The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men,
Gang aft agley....
Today began, as usual, with a look at the weather forecast. These had been more or less reliable when we were in parts where 'hot and dry' is pretty much a sure thing. Of late, though, they have been understated at best. Yesterday, for example, they forecast scattered showers for our route, with no mention of lightning storms. And if you don't remember what happened yesterday, scroll down to that post.
Today's forecast for Cortez, Colorado, and Mesa Verde National Park was mostly sunny in the morning, with no chance of showers till the afternoon, and then only isolated showers, and only a 40 per cent probability. When we set out, there was an occasional hint of sunlight peeking through the clouds, which hung low over the mountains.
Google maps was no better, (mis-)informing us that Mesa Verde was half a mile down the road. In fact, the park gate was 10 miles away, and the points of interest a further 23 from there.
You can't choose the weather, though. Neither do you get to choose how far you need to travel to get where you're going. We wound our way through the mountains of Western Colorado, to the park gate, and up the brilliantly twisty road to the top of Mesa Verde. We had to slow down for a deer along the way, who skipped off the road an down an embankment at the sound of my engine gearing down.
The deer, however, did not slow us nearly as much as motorhomes and Harley riders, which in combination make the Amish look like speed demons. Are we seriously going to slow down to less than 15 miles an hour around this curve? Are you ****ing kidding me! Thankfully, they pulled in at the visitors centre, allowing us to pick up the pace from there to the archaeological sites.
The cliff dwellings were the homes of the Anasazi, and the sites date from around 600 - 1300 A.D. Not all that long ago, really. I remember being in a church in London that was built in the seventh century, and Dante sent all his enemies (and many popes) to hell in the thirteenth century. Still, although these seem primitive compared with London and Venice and Tuscany, they are fascinating. It's hard to fathom why anyone would choose to live on the side of a cliff, rather than on the top of the Mesa, or down in the valley below.
 |
| Anasazi Condo for Sale: a bit of a fixer upper. |
Although, if you're going to, Mesa Verde is a beautiful place to choose for it. The scenery is phenomenal. And you have the intermittent entertainment of spectacular lightning storms. (Thankfully, not while we were atop the mesa!)
The only downside to our visit was the preponderance of tour groups. One group had a gaggle of Northern Englanders being toured through various viewing areas by an elderly Texan with a big, Western accent, like something out of an old movie. One of the group was kind enough, though, to take a picture of me and Colin - proof that we were there.
When we got to the part of the park where you can climb down a ladder to the level of one of the dwellings, we found out that you had to buy a ticket and join a ranger-led tour. But there was a catch. You couldn't buy that ticket there. You had to buy it back at the visitors' centre that we'd decided would best be left till the way down, some four miles away.
We weren't sure we had time - or gas, for that matter, as we hadn't filled up before leaving Cortez, thinking it was going to be a very short ride to the park. My trip-metre read 250 km by the time we got back down to the visitors' centre, which is about when I try to make sure I fill up. And we were about 20 km from the nearest gas station. On top of that, on the way down it had begun to rain. We'd kind of had our fill of storms.
The rain quickly fizzled out, but my tank didn't get any fuller until we reached the town of Mancos. It was on the way to Durango, where Colin was hoping the local Harley Davidson dealer would have some heated pants he could integrate with his HD heated jacket and gloves. We rode for a while in the cool clear air of the mountains, with occasional moments of sunshine, until about twelve miles from Durango we saw a storm cloud that towered what looked like a mile above the mountain tops. It was nearly black, and stretched across the entire horizon.
Thankfully, it seemed to be moving away to the Southeast, and was moving almost as fast as we were. A few sprinkles was all we saw from it, though the pavement was soaked and the water sprayed up from our tires as we rode into town.
The dealership was a bust. If the geniuses who run Harley Davidson want to know why they can't seem to make money, it's because they are more concerned with image than with motorcycling. Not only are their bikes badly designed, but their 'store' has more 'fashion' than gear on offer. And all the gear they have is HD branded. Most real motorsports dealers carry a variety of gear - and a variety of bikes, too! All Harleys are variations on a theme, while Honda, Suzuki, BMW, Motoguzzi and others develop more varied lines that reflect the diversity of interests in the market.
What saved Durango - a pretty town, nestled in the Animas River valley - was where we at lunch. Serious Texas BBQ also managed to save BBQ for Colin on this trip. The State Line, back in El Paso, had been disappointing, but this was truly good stuff. Colin got a combo plate of brisket and sausage with a side of cole slaw, while I had a pulled pork sandwich and a side of beans. The sandwich was incredibly good, especially the cherry chipotle salsa they put on it, and the beans were nice and spicy.
Now in our happy place, as far as food went, we were off to Moab, Utah, to visit Arches National Park. We had originally planned to arrive in the early afternoon, book into a motel, unload the bikes, and set off unladen into the park. But, as so often happens, things didn't work out that way, and the earliest we could expect to arrive would be half past five. Still, with the storm past, the weather was fine, and we were looking forward to the ride.
Were weren't far from the state line dividing Colorado and Utah when it became apparent we weren't going to be able to sneak in between the two storms looking in the foreground. We pulled into a gas station in Dove Creek, and took the opportunity to get our gear ready for the rain. A couple of other bikers, one on a BMW R1200GS, his partner on a Kawasaki KLR, had the same idea. While talking with them, we discovered that Moab was fully booked for the night. They rode off, and we followed shortly after. This storm had only a little lightning, and we only got a little wet and were quickly through to the other side and brilliant sunshine and fluffy white clouds as far as the eye could see (provided it was looking West).
Reaching Monticello a few minutes later, we pulled into a parking lot and called a couple of motels in Moab, but no luck. Not only were they full, but we were told the room rates had tripled this weekend. Something to do with a bike race. (We found out later it was a Century Ride.) We tried Blanding, a little to the South, but no luck there either. We decided we might as well see if there was room in town. Luckily there was, not 200 ft away, at the Wayside Motor Inn. Fitting, as Colin said, since that's just where Moab left us: at the wayside.
A few minutes ago, another storm past through. Chain lightning. Thunder. Pouring rain. Then, gone. The forecast this morning called for clear skies in this area for the next week.
We called ahead to Kanab and Panguitch, but they are full up for the weekend, as is Torrey. We'll ride to Arches in the morning, then down to Cedar City, where we've already booked a room. Planning much beyond that is likely folly.
No comments:
Post a Comment