1000 Miles of Moab - now with photos

I sit here awaiting my lost baggage in a dusty and very polluted Kathmandu. The training now begins and with a savage twist - solo running the legendary Annapurna Circuit which climbs to almost 5,500metres in the Nepalese Himalaya. Yet it's been 4 weeks since I threw away stability and in that time I embarked on a venerable set of mishaps which I shall entitle the "1000 Miles of Moab!"

Despite our enthusiasm for criticising almost all that is American I am seemingly drawn back across the pond with somewhat alarming regularity. Maybe its the fact I ride for a US bike team, maybe it's the big landscapes or maybe its the loveable cliches that seem to continually play out right before your eyes. There is one constant feature of my US visits; a one geared hoon by the name of Sean "Sully" Sullivan, one of the East Coast's finest now living way out west.



The start of the US endurance bicycle season is heralded by the 24 Hour in the Old Pueblo a race I had both a great time and a great result back in February. The end of the season is called by the legendary 24 Hours of Moab. This year the race had the added cache of being the 24 Hour USA National Championships and with this in mind I decided to go out and "pit" for Sean.

Moab is slap bang in the middle of the progressive state of Utah, a desert wilderness famed for its classic trails and backdrops. With this in mind I decided to join Sully in his home town of Santa Cruz 1000miles from the venue.

After re-aquainting myself with the Sullivan household including super cool new son Ely and then getting barrel rolled swimming in the freezing ocean it was time to meet Kenny and his $500 Jeep. That's right we were driving the 1,000 miles to Moab. Well I say "we" when I should have said Kenny was driving to Moab - 1,000 miles on his own and in one hit.

Trailer loaded we fueled up on Mexican and headed out onto the freeway. American road trips always summon up beautiful backdrops and deserted diners - this started a little differently. The plains around Fresno filled with walnut trees and Mexicans picking in the hit sun were interspersed with gas station stops to keep the vehicle neat and tidy. By Bakersville we'd hit what looked like developing world ghettos slap bang in the middle of the US and then night fell. Cue 2.30am past Vegas and into Utah and I am awoken from my contorted back seat slumber by blue lights and the wail of sirens.. our trailer lights had gone out. Such a stop would have been routine but with Kenny packing and Sean having some Californian shall we say "tendencies" an air of extreme concern filled the jeep. We got lucky - a quick drive to the K-Mart for parts was all that was required and we escaped the potential appointment with the State Penn.

By dawn we were surrounded by the desert landscape of Utah and after 1,000 miles and 18 hours Kenny had done us proud we had made it to Moab.

Moab is a mecca to mountain bikers and Kenny owned a house close to town.. perfect. But upon arrival the news broke: he'd rented the house, we were sleeping in the garage. Kenny was a McGyver type character and although the lodgings at first seemed spartan it was quickly revealed that we had a shower, full cooking facilities, a machine shop and a 1972 Toyota Landcruiser all at our disposal. After 45 minutes of sleep in which the extent of Kenny's snoring was revealed we set about our daily business.

For the uninitiated a 24 Hour Solo Mountain bike race involves riding a big long loop of up to 15 miles as many times as you can in 24 hours. When soloing it is imperative to have some people to feed and motivate you as well as make sure the bike is working well. After 15-20 laps of this rather bizarre pastime the winner usually rolls in looking like absolute toast. Being an exponent of this rather odd pursuit I was the man to help Sully go for the National jersey... in the errr.. Singlespeed (only one gear) division.

As the sun drew toward the horizon we finally set off on our practise lap of the course. It was rocky tough and the landscape fantastic plus it was great to actually ride with one of my team mates. Yet this toughness soon changed to boredom as the course was positively untechnical and old school. We retreated to the garage a touch miffed and consoled ourselves with Buffalo and bubblers.

Friday saw free time and as I was in Moab I decided to check out two of the World's most legendary trails the Slick Rock and the Porcupine Rim. I have known of these classics for over 20 years and to finally rode them was a mouthwatering prospect. The Slickrock didn't disappoint, huge slabs of rock that turned your usual understanding of what the bike could do inside out. The grip was sensational with 1 in 1 climbs a breeze and 45 degree traverses cannon fodder. Upon completion I hooked up with a Gary Fisher US pro and Chris Eatough's mechanic and made haste toward the Porcupine rim. What a trail! 1,000 meters of vertical descent on every conceivable type of rock-strewn tight singletrack we were a 4-up with a sensational Ecuadorian woman having joined the group. It was what I call superstar terrain where if you're pretty good the flow of the trail makes you feel like you're a hero!

After sleeping outside to escape the snores race day dawned and by now 1,000's of riders and spectators alike had amassed at Moab. Come noon we were set up in our pit and Sully was sent out to do battle. What ensued was a howler for the man - an unexplanable sickness led to slower and slower laps and then by 9pm a foetal curl up in the tent. I was gutted for him - a top rider had worked super hard for this day and then all that commitment was for some reason thrown back at him. That said it was great to catch up with some US riders there before the 1,000 mile drive home.

The drive back was a testament to the power of Kenny another grand under his belt fueled by chilli nuts. The last day in Santa Cruz saw their biggest storm in years... On one hand it looked like a week that just wasn't meant to fall right - but on the other Sully's great attitude, meeting Ely, riding Moab classics, sleeping out, avoiding jail and being hosted by the mighty Kenny made all the calamity worthwhile. Roll on the Annapurna.