1,600 KILOMETERS OF FREEDOM

Everyone loves going on holiday, the excitement of seeing new places, trying different foods and meeting new people. However, not everyone chooses to spend their holiday bike packing through remote and tough landscapes where they will have to dig deep to face the challenges the weather, terrain and sometimes nature present. Annika and Till did exactly this on their trip following the Trans Rockies Connector Trail, an almost 1,000 mile long offroad route through the Rocky Mountains in the USA. Their passion for the outdoors, being pushed beyond their physical and mental limits and the adventure of the ‘unknown’ drew them to make this trip. The experience they had delivered more than they had bargained for at times, but the connections they made with people along the way made this a very special ‘holiday’ that they will never forget.

It is well into the 40 degrees; we haven’t seen a single human in 100 km, and we are slowly running out of the 18 litres of water we carried on our bikes. We’re standing on the side of an empty gravel path, taking in the pure beauty of the landscape around us. This is the best day of our trip so far. A trip that took us 1,600 km from Salt Lake City, Utah to Boulder, Colorado on our mountain bikes. Just us, our bikes, a tent and 30 days holiday. Little did we know that the challenges, beauty, and unexpected human connections we’d find would redefine what it means to go on an adventure. Follow us as we ride through Utah’s red rock desert, conquer insane climbs in the Rockies, face down the wild unpredictability of bikepacking, and experience a level of hospitality and kindness from locals that still feels surreal. This is more than just a bikepacking story; it's a testament to the unexpected joy and discovery that comes when we just dare to go out on an adventure. Welcome to the Trans Rockies Connector Trail, a trip that goes far beyond cycling.

We’d always dreamed of riding the Rocky Mountains, but we also wanted to explore the raw beauty of Utah’s red deserts—an area that had stolen our hearts the year before during our honeymoon. The Trans Rockies Connector Trail was the backbone of our route, but we decided to make it our own by adding a little twist, detouring through some lesser-known, breathtaking places. We didn't own mountain bikes at the time, so we spent a few long evenings plotting the route and trying to decide on the perfect bike for the job. We needed a bike that could climb the steepest climbs on rocky terrain, carry all our gear safely while dodging rocks and holes on endless descents, have enough comfort and suspension for the rougher trails, but also be fast and fun to ride on the long desert stretches. It became clear early on that a lightweight yet trail capable hardtail would be the perfect choice and the BIG.NINE from MERIDA would be the bike for the job. After successfully pitching our big photo and riding story idea to the MERIDA team, they agreed to provide us with the bikes. As always, with our departure date fast approaching, we didn't get a chance to do several set up rides before heading west, but luckily the position, set-up and equipment happened to be perfect for what we had in mind.

With help from MERIDA, our BIG.NINE 10Ks arrived in time for a single test ride before we put them in a box, packed our bags, and hopped on a plane to the US, still uncertain about a lot of things. Would we be comfortable on the mountain bikes? Would our fitness hold up after injuries and illness in the lead-up to the trip? How would we manage food and water supply in such an isolated environment? But we were excited and ready for the unknown. The rest, as they say, we would figure out along the way.

If you want to understand what made this trip so unforgettable, you need to hear about Skyline Drive. After a 20 km climb, we found ourselves cruising at over 3000 meters, on a ridge so beautiful it felt like something out of a dream. Over the next few days, we swam in pristine lakes, dined with friendly strangers who insisted on cooking us dinner, and marvelled at our first-ever cowboy sighting. The alpine-like terrain was stunning, but the nights were freezing cold, and we quickly learned that every piece of clothing we had was essential for staying warm. The scenery was jaw-dropping, but it wasn’t all smooth sailing. There was the time we tried fishing in the lakes (with zero luck) and the incident where Annika had a near-miss with leeches after attempting a very quick swim. But hey, life on the trail is all about embracing the weird and unexpected, right?

By the time we reached the desert section, we’d gained enough trail wisdom to know that we needed a serious water supply. We loaded up with 18 litres of water and set out across the San Rafael Swell, an area so deserted it felt like the set of a Western movie. We were in a beautiful mix of red desert dirt, dried-out bushes, huge rock formations, and vast, open grassland. The heat was relentless, but the landscape was just out of this world! After a few hours of rolling gravel roads, something magical happened: as the sun set over the red rocks, a perfect rainbow arced across the rain clouds in the distance, and everything was bathed in golden light. We paused to take it all in and felt like we were in a movie scene ourselves. We continued a bit further in the dark and camped at an empty campsite with a roof that protected us from the oncoming storm, falling asleep to the soothing sound of raindrops hitting the ribbed roof. 

We then rode into Moab, a well-known outdoor paradise, but as we’d already seen most of it on our honeymoon trip the year before we opted for the local brewery and gladly accepted another invite to stay at a stranger’s home. We had a very welcome first proper rest day, filled with cooking, laundry, and reorganizing our stuff before continuing our way toward the La Sal Mountains. The climb out of Moab was beautiful but brutal, fortunately the great riding position and wide gear ratio of our BIG.NINE made light work of it. We had hoped to refill our water bottles but there was no water source to be found. Thankfully a friendly couple of Canadians helped us out along the way. We decided to give it a late-night push into the dark to the peak as we’d heard about a little lake with a small rudimentary campground. We were deep in the forest and even deeper into bear territory by the time it got dark, still with a few miles to ride ahead of us. It must have made for a fun picture with us on our bikes, headlamps on, singing out-of-tune songs as loud as we could to keep any bears away. (Little did we know how rare a bear sighting up there actually is). We made it to the lake, built a quick fire to warm up again, pitched our tent, and went to bed after dinner only to be surprised by ‘angry Kevin Costner’ the next morning.

It wasn’t all butterflies and unicorns on this trip. When we woke up, we found ourselves face-to-face with a man who looked exactly like Kevin Costner from the series Yellowstone. He didn’t look happy though. He looked like he wanted to throw us off his land (even though we had no idea we were trespassing). This ‘angry Kevin Costner’ experience involved a walk around a lake, a lesson in private property, and an awkward fear we Europeans always seem to have when facing someone with a gun. However, as soon as he went back to the house and reported to the landlord’s wife she sent him back, and ‘angry Kevin’ suddenly transformed into ‘charming Kevin’, bringing us water and offering apologies. What a turn of events! Pro tip: always charm the lady of the house. 

Our route led us toward Colorado via a beautiful lake called Buckeye Reservoir. On our last descent before entering the new state, Till slit his tyre so badly that even with multiple plugs and patches, it was beyond repair. We slowly descended the mountain in a 5 km interval of riding and reinflating the tyre. Just as it turned dark, we finally found a spot to sleep just underneath a ridge which turned out to be the home of many Coyotes who offered up a great concert throughout the night. The next morning, there was nothing we could do but hitchhike to Naturita. Annika cycled ahead and after walking along the road for an hour I finally got picked up by Louis, a former BMX biker. We got lucky in Naturita, a tiny town that has barely more than a supermarket and a gas station but fortunately, also a very passionate bike shop owner who had a replacement tyre handy and checked the bikes while we enjoyed an ice-cold Frappuccino at 43 degrees.

We left town around midday in the searing heat with a long climb ahead of us to the next peak and camp spot for the night where we bumped into the loveliest sisters on the planet: Diana and Kathy, two sisters 80 and 72 years old, who still hauled firewood up the mountain in their old truck 8 times a year to get through winter. As if it was agreed upon, which it wasn’t, 80-year-old Kathy came over to our tent in the morning to inform us that “breakfast is ready” and we could come over anytime. They welcomed us with fresh coffee and homemade hashbrowns and we spent an amazing two hours listening to their stories of life, resilience, and adventure.

Annika had been struggling with a severe and painful heat rash for days as we descended into Delta so we made plans to stay in one of the fancy AC cabins at the local campsite. The allergy had taken its toll on Annika and drained most of her energy and obviously, tight cycling bibs, sweat, and 40+ degrees did not help. The disappointment that the cabins had been closed quickly turned into a blessing when Don, a former cowboy invited us to stay with him and his wife Beth, a former barrel horse queen, just outside Delta on their little horse ranch.

It was time to let the body rest and we spent two nights with them and their lovely dogs, talking about sports, politics, dreams, and of course barrel racing. Don even took us to town to go shopping for ‘the real’ cowboy boots and hats which was a real experience! Within those two days, we built such a family-like connection with them that when we left, they made their friend Cory be on call 24/7 in case of an emergency, regardless of how far away we were from Delta. The other positive note was, that it ended up being enough rest for Annika’s heat rash and we were ready to hit the trails again but not without a goodbye that involved some tears. We had very quickly grown fond of our hosts and vice versa.

We made our way out of Delta towards Paonia, a small hippie town with rainbow flags on every balcony in the middle of Colorado. After a long ascent out of town and into the woods waited yet another surprise. Just as we thought we’d found a camp spot, a huge 4x4 with two picture-perfect rednecks in it, came down the path. Turns out they were bow-hunting elk and camping for a couple of weeks. They let us in on a little secret that was a complete game-changer. It is what they called ‘The Redneck Riviera’. There was a tiny sluice in the mountain river, and they had prepped a board to put into the end, damming up the water just enough to make it the perfect freshwater bathtub in the middle of nature. It felt like a spa treatment sitting in the cold mountain water with a fresh, cold can of soda we had gotten from the elk hunters in our hands. The next day it took Annika until the peak of the pass to realise she had forgotten her watch down at the Riviera. But at least that allowed me to finally fully test the BIG.NINE’s racing abilities! I dropped the bags, hammered down the mountain, found the watch, and went into an all-out climb back up. Boy, that bike is fun loaded up, but even more so without our gear hanging off it!

Rested and recharged, we continued our journey toward Taylor Park Reservoir, where—after 23 days of riding—finally we met other bikepackers. That’s how remote and untouched the route we’d been following still is. From Taylor Park Reservoir, we veered off the official track and headed in the opposite direction toward Leadville. I’d heard so much about this town and watched countless trail running documentaries on it, so I figured it’d be a cool stop. I imagined we’d easily find a hostel or a great camping spot, explore the town, and enjoy a relaxing evening. Oh, how wrong I was! Turns out, it was Leadville 100 week, and everyone who owned a mountain bike or trail shoes in Colorado (and beyond) seemed to be in town. We quickly found ourselves scrambling to find shelter outside of town. And that shelter? Well, it turned into quite the challenge. After hours of climbing trails and dirt roads in pouring rain, we reached a strict „no passing“ dead-end. Instead of turning back for at least 1.5 hours to find an alternative, we decided to hike around it. 

The hiking involved waist-deep, wet grass, and by the time we reached a small river, everything was thoroughly soaked. We crossed barefoot, carrying the bikes first, and then—at my last-ditch effort to keep Annika happy—I carried her across too. Unfortunately, that bit of optimism ended on private property, with two angry dogs and an even angrier landlord but we were just about 10m away from the road, so we headed towards the street while apologising profusely. After another 30 miserable minutes along the busiest highway, we finally found a shitty spot to camp in the woods. 
 

Just when we thought we had made it, the final day threw us a few curveballs. Annika took a spill (more of a slow-motion crash), we crossed a dodgy wooden bridge, had an amazing descent in an officially closed ski resort (which we didn’t know), and then we encountered the oddest sight of the entire trip: a half-naked man wielding a machete and yelling about a mountain lion. Yup, that's how you know you’ve truly experienced all the flavours of adventure. By the time we rolled into Boulder, our MTB adventure had come to a close, but the trip wasn’t over yet. Our ‘guardian angel’ Cory, who had been set up by our Cowboy hosts in Delta, wasn’t comfortable with us biking through Denver to the airport, so he drove 5 hours to Boulder, picked us up, took us to Denver, booked us a hotel, treated us to dinner, and then drove 5 hours back home. That’s Utah and Colorado hospitality for you.