Grand Canyon

Thursday Experience

I have no idea what time it is. The sun has just popped over the horizon, my computer tells me that it's 5:34 am, the cell phone tells me that it's 6:35 and the clock radio says it's 6:06. We are in Tuba City Arizona and apparently there is one timezone on our side of the street, and and another on the other side. The clocks in the lobby tell me that Arizona time is 5am and daylight savings time is 6am. Tuba City is like a rough frontier town. The court house and jail seem to be it's biggest industry. There are even armed guards in the McDonald's. Dave went out late last night to a nearby laundromat (so he walked - big mistake) and experienced more concern for his life than blasting 100 mph down a serpentine mountain road on the edge of a cliff. The cop sirens were wailing down the highway every few minutes, in all directions, voices from the darkness of desert commenting on a white boy, people on ATV's watching him as he walked on the sandy sidewalk, with his bag of stuff (laundry) in hand. He decides to put his wallet in a sock and take a few bills in his pocket as throw away money in case he gets mugged. Later we would laugh about it but at the time …

Today we are off to Grand Canyon. It's the first time for Dave and he has great expectations for the vistas. We will be travelling via Falstaff, which is the long way around. It's going to be hot, and the guys are thinking to reduce gear, but knowing the speeds, Dave and I want to go full gear. I suggest that we go to "evaporative" cooling - soak our clothing and then let the wind evaporate the water and cool us. That means long sleeve shirts. Dave thinks this is crazy but is willing to give it a try. We hit the road and at the first stop, Dave is giggling that his narples are sensitive because they are frozen. He grabs a bottle of water and soaks down, happy that he can have his full gear and keep cool.

It's another day with lots of wind and sand. They skys are clear and there's no rain in sight. We cover sufficient distance that the landscape changes several times during the trip. There is so much variety, that we will forget any specific scene, but all the scenes will blend into on happy memory of riding in the desert, with some dramatic feature either on the horizon, or following us as we travel.

We arrive at Flagstaff and visit the local bike dealer (as an excuse for the trip). They certainly offer a lot of guy toys in the middle of the desert including all wheel drive, 1,000 cc buggies that can truly go anywhere. Most of the bikes are dirt oriented and there are no sport cruisers. We have lunch in a run down looking Greek restaurant, but Tom promises us, this is the real Greek thing. We trust that Effie has trained him properly so we become Greek for 90 minutes. Good call - we eat very well with great salads, home made Tzatziki, moist chicken. Wish we had room for desert but the main meal was way too big. Dave and I head back to the washroom to soak our clothing, and get a few weird looks as we emerge from the bathroom, soaking wet - (wonder what weird religion these guys practice - hope they're not gay).

As we get closer to the Grand Canyon, we see more forest and green - water does that in the desert. We stop for photos and drag our bikes in front of the grand canyon sign, much to the chagrin of other tourists who only bring camera's and hot weather clothing. Tom and Jeff appease a few of them by offering to take their group photos (using the tourist's camera of course). Josh finds two very attractive sisters and offers to shoot photos and we need to drag him away (i'm sure he's thinking "strike a pose"), but they seem reluctant to let go of him as well - magnets - blonde boy on motorcycle, cute girls in car.

The visitor center is crawling with tourists and parking is impossible to find. We have a lot of gear so we're not parking in the back. We find a spot that has the painted no parking stripes - and park there. Those lines are for cars only. The guys are itching to get to the rim, so I volunteer to stay back and secure the bikes. It's hot so we leave as much gear locked up but still cross our fingers that a crafty thief doesn't home in on our expensive stash. The Canyon looks fine today - just as it has for the past millions of years before man arrived, and just as it will look fine long after we have smothered ourselves. There is a bit of haze in the air from wind blown dust and we only get a real perspective of the place, when Jeff points out a helicopter wafting way down by the river. It literally looks like a big fly and can only be seen by the sun flickering off it's rotating wings.

We're standing by the edge and Dave is getting strange looks for wearing his long sleeve, heavy duty fleece top, but one guy approaches him. He's a hiker that spend time treking to the bottom of the canyon and offers the advice that a wet long sleeved shirt was the best thing for "down there"

It's late afternoon and we want to try to make it to Page Arizona, by Lake Powell. We round up the cats and start to head back to the bikes. I run ahead to unlock everything that was previously secured and notice two BMW's have joined our crowd. One is a GSA1200 (the grand daddy of adventure touring - invented the category) and the other, a road bike (R1200), both from Washington state. Just as I start unlocking all the gear, the riders show up. R1200 ran from Seattle, down the pacific highway (we need to do that ride as well), and then from LA to Zion forest. His buddy (GSA1200), had business and could not depart, so he did a non stop iron butt from Seattle to Zion (Arizona). Wow, and we though we were tough. We had a great chat, trading ride stories when we learn that the highway that we need to take to make it to Page within a reasonable time, is closed because one section collapsed. The detour adds 2 plus hours to the trip. Man, are we disappointed. There aren't a lot of roads in this area so we consult the maps. Tuba City is the only real option. We could shoot for Page, and see what time it is when we get to the junction where we need to commit to one or the other.

The ride out of the part is another great road. Here we learn a great lesson about safe motorcycle operation. We are riding in tight formation and lead rider looks for a place to pull off the road (I keep forgetting to buckle up my helmet and wanted to secure it before we went high speed - this was probably the 5th time I forgot, and not the last). Lead rider stops, number 2 knows that #1 wants to stop, but #3 is checking something on the gauges and doesn't see the speed change. When his head finally pops up, it's Oh Shit, lock the brakes, smoke the tires and try to aim the bike between #1 and #2. The gap is too small for safe passage but in the last minute, #2, who had already seen this coming, moves to the side to leave enough room for number 3 to pass through safely in a fish tail.

I fasten my helmet, #3 gather's his nerves (thankfully he doesn't have to clean his shorts) and we have an extended discussion of bike safety over the intercoms. It's never one big mistake, but several small ones that combine to get us into trouble. We ride much better after that chat.

By the time we get to the Tube City Junction, it's getting dark. The decision to stay there is easy because no one wants to chance the wild life on the side of the road that emerges at dusk. one experience on Highway 124 was enough proof that it will happen. We return to our Hopi Hotel, have a quick swim, a very sleepy dinner and call it a (very long, but satisfying) day.