Provo to Price...Still in Utah, though

I hate my alarm clock. I use my mobile phone as an alarm clock becasue I don't trust the motel alarm clocks. I am most definitely an alarm clock snob because I just don't trust my schedule to a $5 piece of electronic equipment that can't even tell time on it's own. Yeah it keeps time, after it's master (me) tells it what time it is to begin with. If I just let it do it's own thing, the alarm clock would think that it is always 12 o'clock. What an idiot, huh? My mobile is of a much higher caliber and tells me the time, without me dropping hints. Anyway, my mobile has a rooster crowing as my alarm clock (I'm a traditionalist, what can I say?) and I hat it almost as much as the standard alarm buzzer. Either one makes me want to cry, then punch the clock in a fit of tears and anger.

We left Provo, Utah today and headed south and east to Price, Utah. Today was to be a special day, however. Each day brings it's own surprise and today took us on a path through American history. As we left town and headed east we were greeted by one of the most picturesque natural scenes of the trip. We rode through the Uinta National Forest which you would think is mostly trees, but near the end of the canyon that we rode through we came upon some of the most stunning rock formations.

Sheer rock faced cliffs shot up from the ground, dotted with whatever green plants could find enough surface to grasp to while boulders sat on their precarious perches as if a breeze would knock them loose. In the heart of the canyon was a coal mine, providing a fitting juxtaposition of the beauty of nature and the ineveitablity of industries encroachment.

The highlight of the day for me was seeing Butch Cassidy. That's right, THE Butch Cassidy, of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Ok, well, not the real Butch, obviously, but we saw an actual photograph of him. We stopped at the Hilltop Country Service Station in Colton, Utah, which is on top of our climb out of the canyon. Colton used to be a town of about 250 people back at the turn of the 20th century. Back in those days there were service stations for the trains every seven miles of track so these towns would spring up at these service stations and Colton was one of them. Well the owner/operator/cashier/everything of the Hilltop Country Service Station is Dennis Finch. Dennis is 78 years old and just happens to have had relatives that were a part of nearly every piece of Utah history. Dennis' great grandfather was the sheriff of Colton and actually grew up next door to Butch Cassidy. Dennis showed us a picture of his great grandfather with Butch Cassidy. The picture was taken by his great, great uncle and has been an heirloom that has been passed down and is now Dennis'. Dennis also had an original wanted poster of Butch Cassidy.

Dennis' family lineage doesn't end there. Mr. Finch told us of how his great, great, aunt was a part of the Sager family that was travelling from Missouri to Oregon until the children's parents died in a indian attack, leaving the seven children to forge on alone. There was a movie made in the seventies titled "Seven Alone" that told their story.

Dennis is a living piece of history. We sat like school children, drinking a Cherry Coke, listening to Dennis in his scratchy, weathered voice telling us his second-hand account of interesting pieces of the past through his families lives. I was happy to have walked into his store and heard his tales.

From there we trudged on to Price. Price is a small coal mining town with a dinosaur museum that has an unbelievably impressive collection of dino bones. They have the most complete skeleton of a Colombian Mammoth in existence. The remains were found only miles from the museum.

To round out the day the few of us that rode together got lunch in Price at a place called Moe's. Apparently at Moe's there is a challenge where if you can eat their Moe's Big Burger, which is a full pound (after being cooked) of hamburger with a side of their Moe's big fries (which is two pounds of fries) and a 32 ounce soda in under six and a half minutes, you get your meal free as well as your name etched in the annals of Moe's wall of fame. We all dared each other but none of us committed, probably after realizing that the gastrointestinal damage that could occur with a meal of that proportion was not worth the $6.75 that you would save by getting the meal for free if you could best the herculean feat. Sean, a rider from the UK decided that he must eat the one pound burger, however. Upon ordering, the chef came out from the back and asked him if he would like to attempt Moe's challenge. Sean thought about it, but respectfully declined. I included a picture of the burger. The bun alone could feed an adult for weeks. For the record, Sean did eat the whole burger, but he still wimped out on the challenge...quiter.

Lets All Go to the Lobby

The motel lobby has become a congregating place as our adventure rolls forward. I am actually typing this in the lobby of the Marriot Fairfield Inn, in Provo, Utah. If you sit in the lobby for a while you get a great cross-section of the folks on this ride. As I sit here Tom, a quirky older guy, is taking his shirt off to go for a jog. Apparently the 68 mile ride today was not enough of a workout for him. As he adjust his ipod on his arm he walks by Jack and Sean who are having a glass of wine on the patio of the motel bar/cafe. Most likely Jack and Sean are figuring out what sights to see in the city. Across the lobby floor on the lobby couch is young Bob (not to be confused with old Bob, who is older than young Bob...we are a creative bunch) who is busily updating his blog and updating his hundreds of pictures from the days action onto his Apple computer.

Then we have the observers. The observers are the guys and gals who will have a conversation if they are obliged, but generally keep to themselves and take in the sights. We have a few different types of observers with us. There are the ones who look lost, the symptoms of which are: sketchy demeanor, constantly blinking, with a look of astonishment at every turn. Then you have the strong, silent types. You can spot these ones because they always have a hot beverage. Even in motels that don't have hot beverages anywhere in the town, they seem to have either found a hot beverage or are just blowing on the liquid in their irrespective of if the liquid is hot or cold while they eyeball the scene. The last type is what I like to call the butterfly. Butterflies walk around, some with beverage, some without, and smile as they pass, or wave, but they never sit down and chat, they are always on the move. Butterflies are like the kid in the school cafeteria on the first day of school who is not quite sure who he wants to sit next to because it will determine their rung on the social ladder.

I consider myself a busy bee with time for a chat. I say hello to all that pass and invite a conversation but if not engaged I busily tap away on my laptop. I am most definitely an observer as well. To get most anywhere in the motel you need to pass through the lobby, so it is a great place to get a pulse on the group. The lobby is one of my favorite places to people watch.

Today is...I have no idea

How much do earrings for a pirate cost? A Buck-an-earrr!! Get it? I always like a strong opening. Well, today was another day and I'm not sure what day today was. I think it was a Thursday. My daily routine is one that does not require me to know the day of the week, just the time of day. This has made my relationship with time vague at times, especially when you add that to the fact that I just crossed a time zone.

The simple routine that we play out everyday is easy to fall into. Wake up, eat your pre-planned breakfast, get on your bike, ride to the next town, check-in to the motel, eat pre-planned dinner, sleep, repeat. That has been my routine for the past 12 days. After falling into such a regimented routine it will be hard for me to adjust to real life when I finally have to grow up and leave Neverland. I can see why prisoners have such a hard time adjusting to reality when they are released. Although I guess I would have an easier time than a prisoner because I still have the right to vote, and all those other rights that free people have.

When time becomes less about calendar dates and days of the week, you learn to appreciate the sun coming up. Days don't even have a feeling anymore. I have given up saying," it feels like a Wednesday". What does that even mean anyway? Days don't feel like anything anymore, they are all just days. I am not even close to as plugged into the rest of the world as I am when I am home, so I when I wake up I don't read the news or turn on the television, I just look outside. I plan my day according to the sky. If it looks like there's going to be weather, I pack a jacket. If it's sunny, I pack sunscreen. If it's thunder, lightning, and hail, I pack my bike...into the van that is.

Today I actually watched the news. The world is the same it seems. Iran is protesting, Obama has cat-like reflexes in his fly killing ability, a pilot died while flying, and the Dow Jones Industrial Average is up today but down for the week. I looked outside after I watched the news on television to get the news that was most immediate to me It was a sunny day, with patchy clouds dotting the sky over the Wasatch mountains. Tomorrow we will be on our way out of Salt Lake City and pedaling toward Colorado. I don't know what the date is, but I know the sun will be coming up and I will be planning my day on what Mr. Sunshine tells me.

The Salt Flats

It is amazing how much nothing is in America. I had to laugh at the fact that today, 34 of us were stopped on the side of the road snapping pictures of nothing. We sat in awe, chatting, discussing the nothingness on the horizon. Well, it is not exactly "nothing". The Bonneville Salt Flats are quite an impressive sight. The world land speed record has been set and reset dozens of times this vast area of nothing but flat packed salt. We rode our bikes across the entire expanse of the salt flats. It took us two and a half hours to cross the flats. It was like riding on a treadmill because the mountains in the distance simply do not get any closer and the scenery on the side of the road (the salt flats) never change either.

I rode today and we stayed in a big group, chatting it up to kill the time as we pedaled through Utah on our way to Salt Lake City. After riding for such a long period of time some of us had to take a natural break. Even though Nevada was flat, there were small bushes to at least provide a small bit of cover, shielding our unmentionables from the road traffic. On the salt flats it is all out in the open. So what did we do? We went anyway. Let me tell you that there is a side of cycling that no one really likes to talk about, one of them is urination. On the salt flats nothing is hidden. I contemplated offering the service of writing a message in the salt for a nominal fee to those passing by, however I felt it might be a conflict of interest with the job I was hired to do.

I found out today while chatting with the bunch how valuable striking up a simple conversation can be. I am a fairly random person so when I chat with someone I generally stray away from topics that are irrelevant, to me at least, like the weather. Instead I get right into things and it usually speeds up the conversation to the good stuff. I was talking with one of the guys on the trip who happened to be in the military in the early 1960s. He was stationed in Turkey and broke Russian codes. I was fascinated. I have been like a kid in a candy store finding out about each person. Tom, a different guy, is a real cut up. Tom is always quick with a witty remark but after talking to him I found out that he designed jet fighters and also developed flight simulators for the Air Force.

Today we rode 117 miles on our bikes, which gave us plenty of time to talk. It was a long day and my brain is fried. This blog entry is terrible. I promise that the next entry will be better because this is two boring ones in a row. I'll get a good nights sleep and come back strong tomorrow. Here are some pictures to enjoy in the mean time.

A Mobile Nation

In 1956 the Federal Aid Highway Act unified what had been a mixture of separate and rather ineffective highway funding bills.  Although President Eisenhower is historically given the lion's share of credit for America's Interstate system, it had been in the works for years prior.  What Eisenhower's administration did do for our impressive roadways was help consolidate the dozen or so separate highway bills into one comprehensive program.  The Federal Aid Highway Act called for 41,000 miles of quality, high speed road ways making it easy for people to travel from coast to coast, expanding commerce, and making our nation more mobile.

Now the United States boasts over 46,000 miles of Interstate and is by far the most mobile nation of it's size.  Our interstates are used by families, truckers, the military, tour buses, and bicycles.  For the past few days and for many days to come we have been on I-80 and each hill we crest gives way to a view of seemingly endless, perfectly straight roads that are a product of the Federal Aid Highway Act.  I am just amazed at this country with every mile we cover.

Today we drove into Wendover, Nevada which is the last city for our tour in Nevada.  As we crested the hill and descended into Wendover a storm brewed ahead.  From the top of the hill you can see the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah which are so vast you can see the curvature of the Earth, and today, as the storm ahead rained on the salt flats we were treated to the brightest, most full rainbow I have ever seen.

I did not agree to come on this trip in search for anything specific.  Some of the riders are here for charity, a few are here in honor of a friend that passed, and some just to see America, but I have no specific goal.  I have tried to learn as much as I can about this great nation while on this trip because there is no better education than one that is hands on.  The Interstate has become a staple of my everyday thoughts.  I am impressed by our roadways.  I apologize for the history lesson but we really take advantage of our roadways without ever stopping to realize that we have enough miles of interstate in America to circle the Earth twice.  Ok, I'm done with the educational crap.  Im off to bed because we lose an hour tonight as we ended our journey for the day crossing into the Central Time Zone.  It's kinda crazy that we've ridden our bikes across a time zone.

America, One Shampoo Bottle at a Time

We have now stayed in 9 different motels on our cross country trek, and each of them has had different shampoos, soaps, and lotions. I am by no means a snob when it comes to my hygiene products, so rather than lug around a bunch of toiletries I use what the hotel gives me. I have noticed that most motels try to keep the soap, shampoo, and lotion the same uniform fragrance. Last night was "Honey Clover" and it looks like tonight is "Mandarin Berry". Most of the scents seem to have been designed for a situation in which you are forced to use them, because no one in their right mind would seek out "Cherry Banana Pine" scented lotion. Maybe I am wrong, perhaps some people like to smell like a forest and a gorilla with a smattering of cherry mixed in. I wonder if there is any real plan as to what scent the motel wishes upon it's tenants, or if they just survey the bargain bin of rejects at the local drug store? Some of the motels have completely bypassed fragrance uniformity and just given us whatever the hell they feel like.

I must say that anyone who has the chance should see a great big place in bite sized increments, i.e. 70 miles at a time. We are resting in Elko, Nevada today, which is actually a real city in comparison to all of the towns and quasi villages we have been staying in so far. When we ride into town we usually get in before our rooms are ready so we usually go to lunch in our bike clothes, and we get questions because there are not too many Lycra-clad bicycle riders around. We usually get the same reaction from people, "wow, you're riding your bikes across the country?" Today, though, we got a great reaction from the lady at the Dairy Queen. When she asked where we were riding from I told her that we are going across the country and she said, "What's wrong with you? Why don't you just drive? I just don't understand. That is not smart at all, you can get hurt or you could fall." I told her we take care of ourselves and she continued to tell me that this was all a bad idea. I paid for my milk shake, thanked her, wished her well, and sipped my coconut banana milk shake. The Dairy Queen lady brought up valid points, but I really could not understand why it seemed as if she was mad at me. People are funny.

Real quick, as I am typing this I just saw a commercial that was hilarious. I don't even know what the name of the store was, but the commercial was all computer animation that looked like it was created on a computer from the seventies and the voice over guy was yelling at the top of his lungs. I could not understand a word the guy was saying. The best part is at the end of the commercial they showed a picture of the store front and I swear to God there was a finger on the lens and there is a guy checking his car tire in front of the store's sign. It's like they outsourced the production of their commercial to freaking kindergartners.

Tomorrow is our last night in Nevada before we cross into Utah. It is very fitting that there is a border separating these two states because Nevada is the wild west, where anything goes, and Utah is, well, Utah. Nevada has the sound of slot machines and the pungent aroma of cigarette smoke in nearly every establishment and Utah has, well, it's Utah. Nevada has bikers who carry big knives on their belts and Utah has, well, it's just Utah. I am going to enjoy my last couple of nights in Nevada.

Just in case you were wondering.

Worst scent: Pecan Paprika Pineapple (I swear they made this purely for the alliteration)

Best scent: Apple Blossom (It was sweet, light, and made me happy)

Sorry for the pictures that have nothing to do with the blog. I didn't really have any pictures that related to the story. The pictures are of this really pretty canyon that we rode through. The road was closed so the it was really quiet, green, and just beautiful.

Points of Interest

It is all too easy to drive by all the little towns that dot the Interstate and write them off as being nothing more than a place to pee or grab a pack of Twinkies before heading back on the road, but I have found that these towns are more than just truck stops. Our group stays in motels that are nothing more than a bed, a window, and a bathroom, so all of us try to get outside and see the sights as much as possible. Each town we stop in has a different flavor as well as having their own unique claim to fame. We stayed in Winnemucca, Nevada last night, which was holding the Nevada State High School Rodeo Championships. We stopped by the rodeo grounds to see and sure enough, there are teenage boys and girls roping pigs, riding bulls, and taming bucks. I was astonished high school rodeo existed. Apparently the students take it as a physical education class. I never would have been able to take that class for two reasons: my mom wouldn’t let me play football due to the danger so there would have been no chance that she would give me the OK to ride a bucking bronco, and I would never have been able to ride that bull home after checking it out of the school stable.

Winnemucca was also the site of a Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid robbery. In fact there was a bar that we went to aptly named Butch Cassidy’s. The only reason we went there was because the shuttle driver for the bus was giving us the low down on all the bars in town and he said that Butch Cassidy’s had the worst smell of any place he had been, so we had to see what he was talking about. The smell was quite pungent, a kind of body odor crossed with dead reptile. We didn’t stay long, on account of the smell.

One thing I always like to do is scan the brochures in the motel lobbies. I always find it interesting to see what the town wants you to see while you are there. Some towns steer you towards a historic building, other towns want you to visit the local eateries. Tonight we are staying in Battle Mountain, Nevada (population about 2900). I found it quite peculiar that here in Battle Mountain, which is roughly 750 miles from Anaheim, California, has a brochure in the motel lobby for Knott’s Berry Farm. I find it a bit of a stretch to claim that Anaheim is “only a day’s ride for a lifetime of fun.”

A quick side note about Winnemucca is that they are a mining town. There are about three or four gold mines on the outskirts of the town and the town boasts a 2 percent unemployment rate because gold is at near record highs and the mines can’t get it out of the Earth fast enough. Good news on the economic front, at least for Winnemucca.