R
Raptor
Guest
Those of you who've pulled your heads out of your asses long ago will find my trail report largely
redundant.
Though I live in SLC, just 4 hours from Moab, I don't get down there often enough at all. Because of
unforgivable abuse by the tech sector (70-hour weeks during Summer, followed by "Saionara, sucker"
last December), yesterday and today was the first time in two years. This was also the first
significant mtb ride of the season for me.
Arrived late yesterday afternoon and set forth on the Slickrock Trail. Temp was 90-ish, and I hit
the weather window bullseye. Last week Moab was in the low 100's. Departure time 5:38PM. I kept
watch on the sun, noting the BLM's warning to the general cycling population to allow 4-5 hours to
do the 12.7 miles. I swear I remember doing it in 2-3 hours many years ago, and I'm currently in
good shape...
It's happened: I am now officially old. If a section looked gnarly, or even gnar, I dismounted. Did
that at least 50 times.
The Practice Loop took me about 25 minutes, so I proceded in the "easier" clockwise direction around
the main loop. Return time: 7:45PM, plenty of daylight left. Most of the ride, I hovered around my
lactic threshold, though there was a 20-minute walk when I ate an ancient energy bar to stifle the
early feelings of hyponatremia I was getting from my tummy (water sloshing around in there). The bar
looked like a dog turd, was hard as a rock and tasted like gravel. Apparently the shelf life of that
particular brand is somewhat less than 8 years. But it rejuvenated me.
I didn't see another rider until very near the trailhead. Ah, reminded me of my younger days when,
in 1985-6, I'd really feel like the only rider on Slickrock. Any time I want to avoid the rush hour
syndrome nowadays, I can just flirt with sundown when more cautious types wait for the morning.
(That said, people were heading out on bikes as I drove away. I wonder what they were planning - a
blitzkrieg like mine, or just the Practice Loop, or a long cold night on the desert?)
End of appetizer, now the main course.
I AM a loser, because I've lived here nearly 20 years and never did Porcupine Rim until today.
That's what the self-abuse subject is about
- I denied myself this pleasure for this long. How COULD I?
Being a roadie, and the weather being tolerably not-hot, I chose to bite off the whole 30 mile loop
from downtown Moab. Gawd, I love climbing. Either that or I'm an incurable masochist. I'm not sure
which, but regardless, I do a lot of climbing. It's paid off in that I now have at least two gears
on climbs, meaning I'm not automatically red-lined on hills. Feels good.
Armed with a full 100oz Camelback and large frame bottle, I slogged my way up Sand Flats Road to the
Porcupine trailhead (approx. 9 miles from town, 1900? feet up), sipping water every time my throat
got dry, about every two minutes. Reached trailhead where there were four cars parked, talked to the
friendly neighborhood BLM ranger there to re-stock the maps in the registration thingy. She told me
I'd done 2/3rds of the climing, which reassured me about my water supply. The Camelback was still
heavy, bottle untapped.
Porcupine is an 11.2-mile jeep road followed by a couple miles of singletrack. You start way up Sand
Flats Road beyond the Slickrock trailhead, and wind up on the banks of the Colorado River.
The main climb from the trailhead to the Rim itself is about as easy as they get, which means,
"fairly hard riding." Not *extremely* technical, with only a couple spots per mile where old farts
like me feel a need to push or lift. Welcome to 7900 feet; didn't feel particularly alpine.
That first in-your-face overlook into Castle Valley... "OH YEAH! That's what we're talking about!"
Literally, my thoughts voiced themselves to no one, my having seen no other humans since the
trailhead. Any small doubts about the worthiness of what I was doing were instantly erased. I
estimate about 2000' feet total vertical, with at least 300 of it straight down. I'm not comfortable
enough with heights to have been able to verify the cliff height. (I could probably check my
footage, but I'm feeling lazy. There are probably people here who know them by heart. Hint.
A little more gentle climbing later, I heard voices and joined a "snowball" of other bikers. I was
the seventh member of this group, which consisted of a bunch of single and pairs of riders who just
sort of clumped together. Geographies represented: Montreal, NYC, Aspen, Albuquerqe (that, I looked
up), and SLC with yours truly. A little later, a Real Old Fart from Whistler showed up. We all hope
we look that good at 64 - he kicked most of our asses on the technical stuff. With any luck, I've
got some new e-pen pals.
The trail peaks out within a mile or two of that first dramatic overlook, then is a gradual downhill
all the way to the River (water state: good). Technicalities abound, with ample opportunites to hurt
or humiliate oneself. However, there is plenty of mach 2 smoothiness, with a dash of sand-skiing
here and there. Regretfully, the awe-inspiring overlooks are relatively few, and the scenery reverts
to merely picturesque high desert for most of the trail, and the usual lovely looks down into the CO
River canyon at the end.
The singletrack at the end is *quite* technical for most of its length. There are sections where
concentration is required to avoid vertigo and BASE jumping sans chute.
We rode as a group, waiting for the gal from Aspen, who was on her third mtb ride, to catch up
periodically. The New Yorker, an amateur mtb racer, got two flats and turfed it pretty good once.
Everyone else handled the technical stuff with various levels of skill or discretion, to wit: A
one-third mile section of singletrack about 500' above the Colorado had riders dropping like flies.
First, the guy in front of me endo'd on a trivial bit, receiving a significant contusion. Then, I
tried to straddle-walk my bike through an ugly narrow drop-off, and stumbled a front wheelie with
the saddle kicking me between the shoulder blades for at least 15 feet. No serious injuries, or
maybe all my equipment is numb from under-use. Finally, the better-looking half of the Montreal
contigent, a lovely smile wearing shin-guards, went endo on another not-too-rough spot. We was
dropping like flies there, must've been "smelling the barn" syndrome.
My 5-year-old Proflex, with all original hardware including chain, performed as well as can be
expected, with only a few chain skips and one chain-off. I'm gonna miss that bike when I replace
it someday.
By the end of the ride, I had regained most of my atrophied mtb mojo. I consumed the last drops of
water on my ride back into town - proper rationing. I may be a pathetic excuse for a mtb enthusiast,
but I do know how to pace myself.
Most of you will say, "Duh!" when I note here that Porcupine is now on my crowded list of rides to
do frequently.
It took about six hours elapsed time, with plenty of waiting for the slower riders in there. If
you're a novice-y rider with the guts to go for anything Moabish, do try to fit Porcupine Rim into
your schedule. Listen to the locals for their advice on how to equip yourself for the conditions,
and you'll probably be okay, a little beat up, sun-baked and RICHLY rewarded.
--
--
Lynn Wallace http://www.xmission.com/~lawall "I'm not proud. We really haven't done everything we
could to protect our customers. Our products just aren't engineered for security." --Microsoft VP in
charge of Windows OS Development, Brian Valentine.
redundant.
Though I live in SLC, just 4 hours from Moab, I don't get down there often enough at all. Because of
unforgivable abuse by the tech sector (70-hour weeks during Summer, followed by "Saionara, sucker"
last December), yesterday and today was the first time in two years. This was also the first
significant mtb ride of the season for me.
Arrived late yesterday afternoon and set forth on the Slickrock Trail. Temp was 90-ish, and I hit
the weather window bullseye. Last week Moab was in the low 100's. Departure time 5:38PM. I kept
watch on the sun, noting the BLM's warning to the general cycling population to allow 4-5 hours to
do the 12.7 miles. I swear I remember doing it in 2-3 hours many years ago, and I'm currently in
good shape...
It's happened: I am now officially old. If a section looked gnarly, or even gnar, I dismounted. Did
that at least 50 times.
The Practice Loop took me about 25 minutes, so I proceded in the "easier" clockwise direction around
the main loop. Return time: 7:45PM, plenty of daylight left. Most of the ride, I hovered around my
lactic threshold, though there was a 20-minute walk when I ate an ancient energy bar to stifle the
early feelings of hyponatremia I was getting from my tummy (water sloshing around in there). The bar
looked like a dog turd, was hard as a rock and tasted like gravel. Apparently the shelf life of that
particular brand is somewhat less than 8 years. But it rejuvenated me.
I didn't see another rider until very near the trailhead. Ah, reminded me of my younger days when,
in 1985-6, I'd really feel like the only rider on Slickrock. Any time I want to avoid the rush hour
syndrome nowadays, I can just flirt with sundown when more cautious types wait for the morning.
(That said, people were heading out on bikes as I drove away. I wonder what they were planning - a
blitzkrieg like mine, or just the Practice Loop, or a long cold night on the desert?)
End of appetizer, now the main course.
I AM a loser, because I've lived here nearly 20 years and never did Porcupine Rim until today.
That's what the self-abuse subject is about
- I denied myself this pleasure for this long. How COULD I?
Being a roadie, and the weather being tolerably not-hot, I chose to bite off the whole 30 mile loop
from downtown Moab. Gawd, I love climbing. Either that or I'm an incurable masochist. I'm not sure
which, but regardless, I do a lot of climbing. It's paid off in that I now have at least two gears
on climbs, meaning I'm not automatically red-lined on hills. Feels good.
Armed with a full 100oz Camelback and large frame bottle, I slogged my way up Sand Flats Road to the
Porcupine trailhead (approx. 9 miles from town, 1900? feet up), sipping water every time my throat
got dry, about every two minutes. Reached trailhead where there were four cars parked, talked to the
friendly neighborhood BLM ranger there to re-stock the maps in the registration thingy. She told me
I'd done 2/3rds of the climing, which reassured me about my water supply. The Camelback was still
heavy, bottle untapped.
Porcupine is an 11.2-mile jeep road followed by a couple miles of singletrack. You start way up Sand
Flats Road beyond the Slickrock trailhead, and wind up on the banks of the Colorado River.
The main climb from the trailhead to the Rim itself is about as easy as they get, which means,
"fairly hard riding." Not *extremely* technical, with only a couple spots per mile where old farts
like me feel a need to push or lift. Welcome to 7900 feet; didn't feel particularly alpine.
That first in-your-face overlook into Castle Valley... "OH YEAH! That's what we're talking about!"
Literally, my thoughts voiced themselves to no one, my having seen no other humans since the
trailhead. Any small doubts about the worthiness of what I was doing were instantly erased. I
estimate about 2000' feet total vertical, with at least 300 of it straight down. I'm not comfortable
enough with heights to have been able to verify the cliff height. (I could probably check my
footage, but I'm feeling lazy. There are probably people here who know them by heart. Hint.
A little more gentle climbing later, I heard voices and joined a "snowball" of other bikers. I was
the seventh member of this group, which consisted of a bunch of single and pairs of riders who just
sort of clumped together. Geographies represented: Montreal, NYC, Aspen, Albuquerqe (that, I looked
up), and SLC with yours truly. A little later, a Real Old Fart from Whistler showed up. We all hope
we look that good at 64 - he kicked most of our asses on the technical stuff. With any luck, I've
got some new e-pen pals.
The trail peaks out within a mile or two of that first dramatic overlook, then is a gradual downhill
all the way to the River (water state: good). Technicalities abound, with ample opportunites to hurt
or humiliate oneself. However, there is plenty of mach 2 smoothiness, with a dash of sand-skiing
here and there. Regretfully, the awe-inspiring overlooks are relatively few, and the scenery reverts
to merely picturesque high desert for most of the trail, and the usual lovely looks down into the CO
River canyon at the end.
The singletrack at the end is *quite* technical for most of its length. There are sections where
concentration is required to avoid vertigo and BASE jumping sans chute.
We rode as a group, waiting for the gal from Aspen, who was on her third mtb ride, to catch up
periodically. The New Yorker, an amateur mtb racer, got two flats and turfed it pretty good once.
Everyone else handled the technical stuff with various levels of skill or discretion, to wit: A
one-third mile section of singletrack about 500' above the Colorado had riders dropping like flies.
First, the guy in front of me endo'd on a trivial bit, receiving a significant contusion. Then, I
tried to straddle-walk my bike through an ugly narrow drop-off, and stumbled a front wheelie with
the saddle kicking me between the shoulder blades for at least 15 feet. No serious injuries, or
maybe all my equipment is numb from under-use. Finally, the better-looking half of the Montreal
contigent, a lovely smile wearing shin-guards, went endo on another not-too-rough spot. We was
dropping like flies there, must've been "smelling the barn" syndrome.
My 5-year-old Proflex, with all original hardware including chain, performed as well as can be
expected, with only a few chain skips and one chain-off. I'm gonna miss that bike when I replace
it someday.
By the end of the ride, I had regained most of my atrophied mtb mojo. I consumed the last drops of
water on my ride back into town - proper rationing. I may be a pathetic excuse for a mtb enthusiast,
but I do know how to pace myself.
Most of you will say, "Duh!" when I note here that Porcupine is now on my crowded list of rides to
do frequently.
It took about six hours elapsed time, with plenty of waiting for the slower riders in there. If
you're a novice-y rider with the guts to go for anything Moabish, do try to fit Porcupine Rim into
your schedule. Listen to the locals for their advice on how to equip yourself for the conditions,
and you'll probably be okay, a little beat up, sun-baked and RICHLY rewarded.
--
--
Lynn Wallace http://www.xmission.com/~lawall "I'm not proud. We really haven't done everything we
could to protect our customers. Our products just aren't engineered for security." --Microsoft VP in
charge of Windows OS Development, Brian Valentine.
