skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Day 35 (September 20): Utah to Tony O
On my way out of Monticello for my short ride to Blanding, I met two other cross-country cyclists, one east bound and one west bound. We ended up standing on the gas station corner talking for a long time (all of us putting off our rides for the day). It was great to compare stories and hear about what lies ahead in Utah.
The ride to Blanding was uneventful except for the harsh wind. I hope it calms down a little this week during my dash to the Nevada border before riding (in the car) up to Salt Lake City with my dad on Saturday.
Today, I took the day off, and my dad and I went over to Mesa Verde National Park to visit the cliff dwellings of the Ancestral Puebloans (formerly the Anasazi, but the current Pueblo and Hopi nations don't like to use that term anymore). We took the long way back to Blanding through New Mexico and Arizona, stopping by Four Corners. I rode my bike in a circle there (the site begs for some kind of cheesy stunt, since there's nothing else around but very depressing and empty kiosks run by the Navajo Nation). The sun was setting as we drove back, which was beautiful, but we rode through the Ute and Navajo Nation reservations almost the entire way. These reveal a poverty unique from other communities I've passed through so far. Despite the beauty of the land, I always leave reservations feeling hopeless and confused about how to process what goes on there. It is a more profound lack of understanding - fueled by their intriguing traditions, odd political standing and our sordid shared history - than I've encountered elsewhere. I have no idea what life is like out there for them.
On my way out of Monticello for my short ride to Blanding, I met two other cross-country cyclists, one east bound and one west bound. We ended up standing on the gas station corner talking for a long time (all of us putting off our rides for the day). It was great to compare stories and hear about what lies ahead in Utah.
The ride to Blanding was uneventful except for the harsh wind. I hope it calms down a little this week during my dash to the Nevada border before riding (in the car) up to Salt Lake City with my dad on Saturday.
Today, I took the day off, and my dad and I went over to Mesa Verde National Park to visit the cliff dwellings of the Ancestral Puebloans (formerly the Anasazi, but the current Pueblo and Hopi nations don't like to use that term anymore). We took the long way back to Blanding through New Mexico and Arizona, stopping by Four Corners. I rode my bike in a circle there (the site begs for some kind of cheesy stunt, since there's nothing else around but very depressing and empty kiosks run by the Navajo Nation). The sun was setting as we drove back, which was beautiful, but we rode through the Ute and Navajo Nation reservations almost the entire way. These reveal a poverty unique from other communities I've passed through so far. Despite the beauty of the land, I always leave reservations feeling hopeless and confused about how to process what goes on there. It is a more profound lack of understanding - fueled by their intriguing traditions, odd political standing and our sordid shared history - than I've encountered elsewhere. I have no idea what life is like out there for them.
No comments:
Post a Comment