Telluride to Moab hut to hut Mountain Bike Adventure

San Juan Huts http://www.sanjuanhuts.com

We did it — seven days and six nights of hut-to-hut mountain biking from Telluride to Moab.

Amazing. Brutal. Exhilarating. Occasionally terrifying.

This was easily one of the most physically demanding adventures I’ve ever done: six to eight hours of riding every day through mountains, mud, slick rock, heat, cold, cattle country, thunderstorms, and endless climbing. We lived without electricity or cell service and experienced every type of weather imaginable — frost, hail, blazing heat, torrential rain, and mud so thick it felt like riding through peanut butter.

There were mechanical issues, blood, snoring, soaked clothing, creative trail meals, endless potato chips, and six very dirty humans somehow still laughing at the end of every day.

And then there was the quote of the trip, delivered by a rancher somewhere in the middle of nowhere:

“Do you guys realize there is a highway from Telluride to Moab?”

The unofficial word of the trip quickly became: SHIT.

Hard as shit. Cow shit. Human shit. Holy shit. Scared shitless. Tough as shit. “You’re the shit.”

Team name: Team Shit — six hot intrepid treckers

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Day 1 

13 miles | 5.25 hours

We rolled out around 8:30 a.m., full of nervous energy and optimism. That optimism faded slightly during the final few miles of climbing.

The ride was stunning but tough right from the start. We battled bike issues, bag adjustments, and threatening skies while trying to outrun incoming rain and thunder. Jeeps occasionally passed us on the rugged roads, but otherwise we felt completely alone in the mountains.

The last 300 feet to the hut at 11,000 feet felt nearly impossible — too steep to ride and barely manageable while pushing loaded bikes uphill.

That first day taught us an important lesson: you have to fuel constantly on rides like this. If you wait until you’re hungry, it’s already too late. Peanut M&M’s and potato chips became essential trail nutrition for the rest of the week.

Heavy rain arrived shortly after we made it to the hut. Exhausted and starving, we inhaled snacks while nervously discussing the lightning forecast for the next day. We lucked out and enjoyed a beautiful sunset between rainstorms!

Sleep was difficult. Six tired riders. One cabin. A lot of snoring.

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Day 2 

28 miles | 6.5 hours

Breakfast was leftover pasta carbonara mixed with eggs and potatoes stuffed into tortillas — surprisingly delicious when eaten with a mountain view.

A flat tire delayed our start until 10 a.m., and the day quickly turned into a muddy sufferfest.

Everything became coated in thick clay mud: bikes, bags, shoes, clothing, legs. The roads were slippery and painfully slow, and every rotation of the tires felt heavier than the last.

Somewhere along the route we passed six massive EarthRoamers, looking luxurious compared to our muddy reality.

Dinner that night was curry while rain pounded the hut roof. Everyone silently wondered what the trails would look like tomorrow.

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Day 3 

36 miles | 6 hours

Heavy rain returned along with more endless mud.

We accidentally dropped Tom and Suzanne. In the chaos of the torrential downpour, we thought they accepted a ride from a passing pickup truck.

They hadn’t.

The route to the hut that day was confusing, and the hut itself was hidden off the trail. When they still hadn’t arrived an hour after us, the mood shifted from tired to genuinely worried.

When they finally rolled in soaked and exhausted, relief flooded the cabin — followed immediately by guilt for leaving our friends behind.

The day was a blur of hail, thunder, cows, aspen groves, and wet gear hanging everywhere.

Dinner: burritos.

Morale: fragile but intact.

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Day 4 

38 miles | 7 hours

Finally — blue skies.

After days of rain and mud, sunshine completely transformed the ride. Spirits lifted instantly. There were smiles, laughter, and moments where we could finally appreciate just how spectacular the scenery was.

That was also the day the rancher delivered the now legendary line:

“Do you guys realize there is a highway from Telluride to Moab?”

Our hut that night was on a working cattle ranch where the owner, Tam, stopped by to chat. He’d lived there his entire life and seemed highly amused by six exhausted mountain bikers voluntarily suffering through the backcountry.

Best moment of the day: showers.

Dinner: nachos.

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Day 5 

30 miles | 8 hours

We woke to frost covering the ground.

Breakfast was French toast and bacon before tackling one of the hardest sections of the route: rocky, technical singletrack that punished both legs and nerves.

Matt crashed hard and badly injured his leg on rocks. Dan stepped into trail-doctor mode and cleaned the wound as best he could.

Later, we found “civilization” in the tiny town of Gateway and devoured burgers like we hadn’t eaten in weeks.

We lingered too long.

By the time we left, darkness had fallen, and finding the hut by headlamp became its own adventure.

That’s when we met Lane — a 14-year-old carrying a six-shooter on his hip — who offered us a ride up the first nine brutal miles for $100.

Exhausted and intimidated by the climb ahead, four of us immediately accepted.

A little later, Lane’s father Jake appeared and explained that Lane was “probably a little young” to be driving customers up mountain roads, so he’d take over instead.

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Day 6 

22 miles | 4–6.5 hours

The steepest climb of the trip waited for us in the morning.

Matt and Dan got an early start, the plan was to meet them at the Colorado state line after the worst of the climb. We grabbed their heavy bike bags, threw them in the car and drove up the hill with Jake.  

The grades frequently hit 15%, and everyone agreed there was no way we all could have completed it fully loaded.

The remaining miles to the hut were still relentlessly uphill.

That evening, concern shifted toward Matt’s leg, which was clearly getting worse. Dan once again played medic, attempting to clean the wound with hydrogen peroxide while the rest of us tried not to imagine infection in the middle of nowhere.  

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Day 7 

The final descent into Moab was everything we hoped it would be.

Slick rock. Singletrack. Gravel roads. Massive desert views stretching forever in every direction.

After days of grinding climbs and brutal weather, flying downhill toward Moab felt surreal.

The first stop in town was food.

We rode straight to a restaurant completely starving and ordered mass quantities of food. Shortly afterward, Matt headed to the hospital to finally get his leg properly treated.

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Final Thoughts

This trip pushed me harder than almost anything I’ve ever done — physically and mentally.

It reminded me how quickly weather can change in the mountains, how important good friends are during difficult moments, and how unbelievably satisfying simple things become after a long day outside.

A canned dinner with potato chips after eight hours on a bike? Five-star meal.

A dry hut after riding through mud and hail? Luxury.

A laugh at the end of a brutal climb? Everything.

Would I do it again?

Absolutely.

Maybe after I forget how much mud there was.