The United States and Mexico each have a four letter destination that inspires unmatched excitement and an almost religious trepidation from motorcycle riders and all sorts of outdoor adventurers. In Mexico it is Baja, in the United States it is Moab. Is it well deserved? Oh yes, it definitely is.
It wasn’t our first time in Moab, but there were still plenty of places we haven’t visited before. Spending a day hiking in Arches National Park was a delight. The crisp November air made it easy to enjoy all day long.
Before we set out on a longer ride, we needed to fix our luggage a little. When we installed the quick release Gnoblin attachment on the bikes, we put it too far back and the result was the bags were dangerously close to the exhaust. So close, one actually got a bit burned :(. To fix the mount, we needed a hole drilled in a different place of the mounting plate. How much did the local shop charge us for 5 minutes of work to drill 2 holes in a piece of aluminum? $25. Cha-Ching!
With boring stuff out of the way, we headed out for a loop passing through Lockhart Basin. It was supposed to be mostly an easy ride with a short section of more demanding riding.
The easy riding caught us off guard. It was just so unexpectedly good! The road dropped into a verdant river canyon, where the trees were turning a beautiful auburn color. There was almost nobody else on this track. We passed a petroglyph site known as Newspaper Rock. Stopped to read it, but the articles were way too long.
The road goes through Bears Ears National Monument, where there is no shortage of iconic Utah landscapes – red cliffs, distant mesas, moderate hard packed dirt in different shades of orange. It was moderate until the trail turned somewhat sideways and we were forced to ride down several sequences of steep uneven rock steps. I’ve read that decades ago this was an easy dirt road that could be taken in a small sedan. Not any more.
We have come out mostly unharmed, with the exception of the iPad mount that couldn’t take the shaking of the corrugated section and just snapped. The vague plan was to camp somewhere in these landscapes, but by the time we reached a junction called Chicken Corners, the sun was getting low, and we were a bit too dusty and too tired. Camp food and sleeping next to our smelly socks did not seem appealing. We decided to complete the loop into town for some real food, and book a room in a hotel with a hot tub. Hot tubs are magic for sore muscles, and prices in off season are quite reasonable.
The next morning with renewed strengths, we headed out to find the spot our new friends, Robert and Monique, shared with us. Of course, we were not going to take a direct route, but rather, make a detour to La Sal mountains first.
The road through the mountains is very well maintained, wide and well travelled. There was just one obstacle in our path – snow! I rode up front and tried not to worry too much as the white stuff began to appear on the edges of the gravel road. I calculated mentally whether we are climbing up the northern or the southern slopes and braced for more snow. The landscape was wooded, the ground – gray, so unlike the rest of Moab.
Eventually the ribbon of gravel on the road disappeared entirely under a layer of snow and ice. It was hard packed and slippery. The elevation reached over 3200 m. Several times the road required us to ride downhill and then back up again, all on the slick white blanket. Our conversations on the intercom focused solely on mutual support and reminders – consistent throttle, don’t turn the bars, lean the bike smoothly, don’t accelerate on the ice, this too shall pass.
My great concern was to carry enough momentum on the icy climbs to make it all the way up, but to control throttle on the downhills and straights so I don’t slide out. I suppose all those years of relentless training and practice added up to something, because I didn’t drop my bike even once on this stretch.
As we crested to the southern side of the mountain, the snow disappeared quickly and completely. Such a difference extra sunshine can make! We popped back to the main road, 191, and returned to the red desert to look for the secret spot. What we were looking for was a rock house. There are several in the area, ranging from well known roadside attractions, to obscure low key points shared by word of mouth among the locals.
We didn’t have GPS coordinates, only a list of turns, and inexplicably, we took a wrong one. Our friends told us they go there in their regular car – not a high end rock crawler, so as the trail deteriorated into a rocky mess we wondered how they could have possibly made it here.
Finally we came to the end of the road – a cliff on the edge of the mesa. We circled the rock outcroppings looking for a sign. There were faint traces of campsites, mementos left by others who came looking for serenity and peace, animal droppings. There was no rock house.
By some luck, right on the very edge of the cliff I got one bar of signal on my phone. I felt a tinge of defeat as I sent a message to Robert asking for clarification on directions. After a little back and forth we zeroed in on new directions and headed out. At this point I was super tired and overheated. All those times I didn’t drop my bike in the snow and ice – I was making up for it now, big time. All the tough terrain we covered to get here – we had to do it again, in reverse. The sand felt deeper and softer, the hills – longer and steeper. The sunlight was a beautiful golden glow, reminding us that if we don’t find what we are looking for soon, we will just have to pitch our tent next to the nearest cactus. Keep your enemies close and all that.
Eventually we got to a road that felt more like a road than a trail. The sweet smell of success was in the air. A few more lefts, a few more rights and we found it! The most incredible thing we have seen in a long while.
A cross between a fortress and a cabin in the woods, it was more than we expected. It had a wood fired stove, a couple of small beds, a dining table, and lots of different knick knacks and supplies, from the practical to the whimsical. It even had a well kept outhouse!
We made couscous for dinner and ate it with a can of sardines that had been in my pack since Northern BC, and a thermos of coffee that I filled in the hotel in the morning. The spruce tips chocolate from Haida Gwaii, for a really luxurious finish.
The only rules: leave the house cleaner than you found it and make sure to come out at night to look at the stars.
