The longest day of the tour lies ahead, and the highs are forecast to be in the nineties again. We line up for breakfast at the lodge at the opening bell, and are on the road before eight. We've gotten pretty good at this - we've been out by eight for the last five days straight.
As we're pulling out from the lodge we have a rare encounter - a pair of young Austrian women are pedaling up the road toward us, Moab-bound. We've only seen a few other cycle tourers on this trip, so we stop to compare notes for a bit. They're at the end of their tour, after completing a long arc that began in Baja and bent northeast to the Grand Canyon and the Colorado Rockies. They're campers, so they're pretty loaded down. It's enjoyable to chat, but after a bit we chafe to get moving so we don't lose any more of the best time of day.
The first fifteen miles of today's ride closely follow the Colorado, hemmed in by dramatic red cliffs on both banks. The scenery is phenomenal, the riding is easy, the early morning air is fresh and comfortable. The river and road meander, and we alternate between riding in the sun and in the cooling shade of the cliffs. These are the best miles of the day, by far.
Leaving Red Cliffs Lodge, we stop to admire the Porcupine Cliffs that line the western edge of Cathedral Valley. They're radiant in the early morning light.
Looking back on the road we descended yesterday. I assume there is a sign like this at the western end also that we missed because we joined the highway beyond it.
After fifteen miles we round a bend in the river and abruptly come to the end of the red cliffs. Not long after, we come to the new and old Dewey bridges and cross the river. I knew what to expect when we got here, but it's still a painful shock to look at the bare metal and cable supports of the old bridge. It's all that remains of what was once a beautiful white wooden suspension bridge, until it was destroyed by a fire started by a child playing with matches.
We stare at the ruins for a few minutes, take a few photos, and then cross the Colorado.
This is such a tragic scene. This is all that remains of the Dewey Bridge, which was once the second longest suspension bridge west of the Mississippi. It was a beautiful thing and one of the sights I hoped to see again on this trip, but it was destroyed in 2008 by a child playing with matches.
I'm not sure what this abandoned structure by the north end of the bridge is - a store, perhaps. The remains of its mural of the Dewey Bridge is still pretty distinct though, so maybe it's not been that long since it was alive.
Once across the river, we immediately start climbing away from it and enter a barren wasteland that reminds me a bit of the Sonoran desert. There's just not much here to hold your eye for the next fifteen miles, until we arrive at the famous, eerie ghost town of Cisco (if you're a movie buff, you might recognize it from scenes in Thelma and Louise, Vanishing Point, or Don't Come Knocking). This is another spot on my earlier tour that left a vivid impression, and I'm anxious to see what it looks like now. The first time through, I don't think I even knew it was a ghost town before arriving there. I optimistically hoped there might be a store or gas station here that I could break up the long ride at, but those days were long gone by then.
There's not much to Cisco now either - all of the long-abandoned structures show the effects of another quarter century of weathering. Most of the excitement comes from a thriving prairie dog colony that greets us as we wheel in. Surprisingly, we also find a few folks working there, hammering away at one of the old structures. There is also a house that looks lived in, so maybe some people are trying to breathe some life back into it.
Leaving the Dewey Bridge, we leave the Colorado River and enter the Big Empty. Pretty featureless country lies ahead for the next twenty miles.
Cisco, Utah: iconic, spooky ghost town. The white building is the old post office. It looks as though a few people are living here now though, and there was a work crew tending to one of the dilapidated structures.
Leaving Cisco, we're back in the hot, shelterless desert for another five miles before coming to the I-70 freeway, the road that drove the final nails into Cisco's coffin. We hop on the freeway for about 12 miles since there's no alternative, and then break for lunch at the only sheltered spot we can find - beneath a freeway overpass. Not too romantic, but we were happy to have it.
After this, we rode the oddly named Old US Highway 6 & 50 the remaining 25 miles to Fruita. It was a long, hot, not too interesting ride. The highlights were coming to pavement when we crossed the state line into Colorado, and coming to a store in Loma, five miles from day's end. We were hot and tired enough that stopping for refreshments so close to the end was irresistible for both of us.
Continuing northeast on UT 128. Now that we've passed the excitement of Cisco, we're back to miles of nothing again.
After leaving I-70, we're back on another empty road: the oddly named Old US Highway 6 & 50. Over the next ten miles it steadily deteriorates from poor, crumbling pavement to rough dirt and gravel. It has deteriorated a lot since I rode through the first time, and found the pavement to still be in good shape.
Welcome to Colorado! The road surface on Old US Highway 6 and 50 has gotten progressively poorer with each mile, and is now basically just dirt and gravel. At the end of a long, hot ride, finding good road at the border is the best welcome to the state we could wish for.
Arrival in Fruita was a complete shock to me. When I came through before, there was almost nothing here - one or two motels and a mediocre diner as I recall. Now though it's quite a vibrant place, and quite attractive. There is evidence everywhere that this has become a bike-crazy town, there are several attractive restaurants and pubs, and there is a fair underway. It's a place I could imagine living pretty happily in for awhile, and it made for a great one night stand after a long day. It's a tough call whether we enjoyed our pizza here better than last week at the wonderful Escalante Outfitters.
Elevation gain: today, 20,900'; for the tour, 50,700'.
Fruita has evolved into a seriously bike-crazy town. The town's logo even incorporates a chainring.
The Hot Tomato, a terrific pizza restaurant in Fruita. It's also very bike centric, with the walls lined with cycling jerseys and other paraphernalia. I'm sure that if it were in our neighborhood we'd be here all the time.
Somehow I've made it through the journal so far without a single food shot. This is the Hot Tomato Icarus. And, incidentally, the first full strength beer (a Many Rivers amber) I've had since leaving Portland. No more session beers until the next time we visit Utah.
