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Day 36 (September 22): Southeastern Utah
I don't really know what to call this region. I'm tempted to title it "Mars," but I don't think that's the official name. I rode 89 miles today, from Blanding to the western border of Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. I met my dad at Natural Bridges National Monument where we ate lunch and looked at the natural bridges (he stuck around and did some hiking in the afternoon).
The landscape shifted constantly today, from rounded sandstone canyons to tall, red buttes. In Glen Canyon, these were both present, with strange, bulbous rock formations and towering red mesas (or mountains? or buttes?). These pictures make it look lush, but it in fact looks other-worldly. My dad and I both felt like we were on another planet. As many members of my family will tell you, I can have an over-active imagination, and today I felt like my sanity may slide right over one of those canyon edges and fall straight into a gulch.
There are very few cars out here on Highway 95, and the ride was breathtaking, if surreal. Pictured here is a cattle guard, the bane of a cyclist's existence in Utah. You can either tear up your bike going over too many of them or dismount and walk. Some have one- or two-inch rails that you can hit just right. I've only managed to do that once so far.
Also pictured is the bridge over the Colorado River, above Lake Powell, created by a dam in 1963. The lake is not visible from anywhere along the road from the east because the land is so topographically varied. My dad and I were surprised to find out yesterday that when you are standing on a mesa, seeing mountains in the distance erases the low-country between you and the mountains. It seemed like you could walk right to the mountains, when in fact you would walk off the side. Similarly, today, the road curved along a strange ground plane that was raised and sunk to extremes in each direction, and sometimes the canyons weren't visible until you were right up on them, like the lake.
I don't know if we'll be in more civilization tomorrow, but hopefully we'll feel a little less like aliens.
I don't really know what to call this region. I'm tempted to title it "Mars," but I don't think that's the official name. I rode 89 miles today, from Blanding to the western border of Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. I met my dad at Natural Bridges National Monument where we ate lunch and looked at the natural bridges (he stuck around and did some hiking in the afternoon).
The landscape shifted constantly today, from rounded sandstone canyons to tall, red buttes. In Glen Canyon, these were both present, with strange, bulbous rock formations and towering red mesas (or mountains? or buttes?). These pictures make it look lush, but it in fact looks other-worldly. My dad and I both felt like we were on another planet. As many members of my family will tell you, I can have an over-active imagination, and today I felt like my sanity may slide right over one of those canyon edges and fall straight into a gulch.
There are very few cars out here on Highway 95, and the ride was breathtaking, if surreal. Pictured here is a cattle guard, the bane of a cyclist's existence in Utah. You can either tear up your bike going over too many of them or dismount and walk. Some have one- or two-inch rails that you can hit just right. I've only managed to do that once so far.
Also pictured is the bridge over the Colorado River, above Lake Powell, created by a dam in 1963. The lake is not visible from anywhere along the road from the east because the land is so topographically varied. My dad and I were surprised to find out yesterday that when you are standing on a mesa, seeing mountains in the distance erases the low-country between you and the mountains. It seemed like you could walk right to the mountains, when in fact you would walk off the side. Similarly, today, the road curved along a strange ground plane that was raised and sunk to extremes in each direction, and sometimes the canyons weren't visible until you were right up on them, like the lake.
I don't know if we'll be in more civilization tomorrow, but hopefully we'll feel a little less like aliens.
1 comment:
i remember racing over those cattle guards and some cyclists wouldn't hit them square on so their tires would enter and they completely crash, total human pizza all over the road.
those were the exiting days!
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