Day Two - Enough with the waving...

Today: 560 miles

Total: 1455 miles

I woke up early but took my time getting ready to go.  Today was going to be Wolf Creek Pass day, from the mountains to the desert.  Wisely, I wore my leather coat.  I figured it might get a little chilly up higher.  Since I was staying on the north side of town, the morning began with a meandering ride through Walsenburg.  Which turned out to be a much more interesting town that it seemed to be from Exit 52.

When I finally cleared the town and headed out into the country on US 160, the truck in front of me turned right and I suddenly realized that I was following a law enforcement officer.  That's an interesting feeling, isn't it?  Even though I was not speeding and had nothing to worry about, just seeing that car with the lights on top and the ticket book hidden somewhere inside was enough to put a damper on the excitement of riding into the mountains.  Eventually he pulled off to the side of the road... and ...once I realized that he wasn't going to pull back in behind me, I breathed a little easier.

I think that is one of the reasons that people stay away from the church.  It feels like the law is breathing down their necks.  I get that.  But, when trouble comes, how quick are we to dial 911? 

By the way, I just inserted a tiny video of my friendly law enforcement officer pulling off and out of my way.  Figuring out how to do that is part of the reason I didn't write last night when I landed.  I hate to say it but the go pro camera idea is pretty much a waste.  At least for my purposes.  Or at least until I figure out how to do it.  The rest of the pictures I took are compromised by the big fat bugs that smashed into the camera lens at some point in the morning.  So much for that.

Mountain passes are fun.  By their very nature, we don't spend much time at them.  Few people live there so most of us are just visitors.  I was hoping for something spectacular but Wolf Creek Pass wasn't much to write home about.  It was actually tame.  Yet still cold at the top.  I took a great video - except for the bug part - of the ride up and over.  But it created too big of a file to upload.  So much for that.

I passed the Great Divide sign instead of stopping.  All that way and I didn't feeling like giving a few minutes to actually seeing and reading the sign.  I've used the idea of that sign in a few sermons along the way and I passed up my chance to take a selfie next to it.  But that is how I am almost the whole time on trips like this.  Mind pictures and stories to tell are far more important to me than actually pictures.

I thought about that for awhile after passing the Great Divide, until I got to the waterfall on the other side of the pass.  Made a quick decision to try the selfie thing and see if it makes any difference.

I realize some people might think that is better but me, not so much.

On into Pagosa Springs and down the road to Durango.  The first time I came through that particular stretch of road was on a trip to Sturgis with a big group of friends.  Kelley had called ahead and reserved rooms for us in Durango.  It had been a long day through New Mexico.  One bike needed work. We all needed something to eat and drink and a soft bed.  Add that together and I didn't fully appreciate how nice the road is between those towns.  

I got excited again as I passed through Durango because I was heading into uncharted territory.  At some point just outside of town I decided to quit waving to motorcycles.

I don't know where this tradition started but motorcyclists always wave to each other.  Always.  Even when I am commuting into Houston on I-10, if I meet a bike coming the other way on the HOV lane we will usually wave to one another.  At least people who have come to appreciate the tradition.  I've done it since I was riding my 1973 Honda 750.  It is a nice tradition.  Kind of a solidarity sort of thing.

But then there are "rally rules". Rally rules state that you don't wave to one another if you are in the vicinity of a motorcycle rally. You can't possibly wave to everybody if you are riding around the Black Hills during bike week in Sturgis.  It wouldn't be safe.  So, rally rules come into effect.  Once you cross the South Dakota state line you are wave free for the rest of the trip.

Well, the roads around here are as full of motorcycles as Houston is of Ford Expeditions and F-150's.  And frankly, I got tired of waving.  I invoke rally rules. I'm on vacation. No more waving for me.

From US 160 I headed north on US 491 and US 191 to ride through Moab and up to I-70.  It got hot.  Seriously hot.  As I passed through Monticello I decided that, if they had a Dairy Queen, I was stopping.  They didn't.  But they did have a little old fashioned looking ice cream stop so I decided to give it a try.  I passed it first and then had to U-turn through a gas station.  As I did so I remembered all those times my sisters and I begged our Mom to stop for DQ on long drives.  Sometimes we did stop.  Most of the time we didn't.  That is why stopping was actually a treat instead of an expectation.  Those days weren't all bad.

With all of that still in mind I walked up to the counter and told the girl taking my order that I decided that since I had been a very good boy all day, I would like a chocolate sundae please.  Good stop.

A person could spend weeks on vacation in Utah.  Who knew?  The rock formations on both sides of Moab are amazing.  I was thinking I could spend a whole day just looking at the same formation, seeing the shapes morph from ducky's to horsey's to wherever your mind wants to go.  Finally I got to I-70 and headed west.

I stopped for gas in Green River.  Here's my theory on how that town got settled:  Whoever got there first saw the water and said, "That's it. I'm done. I'm not taking another step." If that was the case, then they missed something spectacular.

I had no idea how magnificent riding west into the sun on I-70 was going to be. The sun painted all the distant mountains that pale shade of watery blue. The sights were incredible. The sign tells you that there are no services for the next 106 miles.  At first that sounds like a long stretch and you're glad you got gas in Green River. But once you start into those miles you are grateful that there isn't a Loves or Pilot or anything much to detract from the wonders of nature.  I'm ready to ride through there again.

But now I'm in Salina, UT, and it is time to hit the road again.  Next up, US 50, the loneliest road in America.  I don't know what that means but I'm looking forward to it.  Once I pick it up, just outside of town, I'll be following it all the way to Reno.

And I'm pretty sure I won't be waving much.  Probably anyway.