It’s as easy as riding a bicycle...right - not at Slick Rock

Ok, so I know how to ride a bicycle....or at least I thought I did before I went to Moab. Then I realized that I didn’t really know very much, and I would have to re-learn what I thought I knew…and then I realized I would have to do this each time I rode a new trail.

Moab is a playground for mountain bikers. There are a plethora of trails, too numerous to name all of them, and each comes with its own rider requirements.

My first trail was Slickrock – a Mecca known around the world by mountain bikers. It wasn’t supposed to be the first. I was supposed to be gradually initiated into desert riding by an introductory ride in Grand Junction Colorado on the Horsethief Bench Trail. But insistent rain for two days, which renders most trails unrideable due to slippery rock or sticky mud, and an encouraging sliver of blue sky to the west, forced us to discard those plans and head to Moab, hoping to salvage at least part of a day’s ride. It was still pouring when we arrived. Inquiries at the local bike store emerged with the information that the only rideable trail when it is raining is Slick Rock. Because we didn’t want to wrestle tents in the rain we decided to give it a go, hoping for the skies to clear up before we set up camp.

The parking lot was full of riders, gearing up, tweaking bikes and lingering around, which gave the LBS full credibility. Slick Rock has a two mile practice loop which is recommended you ride before heading out on the 10.6 mile proper. This is so you can gauge whether or not you have the technical ability to ride the rest of the trail. (There are no bow-outs once you hit the trail and it’s nearly impossible to walk out of Slick Rock) We headed out in the pouring rain, following the white paint marks. The first 500 metres were great. I was grinding up the steep slopes and gliding down the other side.

It was disconcerting at first. My first instinct when I see wet rock is to put my bike away. Granite, which is what I normally ride on, is deadly slippery in the rain. Slickrock isn’t. The nature of the rough sandstone actually promotes rubber gripping. You can ride on a camber that defies belief and your tires will stick to the side of the hill. This took some pretty big leaps of faith for me as I rode across some slopes that were literally sheeting with water. But as promised, the rock held onto me, or more aptly, my bike.

Then we came to a steep downward slope that dipped and disappeared half way down then reappeared with what looked like a sharp curve to the right at the bottom. I braked, stared down the hill and for the first time in my riding history I froze with fear. My riding partners, Clayton and Bob, had flown down the hill and were waiting for me patiently, but nothing would move except my heart which was beating erratically and out of my chest. Nothing I could do could coax my body to get on that bike and ride that hill. Nothing. So I stood there, staring at the hill and getting more and more freaked out. I started to shake, but I’m not sure if it was with fear or from the cold as the rain was now pouring down. Clayton called up to me several times, telling me that he knew I could ride this, but all I could do was shake my head and refuse to move. So he came back up and told me that we could go back to the parking lot and wait for Bob to finish the loop.

Following Clayton and feeling dejected and miserable, but mostly angry with myself I cautiously began riding back to the trail head. There were another couple of steep slopes that I had ridden up on the way out. They gripped my tires and nothing would let go. I’m not sure what switch flipped in my brain but I stopped and decided that I would not, could not, be bested so soon. The practice loop hills are nowhere as steep or as long as the main loop. If I wanted to ride at all, I had to beat that hill. Turning around we made our way back to the dreaded drop. It was still as steep and the rain was still pouring down. Clayton led the way and stopped at the bottom. He coached me as I reversed my bike back as far as the rock would allow so I could mount the bike and clip in before I reached the hill. Then moving my body back over the rear tire as I’d been taught, and applying steady pressure on the rear brake I maneuvered very slowly down the feared hill. I released the brake at the bottom and coasted through the turn at started up the next hill.

To get a sense of how steep these hills are fast forward to the 57 second point of this video:



Two or three of these hills later I was riding with a confidence that had, up until that point, eluded me. After half an hour the sun began to break through and the rock immediately dried up. We met up with Bob who had ridden the loop once and then started back so he wouldn’t miss us if we decided to ride back out.

It was getting to be late in the afternoon so we reluctantly agreed that we needed to go and check into the campground, and get the tents set up before evening, and before it rained again, which unfortunately, it was threatening to do. So after about three miles of riding the practice loop I was ready for the real thing the next day.

We did the full loop the following day in beautiful sunshine and I am happy to report that I rode every single downhill but one (the last one was at the end of the ride, extremely steep, and I was getting tired – not a great combination). Watch the video in its entirety to appreciate the stark beauty and vastness of the area. It is very difficult to not look around while riding so we made many stops along the way to check out the vistas.



Of all the trail that week this one was by far my favourite. I can’t wait to go back. And I will go back!