Mike the Headless Chicken is running
for president. That is what the man on the grandstand said as we
walked through a festival in Fruita town center. Mike is a real
celebrity here. They celebrate his life every year. In preparation
for dinner, he was beheaded. When he didn't die, the farmer decided
to feed him with an eye dropper. He lived two more years. I don't
know if politics is the right job for him though. Cable news may be
better. You can read the full story here. Headless chickens aside,
Fruita is a cool little town. Mountain biking isn't just an
attraction, it's the main industry. The town thrives on it and the
locals claim it's better than Moab.
Back in Denver, Cynthia and Jason
hooked us up with trail recommendations, maps, and camping
suggestions. We offroaded it to Bitter Creek Camp where we
encountered a bachelor party with mountain bikes, motorcycles, beer,
and shotguns. We knew we had to stay. They were really cool. We got
to shoot skeet with a 12 gauge and they left us giant pile of
firewood. The sight itself was at the highpoint of a canyon rim. It
offered a 360 degree views and a handy place to launch clay discs
into a hail of gun fire. What more could you ask.
Trailwise we hiked McDonald Canyon in
search of ancient Indian grafiti. They call them petroglyphs because
their old. New ones are called vandalism. I'm not sure I could tell
the difference. The West Rim came highly recommended and it was
worth it. We started out with a wrong turn that ended in a cliff.
Once we sorted that out it was all good. The trail follows a canyon
rim then returns to the 'confusing intersection' via a more direct
route. Once again we had outstanding views and flowy single track
trail. However, I'm glad we jeeped the first few miles of
doubletrack. It was really nice to have cold drinks in a cooler at
that point and it allowed us to help out some fellow riders who had
run out of water. It's damn hot out there in the desert.
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