Moab’s Rockin’ Red Light District

If you came across this post as the result of a search your mom would be ashamed of, you are in the wrong spot. The only perfectly-rounded boulders you’ll find here are older than the dinosaurs, literally.

We rode through a valley that seemed nearly forgotten by mankind.
We rode through a valley that seemed nearly forgotten by mankind.

Jason and I recently celebrated the end of another school semester by heading down to Moab, our favorite weekend getaway spot. Even though I popped one of my ribs out snowboarding just hours before we started for Moab and was in a decent amount of pain, we didn’t alter our plans because of my discomfort. (Snowboarding aggravates my ribs often, a fact I stubbornly ignore.)

Our path didn't cross slickrock too often but it did offer a sampling of rock candy.
Our path didn’t cross slickrock too often but it did offer a sampling of rock candy.
Rock ledges find you when you're in Moab but that's usually a good thing.
Rock ledges find you when you’re in Moab but that’s usually a good thing.

We decided to do a 20-mile bike ride to Prostitute Butte our first day in Moab. Yup, you read that right. We rode that stony lady all day long. (I didn’t name it; I just wrote it.)

Part of this journey went along a trail shared with ATVs. As it turns out, there are a lot of idiots that drive ATVs. As it also turns out, I am not actually a fan of idiots. We had clouds of dust flung into our faces by drivers that refused to be courteous and slow down as they passed us. Plus, I had the super pleasant experience of almost getting run over by an ATV that was going wildly fast around a blind curve. Yup, idiots. To be fair, I feel I must mention that we also had a few ATV drivers stop and inquire if we had enough water and whatnot before they continued past us. So there are some civil off-roaders out there.

Frolicking cows had mucked up a large portion of our path, making for a bumpy ride.
Frolicking cows had mucked up a large portion of our path, making for a bumpy ride.

Although we had some run-ins with the moronic cavalcade, much of our path was completely devoid of people. Some parts clearly hadn’t seen any riders in weeks, maybe longer. Yup, the only morons in those sections were the ones we brought with us. It was delicious solitude after the gritty ATV stampede.

I can't say I have much experience with prostitutes but I'm pretty sure they don't generally look like that.
I can’t say I have much experience with prostitutes but I’m pretty sure they don’t generally look like that.

Prostitute Butte wasn’t exactly what we expected. I thought this scandalously-named outcropping would at least remotely resemble a human form, perhaps even contain some soft feminine curves. Instead, it looked like a misshapen worm. Moab must have experienced some pretty wild days in its past for someone to look at that big block of rock and decide that it resembled a lady of the night. I sure didn’t see the similarity.

Pritchett Arch forms a gap in Prostitute's upper recesses.
Pritchett Arch forms a gap in Prostitute’s upper recesses.

Like any enigmatic woman, Prostitute held a few secrets. She concealed Pritchett Arch and Picture Frame Arch in her ample sandstone folds. They made her hulking structure more stimulating.

Picture Frame Arch is uncommonly angular for an arch.
Picture Frame Arch is uncommonly angular for an arch.

We ended up taking a shortcut on our return journey because daylight was fading fast. This reduced the length of our expedition to a mere 17.5 miles, which, frankly, felt like plenty with all the sand traps, faded trails, and ATVs we’d encountered.

This is a very flattering picture capturing the second time I had to dump heaps of sand out of my shoes within a 30-minute interval.
This is a very flattering picture capturing the second time I had to dump heaps of sand out of my shoes within a 30-minute interval.

Next week, our treks in Canyonlands National Park and altercations with Moab’s giants will be covered. Get ready to be amazed or completely bored, one of the two.

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