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Day 38 (September 24): Grand Staircase-Escalante
Today I started off up onto Boulder Mountain from Torrey in the cold morning air. The summit surprised me (the road signs and mileage markers were a little off), which is always a good thing. The mountaintops in the Dixie National Forest (a name to which my dad said, 'I wonder why they think they can call themselves that out here in Utah.') are covered in aspen, groves of golden yellow. My dad took some photos of black cows resting in the groves of white trunks, with green and yellow leaves backlit by the sun.
We stopped in Boulder for lunch at the Burr Trail Grill and Deli, a wonderful little oasis of good people and good food. We chatted with some bike tourers there (on a 10-day tour with a company called Timberline), and as we left I noticed my back tire was a little flat. As I 'pumped' it up with my frame pump, I let all the rest of the air out of it, for as the old French guy in Ace Wheelworks in Cambridge told me, short stems on your tubes don't work well with frame pumps. Fortunately, a half-mile away at the gas station were some mountain bikers and their electric pump who fixed me all up.
And a good thing, too. The ride to Escalante was not to be missed. Highway 12 is reputed to be one of the most scenic in America. I rode along the Hogback (there is also a Hell's Backbone nearby, but it's gravel), a spine high above the canyons in Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. The grades were up to 14%, which made for some speedy descents. The winding road with such a drop off was really fun, and at the bottom, along the Escalante River, the lush green trees provided a lovely contrast to the rust-red rock walls.
Maybe eight years ago, my dad gave me a National Geographic book called 'America's Backroads and Byways', and Highway 12 and Grand Staircase-Escalante were featured. Those images lodged in my mind, and although my dad has no recollection of this book, it's great to be here exploring with him. Especially today, when I was crabby and changing my tube, he just stood in the hot parking lot with his arms out as I hung tubes and tires on him and stored tools in his outstretched hands.
The climb out of the park was less than pleasant, and I could see my task for miles ahead as the road wound up the sides of the canyon. The climbs here in Utah are really odd - they're like beveled steps, very steep then flat or even downhill, for the entire ascent up a mountain. I guess a lot of mountain roads are cut that way, but the Rockies were such steady inclines that this has taken some getting used to.
We stopped in Boulder for lunch at the Burr Trail Grill and Deli, a wonderful little oasis of good people and good food. We chatted with some bike tourers there (on a 10-day tour with a company called Timberline), and as we left I noticed my back tire was a little flat. As I 'pumped' it up with my frame pump, I let all the rest of the air out of it, for as the old French guy in Ace Wheelworks in Cambridge told me, short stems on your tubes don't work well with frame pumps. Fortunately, a half-mile away at the gas station were some mountain bikers and their electric pump who fixed me all up.
And a good thing, too. The ride to Escalante was not to be missed. Highway 12 is reputed to be one of the most scenic in America. I rode along the Hogback (there is also a Hell's Backbone nearby, but it's gravel), a spine high above the canyons in Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. The grades were up to 14%, which made for some speedy descents. The winding road with such a drop off was really fun, and at the bottom, along the Escalante River, the lush green trees provided a lovely contrast to the rust-red rock walls.
Maybe eight years ago, my dad gave me a National Geographic book called 'America's Backroads and Byways', and Highway 12 and Grand Staircase-Escalante were featured. Those images lodged in my mind, and although my dad has no recollection of this book, it's great to be here exploring with him. Especially today, when I was crabby and changing my tube, he just stood in the hot parking lot with his arms out as I hung tubes and tires on him and stored tools in his outstretched hands.
The climb out of the park was less than pleasant, and I could see my task for miles ahead as the road wound up the sides of the canyon. The climbs here in Utah are really odd - they're like beveled steps, very steep then flat or even downhill, for the entire ascent up a mountain. I guess a lot of mountain roads are cut that way, but the Rockies were such steady inclines that this has taken some getting used to.
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