The next morning we awoke alone in the gloomy chill, our neighbors having slipped away early. Natural Bridges, Mexican Hat and Monument Valley were the goals for the day.
We lingered at the campsite a bit, packing gear and looking for water to replenish the Nalgene bottles and insulated thermos bottle The Butterfly carried. It was found at a nearby campground bathroom facility which featured a large, stainless steel fish cleaning station complete with built-in oversize garbage disposal. The water was sourced from an outside tap and tasted of iron, but it was doable. From Hite, Highway 95 flowed through continuing fascinating landscape as we made our way south to Natural Bridges National Monument. If you can ever get the chance, ride Hwy's 95, 24 and 12 through Utah - always one of my favorites.
The sun had finally burned through the morning haze by the time we turned into the park and the usual “no hassle” entry with the National Park Pass was a hassle this time, the attendants being a bit rude and demanding to see our ID’s. Chalk it up to newbies…
After a couple of conversations in the parking lot with passersby, we made it to the hiking area and enjoyed the climb down into the snake-like canyon and cliffside overlooks. We hung out in the shade of a cliff wall for a while, imagining it as a marvelous campsite. Only the wisp of winds broke the deafening silence.
I think the months of riding and camping have been imperceptibly tiring us as we tend to linger longer in places than we did early on.
Nevertheless, our friend the sun dictated our leaving as we still had to get to Monument Valley that afternoon. A few stops at overlooks on the way out of the park finished our time there and we swung due south for Mexican Hat on 261. Ahead lay Moki Dugway, a series of dirt switchbacks from the high plateau down into the valley with a spectacular view from the top. My last trip up, the road had not been maintained and was pretty rough, and unfortunately, my warnings to Kim had her envisioning an “Ophir Pass” experience despite my best efforts to convince her it wouldn’t be bad.
At the sign, we stopped for some adjustment and water then headed on down. The view is superb and the road was in good shape. In short order Kim was ahead and enjoying the ride with the vista of the valley far below.
The bottom came soon as did the blacktop road to 163 and Mexican Hat where we gassed up. An old pickup truck next to the pump carried a threesome of Native Americans, a grandfather who looked as iconic an Indian warrior as he could, with what I’m guessing was his son and grandson. I’d have given money to have been able to photograph him, but they were gone quickly, never acknowledging our presence. We were starving and a burger sounded good, the only option being the motel and restaurant at the bridge crossing. It was getting late in the day and I knew there wasn’t enough time to make Monument Valley so I checked with the motel and they had a room available for the night. Showers and a so-so burger felt good, with long conversations in the parking lot with other riders and travelers.
The next morning was crisp and clear as we rode for Monument Valley. The classic view of the sentinels soon appeared at the end of the long straight road, always an impressive sight to see. At the pay station for the park on the reservation, I asked the attendant about riding motorcycles through the park, to which she replied they were not allowed on the roads. We parked outside the main buildings and went in to scavenge stickers and take a whiz. The views from the monuments were a taste of what was to come.
Despite the motorcycle ban, we geared up and took off past the waiting touring vehicles and idled down the road into the valley. It was anyone’s guess as to whether the sand would be deep on the roads, which were rough from the rock ridges and wheel ruts from the tour jeeps but The Butterfly did well in the loose stuff.
We stopped at the main overlook to take in the views so often seen in John Ford’s famous movies, before continuing on the loop through the park. The views are grand and memorable, something not to be missed if you’re in the region.
The sand wasn’t too bad, just enough to keep you on your toes - literally - with the unexpected front end wandering when least expected.
We wound our way slowly through the park, stopping to take in the sights and enjoy the feel of the valley. It is a sacred and holy place for Navajo, and if you take the time to sit and listen, you can understand why.
We finally stopped at Inspiration Point and sought some non-existent shade to make our lunch of mac and cheese, complete with grit from the blowing sand. There was an abundance of tourists at the point, so the solitude I’d experienced in past visits was missing, but the view is indeed inspiring and best savored in silence and thought.
Since on the trek we were approaching Colorado and nearing the van we'd left 5 months ago, the circle of this trip has been slowly closing. The weather and our desire have been pushing us south, to see family, get caught up on some business bs and reboot for the next chapter. Kim’s family was having an event that she really wanted to make, so we’d made the decision to get going for Colorado and then Texas. Threatening weather and the general sense that we had been pushing our luck with snow in the higher elevations made the decision to shorten our time in Utah a bit easier.
Moab was the next destination and we’d received a text that our Alaskan friends were encamped in the KOA there. We wanted to see them once more, as well as Canyonlands and Arches National Parks. Our initial destination for this journey had been to hit Utah first and explore as much of the back roads and jeep trails as possible in the Moab area. However, circumstances delayed us leaving Dallas until June, and it was already in the 100’s in Moab when we started our trip. Instead, we’d headed for altitude and cooler temps for the rest of the journey. Now that we’d finally made it to Utah, it was bittersweet that we weren’t going to have the time to stay and explore as planned. But as always, Utah will be there and it’s a great excuse for another trip.
That said, we headed out of Monument Valley on the sandy roads for the entrance, wavering here and there in the sand along the way. The Butterfly handled the 1200 well and I’ve been impressed with her abilities. 5’5” and 125 lbs on a heavily loaded 1200 in sand, mud and rough stuff. We’ve endeavored to keep both bikes as light as possible, but it’s a conundrum when you have to carry enough gear to live off the bikes for an extended time. You find that there is almost nothing left to leave or lose except things like clothing, already pared down to the minimum and the lightest and least of your weight concerns.
As we wound our way out, passing slow moving vehicles and avoiding deeper sand patches, a final stop was made at one of the main overlooks. The parking lot was crammed with tour vehicles and we had to wait for a clearing to get the bikes up to where we could see. As usual, the folk on the buses were craning necks to see a woman on a big adventure bike. Before I could get off my bike a man walked over and asked if he could take a photo for his brother. He sounded Scottish to me, but then the various lingo of the British Isles has made me pause as to whether they are Irish, Welsh or Scots. Anyway, he said I looked exactly like his brother, who also rode a 1200 GS and he wanted to send him a pic of the rig from Monument Valley. Kim said her knees were shaking from having ridden in the sand for so long and was relieved to be off the bike.
Eventually, we rolled the bikes down to the viewing area and got another tourist to grab a shot of us. From there we hit the parking lot for Kim to powder her nose and met another rider on the lot. He was a pastor from Houston and had a lot of questions about the GS’s. I’m not much for cruiser bikes, but his was a nice one and he wanted to hear our take on the BMWs since he was seriously considering one.
After much chat, we headed north for Moab, the day again getting late. Plans to ride through lower Canyonlands were laid aside and by the time we made Blanding the mac and cheese we’d eaten hours before was gone with a vengeance. A Subway sandwich in the downtown was our salvation.
We had to make time as darkness was coming, so we hit the throttle north for Moab, enjoying the terrain. The massive “beehive rock” (as I call it - not sure what the official name is) at the entrance road to Lower Canyonlands was fun to see again and always a great visual, especially in the setting sun. By the way, does anyone know if that rock is the symbol used on the Utah Highway signs???
As we rolled on, the clouds came in with the cold and threatening rain. We made the KOA park in the dark, cold, tired and thankfully un-wet as the rains had missed us. There were no tent sites available, only a lone cabin which we snagged for the night.