We pulled up to a kiosk in Kodachrome Basin State Park in the middle of central Utah on our bikes, giddy with the discovery that the state park, which I’d spied on some advertisement in Kanab, opened many of its trails to mountain bikes. Another rider was there, loading up his bike into his truck.
“Have you ridden here before?” he asked us.
“Nope,” we relied.
“Well, me neither, but I just rode everything here as fast as I could. It took me about an hour and a half.”
We really didn’t know what to say to him, so we left to go ride.
“Why is everyone in such a hurry all the time?” was all I could ask myself.
We were surrounded by beauty, and I’m talking big beauty (they wouldn’t turn the place into a protected park unless it was far above average for beauty, and that’s saying a lot in Utah), and the defining characteristic of this guy’s ride was that he did it as fast as possible? I’m all for riding fast, riding fast is fun, but day-um, stop and enjoy the view sometime! Smell some flowers! Go skinny dipping in a creek! Take a nap! (Of course, I don’t know this guy’s story, and I should probably just be less judgemental about him, but I’m always skeptical about people who only measure their rides in numbers.)
Stopping to enjoy the view was our philosophy for getting across Utah on our migration to Moab this time around. While the fastest, flattest route is definitely through Monument Valley, we had three days before we had to be there, so why not see what there was to see on the way. So we took Hwy 12, Utah’s All-American Highway. Whatever that means.
It was a classic case of Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken”.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Once we left Hatch and our favorite alien diner, where we ran into a bike tourist who was raising money for the Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance by riding his bike to all of the national parks and monuments in the state (we traded him coffee and fries for his stories from his trip), we didn’t come into reliable cell reception until we were back on I-70 three days later.
It was great.
We spent the first night at Kodachrome Basin State Park, surrounded by towering red and white cliffs. Apparently camping at these parks is mostly by reservation, and we felt pretty lucky to get shoved into an overflow camping spot along with the rest of the Poor-Planners.
Our drive the next day took us through miles and miles of stunning rock, including the Hogback which is a narrow strip of road with cliffs on either side and endless views of slickrock and canyons. We paused at an absolutely delicious cafe in Boulder City, UT, for lunch, just as a snow squall blew through the area. Every touring motorcycle group within 50 miles ended up there with us, and lunch was not a fast affair.
But who’s in a hurry?
We thought maybe we’d be able to sneak into a campsite at Capitol Reef National Park. Apparently national parks don’t reward Poor Planners, and we felt pretty lucky to escape the visitors center without getting run over/running over anyone.
Luckily, we were able to play I Spy and found a piece of BLM land not too far away to dump the Scamp while we went for a hike.
To say that we lucked out with the campsite is nothing short of an understatement. National Parks campgrounds versus this…
…I love me some amenities when Scamping sometimes, but we were pretty glad that the park camp site had been full for hours before we even thought about showing up. I’m sure there’s a ‘road less traveled’ lesson here.
And then on to Moab. Past Goblin Valley (next time!), past Green River (is it melon season yet?), and onto the highway that we know all too well, back to the campsite that is waiting like an old friend.
We could have spent the rest of the summer exploring the sites of Highway 12, but Alexis was coming, there was a bikepacking trip to rig for. But I sure am glad that we took the slower route to Moab. It made all the difference.