This photo illustrates the part of my trip that I miss the most. I visited many national parks, cities, and small towns, but the majority of the time was spent riding on small roads like this. There’s not many people around, not much to see, no real destination… just lots of open road and plenty of time to think.
Camping in the rain in Minnesota. Bringing all this stuff into the tent is what earned me an introduction to a bear the next night.
Lake Superior, taken from the north shore in Ontario.
Somewhere in the middle of Ontario. The sign says “Arctic Watershed - from here all streams flow north into the Arctic Ocean.”
Two guys on identical VFRs in Vermont. This was taken right before I met Tropical Storm Ivan, formerly known as Hurricane Ivan.
Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming
Chief Joseph Scenic Byway, Wyoming
Chief Joseph Scenic Byway, Wyoming
Devil’s Tower National Monument, Wyoming
A few photos I missed or skipped the first time…
Crater Lake, Oregon
Southeast of Stanley, Idaho
Grand Tetons, Wyoming
When I planned the route back in July, I wrote “this will be scaled down.” Wrong. I rode it almost exactly as planned, except for the last week or so. Instead of going down to New Orleans, I spent more time in southern Colorado and Utah. I actually rode a lot farther than I expected… I was thinking of about 7000 miles total and instead I rode nearly 10,000!
Here are some numbers out of my journal:
30 days
9,910 miles
221 gallons of gas
2 rear tires
1 front tire
1 big scary bear
The last day of riding was from Las Vegas across Death Valley, then from Bakersfield out to the coast and home. The last road into town goes through a huge valley before the coastal mountains, and I had to stop and enjoy the sunset in the middle of it (and strike a Nixon exit pose).
I actually got home last weekend, but I was immediately sucked back into normal life. I was so relaxed when I got back! Vacations are like massages for my mind - when I get back I want to see how long they’ll last. About a week, it seems, then I’m back to getting tense over silly little things.
The beggars - a coyote and a raven in Death Valley. No matter how many signs they put up, people still feed them.
Sometimes the road gives you a little visual treat.
Joshua Trees west of Death Valley.
I played leapfrog all day with a group of Germans riding rented Harleys, from Escalante, Utah all the way to Las Vegas. I saw them leave a little after dawn, and again when I stopped at a restaurant about an hour down the road. It was a tiny little place, totally packed, with three women working including the cook. I told the waitress, “I’m by myself - is it going to be a long time to get breakfast?” She told me that she would put my order at the top since I was alone, and sat me at a table - great! While waiting in line for coffee (at a tiny one pot machine, being refilled and then emptied every minute), an angry German told me, “vee haf been vaiting for haf an hour, vis nossing to drink, nossing to eat!” Well, next time make sure your tour guide calls ahead! When my food was brought out a minute or two later, I just avoided eye contact… and left a large tip on the way out. Advantage: lone wolf.
I spoke to a few of them at a couple of stops, and they were actually very nice people, if a little too caught up in the Easy Rider mythology. Most of them weren’t wearing helmets and several of them were wearing leather jackets with American flags and “U.S.A.” stenciled in huge letters on the back. I passed them at their stops and they passed me when I stopped. They must have forgiven me for cutting in the breakfast line, because by the end of the day, when I passed them on the interstate going toward Las Vegas, I got a wave, thumbs up and a honk from almost every one of them.
I stayed in Escalante Friday night and headed west toward Bryce Canyon and Zion Saturday morning. Visiting so many national parks in a row is interesting. It’s a mixture of sublime natural beauty and the world’s worst traffic jam. I’ve never seen such bad driving, probably because the parks assemble the perfect storm of technical roads, monstrous vehicles, geriatric and/or foreign drivers, road construction and distractingly beautiful scenery. You go around a corner and you don’t know if you’ll have a immense valley or an immense RV right in front of you.
The image below is my first attempt at stitching several photos into a panorama. Click here for a very large image.
The roads, rocks, hills, mountains… everything is red.
Besides the free stacks of Book of Mormon at the entrance of many businesses, it’s easy to forget that Utah’s population is predominantly Mormon. Until you turn on the news, anyway. There were long news features on the selection process for “apostles being called” and “tabernacle trivia” for the kids between commercial breaks. The anchors used the phrase “The Church,” an expression I’d only heard used by Catholics. To be fair, there was a big religious convention in Salt Lake City this past weekend, so what I saw might not have been normal. I just chalked it up to another different world that I got to see.
Capitol Reef National Park is the neglected stepchild between Arches and Canyonlands to the east and Bryce Canyon and Zion to the west. Everyone just passes through it, including me. It’s a shame, since it’s such an interesting place, but I was running out of daylight and their campground was full.
There were so many breaks in the clouds that I thought I could just break through without putting on the rain gear, but no luck. There was always another cloud behind. I’ve gone through so much water this past week that I feel like I’ve swum half the distance. The good thing is that I’m learning how to ride well in the rain again, a skill I lost when I stopped commuting on a motorcycle.
I did some hiking in Arches National Park, for longer than I had planned, but it was gorgeous and it felt good to exercise. There are a lot of tourists here, which takes some getting used to after the isolation I’ve had all through the south.
Delicate Arch is probably one of the most-photographed places on earth, so here’s my addition to the collection. The hike is not easy, but it’s worth it. I rode out to the street viewpoint after hiking back - it’s too far away to see much of anything. Up close the arch is massive and so perfectly balanced and proportioned it’s just breathtaking.
If you build your house on a cliff, I guess you’re not allowed to come home drunk.
My visit to Mesa Verde National Park was cut short by a lightning, thunder and hail storm. The lightning wasn’t anything like the weak flashes we get in California - it was huge spider webs of electricity that seemed to stay in the sky forever. I knew that every time I came to the edge of a cloud, I was going to get pelted with hail. I would scrunch up my shoulders to protect my neck and just yell “ow Ouch OWWW!” when it hit my hands. I should have sprung for rain gloves with knuckle armor. I got some crazy looks from people when I passed, so I would scream “yaaaaaaaaahhhoooooo!” just to confirm their belief that I was totally off my rocker.
I somehow missed the turnoff to go west toward Utah, and ended up heading south. The San Juan Mountains and the Million Dollar Highway (named for the gold ore used in the original pavement) were both so spectacular that I decided to keep going. Red Mountain Pass is the first of three, and I made it over that one with just light snow flurries and slushy roads. Motorcyclists hate when there’s gravel on the road, but this was the first time I’ve aimed FOR the gravel – it was either that or slippery road surface.
The weather got progressively worse and by the time I got to Coal Bank Pass, the sky was black and the clouds had that cloud-to-ground mist that means they’re seriously dumping water. The snow hit hard and fast, sticking to the road in a layer of an inch or two. I probably should have turned around, but I knew it would get better soon: I was two miles from the summit, on the north side of the mountain and I could see light through the clouds. So I just stuck my feet out like pontoons to catch the bike if it started to fall over, stuck my chin out and went for it. I rode in a mini-van’s tire tracks, and I met the people at a gas station in Durango, at the bottom of the mountain. They said, “We were watching you - we’ve never seen anything like that before!” I told them, “I’ve never done anything like that before, and I don’t mind if I never do it again!” I would have felt much more comfortable if they had spread more gravel on the road…
I’ve never seen color like this in a landscape. It reminds me of a calico cat. It rained on and off all day, and I even got a few snowflakes going over Monarch Pass. The mountains here are huge, on the same scale as the Alps. It’s raining this morning, so I think I will skip the mountains south of here and head for Utah. I don’t want to get snowed in!
I rode across Kansas in one long day, 550 miles and about twelve hours of riding. That includes many stops for food, photos or just because I wanted a break. The people I met were not very talkative, but they were very kind to me. For example, the waitress in a diner west of Pratt didn’t charge me for my apple pie a la mode and coffee because (she thought) she took too long getting it to me. This is with one waitress and a very busy restaurant full of locals! Even the police were kind. I was pulled over for the second time on this trip, but the Kansas State Trooper let me off with a written warning. I was on Highway 50 west, passing a slow car, and he clocked me at 84 m.p.h. I told him, honestly, that I had been riding about 74 m.p.h. all day (using the “nine over you’re fine, ten over you’re mine” guideline), and he believed me. This guy couldn’t have been any more opposite the uptight lady cop in Ontario. Those were just two random encounters, but they gave me a good feeling about the people of Kansas. And yes, there are endless fields of… no, not corn! I think it’s canola, and it has a beautiful red-orange flower that makes the fields look like paintings.
I’m in Star City, Arkansas now. There’s a state park, and the campsite there was my backup in case I didn’t make it to Hot Springs before dark. I was tucked in for the night, ignoring the possums scurrying around outside, but then what I thought was a rat went right past the edge of the tent (and my head). I hissed at it to make it run away, and it stuck it’s tail up. Uh oh - skunk! It sprayed, but to my relief it waited until it was in an empty campsite two or three over. If it had left then, I would have gone to sleep, but it kept running back and forth really fast with it’s tail up. I took the hint, and I spent the night in a Super 8 hotel.
I rode through western Alabama and across Mississippi yesterday. The biggest city I went through was Tupelo (birthplace of Elvis), because I stayed on backroads as much as possible. There’s a lot of cotton fields and churches, including some that look like the cover for a blues album. The cotton fields stunk from a chemical that is used to kill off the plant so that the cotton can be harvested. It smells something like burning plastic for hundreds of miles.
This was the first place I’ve ridden where the kids would point and run after me. It scared me the first time, then I got used to it, even expected it when I went through very small towns on very small roads. Everyone I talked to was very friendly but a little incredulous when I told them how far I’ve ridden.
I saw the aftermath of an ugly-looking wreck between a motorcyclist and a Volvo, and I didn’t stop to look further. There are a lot of dangerous roads through here. People drive 60-80 m.p.h. on narrow roads with driveways and sudden intersections. I don’t know how many times I was surprised by a stoplight because it blended in with the clutter of signs on the edge of a town. Yes, mom, I’m riding very carefully!
I had a great time with Tara and Dave’s family in Huntsville, and I already miss everyone so much. I let Haley and Ethan use my camera, and they took about two hundred photos. Here’s my favorite (Ethan’s view from the back seat of the car):
Here’s the “men’s table” enjoying Linda’s great meal and incredible salad in Tennessee (photo by Haley, I think):
Thanks again to all of you!
Approaching storm in Ontario, Canada.
Clouds over the Tetons, Wyoming.
Jet contrails, Idaho.
Sunset in South Dakota
North of Yellowstone, Montana
Multicolor sunset along the Blue Ridge Parkway, Virginia.