The survival of Kokopelli Trail

—Warning—

This post is very long, if you need something to help you sleep, keep reading! I wrote it more to keep in my memory. I will add pictures soon, hopefully…

I have always wondered what it would take for me to meet my limit, to find something that is so challenging that I feel like it is nearly impossible. Over Memorial weekend I think I have found it. I experienced something that challenged me both mentally and physically more than anything has in my life.

The Kokopelli trail is 142 miles that starts in Loma, Colorado and ends in Moab, Utah. I had this grand idea only 2 weeks before that it would be fun to do over Memorial weekend. I asked Bill if he wanted to go, and he was game. Not knowing exactly how to go about doing it, I talked to Chris, who has done it a few times, for some advice. The advice ended up turning into both him and Marni joining, with Chris as our tour guide. Couldn’t have asked for better company, or a better tour guide. There is no way we would have been able to pull it off without him.

We all stayed in the Super 8 motel in Fruita on Friday, so we could get an early start on Saturday. Bill and I didn’t get in until after midnight, and I had a really hard time trying to sleep. The wake up call was at 5, although we didn’t start moving till about 6, and I probably snoozed for 2 hours. We ate some hotel breakfast and headed out to the trail head. It was a cool morning with lots of clouds that threatened rain. We loaded up the bikes, both mine and Bill’s with panniers. I saw Chris and Marni’s set up, and to me it didn’t even look like they were going on a 3 day adventure. Obviously they knew how to pack, and I knew then that this was definitely going to be a learning experience, and these panniers were going to be a challenge.

We headed out around 7:30, looking at the cars one last time, rethinking what we were getting ourselves into. We were off. No turning back now.

 

Shortly into the ride Bill started having problems with his panniers, they kept falling off the rear rack. He had to stop quite a few times to adjust them, and struggled with them most of the first day.

The first 13 miles of the Kokopelli trail are known as the most difficult, technical part of the ride. I don’t believe it was the trail that made it difficult, but the mud. Not too long into Troy Built Loop it started to drizzle. It was actually rather refreshing, until we got past the rocks and hit more of the desert dirt. After rain falls, it is no longer dirt, but thick clay. The mud clumped on our bikes, which made the original 40 pound bike with the panniers probably close to 70 pounds with all the mud! It took us almost an hour to go about 10 feet. We stopped quite a bit to try to get the mud off enough so we can push on further, but it proved helpless. We finally stopped and grabbed whatever we could find; rocks, sticks, pieces of a car, to scrape off the mud. This process was at least another hour, but the good thing was, the sun came out during this process, so it dried out the trail some. Once we got our bikes so they would actually move, we headed down to Salt Creek where we stopped for another while to clean the bikes up more with river water. This whole process put us way behind schedule, and it ended up taking us about 6 hours to do these 13 miles. How discouraging. 6 hours already, only 13 miles covered, still 129 miles to go…

After we dealt with the mud demon, which really put doubts in my head about completing the trip, we then had a long hike a bike up a rocky trail that reminded me of climbing a 14er. Only with a 40 pound bike. It was the first of many thoughts of  “what the hell are we doing?” Once we got to the top we were finally able to get on our bikes and ride for a while. We rode on a dirt road that ran along I-70, and I found that my front derailleur was not working properly and was not letting me shift between my small and middle ring. We had wasted so much time already, that I wasn’t about to put us back even more, so I shifted my bike to the middle ring, and finished the day on that. Thankfully the terrain was never that steep, and it gave me a good workout. We stopped for a short while along the trail to have lunch, and then marched on. The rest of the day was mostly ridable, and easy compared to the start. We crossed the Colorado/Utah border, and everyone’s spirits seemed to be lifted at that point…

…Until we were able to see the LaSal mountain range off in the distance… far off distance… and knew that we needed to get there, and past that in the next two days. Another thought of “what the hell are we doing??”

There was nice roller coaster riding for a while, and then we came across the last big uphill for the day. It was pretty steep, about 400 vertical feet in ¼ mile or so. I attempted it, but didn’t make it very far before I about passed out. But Mr. I love climbing Bill passed me and continued to ride the rest of the hill. With the panniers and everything. I was struggling just walking my bike, and about puked by the time I got to the top. I will say this: age means nothing!!

We cruised on some more dirt paths for a while, then came to a paved road which would lead to where were to be staying the night. I was ready. I was done sitting and pedaling on my bike. We couldn’t get there fast enough. 12 hours on the bike really takes its toll! My left hand was already numb, my knees were screaming at me, and my butt could not sit on that seat any longer. I was very happy when we got to camp.

We camped at Westwater right on the Colorado River. It was beautiful. We set up camp, filled up on water and Chris cooked us dinner. He was so good to us on this trip, preparing and carrying all of our meals, as well as being tour guide. Chris and Bill took a look at my bike to see what was wrong, and found that there was a loose part and all they had to do was tighten it. No big problem, thank god. I was grateful to have my granny gear back.

After dinner I went to lie in our tent. I thank Bill so much for bringing his big down sleeping bag. He was so nice and let me use it instead of my flimsy little lightweight sleeping bag. I got so comfortable I didn’t want to get up and knew I could fall asleep right there. I decided I should go to the bathroom once more, and brush my teeth. I really wish I didn’t do that. I could not fall asleep to save my life. So I listed to the river outside the tent, watched the stars, and even enjoyed getting rained on a little. I was still exhausted when I got up the next morning around 7. I groggily ate breakfast and helped take down camp. I was not ready to get on the bike for another day. There was no turning around now…

 

Once I got on my bike and started going, I felt great. The first part of the day was awesome with rolling trail, beautiful views and great company. We regrouped around Cisco, and Bill found out one of his spokes broke on his rear wheel. He wasn’t too happy about it, and worried it would interfere with him finishing the journey. We continued on, knowing there was nothing to do out in the middle of nowhere. Bill took it easy and the bike held up for him. After the fun rolling trail we entered McGraw Bottom which runs along the Colorado River. It was not entirely ridable, but the views were amazing. We were cruising along a marshy area when we came across a small mud pile that was not easily ridable because it was more like a large hole filled with mud. I had bad flashbacks from the day before and didn’t want to dig more mud out of my shoes, so I wanted to avoid it as much as possible. There was a rock on the far side of the mud that I thought if I was strategic enough, I could roll to the rock, put my foot on it, and then push myself the rest of the way without touching the mud. I made it to the rock, barely balancing on my right toe, when I realized I was stuck and there was no way I was going to push myself out of there. I didn’t have enough leverage in my right foot, and my left foot was still clipped in and I didn’t have enough balance to unclip without tipping. Which is eventually what happened. I lost complete balance and control and fell over to my left, landing softly in the pile of mud and a tree stump. Bill was right behind me and saw the whole thing. I am sure it looked amusing! I couldn’t stop laughing at my stupidity, while Bill was trying to help me up, worried I might have been hurt. I guess it looked a lot worse than it was. So much for avoiding the mud, I was now covered in it, and I still had to clean my cleats out. Smart, Nicolette.

We resituated and continued to catch up to Chris and Marni. The trail eventually met up with Hwy 128 where we had to make the decision on what Bill was going to do with his bike. He ended up calling Chris’s friend, Fred, who lives in Moab to see if he could help. He works at Poison Spider Bicycles, and was more than willing to help out. He would meet us at Dewey Bridge with a new wheel, but he couldn’t be there till 4 and it was only 1:30. Bill was originally going to take 128 down to Dewey Bridge but I suggested that he continue with us on Yellow Jacket, which would end up at Dewey Bridge. What did he have to lose?

I am so glad he decided to go. Yellow Jacket was probably my favorite section of trail. Very much Moab riding with a mix of sand and slickrock. My favorite. There had to have been some of the best views of the trip so far on this section of trail.

We made it to Dewey Bridge with more than enough time to meet Fred. I was feeling great, enjoying the last part of the trail. We had some lunch, and then decided that Chris, Marni and I would keep moving since we still had a lot of ground to cover, and we would all meet up at the campsite. I was on the verge of staying back with Bill to keep him company, and I am soooo glad I didn’t. We were headed for the worst part of the trip in my book, and the worst mountain biking I have ever experienced. When we left Dewey Bridge, I knew we had about 25ish miles to go, at least 17 uphill. Chris said it was only about 2500 feet, which I didn’t find out till later that he meant elevation gain, not total climbing… and we thought the guidebook said this section was only 3 hours long, and we were doing a good job of staying on that target. So I am thinking, 17 miles of climbing on a dirt road, gaining 2500 feet, and in 3 hours we will be at camp. Awesome! Piece of cake….

It didn’t start out too horrible bad, fairly steep with loose gravel, but if everything that we predicted was how it was, I was fine with it. It was nothing how I thought it was. It was amazing to see how high we were climbing, but it was also amazing how it never seemed to end! Every turn we came around, it was another hill! I thought this was the never ending trail. Marni and I took to walking out bikes for a while, I at least was feeling very discouraged at this road. I said at one point that I knew Bill was going to catch us. He did, not too long after, with a huge smile on his face. Sometimes I think he is a little nuts for how much he craves, enjoys and wants climbs. It was so great to see him, though. I needed him. I needed him more on this last section of the day than I ever had before. He listed to my bitching about the never ending climb, all the while encouraging me, again with a smile on his face. It was cute, but annoying at the same time. I was getting so discouraged; my knees were killing me, and just wanted to uphill to end. Just when I thought I could take no longer, it did finally end. It was a technical downhill, but I didn’t care. I was on my bike and moving. We were making good progress. According to my mind, I thought we were done with the tough stuff, and should be at camp in no time. I was wrong again. My body couldn’t take it anymore, my legs struggled to pedal. In all the complaining I was doing, I forgot something really important that probably would have helped me. I had not eaten since lunch. No wonder my body was failing. I also wasn’t drinking enough water, the water in my camelback was nasty creek water and it was making me nauseous. Bill offered his good water, but I was stubborn and refused. Dumb.

We got to a section called Rose Garden Hill. It was a steep downhill of boulders and impossible to ride. It was getting late, and I was ready to lie down. I looked across the gulley and saw a trail going up the other side. I asked Chris: “We don’t have to go up there, do we?” His response: “Yeah, but it’s not that bad, just have to get to the saddle over there.” My heart sank. I wanted to quite right there.

The next section is what Bill named, and I would have to agree, the Pit of Hell. It was uphill, rocky and again, never ending. Bill was nice enough to take almost everything out of my panniers and sherpa himself. I hated life. I hated bikes. I told myself I am never riding again. (I guess I was thinking out loud, because Bill heard that, and wouldn’t let me live it down) I was losing it. I now know how people lose their minds on endurance rides. I was starting to hallucinate, I couldn’t breathe, and if Bill wasn’t behind me, encouraging me to keep going, I would have stopped and gone to sleep on the side of the trail. We finally make it to the saddle. It was not just right there. It was starting to get dark. We headed down into the valley, and hit a very short uphill. Somehow Bills chain broke. Seriously, can anything else go wrong?? He very nicely lied to me, even after me asking if his chain broke while he stood there holding it, and said nope, it wasn’t broken, he was fine just gonna stop for a second then catch up. I was in no mood for arguing and knew he would catch up. If I stopped, I wouldn’t go any further. So I kept moving. Soon I caught up to Chris and Marni and told them the news. I don’t think Chris was overly excited to hear that, so he told us girls to head on and he would go back and help Bill.

So we did. It was getting even darker, and we had no idea where we were going, or how far. At this point I didn’t even think a camp existed. A while later, in our dazed states, we came across a sign that pointed to a camp ground. Not quite sure it was the right way, we didn’t care. We wanted camp. The only thing the sign was missing was the distance. I thought it wouldn’t be too far in, and we were home free. Not so much. Yet another climb, and another never ending trail. Soon the guys caught up, almost complete darkness by now. We got to the top of the hill and saw it then descended again. We put on our lights, not wanting to risk injury. My light was worthless, just a dim camping light, but I didn’t care. I wanted to get down the hill. So I went, not sure where I was going, and not sure if I was staying on the trail at that point. There was a point that a thought came into my head, that if I crashed, I would be laying down, and how much I would love that… A part of me then was wishing that I would crash. Man, we needed to get to the campsite.

Chris had never been to this campsite before, since he has never camped on this trail, but knew the area it was supposed to be in, and that it was off the trail a little. When we got to the intersection where a sign pointed to the campsite, I was excited but also afraid that the “off the trail a little” was another terribly long climb. I am not sure if we were in the spot Chris was planning on, but we found some somewhat level ground and pitched the tents. I was done being stubborn with Bill, and let him pamper me. It was so nice. He pitched the tent and I got in, changed and lay down in the sleeping bag. Finally. I really thought this would never come.

The wonderful guys that we were with… Chris again made dinner, and Bill went to get water. I don’t know how I would have survived this last stretch of the day if it weren’t for Bill. I was fed in the tent, and soon after passed out. Only a few times did I wake up when I turned, but fell quickly back asleep. I didn’t want to wake up for the next day. I was not ready to do it again…

 

Surprisingly I felt pretty good the next morning. We wanted to get an early start, since we had yet another long day ahead of us. I had recovered from the bad thoughts I had the day before, and was looking forward to the day. I knew that we had to start with another climb, but I wasn’t going to be fooled this time. I knew it was going to be long, and never ending if I let my mind take over again. I wasn’t going to let that happen.

We left camp about 7:30. It wasn’t long before the uphill started, and I went into my turtle mode. Low gears, just spinning. My knees were shot, so I couldn’t push higher gears if I wanted to. Bill and I rode with each other most of the time, sometimes engaging in pointless conversation, but mostly just enjoying each others company, the great views and the nice ride. The uphill was long, and I chose to even walk in some areas, not wanting to push it too hard. I felt so much better, and started to love my bike, and even climbing again.

The most amazing part was the LaSals. They got closer and closer until desert turned into the smell of pine trees. We were in the mountains. The mountains that were a spec in the distance just the day before. I was high just on the thought of that.

We regrouped at Upper Fisher Creek which was at the end of a nice downhill but the start of the last big climb. The view was amazing, looking down at the valley that we had started in. It was a long ways down! I was starting to feel everything that we had accomplished to this point. It was overwhelming, and we still had quite a ways to go.

The last push to the high point of the trip was a dirt road. Gradual incline, but felt steep considering all the climbing we were doing over the last few days. Bill and Chris took off ahead, and Marni and I slowly followed. She soon had to stop to take off some layers and told me to keep going and that she would catch up. I was grateful for this, just in the fact that I knew I would have a hard time going again if I stopped. So I spun slow like a turtle, all the way to the top where I was greeted by cheers from the guys. We had successfully made the highest point of the trip, around 8600 feet I believe. It was at this point that Chris told us that the overall climbing of the trail was 15,000-18,000 feet depending on what you wend by. I was shocked, and impressed that we did it. I always considered a ride at Falcon to be a good workout. Seems pretty easy now. We had some lunch, and enjoyed the view which again was spectacular. We were so close, yet so far. Chris warned us that there still was one climb left. A paved road, 5 miles long and about 1600 feet of climbing. So fairly similar to Lookout Mountain.

From lunch we started a fast descent on a paved road for quite a few miles. It was cold, and super windy. I almost got knocked sideways a couple of times which made me reconsider my boldness to go fast. Soon we got to the road that led us uphill. It was steep from the start, and the dead legs and heavy wind was not helping. I had to switch between riding and walking just to let my knees and hips rest. This was taking forever, and the wind was putting me in a foul mood. Especially when we came around a turn and saw switchbacks that went high on the mountain. Bill suggested that we try drafting, so he pulled in front of me. I got on his tire and stuck. I looked at nothing else than his tire. I had already enjoyed the view, so I didn’t feel like I was missing out on anything. I had to survive this climb. So we trudged up. Me on his rear wheel, thinking of nothing else but. The wind would knock us to the side a few times, but I stayed focused on his tire. My mood perked up when I realized we were really making good progress up the hill. Such an awesome guy. Oh, forgot to say that he carried pretty much all of my stuff this last day. That, and let me draft behind him. Incredible.

We got to a turn and decided to wait for Chris and Marni. They came up and kept going. We rode with them for a while and found we still had a ways to go. My mind started to take over again, but I fought it, and Bill and I took after it again. My eyes just stuck on his tire.

We finally made it to the summit, to freezing wind. I was on familiar terrain because I did this section of the trail only 2 weeks before. It was on this part of the trail I got the grand idea of doing the whole thing… Smart.

Since I knew where we were, knew the terrain and knew there wasn’t much climbing left, I let go. I wanted to fly down this hill. Too bad my body wasn’t feeling the same… Not too long after I took off, I hit a technical bump which flew one of my panniers off my bike. Bill stopped and put it back on for me. We were in a ditch to the side of the trail, and when I tried to get moving again, I lost my balance and fell to my left. I twisted my hurt knee even more, and got a handlebar in the thigh which caused immediate pain. Bill helped me up, but I couldn’t even put pressure on my leg. He told me I have to take it easy on this downhill. He didn’t want me getting hurt and he knew how little energy I had left. So once my leg stopped throbbing and I was able to put some pressure on it, I got back on and slowly made my way down. It was very painful. It hurt to stand, hurt to pedal and it hurt to walk. I was a mess.

We cruised the rest of the way down Sand Flats road into Slickrock, and then down to Moab. It was a nice relaxing descent to end the trail. We stopped towards the bottom to take off layers since it was once again the desert and not mountains. We took a final group picture then headed to the Wendy’s in Moab where Fred would meet us and take us back to Fruita. It felt so good to sit in that car, and I think I was out before we pulled onto the highway. We got back to our cars in Fruita, laughing that it took us 3 days to get to Moab by bike, yet 2 hours to get back by car.

 

We survived. We had many obstacles on the way, for some reason just 150 miles on a mountain bike unsupported wasn’t enough of a challenge. I am not sure I can say it was “fun”. It was challenging, especially when the mind takes over. I found how important good people are in your life, for I was with three of the best people on this trip. I know I couldn’t have done this without the support of Bill, I owe him my life and more if I could give. I don’t think I could do anything else like this in my life without him.