West 2002
 
 

Day 14

August 7

 
 

The canyon parks of Utah beckon me – Zion, Bryce, Capitol Reef, Glen, Natural Bridges, the Arches, the Canyonlands. I don't know how far I will get, but I'm out at sunrise. The temperatures are perfect and I am looking forward to seeing a part of the country I have never laid eyes on. Dennis has laid out a great route for me, having made this trip before, and he hasn't steered me wrong yet. This area of the country is far different that anything you will see in the east. The hues and colors of the cliffs and canyons have their own unique beauty. Dennis described it best –

“Some canyons you stand on top and look down, some canyons you stand on the bottom and look up.”

The looking up business really gives you a better perspective of the isolation and grandeur of this land. It makes you wonder why anyone would try to homestead a place so desolate and dry with so many obstacles. But then I guess some would wonder why anyone would be fool enough to jump on a motorcycle and ride across the country just to see what it looks like. I ease out of St. George and head toward highway 9 that will take me to the town of Hurricane and Zion National Park. As I come into town, I notice that traffic is a bit slow on the four lane main drag. It doesn't seem like a big town, so I'm a bit puzzled. As I near a convenience store, I see the reason. There's a large area taped off with crime scene tape in front of the store. Lying in the gutter is a crushed bicycle with a little bike trailer broken from it's hitch. Farther down the road is a lone tennis shoe lying in the street. Another bicycle is lying bent and twisted near by. A few onlookers stand by like hungry buzzards inspecting a corpse, as the police take measurements and gather evidence. I know that for someone it is too late, that someone will not be returning home. Someone will have to break the news to a loved one and try to explain what happened to those who were out doing something they loved. These folks had high visibility flags on their bikes and were obviously riding at the edge of the road out of what they thought was harm's way. It is a cold reminder to me that we have no promise of tomorrow and so we should prepare accordingly. I move on along, thinking that it could have just as easily been my ST lying in the street, hit by a driver who more than likely would say -

“I just didn't see him, officer.”

I resolve to be more watchful on the way to the house. I reach Zion National Park and see it is one of those that you drive through the bottom and look up.

 
 
 
 
The vistas are stunning and I enjoy the several tunnels along the road.
 
 
 
 
The CheckerBoard Mesa is also visually arresting with it's distinctive cross hatching of wear lines.
 
 
 
 
The pinnacles seem to soar into the sun and the ruggedness is amazing. The terrain around Zion is rugged - so rugged that it makes you wonder why a person would ever settle in this area. It appears so unforgiving that you can only imagine the high price to be paid for any carelessness in providing for your basic needs
  
 
 
  As I leave Zion, I realize that I haven't eaten yet and am a bit hungry. I resolve to pull into the first interesting place I find and I am not long in finding one. Such it the way of the road, you just never know what you'll find if you just look. It's a collection of rustic buildings, one of which is the not so world famous Buffalo Grill.  
 
 
 

I pull in and find my way to the front door and sit down at a picnic table outside. A family is sitting near by, so I figure the cooking can't be too bad. The waitress takes my order and I smile at the folks sitting next to me.

“Where are you from?” the lady asks.

“Tennessee, and headed back home after I see a few of these canyons” I tell her.

“Wow, you rode all the way from Tennessee? Did you go to Sturgis?” she asks amazed.

I always have to be careful that my smart aleck nature doesn't kick and I say something like “No, I just flew in on a space ship!”

“Yes, but I didn't lose nothing in Sturgis. Too much foolishness goes on up there to suit me” I reply..

They both wish they could travel by bike like so many folks when faced with the fact that it can be done. I encourage them that there is no time like the present to start. Breakfast comes pretty soon, and I notice that the eggs appear to have been cooked in a black iron skillet. I finish up and decide to check out the kitchen. As I wander around back, I see several hummers feeding at feeders that have been set up. Their delicate motion and ability to maneuver always fascinates me. It reminds me of home and once again how far away I am. 		 
 
 
 

I see the cook standing by a gas fired contraption.

“I though those eggs were cooked in a black iron skillet, so I thought I would come check it out” I tell him.

“No, this is actually a blade off a disc that we made into a griddle” he answers.

“Looks like it works pretty good to me and it ain't apts to wear out no time soon!” I reply.

We both laugh and I head back around to my bike. With a good breakfast under my belt, I make short work of the road to Bryce Canyon. 		 
 
 
  It is a canyon that you are on the edge looking out, a totally different feeling than Zion. It's many spires and formations are reminiscent of some great cathedrals of Gothic construction.  
 
 
  The vistas stretch out for miles to the mountains on the distant horizon. I leave Bryce with a greater appreciation of the beauty of the west. As I head northward, the elevation increases and with it the road begins to twist and undulate. Having the road pretty much to myself, I crank the wick up a bit as I fly through the forests of what appears to be aspens. Soon I descend into the valley and the Capitol Reef National Park.  
 
 
  This too is an area where you are on the bottom looking up. As the sun is high in the sky, the reds and browns seem surreal. It's a rugged area that was a major barrier to anyone passing this way, with only one break in the formations for many miles.  
 
 
 
As I look at the clock and the map, I realize if I go for the Arches today, I will miss Glen Canyon and the Natural Bridges. So I turn south on 95 figuring I'll spend the night in Blanding, which seems to be the biggest town around. Realizing the lateness of the hour, I crank along pretty good. Up ahead is a FedEx truck pulling three pups – not something you would see back home. I ease over to pass, having a pretty good head of steam and with nothing coming. As soon as I clear the front of the truck I get a major shock. A crosswind hits me so hard that the ST is blown all the way over to the noise strips. I am leaning as hard as I can to the right to keep her in the road since the drop-off is a long way down. Finally, I manage to get RedBird back in the road and complete the pass, thankful to still be upright. Up to this point, I could not imagine a wind so strong that it could shove a fully loaded ST with me on it completely across a lane of traffic. I certainly can now with no problem at all. I reach Glen Canyon as the sun is beginning to set behind me and the area takes on color all it's own.
 
 
 
  The dryness of the area is an astounding contrast to lovely blue green waters of Lake Powell contained by the canyon.  
 
 
  As the sun sinks lower, the reds become even more red to the eye.  
 
 
 

Realizing there's not much daylight left, I hurry on to the Natural Bridges Monument. I arrive just before sunset.

 
 
 
  There's only one other car in sight. It seems everywhere I go the young couple is headed and they seem a bit worried. Finally at one of the stops, I say -

“Don't worry, I'm not chasing you. I'm too old and too tired.”

We both laugh and they seemed relieved. I guess the way the world is today some folks just never know what the other feller is up to. The bridges are quite interesting and I wonder what the difference is between bridges and arches. 		 
 
 
 

I guess I'll find out tomorrow when I visit the Arches. I finally pull into Blanding, Utah and see signs – “Sunset Inn – Rooms $25”. I figure the price is right and if the cockroaches are smaller than me, sounds like a deal. It's located just off the main drag so I pull in. There's a couple of bikers of the other sort sitting out on their porch.

“You're out of luck. He just rented the last room” they say with a smirk.

“Well, I'll just give it a shot anyway” I reply.

The fellow that runs the place sees me pull up and comes over. He's an oil painter named Gary and has been practicing his craft.

“Got any rooms left?” I ask with a hopeful grin.

“Well, I've just got one but the water in the shower doesn't work right” he adds.

“I grew up in the country, so I ain't particular. If it's okay for you, it'll be fine with me” I reply.

“Grew up in the country? Well, I grew up in a sod house out on the prairie. I don't run into folks with such a nice attitude very often. You've got the room and you can have it for $22 instead of $25” he tells me. 		 
 
 
 
I thank him and walk outside to unload my bike. The bikers of the other sort are a bit surprised, but I just wave to them and smile. I reckon folks usually will respond to nice a whole lot quicker than rude. Tomorrow I'll ride back north to the Arches and visit the Canyonlands. As I close my eyes, my thoughts drift back to the many sights and events of the day and what is yet to come.