As soon as I crested the steep hill of red Navajo sandstone, I braked to a stop and paused to catch my breath. Standing there astride my bike, I looked back and spotted three other riders pedaling along the same rugged trail I had just traversed. Watching this trio cruise swiftly and confidently over the bumpy, jagged expanse of rock, I knew immediately that they were experienced mountain bikers. As I listened to them shout back and forth, I realized that they were from Germany.
And so, when the three riders pulled up next to me atop the hill, I asked the obvious question: How had three Germans on bicycles (these visitors from BMW-land were riding, I noted with patriotic pride, American-made Trek bikes) found their way to this remote corner of the Utah desert?"We have been for two years planning this trip to Moab," one of them replied. "We have ridden trails all over Europe. Last year we rode in Vermont. But in the world no place has bike trails like Moab."
That simple truth explains why the little Mormon settlement of Moab, Utah, situated on the high desert just west of the Colorado border, has emerged as the world capital of a booming new sport: mountain biking.
The mountain bike - also known as the all-terrain bike or ATB _ is a new breed of two-wheeler, heavier and sturdier than the familiar 10-speed but still easy to pedal on steep hills.
A standard 18-gear mountain bike costs about 35 percent more than a comparably equipped 10-speed, or "road bike." Yet sales are skyrocketing around the world as athletic-minded adults realize that pedaling over a bouncing country trail is not only good exercise but also a fun way to get up close and personal with some spectacular scenery.
As a result, places that have the right kind of terrain are rushing to develop mountain biking as a tourist attraction. There are several locales, in fact, that claim to be the premier mountain-biking venue in the nation and-or the world. Marin County, Calif. _ where these fat-tire bicycles were invented about a decade ago _ is promoting itself for the title. Mountain towns like Idaho's Sun Valley and Colorado's Crested Butte and Winter Park have latched onto mountain biking as a new way to promote tourism after the snow melts off the ski slopes.
Having pedaled in most of those places, though, I am more than willing to concede what local boosters in Utah have been saying: Moab is the mecca of the mountain bike.
A country town of 4,000 located between two splendid national parks _ Arches is five miles north, and the Needles District of Canyonlands is 40 miles south, Moab is not easy to get to. The two nearest urban centers, Salt Lake City and Denver, are 225 and 300 miles away, respectively.
And yet the monumental terrain surrounding Moab is familiar to just about every American. We have been seeing this distant place all our lives _ in the movies. The memorable vistas of rolling desert and wind-carved rock formations in and around Moab have been attracting Hollyood directors for decades.
Max von Sydow delivered the Sermon on the Mount from a rocky ledge in Canyonlands National Park in "The Greatest Story Ever Told." The river that Maureen O'Hara forded in "Rio Grande" was actually the Colorado River, a mile downstream from Moab; the real Rio Grande didn't provide the kind of scenery Hollywood was looking for. And the stunning red-stone landscape where Harrison Ford got hooked on archaeology in "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade" is right here in Arches National Park.
Today, as you ride a bike along the roller-coaster trails around this town, you almost expect to see John Wayne leading a posse across the buttes _ as he did in several movies that were filmed here to take advantage of the scenic splendor.
Moab offers a variety of natural beauty. From the jagged high cliffs in Arches National Park, you can see the khaki brown desert undulating forever out to the western horizon while the jagged, white-capped peaks of the LaSal Mountains pierce the sky to the east.
Similarly, the Moab area offers a rich variety of biking terrain.
Those who like to pedal on paved road can find hundreds of miles of country highway to ride, both in and out of the national parks. Off-road riders also have countless choices, including the 128-mile Kokopelli's Trail, the longest dedicated mountain-bike trail in the country (and probably in the world).
Finally, there is the singular experience that draws thousands of bikers each year from across the United States, Germany and everywhere else to this desert setting: the famous Moab Slick Rock Bike Trail, a lumpy, bumpy, exhausting and utterly thrilling ride across sheer rock on the petrified bed of an ancient sea.
On a weekend trip in early spring, when the Colorado was running high with melted snow and the first wildflowers were bursting into color, I sampled all three varieties of Moab-style mountain biking. Having driven into town through a breathtaking canyon alongside the Colorado on U.S. Route 128, I headed directly to the Slick Rock Trail, nestled in the rocks four well-marked miles east of downtown.
If you can imagine a roiling, wind-swept ocean that is suddenly turned orange-brown and frozen into solid stone, you'll have a good mental picture of the Slick Rock Bike Trail. It's really not a "trail" at all _ just a series of short white lines painted on rolling dunes of rock by the motorcycle riders who laid out the trail some 20 years ago.
I saw a few motorcycle types during my trek around the rock trail, but these days the ride is almost entirely the preserve of mountain bikers operating on human power.
The motorized origins are obvious, though, once you start riding the route. Every once in a while that trail of white dashes leads you up a rocky slope so steep that most sane adults wouldn't even try to walk it _ much less pedal up on a bicycle. And every impossible up-slope leads to a terrifyingly steep downhill streak on the other side. The result is a jumping, jolting, daunting, demanding experience that is also tremendous fun.
Reading about the trail before my arrival here, I'd almost snorted at the statistics. The full route is just 10 miles long, but takes most people about four hours to ride. Less than three miles per hour? Even with an awful lot of stops to admire the scenery, I thought, that's way too slow.
In the event, three miles per hour proved too much for me to maintain on this exhausting course. I managed to cover about half the trail in a long morning's ride before my legs gave out for good, although I did meet some riders _ my German friends among them _ who completed the full slick-rock loop.
Having bounced and bumped over enough petrified waves to last a lifetime, I headed out next to smoother riding on the road that winds through Arches National Park. This, too, turned out to be a marvelous spot for a bike ride.
When Major John Wesley Powell, the intrepid explorer, led an expedition through the then-uncharted canyons of the Colorado in 1869, he sent back a perfect description of the "world of grandeur" he found here. "Wherever we look there is but a wilderness of rocks," Powell wrote, "(with) deep gorges where the rivers are lost below cliffs and towers and pinnacles, and 10,000 strangely carved forms in every direction."
Arches National Park has the largest cluster of rock arches, or natural bridges, on the planet; more than a thousand have been charted here, and the elements are gradually sculpting more every century in the maze of orange, maroon, vermilion and crimson cliffs rising from the desert floor. A 40-mile loop road winds among the natural wonders.
You can cover this route by car and see a good deal of the park, including world-famous Balanced Rock and several distant arches. But to get a real feel for the depths of time and silence here and the super-human scale of the place, you need to travel under human power, with a bright sun warming your head and the soft desert breezes washing over your face.
Viewed from a bicycle, Arches becomes a land of endless surprises. Off in the distance, a dozen miles or so away, you can see a series of small rock arches jutting out from the side of what appears to be a low cliff. For the next hour, as you pedal closer, those small arches seem to get bigger. By the time you arrive at the foot of, say, Landscape Arch, you will be overwhelmed by its enormity; that arch rises more than 100 feet from the ground and spans an area the length of a football field.
As is usually the case, the National Park Service has performed an admirable balancing act at Arches, providing just enough in the way of human services and information without intruding on the natural landscape.
My last long bike ride out of Moab was the most varied of the lot. I set out to the northeast on Kokopelli's Trail, a winding, up-and-down, back-country bike route that weaves through rocky canyons and sub-alpine forests over cascading mountain ranges for 128 miles between Moab, Utah, and Grand Junction, Colo.
The wandering trail is named for a wandering, hump-backed flute player, a magical being who played a role in the folklore of the Hopis and several other Indian nations native to the Colorado Plateau. It is a government project, in a way, organized and administered by the federal Bureau of Land Management. But like many modern governmental endeavors, it was built on a shoestring, using mostly volunteer labor of bikers and hikers in Moab and Grand Junction.
The closest eastern analogue to Kokopelli's Trail is probably the Washington area's C&O Canal towpath _ another long, secluded route through the forest that is accessible only by human propulsion.
But unlike the towpath, which is 184 miles of the same riverside terrain, Kokopelli's route is constantly changing. At some points it follows county roads along the Colorado; then it will wind off through the forest on a jostling jeep track or climb over high rocky mesas on hiking trails so narrow that your legs brush the rock walls on either side. It goes from an elevation of 4,500 feet at the start near Grand Junction, rises to 8,300 at the top of Beaver Mesa just west of the state line, and then plummets back to 4,500 at the Moab terminus.
Near its midpoint, some 60 miles east of Grand Junction, Kokopelli's bike trail crosses the Colorado near the ghost town of Cisco, Utah, on Dewey Bridge, the longest suspension bridge in Utah. The span is an engineering marvel constructed in 1916 under specifications calling for a bridge strong enough to hold "six horses, three wagons and 9,000 pounds of freight." Today, of course, it serves mainly bicycles.
My legs were shot by the time I reached Dewey Bridge, and my heart sank as I saw the trail ahead leading out of the river valley and curling steeply upward over a rock-strewn mountain.
Just then a quick spring rain washed over the river basin, while a bright sun continued to shine over the tops of the western mountains. Rain and sun at the same time _ I knew what that would mean. I looked up to the east and saw a brilliant rainbow arching across the Colorado River. As I watched, a second rainbow, somewhat dimmer, formed against the sky just outside the first one.
As the sun grew brighter, the concentric rainbows extended to full length, bridging the high canyon walls above my head. A double rainbow! There was an omen. Suddenly my legs felt fresh, my bike seemed to come to life and I pedaled on with new vigor toward Moab, the Mountain Bike Mecca of the Western world.
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Helpful hints
What do you need for a day trip on your mountain bike?
The following list was compiled with help from Rob Shepherd, a bike mechanic at REI, and Dave Clark, a tour guide with Nichols Expeditions in Moab, Utah.
1. A body that's in condition.
The best way to train for mountain bike riding is to ride your bike. Jogging and walking are nice, but you'll be thankful when you are on the trail if "your rear end is accustomed to the seat," says Clark.
He suggests riding every other day, building up to 100 miles a week. "And stay in your small chain for the first 1,000 miles," he says. The most important part of training is developing the right cadence. Clark advises "fast feet," 80 to 100 pedal revolutions per minute.
2. Water.
If the weather's hot you'll need one gallon per person per day.
3. A bike repair kit, with
- a spare tube or two
- a patch kit ("Check to see your glue hasn't dried up," suggests Clark.)
- a Therm-a-Rest patch kit. (Those really tough patches that you use to patch your self-inflating
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Publications
Here's alist of publications with information about bicycling in Utah.
Bicyle Utah Vacation Guide
Suggests several routes in each of Utah's nine travel regions.
Color photos, maps, trail descriptions available free by writing to Bicycle Utah, Box 738, Park City, UT 84060 or calling 1-649-5806.
Trail Booklets
Lists 20 trails in each of Utah's nine travel regions. Maps, level of difficulty, time, distance and elevation information. $5 per booklet. Expected publication date is June. Writer to Bicycle Vacation Guides, Box 728 Park City, UT 84060, or call 1-649-5806. Booklets also will be available at local bicycle shops and regional travel offices.
-"Bicycle Touring Utah" by Dennis Coello
-"Mountain Biking the Wasatch and Uintas" by Gregg Bromka
-"Canyon Country Mountain Biking" by F.A. Barnes and tom Kuehne
-"Salt Lake City Cycling Possibilities" by Elliott R. Mott
- "Beyond Slickrock: Rides to Nowhere" by Todd Campbell
Contact Bicycle Utah, 1-649-5806, for information on where these books can be purchased.