Thrilling Mountain Biking Adventures: Slickrock Trail to Magnificent 7 in Moab

The sandstone that defines Moab's riding experience demands respect and preparation. Unlike forest trails or alpine single tracks I've navigated in Japan or the French Alps, Moab's slickrock isn't slick at all—it's like riding on natural sandpaper that offers remarkable traction but can be unforgiving to both body and equipment.

Before arriving, I spent two weeks conditioning with interval training and core strengthening exercises—the same techniques I often recommend to my corporate clients when preparing for physical challenges. At altitude, with technical terrain and potentially extreme temperature swings, Moab is not a destination where you want to discover your fitness limitations mid-trail.

For this journey, I rented a full-suspension mountain bike from a local shop rather than bringing my own. While I love my personal mountain bike, the local rentals are perfectly tuned for Moab's specific conditions. The shop staff provided valuable insights about recent trail conditions and less-trafficked routes that aligned with my intermediate skill level.

I've learned through years of solo adventure travel that preparation isn't just about physical readiness but mental mapping as well. Before setting tire to trail, I studied the routes using the trail mapping app which allows offline access—essential in areas with spotty cell coverage. The night before each ride, I visualized the route, noting potential rest spots and viewpoints where I could practice my photography.

The Slickrock Trail is to mountain biking what the Camino de Santiago is to hiking—a pilgrimage that connects you to thousands who have traveled before you. Arriving at the trailhead by 7:30 AM allowed me to avoid both the crowds and the midday heat that can make the exposed terrain particularly challenging.

The trail's 10.5-mile loop follows white dashes painted on the sandstone, creating a surreal experience of riding what feels like the surface of Mars. What makes Slickrock special isn't just the technical challenge but the profound silence between heartbeats when you pause at viewpoints overlooking the Colorado River and La Sal Mountains.

As a photographer drawn to the interplay of light and landscape, I found myself stopping frequently during the first two hours as the morning light transformed the red rock into increasingly vibrant hues. My camera backpack proved invaluable, allowing quick access to my equipment without having to remove it entirely—a feature particularly appreciated when balancing on narrow sandstone fins with my bike.

The trail's notorious technical sections—'Devil's Kitchen' and 'Abyss'—demand full attention and respect. I approached these with the same mindfulness I practice in meditation, focusing on breathing and body position rather than the consequences of a misstep. This mental technique, which I often teach in my corporate wellness seminars, transforms challenging moments from anxiety-inducing to fully engaging.

While Slickrock draws the crowds, the Magnificent 7 (or 'Mag 7') trail system offers a more varied experience that showcases the diversity of Moab's terrain. This network of seven interconnected trails spans approximately 26 miles, but can be tackled in sections based on your time and ability level.

For my second day of riding, I chose to focus on the Getaway, Bull Run, and Arth's Corner sections—a combination that offers flowing singletrack, technical challenges, and breathtaking views of the Behind the Rocks Wilderness Study Area. The contrast with Slickrock was immediate; instead of continuous technical challenges on bare sandstone, Mag 7 offers rhythmic sequences of descents and climbs through diverse ecosystems.

What struck me most about these trails was the sense of solitude. Even on a spring weekend, I encountered only a handful of other riders, creating space for the kind of contemplative riding that connects me to landscapes. At one viewpoint overlooking the vast canyon systems, I was reminded of the Navajo concept of hózhó—a complex idea encompassing beauty, harmony, and proper relationship with the natural world.

The Mag 7 trails also offered more shade opportunities than Slickrock, allowing me to extend my riding into the warmer hours of the day. I found myself grateful for my hydration pack with its 3-liter capacity and additional storage for layers, as the temperature varied considerably between exposed ridges and sheltered canyons.

The final descent on Bull Run, with its sweeping views and playful terrain features, became a moving meditation—a reminder of why, at 57, I continue to seek these moments of flow that transcend age and connect us to something larger than ourselves.

Solo adventure has been my preferred mode of travel for decades, but it comes with responsibilities—particularly in remote desert environments. Moab's terrain can be as unforgiving as it is beautiful, demanding a thoughtful approach to safety without diminishing the sense of exploration that draws us to these places.

Before each ride, I shared my detailed route plan and expected return time with both my accommodation host and a trusted friend back in Nice. My satellite messenger provided peace of mind with its SOS capability and ability to send preset messages confirming my safety at key points throughout the ride.

The desert environment presents unique challenges. I learned years ago while photographing in Mexico's Sonoran Desert that prevention is far more effective than treatment when it comes to sun exposure and dehydration. Beyond standard hydration, I maintained electrolyte balance with dissolvable tablets and set hourly reminders to drink, regardless of thirst levels.

Mechanical self-sufficiency is another crucial aspect of solo riding. My repair kit included not just the basics (spare tube, multi-tool, pump) but also a tubeless repair kit, derailleur hanger, and quick-link chain connector. On remote sections of Magnificent 7, I passed two riders walking their bikes back to trailheads due to mechanical issues they couldn't address in the field—a situation I've experienced myself and now carefully prepare to avoid.

Perhaps most importantly, I've learned to calibrate my risk tolerance based on conditions. Several technical features I might have attempted with riding partners, I chose to walk when solo. This isn't about diminishing the adventure but recognizing that true wilderness wisdom sometimes means choosing conservation over conquest.

The physical demands of Moab's trails deserve to be balanced with thoughtful recovery—something I emphasize in my corporate wellness programs and practice diligently in my own adventures. While the daytime belongs to the trails, Moab's evenings offer their own form of magic.

I chose accommodations slightly outside town—a small casita with unobstructed views of the La Sal Mountains. This provided the perfect setting for my evening restoration ritual: gentle yoga to release the day's efforts, followed by photography as the setting sun transformed the landscape minute by minute.

Moab's dark sky designation makes it an exceptional place for night photography. As someone who has documented sacred spaces across continents, I find few experiences more spiritually resonant than capturing the Milky Way arching above ancient landscapes. The travel tripod I've carried for years proved its worth again, providing stable support for long exposures while remaining compact enough for travel.

For physical recovery, I alternated between hot soaks at my accommodation and visits to local hot springs. The mineral-rich waters helped soothe muscles taxed by the day's technical riding. I've found that this intentional recovery—treating it with the same seriousness as the activity itself—is what allows me to maintain my adventurous lifestyle well into my fifties.

Each evening concluded with journaling—a practice I've maintained through decades of solo travel. Beyond documenting experiences, this reflection helps integrate the day's insights and connect them to the broader patterns of my life's journey. Sitting on my porch, writing by headlamp with coyotes calling in the distance, I found myself contemplating how landscapes like Moab's have shaped human mythology across cultures and centuries.