March 16, 2020
Out Yonder: Moab to Dead Horse State Park and Back
Oh my goodness today was a great day. We broke the leash and were able to take a truly PROPER bike ride, not some trifling 25 miles on bike paths, beautiful though they were. We left behind the stream of news about Covid-19 (ten bucks to the first garage band that takes on that name BTW) and headed off into the wide open spaces of Utah.
This was a route that was to be part of the festival. We started in Moab, retraced our steps from yesterday north up the bike path past Arches NP, and hung a left on Hwy. 313 which has a shoulder to die for. Three feet wide on both sides of the road and a surface smooth a glass ... well, etched glass anyway. More than acceptable. Eventually it hung a left into Dead Horse Point State Park which is a location everyone should visit before they slip this mortal coil.
The “Point” is not just a euphemism. There is a very high, narrow, bluff that terminates in a point that drops a jaw dropping distance to a spot where the Colorado River makes a mind bending 180 degree horseshoe curve back upon itself. The sweeping view, the height and vastness of the thing, the spectacular ochre, umber, red rocks .... Well, look at the pictures, but know they do NOT do justice to the place.
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2 years ago
The ride from Moab to the State park is 32 miles and served up about 3000 feet of climbing. Pro Tip: Having this be your 2nd ride of the year (Margaret) or maybe your 6th ride of the year (Me) is not the optimal preparation for such a day. Oy Vey, it was a brutal grind getting to the State Park. Beautiful geographic eye candy was all around but that doesn’t reduce the total climb or the pitches. There was no chatting between us for the last 20 miles.
But as the old saw goes, “what goes up must come down” and boy did we ever. The first 32 miles up, up, up took us close to 3 hours with no stops. The 32 miles back down to Moab was closer to an hour and 40 minutes. The miles just ticked along.
When we rolled into our motel’s parking lot we were knackered. The sun, the hills, the dry air just sucks the moisture out of your body, and of course the aforementioned lack of training had us doing the 1,000 yard stare for at least a 1/2 hour.
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We headed to the grocery store to re-supply. Still nothing in the toilet paper aisle. Still jam packed with people. While waiting near the little Starbucks kiosk for my pour-over afternoon Cup O’ Joe there was an announcement from the manager thanking everyone for cooperating with the three item limit on any one product (she didn’t specifically mention toilet paper but my keen sense of logic makes me think it has a lot to do with that particular item.)
There was one tragedy that took place though. Heart breaking. When the barista asked if I wanted room for cream in my pour over I said no thanks. When she handed me the cup I saw it had quite a lot of room for cream but I shrugged it off. I asked her for some Half and Half, which was not set out. She grabbed a container and I reached to take it from her. She said “Sorry I have to pour it for you.” Ahhh, I thought, virus prevention. “Sure,” I said, “Just a little bit though. I’ll say when.” She proceeded to dump what looked like half a cup of cream into my coffee.
So. Imagine the famous painting by Edvard Munch. The Scream. You’ve seen it, the subject of this expressionist painting is clutching his head in horror, mouth shaped in a scream, perhaps silent.
That was my internal state as I watched the barista slop 1/2 a cup of cream into the hard earned dark roast for which I had patiently waited upwards of 5 minutes. As I watched her morph an ass kicking cup of strong coffee into a mild and heavily diluted cafe au lait I may have outwardly sighed. I did the adult thing though, and decided to play the cards fate had dealt me. I took the cup, thanked her, and shuffled away, head bowed. At least I have no toilet paper anxiety to deal with.
Marg and I continued our tradition of taking a soak in the hot tub/spa poolside when we retuned from shopping. Again, we were rewarded by the Covid-19 Gods with a conversation with some great people ... a family moving from Louisiana to Oregon for a new job. They have a three year old and 22 month old twins, and are on their fourth day of six days on the road with a U-Haul. God Speed to them. Another mom and her kids were also there. She brought her five (5!!) kids to Moab from Colorado because their school is cancelled for an indeterminate amount of time. They are doing some rock climbing, hiking, and mountain biking. Damn. That is a gnarly family.
After about 45 minutes in the hot tub to further leach all the of fluids out of our bodies, Marg and I staggered back to the room for various and sundry relaxation, including this journal. We’ve decided to have dinner in our room each night so far thanks to micro-waveable dinners, deli salads and yogurt instead of going out to dinner. Not so much because of the virus stuff, but more because its just a nice way to chill out after a big day of activity.
There you have it friends. You’ve heard of breakfast in bed? Margaret is eating dinner in bed and loving it. See you tomorrow.
Today's ride: 64 miles (103 km)
Total: 89 miles (143 km)
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