Manastash Ridge - April 22, 2003

(All pictures by Peter Groenewegen)

It was supposed to be a nice relaxing bike ride in the sagebrush of Eastern Washington. Just a few hours. When we got to the beginning of Old Durr Road and parked, Peter realized he forgot his water bottles.

"We're just going for a couple of hours, right?"

"Sounds good to me."

Sagebrush and snowy peaks.

We'd plotted a route out on the map that would take us along a jeep road to the edge of the Yakima River canyon, then down to the valley bottom, and up Umtanum Creek to reintersect Old Durr Road and take it back to the start.

The only problem was that I was missing the map for the descent into the canyon, and trail back up Umtanum Creek. My TOPO! software decided that the "Seattle, Mount Rainier and Central Cascades" end there. No problem, I thought - we'll find our way.

We enjoyed rear views of the snowy Stuart Range as we biked up the dirt road to our intended side road. It was blocked by barbed wire, with a large yellow sign stating this was a wildlife reserve. "Motorized Vehicles Prohibited" it said, while stating that foot and horse traffic was ok. A smaller sign on the wire fence said "No access for unauthorized vehicles". Conspicuously absent was any mention of bikes. We decided that no one else was around, lifted our steeds across the fence, and continued along a long straight section of double track.

Typical section up on the plateau.

The next several miles were gently rolling, sometimes rocky, and very enjoyable. We spotted a lone deer, and later on, a small herd of big horn sheep running in the distance.

We continued southwest on the track marked as "DAVIS (JEEP) TRAIL" on the map. Then, we crossed the map/no map boundary... very soon, the track was faint, and the ground more bouldery. It got steeper and steeper as it faded.

Soon, it was too dangerous to ride, and we began walking our bikes. It looked like we were in for a steep descent to the valley floor. The next 45 minutes was unpleasant, as we dragged our bikes down 40 degree talus and slippery dirt, under the watchful eye of the nice tourist folks at the picnic area at the canyon bottom (next to highway 821).

At the bottom, we crossed some train tracks, ditched our bikes and walked into the parking lot. It was hot down here (1400ft), without the nice cool breezes up on the plateau (2800ft).

An old guy struck up a conversation with us, asking if we had come from Ellensburg. I asked him if the trail up Umtanum Creek went as far as the Old Durr Road.

Easy trail low down in Umtanum Creek drainage.

"Oh sure... it's not bikable though. Lots of crick crossings."

I kind of expected this answer, but I also kind of expecting that we would find it bikable. Not that we were skilled mountain bikers or anything, but you know, "this was a really old dude", I thought.

The first few miles were delightful single track, but we noticed the valley bottom was disturbingly brushy. This wasn't really a bike trail. Eventually, the trail faded only a few miles in. Logs began happening. Sections that had to be walked. Finally it disappeared where the river had "eaten it". Peter spent 15 minutes scouting ahead on a faint path that ascended through talus on the valley wall. No insight was gained. However, we heard voices! Then I saw people on the other side of the valley - walking quickly, as if on a trail!

Me, some trees and stuff.

We forded the river - here it was! A nice smooth trail! We had been on the wrong side of the river!

It last for a couple hundred yards, then ended at another creek crossing.

And so on. And so on. Except, the trails got less and less "traily".

Beavers inhabit these valleys, and it seems they had cut down every tree. We had to carry our bikes over these trees. For the next couple of hours, we forded the creek at least 20 times, dragged our bikes while sidehilling along talus, and just plain bushwhacked dragging 30 pound pieces of metal and rubber with us. Not bikable! That old man wasn't joking!

Fuckin' beavers, eh?

Meanwhile, we had no water left. In fact, we had been out of water since the picnic area. And we certainly weren't going to drink from the river, what with the beaver presence. How much further was it to Old Durr Road? As the crow flies, it was about 5 miles total. We had come... at least two miles, hopefully more. How much more? We had no idea. Should we head back? If so, that would be a lot of crap, plus we'd have to bike 20 miles on highway, or hitchhike back to Ellensburg, and find a ride back up to Manastash Ridge. Maybe Old Durr Road was really close. If we had a map, we might know.

We peered intently up the valley, but there was no sign of anything up there, except more canyon. The sun was getting low. I was thinking we might have to spend the night out, if we continued up the canyon and it degenerated into the next level of bushwhacking, with no trace of a trail at all.

For the first few creek crossings, we tried to keep our feet dry. Eventually, we gave up caring, and sometimes just trudged right up the creek bed, instead of thrashing in the brush and logs on land.

Then - a sign! A buried AT&T cable! We looked at the piece of map we had... was this the pipeline? No... was this the power pylons? No... hmm. Then, a beer can! We must be close to a road. Then, power lines crossing the valley... close for sure now!

Typical section of canyon in the first few miles when there was a trail.

Then - weird noises. The noise became more clear the further up the valley we went. It was gunshots. A lot of them. Semi-automatic rifles, and shotguns. The relief of being close to the road, and the way out, was replaced by the fear of being accidental targets of drunken billy bobs. We shouted out periodically as we thrashed our way towards civilization. Finally, we made voice contact: "Hurry Up!" was the response. We were trying, but encountered some stands of barbed wire. Finally we navigated past it, and walked into a field next to the road and the family out for a picnic and shooting spree.

We waved, got on our bikes, and began riding up the road. It was another 800 vertical feet and 4 miles to the truck, but we didn't care - the dirt road seemed quick now.

We raced to Ellensburg and each downed a half gallon of gatorade. Then, our first food in a long while; finally the drive back to Seattle.