So, where did I last leave off? Ah, yes... we had all separated. Ken with his broken wheel, and Tim with his German accent, and me on the hill.
So the next morning we got back together.
Magic!
Okay, it wasn't quite that simple. Tim ended up riding until about 10:30 to Panguitch and getting a room. We discerned that he passed the hill where I was camped sometime after dark.
Ken sent Tim a text about 11 saying he'd be in at about 7 AM. Ken was riding 170 miles from where ever he got his wheel from after spending the previous night in a hotel with a spa. See, he couldn't get the wheel on Sunday, because in Utah, everything (except Subway) is closed on Sunday. He did knock on the door of some famous bicyclist who owned the shop in his town, but this person was away... so he saw him at the store on Monday, after spa-ing, before leaving. In any case, at about 11:30 PM, Ken was cycling along towards Panguitch with a 7 AM arrival time when a soccer mom drove by. You know those soccer moms...
Shortly thereafter, Tim got another text reading "be there in half an hour."
So Tim and Ken slept in the same motel in Panguitch and I slept just outside of town. I got up early to go in for breakfast (which I almost never get to in time -- for some reason we sleep far enough out from cities we always arrive after 11, which for some reason is the designated no-more-breakfast-o'clock), and turned on my phone to find a text from Ken saying "We're in Panguitch!" So I called and told them where I was and voila! We were back together.
Long story.
In any case, we had a most excellent breakfast and then headed out to Bryce Canyon. About 20 miles of the route was on a bike path, which was pretty satisfying.
Anybody know the red dirt song?
We had already planned on taking a break day in Bryce Canyon, so we stopped at the grocery store just outside to stock up on food. We bought 16 hot dogs, all of which were eaten that night after being grilled over a campfire, and for breakfast we downed a package of 8 bear claws along with a dozen eggs.
Yes, a dozen eggs.
Oh, but we only got breakfast after getting up at 6:15 to watch the sun rise over the canyon.
This doesn't deserve a snarky comment.
Then I promptly went back to bed... before being awakened about 9:00 to cook breakfast. Being the designated chef has its drawbacks.
We spent the day doing, well, nothing, I guess. It was oh, so excellent. A little ironic being in such a beautiful place and not spending the day hiking around, but we didn't have it in us. Actually, Tim and Ken went for a 3 hour hike... I took a 3 hour nap.We also discovered the lunch buffet, which is another key word you look out for when cycle-touring -- "buffet." I had trouble moving shortly thereafter, my stomach was so full. Oh... then I took another nap. Er... let's call it a rest. Yes. A post-lunch rest. I didn't have dinner.
For breakfast the next morning (post break day) Ken and Tim had prepared a feast. They don't like to share food (when on an 8,000 calorie diet that can be a bit of a suicide move), so only after realizing they couldn't finish it all did they offer me some. It was, lo and behold, generic white bread rolls with cream cheese and jam. Oh, and we also dipped chips in cheese sauce. Yes... breakfast of champions. As Ken so deftly stated, "A bunch of people smoking pot couldn't come up with a better meal."
So true.
I mean, what?
So we took off from Bryce Canyon the day after doing nothing, and ran into these crazy people, which would be the first of many:
"Whoa! Another biker!"
I was as shocked as they were. We hadn't seen any other cyclists since... well, not since we ran into Tim, I believe. I could be wrong... maybe I should read my blog more often? Anyways, they sort of started a trend. These folks, Elsabeth and her husband (whose name I don't recall) were from Scotland. Next we met Johnny, who was from Sweden (and had a killer accent to boot), then Francisco, who was from Ohio, basically doing my route... but backwards. It was a pretty awesome day. Also, Johnny failed to mention that he had a broken collarbone. Francisco was the one who told us the story -- apparently Johnny fell off of a cliff and was in the hospital for four days... but couldn't be stopped. Oh, what? You want to see the epic Swedish Johnniness? Here he is.
Does that look broken to you?
In restrospect, the collarbone is just about the only bone you can break that doesn't affect your cycling performance.
Then we passed a ghosted drive-in movie theater.
And all the ghosts drove era-relevant cars.
It was pretty awesome.
Anyways, we stopped in town (Escalante) and searched for a while for something to eat. The food was all quite expensive, so eventually we settled on the grocery store... and then we changed our minds and settled on Nemo's. It was, apparently, "the place to be." The food was good and everyone in town -- all ten people, including employees -- were there. So now you know that if you ever go to Escalante, UT, you should buy your food at Nemo's.
Oh also, I bought new tent stakes, because I had lost (bent) four of the ten I started with. What's up with that? And that same night, I lost one of my new ones... is there some trick to using tent stakes that I'm not aware of (note from the future: I've still only lost just the one)?
We went down a killer hill,
Okay, killer for our brakes, but not for us.
and entered the jungle. It was wild. For that entire day we had been in the desert -- sand, sun, heat, no water all around. We went down that hill and into a canyon made by a creek called Calf Creek, and suddenly -- vegetation! Moisture! Water! It was awesome. There was a whole new world living just below the surface (so like, the opposite of what the little mermaid sings about). We liked it so much we decided to camp there -- also, the price helped.
Tim has no idea what $7 footlongs are.
It was $7 per campsite. So we payed $2.33 each. It was quite swell. The campsite was full but, thanks to OP laws (Own Power Laws -- see previous posts) we were still able to camp. And what made it most swell were some jokers named Jason and Maren. We spent the night shooting the shit and talking about cruise ships (Maren works as a waitress in Aspen, CO and was invited "on a sailboat" by one of her guests. Little did she know it was a cruise ship based out of Italy) and skiing and biking and such. It was a great night; thanks, you two.
Did I mention they also cooked us breakfast?
I use the term "cooked" loosely, of course -- *ahem.*
So we climbed back into the desert, spending some time on this road called "The Hogback," which is essentially cliffs on both sides with road in the middle (!), before entering Boulder. I was excited to see the place where all my college friends were from... except that this was Boulder, UT, not Boulder, CO. In any case, we stopped for lunch, and proceeded out of town and up another big climb (don't quite remember the elevation on this one though, so it must not have been that big). Once we started climbing, we were out of the desert again and into tree/creek land. We didn't have to carry much water as there were creeks everywhere... I may or may not have even used my filter. It's not couture, I know, but the water was running clear and fast and I didn't gorge myself.
In any case, we reached the top about 4, at which point I was informed Tim and Ken wanted a motel room for the night. They apparently hadn't had enough "decent" sleep (ha!), so we spent a few minutes calling around. The nearest available room, as it ends up, was in a town called Hanksville, 96 miles from where we had started that morning, and still about 70 miles from where we were. Yea, the hogback and that hill sort of owned us... 30 miles in 6 hours... not our best day. Ken and Tim wouldn't have any of it, so they made a reservation.
And we rode.
...and then the sun went down.
And then we rode some more.
I mentioned a thing about calories earlier in this post -- now would be a good time to mention it again, I think. See, the average American consumes 3800 calories each day. Yea, there are some cultures that use that whole 2000 calorie diet thing, but not America. Okay, most of the people reading this are probably at about 2200, except for the day you ate that entire pint of Ben and Jerry's. But anyways -- if you know me, you know I'm always eating. I have an extremely high metabolic rate, which means I need an inordinate number of calories just to stand up every day.
The average cyclists burns about 40 calories every mile. We're running on 1u1/2 times the weight, and the more energy you produce, the less efficient you are -- so let's say a touring cyclist needs 80 calories per mile. At 65 miles a day (my current average), that's 5200 calories just to ride. So figure 8,000 a day all together.
On a night you decide to ride 96 miles and only have Subway for dinner (which, as anybody who watched TV when Jared was famous knows, doesn't pack a lot of calories), you need a little something extra. And if you're me and you don't have something extra... you pass out.
Okay, I didn't pass out, but we did have to stop so I could down half a pound of cookies. Don't tell my girlfriend...
...and that's enough of that montage.
We made it to Hanksville, UT at 9:59 PM, averaging 15 mph from dinner until then. Yee-haw. Oh also, since the motel and the staying up late was Tim and Ken's idea, I slept on the floor for free.
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