I have just finished loading my photos onto the laptop, and it has become painfully apparent that while I was doing the driving, I was too preoccupied to take many photos of some of the premier bits of awesome scenery and to record other whimsical happenings that took my fancy. On the other hand, Kaz has about a million photos on her phone. I just have to figure out how to get them onto the blog, so I'll post the best ones after we figure it out. Meanwhile, I'll revert to the written word, and you'll just have to believe me.
So we headed off to see some more of Colorado, Gunnison to be precise. Here the Econolodge provided really good value lodging, its a shame we only had one night there. But westwards to the Black Canyon. Great roads, very little traffic, awesome scenery, pleasant weather. What else could anybody ask for? Alright then, world peace. Now let me get on with the story. The Canyon must have taken some finding. It's narrow and deep and dark, and you can't see it till you're right on top of it, and it was only discovered by the palefaces in the late 1800s, Not until 1901 was any serious attempt made to evaluate it as a water source, or to exploit it in any way.
Suitably impressed, we continued to the delightful town of Ouray, ready to ride the Million Dollar Highway, so called because of its cost of an alleged million dollars per mile, but otherwise known as US550, south to Durango where would hole up for a few days. We were not disappointed, you can take that to the bank. The steep climb out of Ouray was tricky, but spectacular. Red Mountain Pass was breathtaking, and so it went for the rest of the day. The only blemish was that we had to stop for roadworks at one point, and a lengthy delay followed, which broke the rhythm a bit, and put us behind a big line of traffic. I soon worked my way to the front of the pack once we got moving again. No cops, fortunately. But in the words of legendary WW2 fighter pilot Douglas Bader, "Rules are for the obedience of fools, and the guidance of wise men". A flimsy defence, I admit.
It turns out that the Four Corners Bike Rally was in progress for the whole week at nearby Ignacio, New Mexico, and the whole region around Durango was Biker Central. A lot of accountants and lawyers and other wannabes, probably with henna tattoos. But also some seriously heavy looking bad asses too. The rumble of Harleys was all you could hear 24/7. No wonder I had trouble finding accommodation all those months ago! All I could get at a price less than the National Debt was a joint called Days End, not to be confused with the Days Inn chain. Well, it started out ok, despite the world weary attitude of the female attack dog working at the front desk. Then one night, we awoke to the sound of running water. It was coming from the room above. Every time someone flushed the toilet. Our bathroom ceiling was dripping wet, and some form of sewage was discharging all over the floor, the towels, and the benchtop, and Kaz's toothbrush. A visit to the front desk, followed by a demand for a new room, was met with some initial indifference, and a give away admission that "I told maintenance to fix that". We immediately renamed the motel the Bolivar Cascades. (Local joke, Adelaide will understand). While we were doing that, another irate guy came in, steam rising from his collar, wanting to check out immediately, and demanding a refund for the balance of accommodation. Got the picture? Anyway, we were offered another much smaller room, and much noisier at that, but at least it appeared to be dry. It was a seller's market, as much as I would have liked to tell the cow where to stick her motel. Kaz bought a new toothbrush, by the way.
Across the road was an establishment named Gandolf's Smoke Shop. Dope is legal in Colorado, and this place was the Home Depot of the drug world. Kaz went in for a look and a few photos, and came back with the news that, according to Gandolf, our motel was always full of meth heads, and the cops are called to the place at least once a week. I reckon the bath towels are a good indicator of a motel's quality. Those glorious, soft, fluffy, absorbent Egyptian cotton jobs you get at the Hilton are worth paying for. At the Cascades, you get a sheet of sandpaper. If you're lucky! Now for the bad bit.
Just messing with ya. Otherwise, our stay in Durango was great. The place has a real vibe, and we located some terrific eateries. We had melt in your mouth steaks at the Orehouse (love the name!) and some very tasty Washington reds. We took a few day rides, eg out to Mesa Verde, and then ducked back into New Mexico to the Navajo Dam, and to the incorrectly named Aztec ruins. We also decided to lighten the load by posting some of our luggage home. Unused items like heavy Winter riding gear, and liners, magazines, etc. A tactical error as it turned out, but more on that later!
So, off to Four Corners and Monument Valley. The weather was warming up as we neared Arizona, and the wind was picking up ominously. I had to abandon a visit to this area on my last trip because of a howling dust storm, and I knew how bad it can get around here. But we were fortunate on this occasion. For the uninitiated, Four Corners is the only point in the US where four State boundaries meet at a single point. Plenty of threes. And fives are right out! The States concerned are Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona and Utah, to save you looking it up. You can stand on the very point if you wish, and there was a long line of punters waiting patiently to do just that. Personally, I didn't have the patience, and anyway I considered it a bit artificial. Then I remembered I actually paid someone in South America to take me to see the point where the borders of Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay meet. Its at the junction of two rivers, so all you can see is water anyway. Now who's stupid?
Anyway, here are some photos of people with more patience than me. Actually, most people have more patience than me, but here are some who were already at Four Corners on the same day.
Note the cell phone to breathlessly announce to the world that "I just stood on the spot". And I'm thinking "Yeah, and now its half an inch lower ".
Not her. She wasn't already here. But the Indian trinket sellers certainly were. And they run the place. Actually, some of the stuff they were selling was really good, particularly the jewellery. I also liked the real handmade Indian arrows.
Finally, we got to Monument Valley. Now this was really worth seeing. I remember watching countless Westerns as a kid, with these spooky looking mesas, buttes and chimney stacks rising from the red dirt. So much so that I once thought the whole of America was covered in the things. And giant Cacti as well. So much for the illusion peddled by filmmakers. But the geology is truly awesome anyway. Looks like the Indians have a controlling interest in this region as well. I was surprised at how much development there was in the area, most of it unsympathetic, which detracted from the natural beauty and majesty. But there was no admission charge, unless you wanted to actually touch the things or take a tour.
Well someone is happy to be here!
After this we headed up the road to Utah, were I had booked a room at the San Juan Trading Post just outside Mexican Hat. I was a little concerned as to what this might be like, with the memory of the Bolivar Cascades still fresh in my mind. My fears were unfounded, and it turned out to be a wonderful place to spend the night. So, first thing next morning, we were off to start exploring the vast geological treasure trove that is Utah. First stop was the feature that gives Mexican Hat its name. Viewed from a certain angle, the rock balanced atop a pinnacle looks just like a sombrero with the brim pushed back by the wind, as it might be if a Mexican was riding a horse at speed, no doubt about that. Weird! Sorry, no photo yet. I was too busy trying not to drop the bike on the track we took to get in close. Next, the Mokkee Dugway, just up the road. This is an unpaved old mine haul road cut into the face of a steep escarpment. We zeroed in for a look-see. Hell, it was steep allright. From where we were, it was going up, as opposed to going down. All the footage of it that I've ever seen shows the view from the top, so in my mind I have always imagined riding down. And I would have felt much more confident riding down rather than up, even with a pillion and a lot of luggage, but we convinced ourselves that discretion was the better part of valour this time. Better safe than sorry, but it meant a lengthy detour to get us back onto UT276 and on to Escalante and Bryce Canyon. The ferry across Lake Powell was closed for repairs, so we had to go the long way, but this is no hardship. This is an awesome road, which I rode last trip, but in the opposite direction. For a long period of time we had it nearly all to ourselves, and we were fortunate because this was special. Those infernal tar snakes across the road which freaked me on the last trip were still there. More of them if anything. I could feel the front wheel slipping when I hit them in the corners, and a couple of times we really slid, which resulted in a big front end twitch of the handlebars, a real wake up call. I had to really watch where I put the front wheel. We stopped for another look at the Hite Overlook which impressed me so much last visit. Then I had it all to myself, but now there were heaps of bikers on group tours who call in here. Oh well, the word is out. But it was nice to run into a bunch of Kiwis all the same.
Spot the bridge we just rode over? This gives an idea of the scale of this place. Also note the mesas in the background. Monument Valley has some competition.
So on to Bryce Canyon and its bizarre landscape. This really blew Kaz out. See below.
The Park was very busy this time around, and we had to do a bit of faffing around to find accommodation after this visit. Eventually we found a surprisingly good motel down the road at Panguitch, but had to resort to dinner from the panniers because everything else was closed by the time we arrived. A long day but some awesome riding. Especially the bit near Escalante, where the road topped out along a ridgeline. No road shoulders, no guardrails, a precipitous drop on both sides of the road, and it was blowing a fair gale. Not for the faint hearted.
So we headed off to see some more of Colorado, Gunnison to be precise. Here the Econolodge provided really good value lodging, its a shame we only had one night there. But westwards to the Black Canyon. Great roads, very little traffic, awesome scenery, pleasant weather. What else could anybody ask for? Alright then, world peace. Now let me get on with the story. The Canyon must have taken some finding. It's narrow and deep and dark, and you can't see it till you're right on top of it, and it was only discovered by the palefaces in the late 1800s, Not until 1901 was any serious attempt made to evaluate it as a water source, or to exploit it in any way.
Suitably impressed, we continued to the delightful town of Ouray, ready to ride the Million Dollar Highway, so called because of its cost of an alleged million dollars per mile, but otherwise known as US550, south to Durango where would hole up for a few days. We were not disappointed, you can take that to the bank. The steep climb out of Ouray was tricky, but spectacular. Red Mountain Pass was breathtaking, and so it went for the rest of the day. The only blemish was that we had to stop for roadworks at one point, and a lengthy delay followed, which broke the rhythm a bit, and put us behind a big line of traffic. I soon worked my way to the front of the pack once we got moving again. No cops, fortunately. But in the words of legendary WW2 fighter pilot Douglas Bader, "Rules are for the obedience of fools, and the guidance of wise men". A flimsy defence, I admit.
It turns out that the Four Corners Bike Rally was in progress for the whole week at nearby Ignacio, New Mexico, and the whole region around Durango was Biker Central. A lot of accountants and lawyers and other wannabes, probably with henna tattoos. But also some seriously heavy looking bad asses too. The rumble of Harleys was all you could hear 24/7. No wonder I had trouble finding accommodation all those months ago! All I could get at a price less than the National Debt was a joint called Days End, not to be confused with the Days Inn chain. Well, it started out ok, despite the world weary attitude of the female attack dog working at the front desk. Then one night, we awoke to the sound of running water. It was coming from the room above. Every time someone flushed the toilet. Our bathroom ceiling was dripping wet, and some form of sewage was discharging all over the floor, the towels, and the benchtop, and Kaz's toothbrush. A visit to the front desk, followed by a demand for a new room, was met with some initial indifference, and a give away admission that "I told maintenance to fix that". We immediately renamed the motel the Bolivar Cascades. (Local joke, Adelaide will understand). While we were doing that, another irate guy came in, steam rising from his collar, wanting to check out immediately, and demanding a refund for the balance of accommodation. Got the picture? Anyway, we were offered another much smaller room, and much noisier at that, but at least it appeared to be dry. It was a seller's market, as much as I would have liked to tell the cow where to stick her motel. Kaz bought a new toothbrush, by the way.
Across the road was an establishment named Gandolf's Smoke Shop. Dope is legal in Colorado, and this place was the Home Depot of the drug world. Kaz went in for a look and a few photos, and came back with the news that, according to Gandolf, our motel was always full of meth heads, and the cops are called to the place at least once a week. I reckon the bath towels are a good indicator of a motel's quality. Those glorious, soft, fluffy, absorbent Egyptian cotton jobs you get at the Hilton are worth paying for. At the Cascades, you get a sheet of sandpaper. If you're lucky! Now for the bad bit.
Just messing with ya. Otherwise, our stay in Durango was great. The place has a real vibe, and we located some terrific eateries. We had melt in your mouth steaks at the Orehouse (love the name!) and some very tasty Washington reds. We took a few day rides, eg out to Mesa Verde, and then ducked back into New Mexico to the Navajo Dam, and to the incorrectly named Aztec ruins. We also decided to lighten the load by posting some of our luggage home. Unused items like heavy Winter riding gear, and liners, magazines, etc. A tactical error as it turned out, but more on that later!
So, off to Four Corners and Monument Valley. The weather was warming up as we neared Arizona, and the wind was picking up ominously. I had to abandon a visit to this area on my last trip because of a howling dust storm, and I knew how bad it can get around here. But we were fortunate on this occasion. For the uninitiated, Four Corners is the only point in the US where four State boundaries meet at a single point. Plenty of threes. And fives are right out! The States concerned are Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona and Utah, to save you looking it up. You can stand on the very point if you wish, and there was a long line of punters waiting patiently to do just that. Personally, I didn't have the patience, and anyway I considered it a bit artificial. Then I remembered I actually paid someone in South America to take me to see the point where the borders of Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay meet. Its at the junction of two rivers, so all you can see is water anyway. Now who's stupid?
Anyway, here are some photos of people with more patience than me. Actually, most people have more patience than me, but here are some who were already at Four Corners on the same day.
Note the cell phone to breathlessly announce to the world that "I just stood on the spot". And I'm thinking "Yeah, and now its half an inch lower ".
Not her. She wasn't already here. But the Indian trinket sellers certainly were. And they run the place. Actually, some of the stuff they were selling was really good, particularly the jewellery. I also liked the real handmade Indian arrows.
Finally, we got to Monument Valley. Now this was really worth seeing. I remember watching countless Westerns as a kid, with these spooky looking mesas, buttes and chimney stacks rising from the red dirt. So much so that I once thought the whole of America was covered in the things. And giant Cacti as well. So much for the illusion peddled by filmmakers. But the geology is truly awesome anyway. Looks like the Indians have a controlling interest in this region as well. I was surprised at how much development there was in the area, most of it unsympathetic, which detracted from the natural beauty and majesty. But there was no admission charge, unless you wanted to actually touch the things or take a tour.
Well someone is happy to be here!
After this we headed up the road to Utah, were I had booked a room at the San Juan Trading Post just outside Mexican Hat. I was a little concerned as to what this might be like, with the memory of the Bolivar Cascades still fresh in my mind. My fears were unfounded, and it turned out to be a wonderful place to spend the night. So, first thing next morning, we were off to start exploring the vast geological treasure trove that is Utah. First stop was the feature that gives Mexican Hat its name. Viewed from a certain angle, the rock balanced atop a pinnacle looks just like a sombrero with the brim pushed back by the wind, as it might be if a Mexican was riding a horse at speed, no doubt about that. Weird! Sorry, no photo yet. I was too busy trying not to drop the bike on the track we took to get in close. Next, the Mokkee Dugway, just up the road. This is an unpaved old mine haul road cut into the face of a steep escarpment. We zeroed in for a look-see. Hell, it was steep allright. From where we were, it was going up, as opposed to going down. All the footage of it that I've ever seen shows the view from the top, so in my mind I have always imagined riding down. And I would have felt much more confident riding down rather than up, even with a pillion and a lot of luggage, but we convinced ourselves that discretion was the better part of valour this time. Better safe than sorry, but it meant a lengthy detour to get us back onto UT276 and on to Escalante and Bryce Canyon. The ferry across Lake Powell was closed for repairs, so we had to go the long way, but this is no hardship. This is an awesome road, which I rode last trip, but in the opposite direction. For a long period of time we had it nearly all to ourselves, and we were fortunate because this was special. Those infernal tar snakes across the road which freaked me on the last trip were still there. More of them if anything. I could feel the front wheel slipping when I hit them in the corners, and a couple of times we really slid, which resulted in a big front end twitch of the handlebars, a real wake up call. I had to really watch where I put the front wheel. We stopped for another look at the Hite Overlook which impressed me so much last visit. Then I had it all to myself, but now there were heaps of bikers on group tours who call in here. Oh well, the word is out. But it was nice to run into a bunch of Kiwis all the same.
Spot the bridge we just rode over? This gives an idea of the scale of this place. Also note the mesas in the background. Monument Valley has some competition.
So on to Bryce Canyon and its bizarre landscape. This really blew Kaz out. See below.
The Park was very busy this time around, and we had to do a bit of faffing around to find accommodation after this visit. Eventually we found a surprisingly good motel down the road at Panguitch, but had to resort to dinner from the panniers because everything else was closed by the time we arrived. A long day but some awesome riding. Especially the bit near Escalante, where the road topped out along a ridgeline. No road shoulders, no guardrails, a precipitous drop on both sides of the road, and it was blowing a fair gale. Not for the faint hearted.
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