Riding on bare, naked, untouched slick rock is like nothing else in this world. It's appearance changes with every tick of the suns movement through the day. The same landscape in the morning will be different in the evening. Moab is famous for slick rock, especially the trail that bares its name. Painted dots keep one glued to an imaginary line. The dots make a chaotic terrain more....manageable. 
The slick rock world just above town is hard for most Moab visitors to grasp. The sea of frozen sand dunes leaves folks from more humid climates at a loss for words. There just isn't anything "back home" to compare it to. Luckily, years ago, dots or dashes were painted on the rock, in an effort to give order to the chaos. The dots keep kids, grandparents and "expert level" riders from flying off of cliffs. They keep riders on track so they do not wander afar and disappear, becoming a part of the desert themselves.
I'm glad for the icon that is the Slick Rock Trail, for I might never have journeyed here my-self were it not for its world renowned notoriety.
For all the fun I have had on Slick Rock Trail, these days it leaves me somewhat bored. There is no danger, when the word "DANGER" is painted on the rock. The dots keep me from feeling the rock, from learning how much traction is available on any given stratified layer, from training my fast twitch muscle fibers to "PULL UP QUICK!" when what looked roll-able turns out to be a 6 ft ledge.
What if there was a Slick Rock trail that had no dots, no crowds, virtually no sign of man or his machines? What if there was a place in the desert where one can surf, riding frozen waves for more than six hours?
(the view from inside looking out)
Well.... Such a place does exist, but the price of admission is high. Those with vertigo need not apply, and for those with legs that aren't up for massive amounts of steep climbing, and frightening cliff side descents, you too may want to stay within sight of some painted dots.
And like all good surf spots, these waves are kept pretty secret. "It's classified." "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."
So don't ask, and I won't tell. Be happy knowing that there is a place in Moab where Jeeps, ATV's, Redneck Golfcarts, Hikers, and even Mountain Bikers don't go.
The slick rock world just above town is hard for most Moab visitors to grasp. The sea of frozen sand dunes leaves folks from more humid climates at a loss for words. There just isn't anything "back home" to compare it to. Luckily, years ago, dots or dashes were painted on the rock, in an effort to give order to the chaos. The dots keep kids, grandparents and "expert level" riders from flying off of cliffs. They keep riders on track so they do not wander afar and disappear, becoming a part of the desert themselves.
I'm glad for the icon that is the Slick Rock Trail, for I might never have journeyed here my-self were it not for its world renowned notoriety.For all the fun I have had on Slick Rock Trail, these days it leaves me somewhat bored. There is no danger, when the word "DANGER" is painted on the rock. The dots keep me from feeling the rock, from learning how much traction is available on any given stratified layer, from training my fast twitch muscle fibers to "PULL UP QUICK!" when what looked roll-able turns out to be a 6 ft ledge. What if there was a Slick Rock trail that had no dots, no crowds, virtually no sign of man or his machines? What if there was a place in the desert where one can surf, riding frozen waves for more than six hours?
(the view from inside looking out)Well.... Such a place does exist, but the price of admission is high. Those with vertigo need not apply, and for those with legs that aren't up for massive amounts of steep climbing, and frightening cliff side descents, you too may want to stay within sight of some painted dots.And like all good surf spots, these waves are kept pretty secret. "It's classified." "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." So don't ask, and I won't tell. Be happy knowing that there is a place in Moab where Jeeps, ATV's, Redneck Golfcarts, Hikers, and even Mountain Bikers don't go. (Some pics are from a trip with Greg Luck in 2008, the rest are from a few days ago)
No comments:
Post a Comment