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WARNING: Contains thrills, chills (thankfully no spills) and a little bit of geekery on the geology of the Southwest.
I love exploring new roads, whether by car or motorcycle. It’s one of the big reasons I have done small motorcycle trips in the past and have embarked on this grand adventure – I want to see what the little lines on a map look like underneath my wheels, and what vistas they will unfold before me.
Not even three weeks into this trip, I’ve met some great new roads already: CA-198 through Sequoia NP, CA-178 down the lush and impressive Kern River Canyon, and even I-15 through the Virgin River Gorge from NW Arizona into SW Utah – a seriously impressive piece of interstate highway engineering.
But a portion of today’s ride – namely, UT-12 from Escalante to Torrey – takes the cake. From the town of Escalante, the road slides in a generally easterly direction off the Paunsaugunt Plateau region of the Grand Staircase into the Escalante River basin. After about ten miles, the real fun begins: the drop steepens, the road twists more sinuously and the world becomes slickrock. The next five miles down to the river and the subsequent 12 miles up to Boulder – about 1000′ higher elevation than the town of Escalante – are some of the most technical, hair-raising road miles I’ve done.
One section of this stretch of road runs along a razorback ridge line for what felt like miles – it was probably less than 1/2 mile but was quite nerve-wracking. The ridge had been shaved to the width of the two-lane state highway plus a narrow shoulder, and on either side the terrain fell away with dizzying verticality.
Clearly that’s not enough. After Boulder, the road climbs up the Aquarius Plateau, topping out at roughly 9200′ (probably my highest elevation so far), with plenty more mountainous twists. As I climbed back into the treeline, there was still a lot of snow on the ground – probably several feet in northslope locations – despite the low-to-mid-50s temperatures, which is cold enough that I needed to stop at one point to close up all my vents in my gear. To make things just a bit more interesting, the tar used recently to patch winter’s cracks proved to be rather slippery, to the point where on a couple of occasions I felt my wheels slide out a little under me as I hit patches while leaning into a turn. At this point, I’m certain that my adrenal glands work very well.
The final descent off the Aquarius into Torrey offered 1.5 miles of 8% grade followed by 2 miles of 10% and then several more 8%. All with lots of twists. Over a cup of coffee, I considered striking on through Capitol Reef, but decided I couldn’t take any more for the day. So, here I am in a too-expensive hotel room with one bed more than I need. Exhausted and happy.
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While riding through Sequoia NP yesterday, approaching 7000′ and well into the snow zone, I started getting pretty chilly. I kept my eyes peeled for a safe place to pull off the road that also offered an opportunity to bask in the copious sunshine. After a few minutes of twists, a spot appeared that fit the bill perfectly: full western exposure, a nice little granite slab on which I might relax.
I sat, munched some peanuts, and relaxed. Given how much I have to rely on vision as I ride, I released my other senses, allowing them to pick up the little signals we so often miss: the shrill of a jay, throaty rat-a-tat cough of a raven (I first thought this was a woodpecker), numerous unidentified birdsongs, solo and conversational. The crystalline trickle of snowmelt splishing down the rock face across the road, in contrast to the distant sibilant thunder of the rushing river in the valley below. The whisper and caress of the breeze across my earlobes. The warm blanket of sunshine, the simultaneously smooth and rough granite beneath me. Salt crystals melting on my tongue as I ate the peanuts. The scent of old snow, and older forest.