The Radavist

A 15-Day Whirlwind Tour of Bucket List Trails in Colorado (and one in Utah!)
Photos and words by Jeff Frane

Greetings party people,

It’s me, Jeffrey G. Frane and I’d like to share some stories and photos from a recent 15-day whirlwind tour of bucket list trails in the Colorado mountains. (and one in Utah!) For two weeks we moved non-stop taking in 3,300 miles of van life, the finest rest stops and porta-johns the West has to offer, mountain peaks, mechanical mishaps, world-class campsites, bug bites, crashes, new friends, and countless ribbons of singletrack. The itinerary was exhausting and ridiculous, but as traveling always tends to be, it was also the best.

It all started last Spring (2016) when my partner Chelsea won the fatbike category at the Lutsen 99’er deep in the Northwoods and North Shore of Minnesota, which qualified her for the famed Leadville 100 Trail Race. For those uninitiated, the Leadville 100 is an absolutely ludicrous endeavor that’s been going on since 1983 and takes in 12,000 feet of climbing in 100 miles at elevations between 10,000 and 12,000 feet. Owing to the seriousness and financial cost of the undertaking, she decided to take a full year to prepare her body and mind.

For those of us from the low-lands just sleeping is challenging at that altitude, nevermind throwing down what would be a monster day on a bicycle at any elevation. To add to the challenge, she had never before been to the high mountains or spent any time at elevation, and thus had no idea how her body would react. Because of the race altitude, we wanted to spend as much time in the mountains as possible prior to the event, and since she had never been to Colorado before, we agreed that rather than choosing one destination, we’d simply do everything!

On a Sunday we loaded up the van, left our home in Minneapolis and cannonballed toward the Front Range, spending a night in Denver before hitting up the legendary Monarch Crest in Salida, 401 Trail in Crested Butte, the race in Leadville, 18 Road and Horsethief in Fruita, and finally the whole Enchilada in Moab, Utah. This was our first extended road trip as a couple and after a hard Summer of being separated, traveling for work and bike racing, it was very special to reconnect and share her first time in the mountains.

Here’s to the great tradition of Summer Road trips!

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Down on Muddy Creek, She Sends Me
Words by Spencer Harding photos by Spencer, Molly and Tyler.

So, I had a week off from leading bike tours in southwestern Utah and like any sane individual, I headed straight for Moab. I met up with Tyler and Molly whom I had connected with last fall through a mutual adventure buddy (thanks, Tommy!). Anywho, they had been pestering me to get a packraft for awhile and I finally just bought a lil’ dinghy raft from Klymit before heading out to Utah. There was some deliberation on route options and at the last minute, we decided the conditions for running Muddy Creek would be perfect.

The plan was to drop off bikes and camping gear at the take-out, drive the truck and boats to the put-in, raft down, camp out, and bike back to the truck the next morning.

Before NAHBS coverage engulfed this site, our Moab crew was looking for another ride to undertake before uprooting and driving to Salt Lake City for the convention show. Porcupine was closed, due to snow and as a consequence, mud. Other trails like Portal might be too rowdy for our group and we’d already explored a lot of the other trails in the area. That’s when Josh, a local, and part owner of the Robber’s Roost condo we rented, recommended we do his favorite shuttle ride in the area: Navajo Nascar.

Double Vision in Montana and Utah
Photos and words by Locke Hassett

This gallery is the product of dirt, light, stupidity and celluloid. The following images are accidental double exposures. Most of the time, this hack in an analog cameras’ mechanics is used for artistic effect, like purposely exposing a silhouette onto a leaf, or a friend’s face onto a bottle of Chartreuse. These images are not intentional. After shooting a roll of Portra 400 on a bike tour-party that was hosted by myself and the Freecycles crew, I wound the film back. But not quite enough. When I went to load my (t)rusty Pentax K1000, whose meter was killed by the #DFL Divide trip, I grabbed the same roll of Portra, not knowing that I would be exposing a 4-day ride of Kokopelli’s trail onto images of slingshots and drinking bagged wine from a frame bag.

Most photographers (myself included) don’t normally enjoy surprises. When I got this roll back, I was initially quite upset, until I began to review the images. Whether it be Whitney FT emerging from a hailstorm wearing goat horns, Sir Thomas Danger Kitty McKean pounding up a hill next to my boss, or Jess navigating a boulder field as Cameron cruises shirtless, I began to see that these images reflected the absurdity of bike touring, as well as the inherent unpredictability of the trail. Embracing accidents often leads to some of the best memories, and this roll is photo-proof.

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The prefrontal cortex is relatively well-developed in my brain, meaning self-control and personal safety awareness is high. Honed even. Other riders out there might have a more underdeveloped PFC, meaning they’re willing to huck themselves down massive step-downs and over canyons without more than a few moments of hesitation. In the world of mountain biking, I’d rank myself and my friends as capable riders. Obviously, many of the riders I photograph have skill levels that are a few notches higher than mine. Some of them grew up riding BMX or motocross and a mountain bike just feels natural up in the air, oftentimes one wheel or two at a time. Photographing these rad atavists is just one of the reasons why I love my job, yet all it takes is a change of scenery to feel like you’re in over your head. This sea change was found once we left the common trails in Hurricane, Utah for a neighboring outpost called Virgin. Home to RedBull Rampage and other free-riding spots, Virgin is in many ways, the home base for the sport.

The high desert in the winter is unpredictable. It could be sunny one minute and stormin’ another. Because of this schizophrenia, we found ourselves seeking local reconnaissance before heading out on our next trail ride. The roads could be in horrible condition, or the trails under snow. After talking to a few locals, we were advised to swing by Over the Edge in Hurricane. The shop workers had been scouting all of the local trails to determine shredability. We had already planned on visiting the shop, so now we had another incentive to do so.

With Hurricane being a MTB destination for tourists like us, the last thing we wanted to do was piss off the locals by riding wet trails, or driving on roads with excessive mud. Luckily, we didn’t venture up to Gooseberry, as the guys at Over the Edge advised against driving on the road. Instead, they pointed us to neighboring Guacamole Mesa. While it’s not as famed as Gooseberry, Guac has a lot packed into this relatively small area.

Hurricane is not HURRUHCANE it’s HURRAH-KIN. Spend any amount of time in Utah and you’ll quickly learn that. After our exceptional romp in St. Geezy, we loaded up our Yotas with our bikes and drove an hour to Hurricane, home to arguably the best trails in Southwestern Utah. We had a few days to explore with not a lot on the agenda, other than Gooseberry Mesa and the IMBA Epic Rim Trail. IMBA Epics are just as they sound, epic rides categorized by IMBA. It’s not often you come across one of these treks, so when you do, you’d better do your best to ride it.

Where do they come up with trail names? Seriously, I want to be the guy that names new singletrack. On our last morning in St. George, we planned on meeting with Jon from Sabrosa around 1pm, giving us time to take on a few of the trails on the other side of the wash from Zen trail, namely what we found to be called the “three fingers of death.” Don’t worry, we survived. No one’s ghost-writing this. If they were, it’d probably be a bit better composed…

Anyway, we went out hoping to spend an hour or so on the trails and ended up racking up over three hours exploring the area. The Three Fingers are these mini alluvial fans that cascade down from the top of a fire road into the Green Valley. They are not deadly, but if you’re not comfortable doing a drop at the end of a downhill ridgeline, you could very well break yourself off. In the hour we spent doing laps, we saw a good number of people almost go full-on scorpion over the bars and into the red clay.

Utah’s public lands are home to some of the most amazing sections of singletrack, especially in the St. George and Santa Clara area. After we rode the Zen trail and refueled on a camp-cooked lunch, we loaded up Josh’s pickup and made the trek to the Santa Clara River Reserve. This area is home to a number of trails, all of which can be connected in a big, backcountry loop. Using the MTB Project App, we figured we had enough daylight left to take on Barrell Roll, Precipice, Sidewinder and part of Suicidal Tendencies, a black diamond trail in the Reserve. Linking all these trails together presents a 12-mile ride with around 2,000′ of climbing. The trails are clearly marked and are heavily-trafficked by knowledgeable locals.

Parking at the Cove Wash Trailhead, we pedaled out into the brisk winter air towards the sun that was already setting behind scattered cloud cover.