New Beginning

This weekend marks the first one of the fall season that isn't hideously hot.  The temperatures have been in the 80's all week, not one single 90 and hopefully those are over until spring.  The mornings have a chill in the air and the evenings are quite pleasant.  You know what that means, right?

DESERT CAMPING is upon us!!!

I can't even pretend that I can control my enthusiasm over that fact.  Desert camping is a special activity for our family.  We get to spend the entire weekend out in the middle of the desert, no one too near.  Last year we met a couple that would stop and visit every so often when we were there.  Super nice people and very knowledgeable about the local terrain.

We like taking the grandkids with us.  Love teaching them about building fires, what wood is good to gather, what isn't.  What creatures to avoid, which are not a threat.  Teaching them about stars, nature, survival and dirt bike riding!!

Depending on their age, they either ride on our bikes, or their own.  The little ones have been known to fall asleep on the tank when they need a nap.  heh, that's pretty tough to do, but they are comfortable enough to do it.  of course when that happens, my speed drops considerably and holes and bumps are taken very slowly.

They love it.  Running, playing, riding, eating and watching a movie before bedtime.  Memories they will have when Nana and Papa are long gone.  Or at least we hope.

And now, the rest of the trip

We packed up and headed home on Friday.  Our original plan was to stick it out until Sunday, but Moab was already crowded, the weekend would be worse, and Ye had a new job to start on Monday.


So there it is.  The end of an extremely wonderful trip.


We amble out of the campsite, climbed the steep hill back up to Highway 128 (aka Dinosaur Diamond Prehistoric Highway, seriously) and roll on towards Moab.  The town itself still made me shutter from the travails we had experienced earlier in the week.  So I was looking forward to just rolling right through it.


Ye was not looking forward to the 10% grade near Mexican Hat, I was looking forward to the shower I was going to get when I got home!!!  Glorious hot water, shampooing my hair, rinse, repeat ad nauseum.  And it was all happening when we reached home this very evening!!  It may have been the end of our trip, but it was just the beginning of my resurrection from the greasy filth that had taken over my body.


We successfully navigated the 10% grade and continued rolling through the Monument Valley and into the thriving metropolis of Tuba City, AZ.  As we turned south onto Highway 89 from 160, the RV stumbled a bit.  Ye  revved it several times, dropped it into drive and off we rolled.


We took 89 all the way into Flagstaff.  It was time to let the dogs out for a stretch and allow them to commune with nature, so they didn't "commune" in the RV.  We wanted to give the RV a break as well. It had done a fantastic job climbing some of those hills,  so we pulled off into a Chevron gas station on the north side of town making sure to position ourselves so that we could easily make it back out onto 89 when we were finished.


I was getting excited.  We were about 3 hours from that hot, soapy, cleansing shower.  Steam coating the door of the shower from the HOT water that would be cleansing me, softening the grease and grime from my body before it slowly found it's way down the drain. . .oh! sorry, got a little carried away there.


After we loaded the dogs back in the RV, shared a little snack and visited, we stowed it all away again, climbed back into the captain chairs, strapped our seatbelts and. . .nothing.  The RV wouldn't start.


Well son of a gun!!


OK, don't panic.  We'll just give it all time to settle down, cool off, and try it again!  . . . .nothing.
pump, pump, pump,. couple of stumbles and spit before it died.
pump, pump, pump,. couple more stumbles and spits before it died, again.


OK, not funny.


pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump.  it slowly started. . .pumppumppumppumppump, stumble, stumble, stumble.  it just wasn't going to keep running, and we are still 3 hours away from home.  WAY too much stumbling to make it that distance.


What to do. . . .Ye had purchased Good Sam towing, now did he renew the service when it expired?  One card says no. . .another card confirms he did!!  Things are looking up!


So a call goes into Good Sam.  They arrange for a tow truck to come get us, made a reservation for us at the nearest RV park for the night where we would stay, then in the morning, the tow truck would come get us and take us to the RV repair that was a couple more miles down the road.  Sounded like a plan to me!!


And, it also meant that although I wouldn't get the long luxurious shower of my dreams,  I would be able to get an abbreviated one and at least knock off the outer layers of grime.  That is until the tow truck arrived.  .  .


They told us there was no way they could get both them, and us, in or out of an RV park.  More decisions.  Do we have them drop us at the RV park and try to limp our way in, or, do we have them take us someplace else.


My hopes of a shower were quickly dying on the vine.


I was afraid they would drop us off and then we discover that we can't make it into the park.  So the only other alternative was to have them take us to the RV repair shop.  So further down the road they take us and drop us off in the parking lot of the Flagstaff Mall.  Great.


The tow driver assured us it would be ok,  said they did it all the time.  And off they drove.  Well, time to make the best of things. . .so i rustled up some grub and we sat down to dinner.  Before too long, another rig pulled up alongside of us.  It was a VERY late model deisel pusher with all the slides, bells and whistles.  Oh geez, this is getting downright depressing.  I'm sitting in our old, broken down RV with the gray water tank filled to the brim, washing out dishes and dumping the water down the toilet so our gray water won't back up into the shower, and in the rig next door, they are pushing a button to extend their satellite, prepare their gourmet dinner and indulge themselves with a manicure/pedicure combo, or at least that's what was going on in my mind.


Within a short amount of time, another rig pulls up in between us and the Glam Squad.  Who knew the Flagstaff Mall was so popular?   Being a little on the depressed side, I decide to turn in early.  It was probably about 7.  I kid you not.  So about 10 p.m. I am awakened to the sound of a barking dog.


bark, bark, bark, bark.  seriously. bark, bark, bark, bark, bark.  Oh for crying out loud!  Why doesn't someone shut that stinkin dog up!  Waking up a bit more, I realize that is OUR dog barking and someone is knocking on our door.  Ye answers to find Mall Security.  "This is private property, you can't stay here."  To which he explains our situation. . .waiting for the repair shop to open in the morning.  That was the right answer.  "What about the other rigs?" he queries, "We have no idea." Ye responded.


About 20 minutes later, both units fire up and take off.  Apparently they were just poaching and did not have the correct answer.


All the while, there is a set of train tracks within 50 yards of the mall, and now within 50 yards of us.  Did I mention it was a very active set of tracks?  All night long, at least a couple times an hour, a train would shoot down that track.  It sounded like it would come busting through our bedroom window each and every time.  I-40 was also within 100 yards, so the sound of semi-trucks also filled the air.  It was like trying to sleep in the middle of a tornado.


So as morning dawned, we needed to decide what we were going to do from here.  So let me recap the situation:


no space left in the gray water tank, that pretty much renders using any water impossible, no operating vehicle, sitting in the middle of a mall parking lot on our way home from a trip.  yes, it could be worse, it could have been on our way there instead of on our way home.  and i was thankful for that.


We had our van in prescott, some 1.5 hours south and no way to retrieve it.  So Ye rented a truck and I drove it down to pick it up.  I left the truck in Prescott and got a ride to the camp to pick up the van.  It has a trailer hitch, so that meant we could take the dirtbikes with us.  It was a stressful situation, but once I was back with the van, we were able to offload all that needed to return to the house, including the dogs and their crates.  We left the RV to be diagnosed and fixed.  We would return at another time to pick it up.


So that night, Saturday night, after unloading the van, the first thing I did was. . .take my shower.  (insert the sound of angels singing).  It was everything I imagined it would be.


So another great trip and another great adventure.  Gotta love it!

Onion Creek

Onion Creek

The sign indicated that Onion Creek had 27 creek crossings.  It was a delicious little road that wound along and through the creek for some miles. It takes you along the creek and through the spires.  It was absolutely stunning back in there.  We rode on and on until we crested a 10% grade and popped up onto the top of the ridge.  And still we rode.  Absolutely beautiful, these red rocks and granite hills.  Then we noticed a marker that indicated we were on Kokopelli’s Trail.  Ye’s son, Chad, had mentioned it to his dad in a phone call on the previous day.  The sign posted at the campsite referred to it as a Jeep Red Rock Club Class 4 (very rugged) trail.  Sounded interesting.  So we tasted it.

WOW

It was a first and second gear trail.  We went down one trail for several miles before ending up at a flooded crossing.  A muddy flooded crossing.  We made our way east through country that looked as though it hadn’t seen tracks since the last rain.  The trail looked like it went right down the side of the mountain.  So instead of blindly following it, we dismounted and walked over there.  

Out of nowhere, these two guys walked up on the other side of the crevasse.  Seriously, we had to be in the middle of nowhere or darn near close to the middle.  So I hollered over to them if they knew a different way out.  Nope.

OK, time to backtrack.  So we climbed the steep hill and pass we came through originally and headed back to Onion Creek road.  Back north about ½ a mile was another sign that boasted Kokopelli’s Trail.  Sweetness!

We rode that one until we got to the mileage determined boundary.  Headed back mid-afternoon for a meal and rest.  This was going to be our last night there.  I just couldn’t stand it, so I geared back up, grabbed my helmet and told Ye I’d be back in a hour.  Off I raced again, back through 27 creek crossings to the top of the 10% grade and a few miles beyond before turning around and crossing 27 more times.  

I was wet up to my elbows as I had to pass 6 different Chevy Tahoes that had pulled out in front of me on the way back.  Most gave up easily, but the final one was a bit more stubborn and I had to ride in their trail of dust until I could get to a spot wide enough to overtake them.

I did.



Back to camp where shortly another woman stopped to see if she could camp with us.  She seemed harmless and she was a single.  We walked over to talk to her after she had settled in.  Tammy was out camping and traveling on her own.  She had knee surgery some 3 weeks prior and was not bicycle worthy yet.  We chatted into the night.  I learned it was a “woman thing” to ask if they can camp with a couple or at least some other people.  I think it’s a smart thing to do.  At least there is another person that knows you are alone and can react to trouble if needed.

So that was it.  We packed up the RV and headed home.

There is another whole story about the trip home that I will eventually report, but the riding part was over.  I didn’t get my shower until I got home a couple days later.  I was REALLY stinky and greasy, but those are the inconveniences that an explorer must endure in order to see the world.

Moab - Day of Rest

We took a day off as our daughter, Holly, had volunteered to bring 2 of our 3 Colorado grandchildren over to us from Grand Junction.  She took them out of school and told them it was an important day and worthy of taking the day off.   We spent a great, relaxing day with them, playing in the creek, having lunch and visiting with these two priceless souls.  We all have made mistakes raising our own kids; grandchildren are a way of making amends.  They are good kids, our daughter has a special place in our hearts.  She and her husband Greg are good, good, solid people.  We are blessed to have them in our lives.

Precious hearts

Proud Grandparents of two wonderful children!

Opa with daughter Holly and kids

I haven't walked through a creek barefoot for a long time.  God bless grandchildren that can make you do things you normally don't do.

La Familia

Moab

Moab was beginning to sound like the promised land.  We were going to stop at the MIC (Moab Information Center) and they were going to give us more information than we could ever want.

Our first test was actually finding it.  I was sitting forward on my seat through town to find it.  Like I said earlier, NOTHING happens quickly with a 38’ rv with trailer in tow.

Government signs got us to the vicinity and then lead us down the primrose path.  Indeed there were RV spots available.  RV spots that could accommodate a 38’ rv, but not the trailer in tow.  So we just let it hang out a bit.  After all, who’s going to argue with something the size of a locomotive?

It. Was. Crowded.

We ran in, got our information and were heading back out.  Looking around, just ready to pull ahead, cut to the right and snake our way back out when. . .another woolly mammoth entered the parking lot and totally blocked our escape route.  The woman jumped out and ran into the MIC.

OK, well can’t blame her for that.  Husband assured us they would be on their way as soon as she returned to him.

LIAR.
She returned and in the meantime they had apparently met someone who was bound and determined to give them every piece of information he possessed about the area.  Sheesh, seriously.  I’m the patient one and I wanted to staple their lips together.  Again we approached them to move along.  “we’ll be just a minute.”

Right.

Nightfall was approaching in a few hours, we didn’t have all night.  Well actually we did, but didn’t really want to spend it in that parking lot.  There was water to be had!  I wanted to make sure I got my second shower of the trip in.  My hair was getting a bit greasy and I had plans to shampoo, condition and rinse with warm water!!  My heart sang!

After much, and I mean much maneuvering to leave to the left since Mr. and Mrs. Gabby were still flapping lips with Mr. lonely planet over there, we were almost out.  Then the Gabby clan decide that they were also leaving and now had to wait for us.  Oh I loved that part.

Back out onto the road we were headed for the RV park to fetch our WATER!!!  I happily slapped down my $5 bill to fill our tank to the brim.  I might have even obtained TWO showers out of this deal before the end of the trip.  Could barely hold me down at that point!  We wove our way back to the designated spot with the stress level building with each lurching moment.  Again the 38’ made us shutter and stress, only to recall that our water hose was back in the van in Prescott.

Buggah!

I was totally deflated.  There would be no shower.  No marvelous cleansing droplets rinsing the dirt and grease off my body.  ARGH!!  So we turned the beast around and headed out of town.  None of the camping spots close to town would take this dinosaur.  Finally, about 20 miles out of town, we slowly descended a hill that was so steep I wondered if we would be able to get back up. The first campsite was the Group A site.  It was empty.  I was hoping a bonafide “Group” wasn’t going to come in in the middle of the night.

I didn’t care.  Between the traffic, the days of dust and grease, and the stress of being pent up in that beast with a crazed pilot, the only thing I wanted at that point was a stiff drink.  BARTENDER!!!!!

Fortunately, Ye doubles as a pretty darn good bartender too.

So as I was sucking down a bubba-keg full of a mighty-fine mixture of attitude adjustment, Ye unloaded my dirtbike and took off in search of information.  Sometime after he came back, I heard the voice of what sounded like a 6 year old squeaky voice calling, “Hello?  Hello?”  By that time I had dragged my stressed-out body to the bed and was lying face down; I had decided to totally ignore the voice.  It wouldn’t go away, but Ye saved me by responding.  Some woman and her bicycling chum wanted to know if they could camp with us.  Well it was a big spot and we were alone. . .so, yeah, OK.

I was hoping we weren’t going to have to listen to the “chatty cathy” all night, but she quieted down and by morning they had packed up and left.  Good.

More Hamburger Rock

Our biggest obstacle in the morning was waiting long enough for the temperature to warm up. We started each morning wearing our rain jackets to keep the warmth in, and that worked well. I have some stupid, cheap, rubber rain jacket that I bought out of desperation in MT on one of our trips. Ye, OTOH, was sporting a classy looking woven jacket that I had purchased him for Christmas. I will be ordering a new one soon along with a more comfortable pair of dirt bike boots.



So after I prepared a perfectly awesome breakfast, we ate, leashed up the dogs and took off to finish what we had started the night before.

In our conversation with one of the neighbors, he told us about a waterfall that we should look for. We hadn’t seen it the night before as we were actually on the top of the falls and had to look elsewhere to see them. With that knowledge in hand, we found it quite easily, snapped some pictures

There it is!

We rode over the top of it the night before.

and climbed the rock strewn goat trail that was the entrance to the interesting stuff on Lockhart Road.

The steep climbs and sharp declines continued ad nauseum. It took all the dirt skills I had in my bag o’ tricks to keep it upright. Yep, this is what I was looking for -- the ride that makes you go beyond thinking about it and getting into that zone where you are too busy doing to think. That is what I like. This is what fuels my passion.



Meanwhile, I stopped to snap a couple of pictures of Needles Overlook from the canyon floor. Thought it would make a nice contrast. Much less of a crowd at this end.

This is the view of Needles Overlook.  You will notice the walls at the top, you could actually see the fence we peered through to look down.

And still we rode on. . .

We came to a sign that said that way 33 miles to Hurrah pass, or 6 miles this way to the Colorado River. Even though we were up for the 33 miles ride, we didn’t have the range in our gas tanks to make that, so we chose the lower road.



Before long, that path lead to deep, DEEP sand washes. We crisscrossed the same sand wash about a dozen times I think. Once we were back on solid dirt and beginning to make some real progress, the trail ended abruptly.



What!?!



Where’s the river? Ye hiked and rode around a bit until he found a spot we could at least see the river. It wasn’t that far away, but the bramble-covered path ended at the flood plane. This would have to do.

Day it is!  Dat be the Colorado!

The Princess with gun fanny pack.

Marco!  Polo!

Snap, snap, a couple more pictures before it was back the way we came!!!

Ye was grousing about the sand until he yelled, “I got my sand legs back, now I remember, throw your weight back and ride the top.” And poof, he was gone. As soon as he disappeared, my front tire mired itself in the deep sand and unceremoniously pitched me to the ground.

Crap.

Other than a mile high column of dust, and a sheared off license plate, there was no damage to body or machine. So I muscled the bike up (ok, it’s a light dirtbike, but I think I saw a muscle flex momentarily), climbed aboard, banged it into first, and took off. Just as I was catching up with Ye, who had stopped to wait for me, he roosted me with a dust cloud of flying sand so thick I thought the sun had fallen from the sky.

WTF?!?!

At the next stop, he explained that his bike had died on him so he had to WFO the throttle to keep it going. I call B.S. and had I been taller, I would have beaten him about the head and shoulders with my bike, then stolen his & ridden it back to camp, if it wasn’t so tall that I couldn’t touch the ground when sitting on it. And that’s just exactly what I did. . .in my head.



In reality I glared at him, swore a couple times to myself, wiped off my goggles and continued with the ride back. There will be a time for retribution later. Sometime when he least expects it. . .i am a patient princess. ;-)

I realized when we rode back that we were actually in those spires that wrapped themselves around the bottom of the cliffs, riding at the base of them and I was awestruck. How many people get this opportunity? I know we passed one vehicle that day which had ventured past the goat trail. It was a jeep and it was going about 2.5 mph. So I’m guessing not many.



When I came to one steep uphill climb, I noticed the tire track in front of me disappeared momentarily, then reappeared after the crest of the hill. Heh. I’ve seen that trick from behind a few times before as I saw him in my minds eye gassing it and jumping the hill. :-D

Random window

I am blessed. Blessed to have the health, opportunity and resources to be making this trip, or at least be hooked up with someone who does! :-D

The rest of the ride back to the rv was spent deep in thought. Trying to soak in all the elements of what we were seeing so I would remember. The terrain was so absolutely stunning. Sadly, as I write this, those memories are already fading.



Sigh. Guess we’ll just have to do it all again!!!



So back to the rv, more conversation with the neighbors before loading everything up, securing it and heading off to Moab! The microwave now had a permanent place on the floor to prevent any further gymnastics.

Lockhart Road/Hamburger Rock

Hamburger Rock looks strangely like. . .a hamburger. Who knew! And Lockhart Road was the cornerstone for the entire trip. It is the road we looked down on from Needles Overlook and said, “I want to ride that.” And here we were. Life is grand!

There were a few trials actually finding the road. There weren’t too many turnoffs, but we were deep in b.s. conversation when we blew right by it. Again Ye was with the beating the steering wheel & yelling. . . there was absolutely no place for us to turn around a 38’ motorhome pulling a trailer with 2 dirtbikes on it. When fully loaded, our size rivals that of a locomotive. We had no choice but to sheepishly confess our faux pas to the park ranger who graciously let us in the park, free of charge, to circle the visitor center parking lot and return.

This time down the road, there was very little talking and much more focused attention.

El Toro, a.k.a. The Beast

Ye's photo from the top of Hamburger Rock 

We found Lockhart Road once again and sloooooowly ambled down the washboard dirt road the mile and a half to Hamburger Rock. Apparently this is a pretty popular camping place. It was $6 and had an outdoor toilet. We scoped out the campground, watered the dogs and let them water the desert. We visited with a couple of the residents before heading out to check out the road. It was close to 4:00 p.m. at this point but there was still daylight, so we decided to check it out for awhile.

We rode 8 miles into it before I stopped. We had passed a creek that had animal prints through the sand/dust. I knew that at sundown, all those furry little creatures would be waking up wanting a drink of water and I wanted no part of crossing their path as they made their way there.

Ye, of course, was a buzz and a dot in the distance. I knew he would eventually stop, listen for me, then turn around and come looking for me. And he did, but it was a much longer time than I would have been comfortable with had I been waiting with a broken leg or punctured spleen. Just saying.

But my imagination is active enough and I was glad he came back when he did.

Oh and remember my disappointment at the first road not being a challenge? Lockhart Road was definitely going to be that challenge. It already was steep & rocky, with tight passes, narrow rock cliffs, and granite paved pathways. . .and we only went 8 miles!!

El Toro parked at the Rock

Back to the rv we sped for more food, drink and conversation.

Valley of the Gods

It just sounded cool. It sounded like a cool place to ride, and so we made it our next stop. We tottered out of our camping spot and slowly rolled out onto the road. When you are 38+ feet long, nothing happens instantaneously. It gathers speed and just as slowly sheds it. Many times you have to close your eyes and hope that it stops gyrating and jerks to a halt before hitting something. Much like riding deep sand, it’s more a feeling than an exact science. (remember that next time you are tempted to pull out in front of one of those giant beasts). :-O

We traversed some steep hills on the way to Valley of the gods but rolled into a camping area alongside the road.

Moon rise at Valley of the gods 

Exquisite scenery

The beauty. . . 

became downright ordinary.

Proof of existence.  We were here.

Just wondering of those are the gods.

And if they were standing guard

and watching us. . .

Beautiful!

Good enough!

Once again the bikes were unloaded, gear was donned and we were on our way. We rode about ½ way the first day. The sun was beginning to set and we wanted to get back to camp and get things settled for the night.

The next morning, we once again donned the gear and headed out to ride the entire road. It was VERY pretty and I can see why it is called Valley of the Gods Road. Although it’s not paved, it is graded and everyone from cars to bicycles were taking it. The scenery is to die for, but the road itself left much to be desired compared to the ride the day before.

After traversing it, we were over it. Been there, rode that. Time to move on.

John's Canyon Road

We are morning people. So after some vacation time, we slowly came to life. It was cold. I noticed the heater had come on a couple times during the night. I didn't care. I was more interested in rolling over and getting back to sleep. I gotta tell you that those novafoam mattresses from costco are worth their weight in gold.

Once I had dragged my worthless self out of bed, I was excited to check out the scenery during daylight hours. I geared up and headed over to the end of our peninsula. It was awesome. Gazing down at the river that had carved itself down some 1000 feet from where I stood. I had to stand there for several minutes to soak up the sight. Seriously, when you think of the series of events that were necessary to create such a spectacle, well, it's just mind boggling.

I wondered how close this dog would get to the edge. . .

Goosenecks State Park

It had quite a few goosenecks!

In the meantime, back at the ranch, Ye had been stewing over that mangled microwave oven. He decided to disassemble it and see if he could fix it. He had to use a vice-grip because a couple of the screws attaching the cover were weird. Once disassembled, he noticed that he could reattach the wires and everything might actually work. So, we took it outside, put it on a table, and fired up the generator. I stood ready with a fire extinguisher... and voila! The lights on the microwave came on. We set the clock, and then tried to heat some water in it, and it worked – the water got hot! Ye quipped, “The taste of victory is ever so sweet.”

This will one day be Ye's tombstone

We then fueled up the bikes and headed to our first ride, a dirt road that Ye had scoped with Google Earth. It was a delightful little road that headed back into John's Canyon. I know this because the name of the road was John's Canyon Road. Perceptive, aren't I? ;-)

This particular road started out pretty flat, wide and angled off to the northwest. That's how a lot of them start and I’ve come to learn that you cannot judge a road by its entrance. This one was not going to be any different.

Once we cleared the canyon floor, the road rose dramatically through a series of tight, rocky, hairpin turns. When we crested one of the climbs, a pickup truck had backed up and pulled into a pullout to allow us to pass. There were a couple of local ranchers who were preparing the canyon for their cattle that would be arriving from the mountains. Ye reached them first and was already chatting them up when I rode in. They were talking about the canyon, what it was like, where it went, why they were there, and before departing, mentioned the existence of some petroglyphs on the rock faces.

“They are on the big overhang rock next to the road, there are deer prints, and then ¾ mile later there are some bigger ones.” That was the sum total of the directions we were given. The rest was up to us. I, of course, wanting to eek out every little moment of adventure I could from this trip, immediately slowed to a crawl and started looking for the big rock close to the road. I have to tell you, there were a million big rocks close to the road. And. . .i didn't know if they were close to the road, or high on the red rock cliff faces.

The first big rock I came to, I dismounted and walked several different directions searching for those deer print. A big nothing, nada, zero. So I finally resigned myself to not seeing them, got back on the bike and continued on.

Down the canyon road a few rocky miles later, there were HUGE rocks that hung over the road. With renewed interest, I started looking again without getting off the bike. I didn't see the deer print, but up off to my right etched in the black face of the rock were a number of beautiful petroglyphs just waiting for me to shoot with my camera!! I captured, the remnants of ancient graffiti artists.  

I'm sure there is a story told in there.

Aren't they cool!

They certainly lacked the detail of our present day artists, but I suppose wielding a spray can versus a rock is a bit different. The paint would not have lasted these many years either I can imagine.

Ye was long gone by this point. So I snapped my pictures, tried to remember the terrain so I could show him on the way back.

We rode the rocky terrain until it evened out and burst into the most beautiful valley.  

It was lush and green with indigenous trees and an awesome little gentle creek that ran through it.  

There were a couple of river crossings that had big boulders in it that we had to traverse. One of the crossings had BIG rocks that we had to navigate. That took a bit of the “getting over big rocks without having the handlebars torn from your hands” skill. I did ok. Never had them torn, at least at this point.  

I loved that you could see how high this little creek could run in the right Mother Nature circumstances.

We followed the trail until it ended, then turned around and returned.

I was able to point out the petroglyphs to him. We stopped and snapped a few more pictures after climbing some of the rocks to get closer. I started looking for those stupid deer tracks on the way back. At what we surmised to be ¾ of a mile, we started looking at the “big rocks” again. Both of us got off our bikes and searched. Nothing.

Decided those deer tracks were just not meant to be seen by us at that time. So we climbed back on the bikes and headed out. About 100 ft. later, and several seconds behind Ye, I found them. So I stopped to savor and record the moment. . .before I was off again.

We rode back to the RV, ate some lunch and then packed up to head to the next designated spot on our itinerary. . .Valley of the Gods.

Outside of Mexican Hat on the way to Valley of the Gods, I remember one particularly nerve racking moment being a 10% grade. Now that doesn’t sound like much when you are on the back of a 250 dirt bike, but it takes on a life of its own when you are strapped to an 11 ton metal and fiberglass behemoth hurling itself down the road.

Heh, *that* was kinda dramatic!! I think I need medication, lots of it.