Misadventure (Part II)

It was a bright new day and the nightmares of just the evening before we're far from my mind, especially since I didn't suffer any soreness in the slightest. It was as if it were just that - just a dream and not a parable to learn from.

Fresh, Chance and I hit the road running for today it was so long, Utah and hello, Arizona! The Grand Canyon was our next stop but not without a scenic cruise through Zion!

My playlist randomly picked out just the right songs for the pleasant ride like John Denver's "Rocky Mountain High" to the Beatles' "Here Comes the Sun." With a smile on my face I declared that the theme for today would be nothing short of pleasant and utterly enjoyable. In my mind, I planned two simple objectives: find a motel early in the day and make an easy day trip of the Grand Canyon.

Kanab, Utah appeared before me in no time at all. Many of the restaurants along the way were still serving breakfast and I had no intentions of riding through. This small town would serve well as a base of operations for the quick round trip to the famous hole in the ground. Kanab was once a Hollywood hotspot for filming many western movies and television shows. It's been decades since it saw the camera lense but the small town in the middle of the desert still clings to their star-studded past.

We rode from motel to motel only being met with either no vacancy or rates out of my budget. Then I stopped at a place that looked like it hadn't changed since the 50s. The lady at the office quoted me what seemed like the best deal in town but when I bowed out to continue my search she offered to work with me on the price. She not only got me a great price but a wonderful room right in front of where Chance was already relaxing.

It really was a 50s throwback and probably the cleanest place I've stayed in so far. The carpeted floor felt good on my feet and I knew I could spend a good part of the day just relaxing which I did. Deja vu?

In no rush, I sauntered out to Chance and stripped her of any unnecessary weight for what I presumed would be a quick ride down and back in time for dinner. One thing about yesterday seemed to be heeded as I packed two bottles of water. Simply for kicks, I packed my riding jacket and chaps, primarily thinking they'd look good set against the canyon in photos - not for actual practical need. With that, I was off!

As if my mind summoned it, I thought that I hadn't seen a tumbleweed yet! Within a couple of seconds I encountered my first tumbleweed at 60mph against my left leg. Thankfully I didn't feel a thing! Rain hurts more, oddly enough. The brittle thing just exploded.

The landscape changed from desert to forest and I quickly became grateful for bringing the wind proof layers as the air was significantly colder.

The ride was longer than expected but all the more enjoyable as it was both entertaining at times and pleasant the rest. The meadows were full of wild life and at one point I had to wait for cows to cross the road. The hassle seemed to annoy the cars ahead but I got a chuckle out of it. Of all things to disturb me, however, were the young deer just minding their own business. In my living story mindset I looked at them and shook my head demanding they not be a foreshadowing of things to come. Sometimes I hate when I'm right.

After about two and a half hours, we reached a parking lot which wasn't as crowded as it could have been. Riders advising me throughout the trip were right; the North Rim of the Grand Canyon was more my scene. It was remote enough where 90% of the tourists divert to the South Rim. The park on this side was still fairly commercialized with a main lodge surrounded by dozens of cabins which I'm sure are booked months, if not a year in advance as the demographic of visitors to the area seemed more foreign than local.

The famous canyon would peak through the foliage every so often as I walked around trying to find a designated place to see the thing. Of course it didn't take long for me to laugh at the thought. It's called the Grand Canyon for a reason; surely it could be seen at any arbitrary spot. So I picked a trail and followed it to epicness...

I don't consider myself a poet so I won't even attempt to articulate its awesomeness. No idea why I thought I'd simply ride down, snap a picture and head right back to town. The canyon was mesmerizing enough for me to lose track of time. Had I gone down earlier, there would be nothing wrong with this but when I had my fill and walked back to my bike and put my helmet on, I saw I had a problem. Rather, I couldn't see anything.

One of the conditions I vowed for the trip was riding in only ideal conditions. Whether the sun dropped or rain, I promised myself to hitch up at the nearest town and wait it out. Though I was prepared for both rain and night riding, what I assumed would be an easy cruise down and back convinced me to leave behind critical gear necessary for the looming darkness. Removing my helmet, I realized my tinted visor was going to obscure my vision.

When the sun is completely gone, I would have to make the difficult choice of flipping up the visor and take the wind in my face. Thankfully, a pair of glasses that would protect my eyes were fished out of my satchel. Okay. I geared up and psyched up; this was going to be one harrowing ride.

On my way out of the parking lot I saw a pair of young men hitchhiking. Of all times I actually had the back seat available but I could only take one and, I confess, Manifest Destiny was back at the motel so an encouraging wave was all I could offer them as I zoomed by. It was 80 miles to the next place of lodging and the cold was already setting in. My sympathy for them only lasted so long for my own problems awaited me down the road.

Like clockwork the fawns were turning the pavement into their own personal playground. In an effort to avoid colliding with one that briefly bounced across the road, I swirved successfully but lost control in the braking and Chance would fall for the second time. He lay atop my leg this time on a rocky shoulder, though when I managed to pulled my foot out from under him, I sighed a breath of relief to find no injuries that won't be more than a bruise. The motorcycle, on the other hand, took some damage.

What befell the trooper of a bike was what I had feared for the first fall; the shifting lever. The two breaths I took then are still vivid to memory for it was the first time I was faced with the possibility of ending my journey. I looked forward and saw the sun dissolving through the trees. Behind me was dark woods. My options were slim. I could push her back eight to ten miles to the lodge and see about a mechanic in the morning or try and camp out where I was until help arrived. The cold felt like a spur in my side.

Chance managed to start up and give some hope. My foot carefully played with the lever and it shifted through the gears just fine. Seems that only the peg was sheered off. I'd have to dig in to engage it and use the hanging edge of my boot's sole... But it would work and Chance would see us back home.

With that temporary solution in effect, we were on our way but with much less light. Taking after another piece of advice from John, I rode much slower as my headlamp would be over ridden before I could make any executive decisions. A van with their night-defying headlights came up behind me and I got an idea. Waving them forward to cut me off, I positioned myself safely behind them. Soon after, a truck came up behind me and I was encased in light. Whether my highly-appreciated companions knew it or not, the van served as pointman and it's brake lights would announce deer that it saw ahead. The truck at my six reinforced my headlamp so I could see more of the road ahead in exchange for passing on any braking messages.

As comforting as that the company was, it was still very unnerving to maintain the pace just close enough but not so close as to crash in case the van made an emergency stop. My eyes darted around like mad and hands were constantly testing the attentiveness of their nerves, neurotically tapping the levers. It was exhausting just knowing that I could rarely even blink for the next 2 and a half hours. White knuckle ride, indeed.

80 miles out, the van came to rest at a gas station. Impulsively, I followed and dismounted as soon as I could to explain myself to the driver and express my gratitude. A kind man by the name of Rajeesh stepped out to greet me. We laughed about a couple close calls and cursed the dumb animals. His son jumped out of the vehicle and asked Rajeesh why they couldn't just build a tunnel under the park for us. Smartest thing I've heard all day. They, too, did not budget their daylight well and were in the same boat trying to get to their accommodations as soon but vigilant as possible.

Politely and with hidden desperation I requested to continue following them out. They just so happened to be going to Kanab as well. He was very accommodating and explained the situation to the rest of his family who were just as obliging.

I met his wife soon after who invited me to join them for dinner. Still shaken from the last 80 miles of terror, a whine escaped me expressing my desire to go home. Quickly after hearing my tone, I accepted the invitation for if I planned to get home alive, I'd be at their mercy. For better or worse, as with most of the Indians I had met so far, they happened to be vegetarians and Amrican diners weren't going to hit the spot. Dining would have to wait. Before we pulled out again into the unforgiving night, I saw their faces in the van and they gave me a reassuring look that all of us would be getting out of this mess soon.

The truck that tailed me was long gone so I had to keep my distance with the van close as not to leave too much darkness between us. It didn't seem likely but a deer that avoids the van could take the opportunity to jump in its wake and into my path. I wasn't risking it. Every shadow truly frightened me and I had to keep it all behind me.

The cold didn't even occur to me until it left and we were literally out of the woods. You couldn't see anything beyond the light our two vehicles gave off but I could tell by the warmth that we had entered back into the desert. Also, the stars were brilliant in my peripherals but it took all my discipline to keep my eyes forward and consciousness ever on the road. I refused to let my mind wander so taking the next hour or so to think about what got me in this mess in the first place wasn't even going to happen.

 

Although it still boggles my mind that I managed to part a hand from the bars to take this video, it gives an idea of the constant tension endured. It would be another 80 miles before we all saw the lights of Kanab. Pulling up next to them at a stop light I pantomimed as best I could a thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Feeling deservingly belittled, I returned to my motel with my tail between my legs. The kind lady who checked me in let Chance rest on the curb in front of the office as my spot had been taken. Normally I would feel both grateful and devilishly thrilled about having another survival story to tell but that ride had me more on edge than the drop off at the Grand Canyon.

I reckon another metamorphosis was required of me.