Jackson to Arco

George has always wanted to visit Jackson Hole and we departed 15 hours after arriving. I drove up from our townhouse in Dillon, Colorado, some 500 miles away. I stopped in Pinedale, Wyoming the first night, the base town for the Wind River Mountains. These mountains don't get as much press as the Tetons, but they are familiar stomping grounds for me; I came here in 1983 with my good friend Bob Hoffman and (with the help of a guide) spent ten days climbing all of the high peaks here (actually the highest mountains in Wyoming).

It was 30 years ago on that trip that I first developed my distaste for lightning. We were climbing Mt. Fremont on a crystal clear day and the a wall of black came in from the west. If you're up high in the mountains and there is lightning, you have to do everything that is counterintuitive. We had to ditch our metal climbing gear and go to the most exposed pinnacle around, so the strikes that hit the mountain (there were many that day) don't head directly toward you, as they might if you "hid" in a cave.

The storms did not stop so we eventually had to rappel down in the storm. It continued into the night. It was striking all around us, and we could feel the current under the pads of our sleeping bags. At one point, Bob yelled out for his mother, which was ironic since they had not spoken in years.

While not as hard hit as the front range in Colorado, this area has been mired for the past week with unusual amounts of rain and storms. I assiduously look at the radar on the weather channel, concerned about riding motorcycles into lightning. The storms out here are strong and you are extremely exposed when crossing the dessert or the flats (like we just did for 65 miles).

We decided to leave our camping equipment at home, which turned out to be a blessing. On the second day of my drive to Jackson in my Jeep, I vetured off road and stopped briefly for a picnic in the middle of Forest Road 600 somewhere near Union Pass. As I sat on the bumper of the jeep, a forest ranger came over to me and asked me if I would be staying long. I asked why. He told me that there was a grizzly bear less than 200 yards who had just had a cow for dinner. It was not clear whether the bear, that the ranger was going to try to trap in a cage, wanted dessert, so he suggested I enjoy the food and scenery inside the jeep.

Headline of the Jackson Hole morning news today. " Grizzly attacks hunter."
Good that we left the gear at home.

We left the motorcycle rental place around ten. George had lost his wallet for the second time in less than 24 hours. The first loss occurred at a restaurant in Jackson Hole last night. Usually, our loss of keys, cameras, phones and wallets are false alarms; the item is invariably located after a frenetic search within ten feet of our location, most often in a pocket. But George really left his wallet under a napkin at the table and we almost did not return to find it, figuring it would "turn up" somewhere.

George has probably already described in detail the unpleasantness at the rental place; this has not been our usual experience in renting motorcycles from this company. It was made clear that if we bring the bikes back one minute after 9 am, there will be surcharges. The bikes are pretty "tired" and each has more than 35k in miles on them. I was very reluctant to take mine; it was to low and my knees were cramped and I was worried about pain. I was not receiving the reassurance I was seeking from George that we might be able to trade off on his clearly superior machine. But the only option was a Harley and that's not what we do.

We headed out of Jackson and over to Idaho falls. Notwithstanding the awkward seating position, I love the bike I had and remembered that I had once actually owned this same model. George did not fare as well on his machine -- too light and poor steering and when we stopped in Idaho Falls, he asked to "try" mine. Idaho Falls was nice, highlighted by a picnic at the local Harley Davidson dealer, where we arrived with our green safety vests, helmets and German motorcycles, attracting unwanted attention. We passed on the free burger, but it was reassuring to know that you can in fact purchase an AK 47 at an HD dealer in Idaho, one of which was on display near a brand new Harley Electra Glice (I think they were offering a bundle on the bike and the gun).

We headed out to the dessert, the refuge of mountains and the next town some 65 miles away. (We could see it). I did not like George's bike, but he loved "mine." I don't intend to stand on the fact that I did in fact rent the preferred machine, as followers of this blog are aware that on other occasions, such as when George somehow lost a glove while sitting on a motorcycle in southern Utah (a one half hour search that still boggles me) there was never an issue about sharing. I simply gave him my gloves. But I am feeling a little more tired these days, so it will have to be some sharing arrangement.

Because the iphones showed thunderstorms ahead, we stopped in Arco (was this the acronym for a defunct chain of gas stations?) at a small motel and walked around town. Very sad. Businesses boarded up and we had a chat with the owner of a gun shop who had closed his business three years ago, because "the Mormons would not do business with Christians." Apart from its apparent history of religious bigotry, Arco holds the distinction (in 1955) of being the first place in America which was "lit up" by nuclear energy. (We passed the old reactor in the desert). As it turned out this "lighting up" involved the illumination of one bulb for about an hour and the nuclear energy was never used again. But the town still holds a three day "atomic" festival in July, no doubt drawing thousands.

The other nice feature of Arco is that there is this sandy mountain right off the main drag with various rock faces. Each graduating class of the high school goes up to the mountain and paints its graduation year on the rock. We counted back to 1923.

Well, we are off tomorrow to Ketchum and Sun Valley (where Ernest Hemingway had breakfast with this wife in 1961 and then went home and blew his brains out). I suspect we won't stay long in Sun Valley; we have never enjoyed the upscale towns and with income inequality in the press again this week (the one percent now reaping in over 20 percent of the income), we would not like to sanction or support the elite's watering hole.

We are off to a good start and I suspect that we may not cover the mileage we have in the past, but who knows? These Odysseys are rarely well planned and the five guide books in our saddlebags have not been touched. Hopefully, my knee will be a little better so that we can do some light hiking.

Location:Arco, Utah

"I Told You Never to Ask for that Again"

After stressing through a seven mile back up on the Mass Pike, an airport security line that seemed nearly as long and an hour delay on the Logan tarmac, I am now on United Flight 195 heading to Jackson Hole via Denver. Despite the delays, I am so happy to be on my way. I've been looking forward to this trip for a long time. No matter the weather, the next week will be a needed respite for me, and I know for Eric too.
Before telling you about our change of plans, I must mention one of the stranger coincidences I have experienced in a long while. The flight attendant who just served me coffee asked how I would like it. I asked if she had soy milk. She responded "Huh, what are you from LA or somethin"? The male flight attendant at the back of her drink cart looked up and said with unbridled delight and in full volume, "You're the guy who asked me for soy on the flight to LA a few weeks ago. I told you never to ask for that again." In fact, I was that guy and he did tell me that. Unbelievable! Can't a middle-aged lactose intolerant man catch a break?
And another thing; there is a fly buzzing around my $4 hummus and pita chips. I've never encountered a fly on an airplane before. It seems to me that a bug on a plane cruising at 34k feet violates the laws of science, if not the laws of the FAA. I want my $4 back.
Now the important news. From a national weather website;
"Heavy rains sent walls of water crashing down mountainsides on Thursday in Colorado, killing at least three people, forcing the state’s largest university to close, and isolating remote towns across a rugged landscape that included areas blackened by recent wildfires.
After a rainy week, up to eight more inches fell in an area from the Wyoming border south to the foothills west of Denver. Flooding extended along the Front Range mountains and into many cities. Numerous roads and highways were washed out or made impassable by floods. Floodwaters poured into homes, and at least a few buildings collapsed in the torrent. The deluge is moving north and is expected to continue throughout the weekend." Moreover, Eric reports that due to plummeting nighttime temperatures, people traveling through the mountain passes are being warned to keep chains in their vehicles.
Now Eric and I are not ones to overreact to weather reports. As our longtime readers know, we've tackled severe storms multiple times on previous trips. However, this time is different. People have died. We've decided to alter our plans and head west into Idaho, rather than north into the above described front that has stalled over Wyoming. Hopefully things will clear next week and we can loop back towards Montana for few days.
I am disappointed. I was looking forward to sleeping in the Grand Tetons' mountain air, dancing with black bears in Yellowstone Park, cliff jumping in Glacier National Park and trying my spanking new camping gear. Maybe next time.
Instead of riding his new Honda NC700 from his digs in Colorado, Eric set out yesterday in his Jeep to meet me in Jackson Hole tonight. It was a smart decision. 500 miles through mountain passes and unprotected desert plains on a motorcycle would be too risky. If the rain, wind or icy roads didn't get him, the lightning surely would've.
Now Eric is going to rent the last BMW that Jackson Hole Adventure Riders has left, a 2012 R1200RT. Unfortunately, unlike my 800GS, the RT is a touring bike that is unsuitable for our off-road antics. It's too bad. Riding remote mountain paths on powerful hybrid motorcycles is a life-changing experience. I'm wondering whether we can make it down to Salt Lake City where Eric could swap his RT for a GS. It's worth investigating.
No matter what bikes we have, or which direction we head, this trip is sure to be a blast. Tonight we will explore Jackson Hole's night life. Early tomorrow we will pick up the bikes and head out. From there, who knows. I can't wait.
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Location:Jackson Hole, WY

Day 9; Solo in Vegas

Sat., April 6, 7:55 p.m., PST
I'm here again in the Caesar's Palace Sports Book. There are nine minutes left in the second semi-final NCAA March Madness game. Amongst the din and the cigarette smoke, the pressure is building. Michigan is up by three but Syracuse is making run. The decidedly pro Michigan crowd is getting jittery.
See: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ya_-aKharaE
The tipsy woman next to me is making small talk; do you come to Vegas often, are you here on vacation, are you staying at this hotel, isn't this cigarette smoke unbearable? Come on lady. Aren't my one-word responses enough of a clue. How about the fact that I am typing on this iPad and not looking at you while you're talking? This is the Final Four for god's sake. Leave me alone. For the first game, Louisville vs Wichita State, I nursed a lemonade (free refills) and a chicken salad at the Mirage Sports Book. Thankfully, there were no such interruptions. The Mirage attracts a more




discriminating clientele of boozed up basketball fanatics.
Eric and I returned the bikes this morning after watching Margot and her soccer team play in an 8 a.m. tournament game in nearby Henderson. Her team didn't fair very well, dropping the contents 5-0 to a powerhouse squad from California.




Thankfully they later rebounded, winning the second game 2-0 and tying the third one 1-1. They play again tomorrow morning before driving back to LA for a red eye flight back to Boston. It was great to see her and to meet some of the teammates she has been talking about for so many years.
Our final stretch yesterday, as Eric suggested in his previous post, was scary, exhilarating, depleting, fun and more than anything, stupid. Next time we take a turn off of a main road and encounter a "Road Closed" sign, I, and I hope Eric, will think more carefully before proceeding.
Our intent was to shave off 27 miles and 30 minutes by cutting the angle down Route 317 (see photo of map).




Route 317 for 14 miles was spectacular, hugging Kershaw Ryan State Park with stunning mountain vistas in every direction.
That however, came to an abrupt stop. With no forewarning, 317 ended, the road changed to dirt and soon thereafter, to deep gravel and sand. Yikes! We had to cut our speed significantly. (See; http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpDRXKWuIvs ) Our tires were sliding left and right, the wobble like nothing I had ever experienced while riding. Thinking these conditions would be short lived, we mushed on. A big mistake. What resulted was 40 miles and three hours of hair raising skidding, wheel spinning and near wipeouts. (See: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FmnqErDRZgc ). White knuckled the whole way, we struggled to control 650 pounds of bike and luggage. It's amazing we made it out unscathed.
The remainder of the ride was uneventful, except for the trucks passing at 80 mph on route 93. Not fun, especially when the resulting air flow attempted to suck us underneath as they flew by.
What a remarkable trip this was. The bikes, the scenery, the many interesting people along the way and of course the camaraderie with Eric... I enjoyed it immensely. So much fun.




We arrived at the Best Western Plus where we caught a cheap meal and then hit the sack. A wild, exhausting and rewarding day.
I'll be staying here in Vegas until Tuesday. I'm attending the National Association of Broadcasters show, learning the latest and greatest about video production, equipment, trends and best practices. Tomorrow night I might attend the Country Music Awards. It depends on how I feel after a six hour conference session called "Second Screen Summit". Sounds fascinating, I know. Not! What an abrupt re-entry into the world.
Until the next time.. thanks for following.
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Location:S Galapago St,Denver,United States

"Hey Eric, let's take a shortcut."

These words have haunted us before but this one seemed to make eminent sense. We could cut the hypotenuse and save 40 miles. It was the second recommended route on the infamous "AppleMaps," which, perversely, suggested to us that it was the preferred route. The scenery looked gorgeous, cutting between two mountain ranges east of Nowhere, Nevada. And this was really nowhere. Besides it was only thirty two miles according to AppleMaps.
Four hours later, George and I slumped on our bikes and we reentered the world of paved roads on Route 93 south toward Las Vegas. We had covered over 40 miles of graveled dirt roads but these were not our friendly gravel roads that we have ventured on so often. Lots of loose gravel. First gear gravel and wobbling front wheels about to go down kind of gravel.
We saw two cars on the dirt today. Neither was friendly and the white pick up almost took me out coming over a blind rise. It was challenging and even fun. For the first twenty miles or so. And then we concluded we were really lost. The voice over the microphone sounded concerned. How much water was left in my camelback (almost none)? If we have to stay out, how cold could it get? (George never gets cold). Could I find the spare batteries for my handheld GPS? No cell phone signals out here.
The GPS showed the two mountain ranges coming together but that looked a long long way away. Off to our right, a mile or so off the main dirt road was a large semi truck and what appeared to be a 14 foot rental van. There was a meeting. What's going on over there, I asked George. Should we take a look? It seemed like a potential major drug exchange. "What are you thinking?" asked George.
You can't appreciate the remoteness of this place if you are from the east. We haven't seen a police car in four days. No one ever comes to these places. Off in the distance, you often see a collection of trailers or small homes made out of what appear to be scrap metals. We went up a few dirt roads to see these settlements but turned around quickly. BMW's are not welcome vehicles in these parts.
Fortunately, the winds were calm today and there were no tumbleweeds. We first encountered these devils in Arizona. It was amusing at first as I tried to avoid the small ones and you could see them coming from across the scrub. But as the winds picked up, these weeds became small monsters and they came into the road fast, sometimes lingering and swirling in front of us. What if I hit one? Not clear. The wheel and spokes might just chew it up but it was just not clear. So we just went slow and played dodgeball.
So we are safe in Las Vegas and the dangers that we conjure up are largely illusory. Probably the most dangerous place we visited was the bathroom at the Best Western. A very fun, challenging trip that we both enjoyed tremendously. Initial orthopedic issues that somehow got resolved with harder riding and more adventures. Lots of envious admiration of our bikes and, by extension, us. We looked the part; dusty rugged adventurers in black motorcycle suits and body armor strapped to our t shirts which we always enjoy showing off. Never ever a plan or a reservation. It will somehow work out, even if we have to sleep under a bridge. The road will take us where it takes us.
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Location:N Boulder Hwy,Henderson,United States

Day 8; Fear and Loathing in Cedar City

Friday, 6:20 a.m., Cedar Falls, 43 degrees
There are not a lot of early risers in Cedar City. I just got back to the Best Western after a 20 minute walk. I headed down Main Street and then cut south on University.




A gas attendant at the Phillips 66 station was tending to a customer. A young barista was prepping for opening at The Grind Coffeehouse. An auto repair shop converted to a make shift gym had a bunch of bulky guys, maybe Southern Utah football players, pumping iron and jumping rope. Other than that, no one.
I read Hunter S. Thompson's "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" in high school. I don't remember much of it. I do however, recall the seething rants about American consumerism and excess. As we get close to Vegas, I sense Eric's Hunteresque tendencies kicking in. When I suggested that we spend tonight on the strip and take in a show, a diatribe ensued. Yikes. Maybe a suburban Bed and Breakfast will do.
We took the leisurely trip down rte. 12 yesterday, then cut down rte. 89 and over rte. 14 to Cedar City. See Eric's entry for a somewhat accurate recap of the day.
Last night we were trying to figure out which route to take down to Vegas today. The most direct way is 182 miles straight down Interstate 15. The safer and much more scenic route goes west through Kershaw-Ryan State Park, south through Desert National Wildlife Range, over to the Valley of Fire State Park and down into Henderson. Total mileage for this route is 299 miles. After seeing the front page headline in this morning's Cedar City Daily News (see photo)




I've solidified which way I want to go. I'm not looking forward to the debate with Eric when he wakes up in a few hours.
I'm experiencing some writer's block this morning. Rather than force it, ill upload some photos and videos for your enjoyment pleasure.
Have a good day.
-George
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V-rNINaNvgg
















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Location:S Main St,Cedar City,United States

Eric's update

THURSDAY
Two days since my last entry and George is on my case.
We are nearing the end of a great trip. These periods are often characterized by a good deal of freneticism as George uses his devices to plot various side roads, filled with dangerous intersections and 25 mph hairpin turns, that we can take to avoid the dreaded safety of the American Interstate highway system. In this case, his fears are a tad magnified because it appears that the only way back from where we are is Interstate 15. Followers will no doubt recall George's experience with I-15 four and one half years ago.
It is true that he was riding a 730 pound motorcycle and his only prior experience was with a 12 horsepower moped. Still, it was hard to stick around while he travelled 20 miles an hour in the breakdown lane with his flashers on. So I elected to go ahead, flat on the tank at 90 mph safely passing the tandems trailers while George was engulfed with the whirlwinds caused by their tumultuous mass.
We are approaching 1-15 again. In fact, it is within two miles of the great college town that we highly recommend, Cedar City, home of the University of Southern Utah Nighthawks. As I write the blog, George is zooming in on various side roads that would allow us to bypass the highway. Most of them are class 3 or 4 roads reserved for four by fours. So I will likely not travel on them as we have 182 miles to Las Vegas, a very fast 2.5 hours on I-15. We will see.
The last two days have been truly spectacular. A much used term on this trip. We really recommend Capitol Reef National Park, much overlooked by its more popular and very busy cousins, Bryce and Zion. We were able to go hiking for the first time, down the Great Wash trail, aptly named because it can go from what appears to be a drive river bed to a raging river in a matter of minutes, precipitated by a thunderstorm in the Henry Mountains more than a hundred miles away. We walked down a mile or two to a slot canyon and then waddled back a mile and a quarter. Some more adventure riding on dirt roads and then a great motel (the chuck wagon in Torrey) and organic restaurant in the middle of nowhere.
We never make plans on where we are going to stay or eat. It is probably foolish but it just seems to work out. We bypassed the most highly recommended restaurant in Cedar City tonight and walked a mile to a bar that was, amazingly, even too tawdry for George. Even though it was close to 8.45 when we came back, the original restaurant was still open. It just seems to work.
Everyone is fascinated by our bikes and our story. Our bikes look adventurous and it appears that we have come a great distance. Sometimes we don't disabuse the viewers from their belief, for fear of disappointment. I had quite a spirited conversation in French today with the outdoor adventure leader of a California State University who we met at a scenic turnout on Utah Rte 12 today. His dream was to own a BMW and ride to Alaska. It was clear to everyone, including his 12 students, that he was waiting for an invitation to get on the bike and so I invited him to try George's. (His bike sports the lower suspension and this guy was about 5 foot three). Fortunately there was no mishap as George has a $1,000 damage deductible on his bike. But the point is that to many we meet, we are real adventurers, naked and exposed on the road to all the elements, and we don't want to spoil what is really an illusion. Granted it's not the easiest way to travel, but these bikes are so solid, have advanced safety equipment and are happy at 60 mph and, as I discovered on a very safe and isolated road today, equally content at 115 mph.
The intercoms are really useful. I cannot recall all the banal talk that goes on; it lacks substance but it makes the miles go by easier. We could attach the intercoms to our iphones via bluetooth and listen to our podcasts or itunes, but there is never a thought of that; George is my podcast and it's all live.
There is a great section of southwest Utah called the Cedar Breaks area and we were up there at the end of the day. You go up about 4,000 vertical feet from a dessert to a mountaintop lake (Navajo) covered by ice and snow. The temperature goes down almost 25 degrees and then 17 miles back the down side, from trees and alpine conditions back to redrock scrub and desert. You can take Utah 143 or Utah 14; it all ends up at Cedar City. We recommend both routes, and a stop at Cedar Breaks Monument at ten thousand five hundred feet. I have been in this area three times on a motorcycle; it is truly exhilarating.
So much to see and do out her. I can't wait to bring our jeep (garaged 700 miles to the east in Colorado) out here and explore the Burr trail, Moab and the thousands of miles of wilderness four by four trails; hopefully with Celia next month. My knees need work before I can come back and do the long hikes I would like, and George has back issues. We have eaten well and exercised and done our PT. Strangely and unexpectedly, our joint pain has actually lessened as these days go by and these big solid bikes purr on . . . .
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Location:W College Ave,Cedar City,United States

Day 7, Canyon Reef. Breathtaking

It's Thursday, 6:30 a.m. and a brisk 26 degrees out. It's not the kind of cold that makes you want to take cover. It's more the kind that makes you feel hearty. inviting you to take a vigorous walk, knowing that it will be 50 by 9-10 o'clock.
Another day another breathtaking sunrise. My goodness. Even the locals take pause here in Torrey, Utah as the mountains light up across the way. Janenelle, the local storekeeper, said she's watched it every morning for 29 years. No matter what she is doing, she stops for a few minutes to soak it in.
We are staying at the Chuckwagon Inn in Torrey,




Just outside of Capital Reef National Park. God's country if there ever was any. Our longtime readers might remember that in 2009 we came within 100 miles of here. Back then our time was running short and the winds were howling so we never made it this far. I really wanted to. Matt, my cousin had raved about it. Well Matt, you were right.
Yesterday we came up rte. 24 from near Lake Powell. Once we got passed Hanksville, we weaved through canyons and over mountains that completely blew us away.




We knew that we had to spend an afternoon here. We stopped here in Torrey, grabbed a quick sandwich, checked into the Chuckwagon, dumped our bags and headed into the national park for an afternoon of hiking. I'm so glad we did. We hiked down a red rock canyon for a couple of miles. Above us were cliffs, domes, overhangs and canyon sandstone walls with deep alcoves, lightly streaked with a dark desert varnish. We had the place mostly to ourselves. See video clip for a first hand look ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4V6zf-BNgjM ). It was a terrific day ended by an evening at a local restaurant with a nice steak salad for me and the trout for Eric.
I'm now sitting in the back of the general store. A retired economics professor from Wyoming is talking to a local cowboy in the booth next to me. The cowboy had an injury and can't work anymore. He gets no government assistance. He doesn't want any. He doesn't believe in in. He says capitalism may be a good thing for some people but he isn't taking part in it. His form of government centers around "blue sky, the clouds, the rain, the snow and the wind." He'll let others worry about the other stuff. His one wish is that the government would play a smaller role here in America. "I've learned to be self-sufficient. Why can't others do the same. Wy do they need to turn to Uncle Sam for so much help?"
I'm not touching this conversation with a ten foot pole. Politics and gun control are off limits. I want to get out of here alive.
Harriet, the pastry chef got here at 3:30 a.m. to start her prep. The waft of her efforts hit me as I opened the door. If I had closed my eyes I would have thought I was in Paris. I don't know what she calls all of these pastries but they are different shapes and sizes and are sitting in the glass case covered with cinnamon, icing, powdered sugar, maple frosting and chocolate sauce. I'm having the French Toast. It's to die for, made out of round cinnamon roles, a recipe passed down from Harriet's grandmother. Wowser.
Today we are going to take rte. 12 down to Bryce. This is one of the most extraordinary roads in the world. Google it. You'll see what I mean. Margot, the kids and I drove it about 15 years ago. We stayed in Boulder, UT for a night. I hope to stop there for lunch at the restaurant Margot still raves about.
Have a great day everyone.
-George
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Location:W Main St,Teasdale,United States