Moab; Love at First Sight

I ended up staying up a bit later than expected and slept passed my first alarm and woke up at the second one at 5:30 am. Tried to sneak out unnoticed but Claire (the Dane) growled up a storm that woke Leah up and she came down to see me off. It had already begun to light up outside and I was concerned that I was going to get fried on the road to Moab. The Sun rose directly ahead of me, and the temperature with it. I was again surrounded by the beautiful dessert with an occasional canyon that would curve the otherwise straight roads. The first of which was Virgin River Canyon. The massive bare rocks rose up from the dessert and nearly swallowed up the interstate. As I was riding through, the sun hit the walls of the canyon just right and the walls reflected the light in a pure gold color. It reminded me of a 1969 Western film Mackenna’s Gold. Greedy bandits had kidnapped an old Indian and forced him to lead them to a legendary canyon whose walls were lined with gold. Upon arriving to the canyon it was merely the light of the setting sun hitting the walls of the canyon. The bandits were furious but to the Natives the sight of the setting sun against the canyon walls was more precious than gold.

Several other canyons came up and the largest of which was probably Devil’s Canyon just before hitting Moab. I was eager to get to Moab but still pulled off into the viewpoint to snap a picture. As I was mounting back up a beautiful black horse caught my attention and I could not help but pet the amazing creature. I snapped a quick picture to show a friend who breeds and rides horses.

The turn off to Moab could not come soon enough. I messaged my host Tiara ahead of time to let her know of my arrival and ask where I could find a body of water. There was the Colorado River just before town that I was hurrying to get to. The sun had baked me as I chose to ride through the hours that it beat most direct. The landscape had still been fairly flat and I passed by an airport. “Skydive Moab” a sign read out front and I decided instantly that it would become part of my itinerary in the next few days. Just after the airport the road slanted downwards ever so slightly and as I dropped in elevation the red canyon walls rose up alongside me. My ear buds blared soundtracks from the Last of the Mohicans and Dances With the Wolves. The combination of the music and what lay before me gave birth to goose bumps that covered my entire body. The feeling was magnificent.  The bottom ¾ of the walls consisted of scattered rocks and boulders and the last ¼, which was about 150-200 feet, was a solid rock wall. I could not believe how gorgeous it was and with every mile it got better. The walls of the canyon narrowed the closer I got into to town until they were wide enough to encase just the road and the river. Agh the river, I pulled over and asked several young girls that were just leaving from a swim where I could jump in. They pointed at the opposite shore informing me of a rock just at the other side of the bridge. Before they waived goodbye they asked if I had any cigarettes. “I don’t smoke!” I hollered at them, thinking that even if I did I wouldn’t give you any, they had clearly all been under 18.

I parked Cindy on a spot that looked like a base to an old bridge. The base had a straight drop to the water about 10’ below and made for a perfect place to jump in. I made sure my wallet and phone were not in my pockets and didn’t care to undress for the leap. Jump, air, then water with a splash. It felt so refreshing after riding in the mid-day sun. My cloths allowed for the fast moving current to pull me harder than it would have if I undressed and I had to hurry back to the shore. In the several seconds after the jump I was downstream about 40 feet or so, it was fast and murky. I made a note to myself to Google how many people had drowned in that part of the river. The wet cloths kept me cool for a while longer as I mounted back up and rode to the other side of the river to Lions Park to the fresh water well to wash up. The climb out of the riverbank had thick soft sand and when trying to raise one leg the other would sink in to the knee from the weight. This had caked my jeans in a layer of sand and river silt and I was glad that there was fresh running water. I washed all of my cloths and thought of changing into clean ones but ended up washing the clothes once more and putting it on wet. My system of air-conditioning was flawless. I was unaffected by the blistering sun.

Downtown Moab was only about a mile away and I pulled up to a Café to catch up on some work, as my hostess would only be available in a few hours. I had been neglecting my writing and work with all the miles that I was trying to travel so the time spent there was extremely productive. Before I knew it the time was 6:20 and I was to meet up with Tiara at 6:30 for a friends birthday party just one block away. The ride was quick and the streets were lined with storefronts that tourists were peaking through. A spa, art gallery, restaurants, coffee shops, and tour companies were among the continuous string of establishments. I parked and walked up to the outdoor patio of Eddy McStiff’s. I told the hostess I was waiting for someone and she asked if I needed any water, I declined. I sat for a minute or two and the hostess returned with a glass of water and a smile. “You look like you need it”, she said as she set the glass down. I guess my face had “I just rode 470 miles through the dessert” written on it. I wasn’t going to fool anyone. The condensation from the side of the glass collected on my fingertips as I tilted it back and the ice rolled down to stop at my face. The hostess looked at me with an “I told you so” look on her face. Within a few minutes Tiara pulled up and I examined carefully, as this was the first time I had met her, prior to this it was a few FB messages back an forth. When I was sure it was she I caught up and greeted her just before she went through the entrance door.

The birthday girl was a South African friend of hers, Zinzi, who was turning 30. Culturally 30 is a big deal for South Africans, like a golden birthday if you will. When she finally arrived she was glowing with energy and happiness. I couldn’t help myself and joined up in the celebrations as if I was one of their own. All of the guests were bronzed from being in the sun all the time. A majority of them worked outdoors doing something physical, the rest indoors but all tied into the booming tourist industry that is present during the spring, summer, and fall months. The only one was a Persian gentleman by the name of Amir, who was an engineer at a mine just outside of town. But he did not stand out and was as happy and energetic as the rest. I shared with everyone who I was and what I was doing and Zinzi’s eyes lit up at the mention of the motorcycle… I mean Cindy, sorry Cindy. I gladly offered her a celebratory ride around town; it was the least contribution I could make to her special day. As the party died down we mounted up and buzzed up to the Colorado River and back. The whole way I could feel smile warming the back of my head. I again was glad I could share a little piece of what I had been experiencing these last few weeks from atop my iron horse. I dropped her off with some hugs and Birthday wishes and Tiara offered to head upriver to a place where there were rapids and a perfect view of the night sky for some stargazing.

I unloaded the saddle bags and we only took the necessities, it felt good lightening up Cindy’s load. The ride up was dark and I had to ride slower than I would have liked to on the windy road that closely hugged the river on one side and the canyon walls on the other. It was a new road for me and the curves would hide the upcoming road in the darkness. The light from my headlight could not bend around the corner and I was not going to push Cindy with Tiara riding with me. The drops in the road would dip us into cooler temperatures and the climbs would warm us back up again. This stretch of road was a bikers dream, and I couldn’t wait to let Cindy loose on it in the bright of day.

I put myself in the shoes of the campers whose fires lined the river. The quiet night with only the sound of the river and crackling fire would all of the sudden be disrupted by a nightrider. It would first be a distant echo that bounced along the canyon walls ahead of the source, and eventually the gargle of the pipes would rise in pitch. The twisting and turning road dictating the rise and fall of RPM’s as the iron horseman navigated his way through the canyon. The pitch would climax as he accelerated on the straightaway beside our campsite and drop tones as he began to distance himself from us.

We pulled up to the parking spot to the rapids and as soon as I shut the noisy engine off the deafening silence took its place. It was unreal and when I looked up at the blanket of stars above me my jaw dropped. Tiara said it was going to get even better as the sun had just set and complete darkness had not set in yet. We began to hike to the edge of the river where the rapids were and I asked Tiara to shut off the flashlight. I wanted to walk to the river with just the stars and the sliver of a moon shining on the ground before us. It was easy enough until we got to the rocks, they lost their shape in the darkness and where you thought them to be flat they were pitched and visa versa. We managed to make it to the rivers edge found a piece of driftwood to sit on. The water was turning just several feet away from us and I tried picturing the white water with no luck. I was reminded of a Russian saying that went, “There are three things that a person can never get tired of watching, a fire, water (like waves or the constant flow of a river), and another person working. The little twist at the end got me a chuckle from Tiara. I am always weary of telling Russian anecdotes in an English version, as some of the meaning is sometimes lost through translation.

We managed to make our way back with no light and picked out a spot to lay the blanket down. The spot was on the sloped bank of the river with smaller rocks that made it possible to lay comfortably on our backs exposing to the show that was directly above us. The only thing I could muster up was “Oh my GOD” as my head hit the slope and eyes made contact with the sky. Titling my head further back I could see the Milky Way ribbon itself across the sky further behind us. Throughout the night it kept closer and closer into our field of view and eventually we did not have to tilt our heads to see it. I was amazed at the amount of satellites buzzing this way and that across the sky. By the end of the night I had counted 17 of them and they had never traveled the same path. We also got lucky and saw about 7 shooting stars. Some were faint and brief while others lit up the sky bright and shot clear across the entire sky above us.

We spent several hours looking up into nothing and at the same time everything putting our size into perspective. We were something so small, part of something so big and wondrous. The little problems I though I had diminished into a fraction of a fraction of a fraction and I could not help but smile for being part of this wonderful universe.

The ride back was considerably cooler than coming in and my T-shirt could care less about keeping any heat inside of itself. I would shiver when the low spots would dip the temperature and tell myself to man up until the warm ones would re-appear on the climbs and once out of the canyon. What a perfect introduction to this magical place. Sometimes I wish I knew how to squeal, I would have right then and there out of excitement. When we got back we roughly planned out the next days activities. First we were going to… no no no, I wont spoil it for you. Just keep reading and you will know soon enough the adventures of tomorrow.

Vegas Stripped

I worked on a hotel in Kentucky a few years back and the front desk girls just had a blast with us tearing up the place. I got a kick out of their sense of humor that would interrupt the usual flow of work. I probably laughed more on that job than any other thanks to the entertainment provided by the staff there. I have remained friends with all of them and one of them now lives in Vegas. Leah had been kind enough to host me in Vegas and I was eager to start the day with her and catch up.

I woke up to coffee and some live piano playing. I love watching and listening to musicians play. I watch on enviously as her hands moved left and right over the keyboard and fingers flashed over the keys making a beautiful sound every time they would land. It was beautiful and so much more pleasant than the wind that would constantly blow in my ears when riding. I wanted nothing to do with the strip and after breakfast we ran off to Mt. Charleston just on the outskirts of town. When looking at it from a distance it looked very two dimensional and as we started to get closer the hills that overlapped each other would separate and the environment would become more and more dimensional. With each mile we climbed higher and higher and the arid landscape soon gave way to more plant life. It was beautiful to say the least. The steep rocky slopes had cozy mountain log cabins resting effortlessly upright. Each structure had a wall of windows facing the downhill side; I could only imagine the view from inside the rustic cabins. Hiking trail parking lots popped up to our left and right and we eventually found ours after visiting one that had been shut down for maintenance. The temperature was pleasant and the sun warm. The far off rocky face looked so rough and textured. The trees stretched up as far as the soil could support them, and beyond that it was pure rock. We grabbed some gear and started up the trail with Leah’s Great Dane at our side.

At the start of the hike Aspens had dominated the landscape and as we got higher the pines and cedars took over. There was a dry creek bed along our trail and I could only image the raging whitewater that would flow through it when the rain would come or the snow would melt. We hiked up to about roughly 7500 ft (total the mountain is about 12,000) and needed to turn back due to lack of time. On the way down the sun had taken a shallower angle and the light was coming in warm and accenting the green aspen leaves. It was like walking in a fairytale. The breeze would blow the leaves into a flutter and the shadows would dance beneath our feet on the rocky trail. That was all you could hear, the wind in the pine needles and aspen leaves. I could have never imagined this place existed only 45 minutes away from the madness of the strip. It was a different planet as far as I was concerned. To each his own, some people would much rather be down there, and I up here.

After the hike I got to fire up the grill and throw down some BBQ Chicken, and make some Rosemary Potatoes in the oven. The only thing I miss about having a place of my own is a kitchen. I love to cook, entertain, and host get-togethers. It felt good to make a meal and feed the rest of the family that made its way over to her house.

Stuffed, the only thing I was capable of doing was crawling up on the couch with the Dane and watching a movie. I wanted to wake extra early and get as much riding in as possible early on so I wouldn’t have to bake in the dessert sun so sleep came right after. I was most excited about the next leg of my trip. Moab had finally approached as the next destination and I had passed by several times before without having time to swing by and spend some time there. I was excited!

Hot Mess

One of my retirement images that I replay in my mind is waking up, having a cup of coffee and watching the surf come in. I would lazily finish my coffee after carefully studying the tide and grab my surfboard under my arm and wade out to ride some waves. This morning was just like that, but instead of surfing I got to continue catching up in conversation with Mica. Everyone has a story, a perspective, and experiences that are worth listening to. An open mind is the best thing you can have when rambling. You are truly a citizen of Humanity when you are able to connect with everyone regardless if you agree on everything or not.

I would hit the road today to make it to Vegas. On the way out of town I got to give Mica a 30-minute ride to a get together she was a part of. I enjoy having people ride with me. I am excited to share with them a small piece of the experience that I have had while riding all these miles. We bid our farewells and I loaded up on sunscreen before hitting the road. By this time the sun had been beating down hard on the arid like environment of southern California.

On the way out of San Diego I hit a small spot of traffic and decided to take the next exit to grab a bite to eat. I stopped by West Side Café in Escondido and the food was amazing. I ordered enough food for 3 because everything looked so good and dessert. I happened to pay them a visit while they where filming and shooting for a kickstarter to raise funds for updating their building to be more energy efficient and green. The shoot was vintage themed and they asked to use Cindy as a prop. She got a bunch of attention and I got some really really good food.

Ended up spending far more time at the Café than expected and headed out towards Vegas around three. When I hit the road I was actually glad I had been side tracked. I skipped the hottest time of the day and avoided getting the most direct rays from the smoldering sun. I was especially thankful when I hit Death Valley. I ended up riding through it at 9 PM and it was still 102 degrees outside. I fell head over heals in love with the desert. She is so brutal and extreme; she would enjoy killing you slowly with no remorse. The usually pleasant breeze from riding burnt my skin and nostrils. It felt like I was going to have a nose bleed from the furnace like air blowing in my face. The colors that the desert makes are unmatchable. I could see where the more arid climate American Indians got their inspiration for art. As the sun went down it brought out pastel blues, purples, reds, and yellows. The colors hung above the horizon like the heat. They first appeared at the opposite side of the sun and then eventually wrapped the entire horizon just before it went completely dark. The only life I saw was at the gas station where people came to fill up their cars with gas and their bodies with water. The lack of life made the only living things present, humans, swarmed by some kind of pesky fly. I couldn’t imagine the excitement they feel when something finally wanders into this hostile environment.

As I started to pull up to Vegas I could see the straight column of light shooting into the sky from the Luxor. I could not yet see the direct lights from the city but the rays that shot out into the night sky foretold of the cities existence just beyond the horizon. The bright city in the middle of the desert eventually showed herself and I passed her by, going to a friends house just northeast of the strip. I pulled up to the house and sat on the bike like I usually do. It has become somewhat necessary. After a long ride to stop for a minute in silence and stillness to let all of that which you just experience soak in. For all of it to forever burn itself into you memory and reaffirm consciously the memories that have just been created. The feeling is amazing and my new found appreciation for the desert was one that will stay with me from that day on.

Surf Life

At this point I am racing through the trip to make it back to Atlanta in time. I have no time to visit any gyms and train. I have decided to break up the country into regions and do this all over again. I bit off far more than I can chew but it has made for one epic trip.

Left just before the dreaded LA traffic and fallowed HWY 1 down the coast as far as I could go towards San Diego. Passed up Huntington Beach around 6 am and the water was filled with thousands of surfers catching waves. The majority of the real-estate along the beach was multifamily and it seemed like everyone from the buildings had come out to surf that morning. That was probably the reason why they chose that location to live. The surf was awesome! 5’-7’ waves would roll in one after another. The beach was one continuous park that was kept very clean the green grass and the palm trees made it look like an oasis. Passed up a volleyball court area with what looked like 20 courts, all of which where abandoned and the waves that morning were far more important.

I quickly made my way into Laguna Beach and loved the small town feel of the city. The crowd was definitely older than Huntington Beach but the quaintness of it made me want to try living here as well sometime in the future. You could also tell the atmosphere of the city by how many squad cars I passed by on the way through. Law and order strictly enforced to make sure these old-timers don’t have their feathers ruffled.

After Laguna Beach it was a straight shot to San Diego down the I-5. I had a high school friend, Mica, living in pacific beach that I was en route to. She had been one of the people that planted the seed to make this trip possible. Out of high school she had disappeared into the world to ramble. She ended up backpacking through South America and lived in Australia for a bit. Her travels had taken the last bit of uncertainty out of the equation and I was convinced it was possible and more than that it was necessary. We went to a park for a quick workout to start the day and after that she took around “PB” and she introduced me to some of her friends. Every house we went to looked like a surfers tree house. The atmosphere very laid back and emphasizing the simple things in life. Surfboards hung in fishnets on the ceilings and the walls were lined with beach life art. Everyone wore smiles and had a welcoming spirit. Even with the weather relatively bad everyone was upbeat and out enjoying life. Bad weather was overcast and mid 70’s which I though was amazing! The conversations started easy and ended with promises of continuing them in the next encounter. I could not get enough. This atmosphere is so alien to me. I am always going 100 mph and doing several things at a time and load myself up with tasks and chores till the minute I drop my face into my pillow. It seemed like all there was here was free and spare time.

After several introductions to places and friends of Mica’s we jumped on Cindy and headed out to meet the mother of a good friend of mine from Atlanta. The further we got from the beach the warmer it got. By the time we were on the hilltops looking down towards the coast you could see the haze that gripped the coastline and dropped the temperatures a bit. Shehnaz greeted us for the first time excitingly and rushed us in through her gate to show us her humble abode. The house was well maintained and surrounded by nothing short of the Garden of Eden. Wherever there had been soil it was occupied by some exotic plant, flower, or fruit tree. The little trail winded around the side of the house and with each step the aromas changed depending on the plant directly next to you. The path was short but saturated with color. magic, and peace. I have a deep appreciation for people with green thumbs and even more appreciation for this woman who was the mother of a one of a kind friend of mine. I could see where my friend got her spirit. Small of stature but a giant spirit, I could tell the woman had a huge heart and a backhand that would plant you on your ass and a tongue that would scold and get you back in line if you ever crossed her path in a wrong way. She had whit and her stories kept me at the edge of my seat at full attention to make sure she would not stop telling them. She fed us, entertained us, accepted complete strangers as if they where her own and, being that she was a hair dresser, made sure that after a bit of styling Mica left her house looking as beautiful as she possibly could. I cannot wait to visit her again. I adopted her as another Mother, “Persian version”.

That evening Mica had to work so I was on my own. I got in touch with all the locals she had introduced me to and went about spending time with each of them and getting to know them. I asked plenty of questions and listened more than spoke. I want to understand beach way of life. There was a small part of me that envied it. I lived that lifestyle through the stories that each encounter shared with me and felt satisfied. Maybe one day I will not be as hectic, though I highly doubt that. I am happy this way. Accepting and completing new challenges drive me, setting and meeting new goals, and advancing on a daily basis. I think it is something that will stay with me to my grave. My father is in his middle 50’s and has yet to slow down. I do not plan to either.