Art in nature

I'm riding across the Painted Desert, vast plains in Arizona. The thunderstorms that have been rolling around all day account for most of the sky, thick dark clouds, but it is not raining. Behind me the sun is setting, partially obscured by fiery lined cloud. The western horizon glows orange and red, and beams of sunlight pick out spots on the plains. But the east - red sunlight still falls on the unbroken line of distant mountains that I can only assume is Chuska, in New Mexico. Above them, grey curtains of rain have been turned to scarlet. The clouds about are dramatic grey and yellow, and somehow I know that this is the most beautiful sunset I'll ever see. The effect overwhelms me almost to tears.

Two days previously I'd left Moab in the intense heat of late morning, after seeing my first ever hummingbird buzzing about, and headed directly south. I wanted to get into Arizona via Monument Valley, but prior to that I wanted to see the Valley of the Gods too. I took the side road off to Valley of the Gods, and being a bit better prepared for the heat I was taking frequent sips of water. I'd got into the habit of buying more water whenever I stopped.

I had heard of a natural phenomenon called the Moki Dugway before, I'd even seen it on TV, but as it's not marked on my road map you can imagine my surprise when I arrived at it. The first clue that I was approaching it was a sign warning of 10% gradient and many "switchbacks" (u turns) on a gravel road ahead. Hmmm, I thought. I wonder where the Moki Dugway is in Utah? That is a gravel road that drops straight down a cliff face...

I must admit that my first reaction on seeing the Moki Dugway was to gasp aloud. One moment you are riding along straight flat roads through scrubby forest, the next, you see a few warning signs advising to slow to 15mph, and then the road vanishes over a cliff. It's like falling off the edge of the world, only prettier.

The road winds down 1100 feet over about 3 miles, from the top of the Cedar Mesa into the desert. From the top you can see miles of the glorious red surrounding desert, and the Valley of the Gods. Once I'd slowly (I hate gravel) got to the bottom, the road wound away into nothing. I stopped and got off, removed my earplugs and could hear absolutely nothing, except the occasional breath of wind.

I stopped very briefly to photograph the "Mexican Hat rock" that gives the town of Mexican Hat it's name, and then headed towards Monument Valley. I was in Navajo lands, and more or less everywhere that it was feasible to stop had a Navajo stall selling native gifts. Approaching Monument Valley is probably the best view you get, like nature's own Manhattan Skyline, with the road running arrow-straight across the desert.


Once I'd reached Monument Valley I was completely appalled at the state it was in, flattened beer cans, plastic bags and worryingly smashed beer bottles lay everywhere. Wildfire anyone? I don't know whether the rubbish is a result of the Navajo owning the land, or because it's not a state park, but something needs to happen to clear up the mess. It's a disgrace, and wasn't the best way to end my love affair with Utah as I passed into Arizona.

It was getting late and I suddenly realised there was nothing much about for many miles on the road, so I pressed on and stopped for the night in Kayenta. The only remarkable thing that happened there was my discovery of Navajo fry bread. Delicious :)


Monday morning I was trying to kickstart myself with the reminder that I was off to see the Grand Canyon, one of the highlights of my trip, but again I was extremely tired and felt my mind drifting whilst I was riding. It was an effort to stay awake, let alone focussed. Maybe that was the reason I found the Grand Canyon a bit... disappointing. It was definitely awe inspiring, immense, but having seen the canyon there isn't much else to do. Ultimately I was underwhelmed by the whole experience. Grand Canyon is less impressive than most of the other National Parks that I've visited. Perhaps I'm all 'rocked out'. I think hiking or rafting the canyon would be a much better experience, or flying over it. Maybe next time.

I met some Brazilian Harley riders at lunch, who were on their way to Milwaukee for a big Harley bash. Only two of them spoke English, and had to translate for the others. Strangely, they seemed to think that I was the mad one. Maybe because I am travelling alone. As I was eating I noticed the barometer on my watch nosediving, and sure enough when I got outside a storm was blowing in from the south that looked like the world ending one at the end of "Terminator".

I put the Grand Canyon to my back wheel and rode south towards the storm, finding the veils of rain and occasional distant lightning flashes far more entertaining than the canyon had been. I was just starting to realise I was very exposed out in the flat land with nothing taller than a stunted bush for miles, when the landscape changed and suddenly, unexpectedly, I was in a pine forest. After nothing much but desert for a week, and under the first clouds I had seen for several days, it was almost like I'd ridden back to Canada.

At Flagstaff I decided that even though it was getting late, I would press on to see Meteor Crater, or more correctly the Barringer crater. At over three quarters of a mile wide and nearly six hundred feet deep, it is the best example of an impact crater on Earth, and I'd wanted to see it since seeing a picture of it in an encyclopedia as a kid. The ride out to get there across the plains was somehow fitting, like riding on the moon. I was a bit surprised at the $15 entry fee, more than most National Parks, but aside from the crater there is a cool museum so it was an hour's entertainment.

By the time I left it was sunset, and back out on the road, the Painted Desert awaited.

More soon, hopefully when I'm less tired :)

Frase.