We made a quick and dirty dash down to the desert late last week. While I’d been eyeing the weather for several days, we made the call last minute and started packing the morning of our trip.
We drove ten hours on Thursday, I rode ten hours on Friday, and we left our BLM camp at 4 AM on Saturday for our ten hour drive back home to Bozeman, Montana. Like much of the West, the Moab area has changed a lot over the course of the last twenty years (it’s become Disneyland of sorts for adventure seeking adults), but despite the crowds, there’s still much magic in sleeping under a blanket of stars in red rock country.
The White Rim jeep trail was carved out of the sandstone canyon walls of Canyonlands National Park during the 1950’s by uranium miners at the peak of the nuclear arms race. While most people traversing the White Rim Trail do so by jeeps, SUV’s, trucks or motorcycles, any traveler exploring this infamous trail, takes a trip through human and geologic history while navigating the sandy bottoms, endless slickrock sections and steep pitches with drops and shelves.
70 miles deep into my WRIAD attempt.
I first laid eyes on the White Rim Trail in Canyonlands National Park in 2000 (the beginning of my ranger odyssey in Yellowstone National Park), and ever since, it’s been on my dream experience list (and yearly calendar the last four years) to circumnavigate it’s length on a mountain bike. It’s arguably the most iconic 100 mile mountain bike ride in the West—and a right of passage for those of us with NPS roots. Most people take on the White Rim over the course of 3 to 4 days as a bike-packing route, and while this is certainly the best way to soak in the grandeur of the White Rim, permits are hard to come by, as are week long windows, so I’ve been scheming to take it on in a day, WRIAD (White Rim in a day) style for the last several autumns, but it’s just never worked out.
I’d been watching the weather all week and got on the bike for the first time since my final stage at the BCBR on Wednesday. While the legs didn’t feel great, I hoped they’d come alive, down in the desert, inspired to be on a ride that I’d anticipated for so long. So, on Thursday morning, we packed, loaded up Elvis (our dog) and the Spur, and pointed the truck to Southern Utah.
Summiting the Hardscrabble climb.
Just two weeks after the BC Bike Race (where I believe I was the only rider in the field rocking flats), I was back at it, on the Spur, in flats, for a long so mission through some of my favorite country on the planet.
I hit the Mineral Bottom road at 8:24 AM (two weeks to the day since my final stage at the BCBR) and hit the pavement ten hours later as the night sky popped with stars. It was a grind of a ride. 101.5 miles, 7,000+ vertical feet, and 9 hours and 37 minutes in the saddle. It was clear at the forty mile mark that my legs hadn’t recovered from the big six day, seven stage effort in British Columbia, but the pull to experience the White Rim in its entirety was magnetic. There were so many punchy climbs and long sandy efforts. I struggled through the back half of the ride and hit the heinous Shaffer Climb at mile 96 (I had added eight miles to my ride early on blowing through a turn after a couple of equipment issues). Climbing over 2,200 feet in five miles, I barely topped 4 mph, often hovering between 2 and 3 mph, but made it to the canyon rim without any hike-a-bike.
One of many switchback sections on the Shaffer climb.
My goal was to clear the entire route (no walking) and I was able to check that box. It was a long and rugged day in the saddle (it would have been longer and more rugged if not for the Camelback refill and Mountain Dew that Darren Means, a random, but kind jeep(er) from San Antonio, Texas, graciously provided me at the 64 mile mark) and I’m still feeling the effects several days later from the massive effort, but that reunion with Amanda, and the cold half gallon of chocolate milk that I downed after the ride, sure made the effort worthwhile.
I’ve fantasized about this ride for many moons and wanted to make the most of my fitness gains from the BC Bike Race, and while I suffered far more than I envisioned,
The Shaffer climb is relentless with it’s steep grade and circuitous criss crossing of the canyon walls.
I can’t think of a more meaningful way to put an exclamation point on the 2021 mountain bike season than the BC Bike Race and WRIAD (White Rim in a day) in October. That’s a wrap on the most meaningful mountain bike season of my life. Now it’s time for recovery and then we’ll get back into the pool, the weight room and on the trainer and begin the off-season (winter base) training for what I can only hope will be another healthy season on the mountain bike in 2022. But for now, I’ll revel in an October for the ages and a mountain bike season I’ll never forget, and will always be grateful for.
Until next time my friends, take care, be well and do good things.
WNbL, Michael W. Leach
My bountiful bride waiting for me atop the canyon rim as the sun went down.
A big effort and day in the saddle.