Flight of the Icarus

Monday, 3^rd Oct.

Up at 7am to pack up the camp. Couldn’t believe it when I heard that some of the lads had gone for a night ride in the early hours of the morning. Tanked up, there were apparently some interesting weaving techniques employed.

By 8am we were sitting down at Pancho Villas on the Main Street of Fruita. The place was filled with locals. Some wore Stetsons, some base-ball caps and others purple grey hairstyles. It was interesting to see patrons chugging down their coffee while sucking on their cigarettes…far cry from the smoke free zone of Wausau. Bobby would have loved this joint.

We were served a scrumptious breakfast. I was faintly alarmed when I saw the majority of lads order breakfast burrito. I reckon we have had enough of the spicy food by this point. The flatulence was getting to be an epidemic.

We picked up spares at Over The Edge bike shop across the street. Troy who was serving up coffee in his shop is the legend that wrote the ‘Fat Tire Guide to Fruita.’ I splashed out and bought a new Camelbak as my old one was worn out and leaked all over my crotch while I rode. In the shop there was a red headed woman sporting a lightening bolt tattoo on her arm. On her feet she had clipless-shoes. A hard-core mountain biker. A little while later I saw her unloading some gear from her vehicle. ‘Spirit of Adventure’ was splashed over the side. Pots, pans, bikes, wheels and water canisters hung off the truck like confetti.

I walked over to the garage to meet the chaps who were getting some ice and fuel. Huge Super Duty 4x4 trucks lined the streets parked next to smaller 4x4’s stacked with bikes. Three guys sat outside one of the coffee chops swapping gossip and spitting tobacco juice onto the lamp post.

Jerome was completely taken by the small centre park that he walked through to get to the garage. “You see that shit? That park was covered in dog shit….like the trees had rained it or something”

After a bit of searching we found the end of the ‘Flight of the Icarus’ trail where we left Tom’s car before heading up the pass to finally park at an altitude of 8700 ft. We kitted up.

The guide book said to expect two steep up hills trails. They were super correct on that score. Trying to pace myself I dismounted and walked it with some of the other chaps. Not Tom. He beetled past me and the rest. I kept expecting him to call it quits, but he kept on going until the top. I was impressed!

It was a lot cooler today with a lovely mountain breeze cresting the trees. The sky was martini blue and the valleys poured out beneath us. We got to a sign that said that the only permitted traffic were hikers and people walking their dog. We passed on and soon came to a ledge. To the right was a 800 metre drop. My tires crunched on the loose shale rock as I avoided looking to my right. Not bloody pleasant at all.

Given our height, I knew there was going to be some serious descents required. It was a fabulous ride. Riding a ridge that stretched out like the bowsprit of a yacht, we dropped off. Down. Fast and rocky. It was superb. I leaned back and let the front wheel pick its course. At that moment I was so chaffed that I had my new Specialized Enduro Expert, it was pleasure on a roll!

At one point we came to an exposed section where the wind was stupendous. It hit us like a baseball bat. Even though I had traction it steered me to the edge on my left. At one point Randy was holding his bike as it flew horizontally in the wind! We got to the bottom of that run and consulted the book. “Left at dead tree 2.8 miles. A wild descent.” Sounded excellent!

We hung a left at the designated spot. Sweeping chutes of hardened pack littered with embedded rocks and sprinkled with a generous assortment of loose rocks. Took me back to Lesotho days. I took it as hard and fast as I could. I would not have wanted anything else but disc brakes right then.

I shot out the last chute onto a green plain. Aaron and I headed out the line back to Tom’s car. An amazing trail and 12 miles in total.

We collected Randy’s van and Aaron’s Pathfinder before saying adios to Tom who left for home.

We attempted to find Westwater Mesa trail but as “only 3 or 4 people in the United States know of its location” according to Mr. Lackman, we gave up and headed for Moab, Utah.

Found an amazing camp site in the curve of huge sandstone rocks right up on top. Randy’s kebabs were a hit before we sat down to check the images taken for the day.