Day 34 (September 19): Colorado to Utah

Today, I had a hilly, lonely and mostly boring day for 62 miles from
Dolores to Monticello, Utah. When you have a mountain to climb, the
absence of another person is not as acute. But when there's nothing
but steep up-and-down hills, the wind and little to look at, it gets
boring.

Yesterday, I pedaled past a forklift cruising up and down the bike
lane in Dolores. Today, an ATV passed me on the highway shoulder, and
I could smell the driver's cologne, a strange interjection into the
manure, dead animal and exhaust aromas typical of the road.

I stopped for lunch in the last outpost in Colorado, Dove Creek, 'The
Pinto Bean Capital of the World', it declares (So that's two world
capitals - I'll add this one to prairie chickens in Cassoday, KS).
When I stepped out of Deb's Diner, the eastern half of the sky was
full of dark gray clouds.

The day had felt ominous from the beginning - all I've read and heard
about Utah and Nevada is about the difficult terrain, the absence of
services and the desolation along the roads (more Nevada than Utah). I
rode under a bright blue sky scarred by dark, heavy storms that blew
by every so often, sprinkling me. I have been seeing lots of deer
carcasses, their white rib cages sometimes glaring up from the grass,
but today, I saw mainly just their skeletons. The vegetation shifted
from tall pines and aspen to short evergreens and shrubs, mixed with
curled, dead trees. I guess alone time is fine in the beautiful
mountains, but when I started seeing cypress trees (a traditional
symbol of death) and then dead cypress trees, I had a bad feeling.
That the wind was nearly toppling me (as bad or worse than the
blustery day into Pueblo) only made things seem more strange.

A couple of miles across the Utah border, I was riding along and heard
some kind of non-cricket, non-traffic noise. I glanced around and saw
nothing. Then, I saw a coyote in full pursuit, his nose right on my
back wheel! I let out a huge scream (louder than the one I emitted in
Placerville a couple of days ago when a bird nesting in the shoulder
nearly flew straight into my face) and threw my bike into high gear.
With the briefest of glances to check for traffic, I hopped out from
the shoulder into the road. I looked again - he was a few feet behind
me now, but still running. I wondered if by going faster I had
identified myself as prey. I figured he would take a bite out of my
right calf if I didn't get away (and I was making little progress) or
hit him (but where?) with my frame pump. I don't think I have ever
sprinted so fast.

The wind kept blowing hard against me as I came to a steep hill. At
third or fourth glance, I noticed that my pursuer had a rather happy
countenance for a coyote, and his eyes were big and cute, his nose
rather wide and pettable. Yes, it was a dog. He was smiling and having
a fantastic time chasing me.

After nearly a mile, his tongue was lolling out, and he was distracted
by an old building. Finally, he disappeared. The good thing was, by
the time the adrenaline wore off, I'd covered three or four more
miles, so this shape-shifter coyote-dog had erased about five miles
from my day. And, I'd given some Utahan's dog a great workout. And
from time to time, it's good to hurl an animal scream into the sky
from that deep, down human place. Especially when your terror turns
out to be a skinny, sandy dog. The strangest thing is that he never
once barked. So, was he really a dog?

The wind nearly kept me from making it into Monticello, but here I am.
Tomorrow, I'm riding a short 21 miles to Blanding to meet my dad, Tony
O.