Area Gooseberry (Day Four)

Time to pack up and leave... but not before squeezing in one last "new" ride before heading home.  Like a well oiled but slightly out of practice machine, Micki and I set about the steps needed to collapse our trailer and get it ready for the road.  It's kind of fun to break it down.  Seeing all that size just fold up into a tiny box.  We had a list of small repairs to be made, one of which was the heater which had been acting funny since the 24HRS of Old Pueblo a few months back.  Had made for a cold last night and we'd have to be sure it was corrected before our planned trip to CO in early July.

Emma wasn't faring to well, so Andooke had decided to skip the extra ride and get her home as soon as possible. With Taylor and Brandon's tent packed up and the "Andoondo" ready to tow, we said our goodbyes and were off... to the bathroom just down the road.

It could be said that I like to drive fast on a dirt road.  I have been known to drift an open corner or two and it wouldn't be a complete fabrication to say all four radials have left the caress of mother earth on rare occasion.  But the road from Gooseberry Mesa is rough and I was pulling a trailer.  So, eeking along for the most part I was quite surprised to see a white Dodge Durango coming the other way in an ever widening arc... eventually to the point of taking up our lane completely and forcing me to stop short.

"Hey Man!!!  Don't be part of the problem!!!  25!!!" ... then off he went.

He was obviously very agitated, dare I say enraged with me. I assume he had judged my speed much higher than it actually was, or perhaps he had misjudged his own and swung wider than he wanted, jumping down my throat to cover up his ineptitude.  Either way, I was mystified as to his aggression and wondered for the rest of the day what "the problem" was. Just another reason for my socially inept self to enforce a little more my general impression of strangers... they suck.

With Brandon and Taylor dutifully following behind, I set about missing the turn to Little Creek Mesa and having to travel a good distance to find a section of road U-turnable enough for the trailer.  My faithful copilot and navigator Micki was reading the directions from a downloaded source and we began making various rights and lefts until the dirt road became less and less used.  Finally in an area that appeared to match the information we had attained, we pulled over and parked.  It was much colder today but not as windy.  Setting up the trailer awning for the dogs, front wheels were installed and correct apparel was assessed.

Slick-Parked:

Little Creek Mesa is a far lesser and more remote area of technical riding just above Hurricane.  It is in the process of being adopted by the powers that be so at this point in time there are no helpful white dots painted along the slickrock.  I had loaded some tracks onto my GPS and we had picked Dale's brain to have the best chance of actually finding the trail and following it around.

The trail itself was actually far easier to find and follow than we had feared.  We started with the Main or West Mesa loop which was supposed to offer some of the best views.  The obstacles are mellower in this area than Gooseberry.  Still technical enough to keep things interesting, but not as abrupt with more intermixed dirt singletrack sections.  When slickrock was found it was vast and for the most part smooth.

Micki rolling along:

The areas low scrub without much shade could have made summer exposure brutal, but the temps today made for perfect riding.  Occasionally we had to stop and locate a cairn on the horizon, but for the most part we stayed on track.  Eventually the trail finds a fall line and you can really pick up speed.  Just as the greenery on both sides started to blurr, the singletrack exploded out on to the very edge of the mesa and we had to stop just to take in the amazing views.

The route now basically hugs the cliff edge.  It's hard to concentrate on the terrain with such magnificence off to your left.  On occasion, the trail demands absolute focus as you literally roll feet from a thousand foot plus drop.

Micki paying close attention to line selection:

We stopped for a quick bite to eat.  Taylor broke out the Mike and Ike's as well as Skittles, all the while sparrows repeatedly performed head high fly by's with precision that would have made Maverick blush.  

Ourselves:

Lay of the land:

We started to roll again when suddenly, without warning something truly awesome revealed itself.  It was a stunt!  Not just any stunt, but something very unique.  We had ridden countless bridges and skinnies before this one, but seeing one made from rock was entirely new.  The obstacle spanned about a 4' void with a 10' plus drop below.  The sandstone had split ages ago, but the addition of rock slab to allow for conquering the gap looked relatively new.

Micki assessed the situation... and then rode it with confidence.

From below:

She rode it a few times just for the sake of the BLOG.  So fun to see her clean a balance move like that with control and grace.  From there the trail turns away from the edge and starts to work with dirt again.  West Mesa Loop eventually gives you the choice of Magic Carpet ride (shorter) or North Point Loop (longer).  With three days of riding on this trip already and still a far distance to drive, we opted for the shorter choice.  

Soon after this decision was made, Brandon had an issue with a stepped section and before we knew it the clunk-grind that followed resulted in a dangling useless rear derailleur.  Whipping out my chain tool which I had been lugging around for many years in case such an occasion arose... I began to get to work.  Within moments I realized my chain tool was useless, probably bent by a failed repair many years before.  Luckily, Brandon was better prepared and provided an actual working chain tool instead of a busted relic.

Fairly quickly he was setup to run one speed, but with the chain growth of his rear suspended design, all suspended wheel travel was lost without the aid of a few pulleys and springs to accommodate the slack. With caution, he began rolling... knowing almost any bump would bind his drivetrain or even worse cause the chain to fail once more.  It was slow and a shame to happen just before the fun and final sections of trail, but overall better than walking.

Magic Carpet is almost 100% slickrock.  Very smooth, not to difficult, but just plain fun.  This area of UT looks anything but lush.  Cactus, stripped down trees and hardy bushes dominate the landscape.  It was easy to notice the large patches of green tucked down in the valley below, but hard to figure out why it existed until we turned the corner and found the source.

Random oasis:

With this much water, it's deceiving how dangerous UT can be at times, and Little Creek Mesa is no exception.  We lucked out with cooler weather, but for those who go in the future, be sure to be prepared for any situation and have a plan to keep the group together.  Tragedy can be closer than we all like to think.

Past this pond was just a mile or so before we rejoined the start of the West Mesa Loop.  You can just see how the trail is "marked" by the smaller rocks being moved aside.  The scale of the place can also be seen with Micki rolling away in the mid-ground.

Lunaresque:

After the rejoin to our original route, is was just a matter of minutes before the cars were reached.  Brandon had been patient enough to allow his modified drivetrain to survive.  The whining and happy to see us dogs were let loose to run arout a bit.  Bikes and gear was loaded for the final time and we all said our goodbyes.

The Stats:

Trail: West Mesa followed by Magic Carpet

Riders: Micki, Taylor, Brandon and myself

Distance: 9.5 miles

Elevation: 1450 foot of gain

Ride time: maybe 2.5 hours

The drive home was fairly uneventful.  I was starving and patiently awaited for Fredonia to arrive where I'd surely be able to find a hamburger to appease my stomachs growls. Lets just say that did not work out very well and I curse Fredonia to the fast food heavens for their unwillingness to provide any sort of edible roadside fare!  Luckily, Jacob's Lake restaurant wasn't that much further and we stopped in for some grub.  Micki got a big butterscotch milkshake (with extra butterscotch) as well as some fresh baked cookies.  I got a chocolate shake and cheeseburger which was pretty much a perfect fit.

We made Flag just at dusk and this was our first big trip where Prescott was our final destination.  Was very strange to get out of the car once home and have it be cooler than where we just left.  The norm for us is to have a great trip in the cool mountainous pines and come home to the fiery deserts of The Valley.  

No complaints however... no complaints at all.

Area Gooseberry (Day Three)

It was windy.

Not breezy, not blustery... but flat out super windy.

A large gray head wall of menacing clouds looked to be moving in from the distant peaks and the heat felt over the last couple of days was all but gone.  Today was going to be a gamble.  A best guess scenario as to where and when to ride to avoid the eminent weather.  The decision was made to stick to the plan and drive over to St. George to ride the famous ZEN Trail.

Andooke had decided to pass with concerns of Emma foremost in their mind.  I was hopeful a second ride could be had later in the afternoon around parts of Gooseberry if the weather held, but only time would tell.

This would be a new trail for us, but we were familiar with the parking area.  A few years ago we had made an attempt to ride it. But once we arrived, the location seemed so unappealing and the temps high enough that my grump module was activated.  We literally drove there, I cracked the window and then made the call to head back to Gooseberry. Unfortunately, the grump module can not be deactivated easily.

This day as the drive progressed we passed through the small town of Hurricane and then through St. George.  Along the way Micki got a text from Brooke.  Evidently the total contentment Taylor's tiny dog Apple had been showing enthralled with her bone in the tent before we drove off was a brilliant act of deception.  Moments later, Apple had chewed through the tent screen and wandered over to Andooke's trailer to say hello.  Crafty little sucker.  

Soon enough we were back at the visually forsaken trailhead once again.  The start just looks terrible.  A waste of desert converted into humps and berms by millions of fossil powered quads, side by sides and heavily sprung moto-scooters.  There were some grinding around the nothingness even upon our arrival.  Reminded me of the wasteland from Road Warrior, except this guy wasn't there. Well, as far as I could tell at least.

"Just walk away....":

Anyways... the scenery and terrain almost had to get better simply by the laws of proportion and chance (whatever the hell those are). The clouds were distant enough to risk leaving rain gear in the car, but the wind was flat our vicious.  At times it was difficult to stand and letting go of anything lighter than a pair of shoes was sure to lead to a frustrating game of chase. How come objects loose in the wind always require ninja like reflexes to track down?

Legend stated that this trail had some angry sections, so we divvied up what armor could be found amongst the bags of gear and tried to figure out where the trail actually did start.  The map suggested a clockwise direction and after some scouting the initial singletrack was found.  But, Micki's magnificent sense of gnar told her otherwise.  I must admit, the only visible descent that would seem to make this ride a loop did appear just to be a boring dirt road back to the parking lot.  I caved, and asked a fellow rider who just showed up for his impression of the route and worse yet... even consulted him for directions.

Oh, the shame....

Anyways, I was so glad we did.  For he told a tale of a clockwise loop that basically sucked.  He proclaimed a majority of the fun tech stuff to be climbing, and after he had struggled to earn the summit his only reward was that of a forgotten yet steep jeep road.  Counter clockwise it was to be then.  Disaster thwarted! Although, that boring dirt road now loomed down upon us with a steep aggression that did not bode well for my heavy slung Slayer.

Quick release open, seat up to max line, 32/34.... engage!!

The hill actually wasn't that bad, but the massive and relentless headwind made keeping tires pointed where you wanted to end up a monumental task.  Large gusts tossed us from side to side and I am sure to the casual observer it would have appeared as if a group of four very drunk individuals were attempting to work off their overindulgence with a stiff workout.  Eventually the rough road turned to double track, and then singletrack, and then slickrock intermixed with boulders intermixed with drops.  In other words, shit started to get goooood.

Crushing some vert gain once again:

You definitely have to work to keep things moving on this trail.  It arduous, but very rewarding.  Those familiar with heading up National would have felt right at home as each conquered challenge kept leading to the next more difficult problem to solve.  Eventually the trail turns away from the edge of the mesa and with that shift we were now carving through larger rocks on either side, finally offering a small break from the wind... and even a descent or two thrown in as well.

Swoopy:

Droppy:

The trail remained technical at this point with a few options wandering off here and there.  Not sure where they all went, but some looked very promising indeed.  Being our first time around the loop we decided to stay on the main route. Next time however, the unknown will be discovered. 

Taylor passing through:

Brandon follows suit:

With the parking lot obscured and far below, we finally made the top.  The view was amazing!  The somewhat threatening rows of clouds looked far more appealing as their shadows danced across the valley floor below.

Vistariffic:

We could see the next section of trail and understood most of the climbing was now behind us.  The raging wind would surely make any air time prohibitive, so everyone made sure pads were strapped and seats dropped.  It was impossible to resist every drop just for the fear of errant gusts so I gripped the bars a little harder and threw caution to the wind... literally.  It felt good to give the terrain a what for after months of tip toeing along on my 29'r.  Not that I don't love the hardtail, but ripping unabashedly through the big stuff every once in a while can be very satisfying.

Micki bombing:

Taylor enjoying Weagle's design work:

Formation:

From here the speed picked up and flow just happened.  The occasional square apex or hearty drop kept our focus tight, but ZEN was living up to it's reputation as a windy technical challenge with a bias towards those with an appreciation for gravity at their backs.  Out in front, I slowed to take notice of a few cairns stacked on the slickrock to my left.  "Intersting" I though to myself as I wondered why such meaningless scupltures might have been placed in the middle of nowhere.  Screaming down and down again we dumped onto a dirt road.  I then checked the GPS in my pack and realized the mistake... we missed a turn.

Seats up, pads loose.... 32/34 engaged once more.

We then stopped for a snack and Micki answered her phone in the middle of nowhere.  Technology, amazing or cursed for it, I am not sure.  Brandon and I started to scout a track of cairns over the slickrock horizon and now with a better route understood, we rolled.  Up and down, back and forth, traction was thick and extra rubber was left on the sandpaper like surface with every heavy turn of the pedals.  Eventually we were lead to the entrance of a wash and recognized the spot from some video footage we had found before we left.  Funny, it didn't look that hard online.

The first part:

The tricky corner:

Of course, our pictures do little justice to the section as well but take my word... it's a thinker.  The ZEN loop is pretty short, around 6 miles total but at this point energy was starting to wain.  It's a very technical area and slinging ones bike around at almost every moment for the last few hours does begin to wear.  Plus, my cheeks were getting sore from smiling so much.

Hole shot:

We found a grouping of tents in the next valley, and were caught by a trio of riders over the next mesa.  One guy was rocking a 29'r SS rigid and even though I have plenty of fun on mine, I don't think ZEN would be as nearly enjoyable as it is on board a nice big and juicy FS bike.  But, this guy seemed to roll along very nicely without complaint.  

Almost back to the car a we ran through a sudden wall of chilled air.  It was like a curtain and brought with it the sweet smell of rain.  A little nervous and knowing our lack of preparedness should our luck with the weather run out, we picked it up a gear and found the car just a little faster than anticipated.  Packing up quickly, the skies relaxed and we were driving away free and clear.  Perfect timing for an amazing trail.

Fast forward... gas in Hurricane... food at camp... afternoon solidifies....

The mood was set.  Micki, Brooke, Taylor and Brandon had setup some sort of card game within the "Andoondo" and Andy met me outside equipped only with his Greenbay sweatshirt and a will to follow.  We set off and found the Practice Loop, then Bowls to the North Rim to the Connector where Brooke had split off the day before.  We crossed over to make a run at Hidden Canyon in the opposite direction, making a left at the end this time and following South Rim to the end.

I... was on a mission.  No dabs, no stops, no do overs. Andy's mission was the same, although he may not have been aware of it before we started the ride.  We did well however and found the trail to have an exceptional feel.  Perhaps I'd even dare to say a "speed" to it that allowed pace to stay high.  There may have been a point where Andy had some doubts but as we crossed a large slickrock mesa the fading sun was illuminating the cliffs of Zion like I had never seen them before.  Spectacular, awe inspiring, breath taking.  I just knew once Andy caught sight of this amazing panorama his soul would change forever and joy would fill his heart to the point of tears.  Yes, I expected Andy to be weeping very soon.

"So, how much further man?" was instead the response.  

Humph... was all I could think.  Simply humph.

A few winding back and forth's and the trail lost it's view.  We were now rewarded instead with some great technical features and challenges.  Once back at the main trailhead parking lot we had the wind at our backs for once and were able to actually make some fun on the usual boring dirt back to camp. 

After dinner, the "Andoondo" hosted all 6 of us plus 5 dogs.  Good thing they brought the square footage, although Brooke did have to pull up a small cooler for a chair.  Brave girl made it through untold rounds of cards before her butt fell asleep and we were all ejected for "sleepy time".  By the way, evidently if I particapte in an activity that doesn't require silly shoes with steel cleats affixzed to the bottom I will do very poorly.  Very poorly indeed.  

Regardless, it was a great way to wrap up a long day of trails, that's for sure.

The Stats:

Trail: ZEN 

Riders: Micki, Taylor, Brandon and myself

Distance: 6.5 miles

Elevation: 1525 foot gain

Ride time: maybe 3 hours plus stops for play

  

  

Area Gooseberry (Day Two)

It was looking to be a good day.  Mousse "slept" in for an extra 15 minutes or so which gave us plenty of rest after dawn.  Her vocal stylings and wagging tail smacking the heater cover like a dinner bell could use some refinement, but her excitement is contagious so out the door she went with me soon to follow.  A breeze was swirling but the oppressive heat of yesterday seemed to be slower to arrive... at least so far.

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?