Mancation: Day Six

Day Six

We started with Slick Rock.

photo cred: Big Ring

Being that two of the five of us (the Canadianicans) had never seen it, it wouldn't be a trip to Moab without a ride on this legendary trail. Man points are earned not with descending prowess, but with the ability to adhere to the stone surface and climb up the steepest of faces.

photo cred: Jeremy

photo cred: Sean

Being on the full suspension single speed Superbeast was not the best idea. I had to walk more than a few of the steep ups, but I did manage to grunt some of them out in a manner bordering on hernia inspiring.

photo cred: Big Ring

But the worst climbs were all dealt with in this manner:

photo cred: Big Ring

Slick Rock was Slick Rock. Cool the first time, Slick Rock the second and third time.

Without a plan for the afternoon, we heeded the advice of a local at the Chili Pepper bike shop. She suggested a route up in the La Sals that was sort of a shuttle but sorta not. We loaded up the trucks and headed up. With some bit of navigation, we managed to park where we thought we should have according to instructions, but soon realized there would have been a better way to do it. Oh well.

We made our way across the mountains on the Trans La Sals Trail. It was apparent that the trail sees little use, and when we came to a bovine watering hole it was hard to figure out which track to take. Eventually we found the right cowpath, and soon enough the trail turned into a miserable hike-a-bike that meandered aimlessly at every clearing. Lucky for us, The Man in the Yellow Hat pointed us in the right direction.

photo cred: Jeremy

He was not always there to help us, so there were still plenty of moments as thrilling as this:

photo cred: Big Ring

and this:


photo cred: Big Ring

and this:


photo cred: Big Ring

All to reach this:

photo cred: Big Ring

Hell's Canyon. The shop employee (who had a lot of hateful juju coming to her after that hike-a-bike) had assured us that the trip down Hell's Canyon was a worthwhile affair. At first, I would say that we were all in agreement.

photo cred: Jeremy

Swoopy, dark dirt that was surely going to last 2.5 miles all the way back to the road below.

Or maybe not...

photo cred: Big Ring

Just as we thought we were in for a treat, the trail turned into a switchbacking rubblefest. Jeremy and Mark were on their bikes for large portions of the trail, but the rest of us were content to walk. Faced with steep terrain covered in loose rocks on a trail the made a 180° turns every forty yards, it was more than Big Ring, Sean, and I were up for at this point (or ever). My balls weren't big enough, and my brain couldn't process the information fast enough, what with all the hateful thoughts I was having towards the informative shop employee at the time.

The "descent" had to have been just short of 2,000 feet in less than two miles. It was a nice, scenic walk.

photo cred: Jeremy

Realizing that it was almost, if not entirely downhill all the way back to the cottage, I elected to skip the shuttle retrieval and enjoyed a scenic coast home. The evening ended with more farting, beer, food, and a goat-choking amount of ice cream.

The next day we woke up and headed back to Colorado, bound for Fruita and Buffalo Creek.