The valves fixed, we rushed to get out and find some beautiful Utah roads to ride. The peaks of the Rockies were already getting snow, but to the east of Salt Lake City the weather held at a comfortable riding temperature. We twisted and turned along some admirable paved roads, and then some even more admirable dirt roads. It was good to be out and firing on all cylinders. The day was crisp and we were glad to finally not be fighting frostbite.
Before the end of the day we popped back to the main highway for a dinner stop, at a very typical American roadside diner. After a very respectable soup and sandwich we were back on the trail. In the middle of this rather arid area we spotted boats sitting inside the canyon of Miller Creek, south of the town of Wellington. It was completely dry at the time, and the amount of vegetation suggested only sporadic presence of water, yet the boats were there, and they didn’t look terribly old. Was this creek a reliable river before? There was no one to ask.
We found a wild campsite on state land, and enjoyed the rest of the evening among the stunted trees. Milky Way came out for a look, and it got pretty cold. Our sleeping bags are rated for Arctic weather, so we were cozy enough. So cozy, Alex really struggled to convince me to get outside in the morning. His unshakable argument: I would have to come out if I wanted breakfast. I could find no rebuttal to that.
The riding was a pleasure in this part of Utah. We stopped for breakfast in Green River, and continued on more backroads with the mission for the day being Moab. We planned to take a route from Onion Creek Road, looping around and coming to town from the south, all on dirt roads. It didn’t seem like a long way. The problem was that Onion Creek Road was just a very tough trail to take at the end of the day. It kept twisting in tight turns, intersecting with the creek, and every 100 m we had to pause because a) it was insanely beautiful and we had to take photos, and b) there was water in the creek and we had to slow down to not get all our gear wet. We did not go nearly as fast as we should have to make it to town before nightfall.
Eventually the track gained significant elevation and two things happened. First, the views became even more insane. Second, it started getting cold. Teeth chattering cold. We realized that we have to take the next available exit and head to town the boring way, by paved roads. Of course, this is Moab, even the most boring roads here are epic. By the time we made it back to civilization it was dark, but there are street lamps in town, so we had no problem finding a place to eat, with generous portions of soul warming Thai food tying a nice bow at the end of this successful day. Nobody died. The engine kept running.
We spent the night in a home of a friendly local couple who were eager to share stories and local knowledge. In the morning we left to explore Arches National Park, but not before our hosts shared a super secret spot with us. It was on none of the maps, and its location was given as a series of cryptic turn by turn directions, which began somewhere in the middle of the desert, just outside of Canyonlands National Park. It would be a few more days before we attempt to find it. With the bikes running well, we savored the careless joy of exploring one of the country’s best riding and hiking areas.
