Dry, Desolate

Well, as it turns out one of us did get a shower in our room at the Cliff Palace Motel. Jeremy was quick while Jordan and I were jawing on cell phones. Sometimes it's a relief to have no service. Anyway, the evening before I removed my front rack to make some adjustments and foolishly forgot to tighten all the bolts on reattachment. “What is that strange sound?” Jordan and Jeremy were kind enough to wait a few minutes while I tightened everything.

The scenery began to change again. Now it's arroyos and river washes and immense rock cliffs. We started off with steep downhills and then short ascents, climbing a five percent grade, a six percent, back down again. That held for a few miles before we passed through a narrow gap in the rock and started some sustained climbing. We passed one set of ruins off in the distance, cliff dwellings. We were still headed up at around mile 25 when we took a meal break at the Mule Canyon Ruins. We read the interpretive displays and ate at the edge of the kiva, a circular, underground room that was at one point thatched and covered with a ladder to access the space below. Now the top is long gone and a large circular awning covers the whole thing from the elements.

It was humbling. We sat on masonry that was around a thousand years old and dangled our legs while looking down at the bench seating that ringed the kiva and the center that held who knows how many fires, how many centuries ago. I imagined what the men must have looked like, speaking a language I couldn't possibly understand, engaging in ceremony that I have no reference for. Knowing that people lived in that very spot, a millennium ago, as I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the upper shelf – was astounding.

We packed up the bags and continued climbing until an eventual summit some miles later. What goes up must come down and so we started dropping down the other side, unfortunately slowed fairly severely by wind. On one hand there's positive that you have a downhill to assist you and on the other you're robbed of a fast descent. We saw some wild cows a few miles on, there are numerous cattle crossings now – the road grates that cows won't cross. Bumpy. The battle waged on until a meal break at around mile 50. We leaned the bikes against a guard rail and found shade underneath a tree. There were no services for the entirety of the ride today so we packed on voluminous amounts of water to avoid dehydration. I packed the equivalent of ten water bottles. We did a stretch of 60 miles of nothing in Kansas, but this is a bit different. Normally, 25 miles to go for the day seems like nothing, trivial. Today it seemed more humbling that we still had to get that far before new food or water.

The scenery was jaw-dropping now, soaring mesas and mesquite cliffs pushing the road in curves around their mass. We headed toward Lake Powell and the blue of the rivers and streams printed on my map had largely dried up in the present day. The heat started to come on in the final stretches. The majority of the day it was warm, no doubt, but this was inescapable. It was like when you open the oven to check to see if your casserole is done and you can feel the heat of the baking on your face. This afternoon, our heads were in the oven. We pressed up one final climb and then descended to the Hite Recreation Area and the general store. Thankfully they have expanded their hours since the printing of our map and we were able to feast on ice cream and microwaveable tacos and chips and other fine Lake Powell delicacies. A gaggle of German motorcyclists showed up, looking for sparkling water, of course. They seemed very impressed by the microwave. Jordan and Jeremy had a dip in the lake while I composed some text. Afterward, we all hopped in a canyon and river wash that bordered the highway and scrambled on the rocks, and climbed up some faces, and took a few photographs as the last light of the day disappeared behind the mesas that ring the water.

We camped at the Ranger Station and were treated to 24 hour bathrooms, electricity, and a picnic table, all courtesy of the Park Service. We got through today's dry spell of nothing with water to spare, and all riders conscious upon arrival. Preparation for Nevada.

Downhill is good.

The chute.

The kiva.

The summit.

The river wash.

Plenty more where that came from.

Nearly to Hite.

Exploration.

Down deep.

Back up.

Where we were.

Badge of pride.