Whiskey, Whiskey Tango, and Wind (Moab TR)
Jamon and I went to Moab again, which means that the camping carnage started from minute one. We arrived to find the city absolutely packed, so we drove toward the Fisher Towers hoping for a secluded spot. After driving 28 damn miles out that road (not to mention side trips to check every camp site along the way) we came up empty handed (except for the boat ramp, but we decided against it this time). Slightly distraught, we each opened a 24 and contemplated our options. We decided that the ninja bivy was the best course of action, so we drove back toward town, parked at the exit to a trail (where our bikes wouldn't look too out of place), each grabbed a sleeping bag, pad, and a couple beers, and began to hike. We walked up the trial until we couldn't see the car, found a nice plush sandstone slab, and sacked out for the night.
An hour or so later I heard something walking round and opened my eyes to the sound of a squirrel trying to get into my Chili Cheese chips. Wait, that's too big to be a squirrel, and the color is all wrong. Oh shit... skunk. Jamon demonstrated just how fast a half-asleep person can move and sealed himself in his sleeping bag. I stood up slowing hoping for just the right amount of threat to warrant the skunk's retreat without making it spray us. Success!
The alarm went off at 5:30, and we hike back to the car and drove away before the ranger could show up and write us a ticket. After a short parking lot bivy in town, we hopped a shuttle (see, I learned from last time) and headed to the LPS. About a quarter mile from the trailhead we came across a kid with his dad riding up the road. We offered the kid a ride for the last very little bit and grilled this little grom with questions.
"How are you feeling dude?"
"A little tired."
"Where did you start from?"
"The bottom, in town."
"Holy crap dude :eek:, how old are you?"
"I'm seven."
And then everyone on the shuttle felt like a total pussy. This kid definitely gets the Nancy award for the weekend (which is a good thing).
Then Jamon and I ripped the LPS on big squishy bikes. This helped a ton with our bruised egos :the_finge
During our shuttle, while telling the skunk story, we met two dudes from 'Rado who had a site reserved for Sunday but were leaving, so after the ride we snagged their site. They even gave us a half bottle of Whiskey as a parting gift. (Thanks 'Rado dudes!) :biggrin:
Jamon drives into town while I pass out on the ground. Then I awake to people pulling camping gear out a car and tossing it down about ten feet from me. I get up and walk over there like :cussing: and this very intoxicated Whisky Tango dude starts explaining how they just broke an axle (Jeep dudes :nonono2: ) and begs to crash in our site. So, we're shooting the shit (read: listening to this guy and his wife cuss at each other) and Jamon drive up (having just gotten a ticket) to see me in his hoody, two random drunk people, and a huge pile of camping gear with a look on his face like :confused: And then... we drank. In the morning we drove our new friends around town until they found an axle, and dropped them back at the camp site with our karma bank overflowing.
With the morning's carnage out of the way, we decided to ride up the Poison Spider trail and down the Portal. The Poison Spider basically sucked. It had it's good parts, but there was more sand then I've ever seen in my life. Lots of sand, lots of lose and rocky climbing, lots of motorcycles and four wheelers, and WIND! It was actually blowing so hard that we got off our bikes a couple times instead of risking being blown over. Sidehilling on the slickrock sections proved quite scary. I pedaled my Demo 9 up there and Jamon brought his new Faith with a seat that didn't go up all the way. That seven-year-old kid would have been proud.
Then we rode the Portal trail. (about damn time you get to the point Shorty!) which is ABSOLUTELY AMAZING! I didn't find it to the be the death gnar that everyone says it is. (The guidebook describes it as "death on the left".) Sure, there's a hundred yards where if you fell to the left you would definitely die, but it's not like you're on sketchy terrain there. And you can always walk that part. The bottom is a sweet combination of flowy slickrock and singletrack with super-tech tight, rocky, steep corners. A beefy six-inch bike could have gotten the thing done without too much trouble, but the Nine was a shitload of fun. Jamon agreed that a 575 would have been a terrible idea.
Things that sucked:mad: Ninja bivy, 5:30 alarms, sand, wind, Whisky Tango Jeep dudes (but they were really funny), motorcycles, $3.62 gas, cops
Things that rocked:) Seven-year-old rippers, big squishy bikes, hubs so loud you can't talk over them, the LPS, the Portal Trail
