Utah is hot. Very hot. And there is nothing to provide shade short of gigantic cliff faces which are humanly unreachable. And there are gargantuan climbs of foolish grades which I had always thought were too steep to even build roads on.
Today was supposed to be from Hanksville to Boulder for a total of 88 miles. It also contains one of the most ridiculous mountain climbs on the entire cross-country route: 5,300 feet in fifteen miles. This is Boulder Mountain. But I'll get to that in just a bit.
I took a little break at the Capitol Reef National Monument visitor center for some shade and a cold water fountain. While there, I noticed a curious abundance of German tourists. I had met a family yesterday but as I travelled on through the numerous national parks in Utah, it became apparent that almost every other person there was German.
I noticed one thing as I observed all of the RV families circulating through the visitor center. Everyone looked so soft. I felt this way while I was on tour with the drum corps. After 80 days on a bus, surrounded by everyone else who was tanned and skinny, seeing "normals" always felt like looking at weakness personified. Everyone is so clean and pampered that it makes me feel like I stand out.
I heard one mom say to her daughter in response to her asking for a souvenir, "Just write it down and we'll buy it online- it'll be cheaper." What an idiot. You're standing in front of the ranger, you're at the park, and your kid is asking for a souvenir. Buy it or say 'no'.
I also saw a family with thirteen kids. At first, I didn't notice just how many there were because the father was just being orbited by one or two at a time, but I gradually realized that it was a different two each time I looked at him. They eventually all lined up outside for a photo and I counted them. Sure enough, thirteen. They all looked happy though.
This was one of the only families whose vacation didn't appear to be defined by bickering and complaining. Their's and the German's, that is. All of the regular American families argued about which sights they would hit and when they would get back to the hotel. What are they doing out here? It seems like a lot of people go on vacation like it's a chore- a checklist of key places to tally before the time runs out. What a waste of time.
The highlight of the day's drama was the final climb over Boulder Mountain. It was steep, I was tired, and it was getting late. This was truly the first time on the trip that I thought about giving up. I could barely move and I never felt like I was covering any ground. There were mile markers along the road to remind me every fifteen minutes that I've only travelled one mile. It was extremely demoralizing and supremely frustrating.
I took a break part of the way up at a scenic overlook where two different people offered me a ride to the top. The only thing more challenging than completing the climb was rejecting these offers. Every fiber of my soul yearned to toss the bike in the back of a pick-up truck and cruise to the top, but my mouth took over and said 'no'. I even tried to stop myself from saying it, but somewhere in the depths of my heart, I knew that if I made it to San Francisco, all I would ever think about was the time I cheated. I pressed on in misery and doubt and made it to the top.
By the time I reached the summit, it was totally dark. I had my headlamp and my rear flasher on to increase visibility on my part and that of the other drivers. Whenever I ride at night though, everything seems to come alive around me. The woods begin to whisper to me and the animals emerge from hiding to inspect my bizarre personage. They must wonder what kind of creature I am, whirring by with flashing lights and swirling legs. They all come out to the roads edge to witness my passage, and their eyes eerily reflect my lamp light. In silence and darkness, I see their green eyes around me, still and fast, watching as I pass.
Utah roads are peppered with cattle guards. These are essentially metal bars which run across the width of the road, intended to prevent cattle from proceeding beyond them. These devices are also extremely treacherous for bike tires, so I am continously forced to stop, dismount and walk the bike across.
Until the night of my descent from Boulder Mountain, I had not seen a single cow. The only evidence I had of their presence in the vicinity was the cattle guards. But as I began my descent, I saw them all lingering by the roadside and in the trees as silhouettes, staring at me. An enormous beast with glowing green eyes standing three feet from my path can be very unsettling.
88 miles from Hanksville to Boulder. Camping behind a lodge/resort at the bottom of the mountain. Crazy night...
Location:Boulder, UT
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