The 2024 Motorcycle Adventure - Part I

Prologue - It's been almost two years since the last time I rode a motorcycle, a 10-day, 2,400-mile road trip through Nevada, Utah, and Arizona, beginning and ending in Palm Springs, CA. I still think about that adventure today in 2026, and I regularly refer to it as one of the greatest experiences of my life. I still show off a pair of portraits of myself with the bike in my gear in majestic landscapes - it'll be a difficult task to create a better image of myself than what are in those two photos! In fact, I reflect back on the best times of my life, such as the year in England, and feel the comfort of nostalgia. This blog is a particular help with these glimpses of my past experiences. 

However, I've neglected to finish writing anything since my solo road trip to Moab in my car in 2023. I usually start writing, or jot down notes, but I then just lose interest and drop the ball. Perhaps it's the product of working full time and traveling far too much; the older I get the more this full time job wears on me. So, I drop certain things to focus on my purpose for right now: my career. The whole reason for moving to Bishop more than five years ago was this job, so it's my highest priority. Some of the words in this entry about the 2024 trip were written during that time. Each evening after we stopped for the night, I'd write paragraphs in the notepad app of my phone describing what we had done that day. Other nights I would jot down basic notes to jump my memory, but I never finished any of them. So, some of what you read here are my thoughts and words in 2024 while other sections I wrote in 2026 from memory. 

May 4, 2024 - Palm Springs to Kingman

I had been feeling nerves all week before the motorcycle trip. Anxiety. Low-key fear, like I had been quickly approaching a public speaking assignment. The nerves developed simply because I was about to embark on a massive undertaking: an 8-day, 2,000 mile motorcycle ride through 4 states: California, Nevada, Arizona, and Utah. This will be my longest motorcycle trip, eclipsing the 5-day ride on the Suzuki in England a decade ago.

For this trip, I rented a 2010 Harley Davidson Road King from a private owner in Banning. At 1800cc, I knew this machine was something to be respected because of its immense power. Considering this was my first time riding in almost a year, my riding skills were rusty, but I knew it would only take a few miles on the road for my skills to return in full. My riding mates were my biking buddy in Palm Springs and his partner. We all get along and there’s a good vibe.

In fact, after just a few miles on Interstate-10 heading towards the Coachella Valley, I began to laugh and giggle and scream with joy. The ride between Banning and Palm Springs the night before the trip was only 20 miles, but it was an enormous adrenaline spike especially after I got the red-and-black bike up to 95 mph. The power was remarkable, something I could feel in the core of my being. It took me a couple of hours to come down from the high that evening, even while sitting down for a home-cooked meal with my riding buddies and one other friend.

The route began with a rumble north of Palm Springs to a breakfast spot in Yucca Valley. We continued east to 29 Palms then turned north through Wonder Valley where we found “the end of the world” art installation. It was here where we realized it wasn’t the smartest idea to drive on a sandy road with large road bikes because it was just like driving on ice. I had to extend my legs and keep my feet close to the ground, giving the bike two more points of contact, and gently open the throttle and make gentle, wide turns. 

We drove up and over a mountain and down into Bristol Lake, a dry salt flat on the edge of Route 66 and Roy’s Motel. Eventually we connected with Interstate-40 and rode all the way to Needles, getting bullied by gusty winds for more than an hour. I must confess that driving in gusty wind conditions on a motorcycle is not fun. There is no sense of fun, not when the wind is blowing the bike from side to side giving you the feeling of being put in a precarious position. It is the definition of discomfort and a reminder that Mother Nature always has the upper hand. She merely allows us to travel...when she wants to.

Over the Colorado River and into Arizona we went. East of Bullhead City, incredible landscapes greeted us as we snaked up and over a mountain peppered with monoliths and pointy peaks, highlighted by colorful desert blooms on ocotillos, Joshua trees, and countless wildflowers. We stopped in Kingman for the night at a Motel 6, stumbling upon a classic car show in the parking lot.

I write this with a sore right hip and a tight lower back, the result of being out of riding shape. But it’s simply a reminder that I’m having the time of my life and feeling the most free and relaxed I’ll ever be while in the saddle of a horse with a whole lotta power.

May 5, 2024 - Kingman to St George

I woke up at 0230 and couldn’t fall back asleep, but it was fine because I got the sleep I needed. My hip felt fine and my back was back to normal. 

From Kingman we rode north towards the Hoover Dam on Highway 93, a long, straight stretch of asphalt in various states of poor condition through quiet desert landscapes. Eventually we crested a hilltop and were treated to expansive views of Lake Mead and its surrounding canyons and cliffs forcing excited expletives from the group through the helmet intercoms. 

I had visited the Hoover Dam once before in college. I do remember how massive it was, but I didn’t appreciate it back then like I do now. I didn’t fully notice the Art Deco design that reminded me of Batman and Gotham City, nor did I walk on the bridge overlooking the dam. This time I did, all the while sidestepping tourists lacking self awareness and blocking drivers going the wrong way through a one-way parking lot. 

We then stopped in Henderson for food and gas, and had a view of the distant skyscrapers of the Las Vegas strip. We discussed how Las Vegas seems to bring out the worst in people and celebrates all of these people and their worst addictions, all made worse by hot temperatures. 

Not to be drug down by Sin City, we rode to Lake Mead National Recreation Area and its various vista points overlooking this impressive desert reservoir created by the Colorado River and Hoover Dam. I find Lake Powell and the city of Page more impressive due to the landscapes there, but Lake Mead is no slouch itself. We drove a road along the northern shore, astonished by the landscapes that reminded us of Valley of Fire and parts of Utah and marveled at the lack of traffic or crowds. I laughed a few times while gliding around the long sweeping curves in the road, all the while the roar of the Harley Davidson engine wailed away in my ears. 

Eventually we reached Valley of Fire State Park, a delightfully colorful geological wonderland. I visited in the winter last year (2023) and pitched a tent at a campground inside the park. This time there were springtime wildflowers to greet us, including the desert sting bush, a flower I hadn’t seen before. The yucca were in full bloom which was a wonderful contrast to the red-orange rocks. I was pleased with the pictures of the Elephant Arch near the eastern entrance thanks to the golden sunlight and cloud porn. From there we drove to the northern part of the park along smooth and curvy roads through one well-known canyon to any Instagram user, through whoop-dee-doos and over crests, a ride that would make anyone giggle uncontrollably. We parked at the end of the road and hiked the White Domes trail which takes hikers through a slot canyon. The trail includes fascinating geology and many colors, as well as informational signs that explain the filming history of the area. 

After returning to the bikes from the hike, we agreed to knock out the final 120 miles to St George that afternoon. Interstate-15 between Valley of Fire is a fast and smooth highway that cuts right through the bluffs and meanders through the Virgin River Gorge. Unfortunately, at 85-90 mph, I noticed a slight "death wobble" in my bike originating from the front forks, so we slowed down some until we reached St George. 

My hip was fine after today’s ride, but my back is again sore just like my riding mates. We waddled to dinner across the street to a Greek restaurant, but not before hearing a rumor from a woman in the parking lot that some Asian tourists had been touching my motorcycle, mounting it, and taking pictures with it. This made my blood boil in anger, and I asked the hotel front desk if they had any cameras in the front entrance where the bike was parked. Unfortunately, there were none, so I had to feel my rage and let it go. One of my riding buddies said people have been known to die for such behavior. 

After stuffing ourselves with a much-needed dinner, we waddled back into the hotel for the night, popping some Tylenol and drinking chamomile tea in the process. 

May 6, 2024 - St George to Kanab

The wobble on the bike has been fixed. My lasting memory of this motorcycle repair shop in St. George was the helmetless mechanic, decked in nothing but shorts, sneakers, and a t-shirt, rumbling away from the shop on the bike to test it out, all while smoking a cigarette. Meanwhile my riding buddies and I lounged inside the showroom and chatted with the owners.

We got a late start on what would turn out to be a frigid day of riding. While California got hit with a springtime snowstorm, Utah got its own dose of springtime winter weather with snow, wind, and below-average temperatures. Our day began with us roaring north on I-15 for more than 100 miles through a relaxed valley and bluffs dusted with snow. Since I already had mechanical trouble with the bike, I found myself wondering what every bump, knock, noise, and shudder meant. It took me away from the enjoyment of the ride. 

The temperatures dipped as we climbed in elevation. While this stretch of the 15 had us riding at 80+ mph, it was still more calm than the stretch on the way to St George. We still encountered drivers oblivious of their surroundings, looking straight down below the steering wheel and placing their attention entirely on their phones. We connected with I-70 and marveled at the wonderful landscapes surrounding this major highway. Higher we climbed until we reached passes at 6,500 and 7,000 feet, each of which offered a dusting of new snow. This was another fast roadway that regularly allowed us to reach 90 mph. 

You learn a lot about people when you travel with them, and negative emotions like frustration inevitably join the fray. We had driven 200 miles by the time I needed to refuel, but the leader kept passing gas stations on I-70 in search of a gas station on Highway 89 despite my remarks through the intercom about the bike’s rapidly shrinking range. Eventually we stopped to fill up in the small farming community of Joseph and take a break and cool off. In these times, I remind myself to check my attitude. From 70 we turned south on 89 which offered excellent meandering roads along riverbeds and canyons without heavy traffic. It was a gentle, calm, and relaxing ride through rural countryside.

Eventually we reached an area I had visited last year (2023): State Route 12 and Bryce Canyon National Park. During last year’s visit, I had driven through a snowstorm and visited the park under a blanket of snow and hoards of tourists. This time, I was pleasantly surprised by how few people there were in the park in the late afternoon. Bryce Canyon stands above 7,500 feet of elevation and with a breezy wind, it was frigid. All three of us were shivering in the wind on the cliff edge, but I laughed as I photographed the colorful hoodoos of the canyon in the softer light. We got back on the bikes wearing all the possible layers of warm clothing. Even so, we were shivering thanks to the colder temperatures at high elevations, and to make matters a bit more uncomfortable, the sun was setting.

We eventually reached Kanab about an hour later at sunset where we sat down for a steak dinner. Still deeply trembling from cold and hunger as we waited for the food to arrive, none of us spoke much. Only after the food arrived did we begin to warm up thanks to a hearty and delicious dinner and dessert. Later, we finally had the chance to rest at a super cool, retro-themed hotel whose hot shower felt heavenly. 

May 7, 2024 - Kanab to Page

In 2019, I drove past Vermillion Cliffs National Monument in my Camry on my way to the southern rim of the Grand Canyon. The cliffs had a dusting of snow back then which really complemented the endless red-orange rock. Five years later, I drove the same road, only this time it was in spring and on a motorcycle. 

                                    

I lost my mind giggling at the thought that I was driving through this area on a bike. I became giddy at the sight of blooming beavertail cactus everywhere I looked, and I was overwhelmed once I saw condors, for the first time in my life, gently gliding on wind gusts over the Colorado River. We explored a bit of Lee’s Ferry and immensely enjoyed the scenery on the way down to the water's edge. In the words of one of my riding mates, it felt like I was in a dream. 

The only downside of the day was the strong, gusty winds all day that created more blowing dust; Eventually it felt like there was mud in my mouth. On a pullout overlooking the Vermillion Cliffs, the wind gusts were so strong that they nearly knocked over the Road King. Several times that day we had to lean into the wind just to stay balanced and upright. 

We also drove to the Pariah Toadstools after checking in to the hotel in Page, having a break, and eating a mediocre dinner at a lightly populated restaurant. The toadstools are fascinating sandstone hoodoos just off State Route 89 west of Page, and the parking lot is a simple stretch of gravel leading to a gate where a hiking trail begins. The trail is less than a mile one way. We encountered plenty of colorful wildflowers on the trail and around the hoodoos. I took plenty of photos with the Nikon to document the fading golden sunlight on the formations. After reminding myself to stay present and enjoy the moment, I sat down and studied the rock, seeing faces and feeling a small amount of energy. 

We rode back into town during twilight. 

May 8, 2024 - Page to Moab

The Hanging Garden in Page is a stretch of vertical sandstone in a shadowy, cool alcove that provides views of the surrounding orange-red landscape. Lake Powell is out there somewhere, as are snowcapped mountain peaks in the distance. This vertical sandstone wall is carpeted with wild ferns and orchids, and is a short hike from the trailhead just outside of town. Informational signs at the trailhead describe what the area means to the local Navajo and encourage visitors to appreciate the walk for what it is. 

During a visit to the garden on this particular morning which featured blooming orchids and total silence, I had a profound experience. While standing at the wall in silence, I felt a brief wave of emotion. Then, something was telling me I was in the right place at the right time, and that this is where I need to be. During the walk back to the trailhead, I had a vision of myself living and working in Page. It seems that I have a spiritual connection to this place. After telling this story to a friend, he told me to never forget the experience and that I'll probably actually live there someday. In the two years since my experience, I've periodically checked the job openings in Page and what house prices look like. I don't foresee myself moving there anytime soon, but the seed is planted in my head. Maybe someday. If nothing else, I'll certainly revisit the town (I still need to see Rainbow Bridge National Monument with my own eyes). 

We set out for Moab that morning, driving into Navajo Nation and it’s many rock spires, open countryside, abject poverty, and squalor. We had an issue with a mustang following me too closely, and a car trying to pass a line of traffic with not enough space before oncoming traffic (us). I slowed and moved to the shoulder, but my buddies didn’t. I loudly exclaimed into the intercom: 

"Heads up, heads up!"

My buddies realized just in time and swerved out of the way with a colorful hand gesture towards the other driver. Soon after, we decided to take a break at a nearby rest stop, with one of us remarking that we could search for a clean pair of underpants there. 

We made a side trip to Navajo National Monument, my second visit to this ancient cliff dwellings once occupied by the Ancestral Puebloan people. We later stopped for lunch at a grocery store deli in Kayenta. This town is home for many in the Navajo Nation, but it’s clear how poverty rules life here. I saw dented and damaged cars, wild dogs, and an overall aura of hopelessness. But, one man did compliment my bike at a gas station. Finally, after we ate and fueled the bikes, we set off for Monument Valley. 

"Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!" My thoughts raced. 

Driving through Monument Valley in my car last year (2023) was a thrill. I shrieked with laughter. This time, while on the bike, it just felt different, surreal. I couldn’t believe I was actually doing it! We stopped at the parking lot of The View hotel for pictures; what resulted was one of my most favorite portraits of myself. Who wouldn't appreciate themselves sat on a Harley Davidson motorcycle, decked in riding leathers, with the three famous buttes in the background? We also stopped at Forest Gump Hill, dodging tourists lying in the roadway. From here, we rode roads I hadn’t touched during the trip last year, traveling into the unknown. 

The pavement took us towards Mexican Hat and a red-orange landscape that looked more like mars with each passing mile. The Raplee Ridge monocline impressed us so much that we pulled over to take photos. This fascinating geologic formation looks like a rug that someone pushed from both sides, creating bends, creases and folds. 

We stopped at Goosenecks State Park which to me is comparable to the Grand Canyon, but slightly less epic and without the crowds. The San Juan River has carved its way through this area over eons of time, creating buttes that remind one of the neck of a goose. The parking lot and campground rested on the northern rim of the canyon, and we stopped for a few minutes to marvel at nature. But since we had 120 miles left to ride to Moab, we couldn’t stop much more. 

So, we continued on Highway 191, rumbling along long, smooth, fast curves and epic landscapes, at one point passing the turnoff for Valley of the Gods. Even from the highway, that valley looks otherworldly, like something you’d see in a fantasy movie thanks to the countless massive, oddly shaped sandstone buttes. As we marveled at the epic landscapes around us, the leader, a grizzled older biker in his 60s, remarked that this is the pinnacle of motorcycling. 

We roared through Bluff and several other small towns, increasingly affected by the colder spring temperatures. I kept forgetting to zip up my jacket. We finally rolled into Moab at sunset, all of us strung out from the road and the steadily dipping temperatures. That night we treated ourselves to Indian food.