Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Close to Home — What it’s like on the street where you live
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
Travel Story: Hut-hopping through the Southwest by bicycle
A 200-mile ride through Colorado and Utah
Two old pals and I decided to ride from Colorado to Utah, using
the San Juan Hut System, a string of portable "cabins" — each 20 feet
square and towed into place. Situated from 12 to 36 miles apart along
the circuit, each cabin is equipped with has 12 bunk beds, filling food, water, warm beers, and sleeping bags. Riders need carry only their clothes, personal
necessities, and essential bike stuff. Each one-way trip takes a week,
covers 200 miles, and can start in either Durango or Telluride.
Climbing Last Dollar Road
The first day, up Last Dollar Road, is the shortest of the week, but
climbs 3000 vertical feet out of the bodacious box canyon that holds
Telluride. The scenery was eye popping, with several shades of high
country summer green and pastoral ranches all the way, and I was bushed
enough to dismount and walk the dog for the final quarter mile. This
pitch was steep enough to ski and topped 11,000 feet; it was boss relief to
spot the hut tucked in the forest that marked our first stopping point. We had the place to ourselves which was a bonus, as we were sure there were other groups on the trail in peak summer season. The digs were functional, the goods were stocked, and the sleeping bags were in good condition. The combination of altitude and exertion laid us out flat.
Last Dollar Hut
Stage two was 25 miles across the splendid Hastings and Horsefly
Mesas, starting with a fine downhill off the pass. Clouds had gathered throughout the morning, and once the rain began to fall, the storm turned electric quickly, with lightning bolts and simultaneous explosions of thunder directly overhead. Twice, the lightning was close and jarring enough that we stopped, dismounted, and got flat on the ground. This was harrowing: we were in the middle of a giant meadow sparse of trees or any cover, so getting as low as possible was the only option. We got soaked, but suffered no direct hits, and our landing at Spring Creek Hut was much appreciated. We were grateful for not being electrocuted, and even more cooked than the day before, so after grub, chatter and Tecates, everybody turned to stone.
The next morning dawned lovely and clear, and we spent some time on the dirt roads, sharing the way with big lumber trucks, in between stretches of sublime single track. The Uncompaghre plateau seemed to be all BLM land, with lots of cattle, but the weather was superb. Late that afternoon, we arrived at beaut Columbine hut, 34 miles from the day's starting point.
The author, hoping he will not have to double back along a single track.
Each hut had a stand alone outhouse, and several were memorable for both their setting and appearance. After our morning rituals, we set out for the
Graham Ranch, 35 miles off. The terrain turned from Colorado fir and
spruce to red sandstone and juniper, and the views were as good any I've ever seen. When we arrived at the ranch, we were pleased to discover that our hut was actually a solid building with a shower. What was more, the friendly ranch owners informed us that for a modest fee, they could haul us up to the top of dreaded John Brown Canyon. The offer made it sound like what faced us would be even more grueling than our Day 1 climb, but we dismissed the idea of not grinding on our own juice.
Near the top of John Brown Canyon
Rested, clean and 120 miles in, we commenced the fifth stage, fired up to
ride into the lowlands of Southeast Utah. We climbed back up to 9000 feet in seven miles before dropping into the hallucinatory landscape of red rock Utah. The vistas were amazing enough that we could have stopped for pictures every couple of minutes, and the heat surged as we dropped off the big plateau. We savored an intoxicating 3000-foot plunge to the Dolores River, and also our arrival at Gateway, the last town in Colorado, named after a massive monolith that loomed above the cottonwood trees surrounding hut #5. Our 32 miles done, we unloaded, grabbed a six-pack of the usual hot Tecates, and chugged with semi gusto to celebrate 150 miles with no real hassles. Gateway also provided an unexpected bonus: a hotel with a fetching young bar maid, snacks and ice cold brews. This was a boon, and we spent some quality time yakking with the girl, who was very friendly despite the fact that the three of us surely looked like we lived behind a dumpster somewhere.
The Gateway hut
Day 6 was the one we had been hearing about the whole way, and we got up before it was light to get a jump on the day. Hype over the gruesome misery of the 4000-foot climb out of the valley had been drummed into us to the point where we expected it to be much worse than it actually was. Rolling through very bonny red rocks, at the summit we crossed dreamlike meadows on the way to the La Sal hut, and back at altitude and cool air, we again toasted our dumb luck in having the huts to ourselves every night. Raise a can.
Kokopelli Trail
After a week in the saddle, we were eager for the long downhill ride into Moab, the end of the line. From the alpine woods at 8400 feet, we contemplated the ultimate downhill back into those stupendous red rocks, gawking at cartoonishly shaped buttes before pointing the handlebars down for 17 miles. Along the way, I was treated to the sight of a brown bear dashing across the trail six feet in front of me — such a thrill that I almost went over the bars. The approach to the finish line felt bittersweet, and we rolled past the mythical Slick Rock Trail into town, where Zak’s wife Kat met us. It had been a fantastic week: tons of fun, plenty of exertion, and few issues. I always thought it would be a one-shot deal, not to be repeated, and now that I've done it, I think I was right. If you do it right, once is the way.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Travel Story: Hut-hopping through the Southwest by bicycle
A 200-mile ride through Colorado and Utah
Travel Story: Hut-hopping through the Southwest by bicycle
A 200-mile ride through Colorado and Utah
Two old pals and I decided to ride from Colorado to Utah, using
the San Juan Hut System, a string of portable "cabins" — each 20 feet
square and towed into place. Situated from 12 to 36 miles apart along
the circuit, each cabin is equipped with has 12 bunk beds, filling food, water, warm beers, and sleeping bags. Riders need carry only their clothes, personal
necessities, and essential bike stuff. Each one-way trip takes a week,
covers 200 miles, and can start in either Durango or Telluride.
Climbing Last Dollar Road
The first day, up Last Dollar Road, is the shortest of the week, but
climbs 3000 vertical feet out of the bodacious box canyon that holds
Telluride. The scenery was eye popping, with several shades of high
country summer green and pastoral ranches all the way, and I was bushed
enough to dismount and walk the dog for the final quarter mile. This
pitch was steep enough to ski and topped 11,000 feet; it was boss relief to
spot the hut tucked in the forest that marked our first stopping point. We had the place to ourselves which was a bonus, as we were sure there were other groups on the trail in peak summer season. The digs were functional, the goods were stocked, and the sleeping bags were in good condition. The combination of altitude and exertion laid us out flat.
Last Dollar Hut
Stage two was 25 miles across the splendid Hastings and Horsefly
Mesas, starting with a fine downhill off the pass. Clouds had gathered throughout the morning, and once the rain began to fall, the storm turned electric quickly, with lightning bolts and simultaneous explosions of thunder directly overhead. Twice, the lightning was close and jarring enough that we stopped, dismounted, and got flat on the ground. This was harrowing: we were in the middle of a giant meadow sparse of trees or any cover, so getting as low as possible was the only option. We got soaked, but suffered no direct hits, and our landing at Spring Creek Hut was much appreciated. We were grateful for not being electrocuted, and even more cooked than the day before, so after grub, chatter and Tecates, everybody turned to stone.
The next morning dawned lovely and clear, and we spent some time on the dirt roads, sharing the way with big lumber trucks, in between stretches of sublime single track. The Uncompaghre plateau seemed to be all BLM land, with lots of cattle, but the weather was superb. Late that afternoon, we arrived at beaut Columbine hut, 34 miles from the day's starting point.
The author, hoping he will not have to double back along a single track.
Each hut had a stand alone outhouse, and several were memorable for both their setting and appearance. After our morning rituals, we set out for the
Graham Ranch, 35 miles off. The terrain turned from Colorado fir and
spruce to red sandstone and juniper, and the views were as good any I've ever seen. When we arrived at the ranch, we were pleased to discover that our hut was actually a solid building with a shower. What was more, the friendly ranch owners informed us that for a modest fee, they could haul us up to the top of dreaded John Brown Canyon. The offer made it sound like what faced us would be even more grueling than our Day 1 climb, but we dismissed the idea of not grinding on our own juice.
Near the top of John Brown Canyon
Rested, clean and 120 miles in, we commenced the fifth stage, fired up to
ride into the lowlands of Southeast Utah. We climbed back up to 9000 feet in seven miles before dropping into the hallucinatory landscape of red rock Utah. The vistas were amazing enough that we could have stopped for pictures every couple of minutes, and the heat surged as we dropped off the big plateau. We savored an intoxicating 3000-foot plunge to the Dolores River, and also our arrival at Gateway, the last town in Colorado, named after a massive monolith that loomed above the cottonwood trees surrounding hut #5. Our 32 miles done, we unloaded, grabbed a six-pack of the usual hot Tecates, and chugged with semi gusto to celebrate 150 miles with no real hassles. Gateway also provided an unexpected bonus: a hotel with a fetching young bar maid, snacks and ice cold brews. This was a boon, and we spent some quality time yakking with the girl, who was very friendly despite the fact that the three of us surely looked like we lived behind a dumpster somewhere.
The Gateway hut
Day 6 was the one we had been hearing about the whole way, and we got up before it was light to get a jump on the day. Hype over the gruesome misery of the 4000-foot climb out of the valley had been drummed into us to the point where we expected it to be much worse than it actually was. Rolling through very bonny red rocks, at the summit we crossed dreamlike meadows on the way to the La Sal hut, and back at altitude and cool air, we again toasted our dumb luck in having the huts to ourselves every night. Raise a can.
Kokopelli Trail
After a week in the saddle, we were eager for the long downhill ride into Moab, the end of the line. From the alpine woods at 8400 feet, we contemplated the ultimate downhill back into those stupendous red rocks, gawking at cartoonishly shaped buttes before pointing the handlebars down for 17 miles. Along the way, I was treated to the sight of a brown bear dashing across the trail six feet in front of me — such a thrill that I almost went over the bars. The approach to the finish line felt bittersweet, and we rolled past the mythical Slick Rock Trail into town, where Zak’s wife Kat met us. It had been a fantastic week: tons of fun, plenty of exertion, and few issues. I always thought it would be a one-shot deal, not to be repeated, and now that I've done it, I think I was right. If you do it right, once is the way.
Comments