Gut check

ST. GEORGE, Utah—Sushi. Most times it’s delicious, but if you eat it during one of those times that it’s just a little off, well watch out!

Everything's in bloom out here!

It became clear after waking that something was amiss after a night out eating raw fish. We had gotten up early to hit the trails out near Hurricane, Utah, in order to escape the heat. But instead of making it to the trailhead while the air was still cool and fresh, I spent a coupled of hours camped out on the can, purging my system of whatever bad Ju Ju I had ingested the night before.

We arrived at Gooseberry Mesa just before 10 a.m. We had originally mapped out another ride for the day, but the thought that maybe the intestinal distress I was battling was only the beginning, we decided to cut back the mileage and find a more familiar place to ride. Gooseberry Mesa is a slickrock playground, and it became our fallback plan.

Nothing about it was second best!

Oh, she can ride alright....

Located just outside of Hurricane, high above the Virgin River and within spitting distance of Zion National Park, Gooseberry Mesa formally sprang onto the Mountain Biking scene less than a decade ago. In just a short time, the riding area has become extremely popular. Now more than just a series of white dots spray-painted onto slick rock in the middle of nowhere, Gooseberry has been improved and formalized with multiple trailheads, outhouses and a steady stream of devotees all eager to enjoy Sunday morning worship at the Church of the Divine Ride. Those who have been baptized on the trails here are lifelong converts. We tasted the singletrack sacrament here about seven years ago. it was a life-changing experience.

This day we were just happy to be riding at all. Once we were on the bikes out in the hot, dry air, the discomfort in my gut started to subside, probably because I became fixated on navigating through the relentless maze of rocky climbs and drops that snake in and out of the piñon and juniper landscape. Unlike our earlier experience at Gooseberry, the place was crowded with other riders. Some lingered at the top of intense climbs, throwing off our concentration. But we’d regain it quickly enough, so we pressed on toward the end of the trail. We met a nice couple from Crested Butte, Colo., and we rode the last mile or so with our new-found friends.

Trail's end!

The payoff at the end of the trail is an insanely high butte that towers thousands of feet above the Hurricane Valley. Red earth, white rocks, and blue sky were the colors of the day. We live in a great country—even if we are trying hard to ruin it.

The sun had drilled straight into our noggins, making us feel loopy and unsteady on the way back. After a few close calls, we regained focus and started cleaning tough sections of trails. Because the point of the trip was to celebrate my emergence into Senior Citizen status, we branded the trail as AARP approved—we survived the ride without breaking a hip or wandering away into oblivion, though at one point I did smack my hand on the unyielding trunk of a juniper tree, which caused me to spin out of control and tip over into the dirt.

If you could see what's at the bottom....

“I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”

Oh well, mountain biking is like that sometimes.

We hit the new Windmill Trail for the last part of our ride back to the trailhead. The ripping fast stretch was fun, but it was full of exposure and some really wild off-camber rock obstacles, so we still had to use our A-Game for the final part of our journey.

A very late lunch at the Cafe Rio Mexican restaurant was the perfect end to the day. Even my intestines were happy. What more could you ask?

See you on down the road!