M
Mark Bockmann
Guest
Moab/Fruita April 10-11, 2004
Question: what is Jeep Safari Week? Answer: take the usual
3,000 fat, beer-swilling rednecks who come to Moab on an
average weekend to ride their motorized couches, then add
10,000 more. The resulting traffic jam of gas guzzling, big-
tired, trail munching machines does its best to imitate LA
at rush hour.
So why did we decide to head out to Moab during Jeep
Safari Week? Well, my wife Molly usually works weekends,
but this time she was free. The weather was looking
questionable everywhere but Moab, and we do love that
place, so off we went.
Saturday morning we discussed our ride options. Eagle's
Perch sounded good at first, until we remembered how popular
the Gemini Bridges trail is with the motorized couch set. It
would be a dustbowl. The Monitor and Merrimac trail looked
interesting, however. We had no idea how many jeeps and ATVs
would be on it, but decided to give it a try anyway.
The trailhead was a mess. It was packed with huge RV's
loaded down with trailers full of ATV's, jeeps, motorcycles,
and dune buggies. Random kids zoomed around on their
motorized toys, stirring up as much dust as possible.
Fortunately, it looked like most of these folks were staying
in the vicinity, not heading out on the trail itself. We
pedaled out and quickly put the commotion behind us.
Our first stop was the crumbling remains of the Halfway
Stage Station, just a mile up the dirt road. Back in the
late 1800s, the nearest train station was 35 miles north of
Moab, an eight-hour trip by stagecoach. The Halfway Stage
Station offered a place to stop, have lunch, and rest before
the last half of the trip. Of course, today a couple of fit
riders could do the whole trip on their mountain bikes
before lunch!
We made the scenic trip around Joe Camel Butte without
seeing another soul. After blasting down a section of
slickrock at breakneck speeds, we climbed Mill Canyon
toward the two prominent formations to the west: Monitor
and Merrimac Buttes. Thanks to recent rains, the infamous
sand on this section was quite bearable. We made it through
with only a few grumbles, and then climbed onto the
slickrock between the huge rock formations. Molly spotted a
pair of climbers high above us. Though far away, we could
hear every word they said. One of them mentioned that he
was "friggin' pumped" and that he was afraid he would rip
all his gear if he fell.
Rounding the far corner of Monitor, we entered a slickrock
playground. The slopes were deceptively steep, however.
Fearing loss of much skin, we didn't stay long.
Soon we ran into a procession of four wheelers creeping
along at an agonizingly slow pace. We zipped by as the
procession came to another halt. Fat men climbed out of
Jeeps and UNIMOGs to examine the next challenge...a steep
slickrock section that Molly and I had already ridden in
the time it took them to climb out of their vehicles. I
wanted to shoot some video of these guys tackling the
challenge, but we lost interest and hit the trail again
after five minutes.
The highlights on the way out included a trip to the base of
the Determination Towers and a quick jaunt along the Mill
Canyon Dinosaur Trail to see fossilized dinosaur bones and
petrified wood. It was a great ride; much more interesting
than we had expected, visually quite stunning, and
surprisingly empty aside from the large pack of four
wheelers we encountered earlier.
That afternoon we had a pleasant run up Negro Bill Canyon
("African American William Canyon," as my politically
correct friend Erik calls
it) to the amazing Morning Glory Natural Bridge, an
incredible formation spanning 243 feet. We finished the
day with lots and lots of food, and a sampling of Utah's
finest beer(?) at the Moab Brewery.
Sunday morning we woke up to clear skies and a cool breeze.
Continuing with our exploration of the trails north of Moab,
we geared up at the Sovereign Trail. This relatively new
singletrack may not be in most guidebooks yet, but it's
certainly no secret. We would see other riders on the trail,
but fortunately, being singletrack, we would avoid all the
four-wheelers today.
I have to commend the trail builders responsible for the
Sovereign Trail. They did an excellent job creating a superb
singletrack that snakes through the rocks between Willow
Springs and Dalton Wells Roads. It throws lots of little
challenges at you here and there -- rock ledges, steep dirt
climbs, switchbacks, and slickrock -- but there are many
sections of smooth hardpack that flow like melted butter. On
those sections, I just stood up, lay off the brakes, and let
the trail come at me. As the speed picked up, my grin only
got bigger.
At Dalton Wells Road, we took a left and zoomed down to a
parking area. Here we headed northeast on another dirt road,
but soon we found a faint singletrack heading left up a wash
that paralleled our road. We'd been warned about the trails
north of Dalton Wells, but I somehow convinced Molly that it
wouldn't be too bad. She agreed, on condition that she would
be allowed to whine if necessary.
The trail, though officially part of the Sovereign
Singletrack, was nothing like what we'd just ridden. Only a
few moto tracks and the occasional blue blaze indicated we
were on the right path. The technical challenges were a bit
too much for us, but the location was fantastic. We were
traveling up a narrow canyon with some very cool eroded
sandstone formations. One place was almost like a cave, but
if you climbed inside, you could see daylight shining
through a thin crack in the ceiling. The trail was steep and
loose, and we were happy to make it back to the main road
again. We hit one more section of Sovereign Singletrack --
this one quite enjoyable -- before hitting Dalton Wells Road
again and backtracking the original six sweet miles of trail
to the car.
It was only 2:00, so we decided to do a ride in Fruita on
the way home. What's a short, fun ride in Fruita that's just
off the highway? Moore Fun Trail, of course. We rode it East
to West (the "easy" way) and I had a great time. Molly did
surprisingly well, although she did mention at one point
that she wished she could have a little "Less Fun". At one
point we saw a teenaged Barney scrambling 50 feet down a
steep slope with his bike to cut a switchback.
As we got up to him, I said, "Man, you've got to stay on
the trail."
He stared at me blankly.
"All right?" I asked.
"Uh, ok," he mumbled, then rolled his eyes as he passed
by. I still haven't figured out the best way to reach
these people, but I suspect the real problem is diminished
mental capacity.
I was having a great day, succeeding on everything the trail
could throw at me (with a few "do-overs" of course). But I
still dreaded the last and biggest challenge: a tight
squeeze between two boulders followed immediately by a big
rock ledge to surmount. I had to pedal so slowly through the
squeeze that it was difficult to get any momentum before
hitting the ledge. Plus, I couldn't just hit the ledge head-
on, since there was yet another boulder squeezing in from
the right side. Success would require me to re-align my bike
at a very slow speed, and then do a strong pedal kick to pop
onto the ledge.
Try as I might, I couldn't get my bike lined up properly
after the squeeze to make any type of good effort at the
ledge. I succeeded a couple times in getting my front wheel
onto the ledge, but had no chance of getting the rest of my
bike and me on top. I positioned my bike between the two
boulders and clipped in. I stared at the ledge, envisioning
the different ways I could tackle the problem. Finally, I
stared at the top of the ledge, and pictured myself getting
there. One quick move, and suddenly I had done it. It wasn't
the completely clean effort I'd ideally like to make, where
I ride through the whole section in one motion, but I was
happy. And I'm sure Molly was happy that I was done, too!
On the drive out, we again pondered the age-old question:
why is Diorio's Pizza closed on Sundays?
Mark Bockmann
Question: what is Jeep Safari Week? Answer: take the usual
3,000 fat, beer-swilling rednecks who come to Moab on an
average weekend to ride their motorized couches, then add
10,000 more. The resulting traffic jam of gas guzzling, big-
tired, trail munching machines does its best to imitate LA
at rush hour.
So why did we decide to head out to Moab during Jeep
Safari Week? Well, my wife Molly usually works weekends,
but this time she was free. The weather was looking
questionable everywhere but Moab, and we do love that
place, so off we went.
Saturday morning we discussed our ride options. Eagle's
Perch sounded good at first, until we remembered how popular
the Gemini Bridges trail is with the motorized couch set. It
would be a dustbowl. The Monitor and Merrimac trail looked
interesting, however. We had no idea how many jeeps and ATVs
would be on it, but decided to give it a try anyway.
The trailhead was a mess. It was packed with huge RV's
loaded down with trailers full of ATV's, jeeps, motorcycles,
and dune buggies. Random kids zoomed around on their
motorized toys, stirring up as much dust as possible.
Fortunately, it looked like most of these folks were staying
in the vicinity, not heading out on the trail itself. We
pedaled out and quickly put the commotion behind us.
Our first stop was the crumbling remains of the Halfway
Stage Station, just a mile up the dirt road. Back in the
late 1800s, the nearest train station was 35 miles north of
Moab, an eight-hour trip by stagecoach. The Halfway Stage
Station offered a place to stop, have lunch, and rest before
the last half of the trip. Of course, today a couple of fit
riders could do the whole trip on their mountain bikes
before lunch!
We made the scenic trip around Joe Camel Butte without
seeing another soul. After blasting down a section of
slickrock at breakneck speeds, we climbed Mill Canyon
toward the two prominent formations to the west: Monitor
and Merrimac Buttes. Thanks to recent rains, the infamous
sand on this section was quite bearable. We made it through
with only a few grumbles, and then climbed onto the
slickrock between the huge rock formations. Molly spotted a
pair of climbers high above us. Though far away, we could
hear every word they said. One of them mentioned that he
was "friggin' pumped" and that he was afraid he would rip
all his gear if he fell.
Rounding the far corner of Monitor, we entered a slickrock
playground. The slopes were deceptively steep, however.
Fearing loss of much skin, we didn't stay long.
Soon we ran into a procession of four wheelers creeping
along at an agonizingly slow pace. We zipped by as the
procession came to another halt. Fat men climbed out of
Jeeps and UNIMOGs to examine the next challenge...a steep
slickrock section that Molly and I had already ridden in
the time it took them to climb out of their vehicles. I
wanted to shoot some video of these guys tackling the
challenge, but we lost interest and hit the trail again
after five minutes.
The highlights on the way out included a trip to the base of
the Determination Towers and a quick jaunt along the Mill
Canyon Dinosaur Trail to see fossilized dinosaur bones and
petrified wood. It was a great ride; much more interesting
than we had expected, visually quite stunning, and
surprisingly empty aside from the large pack of four
wheelers we encountered earlier.
That afternoon we had a pleasant run up Negro Bill Canyon
("African American William Canyon," as my politically
correct friend Erik calls
it) to the amazing Morning Glory Natural Bridge, an
incredible formation spanning 243 feet. We finished the
day with lots and lots of food, and a sampling of Utah's
finest beer(?) at the Moab Brewery.
Sunday morning we woke up to clear skies and a cool breeze.
Continuing with our exploration of the trails north of Moab,
we geared up at the Sovereign Trail. This relatively new
singletrack may not be in most guidebooks yet, but it's
certainly no secret. We would see other riders on the trail,
but fortunately, being singletrack, we would avoid all the
four-wheelers today.
I have to commend the trail builders responsible for the
Sovereign Trail. They did an excellent job creating a superb
singletrack that snakes through the rocks between Willow
Springs and Dalton Wells Roads. It throws lots of little
challenges at you here and there -- rock ledges, steep dirt
climbs, switchbacks, and slickrock -- but there are many
sections of smooth hardpack that flow like melted butter. On
those sections, I just stood up, lay off the brakes, and let
the trail come at me. As the speed picked up, my grin only
got bigger.
At Dalton Wells Road, we took a left and zoomed down to a
parking area. Here we headed northeast on another dirt road,
but soon we found a faint singletrack heading left up a wash
that paralleled our road. We'd been warned about the trails
north of Dalton Wells, but I somehow convinced Molly that it
wouldn't be too bad. She agreed, on condition that she would
be allowed to whine if necessary.
The trail, though officially part of the Sovereign
Singletrack, was nothing like what we'd just ridden. Only a
few moto tracks and the occasional blue blaze indicated we
were on the right path. The technical challenges were a bit
too much for us, but the location was fantastic. We were
traveling up a narrow canyon with some very cool eroded
sandstone formations. One place was almost like a cave, but
if you climbed inside, you could see daylight shining
through a thin crack in the ceiling. The trail was steep and
loose, and we were happy to make it back to the main road
again. We hit one more section of Sovereign Singletrack --
this one quite enjoyable -- before hitting Dalton Wells Road
again and backtracking the original six sweet miles of trail
to the car.
It was only 2:00, so we decided to do a ride in Fruita on
the way home. What's a short, fun ride in Fruita that's just
off the highway? Moore Fun Trail, of course. We rode it East
to West (the "easy" way) and I had a great time. Molly did
surprisingly well, although she did mention at one point
that she wished she could have a little "Less Fun". At one
point we saw a teenaged Barney scrambling 50 feet down a
steep slope with his bike to cut a switchback.
As we got up to him, I said, "Man, you've got to stay on
the trail."
He stared at me blankly.
"All right?" I asked.
"Uh, ok," he mumbled, then rolled his eyes as he passed
by. I still haven't figured out the best way to reach
these people, but I suspect the real problem is diminished
mental capacity.
I was having a great day, succeeding on everything the trail
could throw at me (with a few "do-overs" of course). But I
still dreaded the last and biggest challenge: a tight
squeeze between two boulders followed immediately by a big
rock ledge to surmount. I had to pedal so slowly through the
squeeze that it was difficult to get any momentum before
hitting the ledge. Plus, I couldn't just hit the ledge head-
on, since there was yet another boulder squeezing in from
the right side. Success would require me to re-align my bike
at a very slow speed, and then do a strong pedal kick to pop
onto the ledge.
Try as I might, I couldn't get my bike lined up properly
after the squeeze to make any type of good effort at the
ledge. I succeeded a couple times in getting my front wheel
onto the ledge, but had no chance of getting the rest of my
bike and me on top. I positioned my bike between the two
boulders and clipped in. I stared at the ledge, envisioning
the different ways I could tackle the problem. Finally, I
stared at the top of the ledge, and pictured myself getting
there. One quick move, and suddenly I had done it. It wasn't
the completely clean effort I'd ideally like to make, where
I ride through the whole section in one motion, but I was
happy. And I'm sure Molly was happy that I was done, too!
On the drive out, we again pondered the age-old question:
why is Diorio's Pizza closed on Sundays?
Mark Bockmann
