Day Five – A Day In The Desert
I had planned on seeing the sights around Moab yesterday but because I spent so much time taking in the mountain views I had to press on to Blanding for the night if I did not want to arrive after dark. I do not like to ride in the dark and I also do not like to ride in a strange city after dark with only the memorized map quest directions to guide me to the motel.
I was torn when I woke up and started to figure out what I would do with the day. I really wanted to get into the Canyonlands National Park but that would mean heading north back across the deer migration path. In order to see Canyonlands and the rest of the things I wanted to do I would have to leave just before light but the thought of riding tensed up and on guard for crossing deer was significantly less than appealing so I decided to leave that for my next trip out here.
My trip for the day was short on mileage so I decided to wash the bike and get all the mud accumulated from my forays on access roads off the bike. The sun rises later each day and each day is shorter. I think my next trip out here will be in the spring when the days are getting longer.
Though the hotel advertised free continental breakfast they only have coffee so I went across the street to the local grocery store and bought a couple of apples, some blueberry bagels and a large bottle of water.
I headed south on route 191 and then turned west on 95 so that I could go see the Natural Bridges Monument. A little way down 95 I saw an access road to a forest and, naturally I decided to go investigate this forest in the desert. I took the gravel road in for about two or three miles and came upon a brown river that cut across the road. It did not look deep but I did not know if it was muddy. The only tire tracks that went through were told of the deep tread of four wheel drive vehicles and wisdom got the better part of folly and kept me from crossing.
I took the opportunity to get a few layers off because though the day started out cold, it was going to get hot. It was kind of neat, out there all alone by a little river, red-brown water bubbling over pebbles and the sun coming up over the ridge so I took my time. One thing about the desert is it is really quiet. You don’t hear bees, you don’t hear birds, only the sound of the wind in the foliage and, this being early, there was not even the whisper of a breeze to tickle the leaves.
Back on the road I did what seems to come naturally to me – I let the motorcycle breath good and deep and it really, as much as a machine can do this, seemed to enjoy it. I eased up a little as I got close to my destination when I saw two deer cross the road about a quarter mile up the road.
When I arrived at the park entrance I took my time, chatted briefly with a retired German couple who came over to tell me that the bike I was riding was built in their home country. The man said that in his younger days he also rode a BMW and we agreed that they make one fine machine. They were out for three weeks touring California, Arizona, Utah and Nevada.
There was a little flowerbed at the ranger station with placards providing information on the different plants of the desert. I learned that what I thought was the same yellow flower were actually two different plants. There were examples of several desert plants, their names, the reason why they were named such, what animals fed on them or used them for shelter and how their form was adapted to the environment. Though I have a pretty good memory, I could not for the life of me remember the names of any but the Juniper. I can also remember the plant under which rabbits hide because in the previous day I left the bike on the road and took a little walk out in the shrubs to get a good picture and scared a little rabbit from its hiding place.
Incidentally, that rabbit was the only other animal, other than deer, elk and a gecko that I saw in the desert. Now, one word about the desert in this part of Utah. My imagination led me to believe that it would be a barren landscape of rocks and sand but the Utah desert, though devoid of surface water sources is actually very green and when you walk through it you smell the plants and the soil. If you touch any of the plants they leave an appealing scent on your fingers. The forest I wandered into earlier and the area around the Natural Bridges Monument were forested but here the trees are only about six to ten feet tall.
The tour through the monument was a seven mile loop taking visitors by viewing points for and, for the more intrepid amongst us, trail heads down the gorges to the base of the three bridges. Having no place to stash my gear (some of it would fit in the space I had left but I would have to leave the jacket on the bike and the thought of someone walking off with that was not inviting) so, much as I wanted to I did not hike down to the base of the bridges. Some more unfinished business for another trip.
I met another couple from Germany and the man told me that his son works at BMW in Munich, the car division but that one of his close friends in his neighborhood is the quality manager at BMW Motorrad which is the motorcycle division. I told him where I had come from and how I was riding hundreds of miles a day and how the machine was performing wonderfully and he said he would share my comments with his buddy.
When I finished the tour I stopped in at the ranger station to get suited up for the ride to the next stop. I had taken off the pants, gloves, neck insulator and was riding with my jacket half unzipped because the temperature had climbed into the 80’s and there was not a cloud in the sky.
On pulling in I saw another BMW bike so I parked next to it. The rider was inside the post and came out to chat. He was the leader of a group of bikes that was touring the Southwest. They came from Virginia and he organizes the trips each year, brining a number of riders out to see the sights. He introduced himself, Carl Calandra, as well as his wife and some members of the tour. They have their motorcycles trailered out and pick them up at the airport when they arrive. They also have a chase van that carries all their luggage and the truck that brought the motorcycles out goes from hotel to hotel so that if one of the riders does not feel up to the day’s ride they can hop into the chase car for the day.
While we chatted the rest of the group made it back to the station and there were a few BMW’s among them. We stood around and chatted about travels, admired each others’ machines and generally enjoyed a good visit. One of the group had ridden his motorcycle out from Virginia and we laughed about our iron butts.
The group lead asked me where I was going and recommended a detour through the Valley of the Gods. I had already planned on doing that and was happy to learn that it was spectacular. He is a really nice guy and when I told him that I was planning on riding down the Blue Ridge Parkway this fall to see the leaves change he gave me his card and insisted that I stay with him and his family because he live only four miles from the parkway. I will email him when I get home and make sure I stay in touch.
We saddled up and headed out as a group but at the intersection that leads to the park they went west and I had to turn east so I was alone again.
When I turned south on 261 the plants got shorter so I could see further and let the bike breath again, really deep this time :)
I arrived at Mokee Dugout which was the top of a cliff with a two or three mile switchback gravel road to take you to the bottom. I had to unload the camera into the computer so that I could snap more photos. Going around the back of my bike I noticed that the rear tire was worn through to the threads. That really pissed me off but then I decided that I should just get on with it and enjoy the view. As I was putting the computer away, two bikes I had passed a few miles down the road pulled into the view point and I went over to chat with them.
Yup, another German couple but these guys were traveling around the world on their bikes. They had already been in north Africa, across Europe and Asia and this was their final leg of the trip as they headed towards Texas.
I decided against going into the Valley of the Gods as the road is gravel and with the tire worn thin, I did not want to risk a stone piercing the wall. There is no cell phone service out there, I was running low on water, out of fruit, had no tent and the Valley of the Gods, being a gravel road and receiving little publicity is an area of extremely low traffic so if anything happened it would be a while before anyone found me and then the closest motorcycle dealership is over 150 miles away so it would be even longer before I could get my bike towed to a dealer for repair.
With the tire like that I also skipped Monument Valley though the road was paved. I did not want to risk extra miles, I decided to ride at the speed limit and that would mean a longer ride into town. Also, I wanted to try to get to a dealer before it closed today.
Along the way I came upon a couple of Harleys stopped for a rest at the intersection of routes 160 and 41 in the very southwestern corner of Colorado. I asked about the closest dealership and they told me there was a Honda dealership about thirty miles north in Cortez and there was also one in Farmington, not far from where I had booked my hotel. I decided to head to Farmington not wanting to go all the way to Cortez only to find they did not have my tire.
The road to Farmington passes through Shiprock and this corner of New Mexico is extremely depressed. If I took a person, drugged and blindfolded them and then brought them back-to out here and told them they were in the third-world they would have no reason to disbelieve me. It was hard to see and hard to believe that this is part of a prosperous country.
On arrival in Farmington it did not take me long to find the dealership but they did not have the tire so they sent me down the street to the Motorcyclist General Store. Hurrah, they had two tires to choose from. There was a shop behind the store owned by another person and they told me to go back and see if he would do the work today. I tried the sympathy card but he said to bring it in the morning.
Happy that I had found a tire I headed to the motel and tucked in for the night after a meal at the restaurant next door.
A day of unplanned adventure, detours and meeting great people.
I was torn when I woke up and started to figure out what I would do with the day. I really wanted to get into the Canyonlands National Park but that would mean heading north back across the deer migration path. In order to see Canyonlands and the rest of the things I wanted to do I would have to leave just before light but the thought of riding tensed up and on guard for crossing deer was significantly less than appealing so I decided to leave that for my next trip out here.
My trip for the day was short on mileage so I decided to wash the bike and get all the mud accumulated from my forays on access roads off the bike. The sun rises later each day and each day is shorter. I think my next trip out here will be in the spring when the days are getting longer.
Though the hotel advertised free continental breakfast they only have coffee so I went across the street to the local grocery store and bought a couple of apples, some blueberry bagels and a large bottle of water.
I headed south on route 191 and then turned west on 95 so that I could go see the Natural Bridges Monument. A little way down 95 I saw an access road to a forest and, naturally I decided to go investigate this forest in the desert. I took the gravel road in for about two or three miles and came upon a brown river that cut across the road. It did not look deep but I did not know if it was muddy. The only tire tracks that went through were told of the deep tread of four wheel drive vehicles and wisdom got the better part of folly and kept me from crossing.
I took the opportunity to get a few layers off because though the day started out cold, it was going to get hot. It was kind of neat, out there all alone by a little river, red-brown water bubbling over pebbles and the sun coming up over the ridge so I took my time. One thing about the desert is it is really quiet. You don’t hear bees, you don’t hear birds, only the sound of the wind in the foliage and, this being early, there was not even the whisper of a breeze to tickle the leaves.
Back on the road I did what seems to come naturally to me – I let the motorcycle breath good and deep and it really, as much as a machine can do this, seemed to enjoy it. I eased up a little as I got close to my destination when I saw two deer cross the road about a quarter mile up the road.
When I arrived at the park entrance I took my time, chatted briefly with a retired German couple who came over to tell me that the bike I was riding was built in their home country. The man said that in his younger days he also rode a BMW and we agreed that they make one fine machine. They were out for three weeks touring California, Arizona, Utah and Nevada.
There was a little flowerbed at the ranger station with placards providing information on the different plants of the desert. I learned that what I thought was the same yellow flower were actually two different plants. There were examples of several desert plants, their names, the reason why they were named such, what animals fed on them or used them for shelter and how their form was adapted to the environment. Though I have a pretty good memory, I could not for the life of me remember the names of any but the Juniper. I can also remember the plant under which rabbits hide because in the previous day I left the bike on the road and took a little walk out in the shrubs to get a good picture and scared a little rabbit from its hiding place.
Incidentally, that rabbit was the only other animal, other than deer, elk and a gecko that I saw in the desert. Now, one word about the desert in this part of Utah. My imagination led me to believe that it would be a barren landscape of rocks and sand but the Utah desert, though devoid of surface water sources is actually very green and when you walk through it you smell the plants and the soil. If you touch any of the plants they leave an appealing scent on your fingers. The forest I wandered into earlier and the area around the Natural Bridges Monument were forested but here the trees are only about six to ten feet tall.
The tour through the monument was a seven mile loop taking visitors by viewing points for and, for the more intrepid amongst us, trail heads down the gorges to the base of the three bridges. Having no place to stash my gear (some of it would fit in the space I had left but I would have to leave the jacket on the bike and the thought of someone walking off with that was not inviting) so, much as I wanted to I did not hike down to the base of the bridges. Some more unfinished business for another trip.
I met another couple from Germany and the man told me that his son works at BMW in Munich, the car division but that one of his close friends in his neighborhood is the quality manager at BMW Motorrad which is the motorcycle division. I told him where I had come from and how I was riding hundreds of miles a day and how the machine was performing wonderfully and he said he would share my comments with his buddy.
When I finished the tour I stopped in at the ranger station to get suited up for the ride to the next stop. I had taken off the pants, gloves, neck insulator and was riding with my jacket half unzipped because the temperature had climbed into the 80’s and there was not a cloud in the sky.
On pulling in I saw another BMW bike so I parked next to it. The rider was inside the post and came out to chat. He was the leader of a group of bikes that was touring the Southwest. They came from Virginia and he organizes the trips each year, brining a number of riders out to see the sights. He introduced himself, Carl Calandra, as well as his wife and some members of the tour. They have their motorcycles trailered out and pick them up at the airport when they arrive. They also have a chase van that carries all their luggage and the truck that brought the motorcycles out goes from hotel to hotel so that if one of the riders does not feel up to the day’s ride they can hop into the chase car for the day.
While we chatted the rest of the group made it back to the station and there were a few BMW’s among them. We stood around and chatted about travels, admired each others’ machines and generally enjoyed a good visit. One of the group had ridden his motorcycle out from Virginia and we laughed about our iron butts.
The group lead asked me where I was going and recommended a detour through the Valley of the Gods. I had already planned on doing that and was happy to learn that it was spectacular. He is a really nice guy and when I told him that I was planning on riding down the Blue Ridge Parkway this fall to see the leaves change he gave me his card and insisted that I stay with him and his family because he live only four miles from the parkway. I will email him when I get home and make sure I stay in touch.
We saddled up and headed out as a group but at the intersection that leads to the park they went west and I had to turn east so I was alone again.
When I turned south on 261 the plants got shorter so I could see further and let the bike breath again, really deep this time :)
I arrived at Mokee Dugout which was the top of a cliff with a two or three mile switchback gravel road to take you to the bottom. I had to unload the camera into the computer so that I could snap more photos. Going around the back of my bike I noticed that the rear tire was worn through to the threads. That really pissed me off but then I decided that I should just get on with it and enjoy the view. As I was putting the computer away, two bikes I had passed a few miles down the road pulled into the view point and I went over to chat with them.
Yup, another German couple but these guys were traveling around the world on their bikes. They had already been in north Africa, across Europe and Asia and this was their final leg of the trip as they headed towards Texas.
I decided against going into the Valley of the Gods as the road is gravel and with the tire worn thin, I did not want to risk a stone piercing the wall. There is no cell phone service out there, I was running low on water, out of fruit, had no tent and the Valley of the Gods, being a gravel road and receiving little publicity is an area of extremely low traffic so if anything happened it would be a while before anyone found me and then the closest motorcycle dealership is over 150 miles away so it would be even longer before I could get my bike towed to a dealer for repair.
With the tire like that I also skipped Monument Valley though the road was paved. I did not want to risk extra miles, I decided to ride at the speed limit and that would mean a longer ride into town. Also, I wanted to try to get to a dealer before it closed today.
Along the way I came upon a couple of Harleys stopped for a rest at the intersection of routes 160 and 41 in the very southwestern corner of Colorado. I asked about the closest dealership and they told me there was a Honda dealership about thirty miles north in Cortez and there was also one in Farmington, not far from where I had booked my hotel. I decided to head to Farmington not wanting to go all the way to Cortez only to find they did not have my tire.
The road to Farmington passes through Shiprock and this corner of New Mexico is extremely depressed. If I took a person, drugged and blindfolded them and then brought them back-to out here and told them they were in the third-world they would have no reason to disbelieve me. It was hard to see and hard to believe that this is part of a prosperous country.
On arrival in Farmington it did not take me long to find the dealership but they did not have the tire so they sent me down the street to the Motorcyclist General Store. Hurrah, they had two tires to choose from. There was a shop behind the store owned by another person and they told me to go back and see if he would do the work today. I tried the sympathy card but he said to bring it in the morning.
Happy that I had found a tire I headed to the motel and tucked in for the night after a meal at the restaurant next door.
A day of unplanned adventure, detours and meeting great people.
posted by Bongo | 8:44 AM
1 Comments:
Ford
Bill Dees here from the Motorcyclists' General Store, Richard turned me on to your blog, good to see that you made it home in one piece and had a good vacation. I thought I would add a comment on Shiprock. Shiprock, New Mexico is on the largest Indian reservation in the US. The reservation is for the Navajo Indian tribe, which is a Sovereign Nation, and there are about 250,000-300,000 that live on the reservation, which encompasses the North Eastern corner of Arizona, North Western corner of New Mexico and a small portion of Southeastern Utah. How many square miles, I am not sure but it is VERY large.
The Navajo Indians (they call themselves Dineh') are different type of people, they have no concept of time, they believe that if God had wanted grass around their house, He would have put it there and that is why none of the houses on the reservation have landscaping around them. They will put a Double Wide Mobile Home out in the middle of nowhere, where it would cost thousands upon thousands of dollars to have electricity run to, with no running water, to live (but the view at night has to be spectacular with no lights for a 100 miles or so in any direction).
There are four coal fired power plants and three to five coal mines on or very near the reservation, and most of these have Navajo preference hiring practices, in other words it is hard for you or me to get hired at these facilities. So what I am saying is some of those areas that look depressed, a portion of those households are bringing in from $50,000-$150,000 a year. Mind you not all of the households on the reservation are like this but...
As far as your description of Bloomfield, you couldn't have described it better than you did ;-) Farmington has some areas that are very beautiful and other areas that need to be bulldozed, just like every city in the US.
All in all you sound like you enjoyed the Beautiful scenery that we live in and understand, why, even though I was born and raised here, I have never moved away. My wife and I love the area and the people around here and hope to see you come back again soon for a longer visit. Thanks for visiting our area and our shop.
Bill Dees
The Motorcyclists' General Store
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