Et Tu, Utah?

First full day in Utah. Let's see how this goes.

The plan is to cover 128 miles from Blanding to Hanksville. On the way, there will be a 74 mile gap with absolutely no trace of humanity and then a 50 mile gap after that. In between is a little Park Ranger Station at Lake Powell where there may be a store. I have a couple of Gatorade bottles saved and along with my normal bottles, I should have enough water to make it through.

It doesn't take very long before I find myself surrounded by enormous cliffs and Mesas. In all directions I can see the layered steps of limestone and sandstone and other stones reaching thousands of feet into the sky. Each Mesa displays a uniform succession of eroded materials which at one time were each river banks. I can clearly trace the pattern of water erosion as the rivers cut through the land to create these massive canyons. All that remains now is but a trickle of muddy slush running through tiny cracks far beneath me. I am at once amazed by the enormity of these features and awestruck by the vision of what this earth once looked like.

After several miles of stunning scenery, it becomes clear that I am totally alone. It hadn't occurred to me until I slowed to a stop for a drink of water and upon the siezure of my tires against the pavement I heard absolutely nothing at all. Without the wind whizzing past my ears or the hum and clicking of my bike, there was no sound at all. No animals, or at least any that wish to be hears, no water, no people, nothing at all. As I scan the panorama I realize that I have begun to experience a sensation which almost never occurs in normal life- I am totally and utterly alone. There is no one in the next room or down the street, no one upstairs or walking past, no one at all as far as the eye can see and to the end of the earth.

I press onward, allowing myself to enjoy and savor this truly rare sensation. The sun grows hotter as my shadow catches up to me, but I mustn't allow this to effect my state of mind. The moment I focus on the heat, I will surely be overcome by it, so ever onward I go with my mind focussed on the goal and my body focussed on efficiency.

I continue to drink water as though it were medicine. Before I thirst and before my mouth becomes parched, I force the water down. I am conscious of the fact that the water I have must last for another 50 miles at this point, so I am careful not to waste it. I have already travelled 25 miles and seen nothing but the road which would indicate the presence of civilization, so it would be unwise to assume that I'll be able to fill up before Lake Powell.

The geography out here is magnificent. I think I might enjoy it more from an RV, but even with the hot rocks reflecting heat upon me and the endless road ahead taunting me, I am humbled and amazed at every turn by the grandeur of this beautiful landscape. I find it hard to imagine that it was all once full of water and ice. The stripes of red and white stone are a reminder that everything before me was deposited one layer at a time and eroded in the same fashion. Things like this make time feel so insignificant. Durations which are incomprehensible to the human mind have forged structures and landscapes which will continue to grow and change long after the human race has faded.


Eventually, I see some buildings way out in the distance. The road I am on cuts down the side of a Mesa and curves to the North a few miles ahead. Right at that curve, I can clearly make out man-made structures. They are far, but in view. I should reach them in about fifteen minutes.

Steadily I approach, squinting and straining my eyes to better make out the nature of these buildings. I see some RV's parked there too, but there is nothing on the map. As I come in close enough to read the sign, I am instantly relieved to see the words, "Fry Canyon Lodge".

A hotel! I can fill up my water bottles and maybe even take a little break! I pull off the road to go in, but just as I exit the pavement onto the dusty stone drive, I notice a fence in front which reads, "Closed". Out here, that usually means forever.

I stand before the gate, staring at the sign, scanning the building, looking around in all directions. It takes a moment for my mind to react to this sudden shattering of hope. I feel paralyzed as I stand motionless, gazing toward the lodge. Once again, silence. I'm alone again. This place is abandoned.

It looked so fresh and pristine from afar, but upon arrival I discover nothing but a dusty and worn old hotel which has probably been closed for years. I decide to park my bike against the fence and take a look around. After all, I was mentally prepared to take a break, so there is no way I'm just going to hop back on the bike and shove off for another fifty miles of barren wilderness.

I walk along the fence toward the side of the property when I notice a break in the enclosure. Still a bit weary on a count of the total silence, I cautiosly make my way toward the building. It is now that I begin to experience an eeriness most likely attributable to having seen too many thriller movies. My gaze zips from side to side, scanning all of the windows and attempting to prepare myself for some horribly disfigured cave person to appear in one wielding a rusty pipe. I am truly disturbed and beginning to seriously doubt my safety.

Deep down, I know that this fear is just the result of years of creepy folklore and horror movies causing me to imagine the worst, but still my hair stands on edge as I slowly and quietly survey the area. A ha, a pump!

I rush over to the pump through some tall grass and stones, lift the handle and brace myself for a torrent of fresh water. Nothing. The well has dried. But then I notice another pump about fifteen feet away. I try this one and voilà, water! I quickly head back to the bike to retrieve the bottles I have emptied and swiftly return to fill them up. What a find...

I take a nice gulp of water and scarf down a granola bar. Now I can move on.

Fast forward through more dramatic and awe inspiring scenery to Lake Powell. I've made it to the Ranger station and lo, the store is open! I mentioned the creepy abandoned hotel to the Ranger, who in turn said, "Oh yah, they closed that place a while back... Something about bad water."

Really...?

Good thing I drank from the rest of my original water before dipping too much into the Fry Canyon Lodge water... Come on, Utah. So this is how it's going to be?

Anyway, many more miles through dusk and darkness to Hanksville. That old sensation of lonliness and silence takes on a special from when accompanied by utter darkness, by the way.

128 miles, made it to Hanksville, many interesting sights and unsounds, Utah is going to be tough.

Location:Hanksville, UT