Day 7: It's a Big, Big World
It's a big, big world. But in some places, the world is just,... bigger.
After yesterday's hard-won 100 miles (the hardest yet on the 2019 Prefrontal Tour), we needed a day to get our mojo back. We left Cortez after a heavy rain passed in the night, the tops of its mesas hidden in low-lying clouds, and turned west for Kanab, Utah.
In 325 miles we had a lot to do and see, and we needed to traverse the rest of Colorado, parts of Arizona, and a handful of Utah. Off the cuff, if Colorado is marked by elk and bison jerky, then Arizona and Utah are Indian jewelry and millenials sitting on the yellow line getting a righteous selfie. Jack and I stopped and got a selfie of ourselves just for good measure, and to document their untimely deaths if necessary. We're helpful like that.
We went through Page (the home of Lake Powell and that iconic riverbend photo), and rode amazed through Monument Park and the Valley of the Gods - all variegated red mesas and peaks in cold sharp relief at elevation, and rock formations melted into swirling shapes from the desert heat at the roadside - necks craning from side to side trying to take it all in.
We stopped briefly in Mexican Hat for a photo opportunity and mistakenly switched to the warm weather gloves, only to get back into 40-something and rain over the next rise. We were lucky in that we spent the day wending between downpours, the road running a straight line at the impending gloom and solid curtain of water, only to turn at the last moment and leave us with a glancing blow.
There was no desert heat today, temperatures are still 20 degrees below normal, but we managed a hearty 50-something for much of the day. Overall the sky was puffy, happy clouds, but you can see so far in the desert that you have a perfect view when a cloud goes rogue, pops a squat, and dumps a black wall of water on the unfortunate souls below.
There's usually not an hour goes by that I don't see something and wish Sue were here to witness it together, but today offered an even more poignant moment. All of the recent rain has sparked a flower bloom, igniting the floor of the desert with a carpet of amethyst blossoms that collaborated with the silver clouds to frame burgundy bluffs and olive vegetation. All colors that recall our wedding and honeymoon.
It was a spectacular, indescribable day that I hope you'll take the opportunity to see for yourselves.
Until next time. Onward and upward!
After yesterday's hard-won 100 miles (the hardest yet on the 2019 Prefrontal Tour), we needed a day to get our mojo back. We left Cortez after a heavy rain passed in the night, the tops of its mesas hidden in low-lying clouds, and turned west for Kanab, Utah.
In 325 miles we had a lot to do and see, and we needed to traverse the rest of Colorado, parts of Arizona, and a handful of Utah. Off the cuff, if Colorado is marked by elk and bison jerky, then Arizona and Utah are Indian jewelry and millenials sitting on the yellow line getting a righteous selfie. Jack and I stopped and got a selfie of ourselves just for good measure, and to document their untimely deaths if necessary. We're helpful like that.
We went through Page (the home of Lake Powell and that iconic riverbend photo), and rode amazed through Monument Park and the Valley of the Gods - all variegated red mesas and peaks in cold sharp relief at elevation, and rock formations melted into swirling shapes from the desert heat at the roadside - necks craning from side to side trying to take it all in.
We stopped briefly in Mexican Hat for a photo opportunity and mistakenly switched to the warm weather gloves, only to get back into 40-something and rain over the next rise. We were lucky in that we spent the day wending between downpours, the road running a straight line at the impending gloom and solid curtain of water, only to turn at the last moment and leave us with a glancing blow.
There was no desert heat today, temperatures are still 20 degrees below normal, but we managed a hearty 50-something for much of the day. Overall the sky was puffy, happy clouds, but you can see so far in the desert that you have a perfect view when a cloud goes rogue, pops a squat, and dumps a black wall of water on the unfortunate souls below.
There's usually not an hour goes by that I don't see something and wish Sue were here to witness it together, but today offered an even more poignant moment. All of the recent rain has sparked a flower bloom, igniting the floor of the desert with a carpet of amethyst blossoms that collaborated with the silver clouds to frame burgundy bluffs and olive vegetation. All colors that recall our wedding and honeymoon.
It was a spectacular, indescribable day that I hope you'll take the opportunity to see for yourselves.
Until next time. Onward and upward!
