Mountain Biking Fruita – Prime Cut, Kessel Run and Joe’s Ridge

Another day, and yet another different riding experience.

We reluctantly left Moab as we really wanted to ride some of the Fruita/Grand Junction trails that had been rained out earlier in the week. We arrived in Fruita to a beautiful sunny day and a jammed 18 Road trail head parking lot. (We had arrived the day before the Fruita Fat Tire Festival. The parking lots reflected that. If only we’d planned better we’d have been able to partake in the festivities.)

What I found interesting is that in Moab the ratio of men to women was about 5:1. In Fruita men completely outnumbered the women – more like 25:1. I only saw two women in the parking lot, and only 1 on the trails when we were out. I’m sure there must be more women riders in Fruita.

We geared up and went over to the trail map to see how to proceed. The way many of the trails in this area are set up are out and back (or more aptly up and down.) Some of the local riders recommended that we take the Prime Cut trail up to the top as it’s a pretty singletrack that climbs gradually to the upper parking lot. Most people park in the lower lot and then ride up the trails. It is much nicer to end the day on a downhill than to have to slog up to the top to finish the ride.

Prime Cut was a nice warm-up, not too technical but had enough rocks and twists to keep me on my toes. The funny thing was I was laboring for breath with every twist and turn. I had to remember that I was 4500 ft above sea level (and still climbing), and my prairie-raised body is used to 800 ft. When we got to the top parking lot we stopped for a breath and a sip and a check at the map to see which trail we were going to take down. A bunch of riders came whipping into the parking lot and saw us consulting the trail map. They came over and asked if we wanted to ride with them. They were heading over to ride Zippety Do Dah. We’d read about it in one of the trail books and it was described as having an intense pucker factor (as much of it is along a ridge) with extremely steep downhills. One of the guys said that you ride many of the descents so far back on your bike that your seat is in your chest. We opted not.

We decided to have some fun and ride the Kessel Run down to the parking lot. It had been wildly endorsed by fellow riders from home who had ridden it last year. Like the famed Millenium Falcon that made the Kessel Run in 12 parsecs you can make this run in less than 15 minutes . It’s a fast flowing trail that slaloms up and back through a dry creek bed. It’s full of twists and turns as it sweeps back and forth all the way down the hill. The first time down I got into the rhythm about half way down. Sadly it was over before I knew it.

The second grind up we decided to see if the road was any easier. I found it wasn’t, as it was a direct climb to the upper parking lot with no opportunity to rest. At least with Prime Cut there were spots you could rest and swoop to the other side before starting to pedal again. The road was straight, dusty and boring. You live and you learn.

Our second run down was Joe’s Ridge. Fittingly named, it runs along a ridge for most of the bottom half of the trail. I was able to ride most of this except for one steep descent. Normally it wouldn’t have fazed me, but this descent was along a gravelly ridge with the sides dropping off at a startlingly steep inclines. I did begin to ride the hill, but my rear tire was sliding back and forth so much in the gravel that I was afraid it was going to go over the edge. It wasn’t a “Death on the Left” kind of drop, but I could envision myself taking a long ugly gravel slide all the way down if I fell, and I wasn’t up for that. After that the rest of Joe’s was totally within my skill level. At the bottom it connected with the lower half of Kessel Run so I got the chance to give that one another go. This time I was quicker, smoother and much more coordinated than I was the first time down. Unfortunately, this was the last run of the day.

I will put this on my wish-list for the next time we come back. There are so many other trails that I still want to ride I think we need more than a week there. And I want to do Kessel again – What a blast!

Lower Porcupine Singletrack (LPS) and Porcupine Rim

Porcupine Rim, according to all the things I’ve read, is the second most popular ride in Moab. It definitely has some the most breathtaking panoramas I have ever seen. This trail is only part of what is known in the area as The Whole Enchilada; which encompasses several trails including Burro Pass, Hazard County, Upper Porcupine Singletrack (UPS), LPS, and Porcupine Rim.

We were in Moab in April, and everything above LPS was still deep in snow. We were shuttled up to the highest possible starting point, LPS, and even then there was a dusting of snow on the trails. The majority of the ride is downhill, but that certainly doesn’t mean it’s easy. Quite the contrary.

This kind of riding was more familiar to me, complete with lots of tight singletrack through small shrubs and trees, mud, rocks and roots. It took me a while to get my riding legs back after a day on smooth wide open rock. The trail was technical but not discouragingly so…yet. After some twists and turns and some awesome views of the Castle Valley from up top the mesa the trail emerges into a double jeep track. This section is like a rough rocky road. We began the flight down, and I call it a flight because the speed creeps up on you if you aren’t careful, and you can hit air during certain points of the ride.

This is where I scared myself multiple times. The lines that most riders pick are easy to spot by the tire tracks. On the rockiest and roughest drops the easiest lines are usually to the immediate left or right of the road. There were a couple times when I came flying around a corner and was unable to veer to the outside lines. My bike dropped once, twice, three times…and these weren’t small drops…Again the only way to explain it is to throw in a video. 27 seconds in demonstrates this style of riding. (note that I did NOT ride the “diving board” drop that is shown 4 times in this video)



Even though I didn’t have to pedal much my quads were burning from hovering over the seat and manoevering the downhill. There was a section of rock that appeared to be an easy slope. Near the bottom a bunch of riders had stopped for a bite to eat before tackling the next section of trail. It was here that I took a tumble. I had approached a bench-type drop that seemed straight forward. What I didn’t know as I went over the edge was that the next step curved inward instead of being a flat rock. I guess I didn’t have enough speed to keep rolling over it as my front tire stopped dead and I flew off the bike and onto my left shoulder and side right into the rock base. Ow!! My first fall on rocks. (It’s much harder than the sand and soil I’m used to falling on ;0))There were cheers as I rose, gave the thumbs up and got back on my bike to continue.

At about the 10 mile point the trail began to narrow back to more singletrack and started to wind around the canyon rim. I was told that there is no shame in walking your bike through some of these sections. And I did just that. Riders ahead would yell out “Death on the right!” when a particularly steep drop was coming up. This was my cue to dismount and live.



Although I didn’t ride many parts of the Porcupine Rim section I watched with envy as other riders manoevered the tricky trail seemingly without effort. I kept telling myself that they ride this stuff all the time.
Once we were past the scariest parts I was able to ride the rest of the trail back to the highway. I would love to ride this trail again. My favourite part was actually the middle section where we were flying down drops and steps. There was little time to think so instinct took over. It's amazing what instince can do! What a ride!

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!

Saying Farewell to a Faithful Friend

I’m a hasher (drinker with a running problem) and we are notorious for our double entendres, our rude and crude songs, and our ability to run-drink-repeat. So it made me giggle a little when I picked up a new commuter bike last week and found out it was called a Bad Boy. Oh what I can do with that little number!

My last bike, the Yokota Ahwahnee, is about 20 years old and has never been the easiest bike to handle. For one, the frame has always been much too large for me. Bike shops size differently today than they did in 1989. After riding single track on a nimble and light mountain bike I would find the Ahwahnee unwieldy and clumsy, even on a flat city street. I never felt like I was in complete control. As well, it is HEAVY! I used to lug it up and down the stairs to my apartment and a couple of times nearly toppled backwards from the weight. But the bike has been very kind to me over the years. I never once experienced a flat tire or lost a chain. It was nearly indestructible. I took it on a number of adventure races and it never let me down, even when I had to hike it on my shoulders for a 1 km slog through a beaver-dam swamp.(I, on the other hand, may have let it down a couple of times due to its substantial bulk). I’ve recently done some internet searches on my old bike and they all came back with descriptions like “dependable” and “solid” and “great bike for the price”. It never complained by my lack of chain oiling or gear adjusting. Things just worked. When I bought it in 1989 it boasted what was then a state of the art chromoly frame. I guess that was to justify the price, which was for me then a fortune. I’d never spent that much on a bike before.

The Bad Boy was actually slightly less in today’s dollars which makes it such a great deal for me. The manufacturer’s website describes my new bike thusly: “The Cannondale Bad Boy comes in a number of models and specs but all are ideal for urban cyclists. The Bad Boy is fast and very maneuverable and also robust enough to take the knocks from drains and curbs.” Another website describes it as “Fast, black and bad.
A bike that can take aggressive handling at high speed yet is sturdy enough to last in city traffic.” I’ve already ridden it to work on potholed city streets and can attest to its maneuverability and ease of handling. Two rides in and I already feel safer on this bike. It’s as if my Bad Boy is protecting me.

So it’s time to bid my old companion adieu and reluctantly welcome into my life its replacement. I say reluctant because I’m going to miss the Ahwahnee in a strange way. It has a cool and unique paint job – pale green with purple accents – that I have yet to see on another bike. Unlike the flat black “ninja” Bad Boy, the Ahwahnee stands out no matter where it is parked.

This was a disadvantage for a friend of mine who purchased the exact same bike the exact same week I did. She had the worst luck with her Ahwahnee. She’d locked it outside her apartment building but being new to the city neglected to lock both (quick-release) tires to the bike rack as well. The next day she came outside and both wheels were missing. She went back to the store and had them both replaced. Then she decided that she was going to play it safe and keep the bike on her second story balcony. Unfortunately the thief must have REALLY wanted that bike because it disappeared off her balcony a week later. Another trip to the store and a new, but different, bike came home with her. This one lasted her for many years but I think it’s because she kept it indoors - purportedly under lock and key.

Mine however, stuck to me like glue. It hauled books and back-packs to and from work and school, it went on some beautiful bike rides through my city’s scenic parks and it pulled children in bike carriers. But the Ahwahnee won’t be going too far away when it leaves. It plans to spend its retirement years at the lake in Ontario and take a leisurely ride now and then during the summer months when I come and visit. So long for now old friend, but not good-bye; I have a Bad Boy to ride.

Renewal

Spring gives me an odd sense of renewal. As the snow melts and the daylight hours extend into evening you can’t help but feel transformed. It always feels as if I get another chance to begin again. Not that I want to start over in anything. Life is pretty good right now and I want for very little. If spring could grant me one wish it wouldn’t be for myself. It would be for other people, who are not as happy or satisfied with any or part of their lives. I would wish for them contentment, the ability to let the cards fall as they may and to see the beauty in their day-to-day life. Clarity in a waterdrop. Vibrant colours in a prairie sunset.

Who am I?

I’ve often wondered what kind of mom I come across as to my kids’ friends. My younger son came up to me after school one day and told me that he had shared some home-made fudge with a friend of his, who, when he found out that I had made it told my son, “Your mom is pretty cool.” (I’m relatively sure that ‘pretty cool’ doesn’t have some other junior high school meaning even though I do know that “yer mom” does).

That got me thinking about other “cool moms”. When I was just starting high school I used to think that some of my friends’ moms were pretty cool too. My friend Kim’s mom was uber-cool. All Kim’s friends used to call her “Mom”. She was understanding and often overlooked things that my mother would have freaked out had she known. Like the time Kim and I baked and ate the better part of a lemon cake before going to a beach party where we liberally chugged vodka and orange juice. I don’t need to say that the rest of that night was pretty ugly, but Kim’s mom just laughed at our stupidity and knew that this was a very hard lesson learned. (I haven’t had vodka and orange juice since without being painfully reminded of that night.)

Then there was Judy’s mom. She was another of those ladies whom everyone just called “Mom”. We were always welcome at Judy’s house and there was always a crowd there. Her mom never seemed to mind and usually ended up chatting with whoever was hanging out in the kitchen. She fed us and if Judy couldn’t borrow the car, which wasn’t very often, she would drive us where we needed to be. She trusted us to make the right decisions, and I think because she endowed with such trust, that we were loath to break it.

Years later my family moved a couple hours north to an even smaller town, and I started dating a guy who was 6 years younger than me. Jody wasn’t old enough to get into the bar so I used to buy us beer and we would sit at his house and watch movies on weekends. At first I was apprehensive when he decided to introduce me to his parents, especially considering our age difference. I fully expected to be met with very frosty and suspicious attitudes, particularly from his mom. I couldn’t have been more wrong. They welcomed me into their home with open arms, and hugs each time I came through the door. Jody’s Mom and I shared a love for cross-stitch and over the year that Jody and I dated, his mom and I exchanged gifts that we’d created for each other. When Jody left for University we agreed that we would part ways. I decided to live by the adage, “If you love something set it free…” His mom and I got together a few times after that but then I moved to another city. We lost touch. I often wonder what happened to Jody, and his amazing parents.

Knowing how I felt about these laudable ladies makes me wonder what kind of Mom I will be as my kids grow older, and hope that even if I have to be the heavy, I will also be hip.

Random Thoughts to Start 2011

Most people who know me also know that I don’t make New Year’s resolutions. If I’m planning to make changes in my life, I’ll make them immediately. I don’t need a specific start date – “today” is always that date.

We got what was considered a “snow day” at work earlier this week. (In reality a water main broke outside the building and they sent everyone home). One of my co-workers who has been around for at least 10 years told me that this is the first time he could remember that they had to close for anything like that…let alone actual snow.

Sometimes I don’t think I do enough, other times I think I do too much. So I guess that makes it pretty much even then…?

My cell phone battery seems to have less and less charge on it these days. I thought the newer batteries weren’t supposed to do that.

While having beers with friends and family members the other night the talk got around to parenting and how no one is every truly prepared for the job. My boyfriend stopped the conversation and said, while pointing at me, “If you want to see an amazing mother look no further.” Of all the compliments he’s given me, that one will remain one of the most special.

It never ceases to amaze me how people can hold onto bitterness/grudges. In my opinion there’s no better waste of time or emotion, and in the end, the only people it really hurts are those bearing the grudge. I know from personal experience how liberating it can be to just let it go and move on with life.

I have been trying to write a blog about “My Ditch” – the lowest point in my life. And I honestly couldn’t think of a time in my life when I felt nothing but despair or hopelessness. So I scrapped it. I guess that means I am pretty lucky. There’s something to be said for a positive outlook on life.

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the past year of blogging. I explored topics and things that I’d never thought about before. I’ve been inspired by others’ writings and I’ve met some pretty interesting and amazing people, sometimes only “cybernetically”. Here’s hoping 2011 holds much of the same.