Team Wrong Way had a great time in Moab. Fortunately, the weather cooperated and the riding was spectacular. Read on for a synopsis of our trip.

Attendees (pictured above L-R): Doug "Cliff Shot" Jorgensen, Dawn "Sore Bootay" Weathersbee, Trevor "Mr. Mechanical" Taylor, Wes "Crampy" Taylor, Ron "Nap Time" Chai, Scott "Headbanger" Seery, and Mike "PB&J" Gin. Lance "Starfish" Sanchez isn't pictured here.

Amazingly, everyone as planned arrived prior to noon (well, Lance was a teeny bit late, however, we'll forgive him since he drove from Denver through a blizzard). And even with Scott, me, and Ron (L-R) posing for a photo - waited three hours for someone to stop at that frickin' rest stop to take our picture! We set up camp (nice ass) - Doug was the full on MacGuyver with his assorted ropes and tree climbing ability. Wes had the full on condo going, with cots and all.

We got our biking gear together and headed up to Slickrock. Very, very cool. It didn't take long to get adjusted to the Slickrock - stand and grind (Lance) up the steep inclines and roll (not slide) down the steep declines - maximum traction baby! (Mike) We did the practice loop (about 2 miles or so) and then headed out for the full loop (Ron) (8ish miles).

We stopped numerous times to watch people (Lance) try to clean sections (especially steep inclines). One location where we stopped was a tough little drop off (Scott riding up near it). This is where Wes gave himself a WTB enema. He attacked the drop off pretty fast and fully bottomed everything. EVERYTHING (if you know what I mean). But he stayed on his bike and would be the only one to try that drop off. Some of us chose an easier line and some chose to walk.

We found one really cool bowl that had near vertical walls. Scott and I were doing our best to drop into the bowl (Mike) at the steepest section. We kept going back and forth until people got tired of watching us. We moved onward (Ron).

Everyone rode really well (Trevor). You really have to ride Slickrock to fully appreciate it. Conditions were great (with the exception of a few sand pits). Follow the white dots. (Wes)

Back to the campground to hang a bit and work on bikes. At about 6:15pm, we decided to head down to pick up Dawn. Dawn had ridden a shuttle in from Salt Lake City. Unfortunately, the people on the shuttle were not too talkative so it was a kinda quiet boring drive. Oh well, she would get her share of talkers on this trip. Sometimes you just shouldn't wish for something...

We went to dinner that night at a BBQ joint. Big ol' greasy ribs. Unfortunately, they were nothing special and slightly overpriced. And of course, people came up short on the bill - the regular group meal ritual. Imagine that.

Back to the campground, stand around a little bit, and then to bed. Wind. Major wind.

Quite possibly the best ride of them all (at least once you reached the trail head). Gradual climb to the rim and then a long, long technical rocky downhill, and then some sweet singletrack.

Doug rode up the hill to Slickrock parking lot. The rest of us decided to ride... in the vans. From the Slickrock parking lot to the Porcupine Rim trailhead, we were on this boring fire road. What a grinder. We asked a shuttle driver who was heading back to the parking lot to pick up Wes, Trevor, and Ron, as they appeared to be hurting. But they said "no thanks" to the shuttle.

We got to the trailhead, signed in, and then took a group photo. And then we were off. Unfortunately, Dawn crashed right at the start of the trail. Many of us thought, "uh oh, this could be trouble." Of course, it wasn't, as Dawn more than held her own on the ride.

There was still some snow on the ground in areas. At one re-group spot, I decided to check out the snow. Well, one thing led to another and the next thing you know I'm doing a snow angel. Also at this point, the quote of the trip was spoken - Ron called out "passing on your right" when he was the last up the hill and we were all standing around waiting for him. You had to be there. Totally funny.

We stopped at the top to check out the incredible view. This is where Doug did the "Cliff Shot". A large rock extended out over the edge (like walking the plank). Doug took some photos from this point. Scary.

The downhill was tough, but a whole lotta fun. Totally relentless beating of the bikes and body. Almost too much, as you had to be in total concentwation the entire way down. Mentally draining.

But then, the awesome singletrack made it all worthwhile. It started off with some cool rollers and then became more technical. Doug took a header off the singletrack and rolled down the hill a little bit (he said he was in full control of the situation). Twenty more feet down that hill and there would have been no control over the situation (cliff). We stopped shortly thereafter when Wes mades people pucker by passing Trevor on the right - cliff side. I think I just pulled a muscle...

We came up to this very technical creek crossing. Scott tried it and ate it hard. Landed smack on his elbow. That definitely had to hurt. Needless to say, no one else tried it.

We got to the road and re-grouped there. We had about four miles of road riding to get back to the campground. I worked my ass off to keep up with Doug on the road home (and I was drafting). Trying to follow roadie etiquette, I told Doug that I would do some work. So after leading for all of ten seconds, Doug motored by and led the rest of the way home.

Food. Food. FOOD! Most people were starving after the ride. I made PB&J sandwiches for a bunch of us.

A few of us did the hot tub thing. Nothing like a nice hot tub after a six hour ride.

We planned on eating at the campground. Those who didn't bring food then hopped in a car to head to the grocery store. We took several detours on our way there. Several. First we got water from the natural spring. Then we decided to check out some petroglyphs and pictographs. Very cool. Who were the idiots who defaced these things? Get a rope. Sorry, back to the detours. Then we headed into town and though, "hmm... a brew and appetizers would be good." We stopped at a local brew pub and got the slowest freakin' service known to man. Enough of that though. We went to the grocery store and then got back to the campground over two hours later. Everyone had eaten by then and were wondering where the hell we were. Trevor kept holding out on food offers, thinking that his dad would be back soon.

The rotisserie chicken tasted oh so good. Once again, I amazed Wes with my eating prowess (B&W just captures the moment), finishing off an entire chicken and a one pound salad.

Stand around a little bit, and then to bed. Wind. Major wind.

Here is Wes' favorite memory from the trip:

This was my fourth trip to Moab, Utah. Unlike my other trips, seven other Team Wrong Way members went too. With all of these folks, as you can imagine, there was never a dull moment. In fact, the group made this trip a ton of fun. The weather was totally cooperative (much to the weatherman's dismay) and the riding couldn't have been better.

Wednesday night: Living up to the team reputation.

After a good day riding, we were hungry. At about 6:30, Mike, Dawn, Scott, and I piled into the rented Ford van as we promised everyone that we'd be right back (did they really believe us?). We were on our way for a quick trip to the local market for some rotisserie chickens and some salads.

We decided to stop at the springs to get some water first. We turned left (wrong way from town) and headed toward the water. The water filters it's way through the sandstone and is corralled by a cement box. The spring flows out of a pipe about 20' off of the highway. Not as cold as a high mountain spring, but good cool water none the less. With full jugs, off we went.

Instead of heading for town, we decided to check out some of the local Indian rock art. After all, it would only take us a second. We made a right turn (again, taking us just a little further in the wrong way from town). About a half-mile up the road, we turned into the parking area along side of the highway. The pictographs/petroglyphs were up the hill about 0.4 miles on the rock face above. We hiked up, read the plaque that gave the skinny on the art, and gawked for a few minutes. Well, some 20 minutes later, it was back to the errand at hand - get the groceries.

As we headed into town, it struck us that a cold beer from the local brewery might taste good, so off we went. What we didn't expect was the extended delays that we encountered while waiting for our food. We got the beers (soda in Mike's case) and appetizers finally, but not before we lost over an hour.

We all decided that maybe we were running a little late, so we should go see if the market still had birds. They did. Mike and I each grabbed one, and all of us made salads. Looking good. Back to camp.

We pulled into camp around 9:30. Of course, everybody that had been waiting at camp understood and never gave us one bit of grief (ya right). Scott "head banger" was working into a new nick name, he banged his head on the tent cover (2X4 cross member) for the fourth time. We sat and ate. I couldn't eat all of my chicken, but with the help of several others, it got eaten. But Mike's, he cleaned all of the meat off that bird. Nothing went to waste. Then, he finished off his salad - never even got to the 50% point (50% percent chance that the next bite brings everything back up). That Mike, he can eat. Afterward, we all turned tail and headed for the tents. Next day was more riding. We all wanted to be ready to go.

So Moab has plenty to offer, not just mountain biking, but history, good food, good beer, great weather, and one great atmosphere to spend time with friends. I'll be back in Moab next year.

After the epic ride on Porcupine, we decided we needed an easy recovery ride. We were told by some Canadians that Bartlett Wash was pretty fun with lots of bowls (Ron). So we figured this would be our ride today. But first, it was an awesome breakfast at Jail House Cafe. You can't go wrong with bacon baby! After breakfast, Lance departed. Back to spend some time with the family. We then went to a local bike shop and scored a few necessities. Nice shop.

Back to the campground to work on bikes. Scott put Dawn's riser bars on (apparently, found it quite amusing). I put new brake pads on (fashion red of course). Ron took a nap.

We left for Bartlett Wash, not really knowing where the hell this place was. After a turnaround we found the dirt road leading the way. Scott got a little worried about driving off road in the rental van. But we said we wouldn't tell if he didn't. We got to the gate and drove through. But we decided this was a mistake and went back through the gate. Scott took forever to get ready (Wes and Trevor had been riding for nearly 1/2 hour already by the time we got up to the riding area).

This place could be described as slickrock of a finer grit (Mike). The traction wasn't quite as good, but it was still stand up and grind up the steep incline type riding. And jumping too! (Scott)

There were cool little bowls (Scott) - even roadie Doug was getting into carving the bowls. And Trevor too! But the best had to be the awesome rolling hills downhill back to the cars (with the wind - it was like surfing). That was totally fun. Then down the steep (Ron), steep (Wes), downhill chute.

We packed up and headed back towards the camp. We popped in Ron's 80's tapes and sang Wham and GnR. Dorks? Probably, but we still had fun.

We took a small detour to check out (Dawn) some more petroglyphs and pictographs. Very cool. We also tried our hand at rock climbing. Of course, that stopped at about ten feet up. Sure seems pretty high when you have to come down.

We also stopped to check out some dinosaur tracks. Unfortunately, we didn't hike up to them - we just looked at them from a designated lookout spot. It looked like some white marks on a rock. Not too eventful from this view. Probably would have been cool if we'd hiked up there to check them out.

We ate dinner at Eddie McStiff's. Finally, decent service and decent food. We then did some browsing of the local stores. Doug pointed out some flaws and some cheats in photos at a gallery. Sneaky.

Back to the campground, stand around a little bit, and then to bed. Wind. Major wind. More hot tub action for a few of us.

This was the most anticipated ride of the trip (or maybe the least anticipated ride of the trip). All we heard about were the cliffs on Portal. And they weren't kidding.

Doug once again rode to the trail head. We once again rode... in the vans. Another gradual hill climb (Dawn) up to the mesa. All kinds of terrain, including sand pits, rocks, slickrock (Scott), oil slicks, etc. We hooked up with some dude, but he took off once we headed him in the right direction. I guess he thought we were taking too many breaks. At least you could've said, "see you later" or "so long" or even "goodbye" dude. Oh well.

We stopped at this very cool arch. A bunch of our group decided to walk out onto it. On one side, there was about a 25 foot fall. On the other side, oh, just about a 1,000 feet down. Nothing too major. The arch was about eight feet wide (but rounded on top remember). Check out this photo documenting the fools out there.

We reached the top of the mesa and waited at the Portal trail entrance. This was the bad boy we had heard about. It started off innocently enough, with a nice downhill singletrack (Scott). No cliffs. Then we came up to some more technical areas (Ron)- still okay because of no cliffs. But then we reached several areas of the singletrack where there was about ten feet of 60 degree slope off the trail and then 1,000+ feet off the side. Big time pucker factor. It was amazing. Little rocks and obstacles became gigantic, super technical, impassable objects. When the sign said, "DISMOUNT NOW" I believe everyone complied. 3 people have died on this trail in the past.

We reached a point where the cliff exposure ended (at least from a riding standpoint). Thank goodness. Wes said it was all downhill from here (Wes and Trevor). From here, we road on this alledged biking trail - super rocky and super technical. Made sections of Rockville look like a fire road. Wes and Scott reportedly had a good time down this rocky section. Unfortunately, everyone else wasn't super thrilled about that trail. Too much walking. I threw my bike down at the end and proclaimed, "that trail blows!" Any trail where you have to walk more than ride should be considered a hiking trail.

Mike I think you should emphasize a bit stronger that Wes and I thought the Portal Trail was most enjoyable, albeit very demanding, and damn near rideable for most of its length. He and I were letting it go the lower half of it while the rest of you mukes were flippin' and slidin' and walkin' and stuff. Sure, we banged elbows and knees and nuts a few times, and even walked in more than a couple locations, but we really, REALLY got off on the challenge.

It was very tough, but fun! We "high fived" it as we reached the asphalt.

We then got back in the vans and made a run for the border. No, not the Arizona or Colorado border, but the good ol' Taco Bell. Shortly after eating, Scott, Dawn, Wes (sans bike), and I headed to Slickrock. Dawn didn't get to ride it on Monday so we figured she had to do at least a little bit while she was here. We did the practice loop and a teeny bit of the main loop. Wes captured us in action on film (waiting for the shots). Then we ran into the Ellsworth pros showing their stuff. The downhiller got big air at this one bowl - amazing. The trials guy did front and rear wheel stands in big wind. Pretty cool. Then we were off. Dawn rode down the hill. I decided to do the same, but with as many detours as possible on slickrock. I ended up riding all the way to the campground. Dawn stopped at the local cemetary to check things out. She then piled into the van and headed back to the campground.

We went to dinner that night at a placed called Eddie McStiff's. We had good service and food there earlier, so we figured why push our luck at another place. We headed through the tavern up to the game room. Ron and I had a wicked game of foosball, with me beating Ron on the last goal. Unfortunately, we all got kicked out of the game area because it was still considered the tavern (Trevor is 16). Oops, kinda forgot about that.

Well, we sat around waiting for a table in the dining area. By the time they had a table for us, everyone had finished their beers and we decided to leave instead of eat there. Wes did take his pizza with him. Some people said they would just eat some food they had back at the campground. For those of us without food, it was well, Taco Bell again.

Back to the campground, stand around a little bit, and then to bed. Wind. Major wind.

We all got up early - yuck. But people wanted to get out of there (to beat the impending bad weather) and get home to relax for a couple of days. Scott, Ron, and Dawn all piled into the van and headed out. Wes, Trevor, Doug, and I decided we'd give Slickrock one more shot. I just couldn't get enough of it.

We got to the parking lot and watched a couple of clowns getting ready to ride the Slickrock. It appeared that these two were going to need a helicopter lift based on their inability to pump up a tire without the bike tipping over numerous times. We also watched some nasty looking clouds come in. We decided to wait for a bit to see what they would do. It was cold and windy, so we decided to bag the ride. We headed back down to the campground to shower and then headed off.

Good thing we left when we did, as we hit near blizzard conditions. Sideways snow. Temps reaching as low as 25 degrees. Yikes.

Here is Scott's favorite memory from the trip:

All of my prior trips to Moab have been uniquely memorable, usually for the epic rides, new friends, or experiences traveling to and from. This recent Moab adventure, however, is memorable for one particular reason to which none of the past trips can lay claim: it neither rained nor snowed.

It's not that it necessarily did either on all prior visits, because it did not. Let me explain: I was convinced, after being glued to CNN, the National Weather Service's "live" website images, and "The Weather Channel" for several days in advance of our trip, including the morning of our scheduled departure from the Bay Area on Easter Sunday, that it was, absolutely, for sure, without doubt, going to do both. And it was going to do a lot of it. All week long.

"Freakish winter storms in April will hit the Colorado Plateau," the experts proclaimed. "Traveler's advisories in place," they warned. "Warning, Will Robinson, warning!!" And silly old us driving a rented van with no chains and a thousand miles from home. Living in tents. Wet tents. Cold, wet tents. All week long. No thanks!

Well, in spite of my better judgment, I did go. We all went, like a bunch of half-hearted lemmings marching towards our inescapable fate. And guess what? It didn't snow, and it didn't rain. The weather, although refreshingly brisk at times, briefly warm and cozy at others, and windy as hell nearly each afternoon and through most nights, cooperated quite nicely, thank you. No snow. No rain. Just great riding conditions!

So my fondest memory this time 'round is that I actually went. If I hadn't, I would have never been able to live it down!

Scott