Whole Enchilada
Salt Lake snow shut down the high alpine riding in the Wasatch, so we turned south and set our sights for the desert. October in Moab is a classic migration of sorts, with thousands of bikers loading up trucks, vans and overland rigs to venture down after Friday's work. We rolled into town in the early hours of Saturday, found a questionable spot to call camp, and drowned the dry desert air with cheap, cold beer.
I woke up several hours later, giddy with excitement. Today I would finally get to ride the Whole Enchilada - one of biking's most iconic trails and a ride that had been on my list for quite some time.
As we headed towards the shuttle pick up, a storm rolled in, bringing aggressive bouts of torrential rain. It left as quickly as it arrived and we watched it float toward and settle in the mountains we would soon be descending. Before loading the shuttle, I double checked that I remembered my shell, and we were soon climbing up a well-graded forest service road in a bouncing fifteen-passenger van.
We never encountered rain on the ride, but low fog providing an ominous setting during the first few miles. It wasn't until we hit the Kokopelli section of the trail that we really saw the consequences of the storm. The double track got greasier and greasier, and soon our bikes were each rendered inoperable. There was so much mud. Jammed into every nook and cranny, it took forever to clean out and get back in rolling order.
However, after some fine stick detailing, components were freed, and we were once again able to rally our dirt stallions. And the payoff? We were rewarded with ridiculous views on the Porcupine Rim, playful rock gardens, technical problems and perfect sidehits.