Story by NICK LEGAN Photos by ERIC GREENE RIDE to RUINS
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Story by NICK LEGAN Photos by ERIC GREENE RIDE to RUINS Storm clouds build over Comb Ridge as the author makes his way along the red dirt of Butler Wash Road in search of ancient art. 22 ADVENTURE CYCLIST MARCH 2017 A COTTONWOOD NATURAL R C 5 9 MILLSITE BRIDGES H . y NATIONAL C 95 A w MONUMENT MULE H 95 N CANYON Y d 276 O l RUINS N O To Blanding 95 hen the wind I began exploring the area on foot with E KANE GULCH 95 RANGER STATION G really came up, I Eric. There were plenty of cow pies but D wished that I had also some petroglyphs depicting past A I brought a pair of lives and symbols of virility (or ancient S R W goggles along. I wanted to adolescence). E B carry as much momentum Those rock drawings, as well as the M MOONHOUSE RUINS . d R M as possible through the cliff dwellings and pottery from the same h s a W O loose sandy sections of era, are what brought me to southeast b Sn . R ow d F m o l R a C 261 t C R h this rarely traveled road, Utah for several days of bikepacking and A d . s a W r but spotting the next hiking. As a Midwestern youngster, my D e l t u E RIDE to RUINS B opportunity for a spill was uncle had stirred my imagination with C tough with the swirling stories of his adventures in America’s N V O a ll Y e layer of blown sand over Southwest, along with his brother and my y N of th A e .191 C G WOLFMAN o Blu the road’s entire surface. aunt. They included tales of whitewater, S d MOKI s PANEL ! 162 N R H DUGWAY d J O F . .191 That blowing sand was hot springs, red dirt, and vanished O S Y D 163 E O . also slowly exfoliating any civilizations. L 191 L G r . 261 ive A E R MULEY V H exposed skin, and trying T an POINT J u an S to invade my lungs, my Comb Ridge N ! GOOSENECKS Salt Lake City STATE ears, and, of course, my Away from the well-traveled trails of PARK U T A H eyes. Pulling my cycling Moab to the north, I started my three-day 0 1 2 3 4 5 ! .163 Moab MILES cap down and wearing trip at the Kane Gulch Ranger Station, ! DETAIL Mexican Hat Author’s Route LIPPUS AMY MAP: To Monument Valley .163 a bandana bandito-style west of Blanding, Utah, just off Highway over my nose and mouth 95, a road that was mostly dirt until the helped. Despite the warmth, I zipped up 1960s. Highway 95 was only paved in its my rain jacket to keep sand out of my entirety in 1976, earning its nickname, jersey. I could feel the fine granules filling the Bicentennial Highway. The Kane any opening in my shoes. Gulch Ranger Station is the place to pick Unfortunately, the lay of the land didn’t up permits to explore ruins on Cedar help. I was in a broad, treeless valley that Mesa and, as a put-in for backpackers, the was currently acting as a wind tunnel. station allows for overnight parking. There was nowhere to seek shelter and Unloading my bike, I strapped on my nothing to do but carry on. Staying put bags, pumped up my tires, and took a wouldn’t improve my situation. quick inventory of the extra food and After enduring my ride inside a water I was leaving in the car as an sandblasting booth for another 30 emergency backup. Then I headed north minutes, a small two-track side path came along the rolling, paved miles back to into view. My friend and photographer 95 and took a right, heading east to dirt for this trip, Eric Greene, had gone ahead roads. The low scrub vegetation was on his motorcycle to scout a place with broken in places by stands of juniper some protection. The track he found led and piñon pine trees. Sand tracks led east into a small drainage with some large off in different directions, and the Abajo rock formations and several trees for Mountains were visible to the north. protection. Less than half a mile up this After a couple of decent climbs on the path, it was calm. The wind droned on, paved road, I turned north onto dirt at but on the leeward side of a large rock, Arch Canyon Overlook Road, near the I parked my bike and lay down, my ears ruins in Mule Canyon. This road quickly still buzzing from the dusty assault. When turned soft and sandy, descending a sand and wind gang up on you, you lose. drainage and requiring a stiff climb back Fortunately, I had plenty of water, my out of it. Here I saw Eric for the first time soda-can camp stove, some bourbon, and that day. He would take a different route, enough food to hole up for the night. leapfrogging me and exploring areas After a couple of hours, the wind abated. as his curiosity dictated. We were each I pulled out my book, reading Edward self-sufficient though, with a rough plan Abbey’s prophetic words while sitting to camp together each night. Not long on my sleeping pad in a rock depression after the top, I turned east along what that cradled me nicely. My eyes still looked like a forgotten two-track. This burning from the sand and now tired was to connect me with Comb Wash Road from focusing on small printed words, where I would climb the abandoned Old ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG 23 Highway 95 built in the early 1950s. It no guardrail, and big exposure. At one explored on foot. was on this two-track that the adventure point, as I walked a rock-ledge section, I I remounted my bike and headed began as I wasn’t sure that this unmarked saw a rusting heap that was a mid-1960s south on Butler Wash Road, excited by road was actually navigable by bicycle. sedan. It must have been one terrifying the ruins nearby. Soon a headwind kicked After carrying my bike across several trip off the road and several hundred feet up, which led to the episode described at deep washes, I began making good time. down to where it had stopped. I have the beginning of this account. Although it’s only a five-mile section, this no confidence that the car’s passengers faint line on the map descended 1,000 survived the fall. Afoot feet to Comb Wash. Eventually, I came to At the top, after scrambling up several Waking on Day Two of my trip, I a livestock gate that I opened and then sections that would test a serious off- had several hikes in mind. After a quick carefully closed. Looking up from the road 4x4, I reached CR228, a quiet road breakfast, I rode a few miles down gate, I gained an amazing view of the that once bustled with traffic accessing Butler Wash and met Eric at an unsigned valley below and Comb Ridge extending the uranium mine at the Cottonwood trailhead. I locked up my bike, and we jaggedly southward. I also saw that the Millsite. I didn’t stick around; instead I walked in to explore cliff-dwelling ruins road did indeed go all the way to the wash headed south, dodging some rain clouds, at the end of the trail. Because the area below. back to 95. After a short section of is pretty sensitive and not yet formally Then I began an increasingly technical pavement, I turned south again on dirt, protected, I don’t want to draw a literal descent, feeling at times as if I were this time into Butler Wash on the eastern map for others to follow. That said, with falling off the face of the earth. Aboard side of Comb Ridge. Undulations made some research online and at the local a rigid mountain bike loaded with for tough going on the sometimes sandy library, it isn’t difficult to find the sites bikepacking gear, I quickly had to remind road. Hunger came knocking after only I visited. The extra effort is certainly myself to relax, slow down, and stay in 27 miles of rugged riding, but I wanted rewarded with beautiful views and control. Despite my best efforts, I still a view with my meal so I struggled on. complexes of crumbling stone walls. managed to round a switchback with my Reaching an overlook of the valley ahead, Taking our time as we approached, Eric rear tire hissing after a particularly rocky I enjoyed my lunch while taking in the and I both began spotting pottery shards section. The sealant in my tire wouldn’t northern section of Comb Ridge. The along the trail. Reaching the overhanging fix this particular problem. I carried two eastern side along Butler Wash is the rock that welcomed ancient people and spare tubes and pulled one out to get shallower side, with smooth, rounded led them to settle there, petroglyphs myself rolling. It was only upon trying white rock shrugging up from the earth. (carvings into the rock) and pictographs to install it that I realized that I had, for At times it is broken by drainages that (wall paintings) came into view. We some inexplicable reason, a 26-inch tube create canyons with small creeks that spent an hour scouring the area, noting in the framebag of my 29-inch–wheel feed into the larger wash.