An October Ride in Southern Utah¶

Just beautiful weather greeted us on our journey through southern Utah. Bob Pollei had called me around the eighth of October and because the weather was so nice, he suggested that we motor on down for a few days to soak up some of the great sun and scenery that Utah had to offer.

It was 11 October that we met up at Denny’s off of the 4500 South I-15 exit. It was shortly after 1100 that we finally took off although we had met at 1000 for breakfast. Did I tell you that Bob likes to talk? However, what he has to say is interesting and he does have a wealth of knowledge.

No sooner had we turned onto US 9 at Spanish Fork, we were brought to a dead stop by construction work. I think it was a good 20 minutes later that we fired up our engines and were on our way. Off to US 89 and a quick lunch break (did I say quick?) at the Home Plate Cafe’ in Fairview. An hour later and just south of Fairview, Bob took me on a side road to Spring City, spread out with homes and buildings made of Oolite stone only found in this area. In fact the whole town is on the National Historic Register, thus improvements are strictly controlled to keep the town in its original state. It was a detour well worth it. Down to Salina to gas up before heading east on I-70. We had decided to detour the very scenic Route 31 between Fairview and Huntington due to the possibility of icy roads (I’ve had enough experience with icy roads riding in Germany, thank you!).

“Where are we heading”, I asked Bob (I had originally decided to just follow Bob as I was there to enjoy the ride and not worry about our destination). “Moab”, was his reply. “Okay”, I said and we entered I-70 with me thinking that we’re going to travel on another boring interstate. How wrong I was! It held breathtaking views, even with the long construction but minimal traffic. I wished at times that we could have found some exits or rest stops just to admire the scenery. We rode slowly enough though to enjoy it.

We exited at Crescent Junction to head to Moab directly. Bob had wanted to go further on I-70 towards Cisco to take the more scenic State 128, but his fuel supply wouldn’t allow him to do so.

Rule Number 1: Don’t let yourself run out of gas! This plays an important role later on.

By the way, he was riding his ‘98 R1100GS and I was riding my ‘04 R1150RT with a much larger fuel tank. We arrived in Moab, got motel accommodations, freshened up and rode to the Branding Iron Restaurant five miles south of town. A good steak dinner (ask Bob about the gristle in his steak!) and I was ready for some shuteye.

Early next morning (early?), a leisurely breakfast, gassing up our mounts, and we were off to Torrey, our next destination. South on US 191 through Monticello to Blanding for a quick break (did I say quick again?). South of Blanding, we turned onto State 95. A bit slow riding, as first, a deer tried to occupy the same road space we were on. That’s a no-no! Next it was cows mooing (sorry!) their way along the same road, vying for the same asphalt we were trying to ride on. Finally we turned onto State 276 towards Halls Crossing to catch the ferry to Bullfrog on Lake Powell.

We arrived at Halls Crossing at 1610 (that’s 4:10 PM). “Hey, when’s the next ferry to Bullfrog?” “It left ten minutes ago”, came the reply from the store clerk. You could’ve heard a pin drop! “You’re kidding, right?” “Nope”. “Okay Bob, you told me it left at 1700”. “Yea, but I forgot to mention that that was from Bullfrog to here; I forgot to check from here to Bullfrog”. First time I’ve heard Bob really curse like a sailor! He was fit to be tied. Great, we’re up the famous crick without the proverbial paddle. A 48 mile trek back to catch US 95 and then an additional 84 miles to Hanksville without a gas station to be found! Bob filled his tank. Me? I had half a tank left – I don’t need fuel. (As a pilot, I very rarely did not miss filing my airplane at an airport that I landed at).

Rule Number 2: Follow Rule Number 1!

Finally we’re on US 95. It’s slow going, I’m hungry, the sun is dropping lower and lower, and it’s desolate country we’re riding through. My gas gauge keeps dropping those funny indicator bars that remind you of just how elixir you’ve got left. Two bars and the road keeps gradually climbing. One bar now. The yellow warning light comes on. I slow down to conserve fuel and the road is still climbing. Woops, now no bars! Should I stop and ask Bob to continue to Hanksville and return here with fuel? I stick it out. How I wished for a downgrade! I slow down some more. It’s getting darker and I don’t like riding at night because of those critters who come out at nite to customize my bike. I continue, waiting any second now for my bike to cough and finally quit. It’s chilly out but I’m sweating! A glow in the distance! It’s Hanksville. Finally a gas station is in sight. It would be comical if I ran out of gas now less than a quarter of a mile away. We made it!

What a great feeling to tank up – there was less than a half gallon in my tank. That was too close for comfort!

Unbeknownst to me, Bob’s fuel warning light had also come on, and he sweated some as well. We just shook our heads.

We had to continue to Torrey as we had reservations there. I was looking forward to a good meal and some much needed sleep.

It’s black now as we leave the gas station and follow US 24 to Torrey. Bob has all these fancy lights on his bike, and as I follow him the night is all lit up. His lights are so bright that I could almost see through the mountains to the road on the other side. Just exaggerating a little. I’m more scared of the critters now. Bob’s brightest light fails him (found out later it was a faulty switch), so now we go even slower than before. I never went into top gear and those sixty miles seemed to take forever. We finally made it, a good pizza, and a good rest to end an exciting day!

The next day we woke to cloudy skies, and after a leisurely breakfast, we headed west on US 24. Just short of Burrville, we departed ways: Bob to St George to drop off his bike, and me to ride home to South Ogden in the rain.