As we cycle our way around this country, we may or may not stick with our original or periodically proposed plans. The beauty of it is; we have the freedom to change course, for whatever reason, at whatever time. Nonetheless, we continually look ahead to meet the occasional deadline, weigh our options, and maintain a sufficient pace to return to the west by fall.
A few recent experiences have made this topic relevant for we three travelers. I'd like to divulge a few examples, starting with a section of road beginning around milepost 70 on highway 12 in Utah. At this milepost, heading east, we rode arguably the funnest, most beautiful descent of the trip. Looking closely at the first picture, it is possible to see the final few corners, as well as the shelf on which the road traverses the canyon. After our last cycle specific map became obsolete in Cedar City, Utah, we have been riding along from day to day, generally without much mind to the electronic contour maps available. Instead, we make note of summit marks on the map, then ask the locals about their perception of our intended route. Since most people are not on bicycles, we have found interesting interpretations of the land. Our experiences have been sometimes easier, sometimes more difficult, but always an adventure.
Once we coasted back down to the usual pace, our elation wore off quickly as we approached the steepest ascent of our trip thus far, 14%. Due to the hilly nature of this particular stretch of highway, the 20 miles we rode into Boulder that day turned out to be enough. Boulder, Utah is a town of about 200 residents, and happened to be having a pizza night at the mini mart, equipped with a wood fired oven. And since we decided to stay put after only 20 miles, we happened to make some phone calls, which happened to change our immediate bearings, which finally resulted in us changing our route to the east coast entirely; all within the span of a few hours.
As we sat at the mini mart determining our new fate, we were simultaneously socializing with the people of one of the most interesting and unexpected towns on our tour. Right smack in the middle of southern Utah exists a Mecca of instrument playing, patchouli smelling artisans of all walks and beliefs who've settled in to form a unique community. While we enjoyed our pizza and 3.2% beer--if at all possible--people began showing up for the pizza, but brought their own home brew; a sign that this place is not the typical Utah community. Boulder, they claim, is easy to get stuck when you're just passing through.
Back on the road after an uncommon breakfast splurge at the local and delicious cafe, we began our trip down the Burr Trail through Capital Reef and into Glen Canyon; or at least what was Glen Canyon until the 1960's. John Wesley Powell must be rolling in his grave. The Burr Trail is paved with the exception of a fourteen mile stretch of gravel and graded sand beginning at the entrance to Capitol Reef. The steep section of switchbacks were very exciting; the remaining 9 miles of washboard and loose gravel were not. All told, we were glad to have learned of this scenic and challenging route.
As planned, we took a rest day swimming in Lake (reservoir?) Powell before catching the Hall Ferry across. We then began our route east, then north to reach Moab for a few days of rest and mountain biking.
Plain and simple; Utah has been one of those places with too much entertainment to leave, so we've stayed a bit longer than expected.
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