Day 3: Panaca to Page through Zion

“You are an unusual person; riding alone across the country on a motorcycle.”

“Thanks,” I responded with a grin.

The innkeeper prefaced that comment with “It was so nice to have met you,” so I took my unusualness as a compliment as I headed out the door to start off to my next destination.

Among things like “unusual”, I’m told I am “brave” and “impressive” and I just got a “I’m proud of you, young lady” in a fatherly way from a man on a motorcycle. Honestly, I don’t know how to take some of these comments. Partly, they make me all warm and prideful inside, but I also kind of think I’m a bit of a fraud. I don’t feel brave or impressive. I feel like I am getting away with something. I feel like I look bad-ass on my bike with all my gear loaded on it and all my tough-looking moto-clothing, but in reality, I am heading to a little B-n-B where I will shower, nap, go out and grab dinner then thumb tap a new post to my blog explaining what a fraud I am. I mean look at this freaking deck I am sitting on typing this under a beautiful crescent moon. I ask you, is that really that bad ass?

In reality, aren’t I just a bit spoiled?

I am enjoying telling you all about this summer and two-wheeled road trip of discovery. It’s fun. And as a fraud, I suppose some of the greats too were a bit of a fraud. I mean, Henry David Thoreau wasn’t exactly living a brave and impressive self-sufficient lifestyle all those years at Walden Pond. Not that I envision my blog as Thoreau-esque, but, if I am a fraud, I don’t mind being a fraud in the stylings of a Thoreau. It’s good to have goals, am I right?

Anyway, so I bravely woke in my B-n-B in Panaca after an unrestful night where my brain and even my teeth buzzed with engine, road and wind noise. I must get some new earplugs asap. I carefully plotted my route to another B-n-B via the scenic National Park Route using my modern sextant (aka Google maps) and loaded my packs onto my steed.

I headed off after 7am this morning. A 45-minute sleep in I would regret this afternoon. The sun was already blazing high in the cloudless sky and the temperature was pushing 70F. I was going to get my sweat on today. Goggle welcomed my to Utah after 20miles and rows of wild sunflowers greeted me.

With my buzzy head and lack of sleep, there really weren’t many neurons left for existential thoughts like yesterday. I still pondered over the craft work of the stripe bisecting the road, but in Utah, they kicked it up a notch with “No Passing Zone” signs. I suspect this is a mental puzzle I will play with myself daily for the coming weeks.

Beyond the yellow stripes, I dug into my yoga training to work on my in-saddle posture. I am not surprised how many other riders I meet ask me how my ass and back are doing on this ride. I see how a lot of people ride like they are in front of the computer – shoulders rolled forward, chest closed, tailbone tucked with the pelvis tipped up and abs slack. Guys you might think you look cool and all Easy Rider or James Dean, but you actually look like a schmuck with a lower back ache. That ain’t sexy. So, when not mesmerized by the centerline, I worked on yogi posture and did five peg stands every 20 minutes or so.

That got me to Cedar City where I had my first encounter with annoying civilization at rush hour since I started. I filled up at a 20-pump.gas station mobbed by commuters. Then headed to the drugstore for earplugs (how much loss of hearing I suffered was also in my thoughts this morning). Wanting a caffeine jolt, I headed to the Starbucks across the street. I would say, the Starbucks parking lot on Saturday mornjng might be the most dangerous place to for motorcyclist. I should have settled for the gas station speciality.

I aimed to keep today’s post short and I actually felt it was an uneventful day, but as happens, I start writing and moments just come out.

The next 30 miles were on big slab toward Zion. For some reason 75mph in the middle of nowhere felt less precarious and dangerous than 75mph on an interested freeway. People are aggressive and angry. They are riding too close and cutting in to fast. All things I do in a car. And all things I haven’t had to deal with in a while. I gleefully welcomed my exit except for the asshat that decided to tailgate me despite the fact I was behind a string of cars no going any faster. I needed my lonely road Zen back.

After short stint in a gas station parking lot. . .well, actually an hour talking to multiple motorcycle riders including fatherly pride while I topped off my coolant with a cupful of fluid out of a gallon jug I had to buy. . . I headed into Zion.

Zion never fails to disappoint. I won’t bother with words. Instead, enjoy the images and videos.

Given the late start and the long chat at the gas station, I hit Zion at the peak of the day and the heat did not disappoint. Given the slow train of tourist traffic through the park, I couldn’t count on the cooling effects of the wind. So, I sweat my way through the amazing scenery then stopped at the first restaurant on the right for lunch which served Ho-made Pies (yay for slut shaming in the middle of the desert!).

Buzzy head, heat and an un-natturally red strawberry-rhubarb pie resulted in my daily casualty happening in the form of leaving my spot GPS tracker (and emergency signal) in the windowsill so it had a clear view of the sky. Didn’t realize for another 90 miles. Thankfully, kind staff is mailing it, but I feel I must be resolved to have no casualties on Day 4.

Ultimately, even a fraud can only beat herself up over these mistakes so much. I mean did Thoreau send GPS breadcrumbs and carry an emergency SOS signal with him? Of course not, but then again, he was never far from home either. With that, I took in the sunset then the patio and now bed.

Happy cooking and faking it until you make it.