While in Utah, though, cell phone reception was spotty at best so I was unable to provide frequent updates with decent pictures. Now that I’ve had ample time to review and edit all of the 400+ pictures I took during the trip, I wanted to provide a more in-depth review of the trip, as well as access to some of the better of those 400+ pics, so let’s get that underway.
We began bright and early on Sunday morning as the Western Spirit guides were picking us up at 7:30 in the AM. The logistics for the first day basically included loading our stuff onto the van, driving a few hours to our camp in Red Canyon, setting up our tents and whatnot, having lunch, and then a few hours of biking the trails before heading back to camp for the night.
By 8:00 AM, pretty much all of us were outside congregating around the Western Spirit van. The group included:
Western Spirit Guide #1: Heather Dangerous (I don’t believe that’s her real last name, but that’s what they called her.)
Western Spirit Guide #2: Ben Lyman (A pleasant young man from Portland, Oregon who just got engaged and apparently owns several chickens.)
Western Spirit Guide #3: Tim Bateman (A talented and likeable rider from North Caroline who currently resides in Moab and appreciates the term, “Ho dang!”)
And then there were eight guests, myself included. From left to right, we had Craig from San Francisco, Jon from Sydney, Australia, Bonnie from Long Island, Andy from Tucson, Jennifer from Washington DC, Andy's son Finn, (Tim), myself, (Ben), and Kevin from California
So that first day, after lunch and after setting up camp, it was time to ride.
Overall, the trip was billed as intermediate, although as soon as we hit some of the first miles of riding, I was thinking, “This feels a bit more technical than intermediate.” In hindsight, though, it really was intermediate--that first day just being a bit more technical than I think most of us were expecting.
Still, they really know how to get the juices flowing straight out of the gates. Some of the scenery on that first day was some of the best of the entire trip. Of course, every day was terrific, but looking back, some of the views and trails from the first day definitely stand out.
Here, have a look.
(That's Jon, the Australian.)
(Kevin & Jon just before the first day of riding reached an end.)
That night, we had a terrific dinner (the guides are excellent cooks and, at every meal, they never failed to ask the group, “Did everybody have enough to eat?” making sure no one feels hungry, which I certainly appreciated). Kevin and I were the last to call it a night after having watched our campfire burn to a smolder. By the time I settled into my sleeping bag--the guides having warned me it would get significantly colder as the night wore on--I realized a few things.
First, I have not been camping in years and getting used to sleeping on the ground--thin mat below my sleeping bag or not--would take some time.
Second, when the person in the tent next to yours, even if that tent is a good fifteen or twenty feet away, spends most of the night sounding like he’s going to spit up a lung, it’s extremely hard to get a good night’s sleep.
Third and most importantly, if the guides tell you to bundle up in anticipation of cold air, it’s best to listen. I was prepared with some warm base layers, a fleece jacket, and a warm hat, but it was absolutely FREEZING every night. I’m sure the fact that we were never below 7,000 feet in altitude had something to do with that, but if they tell you to bring warm clothes, for the love of god, bring warm clothes.
The next three days all sort of mesh together in my memory with the exception of the second day. It was on the second day that we hiked into Bryce National Park and this is what it looks like:
After Bryce, we rode and rode and rode. We rode wide dirt roads and narrow, technical single track.
Nights two and three, the camping was primitive, meaning to running water, no electricity, no nothing. What we did have, though, was the Groover: a tiny, portable toilet that was supposed to be hidden behind some trees on the side of the hill near camp. As I was the first person to actually use the Groover after dinner on the second night, I grabbed the roll of TP in the Ziploc bag, walked up to the Groover, dropped my shorts, sat down, and glanced over my shoulder to realize Tim had done a piss-poor job of positioning the Groover. While it was near some trees, pretty much everybody in camp was waving up at me as I sat there with my shorts around my ankles.
Honestly, I don’t know if I’ve ever been so embarrassed in my entire life yet despite that embarrassment, I pushed on (literally) and finished the job at hand.
Heading back down to camp, I passed the TP to Jon as he was on his way up the hill to the Groover.
“You might want to--”
“Move it?” he said, laughing. “Yeah, we could all see you up there.”
As the guides were washing dishes, I walked up to Tim. “Great work with the Groover positioning, buddy. The entire camp just waved at me when I was up there taking care of my business.”
And then there was Kevin, this guy.
Kevin, Jon, and myself got along pretty well, sharing few laughs every day. Kevin was the only lawyer on the trip, which meant he all but threatened us all with lawsuits every time we passed him going uphill. He was also the only guy with the sense to bring a bottle of alcohol, which meant we spent our third night together getting toasty around a huge campfire sucking down screwdrivers.
On the fifth day, we reached Zion National Park. Absolutely stunning scenery. I tried to do it justice with some of these pics, but you really have to be there to appreciate it.
And on that fifth night, the night we stayed in a lovely, lovely inn just outside Zion Park (at that point we were all extremely grateful for clean, soft beds, hot showers, and flush toilets), an infection invaded my big toe, leaving me somewhat crippled the morning of the sixth day, so I missed the hike through the river in Zion Park. Total bummer, but at least I didn’t miss any spectacular riding.
After that, they loaded us up and drove the group back to St. George. Rather than take the shuttle to Vegas that night for a redeye flight, I spent another night at the Ambassador Inn. Luckily, the same young lady was behind the front desk, so I borrowed her car once again (she was still driving on the gas I had put in her tank the previous week) and got myself over to Barnes & Noble to pick up a magazine and Out of Sight by Elmore Leonard.
And that was it.
