I first rode north from my home in Southern California, then a little east into Tonopah, Nevada. I wanted to continue east on Highway 6 but ran into a sort of stop, one of those are-you-kidding-me?-but-I’m-so-glad-you’re-there road signs. And what does it say?

 

NEXT GAS

163

MILES

 

WHAAAT!?

 

Thank heavens for that sign! Without it, I would have run out of gas, and with no one around for miles, would have wandered around the desert for years eating nothing but, I dunno, dung beetles.

 

After recovering from my shock, I checked the map and the most efficient way for me to continue east was to first go south on Highway 95, ricochet off of Las Vegas and head up Interstate 15. So I did that.

 

Then it rained. For the third time that day. I don’t know about you but for me, rain in the desert is a strange occurrence akin to something like Saturday in the Park in Antarctica. Anyway, the point at which I decided to finally head east was Highway 14 out of Cedar City. Man, oh man, what a killer choice!

 

The Cedar Breaks National Monument and the Dixie National Forest proved, once again, that what I’ve been saying for years, for decades, is right on the money: In the United States, in the entire world, there is absolutely no shortage of beauty.

 

Below clouds of white and gray and dark gray, high cathedrals of rock stand boldly above the trees, bushes, and grasses. Every turn in the road disappears into a shadowed unknown, and when you make that turn, you’re riding through a robust splendor that only Mother Nature could have fashioned.

 

The road, which was in very decent shape, got up close to 10,000 feet and at one point, don’t know how high I was, I turned a corner and am surprised to see a lake. I don’t know why that’s surprising but I do know that Navajo Lake is an elongated serenity and deserved a longer-than-usual break from riding.

 

I finally headed down to lower elevations, heart- and spirit-filled, missed a turn and forty-five minutes later pulled into a Phillips 66 gas station. While sitting outside the convenience store, I enjoyed friendly and humor-filled conversations with locals and visitors alike. A beautiful day.

 

I ended my day at a family run motel in Hatch where I got checked in by a highly competent nine year old boy. He was even bright enough to go along with one of my schticks.

 

         Me: So the room comes with a box of chocolates, balloons and a gold star for my forehead, right?

         Competent Nine Year Old Boy: Oh, that was a special we ran last year.

         Me: Dang it! I always miss the deals!

         Competent nine year old boy: Yeah, we were losing money so we had to end it. Sorry.

 

Love that kid.