I’ve recently returned from my unintentional “misogi” for 2025. A few years ago, I stumbled upon an article about the Aquarius Hut Trail in Utah. I was recently off a very fun trip with my brother and my sisters on Catalina Island, CA where we hiked a trail with pre-defined stops and little towns and restaurants along the way (Trans-Catalina trail). The stops along the way allowed a lighter load on our backs (less food/water) and provided some entertainment along the way (the stop at the Two Harbors bar was pretty memorable). Reading about the Aquarius Trail excited me because I love biking and it seemed like that would be a great way to connect with nature again but not have to carry a heavy load. 200 miles, 6 days and 5 stocked huts. What could go wrong?

I was in for much more of an adventure than I expected. On the surface, 200 miles seems very doable. From my home in Florida, I often take off for 1 to 2 hour bikes around my city on a single speed, covering 15-25 miles easily. 100 miles in one day? No problem. I have 6 days to cover 200 miles? Shouldn’t be an issue. Little did I know how different biking in the mountains of Utah was from my normal.

For starters, the weather was drastically different. I’m used to sunny, humid, warm days. Southern Utah in late September does not have those. We encountered little sun, rain, hail and sub freezing temps over the course of 6 days. The few times the sun did peak out, I cherished it. The temp felt like a 30 degree swing. Late afternoons around the hut could be short sleeves or jackets within minutes of each other.

Dramatic elevation gains proved another serious challenge. Day 2 had a 2,700 foot climb. Day 5 had climbs of 2,000 feet and 1,000 feet. I was surprised how physically and mentally challenging that could be. Climbing for hours, hoping for a downhill after every bend in the road was tough. We estimated we were averaging a mere 4 mph on most of the uphills. Often we would walk our bikes on uphills when we were exhausted and we really didn’t get too far behind the bikers that were still riding. I’m still unsure how I could have trained better to prepare for these extreme uphill climbs from Florida. Sit on a stationary bike for 2 hours on the highest resistance? That wasn’t happening.

Single track trails on Day 5 proved incredibly challenging too. Steep uphills, many slick rocks, large trees blocking the path caused us to be more off our bikes than on our bikes. My brother, would yell in frustration “I JUST WANT TO BIKE!” while we were traversing through the woods for 4-5 hours that day.

We had challenges with rain and mud too. We didn’t see too much sun and Day 3 we had a downpour / power issues at the hut we started the morning at. The mud was so bad at points that we had issues keeping our chains on and had to resort to pushing our bikes through it at points.

But it seemed often, when we were at our lowest, we were rewarded with jaw-dropping views and scenery. All the pain, exhaustion and discomfort would be immediately wiped away after turning a bend to see for uninterrupted nature for miles. Even on the infamous Day 5, we were stunned to start a downhill and immediately find a small single road bridging with an awe inspiring canyon, Hell’s Backbone. I was freezing and it was pouring down hail on us at that moment (I was happy it wasn’t rain) but I couldn’t help but feel gratitude, peace and pride looking over the railings and the canyon below. These landscapes and views made me immediately forget all the suffering we endured earlier that day.

I’m not sure if it was intentionally planned this way but Day 6, our last day, ended up being the best of the trip. The clouds had finally moved on and we had sun consistently the entire day. Besides a few minor uphills on easy roads, we had mostly downhills as we coasted above the Grand Staircase National Monument and blasted down the road at speeds near 40 mph into the valley. High speed turns, wind in your face, steep drops to your right and left: it felt like a long amusement park roller-coaster.

It was an incredible journey. A lifetime event. I’m proud to say I accomplished it. I’m warmed that my brother was along side of me nearly the entire time. I’ll forever remember the forests of aspens, the endless vistas we earned after hours of climbing, the taste of those first sips of cold beer in the well stocked hut each evening, the cold mornings reading and drinking coffee in the dark surrounded by space heaters, the extreme frustration of a non functioning muddy bicycle, the three deer blasting out of the woods 20 feet in front of us on the trail, my brother laughing as he crashed into a creek. I’m not sure I’d do it again but I’ll never forget it.