Bikes, boats and National Monuments

Crack open Google Earth and zoom in over the American southwest and you’ll see a remarkable brown smear over the four corners region. This is red-rock country–primordial, sanguine clay-stained soil–where wind and water have steadily burnished mother earth’s soft patina into goblin-like hoodoos and neck-craning arches. It’s also the confluence of nowhere and American politics, where this past winter, state’s rights rammed head-on with National Monument status. This is Bears Ears.

If you’re late to this party, (or out of the country … or simply can’t keep up with our ever-changing political currents) here’s the CliffsNotes. This past December then President Obama penned 1.3 million acres of this staggeringly barren land as a National Monument, protecting 18 wilderness study areas and miles of pre-western archeological sites from looting and energy development. Ink still wet on the page, Utah’s Governor signed a resolution crying federal overreach, urging the new administration to trump the decree.


This tripped a cascade of outdoor industry revolts; Patagonia, and then Arc’Teryx announced they would boycott of the outdoor industry trade show juggernaut, Outdoor Retailer, held bi-annually in Utah. Eventually OR itself decided it was time to pull the plug on Utah, citing Governor Herbert “has a different perspective on protections of public lands…and it’s bad for our business…”

Heeding the call of the feral, we were already plotting a route across this brick-stain on the map. The political kerfuffle only added to our curiosity. So we racked the bikes and punched the coordinates due south and proceeded onward to pedal-about into the American southwest.

But let’s start with the boats. Nose deep in our bags at the Kane Gulch Ranger Station, a tall, lanky fella with gangly chicken legs strolled up and chirped “Hey! I hear you guys are riding bikes to the ruins…maybe I’ll see you there!” He paused…and followed with “…what’s up with the paddles?”

This is pretty much par for the course. Gear vomited across the parking lot attracts attention. Soon enough, someone’s gonna recognizes boats in the mix. It raises the freak flag, cueing someone’s up to no good … biting off more than one should chew. But as Oscar Wilde once said, even moderation should be consumed in moderation. So sporting more testicular fortitude than smarts (and the whole appeal of eating something bigger our heads), there we were, in the parking lot, pondering the question from our new-found friend, when Dave, my partner who was wrestling his boat between the handle bars, got that mischievous glint in his eyes. Without skipping a beat, Dave casually responded “Paddles…for our boats…” as if to say, you know, because we’re in the desert…cycling to ruins…with boats. Of course we’re bringing paddles. And with that, our audience broke half a smile at the crazy notion, backed away, and we pointed the bikes south. Our Bears Ears shenanigans were game on.

The Cedar Mesa maybe in the middle of nowhere but there was a time when it was the Gotham of North American civilization. Grand Gulch is to archeology as the Alps is to cycling. If you are into exploring ancient Anasazi and Puebloan ruins, pictographs and petroglyphs, then Cedar Mesa is your Tour. Later in the day we would meet Gary Dorgan, a retired BLM ranger who specialized in archeological preservation. In his words, “you can’t spit on the Mesa without hitting some ancient artifact.” Being gentlemen, we keep the expectoration to a minimal. But rough finger in the wind estimates calculate there are over 100,000 archeological sites inside Bears Ears–many right here on Cedar Mesa. We were salivating at the opportunities to explore. And while I’d like to say we picked Moon House ruins for its exemplary example of prehistoric Puebloan architecture (with nearly 50 rooms, it’s gotta be on that list), let’s be honest…we’re not that smart. We ran with Moon House so we could sneak a quick peek while sticking to our Swiss-like schedule.

We cut east off the highway and squished onto the Snow Flat road with a brick-red dust rooster tail sputtering off the back tires. Mormon Pioneers were the first westerners to visit these parts and cut the route across Cedar Mesa to wagon west. Bikes silently ripping across the red velvet carpet trail, we found our religion and it was simply divine.

At the trailhead, we stashed the bikes behind a stumpy stand of pinyon pines and scampered down the well-cairned trail that eventually plunged down into an oxbow canyon. And then … then we saw it. Pinched between the weathered sandstone layers cut into the bluff was a long row of methodically stacked and mortared stones. I passed a set of ancient corn granaries and shimmied inside the kiva proper to find an internal ‘courtyard’ with a second row of rooms tucked under the soot stained roof. Smaller stone structures were stacked along the bench to the south and the north. The structure was reputed to house over 30 ancient Puebloans. Though over 800 years old, it was locked in time – hardly a stone appeared out of place.

We could have spent all day exploring McCloyd Canyon but daylight was burning. So we hoofed it back to the bikes, saddled up and pressed eastward to the distinctly serrated Comb Ridge–an 80-mile monocline range that defines Bears Ears eastern border–before we ducking into Valley of the Gods.

Nearby Monument Valley … it gets all the press. It’s tall, it’s iconic, it’s a western beauty queen. Smaller but uniquely spectacular, Valley of the Gods is Monument’s humble sister. Tucked immediately below Cedar Mesa, on the map it looks out of the way. But the burnished gravel road is well worth the extra 17 miles. Cue the Ennio Morricone soundtrack: we snaked our wagons in and around red sandstone monoliths, chasing the slow shadows casted across the desert floor.

The day wrapped with a 10-mile casual ride down the highway to Goosenecks State Park, where $10 gets you a toilet vault (unfortunately, no water) but most importantly … a ringside seat overlooking the San Juan River. One of the hottest views in the southwest and worth every penny. We dined on gourmet freeze dried and botanical superfoods while catching up on our atomic sunsets, which went absolutely nuclear over the Navajo horizon.


Mexican Hat, Utah, population at 31. The small desert hamlet may sit on the southern border of the Monument but it’s at the social epicenter of Bears Ears. The popular story would have it that the monument is imposed against local will. But Mexican Hat stays afloat on catering tourism–primarily selling 4% beer to rafters floating the San Juan–and is “all in” on the status.

The San Juan river cuts right through “down town” Mexican Hat and is a classic rock nerd example of an “entrenched meander…” a sinuous river carved deep in a canyon. Goosnecks typically form when slow water flows over flat land and left to it’s own idle hands.

It takes a special something to get a meander to form 1500 feet below the deck. That something was the formation of the Rockies, which, when sprouted a hundred miles to the east, increased the river’s flow rate. The river’s path already set, the erosive San Juan simply cut deeper through soft limestone, sandstone and shale.

Rather than riding out and back to the Goosenecks via the highway, we followed our creative sensitivities back to the maps and divined a route that would deliver us from Mexican Hat through the desert with bikes strapped to small, packable rafts via these spectacular meanderings–the southern border of Bears Ears–eventually pulling us up the historical Honaker Trail. So we filled up the bladders, swapped the gear from bike to boat, hoisted the jolly roger and plopped the boats down on muddy waters. As we passed under the bridge, a Dodge Ram honked and gave us a thumbs up (or the finger). Either way, we took it as a sign of approval.

To pass time, we honed our river reading skills. By skirting the outside shore and drafting off major riffles, we’d slingshot from current to current, giving us the illusion of speed and efficiency. After 4-hours of bobbing in our kiddie pools with bikes, we finally reached the last of our meanderings and beached on the shore below the Honaker which would lead us up and out of the canyon.

Cut out of the canyon’s vertical wall at the turn of the century, the Honaker was created as the only supply route to haul sluiced gold out of the river basin. But gold proved difficult to sift from the silt and the trail was too steep even for pack mules (legend has it a donkey fell off the trail within a week of the trail’s completion). Muscling our bikes up the Honaker seemed like the right idea.

So how do you train to climb 1,500 feet in two miles with a bike? Here are a few suggestions:

-Bench press your bike while climbing on your local YMCA Stairmaster

-Run Tour de Stat repeats while shouldering your bike

-Partake in cyclocross, or other velo-masochistic pursuits

Being ‘off the couch’ sort-of-guys, we opted for neither and dove into the canyon head first, following the light to the end of the tunnel. It’s 2 to 3-hour climb through an earth history lesson: Desmoinesian, Missourian, Paradox formation … entrapping fossilized brachiopods … for those with a keen eye, the geology is staggering. Earth science not your jam? If it makes you feel any better, they say the walk down sucks more. We’ll leave that for someone else to ground truth, (please share your experience with us in the comment section below).

The trail finally spit us out on the mesa’s surface where we unpacked, dried out and repacked in preparation for one final challenge. The short but mighty, Moki Dugway is registered as a National Scenic Byway, folding over itself as it climbs 1,200 feet in three miles to the plateau. The following morning we set our sites north and pedaled up the Dugway and back to the truck, with Bears Ears twin summits bobbing over the Byway.

Back at the rig, gear was once again spilled out on the parking lot. I kicked a peculiar stone in the gravel: convex on one side, carved out on the other. I picked it up, spun it in my palm and recognized it was fossilized shell from eons ago. The Utah desert … it’s full of hidden gems. Bears Ears is perhaps the pearl washed up from the ancient marine environment. I smiled, tucked the stone in my shirt pocket to show the kids back at home, certain to return in search of more hidden treasures.


Enjoy the rest of the PHOTO GALLERY here:



Once a game of hide and seek, the prehistoric Puebloan ruins have gained popularity by weekend explorers, so the BLM put a cap on daily visits. It’s a good thing – keeping the riffraff minimal. To get a permit for the Moon House Ruins, call the Kane Gulch Ranger Station (1.435.587.1500) or Monticello BLM office (1.435.587.1500) to snag one of the 12 advance reservations. Unprepared? That’s ok, get in line early outside the rangers station (opens at 8:00 a.m.) to snag one of the 8 remaining walk-up permits. The permit will set you back $2 per person. Other ruins abound. Ask the Kane Gulch Ranger for more information.

The San Juan River is a rafter’s paradise and can be floated year ’round–much of it without a permit. The Permit season starts March first. Regardless, the season doesn’t pick up until May and we had no problem making a last-minute permit reservation. To get a river permit, log onto Recreation.gov and reserve for a reserve a Mexican Hat to Clay Hills permit. The permit will run you $25 per paddler. The paddle to Honaker is an easy ½ day. You will get an email asking where you will camp. You won’t need to make camp; just share you are taking out at Honaker and you will be good to go.


Find your way to Salt Lake City and rent a car for the weekend. Take Interstate 15 south to 89 then to 6, 191, 24, 9. Kane Gulch Ranger station sits on 291. The roughly 320-mile drive and will take between 5-6 hours from SLC. Minimal resupply can be found in Mexican Hat, so stock up on what you need in SLC, Price, or Helper on the way down. Supplies can also be purchased in nearby Bluff. Use the Kane Gulch Ranger Station as your base; parking and a 24-hour bathroom are around back. Carry all your water and rehydrate at Mexican Hat.



Stage 1. Kane Gulch Ranger Station to Goosenecks. 62 miles. Stop by the ranger station to get your Moon House Ruin permit if you didn’t already snag one. Park the vehicle out back behind the Kane Gulch Ranger station and head south on the remote 261. Pedal 6 miles on pavement and turn left onto Snow Flat Road. Pedal the old emigrant trail double track for 8 miles to the Moon House ruins parking lot. Take the trail to the left and continue another mile. Stash the bikes and hike the 1.5 miles down to the ruins. Be careful of the cryptobiotic soil – it’s an especially fragile desert alpine soil that takes a millennia to regrow. Unfamiliar? Ask the ranger at Kane Gulch about it. Continue east on 237/Snow Flat to Comb Wash and veer south to the highway (163). Cycle west. It’s a necessary but short evil to not-to-be-missed Valley of the Gods loop. The Valley of the Gods will pop you back onto 261 where if you were smart, you made reservations at Valley of the Gods B&B. Or, pedal south on 261 to Goosenecks State Park (no water) or Mexican Hat (resupply).

Stage 2. Goosenecks to Honaker Trail Head. 25.5 miles (Ride: 8; float: 15; Hike 2.5). A river runs through it and it’s called the San Juan. Book your permit online–not that they will check it, it’s super remote down here and the cowboy appeal is in full effect, but getting a permit the right thing to do. Resupply as necessary and strap bikes to boats for the 4-hour float to the Honaker Trail. The century-old, long-abandoned Mendenhall Cabin is about 4 miles downstream, sitting on the lowest gooseneck shelf you’ll see on the river. It’s tough to miss and worth 15 minutes of your time. Continue through the goosenecks and keep an eye on the map for the appropriate takeout. If you miss it – you’re in for another day-long float down to Slickhorn canyon and Jacks Road…so don’t miss it. The Honaker trailhead is ambiguous from the shore. Look for the prominent cairn on the upstream side of the meander. Trouble finding it? Follow the easy benches to the right and you’ll eventually stumble into the Honaker. Expect 3 hours to make the 2.5-mile hike. The numbers? Yeah, those mark a geological survey dating back to the 1950’s. Expect some heavy lifting – put as much gear on your back to make the lifting less taxing. If your bladder is running low, it would be prudent to filter water out of the San Juan for the long hike and ride out.

Stage 3. Honaker Trail head to Kane Gulch Ranger Station. 35 miles. Congratulations! You’ve made it out of the canyon. The route back to Kane Gulch is fairly straightforward. Follow the double track back to the highway and point the wheels up hill towards Cedar Mesa. The road looks impassible from down below, but sure enough – the 3-mile gravel road switchbacks to the plateau followed by a quick 20-mile ride back to the ranger station



Most of the area is BLM land, allowing cowboy camping. We paid $10 to set up camp at Goosenecks State Park and bivied under the star-choked nights tent free. At the end of Valley of the Gods road we saw a sign hung from a stone stand: ducked into the Valley of the Gods Bed and Breakfast. It’s here where we met Gary Dorgan, the owner who gladly gave us the dime tour. After 20 years working as a ranger, Gary and his wife retired to the stone ranch house-come-B&B and have worked it for the last 25 years. Off the grid, it’s self-sustained, run by sun and recycled water. Had we planned better, we would have spent the night there. Look them up for a great experience.




Packrafts are small, lightweight rafts that are fully capable of shuttling paddlers through remote wild land. We used two different ultra light rafts: an inexpensive ($170) raft from Klymit and a more durable prototype raft from a German company, Anfibio. Prior to the trip, we pimped out the Anfibio with additional tie-downs to snugly lash the bikes to the bow. You’ll want to strip off of pedals and sandwich the front wheel over the frame. There is nothing quite like getting a lap dance from your bike in a kiddie pool. Priceless.

River Water. It’s silty and will leave a dusty residue on everything. You can filter it but unless you are sporting the latest in filtration technology, it might be hard to extract the fine sediment from the drinkable. The river runs at class I … maybe class II difficulty … with plenty of room to skirt any technical obstacles. I’d say bring a PFD … but do as I say…not as I did. We left ours at home and felt plenty safe.

Sleeping. We each brought a down jacket and quilt to throw down over a small pad. Our tarp was never unfurled and we opted to sleep under the open sky instead. It_was_awesome. Of course, if you’re feeling more civilized, hotels are available along the route.

Supplies. Carry your food (like we did) or put some extra time in the saddle to dine at the hotels along the way, available in Mexican hat and Valley of the Gods B&B.


Stages 3
Distance 208 km (129 mi)
Ascent 2395 m (7857 ft)
Best Time Southeast Utah is a mighty arid place. Hot as hades in the summer (with cyclical thunderstorms making the b-roads impassible), it’s best to visit in spring or fall. Tired of      the relentless wet winter, we were psyched to get some early spring desert time and still experienced 80° F temperatures. Shoot for right before spring break (middle of  March) and you should have a fine mix of great weather and low crowds.
Terrain  Cross into red-rock country and it would be prudent to put aside all that you *think* you know about backcountry roads. In Idaho, you can expect sand, gravel or both.  Montana: same-same with a side of hard packed dirt. But in Utah … well, the back roads run the gamut from sanguine angel dust to gumbo-thick mud…baby-head nano  boulders to limestone slick rock slabs. That is to say, expect anything and everything
Tires We ran WTB’s Ranger tires, a 27.5 all-round tire, which clawed into the terracotta red dust with appropriate bite … but rolled across the tarmac with relative ease. Get some!
Don’t Forget Water. It’s a desert out here. Pack what water you can and resupply often. You can stock up at Kane Creek, Valley of the Gods B&B (if you are polite), Mexican Hat and the  San Juan river (if you filter). Though there are some springs along the way, they can be quite a hike to get to. We also found the occasional cattle tub off a tanker that  offered potable water.



Check the route and download our GPS files at Komoot: