The Washboard Highway

I’m not really concerned about anyone reading this but I’m going to write it with the expectation that someone will because that’s what I’m used to from my old blog.  This little site is for me and perhaps others may find this tale entertaining. This is going to be long and rambling and might contain more Land Cruiser content than some of you care to read about but that’s how it goes. With that warning let’s move along…

I purchased a 2003 Land Cruiser last spring with the goal of replacing my beloved Ruby Claire (my 1997 Cruiser that took me to Alaska and Ushuaia and tens of thousands of miles in between.) A funny thing happened with that little purchase. I felt re-energized about exploring again, about getting out and seeing the world, a rekindled sense of adventure. I’d made some trips to Baja and some awesome journeys through Utah but they were always big trips. Lots of planning and lots of money. Shortly after the 100 purchase, and christening her Wynonna, I took a trip through Death Valley and fell in love, again, with the desert, with aimless wandering, and just going. I purchased a National Park pass on that trip with the intent of using it as much as possible. Back in the late 90s and early 2000s a park pass was an annual purchase. Over the years my aversion to crowds, and a continual push to see things more remote, more desolate and farther away (trips to Deadhorse, AK and Ushuaia, Argentina for example) began to take over the small local trips. My goal over the Christmas holiday was to combine the old and the new. My company shuts down every year so with little more planned than hike to Delicate Arch the day after Christmas and find my way to White Sands, NM, a place I’d never seen before, I hit the road.

After finding my way to the North entrance to Arches, NP on Christmas night I threw down my tarp and bag to what I knew would be a cold night. By 430am the beautifully clear, starlit night, cooled to a biting 6 degrees. With that I climbed in my truck, started the heater and tried to get myself warm. I woke a few hours later and wandered the washboard road into Arches. I arrived at the Delicate parking lot to a few cars and with temps now soaring to 14 degrees started up the sandstone trail. When I turned the corner to see the iconic entrada sandstone arch two very interesting things happened. One, I was mad it had been 12 years since I’d been there and two, I was alone. It’s very difficult to find solitude at such a famous landmark but for 3omins it was just me. No wind, no noise, no wildlife. A solitary man and the beauty of mother nature. I took a few pics to capture the moment but for the most part I just sat and soaked it all in. A few tourists started to trickle in and with the scenery sufficiently processed I took a few pics for a family from Oklahoma and began the walk back to the car. I scrambled down into the bottom of the bowl, where I picked up 3 or 4 pieces of trash (a recurring theme of my whole trip was the guy who loves desert racing and gas guzzling SUVs was the guy picking up trash at every park and preserve he visited) and took the back way down to the parking lot. By now the temps had climbed into the high 30s and being dressed for mid-teen temps and in all black I began to sweat quite a bit. All fine and dandy until you strike up a pleasant conversation with two attractive young ladies and all you can think about is the steam billowing off your bald head and sweat running down your face. Another photo taken for some German tourists, another piece of trash picked up, and it was time for me to move on. Back in the car, layers shed, and I was off. Where I was off to I had no idea. Gemini Bridges? Island in the Sky? White Rim? Lockhart Basin? Plenty of options and all of them fantastic.

When people want to chat about my trip down the Pan-American there is one theme that continually bubbles to the top and that is the freedom of the road.  When people want to chat about my trip down the Pan-American there is one theme that continually bubbles to the top and that is the freedom of the road. That freedom is hard to find in a daily life or even over a two week trip and it’s what I miss most. Living every day and making every decision on its own merit is unbelievably rewarding and I was hoping to find some of that freedom on this journey. So with that I left the park and hung a right. That meant White Rim, Island in the Sky, or Gemini.

After finding solace at Delicate Arch I figured why not try Mesa Arch and Island in the Sky. Mesa is usually always packed but perhaps I might get lucky. And I did. There were 2 people there when I arrived but they left shortly after. I took way too many photos and then drove to the Island in the Sky. I took the walk out to end of the trail, which was very crowded, snapped a few pics then decided to head into town via the Schaefer Trail. Oh wait the NPS decided to close it? Really? So you’ll charge me to come into the park but close the one dirt road out of the park? Okay. So backtrack to Long Canyon and one of the most amazing views in the world. Long Canyon in the foreground, Behind the Rocks and the LaSals in the distance. Awesome.

The descent down long canyon was tricky. The first 200 yards were easy although slow and steep as the shaded canyon was covered in 6inches of snow. I came upon one of the steeper sections of the road and it was iced over from people getting stuck trying to go up the road. At this point my very heavy truck, a sheet of ice, and fully inflated tires left me only one option. Point the nose, plan on sliding about 30 feet, and hope. Hope that when I hit dirt again I wouldn’t be going too fast to stop. The risk wasn’t too high as I was in a narrow chute. Some scratched up body work, maybe a dented bumper, but I could definitely stop before I hit the edge of the cliff. Definitely. With that I eased over the ledge and hoped. With the grace and beauty of a musk ox I slid a bit askew down the road until I hit the dirt and came to a rapid stop. An unexpected rush of adrenaline on a road I’ve driven a dozen times but otherwise a piece of cake. I pleasantly rambled down the remainder of the canyon, explained to a few kids in their 89 Oldsmobile sedan that they may want to re-consider their attempt to drive up the road and found my way into Moab.

A quick stop for some food at City Market and it was time to hit the highway south. I figured I’d work my way toward Mesa Verde, NP and Montezuma Creek is the perfect ‘short cut’ to get there. A cottonwood filled canyon in Southeastern Utah that is visited mainly by cattle ranchers and locals, Montezuma Creek contains a hidden gem of a road and the perfect way to end my perfect day in the desert. The descending light created surreal hues in the canyon and camouflaged the hundreds of deer, antelope and cattle that lurked around every high speed corner. This was my first night on this trip and strikingly clean air would be a constant on my trip. I would find myself pausing every night at sunset to try and capture the perfect lighting with my new Canon 60d.

Eventually darkness, real darkness, absent of any light pollution, filled the canyon and I settled into an old groove. Driving way too fast down a dirt road in the dark, heater cranked, sunroof open, music a little on the loud side and happy as I could be. Dirt turned into gravel, gravel into potted asphalt and slowly the lights of town appeared. After my uncomfortable sleep the night before I figured a motel in Cortez would be a good idea. I grabbed my phone and fired up the Trip Advisor app and found the highly recommended Tomahawk Lodge for $39.  There were far more expensive mainstream options but 2 years ago I learned a valuable lesson while in Tonopah, NV during a violent windstorm.  Some small motel owners take a lot of pride in their service and quality.  At a local’s suggestion I had found a gem in Tonopah and that lesson has stuck with me when I opt to get out of my sleeping bag and the elements.  The owner of the Tomahawk gave me some food tips and I found some excellent carne asada in portions large enough to feed a family, returned to my room and slept very soundly.

Morning came and I reluctantly climbed out of bed and out into the bitter cold. I wanted to get to Mesa Verde at sunrise but my body just wouldn’t let me.  As I was checking out I learned that the park wasn’t open til 9 anyway.  So I found some breakfast, topped off my tanked and slowly meandered out to the park.  Once there I learned that the majority of the ruins were closed for the season due to lack of funding for the NPS and a slow trickle of tourists.   I arrived at the main visitor center, waited for one of the trails to open and wandered down to one of the ruins.  I took a few pics, poked around the ruin where I could and headed back to the car.  As I was pulling out of the parking lot I spotted at least 2 families I’d seen in Arches the day before.  I felt that stir inside to escape the mainstream and find some remote locale for my travels. My first day and half of experiences were great though, and who cares if I was sharing them with a few others. I knew they hadn’t seen Montezuma Creek and my route would provide for plenty of solitude. I was finding the balance I wanted on this trip and that was the goal.  I really had no idea where I was headed after Mesa Verde so I grabbed my map and started looking.  East to Durango then over to Pagosa Springs. I’ve visited Durango a few times but never Pagosa Springs so I figured that would be a good route.  After further study I realized I could get to Taos that night and find a place to camp. One of my friends spends a lot of time there and raves about it. I sent her a text asking for recommendations on food and camping and settled in for a long day of driving.

It’s easy for me to find that driving groove.  Once my mind is set on it I just zone out, process the landscape in front of me and can go for hours. I found out how true this would be today.  I made it through the construction and congestion of Durango and hit some pavement I’d never seen before. Everything became new and exciting. I can find joy in pretty much any road I drive that is new to me. As I was rolling into Pagosa Springs I got a call from my friend Brian Hanson asking me some questions about his 4Runner timing chain swap.  I bring this up because of what he said during the call. For the second time in my life someone compared me to Ernest Hemingway.  For me that’s about the highest compliment I could receive. Of course in Brian’s case it came as “Knowing you is like knowing a less intelligent Ernest Hemingway.” Not a total compliment but I took it as such. That type of comment from a friend really lifted my spirits and even without the amazing terrain and beauty unfolding before me it would have been a glorious day.  Mile after mile, snowcapped peak after snowcapped peak, and small town after small town I wound my way through the very scenic, sunny and desolate northern New Mexico landscape. At one point I went almost two hours without seeing another car.  It was during this time that I really began to reflect on life behind the wheel of a 2UZ powered 100 series Land Cruiser.  I put almost 150k miles on my previous truck over the 7 years of ownership.  I’d driven through 17 countries and pretty much the length of the western hemisphere. I knew it very, very well.  It was underdriven due to the 4.88s, the lumbering straight 6 had plenty of torque but lacked the hp needed to get anywhere fast.  The solid front axle bumpers and roof rack made it a big slow truck. But I loved that pace of things and it was comfortable. Driving a v8 powered IFS truck is easy. It’s smooth, it isn’t burdened by mountain passes or a full load.  Not what I have been condition a Land Cruiser to be but I’m really starting to like it.

I eventually rolled into Taos, and apparently it was the exact wrong time of day.  Between construction, tourists and the end of the work day my travels came to a screeching halt.  Mid-week gridlock in a ski town seemed very weird to me but also frustrating. I grabbed some food at a local sandwich shop and got the hell out of town.  I had seen too many open miles that day to deal with that sort of din and congestion. I hit the road south thinking Santa Fe would be a better stop.  I’d stayed there on my trip home from Oklahoma after picking up Ruby Claire back in 2004 and had good memories. Then that damn desert twilight settled in and the urge to be away from civilization overcame me and I rolled right through Santa Fe.  A few exchanged text from another friend resulted in me finding Route 14 down to Albuquerque.  I stopped to snap a few more pics of the amazingly clear desert sunset and rolled into town just after dark. With the darkness covering the landscape and not really wanting to stay in town I figured I’d make a push for Alamogordo and get to White Sands the following day.   A few hundred  impossibly straight miles of highway and I rolled into town just in time to grab dinner at an open til midnight Wendy’s and crashed at another clean $30 motel in town.  A very long by enjoyable day.  Got a shockingly high 17mpg.  Traveled about 650 miles.  All on pavement.  It was a beautiful 650 miles and one of those days where nothing really happened but I’ll remember it for a very long time.

Woke up the next morning, got gas and breakfast and rolled out to the White Sands National Monument. Not really sure why, this of all places, is where I wanted to get to during this trip but when I found myself in the middle of the dunes I was glad I had made the journey.  My goal was to walk out into the dunes as far as necessary to find a spot with undisturbed sand and no other people. Sky was clear, temps were in the low 50s and it took me just a little over and hour to the perfect spot. After climbing a tall dune, I sat down, took out my camera, a Granny Smith and some peanut butter and soaked in the view.  After snapping a few pics and my quick lunch I started the walk back to my car.  I was headed generally north and the shadowed faces of the dunes were all covered in snow.  I sped up my hike by sliding down the dunes, some as high as 150 feet. I fell one or twice and got going way faster than a man in my physical condition should but it was a blast and I enjoyed every second of it. Until the very last dune. A tiny little guy of about 15 feet.  I slid down it like all the others. Only this one had a deep drift at the bottom. My lead foot sunk in the drift and my knee buckled under me and I stepped down to the road with my other foot.  No big deal, felt a tweak in my quad but that was about it.  I’d find out later that I’d torn my meniscus in the process.

I shed my jacket and set out to take some pics of the yucca plants around the edges of the dunes. I have a weird affinity for the yucca plant that I can’t really explain.  It primarily has to do with the fact that the damn thing will survive just about anywhere in any desert. Add to that the various uses of the flower and the ideal design of the stalk for a spindle fire and you have just about the perfect desert plant. Enough rambling. Just know I spent almost 2 hours taking pictures of yucca.

Back on the road and into, or on to, the unknown.  I really had no idea what to do that afternoon.  The previous day I’d covered so much ground that I was really almost a day ahead of schedule.  Oh wait, what schedule?  Let’s just say it took me much less time to get to White Sands than I anticipated.  So I hit the interstate toward and through Las Cruces. Somewhere near the AZ border I hung a left toward Mexcio and the town of Douglas.  A lovely two lane ribbon of asphalt unfolded before me.  The desert was interrupted by the occasional homestead but nothingness was the theme of the day.  I didn’t see one other car between I-10 and Douglas.  I felt the urge to head into Mexico but I’d intentionally left my passport at home just to avoid such a temptation.  This trek was about exploring the desert southwest of the US.  I’d been in Baja just month earlier and although I was dying to go back I knew I’d find just as much pleasure wandering the ‘local’ roads.  Fast forward a few hours, more empty miles, another spectacularly clean sunset and I arrived in Tombstone, AZ.  I’d been to Tombstone once with my parents as a kid and in my head it was just a small tourist trap but I thought it would be a good place to find some food and some people watching.  Food was okay.  People watching was fantastic.

There were very few tourists in town as it wasn’t peak season.  The streets were pretty much empty with the cold temps and most of the shops were closed.  I wandered around scoping out all the restaurants before choosing one and with the town being little more than 4 streets that took all of 10 mins. Nothing really jumped out to me and then I saw a family looking at their phone and saying something to the effect of ‘it’s down there two streets.’  I assumed they were looking at some sort of tour guide so I decided to follow them, at a safe distance, even though we were the only 6 people on the street, hoping they were headed to the best joint in town.  About half way to their destination the husband and wife started arguing about something. Not sure what. Then they started arguing loudly and it was each blaming the other for getting lost.  Thought that was strange considering they were in a town the size of a football field.  As they crossed the last street in town I felt this rush of embarrassment for them and for me.  These two geniuses now yelling at each other, along with their 3 teenage children had lost their car.  Again 4 streets and the size of a football field. I made a quick about face and hurried back, chuckling the entire way, to the nearest open restaurant.  I always assumed that those apps for marking your car were meant for people in cities like NYC or Chicago.  I now understand they are for idiots.  4 Streets. Size of a football field.  Maybe I should just say I’m thankful for my innate ability to never get lost and keen sense of direction but I won’t.  These people had to use and iPhone app to find their car in Tombstone, AZ during the off season.  How many cars were parked on the street at the time? 2. Mine and theirs.  I’m still laughing about it 5 months later.

After an okay calzone I set off to find a place to camp. Not really sure how I ended up there but Patagonia Lake seemed like a good place to crash.  I threw my pad down and slept very well that night. Not a hint of pain in my knee.   I woke up rather early and realized my painless knee from the night before would not bend.  Something was definitely wrong.   I chucked all my stuff in the back of Wynonna (the beauty of traveling solo in a huge SUV is stuffing a sleeping bag or rolling a pad isn’t necessarily required) and hit the road.  Today was another day with no agenda. I broke out the map and formulated a plan.  First stop, ‘breakfast’.  Yeah really strict agenda there.  I started toward Nogales, found a McDonalds for a breakfast bagel then found a neat little dirt road running straight west along the US/Mexico border then turning northwest toward the town of Ruby.

From the amount of signage and number or Border Patrol agents I could tell this road was a hotspot for illegal immigration and drug runners. The fact that my phone was on the TelCel network the majority of the route indicated exactly how close I was to Mexico. I probably passed 15 trucks out on patrol and was beginning to think something was going on until I stumbled across the base.  Full communications arrays, hundreds of trucks and ATVs and dozens of double wide residences and I realized it was just the hub for this region.   Oddly I didn’t see one other non-border patrol vehicle the entire morning.  Sometime before I got to Ruby I hung a left and decided to follow the border as close as possible. This new road was fantastic with great turns and ridges and uninhabited terrain. The downside is that every time I tried to rally a little bit I’d come across another patrol.   I took a few pics along the way but for the most part just enjoyed the little road I accidentally found myself on while wandering southern AZ.

Around 11 I ran into the pavement and the Sasabe road.  It had been a fantastic morning driving through a desert I never thought I’d see. I decided to take the 286 toward Tucson and a little side trip through Saguaro National Park.  Another chance to use my park pass and possibly a place to go for hike.  It was warm but not necessarily hot and after finding a trail head I realized my knee was in no shape to go hiking. So I found a picnic area, made myself a nice lunch of a cherry coke, peanut butter, a bagel and a Granny Smith.  I hadn’t yet wired up my ARB fridge in the new cruiser and had rented one of the newer style fridges from Kurt at Cruiser Outfitters that runs off a 12v outlet. I liked it so much that after returning home I sold my older style fridge on Expedition Portal and picked up a new one from Kurt.  The beauty of his rental program is that he applies the fee toward a purchase. Yes this is a plug but it worked for me and I highly recommend it.   My favorite part of the new fridge is the digital display.  On my old one I had to run a thermometer up through the cab to keep an eye on the temps.  The display on the new fridge reflects off my rear window and then looks correct in my rear view mirror. No need to run extra wires. Not to mention the battery monitor that allows me to run it, worry free, in my new truck since I’ve yet to install a second battery. (If you can’t tell I’m kind of giddy about my new fridge.)  Lunch finished I left the forest of cacti. I sent my friend Darren a text and told him that although I dig the saguaro it’s nowhere as impressive or majestic as the cardon cactus of Baja. His simple reply ‘that’s because everything is better in Baja’ was genius.  It was right about then that my trip took a very odd and unexpected turn.

I’ve been going on a golf trip with my friends for 11 years.  Every year but one has been at PGA West in La Quinta, CA.  We always consider trying someplace new but we know how amazing the golf and accommodations are in La Quinta so we keep going back. This year some of us were anxious to try something new and I figured since I was in town I might as well do a little recon.  So in the middle of my cheap dirty wander of the southwest I checked into the Hilton El Conquistador Resort just north of Tucscon.   I was shocked to find a room for $109 and figured why not.   Before we get to the resort I just remembered something I found very odd while in Tucson that requires a bit of a digression.  I go to the same gas station near my house pretty much every day for my refilled 44oz of Cherry Coke.  Not once have they given me a free drink. I know that sounds odd but at my previous regular haunts there will be days where it’s on the house. I never would expect it but it’s a nice gesture.  4 times in Arizona, 3 of those in Tucson, the refill was on the house.  So kind and so weird.

It was still early afternoon so I stopped at a mall to pick up an Arizona atlas. I had a goal to get to Utah using as little pavement as possible and need the proper map for doing so.  Eventually I checked into the resort then drove over to check out the golf courses. Not much was visible from the road so I wasn’t able to get a good idea of the conditions or playability.  I returned to the hotel, which has a 9 hole course on property, and decided to go chat with the pro there and see what he had to say.  To his credit he told me that if we were accustomed to PGA West conditions and difficulty we’d be disappointed at his resort.  I told him I appreciated his candor and asked if I could go walk the 9 hole course.  He gave me the go ahead and I went for a walk. Oddly my knee was sore but working just fine. I thought it might just be strained and nothing really injured. The walk was good for me and as the sun set the course took on some incredible hues.  I stumbled across a coyote and tried to snap some pics but failed.  I hopped in Wynonna and wandered around Tucson trying to get a feel of the town. Had a tasty meal with a very impressive waitress at a place called High Falutin, posted up on Facebook about my intentions of a dirt only return to Utah, then fell into bed with my atlas and started planning my route.

The next morning I lingered in bed much longer than I wanted to but finally got rolling after a breakfast at Einstein’s and another free refill and started out toward Oracle and my departure from pavement. It was there I discovered the Willow Spring road. Quite possibly the most enjoyable dirt road I’ve driven in years.  Smooth, banked, fast and great visibility to oncoming traffic.  I drove far more aggressively than I should, drifting at 60mph but it was too hard to resist.  As I got closer to Hayden a voicemail popped up on my phone.  My friends Hampton and Bush were in Phoenix, had seen my Facebook post, and wanted to know what I was doing in AZ. So I called Hampton and chatted with him. Their great aunt had died and they were helping their dad clean out her stuff and get a lot of it sold.   I told them I’d drive up to Mesa and help them load the moving truck.  About 30mins later Hampton called me back and said they’d be done sooner than expected.  At this point I’d abandoned my plan to see only dirt up to Utah and had hit SR 177 toward Superior.  We decided we’d meet in Flagstaff and have dinner.  I planned a route of 2 lane highway up past Teddy Roosevelt Lake, through Payson and Pine. It was another day of glorious 2 lane desolation from the desert up to the Ponderosa Pine forests of Northern, AZ.  I joined I-17 about an hour ahead of Bush and Hampton as they got delayed leaving Mesa.  I had originally planned to camp at the North Rim but it was closed for the winter so we decided to meet in Page as they were going to try and get home that night. I pushed on through Flagstaff pulled over to take some pics of another perfect sunset, stopped at Marble Canyon Gorge and took a leak off the bridge.  Perhaps I even howled like a wolf. I climbed the plateau up to Page, joined the Thorne brothers and their parents at Subway and scored myself a free dinner. (Thanks Morty.)  With the North Rim closed I decided that Toroweap would be a good option.   I spent the next few hours driving dark stretches of highway and 60miles of washboard out to the Toroweap overlook where I set up my tent and fell asleep rather quickly.

At this point I’m just writing for myself because I guarantee no one has read this far and honestly I’m rather tired of typing.  I’m too close to the end to give up however.  I woke up before dawn.  Damn alarm going off while camping? That makes no sense. However, I wanted to see the sunrise fill the canyon so I slowly, and I mean slowly, climbed out of my bag. I’d taken my camera into my tent, knowing how much I hate mornings and managed to snap a few pics as the sun warmed the southeast horizon.  I stuffed my feet into my frozen shoes, threw on some extra layers and hoofed it, gingerly, as my knee was not bending again, over to the rim. It was truly a beautiful morning. Despite other people in the campground I never saw another soul for the 90 mins I spent taking pics.  I loaded up my stuff, again just thrown in the back of my truck and set out for Zion. Of course I had to take the backway (dirt) into Springdale along the way.

My plan to hike Angel’s Landing was sufficiently foiled when I hurt my knee in White Sands. I’d sort of forgotten it was a weekend, New Year’s Eve no less, and the parking lot was full of people heading up the trail so I probably wouldn’t have gone anyway. It had been a number of years since I’d seen the main canyon and it was far more impressive and towering than I had remembered. I stopped to watch a few climbers but felt suffocated by the number or people so I hurried my way through the park to the east and toward the Skutumpah road. This gem of a road follows the southern tip of Bryce Canyon, a few thousand feet below the rim, as it winds its way into Cannonville. As I gained elevation the road got muddier and slicker.  Then I hit the snow.  When I first hit dirt in Orderville (or is it Circleville?) I was bombing along at 65mph. I’d now slowed to around 15 in the mud.  As the road winds down into the river basin it also happens to face north.  I shifted to low/low and crawled my way down the extremely slick and sloppy road.  I’d had very bad luck a few years earlier while wheeling on NYE by myself on a volcano in Panama. Actually scratch that. I had amazing good luck, preventing an awful experience in Panama.  However I look at it, it was an awful experience I’d like avoid again and I was basically getting a sense that this day might end the same. It took me an hour to complete the final 6 miles of the road and by then I was spent.  I hit hwy 12 east toward Escalante and a stretch of road I’ve driven a dozen times or more and zoned out.  I topped off the tank, got myself a coke and set out for Boulder and the Burr Trail.  The declining light made for awesome color from what I think is the pinkest sand stone in Utah and stopped to take some pics of the Henry Mountains as I descended the Muley Twist switchbacks into the Water Pocket fold.  In 3 short sentences I skimmed over what might be the most scenic stretch of highway in Utah if not the entire western US.  But I’ve done it numerous times and for me it was a pleasant but non-thinking evening.  The exact thing I needed after the slow, focused Skutumpah finale.  Or some crap like that.  It was a great evening of beautiful scenery but nothing exciting happened.

By the time I hit the Notom-Bullfrog road it was near dark if only 530pm.  I was torn. It was getting single digit cold outside and I wasn’t keen to camp in the bitter cold again. I was closer to home than I’d been in almost a week but I was still a few hours away.  I rolled through Cainville and into Hanksville.  A lot of ‘villes’ along my route today.  Found some gas and a fountain coke at the hole in the rock gas station , or whatever it’s called. Still unsure about my plans for the night I set out north for the San Rafael Swell.  Somewhere along SR 24 I hit a wall; mentally, emotionally, physically.  I was ready to be home. A combination of a bunch of small little things. Yes I just said ‘small, little’. I have a kick ass vocabulary.  A bunch of disparate, seemingly incongruous, incidents combined to put me in a shitty ass mood.  I decided to call it quits on my journey. I entered the Swell on the Buckhorn Wash road, dropped the windows, cranked the heat and the music and bombed through the swell at an aggressive speed to help get my mind off all the ‘small, little things.’  I soon rolled into Huntington, then Price and Helper. Sub-zero temps accompanied me through Spanish Fork Canyon and now really starting to feel the fatigue I stopped and grabbed one last coke before hitting the freeway.  An hour later I was home and off the road just before the clock struck midnight on 2011.

It was a great little road trip that I ad-hoc’d together. I doubt I’ll ever see some of the stretches again but I’m glad to have seen them once.  At this point I’m damn near 6000 words so why not toss a few more out on the page to see if I can get there. I’m a rambling idiot but when I’m 80 years old I’ll have this to write up to fill in the gaps in my faded memory.  Fortunately I have a few pics too.   Over the course of my 3000 mile road trip I visited 10 National Parks or Preserves: Arches, Canyonlands, Mesa Verde, White Sands, Saguaro, Grand Canyon, Zion, Bryce Canyon, Escalante and Capital Reef.   I covered thousands of miles of roads I’d never seen before and visited a few places I hadn’t seen in years.  Not a bad way to finish 2011.