MOUNTAIN STATES EXPLORATION

I woke this morning to an email waiting for me.

Brooks, one of the people from our river group, had gone to the emergency room to have his feet looked at. He came away with a prescription for an antifungal medication.

Several of us had been dealing with some kind of foot infection. Some called it trench foot. Others called it toelio, foot rot, or toe rot. Whatever the name, it was nasty, and a surprising number of us came out of the canyon with it.

Several of the afflicted were already downstairs in the lobby, sharing some of the medication Brooks had gotten from the doctor. I applied mine upstairs after saying goodbye to the people still enjoying one last hotel shower.

I had requested a late checkout because I was exhausted. The nice clerk let us stay until noon, although we did get a knock on the door around eleven-fifteen. I had to explain that we'd been granted the late checkout. Apparently, that happens from time to time.

After checking out, we loaded everything into the truck, hooked up the trailer, and headed over to Bici Mundo, the bike shop where we'd gotten Sean's replacement front tire after I accidentally ran over his original one.

This time, it was Herbie's turn.

Cayson, the mechanic, gave Herbie a good once-over and found that the rear wheel hub was a little loose. He tightened it and made a few other adjustments, including aligning the rear brakes.

Then it started raining.

We stood around talking with Cayson and Elson, the owner. Elson told us about some of his experiences on the Colorado River and even shared some stories about making your own pyrotechnics for an unforgettable nighttime show.

A few other people came in with bikes while we waited for the rain to pass, and before long we were just hanging around talking like old friends.

Eventually the rain let up.

We said goodbye to our new friends, put Herbie back on the trailer, and headed for our next stop: Canyon Explorations.

I'd wanted to eat first, but I looked at the clock and realized it was already one-thirty. If we were going to help with the post-trip cleanup, we needed to get there.

So we went straight over.

The crew was surprised to see us, I think, but we jumped straight in. We helped take down and dry tents, unloaded the big truck, moved tables and oar-boat frames, and swept the floor.

It felt good.

After twelve days of being part of the group, I wasn't quite ready to simply walk away from it. Helping with the cleanup gave us one more opportunity to be useful before leaving.

Eventually, the guides started coming out.

One by one, they signed the trailer.

We said our farewells.

And just like that, another part of the journey was over.

We stopped at Walmart for supplies and picked up a rotisserie chicken. While we were eating in the parking lot, we met a pretty interesting guy.

His hat identified him as the “Dysfunctional Veteran.”

He gave us some money and told us several funny stories about his time in the Army as an eighteen-year-old pilot. He was also carrying a gun, which isn't something you see every day.

Then he went on his way.

Before we left the Walmart parking lot, I noticed a woman sitting in a Volkswagen Jetta with a flat tire. I went over and offered to help.

She said someone had slashed the tire, but it would hold air for a little while after she pumped it up. She planned to inflate it and drive somewhere to get a replacement.

She politely declined my help.

Then she said something that stuck with me:

I was the first person who had offered.

I told her, “Well, I'm from out of town.”

She replied, “I am, too.”

We both laughed.

It was a tiny interaction, but somehow it felt appropriate. Even after returning to civilization, there were still opportunities to simply be useful to another person.

Next, we needed drinking water.

We tried three different gas stations before realizing that none of them were a particularly good option for filling several large containers. We eventually returned to the Planet Fitness that had sheltered us during those smoky, ashy days in Flagstaff before the Fourth of July parade.

It was a much better place to fill our containers than taking over the soda fountain at a gas station for half an hour.

Finally, Flagstaff was behind us.

We headed toward Gray Mountain and the Grand Canyon Oasis.

When we arrived, Adam and Shelley were genuinely happy to see me — and especially happy to meet Sean. They made us feel welcome immediately.

They're such good people.

We set up camp, disconnected the trailer, put the truck where it belonged, and connected the electricity.

Then I went into the clubhouse, finished the rest of our rotisserie chicken, ate some grapes, and started some laundry.

While the clothes were washing, we watched a movie about rescuing a teenager from human trafficking.

That subject is sobering.

There's so much human trafficking in the world, and it's disturbing to think about how many people are trapped in situations like that. It's satisfying, at least in movies, to see some justice occasionally — to watch the good guys take down the bad guys.

Real life doesn't always work that way.

After the first movie, the wind and rain really picked up, so we watched another movie, this one about Jason Statham being a beekeeper.

By the time it ended, it was around one in the morning.

We were exhausted.

So we ran through the rain wearing whatever we had handy. Sean had a towel around his shoulders. I had my hoodie pulled up.

We reached the truck, said our goodnights, and went our separate ways. Sean disappeared into the back seat of the truck, and I climbed into the trailer.

I closed the door, made the bed, and here I am.

One thirty-eight in the morning.

The wind has picked up again.

It wasn't blowing when we ran out here, but now it's rattling the trailer. It's chilly, but I've got a sleeping bag and a blanket, so I'll be fine.

And now, sitting here in the quiet, I realize that today really was the first day of a new chapter.

I'm incredibly grateful that Sean came to pick me up in Flagstaff. I'm grateful for everything we were able to experience there, grateful for the river, grateful for the people we met, and grateful to be back here at the Oasis.

But there's also something else.

Excitement.

And a little fear.

The great unknown of what comes next.

For the first time in a long while, I'm not simply following a route that has already been laid out.

The Grand Canyon excursion had a beginning, a middle, and an end.

The cross-country ride had a destination.

Now?

The next chapter is wide open.

And I think that's what makes it exciting.

Tomorrow, we begin figuring out what comes next.

For tonight, I'm just grateful to be here.

The river is behind me.

Civilization is around me.

And whatever comes next is waiting.

The next chapter can now begin.

I woke up this morning at the Grand Canyon Oasis.

After breakfast and some stretching, I went outside and pulled weeds. Sean came out later and helped me. We've had afternoon monsoons for the past several days, and all that rain made the ground soft enough that pulling weeds was considerably easier.

It was actually a satisfying job.

I did discover later that, somehow, I had managed to acquire a strange sunburn across my lower back. I'm not quite sure how I managed that while pulling weeds, but apparently the sun found a way to my skin.

After finishing the job, I went into the clubhouse and worked on adding material to YouTube and updating the website.

The internet has been a little problematic, which makes uploading and editing difficult. Sean gave me the password for another Wi-Fi source, though, and that connection seems to be working a little better.

I'll continue working on it tomorrow.

One of the things I want to start doing is working through the rebranding from Roll 4 Veterans to Roll 4 Nature.

Originally, I wanted to call it simply 4 Nature, but I discovered that a similar name is already being used by an organization in Australia. So I'll keep “Roll” in the name and make it distinctly ours.

Roll 4 Nature.

The name feels fitting.

The journey started as a ride across the country for veterans. But somewhere along the way, the purpose became bigger than that. Nature has been at the center of nearly everything I've experienced — the bike ride, the people I've met, the Grand Canyon, the river, the solitude, the challenges, and the sense of peace that comes from simply being immersed in the natural world.

Now I want to explore what happens when that experience is intentionally shared with other people.

For tonight, though, I'm back at the Oasis, working on the pieces that will eventually become the next chapter.

Roll 4 Nature.

Today was July the twenty-second, Day one hundred forty-six of the journey.

I spent the morning relaxing somewhat, although there was still some work to do. We finished cleaning up the weeds we didn't get to yesterday, and then I got back to working on the website and making calls to some of the people and places we'll be visiting soon.

In the afternoon, I got the name of the owner of one of the inns in the Marble Canyon area. His name is Brady, and I called him to introduce myself and tell him a little about what we're doing. He seems like a really interesting fellow, and he offered to let us park on his property when we're in the Vermilion Cliffs area. That should make things a lot easier, and I'm looking forward to meeting him in person.

I also called the chapter house in the Gap to let them know that we're planning to be there Saturday for their health and wellness event. We're going to ride there Friday so we'll already be in position Saturday morning and can participate in whatever they have planned. I'm curious to see what the event is all about and how we might fit into it.

I've mapped a good portion of our route from here through Salt Lake City. The new website is starting to take shape, too. I think the direction I'm taking it is pretty cool, although it still has a long way to go before it matches what I have in my head. That's the frustrating thing about building something from scratch: you can see the finished product in your mind, but getting all the pieces into place takes time.

I'm creating an entirely new file system for the new site. I've archived the old website so that we can still reference it if we need to, but the old site is essentially static now. The new system will have much of the same basic structure, but the emphasis is going to be different.

The focus is becoming nature.

I want the new site and the new identity to be more inclusive. I want everyone to feel welcome to be part of Team Bravo. We're not talking exclusively about veterans anymore, or about any other particular group. We're talking about something that belongs to all of us: nature, and the importance of being connected to it.

I haven't met anyone yet who disagrees with the idea that nature is important.

Tomorrow is our last day here for maintenance and preparation. After that, we'll be back on the road, with questionable Wi-Fi, changing locations, and all the uncertainty that comes with traveling again. I'm trying to take full advantage of the reliable internet while we have it.

One strange remnant of yesterday's weeding is the irritation on my lower back. When I took a shower and looked in the mirror, I discovered that I had somehow acquired a crescent-shaped sunburn across my lower back. It almost looks like a smiley face.

Apparently, while I was bending over and pulling weeds, my shirt wasn't covering that part of my back.

It's a pretty funny-looking sunburn.

Unfortunately, it doesn't feel nearly as funny as it looks.

So tomorrow I'll finish up what I can here, and then it's time to get back on the road.

The next chapter is already taking shape.

Today was July the twenty-third, Day one hundred forty-seven.

We're still at the Grand Canyon Oasis, splitting our time between helping around the property and getting everything ready for the next leg of the journey.

Sean decided to switch bicycles. There are several bicycles here, and Adam told him he could choose one if he wanted to take it. He ended up choosing a Mongoose with twenty-nine-inch wheels and disc brakes. It has those twist-style shifters instead of the traditional levers. In some ways, it's an upgrade, and in other ways, it's not quite as nice as what he had before. But Sean has a strong grip, so shifting shouldn't be a problem for him.

I've also made a lot of progress on the website. It's pretty much switched over to Roll 4 Nature now. I really like the words on the homepage about nature, and I changed the entire color scheme to match the new direction.

The old site used orange and red, reflecting the colors of the Grand Canyon. The new site uses earth tones — brown and green, the colors of earth and plants.

It feels appropriate.

I'm calling this next phase of our journey Mountain States Exploration. We'll be heading into Utah, and possibly Wyoming and Colorado, before eventually making our way south again before the weather gets too cold.

It should be fun.

New places. New people. New adventures.

That's what this is all about.

Today we also had to say goodbye to Adam and Shelley, the proprietors of the Grand Canyon Oasis. I can't speak highly enough of these two people.

They've created a little refuge in the middle of an incredibly arid landscape, and they do far more than simply provide a place for people to stay. I've watched them extend kindness not only to us, but to other people who have come through the property, including some who were clearly in need of a little help.

There's a very good spirit in that place.

I really like it there.

And I don't like goodbyes.

But it's time to move on.

The river chapter is behind us. The Grand Canyon is behind us. The Oasis is behind us.

Now it's time to get back into nature and see what comes next.

Today was July the twenty-fourth, Day one hundred forty-eight.

We're at the Bodaway Gap Chapter House tonight.

Sean rode roughly halfway from the Grand Canyon Oasis to Cameron, and I rode from Cameron the rest of the way to the Gap. It was a pleasant ride overall, although there were plenty of ups and downs. Toward the end, I started feeling a lot of body aches. I'm not sure if that's just my body adjusting to getting back on the bike after the Grand Canyon trip, but I'm hoping it's temporary. I took some ibuprofen and I'm hoping a good night's sleep will take care of it.

I got a flat tire when I was almost to the Gap.

I was out of water, and I could see the gas station in the distance, but flat tires need to be dealt with immediately. Fortunately, I found an abandoned roadside vendor site where I could stop and repair it. It wasn't exactly the place I would have chosen to work on Herbie, but it did the job. And it was much better than standing in the sun.

After fixing the tire, I made my way to the Sinclair station to get some water.

That's when the weather started getting interesting.

Before I got to the Gap, I had noticed a strange, very localized area of dark sky. It looked like rain was falling in perhaps a one-square-mile area. It was almost like someone had turned on a shower over one particular section of the desert.

Once I reached the gas station, the thunder and lightning started. Then came the wind.

It was a legitimate monsoon.

The storm didn't hit the gas station particularly hard, but I waited for things to settle down before heading over to the chapter house. The brunt of the storm stayed on the other side of the small mountain range that is famous around here. We didn't get particularly wet, although we did get some sand in our eyes from the wind.

Jordan was still there, so we chatted for a while. She's been our point of contact here at the chapter house and helps organize many of the events. She remembered us, which is always a good feeling. It's nice to return somewhere and have someone recognize you rather than feeling like complete strangers.

I've also been making calls ahead to arrange the next parts of our journey.

I talked with the volunteer point of contact at Best Friends Animal Sanctuary and let her know we're on our way. She's looking for a project for us to work on while we're there. And afterward, she said we could hang out with the pigs.

Now, I can't lie — both Sean and I immediately became interested when we heard there were pigs.

We're wondering what kind of pigs we're going to meet. Are they all going to be enormous, happy, fat pigs? Or will there be some of those little pet pigs people keep around? Teacup pigs or whatever they're called...

Either way, we're going to see the pigs.

I also spoke with the person who owns an inn in the Vermilion Cliffs area. That's where we're headed after the Gap. We'll spend tomorrow participating in the health and wellness event here, and then we'll depart Sunday morning.

I also talked with a few other people by phone today as we continue lining up the next part of the trip.

That's one of the interesting things about this journey. The road ahead is never completely defined. We have a general direction, but the people we meet along the way keep shaping what comes next.

I really like this little town.

There's a lot going for it, and I can see how much the Chapter House contributes to the community. I'm grateful that we've been invited to participate and that we have an opportunity to contribute something ourselves, even if it's only a small part.

Hopefully, this won't be our last visit.

For tonight, we're here.

Tomorrow we'll take part in the event, meet some more people, and see what develops.

And then, Sunday morning, we plan to head toward the Vermilion Cliffs.

Another chapter is already beginning.

Thirty-five miles on the day.

Today was July the twenty-fifth, Day one hundred forty-nine.

We spent the day at the Bodaway Gap Chapter House and made a bunch of new friends.

We woke up semi-early and helped put out chairs and set everything up the way Adrian wanted it. When the designated time arrived, the event began, and Adrian took charge of the proceedings.

There is so much history here with alcohol and drug use on the reservation, and Adrian has lived through much of it himself. He talked openly about his struggles, including three attempts to take his own life. He also talked about the twelve-step program that helped him begin turning his life around. It sounded very much like an AA approach to addiction.

Throughout the day, person after person stood up and talked about overcoming addiction, tragedy, loss, and difficult circumstances in their lives.

There was a tremendous amount of honesty in the room.

And throughout the entire day, people welcomed Sean and me as though we belonged there. Several of the people who spoke specifically thanked us for being there.

At one point, they opened the floor so that anyone could get up and say something. I got up and introduced Sean and myself and explained what Roll 4 Nature is becoming and what we're trying to accomplish. I thanked everyone for their hospitality and for allowing us to be part of their day.

Then things got a little more playful.

We played a game that was kind of like rock-paper-scissors, except the choices were Hunter, Bear, and Princess.

And I won!

My prize was a three-person tent.

We had given away a tent earlier in the journey, but neither Sean nor I really wanted to accumulate more stuff. Now that we have this one, though, we've decided it actually has a purpose: we'll have a place for visitors to stay when they come to see us.

Then Sean started winning things.

First he won some headphones and a jump rope. The headphones will come in handy because he's started taking some college courses, and the jump rope fits nicely with his desire to stay active on the road.

Then he won a canopy.

That's something we've actually talked about getting. We hadn't bought one partly because of the cost and partly because we kept wondering where in the world we'd store it.

Well, apparently we're getting a canopy.

We'll find somewhere to put it. Out here in the desert, shade is valuable. A canopy can also provide protection from rain, and really, it's useful just about anywhere we're spending time outdoors.

Then they got ready to give away the grand prize.

I still had one ticket in the drawing.

I leaned over to Sean and said, "If he says 088, I don't know what I'm going to do."

And then he pulled out the ticket.

"088."

We won.

The grand prize was lunch for two at a very exclusive resort in southern Utah called Amangiri.

Apparently, this is the kind of place where you have to make reservations ahead of time and make sure the people at the gate know you're coming. It's frequented by celebrities and wealthy people, and it's not somewhere most people have ever heard of.

The certificate is for lunch for two, with no price limit.

So I suppose we'll have to figure out how to handle that responsibility.

I'm definitely going to take some pictures so people can see what the place is like.

We've also made some friends who live in Page. Andrea, the manager of the Chapter House, said we could park at her house. She also used to work at Amangiri and she told us all about it.

As it stands now, the plan is to ride our bikes into Page, then drive the truck up to Amangiri for lunch and head back afterward. Apparently it's only a few miles from Page.

We may stay in Page for the night. We probably won't head toward Marble Canyon until Monday.

There are some riding trails around Page, and Horseshoe Bend is just outside of town. Since we have a place to park, it seems like a place worth exploring for a little while.

I think I've been through Page once before, but it was so long ago that I don't remember much about it. I remember passing through on my way to the east entrance of Zion, and that's about it.

But today wasn't really about Page or Amangiri or the prizes.

It was about the people here in Bodaway.

I want to express my thanks and gratitude to everyone who participated in the health and wellness event here at the Gap.

We came here as strangers.

But by the end of the day, it felt like we could come back someday and people would remember us. Maybe they'd accept us as part of the family.

That feels really good.

I'm very grateful that we had the opportunity to come back here and be part of this community.

Thank you, Bodaway Gap Chapter House.

Thank you for everything you do for the community — and for the strangers who happen to pass through.

This will always be a special place for me.

That's for sure.

Today was July the twenty-sixth, Day one hundred fifty.

And what a day it was.

We finally managed to make reservations at Amangiri using the certificate we won in the raffle at the Bodaway Gap Chapter House. We discovered just how exclusive the place is, and it took a while to get everything arranged. Thankfully, Andrea helped us get it all worked out.

Before that, though, there was the ride.

I rode thirty-two miles today, and a lot of it was uphill. I felt like I couldn't catch my breath. Maybe it's the altitude. Maybe it's because I haven't been riding regularly since the Grand Canyon. I didn't really notice it on the ride from the Oasis, but today I definitely felt it.

Sean pulled the truck over around mile thirty so I could put my bike on the trailer, and he rode the remaining distance into Page. As luck would have it, he got a nice downhill stretch and was flying. It actually took me a while to catch up to him after I started driving.

So Sean had a great ride. I did too — mine just required considerably more work.

Thankfully, we had cloud cover for most of the morning. If we hadn't, I think I would have been in much worse shape. I'm hoping for some clouds tomorrow because there's another climb ahead.

Somehow, when I was planning this route, I thought Page to Marble Canyon was only about fifteen miles.

It isn't.

We have to go all the way back down to Bitter Springs and then climb Highway 89A again.

So that's what's waiting for us tomorrow. I don't even know what to say about that — it's what happens sometimes, I suppose.

Amangiri was a fascinating experience.

We ordered a lot of food because, well... because we could.

The only restriction on the certificate was that it couldn't be used for alcohol, so we tried several of their nonalcoholic cocktails instead. They were surprisingly good. I tried most of them, and I think my favorite was one with plum, including a piece of plum on the rim.

We had several appetizers. We both ordered Wagyu beef burgers, which were more like steak burgers. We had asparagus with shrimp, pizza, and a couple of scoops of honey ice cream that were absolutely delicious. We had leftovers to take with us.

But throughout the meal, I couldn't shake a certain dissonance.

Just yesterday, we were living among some of the most economically impoverished communities we've encountered on this journey. Then, almost without warning, we were sitting in a place surrounded by extraordinary wealth and affluence. The contrast was jarring.

It got me thinking about a question I've been carrying around for a while:

How much am I giving versus how much am I taking?

A familiar feeling these days is that I don't deserve all the blessings I've received, but I am very grateful for them.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to visit Amangiri. I'm grateful that we won that certificate. I'm grateful for the people we met there.

Dusty, the security guard, was incredibly friendly. We left the truck and trailer at the guard house, and a fellow named Jaden drove us up to the restaurant.

After we ate, we met another fellow named Schradi who has apparently been there for seventeen years. It certainly seems like he's been successful at what he does.

I should have asked him if he wanted to do a YouTube video. I didn't — I miss opportunities like that sometimes because I assume people will say no before I ever give them the chance to decide.

That's something I need to work on.

Just ask, and let people say yes or no for themselves.

Afterward, we drove back to Page and spent the evening watching a movie with Andrea and her family.

And that's how Day 150 ended.

Tomorrow morning, we continue our trek back into Utah.

Another climb.

Another road.

Another day.

Thirty-two miles on the day.

Today started in Page, Arizona, where Sean and I had been invited to stay in the yard of some friends we had made through the Bodaway Gap Chapter House. It was a warm night, and I woke up a little sweaty — but sweat is just sweat if you don't sweat it.

Before I left, Lionel, Andrea's brother, stopped me. He told me to come over to his truck, put some sweetgrass into a lighter, and blessed me with it. He explained that this is something they do before taking a trip — to clear the mind and provide safety and protection.

That meant a lot to me.

We've only known these people for a short time, yet somehow I felt like I was being welcomed as part of the family. That feeling of acceptance has become one of the unexpected gifts of this journey.

I stopped for water on my way out of town and started talking with the cashier, Bambi. After hearing what Sean and I are doing with Roll 4 Nature, she gave me a bracelet with a heart in the center. I gave her one of my Roll 4 Veterans bracelets in return.

So now I have two bracelets given to me by people I've met along this journey — one from Mary at the Escalante staircase overlook and one from Bambi.

I really like them.

I headed toward Bitter Springs, thinking I knew where I was going. I remembered there being a road that would take me there, but when I reached the point where I expected to find it, I discovered that the road ahead wasn't quite what I expected.

It was dirt.

Actually, it wasn't really dirt.

It was sand.

I was about twenty-two miles into the ride, and I had three choices:

Continue to Gap, about twenty-eight miles.

Go back to Page, another twenty-two miles.

Or take the roughly eighteen-mile road through the sand to Bitter Springs.

I thought about it for a while and decided to go forward. The other two options would have added quite a lot more miles.

That decision turned out to be quite an adventure.

The sand was sometimes so deep that I couldn't pedal. I had to get off Herbie and push. Other sections were hard-packed and flat, while others were washboarded, rocky and rough.

It took about three hours to get through it.

I had just enough water.

There was almost nothing out there. I passed only three vehicles — all of them white trucks — and saw a man on a red tractor pushing sand on a side road. I waved at him instead of stopping to talk. I wonder if I should have stopped.

At one point I came across the Red Rock Community Center. It appeared almost abandoned. The door was unlocked, but the sinks didn't work, and I couldn't find any water. I couldn't even figure out where the community it served was located. There didn't seem to be any houses around. It was one of those places that makes you wonder about the stories you don't know.

Eventually, I reached Highway 89. The road was newly paved, smooth and beautiful.

And I couldn't help thinking:

This is the road I should have taken in the first place.

But perhaps I was meant to take the sandy path.

Because shortly afterward, the road dropped. Four miles. Six percent grade.

I recorded the descent on my phone.

I averaged around thirty miles per hour, reaching the bottom in roughly seven minutes. There wasn't much shoulder, so I was riding with traffic, but fortunately there wasn't much traffic coming down behind me.

Only four vehicles passed me.

That descent was exhilarating. After everything I had just gone through — the heat, sand, rocks, washboard road and pushing Herbie — it felt like a reward. Maybe the difficult road was the price of admission.

At the bottom, I found that Sean had parked Marcus in a handy pullout. I mixed up some protein powder and drove toward the Vermilion Cliffs.

We arrived at Lee's Ferry Lodge at Vermilion Cliffs, where Brady had agreed to let us stay for a few days.

Brady was incredibly welcoming. Deborah showed me around and signed the trailer, and I met Charlie, who runs the bar in the evenings, and Chad, who along with Brady seems to be a resident handyman.

Brady showed me some of the damage caused by recent monsoon flooding. The water has a tendency to break through a small levy he's built because that's where the runoff naturally wants to go. When the storms become intense enough, the water simply wins.

The lodge reminded me of the Grand Canyon Oasis — a place with a clubhouse, kitchen and space for travelers to settle in for a while. They even let us plug the refrigerator and charging box into a handy outlet.

There's an outdoor shower and bathroom facilities, and a real sense that this is a place where travellers are welcome.

After the day I'd had, it felt like the perfect place to land.

Today ended up being forty-two miles.

But the mileage isn't really what I'll remember.

I'll remember Lionel's blessing.

I'll remember Bambi's bracelet.

I'll remember the strange isolation of that sandy road.

I'll remember wondering what kind of population once gathered around that lonely community center, and what happened to them.

I'll remember pushing Herbie through sand.

I'll remember finally reaching pavement.

And I'll remember flying down that four-mile hill at thirty miles per hour, thinking about how many times the universe has rewarded me with something thrilling and awe-inspiring after a trial. And feeling a profound gratitude for the experience.

Sometimes the road you plan to take isn't the road you're meant to take.

Today, I took the wrong road. Somehow, it turned out to be the one I was destined to travel.

Today was a quieter day, spent entirely at Lee's Ferry Lodge on Brady's property at Vermilion Cliffs. But even a day without riding somehow managed to become full of meaningful moments.

I met Brady's wife, Cathy, when I saw her carrying a heavy garbage can toward the dumpster. I offered to help, and she accepted. That simple act turned into a really good conversation about life and purpose.

Cathy and Brady are wonderful people. I really enjoy talking with both of them.

She also signed the trailer, putting her initials and Brady's initials inside a heart. Brady had previously written “VC” for Vermilion Cliffs, so now their initials are there too. Another little mark from another place and another pair of people we've encountered along this journey.

Most of the day was spent in the clubhouse working through my journal entries from the Grand Canyon excursion.

It's already July the twenty-eighth, and I've only finished cleaning up through July the seventeenth. That leaves ten more days sitting on my phone waiting to be processed.

And those aren't exactly uneventful days.

There's the Health and Wellness event at the Bodaway Gap Chapter House, our time in Page, winning the Amangiri lunch, meeting all the people along the way, arriving here at Vermilion Cliffs — and, of course, taking the wrong road from Page toward Bitter Springs and spending three hours pushing Herbie through sand.

Every day seems to have become a story.

I'm hoping that once I finish the Grand Canyon entries, things will move a little faster. If I can work through two or three entries a night, I'll eventually catch up.

But tonight, it was simply time for bed.

I also discovered that Herbie's front tire was flat. Actually, Cathy noticed it while he was perched on the trailer, patiently waiting for someone to pay attention to it.

I was actually pretty grateful to discover it here, as I had forgotten to put my bicycle pump back on the bike after charging it. If I'd gotten that flat while I was out on that isolated sandy road between Page and Highway 89, I could have been in serious trouble. Instead, the tire waited until I was safely here. Another Guardian Angel event.

The hole was tiny — probably a goathead or a piece of retread wire — and it took some searching to find it. Eventually I located it and repaired the tube.

I haven't put the wheel back on the bike yet. I want to make sure the repair holds before I put everything back together.

Once again, I find myself grateful for the things that didn't happen.

Tomorrow is going to be busy:

Get up early.

Put Herbie back together.

Put the tools away.

Load the trailer.

Get the canopy and bike cover put away.

Eat breakfast.

Get dressed.

And then start rolling again.

We're heading west toward Jacob Lake.

It's another climb — similar to the climb we made toward Jacob Lake from Fredonia — but this time Sean is going to take part of the riding, so I won't have to do the whole thing myself.

We're ready to Roll 4 Nature again.

Ready to meet new people. Ready to experience whatever comes next. Ready to see what nature has waiting for us.

One of the most interesting encounters today was with a chaplain who went kayaking from Horseshoe Bend toward Lee's Ferry.

When he returned, he told me that he and his family had experienced the same monsoon we had encountered earlier.

Except instead of rain and hail, we experienced something closer to a sandblaster.

The wind was so powerful that dust was driven everywhere — even inside the trailer.

I remember trying to get from the trailer to the clubhouse during the storm. It was all I could do to get the kitchen door open. The wind slammed the door behind me as I finally made it inside. Another example of the brutal power of nature. Talking with the chaplain brought that experience back to mind.

There is something humbling about witnessing nature when it stops being scenery and reminds you what it really is:

Power.

Unbridled power.

We spend so much of our lives surrounded by things we've designed to protect us from the natural world. Buildings. Vehicles. Roads. Air conditioning. Technology.

Out here, those barriers become much thinner.

You feel the wind. You feel the heat. You feel the rain. You feel the waves.

You are reminded how small you actually are, but also how you fit.

And somehow, that's part of what makes this life so meaningful.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to live with so few possessions, to travel through the world with Herbie and our little home base, and to depend on nature's kindness while respecting its ability to hurt us.

And I'm especially grateful for the Guardian Angels I believe have been watching over me.

There have been too many moments when things could have gone differently.

The flat tire could have happened on the sand road.

The storms could have caused serious damage.

The river could have been less forgiving.

The list goes on. But I'm still here, still rolling. Still meeting people. Still learning. Still witnessing. Still experiencing.

Wondering what the next chapter will look like.

Thank you, Guardian Angels, for continuing to watch over me. I truly appreciate it.

Tomorrow, we roll on.

Today began at Lee's Ferry Lodge, tucked beneath the Vermilion Cliffs, and ended at Jacob Lake.

I had originally planned to split the riding with Sean, but once we got started, I decided I wanted to ride the whole thing. So Sean drove ahead to Jacob Lake, parked the truck, and then came back down to House Rock Observation Point to meet me. From there, we started the climb toward Jacob Lake together.

Well… together for a little while. Sean beat me by quite a bit.

My bike is heavy. I was already tired. I had plenty of excuses. And honestly, the climb was a lot harder than I remembered it being back in June. I had to stop and take breaks.

The final tally was forty-one miles after roughly nine hours of riding.

And tonight, I am very, very tired.

Before the real climbing began, Sean caught up to me as a monsoon was approaching. He pulled over and we watched it approach together.

The sky ahead turned gray, and a couple of women stopped to ask us whether it was safe to drive in the rain.

I told them they were probably asking the wrong person, because I was getting ready to ride my bicycle into it.

Then the storm reached us. The wind picked up. Rain came down hard. We huddled behind the rig, occasionally exposing ourselves to the full spectacle as the storm passed directly over us.

It moved through fairly quickly, continuing east toward Lee's Ferry Lodge. Thankfully, the lightning that I had witnessed while the storm was lingering in the mountains had decreased quite a bit.

When it passed, I got back on Herbie and continued as Sean passed me and disappeared into the horizon.

As I continued riding, I could see evidence of just how much rain had fallen in the mountains. When I reached a bridge, I found a torrent of muddy water rushing around the bridge pylons. A tremendous amount of water. All of that runoff had been collecting in the mountains and was now making its way along a previously dry riverbed.

I had watched the lightning and darkness building as I pedaled westward from the Vermilion Cliffs, but seeing the result of the storm was something else entirely.

I stopped on the bridge and sat on the railing to eat lunch — a tortilla with tuna fish — while watching the muddy water roar underneath me.

The bridge made a few noises that I didn't particularly like, prompting me to move toward the other end.

A couple stopped to watch the water too, and we talked for a while.

Later, I discovered that they had made it to Jacob Lake and signed the trailer when they passed through.

Another connection made along the way.

After lunch, I continued toward House Rock. Sean was waiting on Judy, his faithful steed.

Once we started climbing again, Sean took off. He was gone. I just settled into my own pace. There wasn't much else to do.

I realized that the climb from this direction is much more formidable than the climb up from Fredonia. I had remembered the other side, but this was something different.

I kept pedaling.

Stop.

Rest.

Pedal.

Repeat.

Eventually, Jacob Lake appeared.

I made it.

We checked with the folks at Jacob Lake Inn and confirmed that we could stay overnight in the parking lot, just as we had previously.

They've always been very kind to us, and we're grateful that they allow us to park there.

One of the family members, Melinda, happened to be outside this evening. While I was getting ready for bed, we had a chance to talk for a little while.

It was nice to see a familiar face at the end of such a long day.

Then came the strange part.

When I opened the trailer, I noticed that the inflatable mattress looked extremely inflated.

I asked Sean if he'd pumped it up.

Nope.

Neither of us had.

So how did the mattress suddenly become so full?

Then it hit me.

We had climbed roughly five thousand feet in elevation.

The air inside the mattress had expanded as the atmospheric pressure dropped.

Mystery solved.

It was one of those little reminders that even the simplest things behave differently when you're moving through the landscape this way.

Today was hard. Really difficult. But very rewarding.

Forty-one miles. Nine hours. One enormous climb. One spectacular monsoon. One raging runoff channel. And one very tired cyclist at the end of it.

Tomorrow, we'll see what comes next.

Tonight, I'm just grateful to be here.

Today began at Jacob Lake and ended just north of Kanab, at Best Friends Animal Sanctuary. It was quite a day.

The air was crisp and clean when I woke up at Jacob Lake. I had noticed a little bit of an earache and something going on in my throat the night before, perhaps from the dramatic change in temperature after climbing twelve miles into the mountains. That climb from the east continues to impress me. It isn't just steep; it's relentless. Six to eight percent for roughly twelve miles, with almost no real breaks. Every time you think you've reached the top, you turn a corner and find another incline waiting.

The ride back down toward Kanab was a completely different experience. There was only about two miles of truly continuous downhill, rather than the twelve-mile descent I'd remembered going the other direction, but it was still wonderful. I had Aaron Copland music playing and was enjoying the cool mountain air, just reveling in the freedom of riding through it.

I stopped at the Escalante Staircase Overlook because I wanted to see Mary, the wonderful woman who gave me one of the bracelets I'm wearing. She wasn't there, but I met several other people, and then Sean arrived. Once he showed up, things quickly turned into a little gathering around the trailer. People noticed what we were doing and wanted to sign it. There were six or eight teenagers among them, some wearing yarmulkes. We didn't talk about religion; we talked about nature, and they were excited to leave their marks on the trailer.

Then we met Russ, a retired Navy Seabee traveling by motorcycle with his bike loaded up for a road trip. He invited us to dinner, and we accepted. Sean and I continued toward Kanab while Russ went ahead to get a shower and do some maintenance on his motorcycle.

I stopped at the first gas station in Fredonia to get some ice and met Brody, another motorcycle traveler. He was riding a dirt bike and had started in Wyoming, traveling through Colorado and Arizona and continuing into Utah. It was great meeting someone else who was living a version of the same kind of life we are. When you meet people who are traveling this way, there's already a common language. They understand what nature brings to the table — the freedom, the uncertainty, the discomfort, the beauty and the stories.

Then about thirty more Jewish teenagers arrived at the gas station.

They noticed us because we looked different from everyone else, and before long they had surrounded us with questions about what we were doing. They were fascinated by Roll 4 Nature and wanted to hear our stories. I made a little YouTube video with a couple of them and talked with the group about nature and how special it is to have the opportunity to spend time in it. They were headed toward Jacob Lake and the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, something that many people never get the opportunity to experience.

They were an energetic bunch. Those poor chaperones had their hands full.

The truck was a few blocks away, where Sean had left it as he started pedaling toward Kanab. One group of the excursionists drove over to sign Cleopatra. One of the kids drew what appeared to be an alien smoking a cigarette and pointing a gun into the air, and told me it was his group's symbol. I wasn't sure I believed him until one of the chaperones confirmed that, yes, apparently that really was their thing. Some things in life are difficult to explain.

Later, I met Russ for dinner at Houston's Trails Restaurant in Kanab. The food was good, but the company was even better. We talked about military adventures, experiences in nature, and all the amazing stories that accumulate when you spend your life traveling along what I think of as the Path. Sean arrived late because he had been hiking when I sent him the location, but he got there just in time to eat and join the conversation.

Eventually we had to leave because Sean's bicycle didn't have lights, and he needed to make it to the animal sanctuary before dark. It was only about a ten-minute drive, but it would have been closer to an hour on the bicycle, especially with the hill.

When I arrived at Best Friends, I got the truck situated for the night, and then Rick, one of the sanctuary's security people, came by. We talked for another thirty or forty minutes.

And that's really what today has been about: conversation after conversation with fascinating people.

Mary wasn't there, but I met other people.

Russ appeared out of nowhere.

Then Brody.

Then thirty teenagers at a gas station.

Then Rick.

It is hard to believe that this keeps happening day after day — that we can simply move through the world, meet complete strangers, and discover that almost everyone has a story worth hearing.

There is something really good about living this way.

Tomorrow Angie and Brian, Best Friends Volunteer Coordinators, are coming at eight-thirty to take us to our volunteer assignment. Apparently it involves paint.

I'm excited to see what we get ourselves into.

Thirty-two and a half miles on the day.

July the thirty-first was Day one hundred fifty-five, the last day of July, and it found us at Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, just north of Kanab.

We were there to paint some doors in Dogtown, where all the dogs hang out. We had parked across the way for the night, and there was quite a bit of barking. It kept me from sleeping as well as I might have otherwise. But trying to sleep when there are distractions is probably a good practice in something — maybe forbearance. I try to look at the positive side of things rather than simply focusing on the fact that I wasn't getting much sleep. Eventually, I fell asleep around six in the morning and slept until seven, and somehow I felt remarkably good during that one hour of sleep.

After getting up, I putzed around in the trailer for a while. Then I noticed a truck pulling up to the shipping and receiving building, so I went over and asked if I could put our cooler inside so it would stay cold. They kindly allowed me to do that.

We waited for our volunteer liaison, Angie, who runs the group service projects at Best Friends. I've been talking with her for a couple of weeks now, so it was nice to finally meet her in person. She showed up promptly at eight-thirty with her coworker, Daryl. We climbed into a golf cart with our dirty clothes, because Daryl had generously offered to wash them for us — a completely unexpected kindness.

We headed over to the building where we would be working and got our instructions for painting the doors. Sean took the first one, and I took the next. We spent quite a bit of time working in the sun, and it was brutal. Really, really hot. Every once in a while I'd open the door just to let a little bit of air conditioning waft past me. We finished our doors and put a coat on another one before it was time for lunch.

Lunch was wonderful. Best Friends has a vegan cafeteria, and they served baked potatoes along with a bunch of different salads. Afterward, we went on a little tour of the sanctuary and saw some things I didn't even know were there.

One of the stops was the place where Tonto, the Lone Ranger's trusty sidekick, had his hideout on the old television show. It was beautiful. There was a huge field of grass surrounded by trees that provided shade, with a little bit of water running along the back and a fountain toward the front. I wouldn't call it a babbling brook, but it was a peaceful little place.

Then came the part Sean and I had been looking forward to: the pigs.

They drove us out to the pig area, and those pigs were enormous. They loved getting scratched, too. We were given back scratchers, and when we started scratching their sides, they would flip their legs up in the air as if to say, Please, keep scratching!

We also watched one of the caregivers lead a pig into a pen using almonds and a cookie toy. It was pretty entertaining to watch how easily food could persuade such a large animal to go exactly where she wanted it to go.

After that, we stopped at the gift store and welcome center and ran into a bunch of people we'd met during our first visit. Dwayne was there, Deb was there, Jordan was there — he'd just had his wisdom teeth removed — and Thomas, the guy who plays the guitar, was there too. It turned into a little reunion with our new friends.

We even managed to arrange another volunteer opportunity for both of us for the following day, Saturday. After that, we'll have another vegan lunch, assuming the schedule works out, and then we'll be back on the road. I'll have to see exactly how long the next ride is.

Eventually, we headed back up the hill, retrieved our freshly laundered clothes, and said goodbye to everyone we'd worked with that day. Daryl gave us a ride back to the truck and trailer, and Angie came along as well so we could say our goodbyes.

I drove back down toward the main entrance while Sean rode his bike. We wanted to find another opportunity to volunteer before leaving the area, and we found a couple of possibilities. We went back to the welcome center and talked with Deb about staying in their RV park, and she said yes.

What a wonderful organization this is. Best Friends Animal Sanctuary is filled with people who genuinely care about what they're doing. Sean and I both love the place. Anyone passing through the Kanab area should consider stopping in. There's something special about it.

We stayed at the welcome center working on computer stuff until they closed at six. We were wrapping things up on the patio outside when, of all people, Jordan — the security guard who was the first person I met when I arrived here about three weeks ago — showed up.

We ended up talking for a couple of hours. He told me about all the broken bones he'd had as a child growing up, and eventually our conversation turned toward spiritual things. He had a lot of thoughts and ideas, and I really appreciated him sharing them with me. These conversations seem to happen everywhere we go. You meet somebody almost by accident, and before long you're talking about things that actually matter.

We talked until the sun was almost down. Then we set up camp, took showers, and finally went to sleep.

It is so nice to be somewhere cool after a hard day's work. Being able to sleep without sweating is a pretty big blessing.

I guess this was our first full day in Utah. We'll be back in Arizona for a little while because that's simply the way the road goes, but Utah is going to be our home territory for the foreseeable future, at least for most of August.

Jordan also gave us a lot of insight into the route we've chosen through Utah's national parks. There are going to be quite a few mountain ranges to climb, and it's going to be a challenge. But it's the kind of challenge I'm looking forward to. I think it will make us appreciate Utah's natural beauty in a different way.

He also told us about a place we absolutely cannot miss: Calf Creek Falls, between Bryce and Capitol Reef. According to Jordan, if we miss it, we've failed our mission to explore Utah.

So we have to go.

There's a big waterfall.

That's all I need to know. I love waterfalls.

Before ending the day, I want to say thank you to this wonderful organization and to the people who make Best Friends Animal Sanctuary what it is. Their mission to reduce the number of animals killed in the United States and provide refuge for animals in need is something special. It's really cool to be here and to see so many people devote themselves to such a compassionate endeavor.

Thank you, Best Friends Animal Sanctuary.

We love you.

August the first was Day one hundred fifty-six, and we were blessed with another opportunity to volunteer at Best Friends Animal Sanctuary. We spent the morning taking care of some dogs — feeding them, walking them, and trying to get them to settle down a little bit. There is something satisfying about working with animals, especially when you can see them gradually relax and trust you.

Afterward, we had another wonderful lunch up on the hill. They served vegan meatball subs, and somehow they managed to make them taste like actual meatballs. Sean and I both ate a lot. We also had a chance to talk with some of the founders, who gave us the names of a few people we should look up when we get to Boulder, Utah, between Bryce and Capitol Reef. I love having people to look up along the way. There's something almost old-fashioned about it — two bicyclists arriving in town carrying a message from someone a person knows. It's a little bit like the way messages must have traveled in the Old West. I really enjoy seeing people's eyes light up when we tell them, "Your friend sent us to find you."

After lunch, I started riding toward Colorado City. I made a wrong turn coming out of Best Friends onto Highway 89, and it turned into a climb. I rode for about forty minutes before finally pulling out my phone. I try not to rely on it when I'm figuring out the route myself, but this time it was worth checking. I discovered that there was a much more direct way if I simply doubled back the way I had come. Fortunately, the return was downhill with the wind at my back, so it only took a few minutes to get back to where I'd started.

There were some challenging hills today, including one with a nine percent grade. That may be the steepest grade I've encountered so far. My bike has also started making a clicking sound, and I'm wondering whether it could be the bottom bracket or something else in the drivetrain. With all the national parks we're planning to ride through, I'm beginning to think it might be wise to have Herbie checked out while we're still close enough to civilization to find a good bike shop. I'll make some calls and see what I can find.

It was a very hot day. Before leaving Best Friends, I doused myself with water and then simply dealt with the heat once I dried out. Wearing several layers on my upper body means I don't completely dry out while I'm riding, so there is a continuing evaporative cooling effect. It's become my method for dealing with the desert heat, and so far, it's working pretty well.

Eventually I made it to the Bee Marketplace in Colorado City, where I found Marcus and Cleopatra waiting for me. I filled the water tank, got some ice, and then met a fellow named Harry, who signed the trailer and gave me a bag of granola that he makes himself. His company is called Prickly Pear Snacks, and he also makes fruit leather. Harry told me about a friend who makes stickers with a Cricut machine, which immediately got me thinking.

Sean has been generating some AI images for us with a circular patch-like design. One has "Roll 4 Nature" across the top and "Nature Is Everything" across the bottom, with a bicyclist, trees, and Native American-inspired symbols around the edges. Maybe that's the starting point for a new sticker. If we can find somebody with a Cricut who can turn the design into something physical, perhaps we can make our own stickers without spending a fortune. Maybe they could even ship them to us somewhere along the route. We'll see where that leads.

From Colorado City, we continued on to Apple Valley. We made it all the way to Volunteer Park, which turned out to be a pretty wonderful place to spend the night. There was grass, trees, a bathroom, electricity, and even water. We had everything we needed.

Sean had been riding around the area waiting for me to arrive, so by the time I got there he was very hungry. We also picked up another trailer signature from a fellow named White Eagle, and some people who were sitting on picnic blankets in the park came over to see what we were doing and signed it too. We talked for a while and took some pictures, sharing a little bit about what the journey has been like so far.

Sean finally got something to eat — a meatball sub and one of the donuts we'd brought back from Best Friends. After everything we've done today, I'm exhausted.

It was another good day on the road. Another day of meeting people, following unexpected turns, climbing hills, solving little problems, and finding kindness in places we didn't expect it.

And now I'm ready for sleep.

Good night.

The second of August found us at Volunteer Park in Apple Valley. There were some lovely mature trees providing plenty of shade, which meant the heat didn't become oppressive as soon as the sun came up. I really appreciated that. Sean was still asleep after a pretty demanding day of riding and expending a lot of energy, so I put up my hammock beneath one of the shade trees and spent some quiet time contemplating life while he slept. There's something about being able to lie in a hammock under a tree with nowhere particular to be that makes it easier to slow down and just think.

When Sean woke up, we had breakfast and started planning our route for the day. We decided that he would ride while I drove because Marcus needed water. I also wanted to try getting the Nitro card working at Maverik so we could save a little money on fuel. I drove into town, stopping at Walmart first to pick up some additional food and supplies, and then headed over to Maverik. Unfortunately, getting the Nitro card set up wasn't nearly as simple as I had hoped. It requires waiting for two transactions to appear on the bank account, and because there isn't an automatic connection with USAA, the process was more complicated than it was worth. There were plenty of other banks listed, but USAA wasn't one of them. Eventually I gave up and went to Exxon instead, where at least we could earn some reward points.

The truck took gasoline priced at four dollars and thirty-four cents a gallon. As I stood there watching the numbers climb, I thought about how different things were when I was a teenager and gasoline cost less than a dollar a gallon. I remember being able to fill the tank for ninety-seven cents, although at the time I didn't have much money, so even that seemed expensive. I wondered what it would be like to have ninety-seven-cent gas today. Crossing the country would certainly be a lot cheaper. Of course, we're doing it slowly, so at least the expense is spread out over time.

After replenishing our supplies, I drove toward Liberty Village while talking with the family on our weekly Zoom call. By the time I arrived, Sean was already there. We showed the family around the village for a little while. Since it was Sunday, we were the only people there, and the heat was oppressive. Marcus told me it had reached one hundred thirteen degrees, and I believe him. Even after the sun went down, it was still in the eighties. It was definitely hotter than I would classify as comfortable.

I've started thinking of this heat as part of the refining process. There's no question that it saps your strength and diminishes your desire to do much of anything. I can only imagine how much more energy I would have if the temperature were comfortable. But there's something to be said for doing what needs to be done when you don't particularly want to do it. Maybe that's part of the lesson. Character isn't built when everything is easy.

After the Zoom call, I cooked breakfast for dinner: sausage, eggs, roast beef hash, and pancakes. We ate all of it. I also had a pint of strawberries. I started with just a few, but they were so good — right on the edge between perfectly ripe and almost overripe. I knew that if I left them for another day, many of them would probably go bad, so I did the responsible thing and ate them all. They were delicious. Sean didn't want any, so that made my job easier.

Afterward I washed the dishes and started getting ready for bed. The sun had gone down around eight-thirty, but I should have started preparing for the night much earlier. That's one of the realities of this nomadic life: if you want to be in bed by eight-thirty, you really need to start getting ready around seven-thirty. If you wait until the sun goes down to begin, somehow it's suddenly ten o'clock before you're actually settled in. There's always something to do — filling and carrying buckets of water, setting up the shower area, deciding whether to heat the water, putting things away, and preparing the trailer for the night.

When it's this hot, there's really no need to heat the water. The water in the black tank on top of Marcus gets warm from the sun, and that warm, almost room-temperature water feels pretty good. A shower like that cools your core just enough to make sleeping possible without leaving you shivering. Tonight there was also a nice breeze blowing, although that's another trade-off. If I leave the trailer doors open, I get the breeze, but I also invite every flying insect in the neighborhood to explore my ears. Close the doors for privacy and protection from the bugs, and the breeze disappears. It's a two-edged sword.

Meanwhile, Sean came back with a new story of his own. Apparently the route his phone directed him along was a little sketchy. At one point he had to climb over a fence and somehow get his bicycle over it as well. It may have involved a tiny bit of trespassing, but by then he was already committed to the route. Fortunately, the fence wasn't too tall. I could only imagine trying to get Herbie over something like that. Some days I can barely manage to get one wheel at a time onto the trailer when I'm tired, much less lift the whole bike over a fence.

Tomorrow we'll meet up with our friends at Liberty Village and see where we can lend a hand. There should be plenty to do to help get the place ready for visitors. I also need to make progress on the website and get some more videos uploaded to YouTube, because I'm falling behind on both. There always seems to be more to do than there are hours in the day, especially when the heat steals a good portion of your energy.

But we made it through another day. Sean has another story to tell, Marcus is still carrying our water, the trailer is our little home, and the road is waiting for us again tomorrow.

For now, though, I'm going to sleep.

I really appreciate the opportunity to sleep.

Sleeping is awesome.

August the third was Day one hundred fifty-eight, and it found us at Liberty Village, where much of the day was spent helping out and enjoying the company of people who have become friends. When I woke up, I saw Jamie cutting the grass. I remembered her from our first visit to Tuacahn, when she had signed the trailer with the group of Liberty Village folks we helped that evening. They had put on a patriotic presentation, and we helped gather up the flags, books, and tables afterward.

I offered to help with the mowing. Jamie said she had an appointment, so she explained what needed to be done and essentially left me in charge. There was something satisfying about that. It felt good to have someone simply trust that I would take care of the job.

I started by cutting around the perimeter of each pie-shaped section of grass in the 13-Colony Pavilion so Jamie could use the riding mower to handle the middle. Once I finished those areas, I just kept going. I was using a Milwaukee electric mower with several spare batteries, switching them out as needed. By the time I stopped, I had cut another section and a half. I collected the clippings in a wheelbarrow so I wouldn't have to make quite so many trips to the place where they were deposited. It was a little bit of a walk, so consolidating the clippings made sense.

After that, Marin, who takes care of the sheep and donkey, asked if I could clean out the sheep pen. Of course I said yes. Jamie had also taught me how to operate the riding mower, which was actually a zero-turn tractor like the one my brother has in Kansas, except this one is electric. The batteries don't last nearly as long when the blades are running, but apparently the thing will drive around all day without much trouble.

There was a small trailer attached to it that I could use to haul the manure to the compost pile. That made the job considerably faster and more pleasant than trying to move everything with a wheelbarrow. Once I had the sheep pen cleaned out, I cleaned both mowers, tidied up as much as I could, put everything back where it belonged, and got ready for the evening.

We were going to see Frozen at the Hurricane Community Theater. I didn't even know where the theater was until Richard, the Director of Operations, sent me the address. When we arrived, the building looked almost like an old school or perhaps a church. But the moment we stepped inside the theater, it was magical. The set was beautifully arranged, the air conditioning was blowing, and the entire place had been decorated in a way that immediately transported you somewhere else. It really set the stage, so to speak.

Shea, who works at Liberty Village, had invited us. Before the show began, we met Shea's mom, Julz, in the concession area, and I ended up sitting next to her during the performance. I wasn't prepared for how emotional the evening would be.

I cried. Several times.

I think part of the reason was Shea. She reminded me of my daughter, who was involved in theater when she was younger. But it wasn't just that. The entire cast was incredibly talented. Their singing and dancing brought out emotions in me that I wasn't expecting. They had been performing for more than a month, and it showed. They knew their parts, they knew the music, and they were completely comfortable on that stage.

Shea, playing Elsa, and Sammy, playing Anna, were especially impressive. Their duets were beautiful, and they hit the notes. The whole performance was mesmerizing. I found myself completely absorbed in it.

Afterward, we got to meet some of the cast, and I made sure to tell them how wonderful they were. I wanted them to know that their hard work had reached at least one person in the audience in a meaningful way.

On the way back to Liberty Village, we stopped at Maverick, the first stop on our adventure, to get some ice for the next day. We have insulated cups that we fill with ice so we can keep our drinks cold for as long as possible. When you're traveling this way, little things like a cup full of ice can feel like a luxury.

But the biggest thing I took away from today wasn't the mowing, the sheep pen, or even the theater. It was acceptance.

We don't always experience that when we pass through a place. Sometimes people are suspicious when we ask if there's something we can do to help. They wonder what we're really after, and I suppose they're not entirely wrong. We are looking for something. We're looking for friendship. We're looking for connection. That's part of the purpose of what we're doing.

But the people at Liberty Village don't seem to question it. They accept us for who we are. They let us help. They trust us with their work. They invite us into their lives. And somehow, after only a relatively short time, it feels like family.

That's a pretty special feeling.

And tonight that feeling was made even better by getting to watch some of that family share their incredible talents on stage. It was a celebration of hard work, talent, friendship, and community. I feel very humbled to have been able to witness it and, in some small way, be part of it.

Thank you, Liberty Village.

Thank you, Frozen cast.

Thank you to everyone who shared this day with us.

It was an amazing day.

August the fourth was Day one hundred fifty-nine, and it was a service day at Liberty Village. I spent part of the morning doing some weeding, and then around lunchtime I got authorization to build a gate for the sheep corral. It was a lot of fun. Before today, the only way to get into the corral was to climb over the fence, so I figured a gate would be a useful improvement. My friend Jamie helped me with the project, and I think the finished gate will last as long as the pen does—especially since Richard told me the existing corral will eventually be replaced. For now, though, there is a proper way in and out. Yesterday there wasn't.

As I was finishing up the gate, Sean took a break from his schoolwork to tell me that we had been invited to dinner with Julz, Shea's mom. She goes by Julz, partly because people who don't know how to pronounce her given name, Julienne, tend to struggle with it. It's French. I had just enough time to clean up the equipment and tools I'd used to build the gate and grab a quick shower before we needed to head out. The restaurant turned out to be surprisingly close to Tuacahn, which gave us a chance to reconnoiter the route we'd be riding soon. Since time was short, though, we drove Marcus over, leaving Cleo and the bikes back at Liberty Village.

The restaurant was Santo Forno, which is connected to Julienne's family—I think her nephew. It's so new that the sign isn't even up yet. We circled the lot twice before we found it. Shea and her kids were there with Julienne, and we had a really good time together. We had a lot of pizza, along with some beautiful slices of watermelon with feta cheese and olives that was surprisingly delicious. There was another salad as well, and Sean and I were treated to a blood-orange seltzer water that was really good. Everything was delicious. I want to thank Julienne very much for dinner. Thank you, Julz!

After dinner, everyone met up at Liberty Village to sign the trailer and take a look at the gate. It was nice to be able to share a little bit of what we'd been doing with them.

Now it's bedtime, and tomorrow we're going to say goodbye to these people. I don't like goodbyes. There's a certain inertia that comes with staying somewhere you feel welcome, especially when there is still plenty of work to do and people are happy to have you around. It would be easy to stay here a little longer. But there are other plans waiting for us, and getting through all of these national parks is going to take time.

Tomorrow we move onward to beautiful Ivins, Utah, and the red red rocks. I don't think I can get enough of that place. Before we leave the area, though, we're going to head downtown and take a look at some of the older buildings and architecture. Maybe we'll even get a chance to say goodbye to our friends at the courthouse that's being restored.

Whatever tomorrow brings, it will come after we get some sleep. And that's what I'm going to do now.

Good night.

The fifth of August was quite special. We had to say goodbye to our friends at Liberty Village, and that was sad. I really enjoyed helping them with the grounds and making the gate, not to mention just spending some time with them. Of course, Frozen and the dinner at Santo Forno were unforgettable. But today, we had to say goodbye, and we traveled from Hurricane to Ivins. And it was a hot day. By the time we got everything packed up, it was about eleven. I sometimes take more time than necessary when I'm reluctant to leave a place I like. It's hard for me to say goodbye and start riding when we have to leave good friends.

When I was ready to go, I noticed that I wasn't really ready. The derailleur on Herbie was severely twisted. I'm not sure how it happened, but it was up on the trailer, and somehow it might have gotten caught on some part of the truck when I moved it. I'm not sure, but the bottom line is that Herbie was out of commission. Usually you can bend the derailleur to work, but this time that trick was not going to work. I looked online, only to find out that Amazon does not have any eight-speed derailleurs currently in stock. My original plan was to order a replacement, have Sean ride, and I would drive the truck today. But when I found out that there's no replacement available, I reconsidered. I decided the best course of action was to use the original derailleur that I had taken off in San Antonio, before the ride began. So I dug it out of the part collection in Cleo, got all the required tools, and took everything over to the little lawnmower building that has air conditioning. When you close that roll-up door, it's tolerable. I thought I might need to borrow a tool, and it would be better to be in a location where there's a bunch of tools than to be in Tuacahn where there's none. I am sure there's a lot of tools at Tuacahn, but we don't have the same kind of relationship there that we do in Hurricane.

Luckily, the shifting cable was in good condition. I had to reinstall the original shifter and the derailleur because they work as a kit. It took me a while to dial in the gears. The shifting is still a little bit off, but is so much easier with this old derailleur than it was with the one that was deformed. I think part of it is the design of how the cable is routed from the frame to the derailleur. There's a tight turn on the Acolyte setup, where the Shimano Acera has more of a gradual turn. So my feeble thumbs are appreciating the difference in the amount of force needed to shift, because I shift quite a lot. Easier shifting is a nice side effect of all this unexpected bike maintenance. There is a little bit of fine-tuning that still needs to happen, but I'm back on the road, which is the important thing. I don't know if I need to worry about replacing the shifter and the derailleur after all. It seems to be working fine, and if it's not broke, don't fix it. That's what they say, anyway.

The replacement put us way behind schedule (we were already late when I discovered the need for repair). It was about one o'clock before I left. I left behind that little nub that you use to cover the tip of the cable, so I was unable to crimp that on. I'm pretty sure I have some extras of those, but I'll have to find them. For now, I got what I need.

It was a long, hot ride. Luckily, more downhill than uphill to get back to Ivins. I returned the flag that I ordered that was too big at a UPS store along the way. I gave all of the store staff bracelets and inducted them into Team Bravo, and they said they would share our Nature message with their friends and other people. And I believe them. When I finally rode into Tuacahn, Sean was pulling up right behind me. He parked and I took a shower. Another hasty shower, because we were running out of time. I also ate some peanut butter and honey with a tortilla and an apple because I needed the calories and protein. Plus, I didn't want to be hungry going up the hill on our way to see Grease! We got our tickets from the box office, went into the theater area, and would have been on time, except that an usher started to talk to us. By the time we got to our seats, the first number was playing. Usually the ushers keep you from going to your seat when you arrive late, until there's a slow spot. But these ushers didn't stop us, so we went down and had to excuse ourselves to all the people in our row, because our seats were right in the middle of row H.

I must say that row H was a perfect viewing distance, and we were right in the middle. We saw all of it, up close, and it was fantastic. I thought "Hopelessly Devoted to You" was the best song. That actress did a phenomenal job as Sandy. All of the songs were great. And the dancing. They had a lot of new numbers that I never saw in the movie.

We watched some of the dismantling of the set, because right after the show they started to get things ready for another Les Mis production. It's a lot of work. As we were leaving, we went up to the store where the actors were throughout and said hello to them. A few of them recognized us from last time we were visiting. We invited everybody to sign the trailer if they had a moment on their way to the actor housing. Now it's after midnight, and bedtime was hours ago.

Tomorrow, we are going to attempt the Veyo loop, which is over forty-seven miles and a lot of elevation. The route goes through Gunlock, Veyo, and Snow Canyon, and then we return to Tuacahn. It was quite steep the last time I rode it in a counterclockwise direction. So, I was thinking that we could try clockwise. Someone said they prefer that way. There's a famous pie shop in Veyo where everybody stops. I think that having a treat after doing most of the hard stuff would be cool. In the end, it's probably about the same either way. Veyo is kind of in the middle of the ride. Maybe we'll just flip a coin and let fate decide.

Thirty-four and two-tenths miles on the day.

The sixth of August was Day one hundred sixty-one on the road. Sean and I woke up at Tuacahn, got ourselves ready, and headed out for a ride around the area known as the Veyo Loop. Veyo is a little town up in the mountains, famous for its pies and its volcanic history. We were looking forward to seeing what the ride had in store for us.

On the way out of town, we passed a VA nursing facility and decided to stop in and say hello to a few veterans. We met several interesting characters who seemed to enjoy our visit and our message about the importance of nature. We didn't have the trailer with us for them to sign, but we were able to give them a few brochures and spend a little time talking. After a bathroom break and filling our water bottles, we got back on the road.

The ride turned out to be about forty-seven miles, with some challenging hills along the way. The toughest one came just before Veyo. Parts of that climb reached a thirteen percent grade, and it was brutal. It seemed like a constant uphill with no flat sections where we could catch our breath, and the heat made it even harder. But eventually, we made it to Veyo. It wasn't easy, but we got there.

And then came the reward: pie.

Sean chose a slice of lemon sour cream, while I went with the Volcano, a chocolate-and-caramel pie that seemed to be one of their signature creations. I probably wouldn't have chosen it if I'd been selecting purely based on what I normally like, but the town's entrance sign proudly announces that this is "Volcano Country," so I figured I should give the Volcano a try. Sean's lemon sour cream was probably the better choice for the circumstances. It was fresh, bright, and airy, with just a little bite to it. I had a taste, and it was excellent. Mine was good too, but it was heavier, which made sense considering it was chocolate and caramel. Either way, it was a pretty good way to celebrate surviving that climb.

The rest of the ride was considerably easier because we'd already conquered most of the major climbs. There were a couple of moderate ones still waiting for us, but nothing compared to the monster we had just finished. I still don't understand how the person who recommended doing the loop clockwise managed to leave that last climb into Veyo out of the description. My only conclusion is that they must have been riding an e-bike.

Eventually, we made our way into Snow Canyon, which remains one of my favorite places in the whole world. We stopped at a picnic table and had some tuna on tortillas while I took some time to simply enjoy the surroundings. The red rocks, the formations, the clouds, the light—there is something magical about that place. I could sit there for a long time just taking it all in. Sean went off on a short hike while I stayed behind for a while and enjoyed the scenery.

When we got back to Tuacahn, I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to work on the website, so I brought my computer up to the café next to the amphitheater. They were performing Les Misérables again, which meant I got to work with the music from the show playing in the background. I love that soundtrack, so hearing those songs while I worked was a pretty wonderful way to spend an evening.

Unfortunately, the internet had other plans. I couldn't get connected, so I wasn't able to accomplish anything with the website or the journal. I'm now a couple of weeks behind, and every day I seem to fall a little further behind. My opportunities to get reliable Wi-Fi have been pretty limited lately, and that's probably going to become even more of a challenge as we head into some of the more remote and magical places in nature. Civilization and a good internet connection aren't always found in the same places.

But I'll get caught up eventually. That's one of the things I've learned on this journey: not everything has to happen today. Sometimes you just have to keep moving forward and trust that you'll find the time and opportunity to do what needs to be done.

And now another day has come to a close. It was a really good day—a day filled with challenge and trial, but also with veterans, pie, mountains, red rocks, music, and beautiful places. We made it through, and we're both still alive.

I call that a good day.

The seventh of August was Day one hundred sixty-two of this country-exploring ride, and it was also my father's birthday. He passed away years ago, but his memory always comes to me strongly on special days like Father's Day and his birthday. I think of him anytime I'm working with wood or doing some kind of construction project. My father was a good teacher of home construction, auto mechanics, and just about anything that could be done with your hands. He was a quiet man who grew up just after the Great Depression, learning how to make things work on a farm with very little in the way of replacement parts. Baling wire and basic tools could accomplish a lot in his hands. He could work wonders with a little duct tape and a coat hanger. I miss working next to him and learning his secrets.

I consider today the official start of the Mountain States Exploration segment of this journey. Although we have been in Utah for about a week, until now we have been retracing places we visited on our way to Flagstaff. Today, we set off for parts heretofore unvisited!

We started the day at Tuacahn. Sean drove to Hurricane and then rode from there toward Springdale, the town just outside Zion. I rode the other direction and met a couple of interesting people along the way. One of the best conversations was with Brian, who owns Hungry Howie's Pizza on Red Cliffs Drive. We sat and talked about biking adventures while I ate most of the pizza I'd ordered. Apparently, I had arrived before the lunch crowd, so I had plenty of time to enjoy the conversation as well as the food.

I stopped at a thrift store afterward and found a couple of pairs of shorts that should work well for hiking. Then I stopped at a gas station to fill my bottles and douse myself with water before getting back on the road. I chose some good music to accompany me and headed out for what I considered the main part of the day's ride.

There was plenty of heat and there were some challenging hills, but something was different about the way I approached them today. For the first time, I found myself looking at the hills as something I could become stronger from rather than something I simply had to survive. A small change in perspective can create a surprisingly large transformation in the way we handle life's challenges. The hills are still a challenge, but they're also an opportunity to get stronger, learn from the experience, and improve.

I want to see where that idea takes me as I continue to evolve as a bicyclist. I'd like to be able to stay in higher gears while climbing and maintain more speed. Most of the sustained hills I've encountered have been six percent grade or more, and I generally find myself moving between five and eight miles per hour. Sometimes I'm down to three and a half miles per hour in first gear. I haven't had to walk Herbie up a hill very often, although it has happened, particularly on sandy or rocky roads. Today, though, I deliberately worked on pushing myself instead of automatically settling into the easiest gear.

After I found Marcus at the Hurricane Walmart, I went looking for water to fill the tank on the camper shell. I wanted to start our next stretch of the journey with a full tank because we're heading into some pretty remote country. I looked everywhere but couldn't find a place to fill it at any of the gas stations or businesses I passed. Fortunately, I talked to my son Jacob, who lives in the area, and he told me where I could get water. I also topped off the truck. I have no idea what gas prices are going to look like once we get farther into the boonies, so I'd rather start with a full tank.

When I reached Springdale, I started looking for a place where we could stay. What I found was a town overwhelmed with visitors. Nobody seemed to have a place for us to park, and nobody really wanted to talk about it. It wasn't a good parking day.

I understand why the town is the way it is. Tourism around Zion has exploded, and the town has enacted regulations governing where motor homes, trucks, cars, and other vehicles can stay. Even if a business wanted to let us park overnight, doing so might violate a town ordinance. After asking several people around town, I finally realized that I wasn't going to get anywhere in Springdale. There was simply too much outsider saturation.

I met up with Sean, and we decided to retreat to Rockville, a smaller town about five miles outside the Springdale city limits. From what we'd heard, Rockville might be a little more relaxed about overnight parking. Sean found a policeman and asked him about our options. The officer told him there was a place to park about five miles farther down the road, but I wasn't comfortable leaving the truck somewhere that remote while we explored the park over the next few days.

I spent some time driving around Rockville, including down a few dirt roads that quickly made it clear Cleo wasn't meant to go much farther. Eventually, I came back into town and started knocking on doors, looking for someone who might have enough space on their property to let us park overnight, or ideally for a couple of nights.

It was getting late, and we had a decision to make. We could go five miles farther down the road and sleep somewhere that would probably be noisy, or we could keep looking for a place on private property where we could get away from the traffic.

Sean headed toward the roadside area while I went back toward the truck, which I'd left parked on a little road called Jensen. As I approached, I noticed a couple of heads appearing over a hedge. They had come out of the house and were walking toward the driveway. I could see that there was plenty of parking space behind the house, although there were gates and dogs that had made me hesitant to knock on the door earlier.

As the two people walked toward their car, I introduced myself and asked whether their parents might be willing to let us park on the property. They were a girl and a boy, both around high-school age. The girl, Sophia, appeared to live there, and she did the talking. She said her mom was working until about nine o'clock but thought it would probably be okay.

I looked at my watch. It was getting close to eight, and I was simply happy to have finally encountered some human beings who weren't telling us to go away.

Sophia texted her mom to let her know I was waiting for her. As we talked, I discovered that Sophia knew my son, Jacob. In fact, her mother had worked with him for years.

These are the serendipities of living life in nature. Some people might call them coincidences. I call them sparkles, and I don't believe they are coincidental. They are little signs that I am walking the right path.

I called Sean and told him to turn around. As we waited for Sophia's mom, Eva, Jacob happened to finish work and pass by. We sat and talked for a while, catching up since we hadn't seen each other in about a year.

Eva finally arrived around nine-thirty. I felt an enormous sense of gratitude and happiness knowing that my boy had somehow played a part in helping us find a place to stay. Eva welcomed us onto her property and told us we could stay for the several days we were planning to explore Zion.

The property has plenty of vegetation and things that need attention, so I'm hoping I can make myself useful while we're here. Helping with whatever needs to be done seems like a good way to repay Eva for her hospitality.

It was quite a day. We started with hills, heat, and the uncertainty of finding a place to sleep, and ended with family, friendship, and a safe place to park. Another little sparkle along the road.

Twenty-three miles on the day.

The eighth of August was Day one hundred sixty-three, and it started in Rockville. I did a little maintenance around the campsite, which was situated in the backyard of a property lush with plant life. I had some breakfast, too, and then decided to head to the library when it opened at noon.

It may seem like a strange decision given the opportunity to explore Zion, but Sean was behind on his schoolwork and I was behind on my website maintenance. We agreed that some library time followed by some time in the park was a good division of the day.

It was about thirty minutes from Rockville to the library, and we spent five hours there. I worked on my journal entries while Sean worked on his school assignments. I am very behind on my journal entries. I have about twenty days to clean up and post on the website, and when I sat down for those five hours today, I first modified the website to include the book I've been writing, The Caterpillar and the Dragonfly, along with the Purpose Guidebook. I also split the journal into two separate parts: the Coast to Coast to Canyon volume and the Mountain States Exploration volume.

That took the better part of two and a half hours—half of our allotted library time. I spent the rest of the afternoon going through my daily entries, which I usually create at the end of each day, cleaning them up and making them more coherent. There are a lot of filler words and misspellings to fix, and invariably I think of little details that I left out. It all takes time. But it's important to me to share the miracles that happen when I let Nature take over.

Before the Grand Canyon trip, I was able to keep up better, usually cleaning up each nightly entry the following morning. Since that twelve-day excursion, when I documented everything but didn't have much opportunity to edit, I've been getting behinder and behinder. I'm going to keep chipping away at it, though. I have hope that eventually I will catch up with myself.

Now I have the structure I want, and it's just a matter of adding the days, two or three at a time. As long as I can maintain maybe three or four entries a week, find some Wi-Fi, and get them added to the website, I'll be able to catch up. Eventually it'll all work out. But for today, it sufficeth to say that I made progress, and that's enough.

After the library closed, we headed up the hill to the Zion Park entrance. We found that there was a separate entrance for bikers and pedestrians, so we went in that way. We stopped at the visitor center, looked around a little bit, and then decided to try biking up the canyon on the road the buses use.

We made it up to the lodge before it got too close to sunset, and then we turned around and rode back down. We stopped at the art gallery where Eva works and looked around for a little while before cycling back to Rockville in the dark. There wasn't much traffic after the sun went down, so it was actually a nice ride.

When we got back, I ate some bread and cheese topped with ravioli. I didn't wash the plate, so it's over there somewhere, and I'm not going to get back up because I just took a shower and I'm ready for bed. Tomorrow, I will make amends to that plate.

My plan is to get up early so that I can get an early start on that mountain and ride all the way to the top before I go have brunch with my son. So I need to get some sleep.

The end to possibly the best day ever.

Eighteen and three-quarters miles on the day.

The ninth of August was Day one hundred sixty-four. Once again, we awoke at Rancho Evalux. I got up early because I wanted to ride to the top of Zion Canyon, to the point where you can't go any farther. That's where The Narrows starts. Sean wanted to go up there, too. Well, he wanted to get into the park and explore some of the trails, so we both had things we wanted to see.

I planned to leave at six o'clock, but by the time I ate and got ready, it was seven o'clock. Still, riding up the canyon meant that the sunlight wouldn't hit until around eleven o'clock, when it reached its apex. It was a very nice ride. There was a little bit of wind, but not too much, and I made pretty good time.

I had made plans to have lunch with my son, Jacob, so I was mindful of the time as I rode. As it turned out, I had plenty of time because Jacob was delayed. I started at seven o'clock, reached the top around eight-thirty, and had some time to walk around a bit. I didn't have the right kind of shoes to hike, though. I only had my biking shoes. I did walk down the dirt path toward The Narrows, which is a hike that eventually turns into walking in the river through a slot canyon. Apparently, the water can reach up to your shoulders in places. I'm thinking about doing that hike maybe tomorrow.

I also have some website stuff that needs to be updated, so I'm trying to balance these two worlds. The world of Nature usually wins.

As I was coming back down, I was still coordinating lunch with Jacob. As I mentioned, he was delayed, which gave me the opportunity to sit down and watch a Park Ranger presentation about amazing animals. I learned quite a bit about wasps, particularly parasitic wasps that lay their eggs on or inside other animals or insects so their babies have something to eat when they hatch.

It was pretty amazing to hear about. There's one really tiny wasp that lays its eggs on aphids, which eat plants. The baby wasps eat the aphid, and in that way, fewer plants get eaten by hungry aphids. So it turns out wasps are pretty cool, even though they're kind of stingy sometimes.

Let's not even talk about the Tarantula Hawk.

Okay, let's.

I encountered my first Tarantula Hawk in the Grand Canyon. The Tarantula Hawk is not a hawk; it's a wasp that looks scary. It turns out it's actually very beautiful, and I appreciate them more now that I've heard more about them. They're not aggressive unless you get aggressive with them—or maybe accidentally sit on one. I also got a Junior Ranger Handbook so I could learn more about the park.

Eventually, the planned brunch turned into lunch with Jacob. Neither Sean nor Jacob's partner joined us, so we were able to enjoy some quiet time catching up. It was an enjoyable meal, reminiscing a little and comparing notes about life.

After lunch, I came back to the ranch and got instructions on a few things that needed attention: two gates and some landscaping maintenance. I fixed the gates with the tools here. It's nice when I don't have to take my own tools out, since they're buried under the bed and all the bike equipment.

As I was getting ready to do some landscaping work, Shea showed up from Hurricane with the bike chain that had been delivered after we left, later than promised. Sometimes Amazon misses the mark. She drove all the way up to Rockville, which, in retrospect, isn't really that far. It was very nice of her to do that, and it was good to see her.

She took us over to a nearby ghost town. It was down a road that I had partially explored when pulling Cleo. It wasn't that bad after all, but the signs about needing a four-wheel-drive vehicle and the limited places to turn around had scared me off. It was an option to stay out there, but it's so remote, and you have to go through these pretty aggressive dips and hills to get there. I'm glad we found an alternative.

I'm so grateful for finding friends who help one another in this life. That's what it's all about.

The ghost town was very interesting. Places like that always make me think about what it would have been like to live back then. There's something about seeing these remnants of people's lives that makes you wonder what their days looked like, what they hoped for, and what eventually brought them to leave.

After we got back to Eva's, she took Shea on a tour of her place. We said our goodbyes, and I took a shower. Now it's late.

I saw the stars tonight. They were so bright against the dark sky, and there were so many of them. I couldn't quite see the whole Milky Way, but I could see parts of it.

I reflected on the nature I saw today, and I reminisced a bit. I felt a little melancholy today, but I think these kinds of feelings are necessary to process things from the past—the regrets that you have. I've found that it's not healthy to ignore them or pretend they're not there. At the same time, I don't have to dwell on them. I can acknowledge them and then replace those feelings of melancholy and regret with gratitude.

That's one reason why it's so important to find and live your purpose.

Thirty-two and three-tenths miles on the day.

The tenth of August was Day one hundred sixty-five, and it was so exhausting that I neglected to enter it on my phone before falling asleep. It was a day of yard work.

Sean went to the library to work on school, while I stayed behind and tackled the property. I cut back all the trees growing into the irrigation ditch in the front yard and trimmed everything along the sidewalk leading to the house. I cut back a rose bush that had become quite overgrown, fixed some more fences, and lubricated the hinges.

I also spent a couple of hours working on the website, getting some parts updated that I'd been thinking about for a while. That was about it. A lot of yard work.

After spending time at Liberty Village doing gardening work there, I'm starting to think maybe I could make it as a decent gardener if I actually studied the way plants grow and learned more about all that stuff. I'm focused on people right now, but who knows what the future might hold...

The eleventh of August was Day one hundred sixty-six, and it was a Nature makeup day. I had wanted to spend a day doing yard work, which I did on the tenth, so I saved today to be a Zion day, all day long.

I got up early and rode my bike to the lodge, which is about halfway to The Narrows. I took my time and didn't have any sense of urgency. Of course, I filled up with ice at the gas station in Springdale. The lodge is a good place to park the bike in the shade, so that's what I did. I also discovered a soda fountain in the lodge. Very convenient.

I checked out all the Emerald Pools, from the top to the bottom, as well as the Grotto. On the way back from the Grotto to the Lower Emerald Pool, I met Mike and Pierrette, who were visiting from Ohio. We had a good talk. They were on their way to the lodge for a bite to eat and a cool drink. Mike told me about a place called The Wild in Ohio where you can go on a safari—in the United States. I never conceived of such a thing, but there it is. He said they have hippopotami, giraffes, elephants, and all kinds of other animals, so that's definitely going on the list of things to check out eventually.

I also met a guy named Greg, and we had a good talk. I got his picture, but not his phone number.

Finally, I went to The Narrows, which is kind of the end of the line for hikes in Zion. I walked alone for a lot of the time, and then I met a woman named Sandy. We walked down the river together for a while, talking about life, pottery, getting inspiration from nature, spending time in the great outdoors, exercise, and our families. All kinds of stuff, really—like old friends. She's about my daughter's age. It was a good way to wrap up the hiking day.

I neglected to mention that when I told Sean I was going to The Narrows, he suggested that I take a walking stick. I didn't take my walking stick, but I spent some time looking for one along the way. Right there on the right-hand side of the road, waiting for me, was a really cool walking stick that looked like a sorcerer's staff. It was longer than a normal walking stick and curved at the top. I used it through the hike and brought it back to base camp. I plan to put some teak oil on it and see how long it will work as a hiking aid.

I also found three walking sticks that people had thrown away at the end of the hike, sitting next to the garbage can. I suppose that happens every day. People think, "I don't have room for this. I'm going to get back on the plane tomorrow, so I'll just throw it away." You would think the park would have a reclamation bin or something.

So I picked up three extra walking sticks, and I'd like to give them to people who sign the trailer and indicate that they like to hike, or would like to hike more. I really resonate with getting out into Nature, and with people who do the same.

It was starting to get dark as I rode down the canyon road, and my bike started to act up. The basket on the front is a very heavy thing, and one of the bolts had worked its way loose. I noticed it was loose a few weeks earlier. I should have done something about it then, but I didn't. I just let it go. I thought it was going to stay the way it was because it had a nylon nut.

But that nut finally fell off the bolt, and the whole basket dropped about half an inch—maybe an inch. Just enough for the fender to start rubbing on the tire. It was bad enough that I couldn't ride like that, so I had to stop.

Good thing I have a supply of bungee cords.

I was able to pull the basket away from the tire using bungees attached to the handlebars. It wasn't a proper fix, but it got me moving again and allowed me to make it back.

Well, Zion has been visited.

Tomorrow I'm going to fix my bike properly, and Sean is going to come back from Hurricane with clean clothes. I didn't mention it before, but Sean took our dirty clothes back in Giselle, the bike trailer. The dirty-clothes situation had become pretty desperate. His plan was to come back in the evening, but that's a lot, and we agreed he should stay down there until the morning.

He is reportedly sleeping on a trampoline tonight.

Tomorrow we're also going to violate the one-person-riding-at-all-times rule and load both bikes on the trailer. Getting through the one-mile, uphill tunnel in Zion that was built in the nineteen-thirties isn't allowed on the bikes. But we're going to enjoy the drive, get through the tunnel, and start riding again on the other side.

Forty-six miles on the day.

The twelfth of August was Day one hundred sixty-seven.

There was a lot of packing up to do because we'd been in Rockville for several days, and we had stuff scattered all over the place. Sean had gone back to Hurricane to hang out with friends and wash our clothes, and he got back this morning. He let me know that Marcus's battery was dead. I guess the heat, combined with sitting there for several days without being used, had run the battery down.

Luckily, there was a battery charger where we were staying. I put Marcus on the charger for several hours while we packed up the truck. Eventually, he started right up, and everything seems to be in good order except for the engine light. It's on now, and the tailgate will only open with the button on the dash. That's something to get checked out.

There's a maintenance check coming up pretty soon—the ninety-thousand-mile service. I can't believe I've driven that far since twenty twenty-two. I plan to get Marcus looked at when I get to Provo, which is where I purchased him all those years ago. Hopefully they can take care of the maintenance, check-engine light, oil change, and tire rotation all in one fell swoop.

We got everything packed up and hit the road. We stopped at the visitor center to get some of their good mountain water. When we were going through the booth, the girl working there wanted to make sure the trailer wasn't too wide. As she was measuring Cleo's width, she noticed that there was a beetle on the back of my shirt.

I think it happened at the gas station when we were getting ice and cleaning the windows. The beetle was iridescent green—so pretty. She carefully took it off my shirt, and it just sat there perched on her finger. I took some pictures of it, and then we took off. Maybe she still has it. I don't know. Her name is Audrey.

As we were going through the park toward the tunnels, we were looking for a hidden place that our friend Jordan from Best Friends Animal Sanctuary had told us about. Right before we got to the point where we needed to turn, Sean's phone revealed the location. We didn't have very much signal, so it was a minor miracle—and a major sparkle.

As soon as we got to the place where we were supposed to park to hike to the hidden spot, Sean's phone alerted us, and we pulled over just in time. Then we went to check it out. Between the dead battery and all the packing, it was much later than we'd expected. We considered skipping it, but I'm so glad we didn't.

It was a magical, magical place.

It required a steep hike down, but once we got there, we were treated to a series of waterfalls and pools. Not huge waterfalls, but trickling waterfalls. It just sounded so nice. The stream fed one pool after another, some deep, some clear, some mossy. A mystical stairway of water running through this little canyon, hidden from the masses of tourists.

I could have stayed there for hours, but unfortunately it was already kind of late. We spent maybe an hour down there, and I took off most of my clothes and jumped into one of the pools. The water was perfect, probably about sixty-five degrees. It was a hot day, so I really enjoyed the cool diversion.

I need to let Jordan know how much we appreciated his little hint.

We had to put both bikes on the trailer because of the tunnel. The tunnel, as promised, was pretty sketchy. I think we could have done it with the truck as the lead vehicle, but it was uphill, and doing that would have caused a delay for the following vehicles. So we just drove through.

After we got partway toward Bryce, I took my bike off the trailer and started riding, with Sean driving toward the destination. There were a few cool arches along the way, and quite a climb heading into Bryce, with sprinkles most of the way. We met up, but it was a challenge to find a place to stay. After asking people at a campground and a small airport, I met a guy named Clay.

Clay is a cowboy, with cows and horses, and a truck pulling a trailer near the airport. I told him I was looking for a place where we could just spend the night, and he responded that I could pull over anywhere on the side of the road leading to the airport. Apparently, it's all state land, and nobody really cares if you park out there.

So here we are.

Hopefully tomorrow we'll be able to find a friend who will let us park on their property. I like finding friends like that. It's a way to get to know people and hopefully have a chance to do some kind of service for them. We've been able to build a network of people who have become good friends as we've traveled across the country, instead of just getting a campground and transacting with money.

I'm not fond of that. Bartering is my preference.

Tomorrow, we should be able to find a place and start exploring Bryce and its hoodoos. Maybe we'll find a friend in town. If there is a town. I didn't even get there today, so I don't know what it looks like. I was here once before, but I can't remember. All I remember are hoodoos, which I can't even remember very well.

It's supposed to rain tomorrow and Friday, and it's supposed to be cool. A chance to wear our wet-weather stuff if needed and go at it. Go check it out.

It's also cool here, temperature-wise. The first cool day since Jacob Lake, and we weren't able to spend a lot of time there. It's kind of nice after being so hot for so long—sweating on the bike, sweating in bed. It's nice to have a cool night where I might actually sleep comfortably.

I'm excited to get looking at this part of the country tomorrow. This whole place is just magical. So many things to find and see, with Nature all around. Nature abounding.

Fifteen miles on the day.

The thirteenth of August was Day one hundred sixty-eight. It started on a spur road outside Bryce Canyon. I made some eggs and hash—little breakfast burritos—and sliced up an apple that needed to be eaten. We used up most of our tortillas. Sean went to look for rocks for a school assignment while I got ready to get on the road.

I had to wash the dishes, though. That's always a pain in camp, but when you want to have a hot breakfast, it comes at a cost.

We headed to Bryce City, which isn't really a city, even though the sign says so. It doesn't have many houses, just hotels, gas stations, and the usual stuff for tourists visiting Bryce Canyon proper. There was a large parking lot next to a pond that said RVs were welcome. After talking to a local, we figured we were safe to park there during our stay.

It was a good location. Although it lacked the find-a-friend aspect, it was close to bathrooms, water, food, and people. Every now and then, somebody would stop by and ask us about the trailer. I was in love with the pond, too. It was so beautiful, the perfect way to greet the morning. Dragonflies lived among the reeds, and it occurred to me that this might be the pond I write about in The Caterpillar and the Dragonfly.

Before departing for the park, a couple stopped to ask us about the trailer. It turns out they had served a mission down in Florida, interacting with active-duty military and veterans, trying to make sure they were well adjusted and doing okay. They recorded a video for their Instagram account, and I recorded something for my YouTube account. And it was good.

We rode up to Bryce, although it was probably around two o'clock before we actually got to the park. Sometimes I just like to enjoy the morning and not worry about hurrying up to get somewhere to see the beauty, because there's beauty right where we are. Sean is a good companion that way. He seems to enjoy the surroundings as much as I do.

We went up to the visitor center and checked that out. We discovered there is a nice bike path all the way through the park—well, most of the way. We went to see the sunset and sunrise viewpoints. If possible, I'd like to get to the sunrise viewpoint tomorrow before the sun comes up. But that's at six-thirty, and it's going to be cold tomorrow morning, so we'll have to see how that goes. I do have my warm pants, and I can always layer up. It's mostly just getting up, you know. Convincing the old bones and muscles to get moving.

When we got to Inspiration Point, we saw a bikepacker on a Trek mountain bike riding on a path that you're not supposed to ride on. I was immediately intrigued by him and knew I had to talk to him. He stopped at the viewpoint, so I had a chance to introduce myself, and we started comparing notes.

Turns out his name is Sebastian, and he's from Germany. He did the race from Canada to Mexico along the Rocky Mountains in sixteen days. He was the thirteenth finisher in that race, which I thought was quite impressive. He said he went one hundred seventy miles a day, but that seems like so much. Maybe he said one hundred seventeen and it just sounded like one hundred seventy.

In the course of the conversation, I invited him to come back to home base—which right now is the parking lot of Ruby's Inn—and have some dinner. He accepted, and we went our separate ways.

Sean and I rode up to Bryce Point, which basically gives you a view of the entire valley and all these hoodoos. They're stacked up like little chess pieces, one behind the other. Like guards at the gate of a magic castle.

It was nice, though. It was all nice.

The weather was cool and crisp. I had a rain jacket that was just enough. It got to be a little bit chilly toward the end, but I was still comfortable. It's such a change to be in a cool climate after so much heat, and to see a different kind of beauty.

Bryce Canyon is different from all the other beautiful places we've seen—the Grand Canyon, Snow Canyon, Zion Canyon. They're all different in their own unique and beautiful way.

Since it was drizzling, we used the canopy that was gifted to us at Bodaway Gap and cooked dinner while staying dry. Sebastian showed up just as the food was ready, and we enjoyed the second hot meal of the day. After dinner and some cocoa, he left his bike at camp for the night and went in search of someplace warm to spend the night.

Now it's very late, and if I have any chance of getting up to see the sunrise, I'd better go to bed.

Twenty and four-tenths miles on the day.

The fourteenth of August was Day one hundred sixty-nine, and it was rainy. It rained for hours—pretty constant rain. I woke up around two in the morning and, for whatever reason, couldn't go back to sleep. It happens sometimes. And then, when my alarm goes off, I'm out. That's what happened this morning. I wanted to get up early and go to Sunrise Point to see what all the hubbub was about, but I just didn't have it in me. I heard Sebastian come and get his bike, and when I saw him later, he told me it was around six o'clock. I just couldn't do it.

It's another late night tonight, too. I hung out with Sebastian again today. He's leaving tomorrow, heading toward Zion. The people on The Path that we meet seem to always be going in the opposite direction. Perhaps that's the way of things.

I was heading over to the lodge during a little break between downpours to work on the website when I saw Sebastian at the door. He was coming out of the lodge, getting ready to go up and do one more hike before departure. I decided my plans would have to wait. The computer stuff would have to wait because I wanted to hang out with my buddy Sebastian one last time.

I took the computer back to the trailer, and we went up the hill. I forgot to take lunch with me. I had some snacks, but I wanted to bring some tuna fish. I survived, though, and we saw some of the most beautiful sights in Bryce. It's just a very special place, and we went all over, spending several hours immersed in Nature.

It was cold, but not bitterly cold, and it didn't rain after we started hiking. In fact, the sun came out toward the end, and we had to take our jackets off because it started to get warm. Parts of the trail were a little muddy, but that just added to the authenticity of what we were doing.

When it was time for Sebastian to leave, I gave him a couple of the shower tokens I had gotten from the general store the day before, and he went and took a shower. I went back down the hill, dropped off my computer and everything, and looked for Sean. There was no sign of him, so I figured he was either on the computer or out on a Bryce Canyon trail.

Sebastian and I met again at the lodge, shared a pizza, and enjoyed a little bit more of each other's company before he departs for Zion and Las Vegas, then heads north through California to get back to Canada before his visa expires. He's got about a month to go, and he has a lot of miles to make, so he can't be messing around anymore.

It was really cool to get to know him, and hopefully our paths will cross again. I always say that, and sometimes they do.

I did also upload a bunch of YouTube videos from the Grand Canyon. I'm so far behind on editing my journal entries and uploading my videos. This morning, while it was raining, I used my phone to edit a few journal entries and get them ready to put on the website. But it took me about an hour to do two entries because they were quite lengthy.

I think some of the entries aren't as detailed—maybe five or six minutes of dictation. But the ones I'm transcribing right now are more like ten to twelve minutes, and there's a lot of detail: people I met, things we did, and then little snippets of things that happened during the day that I remember afterward and add to the entry.

So it's a time-consuming, laborious process. I just have to keep on going, and eventually I'll catch up—or not. But at least I'll try. I'll try to get it done, and that's all I can do.

I'll probably work on the computer a little bit tomorrow morning. I want to go on a hike and take a shower toward evening time. It's been a couple of days since I've taken a shower, but it's been so cold that I haven't really been sweating. I mean, I sweat somewhat today because I had a hoodie on and we were climbing a hill, but for the most part, it's been cold, and I don't feel particularly dirty.

Even though I probably am very dirty.

I guess it's all subjective.

Tomorrow it will be nice to get a shower, I think. And that's all I have to say for today. I kind of belabored the shower thing, which I probably shouldn't feel the need to do. This being a judgment-free place.

Sean did a bunch of schoolwork and went to bed early. He'll probably hike a bunch tomorrow and get the most out of it before we leave on Sunday morning. Then we'll set our sights for Calf Creek and Boulder, Utah.

Fifteen and three-tenths miles on the day.

Today was the fifteenth of August. It still is, for a little while longer. Day one hundred seventy.

It was spent in, well, a kind of paradise.

Still in Bryce City, I woke up to the sound of knocking. Actually, I heard the bike before I heard the knock. Sebastian's cassette is loud. He was passing by to say goodbye to me. We exchanged some pleasantries. I think he came over at about eight o'clock, and I was embarrassed that I was still in bed. I had woken up at five or five-thirty, but I fell back asleep.

Tomorrow morning, I'm going to get up early, get ready to go, and be on the road by seven. After breakfast, I need to replenish our ice supply in the icebox, get my clothes on, use the bathroom. It's a whole thing, but I want to be on the road by seven. I've mapped out a route of about four hours. That should get us to Calf Creek and then to Boulder by the end of the day, as long as Sean is agreeable to the plan.

Today was spent working on the truck. I disconnected the gauge I had set up for the water tank because it isn't working, and something drained the battery. I'm reluctant to think that that little gauge drained that big battery when we were in Rockville, but the battery was drained, and things started going haywire after that. So I want to try to avoid any occurrence of dead batteries in the future.

Preventive maintenance includes starting the truck every two days and running the engine for at least fifteen minutes to keep it charged up, and disconnecting this water gauge.

I also sorted some things out, refilled my pill dispenser, and made a resolution to start getting rid of some of the stuff that I haven't used since I started this trip. I think that's a good rule of thumb: if I haven't touched it since I started the trip, I need to get rid of it. And if I need it in the future, I will get it in the future.

I'm interested in continuing to explore minimalization, which means dispatching more of these worldly belongings, getting down to the nitty-gritty. A couple of shirts, some socks, a pair of pants, a tent, a tarp, a sleeping bag—that kind of thing.

I didn't ask Sebastian if he had any kind of pillow. In the Grand Canyon, I just used my hoodie wrapped around some clothes bundled together for a pillow.

I don't know. I started talking about all the stuff I am carrying around, and it's made me think more about attachments to worldly objects. I've been thinking about that quite a bit lately. How much do I need to be self-sustaining and resilient, and satisfied with life?

I feel like when I'm in Nature, I don't really crave TV or a computer. Or even a phone. I use these things to communicate the progress I'm making during this journey—the epiphanies, the resolutions, the sparkles that I find. But I don't know if I will do this forever. I think that this lifestyle may have a finite timespan.

Roll for Veterans. Roll for Nature.

Maybe just roll into a hole in the ground eventually.

I did spend several hours on the computer, transcribing journal entries, cleaning them up, and getting ready to post them on the website. I spent some time sitting by this pond we're parked next to, thinking about the book that I started, The Caterpillar and the Dragonfly, and how this pond is like the one I saw in my mind.

It's very much like the pond in the book, except that it doesn't have any lily pads. But I took pictures and videos so that I can examine it in more detail and maybe go back and revise the book's description. I think I can add some detail that's lacking.

I also posted more videos on YouTube, trying to share the magic of Nature. The awesome nature of Nature.

I'm still uploading videos from the Grand Canyon, weeks later. That's how slow the process is. The way that YouTube works, I can only upload about five per day. So it's a laborious and cumbersome task, but I have help in the form of Gavin, my dear friend.

Thank you so much, Gavin, for what you do.

Finally, I put my computer away. I got the tokens for the shower that I received from a friend up in the canyon, and I went up to take a shower.

I'm back!

I haven't seen Sean today. He's been trotting a separate path from mine for the past few days.

I enjoyed that ride, the final ride up into Bryce, since I'm leaving tomorrow morning. And I met a man named Tim up by the showers. He's an airline pilot who wanted to be a pilot in the Navy but didn't have the eyesight for it. But he still accomplished his dream of becoming a pilot, even though he wasn't able to fly the fighters he dreamed of.

I think he and I share some commonalities, and I'm hoping that we'll run into each other again. We're both the same age, with similar paths through life, so I'm sure there are a lot of commonalities that we share. He said he may be heading to Capitol Reef, which is our next destination as well.

I took my time coming down out of that canyon. It's one of my favorite rides so far. Going down that bike path downhill, with the curves that they put in it, makes me feel like I'm in a race car, zooming down the track. Or maybe in an airplane.

Even though I'm quite top-heavy and can't take the corners very gracefully, it still feels good.

I got some more milk, filled up the water jugs, and put away the canopy. I have things more or less ready to go tomorrow.

All that's left is for me to climb into bed.

And get some rest.

Seven and a half miles on the day.

The sixteenth of August was Day one hundred seventy-one, and it started in Bryce City and ended in Boulder.

I decided to ride the whole thing, and Sean was okay with that. In hindsight, it was probably an error in judgment. I did not realize the number of climbs that were included. I should have, if only I had done a little research. I did look at the elevation. It was about five thousand feet, but I figured that was spread out over the seventy-five miles.

It wasn't.

Instead, most of the inclines—and declines—were confined to six- to ten-mile stretches that were steep uphills followed by steep downhills. The downhills were fun, but the uphills were brutal. They included grades up to twelve percent and were miles long.

By the time I got to Calf Creek, it was dark. A lot of that was my fault for taking my time on the Mossy Cave Trail and getting distracted by other things along the way. There were simply too many interesting corners to explore and too many things worth stopping for.

On the last climb, I was defeated about halfway up. I had to push my bike up the hill leading into Boulder. I try to avoid getting off the bike because progress is at a snail's pace at that point, but I was done. I was just so wasted that it was all I could do to keep moving forward.

It didn't help that I didn't eat very well.

More hindsight: we should have just gone to Escalante and stayed there for the night. When I rolled through that little town, I wanted to stay a spell and check it out. It had a good vibe. But Sean was already in Boulder at that point.

Sometimes you don't realize there's a better course of action until it's too late.

Stopping in Escalante and checking out Calf Creek tomorrow would have been so much better. I had a talk with Sean and shared my thought that maybe, if he saw that a route was extreme like this one was, a phone call and discussion might be a prudent course of action.

Today was an example of biting off more than I could chew.

I mean, I chewed it, but it was a tough, gristly piece of meat.

I got into home base at eleven o'clock at night. I was pedaling for about seven hours. I was on the path for about thirteen, so six of those hours were spent hiking, talking to people, exploring corners of interesting places, and taking pictures and videos of things that I thought were worth preserving.

I met some good friends and had a lot of fun today. I proved to myself once again that I can do hard things. Today was definitely another one.

Although, I wonder if I need to do all of these hard things…

What am I trying to prove?

Utah Highway 12 between Bryce and Boulder is one that will stick in my mind as an unforgettable ride. It ranks as one of my favorite stretches of highway, as far as beauty and challenge, but definitely to be taken in smaller doses.

That will be the last time I do all seventy-five miles on that road in one day, either direction. Because those downhills that I went down, those would be uphills. And the uphills would be downhills. But it would still be pretty much the same amount of challenge.

Experience is a great teacher.

Live and learn.

I think we may need to check out the Hogback and Calf Creek Falls tomorrow. Jordan at Best Friends recommended it, and he hasn't steered us wrong yet!

Seventy-nine and eight-tenths miles on the day.

The seventeenth of August was Day one hundred seventy-two, and it was full of Nature.

We decided to disconnect the trailer and drive the truck back down to Calf Creek Falls because we had been told it was a magical place by our friend Jordan at the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary in Kanab. And so we did.

It seemed like a really, really long walk, but it was only about three miles, maybe a little over three miles in and another three miles out. There were markers along the trail that confused us because, at first, it seemed like we had walked something closer to thirteen miles. But that couldn't be right. Thirteen miles would have taken us all day.

Later, I found out on the interwebs that the markers are quarter-mile markers. There are no explanations given, so it's kind of confusing when you first encounter them.

The hike was quite challenging, though, especially after the taxing ride the day before and in one-hundred-plus-degree heat. But it was well worth the effort. The waterfall was magical and quite sparsely populated, most likely because of the heat.

There are a lot of pictures of Calf Creek Falls out there on the internet. Still, I created several videos from different angles and took plenty of pictures of my own. The water looked so inviting that I took a dip.

It was cold. It was so cold.

I dunked my head in there several times. My goal was to cool off and get ready for the hike back.

Mission accomplished.

Dipping my head in took my breath away and caused my body to ask my brain what it was thinking.

Prior to the hike, we had talked about riding partway to Capitol Reef today. Sean declared that he wanted to ride the whole thing. According to Google, it's about twelve miles mostly uphill and then almost forty miles mostly downhill.

After the hike, he decided he'd rather just do it tomorrow. Even after I offered to share the twelve-mile climb with him, he still wanted to do it tomorrow by himself.

We were very grateful to the Sinclair station manager for letting us park there overnight, but it wasn't the best place to park a truck and trailer given the limited space, so we started looking for another place to stay.

After talking to several people in several different places, we found… well, first we found David.

He was talking to a gas station attendant named Cindy. David Holiday is quite a character. He is a survivalist, and he's been surviving for a long time. He teaches people how to do it if they want to come out and learn. Now that he's retired, he just does it for fun with friends and family.

It sounds like fun to me, too. Too bad we don't have a lot of time allotted for that kind of thing. Maybe in a different time, with more advanced notice.

David gave me his address because he doesn't have a phone. He has a post office box. So, to get ahold of him, you have to write him a letter. Isn't that crazy?

In today's technological age, you have to write David a letter to communicate with him.

We recorded a video with him after he told us that he had the original idea for Wilson in the movie Cast Away when he was serving as a technical advisor for the screenplay. He started talking to a soccer ball while showing the screenplay writer how to survive in the wild, and it made it into the movie.

In fact, before the addition of Wilson, the movie executives didn't want to fund production because Tom Hanks didn't have any dialogue on the island other than talking to himself. When Wilson was added, they got the green light.

After we recorded the YouTube Short with him, David told us that he had prayed that day to meet somebody who was good, and he thought that we were an answer to that prayer.

It felt really good to talk to him and get some of his story. His life has been very Nature-based, and he had a very comfortable energy about him.

Thanks, David!

That man has a lot of stories. I could have talked to him for an hour or the whole evening, but we had to find a place to stay.

Cindy was working at a gas station where there were three RV hookup spots. I talked to her about staying and doing something in exchange. She said that we could stay on her property. She mentioned goats and chickens and geese and things, and it sounded like there was plenty to do.

We got directions and, after reconnoitering the destination, we went and picked up the trailer, which was still at the Sinclair, tucked away in the corner along with the bicycles.

The recon was a good idea because we got lost and had to ask Cindy for some clarification.

We drove over, met a nice lady named Hopi who took care of the animals, and set everything up. Cindy came home and asked me to work on her recumbent bike, getting it ready for some riding when the weather cooled off a bit.

I pumped up the back two tires and cleaned and lubricated the chain. The front tire was problematic.

Cindy puts Slime in the tires, and it appears that the Slime breaks down over a period of time. I knew that because when I took out the valve to add Slime, a liquidy substance came out of the stem.

I had pumped up the front tire a little before I started looking at the rear tires, just to see if it would hold air. Well, when I took out the valve from the front tire stem, the liquidy ooze erupted from the opening and sprayed my face and shirt.

I got a little in my left eye, which has been complaining ever since. Hopefully it will feel better after some rest.

I went into the room that Sean was painting and declared, "I got slimed."

He seemed to get some entertainment from my appearance. I saw why a few hours later when I went into the bathroom for a shower and saw myself in the mirror.

I told Cindy that the front tire needs a new tube, since the eruption caused a blockage that, try as I might, I could not clear. Apparently, the closest store that has such things is three hours away, so it's something that needs to be planned for.

We also met Hopi's husband, Rex, and four dogs. One of them is named Lunchbox.

The property also housed about fifteen Norwegian goats, some of them babies. A Norwegian goat has a beard—a long beard that gives them a distinct look.

They had a chicken that's also a turkey. It has a wattle and everything, quite different from the chickens I'm familiar with. Geese, a few turkeys… it was a lot to manage, but Hopi and Rex seem to have a good system of teamwork going.

Sean helped Cindy paint the front room of her house. The bike and the painting kept us occupied until midnight.

The seventy-eight-mile ride yesterday, plus the hike today, has really taken the stuffing out of me, so I'm quite ready for bed.

Overall, this was a best day ever.

We drove on the Hogback, which is a part of the road from Boulder to Calf Creek that is elevated and doesn't have any kind of barricade or other prevention for driving off the side, other than a curb for part of the distance.

The curb didn't look like it would prevent a person from veering off the road, and both sides just drop off into big valleys filled with slot canyons and the like. It's quite interesting to take that drive. We took it slow, since traffic was light.

Of course, you have a big elevation change going from Boulder down to Calf Creek. That was the hill that I had to push Herbie up the night before.

The descent would have been fun on the bike, but I didn't want to think about going back up, hence the use of Marcus for the adventure.

It was a seventeen-hundred-foot elevation change over six miles. It's a lot harder on a bike than it is in a truck.

I'm grateful to have the option of driving once in a while on this epic Nature adventure.

A final note…

My knees, especially my right knee, are not very happy with my riding decisions lately. Usually, they calm down after I calm down and don't hike so much.

But what do I do when there's a waterfall that I simply must go see?

I ask my knees for a little more understanding, and pray for endurance.

The eighteenth of August was Day one hundred seventy-three. It started at Cindy's farm with the crow of a rooster and the bleating of sheep.

I woke up and had a cup of tea. We had electricity, so that was nice. Cindy had offered to let us sleep inside on some bunk beds, but the plethora of dogs and the pleasant evening air prompted us to sleep in the rig instead.

Then Sean got ready to depart, but Hopi offered him some fresh eggs for breakfast. That caused him to delay long enough to fry some up with mushrooms and cheese before launch.

Since I was driving, I had some time to help out a little more. Since we had helped Cindy yesterday, I decided to focus on Hopi and Rex's situation. During a tour of their home, I learned that they had some problems with the sinks, where the faucets weren't working.

I set about trying to help fix that.

The problem was that their pipes were very old and had sediment in them. There's a lot of calcium in the water. I thought the most likely remedy was to blow the debris out of the faucets with compressed air, but that was a time-consuming approach because although there was a compressor and hose, there was no nozzle.

After searching for one in various outbuildings around the farm—and checking out Rex's impressive collection of books—Rex went over and borrowed an air nozzle from his friend Randy.

Meanwhile, Sean finished his breakfast. We asked our hosts to sign the trailer, which they all did, and we took a picture together. Sean said his goodbyes to the people and animals, and he was off.

I was able to fix the kitchen sink somewhat, getting about fifty percent flow on the hot side. The cold side was already working okay.

Then I made my own breakfast: toast and a six-egg mushroom, cheese, and tomato omelet. While I ate, I talked to Rex for quite a bit about meditation, self-awareness, and what he calls self-realization. Much of his great book collection is focused on mindfulness and awareness.

After eating, I worked with him on the bathroom sinks. I wanted to share some knowledge with him so that he could continue working on them in my absence. We got one sink working, but only the hot water. The other sink was completely clogged, and we were unsuccessful there.

We also fixed the shower by installing a new shower head, which was a quick fix. They have two showers, so now both of them are working.

After that, I packed up the tools, cleaned up, and said my own goodbyes.

Then I departed, said goodbye to Cindy as I passed by the gas station where she works, and filled our water bottles at the Anasazi State Park Welcome Center next door.

In hindsight, I should have gotten some gas at Cindy's station. It was about four dollars and thirty cents a gallon. But it escaped my mind, and so I had to get some in Torrey, which is close to Capitol Reef. The price there was about forty cents more.

I passed Sean near the top of the twelve-mile incline. I thought he would be farther ahead, but he had gotten distracted, like I do during so many of my rides.

And for good reason.

After the climb, you find yourself on Boulder Mountain and a beauty of a totally different kind from the desert below. We've been enjoying desert landscapes for the better part of three months now. But the top of Boulder Mountain is forested, with rolling hills and meadows and a reservoir down in a beautiful valley.

The air is crisp and clear, and there is beauty everywhere.

The quaking aspens, one of my favorite trees, shimmer and seem to be waving hello in the wind. Ponderosa pines and other kinds of conifers abound.

I was tempted to just stay the night up there. There was a place perfect for the purpose, and the cool air was so inviting.

But when I looked at the timeline, I saw that we were about three days behind schedule. We should have been in Moab by now. We took more time than anticipated in Zion and Bryce. We went back to Calf Creek while we were in Boulder, so that was another day.

While I didn't feel regret for our delay, I felt that we had to move along.

I talked to Sean about it—he caught up to me while I was scoping out the potential campground—and he agreed. Despite the temptation of a cool mountain night, we made the decision to continue down to the Capitol Reef park entrance.

Given the expense of the gas in Torrey, the only town of note between Boulder and Capitol Reef, I only added a quarter tank to Marcus so we could make it through to Moab, which should have more reasonably priced gas.

Gas and food are the main expenses right now. An oil change for Marcus is on the horizon, but not quite yet.

I started to wonder what it would be like to just travel with a bike and tent, minimizing the expense of logistics.

That comes with its own challenges, of course.

I have so many belongings in the truck and the trailer that I would have to address. And then what would I do with Marcus and Cleo—sell them? Split up the family?

I would like to get to a point where I have less stuff. I don't necessarily want to just give all my tools away, but I don't believe in storing things in a place where they sit unused, and you have to pay for not having access to your stuff.

Regardless, there's a lot of other things that would need to be disposed of.

I have four bins in the truck, for example, that have bathroom items, computer equipment, and other personal possessions that I haven't used much since I started this thing. A lot of it is just extra bathroom supplies and things that, at this point, are so old that they're probably no good anymore.

A lot of kitchen items could probably go with the truck, since it has cabinetry installed under the camper shell.

All of these concerns stand in the way, but I do sort of long for less.

Less attachments. Fewer possessions. But that's a decision for another day.

After talking to a few locals, I found a nice, secluded place, a little off the road on BLM land. It was located about eight miles from the entrance to Capitol Reef, which is basically as close as you can get to the park before the No Parking signs start appearing.

Hopefully, we can get a good night's sleep here and explore the canyon tomorrow.

Or whatever type of land feature Capitol Reef is. I'm not sure.

But Google knows:

Capitol Reef covers more than two hundred forty thousand acres. It became a national monument in nineteen thirty-seven and a national park on December the eighteenth, nineteen seventy-one. The name comes from the white Navajo sandstone domes that resemble the U.S. Capitol and the rocky, impassable barrier that the ridge presented to early travelers.

And then there's the Waterpocket Fold—a massive, one-hundred-mile-long "wrinkle" in the earth's crust, formed by ancient uplift and erosion.

There's the Fruita Historic District, a peaceful pioneer settlement along the Fremont River with historic buildings, the Gifford Homestead, and massive orchards where visitors can pick seasonal fruit.

There's a Scenic Drive, an eight-mile paved route showcasing stunning rock layers, deep canyons, and dramatic viewpoints.

And there are the dark skies. Capitol Reef is designated as a Gold Tier International Dark Sky Park, offering incredible stargazing.

Sounds heaven-like!

After today's drive, the vision of Boulder Mountain is going to stay with me. It's one of those places that feels like more time is warranted. I feel like I need to go back there and spend a few days on that mountain.

In the forest.

And it looks like people just camp up there. It's not really regulated.

Hidden places in Zion, Escalante, Boulder Mountain… the list of Places to Revisit groweth.

Tomorrow we need to figure out how much of Capitol Reef we can visit and whether or not we want to spend another day.

I'm still feeling tired from the seventy-eight-mile ride from Bryce to Boulder, but I'm hoping that with a good night's sleep, I'll be back to my normal, peppy self.

And check out another beautiful national park in Utah.

That is the plan.

The nineteenth of August was Day one hundred seventy-four. It began and ended outside of Capitol Reef National Park. We were at the West entrance at the break of day and the East entrance when the sun went down.

Today was a day of exploration.

I was content riding the bike. Sean wanted to go on some hikes. I rode to the end of the scenic road, which is about an eight-mile stretch of pretty aggressive hills. Up to ten percent grades, up and down, up and down.

When I reached the end, I encountered six people—three couples in their eighties. I talked to them for about an hour, and I got to do an interview with one of them. We talked about Nature and how being out in Nature adds to longevity and quality of life.

After they left, I talked to two couples who spoke French and Spanish, so I spoke Spanish with them. They were cool.

I started riding back and saw Judy—Sean's bike—at a trailhead. I stopped to wait for him, recording a video during my wait. I told him I was feeling good and could ride through the park to the East entrance.

In the morning, we had been talking about him riding after we did the scenic drive, but it made sense for me to keep riding since he wanted to go on more hikes. That way, he would have more time to hike, and then he could just hop in the truck and meet me at the endpoint.

So that's what we did.

Such beauty I saw during the entire day!

Lots of green around the river and beautiful rock formations as far as the eye can see.

We also found Tim as we passed the Capitol Reef campground. He's the guy I met at the shower area of Bryce Canyon. Tim is a pilot and has the good fortune of spending weeks at a time out here in this part of the country.

When I passed by the campground, he was there. That doesn't always happen, so I was glad the timing worked out like that. I sat and talked to him for a while after I got back from my ride. I told him I would be around for a bit before departing, if he wanted to check out the rig and sign the trailer.

I rode back to the truck and had some food. As I was finishing, Tim arrived on his e-bike. He checked out the truck and trailer, signing the latter.

A few other couples and individuals passed by as well. One fellow who sounded like he was from India seemed to be very interested in my story. He had a fold-up bike and a van that he was sleeping in. Just enough room for his folded-up bike and a mattress.

He was set up to just go wherever he desired.

It was a simple setup that made me a little jealous.

It's about a nine-mile ride through the park. At the East entrance, I found the road that Tim told me about—Notom Road. It was a very steep ten percent grade, I'd say, for a quarter mile to a third of a mile up this hill.

Sean arrived soon after I did.

We found some BLM land at the top of a steep hill, with a large canyon opening up below us—a very cool view. We got hit by a monsoon while we were making macaroni and cheese with chicken that Tim gave us. So basically, the evening was a celebration, in large part due to Tim. We put up the canopy again and were able to stay relatively dry during our feast.

I made two boxes of mac and cheese, which I thought was a little much as I was cooking it.

Turned out to be just enough for two guys who were riding and hiking all day.

Once the wind and rain passed, it turned into a nice, quiet night. I've had some strange dreams lately—vivid ones that I still think about when I wake, and that sometimes keep me from falling back asleep. In the morning, I got up to take in the sunrise, but then went back to bed because it was cold. I hope tomorrow morning is a little warmer—it'll probably cool down some more, but it'd be nice to get up, get dressed, and hit the road without needing cold-weather gear.

It was a day spent in Nature. We saw petroglyphs, water, waterfalls, rivers, a little stream… We checked out the orchards that were open and picked apples and a few pears. Couldn't find any peaches. They had a peach orchard, but I think it was closed when I passed by there at dusk.

All in all, it was just a fabulous, best day ever.

We have no signal here, so I haven't been able to map the route for tomorrow. I know the general direction, and I'll have to figure it out when we get to the next town.

But for now, that's enough.

I'm going to get some sleep and get ready for tomorrow's adventure.

Forty and nine-tenths miles on the day.

The twentieth of August was Day one hundred seventy-five, and it began on Notom Road just outside of Capitol Reef. I awoke relatively early, had breakfast, and set out toward the east, hopefully toward a place where I could find enough signal to figure out the exact route to Moab.

The first part of my journey took me through what looked like a moonscape. All of the hills consisted of this poofy kind of dirt. I stopped at one hill that seemed scalable, although I'm not really sure why. Something sparkled at me, I suppose. I decided to record a video about perspective, starting at the base and culminating at the top, where I was rewarded with a spectacular view of the surrounding area. The dirt reminded me a little of snow, with my feet sinking into it as I walked. I imagined being the first human to tread across this crusty ground, but then I started to make out other footsteps from previous earthlings who had preceded me.

Resuming my ride, I stopped at the first place that showed any signs of life—a cute little two-story hideaway called the Cathedral Valley Inn. I asked the girl who was cleaning a room if I could use the bathroom. She said I could, and even offered me some ice from the ice machine and a place to sit in their lobby for a little while. It was air-conditioned, and they had Wi-Fi! I was finally able to check my messages.

That's when I discovered there had been a little snafu with Sebastian staying with a friend in Las Vegas. There had been some miscommunication, and because I'd had so little signal, I hadn't been able to straighten things out. Luckily, I was able to remediate the situation, and my friend picked up Sebastian from a McDonald's. It seemed like everything ended well there, but I'll check in tomorrow. It was getting too late tonight.

All of that took some time, though, and the day was progressing quickly toward midday. I eventually reached my destination near I-70, where Marcus and Cleo were waiting for me. But first, I got back on the bike and rode to Hanksville, where the road turned north toward the freeway.

By then I had traveled about thirty miles, and I discovered that the total distance to my destination was about ten miles longer than I had originally thought. All said and done, it would be a total of seventy-seven miles. I could have sworn Google had told me it was sixty-five miles when I was researching the route the last time I had signal. Apparently, Google and I had different ideas about what constituted a reasonable day on a bicycle.

While I was in Hanksville, I got some more ice and water. I talked with a family who was interested in what I was doing, and that always feels good. I shared the website with them. I also talked to a couple of fellows, Nick and Eric, who had just relocated a boat from Lake Mead because the water is getting so low. Eric does quite a bit of bikepacking, so we talked a little about my setup and his. I shared the website with them as well.

Finally, I hit the road again. I made it back to Marcus a little late and set about putting Herbie on the trailer and getting underway. I stopped in Green River for gas, water, and ice, then headed toward Moab.

I arrived quite tardily—around ten-twenty at night, if I remember correctly. I parked near a highly rated bicycle shop, hoping I could get Herbie looked at the next day. There are some creaking noises coming from down below, which I think might be the bottom bracket, but a second opinion would be nice. I also think that the front wheel needs more grease in the bearings, because I hear this kind of like squeaky, rubby kind of sound when I'm pedaling, or even when I'm just coasting. So I need a little bit of attention there, so we'll see how it goes tomorrow.

Seventy-seven miles on the day.

The twenty-first of August was Day one hundred seventy-six, and it was spent in Moab, Utah. Although I had it in mind to ride some of the legendary trails around here, it wasn't meant to be. I never left the city limits.

I started the day by repacking the bearings in Herbie's front and rear wheels. I had been hearing this dry, frictiony kind of sound when I rode. The bearings weren't actually dry, though, so if that wasn't the cause, I'll continue the search for whatever else might be in need of lubrication.

The Chili Pepper Bike Company let me use their grease. I had parked near the shop the previous night just to be close to them in the morning. I also found some donuts on clearance at the little market next door. With some hot water from the hotel next door, I had cocoa and donuts for breakfast. Not exactly a cyclist's breakfast of champions, but it worked.

After repacking the bearings, I went off in search of a post office. I wanted to send bracelets and stickers to the members of Air Support Team Bravo. They've been helping us along the journey, working to maximize visibility and help make this whole thing a success.

Imagine my surprise when I handed the fellow five bubble-wrap envelopes and he informed me that the price for shipping was nearly nine dollars each. I was thinking it would cost a few dollars, as the envelopes weighed next to nothing. They contained a couple of silicone bracelets, a few stickers, and a handwritten note. After a moment's pause, I gathered myself and sent them on their way. The Air Support Team is worth that and much more. It's just that I'm trying to maintain a budget, so a forty-dollar expense took a little time to get used to.

It was the bulkiness, you see. The bubble envelopes with silicone bands inside can't be run through the automated sorting machines, so they have to be handled by hand, which is a whole different process. They're treated like packages. I hope those little mementos will bring a smile to the recipients.

When I got back to the truck, I passed by the VA. The clinic is currently in a little trailer placed in the corner of the parking lot because their new location is being renovated. It's in the shopping center next to Chili Pepper Cycles. I asked if they could give me a new ID card, but alas, the person who does ID cards is only there Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. They have to travel from Grand Junction, which is the nearest VA facility to Moab.

So I scratched that off the list. Maybe in Salt Lake. It would be nice to have a more modern form of ID than the old VA card I have. It's kind of faded, and it looks aged. Luckily, I haven't really needed a photo ID for much of anything, so I'm grateful for that.

I went in search of another place to park. I'd moved to the opposite side of the street in the morning because it provided a lot of shade until the afternoon, but there were signs on the shady side saying no overnight parking.

I rode around town and found myself at a place called Moab Community Cycle. Despite dozens of bikes and parts sitting out in the open, nobody was there. In fact, it seemed to be sort of a junkyard for bikes. I rode across the street and saw some signs on what looked like a house. One said something about customer parking, and another informed me that I should ring the side door for service.

So I did.

I met a fellow who is semi-retired, maybe all the way retired. He seems to value his privacy, so I won't share his name. After we'd talked for some time, his wife came into the shop and joined the conversation. His wife is from Bulgaria. We talked for a couple of hours, and he was a fascinating guy.

He's a musician who plays guitar, a bicycle enthusiast—well, more than an enthusiast. He has a whole bunch of very expensive bikes in that shop, along with a lot of bike equipment for sale. But he doesn't really have any customers. It seems to be more of a hobby for him now.

He had story upon story of things he'd done in his life, and it was nice to see someone who had lived a full life and hadn't asked for permission to live it. That was a good time.

He told me that I should be able to park the truck there on the street, which also has shade. Hopefully, Marcus won't be baking tomorrow morning.

I enjoyed the visit and told him I'd be back in a bit. Maybe we could even fix his little swamp cooler, which was making some strange noises.

Unfortunately, when I came back with the truck, it was quite a bit later. I stopped by the Chili Pepper Bike Shop and worked on Herbie with the techs. That work consisted of looking at the derailleur hanger and the derailleur itself. We straightened the hanger out a little bit because they didn't have one that matched. We got the shifting working better, which had been off since I replaced the bent hanger in Hurricane.

Smooth shifting is a very nice thing.

We didn't change the bottom bracket, which I believe may be causing some of the noise I'm hearing when I pedal. It's either that or the pedals themselves, but the pedals are pretty new. I decided to endure the clicking noise that happens when I pedal. The technician said the bottom bracket feels solid. At least the shifting is fixed, and we checked the chain. It's still good.

I'm ready to hit the road again tomorrow.

When I went to park for the night, my new friend was eating dinner with his wife, and the magic was gone. I bid him a good night. He did say that he rides up the hill toward Arches every morning, so hopefully we can ride together tomorrow.

Our plan is to go to Arches and then travel to a little place to camp where the road to Canyonlands connects with the highway that brought us to Moab. The plan is to sleep there tomorrow, so we'll be just twenty miles away from Canyonlands National Park.

It's going to be a good time because I think Canyonlands is just as impressive as the Grand Canyon. It's not as well known as the Grand Canyon, but I think it's just as magical.

That will be on Sunday. Tomorrow, Saturday, is Arches. Canyonlands on Sunday. And that will conclude our five-Utah-national-parks tour.

Before retiring, I updated the website. The nearby inn allowed me to use their Wi-Fi. I updated the miles ridden, which are now over five thousand one hundred since I started on February 27. I also updated a few more days of this journal, which is still quite a bit behind. I had just uploaded Day one hundred fifty-five and now Day one hundred seventy-six, so I have twenty-one days that I need to refine and log.

I think I'm going to need at least three or four days of time to catch up. It's time-consuming to clean up the audio files, but I don't want to let these days disappear into the blur of everything that's happening. There are too many people, places, conversations, and little moments that I know I'll want to remember.

So I'll find the time. The journal may be twenty-one days behind, but the story is still unfolding. For now, I have tomorrow's ride to think about, and somewhere ahead are Arches, Canyonlands, and whatever else the road decides to put in front of me.

Roll 4 Nature.

The twenty-second of August was Day one hundred seventy-seven. It began in Moab and ended at the junction where the highway leads toward Canyonlands, about twenty-two miles from the park. It rained a little during the wee hours of the morning, but it was just a sprinkling.

We spent more time than planned in Moab this morning because we met a guy named Shane. He was on a bicycle, pulling a trailer with a dog in it. Shane has been all over the country, many times over. He keeps coming back to his home base in Moab to recover after his trips.

His dog, Anu, is just adorable. She has been sick for a while, and Shane went to Mexico to get medicine for her because he couldn't afford the veterinary costs and medication in the United States. He had to diagnose her himself because of the waiting time to see a veterinarian. It looks like he diagnosed her correctly because she seems to be in relatively good spirits. The main difference in Anu since her illness is that she now prefers to ride in the trailer instead of running alongside him.

After we'd talked for a while, we found out Shane was heading to the bicycle graveyard located in the parking lot next to where we had stayed. He told us we were welcome to scavenge parts for our bikes, so we went with him.

There were at least forty bikes over there, all in different conditions. I was looking for a derailleur that might serve better than the one I have, and Sean was looking for a better mounting system for a basket and rack to carry things on Judy, his bike.

He ended up with a pretty nice basket that we attached to the back with a rack that is really durable. I think the setup will serve him well until he moves on from that bike. Installation took most of the morning.

It was about noon when we headed to Arches. On the way, I got a call from Lloyd, a truck driver who lives in South Jordan and whom I hope to see soon. I almost fell off my bike when I learned that he was going to pass Arches on his way back home and was only about two hours from where I was.

It was a pretty bright sparkle of serendipity.

It was about two o'clock before we started riding in earnest, up a very steep hill to begin the ride. When I was nearing the top, I got another call from Lloyd. He told me that he had seen Marcus and Cleopatra in the parking lot of Arches when he passed by. What a random happening in such a remote part of Utah.

The ride to Devil's Garden was eighteen miles from the visitor center, where we were told we would see quite a few arches. There were four significant climbs and two significant descents, where we got up to thirty-eight miles an hour. With that experience, we knew what we were in for on the way back—mostly downhill, but with a couple of significant climbs woven in.

About nine miles into the ride, we stopped to see Balanced Rock, one of the most amazing things I've witnessed during our travels. A huge, egg-shaped chunk of sandstone sits perched atop a base of softer material, which is eroding faster than the egg. One of these days, that boulder is going to topple over. Standing underneath it, it's not so hard to believe that it could happen at any time... definitely a humbling experience.

We went around the park until the sun went down because we wanted to see as many arches as we could. My favorite was Pine Tree Arch, which is one you can actually walk through. It looks like a portal into another dimension. It's so amazing how erosion can cut away a huge hole inside this really formidable rock. And to think that the wind did that over centuries or millennia.

The experience was just magical.

We rode back, and it was Sean's turn to ride from the visitor center to the place we were planning to stay, about six miles away. He decided to go back down the hill for some ice, so it was more like sixteen miles for him. He's in such good shape.

Since I had some extra time, I had dinner in the visitor center parking lot: a hard-boiled egg, thanks to our friend Hopi in Boulder, and some protein powder with milk. I needed to use up that milk because we were out of ice in the fridge. There were a few more things in the fridge that would make breakfast tomorrow.

I drove up to the Canyonlands turnoff and found a nice place to park behind another truck and trailer on a piece of paved road that was kind of a little cul-de-sac. There's a pavilion with some information boards concerning Canyonlands. It doesn't look like it's frequented very much, so hopefully nobody will care that we're parked here.

The plan is to visit Canyonlands in the morning, come back and sleep one more night here, and then head north to South Jordan. I can't believe that tomorrow we'll be visiting the last of the Utah national parks.

I was able to call several of my friends in Salt Lake and my mother, who lives in South Jordan, to reiterate our plans and approximate arrival date. There is a chance of a bit of a delay, or of getting there earlier. If anything, I think we'll arrive later than I plan. If all goes according to schedule, we should arrive in South Jordan on Wednesday night.

Tomorrow is Canyonlands. After that, we turn north toward South Jordan. For tonight, we're parked just twenty-two miles from the next adventure, and that's close enough.

It's almost twelve-thirty, so I'm going to bed.

Forty-six and three-tenths miles on the day.