Ch 13 - Kodachrome to Escalante to Calf Creek

Thought about poaching a closed trail out of Kodachrome that was a shorter route north to Henrieville.  It was apparently closed due to rockslides.  You could see it leading steeply up the side of a mountain I pedaled up to it but I was pretty tired and decided to take the paved route around out of the park.  Kodachrome is a really nice park, by the way. 

I passed through a bucolic valley along the Paria River, with sporadic ranches along the small waterway.  At the intersection of Hwy 12 there was a small lodge where I bought an Odwalla smoothie that had carrot and orange juices -- the first fruit I've had in awhile. 

The rest of the ride to Escalante was very scenic but uphill with headwinds.  I was pretty tired and hungry and passed the state park on the outskirts of town in favor of a motel room.  It required less effort and was near a little grocery.  I bought all the food I could carry and went back to my room and feasted. 

The next day, after much-needed good sleep, I pedaled along Hwy 12 to a little campground at Calf Creek.  The road passed through some crazy canyon country that was barely navigable if there wasn't a road.  Those Mormon pioneers really must have been tough to eke put an existence down here. 

The Calf Creek campground isn't as nice as Kodachrome since it's near a popular trailhead and tons of people are steaming by my campsite.  But it has water and a bench and a nice flat tent spot.  There's not much between here and Torrey which is another 60 miles or so.  It's 170 miles to Green River, where I hope to catch the Amtrak back to Glenwood or Denver. 

After setting up camp at the last spot available, a cold wind and a drizzle picked up.  I retreated into my tent for a bit to listen to the news on my Sirius pocket radio.  As the rain pattered on my tent I felt the first pangs of homesickness.  Shockingly, I am beginning to miss work.  It's probably just the rain and the mediocre campsite.  My tent is right next to the camp drive and everyone is walking/driving by and staring at me.  Should have pushed on to Boulder and gotten a room.  Or dry camped somewhere.  It's hard to know what's good until you get there.  On a bicycle, it's not like you can cruise around up and down huge hills all afternoon to find a nice campsite. 

I stocked up on lots of food in Escalante, so now I'll have a hearty dinner.  Nothing fresh, though.  I am looking forward to the next salad instead of dehydrated envelope food. 

Ch 11 - North Rim to Page to Big Water

The winds howled at the North Rim all night long, shaking my tent.  It was pretty cold but I had enough clothes.  I slept in my bag wearing pants and thermals and a fleece and down vest and wool hat.  Still pretty hard to sleep with all that noise and flapping. 

In the morning I cruised back to the lodge and mailed home my shoes, which I only needed for the Grand Canyon hike.  Then I hit the road, pedaling towards Jacob Lake, 41 miles distant. 

The winds were luckily going in my favor today, and I made the distance more quickly than I thought.  It was only 1pm when I got to Jacobs Lake, so i figured I'd push it further.  I got a room reservation at a motel in Marble Canyon, another 40 miles off.  But it was about 4000 feet lower, so I thought it would be doable. 

Down I went out of the pine forests onto the red rock desert.  Occasionally I could see the Canyon far away, as a shadowy cleft in the desert floor.  The road had no shoulder but there wasn't much traffic.  Eventually I turned away from the gusts and sailed into Marble Canyon, hardly pedaling. 

At one point i had to make a choice between roads.  One lead me north into the Grand Staircase-Escalante Monument.  But I wanted to get to a town to get supplies before heading into Escalante.   I headed towards Page, about two days distant. 

The following day, the winds were howling again.  It helped me the day before but I had to go straight into it for a time today.  It was only 9 miles but it took much of the day.  There was no shoulder at all, and I could barely pedal into it.  Side gusts would force me to swerve into the lane.  Lots of old people and Asian tourists driving rented RVs had me scared.  Then I saw a vague trail over toward the mountains that roughly paralleled the road.  I decided to take it. 

I found a place where the barbed wire could be pulled aside, and started on this trail.  It wasn't much of anything, and was mostly sand and rubble.  I was pushing my bike and could only pedal it occasionally.  It wasn't much fun but was better than getting run over. 

Eventually the 'trail' started going up into the mountains.  I pushed my bike up brutal hills and the wind was blowing sand in my face.  After another hour, I started to get worried about where I was going so I decided to abort and make my way back to the road.  I went overland through cactus and a wash and finally got to where there was a barbed wire fence.  It was pretty tall so I managed to throw my bike over it and then crawl over myself. 

Back on the road, I was only a couple miles from the junction where the road turned away from the wind.  I powered through it but it was a bear.  I leaned my bike against a sign which was shaking from the wind and refilled my water bladder. 

I did the next 20 miles into Page with no problems because the wind was now behind me.  But I needed somewhere to stay.  Hotels were really expensive.  There was a campground and I went to it, pedaling through a foul-smelling windswept industrial area.  Page has lovely scenery, but it smells like sewage and asphalt and exhaust.  No shoulders on any of the roads.  After awhile. I got to the campground and it looked terrible.  RVs smashed together in a gravel lot with a couple of rough-looking people around the office.  I went in and asked about a site and they were full.  Maybe a blessing.

It was getting late and the sun was going down.  I was exhausted.  Apparently you can camp on the lake shore for cheap, but it was an hour ride north.  I set my GPS for that and started pedaling as the sun was going down.  The winds kicked up and blew debris into my face and I swerved off the road into a driveway.  I got on Hotwire and the cheapest hotel in town  (Saturday night) was $330.  Kicking myself, I took it. 

After checking into the Best Western, I ordered a pizza which came pretty quickly.  I wanted something to drink but the coke machine ate my money.  At the desk, the girl was annoyed when I asked for my dollar and made a big show of filling out lots of paperwork in order to refund me a dollar.   After an eternity, I got my dollar and returned to my room to eat cold pizza with tap water. 

I also stayed in in a motel last night and emerged with at least a dozen itchy bumps on my hands and neck and arms and legs and stomach.  So I have been applying anti itch cream all day but it's still uncomfortably itchy. 

I just urinated for the first time in 12 hours.  I drank more than 4 liters of water without producing anything.  That's how dry it is. 

*next day*

I woke up in Page with even more itchy lesions.  I headed to the clinic, where the doctor told me it was most likely folliculitis caused by blocked pores and sweat and sunblock.  He advised cortisone cream.  I bought some and it sort of works.  Sort of.  I also got some antibiotics from the pharmacy in case I get an infection.

My main reason for coming to Page was to get camp food and some trip planning advice.  I went to "Stix Hunting/Fishing Supplies and Liquor", which was apparently the headquarters for such things.  They didn't have any camp food.  I knew the Wal Mart had it, and figured I'd have ride back there.  It was on the other side of town and up a pretty big hill.  A customer overheard my conversation with the proprietor and offered to take me to Wal Mart.   He had an old pickup that I could throw my bike into. 

Timothy was very drunk, I soon learned. He lit a smoke and the rolled up the windows because he had the air conditioning on. He told me sad stories as we drove across town in his truck.  He said he had just done a lot of work on it.  When I asked what kind of work he did to the pickup, he said he just rebuilt the 454 engine.  Then he floored it for about half a mile until we were going at a pretty good velocity.  Then he slammed the brakes, bringing us back to the speed limit.  At least the brakes worked, I thought.  We pulled into Wal Mart drove slowly through the parking lot.  He showed me a tattoo on his arm that he apparently was unsatisfied with, saying it made him "look like the lead singer of Journey".  Jumping out to grab my bike, I said "Later, Steve Perry!"  He yelled back "I ain't no Steve Perry!"

The Wal Mart had everything I was looking for and I managed to cram 5 days of food into my backpack.   Pedaling out of town with my heavy load, I passed the Glen Canyon Dam.  It is a magnificent structure from an engineering standpoint, but something of a travesty in its effect.  It flooded many miles of Glen Canyon, which was filled with stunning natural beauty and archaeology.   In exchange for this, the cities of Los Angeles, Phoenix, and Las Vegas could flourish.  However, a 15-year drought has reduced the lake to only half full.  A massive amount of water is lost to evaporation and seepage.  So, the dam isn't really even helping to do the job it was meant to do. 

Plus, it is the only reason for the existence of Page, AZ, which is truly an awful town. 

Getting on highway 89, I headed toward the Monument.  The Monument is as large as the state of Delaware and has few roads and fewer services.  I desperately needed information before I was to venture inside.  I was hoping to make it to the BLM station before it closed, but I was about 15 minutes late.  Their water faucet was outside, so I filled up my bladders and got back out on the road. 

Pedaling away from the BLM station, I was entering a huge plain with mountains in the distance.  I knew that a campground (with water) and a scenic road lay that way, so I started pedaling into the headwind.  A little later I noticed that the sun was on its way down and I was headed into the unknown.  It wasn't very reassuring so I called the number of a little motel I had passed 5 miles back.  The lady said they had a room so I turned around.  It's nice to shower.  Plus my dermatitis needs a night to relax.  The BLM office is about a mile away and they will be open in the morning.  

I ate an envelope of camp food in my room because there wasn't anything else, and maybe my pack will get a little lighter!

Chapter 10 - Grand Canyon

To paraphrase T. Roosevelt, the Grand Canyon is worth seeing.  The view from the South Rim is truly vast.  The trail is 21 miles across, with a 5000 foot drop and 6000 foot gain on the other side. I was a little worried about my hiking speed, since I hadn't hiked at all in eight months.  I've been riding my bike for almost a month but those are different muscles.

In typical form we didn't actually start hiking until noon.  It takes forever to ride the buses around the park complex, to stop at the grocery for a forgotten item, and to fix our packs just right.  But we soon departed from the South Kaibab trailhead, which descended very steeply from the very first step.

We had heard horror stories about how active Search and Rescue was in the park.  The lady at the backcountry office told us not to be "a statistic in a government chart", like the song by the Police.  The weather was unsettled with storms in the vicinity, which made it not terribly hot by Arizona standards.  Nevertheless, we saw numerous people carrying a little water bottle or nothing at all, hiking out of the depths of the canyon. Although it didn't rain on us, there was no shelter at all if a thunderstorm passed over.  Most people hiking weren't carrying a raincoat or pack or anything.  I shudder to think of how many people have a bad day on that trail in the hotter part of the summer.  It seems like there should be more warning signs at the trailhead, like we have at our backcountry gates on Vail Mountain.  There, one has to push through a turnstile with dire warnings all over it, which gives a tactile warning that one is passing a threshold.

The South Kaibab Trail has no water or shade, and is arid and exposed.  This makes for inspiring views at every turn.  We descended on the wide, well-built trail down countless steps and switchbacks. Occasionally we passed an "ultrarunner" miserably chugging up the trail.  As we got nearer to the bottom, there were fewer people.  We passes one or two groups of people with backpacks who had obviously done the canyon in one day.  They looked tired and I was glad we would be stopping for the night at the bottom. 

I was very curious about the Phantom Ranch facility.  There is a campground and also even a little lodge/restaurant at the bottom of the canyon. It is so remote that all supplies are brought in and out by mule train.  There is even a little post office.  I wondered if I could mail my backpack to the North Rim so I wouldn't have to carry it up.  I'm sure someone has asked this question before.

The campground turned out to be rather underwhelming. There were perhaps 20 sites, all crammed together within 100 yards of riverbank.  The main hiking trails passes through all of them, so every few minutes someone walked next to your site and stared at you.  Later, the guy next door was snoring so badly that we put in earplugs.  In the early morning, everybody was up preparing to hike.  It was like a miniature Everest base camp, with all the brightly colored technical tents crowded together.

In the morning, we weren't sad to leave the campground.  Staying there was better than walking through the whole canyon in a day, though.  The trail up the north side of the canyon was much different.  It had much more vegetation and water.  We walked up the wide grassy valley of Bright Angel Creek and then turned up the narrow Pumphouse Canyon (?), which was steeply-walled and spectacular.   At several points the trail was hacked into the side of a cliff and we instinctively shied away from the edge of the trail.  We stopped perhaps four times to eat food and stretch out throughout the day.  Near the top of the canyon we got into the part of the trail where mule rides travel.  This was really gross, as there were heaping mounds of mule crap all over and ponds of dark yellow mule urine filling the width of the trail.  We breathed through our mouths and kept trudging upwards. 

Finally we heard the sound of a car above and knew we were almost there.  We climbed out into a parking lot expecting to see the lodge or at least a shuttle bus.  There was neither.  The lodge was another 1.5 miles so we walked onwards, pack straps biting into our hips.  We finally reached the majestic North Rim lodge, which was full of old people and tour buses and people crowding around for photos of the sunset.  There was a buffet dinner for $26 that we quickly jumped on.  It was pretty meager by epicurean standards but I had four plateloads. Salad, pasta, brisket, mac n cheese, more brisket, and apple cobbler.  I also had a $5 bottle of O'Doul's to wash it down. 

We also had another stroke of luck in that a cabin had become available in the day before, so we stumbled over and almost immediately fell asleep.  The next morning, Jill left early on the shuttle van back to the South Rim and then to Flagstaff and Boulder.  I wondered who would make sure my backpack zippers were closed? :(

That morning, I waited around at the lodge and studied maps until the northbound shuttle bus arrived at noon.  My bike was attached to the roof and I helped the driver take it down.  Just as creaky and dirty as I left it!  I pedaled down to the campground and got a tent spot right on the Rim for $6.  It was the best camping spot of my trip so far.  I had all day, so I set about repairing my tires and oiling the creaks.  A Canadian fellow named James set up camp nearby and we chatted and watched the magnificent sunset together.  He had traveled from Vancouver on his BMW dual-sport bike and was on his way to Lake Havasu. I've seen a handful of people doing this and it seems like a really good way to travel.  You can take some dirt roads and have all of your camping gear with you.

A front was moving in and the winds steadily increased all night.  After dark, the winds were roaring our of the canyon and shaking my tent.  I found it hard to sleep with all of the noise.  At about midnight I got up to use the restroom and gazed across the canyon bathed in moonlight. I tried to take some photos but my little pocket camera is incapable of doing much in low light conditions.  But the massive depths of the canyon swallowed up all the moonlight and imparted an eerie vastness.

In the morning James cooked up some eggs and offered me an egg quesadilla.  It was hot and good and I ate it in a few bites.  After pedaling back to the lodge to mail my hiking shoes to Vail, I strapped on my bike shoes and began pedaling out of the park.

Chapter 9 - Flagstaff to Grand Canyon

Jill brought her Revelate bikepacking gear which we affixed to a rented fat-tire bike.  After much stuffing and smashing and cramming (an everyday process), we managed to get everything packed.  We had met a young guy named Jim Walmsley who worked at a local bike shop, and he allowed us to park the rental car at his house.  He also agreed to give Jill a ride back to Flagstaff after we reached the Grand Canyon.   She later tried to pay him but he refused.  He is a long-distance runner and runs down the canyon once a week.  He competes around the country doing such madness.

We cruised out of Flagstaff on the road for a few miles and then turned onto a dirt road that led to the Arizona Trail.  The views of Humphrey's Peak were spectacular as we pedaled along a well-graded forest road.  Eventually we turned north and headed down out of the San Francisco hills into sparse cattle country.  At one point I must have pedaled through a thick patch of catclaw acacia, otherwise known as "goatheads". 

These little spiny things are the bane of cyclists, and I got clobbered with them.  There were at least fifty, probably more, in each of my tires.  Although the tires are self-sealing, there's no way they could seal this many holes.  I patched them up best I could, and kept pedaling. Soon I was flat again. This process repeated itself for a few hours.  The sun was now getting low and we were nowhere near our destination.  Yet another flat... and another.  Coyotes were howling around us as I struggled to fix another flat in the dark.  We tried to ride on in the dark but the rocky, muddy trail was too much.  We ended up finding a relatively flat spot amidst cow pies and rocks, and gave up for the night. 

The following day my tires held up for awhile but I was soon getting flats again. I had used up all of my patches and sealant and slime tubes and CO2.  So I would go a couple of miles and then use the hand pump.  Repeat.  We were hoping to make it to the backcountry office at the Grand Canyon to get a lottery number for a last minute permit to hike, but it was terribly slow going.  We decided it would be best if I rode as fast as possible between pumping stops so as to maximize efficiency.  So I would stop and use the hand pump until my arms were tired, then pedal as fast as I could until my front tire was flat again.  Repeat. 

At some point the Slime tube in the front tire began to seal itself and hold air.  We were now rolling without having to stop.  We decided to sprint for the South Rim so we could get in the lottery for a walk-up backcountry permit. 

We pedaled and pedaled and finally made it to the town of Tusyan.  We had about 45 minutes before the backcountry office closed.  But it was yet seven miles away.  I volunteered to ride my bike there.  I didn't think I would make it, but I halfheartedly vowed to try. 

The fee booth had a long line of vehicles  waiting to get into the park, and I was on my bicycle in between RVs.  Finally I got to the window and the attendant told me that canyon campground permits were impossible to get, that they had been reserved for months (information information already knew), and that I would never make it to the backcountry office before it closed.  He was a real jerk about it.  But I figured I'd try anyway.

Sprinting down the maze of roads in the park, my legs were like rubber.  Finally I pulled in front of the office where the lady was locking the door.  Summoning the correct submissive tone to persuade a bureaucrat, I asked if I could possibly have a lottery number.  To my surprise, she was very nice and agreed to go back inside to get me one.  It was a great victory and I was terribly relieved.  But the real test would be at 8 am the next morning when the drawing took place. 

The next morning, Jill and I called a taxi at 7:15 am to get us to the backcountry office.  He showed up almost 45 minutes later.  Apparently he was new and was waiting at the wrong hotel.  Heartbroken and frustrated, we went to see if the lottery had taken place yet. 

The backcountry office was crowded with backpacker types all anxiously waiting.  As soon as we entered, the people in back imperceptibly crowded together so as to make sure we couldn't get in front of them.  Luckily, due to the prior night's efforts, I already had a number.  The clerk called "Number Five!".  I looked in my hand and we had number seven.  Rejoicing (and gloating), I waited for my turn.  Number Six didn't show up, so we were next.  When we were called, the lady said she indeed had a site available for the following night.  We were giddy.  The girl at the adjacent counter was not so lucky and was pleading her case.  But we were the last ones.  The whole journey to get a permit was almost thwarted at every turn, and we got one. 

Chapter 8 - Sedona to Flagstaff

My current whereabouts via satellite tracking can be found here:

https://share.delorme.com/RayDixon

After a couple of 'rest' days in Sedona (trail riding without all the camping gear attached), I loaded up and hit the road again.  The only feasible way to Flagstaff is via the 4wd Schnebly Hill road, which eventually leads up to I-17 for the rest of the journey.  I reckoned that the first part of the day would be fun and that the second half... not so much.  I was right. 

There was scattered rain in the forecast, and it began to sprinkle as I headed up Schnebly Hill.  I was the only bicyclist out there, but there were many jeeps taking tourists up for photos.  It was a long climb but my spirits were lifted by the fantastic views of red rock buttes and pinnacles.  At the top the road continued into a flat plateau of piñon forest.  It was much cooler up here and the rain continued to fall. 

Eventually the rain turned to sleet and came down even harder.  My fingertips were white as I dug into my backpack to put on every piece of clothing I had.  At one point I passed an old trailer in the woods and took shelter underneath it.  The rain eased a bit after awhile and I continued on to Flagstaff.  I was on the interstate for about 20 miles and then got on the urban bike path.  It was pretty late and getting dark and I was cold and hungry.  I fished around for some jerky and ate it while pedaling, drool coming off my lips.  I couldn't see very well because my sunglasses were coated in rain and sweat and sunblock.  Finally I pulled into the driveway of the AirBnB that Jill had arranged, and met the proprietor, who offered some chili.  I couldn't turn that down. 

Arizona - Chapter 7 - Sedona

Sedona, as everyone knows, is a real new age center.  It's full of shops selling crystals and vortex tours and palm readings and whatnot.  The landscape there is indeed inspiring.  I felt the town was a little sprawly, without a real center where one could walk around.  But there are abundant hiking/biking trails, so I explored these for a couple of days. 

The first day I took a trail up over a ridge toward the south of town, which led eventually to Cathedral Rock.  There was a creek crossing and I felt pretty cool holding my bike over my head as I waded through the water with many onlookers observing.  They were probably hoping I would fall in the water and cause some excitement, but I managed not to slip. 

The trail went south and climbed up onto some slickrock (not actually slick at all, but very sticky -- great traction).  Here the trail was shared with quite a few pedestrians toting cameras and children.  Trying to be as courteous as possible, I slowed to a walking pace when I encountered anyone.  I was dismayed when a group of five mountain bikers came roaring through the trail and almost hit me, shouting "coming through!!".  I am assuming they scared more hikers along the trail.  It's a bummer, because poor etiquette makes all bikers look bad. 

The second day I ride some more trail, this time in the less crowded northwest part of town.  It was really beautiful and peaceful.  I met a guy named Pat who had driven out from LA and we rode together for awhile.  He is a mechanical engineer and was just out for the weekend with his truck and his mountain bike.  Nice fellow. 

Sedona denizens talking about wheatgrass and bee pollen

Pat, my riding partner for the Chuckwagon trail

Friendly help at Over the Edge Cycles

Questionable Sedona yard art

Arizona -- Chapter 6 -- Cottonwood to Sedona to Flagstaff

The Lime Kiln Trail is an old wagon road that leads from Cottonwood to Sedona.  Some people got together a few years ago to resurrect it as a multi use trail.  I decided to take it from Cottonwood to Sedona.  It turned out to be variable, but mostly decent. 

It annoyed me that the state park charges $3 to ride through to access the trailhead, so I pedaled on the highway a couple of miles to avoid the park.  It turned into some desert scrublands with sand in the washes.  Nobody was out there and it was very silent.  As I climbed atop some small hills I got a view of the gorgeous red rocks and spires of Sedona in the distance. 

Coming out of the hills, I thought maybe I'd try out the pistol I brought along.  I could see for a long ways in every direction, so I didn't think I'd disturb anyone.  I found an old can and a fragment of skeet and put some holes in them, which was fun. 

Pedaling up the hill into Sedona was difficult and my butt got sore again.  I was hoping to camp near town but camping is prohibited anywhere near Sedona.  So I got a room at the Days Inn and unloaded my stuff. 

It was evening by now, and I decided I wanted to catch the sunset.  Dressed in sandals, I pedaled up the road from the hotel and saw a trail on the side of the road.  I felt pretty hardcore when I passed a couple of bikers on a fairly technical bike trail -- me wearing sandals and a baseball cap while they were decked out in helmets and all the gear. 

The sunset was nice, but I soon discovered that I had lost my bike light on the previous rocky bike trail.  I walked around through the rocks and desert until it was very dark, looking for my light.  No luck.  I've lost quite a few items on this trip and I was mad at myself about this one.  Oh well. 

Nice Sedona sunset

Shooting some cans in the desert

View of Sedona from Lime Kiln Trail