24 hours of Moab

The Sunday Riders and fellow team mates - Skid Marks have entered teams in the 24 Hours of Moab race, so it's off to the US of A....
Monday 11th October
Get taxi to Heathrow Terminal 4 for our direct flight BA 218 to Denver, Colorado. There is a slight delay as mechanics replace one of the undercarriage panels then we’re off. We arrive at 19:00 and await the interminable immigration procedures, to our amazement it is both quick and painless, our fingerprints are taken and our irises photographed and we’re straight through to be re-united with our luggage, none of which has been scattered across the Atlantic, Good job, mechanics!

Raymond and I catch the courtesy bus to pick up our rental car at Hertz. Greg, Julie and Paul get a shuttle bus to the hotel. After 20 minutes Raymond and I are still trying to work out how to open the boot, Rod appears having collected his car from the neighbouring Budget, we have similar models and he helps us load up. Then it’s the scary bit – my first drive for almost 10years – in an automatic, on the wrong side of the road and in the dark!! I follow Rod and despite a minor detour down a huge toll road we find both our La Quinta hotel and the others. The receptionist tells us breakfast starts at 4.00am and would we like a wake-up call, Rod gives her a ‘don’t even think about it’ look. But…..

Tuesday 12th October

...it’s 3.10am and we are all wide awake! We while away the minutes until 4.00am and all head down to breakfast, then unpack and re assemble our bikes. The others manage to sleep in until 6.00 and are picking up their rental RV at 8.00am. We are to meet Jim in Boulder at the youth hostel at noon. With Raymond at the wheel, we again tail Rod through downtown Denver and out into suburbia to the mountains of Boulder. The town is bigger than expected but looks pretty under cloudless blue skies and autumnal shades, we park opposite a diner in which we have our second breakfast and visit a retro roadie bike shop called Vecchio’s.

We book in at the Best Western, which has the Raymondesque suffix ‘Golden Buff’, and get on our bikes to find Jim. He is sitting on a porch outside the hostel with his brand new, baby blue Santa Cruz waiting for the RV. We spotted an mtb shop and a health food supermarket down the road so go off to investigate. At the bike shop we meet Burt from Washington DC who is looking for company for a ride, we agree to meet him back here at 1.00pm, then we stock up on provisions for the trip. The supermarket holds the biggest display of vegan ice creams I’ve ever seen, I have a magnum! We arrange with Jim to all meet up at our hotel at 6pm.

Back at the hotel we change into proper cycling stuff and collect Burt (Jim isn’t there so we assume the RV has arrived) and head off into the Boulder trails as described by the bike shop guy. We follow the riverside path towards the hills, it rises in a gentle gradient but we are already aware of the effects of altitude and any exertion leaves us panting hard! We join a road and exit right, before a tunnel onto a steep, rocky gully, Burt rides, we walk. It climbs through pine forest to a meadow and water pumping station. Here, two ‘Lunachicks’ out on a training ride overtake us. The trail is good, swoopy singletrack but all off camber – I tell myself it’s all good practise. As we stop to repair Rod’s puncture we are unfortunately lapped by the cheerily chatting, not even out-of-breath Lunachicks. The loop leads back to the gully, which I descend well, only bailing out at two points at which Rod has crashed in front of me. The second is caught on camera by Raymond and is appropriately next to the ‘Caution - Danger’ sign. Although Rod escapes with cuts and bruises his back wheel is trashed, Burt happens to own a bike shop, has a spoke-key and knows how to use it, enough to true the wheel enough for Rod to get back. At the bike shop we thank the guy for the route and reward him with business as Rod buys a new wheel. Burt says he’ll try to catch up with us in Moab later in the week. As we cycle back to the hotel there has been an accident and the traffic has come to a standstill. We cycle between the lanes to reach the front where a policeman is directing the diversion. He gives us an appalled look and says ‘Hey! You guys know better than that!’ and we get slapped wrists for riding in such a manner – we aren’t in London now!


Wednesday 13th October
Wake to grey skies, it has rained heavily during the night and in the hills this has fallen as snow. On the TV a weatherman is standing in 2ft of snow next to a tunnel informing motorists that commercial vehicles need to use snow chains. I think they’ve had it bad somewhere and only after consulting the map do I realise that it’s the route we have to travel to Fruita! Well, things should have melted a bit by the time we reach it – hopefully. Raymond holds the car keys today and we tail Rod out of Boulder and aim for Interstate 70. We lose Rod at an intersection but once on the I70 it’s follow ours noses to Fruita. The Colorado Rockies soon loom into view and the ground is covered with a fine dusting of snow, which looks very picturesque.

As we gain altitude the snowfall thickens, visibility drops and road conditions deteriorate rapidly. Snow blowers and ploughs are out in force but icy patches catch at our wheels every now and then, Raymond drives with aplomb, applying his cycling motto that ice is rideable as long as you don’t try to steer or brake. Snow chains for commercial vehicles are still in force, every so often there are signs for runaway vehicle ramps and ahead of them we see steep snow pistes and, scarily, they all have recent tyre tracks running all the way to the top:-o (how do they get back down again?!). Once over the highest pass, Vail At 10, 603ft, the conditions improve quickly, blue skies abound and the sun is glorious. I take over the wheel, and as I continue westwards a car overtakes me, Raymond waves at the driver – it’s Rod! He says that Greg has been in touch, they had travelled on to Fruita last night when they should have been meeting us! We are to meet them at Loma, Exit 15. Raymond drives the last hour to the village where we stock up on water and energy bars for the ride. The directions were to go through Loma but the road goes miles across the plains towards the hills. I check the map and find we’re heading in the wrong direction, we flash Steve to turn around, head back into Loma and out to the trailhead that is literally just yards out of town! Quickly change in cycling stuff and we’re off – Greg, Julie, Paul and Jim are there in the RV, Keith has arrived as has Chipps and his friend Chris ‘the wrench wench’. It appears Jim forgot about the rendezvouz!
The ride follows part of the Kokopelli trail, which eventually ends in Moab, we do a small loop to begin with. The riding is rock and sand. Keith tells us to beware of ‘goatheads’; small seeds that lie in undisturbed sand which explode into lots of sharp thorns when touched. Riding over one of these leaves so many undetectable spikes in the tyre that cause punctures and it’s easier to buy a new tyre than try to remove them. So, ‘keep to the trail’. Raymond promptly punctures but it’s a faulty valve that’s the culprit. It’s getting hot now we’re riding and the going is hard, I think we’re all feeling a bit like we’ve never ridden a bike before, whether that’s altitude or jet-lag I don’t know but I don’t like it! The others are fairing a little better having ridden some other Fruita trails this morning, Julie and Jim are sporting new cuts, I soon gouge a chainmark into the back of my calf which annoys me, but I am descending well, even if my climbing has deserted me! We only ride 8 miles but it feels like 30.
We’d planned to spend the night in Fruita but the RV is heading on to Moab, we decide to continue the journey which should take a couple of hours and leave the Fruita trails for the return trip. We arrive as the sun is setting and the red rocks that surround us in all directions glow crimson. We bag an extra night in the hotel that Rod had pre-booked for this weekend, it turns out to be a self-contained three bed roomed bungalow and it recommends a pizza house called Isabella’s with free wifi internet connection, Raymond is ecstatic!

Thursday 14th October
Today we are being introduced to the Moab riding scene. Our first stop is the legendary ‘slick rock’. The RV has camped close to the trailhead, we ride up to meet them, pay $2 entrance fee and head for the practice loop that is about 3miles long, the main trail is longer but we don’t particularly want to ride the whole day. The slick rock is deep red and feels like fine grain sand paper, (hence my investment in arm protectors), tyres stick to it like glue making it possible to ride very steep ups and downs but it wears them very quickly.
The practice loop consists of scary undulations over the rocks, there are intermittent white lines for you to follow and some near vertical ups and downs, I let the boys go first and follow warily. I needn’t have worried you can step on the pedals as hard as you like and there is no spin from the tyres and I get up things that look impossible! The only thing that disturbs me is the absolutely awful squeal from my back brake, it echoes around the canyon and everyone knows when I’m slowing down. The only bits I just can’t get my head or bike around are the sudden changes in angles. Going from flat gradually to vertical is fine but when the angles are nearly 90’ I chicken out, commitment is everything and the boys manage extremely well. The practice loop lends onto the main trail and Paul, Jim, Greg and Julie head on while me Raymond, Steve and Rod turn back, on the way past the RV we see Julie who didn’t like the practice bit and hated the main trail which was all off camber for her and got a lot steeper. After lunch we load the bikes into the cars and travel south of the town some 12miles to the race site. A rough road leads off the main highway for a mile or so and at the entrance is a kiosk with people collecting camping fees $10 per person per night. They ask for $60! We explain that we’re just riding the course and won’t be staying; they say we have to pay regardless but eventually concede. The RV has arrived and the others will be camping here until the race is over. We all set off on a recce of the course. Keith has been riding this course almost everyday in the last couple of weeks and knows it intimately, he forewarns us of obstacles and advises us as to how to approach them. The start is sandy single track, the sand is extremely fine and requires you to take all the weight off the front wheel if you are to get through it, I don’t. Keith says, ‘think: all your weight is in your ass’. The track is punctuated by a couple of bombholes filled with deep soft sand; I don’t do these either. We then turn off onto the rocks, these are the size of cars and have deep fissures that stop all momentum and are separated by yet more intractionable sand. The climb is long and I soon run out of concentration and have no go in my legs, I walk to meet the rest at the top. There is nice flat double track on the plateau at the top but even this has sections of squirmy sand, the descent is a sandy helter-skelter with enormous berms as steep as track cycling! The next part of the course is quite technical, lots of smaller boulders and shelves that can be ridden with balls, Keith and the boys work out the best lines down these atrocities, I walk both down and back up the other sides. Keith crashes a couple of times trying out new lines, he’s unstoppable! I am cycling appallingly! And I am in a very bad mood, I try to blame my poor performance on jet lag, altitude, any excuse, but I’m just frustrated because I can do better but it isn’t happening. The last 6 miles is relatively flat, fast double track around a huge rock formation called ‘Prostitute Butte’, there’s another steep downhill with a nasty ledge at the top then undulating until the final crawl up to the plateau and it’s a blast all the way back to the start. It takes almost 2 hours for us to complete this lap! The race is going to be hard work. I think we are all a bit shell shocked at how technical the course is and now face an unsettled night. Friday 15th October
No hard riding today. We decide to do some sightseeing instead, Rod has been here before and suggests the Arches National Park where we can cycle around the viewpoints before watching the sunset behind one of the most spectacular arches known as Delicate Arch. We pack and drive out of town, 2miles later and we are at the entrance!! We cycle up a short climb, which takes us onto an undulating plateau with views of various rock formations and the La Sal mountain range. We drop down off the plateau and slowly climb back out to reach the North and South Arches, Turret Arch and Multiple Arch. We stop here to walk through the arches, which are immense. It is getting very hot and there is little shade, Raymond sits under a bush until we return. I’m getting a bit sun fazed too, Rod wants to stay here ‘til sundown but Raymond and I have had enough; as the saying goes (to paraphrase Mr G. Smith) ‘once you’ve seen one arch…’. We cycle back to the car which includes a 6km freewheel down off the plateau and find a freshly squashed snake on the road. Raymond picks it up and puts it under a bush. It’s not long before Rod and Steve also return. The afternoon is spent browsing the shops and visiting the laundrette. Raymond discovers, reading his e-mails, that our race packages have to be collected by 8pm, we text the others at race HQ to sign us in. We get a frantic call from Paul at 7.50pm, he has signed for his team Skid Marks but needs another signature for the Sunday Riders. Fortunately the sign in is at the town hall in Moab and not actually at the race site, Rod sprints off, mid mouthful, and returns with a goody bag containing our race numbers, timing tags, t-shirt and glo-in-the-dark Frisbees.

Saturday 16th & Sunday 17th October
Race day! We are awake quite early charged with what? Excitement? Anticipation? Dread? We pack enough stuff to last us the weekend and drive the 12miles out of town to Behind The Rocks where the race is being held. This time we pay our camping/entrance fee and soon locate the others’ RV, together with Keith’s two teams and the distinctive Bontrager gazebo. The desert has bloomed into a sprawling village of tents and RV’s. Keith has brought an endless supply of experimental tyres that we can test-ride for him. Our team of Sunday Riders is complete but Skid Marks are still a man down, Paul has somehow managed to rope Chipps Chippendale – UK bike journo and SSMM and SITS course designer - into taking part, this also gives us some leverage in getting demo lights loaned to us courtesy of NiteRider. Before I’ve even emerged from the car, Keith has stuck his head through the window and is telling me race tactics, having been worried at my abysmal performance on the practice lap he has put some thought into how I can get the most from my laps! He is such a sweetie!

The pre-race briefing starts at 10am, it is already blisteringly hot in the sun, the organiser should get an award for speaking for 28hours non-stop, he goes through the race rules, generally the same as for British 24hour races but help is allowed on course but only from another registered rider from your team who can ride out to find you or even accompany you on a lap. The baton exchange is slightly different too, as the rider completes their lap they hand the baton to an organiser then swipe their transponder. The organiser then passes the baton to the next rider who swipes their card on the way out. It seems very labour intensive but works well and has a plus point in that the organiser knows the name of who has just come in / gone out and gives you personal encouragement.

Julie and Paul are doing the run and first laps for Sunday Riders and Skid Marks respectively. The run is quite short, from the tent, across scrubland around a bush and back. The bikes are parked in the corral. We shout and cheer as they all line up and on the stroke of noon the gun goes and people sprint away. It now becomes apparent why so many people lined up were wearing facemasks, there is a veritable dust storm kicked up by hundreds of feet and it is difficult to discern people just a few feet away! In fact Paul said that when he got to the bush there were people running in all directions because they just couldn’t see their way back. Then they start their laps, we anticipate 1hour45mins under race conditions. The adrenalin has kicked in and Paul is back in 1hour 25, and Julie in 1hour 35 – way to go guys!! Next out are Jim and Raymond, whose lap times are separated by only 4 seconds 1hr23:30/4 and then it’s my turn. I feel surprisingly calm yet aggressive which is quite unusual for me, Raymond comes in I take the baton, swipe out and pedal out onto the course. It is so much more rideable than last time! I slither through the sandy singletrack which I completely messed up in practice and once onto the rocky climb, most of which I previously walked, I find I am overtaking people by the handful. The price for this is total hyperventilation and I sound like a steam train! I get my breath back powering along the flat section at the top and fly down the helter skelter descent. Any bits I really don’t feel confident with – a couple of nasty rocky drop-offs and one cliff face climb, I quickly dismount and run over. It actually feels very good to push myself this hard, I haven’t felt like this since the last day of La Ruta and having done no racing this year I was worried that I was getting so apathetic that I would never feel that way again. I get back to the tent to complete my lap in 1hour28.33!! I’m shocked and pleased! Steve is out next followed by Greg, who didn’t think he’d get a daylight lap in but we’re way up on our expected schedule. My next lap starts at just gone 11pm, it is pitch black, there is no ambient light from surrounding urbanisations. The Niterider lights are excellent; I have one on my bars and one on my helmet. I don’t find the night riding as ‘easy’ as I do at home, where I get very nervous but it turns out to be fine, the shadowed rocks make me stall repeatedly and although I go fast on the flatter bits I am still going a lot slower. At the 11mile mark I pick up a guy from Aspen whose lights have gone and we cycle back at a steady pace together. In the last mile I pick up another two lightless souls and look like a mother hen bringing in her brood. They thank me; I say if I can’t be fast, I can at least be useful :-)

The other strange thing is that the rocks hold the heat of day and night laps are warm, then as day breaks and you expect temperatures to rise, it plummets! From 6-9am it’s freezing then the sun bursts over the mountains and the radiation levels soar. Riders come and go, my last lap starts about 8.30 and Steve does the last leg having to lurk a little to miss the noon deadline. Sunday Riders completed 14 laps. As mid-day passes there are flashes of fork lightning over Prostitute Butte followed by low rumbles of thunder. Little did we know that Rod, completing Skid Marks' 15th lap, was there, squirming in the sand, leading the forks a merry dance as he dodged the stormJ Keith's team came third in their category. He stays for the award presentation, we cruise back into Moab, elation having superceded dread and already planning how to improve for next year. We all meet up for a celebratory meal and have a well deserved early night.

Monday 18th October
We sleep like a log and wake quite late. Rod and Steve have planned to go sightseeing at the Canyonlands National Park, we decide to give this a miss, ‘once you’ve seen one view….' We hit the shops for presents and bump into Chipps, Chris and friends. He said he really enjoyed the race and wasn’t feeling too bad – he obviously didn’t try hard enough! He and Chris suggested riding the Amasa trail as a recovery ride and suggests going to the Chile Pepper bike shop (also recommended by Jim at Vecchio’s in Boulder) for internet access. The shop does very good coffee, Raymond buys a slinky red top and we watch some guys ride the steep slick rock outside the shop, then it’s back for another sleep. Once awake all desire for a ride has disappeared so we decide to go for a walk instead. Earlier, in town, we’d seen a creekside pathway, so we decide to explore. A meander through suburban Moab takes us past a thrift shop (US version of second hand shop) and then we spot the trail. This winds it’s way back towards the centre of town, a wood chip track through yellow and green trees makes a welcome change from endless red rock. The trees have weird bark that looks like it has just survived a forest fire. The track surfaces at the hardware store, which Raymond investigates with relish. It’s back to Isabella’s for supper, we walk through the door to be confronted with the only other customers – Paul and Jim! Our number is soon swelled by the arrival of Julie and Greg. Greg has rested today, Julie had intended to ride out to the Arches but missed the turning and travelled the Castle Valley road for a 30mile round trip. We plan to meet up at 9.00am in the morning to ride Porcupine Rim. Steve and Rod think they may try to visit Bryce canyon, even though it is a long drive in the wrong direction, being so inspired by today scenic views. Jim has an early start in the morning, he is catching the 7.30 am bus back to Denver on the start of a long trip back to Aberdeen.

Tuesday 19th October
Today we are riding the legendary Porcupine Rim. Rod and Steve have decided to ride too but drive to the trailhead. We meet the others and cycle the 10.5miles to the start, it takes a good hour to get there. We find Rod’s car with a message written on the side in the dust – they’ve already set off. We sign the trail register and begin the notorious track. After the trials of the race the track seems relatively tame and we manage it without many problems. In fact we are all riding extremely well. At the top of the climb is a magnificent viewpoint over Castle Valley with steep, vertiginous drops made even more perilous by a strong wind blowing into the void. Raymond cheats death by standing, bike aloft, on a rocky outcrop; we settle for just sitting close to the edge for photos. The descent is fast and furious over rock-strewn trails, which we fly over with ease. The track then contours the hill above the river, all the wrong camber for me but I am feeling confident and riding well, surprising myself at how well I do some bits of it! At the end it drops to the road back into Moab, Greg foolishly tries to go for the town sign, Raymond easily out sprints him. We retrieve the car and at lunch we are joined by Keith, there is no sign of Steve and Rod. Raymond and I were planning on going to Fruita this evening but Paul now needs a lift to Denver in order to catch a connecting flight to Seattle so we decide it would be easier stay with them and take up their offer of a night camping at Dead Horse Point. We drive out to the National Park and the RV camping ground, at the entrance of which we catch sight of a leaping deer. The ranger’s office is closed so we go straight through and find a spot to hook up. The only bugbear is that the fires are solely charcoal, wood fires are not allowed and we have nothing but copious amounts of wood. We start the fire anyway and no sooner is it well alight than the ranger appears, we work out how much it is to stay the night and he chastises us for our use of wood. We plead ignorance by assuming the sign meant no wood gathered from the park and he kindly turns a blind eye telling us that we can burn what’s already alight but no more! Julie cooks - superbly as usual. Wednesday 20th October
Slept quite well although it sounded quite windy in the night. Keith has arrived and he, Greg and Julie decide to ride to the view point of Dead Horse Point before the crowds start appearing. On their return Keith gets to grips with breakfast. He is preparing hearty pancakes for us, vegan and regular versions, over the open fire. Raymond is impressed and is determined to try his own at home some time. Whilst the others are packing Raymond and I take the short bike ride to the viewpoint, which is quite spectacular, a huge gorge/canyon with the Colorado River winding it’s way through the floor. On the way back we see some more wild deer. Today, Julie and Keith are planning a hike to see some petroglyphs of childbirth. We decide to head out to Fruita accompanied by Paul and Greg in the RV. Once there we browse the local bike shop, here there are some black glittery arm warmers that we think would suit Paul, Raymond tells the shop assistant the he dresses like the Queen of England! We have coffee in a shop with a ceiling like the National Gallery all bronzed and ornate (and selling vegan cookies) then decide to rest today and ride tomorrow. We find a RV park and start a fire, Paul and I prepare food but realise that we have nothing to cook it in as Julie has the camping stuff. Raymond and I go to the thrift shop and pick up a wok (in which is a stand that Raymond discards) and a frying pan for a dollar each. The wok is a great success but without the stand needs to be supported by rocks in order to balance. Later on we walk to the supermarket then sing around the campfire and settle down for the night. It rains hard throughout the night.

Thursday 21st October
Wake to dull and grey skies. Raymond lights a fire and mixes up some chocolate pancake batter, with raisins and cornflakes, to cook for breakfast. The pan we bought is not the best for the job but the pancakes with a drizzle of maple syrup are very edible. We drive out to the trailhead for our last ride. We do the infamous Joe’s Ridge; scary in places due to exposed nature of trail but apart from stalling on a rather vertiginous bit I ride it all and feel pleased. I also feel this marks the end of my holiday so let the boys go off to play whilst I make my way back to the car. Julie and Keith have come to do a last trail ride too. The boys arrive back an hour later, very bubbly and excited after some frantic trail blazing. Julie and Keith go off riding, I drive us back to book in at La Quinta for a last night of home comforts, hot showers, soft beds and complimentary breakfast. Rod has e-mailed, he and Steve have gone to Boulder for some more high altitude trail training. Hopefully we’ll meet up at the airport tomorrow. Paul comes over to book his flight and I, after a much needed shower, pack away my trusted steed.

Friday 22nd October
I sleep well until the alarm goes off at 5.00am! Why?? Paul shocks us by arriving early!! We’re almost ready, we pack everything into the car and squeeze Paul and his bike into the back seat and set off in a fine drizzle. The weather is meant to get worse as we move east, so we have left extra time for the journey. As it turns out the rain comes in fits and starts and soon peters out altogether. I drive to Vail, stopping only for an agitated Paul to have a pee. Weather warnings suggest icy conditions over the pass so we stop for Raymond to take over. It is bloody cold, the temperature gauge reads 37’F and there is a fine snow falling. The pass, however, is clear. We get to the outskirts of Denver and the road multiplies into five/six lanes and the traffic builds. Paul needs to collect his bike bag from the RV rental place on an industrial estate. We manage to guide a brave Raymond through the bedlam and back out again to the relative quiet of Denver airport. We miss the gas station and ask the rental return guy whether we need wash our filthy car whilst we’re getting fuel, he laughs and says only if we were renting it straight back out againJ. The courtesy bus drops us at our terminal and takes Paul on to another for his flight. We haven’t been there long before Rod and Steve appear and we can check in. The bikes are scanned then we join a long queue to go through security and have our fingerprints and iris photos rechecked. They verify that we are the same people they let in, they do not however, realise our transformations from Slickrock virgins to international 24hour racers. JG