Is This Mountain Biking’s Greatest Uphill Achievement?

The Whole Enchilada pinballs down the wickedest terrain in Moab, Utah. The trail begins above 10,000 feet in the La Sal Mountains, among the aspens of Burro Pass. After a brief uphill prelude, it plunges nearly 8,000 feet over 27 rowdy miles, into the red-rock canyons near the Colorado River. It’s a feast with every Moab flavor: sculpted slickrock, cliff-edge single track, and thundering descents that threaten to rattle the fillings out of your teeth. Thousands of pilgrims attempt the Whole Enchilada every year, though many settle for a partial serving because snow blankets the upper reaches for nine months. This stretch is loose and ski-slope steep, maxing out at a grade of 37 percent. (Blue-rated ski runs fall between 25 and 45 percent.) The crux of the Whole Enchilada is a gauntlet of hairpin turns and precipitous ledges known as the Snotch. It’s a geo-illogical riddle as mind-bending as an M.C. Escher staircase that somehow goes up and down. “It’s basically a way down a cliff,” says Moab legend Kyle Mears, who is among the handful of skilled riders who can clean the Snotch without inadvertently soiling their bike shorts. Thirty years in Moab have made Kyle Mears a pioneer of gnarly climbs and fearsome descents. He’s that guy who got the bike world abuzz by bombing a 230-foot near-vertical rock face. He runs the Whole Enchilada Shuttle Company, which hauls thousands of riders a year to the top of the famous trail. It takes most competent riders three to six hours to descend. One winter day five years ago, a friendly stranger approached Kyle at the Moab bike park. Clean cut and earnest, he was an athletic five-foot-nine, 165 pounds, with warm brown eyes and a guileless smile. He rode with skill, precision, style, and nearly zero ego. “See that triple?” the stranger said. “Think that’s possible?” Kyle looked across the waves of dirt he thought he knew by heart. Only then did he see what the stranger saw—a new interpretation of the jump lines he’d ridden thousands of times. That line—he’d never seen it before. It cleared three jumps instead of two. Was it possible? “I don’t know,” he said. He watched the stranger size it up, commit, and sail over the triple. Confident. Clean. Effortless. Dude, Kyle thought. Who is this guy? [View in Browser]( [Bicycling]( [SHOP]( [EXCLUSIVE]( [SUBSCRIBE]( [Is This Mountain Biking’s Greatest Uphill Achievement?]( [Is This Mountain Biking’s Greatest Uphill Achievement?]( The Whole Enchilada pinballs down the wickedest terrain in Moab, Utah. The trail begins above 10,000 feet in the La Sal Mountains, among the aspens of Burro Pass. After a brief uphill prelude, it plunges nearly 8,000 feet over 27 rowdy miles, into the red-rock canyons near the Colorado River. It’s a feast with every Moab flavor: sculpted slickrock, cliff-edge single track, and thundering descents that threaten to rattle the fillings out of your teeth. Thousands of pilgrims attempt the Whole Enchilada every year, though many settle for a partial serving because snow blankets the upper reaches for nine months. This stretch is loose and ski-slope steep, maxing out at a grade of 37 percent. (Blue-rated ski runs fall between 25 and 45 percent.) The crux of the Whole Enchilada is a gauntlet of hairpin turns and precipitous ledges known as the Snotch. It’s a geo-illogical riddle as mind-bending as an M.C. Escher staircase that somehow goes up and down. “It’s basically a way down a cliff,” says Moab legend Kyle Mears, who is among the handful of skilled riders who can clean the Snotch without inadvertently soiling their bike shorts. Thirty years in Moab have made Kyle Mears a pioneer of gnarly climbs and fearsome descents. He’s that guy who got the bike world abuzz by bombing a 230-foot near-vertical rock face. He runs the Whole Enchilada Shuttle Company, which hauls thousands of riders a year to the top of the famous trail. It takes most competent riders three to six hours to descend. One winter day five years ago, a friendly stranger approached Kyle at the Moab bike park. Clean cut and earnest, he was an athletic five-foot-nine, 165 pounds, with warm brown eyes and a guileless smile. He rode with skill, precision, style, and nearly zero ego. “See that triple?” the stranger said. “Think that’s possible?” Kyle looked across the waves of dirt he thought he knew by heart. Only then did he see what the stranger saw—a new interpretation of the jump lines he’d ridden thousands of times. That line—he’d never seen it before. It cleared three jumps instead of two. Was it possible? “I don’t know,” he said. He watched the stranger size it up, commit, and sail over the triple. Confident. Clean. Effortless. 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