There is a place, near Moab, but not Moab. A place that is nestled between the mighty Porcupine Rim, and the looming Adobe Mesa. A place watched over carefully by The Priest and The Nuns, with Sister Superior keeping a watchful distant eye. It is a wide open valley, sitting quietly at the base of the mighty La Sals, but acts as a gateway to the hoodoo deserts of Arches and beyond.

Castle Valley, Utah

I once explored the valley in 1995. A friend and I climbed to the base of Castle Rock, its red stone splitting the blue sky with stark and startling contrast. From a distance the tower looks small and tame. But up close it is massive, rugged and demanding.

We reached as high as anyone could go without climbing gear. We etched our girlfriends names into the soft stone. Certainly they were feeling the effects of our undying devotion some 200 miles northwest. Their names etched in stone. To last forever. Or at least until the next rainstorm washed the shallow scrapings into the red dirt below.

When we broke the news to them we expected laughter and gratitude. Girls impressed at the manly ascent, and the equation of that desert beauty with their own. Instead our heroism and romanticism was greeted with indifference. Neither relationship lasted.

While I was living in Canada I had a roommate from Castle Valley. We were living in Vancouver and he was awestruck at the steel skyscrapers, the massive grocery stores, the buses, trains, cars and the people. Oh my, all those people!

He ate bird food. We'd go shopping and he'd buy wheat and nuts and seeds. He'd pour them into a bowl and drip honey over them. That was his favorite meal. I wonder at times if he is back in Castle Valley today. If he explores the La Sals and the hidden canyons and the black muddy river. That hidden oasis among a sea of natural wonder. Does he still eat bird seed and honey?

The valley from high on La Sal Loop road is breathtaking. A scenic masterpiece of the Kokopelli Trail. The rock formations dominate the landscape, but the green fields, the long dirt driveways, the conical and comical round mountain, the mesas in the distance and the river flowing far below are like a painted backdrop in some spaghetti western. Beautiful yet artificial. Surreal. Technicolor meets color country.

After we climbed Castle Rock we returned to Moab. We had greasy hamburgers at Milt's, restocked on some poisonous red drink (99 cents a gallon) at the City Market, filled our packs with pastries, candy and salty snacks. The sun was sinking low. We pointed the van toward home.

The sun disappeared, and the stars above began to twinkle in the black desert sky. The La Sals sunk out of view, the snow capped peaks reflecting the last light of day. Ahead the lights of Green River twinkled in the distance.

Castle Rock dwarfs me as I work my way toward the base.

Labels: castle valley, moab, Utah

“Remember what Bilbo used to say: It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.”

There is a brewing storm inside me. A rolling mass of ambition and idealism. The perfect route, the perfect ride. It exists only in daydreams, fantasy, and on paper. It is epic, challenging, beautiful and dreadful. It is far beyond anything I have ever accomplished. Anything I have ever attempted.

~

Facing northward, the heat of the day sinking below the horizon, I start to travel. Behind me Lake Powell grows small, and eventually vanishes in a sea of canyons. The sun dips low and darkness engulfs the massive Kaiparowits Plateau. I press on into the gloom.

Eventually I find myself in the high county. A hundred hundred miles rolled over. Or at least it feels that way. Ahead the Wasatch stretches out, dwarfing me and my audacity. I climb into the rare air, feeling the pain and fatigue, the joy and freedom. I am surrounded by wild and remote country. My home. My land. Behind me a pair of tire treads leave dimples in the dirt, all the way back to Big Water.

~

Someday, I will traverse this great state of Utah. From Big Water to Wallsburg to Park City. And maybe on further. The trail lies quietly waiting, tempting, teasing. From the heat of the desert, to the chill of the Wasatch, sand and snow...

The Utah Traverse.

Labels: races, unsupported, Utah

Trail 031 is a less-traveled piece of singletrack high above Dry Fork in American Fork Canyon. It connects with the Ridge Trail 157 at Pole Line Pass. My trail map describes it as some of the Wasatch's "sweetest bits of singeltrack". I had never explored it. Although for many summers I had intentions to do so. Even though much of it is still under heavy snowpack right now, it was crystal clear that the trail is indeed sweet. It winds along through an aspen forest that is picture perfect. The trees are wide, and spread far apart. The ground is clear of debris and excess growth. Visibility through the forest extends on and on, creating a strange optical illusion. As I stood and gazed through the endless trunks I hoped to see the moose that was leaving the tracks ahead of us on the trail materialize, gliding along...

And now, I wait. I wait for the snow to melt just so I can ride 031 again. So that euphoria can course through my body, bursting out in a loud "whoop!" as I wind through the snaking trail, freedom on two wheels.

Labels: singletrack, Utah, Wasatch

Salt Lake City, from Ensign Peak

Utah is an interesting place. It was settled in the 1840's by Mormon refugees. And still today Mormons arrive here from everywhere. They come, some of them without the intention of staying. "It's just so I can go to BYU" they say. Some keep their word, and after school they return to where they came from. But many, many stay.

My parents came from Oregon and Virginia in the mid 1970s. And they have lived in Utah ever since. My wife came from Virginia. I was born here. And I see no reason to leave.

Utah is home to some of the great recreation in the world. And by recreation I of course mean mountain biking. Because let's face it, the other forms of outdoor recreation just don't measure up to mountain biking. Am I right? Of course I am!

What is incredible is that I can leave my house on my bike, and within an hour be in remote forests, where human contact is minimal. I can find the backcountry in my backyard. I can feel isolated while within sight of a valley with a million billion people. But that is not entirely unique. There are lot's of places where solitude is just around the corner. What makes Utah unique is the variety of solitude offered. That is, I am not limited only to the mountains.

I can drive an hour west and be in a vast and sparse desert. I can go south and find sand dunes reminiscent of the Empty Quarter. I can go southwest and find Moab, the great icon of the state. In fact, Moab might represent to the world the very best of what Utah is. It is a microcosm of the state. At least geographically.

Moab is a vast desert, with a massive mountain range rising up from a sea of sand. Or is it the other way around? A massive mountain range melting into a sea of sand? Is there even a difference? The point is that Moab has alpine and desert, sandstone and granite. The state as a whole is the same. We have our sharp mountains, rising from the valley of the Great Basin. We have our deserts, stretching on into the horizons. And it is all within reach.

Utah is not without it's oddities. Cultural that is. We have our green jello and strange affinity for anti-depressants. We have rednecks and snobs and short sighted politicians. We have big cars, big families, a church on every corner and apparently, really awful beer.

But it is home. And it is part of me. And I am part of it. Utah is the ideal home. It offers everything I want from life. I can look to the mountains and feel safe. I can go to the desert and feel small. I can escape, hide...and seek.

Utah means "tops of the mountains" in an old Ute dialect. For now though, I am content being in the mountains, in the canyons, in the rivers and lakes and streams. I am content staring up at the mountains feeling dwarfed and protected. Vulnerable and insignificant.

Come to Utah. Find out what I mean. But be warned. You may never want to leave.

Labels: moab, Utah, Wasatch