Over the weekend Jared and I headed down to Goosberry Mesa, near St. George, to do some mountain biking. I’ve heard rumors of how amazing Gooseberry is for a long time, so we decided to check it out. I did the forecast Wednesday, and it looked a little questionable for the weekend. However, St. George looked like it would escape most of the rain, so we figured we’d be safe.
We drove down Thursday night. It was raining on and off most of the way down. As we were passing Cedar City, the rain became really intense. Jared questioned my forecast, but I told him once we lost some elevation, the rain would lighten up. By the time we arrived in Hurricane, the rain had lightened up. But, as soon as we turned onto hwy 59 up to Gooseberry, a total downpour had begun. I assured Jared that it was temporary, and we wouldn’t have to worry about sleeping in the rain. I gave us a 30 percent chance of getting really wet.
So, we arrive at the top of the mesa. In a total downpour. At this point, I’ve decided to deny that it’s raining, and have refused to recognize all of that wet stuff turning the road into a river. But, enough about my amazing forecasting skills.
We had borrowed a tent from my parents, since we lost our own to a bear last July. I had never set it up before, but my dad had given me a good demo, and I figured we’d be fine. One problem. Well, actually two. First, the tent has to be staked down really well in order to stay standing. We quickly realize after our first attempt that the mesa has a solid layer of rock about 4 inches beneath the sand. So, we throw the soaking wet and muddy tent in the car, and search for another site. We find one further from the cliffs, where the rock layer is softer, and we can drive the stakes through. By this time it’s about 1 am, and we’re both exhausted. So, we get all the stakes in the ground, connect all the poles, and try to stand the tent up. Second problem: the tent won’t stay standing unless one of us is holding the pole up. We try over and over, but nothing will work. I offer to let Jared hold the pole up for me all night, but for some reason he’s not very interested. We give up, and sleep in the back of my car while all of our stuff gets soaking wet. Which is weird, because it definitely wasn’t raining. However, as we’re unloading all of our stuff to make room to sleep, (we had an unbelievable amount of crap) I notice my car lights dimming. I jump in the front and turn the key, but the engine won’t start. We killed the battery. And we’re in the middle of nowhere. And we haven’t seen a soul. Who else is stupid enough to camp out and go mountain biking in the “rain?” With nothing else to do, we go to bed.
We wake up the next morning, and the rain is coming down. Direct quote from Jared: “Nice 30 percent chance of rain.”
We ride our bikes around the muddy mesa in search of human beings, and finally find a few guys camped out. However, they don’t have jumper cables. So, we decide to try and push-start the car, and discover that it is an impossible task in the rain. Jared hangs out on the main road hoping somebody would drive by, while I call a towing company, totally excited to spend my life’s savings to get the car jumped. Finally people start driving by, and eventually we find somebody who has jumper cables. Seriously, it took 10 minutes of charging for our battery to start. It was D-E-A-D.
After making sure our battery was good, we spent the rest of the day biking. It was definitely some of the best mountain biking I’ve ever done. It’s a mixture of single track and slick rock, and parts of the ride follow the edge of the mesa that drops about 1000 feet. Directly north of Goosberry is Zion N.P, and there are incredible views of the park. There are miles and miles of trails, and you can combine them to do a million different rides. Wow. It more than made up for the fiasco of the previous night.
I must admit though, that we wussed out stayed in a hotel the next night. Jared’s parents were on their way down to Death Valley, so we stayed in Hurricane, and hiked Angel’s Landing the next day.
Definitely a fun, unforgettable weekend, with at least two morals:
1. Never trust a meteorologist (especially me)
2. Car batteries don’t last forever
3. The wise man’s house was definitely not a springbar tent; he never could’ve lived on a rock.
To make this post even longer, here are some pictures from the weekend:
all the stuff we had to move to sleep in the car:

push-starting a car in the mud is not easy:

miles and miles of slickrock: (that’s Zion in the background)

mountain biking:

more mountain biking:

view from the trail:

Zion at sunset:

hiking up Angels’ Landing:

1200 feet up:

