Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

Made it home in less than five hours. It was cold this morning so I had to bundle up. You can tell Fall is here and Winter is coming. I was on the road by 0730.

I left Cortez via US 491. The road, like everything until after Moab when I got on I-70 east to head home, was a two laner. The area was mostly farmland and it went on forever. As you get so accustomed to seeing here, there were mountains in the distance. I turned around to get this shot of sleeping Ute Mountain.





Here's the legend that I copied from a web site:

In the very old days, the Sleeping Ute Mountain was a Great Warrior God. He came to help fight against the Evil Ones who were causing much trouble.

A tremendous battle between the Great Warrior God and the Evil Ones followed. As they stepped hard upon the earth and braced themselves to fight, their feet pushed the land into mountains and valleys. This is how the country of this region came to be as it is today.

The Great Warrior God was hurt, so he lay down to rest and fell into a deep sleep. The blood from his wound turned into living water for all creatures to drink.
When the fog or clouds settle over the Sleeping Warrior God, it is a sign that he is changing his blankets for the four seasons. When the Indians see the light green blanket over their "God", they know it is spring. The dark green blanket is summer, the yellow and red one is fall, and the white one is winter.

The Indians believe that when the clouds gather on the highest peak, the Warrior God is pleased with his people and is letting rain clouds slip from his pockets. They also believe that the Great Warrior God will rise again to help them in the fight against their enemies.

After Dove Creek, I crossed into Utah.


From Monticello to Moab is almost other-worldly. Red rock outcroppings everywhere. This is one of my favorites. If you'll notice there's a small hole in the middle, at the bottom of the rock. To give you an idea how big it is, that hole is easily the size of a garage. This is on private property but plenty of people have crossed the fence or driven in there to have a look at it.



The scenery continues all the way to Moab, with stones rising from the ground to make the oddest shapes.









I came into Moab fairly quickly. You can always tell you're close when this ledge appears.






I rode through Moab and took 128 toward Cisco. There are high canyon walls on each side of the narrow road and the Colorado River runs alongside. At one point, you come to the confluence of the Colorado and the Delores. It's unbelievably beautiful and on the weekends, it's a slow, slow drive.









Today, there was a bike race. The canyon runs for 34 miles and when I came out, I stopped at the bike aid station and asked about their race. One group was riding 68 miles - out and back - and the other was doing a century ride. Not sure where they went after they did a round trip to get the extra 32 miles. There were hundreds of bicyclists, brightly clad in many-colored racing jerseys. It was a great day for a ride - cycle or bike.

There's another 15 miles or so to get to the cutoff for the interstate. I stopped and took a picture of where I'd just been.



And then it was on I-70 east, headed home.



I crossed the state line into Colorado once more and rode a little more than a half hour to the hospital. Judy is working today but I wanted to check in and let her know I was OK.





I pulled into the house.



And so, the ride is finished.

I rode 5114.5 miles over 19 days and visited 16 different states (with Colorado and Texas getting two different rides). I saw millions of acres of trees and rich land, thousands and thousands of cows and horses, pasture land, ranchland, farms, wilderness, major rivers and small streams, ponds and lakes, some interstates, and mostly backroads of America.

I lost seven pounds and one pant size. (I'm thinking about leaving again tomorrow to try to lose another seven that way.) I got a sunburn.



I saw friends and family I haven't seen for years. I visited my "first love" (Judy wasn't threatened a bit) and resolved a 34 year old question.

I crossed the Tallahatchie River but didn't see Billy Joe McAllister floating anywhere (for those of you too young to have experienced the Bobbie Gentry phenomenon in 1967, no one knows what got thrown off before Billy Joe McAllister jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge).

I burned 113.93 gallons of premium. That comes to almost 49 miles/gallon. I made 44 stops to put gas in the tank and most places were in the $2.80's per gallon. The cheapest was in Greenville, TN at $1.99 for premium; the most expensive at Monticello, UT at $3.43.

I was glad to see Scot, Sylvia, Peter, Desiree, Kevin, Dean, Uncle Rudolph, Aunt Alma, Uncle Woodard, Aunt Veronica, Brett, Scott, Mark, Gina, Park, Rachel, Jamey, Andi, Bob, Ski, Sharon, Michael, Dave, Bao, Jeff, Colleen, Lindsay, Emily, Cindy and any others I failed to name. I appreciated everyone's generous and kind hospitality.

There were many, many people I talked to who left impressions on me, including the old guy with a Ranger cap in the Delta Blues Museum who told me his life story about three tours in Vietnam and ironically, whose son is in the 101st Airborne in Afghanistan - the very same unit that replaced Ruppert's unit earlier this year. Who would have thought it? There were many other random people and stories that I didn't include in my blog. The old black lady with the eyepatch in Mississippi who looked like an old ninja that Quentin Tarrantino would have cast when she was in her prime who told me to "be careful". The couple at The Big Texan who are traveling along Route 66 to California who shared their concern about bedbugs with me. The strangers and my brief encounters with them as they asked me enviously about my trip, and then wished me a safe ride. Even the old sourpuss who was going to charge me 42 cents for ice made an impression. The wolves circling around in the car in Arkansas who confirmed Ski's adage that "an armed society is a polite society" aren't going to be forgotten soon. The hotel clerks who graciously gave me discounts. Other bikers who stopped and yakked.

My kids texted and called me throughout the trip. Reilly helped me every night with the map and if not for Ruppert's gloves and plexiglass cleaner, the trip wouldn't have been as friendly.

I talked to Judy every night and am still amazed she lets me do all the things I want to do. You'd think that after more than 30 years of being together, she would have grown tired of my weird ideas and impulsive need to get off the beaten path.

I'm still searching for the perfect set of ear buds, an IPOD whose battery lasts more than 4.5 hours, and the world's best chicken fried steak.

My Harley was a gem throughout, asking only to be topped off with premium gas and never faltering as a result. Plenty of power when I needed it and it made for a confident ride. I saw hundreds of splotches on the road and I knew something met its fate there; thousands of pieces of blown truck tires that were always on my mind when I was around semis; and all the hundreds of dead animals and resultant chunks of meat that if they had to be run over, I was glad it wasn't my motorcycle that did it.

My two best friends when the ride got hot and sticky were my Old Spice Classic deodorant and my bar of Safeguard - both of which were almost used up.

For the first time in my life I was on a trip where it was about the journey, not the destination. It was the height of self-indulgence. Having the freedom to do whatever you want, when you want, is an experience I highly recommend for everyone. At least once, anyway.

In 1967, Craig Peterson rented a Honda 65 and he let his brother Chris and me (both of us were 13 when Craig was 16) learn to ride it in a field. We fell over plenty while we tried to get the hang of the clutch and throttle, the brakes and the gears. Wherever Craig is, he has no idea that he put me on a 43 year love affair with motorcycles. There's a simultaneous exhilaration and sense of calmness that results from riding a bike. I know those emotions are contradictory but if you ride, you know the deal.

And so, that's it. I want to thank my friends and family for following me and "riding along" as Cindy so aptly put it.

Ride safe. And, of course, Sho' You Right!!!