Purple Mountain Majesty

A local guy told me to avoid of the San Juan river valley as it tends to get hot and humid within at this time of year. But when I woke up in Bluff, the sky was mottled with clouds thankfully filtering the sunlight and making the temperature bearable. I decided to stick to the valley instead of climbing over the hills back to the larger highway.

In Western movies they seem to always hide out in crevices like this

It was a scenic road and far from flat, going up and down a hundred feet or two at a time though the canyon-like valley. I stopped to buy a cold drink at a store in Montezuma Creek and noticed a bunch of informal tents selling food. I jumped at the chance to try native street food — fresh fry bread with grilled lamb and whole sweet chilli pepper. I took it out to a nearby rock outcrop overlooking the river. It was the best lunch I’ve had on this trip.

Best lunch so far!

The muddy San Juan

The road climbed out of the valley as I crossed into Colorado. It was still hot up on these arid  and treeless grasslands, and long distances between services. I eventually looped back into the busier US 160 which I left in Kayenta. At one point I propped my bike on a highway marker post and sat down behind its shadow to rest because there was nothing much for miles.

On the approach to Cortez, at Towaoc, there is a native casino complex and the first store I had seen for 60kms. I bought a couple of 24oz cans of iced tea and downed them, and found out there was a campground right behind the casino. It was quite a fancy campground with granite countertops in the air conditioned bathrooms and an indoor pool, and they only charged $15 a night for tents. The cheap eats at the casino was a bonus.

There was a nasty dust storm during the night, the wind howled and deposited a film of fine grime inside my tent. I got off to a slow start in the morning and cruised into Cortez for lunch and checked out a couple of bike shops to see if they might have a spare part for my rack, but no luck. They had a nice city park with nice shady trees so I took a nap and digest my lunch.

Finally some trees to take an afternoon nap under

The road started its long climb up into the mountains, their impressive outlines becoming more intimidating. It was slow going and the shadows were long as I got closer to Durango. Suddenly, the road plunges down into the town, it felt like I was losing all the altitude that I had laboured over for half the day.

Durango is quite touristy, with the commensurate price tag attached to it. I had not slept in a bed for over a week and I searched for an affordable motel. I found one for $70 (equivalent to a $40 one I stayed in elsewhere) but it had a microwave oven and was right across from a supermarket which meant I could make up the cost by having a cheap dinner. I was so hungry I ate three frozen Mexican dinners and drowned them with a shameful three 24oz cans of cheap Keystone light (hey it's local) beer.

I had breakfast in a diner in downtown Durango. The serving of hash browns were so huge I could only eat half of it. I met some kayakers from Chicago who were sitting at the counter and chatted with them for a bit. They wanted to kayak the Ottawa River so we exchanged coordinates.

There's carbing up but this is ridiculous

No matter how you slice it, it’s a climb out of Durango every direction you go. I cranked deeper into the mountains. I stopped for a drink and a burrito midway at Bayfield and felt a bit sluggish. I had been riding up and down between a 7,000 to 8,000 foot elevation — it was possibly the altitude getting to me, yup, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. I straggled into Pagosa Springs with the sun setting. I saw a Taco Bell and went straight for it before figuring out where to stay, devouring a few tacos with less than an hour of sunlight left. The closest campground was still 12 km away, and by the time I got there it was dusk. I camped next to another cyclist, Daniel who was riding from upstate New York to Los Angeles. I quickly set up my tent, took a shower and crawled into sleep.

I chatted with Daniel in the morning and gave him some tips on the road ahead of him, and in exchange he described his route through Colorado. It’s always nice to talk to to another cyclist on the road, there is a certain energy and confidence that’s somehow transferred because you know the other guy has just done that route. I’m on the edge of the Continental Divide, and the 10,857 ft Wolf Creek Pass up ahead is one of the choices I have to take.

Knowing how sluggish I was the day before, I knew my body was telling me I needed a rest day. By mid morning I was sure I was not going anywhere, so I booked the campsite for another night. I had such a nice spot by the river, and I thought I might as well drink in this Colorado experience.

That settled, I went on to cobble together my impromptu “spa day”. I had some awesome fish tacos for brunch, and went to ask advice regarding which of the hot springs to go to. I found out that the cheapest place ($11) also did not mix their spring water with river or tap water so I went there and spent a good three hours soaking the hottest pools and the cooler ones alternately. I got out of there smelling like an unlit match stick. I capped my day in the town with some micro brews at the Riff Raff Pub and a truly awesome burger. So my legs feel like jelly and my tummy is full, what more could I ask for?

Pagosa hipness

One of the hot pools with sunlight streaming through a skylight

Excellent Hopgoblin IPA at the Riff Raff

The Rock Gets Red Glare

I had only seen two other touring cyclists on the road so far, and meeting five at Mather Campground was nice. We were all headed in different directions with different schedules, but it was good to swap stories. Sylvia from Switzerland gave me some good tips on the road ahead of me as she had looped down around the east from Bryce Canyon.

My ride out of Grand Canyon took me along the length of park all the way to the lesser used east entrance, which gave me the opportunity to stop at the great viewpoints along the way. I took advantage of the decent food services and had lunch before heading out into the real wilds again.

Outside the park the road widened and descended almost endlessly into the great dry valley of the Little Colorado. I have entered the lands of the Navajo Nation, the largest semi-autonomous native territory in the USA. The starkness of the landscape is dotted with roadside shacks selling jewelry.

I made it to Cameron by the end of the day, and camped out among a herd of RVs across the street from a trading post. They had no showers but luckily my reservoir water bag was still full (and warm) so I hung it up a tree and took a shower in my shorts within full view of the highway :) An RVer from Oklahoma talked my ear off until late in the evening. He had such a heavy accent and used odd words, I had some difficulty following his rapid rambling. It took me half a minute to realize that by saying he was half "Churkey" he meant Cherokee.

I'm back in the desert again, and the air seems even drier here with the stronger wind. Even standing still I felt my lips dry out. I started off early and got to Tuba City for lunch. It was well over 38˚C (100˚F) by 12:30, so I thought I would hide out in the public library to write and sort out pictures. They closed at 5 pm so I headed off into the hot late afternoon after stocking up on food. There was nothing much for a good 100+ kms to Kayenta and I knew I wasn't going to get there by the time the sun set so I prepared to camp in the wild.

At Red Lake, the first of a few road cyclists passed me and they were each shadowed by a van or two.  Turns out international teams were doing some sort of relay race across the USA. They were causing a bit of nuisance on the two-lane highway because the other vehicles had to pass the vans which were driving partly on the shoulders with hazards on.

I got to a rock formation called Elephant's Feet as the sun was setting so I thought it might be interesting to camp beneath them. I asked some local natives if it was OK and they said yes but they invited me to camp in their church yard instead. It was actually really nice peaceful spot up on a ridge high above the traffic. I set up my tent in their basketball half court and did another of my bag showers. I fell asleep watching the stars through the mesh of the bare tent again.

I was going to camp beneath these "Elephant's Feet"

The small church overlooking the highway

I got a mini lesson in Navajo from using the outhouse

The breaking dawn was spectacular, but breakfast was a meagre ration of Powerbar wafers and water. Kayenta, the next town, was still a good 80 kms away and I promised myself a substantial meal there. This area is really a challenge for bicycle touring, there really isn't much in terms of services and water along the way. It's tougher than what I remember my trip up to the Yukon and Alaska — although that was far more remote, there were a lot of streams I could filter water out of. Also, heat I could easily produce from a stove (or exertion), but getting something cold or cooling down is near impossible on your own in the desert.

At one point, Team India came up to me as I was stoping to rest and drink, and the guy must have been tired because I followed behind the van for a good 30 minutes, keeping pace despite my heavy baggage. They stopped briefly to change riders, and with a fresh guy they soon left me in the dust.

I had lunch in Kayenta and waited out the worst of the afternoon heat in two places, one of them was at a McDonalds where I nursed a large iced coffee for an hour and a half. After futile attempts to call a campground ahead to see if they had spots available, I decided to take a risk and head towards the Utah border on the only narrow shoulderless road into Monument Valley.

Looking a little ragged after two nights of rough camping

The late afternoon light on the Monuments is magical. The rocks take on a fiery red hue, sharply contrasting with the tufts of green scrub on the landscape. I reached Goulding's campsite which is nestled within one of the mesas. I was exhausted but I mustered enough energy to climb up the last steep mile into the campground. To my relief they had tent sites available and I even got a really good one with a view. The sight of the monuments glowing through the gap in the rocks was surreal.

The next day riding into the Monuments was one of the highlights of this trip that I was most excited about. I got up early because I wanted to avoid the traffic to a visitor centre a few miles down. The back lit rocks were impressive grey silhouettes as I approached them. but as I climbed up and went around, the sunlit side showed their full glory. Monument Valley is almost the inverse of the Grand Canyon experience, instead of staring down into an abyss, you look up towards impossible fingers of stone.

Riding away I was reminded by the glimpses on my rear view mirror to stop often to look back. It was a constant climb out of the valley for most of the day. By the time I got to Mexican Hat the temperatures were up to the high 90s and there was a huge climb ahead. I felt I was getting acclimatized to the heat, though, and kept riding through the mid-day.

Mexican Hat is named after this rock

one last view of the Monuments

I finally started to wilt when I got to Bluff. The town looks like an oasis, a green vein among the dry rocks, and for the first time on this trip I actually saw a river running fast with water. It was 3pm and I decided to call it a day since the town had a decent campground (yes, with grass!) and a decent barbecue restaurant :)