Estrogen on Adrenaline: 48 Hours in Moab, Utah's Giant Playground

There were a few rocky spots where we got off and walked, but this green-blue circuit was a terrific introduction to Moab mountain biking with a mix of singletrack and slickrock and stunning panoramic views of the mesas dotted between Canyonlands and Arches national parks. Half of our group wasn’t done after these eight miles, ventured across the main road to ride the other half of the Intrepid system and, then, rejoined the rest just up the road at Dead Horse Point where we scrambled over rocks like youngsters on a jungle gym to take in the iconic overhead views of Horseshoe Bend and White Rim Trail. After posing for stills and selfies (we have Instagram accounts, too), our stomachs announced it was time to get to town.

Night 1 — Cars and Stars

Much of Moab dining caters to the just-got-off-the-trail crowd. Showers and shoes are largely a personal choice. My dirty girl crew went directly to dinner at Giliberto’s, a taco restaurant on Highway 191, the north-south route through town, with its evening rush of returning SUVs, MTBs, ATVs, UTVs and other off-roading acronyms. Aside from satisfying guacamole and carne asada, the most notable thing about the place was the parking lot where every single car sported a rear rack with multiple mountain bikes dangling like diamond drop earrings and sparkling through caked dirt.

After dinner and a much-needed shower, the only things that shined brighter were the “billions and billions” of stars that stretched across the horizon. From the condo’s hot tub, we reclined our heads, raised our eyes and began recounting stars, skies and stories of our youth. Utah is home to over half of the world’s IDA-accredited International Dark Sky Parks and areas where light pollution (which, ironically if you think about it, didn’t exist before the Internet) does not interfere with observing the cosmos. In other words, Moab is one of the best places on Earth to see constellations we used to identify with star charts as kids. Gone are the dual-wheeled plastic-coated maps. Instead, Julie pulled out her cellphone and began pointing and spotting familiar planets and celestial celebrities like groupies at a Jackson Browne concert.

Day 2 — Navajo Rocks Trails Mountain Biking

After snoozing through my alarm (and, apparently, someone’s snoring), I found the ground coffee Kim thankfully packed and filled the pot as the rest of the group – some more energetic than others (some way more energetic) started their own morning rituals and preparations for the big day on the trail.

Some women, by nature or training, stuff more in their backpacks (and purses) than others, but those that try to wing it in Moab do so at their peril: water, snack, bike gear, sunscreen, camera, cellphone, dental floss…dental floss? “What the heck do you need that for?” I asked Margit. She replied with an arched eyebrow and that, “You never know…” look, one that only a mother can effectively wield as leverage against four towering boys and sassy girlfriends. When a chia seed became stuck between my back molars later that morning, there was no way I was going to ask for that doggone floss.

Although these women are fairly active, adventurous and extremely accommodating, each seemed to have individual expectations and limitations for biking that day: lots of mileage, lots of bumps, little climbing, fewer bumps. Navajo Rocks was a perfect choice. It is a series of trails that form a figure-eight pattern bisected by Highway 313 on the way to the Island in the Sky entrance of Canyonlands. Each part is named, marked and, most importantly, accurately described in terms of distance and topography in any number of online and printed maps. This meant we could plan two things: which sections we wanted to ride (Big Mesa and Ramblin); and how we wanted to ride them (from the center parking lot, going out-and-back on Big Mesa, and then continuing on Ramblin to the east parking lot).

Big Mesa is a mostly-blue 3.3 mile trail of rocks, slickrock slabs, ledges and bowls that follow the curve of red rock walls. It is stunning, and it is fun! Although I usually prefer riding point-to-point, Julie suggested riding out and back, which proved beneficial. Trails are always more difficult the first time. On the return, we knew what to expect. Our fingers loosened from the handlebars. We rode more aggressively (causing the chia seed to loosen from my teeth), and we rode just better.

Because we had two cars, we parked at different lots allowing us not only to shuttle but to give anyone a spot to take a break. Forget ego or peer pressure or YOLO. The prime directive among these women whether we are biking or hiking or anything else is, “We ride to ride another day.” So, after an exciting but technically-challenging ride out-and-back on Big Mesa, Margit wisely chose to give her back, which had major surgery just months ago, a rest. This adventure still had 24 hours left to enjoy.

If you’re thinking, “I’m not that adventurous, and I’m too old for that,” I’ll reveal that our posse ranged from 47 to 58 years with anywhere from 2 to 20 years of recreational (not YouTube-worthy) mountain biking experience, most of which was interrupted by kids and careers. For the most part, we’re still the girls on purple Schwinns climbing rocks and hills instead of curbs and driveways. We passed a couple of septuagenarians on Big Mesa who boasted with crossed arms and boyish grins that they recently took up biking in retirement. In this low-impact sport, age and experience are physically irrelevant and mentally advantageous (keeping you from doing really stupid YouTube-worthy stuff because, honestly, skinned knees hurt at any age). Although Moab has some of the most-famous and most-challenging trails in the world, its magic is that it has incredible trails for all levels and makes everyone on them feel like a kid with a red cape. Even better, it doesn’t require a substantial initial investment in gear or lessons, and it is a heckava lot warmer than skiing!

Although the trails are connected, Big Mesa and Ramblin look and feel more like cousins than siblings. Both are blue trails that run 3.3 miles each, but Ramblin moves away from the mesas that rise from the plateau offering a rollercoaster of smooth slickrock that just ... doesn’t ... seem ... to ... end, but when it does, it is usually for a few manageable rocks that, like an E-ticket amusement, have you click, click, clicking up to the apex before gravity takes you down again. The parking lot then appeared but much higher than it seemed it should be. We knew our Ramblin spin was over when trail markers painted on the rock pointed almost vertically toward the exit forcing us to walk the remainder and, between breaths, debate whether to order fries with our much-earned Atomic Burger.

Night 2 — Corona Arch Night Hike

After a fortuitous stop at Arches (more on that later), a leisurely lunch and siesta … Wait, wait, wait — I took a nap, Julie, Margit and Kim sunbathed by the pool, and Alison got back on her bike, rode from the restaurant along the Colorado River for several miles, turned around, rode back through town and rode several more miles south to the condo. She said she needed to relax. By late afternoon, with everyone recovered in their own way, we resupplied our backpacks for our next endeavor.

Driving back toward town, we turned west onto Scenic Byway 279 just before the entrance to Arches. This beautiful river road is a popular destination for climbers and campers. It also leads to the trailhead for Corona Arch, one of Utah’s largest sandstone monuments. Despite being located outside the national parks, its accessibility (well-marked 1.5-mile trail) and notoriety (dubbed The Rope Swing Arch on the video that has garnered almost 28 million views online) make it a heavily-visited site.

Only recently, did NPS (specifically, a ranger with a warped sense of humor) put a few signposts and a dozen or so arrows along the maze-like Furnace. Each off-white arrow rests upon a brown background, the size of a business-card, and is attached to ancient rock making it perfectly camouflaged. More amusing, several waist-high guideposts within the Furnace warn, “Dead End Trail” but, in fact, lead to secret arches and other undisclosed highlights. Fortune favors the bold. The upside (and probable intent) is that the mystique and poor mapping keep the crowds away.

Despite having five sets of eyes and a handwritten “treasure map” from Alison’s sister, we still got lost in the Fiery Furnace — three times, at least — and we loved it. We arrived at 7:30am and, although we stayed three hours, we could have played in there all day along. There was no marked path; there was no path at all in spots. We rock scrambled and crab walked, slid sideways between fins, jumped and crawled over, under and around.

Playing in the park with friends. It was the culmination of 48 hours of adolescent adventure and inspiration to schedule our next girls’ trip soon.