Leaving the red rocks in a red state.

Utah was and is amazing. Words cannot describe it's beauty. Whether riding on the road through the scenic canyons, or some single track on the rim of a canyon; an unforgettable experience awaits. Unfortunately, as in life and on this trip; all good things must come to an end. To find new rewarding experiences, we must vacate the old.

We have now traversed the Colorado/Utah border, exchanging radiant red sandstone cliffs and sage filled valley floors for dark brown "rocky" peaks and lush green hillsides. Traveling at the slow pace of a bicycle, most things tend to transition slowly; from suburban to rural, valley floor to mountain top, hot to cold. What hasn't ceased to amaze, in our cut east, is how defined the state lines are. Quite literally from Nevada to Utah we left the cold high desert and entered the shade of warm sandstone. The temperature change alone was so distinct; it felt as if spring turned to summer in the breadth of one corner. The same immediate transition struck again at the western edge of Colorado. We rode from the set of a dusty, hot western film with red mesas and wide valleys into the set from The Sound of Music--if remade in the USA.

The distinct geographical transitions separating these states provide rhyme and reason to otherwise rudimentary borders seen on a map. It's satisfying to observe first hand that our early congress had at least some systematic ways of making their decisions.

To commemorate our change in scenery, we strayed from the usual oatmeal and indulged in a breakfast of bacon, potatoes, and eggs.

Convertible.

Converted.

Fellow travelers.

We've recently encountered two different couples touring the country by bicycle, seeking the same experiences as we three travelers.

Pavei.

Ride and explore.

Update: One more.

David Palmer.

Moab sick rock.

For the first time since Truckee, we spent three nights under the shelter of a roof in Moab. We didn't, however, rest. Instead we rented mountain bikes and enjoyed a taste of the infamous trails available. Friday morning we three travelers joined Dan's aunt and uncle, Andrea and Grant, for a ride over the slick rock. Friday evening, as our hosts rested, we went for an evening spin up the Amasa Back Trail. Then for the grande finale, Saturday morning we took the Coyote Shuttle up to the Hazard County trailhead to ride most of "the whole enchilada." The mountain biking in Moab has much to offer, and we only scratched the surface.

It's now time for us to end our extended journey through beautiful Utah, say goodbye to the sandstone, and begin cutting true east through Colorado and Kansas along the trans-America bike route. We expect Colorado and Kansas to move by quickly, and are hoping Missouri won't be too hot, too muggy, or too hilly. I'm excited to cross the great divide, and am looking forward to the cultural changes we are facing as we near the Midwest.

A special thanks to Andrea and Grant for feeding us and sharing their cool and spacious rental for their extended weekend vacation.

"There are no losers in ice cream racing."

Look closer, you'll see the road.

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.

Bryce Almighty.

Bryce Canyon is a great place to learn about and see the effects of erosion. The amazing hoodoos stand in line, crumbling progressively shorter and skinnier as the canyon walls recede further away from them. Most fascinating is the uniformity of the sediment layers in the vast groupings of the hoodoos. Since these towers were at one time part of the complete canyon walls before erosion left them exposed, the sediment composition is identical. Some layers are more susceptible to erosion making them skinnier; all the layers vary in color; and in all of these differences between the layers, one thing remains the same, they're all the at the same level on each hoodoo.

As I mentioned previously, access to Bryce Canyon is from the top. The first glance into the canyon is from above, which provides an angle for sufficient appreciation, but to really experience these amazing feats of geology, one must walk down to the bottom and look up.

In our 36 or more hours in the park, we attempted to watch the sun both set and rise on the hoodoos. Unfortunately for the former we were too late, and for the latter we lost the sun in the clouds. We did however take advantage of our one full day by taking a hike on the Ferryland Trail.

Bryce may not have made the cut to be a wonder of the world, but it certainly is of America.