Somehow we never seem to hit the road that early. We made another honest effort at it this morning though, and we're seated at the Broken Spur (where we ate dinner last night) not long after seven. A half an hour later, we were still waiting - or waitress just came by to apologize, saying our order had gotten lost. It took her awhile to notice, because she's pretty overloaded. It's busy this morning, and she's doing ninety percent of the table work. It doesn't look that easy for her either - she's older, bent from a bad back, and labors a bit carrying a coffee pot. A second worker is on duty too - young, pouty, slothful is probably not too strong a description - who occasionally lends a hand by bringing water to the table or ringing up a sale before slipping off to the back room for a drink from her giant soft drink.
We don't leave the restaurant until about 8:30. An hour later we leave our room at the Drifting Sands motel, cycling north on Highway 24 under a full sun, into a slight headwind. This is our tenth straight day of great cycling weather.
I haven't really been looking forward to either today's ride to Green River or tomorrow's, to Moab. The ride doesn't look the most interesting, and we've got one or two stretches on the shoulder of the I-70 freeway where there's no alternative. It's one of two possible routes to Moab - the other goes southeast to Blanding and then north on 191 - but at our pace it's a day longer and not viable without camping gear: it's roughly 120 miles to Blanding, with nothing but land in between.
So, north it is.
Leaving town, we gradually drop for a mile or two until we cross the Dirty Devil River, and then climb out the other side up a modest grade that proves to be the stiffest climb of the day. Quite a change from the last week.
It's a bit surprising to see that pleasure boat repair is an industry in Hanksville, but Lake Powell is just down the road an hour or so. Cabin cruisers were a significant share of the traffic we saw on the road today.
After leveling out, we enter a section that won't change much for the next 30 miles. Our road goes north in an almost perfectly straight line, following the eastern flank of San Rafael Reef. We'll slowly climb for about 15 miles, then slowly drop for another 15 until we cross the San Rafael River. In between, the sights are pretty modest - the empty San Rafael desert on our right, small formations and the rim of San Rafael Reef on our left. Long stretches of absolutely straight highway, with Rachael disappearing into a mirage when I lag behind for photo stops and let her get too far ahead. And zero shade the entire way - this ride could be brutal on a really hot day.
And yet, we both really enjoyed the ride. There is a lot of quiet beauty out here, changes are subtle, things come up on you slowly rather than slamming you in the face like we've gotten used to over the last ride.
Factory Butte, from the end of the Hanksville airport runway. I like the mirage reflection of the red ridge onto the surface of the runway.
At an observation point, with Temple Mountain in the distance. There were about eight of these labeled posts here, with spotting tubes aimed toward the named formation.
Looking south again toward Henry Mountain. Most of our ride north on Highway 24 was ruler-straight. Oddly enough, I kept cadence to The Long and Winding Road for much of this stretch. Thanks, Paul.
Well now, here's a surprise. After fifteen ruler-straight miles, we come to a bend in the road. We aren't flustered though. With Rachael leading the way, we deftly execute the turn and continue on.
Well now, here's a surprise. After fifteen ruler-straight miles, we come to a bend in the road. We aren't flustered though. With Rachael leading the way, we deftly execute the turn and continue on.
Zooming in on Rachael, who has gotten about half a mile ahead of me here. It's easy to set your own pace and keep track of each other on roads like this - no chance of getting lost, no anxiety that your partner is out of sight behind you with a breakdown you should be waiting up for.
After a couple hours of this we start thinking of lunch, and start looking down the road for a decent place to pull over and possibly even find a bit of shade. No chance of that though, so we eventually just plop down beside the shoulder for our lunch break. There's quite a pretty view to the west, but we eat facing east into the desert instead because we don't want the bright sun shining into our faces.
After thirty-odd exposed miles, we gave up the hunt for shade and plopped down here. We've had worse picnic spots, for sure.
We don't sit around long. Soon we're on the road again, still heading north. The scenery is getting more dramatic the further north we go - the San Rafael Reef is nearer and more colorful, and we can start seeing the mountains to the north rise up ahead of us. For several miles we descend to and then cross the San Rafael River, and then in about another mile I come to the big decision point of the day: the turnoff to Old State Road 24.
I've been thinking about this turnoff for quite some time. If we continue foreword for a few more miles we come to the I-70 freeway, with the unattractive prospect of twelve miles of riding on the freeway shoulder. If we turn right onto the old highway to Green River, we can completely avoid the freeway but face unknown road quality because the road hasn't been maintained for ages - probably since the freeway was opened in 1970. I haven't seen any accounts of riding it.
Scylla and Charybidis, and not enough information to know which choice is best. The plan was to arrive at this point, stare down the road, and then use our best judgement from what little we can see.
Unfortunately, when I arrive here I'm staring in isolation. I fell behind Rachael at the river, where I stopped for a photo; and she hasn't been watching her map and has blown on past and is charging up the next hill, out of shouting range. Decision made.
But then, a miracle occurs. She's stopped by the side of the road next to a car, and when I approach I see she's talking with someone. A woman saw her biking along (she passed me earlier, but didn't stop), took pity on her apparently suffering alone out here in the sun, and pulled over to cool her off with some fresh, juicy watermelon. I pull up shortly after, we chat for a bit, enjoy the unexpected treat, and she drives off. Rachael and I discuss whether to coast back down to the old highway and decide to go for it.
A corral in the desert, corralling nothing; and the La Sal Range
Another Angel of the Road: Charlotte pulled off to offer us some delicious fresh-cut watermelon. Charlotte is the mother of Clayton Pratt, author of the new cycle touring book The Touring Tandem. She said she wanted to brag to her son and his wife about her good deed for a biker.
Elevation gain: today, 1,800'; for the tour, 33,200'.
Leaving Highway 24 we deviated onto unmaintained And unsigned Old State Road 24, seeking a manageable alternative to cycling on the shoulder of I-70. We don't really know what we're getting ourselves into, because I couldn't find any first hand accounts. The satellite view showed intermittent stretches with the yellow center line still visible, so hopefully it will bear out.
The road surface isn't bad at all at first - well weathered and rough, but mostly still paved. For the first few miles we weave through scruffy little Bentonite Hills. How can this not be preferable to the freeway?
The road gets rougher as we advance eastward, and eventually becomes mostly hard-packed gravel. It's quite manageable on our Bike Fridays though, and a beautiful ride. We have the world to ourselves back in here.
