while out riding

The White Rim Trail begins at over 7000ft, high up on the Colorado Plateau.

We rode the loop clockwise. Within the first few miles, a barrage of dramatic views had already soundly convinced us that this was sure to be an incredible ride. At times, the trail seemed to teeter on the very edge of the plateau.

Then it unravelled downwards...

.. wending its way towards the canyon floor at a lowly 4500ft...

... along a track etched into the mountain side, dwarfed by towering buttes and mesas around it.

It wasn't long before we were down low and kickin' up some desert dust...

The La Sal mountains, our companion for much of the ride. Mount Tukuhnikivatz has a particularly poetic translation: the place where the sun sets last.

James' touring rig - a Surly Long Haul Trucker, into which he squeezed the largest knobbly tyres it would take, running the traditional 4 pannier setup.

Megan's Kona Blast, fitted with an Old Man Mountain rack and bottle cages on the suspension fork for extra water carrying capacity.

And my Thorn Sterling, with a Porcelain Rocket custom framepack and an Extrawheel trailer, for stashing a weekends worth of food and water.

Luckily we had no major mechanicals, bar Megan taking a handlebar-bending spill on day 1, and the odd puncture. Running sealant in your inner tubes is probably a good idea.

Much of the time, the riding surface was mellow. Plenty of people complete this loop in a single (herculean) day. We didn't feel the need to hurry - there were way too many viewpoints to check out.

Like this one, the vertigo-inducing Musselman Arch.

Or this one, our reward for the toils of a long climb.

Perhaps inspired by such a sight, Megan, a Bikram afficionado, took the opportunity to pull out a few yoga moves...

Or even this little number... The list goes on and on...

Predominantly jeep track, the loop was almost completely rideable. Only a few climbs had us off our saddles...

Answered with fast and furious descents.

Navigation on the White Rim Trail is very straightforward too, with regular campsites marked on the map.

Down in the canyon, terrain varied from tyre-sucking sand...

To boxy, stone slab alleyways...

Rose-tinted bedrock...

Ribbons of hardpack...

And islands of slickrock...

At this time of the year, all of them shared one thing. Emptiness...

But for me, camping out in the desert is just as important a part of this ride as the biking itself. We split the loop into a very mellow three days, pitching our tents or rolling out our mats before darkness had spilled across the land.

We were blessed with the most beautiful, otherwordly colours, reflecting off the red rock and transforming our surroundings into a palette of hushed pinks, purples and blues.

A silhouetted skyline of tabletops and buttes. Stars crammed the sky for space.

Here we are at first light. Complete silence...

By the last day, the track had descended as much as it could and skirted round the Green River - unfortunately drinking here isn't recommended, due to pollution from nearby uranium mines.

Fall colours...

Unexpected life...

Rains over the summer had thrown down one last challenge, as sections of the zigzag climb back up to the Colorado Plateau were completely washed out.

Cue hike and bike...

James, under the vast, open skies of the plateau, with just a handful of miles to go.

A special thanks to Josh for providing an assortment of different kit for us to try...

... and Nancy P for her delicous peanut butter ball recipe - our Salty Balls, as we called them.

And our (imported) Jelly Babies that reminded me so much of home... Mmm...

Lastly... The Last Light Dash. A part of every great tour is finding that perfect place to end each day...