We usually burn some video onto an iphone before these trips for cozy tent viewing. This time it's The Crash Reel, a documentary about a snowboarder who suffered a traumatic brain injury during a bad fall. I highly recommend this film though it's not the most comforting topic while on bike tour.
We were on the road by 9:30 AM, a two hour improvement over yesterday. Lots of sand. We had been advised by the ranger that today there were going to be long sections where we'd probably have to push the bikes.
Setting off into a cloudy day. So far, sand not too deep.
"Why are there sometimes only tire prints in the sand?
That, kitty, was when I bungeed you to my rack and carried you."
(Actually our guide book suggests these were not a kitty at all but some sort of nocturnal desert rodent.)
At times it got deep and I'd put a foot down, especially if I could see Bill swerving in front of me. Seeing him struggle really made me lose my mojo. I wiped out twice but at very low speeds and the sand was soft. We spent the first couple hours atop a rim and the sand alternated with the white rock (hence White Rim) looking down into canyons.
Nice views up here. There was never any need to go close to the edge and even Bill who sometimes has trouble with heights had no problem here.
Nice view for changing a flat. Our bikes have different sized wheels so we brought one of each tube and a patch kit. Figured for three days that should be plenty. (>>foreshadowing<<)
Today we had some climbing and the combination of uneven surface and sand meant pushing on inclines we could have handled easily if paved. I timed one of the hills and it took me 18 minutes bottom to top. I have zero upper body strength so this was exhausting for me and I was much slower than Bill.
Hrnnnnnghhhhhhhh this is tough going.
At one point in this hill ("Murphy Hogback") a 4WD approached and we found a place to stand while it passed. Talked to the driver for a bit and he suggested we might want to stay there until we were sure he'd made it to the top -- these hills were tough even for 4WD vehicles and if he didn't make it he'd have to *back down* and try again. That sounds worse than riding a bike -- in fact I read in some accounts of this trip that it's scarier to drive than to ride. (Some bike groups have one support vehicle and share driving, so these assessments are made by people who have done both.)
I wouldn't want to back my jeep down this.
We stopped at the top for lunch and Bill declared this the most beautiful view he's ever seen. The wind started picking up which kind of ruined our enjoyment of said view and we decided we shouldn't linger. Our campsite was still over 20 miles away and the wind was just going to get worse. We passed a group of teenage hikers who were among the very few people we'd seen all day. We saw no other bikers at all this day.
The front facing selfie-taking iPhone optics don't do justice to the view.
The descent was also steep and sandy/rocky and we walked parts of it, just for safety. We really don't want a traumatic brain injury. Remember we're on stiff touring bikes, no suspension.
keeping the rubber side down
Yesterday I was having trouble with my panniers (I'm missing some hardware and we fixed it with bungees and zip ties) and now Bill's started coming loose. These bumpy conditions require you to pay a lot more attention to your hardware and specifically whether screws are working their way out. When I get home I'm going to retrofit my panniers with a more secure attachment system.
Nice view for a pannier repair
We were heading for Potato Bottom campsite (amusing as I work in a neighborhood called Foggy Bottom) around the 65 mile point but getting doubtful. 50+ mph gusts are no joke when you're already having trouble staying upright on sand. Panniers make it worse, providing extra surface area to catch the side winds. The ranger was right in that we never felt at risk of going over an edge; we just made very slow progress and had to push a lot. Sometimes I'd see Bill disappear in a cloud of sand and think there was a vehicle passing him, but it was just the wind stirring things up. We saw in the book that there was another camp site in just a few miles and started talking about stopping there.
Then... Flat number two! And guess what, the patch kit Bill had brought was useless. It was self adhesive patches (which never work anyway, why in the world did he choose those?) and the glue was completely dry. At least he brought one; I had meant to buy a fresh one at the shop in SLC but forgot. I told Bill in the movie of our trip they would have flashbacks to our various bad decisions about tubes and patch kits. We were 50 miles from civilization on either end and and might need to spend an extra night out here, had brought only three days' worth of water, were seeing storm clouds in the distance, and had no way to repair Bill's flat.
Nice view for imagining who will play you in the movie about your foolish trip.
Then Bill had the ridiculous idea of trying my 26 inch tube in his 700 wheel. I thought that would never work, but it worked! We now had no patches or spares for either of us but at least we could proceed. We definitely had enough water to get through tonight and all day tomorrow, and chances were that *somebody* would come around with water to spare, maybe a spare to spare. We saw lots of people yesterday and several of them had offered water. If we were really screwed, we could just hitch a ride out. The rangers would notice when we didn't return to our car at the visitors center and send someone out for us. We were not going to die out here. Stop being so dramatic.
Oh but just for more drama, not one but TWO of our brand new 3-liter Nalgene canteens sprang leaks on this trip. We didn't lose much water but lost a lot of faith in Nalgene.
Bill told me if my tube hadn't worked he was going to try to fix his flat with duct tape. I thought this was also completely ridiculous but when we got home and I looked it up I found that in a pinch, it can work and get you home. So, I learned several things: don't forget that extra patch kit, 26" tires work in 700 wheels, duct tape is magic (we always carry some), Nalgene isn't, and Bill's got good ideas.
The delay of the second flat ensured that we would camp early (Candlestick campground), leaving 45 miles to ride tomorrow. Considering we'd only made 55 in two days we weren't overly optimistic but we figured if we got up very early we might make it. The last 20 miles or so are on graded gravel and then paved roads so assuming there's no wind we should be able to make good time. At the very least there should be opportunities to hitch to the car if it looks like we're going to run out of daylight.
The guidebook says Candlestick is "sometimes windy" but apparently the whole state of Utah was miserable right now. We found out when we returned to Moab that it was horrible there too and several houses lost their roofs. Also a whole strip of businesses was closed due to a downed power line, including the adorable breakfast place we had been eagerly anticipating during three days of runny muesli with powdered goat milk.
The wind was so bad that we couldn't get the tent set up and decided to dine, possibly even sleep, in the outhouse. Props to the parks department: these outhouses are really nice and clean and provide ample ventilation for both pit toilets and camp stoves. By around 8 the wind eased just enough to get the tent up with me lying inside it (to keep it from blowing away while Bill attached the fly and piled rocks on the stakes). It was still very gusty until well after midnight. Despite the noise I slept well, dreaming of lightning strikes and head injuries. I'm not kidding. Also I was flossing my cat's teeth in the dream.
Romantic indoor dining but only seats one
Miraculously, these storms never reached us. The crazy winds blew them in a different direction.