beside each other . . . One fellow was nice enough to slow a bit to let us through the gap, but the other fellow . . . well, he was the southbound end of a northbound mule. Why, I don’t know? Both Gene and I remarked that perhaps a little roost would help.

After a particularly long climb (forever ensconced on tape by two folks on foot heading down the road) we stopped for a rest on some rocks at the edge of a sheer cliff overlooking the Colorado River far below.

A crow joined us as we munched on breakfast bars and soon we had him coming closer and closer for crumbs we offered. Always wary and alert, he never took his eye off of us as he munched on our offerings. Soon a second crow appeared and there ensued a discussion as to who had the right to be there . . . Crow A or Crow B.

Truce called, we continued to feed them and us until the sun drove us to get back up and get moving. Unlike some spots we had stopped on other trails, this one was fully exposed to the raging sun and it was slowly cooking us.

Back on our bikes, we zigged and zagged along the road, accumulating miles toward our return to civilization. Finally, campsites appeared and even a human or two. I began to breathe a bit easier with the appearance of civilization, as scant as it was. There had been a number of folks on the trail, but with the distances involved, they were quite scattered out.

A final climb up a box canyon wall brought us to the plateau and the road back to UT 313. Reflecting on the trail then and now as I write, I would like to do it again and drink in more of the surrounding desolation. The White Rim Trail cannot be adequately described (I have said that a number of times about Moab in general), only experienced.

In honor of Roger, we had dinner was at Pasta Jay’s again . . .

Gene and I were really liking this place . . . yum!

L+06 - Tuesday, May 17, 2006

Up at 3:30AM, we quietly slipped out of Moab. With one quick stop at the “only” 24 hour station/store for coffee, Gene settled in against his pillow and I settled in behind the wheel, heading south on US191 toward Shiprock. Musing on the memories of all the trips, thoughts tumbled about and I came to the conclusion that this was the best “Moab in May” to date.

Reaching Shiprock near dawn, the GPS guided us southwest toward Gallup and home. Encountering I 40 in Gallup, we turned eastward toward Albuquerque and home, closing the last chapter of “Moab in May 2006.”

L+21

Whoo Hooo . . . It is now two weeks after returning to Dallas and for the first time I did NOT have to take Ibuprofen when I got out of bed . . .

I forgot who said it, but it is true . . .

Youth is wasted on the young.

L+43

The ride report is finally done!

 

[mafols]

Good report Tony.....glad you got to share it with some different faces this time. I know that was one of the high lights for you.... :cool:


Matt

 

[LoriKTM]

Great report, Tony! But where's the PICTURES??!! :whoa:


....mmmm....La Hacienda....
....mmmmm....Pasta Jay's.... burp!

We'll be ready, next year. Dave just has to figure out how to trailer six bikes to Moab. Need the trials bikes for Slickrock, the dual sport bikes for White Rim, and the trail bikes for everything else. :nod:

 

[tx246]

lori,

he has the dvd presentation that i made. tony is making copies for all and is making the jackets. the dvd combines camcorder footage and pictures. it runs 35 min. hope you like it.

 

[LoriKTM]

DVD :worship:

Awesome! I can't wait.

 

[Tony Eeds]

I'm trying to get the links to work. They are there, but for some reason they are not loading for me.

 

[Okiewan]

Fixed it for you Tony.

 

[GETMETOCA]

Tony, that was the BEST ride report I've ever read! Sounds like a lot of fun, but kind of scary stuff too! Great pics!

 

[tx246]

First 10 People Who Want A Dvd Of This Trip Need To Pm Me With A Mailing Address. The Dvd Runs 35 Min With Combined Video/pictures.

 

[LoriKTM]

Check your PM, Gene!