Kokopelli Trail 2012

April 9th 2012: It's the day after Easter, and with chocolate still on our breath and dyed egg stains on our hands, we all start the drive to Fruita, Colorado. Jerry M. is going to be driving Dave C. and me to the campground. Jerry was still in the process of putting the final touches on a homemade bike rack on the roof of his van as Dave and I loaded it with camping gear and water containers. Jerry's invention looked like it would hold all three mountain bikes, even though all the material came from scrap pieces and parts.

By 9:00am the three muskateers were in Jerry's van heading west on I-70. Dave and I took turns pondering and relooking at the map for the Kokopelli Trail that travels 150 miles from Fruita to Moab. The trail uses old jeep tracks, 4x4 roads, single tracks,( "single track" means some blind adventurer cut in a trail, many moons ago.) After lunch we passed a state camp ground named James B Robb, just as the name on our camp area 40 miles west of here. Within a hour we pulled into the second James B Robb camp ground. The young lady running the front desk couldn't find our reservation and had to call in to her boss for a total appraisal of the situation. Come to find out Ranger Rick, who processed our reservation did it for the camp ground we passed 40 miles back. With a little begging and crying he let us stay here.

We were unloading our gear when a truck pulled up and it looked like Terry and Tim, but they were supposed to be with Guy in his Subaru. Turns out the Subbie couldn't hold all the gear for three fellas, so they split the gear. Within a few minutes Charlene and Patrick drove up in their vehicle and all was right with the world as Guy drove up in the Subbi.

After setting up our tents we had a few beers and talked about the up coming week. Terry, Dave, Tim and I would drive to the campground tommorrow at Rabbit Valley. We would then drop our gear at the camp sites and start to mountain bike towards Jerry, Guy, Patrick and Charlene who would be biking west.

Right now it was time for a Mexican meal which sounded "REAL GOOD!"

April 10th Did I forget to mention the weather on the western slope of Colorado, it can be a tad warm, like in the 80's which isn't bad if you're pool side with a drink and a umbrella in hand. When you are mountain biking and your helmet is turning your head into a hard boiled egg, it's not good. All of us wanted to get on the dusty trail early, so as not to be turned into barbecue on a bike seat. So I got everybody going around 5:00am which I knew wouldn't make me Mr. Popularity at that instant but the group would thank me later, I hoped!

My group which we called ourselves the Preparation H's and our motto thank you very much is "preparation H works so good, you wish you had hemorrhoids!" started our drive to Rabbit Valley. Jerry's group the "Koko Creme Puffs" their motto could be,"it only looks like cream!" would start biking from the Fruita Kokopelli Trailhead.

By 9:00 am we had secured our campsites at Rabbit Valley and were ready to head out on our mountain bike riding adventure. This part of the country is desert with all the elements that make up a desert.There were low bushes covered with thorns to keep critters and bikers from molesting them. Lots of sharp rocks litered the trail and yucca plants also called Spanish Bayonet were everywhere. Come on, just from the plant's name, I don't have to tell you about critters and bikers do I!

The first couple of miles were along a 2 wheel drive road and it was heaven. We biked along side the I-70 interstate, so it wasn't like we were going to get lost, not yet any way. Off to the south we could see the mighty Colorado River working it's way down to Old Mexico. We rode our bikes on a side road to Salt Creek overlook and we could see a couple of rafters slowly coasting with the rivers currents. The Salt Creek joined the Colorado at a dog leg bend in the river. We could also see to the east, this steep single track trail leading down to the Salt Creek drainage. It must have been just a mountain goat trail or maybe a crazy miner looking for his fortune and cut in the this path, it couldn't be ours! Within a half hour our 2 wheel drive road stopped at someone's sick idea of a path.

I don't know who I felt more sorry for my brakes smoking or my butt pounding on the bike seat, as we slowly followed this rock filled roller coaster path down to the Salt Creek. Our group stopped at a rock formation that would temporarily curtail our bike riding, and here we would have our first lunch. It was a good place to stop since we would have to carry our bikes for this next section.

After eating lunch we carried on, which means we did carry the bikes on our backs. Then the Salt valley opened up to a sandy trail and a little more of a narrow rocky trail down to a wooden bridge across the creek. I thought, isn't this nice someone has taken the time and money to make our travels a little more easy. The bridge was 50 feet long with a set of wooden poles set into the ground close enough together to keep any motorized vehicle from crossing the bridge. Of all the posts I have biked through I have never seen post set so close togethor that the bike pedals just clear by inches, in fact I didn't see the posts. I was cruising along going about 10 mph, probably whistling a little tune. When disaster struck, my right pedal hit the solid pole and my left pedal came swinging up so hard it tore my sock off from my shoe up. Any skin that was on my left shin before the accident is now part of the bike pedal. Then to add insult to injury I flew off my bike into one of those sharp bushes I was talking about earlier. Anybody for thorns under the cuticle and finger nails! Lovely, understanding Terry thought it was the funniest thing he had ever seen, I think later for grins and fun he would sit around and tear wings off of butterflies


After pulling myself out of the bushes we could hear Tim yelling from up above that he had found a fellow rider and we were on the right trail. This next part of the trail was so steep we had to carry our bikes up a 60 degrees hill covered with slippery rocks. I was in the lead so Terry would have a full view for his entertainment, if I splattered on the rocks below after loosing my balance. I didn't let him down, only this time it was just my bike. As I pushed it up the rock I lost hold of the hand brake and down the bike went, luckly without me attached. I could hear the sound of brand new paint being ground off my bike as it bounced off every possible rock in the path. This time Terry almost wet his pants laughing and I was so glad to be of some entertainment value, since my bike was loosing its' worth.

Within 30 minutes we found our Koko Cream Puffers, and after looking at and studying the map, we were making great time but lost. The Cream Puffers noticed blood running down my leg, from the close encounter with the post. Patrick mentioned that I wasn't the lone ranger for he had flown off his bike and smashed his shoulder into the rock. Just like some country western song "we should have turned right and we turned left." What was funny, the Cremer's had done the same thing, so we traveled on the wrong trail together. We explained to them what was up ahead on the trail and we made the decision to cut down to the 2 wheel drive road and take it to the trail head. Tim's and my bike were acting up in the shifting of the gears department.

We found the cars left for us and drove to Fruita for bike repair and pizza. We got excellent service at the bike shop and a better deal at the pizza shop. By 5:00 pm we pulled back into the Rabbit Valley camping area and passed out pizza and beer.

We sat around a fire pit and told stories of the Kokopelli trail and what lessons we had learned so far, after biking 20 miles. Peter, the contractor from Carbondale Colo, and his wife were our hosts. Peter didn't have much work due of the big bad economy, so he figured it would be a great time to come sit in the desert and stare into a fire. In the past he had built large homes for larger than life clients, or who think they are. I told the story of my travels around Olympic National Park,and when I stopped in a small seaside town. The one and only industry was boat building. One morning I was hanging around the docks like the water rat that I am, when a pipe smoking gentleman stopped by the dock piling that I was leaning against. He told the story of a very famous client that they had built a sailboat for. Johnny Carson had walked into his office, with his face covered with sunglasses and a low riding hat. Johnny explained that he wanted a custom boat built but if any employee let it be known to the public that the old Tonight Show host had commissioned the boat the whole deal was off. The next morning my new found friend called all of his young employees into his office and related Johnny's deal. All the employees huddled together talking and looked their worried boss in the eyes and said, "who in the hell is Johnny Carson?"

April 11th: Patrick, possibly being the smartest bike rider within 100 miles decided not to ride today after yesterday's adventure of becoming a Flying Walenda and landing on some sharp rocks. Patrick would drive Terry's truck to Fish Ford, our next campsite, 36 dusty miles a way. After loading all of our gear into the vehicles. all of us were ready to take on the next section of the trail.

We had hit some soft sand yesterday but within an hour of today adventure we were chain deep in super soft sand. The sand seemed to enjoy grabbing our tires and watching us sweat our way through the obstacles. All 7 of us had our own way of dealing with the sand traps, some would pedal on with their leg muscles almost breaking through their biking pants, some would get off their bikes and push, but almost all the activity was orchestrated with colorful language, that one might hear coming from drunken sailors.

The surrounding desert landscape was decorated with large sand stone boulders that looked like a giant had placed them just for our enjoyment. The large boulders took on the shapes of any thing our imagination could
envision. The four wheel drive road led us closer to a large mesa that would be our lunch spot. After pushing our
bikes for close to 1/8 mile,due to the steepness of the road, we walked into a cedar tree covered landscape. We
rode our bikes to a flat rocky overlook and it was chow time.

After a relaxing lunch in the shade and a bit of sitting in the shade it was time to bike towards Fish Ford. The
sun was getting a tad bit warm, but perfect for a 3 foot long snake that slithered across the bike path at break
snake speed.
We all made good time coming off the mesa as we bounced along the rocky sandy trail. Dave and I had been riding together for about a hour when we came to a small stream. Now how do you cross a stream on a bike when you don't
know its' depth. I thought, why not take my shoes off and carry each bike across, that way I cool off and keep the bikes safe. As Dave found a spot to jump across I slowly walked up and down the stream, it felt so good.
A storm was predicted for the Moab area on Thursday and the black clouds in the skies to the west looked like something was brewing ahead of us. I rode up onto a black top road as a strong head wind almost knocked me off my bike. I had it in the lowest gear to get pedaling. Within a few minutes Terry and Tim drove up with Terry's truck
that Patrick had driven over. They had found the campsite, picked up water and had thankfully driven back in case
anybody needed a ride. I carried on but Guy and Jerry needed bike repairs and water, so they jumped in the truck.
Charlene and Dave continued on fighting the wind and sand.
I found the campsite and started to spread our gear out under the swaying cottonwood trees. With each passing hour the winds picked up. A fellow biker named Matt joined us in our campsite. A few days ago he had driven ahead and buried water and food, since he was self supported.
Within a few hours everybody was in except for Dave, he had missed the camp ground turn off and we spent a few
hours looking for our wandering biker. After a gourmet dinner of hot dogs and beans, which Dave and I provided since we where taking turns with furnishing meals, and it was our turn to show off our skills.
As the sun got lower in the sky the wind picked up to tornado speed. The Koko Creme Puffers were camped on the east side of the campsite and the wind and the red sand would block our view of them. We had to move Terry and Matt's tents because the wind was trying to send them back to Denver. Everybody had their eyes on the big old Cottonwood trees and we all expected to hear a crack and see a tree come crashing into our tents.


April 12th: After surviving a Lawrence of Arabia type sand dust storm during the night our group got ready for
another day of biking. The Koko Cremers decided to skip out for this part of the trail, so the idea of driving the vehicles to the Dewey Bridge campground and sitting in a lawn chair and watch tumble weeds tumble by seemed better then getting their faces sand blasted.

The Prep H's biked back to the trail head and followed a 4 wheel drive road. Then the path turned to single track
with lots of obstacle in the way of sharp rocks to shorten our adventure. We could see the Colorado River below us and the trail lead us down to the water's edge. Heavy bushes growing out of the rivers banks made for a interesting ride because of their low laying branches. Tim was wearing a back pack with his supplies securely fastened around his arms. A particularly low growing branch grabbed hold of Tim's back pack and stopped Tim dead in his tracks but his bike kept going without him. Luckily I made it through this obstacle course with out getting any more skin torn off of my limbs.

Our course lead us to a black top road and one of the main roads to Moab. The weather was getting darker in the west and the skies in the same direction looked like sweeping rain showers were soon to follow. Tim had the great suggestion of staying on the black top road and riding it to Dewey Bridge campground, instead of the dirt trail. It took all us Prep H's about 30 seconds to decide to high tail it to the campground and find a dry place to hide. Compared to our 5 mph speed on the Kokopelli trail we were doing light speed at 25 mph on the black top. As the rain started to pelt our bike helmets Terry's truck came into view. Everyone of us were looking through the windshield as the rain dropped formed mud balls on the trucks hood. That is everybody except Dave, again. Dave had
biked towards the old Dewey Bridge thinking the camp ground was in that direction. After watching the storm retreat from our campground, we set up our tents. Within 30 minutes Dave came riding up on his bike with all the dust washed off in the rain.
Tim's bike needed a little work to prevent it from being thrown off a cliff by a frustrated bike owner, so we
decided to drive to Moab. The Prep H's drove into Moab and viewing the the Colorado River drainage kept us entertained as we looked out the truck windows.
The smell of a curry dinner the Koko Creamers were fixing filled our noses as we drove back into our camp site.

April 13th: We woke to a cloudy sky and maybe a few cloudier thoughts, with the idea of a possible muddy trail ahead of us if the rains came. The Koko's wanted to bike the trail, but after getting a ride to the mid point and biking back to camp,our group decided to drive to the Onion Road entrance. We then biked up the Onion Road until we came to the Kokopelli Trail, then we biked back to camp. As I always say "it all pays the same."
We drove to the Onion Road and got ready to bike the 11 mile road with 1,200 ft. of gain. The monolithic structure known as Fisher Tower stood in the distnce as it has done for thousands of years. The road was hard packed sand and gravel, but it was heaven compared to the rocky single track we had been enduring for the last couple of days. As Tim and I biked over a small rise in the road we noticed a large bear standing in Onion Creek, which seemed odd,
especially with a few brave folks standing around him taking pictures. Then I noticed it was a grizzly bear, which aren't found in Utah. Then we noticed the movie camera,and realized this was a trained bear and the movie people were filming The Lone Ranger. Lots of jeeps, bikes, and cars were rubber necking to get a glimpse of this large brown bear. The trainers were using marshmellows as a teaching aid for the bear, and it's the exact same thing Pam uses on me.

The road crosses the Onion Creek 13 times as we biked along its' narrow canyon. Each water crossing had to be taken differently because of the depth of the water and the steepness of descent into the unknown. The surrounding red rocks decorated the distant valleys, which made for some beautiful biking.

By noon we had reached the top mesa and everybody had a few bike issues, wafter going through water and then getting fine sand thrown on the bike chains. After lunch we worked on Terry's bike and straightened out a bent tooth on his chain sprocket. Dave's bike needed some adjustment on his derailer. All the time the skies kept
getting darker with rain in the distance. Tim and Dave wisely decided to head back to the car. Terry and I decided to bike down to the Kokepelli Trail and bike into the Dewey Campground.

When Terry and I got to where the trailhead should be a group of campers were having a picnic and we thought this must be a picnic area and biked on. Within a few minutes we saw a Kokopelli Trail sign and there was a few mountain bikers hanging around the sign. We talked with them and made sure this was the Koko trail and biked on. We biked for about 10 miles with a gain of 1200 feet and then we came to a group of back country jeepers, who didn't have a clue where they were. We biked on until we came to a national forest sign and I got out my map. We had been making great time but going in the wrong direction, we were headed to Moab.

Terry and I knew what we had to do, bike back to the black top road and then bike back to the campground. Luckly it was mostly down hill for many miles but we had 13 more creek crossings ahead of us. Since we were going down hill
we hit the water crossing going about 20 mph and as a result the water flew up on top of bike and rider.

By 5:00 pm we had made it back to the black top and started to bike back to camp. Within a few minutes I could hear a truck rumbling up from behind me. Tim and Dave had driven into Moab for supplies and were on the way home, what a sight for sore eyes and butts. Terry decided to keep on biking to camp for the last 4 miles.

Guy and Terry fixed this night's meal and the stew had pieces of tender pork that were the size of my helmet, or maybe I was just hungry.

April 14th: With the thoughts of Slick Rock campground in Moab on our minds, we loaded the vehicles and drove into town. At the campground,we were met with warm showers and a hot tub that seemed too good to be true. These would boil the red dirt and grim out of our pores. After crossing the Onion Creek 26 times, mud was caked on our bikes and I wished that there had been a hot tub to soak them as well.

We set up our tents on a stormy morning and then drove to a bike shop to drop off Terry's bike for a total maintenance job. Out of the 8 mountain bikes on this trip, 6 of them required some sort of repair due to the rocky sandy condition of the trail.

The Prep H's found our butts on a stool facing a short order cook, waiting for a much needed hamburger. Our cook, Mel, is a friend of Dave's and he is a master of the sizzling griddle. Mel is the poster cook for multi taskers with hamburgers, french fries and chili lined up on his work area.

With our bellies full, my gang drove to Arches National Park for a bit of exploring without a bicycle seat under our seat. Terry had never been in this part of Utah so everything was new for him, and for me with a mind being that of a curious youngster, the area offered much for both of us. After paying our entrance fee to the park, we stopped at the visitor's center to talk with a ranger about hikes in the park. With a map in our hands we headed to the Delicate Arch, its' picture is on the Utah license plate. Our gravel trail turned onto a solid rock journey

that was covered with other hikers. The line of tourists ahead of us looked like a long caterpillar working its' way up a red leaf.

Later we explored a monolithic rock formation that was honey combed with red rock in shapes of flat irons. After hours of climbing around this mumbo jumbo of rounded rocks, we headed back to Moab. We ended our trip in Moab taking in an art festival being held there.

The trip cost a grand total of $432.00 and when we divide that by 8 people for 6 days that's $9.00 per day!!