Are you sure?”
“Yeah, dad, I want to keep going,” my son, Owen, insisted. It was a point of decision: head back down the trail we climbed or continue up the next section into the emerging pine forest. Though Owen was young, his mountain bike skills were impressive. In front of us, the trail climbed up the steep and tall rampart at the base of the Wet Mountains range that blocked all but an increasingly vertical view of the western sky.
As we pushed higher up the scrub oak-dominated slope, the trail gained elevation as it cut across the side of the mountain. The wind began whipping the ends of branches, and overhead, the sunlight had gotten dull and dark. Looking down the sweeping slope to the east, it spilled out into the flat Front Range basin still bathed in sunlight. Above us, the gathering clouds appearing quickly over the range were dark. In the near distance, they also began to sound angry. Fifteen minutes later, as we reached the top of the climb in the open pine forest, we felt the first drops of rain.
I’ve ridden in the rain before, and I found it exhilarating, especially as warm as it was. My young and inexperienced son, however, was less than thrilled. We were only a couple of minutes into the descent when a massive lightning bolt smashed down less than a mile from us. The booming thunder rocked the valley, and Owen, still riding, began crying loudly. Soon we were riding in a thumping rain. Following a wet descent laden with reassurances, we eventually made the trailhead. Unfortunately, Owen was traumatized, and both of us were waterlogged, clearly having suffered for the miscalculation to continue as the weather had degraded, despite the enjoyment we’d found riding the incredible local trail.
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When people think of Colorado, picturesque, lush, and cool forested mountainscapes typically flood the mental imagery. And it should, for those majestic vistas are what make Colorado famous. However, the Centennial State’s diversity of climate zones should not be overlooked. Colorado may not be the state folks think of for a desert retreat, but much of western Colorado comprises beautiful semi-desert shrublands. And the eastern side of the Rockies gives way to expansive plains and grasslands that stretch like a sea across the Midwest. In addition, there is a remarkable diversity of terrain and climate among its different regions in the thin transition zone between mountains and plains, known as the foothills.
Forty minutes south of Colorado Springs, where the Arkansas River cuts through billion-year-old rock to spill out onto its long track across the Midwest, Cañon City sits centrally in a unique valley home to a beautiful region of pinyon and juniper woodlands and savannas. It is also at the end of the state’s most famous “banana belt,” or a unique geographical region that produces more mild weather year-round than the surrounding regions. And boasting the most diverse geology exposure in the state, it makes Cañon City an ideal place for year-round outdoor recreation.
Rock climbing has long been well established in the region; in fact, the Shelf Road climbing area is the second-oldest sport climbing location in the country. But it wasn’t until 2013 that the region had any mountain bike trails at all. Since then, thanks to the volunteers at Fremont Adventure Recreation, more than 65 miles of diverse and highly rated trails were established in less than a decade. These trails have quickly become a crowning jewel of the region and a premier mountain biking destination. And new trails continue to open, including the thrilling 1,800-foot vertical drop Royal Cascade trail which opened in March 2022.
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Fast forward to a late summer evening in 2020. Owen and I headed just north of town to ride the conglomerate of trails at Oil Well Flats, named for the defunct nearby oil well that once was the nation’s second-oldest commercial well. This network of magnificent singletrack– ranging from easy to difficult – wind through pinion, grass, cactus, and a wild world of brightly colored Jurassic geology where famous and historically significant dinosaur fossils have literally been found underfoot.
Riding these fun, twisting trails over roots, bulging rocks, packed dirt, and purple shale was so enjoyable that it was easy to lose time. Once again, the welcome shade from cooling clouds turned darker, and abruptly, the air became loud with thunder. Without realizing it, we’d begun a race with the coming storm north of us toward my truck, which was yet a good clip away. Remembering his experience riding in the rain when he was younger, Owen turned on the afterburners and began charging ahead, leaving me to chase him.
Flying down the trail, I began to revel in the excitement, the rush of crisp wind and adrenaline, the reality of being outdoors in a beautiful place, and the thrill of the race. The trail, dipping and turning, blurred under my bike, my chest heaving in this last push of the day. Finally, I caught up to Owen loading his bike at our truck, and I quickly did the same as the first drops hit us. Driving home through sheets of rain, Owen sighed deeply and said, “This is the kind of riding in the rain I prefer.” I smiled, knowing it was nice to sometimes win the race too.
