Hell is deceiving. One would think it to be an ugly place, with shades of grey, oppressive heat and indistinct forms, not bright sun, clear sky, and perfect temp's. We were lured into a landscape of otherworldly rock formations hoping to find a challenging bike ride. We should have known something was up, as all the rocks seemed to be...bleeding?
Max and I were drawn to this Utah landscape by rumors of a ride so hard that most who have escaped it would never return... "Five Miles of Hell" as the trail is known, is a 20 mile maze of painted dots on rock, snaking in and out of narrow canyons in the desert of Sinbad. For biking, it is some of the most painful topography Utah has to offer.
Being riders who like trail that is barely rideable, this landscape seemed well suited to our masochistic nature. We, at first, were stoked to be finding yet another spot in Utah to ride, an amazing landscape, a new "playground." However, don't be fooled, it is Hell after all.
In this Hell you ride a little bit, then you push your bike through a sandpit, then push it up a steep un-rideable canyon exit, repeat....for eternity....
We had allotted 6 hours to make our journey through Hell. For a 20 mile route that should have been plenty. It would only be a problem if we ended up walking most of that distance. WALKING!?!?
It was a three mountain range day, clear and painfully bright. From most points one could see the Sierra La Sals, the Abajo's, and the Henry Mtns. And the closer landforms, which provided some sense of where we were on the earth, were Twin Knobs, Loneman Butte, and Temple Mountain.
I was out for a day of it not concerned by time, or the molasses like slowness that was our forward motion. Max, however, seemed to have the sense to realize that we might indeed, really be in Hell, and that spending the night out there was a real possibility. The short days this time a year are deceptive. The sun hanging still relatively high in the sky moves rapidly toward the horizon.
Above, the last of the days direct sunlight shines on Max, who was not stoked to still be over 6 miles of trail away from the car.
Luckily in this Hell there are escape routes, this one signed for convenience. We exited Hell and made it back to the car with numb hands watching the last of the days light fade to black. Will we go back? In time, the memory of walking through sand will fade, and the adventure memory will over power the "hiking with a bike" memory. I am sure we will return...although the best bike set up for our next trip might just be no bike at all!
Have you made this form of "biking" a habit? :)
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