American Southwest loop

Day 5: Denver CO to Monte Vista CO (continued).

While Vaughn handled his calls, I took a walk down the street and stumbled upon a yard filled with old Jeeps, one model reminding me of a visit to a farmer near Springbok, bringing back a wave of nostalgia. (Oom Coenie that owns Modderfontein Camp Site has one that is his daily run-around on the farm which just outside Springbok).





After some digging through my archives, I discovered the photos I took of Oom Coenie and his Jeep while camping in Modderfontein in 2021. Oom Coenie adores his Jeep and the Namakwaland. If you ever visit him, set aside some time to hear his stories and learn about the Namakwaland flora.





We eventually arrived in Monte Vista in the late afternoon, where we were met by an agricultural community vibe and a quaint, rustic motel. The road to Monta Vista is flanked by potato farms and cold storage facilities. At one farm shed, there is a notice that reads, "If it is not red, don't park it in the shed!". Chat suggests that KTM owners use the following slogan: "When it's not orange, don't crave the adventure's range." Or, "When it's not orange, leave it on the range!" I believe this is a tad lame. Let's stick with "Ready to Race!"

Day 5: Denver CO to Monte Vista CO (continued).

After settling in and taking a refreshing shower, I wandered through the town. Vaughn had already picked out Quincy's for dinner. Quincy’s again proved my theory that the quality of a restaurant’s food is inverserly proporsional to the length of the menu. The menu basically has only one dish, Saturday to Thursday the cut is Fillet Mignon and Friday and Saturday it is prime rib. Your only choice being the size fillet (6,9,12 or 15oz). Capish! Quincy's served up a flawless Filet Mignon, encased in a crispy bacon jacket, alongside a locally grown baked potato, a simple wedge salad, and a slice of French bread. The meal was exquisite, with both the fillet and the potato standing out as exceptional.







While we eat and rave about the potato (I mean a potato!), Vaugh scours his Agri network and confirms that it is the "Ro Grande Russet". So, what does WD's resident potato expert, @Sandban(g)k, say?

Day 5: Monte Vista CO to Santa Fe NM



I'm mapping out our ride to Santa Fe, which looks to be around 300km away. That should clock us in at about 4 hours on the road. Vaughn, always looking to spice up our route, proposes we hit the valley road through San Luis, then swing by Taos before making our final push to Santa Fe. We're keeping an eye on the weather through YR.no and Meteoblue, and it looks like we might be riding under overcast skies with a slight chance of rain. Nothing we can't handle, though.

Vaughn's got a conference call pencilled in for later today, so I'm planning a late afternoon ride for myself through Hyde Memorial State Park and into the Santa Fe National Forest. The map shows a road that winds up the mountain, promising about 45 minutes of twisties to the summit.



I stick to my usual routine, jotting down the names of key towns and route numbers, taping them to my handlebars. It's my little hack for keeping us on track without becoming a slave to the GPS.



San Luis... let's just say it won't be winning any beauty contests.



Riding through the Rio Castilla Valley, we watch as clouds gather overhead, but the rain holds off... for now.

Day 5: Monte Vista CO to Santa Fe NM (continued)

Taos, on the other hand, is a whole different vibe. We pull up at the World Cup Coffee Shop where the resident dog couldn't care less about us. But the coffee and the atmosphere? As the sign on the wall reads, it's not just hip—it's an event. And I couldn't agree more.









We stop next to the Rio Grande River and saw a group of river rafters making their way through the rapids. Looks like they are having fun! That's Vaughn's cue to check in at the workplace. By now I have his "phone-into-the-office" process figured out…… Vaughn begins with niceties, followed by a couple of sales and performance questions. He then shares his newest "lightbulb" moment, which sounds like "Hey, while I was riding, I got this idea..." I can almost image the office staff rolling their eyes as they anticipate what Vaughn's "great idea #99" will be every time he calls in!



As Vaughn finishes his conversation, I call him over with a discovery straight out of a crime thriller: a couple of torn bits of clothing and latex gloves buried amid the bushes.

Our thoughts rush with crime scene hypotheses, especially when I mention that Vaughn has now left boot prints all over the place. I jokingly lean over and pretend to hand him the glove with “Now try this on for us please Sir”….

He instantly responds that his hands would not fit into the gloves. "Oh yeah sure Mr Simpson" I tease him. He shakes his head and quotes Johnnie Cochran: "If it doesn't fit, you must acquit…" The back-and-forth banter continues as we climb on the bikes and leave our fake "crime scene" behind.



And there you have it, if Google knows about it , it must true!



Next stop, Santa Fe!

Day 6 (continued)

We arrive at the motel only to find out our rooms aren't ready yet. Vaughn says he will go to the nearest McDonalds, where can get onto Wi-Fi and do his Zoom call. As for me? I had my own adventure planned, zipping off on my route through the stunning Santa Fe National Forest.

The GPS took me right through the heart of Santa Fe, and wow, was it bustling! Tourists were everywhere, soaking in the museums and art galleries. The place just oozed character, and I couldn't help but get swept up in its vibe.




Just as I'm getting into the groove of my ride, past the entrance of the park, this flying insect decides to make my jacket sleeve its personal dance floor. I could feel it crawling up my arm, and I just knew what was coming next wasn't going to be pleasant. The road was a snake of twists and turns, leaving me no good spot to pull over. And then, as fate would have it, right on the soft flesh of my right bicep, I feel it—the sting. I'm cursing, hoping it's just a bee, but nope, it's a wasp, doing its sting dance up my arm. I finally manage to pull over, practically throwing my jacket and gloves off. Yep, got me good, that little critter. If you've ever ridden a bike, you might know the feeling all too well.









After conquering the pass and making my way back to the motel, I find out Vaughn's got dinner plans set with one of his mentors from KSU. We Uber it to meet Steve and Kay (please do not confuse her with the tropical storm that screwed up the early part of my ride…) at their chosen restaurant, an old building painted in vibrant orange and green, complete with uneven floors and low doors—quirky signs everywhere reminding you to watch your step.



Steve's 75, and Kay's just a tad older (though she keeps the exact number under wraps). They're both full of life, with that spark in their eyes that tells you they've lived well. Steve's retired now but keeps a keen eye on his business ventures back in Kansas. His life's been a tapestry of bold agricultural ventures, turning everything he touches into gold. Vaughn admires him so much that he once vowed to rock a Tommy Bahamas shirt to a board meeting just like Steve used to do. Steve laughs at the thought.

Dinner's a delight, especially with them recommending the Blue Corn Burritos which is apparantly unique in NM. And then there's Steve, ever so engaged, quizzing me about the political climate back in South Africa, showing a genuine interest that's both refreshing and engaging.







But the highlight? When Steve orders us a round of Margaritas,. Not just any Margaritas, but a special recipe he carries around in his wallet. He pulls it out of the wallet and meticulously guides the waitress through the concoction process, insisting she write it down instead of taking his prized recipe. Kay just smiles through it all, a scene she's clearly witnessed many times. Those Margaritas were something else—so good, we couldn't help but indulge in a few more rounds.



Curiosity got the better of me, and I asked Steve about Los Alamos, having read heaps about it. Turns out, the Director of the Los Alamos National Laboratory is their neighbor! Steve shared some fascinating stories that made the evening all the more memorable. Saying goodbye that night, I knew I'd carry the memory of this dinner and our conversations for a lifetime.

That night, lying in bed, I found myself scrolling through my favourite “Dick-video-clips” on YouTube and know exactly what I was going to on my last day of the ride when I’m back in LA….. That’s what you do lying alone in a cheap Motel with fast WiFi, you spend your time watching "Dick-videos", don’t you?

Footnote: Reflecting on that dinner with Steve and Kay, especially poignant considering Steve passed away a year later in September 2023. He knew about his cancer but chose to keep it to himself, making that evening even more significant in hindsight.

Jabus said:

Day 5: Denver CO to Monte Vista CO (continued).

After settling in and taking a refreshing shower, I wandered through the town. Vaughn had already picked out Quincy's for dinner. Quincy’s again proved my theory that the quality of a restaurant’s food is inverserly proporsional to the length of the menu. The menu basically has only one dish, Saturday to Thursday the cut is Fillet Mignon and Friday and Saturday it is prime rib. Your only choice being the size fillet (6,9,12 or 15oz). Capish! Quincy's served up a flawless Filet Mignon, encased in a crispy bacon jacket, alongside a locally grown baked potato, a simple wedge salad, and a slice of French bread. The meal was exquisite, with both the fillet and the potato standing out as exceptional.

View attachment 893627

View attachment 893628

View attachment 893629

While we eat and rave about the potato (I mean a potato!), Vaugh scours his Agri network and confirms that it is the "Ro Grande Russet". So, what does WD's resident potato expert, @Sandban(g)k, say?

View attachment 893630

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Click to expand...

I say please bring me some

Day 6 (continued)

Those barriers…..

While standing next to the road after the "bee-sting", I observe the roadside barriers, notably their "end caps". The barier end below is what I'm used to…



….but the one next to the bike appears different. At closer investigation, it appears to be an aftermarket bolt-on, and if I look at the mechanism, it is designed such that if hit by a car, it will "roll-up" the rail and absorb the impact. But I'll consult Dr. Google tonight...













Never too old to teach an old (wild) dog new tricks…

Day 7: Santa Fe to Durango

Oh, what a day it's shaping up to be! We've got quite the journey ahead of us—about 340 kilometers to cover, which should take us around four hours if all goes to plan.



As I was packing up my gear this morning, I couldn't help but notice my neighbor getting his bike ready too. He's off to Utah as well, opting for the scenic route through the dirt roads. The 690 KTM is clearly a good choice for this.



The weather forecast, courtesy of YR.no and MeteoBlue, hints at some rain during our trip. Honestly, I think I'd take the rain over the scorching heat any day. Our plan is to backtrack the route we took coming into Santa Fe from Taos, then veer northwest near Espanola, heading towards Pagosa Springs. I remember our ride to Santa Fe, passing all those farm stalls adorned with vibrant red and green chilies. I missed my chance to snap a photo yesterday, but I was determined to capture it today. I shared this thought with Vaughn, and he reassured me, saying those chilies are a staple in New Mexico, so we were bound to see more on our way back. Yet, fate had other plans; not a single chili in sight all the way to Durango. The closest I got to capturing the essence of New Mexico was a photo of a license plate.



During a quick stop to fuel up the bikes, Vaughn grabbed what he dubbed the New Mexican equivalent of a "garage pie"—a burrito.



Curiosity got the better of me, and I asked him about the "EBT" signs I'd seen at several shops. He explained that EBT, or Electronic Benefits Transfer, is an electronic system for the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, essentially the modern version of “food stamps”, supported by the US Department of Agriculture.

Day 7: Santa Fe to Durango (continued)

As the clouds gathered, we decided to don our rain gear before the downpour began. And what timing it was! The rain accompanied us through Pagosa Springs, where we stopped for a coffee at a local favorite. Despite the rain, we took our time, soaking in the stunning scenery around us.













Arriving at our accommodation in Durango, the Budget Inn lived up to its name in every sense—definitely on the "low budget" side of things. Parking the bikes, I noticed a black crow perched atop a nearby “lamp post”. It's fascinating how these clever birds seem to show up everywhere, from the remotest parts of Namibia to the snow covered ski slopes of Serbia. I made a mental note to look into this phenomenon further.

Day 7: Santa Fe to Durango (continued)

After checking in, I tackled some laundry with the trusty "Sunlight" soap…



… and laid out my rain suit to dry, humorously arranging it like a crime- or crash- scene outline.



Surprisingly, the Wi-Fi here is anything but budget—it's exceptionally fast. I took the opportunity to plan tomorrow's route and scout out a nearby coffee spot. Turns out, there's a Starbucks not too far off, and even better, a laundromat just a block away. I decided to give all my shirts a proper wash and dry the freshly sunlight-cleaned underwear and socks in a tumble dryer. The laundromat was a hit, offering not only efficient machines but also great Wi-Fi, allowing me to catch up on my “little black book” notes.







With some time to spare, I finally dove into researching black crows and stumbled upon some fascinating studies about them. Crows are known for their remarkable longevity, with many living between 20 to 30 years. This extended lifespan allows them to transmit knowledge and learned behaviors across generations. They are capable of sharing survival tactics, food-finding techniques, and even cultural practices within their communities, ensuring that valuable lessons are not lost but rather built upon by successive generations. This ability to learn from one another and pass on information highlights the crows' complex social structures and intelligence, making them one of the most fascinating species in the animal kingdom.



Watch the problem solving ability at 1:15 in the video, you will be amazed!

Day 7: Santa Fe to Durango (Dinner in Durango)

So, there we were at the Budget Inn, and the lady at the reception throws us a curveball—instead of hailing a taxi or an Uber, she suggests we go local and get a lift from a retired fellow she knows. Vaughn, ever the organizer, arranges for the pickup, and soon we're on our way to a restaurant in downtown Durango that he's been raving (no pun) about. Our driver turns out to be quite the character, genuinely interested in our biking adventure and the route we've planned. I share the details with him, and he nods approvingly, even suggesting a couple of must-see stops along the way, Silverton being the first on his list.

He drops us off at the Mahogany Grille, and Vaughn dashes in to confirm our reservation.

Meanwhile, I'm outside, camera in hand, getting lost in my own world of taking pictures. Vaughn eventually comes out to fetch me, teasing me with a line straight out of Caddyshack: "Hey, Wang! What's with the pictures? It's a parking lot! Come on." I couldn’t help but chuckle at that.





The Mahogany Grille, which is part of the historic Strator hotel,had a vibe that you could only describe as having real character. We were among the first to arrive, but it didn’t take long for the place to buzz with the sound of conversations and laughter, filling the air. The crowd was a mix of casual diners like us and folks dressed up for special occasions. Despite the varied attire, the service didn’t skip a beat—efficient and on point.





Vaughn, with an eye for good wine, spots a bottle of The Silver Oak on the menu and comments on the great price. He orders it without hesitation, but, as luck would have it, they're fresh out. (Or maybe the chef thought better than to serve such a fine wine to a couple of bikers in shorts and flip-flops.) Undeterred, Vaughn picks another intriguing option, “The Rescuer," from Canard Vineyards, 2016.





And of course, the sommelier had some sort of poetic description of the wine…..



As for the food, we went all out with the starters. I tried yellow beetroot for the first time in my life, along with Navajo Cornbread and a Roasted Beet Salad that was a colorful mix of red and yellow beets, goat cheese, candied pecans, and balsamic vinaigrette. Moving on to the main course, I opted for the tenderloin elk, which was absolutely delicious.



The yellow beets were a first for me….



Since 2013, I've been on a one-meal-a-day "diet", focusing on high fat and protein intake. Contrary to what you might think, finding meals rich in fat in the US can be a challenge. Usually, hotel breakfasts are your best bet. But on this trip, Vaughn's been in charge of dinners, and his choices have been nothing short of spectacular, both in quality and variety.

Despite the feast, I stick to a little ritual of mine—nibbling on some salami sausage before bed, just in case the meal was heavier on carbs than fats. Salami is perfect for this; it lasts ages and is an easy snack. So, even when filled to the brim with good food, I enjoy a few slices of salami before calling it a night. Tomorrow in Moab, I discovered another useful "application" for them salami sticks....

Day 8: Durango to Moab

Today is going to be one for the books—truly epic. We're looking at a 370km ride that, according to Google Maps, should take us just over five hours.



The journey's highlights: The Million Dollar Drive (Route 550) leading us to Ouray, affectionately dubbed the "Little Switzerland of America," before we hit Ridgway, swing west on Route 62, and cruise past the road to Telluride, the famed ski resort. My goal is to reach Moab between 2 and 3 o’clock, giving me the perfect opportunity to catch both a late afternoon drive and a sunset in Arches National Park. Having seen the sunrise there before, I’m eager to experience and photograph the contrast of morning and afternoon light on the red sandstone formations—it’s going to be magical.

Vaughn, on the other hand, has some calls scheduled for mid-day. We've decided to stick together until he needs to break off for his commitments. He plans to find a quiet restaurant to hunker down in while I make a beeline for Moab. As I've mentioned before, Arches now requires a timed-entry permit, and mine dictates I enter the park between 2 and 3 pm.





I was up with the dawn this morning, itching for a swim in the hotel pool (yeah right ), but alas, it seems the maintenance schedule has gone awry—the pool's as inviting as a dried-up riverbed.





So, instead, I take a morning wander down to the same Starbucks I visited yesterday. The walk there is a treat in itself; Durango delights with its quirky charm, showcasing inventive bike storage racks and furniture crafted from old skis and snowboards. It's a creative spin on recycling that adds to the town's unique vibe.

Day 8: Durango to Moab (continued)

At Starbucks, I order two cappuccinos—one to enjoy there and soak in the local ambiance, and another for the walk back to the motel.





You will notice in the pic below that I am almost alone in the restaurant…. so much for “ambiance”… Vatso Mr Smarty-Ass ChatBot!



On my way back, a sign catches my eye above the local veterinary clinic, proclaiming, "Dogs are proof that some good exists in the world." It's a small touch, but it warms my heart.



Once Vaughn and I are ready to hit the road, we agree our first pit stop will be Silverton for some coffee—the perfect excuse to take in the breath-taking scenery and the crisp, cool morning air. The ride itself is a dream; the road is smooth and well-cambered, making for an enjoyable ride.





And the hillsides blanketed with Aspen trees just beginning to don their fall colours are a sight to behold. I can only imagine how stunning these mountains look fully dressed in their autumnal best.

Day 8: Durango to Moab (continued)

As we rolled into Silverton, our first pit stop was the local gas station to top off the tank. It turned out we weren't the only ones enjoying the scenic route that day; a Porsche club was also taking advantage of the Million Dollar Drive, filling up their tanks alongside us.



Silverton itself felt like stepping back into a bygone era, reminiscent of an old cowboy town. We decided to grab a bite at the Lone Spur Café, charmed by its "10 Commandments for Cowboys" hanging proudly on the wall. I couldn't help but chuckle at Rule #6: "No foolin’ around with another fellow’s gal." I recall noticing a humorous sign placed within the restroom that playfully advised, "Stand closer, it’s shorter than you think!" (Interesting that Mr ChatBot has noting to say about the latter...)



Continuing our journey along the Million Dollar Drive, winding through the mountains, I was struck by the beauty of the road. It was, without a doubt, the most spectacular stretch of tarred road I'd ever had the pleasure of traveling on, and the breathtaking views lasted all the way until we reached Redvale.





It was there that Vaughn and I went our separate ways, with plans to reconnect over dinner in Moab.



Now, about Moab – the accommodations were outrageously expensive, reminiscent of my trip to Yellowstone National Park, and it brought back memories I'd rather forget. So, I opted for a more budget-friendly option and booked a tent through Airbnb. Yes, you heard that right – a tent in a trailer park on Airbnb!

Day 8: Durango to Moab (continued)

So, there I was, racing against the clock to get to Moab by 2:37 PM, right on the dot for my park entry slot. The schedule was so tight that I didn't have a moment to spare for a detour to my Airbnb 'penthouse' to drop off my luggage; I had to make a beeline straight to the park's entrance. Upon arrival, the ranger at the gate gave me a friendly reminder that my permit was good for a full 24 hours, meaning if I fancied another round of exploration tomorrow, I was more than welcome, provided I made it through the gates before 7 AM.

As I drove through the park, I was completely taken in by the stunning landscape that surrounded me. To make the most of my visit without sacrificing time, I switched my camera to 'action' mode, capturing snapshots from the saddle as I navigated through the breathtaking scenery. And let me tell you, I couldn't have been happier with my decision to revisit Arches. It was absolutely worth the effort.

My adventure wrapped up with a stop at the visitor's center, where I had set my sights on picking up a T-shirt as a memento. Wearing my 'club' T-shirt adorned with the "He-Man-Woman-Haters-Club" logo on the back, I asked one of the assistants for help in finding the right size. The moment she held up a shirt to my back to check the fit, she couldn't help but notice the logo. Her reaction was immediate – a disapproving snort, followed by a curt "disgusting" as she tossed the shirt in my direction. Without further ado, I took it as a sign that a large would probably be my size.

The interaction was a stark reminder of how different perspectives can be, especially when it comes to humor. But, focusing on the positive, I walked away with a new T-shirt and yet another memorable story from my travels.

There I was, parked in front of the visitor's center, taking a moment to prep for the next leg of my journey. I decided it was the perfect time to refill my water bladder and dig into a couple of smoked salami sticks. I figured loading up on some fats would be a good idea before indulging in a carb-heavy dinner later on. Little did I know, I was about to stumble upon an unexpected discovery during this seemingly mundane snack break.

As I enjoyed the savory goodness of the smoked salami, I noticed I was suddenly the center of attention, but not from the people you might expect. It turns out, smoked salami sticks are like magnets for dogs. And let me tell you, these four-legged friends were on a mission, tugging at their leashes with an enthusiasm that only the prospect of tasty treats can inspire.

Now, here's the interesting part: these dogs were usually accompanied by their owners, who, more often than not, were long-legged-females…. You get my drift? Salami = Chick magnet!

I got a bit trigger happy from my morning on the Million dollar highway, so will just post a collage of photos from Arches... Spot the “Voortrekker-monument” in the collage below?













Spot my attempt to capture the “African continents” embedded in the rocks below.

Great report. I catch myself looking at the condition of the roads.
Amazing how we've been conditioned

Thanks Toney, I agree that the roads in general are in very good shape.

Day 9: Moab to Bluff via Hanksville:

So, today's adventure, which, according to Google Maps, was going to be a journey of just over 400km, taking about 4 and a half hours. We decided to use MapsMe for a bit of a scenic detour, planning a route via Hanksville, crossing the majestic Colorado River at White Canyon on Route 95, weaving through White Mesa, and finally heading towards Bluff. I had high expectations for Arches and knew the drive through the iconic Monument Valley tomorrow would be a feast for the eyes, but the beauty of today's route was something else, and it was really special because, in a sense, it was unexpected. Despite the scorching heat forcing us to stop frequently for water and electrolytes, the journey was unforgettable.



But let me back up a bit and talk about where this all started: my tented Airbnb in a trailer park. Leaving Arches, I shot a message to my host, giving her a heads-up on my ETA. "We'll be ready," she replied. Driving through town, I mentally noted the restaurant where I'd meet Vaughn for dinner in aabout 1 hour and made a pit stop to fuel up the bike. With a mix of intuition and MapsMe, navigating the gravel road to the campsite was a breeze, despite it being a few miles out of town. The trailer park was buzzing, packed due to a big family reunion happening that weekend—a heads-up my host had kindly given me.

Upon arrival, I was greeted by Camille, my host, beer in one hand, cigarette in the other, launching into conversation. I had to signal to her about my earplugs; once removed, introductions officially began. "Hi, I'm Camille," she said, juggling her cigarette to shake my hand. Her immediate chatter and the lively scene of barbecue fires and laughter set the tone for the evening. She wasn't kidding about the party atmosphere. (“Hier gaan dit lekker raak vanaand, dink ek by myself”)

The noise would’t bother me, as long as they leave me alone. Camille showed me to my tent conveniently located next to the bathroom—which, I'd pretty much have to myself, given the trailers' own facilities. This is just perfect for me, I will always choose a tent above a fancy hotel room.

The path to my tent, however, was less than ideal. A foot-thick of, what looks to me like a G5 sub-base gravel layer, on the road is not exactly what you'd call motorcycle-friendly, (let’s be more specific: not GS-friendly) especially with a fully loaded bike. Camille notice my glace at the road, and comments that it was recovered yesterday to be ready for the weekend. Nice and loose I think to myself. Amid curious glances from the campers and a mini parade of kids following the bike, I managed to navigate to my spot. Once settled, Camille offered an invite to join the barbecue, which I politely declined, mentioning my dinner plans in town. "Where at?" she inquired. "The Broken Boat”, I replied, after a moment's recollection. She quickly corrected me with “you probably meant The Broken Oar"…. Close enough I say



I took a moment to look around, I couldn't help but notice the collection of bikes parked next to the trailers. There was quite the line-up, but what really caught my eye were the 500 and 690 KTMs. They're pretty much the dream machines for anyone looking to conquer the dirt roads around Moab. These bikes, with their robust design and powerful performance, are tailor-made for the adventurous soul. It's like they're just waiting there, ready to whisk you away on a journey through the breath-taking landscapes that surround us here.



A quick shower later, I was back on the bike, off to meet Vaughn for some well-deserved pork and sweet potato chips.



When I rolled back into the campsite after dinner, the vibe was surprisingly chill. Everyone was winding down, some still enjoying their meals and desserts under the calm night sky. I remember thinking, "Is the real party happening tomorrow, or is this crowd just not into the whole party scene?" It seemed like a quiet night was ahead of us.

After a surprisingly good night's sleep, I was up at the crack of dawn, ready to tackle the day. The bike was up on the centre stand, and I was busy strapping everything down when I noticed a few guys next door, already up and brewing coffee, prepping for their day. Turns out, they were road construction workers staying in the park for the duration of their project. We exchanged a few words, a nice little moment of connection before I prepared to head out. Just as I lifted the idling bike off the centre stand, the gravel on the opposite side of the bike unexpectedly gave way, and the heavy bike “properly bliksemed” over with a thud! I pressed the kill switch, and without even asking, the guys rushed over to assist with getting the buffalo back on its feet. Just wait, let me get into 1st gear before we lift it, I ask them. With a bit of teamwork, the bike was back on its feet, and I was on my way, feeling grateful for the unexpected kindness.



Before meeting up with Vaughn at the Broken Oar, I swung by McDonald's for a quick coffee and to use the free Wi-Fi to catch up on messages back home. The parking lot was buzzing with excitement, filled with Jeeps, buggies, and bikes, all gearing up for a day of adventure. The air was electric with anticipation, a testament to the spirit of Moab. Most of the bikes were KTMs, with the odd Husky in between.





Vaughn seemed a bit off when I met him, so I suggested we head to Green River for a pick-me-up at the Tamarisk Restaurant, famous for its coffee and lavish breakfast. (I stayed in the Motel 8 close-by on my way to Denver and therefore knew that Tamarisk would provide to his needs…). On the way, we passed my construction worker neighbours, who greeted us warmly. It's funny the little things you notice, like a discarded diaper by the roadside while we wait our turn at the stop-and-go roadworks. Just a slice of life in motion.