I got up at 9 to get some complementary coffee and talked with the owner of the park, Billy. He was a little shorter than me, in his late 30's but still had a very youthful array about him, possibly hinted by his athletic appearance. He had a wife and two kids. We chatted a bit but there seemed to be a lot going on in the lobby so I quietly drank my coffee and returned to base.
As I packed up the last of my things, Billy appeared again on his golf cart. This time, we talked and talked about what lay ahead in Utah, Billy's friend who had done the journey, and other cyclists that had passed through the town. Billy was very encouraging and welcoming to me. He recommended a local restaurant by the name of Ponderosa down the road to eat at before leaving town.
Inside of the restaurant, I was seated by an older woman who didn't appear in the mood to chitchat. She gave me a pitcher of water and started clearing a table.
"So, how are you today?" I asked her.
For the next 15-20 minutes, Louise would tell me about her plan of moving, her two kids (one 9, one 17), leaving the restaurant she's worked at for 20 years, the celebrities that have passed through town (Hilary Swank, Tom Cruise, Patrick Swayzee), and other cyclists she'd seen. Eventually, another waitress came into the room to pull her back to work. Breakfast was delicious but the friendly conversation with Louise was my favorite.
From Dolores, I began my trek to nowhere in particular. On the way out, I stopped at a museum about Native American heritage from the region. It was $3 but when I learned of this, I attempted to disengage the curator and continue biking. Recognizing my trademark frugalness she said, "Please be our guest today and just have a look around. No charge." I was incredibly grateful. After two hours there, I hit the road once again.
A few miles down the road, I encountered Alex and his father Chris, biking from San Francisco to Virginia. They had recently left 20 days ago, which I thought was rather remarkably fast. It made me feel like I had quite a bit of time. The two gentleman were wonderful to chat with and very inquisitive/interested in my journey. They couldn't get over the fact I was on a mountain bike, and remarked it was the first they'd seen on the trip. Hell, I haven't even seen another mountain bike on this whole trip. The three of us exchanged blogs and departed.
The hills out of Dolores rolled up and down, an even amount of both, balancing the effort. The clouds approaching Utah appeared much more closer to the ground and alive. As it got darker, the purples and pinks of the sky almost made the environment feel like a stage with smoke flowing over and filtered lights brightening the scene.
I stopped at a diner to grab some food and patiently waited for the horizon's sun to sink lower. As it did, the colors began to change more and more until the landscape appeared like something on a foreign planet.
I biked the last 8 miles to the Utah/Colorado border where I took a self-portrait of myself awaiting my departure from reality. It was getting dark quickly. I was still 25 miles from the next town and I sure as hell wasn't paying for a campground. I got back onto my bike.
The next couple miles had nothing but desert brush and small bushes. Then, I saw a large area of trees, looking totally out of their element. I found my place to sleep. I waited for the last truck to pass me and darted off into the woods with my bike. I found a solid hiding place for my campground up against a barbwire fence.
I started my book, Desert Solitaire by Edward Abby. Recommended by my couchsurfing host, it's ironically about Abby's 2 years in Moab, UT as a park ranger. Moab was 50 miles off route from the next town of Monticello. I started scheming. After three chapters, I came to the conclusion that Abby's mastery of the English language already vividly instilled the landscape within my brain. Not to mention, Moab already sounded like a lot of what I was seeing and going to see.
I eventually fell asleep with an alarm set for 5:00 this morning. The sunrise was...mesmerizing. My bike ride was like cycling through a painting with the colors bleeding down the canvas. Wildlife was rampant at that time in the morning as well.
So, it's 12 now and I'm at a Subway in Blanding, UT. Everything's getting recharged and I am stocking up on water. The next 73 miles from here have no services, food, water, nada. I'd be surprised if there was service out there in the vast natural. Tell you the truth, I could use an escape from this damn Iphone. Christmas came at the perfect time. The Subway guys were nice enough to let me hang here until the heat dissipates. Where I'm going, it's 110* right now.
Word.
At the hot spring in Rico, CO, I found these badboys laying unclaimed next to the hot tub. They've seen some action with me so far but I still feel like an asshole in them. Duncan says I look like Jose Canseco.
The Anasazi Heritage Center; the only Bureau of Land Management owned museum in the United States. It was oh-so-nice.
See what I mean about the clouds? Approaching Utah.
Close Encounters.
My designated camp site for the evening.
Early morning bike rides need to become a habit.
Shortly after Monticello on the way to Blanding.
P.s. I'm having one more "Christmas" but the emphasis is just on letters. So, if you're reading this, I would really appreciate a little personal something just telling me about your summer and life. You can send some gifts if you'd like but the personal, little things is what I'm looking for.
Ralph Johnson
General Delivery
2600 Bristlecone Ave.
Ely, Nevada
No comments:
Post a Comment