The last true fat tire Rez dogs diss the roadies and go for an epic undercover weekend of trails, rocks and dirt.
It could be said it was a sad day when the realization hit….could it be true? Did they really want to spend a nice weekend in town riding their road bikes? But reality has it’s own demons to slay, and at least for these two riders, reality would be sucking the marrow out of the weekend, instead of chasing the other dog with the bone.
The two enlightened rez dogs found the strength they needed (actually they just needed to pack the car and leave) to overcome the pull of the darkside.
‘There is light found in tires of the fat kind’... and as any true mountain biker knows deep within his or her soul, all fat tires lead to Moab.
It was old school mountain biking at its finest. The itinerary was open but the agenda was set. Ride the classics, search for new singletrack, and soak up as much incredible scenery as possible. Friday evening camp was set and the first trail to succumb to fat tire hunger was the quintessential mother of all mountain bike rides, Slickrock.
After refueling in town and a nights rest under the open Utah desert skies a dawning Saturday brought renewed vigor for the next test of endurance and focus - Porcupine Rim - which can be done without a shuttle mind you. Simply ride it as a loop. Milt’s Burgers and shakes provided not only the calories needed but also the perfect shade for a mid-day siesta. But once the sun began to make it’s way back toward its resting place on the western horizon the fat tire warriors were back in the saddle, en route to ride a brand spankin’ new trail - Captain Ahab. Not only did Ahab quench the thirst for insane technical bike handling but it also offered serene vistas and impressive 1,000 ft. sandstone canyon wall formations. The chance to ride such magnificent trail for the first time without meeting any other bikers, hikers, ATVers, or motor vehicles of any kind warmed their spirits and nourished their souls.
At the risk of slipping into monotony the rez dogs risked another evening of gorging on delicious fare, cold beers under a waxing moon, and slumber in the warm sands and smells of juniper and sage. The final morning (Sunday) was met with resolve to ride yet more new singletrack (but first a generous application of Chamois Butt'r and half a dozen ibuprofen) and led them to the trailhead of the Moab Brands Trails - which has something for everyone (even a roadie!). The Brands trails are best summarized as “dreamy flowy singletrack”. The downhills are twisty, tight and fast and they are earned well with short and steep quad burning climbs. The trails demand focus and attention and reward accordingly with peripheral busting panoramas. Sunday's ride time was short, and it was time to pack up the gear and go home. One last pit stop in town for some breakfast sandwiches and cold coke classic and they were back on the road home. 36 hours ago they had left, and 75+ miles of fat tire pedal strokes later all was right in the world. Souls intact, with smiles on their faces, the mountain bike mecca retreating in the rearview mirror - til next year - or maybe... next month.
What, might you ask was missing on such an epic adventure? Simply put, proof. They had left behind the digital camera, GPS, and ignored the opportunity to upload to STRAVA. The leg hair remained unshaved and evil was altogether absent. There were no battles to the top of a climb, no drama, no mechanicals, and no support crew. No sprints no KOM points no peloton. No one crashed no one bonked no one won or lost or got lost in the crowd. Just simply trail riding bliss! Sound like a trip devoid of excitement? For some, yes, but the alternative?
(We won’t go there!!)