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, 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.

Snowy Joshua Trees and The Return Home to Bishop

 1/20 - The Caliente motel was my least favorite accommodation during my road trip. There was food and coffee available for a continental breakfast, but a sign in the kitchen read, "limit one per person." This made me roll my eyes and made me want to drive away as soon as possible. 

After brushing off a layer of powdery snow from my car from the overnight storm, I was back on the road, heading west. Luckily, this day was completely sunny after the snowstorm moved off overnight. I felt myself settling into the kind of zone where I only focus on the road in front of me in my desire to go home. But at one point, I snapped out of it when I saw something I hadn't seen before: a grove of Joshua trees with a fresh coating of snow! 

Of course I had to stop to photograph this scene because the early morning light made this snowy, Mojave Desert landscape magical. It was a wonderful conclusion to the road trip, just one more thing I hadn't seen along with all of the other places and things I hadn't seen before with my own eyes. 

I departed from this blanketed grove of Joshua trees and raced along the lonely, long and straight highways of Nevada's interior. These are the kind of roads that stretch forever, that allow you to drive as fast as you wish because there are no state troopers to enforce speed. There is just sagebrush, vast valleys and jagged low-elevation mountains. 

I stopped in Tonopah for lunch and then continued over Montgomery Pass. Eventually I glimpsed the familiar shapes of the Eastern Sierra and a few miles later, I had returned to Bishop with a sigh of relief. 

So ended my epic road trip. This 13-day, 2,500-mile journey certainly satisfied one of my fantasies. I had been studying maps of those parts of Utah and Arizona for a long time. To finally be able to make it a reality meant the world to me. I took nearly 4,000 photos on this trek split between the Nikon and my old and venerable iPhone 6. 

This adventure actually exceeded my expectations. While I had a feeling before my departure that this was going to be one of the greatest things I had done in my life, the reality was that it was even greater than I thought it would be. The two nights in Monument Valley surpassed any fantasy of mine, becoming the best part of my travels, and Arches National Park was my second favorite. These two locations presented boatloads of some sort of natural energy to me, while I stared in awe every which way I could look.

The main reason for the trip was the hike to The Wave in the Pariah Canyon Wilderness on the Utah/Arizona border; it was my third favorite part of the road trip. I didn't feel any energy there like I did in Monument Valley and Arches National Park, but the landscape was totally alien and fascinating to me, perfect for photography. 

3/19 - In the days and weeks that have passed since this road trip, I have been fantasizing about other road trips in the future. I would love to go back to Canyonlands and properly explore the park with an off-road vehicle. I want to explore the Escalante River Canyon more and return to Arches. I will return to Monument Valley someday. Perhaps I should do the next trip during a warmer part of the year...

Other ideas of mine have been to drive to Glacier National Park in Montana. I want to see Banff National Park and Jasper National Park in the Canadian Rocky Mountains. I want to drive across the continent of Australia on a motorcycle and see Uluru! 

But for now, I'll lay low and save some money. Writing about this road trip has been a pleasure and I will savor the memories for the rest of my life. 

Capitol Reef National Park Sunrise, Boulder Mountain and More Snowstorms

1/19 - I awoke early in darkness. Today I had a plan for an early morning hike to Hickman Natural Bridge, a natural arch at the end of a short trail in Capitol Reef National Park. The hotel I stopped at for the night was conveniently just a few miles away from the park, so I ordered pancakes from the hotel restaurant as soon as it opened. 

While I stuffed myself with the fluffy pancakes and satisfied my caffeine addiction with coffee, a vibrant and intense sunrise took shape through the window. I found myself getting anxious and impatient waiting to pay for the check so when I finally got on the road, I was speeding in the bone-chilling early morning cold. The more I drove, the more the sky lit up. I began to talk to myself. 

"You gotta stop somewhere now, dude."

I stopped at the first turnout I could find and sprinted up a hill for a better view of the sky. The heavens were on fire. This was the most intense sunrise of the trip because the entire sky lit up. I photographed until the sun rose over the Henry Mountains, satisfied that I caught some excellent images and feeling gratitude that I could witness this incredible scene. I then took my time driving to the Hickman Bridge trailhead. 

The trail to Hickman Bridge is relatively short, about 2.5 miles round trip. It starts at the side of the Fremont River and then climbs up the cliff. Considering this was winter and the recent snowfall, my trekking poles came in handy on this icy trail. I soon reached the arch, a massive span that made me feel small. I did feel some energy here, but nothing compared to Delicate Arch, Double Arch or Monument Valley. At one point I began speaking out loud to a point on the rock wall, asking it if it was the spirit that guarded this arch. 

I had the trail and arch to myself the entire time. I spent several minutes just sitting in silence, meditating. I eventually returned to my car, ready to continue on my journey back west. 

I wanted to drive Utah State Route 12 again, this time in better weather. The first time I drove SR 12, half of it was in decent conditions, but the second half was in a snowstorm. This time I drove over Boulder Mountain again, this time marveling at the views that eluded me during the heavy snowstorm. From one vista point on the highway, you can see for miles looking towards the Henry Mountains. The red cliffs of Capitol Reef were impressively visible. 

As I continued along Boulder Mountain, I wondered how the hell I successfully drove that road in a snowstorm. The thought made me laugh out loud because my bravery - or stupidity - helped me accomplish something. I didn't let the snowstorm hold me back. I still should have installed my snow chains or, at the very least, waited a few hours to leave my cozy motel room in Boulder. 

But I retraced my steps from just a few days before. I drove through the Escalante River Canyon and found the trailhead to more well-known arches and a waterfall, and eventually stopped for lunch in the town of Escalante. This little town becomes a ghost town of sorts in winter because not nearly as many tourists such as myself take this route this time of year.

From Escalante, I approached Bryce Canyon National Park again, wondering if I should stay there for the night so I could get a sunrise photo from the rim. As I drove through the park, however, it was snowing heavily, so I accepted to myself that I should keep heading west. I was at the point of my trip where I was ready to go home, having had more than enough excitement and wonder for two weeks. 

From Bryce Canyon, I drove through more small towns and windy mountain roads shrouded in snowstorms. I reached Cedar City after racing along Interstate 15 for a short time. From Cedar City, I turned west on minor state highways, the kind of which run straight forever through featureless, rural countryside. After driving through even more snowstorms on narrow, two-lane roads, I became fried for the day. I tapped out and stopped in Caliente, NV for the night in a small motel where my room welcomed me with a rank odor of stale cigarette smoke.

After ordering fish and chips from a local restaurant, I settled into bed inside this old-fashioned and tired room, and enjoyed episodes of "The Office" on the small television. 

Canyonlands National Park, Dead Horse Point State Park and Goblin Valley State Park

 1/17/2023 - I got up early again, wolfed down some breakfast at the Hyatt and then headed out on the open road again. My destination was another unfamiliar one: Canyonlands National Park. 

Canyonlands is a vast expanse of canyons through which the Green and Colorado rivers have carved over millions of years. This area of Utah is an off-roader's fantasy because you could spend a lifetime exploring the nooks and crannies of this high-desert, ancient park. Canyonlands is split into four different districts: Island in the Sky, Needles, The Maze, and the rivers themselves; I tried to visit the Island in the Sky district because I wanted to see Mesa Arch, an icon of Canyonlands that provides excellent sunrise views from high in the sky. 

But as I drove and climbed elevation from Moab, the sky became darker. Precipitation began falling. Snow began to stick on the road. The storm was here. So I stopped at the visitor center to consult the rangers about weather conditions. We came to the conclusion that it would be better to return the next day because by then the storm would have passed. They were forecasting sunny conditions. 

So, I returned to Moab. A light rain was falling. The storm would batter the entire area this day, so my options were limited. I decided to explore Utah State Route 128, another national scenic byway. The highway follows the Colorado River at a bottom of a massive canyon, surrounded by imperious red and orange walls. Even though I was driving through rain and eventually sleet, I was impressed by how the top of the cliffs were shrouded in mist. It gave the area a feel of mystery. 

I stopped at a resort on the banks of the river for lunch and a beer. Meanwhile, the snow level was slowly dropping. After I finished lunch and returned to the car, wet snow was now falling so I returned to Moab. In an effort to avoid spending money at a restaurant or bar, I decided to go to the library to wait for the snow to stop. In the meantime, I read a Bill Bryson book about some of his adventures across the United States, and I wrote about my previous days on the road trip using my old iPhone 6. 

But the snow didn't stop. It was getting thicker and began to stick on the roads. After a few hours inside the quiet and relaxed library, I decided to return to the Hyatt and reserve a room for a third night. The snowstorm didn't give me much of a choice! This time I reserved a room with a king size bed, because why not? I made the most of the late afternoon and evening by washing my dirty laundry and then soaking in the outdoor hot tub while snow fell. 

I wasn't able to do exactly what I wanted this day, but I was able to pivot to something almost as magical. I had the outdoor hot tub to myself for a while, savoring the moment of ecstasy of soaking in a hot tub during a snowstorm. This is a simple pleasure, something everyone should experience once in their lives. It turned out to be one of my favorite evenings of the trip. 

1/18/23 - The storm dropped 3-4 inches of snow in Moab. The roads were a mess. At one point the southbound lanes of the state highway had been closed down. The hotel power went out sometime during the night, so they had to get power off emergency generators. They had trouble staffing the kitchen for breakfast, but they did manage to get out a simple continental meal which was fine with me. 

After having a chat with an older couple about photography at the breakfast table, I again set out in an attempt to reach Canyonlands National Park. I left before dawn, racing down the highway and appreciating the fog that had settled over the totally white landscape. Again I climbed in elevation, noticing that the red-orange buttes I saw the day before were now coated in snow and that the road before me was becoming progressively icier. However, it was plowed, so I had hope. 

At the turnoff for Dead Horse Point State Park, I stopped the car in the middle of the road. Here, the road was no longer plowed. It was buried under a foot of fresh powder with just a couple of tire tracks evidence that there was a route here. 

I sighed. I was this close! I couldn't turn back now! I had driven more than a thousand miles to this point. So, I continued, following the tire tracks in my Camry, occasionally slipping and sliding in the fresh snow. Four miles of this, again I had begun to question my own intelligence. Again I thought about the snow chains in my trunk. 

Thankfully, I reached the visitor center in one piece. However, the road beyond the visitor center was closed due to the amount of snow on the roadway and inside the park. At that point, I accepted the situation. I had genuinely tried to visit Canyonlands, but it just wasn't meant to be this time. 

I stood in the plowed-yet-icy parking lot and decided to take some pictures of the fresh blanket of snow in the early morning light. There were still great photos. I then bit the bullet and installed snow chains on the front two tires of my car, muttering to myself the entire time. As soon as I finished installing them, I threw my arms into the air in a victory formation. I was proud of myself because I had thought it would be much more difficult to install them. 

Off I went, back through the fresh powder on top of the unplowed road, but this time I turned towards Dead Horse Point State Park, centered on a cliff overlooking Canyonlands on the north side of the park. The name "Dead Horse Point" refers to ranchers to kept their stock in this area, but consistently lost horses due to hot temperatures. This park offers a breathtaking view of endless canyons, rock spires and of course, the everlasting Colorado River, the main culprit behind this landscape. 

Normally, this view provides plenty of orange-red sandstone rock and the brown waters of the Colorado. On this day, I was treated to a landscape covered in a layer of fresh, white snow, something you don't often see. I was one of the few people who made it to the park on this morning, so I was lucky enough to hear silence. 

From Dead Horse Point, I returned to Moab but decided to explore State Route 128 again. This time the canyon was weather free with a blaze of sunshine. The canyon was dusted with snow which made it even more impressive, even more regal. I easily made it into Castle Valley, a part of Utah I hadn't heard of until a month before the trip when I saw some photos of it on a photography forum. Castle Valley is a small town on the border with Colorado, surrounded by massive cliffs and buttes, including Castleton, a tall, solo sandstone rock spire. I had the road all to myself while I snapped photos, again enjoying the silence and savoring the view.

The rest of SR 128 was a pleasure to drive. I was treated to sights such as Fisher Towers, a well-known feature in the rock climbing community, and more buttes caressed with powder snow. Eventually I connected with Interstate 70 and rushed towards my next destination in the afternoon sunshine: Goblin Valley State Park. 

Goblin Valley is a creepy place, particularly when I visited during Golden Hour. This state park contains a vast valley composed of thousands of sandstone hoodoos that look like tiny humanoid people; in other words, goblins! I was completely alone during my visit and when I strolled through the valley, I had a feeling of being watched. I could have sworn I heard footsteps to my left...

I didn't spend much time here because I was trying to get as far west as I could before darkness. Goblin Valley is another place that I'll have to revisit someday. So I raced west towards the setting sun, passing Hanksville and Coleville and by the time I passed through Capitol Reef National Park, darkness had taken rule along with frigid cold. I stopped at the first hotel I encountered and checked into a room for the night where I slept soundly once again. 

Arches National Park

1/16/2023 - I took my time getting going upon my first morning in Moab. Since I awake at dawn naturally, this means getting out of bed at 0730 is sleeping in for me. But I was already pleased with the decision to stay at the Hyatt. Everything in the room was comfortable. It was quiet and relaxed, and breakfast was included. Breakfast was cooked each day and it tasted delicious. With a full belly, I was ready to attack the day and visit a place I had wanted to see for a long time: 

Arches National Park. 

This was my first visit to Arches National Park, considered one of the Mighty 5 national parks in the state of Utah, along with Zion, Capitol Reef, Bryce Canyon and Canyonlands. Approximately 2,000 entrada sandstone arches are documented here, some tiny, some enormous. Most of the arches I saw were just that: holes in sandstone created from eons of erosion.

But there were two arches in particular that emitted some sort of energy: Delicate Arch and Double Arch. These formations are iconic to the park, massive arches that boggle the mind. I spent several hours at Delicate Arch and the bowl below it, photographing it and exploring the area. I can’t explain exactly what this energy was or where it comes from, but I noticed it. Perhaps it’s spiritual or cosmic. I spent a few minutes meditating and had the impression that my body’s energy was gently oscillating. It was a positive, calming energy. I felt at peace in that moment.

On the way back to the trailhead, I began to think about petroglyphs I had seen of a single oscillating line. Maybe the people of long ago had the same experience I had when they felt their body's energy oscillate while meditating near certain arches, so they drew that petroglyph to mark the spots for other people to find and have the same experience. It was my own little hypothesis in an attempt to make sense of something that does not make sense. 

Double Arch is another place I had only ever seen in books or on tv. It seems to be bigger in person. Set into a sort of alcove or cave, any sound echoes off the rock walls, giving off the impression of a giant room. I felt energy here too. I sat down and listened to the silence for a few minutes. I walked back to the car at dusk with a smile on my face, feeling stress free and grateful for the day.

In the summer of 2022, I read a book called Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey. The book was about his season as a park ranger inside Arches National Park before it had paved roads taking tourists right up to the arches. He wrote about how much of a shame it was that the National Park Service was going to build paved roads in the park. These roads ruin the feel of wilderness in these parks, he argued. After visiting the park, I saw what he meant. Arches National Park does have some sort of energy. I could really feel it in certain areas I've already mentioned; it's a mystical place. I imagine that I would not be able to feel it if the park was too crowded with people. I wish the road didn't make the park so accessible; people should be required to hike more to see some of the arches. 

During my visit, I encountered rain, snow and wind. It was a cold, miserable day to be outside, but this seemed to keep a lot of people away. Arches is normally a very popular place to visit, so much so that the park has to limit how many people get to enter during the warmer months. I didn't have this issue during my January visit. I just flashed my park pass to the ranger at the entrance and drove up the steep switchbacks that lead people into the park proper. I think the lack of people contributed to my overall enjoyment. 

In addition to the energy I felt, the day was special because on two separate occasions a raven flew right up to me and allowed me to take its portrait. Perhaps they just thought I would give them food since tourists in the park probably do it all the time, but I had the feeling there was a deeper meaning.

These beautiful black and purple feathered birds are quite large up close. The first time it happened, I had hiked up to a viewpoint overlooking Delicate Arch, an icon of Arches National Park. There was no trail to this point. I had tenuously perched myself on the cliff edge to take photos of the arch. That’s when the raven flew up and landed about 4 feet behind me, spooking me. This bird was probably flying around the bowl and arch to other tourists. But this close? The raven’s beak was coated with red sand, as if it had been digging for food. It stayed on that rock for a few minutes, enough time for me to take its portrait. I talked to the raven. As soon as it flew off, I wondered what the meaning of it was.

The second instance was at the Devil’s Garden trailhead in the afternoon. I had returned from my 2 mile walk to Landscape Arch, the longest arch in the park. The trail leading directly underneath the arch is now closed due to safety reasons. In 1991, a 60-foot slab of rock broke off from the underside of the arch forcing hikers who had been sitting underneath it to flee, thus inspiring the closure. The trail now gives the arch a wide birth.

Two courting ravens were perched on branches near the parking lot. I heard one of them make a throaty sound; I later learned that the raven was singing. As I walked to my car, one flew down and landed in front of my car. The other soon followed. I crouched near my car facing them. Like with the first raven, I talked to these two, complimenting their colors and size. I asked if they were together. One flew up on the hood of my car and the other soon followed. They pecked at the leaves caught under the hood while I stood 3 feet away, photographing them. I noticed how purple some of their feathers were.

                               

The two would talk, making cute honking sounds. They would affectionately nibble and scritch each other. I took a video and showed it to them. They seemed interested. As I sat in the driver seat, one flew up and perched on the open door. I gave both of them some peanuts from my trail mix. I had never had such an experience before and again wondered what this meant in the grand scheme of things.

Ravens can symbolize different things, positive and negative. The can be symbols of death and destruction in some cultures while in others they are seen as spirits in the mortal world acting as messengers. Some also see them as symbols of insight or rebirth. I'm still not sure exactly what they meant but considering the day I had in the park, I took it as a good sign that these ravens approached me and felt comfortable enough to talk.

I spent the entire day inside the park, thrilled with my spiritual experiences. I returned to Moab under cover of darkness, picking up some fast food and most importantly, some ice cream.