Thunder Mountain (is Good)

Short Version:
Outlaws, #113, snow, hoodoos.

Long Version:
We'd heard some great things about the Thunder Mountain Trail, both from people we've met and from faceless anonymities on the interwebs. We did a minor navigation fail before we even arrived, and camped at the wrong trailhead, but given that camping was disallowed at either location and the "right" trailhead was right next to the Ranger Station, our fail was probably actually an accidental win. And the place we camped was once the hideout of famous outlaw Butch Cassidy, which is pretty cool.

We set off up the paved Red Canyon cycleway to the top end of the canyon, then bailed into the woods on the #113 Road, although not without some debate over whether the #112 Road on the other side of the highway was actually the one we were seeking. Victory for the #113, and then not far past the Horse Camp we hit the Coyote Hollow Trailhead, which heralded the advent of singletrack. Not all downhill though; the first half hour or so was a series of descents into lateral ravines, each followed by a climb back out the other side. Nene managed to flat on the way in to the deepest one, which had snow still covering the ground in the shadowed sections; we figured the tiny rain we'd had overnight down low had translated to some snowfall up higher.

Satisfactorily unflatted we set off again, and found ourselves climbing onto a ridgeline that afforded some pretty stunning views down into Red Canyon and several subsidiaries; there were Hoodoos galore, and if we hadn't seen a bunch of them already at Bryce Canyon we'd've been totally gobsmacked. As it was, they were still well cool, but there was a chill wind blowing across the exposed ridge, so we carried on, dropping down a series of loose-surfaced switchbacks into Red Rock Canyon, where we found scenic variants on what we'd appreciated from above, along with a few technical ride challenges, although most of that came from the surprise factor of high-speed post-corner feature discovery. The last mile and a half out to the road was flatter and smoother - except for the washes where there'd been some obvious recent flash-flood action - and we hit some extreme speeds before popping out of the side-canyon mouth and back onto the paved trail for the last mile and a half back up to the Reaper. Two hours well spent, and we could see why folks from all over had been complimentary.