There would be no loading of the vehicles for a ride today but instead a short pedal right from our front door would lead the group to the network of trails located atop Gooseberry Mesa. Plenty of technical features with a strong mix of singletrack and slickrock. There would be dots to mark the way with optional lines waiting for keen eyes to spot. Pads in general were left behind, but everyone dropped their seats a notch or two in anticipation.
Rolling down the road we came to the official parking area. Soon after that we jumped onto the first bit of dotted singletrack, Practice Trail... ranked as a blue or "more difficult". Here is a map so readers can follow right along with this awesome tale.
It was soon learned by those that chose to follow me that following me is generally a poor choice. It was of course assumed that I knew where I was going being the veteran of the group and supposedly familiar with the terrain and hidden shortcuts. Stranding the lead group high on a rock surrounded on three sides by a drop into sand, I was soon demoted from "fearless leader" to "confused leader". The Practice Trail connects to Bowls and Ledges which is a fun section of awkward, well... ledges and bowls (but I guess that is somewhat self evident at this point).
Micki rolls an option:
We then connected with the North Rim Trail. It was about this time that the first exposure and amazing views are offered overlooking the rim to the North. I guess that's a pretty good name for this trail as well. The little town of Virgin is most likely down there somewhere... as well as a section or two of the GEM trail we rode the day before.
Taylor intentionally looking left:
The trail now stays along the edge with vista after vista appearing around every bend. Close enough to make edge haters a bit nervous, but not so close to be truly dangerous. The occasional inland excursion revealed deep rolling trenches with the occasional drop intermixed. Traction was amazing and climbs that would be impossible under normal circumstance now become a matter of will and horsepower. The short Connector Trail gave Brooke the option to bail out. Evidently the angular and twisted terrain had provoked more memory of past go downs than evoking joy... so she decided to pedal back to camp via the service road. A choice I am sure the lonely dogs appreciated greatly.
Another photo opportunity:
The five of us continued down North Rim until the end and then we found the start of Yellow trail. Yellow trail is poorly named being that it is marked black or "most difficult". When I hear "most difficult" in my head I hear it with Bill and Ted's voice... anyone get that reference? Anyways, the black marking and length of trail already covered gave Taylor pause at this point as well, so she also decided to take the main dirt road back to camp instead of continuing on. This service road bisecting most of the Gooseberry trail network is handy to have. It allows riders of different pace and skill level to explore as far as they are comfortable and have an easy way back if needed. A cool feature to rely upon.
The Yellow "black" trail did not disappoint as features made the seat feel more comfortable at one's chest instead of rump. Steep and twisted, each section made sure your brakes were hungry for heat and your gearing selection was spot on for cranking the opposing upswings. At this point, Andy let out a ranting curse that would surely have embarrassed even the most salty sailor. His rear tire had gone flat. A tired sidewall had given way and with no tube to back up the carcass, out came the levers, pump and tire boot. I have lost track, anyone happen to be recording the tube/ no-tube failure count? Anyone? Andyone? Andytwo?
Micki playing while waiting:
Well practiced now, Andy was rolling again in a flash and Yellow trail was over. We were on to the South Rim trail... a red diamond or "extreme". What's that? Hell yes Macho Man, snap into a Slim Jim... snap into one indeed!! In truth, the trail was no harder than what we had already experienced. Eventually we made it to the furthermost point in the bluff and exposure was a factor, but the terrain itself was well within grasp.
A group of gentlemen had amassed at the end at this point as well. Conversation arose as to where everyone was from and if they had been to Gooseberry before. Soon the group began to question us as to where else we might have ridden. Before we knew it, an impromptu pissing match of sorts was under way as to who had been to the most places. Sticki doesn't think about this fact very much, but it turns out we are actually very well traveled in the world according to knobby tire and soon had the souls crushed of our fellow adventures with tales of our extensive travels across the southwest. We are kind of a big deal... evidently.
The vanquished snapped this shot of the victors:
From here it was South Rim trail back. I dropped of an option we had seen on the way up that Andy had proclaimed a "frame killer". Evidently, he lacked the understanding that is the Slayer.... but I had faith of purpose. Was nice to get a kick from gravity to a soft landing after riding the 29'r rigid for so long. Had forgotten the joy of monster coosh and now with my appetite for gnar rekindled the search really began for some ugly stuff.
South Rim trail is amazing. Endless views, heavy exposure and a good amount of flow. Unfortunately, you will have to take my word for it as I was to busy enjoying to snap any pics. We did get a couple, but none of the edge. Don't let this amazing BLOG post augment your reality... go ride this trail yourself and experience the awe it evokes first hand.
Tiny arch:
Micki drops:
We had a short film session at this drop while Brandon seemed to ride right on by. We assumed he was off looking for shade, but at the restart he was gone. I don't mean just gone, but gone gone. As in, where the hell did he go? Every corner he was not seen, every length we pedaled he was not caught. It appeared as if he had either confused us with another group and rode off with them... or decided our pace was so pitiful he could no longer stand it.
Either way, I was hungry. So we stopped at the last edge for some food. No sooner had Micki left a message for Taylor to call Brandon and tell him to turn back did the lost soul roll up. Evidently he had been waiting just around the corner, so all was good and the group of three that once was four was now whole again. Praise be the strength found in my cashew and raisin trail mix to give me the ability to persevere this rather stressful division.
Connecting to Hidden Canyon we were rewarded with close quarters and tight hallways of slickrock. Hidden Canyon is one of my favorites in the entire network and runs well in either direction. Eventually we made the service road once more which was a good thing as Brandon had developed some unfortunate cramping. Even though cooler than the day before, the heat and length of ride had gained a foot hold, so we rode with him back down the road until we found a bit of South Rim trail to our right.
Brandon went straight... we three chose trail.
I was still hungry for options and found one to my right. An up not a down I decided to shoot for the 3' cliff rapidly approaching and give a mighty leap. Luckily for me, I wasn't on my hardtail as my sloppy miscalculation ate every sprung inch I had beneath me. I was so glad my bike is flat black at this moment in time because I am pretty sure any other paint job would have been deemed less bad-ass and the rock would have surely hucked me right off the side out of utter disgust and disrespect. What ever the reason for success, I took it and with a pedal stroke or two found the actual trail again. Then, sooner than expected... we made the parking lot once more.
Back at the trailer, the breeze was enough to quell the devil gnats from the day before. Brooke and Taylor both seemed to be napping and sounding like a good idea, the rest of us did as well after a bite to eat. Taylor, Brandon, Micki and I had previously decided to try and hike Zion in the afternoon, so after a short rest we piled into the car and headed out. Andooke planned to find a shorter water filled hike for the dogs instead since Zion unfortunately does not allow pets inside the park boundaries.
Zion was packed. The park ranger neglected to inform us that Zion Canyon was closed to all personal vehicles and was only accessible via shuttle bus this time of year. Venting some frustration once we obtained knowledge of this fact ourselves, we luckily found a parking spot near a bus stop and jumped on. We opted to take the shuttle down the entire canyon to take in the scenery, and then get off at the Kayenta Trail on the way back so we could hike up to a series of Emerald Pools. Sounded awesome.
Off the bus we began up the trailhead. Zion is truly an amazing place. I think it's my favorite national park and we have been to more than a few. Remember, we are kind of a big deal. It's vertical cliff walls are just spectacular. Up the worn stairs and beaten trail we went, gazing skyward and all about like tourists from a far away land.... but taller.
Downstream:
Looking up:
Looking more up:
The trail was crowded, but a testament to the work of the Civilian Conservation Corps or CCC that was created in 1933 by President Roosevelt in an effort to put Americans back to work from the depression. How do I know this? Because bus voice doesn't lie. While that may be true, the mix of facts we all picked up throughout the shuttle ride started to blend together and before we knew it the four of us were arguing about history that we had no business even knowing about in the first place. Zion's attempt at visitor education had only backfired terribly once mixed with our tired mountain biker minds.
There were several stages of pool, "Emerald Pool" to be more precise. Lower, middle and upper. Despite not having a granny gear option, we kept choosing the route of climb. Probably anticipating the sweet downhill reward once at the top. I told you we were feeble minded with exhaustion.
CCC knew how to best use crack:
Fuzzy purple:
The trail was getting steeper now, and sandier. Actually, it had been this way for sometime when we came across an abandoned stroller. I don't mean one of those sweet all terrain BOB strollers. No, I mean one of those 1968 flexing micro wheeled folding numbers. Someone had dragged it all the way up to this point and then placed it aside. Bizarre. We could now see the waterfall, or trickle, that must be feeding the upper pool. Sorry, the upper Emerald Pool.
Squint and it might look bigger:
Mildly impressive to be sure, but once we got home I found a pic of what the falls really can look like.
My pic is the top fall in this Zion pic. We would have been standing at the bottom, most likely dead already or clinging for life with fingertips grasping wet boulders. So, yes... I am kinda glad it was only a trickle this day.
Finally, the noise of the onlookers indicated we had made the Upper Emerald Pool! I think we all felt a heightened sense of anticipation at just what the water would look like. I envisioned something magical, perhaps even with fairies hovering around it, swooping in for an occasional sip of the translucent water. A few more steps and the magnificent reward for our efforts would soon be revealed!
The Upper Emerald Pool:
Hey, Zion PR guy... go HIKE yourself!!!
Emerald? WTF? That pool wasn't even the light brown color of an Emerald almond! Whatever. The majority of the scenery was still magnificent enough to override this marketing untruth. After taking it all in for a while, we turned back. Stupid biped downhill.... no fun, no fun at all.
Steps, Indian Jones style:
We found the middle Emerald Pool next. Drained for construction. Nice. A French couple had made the same poor choice as us but was willing to take a picture of us to kill some time. He asked how we wanted it, and my response was to snap an incredibly artistic vision encapsulating the very essence that is Zion.
The best he could do:
The trail now headed under the lower falls in another example of CCC craftsmanship. Got me wondering how much sick singletrack could be built today with a revival of such an effort. To bad Obama don't roll two-nine.
Passing under:
By the way.... if you scroll waaaay back up to the Zion Parks pic I found, you'll see this lower falls raging in the bottom of that picture as well. All along this cliff however instead of swollen rapids were the tiniest of flowers. Maybe smaller than a dime, each one hanging impossibly from the smallest cracks in the sandstone.
Group:
Either way:
From here the trail was basically paved and somewhat crowded. Soon enough we were across the bridge and waiting for the bus back. Micki and Taylor found several deer munching on grass only feet from the bathroom. Obviously more than used to people. We made it back to the car and stopped for ice along with about 40 other Indian tourists who had managed to arrive moments before in what appeared to be only 2 vehicles. While inside getting supplies, the girls said one of the fellows swung his bag of ice against our bumper a few times to break it up. So glad he didn't have to use his own car.
Wrapping up, we found the road out of Rockville and cautiously made the dirt climb out of Grafton and eventually made it back to camp, just before dark. Heavy heads hit pillows hard and visions of ZEN trail planned for tomorrow filled our dreams... or something creative like that.
The Stats:
Trail: Gooseberry Mesa Network
Riders: to start... Micki, Andooke, Brandon, Taylor and myself. To finish... Micki, Andy and myself.
Distance: 13 miles
Elevation: 1825 gain
Ride Time: maybe 5 hours?
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