3 Days Bikepacking on the Kokopelli Trail

Shoulder season in Colorado often means its residents will run to the desert to escape the weather that just can't seem to make up its mind. Wearing ski coats one day, shorts the next. It drives us a little nuts and makes us crave warmer temps.

Discussions of our bike packing trip began, texts between five friends connected by a common love of riding bikes. The crew committed to the journey…Tom (the expert), Roy (the catalyst), Chris (the planner), Ty (the outdoorsman), and myself, Ryan (the adventurist). The warmer temps of Utah were calling our name, so the Kokopelli was a no-brainer.  With this group of guys, all of whom can pedal a bike and crack a joke, we knew we were in for a good trip.

Planning a few days on the Kokopelli was a group effort with each person putting in effort here and there—some more than others. In fact, Chris, who did a boatload of planning, was unable to join us on trail due to a last minute respiratory infection. Without his spreadsheets of distances, water consumption, caloric intake and elevation gains, we would have probably been winging it to be honest.

Preparation: Pack Rats.

We all approached this pre-ride ritual differently, some of us bought supplies weeks in advance while others shoved food into packs just moments before locking the truck doors to start riding. Not saying one's right or wrong, but chances are one or the other is relatable. Tom had just gotten back from four days in Arkansas bike packing, so he was basically ready to go. Roy had done a ton of planning with Chris prior to the trip and had bike toured before, he was as ready as could be. Dr. Ty came straight from the hospital after work to meet up. He hadn't bikepacked either, but, like myself, had backpacking experience. So…same stuff, different bags, right?! This being my first bikepacking trip meant all my packs were shiny and new, filled to the brim with shit I wouldn't need or use—but lugging around the extra weight probably made me stronger. Gear gathered and bags packed, Roy and I set out a day early to set the team up for success and drop water at two locations along the route that had been mapped out and saved to our bike computers. It took all day. But it would surely be a tricky route without the forethought of drinking water caches.

Day 1: Trail Angels.

Roy and I connected with Tom in Moab to drop off a return vehicle and shuttle out to the launch point—the Westwater boat ramp and Ranger Station—where we would connect with Ty, finalize our packs and leave behind anything deemed to be superfluous at the last minute.

The trail can be kicked off roughly 50 miles further east in Colorado around Fruita / Loma. In our case, we only had three days to ride, and skipping that section didn't seem to ruffle any feathers. We watched ride throughs on YouTube that showed several hike-a-bike sections that frankly just didn't look fun. With the shorter route, we had pretty manageable distances and elevation gains for each day. We knew we’d just need to see what our legs wanted to do with the weight of our freshly packed bikes. 

Off in the distance, the La Sal mountains towered. We'd end up there in two days' time before descending down into Moab via Sand Flats Road. It seemed far away, but the appeal of getting into some high alpine landscape and away from the somewhat boring prairie valley we started in seemed to keep the sense of adventure intact.

The search for warmer temps was ticked off immediately as we were in a foreign 80 degrees and bright sun. It felt hot at the time, even though we'd kill for an 80 degree day ride in the sweltering late summer. So hard to please, I suppose. We drank water knowing we had a good amount of miles to put on, but still rationed to make it to the first water drop. Staving off cramps, burning calories, eating, pedaling. Attempting to keep it all in balance, trying to make those distant mountains look a little bigger.

Even with water caches spread across the course of the trip for us, water is definitely one of the biggest obstacles out in the desert. As some of the trails are multi-use the chance you might bump into a crew of midwestern folks in their side-by-sides enjoying the middle of nowhere as well—and they might just have a cooler of ice-cold bottles of water. It's a maybe so don't count on it, but it did happen to us. 

After a pretty full day, we climbed our last climb into camp, where our water jugs and deserted campsite met us with the warm glow of golden hour. Dinner was quick and delicious-ish, while we sat around a campfire (dropping a bundle of wood at each camp was some grade A thinkin'). We recalled events throughout the day and talked through the next day's plans. Another perfect night for sleeping outside awaited as our heads hit our inflated, packable pillows.

Day 2: Camels.

As everyone started to stir for day two, repacking and breakfast were first on the agenda. Morale and stoke were still high and no one's body was making them second guess any life decisions. We essentially stopped midway up a climb to camp—for future planning, it's not a horrible idea to camp on a flat before a climb or at the top of a climb. For us though, we had no other option than to wind up and grind up.

Day Two was going to be a bit steeper. We planned to cover fewer miles as we were getting into canyon country now, a welcomed change of scenery. The crux of the day was going to be Rose Garden Hill, a nasty steep and rocky descent that only Tom was eager to take on. Hard to believe a truck can offroad up and down that hill, but again, we were now in canyon territory. It is lovely with its red cliffs and green, spring fresh shrubs lining the floors. This was the time that we felt the most remote and far away from anything, all the while having it all.

Based on our GPS markers for our water cache locations, this section of the ride appeared to be too short in distance. Alas, after riding 16 miles, we were already at the second camp, leaving us with a much-too heavy day into town the next morning. The main problem with arriving at camp too early was water. We had dropped 10 gallons of water at this site, and we now found ourselves with little to no spare room to carry it.  if we wanted to continue on while we had plenty of daylight to spare. A little squall rolled in and we hunkered down and put our heads together, thinking that  surely we could figure out a way to refill our bottles and bladders and haul a bit of water on to a new camp location. Turns out it was doable by simply reorganizing. We had to dump some, but fit as much as we could into backpacks and panniers. Fortunately, it all worked out fine to push on into the unknown, waiting to discover where we’d camp next.

As luck would have it we found a great spot to camp (probably the best spot to start our Day Three) at the top of our last climb for Day Two. We’re quick learners, albeit a little late-smart. The temps throughout the day were a little chillier as we gained a bit of elevation. The night was pointing towards much cooler temps and a good chance for rain. Camp was quickly established, tent locations secured and jetboils and microstoves roared as we burned water to rehydrate our well earned dinners.

We were able to get one last fire going with some spare bundled wood left behind from the previous crew at this particular fire ring. More luck. And to push that vibe one step further, the rain held off until we all had jumped into our tents and rounded out the night on our terms. There’s nothing worse than being forced to go into the tent early on account of rain, like a bedtime punishment for being a naughty kid. So we've heard.

Day 3: Smooth as a washboard.

We had been keeping an eye on the weather. We knew there was a good chance of getting a little wet heading towards Moab, but with fingers crossed (and a few extra watts), we thought we might be able to beat the worst of it. Therefore we decided to beat the sun up and hit the road as early as we could. When 5:30 am rolled around, everyone's minds moved much faster than our bodies to get back on our bikes. Again came breakfast, repacking and a quick portrait photoshoot. All the sudden, holy shit, it was 7:30?! We were going to be cutting it close.

Day Three’s main milestone was a climb up into the high alpine roads of the La Sal mountains. Exciting? Yes. Closer to those big soggy clouds? Yes. Seems like we had to get it while the gettin’ was good, as they say. The roads as a whole became much smoother, without boulders in the way anymore. Ok, maybe ‘boulders’ is an exaggeration, but we did actually have some pavement on this last day, including an absolute ripper of a descent. 

Loaded bikes + Gravity = Mo.

You know it's good because of how it is.