Conquering Fear (Off Road on a Yamaha XT 225)

Remember my pathological fear of riding upon anything that is not smooth asphalt?

LOOK WHAT I DID!!!

Bajada Loop Drive in Saguaro National Park, Western Division

That’s right!  That’s me, fishtailing about in sand!  On purpose, even!

In a great act of generosity and trust, a local Tucson rider (who hardly knows me, even!) loaned me her mini dual sport motorcycle to drop*, errr, I mean, ride.  Perhaps it was karma for loaning my Kawasaki for off road experimentation years ago.  Make no mistake, I adore my Ducati, but there is something delightfully liberating about riding a bike you don’t mind dropping.  I mean LOOK at this thing…

You gotta love race track apparel on what I’ve been calling the “little burro,” aka “Eeyore”.

 
Who CARES if it falls?   And it’s so light, I could land it upside down in a ravine and still be able to haul it out.  (Maybe.)  This bike is everything the Ducati is not:  Ugly, utterly devoid of any power, eminently droppable and fixable with a plastic spork.  I LOVE it!

Remarkably, I would actually voluntarily repeat this activity.

So I did!  This time up Redington Pass.  No deep sand, but now a dirt road with hills and switchbacks.  I’ve often wondered the point of going off road (especially as a passenger) if there isn’t a prize at the end of the line.

How’d ya like to have Pastrami Gorgonzola sandwiches* HERE?

Tanque Verde Falls.  A cool, deep pool, smack in the middle of the 100+ degree desert.  Waterfall included at no extra charge.  That makes TWO miracles.

Now I find out this little Yamaha XT225 is mine for the buying.  I may not be able to stop myself.

I am SO ready for the Dakar.


* Make gnocchi with Gorgonzola sauce (butter, cream, and Gorgonzola of course).  Use the leftover sauce for a sandwich spread.  Genius, thank you very much.
** As of this writing, I have not (yet) dropped the bike.  No one is more surprised than I.

Zion National Park – What I Did THIS Summer

What did I do this summer? I worked.  A lot.  And when I wasn’t working, I was practicing.  A lot.  My car died and left me stranded in Utah, and my dog, motorcycle, trailer, stuff and I hitched* a ride in an un-air-conditioned van with only one operating window to get home to Tucson.   My dog passed on to greener pastures soon after our return (not due to the hot as hell journey, for the record), and one of my jobs got really wonky, which is going to make the next eight months a real challenge.  (I am vehemently - and I mean vehemently! - opposed to my new and  highly unimproved seven day work week.)  Not the best summer, I’d say, but there was one wonderfully bright spot.  One precious four day respite where I packed in 800 miles on two wheels, 27 miles on two feet, 1028 river crossings (approx) and 1 scratched camera lens.  Go big or go home, don't you think?

Zion National Park! 

Inspiration Point

No doubt the rain opened up a few campsites.  Usually the park is full for the months of July and August, but we were lucky and secured walk-in a spot (late in the afternoon, even!) at South Campground.

Riding Hwy 9 (Mount Carmel-Zion Highway) again.  Unlike last year, this year I was allowed to stop and take pictures.  Except I didn’t.  Because it was raining.

After setting up camp, we stretched our legs in the drizzle on a short hike to the Emerald Pools. The pain you feel upon discovering your camera lens is fatally scratched is directly proportional to the grandeur of your location.  Ouch.  I’m glad I had a little back up Lumix in my tank bag.

Dusk on the Kayenta trail, as we return from the Emerald Pools.  The pools weren't so emerald in the rain.

Good morning, Ducati!  Time to hike to Inspiration Point (shown in the first photo of this post.) 



We got a little off trail here, but it was worth the trouble.  I thought the only place you saw stuff like this was the cover of Utah guidebooks.  Magical to see it for real!



We sacrificed a chance to hike to the famous (and treacherous, I'm told!) Angel’s Landing that afternoon to complete preparations for the next day, our one chance to tackle “The Narrows – Top Down.”  Listed as one of National Geographic’s “America’s Best 100 Adventures,” this 16 mile river trek brings the hiker down the Virgin River, through graceful pastures, by spouting springs, past waterfalls and hanging gardens, and into majestic and mysterious narrow gorges with walls soaring up to 2000 feet overhead.  The slot canyon sections (marked on our map in a caution tape shade of  yellow as "NO WAY OUT!") meant that flash flooding could be a real danger.  I was only willing to attempt it if the flash flood potential rating was “low”.  A hopeful inquiry at the back country permit office revealed that it was high today, medium two days later, and on the day we had designated for the expedition… low!  We slapped down ten dollars for our back country permit and took some time to strategize our gear and transportation.  Dry bags, shuttles, and enough food to get me to the moon and back (plus a little extra).

Food find!  The Springdale Candy Company is a cut above your typical country fudge shack.  As a reward for our research and prep, we took critical tastebuds to dried apricots, candied oranges and candied ginger, all covered in lustrous velvety smooth chocolate.  We absolutely could not pick a favorite.

Quality stuff

Well before dawn, we stumbled and yawned by the light of headlamp about a mile to our shuttle.  It stung us more than a little, but logistics did not allow for the two motorcycle arrangement (the hike is not a loop), so we reserved shuttle seats with the Zion Adventure Company.  With a bit of a shrug, we rented the strongly recommended neoprene socks (to wear with our hiking sandals) and hiking sticks.  The ride to our starting point of Chamberlain Ranch would take an hour and a half, consuming precious daylight, if the shuttle could make it through the slippery mud at all.  If not, no hike for us!

We hit the trail and cautiously dipped toes into the gently flowing stream…  HaHA!  We are INVINCIBLE!  The All Powerful neoprene socks protected us from cold water, sharp rocks, flash floods*... even my pedicure handily survived the assault of 16 miles of toe bashing.  And my hiking stick?   How I HATE YOU.  Must I drag you along for the entire day? I considered abandoning it, and paying a fee for its, um, "loss."

We begin in gently rambling pastureland.  The value of the neoprene socks was made immediately clear. The powers of the hiking stick would be revealed later.

 

In order to find the smoothest route, we crossed the river more times than we could count.  I wonder if the 16 mile estimate takes this into account.

Not too deep here. Yet.  Even so, I was beginning to suspect that stick was going to make itself useful.  The method? Plant stick against current, stumble, stumble.  Plant stick against current, stumble, stumble.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  Approximately 1028 times.

Pretty deep here!  I do believe I was being washed away towards a small but threatening waterfall (not shown). I can thank my hiking partner for photographing the moment.  As you can see, real dry bags are essential equipment.  A zip lock bag is not going to do the job.  We had to swim a number of times.

And after we made our first really deep, really serious, perhaps even a teensy bit scary river crossing?  Oh, hiking stick!  Where have you been all my life?

Bestowing blessings upon the previously despised hiking stick at the end of the day.  We were told that trekking poles would not survive the trip, and when we got to the end of our hike, we believed.

 

I do believe I have never been on a more simultaneously awe-inspiring and heart breaking hike.  This is truly the stuff that defines our American West - grand and wild, and achingly beautiful.  Yet  we had so little time to sit back with mouths agape at the wonder of it all.  As we calculated our progress using landmarks and a timeline, we soon realized that if we continued to hike without stopping we would (hopefully) reach Sinawava Point (the end of the trek and the northern most shuttle stop in the park) around sunset.  Pause to unpack the 2lb (that doesn’t count the lenses!) dSLR camera I had been lugging (not mine), along with the necessary tripod (the low light conditions of a slot canyon really demand one) and we’d be bumbling over that tricky terrain in the dark.  No thanks.

Press on, press on!  And so we did, snapping grainy, blurry photos in the few moments that were not fully occupied with river crossings and unstable footing, using the waterproof camera (also not mine) attached to my pack by a retractable lanyard.  Thank goodness for that!

Constraints of time, equipment (because we didn’t have time to unpack the drybags that held the good stuff) and light really hampered our ability to capture this spectacular place on film.  This photo comes close, though, which is why it is one of my favorites.

Even though we breezily complete mountain hikes in half the published projected time, this hike humbled us like no other.    Slogging almost the entire 16 miles through a rushing river and over slippery rocks and boulders (there is no actual “trail”) is slow going and hard work.  And, (what luck!), the usually clear water was muddied from the rain in the days before, making all those algae covered stones invisible.  We had to test the depth of the water and find secure footholds for each step by feel using our feet and hiking sticks.   The river flow that day, measured at 81 cfs,*** was enough for me.  We found ourselves neck deep (or swimming) plenty of times and I was, quite frankly, simply washed away by the current more than once.  In the end, we would need every minute of the listed 12 1/2 hours for our journey, and surely would not have emerged before dark without the aid of our hiking sticks.  Although completing this trek in one day felt like a lifetime accomplishment, I don’t recommend it as the best way to appreciate its richness.  If time had allowed, it would have been far better to make use of one of the back country campsites along the way, allowing two full days to explore this magical route.  Next time, (the more I do, the more my “to do” list grows!) I’ll hike in and back out from the south end, covering far fewer miles yet somehow seeing much so much more.   And that would leave me just about enough time to take in Angel's Landing, too, no?


*Okay, “hitched” gives the wrong impression.  The driver of said van was caravaning with me to begin with.
**Not really.
*** Cubic Feet per Second.  Anything under 70 is considered ideal or “easy,” 80 is on the upper end of “mild" (good grief, knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t sign up for the “moderate” rating of 100 cfs),  and thru permits (needed to hike “Top-Down,” as we did) are not issued at flows greater than 120 cfs.  The average for the month of August is about 50 cfs.

What I Did (Later) Last Summer: Part Five (Picking Up Some Loose Ends at Mesa Falls)

Remember my Yellowstone/Tetons ride from 2009?  The one where I couldn't manage a photo because of the violent wind, and where I missed Mesa Falls completely thanks to road construction?  Well I corrected both those omissions on a little weekend ride in Idaho in August 2010.  Here are a few photos.

Hello, Idaho!  Hello, Idaho Potato!

The Tetons as seen from their western side, near Driggs, ID.  Yes, I think this route earns the name "Teton Scenic Byway."  The view was every bit as captivating as in was in 2009, but this time I could stop to take a picture.

Upper Mesa Falls, one of the "two last undisturbed waterfalls of consequence in the US."  Weirdly, I don't think I have a photo of Lower Mesa Falls.

And, because I am a map geek , here's the approximate route.

As for the rest of summer 2010?  Well, I told you about that already.  Last summer.  Of course.

What I Did Last Summer (Hwy 12 Reprise Part Four: Capital Reef and Cafe Diabolo)

In my eternal race to beat the setting sun, I declined a kind invitation for coffee by the Ducati Instigator to head to my next destination.  Even though it was too early in the season to harvest apples, plums, pears, quince, and cherries, wouldn't it be a lovely "Eating of Two Wheels" activity to camp beside an orchard of heritage fruit trees? I must have not been the only one to think so, because there was no vacancy at Capital Reef National Park.  Nada. Still, I couldn’t leave without a short tour of a that glorious place.

This orchard is right next to the campground.  Self serve!

Although just on the other end of Highway 12 from Bryce Canyon  and its hoodoos that remind me of the muddy sand castles I made as a child, Capital Reef looks entirely different. Surely these cliffs are the product of God's giant chisel? And Zion National Park, also just a short ride away, with its swirling waves frozen in time - how is it that these three parks be so close on the map, yet so utterly unique?

I set up an alternative camp at Sunglow Campground,  not far from Cafe Diabolo in Torrey, UT, kitchen of Honda riding chef Gary Pankow, and home of some seriously tall food.

I pilfered this shot from across the dining patio.  A towering skyscraper of... lamb?

 

Rattlesnake cakes with three sauces?  Delicious!

The pumpkin seed trout had entirely too much going on for one plate.  If you could eat plaid, this was it.

Next time I’m in the neighborhood, I look forward to trying  Hell’s Backbone Grill, delightfully located on Highway 12 in Boulder, UT.  I’ve ridden by it at least four times over the years and have been mysteriously oblivious to its existence each time.  I only recently just heard of it, and it looks very promising.   My “Next Year, Next Year" list continues to grow faster than my backlog of blog posts.

Back to camp, where I chatted with quirky postcard photographer Mark Smith, and on home the next morning.

What I Did Last Summer (Utah Scenic Highway 12 Reprise Part Three: A Fateful Meeting at Calf Creek Falls)

Now that the dust has cleared from the meteor called August* that smashed into my life, I can continue with this little series on Summer 2010.  (Actually, September is a meteor of another sort, but one of my own design, so at least I could prepare for it. Which isn't meant to imply I was ready for it.)

ANYWAY…

June in Utah can be… cold.  It was so cold the night before in Bryce Canyon I couldn’t sleep.  And while I can usually count on the wrestling, struggling, swearing and panting required to get my sleeping bag into its dry bag to warm me up, it was too cold even for that to be effective.  I was nearly beaten by that daily athletic event, yet my teeth were still chattering.  Breaking camp and loading up that shivery morning wasn’t the highlight of my trip, but even so, as I rode out of the park, I wasn’t sure if the tears stinging my eyes were solely from the weather.  How lucky I am to be here, in these wonderful places, doing what I love to do!

Good morning, Highway 12!  Special Bonus: I had time for the short hike to Lower Calf Creek Falls. This would serve me well, as you will soon see.

I love these stripey rock walls.

Not quite three miles in and Lo!  Lower Calf Creek Falls appear!

The falls in all their glory.  Next year, next year… the upper falls, from a shorter but more difficult trail.

A friendly hiker at the falls noticed my awkward attempts at a self portrait and offered to take my photo.  We hiked back to the parking area together, and I learned that he too, was a motorcyclist.  Do you remember, back in 2009, the day I fell in love with the Ducati 696?  Not only faster than my Kawi, but lower and lighter, too.  Sadly, I never did find that extra $10,000+ under the couch cushions, and had ruled it out as an impossibility.  But fate, in her mysterious ways, would put this unsuspecting starving artist in the saddle of shiny new bike before summer's end.  A few weeks later, this friendly hiker (who would later become my Most Excellent Tour Guide)** would search for and post a Craig’s List ad for a practically brand new Ducati (but, remarkably, in the same solar system as my budget - Pluto to be sure, but still the same solar system) on my Facebook Wall.  Thanks to this chance meeting on the trail, in little over a month’s time I’d be the proud owner of my “little pony.”  Who knew?

*Pack and move home from UT, dead car leaves me stranded in UT, ridiculous alternate transport home to Tucson, job goes wonky, find affordable reliable new-to-me-used car (Hah!), beloved doggie moves on to greener pastures… I think that’s plenty for one month!
** My METG took me on a most unexpected tour last week, the description of which is approximately fifth in the line of blogposts held up on the runway.

What I Did Last Summer (Hwy 12 Reprise Part Two: Bryce Canyon)

In June 2009, I rode through Bryce Canyon, but didn’t plan time to hike.  (It was just as well, I got rained on most of the time, anyway.)  But it hurt to look down into that fairyland of pink and orange hoodoos and then ride away without exploring further.  I decided then and there that in 2010, hiking in Bryce Canyon would be a touring priority.

I had some serious business to accomplish on the way, however – sport riding on Fish Lake Road.  Fish Lake Road! – the very place I fell in love with sport riding, in my pillion days. Back and forth, back and forth, all afternoon, each time faster…    Now it was time to enjoy Fish Lake road from the cockpit end of my own motorcycle.  That was the plan, anyway.   Ever ride a motorcycle in a 40mph crosswind? It takes a bit of adjustment to stay on your path. All well and good until – whoosh!  Gust!  The wind puts you, momentarily, over THERE!.  And then, for a split second, the wind lets up. Whoa!  Now you’re over HERE!  It took a lot of effort just to keep the bike between the lines even at a conservative speed.*   So much for tearing up the asphalt.  Next year, next year…

I arrived at Bryce Canyon exhausted from a day of battling the wind, but happy. I got the very last spot at the campground near the trailhead. I could park the bike for the rest of the day without worry, and go on a short hike before sunset.  My Canon G11, the replacement for the Lumix that kicked the bucket a month earlier in Colorado, endured its first sandstorm on the trail.  (No, the wind hadn’t let up.)

Rock formations on the Queens Garden Trail

I had planned to squat on my campsite for two nights, allowing me a chance to hike down to the bottom of the canyon the next morning.  Here are a few views from the Navajo Peekaboo loop.

I’m going down THERE.

 

Some steep switchbacks start me on my way down, down, down...

 

I was the first to spot this rockslide, blocking the trail.  The trail was closed later to clear path.   I’m glad I got up early!

A closer view of the “hoodoos” that make this canyon famous.

One of the many windows in the “Wall of Windows”

I’m a fast hiker. That meant I had plenty of time left for a nice 250 mile day ride across the Markagunt High Plateau Scenic Byway (next year I really must detour to the Cedar Breaks National Monument via UT 143...) through Zion National Park and back to my campsite before dark.  I knew there would be construction on the road through the park, but never having been there, I figured it would be worth the trouble.  What I didn’t plan on is not being allowed to stop to even take a photo!   Just as I had vowed to make Bryce Canyon hiking a priority for 2010, Zion had become my June 2011 priority.  Except, that tour was cancelled. The mantra continues… “Next year, next year...”

Good night, Bryce Canyon!  Sunset from the Rim Trail.

* This phenomenon is exaggerated if you're riding a small, light bike (like my Kawasaki, and even more - or less - so, the Ducati) and you, too, are small.  (Easy enough for a speedo to read more than the bathroom scale.)

What I did last summer (Hwy 12 Reprise Part One: Starvation Lake via the Mirror Lake Scenic Byway)

I had to forgo my annual June tour this year.  It a damn shame, really, since this is my first summer in Utah with the Ducati, but I had good reasons.  In any case, I guess that gives me the opportunity to write about what I did last summer.   And to think I was feeling bad that I didn’t tell you about summer 2009 until May 2010.

Do you remember my June 2009 tour?  The Kawasaki and I finally struck out to ride southern Utah on our own, to visit beloved Hwy 12.  Hurrah!  I rode in the rain.  And in more rain. And the restaurant was closed.  And then thunder.  And lightening.  And hail.  So, in 2010 I thought I’d give southern Utah another chance.

I had thought there was a lot of snow in the Uinta Range the year before.  In 2010 all the side roads off the Mirror Lake Scenic Byway (which I recently learned is Utah's highest paved road) were unplowed, with several feet of snow on them.  You would have needed a snow blower to camp.  (2011 would prove to be even snowier, as you saw here.)




I love Utah - blue water, red mesas and snow, all in one frame!




I camped my first night at Starvation Lake State Park, about the only established camping anywhere in the area.  Not much to do there in the way of hiking, but it was a fine enough place to put up my feet after a day of riding.  There’s an OHV (Off Highway Vehicle) area in the park, for you dirtin’ folk.



Starvation Lake?  I don't think so!  I was hoping for a dinner invite at the barbecue area, but these fish were heading to proper kitchens in proper houses.  I crunched my dry granola dinner while visions of freshly grilled tender white fleshed perch swam laps in my head.




I didn't feel too sorry for myself.  Dinner plans awaited me further south...

All Work and One Tank Rides Make Jill… Heed the Call of the Open Road and Go for a Proper Ride

Since making my annual summer migration to northern Utah this year, I’ve limited myself to a few “one-tank” rides, primarily Logan Canyon and Blacksmith Fork Canyon (which I’ve always incorrectly referred to as Hyrum Canyon.)  I’ve got a substantial work load this summer, plus a project brewing on the side, so the flute-less days are going to have to be rare exceptions.  I decided today (which means Monday in Blog Daylight Savings Time) must be one of those exceptional days.  Really, it was time for a proper ride, and the camera was not invited.  Like I said in earlier posts:  100 miles is: Not. E.  Nuff.

Plus, I replaced fuse No. 3, (“consumers”), after it blew on my last ride.  I needed a good long ride to establish whether or not this was a fluke.  Right?  Wrong.  The fuse blew again after 12 miles, depriving me of my horn (“What’s a motorcycle horn good for," asked my motorcycle safety instructor?  “Absolutely nothing,” he answered for the class.), my right turn signal (I can bend my left arm, so no problem there), my high beam flasher (don’t use it), my menu button, (really, should you be messing with your on-board computer while riding, anyway?), and a reliable clock (That one could get me in trouble.  Try explaining that to the maestro whilst clambering over your colleagues into your chair in the orchestra pit to the sound of the oboe’s tuning A.  It’s just not done.)  Whether or not I am deprived of anything else from this malfunction I do not (yet) know.  Why is the fuse blowing, is the obvious question.  I guess I’m going to have to look into that wiring harness recall I’ve heard about, which will require a trip to the dealer.  The dealer is almost 100 miles away, and my few days off over the next 5 weeks are on Mondays, which is exactly when  motorcycle dealerships are closed.  But I’m thinking outside the box on that one.

Whatever.  This ride is not being called off after 12 miles. This show is going on.

So, three states, three National Forests, three scenic byways, (lots of threes, huh?), two sandwiches (one of cheddar and Swiss chard, the other of vanilla ice cream), one “No Gas Next 70 Miles” sign, one very buggy visor, and one blown fuse … are they “E. Nuff?”  Perhaps.*  Electrical phenomenon notwithstanding, it is, at least, a step in the right direction.  Next exceptional (aka flute-less) riding days coming the first week of August.

The offending fuse

*350 miles

Ducati’s First Camping Trip! - Postscript

And finally, from the “wow, this bike really burns through tires” (aka “you’re a stupid idiot”) department…


The condition of my tires upon my return. Wrists duly slapped.  Do you suppose I can run out to Gates Pass and burn off the edges before replacing it?*

*kidding

Ducati’s First Camping Trip! (Roper Lake State Park and the Swift Trail Parkway)

Okay, back to our story…

After breakfast, I passed through the beautiful sauterne colored grasslands near St. Johns, my  heart’s magnetic north this spring.  One more gas stop and it was time to have another go at that 100 mile stretch of twisty turny goodness I love so much, the Coronado Scenic Byway.  You know, the road that was a study in road hazards when I rode it a month earlier?  I’ll be damned, that sand trap, not unlike the pile of sand that I woke up to in my tent, thanks to the ever present wind, was still there.  Placed for maximum excitement factor, if you goof, you’ll wish you were wearing a parachute for that unexpected trip off the side of a mountain.  I didn’t goof.  Obviously.  There were some other obstructions along the way but…

Lean left…

Lean right…

Left… right

LEFTRIGHTLEFTRIGHT!  Flippity flop!

For 100 miles.  Wheee!  Good times.

By the time I get to Clifton, I always need gas.  Next time it won't be the usual Circle K gas-up and ice cream sandwich break, but a visit to Maud’s Drive-In (“Get Sauced!”), and a turn around the art gallery I noticed for the first time as I was riding by, looking nervously at my gas gauge.

I landed at Roper State Park, near Safford, AZ in time to find this.




Looks like a good place to pitch a tent to me!  A good soak was just the thing after a few days of riding.  After my bath, I watched the birds chase down mosquitoes as the sunset painted pretty pastel colors on the marsh.




And for the first evening of the tour, I set up my tent in peace.  The wind machine was taking the night off, I guess.

The next morning it was time for this good thing to come to an end.  But I wasn't heading home without a turn (two turns, actually) up Mount Graham via the Swift Mountain Parkway. This is  a road as tight and twisty as you could hope for.  Here’s my blog stock photo of the Parkway (you’ve seen it before).




But first one has to fuel up. Petrol and a breakfast burrito at the Mt. Graham Grocery and Deli.  I’ve been here so often, the owner recognized me.  This would be one of my favorite gas stops of all time, but for two absent yet critical features.  Real cream for the coffee (it has that awful “creamer” which has nothing to do with cream), and no premium fuel. The latter wasn’t an issue back in the Kawi days, but that Ducati, she gets what she wants!





One last photo before I point the bike homeward.   Already I was plotting a “training weekend*” back in the area, to spend a day just running up and down this mountain.



'Twas a good little tour**!




*Plan foiled.  Road closed soon thereafter due to fire danger.  Could very well still be closed.
** 1400 miles, I do believe.

100 Miles* is Still Not Enough (Logan Canyon, Tony Grove, Bear Lake and Strawberry Canyon)

As promised, I did ride the Logan Canyon Scenic Byway yesterday.  I snapped a few photos for you.  Each one met the four requirements set forth in my last post.  As I was riding, I realized I should have listed one more point.  So here it is:

5.  Stopping will not cause me undue concern about being late for work.  Or endanger my ability to arrive at my  final destination before dark. (You know how I feel about riding at night.)  Because playing beat the clock (lap times not withstanding) takes some of the fun out of it.  And why partake in what is widely recognized as a fairly dangerous activity if you’re not enjoying it?

Here’s a photo of the Rick Springs Area. 




No, there is not usually water rushing over the pedestrian bridge.  It’s been an unusual year here, and Logan River has exceeded flood stage.  The daily flood warnings continue.  Areas of the road were reinforced  with temporary berms of sand and gravel to guard against the rising river.  That sand and gravel will no doubt find its way onto the roadway over the course of the summer (grumble).  But not today!   This little spot has always intrigued me, but it took a stinging insect in my sportsbra to actually get me to pull over.  What timing!

I can report that the pavement on the side road up to Tony Grove is in fine form.  Not a defect to be seen.  It's definitely not regulation width though, so I recommend a recon lap to map it out in your head before testing your limits.

Here’s a fun left hander.  Or right hander.  Depending on which way you’re going.




I thought there might be snow on the Tony Grove road, but so far, so good!



Aieeee!  The Duc stops here.




I could have managed another 50 yards or so winding my way through a clear tire track a few inches wide, but I’m glad I didn’t.  With no way to turn around, I’d just have to push the bike backwards, expensive track boots in the snow, to get back out.  I did walk the final quarter mile or so to the lake.  Slogging a half mile in snow several feet deep, wearing inappropriate footwear and thirty pounds of safety gear at 8100 feet definitely qualifies as my exercise for the day.

There’s a lake around here somewhere…




Ahh!  That’s better.  This is what I expect to see when I ride up to Tony Grove.  Like I said, it’s an unusual year here in Logan Canyon.




Archival photo graciously provided by C.S.  I do believe my only photos of this lake are from back in the days of actual film and are in a closet somewhere in Tucson.  Hard to believe.

If you can tear your eyes from the view (and even the most hopeless adrenalin junkie will have difficulty, the Bear Lake overlook is that much of a showstopper), and not let the scent of sage brush and wildflowers distract you, there are some fine fast sweeping turns to be enjoyed as you make your way down from visitor's center at the east end of the canyon into Garden City, UT.  RazzleBlueDazzle! were my words, I do believe, when I waxed poetic about Bear Lake back in 2008. It’s worth repeating.
 



For nine summers now I’ve been telling myself I’m going to spend a day photographing this lake.  The myriad brilliant blues to the south, the lesser known marshy Bear Lake National Wildlife Refuge in the north…  Still waiting on this one.

Garden City is as fine a place as any to grab an American diner style bacon cheeseburger with fries.  (If you’re looking for portabellas and Kobe beef, better to hit ZinBurger in Tucson.)  Toss in a raspberry shake, for which the area is famous, and you’ve got… a really, really full belly.  I find it worth the discomfort and usually opt for the "Home Town Drive-In", if for no other reason than their fine grassy picnic area.  I’ve also learned you can get a freshly made donut and espresso across the street at the Holey Cow.  Good to know for those morning rides.

Continue north, into Idaho, proceed through Strawberry Canyon (ID 36) and loop back down into Utah. Return home via the north end of town, where you can check a few errands off the list to tell yourself you’ve gotten something done instead of squandering your afternoon in sinful play.

Dinner that night?  A bowl of muesli.  Turns out I was late for work.

*This trip actually clocks in at 145 miles.  Add 14 miles for each additional run up and down the Tony Grove road.  (You’ll want several.)  Still, Not. E. Nough.