Let’s start by
reviewing the stereotypes: ATV’ers are rowdy
environment-hating backcountry ramblers who blow exhaust in the
faces of mountain bikers as they pass them on the trail. Mountain
bikers are self-righteous trail users always working to get
backcountry access closed off to all-terrain vehicles, right?
If only it were that simple. On a recent mountain biking
adventure, two buddies and I did the Poison Spider Trail just
outside Moab, Utah. It’s considered a classic ride for
mountain bikers, and it’s just as popular for ATVers.
On one steep climb, we came upon a group of four Jeeps.
The drivers were gathered around one vehicle with a man lying
beneath it, apparently trying to figure out where a drip or funny
noise was coming from. They were right in the middle of the trail,
and as we got closer, I assumed the folks standing around watching
would honor trail etiquette and step aside for us. They
didn’t.
I got off my bike and walked around them,
restraining a snarl. “Inconsiderate, trail-hogging
jerks,” I grumbled as I made my way up the trail. “Take
your beasts somewhere else.”
A mile up the trail I
was still fuming, when I noticed that my pedaling had all of a
sudden gotten harder. Drat! My luck for the weekend had finally run
out. I had a flat. I already had my bike flipped upside down and
the punctured tube removed by the time a Jeep came creeping up the
trail. “Great, go ahead and get your kicks as you rumble by
the broken-down mountain biker,” I thought.
The
Jeep came to a complete stop next to me. “Got everything you
need?” the driver asked, leaning out the driver-side door and
examining my situation. “Yeah, I’m good. But thank
you.”
“Are you sure? Is there anything I can
do to help?” “Nope, all covered, but I really
appreciate it.”
I looked at my two buddies as the
Jeep drove off, “Nice guy.”
With my flat
fixed, we continued on our way. One buddy took off ahead of us, the
other lagged a bit behind. I rode for what had to have been three,
four miles, soaking up the sun and scenery on a beautiful fall ride
in canyon country. Then it hit me. The buddy that would always ride
ahead would usually stop and wait for us to catch up every mile or
so. But I’d been riding for a lot more than a mile. He was
nowhere to be seen.
Somewhere, I’d missed a turn. I
looked for answers from my buddy who had just caught up from
behind. He looked left, he looked right. “Yeah, I’m not
sure,” he said. We were lost in Poison Spider’s tangled
web of trails. We backtracked a few miles and took a turn that
looked right. Our third friend never appeared, and we were
convinced we should have reached a ridge overlooking Moab that was
our way out of the slick rock wilderness.
We then did
what any tired mountain bikers would do. We took a seat on the
nearest rock, removed our helmets so we could scratch our heads and
ate a granola bar. Then another Jeep pulled up. We explained our
situation, and the driver pointed behind us. “That’s
where you’re trying to get.”
Our Moab
overlook, and access to a trail down, was just 200 yards away. We
couldn’t believe it. Five minutes earlier, we were prepared
to backtrack two hours, when our way out was 200 yards away. Saved
again, by a Jeeper.
When we finally made our way back to
the parking lot, our buddy was waiting for us, looking pained:
He’d waited for us on the ridge for more than an hour. He
said quite a few people in Jeeps stopped and asked if he was OK
while he waited, and no, they hadn’t seen us. One Jeeper gave
him a Gatorade, and then asked, “You hungry?” Now
remember, some in the ATV community will lead you to believe that
they live to snarl at mountain bikers, and some in the mountain
biking community would lead you to believe that riders should do
the same.
Once again, someone forgot to tell this Jeeper
that. He tossed my friend a six-inch Subway sandwich, wished him
the best and headed on his way.
Josh Nichols is
a contributor to Writers on the Range, a service of High Country
News (hcn.org). He is managing editor of the Grand Junction Free
Press in Grand Junction, Colorado, and admits that he got started
in mountain biking because a cheap mountain bike was a lot cheaper
than a cheap Jeep.
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