It was a crisp morning but the sun soon warmed things up. The bikes were loaded and we left Mt. Carmel Junction, riding north on Hwy 89 for Highway 12 east and Bryce Canyon, my ears still ringing from the hotel manager’s heavy cursing at someone on the phone from a back room as I quietly dropped the key...
The tourist village of Bryce came up sooner than expected where we took a break, searched for stickers and watched the bus loads of Asian tourists perusing the gift shop. It was a busy place indeed, as was the park. Initially I thought best to head for Rainbow Point on the southern tip but instead wheeled in at Sunset Point, a good move in retrospect.
From the viewpoint, the hudu’s and spires were impressive as was the view, needless to say. It wasn’t long before Kim was wandering down the path for the bottom, me traipsing along behind, somewhat leery of the long hike we might be getting into since I was in my riding pants and boots. She’d changed her clothes after getting off the bike whereas I was lazy and didn’t.
It was really a great experience wandering down, down, down the switchbacks into the orange bowels of the narrow canyons. Ever so often I’d look back and pause, mentally preparing myself for the climb out, as well as waiting for the lone Asian tourist ahead with his camera to move out of the pictures. The scale is hard to comprehend from the top and can only be appreciated from the bottom, especially when bathed in the molten orange of the light bouncing off the canyon walls.
The soft clay monuments were in various states of fragility and looking up at the massive blobs which had separated and could fall at any time kept it interesting. I suppose to die under a collapse in Bryce Canyon would make an imminently better epitaph than “Killed by a Spider Under His Collar” or worse, “Killed by a Bear Cub at a Children’s Petting Zoo”.
As we got out of the chilly shadows of canyon, the sun positively got roasting hot and I regretted being in my boots, the BMW City Pants heavy enough with all the full pockets of keys, camera batteries, cell phone and a lens or two.
Still it was great to be down in the canyons and seeing it from a far different perspective. Eventually we found a sign directing us up the Navajo Trail which led back to a different set of switchbacks.
The great thing about calling yourself a photographer is the ability to stop and take a break "for a shot” to disguise how out of shape you are. At the top, we had a simple lunch on a split log bench, waving off cigarette smoke from a couple of Asian men, before firing up the twins and heading south for Rainbow Point.
Rain was coming from the north in our direction, but the sun stayed with us as we stopped and checked out overlooks until reaching Rainbow Point. By the time we wandered around out there, the sun was getting low and the rain clouds were threatening.
Kim entertained herself by tossing cashews to the two black ravens guarding our bikes, who were quite picky about eating, but eventually went for a few nuts. They seemed terrified of the bikes despite having been hanging out so close to them, trying to sheepishly grab a nut while looking up at the bikes as if they were some large creature waiting to pounce. Had to chuckle. Where I'm from ravens are rare as bucktooth chickens, but I have to admit these guys are big and could kick some Texas crow ass.
Kim had gotten a text from our friend Ronetta in Alaska a few day before, that she, her sister and boyfriend were going to be in Utah on vacation and it turned out to be the same week. They had set up an RV at the KOA in Cannonville which was right where we were.
As we left the park the storms were just ahead, with beautiful plays of light on the clouds from the setting sun. Kim captured a little of it on her headset cam, which does it no justice, suffice to say people were pulling over to capture it with cameras.
Luckily the rain never hit us and we made our escape to Cannonville, arriving about dark.
Kim's phone was stuck on ZZ Top's "Hey Mr. Millionaire" in case you hadn't noticed...
Ronetta and her partners in crime were no where to be found, even though their 5th wheel was there. We were unsure from the texts if they wanted us to stay with them or not, so we waited rather than trying to grab a tent site.
The wait went on for several hours as the temperatures dropped. We sought shelter in the KOA laundry, sitting still so the motion sensor light would go out. Inevitably, a guest would come and open the door, only to see two crazy looking people in riding gear staring blankly at them as the light flipped on. We knew we creeped out a couple of people, especially a French woman who had to return a few times, tension and mild fear on her face. I stuffed down the childhood prankster that lives deep within, forlornly missing the opportunities to scare the hell out of people. In retrospect, we were probably scary enough.
At some point very late our friends showed up, having taken a “shortcut” that took them hours to get out of and having no cell service were unable to let us know what was going on. Luckily we were invited to stay and slept on the couch and floor of their cool toyhauler.