Now that I have arrived in Colorado, I have something to say to Utah.
I'M SORRY!
I don't know what to say other than that, but of course I will say more.
Much more.


I had no concept of what Utah was. None. Nada. Zip. Zilch.
In my imagination it was all about Mormons and weirdos and a stolen NBA team that should have left it's name behind when it moved because how much farther from reality could it get. And a couple of good quarterbacks. But other than that I didn't know didly squat about Utah and I looked down my nose at the state. I am sorry. I think I was too stressed out to notice much along Route 80 on the way out, I took a couple of pictures of salt on telephone poles as I drove across the dried up lake-bed but other than that I don't remember anything impressive.


Even with the two National Parks closed I was AMAZED by the natural beauty that is Utah. AMAZED!!!!


Now I'm no stranger to the desert, I spent a lot of time in Arizona when my sister lived there and this is the second leg of my second trip across the country, each on a different road through different states. But Route 50 across Utah was the first time I really started pulling over to the side of the road to take pictures other than absolutely having to stop and take a picture of Cadillac Ranch when I passed that on the first trip. And when I say pulling over, I mean sometimes only going a mile before the scene changed so much I had to stop again. Along Route 128 my neck started to Ache from craning it so far forward and trying to see up the canyon walls I was driving through.


Highway 50 was recommended to me by a Burner friend who took off in an RV several years ago. Said it was the most beautiful stretch of road in America, with my limited knowledge, I wholeheartedly agree. I bought a t-shirt at the first campground I stayed at that says, “I survived Nevada's Highway 50 America's Loneliest Road.” I knew I was in for something special on a road where, for hundreds of desolate miles, literally every other vehicle you see is an RV. At one of the “Scenic View” stops along Highway 50 there was a guy who asked me what part of Pennsylvania I was from (I was sporting a Phillies cap and the Vogue has PA plates). He's an antiques dealer from Quakertown and this was his 6^th time circumnavigating the lower 48 (He's been to 45). He pulled out his atlas and I forget most of what he showed me but basically he said I had to take the turn off on 191 and head down to Moab. I have a knack for seeing the passion in people as they talk about things they love on a different level and I could tell I had no choice but to see the thing that made his eyes blaze when he spoke of it. Speaking of blaze, we watched a truck set his brakes on fire below us while we chatted. Now that the Vogue can crank up the hills, it's the descents that scare the shit outa me, especially after watching that. He waved to me as he was getting back on the highway when I was getting off at the next stop to buy myself an atlas. I have 3 GPSs and google maps on 3 devices, but there's just something about a paper map.

This is the view from where we were talking:

Along 191 things started to change. The landscape got redder and bigger and it started getting weird. By the time I got to the turn off I decided it was too late in the afternoon to try to drive the ~25 miles up the side road to see the closure signs on Canyonlands so I decided to press on to Moab. I pulled over at the first RV park a couple of miles outside of town and hunkered down for the night figuring I'd head out in the morning and see some stuff before getting back on 50. Four days later I reluctantly unplugged the RV knowing I needed to be on my way but Holy Freakin Moab! It will be a high priority to go back when Arches and Canyonlands are open and to spend more time seeing all of it. I went for a couple of good hikes and one decent bike ride, enough of a taste to make me need more.
The first day, I rode the bike path a few miles up 128 which runs along a windy skinny canyon the Colorado river cut leaving almost nothing but sheer rock walls hundreds of feet high. I thought I pulled the bus over a lot, I stopped the bike every ten feet to take a picture or three. Or twenty.

This is a massive hole way up a cliff:

If I told you how far away the ones with snow on them were, you wouldn't believe me.

The second day I woke up to a flat tire on the bike so I walked into town and had a look around. On the way back I took a little mountainbike path up the side of one of the rock cliffs, the views both near and far were spectacular. The way the wind and water has carved the rocks is just jaw droppingly beautiful. The way the plants grab onto whatever they can is downright amazing in and of it's self.
The next morning I unhooked the bus from it's moorings and headed out to Dead Horse Point State Park which overlooks Canyonlands. I did most of both of the hikes even though I didn't have anything but to completely worn out pairs of old shoes because I have just never seen anything like that in my life. I know I need to go back here. I don't know how long I will stay, it could be quite some time. I may even look into a campground hosting position for next year.

One of the many views of Canyonlands from Dead Horse Point:

I was 2000 feet above the Colorado here.  I can't really put it into words, my mouth was just hanging open as I stood there dumbfounded.




After being in a place that averages ten inches of rain a year, it's been raining here since I got to Colorado.