Date - August 28th 2020

Current Location - Cedar City, UT

Miles Traveled - 3,237

Lizard Head Pass

The last peak of our journey through Colorado before entering Utah was Lizard Head Pass at 10,222 ft. It was a pleasant ride, meandering through the first red rocks we had seen, and the traffic was far lighter than what we experienced at Monarch pass. The climb took us well into the night, and it was a surreal experience to be all alone high in the mountains, miles away from any civilization. Our perception was a narrow strip of vision straight ahead, with darkness filling the forests in our peripherals. Cycling up a mountain is a slow steady process, moving at about 5 mph, and no sound goes unheard. Sometimes the leaves would start to rustle, leaving the mind to wonder what is lurking in the shadows.

Perhaps out of boredom of hours climbing, or because of our youthful daring nature, we decided to turn off all our lights in the dead of night, to see if we could navigate solely on starlight. It was dark, very dark, but slowly my eyes adjusted, and I made out the subtle white line of the shoulder to follow. The stars were mesmerizing, and we had planetary-esque music on the Bluetooth speaker to complete the effect. We gazed at the stars, being only momentarily aware of our pedaling with the quick glances at the white and yellow lines on the road.

In total blackness, the slight leak of headlights cresting the road behind us could be seen minutes before the car passed. Our peaceful climb was occasionally interrupted by one of our voices yelling “car,” followed by the headlights turning back on, and a tight line formation in the shoulder. The sound of the engine becomes louder and louder until finally, it whizzes by. The lights turn back off, and the stars are once again the center of attention.

Once we reached the summit, we pitched our tents and prepared for the coldest night of the journey, breaking out our rarely used emergency foil bivvies. The downside of climbing through the night was not experiencing the view of the mountains surrounding us, but this made for a wonderful surprise for sunrise. I zipped open my tent to the glow of first light peeking over the mountain tops. With my sleeping bag still bundled around me, I explored a beautiful narrow trail lined with yellow wildflowers winding even further up the mountain. Although it was cold, all I could think about was how much I’ll miss these mountains when we are out in the desert of Nevada.

Naked Hippie Crystal

The reward for our frigid night climb was the hot springs just East of Rico CO, which we heard about from a local in Ridgway. After a quick 13 mile descent from the summit, we pulled off to a gravel road and saw what we had been longing for down in the valley. It was a beautiful series of pools oozing with steam with one occupant, a naked man with dreads.

It was a quick hike down, and we arrived at the natural spa. The bikes were a great ice breaker with our new friend, as we discussed our adventure, answering the questions we have been asked 1000 times, “where are you headed? where are you from?” We learned about him too, as we disrobed to our boxers and slipped into the hot water. He worked for years in illegal weed growing operations, and now he travels around the legal weed states in his van, working for licensed grow houses.

He was exactly the type of dude you would imagine finding amidst the mountains in a beautiful hot spring, and we all enjoyed his laid back company. After a wide-ranging conversation, he reached into his satchel. “I have been exploring the caves of Arkansas, searching for quartz crystals, take these.” One by one, he handed us our gems. These are probably the types of rocks you can find for $5 at a gift shop, but due to the absurd circumstance that led to the acquisition of this crystal, it is now my most cherished possession. The naked hippie crystal.

The beautiful decent from the Lizard Head Summit.

Killing Time

Throughout this trip, we have collectively been developing the skill of doing nothing. It would be great if we could ride all day, but with limitations of the human body, as well as crippling midday heat and wind, it simply isn’t possible. After a morning ride, we park ourselves in any shade we can find, and we wait. It is a long wait, a wait you wouldn’t be familiar with in everyday life. Not like a 30-minute wait for food, or a 2-hour wait at the DMV. It is a 6-10 hour wait while we watch the sunrise high into the sky, then fall back down to a manageably low angle.

It is during these times that our creativity is tested, and we have found some unique ways to pass the time in lieu of phone service. It feels like being a kid again before my iPhone became all I needed to keep my mind distracted. My favorite time killer so far involves bugs, food, and patience.

During a 121 mile stretch of no towns, we found ourselves at the small visitors center of Natural Bridges Monument, with just a picnic table, shade, and 10 hours to kill. The flies were as annoying as always, but we chose a more entertaining and friendly way to repel them than bug spray. The concept goes as follows - If I can give the flies something better than the sweat on my skin, I can keep them happy and occupied, while I enjoy a fly-free afternoon. Everybody is happy.

I started by putting a raisin from my trail mix on the picnic table to pique their interest, but it seems they enjoy my sweat more than dried fruits. On to plan B, a wet M&M. I soaked it in my mouth for a moment, to get the sugars easily accessible to a flies little mouth, placed it on the table, and waited. Sure enough, the flies discovered the treat I left them, and one by one they joined the feast. After half an hour, There were 8 flies having the time of their lives on the M&M, and I was happily fly free.

This concept led to a game. Jason, Jake, and I each put a wet M&M on the ground, and the snack that attracts the most ants after 10 minutes was declared the winner. Admittedly, this game wasn’t too fun, but it was better than nothing. While we were waiting for ants to accumulate, we noticed a gang of ants hauling a peanut that someone unknowingly dropped, and a better game was born, peanut race.

We each carved our initials into peanuts, placed them on the ground, and watched as the ants discovered our gifts. They raced into action, teaming up to carry the massive load several feet to the finish line, the edge of the concrete. With enough boredom, watching the ants race was as riveting as any professional sports game, as we huddled down and cheered for our 6 legged racers.

This idea of creating games to pass the time extends to on the saddle as well. Through one ride in Kansas we kept ourselves busy by trying to throw Teddy Grahams into each other’s mouths while moving, or when you enter a messy shoulder, the mandatory mini-game “Rock Dodge,” commences. Life on a bike is simple compared to life in the city, with the only goal of getting to the next town. This leaves the mind idle, and free to explore new ideas to stay occupied.

Kindness of Strangers

I have said it plenty of times through this trip, but the kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me. Out of the hundreds of people we have interacted with, I can pinpoint only 3 negative experiences, the rest are full of generosity and respect.

This leads me back to the visitors center at Natural Bridges National Monument. We were sitting there, ya know, playing with bugs when an older couple walked by. To paint the picture, we were a mess. Over the course of the many hours squatting there, we had really made ourselves at home, with our sink washed wet socks and shirts were strewn about in the sun to dry, and a picnic table full of camp stoves, water bottles, and various wrappers. It is the type of scene that most people would stray away from, attempting to not make eye contact with the feral boys surrounded by ants and flies. Surprisingly, the couple excitedly engaged us about our journey and lit up with excitement when we told them we biked from Philadelphia. After a moment chatting, the women said, “I have some fresh peaches if you guys are hungry!”

We were indeed very hungry. This was the middle of our desolate 121 mile, 3 day stretch between towns, and due to a change of plans, I packed one too few dinners for the trek and resorted to the only food sold at the visitor center, trail mix. We eagerly accepted and devoured the peaches, which tasted 100 times better when fatigued in the desert heat. A moment later, the women came back with a carton of fresh cherries, chocolate brittle, boiled eggs, and carrots. We were dumbfounded and thanked her profusely. I would be grateful for a gift like this any day, but because of the scarcity of food in our situation, this feast was otherworldly.

Just when we thought it couldn’t get better, she walked back with a WHOLE... PEACH... PIE. Needless to say, the boys were ecstatic. We have encountered so many great people like this woman, and although there are some awful things happening in the world, it is nice to know that kind people are out there.

Sunset at Natural Bridges National Monument.

John (left) and Jake (right) set up in front of the bridge.

The Hite Outpost

This is another story of unexpected generosity. The Hite outpost is a tiny campground and store surrounded by nothing but massive red rocks for tens of miles. It is smack dab in the middle of nowhere, with Blanding 78 miles east, and Hanksville 52 miles west. We arrived to the small store in the blazing heat after a long 50 miles from the visitors center, and it was a desert oasis. Wide-eyed and covered in sweat, we browsed the rows of cold drinks and frozen microwaveable meals. The store clerk walked out from the backroom to her post at the register, “Cockadoodle do to you! Welcome to Hite, Population 2!”

Her name is Katie, and she is one of the most talkative and friendly folks we have met along the way. After checking out, and chowing down on our frozen dinners, she noticed John slouched on the ground, and brought out a rolled-up mat. “You look pretty tired, do you want this as a pillow?” A moment later she came back with three more rolled mat pillows, “You boys can stay as long as you’d like, enjoy the AC!”

Once again, this generosity could never be expected. Most gas stations make sure to post “No Loitering” signs, and we would be kicked out in an instant for laying down on the floor, but here, at the lovely Hite Outpost in Katie’s company, our squatting was appreciated and encouraged!

A car pulled up to the pump outside, and Katie stepped out. A few moments later she came back in with a smile on her face. “I might have a house for you boys.” To that sentence, all four of our heads perked up from our napping spots in curiosity. She told us that one of the two residents of the outpost was leaving town for a few days, and their two-bedroom house would be available. “The place is right up the road, and the door is unlocked. Just don’t trash the place!” Ummm what? Never in my life have I been offered a house, but it was an offer we were in no place to refuse. Our plan prior to this was to lay on the gas station floor until closing at 4 pm, then lay on the hot dirt outside for another 6 hours until it was cool enough to sleep. Happiness is all about expectations, and there is nothing better than expecting a brutally hot afternoon in the elements but receiving an air-conditioned house completely free.

Immediately we packed up our gear, thanked Katie, and headed to our new home for the night. There was no cell service here, so once again we had to get creative with passing the time. We started with hide and seek, but the place was far too small. The next idea was spoon golf, and I’ll let you figure that one out. We played a few holes, but the game wasn’t quite fun enough. The next game was.. um, spoon in the pot? This one was actually quite fun and can be played pretty much anywhere with anything. We placed a pot on the counter and marked 5 lines with the wood floor. We each took turns throwing our spoons, if you make it in the pot, you move back to the next line. This process continued until the very last shot, which had to be made all the way from the living room. If anything, this ridiculous game is a testament to the idea that it is impossible to be bored if you can muster up a little creativity.

The beautiful red rock landscape through our desolate 121 mile stretch between Blanding and Hanksville UT.

The Couches

Our ride to Panguitch UT ended late in the day. We arrived in town at 9 pm, and luckily a gas station was still open. It has become somewhat of a routine to hang out on the ground outside of gas stations, and we were doing just that. We grabbed snacks for a second dinner and breakfast for our early start the next day, then sat reminiscing on the days ride over a round of chocolate milk. Back east we used to call churches, fire departments, and everything in between to find a place for our tents, but now we just head to the town park and hope for the best.

We were listening to the song “At The River” by Groove Armada (one of my favorite songs) and Jake made a comment, “this song just makes me want to sink deep into a couch.” It was a passing comment, that usually would have no relevance, but something odd happened this night.

We biked another mile through the dark to the outskirts of town to the baseball fields in search of a home for the night. There were three fields, with a central building that overlooked them all. It is always mysterious rolling up to places like this. We don’t know anything about the town, or the people, and in the dark, we couldn’t make out much of anything. We traversed the gravel parking lot then approached the building that we had assumed was a pavilion from our brief look at google maps. As we got closer, there was something odd. The door was open. Pitch black, no lights on, but an open door leading to a staircase up. Mysterious. We stood outside hesitant to enter, acknowledging the spooky situation by sharing all the horror movies that start like this.

Eventually, Jason and I ventured in. As we walked up the stairs the cold night air got warmer and warmer, and we entered a weirdly large room with two couches pushed to the back, and windows looking out to the fields. Around the corner, we discovered another, even spookier room with two more couches. The walls were lined with bats, trophies, and other sports paraphernalia. We ran back down to tell the guys. “Yo this is incredible, there are four couches just for us up there,” I said to John and Jake. It was like Jake somehow manifested these four couches with that odd comment he made earlier. We got over the spookiness of the situation, and had a great sleep with no packing up required in the morning!

The Gift

The last ride of the section was one of the most challenging climbs we have encountered yet and should be the last major climb of our journey. It started in Panguitch UT, and our destination was Cedar City UT. We were only 60 miles away, but there was a mile high peak between us and the cozy Air BnB waiting for us on the other side. It felt like we were back in Colorado, with big pine trees lining the roadway, and blue mountain peaks spanning into the distance at every clearing.

We left Panguitch while the sun was rising, and the climb began immediately. It was 30 miles to the summit, and over 5,000 feet in elevation gain. After so many days on the bike, I have noticed the change in my legs. Through Shenandoah in the first section of our journey, I remember how my thighs would burn as I forced my pedals down over and over. Now I can feel the strength of 70 days pedaling, and my body gave up on giving me pain because it knows I won’t stop.

Even with healthy legs, a climb is very much a mental battle. It requires plenty of patience, crawling along at 5mph while cars whiz by. At every turn, the road just continues to elevate, with no relief for hours until you reach the summit. Sometimes I just look down directly at the road in front of me, only focusing on the next few feet, refusing to acknowledge the magnitude of the climb. Just a couple more feet. Then a couple more.

We were deep into the climb when a pickup truck slowed down and pulled off the road beside us. I couldn’t make out his face, but I saw the window roll down and listened in as Jason approached the car. “You guys are the first people I’ve seen all year climbing up this mountain on bikes. You’re crazy! I saw you on the way up, so I left a gift for you at the summit,” he said. Jason, mildly confused responded, “a gift?”

“There are four of you right? I’m sure you can figure it out. I left it right at the sign for Cedar Breaks.” We couldn’t figure it out. What is this guy talking about? What could he have left? This curiosity occupied our minds while we climbed for the next few hours to the top. As we approached the summit, I pedaled around every bend in anticipation of the Cedar Breaks sign. Finally, the words Cedar Breaks were in view, just a couple hundred feet more. Jason and John were already at the top. I propped my bike beside theirs and wandered behind the sign to finally satisfy my curiosity. There it was, the gift, four ice-cold Dos Equis beers to reward us for the hard work. A round of beers from a stranger is always a great gesture, but when it comes at the top of a mountain, with no bars for tens of miles, it is something special.

We cracked open the gifts and sat on the sign listening to music, dancing as cars drove by. There wasn’t even an effort to conceal our bottles, anyone who crested the summit in a car and saw the bikes would know we worked hard for these brews. The tough miles were behind us, and we enjoyed the 30-mile descent into the city through a beautiful canyon.

The next section is what we have dubbed, “deadly section 9.” It will be our most desolate stretch through the Great Basin in Nevada. Stay tuned.

Section 8 - Utah