Southern Swell Backpacking Overnight

Law school has ended, and a few months back Vitor and I talked about doing something adventurous during the first week of May. Due to various injuries and logistical complications we had to nix our climbing plans (Yosemite? Black Canyon?) and we started narrowing down alternatives.

We kind of wanted to ski, but we really wanted to bike. After talking through some multi-sport ideas, we finally settled on a bikepacking trip. Vitor sent me a loop published through Bikepacking mag; it covers nearly the entire zone of the San Rafael Swell that lies behind the "Reef." Thus, the route starts on the eponymous Behind the Reef Road, continues on high Sinbad Country, drops down into the wild Mars-scape that is Red's Canyon, climbs back up onto Sinbad Country, and ends behind the Reef. 

When I saw the route I was immediately drawn to it because it covered a substantial portion of the 'southern' Swell (the section below Interstate 70), an area that left a huge gap in my San Rafael Swell resume. 

For some reason the creators of the loop write about it on the mag as if they have to sell it to unsuspecting bikers. I guess nearby Fruita and Moab are pretty good for mountain biking. It's funny because I would choose exploring the Swell 10x over exploring any of those areas, which I think are crowded with bikers and other motorists on any given day. On the other hand, each time I visit the Swell I only see a handful of other people (save for the popular trailheads/jump off points) and I think it's some of the most wild country in this state. 

That's all to say I didn't need much convincing, even if I lacked both a capable bike and bikepacking gear. Oh well. This route seemed too good to pass up, so I rented a hardtail from REI and my neighbor let me borrow some of his bikepacking gear. 

The day of setting out, I loaded up the bike and thought "what the fuck, this is never going to go." With the storage capacity I had (~25 liters with my running vest, saddlebag, and handlebar bag), I doubted this would be enough to sustain me for 2-3 days. Vitor consoled me and said that he felt the same way when he packed his bike, and that I could certainly make it work. 

After removing several "essential items" and finding a way to rig my 4L bladder to the frame, I felt a bit more comfortable and believed that I could indeed make this work. Still, I was apprehensive. This was the most minimal I had gone on any overnight outing including the ultralight outings Libby and I have done in the desert.

Anyhow, Vitor and I pointed it down to the Swell on Wednesday evening. We staged a car at Tan Seep with a cooler full of beer, cheese, and water, assuming we would spend the second night there. After leaving the car, we arrived at Temple Mtn. Campground at around 11:30 and went to sleep. 

The next morning we made an aggressive amount of chorizo chili and scarfed it down burrito-style, ultimately setting off at around 9. 

After doing a couple of getting to know you laps on our loaded bikes, we were off. 

I was overly caffeinated and breezed through the first miles with a huge shit-eating grin. Here I was on my first bikepack—endless blue sky, nary a cloud, light and nimble as an antelope.  My bike didn't feel unnecessarily cumbersome and my padded liner shorts felt downright luxurious. This was going to be a great day. 

High pressure and sunshine dominated the sky throughout the morning hours. A slight breeze kept the sweat localized only to the small square of my back on which my runner vest rested. Things went very smoothly and we made the occasional stop to gawk at all of the geologic wonders, including remnants of the area's mining history. 

Apparently this history resulted in plenty of dubious jalopies being abandoned on the side of some lonely and improbable road. I'm still processing the fact that these roads, treacherous as they are, were in fact roads on which passenger cars would drive. 

These days, leaving the house and all of its domestic comforts to head deep into the Swell seems desirable—downright cool, even. But perhaps a century ago it seemed 100% crazy.

 

We continued to pedal through the rugged but mostly manageable Behind the Reef Road; the climbs and descents were both a breeze.

The heat of the day caught up to us, and things started to feel pretty dang western by the time we dropped into Cistern Canyon. I had to hike my bike for most of this descent, as my saddlebag prevented me from utilizing my dropper post. It was a steep incline with lots of football-sized cobbles and stones and loose sand. Dropping into the Wash proper was sandy and technical.

We took our first real break of the day, eating lunch in the shade of a massive boulder. Before dropping into Cistern, we had a good look at the ascent back out. It did not look easy nor fun (it can be seen in the middle of the following photo, cutting a diagonal path through the escarpment).

And so after forcing down some trail mix and a Complete Cookie (which I've realized I can barely stomach), we made the climb out of Cistern very slowly, hiking much of the way under the blazing sun. The air was dead still, the sun high. Sweat stung my eyes. 

Just as I began to feel slightly demoralized, I came across this massive boulder with delicate ripples, cantilevered on a protrusion of hardened sand. The rock was good and the angle on the rippled face was fierce. This could be one of the coolest lowball boulder problems in the desert. If only I had a penny for every classic boulder miles from anywhere... 

After ascending out of Cistern Canyon, we picked up an improved road that climbed at a gradual, easy grade. We looked at the map and confirmed that this would be our big (and final) climb of the day. After the previous rocky, sandy hike-a-bike ascent, I was ecstatic to be on smoother gravel and just steadily grinding up a long hill.

I started to tap into my reserve water about 3/4 of the way through this climb, and it was sort of fun to think through the scenario where we arrive at camp to a completely dry Muddy Creek. 

After topping out of the climb, we saw in the distance an obvious strip of bright green Cottonwoods. Camp?! Water?!

With good improved roads and lots of psych for a water refill, the long descent into Red's Canyon was lightning fast.

We made it to a beautiful, dusty camp right above Muddy Creek, which was mostly clear and a little more than ankle deep. Before filtering the following day's water, I took some time to soak in the creek and decompress after a long day. 

After filtering for a bit (about one backflush for every 2 liters filtered), I was ready to settle into camp. That typically means sitting down, eating, and getting right into my bag for bed. One of the reasons I love backpacking (and now bikepacking I guess) is because it pares life down to its most basic: you move all day, singularly focused on getting to point B, and then when you're at point B you can just chill the fuck out, eat, and go to sleep. So that's exactly what I did. I popped a melatonin and it had my eyes feeling heavy within minutes. 

Oh yeah, this wild horse came by our camp right as we were settling in. It was pretty friendly/unexcitable for a wild animal. 

I probably slept for about 10 hours of middling quality. It was all I needed because I woke up feeling rested and surprisingly not sore. Another nice thing about these minimalist adventures is that there's a relatively small amount of overhead—breaking down camp and getting things ready for the day only takes about 15 minutes. 

After some decent instant coffee (the key is to triple the recommended amount of coffee per serving) and a Very Scenic Poop, we were off at around 8:30 and fairly confident that we'd make it to Vitor's car at Tan Seep around noon. 

Red's Canyon was a trip. We spotted yet another cabin, more abandoned jalopies, and some of the coolest striated sandstone I've ever seen. Super Mario Stone. 

It was apparent pretty quickly that the sun would be much stronger today than the day before. The idea was to crank out the big ascent to Tan Seep, refuel and nap at Vitor's car in the shade, and finish the day off in the cooler late-afternoon hours. 

The climb out of Red's Canyon was uneventful if not consistent. The towering Wingate/Navajo sandstone walls to our N-NW provided some eye candy and daydreams about being scared and up high. 

During this climb, Vitor and I had a very high-frequency conversation about life, motivation in the hills, developing and maintaining relationships, etc. It seemed to me that my motivations have changed pretty considerably over the years. Where I used to be very objective-oriented, I now find myself prioritizing the people with whom I head into the mountains rather than the mountains themselves. Leading up to this trip, I could've told Vitor, "Well, I'm in good climbing shape so I'm going to climb. Sorry bud!" But that would simply miss the point of why I like being in the hills in the first place. 

Anyhow, the climbers in us could not resist scrambling up this gorgeous low angle boulder we found along the way. 

After riding through much loose sand, Red's Canyon turned into Sinbad Country and the road improved. We even started to see some passenger cars. Goddamn, I love Sinbad Country.

We made it to Vitor's car ahead of schedule and drank some cold beers from the cooler. It was hot and we were rationing sunscreen. We both attempted to nap for a little while. When we awoke, it was only 1:30 and we knew we had a lot of hours to go before riding in the dead sun seemed enjoyable again. But with only 10-15 miles left (most of which were downhill), we made the choice to complete the loop in the heat of the day.

Back on some improved roads for a bit after Tan Seep and then it got real cobbly/loose. I felt bad for Vitor on his fully rigid frame but knew he would survive. He remained in good spirits and continued to be the great partner that he'd been the entire time.

Temple Mountain came into sights and we decided to return on the old mining roads to its west. Big paintbrushed lenticular clouds hung overhead. 

The old mining roads were a blast (never thought I'd catch air while backpacking), and we made it back to the trailhead within an hour and a half from leaving Tan Seep. 

Rough stats:

- 70 miles

- 8,500 ft of climbing

- Completed over the course of 30 hours

- 3 liters of water carried per day

Bikepacking is mega satisfying, particularly because we covered around 70 miles of wild country in a matter of a day and a half. While we stayed mostly outside of the Swell's rugged canyons, the bike was a great way to get a macro-level view of this zone.