Hans

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Now it's past noon and I don't have a clue where to find my comrades. Of course I left my Moab bike map in Seattle because I knew I was being led around by the best mountain guides this side of the Mississippi. So I blindly headed south.

Now I was alone trying to convince myself that I knew where the trailhead was. My mind began to wonder..Hmmmm, water, food, camera, lighter. BANG! I hit the streetlight and catapult myself off the sidewalk. Knowing I would stop the half dozen cars that saw me blindside myself if I didn't get up, I jumped back on the bike and tried to breathe. Nothing major, some bruised ribs, tweaked neck, road rash. It could be worse. It could have been in front of all my big mountain guides.

With increasing pain, I pulled back into the parking lot of the Rustic Inn just as the final pack was coming home. They had finished the Kokopelli with a stunning 40+ miler ending on the never-ending Porcupine Rim descent. Everyone was surprisingly dry despite the recent rain. Their bikes, like their faces, were shiny. Their smiles told me more than their tongues ever could. They spoke of riding on the rim with storms on both sides of them, while they rode dry and jacketless. It had only rained on them as they entered town. Everyone came out to join in their revelry. Sure, none of us had completed the entire 142 torturous miles. Sure we were shorted a day, but I don't think it would have mattered. We rode what we chose, guided by our super human campologist/big mountain guides. Their never-ending energy was contagious. Everyone managed to step out of their comfort zone and push their ability. Everyone knew it was time to celebrate.

I couldn't easily hide what I had done to myself or I would have. I relayed that my injuries were sustained because I was distracted. Fact is, I was riding with a brain bucket, but no brain. The only solace I could take was that it didn't happen in front of my merry band. I wouldn't be trusted with a big wheel after that. So everyone marveled at each other's swollen parts and we all washed up and prepared to paint Moab something other than red.

Whatever you do, don't try Kokopelli alone. Why even try and do it with bike trailers or panniers. Then you don't get to truly appreciate the singletrack, the sick descents, or even the place you begin crawling on the climb, hindered by a bunch of pack weight. The way to attack the Kokopelli fresh every day is to come along with Mountain Link, Mountain Hardwear and Moots Cycles. They'll push you only as much as you want them to and they'll reward you better than you could ever ask them to.

—Hans Prosl, can't wait for another Mountain Link with MountainZone.com

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