By Emma Hesselsweet | November 5, 2021
Bike Types
Rigid bikes are bikes with no suspension, so not as comfortable as other bikes, which does, however, make the bike slightly less expensive. I have a hardtail bike, which means it has shocks on the fork, but none on its rear–[which is why it’s called hardtail]–it’s hard on the back.
You can also get a fat tire bike, which is loyal to its name; it has super huge tires. The tires are usually four inches or more! They are also extremely well-working on sand or snow. I highly recommend this because of its unique ability in terrain. One more type is a full suspension bike, which again is loyal to its name; it has suspension on the front + back. It overall takes the pressure off the rider, which therefore makes your ride more enjoyable. This is more expensive though.
A great place to hit the trails with your bike is Dead Horse Point State Park. Yes, the name of it is definitely strange. It comes from a legend that a long time ago, mustangs roamed the red mesa, and cowboys herded them up and put them in a small space, and later they died of dehydration while in close view of the Colorado River. Pretty sad story, right? We pulled into Dead Horse Point State Park with a plan. All four of us were excited, because we were going to go mountain biking! We pulled around the parking area with our airstream tugging along behind us. Finally we found a nice long, sizable spot to park. We backed in with extra precaution for our airstream. When we opened our doors, hopped out, and looked around. I saw my mother, carrying our cat into the trailer, and I saw small stubby bushes. But even this was impaired; the sun was at its pinnacle in the wide blue sky. This would be a very appropriate time to use the expression: there’s not a cloud in the sky. My brother and dad had gotten down our bikes, and all my family members were ready to go! I could not wait! This was going to be fun!
We started biking, with me in the lead, then my mom, brother, and dad. The trees were short and stubby, most of them dead. We descended down the narrow, dirt path, with small, vaguely green, desert bushes on each side of us. The trail forked, so I stopped. In the same order, the rest of my family took their feet off their pedals and we discussed our route. We went left, onto a slightly wider, more rocky trail. I glided around the rocks. My front tire navigating while my back tire skidded. A cliff came, and when I stopped, the trail being too narrow, sand collided with my front tire and slid off the cliff. I watched it fall, glad it wasn’t one of my family members. The plants were all withered and dry, because the park only gets about ten inches of precipitation a year. The plants rely on cryptobiotic soil crusts, which are special soil crusts that take hundreds of years to develop. That means you have to be careful not to step off trail.
As we continued, the land below us seemed to sweep by, pulling us forward. Ten million years of erosion is what made this land what it is. The Colorado River loomed below us, and it was what had carved all the canyons. The Colorado River is below so many layers of sandstone. It was below Entrada sandstone, Navajo sandstone, Kayenta sandstone, Wingate sandstone, the Chinle formation, the Moenkopi formation, the Cutler formation, and it is on the level of the Honaker trail formation. I felt so free; wind skimming my face. I lost track of time, and I guess my family was too, because they stopped, and so did I. My dad called to my mom, “I think we missed our turn.” My mom agreed, but said if we kept on going on that trail, it would just be a bigger loop. So we kept going, me and my dad in front. But from looking at the map, I wasn’t so sure if it would be a bigger loop. Soon me and my dad came to a scenic overlook, where we decided to wait for my brother and mom. In a couple seconds, they were pulling up beside us. Are we still on the right trail?my mom asked between sips of water. We all had no clue. A small hill stood above us,and we decided to climb to the top, and maybe start to see the familiar parking lot with our cat, and airstream. At this point, we had been biking for a couple hours, three, maybe. We had done the Big Chief trail, to Great Pyramid trail, and we took Raven Roll back. All greens-easiest or blues-more difficult. I wanted to get to the car, to have a break of my bike seat, and I knew my mom wanted to too. We all had at least two layers of dust on our bodies, and probably double that amount on our bikes.
I moved up the hill, changing my gears to level two. I stood up on my pedals fighting the big hill, and when I got to the top, I took off my sweaty ski helmet and ran my fingers through my sweaty hair. Instead of bike helmets, we wore ski helmets; they’re pretty much the same thing and we didn’t want to carry extra weight in our airstream by carrying a double set of helmets. Me and my mom were already up, so we cheered on my brother and dad. They made it up the hill quickly, taking a quick breath at the summit just as we had done. We all got our helmets back on and just rode. We rode past the short dead trees, and the familiar scraggly green bushes. We rode past more trailheads, more bikers and more cliffs. Finally in the distance, as I was hoping, I started to see pavement through the trees, and the setting sun. The yellow parking spaces. And the sheltered picnic tables. Last of all, I saw home.
The Peace of Wild Things 