“Road Washed Out: 9 Miles,” a sign reads. I take it as a positive indication that we’ll have roads and trails to ourselves beyond that point. But nine miles later, the road is truly gone. Not just half or three-quarters eroded, still passable on two wheels, but erased. There’s just the river running by natural canyon walls.
I keep an eye on trail closures through the spring and summer but never thought to check for a main road still unrepaired months after it washed out. I’m sure I would have known if I’d paid closer attention in the rider forums. Oh well.
“Is that a trail,” I wonder aloud. I see what looks like a path through the rocks above the road’s end.
“I just saw that too,” Jeremy says.
We scramble up and start along it. Maybe this isn’t the end after all.