We barrel along the top of Elk Ridge, a rough fulcrum between
the Colorado River basin to the north and the San Juan River basin
to the south. We pass dilapidated forest cabins in the gleaming
aspens, unearth water sources as we go, and occasionally whoop
with glee. The “Old West” might be a thing of the past, but on
our bikes, we’re rediscovering the promise of open land and the
pleasures of self-reliance. “My experiences in these places are so
positive that they outweigh all the politics and challenges and
inspire me to want to preserve this for the future,” says Kaitlyn.
“The first step in getting cyclists to care about a thing is to get
them out into spaces like this, so they’re engaged in it.”
On evening three, at our route’s high point, we run into Ben
Chicken, a bespectacled forest ranger who lives at the guard
station watching over this stretch of Manti-La Sal National
Forest. His job was created after President Obama designated
Bears Ears. “Before me, we had some volunteers manning
the guard station, and they’d give out maps and information
and do some trail work,” he says. The regular visitors weren’t
used to the increased Forest Service presence “so there has
been an adjustment period,” he says. “We’re just trying to get
everybody on the same page so this special area stays beautiful
and enjoyable for years to come.” As we talk, three mule deer
bucks filter through the pines 30 yards away. Chicken points
out a campsite beneath golden aspens, and we build a fire and
hunker down for the night. The tree’s withering leaves rattle like
empty candy wrappers. Once we’ve nestled into our sleeping
bags, conversation ebbs and the raspy wheeze of elk bugling a
few hundred yards from camp fills the silence.
I
f the first day or two on the bikes was hard on the body, now
the riding has become routine. We’re in the rhythm of the
land around us. We wake when the sun hits, break camp
when we’re ready, pedal all day, and stop when the light
fades. There’s no hurry, just forward momentum. So deserted
are these roads that our tires kick up chunks of petrified wood.
On the descent to Lake Powell, we pass a marker for Hideout
Canyon, said to have been a fully fortified backcountry recluse
where Butch Cassidy and his gang sheltered from the law. Even
today, there’s nothing and no one for hours and hours from this
spot. I imagine those outlaws concocting a tale of their heavily
armed fort in the mountains simply to protect this wilderness
sanctuary from the outside.
We stop for lunch at the Sundance Trailhead, where a faint
path leads into the ominous-sounding Dark Canyon Wilder-
ness. Kaitlyn has led college courses from the conf luence of the
canyon at the Colorado River up through the 3,000-foot chasm
to this rim of milky sandstone. Dark Canyon, she says, is just
as impressive as the Grand Canyon. It seems crazy that I’ve
never heard of it. “Part of the magic of these places is how quiet
they are, how empty,” says Kurt. “But that’s the conundrum:
If too few people know about a place like this, it could be lost
to bigger interests. Too many, and it’s spoiled.”
We have just 12 miles to go and two hours till sunset. But
we linger on the slickrock, basking in the radiating heat and
staring past lollipops of juniper. We decide to camp another
night—no one wants the experience to end. For now, the three of
us are exactly the right number of people in this wilderness.
11 Epic State and
National Park Rides
by caitlin giddings
A. Rim Drive, Crater
Lake National Park,
Crater Lake, OR /
Pedal 33 miles around
a shimmering Crater
Lake for killer climbs and
breathtaking mountain
vistas.
B. Carriage Roads,
Acadia National
Park, Bar Harbor, ME
/ A utopia for cyclists of
all levels—thanks to 45
miles of crushed-rock
carriage roads that are
closed to motor vehicles.
C. Shenandoah
National Park, Front
Royal, VA / This 105-
mile stretch of pave-
ment runs the length of
Shenandoah National
Park in the Blue Ridge
Mountains.
D. Going-to-the-
Sun Road, Glacier
National Park, West
Glacier, MT / Ride
Going-to-the-Sun Road
now before the park’s
eponymous glaciers dis-
appear forever.
E. Trail Ridge Road,
Rocky Mountain
National Park, Estes
Park, CO / From Estes
Park to Grand Lake is
48 miles—with plenty
of overlooks where you
can take in the majestic
peaks.
F. Skyline Drive, Zion
Canyon Scenic Drive,
Zion National
Park, Springdale,
UT / Enjoy a relatively
easy ride on roads closed
to car traffic (except
shuttle buses) between
March and November.
G. Cades Cove Loop
Road, Great Smoky
Mountains National
Park, Townsend,
TN / Highlights on this
11-mile loop include a
backdrop dotted with
19th-century homesites,
churches, and barns.
H. Teton Park
Road, Grand Teton
National Park,
Moose, WY / Aside
from some of the most
dramatic mountain vistas
in the country, this ride
also features a car-free
bike path.
I. Shark Valley Tram
Road, Everglades
National Park, Home-
stead, FL / It doesn’t
get much more chill
than this flat 15-mile
paved loop, which has
been described as the
“best bike trail in South
Florida.”
J. Avenue of the
Giants, Humboldt
Redwoods State
Park, Humboldt
County, CA / The 31.6-
mile Avenue of the Giants
is a smooth ribbon of road
with sites that include
the iconic 950-year-old
Immortal Tree.
K. Cactus Forest
Scenic Loop Drive,
Saguaro National
Park, Tucson, AZ /
This scenic eight-mile
paved loop offers stun-
ning views of the Santa
Catalina Mountains.
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ISSUE 1 | 2020 • BICYCLING.COM 73