Utah: The Lost Blogs

Utah in the Rearview

Total Miles Cycled: 3223

Back in business. Damn technology.

Now I have to try to remember all the amazing things that happened in Utah over the last eight days. 

Not possible. Utah is simply unbelievable. And the terrain is super challenging. No one ever talks about that… it’s always Rockies this and Rockies that… Utah terrain puts the Rockies to shame. This is tough stuff. 30-40 mile steep climbs are normal- but the payoff- well worth the price of admission. 

Typical Signage Throughout Utah

Here are snapshots of each day as I remember them:

Day 41- to Hite Recreational Area (100.3 Miles)

The Unofficial "Gateway" to Utah

Solo ride. I enter a “gate” that has been blasted from the rock to make way for a road, and when I’m through, someone flips a switch and turns on Utah. Everything is gorgeous.

75 miles of the most captivating views I’ve ever seen and not a single town on the whole ride. Nothing. No Qwik-E-Mart for Gatorade, no houses to ask for water. And I’m totally okay with that.

Utah

The cell signal gradually fades as the “No Service” message becomes the norm.

In the dark, I find Hite Recreation Area, where there is camping available. I ride off-course for miles before I see a single camper, Elizabeth, who is on a tour of her own in her pickup truck. She waves me over and tells me to set up my tent. 

She offers to cook dinner. 

Elizabeth- Fellow Camper

Jamie shows up. He had seen me pass when I entered the park, but I couldn’t hear him shouting my name from his chosen campsite: inside the public bathroom. He wasn’t able to stake up his tent in the rocky earth, so he opted for the shitter as a crash pad. 

Jamie Shows Up

The three of us laugh, drink, and eat. These are the first words I've spoken all day. 

Elizabeth is one helluva cook on an open campfire.

Day 42- to Torrey, UT (100 Miles)

Breakfast Cooked on an Open Fire

Elizabeth cooks breakfast. I am surprised when Jamie joins us at 9:30 AM… well past the time he normally leaves. His sleep was disrupted by the automatic light that turned on every time he moved in his camping haven… the Hite Recreational Area crapper. I find this delightful. 

Me, Elizabeth, and Jamie

Now, he is on my late-start schedule. We ride together, 100 miles through difficult terrain, stopping often to take pictures and admire Utah. 

Utah

Traffic is light. Heat is high. We lose our helmets. I throw on a bandana. 

Bandana Time

We are still riding when the sun sets. The landscape looks like the moon, and when it’s lit by the actual moon, it’s surreal. 

We are still riding at 10 PM. 

We are still riding at 11 PM. 

We see an abandoned car and Jamie suggests that murderous clowns will be chasing us in it soon. 

I am terrified. 

We are still riding at midnight.

We are still riding at 1 AM. 

We make it up the final climb to Torrey at 1:30 AM. The population is 179. There are no less than 20 motels. All are booked solid. Tourists love Utah.

Utah

Day 43- to Boulder, UT (37.9 Miles)

Breakfast?!?

I wake up at 11 AM. So does Jamie. He is on my schedule still, and this makes him angry. I find it entertaining. We groggily make our way to the local diner where he accidentally orders a triple bacon burger with layers of bleu cheese for breakfast. We both discover how difficult it is to eat while laughing hysterically. 

It is a short ride today. We’re beat from yesterday. Only plan is to cross a mountain. Just 35 miles. 

"Douchebag" Mountain

35 miles takes 7 hours. 

Utah doesn’t name its mountains, so we name this one for Utah. We call it “Douchebag Mountain.” We’re almost at the top and we both stop and stare up at the final 12% grade climb to the summit. 

Not Quite at Summit Yet...

“I just tell myself One More Pedal,” I say to him, “and that gets me through to the top every time.”

He stares at me blankly. “I know. You don’t say it in your brain you idiot, you say it out loud.” 

Cow in Road

He mutters something sarcastic about me being a Motivational Mountain Man and starts the final climb.

 I shrug and follow, unashamed as I grunt One More Pedal all the way until it turns into a thrilling downhill.  

Day 44- to Tropic, UT (65.8 Miles)

"That grass looks suspiciously green," Jamie had said the night before as we set up our tents in the town park. "Do you suppose there are sprinklers?"

I looked around and saw none. 

There are indeed sprinklers. And they make for wonderfully awful alarm clocks. 

Day starts off amazing. We still have 20 miles of incredible descent remaining, and part of this is on Hogback Ridge, which is like walking a tightrope: No guardrails on the narrow road and steep drops to either side. Exhilarating. 

Uphill and headwind start later. Strong headwind makes ride difficult and forgettable. 

I am reminded that spirit-crushing wind is the worst weather condition to ride in. 

Piano Outdoors. I Played. No One Clapped.

Day 45- to Panguitch, UT (32 Miles)

Unexpectedly short day to Panguitch, where I have mailed myself a new power cord for my laptop. It doesn’t work. I ship my Mac home. Mom plans to mail another to Baker, Nevada. 

Car Tunnel in Rock.

We see glimpses of Bryce Canyon. It’s a great ride.

Storm rolls in. 

We stay in Panguitch. 

Bryce National Park

Day 46- to Cedar City, UT (60.6 Miles)

Scary Sign... This Means Big Climb

There’s a price to pay for staying in Panguitch: We have to climb a Big Mama Mountain from its base in one day. It’s 35 miles uphill. This takes a long time, though it’s not nearly as challenging as Douchebag from days earlier. 

Jamie is a faster climber, and we separate as we often do. It’s a convenient pairing- we both enjoy riding solo, we both enjoy the benefits of paying less if we choose to share a room over camping, and we’ve nailed down one another’s sense of humor.  

Once over the top of the mountain, the ride down to Cedar City is intense. No shoulder. Lots of traffic. Steep. 4000 feet of descent in 20 miles. Helmet is back on. The flannel shirt that was necessary at the top becomes unbearably hot. 

Mom books us a room at the Super 8, where the owner thinks he is running the Ritz-Carlton. 

I don’t like him. 

He doesn’t like me. 

I would like to elaborate, but this post is long enough already. Suffice it to say, if another mountain needs an unfortunate name, I will call it “Mel” in honor of The Hotel Nazi of Cedar City. 

He tells me not to do laundry past 10 PM. I start a load at 9. He threatens to turn off the machine. 

I hate Mel. Almost as much as Joop. That lying bastard. 

Day 47- to Milford, UT (59.1 Miles)

The New Scenery: Desert

Short ride is forced, due to the 83 miles of desert ahead. This is the last town to stop at before the long, arduous trek with no water. Every cyclist stops here. And every cyclist stops in Baker, Nevada the next day. It’s only logical. 

There are fewer tourists. This part of Utah isn’t as scenic. This ride is wholly unremarkable. 

Day 48- to Baker, NV (81.7 Miles)

Uh Oh..

This is the biggie. The one all the Western-Expressers talk about. A long trek through the desert with nothing in between the towns of Milford, Utah and Baker, Nevada. 

Jamie leaves at 6 AM. I don’t. 

Road that Goes Forever

Jamie leaves behind the tortillas that he asked me to buy for him the day before. I find this upsetting. I looked hard for those tortillas. And I was excited to offer them as a token of friendship. 

And that British jerk just left them right there in the open. 

I leave at 8 AM and flag down the first car I see. I hand the driver the tortillas, and I explain that he will see another westbound cyclist in about 20 miles.

 I ask him to deliver the neglected tortillas for me. He agrees. I forget about it. 

Debra- Mail Carrier / Humanitarian

Another motorist stops to talk to me. She is the mail carrier between Milford and Garrison (a tiny, tiny town that has a post office and two residents), and she drives this desolate road on a daily basis. Her name is Debra, and she tells me she will refill my water on her way back from today's delivery. At my 50th mile, true to her word, she offers me fresh, cool water and snacks. “I left another bottle of water on the side of the road for you at mile marker 25,” she says. 

Very Random Abandoned Shack with Tree in Middle of Nowhere

Although I’m not foolish enough to try it, I am convinced you can head into the desert with no water whatsoever. It’s not necessary. At some point, a human being will pass you, and that human being will offer you whatever he/she is able to offer. It happens three times today- and I never asked once. Had I tried to flag down the occasional car, I’m sure every single one would’ve stopped. I mean… I did get a motorist to deliver tortillas on my first try. That wasn’t hard. 

At mile marker 25, there is indeed a full gallon of water for me.

And shortly thereafter, there is an unopened pack of tortillas on the shoulder. There is a handwritten note scrawled across the packaging in Sharpie marker: “They’re Not Whole Wheat, You Prick!”

The last stretch is eons long, but I am revived again when I see the Nevada welcome sign. 

I get to the town of Baker quickly, and three jovial women on the front porch of the Silver Jack Inn, where I am currently staying, cheer my arrival. 

I’m in Nevada. 

Nevada. 

Nevada. 

P.S.

Wish I were on the Town Naming Committee... I would've voted for "Irony"

P.P.S.

Hardest part of trip so far: Not being able to write for the past week.