Twin Falls, Idaho to Moab, Utah
The free breakfast at the motel got me going and while packing the motorcycle had a conversation with a Canadian loading up his 1985 Goldwing. He'd been making a loop from Canada through the western U. S. and was now headed back north. He said he could barely talk from the smoke of forest fires he'd ridden through. I'd had a sore throat all day for the same reason. We wished each other well and headed off in opposite directions.
Egg-like substance and coffee
Leaving Twin Falls, I crossed the huge, high bridge often seen in stunts and similar shenanigans. It was an impressive span.
I-84 from Twin Falls towards Salt Lake City was just like the previous day... flat, hot and windy... so I just pegged the throttle and leaned into the wind gusts.
Nearing the Utah border, a few mountains began to rise on the horizon along with telltale wisps of smoke from forest fires within them.
There's a far over thar...
Further south near the border there were multiple fires, so I pulled off the road and headed up a farm road to try and get closer. A large chopper was dropping water on the flames but the road through the fields began to get very deep in powder dust - about 8 to 10 inches and the motorcycle became a real handful. I decided to give up and turned around, just as a forest service truck came racing past and showered me in dust.
After my “smoke break” and back on the highway to Salt Lake, crossing the border into Utah the scenery became pretty nice, considering it was an interstate. The heat increased, as well as the wind and I made Salt Lake around noon. The traffic was "intense" - fast, congested and full of jerks going 95mph. I was dehydrated and needed a break so I grabbed a burger at a Fuddrucker's and cooled off for about an hour.
Forming my evil plan for world domination... or the best route to Moab. I'm never quite sure.
The goal was that mythical place called Moab so Hwy 6 at Spanish Fork just south of Provo was the road.
Moab was a place I knew nothing about, other than hearing for years that it was a mecca for outside activities, mentioned here and there on the internet and referenced as a name of hiking gear and other such things. When I’d seen it was generally on the way back to Texas, I had to see what it was all about.
A huge plume of forest fire smoke was rising like a mushroom cloud from the mountains south of Provo as I turned into the canyon onto Hwy 6.
Hwy 6 was a fun road with lots of canyons and scenery. The red sandstone was a new look after the mountain terrain I'd spent a couple of weeks in.
At Price I pulled off to find a cold drink and more water. I really went through a lot of fluids on this hot and dehydrating day.
From Price, the road leaves the red stone canyons and formations and drops into desert flats and arid mountains - very dry and hot.
The narrow highway was filled with cars and trucks traveling at high speeds of 80 to 90 mph and would get right on my tail. I finally got pissed off at the aggressiveness of the drivers. As a motorcyclist, it's dangerous to have someone in a car right on your bumper and adds a huge amount of pressure, since any sudden stop or variation means being run over from behind.
Hwy 6 ended at Interstate 70, which I took eastward until the Moab cutoff. That stretch of 70 has some interesting views to the north of the desert mountains. The sun was dropping as I exited south on 191 for Moab.
The terrain changed dramatically as I neared Moab, with high buttes and intense red sand and sandstone formations.
The highway began descending into a massive rift in the mountains and I found myself surrounded by red, high cliffs. It was an amazing sight to me and my smile was the largest bug catcher around.
It was almost sundown when I rolled into Moab, passing Jeep rental places and outdoor activity centers, a good sign. I checked into a room hurriedly, dumped all my gear in the room and zoomed off to ride through Arches National Park as the sun was setting.
I was pleasantly surprised that the fee booth was closed and in short order had my breath taken away by the dramatic landscape that unfolded before me. The red sandstone was beginning to look like molten lava as it combined with the reddening light of the setting sun.
At each turn I was mesmerized by the scale and beauty of the place. At the end of the day, there were no cars to speak of, only solitude and stunning scenery for this Texas boy.
As I stood at one of the stopping points to shoot a few pics, suddenly I was hit by rain out of a seemingly clear sky. It was the only cloud over the park and the last thing I expected was rain. It became an instant downpour and I'd left all my gear at the hotel so I had nothing for the rain and there was no place to shelter. As I scrambled to find something to cover up with and realizing I was going to be soaked to the bone in a minute, a small white pickup pulled up right behind me and honked. I saw a hand waving for me to get in, so I grabbed my helmet, tank bag and sheepskin seat cover, diving in the cab just as heavy wind and rain burst on us.
The cab was filled with pot smoke and the Moody Blues were jamming on the CD player. Sopping wet, I looked at the driver and said thanks, not sure what I was getting into. The woman behind the wheel laughed at my predicament and said "Boy, aren't you lucky I was here!" She was a free spirit, an old hippie who told me her life story and why she was in Moab. She'd visited years before and had fallen so in love with the park that she moved to Moab with no job, then became a DJ at the local radio station and got a house where she could see into the park each day.
This pretty well captures the atmosphere of the cab
She told me she'd give me a driving tour while it rained on my bike and we drove off. She loved the red sandstone and had spent years exploring the hidden areas of the park, old trails and caves, and said there was much more interesting things deep within the canyons than were visible to the public.
She'd seen the rain cloud forming and had driven into the park to catch "blood falls" as she called them, where after a rain, the red sand filled the water pouring off the cliffs to create red waterfalls.
The motorcycle is over there under the rain
Since it was raining she drove me around a large area of the park. She was a great tour guide and told me the best spots for images. It was getting dark and the rain cloud had moved on, so she dropped me back at the bike and went on with a wave. It was dark by the time I got my gear back on the bike.
I stood there for a while in the silence and watched the moon rise over a peak.
Still damp from the rain, the air was cold as I slowly rode back through the park and into the town. A nice cheeseburger at spot called McStiff's filled the bill and my stomach.
It had been a long, hot ride, but Moab was worth it for sure.
The Route: