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Summer Tour BBB 2010 - Solo Tour of the West Coast and Beyond (Complete Trip Report)


Olive

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Very good. You have an excellent command of the english language.

for a Canadian............ :laughing6-hehe:

nah it must be in her genes.... :fing02:

Hello "O",

I'll pick up the "award" on SEMF......

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As the sun rose I woke to the sound of snoring in the condo. The guys were still fast asleep, and wasting perfectly good riding time. There was a coffee maker in our condo, but the actual coffee was in the Oz unit, so I contented myself to sit in the corner of the kitchen with a book. Eventually the others began to groggily surface, and we headed out front to the parking lot. Aussie emerged with the welcome promise of coffee. (A true hero that morning). People started to perk up. A few of the guys made a run to the local convenience store for some energy drinks.

The collection of bikes in our parking lot.

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It took quite a while to get the group organized and ready to hit the road. Everyone had those last minute important things to do... brush teeth, put on sunscreen, recharge their Ipod, floss the cat. Oh, wait, there wasn't a cat. But, you get the idea. Eventually we had the entire group geared up and on bikes in front of the condo. Our first stop was at the gas station. Then it was six blocks further down the road to a McDs where some of the crew purchased breakfast. Which involved even more coffee.

I like the sticker on the back of RRW's helmet. Having met the man and experienced his dry sense of humour, it speaks volumes. Paired with the bright yellow Mohawk, it really suits him.

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Aussie spent a bit of time trying to readjust the mirrors on Mudderduc's Duc. On the short ride to breakfast they had tried to turn themselves upside down, proving themselves to be totally useless for their intended purpose. The bar-end nuts seemed to be designed to readjust the mirror position each time they were tightened, and a spare pare of hands proved useful. Tools were stowed back in the support truck that was following us with the girls, and we sorted out the pillion situation. The plan was that SpecialK, Tequila Jess, Haulazz Han and Miss. Las Vegas would take turns gearing up and riding pillion. The Australian duo were a little sceptical about riding, but ready for a new experience. RocketD opted for the air conditioned comfort of the support vehicle. She was happy to let RocketMonkey ride solo, and have the opportunity to visit with the other girls.

The riders were ready to roll. Aussie. Wheatie. Backdraft. Nomo. RocketM. Badazz. Olive. RRW. Mudderduc. AVSReid. It was time to burn some hydrocarbons. Finally we were off, bikes pointed south, heading for the north rim.

Organizing a large group of riders seemed like herding wet cats. I ride solo so often that I'm used to just hopping on the bike and pointing it in the direction that I want to go. A strategy that doesn't work quite as well in a larger group. It almost seems that the time to get ready is logarithmically proportional to the group size. It was a good thing that our group was only comprised of ten bikes, else we would still be trying to get the crew organized.

The group stretched out as we headed south down the 89. The faster riders – Aussie, Wheatie, Badazz and Backdraft pulled into the lead. I took more of a scenic pace hoping to finish out the trip without any excitement of the bad sort. A ticket would really mess up the trip budget, and I was mindful that I needed the bike (and myself) to be in one piece for the trip back to Canada.

At Jacob's Lake, we stopped to regroup and refill gas tanks. The line of bikes stretched out made for a perfect photo opportunity. We got a few odd looks. Maybe it was the Mohawks? We didn't all have them. My helmet has a Matte finish which is perfect for losing the Mohawk within minutes of attaching the suction cups. Cruzinaz has threatened to bring both a hawk and superglue, but hasn't come through on that threat... yet. But NoMo, RRW, Backdraft, Badazz, Tequila Jess and Aussie were right in the spirit.

The bikes.

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Aussie, RRW and AVSReid discussing matters of great import.

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Then it was off down the 67 to check out the main attraction, the Grand Canyon (Aka “the bloody big hole in the ground” or “Wheatie's ditch”. Pick whatever endearment you prefer.). Once again the group stretched out. We paused at the gate to pay our admission into the park, and regrouped a little further down the road. Bikes were arranged for a photo opp to recreate the bike photo of the previous year. It took a bit of urging to get everyone out of the photo, and a few of the people with cameras followed me across the road and down the ditch to recreate the shot.

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Backdraft and NoMo.

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Aussie standing tall.

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Badazz flirting with the ladies. Again.

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Aussie and RRW appear to be discussing the local flora.

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RRW makes a selection.

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Heading down the 67 the Olive riding karma struck, as we found some tar snakes. Some very sticky and fresh tar snakes. I was riding right on the tail of the fast group – for some reason they felt a need to slow down when their back tires started stepping out and slithering all over the road. (And I thought this was perfectly normal). We spaced out a bit, and tried to pick our way through without added entertainment.

Coming around one corner, I spotted a small chipmunk right in my line of travel. Feeling like giving the wee guy a chance, I swerved to the right. He hesitated for a moment, decided it was a good day to commit suicide and boldly threw himself right in my line of travel. I obliged his dark desire. Squitch. The bike slid out again like it had hit another tar snake. Following behind RRW made sure that the chipmunk was dead.

A little further up the road we encountered more fun. A small tree was lying across the road, totally blocking our lane and surprising a few of the riders. I seem to find these things on a normal ride, but the others found it to be be highly unusual. Everyone successfully navigated the obstacle and continued towards the canyon. The road would have been a lot more fun to run had it it not been for the tar snakes. Mudderduc was definitely not a fan of them.

NoMo checking out Tar Snakes.

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RRW and AVSReid sporting yellow gear. For once when geared up I could blend in with others who also looked like bumble bees.

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Badazz and Miss Las Vegas

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Parking at the Canyon, we decorated the bikes with our gear, and struck out to explore. This year I had brought along some alternate footwear, so opted not to make a fashion statement with shorts and Sidis. I headed along a trail to Angel Point accompanied by hopeful photographers Backdraft and Nomo. The trail had been closed the previous year, but headed out into the Canyon providing some encompassing views and wonderful photo opportunities.

The path to Angel Point went along the top of a ridge, dropping off at both sides but giving a wonderful vantage point for some awesome scenery.

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In a few locations we were able to climb up the rocks and check out some interesting vantage points. Backdraft proved to be part Monkey as he tried to position himself for a photo. The requisite photos of someone taking a photo. (It's turtles all the way down. Extra bonus points to anyone who gets the reference!)

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K-Special and Mudderduc had very nice matched weapons of choice. I'd love to upgrade my camera to something approaching these if the budget ever allows.

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More scenery

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I spotted some of the local wildlife on my short hike. These little lizards were very quick when they darted across the path, but one paused in the sun for a few moments. Proof that nothing and no-one is safe from my camera.

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Heading back towards the lodge, I met up with some of the others.

Aussie's Angels

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Miss Las Vegas

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Mudderduc and K-Special share a mother/daughter moment.

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A few more scenery shots.

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Back at the lodge, Wheatie disappeared into the restaurant for a bite to eat. His breakfast had apparently been left far behind.

It took us a while to find everyone and regroup. And then it a run through the Tar Snakes back to Jacob's Lake for lunch. The girls vied for gear and positioning on the back of the bikes. Haulazz Han was interested in the faster bikes, where Tequila Jess had her eye on the komfort seat behind AVSReid.

Everyone seemed ready for lunch, except the waitress who got a bit confused. A game of musical plates at the tables ensued. I handed Badazz his sandwich and he handed me mine. But something went wrong with the handoff and half of mine went for a swim in my coffee. Not a problem because I only wanted a small lunch. I find when I am riding that I am not interested in eating large meals. Probably because I'm not expending as much energy as I do on my regular schedule. NoMo pulled out his camera to get the requisite lunch shot to share with Skuuter, and busied himself with his Blackberry keeping in touch, even in the wilds of Arizona.

After lunch we headed back towards Kaneb as it was getting late in the day. A few people headed indoors to take a short nap, and I headed out for a walk. On my return I discovered that the group was ready to organize search parties to find me. The plan was to organize the bikes for another group photo. Everyone donned their ride shirts and we tried to convince Backdraft to put down his beer long enough to take a photo. (Anyone who knows the man would understand just how challenging this really is).

Aussie arranging bikes

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The Hooligans

Badazz (Repsol VFR), AVSReid (Komfort Kruuzer TM), K-Special and Miss Las Vegas (Silver VFR – aka Aussie's Silver Bullet), RocketMonkey and RocketD, Mudderduc and Aussie (Red Ducati), Olive (Grey BMW800S), NoMo (Black Ninja), Backdraft and Haulazz Han (Red VFR), RRW (Maroon CBR), Wheatie (Red VFR aka Big Red)

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Badazz and AVSReid

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Backdraft, Haulazz Han, RRW and Wheatie

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K-Special with Miss Las Vegas (pillion), RocketMonkey and RocketD, Mudderduc and Aussie. Good to see Aussie riding pillion for a change.

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RRW's drink of choice.

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Olive, RRW, RocketMonkey, NoMo (with a drink), Miss Las Vegas, AVSReid, K-Special, Haulazz Han, Aussie, Tequila Jess, Wheatie (with beer), Mudderduc, Badazz (with beer), Backdraft (with beer). I wasn't kidding when I said that it was difficult to pry drinks out of hands for the photos.

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AVSReid and RRW enjoying the shade

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Saturday night was an opportunity for those who wanted to imbibe. And I think some of the group set a new record on consumption. * cough * Wheatie. * cough * NoMo. * cough * Backdraft. But I'm not naming names. Nor will I say anything about the famous lampshade table dance. Nope. Not going to say a thing about that. The drunken singing is also best not mentioned. Or the howling at the moon. Or dancing on the fence. Definitely not going to say anything about that either. It was a very well behaved bunch, they all sat primly and properly, drinking tea with their little fingers crooked in the appropriate english manner all night. Yup. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Uh. Huh.

As the evening went on, bottles began to empty and the beer supply began to wane. Hot dogs and hamburgers were put on the grill and the warm Utah weather was appreciated at party central (aka the Oz Condo).

RRW headed off to bed early. A few hours later I helped pour a few of the more ambitious partiers into their chosen sleep spaces, and headed for my corner of the kitchen. I had the foresight to snag some coffee from the Oz condo and got it ready to go for the next morning, when I thought it might be needed.

Laying in bed I heard the sounds of the condo. The clock that had driven Badazz to distraction the previous night. The fridge. And music? Just on the edge of hearing, it sounded like music. Power outlets around the condo were occupied with various electronic devices in different states of charge. Cell phones. Ipods. The usual things that people can't travel without. I figured that I was listening to a charging Ipod that had been left playing, and got up to investigate. The sounds were coming from the foldout couch that was occupied by Badazz. He was the culprit – the music man. Having identified the source, I returned to my corner of the kitchen.

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Aussie arranging bikes

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The Hooligans

OH HECK YEAH! A buddy of mine sports the Repsol 5gen graphics... Thanks Olive; looks like you guys got to let your hair down a bit!! :biggrin:

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looks like you guys got to let your hair down a bit!! :biggrin:

HAIR!!..... :laughing6-hehe: :laughing6-hehe: ....check out the pictures. Well a few have such a thing, bastiges :squid:

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looks like you guys got to let your hair down a bit!! :biggrin:

HAIR!!..... :laughing6-hehe: :laughing6-hehe: ....check out the pictures. Well a few have such a thing, bastiges :squid:

I was really hoping that subject wouldn't come up ..... :mad:

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So I am wondering if you all met here or on other places on the net - or if on the net at all? I recognize most of the names - not the faces though since I only know most these people here on vfrd. I will try to remedy that on future veefalo trips however! Motorcyclist sure do know how to have a good time! Good read Olive I hope to meet you in person too! Keep them comming, loving the stories.

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So I am wondering if you all met here or on other places on the net - or if on the net at all? I recognize most of the names - not the faces though since I only know most these people here on vfrd. I will try to remedy that on future veefalo trips however! Motorcyclist sure do know how to have a good time! Good read Olive I hope to meet you in person too! Keep them comming, loving the stories.

Well lets see, VFRD is where it started thats for sure. Then in the last couple years SEMF has come into play, must have been something about half eaten food pics :goofy:

I for one have met a lot of now life long friends thru this site, Thank You :beer:

As far as meeting these nut cases,,,,,, are you sure you want too?? :laughing6-hehe:

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I for one have met a lot of now life long friends nut cases thru this site, Thank You :beer:

fixed it for ya, Cruz !!! :laughing6-hehe:

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Websites like this one are a wonderful way to meet people with similar interests. The first meetup for me was in 2009 when I decided to ride down to the Grand Canyon and thought I would see if some of the people I knew online would be interested in joining me. As you can tell, that turned into something a little larger. It astonished me how many people we had come out this year, including one person who flew out from Atlanta, GA. A few people who had been planning to come were unable to for various reasons, but might make it out next year.

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The sun was up, and I got out of my sleeping bag and started up the coffee. I returned to my cozy nest with a book and waited for the brew cycle to finish. Suddenly out of nowhere a drill sergeant's practiced booming tones rang out “Get up you lazy bums. The day is wasting.” The voice echoed in the silence waking up the rest of the condo. They were not happy about it. Bleary eyed they began to move.

After peeling myself off of the ceiling, heart hammering in a burst of adrenaline, I dryly informed RRW that if he tried that again I would be forced to kill him. The smells and sounds of the coffee maker had woken him up. Briefly I considered banning him from coffee for his vocal stunt, but figured that would qualify as cruel and unusual punishment. He was clear eyed, having gone to bed early, unlike most of those who had partaken of the wobbly pops the night before.

Some were slower getting moving than others.

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As our crew readied ourselves for the ride, doors were opened and the morning breeze came through the condo. It wasn't that surprising that we had a small visitor come winging into the condo on a mission to explore. I chased him out of one corner and he landed on the sill of a window above RRWs' head. Certainly, he had the right idea of what freedom looked like, although perhaps he needed a bit more experience dealing with windows to figure out that he couldn't make it through them no matter how determined he was. RRW reached up with one tall lanky arm and proved once again to be the perfect spokes model for a cliche. “A bird in the hand”.

The wee guy looked a little startled by all the attention he had garnered as he was securely held by RRW. The scramble was on for cameras, as RRW urged us to hurry. The bird was squirming looking for a way out, and hadn't yet figured out that he was in the ideal position to sample just how soft and tasty the fleshy part of RRW's hand was. Fortunately he didn't figure this out while RRW was holding him in his clutch hand. It might have put a damper on the ride.

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Are there any Ornitholigists out there who can identify this bird?

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Our crew was awake through all this excitement, but the Oz condo continued to slumber. I guess they didn't know what excitement they were missing. We debated sending RRW in to make an acoustic assault on the slumbering group. Finally Aussie made an appearance, followed by the Australian duo. People headed into the Oz condo for a bowl of cereal and fruit for breakfast and to refill their coffee cups. A few hung over people got ready for the day's adventure. Once again the time consuming process of herding wet cats was engaged in, and we were ready to ride.

Make that almost ready to ride.

The first crisis of the day had struck. Mudderduc's keys were nowhere to be found. After some frantic pocket pat-downs which made it seem to an uninformed onlooker as if people were doing the Macarena, we tried to figure out who had them last for repositioning the bikes the night before for the photo opportunity. AVSReid was dispatched in his Komfort Kruzer to find the rest of the riders at the nearby gas station and check out Aussie's tank bag on Wheaties bike.

No, the guys hadn't been inattentive when equipping their bikes. Wheatie's tank bag was on Aussie's bike because the magnet wouldn't hold through the leather tank bra on Big Red. Which left Aussie's tank bag taking up residence on Wheatie's ride. At times it lead to some amusement as keys and Wheatie's chapstick were misplaced.

AVSReid returned carrying the tank bag, and Aussie determined that the keys weren't in it. Meanwhile the girls had returned to turn their condo upside down in the search. Success! The keys had been left inside, and Mudderduc was ready to hit the road.

Up the 89 we passed through some fantastic scenery. The sharp walls of sedimentary rock rose high around us, and reflecting warm red, yellow and tan tones. The road curved off in a series of gentle sweepers and the ride was off. Wheatie as usual was disappearing into a tiny dot in the distance. He certainly wasn't shy about making liberal use of his right hand.

At a brief stop for gas we checked tire pressures, ready for the curves of the day. A short debate ensued about how different pressure gauges differed in calibration. Apparently studies have shown that there is little difference between them. A comparison of the reading offered by the different gauges offered by group members seemed to confirm this assertion.

NoMo, a little tired of the Shinkos in poor condition on his rental Ninja briefly considered trading in his ride for something a little larger. He opted to stick with the smaller wheels, reasoning that they would be more fun. The Ninja was in good condition overall, and he seemed reasonably content riding it. He certainly proved willing to to push limits in corners as he chased down Wheatie, Badazz, Aussie and Backdraft and left a billowing cloud of dust in his wake.

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As we prepared to leave the gas station, Wheatie's steed refused to start, making the familiar clicking sounds heralding a dead battery. Aussie jumped on Big Red and got a push start from a few eager riders. This mirrored the push starts that were required for his Silver Bullet on the BBB1 Canyon run the previous year. Patterns were repeating themselves. Although this time the players were slightly different. As the bike roared to life I got pictures.

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Once the bike was started, Wheatie took over the controls and once again disappeared out of sight like a scared rabbit. We passed three police cars on the initial stretch of road, and nobody felt an irresistible urge to stop for them. It's always nice when they are occupied when you pass them. Right Backdraft? Aussie? Both of them were tearing up the road with Wheatie and were nowhere to be seen. A short while later we pulled off the road at an overlook for a photo opportunity and to regroup.

RRW decided to do some rock climbing to get a different vantage on the group.

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Badazz sports the traditional NFR Mohawk.

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The Rockets.

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Badazz and Aussie swap lies about how fast they were traveling.

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RRW and NoMo

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Aussie

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Backdraft

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Overlook of the lake.

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A collection of bikes.

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NoMo shows off his Ninja moves.

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As we were preparing to get back on our bikes, a tourist shyly asked one of our guys if they would pose for a photo with him, and in short order found himself grinning ear to ear surrounded by a group of riders fully geared up, many equipped with the standard NFR Mohawk. That's one vacation picture that made the album, and I can just imagine him proudly telling his friends about the wild motorcycle gang he ran into during his Utah holiday.

A little further up the road, we stopped again to regroup at an intersection where we turned off the 14 onto the 148. Always a good idea when roads fork and riders are strung out in the distance. It ensures that some riders don't take a scenic detour and frighten the rest of the group. Along this road we also found some of Mudderduc's all time favourite conditions. Fresh, stretchy tar snakes. RRW didn't seem too impressed with them either.

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Badazz takes a short break away from the others to water the local fauna.

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Badazz once again flirting with Aussie's Angels.

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Backdraft shows off his favourite salute.

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Wheatie.

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Wheatie.

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Camera Man RRW.

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K-Special and Miss Las Vegas debate which is the fastest bike. That gal sure loves speed!

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AVSReid and Aussie.

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Onwards to Cedar Breaks for a short break. Someone left the ignition on his bike keyed on in an attempt to need another push-start, but we caught it before the battery was flattened out a second time. (Names withheld to protect the innocent... as if any of us could be accused of being innocent!) After a brief discussion and a swap of gear between Aussie's Angels, fresh pillions exchanged with the backup crew in the truck, we set off for a lunch stop at Brian Head. Mexican was the consensus, and bikes headed up the hill in a poorly graveled parking lot.

I made the mistake of stopping on the deep loose gravel of the hill and wound up balancing the bike with unstable footing on tip toe. Conditions that I really dislike. I opted to balance there for a few minutes until the crew ahead had finished parking their bikes. I had no problem handing the bike to a very capable Aussie with his longer legs who had slightly better footing to park it for me. Ahh... valet parking at its finest! Something I really could get used to.

At the restaurant Aussie and Wheatie once again engaged in the dance of the tank bags in an effort to find wallets, keys and Wheatie's elusive Chapstick which continued to do a disappearing act by hiding in various hidden nooks and crannies in the bag.

The restaurant was eager to welcome a large group of tourists, and we opted to sit outside in the blazing sun. Some of our group nursed their cold drinks, while others nursed their hangovers. The activities of the night before had caught up with them. Although a bit green, most of the crew was able to savour the tastes from south-of-the-border.

I performed what had become a ritual – refreshing my sunscreen. So far on the trip I had avoided a sunburn despite having the palest skin in the group and having ridden for days in conditions optimal to turn myself into a lobster. I offered the tube around, and put it away. A few minutes later as the hot sun beat down, Badazz changed his mind and the tube was reproduced for his benefit. This time the sunscreen made the full rounds. SPF 70? Looking like the resident vampire I got teased about the extent I went to block out the sun. When standing next to him I even made NoMo and RRW look as if they were sporting deep tans.

RRW and Backdraft at the restaurant.

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Badazz.

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On the town's main road outside the restaurant cars started to line the way, and people began to put up balloons and flags. Preparations were well underway for a local celebration of July the 4th. In the distance the faint sound of music were carried in the warm air as a live band started to warm up for the anticipated crowd. Quite a few four wheeled ATVs were out running the road as well adding to the local flavour of the festive atmosphere.

After lunch we opted to head out of town before kids, cats, dogs and other assorted detritus on the road got any worse. Aussie volunteered his service as a valet once again, running a number of the bikes down the loose gravel slope to the main road.

We took the scenic route back to the 89, and another stop for gas. At this point Mudderduc decided that she had enough, and the guys helped load her bike in the back of the support vehicle.

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Aussie checks out the ramp.

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The guys get pushy.

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A few hours later we were on the final approach to Kanab, a string of bikes passing slower moving vehicles. The canyon walls that rimmed the road were beginning to cast long shadows on the road, heralding the fact that late afternoon had arrived. Once the condos were unlocked, a few people opted to nap, while others made an immediate beeline for the hair of the dog which had bit them the night before. It was another beerfest, but a lot more subdued than the previous night. Hangovers were still fresh in the rider's minds.

Everyone turned in a little earlier than the previous evening remembering the hangovers from the night before. Although the official reason offered up was that the Arizona crew wanted to get an early start to beat the worst of Phoenix's mid-day heat.

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Once again the next morning I was the first to rise and put on a pot of coffee. I was well into my third cup before there were any signs of movement from the rest of the crew. I think they were tired from all the excitement of the weekend.

Gradually people began to emerge from their slumber. RRW. Nomo. Badazz. A bleary eyed Backdraft. And sleeping beauty himself - Wheatie. Everyone packed up their gear, and got themselves organized for the return trip. We commented that we had been lucky that none of our entourage had the experience of talking to a cop... and Wheatie decided that needed to change. And he wasted little time.

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The town's constable had swung into the parking lot to see what was up with the bikes. Of course, this made for a perfect photo opportunity, since we hadn't stopped at the dummy car in Fredonia to get shots of Aussie being "respectful" this year.

Backdraft donned his helmet with the customary Hawk and adjusted his radar detector so the blinking red light would garner his attention hopefully before his right wrist garnered him a ticket. He checked that his luggage was securely fastened to avoid incident.

NoMo kicked his Shinko tires, still looking a little disgusted with the condition of the wheels provided by the rental company. He donned his cooling vest, and adjusted his mesh gear over top. Last on was the camelback. He knew that there was some hot riding ahead, and wanted to ensure he was prepared for the heat.

RRW was also ready to go. His bike was packed, and his handgun was within easy reach. Yes, even here in small town Utah RRW was packing. His gun had garnered some attention a previous evening, as well as raised eyebrows at the hollow points. He meant business. Yes, NoMo, Badazz and Backdraft were quite secure. Or so we hoped.

Last but not least Badazz. He took one last opportunity to flirt with the Aussie's Angels, before zipping up his jacket and donning his helmet.

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Hugs and handshakes were exchanged, and the first batch of riders were off, and I headed down the road on foot to snap a few pictures.

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The Arizona crew were headed for Phoenix. NoMo had plans to stay there for a few days after reluctantly returning the rental bike. The others – Badazz, Backdraft and RRW were going to load up their bikes on a trailer, and ride the rest of the way through Arizona in airconditioned comfort.

A few minutes later RRW decided to return to our group. No, he hadn't missed us, he'd just forgotten something in the condo. He looked a little disgusted with himself when he realized that he had gotten off the bike right beside a thick, gooey patch of mud and had tracked it into the condo. The man is well house trained though, it only took him a few minutes to clean up the mess and leave the condo looking better than new. I took the opportunity to check out his bike. Not bad at all. And he even was sporting the twin to my tank bag.

The Nelson-Rigg tank bag seemed to fit his bike a lot better than mine. It was a strap-on affair, with two clips in the front, and a single clip coming up from under the seat. The configuration of the 800S made it impossible to run the strap up the center because there is a seat clip in the way. I had the center strap running up the side, and sitting at a bit of a diagonal. It meant that the bag wasn't quite as secure and could slide to the left, but wasn't a big deal because if it shifted, it was easy to move it back while riding. Certainly it was much better than the tank bag I had run with the previous year which had been a little too tall, and really impacted riding style. This one was large enough to be functional (I could even fit a spare pair of boots inside), without getting too much in the way. Certainly it would have been more convenient to have a magnetic bag, but the plastic faux-tank on the Bimmer made this impossible.

Apart from that, RRW had a lot of gear stacked high on the bike. In addition to the tank bag he had two saddle bags and a matching top bag, on top of which he strapped on a full sized sleeping bag. A little incongruous on a CBR.

The lines of the CBR reminded me a lot of the new VFR. They seemed to work very well with the CBR, adding a special touch of class to the bike. While I like the bike, I can't see it as my next bike. Somehow I don't think that the seat is conducive to the type of riding that I usually do. I certainly couldn't see a cross-country tour on it.

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After I finished admiring RRW's ride, we all helped repack support vehicles with luggage. Wheatie's large suitcase. The extra air mattresses and bedding. The now-empty coolers. The girl's gear. A never ending stream of stuff came out of the condo, dwarfing the small packs on my bike. I had already strapped my tent and bags back on my bike ready to be off on a new adventure. Final farewells were exchanged and the last of the riders and support vehicles were off for another year.

I headed up the 89 ready to check out some scenery. This section of road was starting to become familiar. I had ridden it the previous year on the way down to BBB, twice the day before, and again on my departure. The scenery, however, just doesn't get old. Lots of curves. Canyons. Rock formations. Sculptures of stone towering high above, fabulous colours revealed on the wind-carved rock face. Utah is a very special place. And sometimes I seem better able to savour the experience when I am on my own. When I can stop at the side of the road alone, without distraction. It's always an experience to ride with a group, but at times solo runs are a salve to my soul. This trip was certainly the best of both worlds - a meet-up with a great group of people, and a few days riding solo as well.

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Aussie's parting advice as I departed Kanab had been “Just stay on the 89”. Advice I heeded all too well as I went right past the turnoff for the 12. Hmmm.... wait a minute, wasn't I planning on routing through Bryce? As Bryce was rapidly dwindling in the distance, I pulled off to the side of the road and consulted my trusty paper GPS. Let's see... there's the 89... and the 12 was clearly marked in bright yellow highlighter. Sure enough, I had gone right past my turnoff. I pulled a U-turn on the highway and headed back towards the promise of riding through more of the fascinating rock formations.

In 2009 I had taken the 89 down to Kanab, so it was familiar territory. Every so often landmarks at the side of the road triggered a memory. This time I stopped to take a picture of the Boy's Ranch. Somehow this struck me as amusing. I checked but none of the guys seemed to have taken a diversion on their routes back home... unless, of course, they had cleverly hidden their bikes in the back. The ranch itself looked like it was freshly built, yet still deserted. Exactly the same as the previous year. Idly I wondered if it had been another victim of the economic downturn destined to become a ghost ranch at some point in the future.

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Turning down the 12 I was greeted with the awe inspiring sight of Red Canyon. It was hard to get shots that didn't have tourists in them, but the rock formations were very picturesque.

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Dodging RVs and gawking tourists in cars, I paused to take a picture of a rock arch spanning the roadway. I find things like this to be very special. In my mountains the rock would have been totally blasted away to make way for the highway. Here, in Utah, someone had painstakingly formed a tunnel through the rock, leaving the original outline as a testament to nature as cars were dwarfed as they passed underneath the massive arch. Man and nature's efforts intertwined.

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I headed further up the 12 stopping for some pictures and a brief hike into Bryce Canyon. At one of the photo stops I made, I noticed there was a short loop with a waterfall and a mossy cave, both of which sounded interesting. I changed my boots at the bike, and locked up my helmet with the rest of my gear. I also took the opportunity to slather on more sunscreen. For once I managed to not get any in my eyes. I snapped the strap onto my tank bag, ready to check out what Bryce had to offer. The hike was quite warm as I left the leathers on. In retrospect perhaps I ought to have had left them at the bike. The arid desert landscape gave birth to some amazing rock formations that made Drumheller and the Hoodoos look miniscule in comparison.

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Dry creek beds awaiting the next flash flood.

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Rock formations reaching high towards the sky.

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A bird stopping to survey the grandeur of his territory on a high perch.

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Life persisting against all odds in the hot, dry desert

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Seemingly out of place, a waterfall in the middle of the desert feeding a tiny creek. I could imagine early visitors to the area being thankful for the refreshing water burbling out of nowhere.

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After visiting the waterfall, I headed up a steep incline to check out the mossy cave. It was a little disappointing, and didn't provide the anticipated photo opportunities. Reading the information displayed on a placard, it was obvious that this was a place to be revisited in the winter when it became an intricate icy sculpture.

Much like the coast, some of the rock formations in Utah speak to my soul in a way that is hard to put into words. They provide me with a fleeting connection to the universe. Reaching high overhead, sculpted in wild shapes they stand in testimony to the forces of nature slowly eroding them over the years. The hand of an artist seemingly at work. I could have spent hours looking at them and exploring if I wouldn't have been beginning to overheat. The warmth of the desert was enough to distract me from my musings. I was comfortable in the leathers as long as I was moving, but being stationary clad in leather in the middle of a desert has little to recommend it. I had already verified this a few days previous on my approach to Vegas. So I headed onwards, to see what else Utah had to offer.

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The road was full of wonderful curves, beyond each a marvel of rock unfolded in the distance. The rock formations are all patterns on a theme, yet each distinct with a need to be appreciated for what they had to offer. I continued to follow the 12, and opted to take a turnoff at Cannonville to Kodachrome Basin State Park. I figured with a name like that, there had to be a few photo opportunities in the offering. The landscape by the roadway didn't disappoint and detour was well worth taking.

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The road didn't disappoint either.

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Along the road a cabin sat in the middle of the landscape, seemingly at odds with it. Man and nature, a study of contrasts. Yet the log construction seemed somehow appropriate here. Wouldn't this be a marvelous place to call home, with stunning views all directions greeting you when you stepped outside? I couldn't imagine the canyons and rock formations ever getting old.

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Returning through Cannonville I stopped at an old gas station. It always astonishes me when I find echos of the past standing incongruously in the middle of a town. This gas station hasn't been catering to anyone for a lot of years, yet it remained preserved in good condition. A wonderful find.

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As this post is getting rather long and photo heavy, I will continue the day in a separate installment... stay tuned for Escalante/Grand Staircase and Capitol Reef...

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I cant get over the contrasts: the fun and frolicking with the crew of the BBB, then the sloitary interaction with the surroundings. So awesome... Photo heavy never bothers me :biggrin:

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Next on the daily agenda was Escalante and the Grand Staircase. The natural wonders just continued to unfold, one after another. The landscape gradually changing over short distances. A lot of elevation changes and curves.

I was disappointed at first with Escalante, in comparison to the previous scenery it seemed not to offer nearly as much. It was gorgeous, but didn't quite measure up to some of the other rock formations. I stopped to document the experience regardless. Parts of it seemed to be very repetitive, with smaller vistas. Not nearly as awe inspiring as the towering monoliths and canyon walls I had ridden past earlier in the day, but it still had something to offer.

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I passed through another nameless small town, where it was time to fill the tank with gas. As I stood at the pump, a truck pulled into the lot and parked at the pump in front of me facing me. A grizzled older fellow wearing a bandana hopped out. He glanced at my bike, strode right up to me and said “Hi! Are you the lady from Red Deer?”

A little surprised, I answered, “No. I'm from Calgary.”

We both stood and looked at each other for a moment a little puzzled. Red Deer is only an hour and a half from Calgary. And it seemed totally out of character for a total stranger to drive up to me and ask if I was from another town in Alberta in the middle of Utah's wilderness. Given the direction of travel and how the truck had pulled up there was no way that he could have seen my Alberta plates either. It was odd.

The gentleman remembered his manners, and introduced himself as the Desert Doctor, the only bike mechanic within 400 miles. He explained that he was looking for a woman who had called him who was traveling with a group from Red Deer. He found it absolutely amazing that he had found someone else from Alberta down that far south given the timing. It was another unsettling moment, almost like running into Guy and Guy from Quebec three times on the trip. One of those moments which make you marvel against the odds, and feel that the universe has singled you out for a moment. He was very friendly, as a lot of folk from small towns tend to be. We chatted a little about the trip, and I commented about my initial approach down the coastline. He seemed amazed that a person would try a run like that on their own, especially a woman. I chose to take that as a compliment. We chatted for a few minutes, and he gave me a business card, encouraging me to pass it along to any other bikers I ran into who encountered difficulties on the road. It definitely was a promising sign, that even out here, in the middle of Utah that a fully equipped bike mechanic could be found.

He asked me to hold on for a moment. Disappearing into his truck, he returned and handed me a small metal symbol, painted orange on the edges. “This is for you. You have the true spirit of a rider and have earned it. It's a road warrior for luck – put it on your keychain.”

I felt a little awkward, but smiled and thanked him. There is something that just feels odd about accepting a gift from a stranger, no matter how small. He gave me some advice about the road, told me where the local cops like to hang out, and wished me a safe journey. It really was an odd encounter.

It wasn't until after I got home that I decided to try to google the term “Road Warrior” to see if I could find out more about the symbol. Unfortunately my google-fu was lacking, but I've kept the three legged symbol on the keychain, as seeing it there makes me smile even if I don't know the full meaning/background of the symbol. For me, it is the symbol of my adventures far from home.

Sometimes there is something really special about things that you are given by others. The value really doesn't matter. It truly is the thought which really counts. Hanging on one side of my bike is a small Gremlin Bell that was thoughtfully sent to me by Nomo last year after my adventure with the front tire. It has a small image of the dragon from Deals Gap,a place that I hope to ride someday. Every time I see it, it brings a smile to my face. Same thing with my bike key chain.

As I am re-posting this ride report from another forum it is really neat to read my comment about Deals Gap above. In July I had no idea that I would be able to manage a trip out to Deals Gap this year, much less on a VFR four months later. :biggrin:

After my odd encounter with the Desert Doctor I rode on through a series of curves which opened onto an absolutely magnificent vista. I felt jaw-dropping awe at the incredible sight in front of me. It's a very good thing that a roadside pullout was provided for travelers at that point, otherwise I might have lost track of the road.. From where I stood to the horizon all I could see was a marvel unfolding in front of me. Rock, exposed in the desert. Canyons and ridges, sandy colours in surprisingly vibrant shades. From my high vantage point once again I felt dwarfed from the wonders that lay in front of me as far as the eye could see. The road was quiet, as was the pullout. I had it to myself for a short while. Then other vehicles pulled in, people jumped out, milled around for a few moments taking quick photos, and jumping back into their cars sped away. I stood there for a while, just admiring the view which seemed to stretch out into eternity. Photos simply do not do it justice, as with many things I encountered on this trip.

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Looking down I could see the road dropping through a series of curves that promised a lot of riding excitement ahead.

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Heading down into the valley, walls of rock towered above me, as I followed curve after curve through a natural wilderness. I paused at another viewpoint to get another vantage of the view. It was hard not to allow myself to become overly distracted while riding, and my experience approaching the Golden Gate bridge remained reasonably fresh in my mind.

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As I stood there, I pressed my hand against the rock as I am sure many had done before me. It was warm, having spent the day absorbing the hot desert sun. In some ways it felt alive, as if I was in communion with something living and breathing, but at a much slower rate than I was. My lifetime fleeting in comparison to the testimony it stood of the ages.

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Further along the road continued along the top of a ride, dropping off sharply at both sides. The roadway had a very narrow soft shoulder, and one wrong move would land the bike in a canyon far below. Signs warned of tight curves and the need to temper one's traveling speed, but no guard rails were provided to ensure that travelers didn't attempt extracurricular activities such as cliff-diving or off roading.

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After riding through such wonders, it was a let down to follow the road into another national forest. The roads had curves, and cattle. A lot of cattle. It was another section of free-range and the cattle seemed to think they had the same right to the road as their larger metallic encased kin. There seemed little sense in pausing for photos here. I fervently hoped that the trees would only last for a short time before more of Utah's wonders were unearthed in front of me.

A stop at a gas station was next. There were a few cliffs in the distance, and while impressive, they had nothing on the landscapes that I had journeyed through earlier in the day. Here the difference was that the lush grass and vegetation that was seeming at odds with the desert rocks I had traveled through a short while before.

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At quite a few sparkling new gas stations old signs stood preserved in the shadows. Obviously this station had a proud history.

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Not that much further along I was welcomed by a sign announcing Capitol Reef National Park. The scenery continued to be absolutely incredible. Colourful canyons, ridges, buttes, and monoliths stood in quiet testimony to nature beside the road. More wonderous rock formations towered high overhead. They spoke to me as I rode through them. The Castle. Temple of the Sun and Moon. All sorts of fantastic names were given to the rocks for the benefit of the tourist. Perhaps so they could check off that they had seen the marvel that was the Castle. Perhaps so that they could label their vacation photos accurately. But the rocks are older than the names we assign them. How arrogant it seems that we try to tame them by labeling them with names that try to stuff them into small categories. They are larger than that. They have been standing proudly before we came laying ribbons of concrete and asphalt to funnel tourists past them, and will continue to stand long after we are gone. In relation to the timelessness of these monuments to time itself, a single life seems insignificant in comparison.

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At times I find myself waxing philosophical as I stand before the majesty of nature. A single flower or tree, no matter how majestic, doesn't speak to my soul in quite the same way as the ocean, mountains or rock formations. It is a spiritual experience I feel compelled to share. Yet words and photos can not possibly convey the experience. I felt fortunate in some ways that I was traveling alone, solitude had a lot to do with the experience. The chatter and distraction of others would have somehow minimized the experience. Yet I still wished I had someone to share it with. Someone to stand beside me quietly, sharing what I felt. Although I suspect it is a very individual experience, and another person standing there would have a similar but also a very unique experience.

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As I continued riding through the wonders of Capitol Reef I spied a sign advertising a campground and opted to spend the night in the park. It seemed an appropriate place to stop, despite the fact I still had a few hours of daylight still available to me.

Following the road towards the campground I discovered some of the local wildlife. A few moments before this picture was taken one of these deer had made a suicidal dash across the road in front of me. I always appreciate it when the deer's efforts in this vein are unsuccessful. A few days previous in Washington it almost seemed that I was compelled to hit everything small and furry, no matter if it was alive or dead. Gophers. Chipmunks. I'm sure I even shortened the lifespan of a few mice. I was glad not to have partaken of the opportunity to go for anything larger.

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A small farm was situated right beside the campground. The barn and horses against the wall of the canyon seemed a perfect photo opportunity. One of the horses was curious about me and the camera, perhaps hopeful that I had brought him a treat.

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A view from my tent site.

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After I had secured a campsite for the night I headed out for a short walk with the camera hoping to find the Petroglyphs. Alas, I took the wrong turn and wound up walking along the road as dusk developed and the cliffs towering overhead fell into deep shadow. It was going to be a long trip to retrace my steps, so I opted to try for a cross-country shortcut.

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I was in a section of Capitol Reef that had originally been settled by a group of Mormons. The original settlement had been named Fruita in acknowledgment of the orchards. A few small farms that had been partly preserved nestled amongst the cliffs. This abandoned dunny cart sat in a field, a reminder of times past.

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Continuing cross country in an effort to shorten my route back, I waded through a shallow river and scrambled up a small rocky cliff, eventually finding my way back to the campground as full darkness fell. Once again I was thankful that I had packed a pair of boots for exploring. Quickly washing up I retired to the tent for the night.

The tent was situated beside a group camp site that was hosting a small group of Boy Scouts. They were excited to have a fire going, and stayed up quite late. Finally I heard them start to quiet down for the night as well.

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All Reeeeeeeeeeeeet!!!

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:laughing6-hehe: :laughing6-hehe: :laughing6-hehe: :laughing6-hehe: :laughing6-hehe: Nice job BLS :fing02:

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