Rocky Mountain High - Utah

Utah - a close friend (hi, Horst) has raved about this state's enchanting wonders: Arches, Capitol Reef, Canyonlands, Bryce and Zion, only to name a few of the many breathtaking national parks, some of which we are going to see for ourselves very soon.

We have left I 70 near Cisco and take US 128 south towards Moab. Here the Colorado River has gnawed its comparatively narrow bed through a wide valley and impresses your imagination quite differently from the postcard images you can see in northern Arizona.

We rest at Dewey Bridge, which is an interesting stop for travelers who like bridges. It was constructed in 1916 and it is Utah's longest clear span bridge.

Shortly before we reach Moab, we pull over near an overhanging rock formation to fill up our water bottles at a natural spring whose water spouts through a metal tube from the massive rock. We hold the plastic bottles under the small tab and greedily drink the clear, cool and tasty water. At the next T-junction we turn right for Arches NP, established as a national monument in 1929 and as a national park in 1971. We proudly flash our NP passes and ride right through the gate. The road takes us up over the crest of the Courthouse Towers, and then Arches opens up directly in front of us. Water, ice and extreme temperatures have created bizarre rock sculptures, towering pinnacles and grand pedestals over a period of 100 million years. The park boasts more than 2.000 catalogued arches ranging in size from a three-foot opening to the 306 feet long Landscape Arch, which apart from Delicate Arch belongs to the park's major attractions.

Traffic is fairly slow, and so we dare take off our helmets, belts and gloves to bathe in the warm afternoon sun. The long-winding asphalt road takes us to many of the spectacular arches and sandstone formations at which viewpoints are installed for tourists to easily admire and access these wonders produced by mother nature's erosion. Many of them leave their cars on the car park and stroll over to the sights, and we join them on the footpath to Delicate Arch. Nobody has ever touched our bikes or bags on our numerous trips through the US, and so we are not worried to leave all our possessions behind - well, not all of them, of course. We always carry small bags with our money, IDs and our cameras - we don't want to tempt anyone, do we ?

Devil's Garden is the northern-most tip of Arches NP, and when we turn round to head back to the main entrance, the sun has already lost some of its power - it is late afternoon, but we still have not seen Double Arch. So we turn the throttle a bit and swing left at Balanced Rock to follow the road to Double Arch. As the name indicates, Double Arch is two arches which fork out from one massive rock, and when we stand below it, we feel small and insignificant. The car park is buzzing with tourists, but a few hundred meters away the barren countryside becomes silent, but by no means liveless. Rodents, bugs, snakes, lizards, birds - all kinds of wildlife populate the seemingly hostile and uninhabited desert.

It's about time to move on to Moab, where we want to look for a motel to spend the night. We pull up in front of a Super 8, but when I show my Super 8 discount card we are informed that it is no longer valid. Still, we get 10% off because I can produce my ADAC membership card. For members, the German automobile club ADAC issues an extra card for the US which documents its affiliation with the American AAA; this card grants German travelers various discounts at hotels and motels plus free AAA maps and tour books. We have never claimed any maps or tour books, but the motel discount is definitely worth the ADAC membership. This Super 8 features a pool and a jacuzi, which freshens us up for a well-deserved dinner at the Moab Brewery. Afterwards we sit down in the main lobby and study the roadmap to plan the next leg of our tour and enjoy a nightcap.

The next morning sees us on US 128 heading south to Blanding, where we turn west on US 95 to visit Natural Bridges National Monument. Located on a tree-covered mesa cut by deep sandstone canyons, three natural bridges formed where meandering streams eroded the canyon walls. The bridges are named Kachina, Owachomo and Sipapu. We don't really mind leaving US 128, because we have encountered relatively heavy traffic, and when we ride west, we are on a scenic route again and enjoy the loneliness and solitude of the White Canyon, which ends at Hite, where we cross the Colorado River the second time. The river flows into a wide basin which is fairly dry at this time of year, and the top of the mountain offers us a great view over the desert plain. South in the far distance we can see the mesa landscape of Monument Valley, but - honestly speaking - what we saw in Arches NP, can easily compete with the top location of countless western movies. Thus, we do not feel urged to make a detour to Monument Valley, which I visited some years ago anyway.

Our next destination is Capitol Reef NP via Hanksville and Torrey, but before we get there, we're in for some nasty weather. Gradually dark clouds have been building up over the mesas and the wind has increased its strength. A few raindrops have already splashed against the visor, and we'd better get ready to take out our raingear to stay dry during this brewing thunderstorm. A few more miles - and then we'll be in Torrey, but the thunderstorm beats us to it and the beating rain lashes down at us with all its force. Luckily enough, the local Days Inn has a room for us, where we dry up and take the time to do our laundry: shirts, underwear and jeans - which keeps us busy until 2 a.m. (well, we have a beer or two to while away the time).

The next morning the sun is out again and shines on us with all its splendour. Capitol Reef is waiting for our visit, and we hurry up not to miss anything. On second thought - Capitol Reef has been there for 65 million years already, and chances are high that it would not have disappeared from the face of the earth this very morning. The park contains a massive sandstone ridge, 60 miles (97 km) long. Colorful cliffs, massive domes, soaring spires, stark monoliths, twisted canyons - the landscape of Capitol Reef lays out its gorgeous scenery under a clear blue sky just for us. The scenic drive leads us into Grand Wash and Capitol Gorge, two deep, twisting canyons. One rock wall called the Pioneer Register is filled with the names of miners, settlers, and others who passed through this canyon beginning in 1871. Moreover, those interested in Native American culture may wish to visit prehistoric petroglyphs (rock paintings) and remnants of ancient cliff dwellings. Capitol Reef is a place where Indians had hunted and farmed for more than 1,000 years and, later, where Mormon pioneers settled to raise their families.

We return to Torres, drive past Dixie National Forest and cross the Boulder Mountains to reach Escalante. The higher we climb, the cooler it gets, and soon the changing weather calls for raingear again. Werner and I only have to pull out our rainproof trousers from the panniers, but Erhard has to squeeze inside his waterproof coveralls, which always takes him some time - and some sweat. A heavy storm is brewing, the sky turns darker and darker, and thunder and lightling create a spooky atmosphere. Up on the plateau there are hardly any tall trees, and so we are the tallest objects for lightning flashes, but I suppose we're safe anyway, due to some mysterious physical effects which I do not fully understand. Luckily enough, the thunderstorm does not last very long, but we still wear our raingear until it is dried out by the wind. In Tropic we check into a pioneer-style motel which advertises a jacuzi (which, sadly enough, is out of order, as we find out later on). We throw our bags into the motel room and start our Harleys again to visit Bryce Canyon, which is only about 10 miles away.

At Bryce Canyon National Park erosion has formed - and is still forming - fantastic shapes called "hoodoos", pillars of rock, which Paiute Indian mythology explains as "legend people" whom Coyote turned into stone. The name Bryce Canyon goes back to the Mormon missionary Ebenezer Bryce, who came here in 1875 to harvest plateau timber.

It is late afternoon, there is no long queue at the entrance gate, and so we are inside the park before you can say "Jack Robinson". We pass the Visitor Center and head for the first overlook on the 18-mile-long park road. Having killed the engines, we walk up to the rim from where we can look into the canyon and marvel at nature's bizarre forms and colors. Sunrise, Sunset, Inspiration and Bryce Point overlooks open up different views and perspectives of the Amphitheater panorama, and from many points hiking trails lead down to the canyon base for those willing undergo the strain to explore these spellbinding formations at close range.

It is already quite dark when we pull up in front of the Bryce Canyon Inn to treat ourselves to some grand Italian food. Rosalyn is our waitress, and because I am freezing cold, I order some Earl Grey. Sadly enough, 16-year-old Rosalyn has never heard of Earl Grey, and so I translate my order into "tea", which she does understand. When she returns with the drinks, we all order pizza, which turns out to be excellent. There are not too many customers in the Bryce Canyon Inn at the moment, and so Rosalyn lingers and finds out that we are from Germany. Now she becomes really excited, because she has a penfriend in southern Germany and she is planning to go Germany next year. When Erhard tells her about some interesting places near Stuttgart and gives her 1 € to start her trip with, Rosalyn is so moved that she almost cries. - Right next to the restaurant there is a gas station where we buy a sixpack to finish the day off with.

After an opulent breakfast at the Hungry Coyote we pass Bryce Canyon again and move on to take US 89 south to Zion NP. At Mt. Carmel Junction we turn west onto US 9, which takes us directly to Zion NP. We ride through the 1.1-mile-long Zion-Mt. Carmel tunnel, and I am glad that I have been cautious and taken off my sunglasses before, otherwise I would have been nearly blind for some time. After the tunnel, the narrow road snakes down into the valley in numerous hairpin curves to the Visitor Center. We leave our bikes at the car park, because, due to the increase of pollution, it is not permitted to drive/ride through the park anymore. A propane-driven bus shuttle service at no extra cost takes you to the various viewpoints in 15-minute intervals, and so we hop onto the shuttle to explore Zion National Park. By the way, "Zion" is a Hebrew word and it refers to a place of safety and refuge. The scenic drive follows the Virgin River which started to cut its bed into Zion Canyon 13 million years ago. We get off the shuttle at every single stop: Court of the Patriarchs, Zion Lodge, The Grotto, Weeping Rock and Temple of Sinawava, and stroll around to admire the stunning 2,000 to 3,000-feet-high multi-coloured cliffs that tower over the insignificantly dwarfed traveler. There is hardly any wind, and so we welcome the comforting shade of cottonwoods, willows and ashes, which protect us from the heat of noon.

Back at the car park, we mount our Harleys and drive through Springdale and Hurricane to I 15, which we follow north to Cedar City. We have to leave wonderful Utah, because our next major attractions lie further north, Grand Teton and Yellowstone NP. Since we run on a slightly tight schedule, we opt for I 15 to save some time, and at the beginning it looks quite promising: heavy traffic, but no road works and no traffic jams, so we can push it a bit. But then a thunderstorm is brewing, and cautiously we change into our raingear again. Some years ago, it was in New Mexico, Werner and I managed to ride between two thunderstorms without getting wet, but this time it seems rather improbable to outsmart mother nature. Still, we try by parking our bikes under a wide bridge. A couple on a Harley comes by, stops and wants to know if we are in trouble, but when we explain the situation, the man just smiles and replies that they are willing to run the risk of getting wet. So they leave, only to run out of luck in the next 15 minutes, because lightning zigzags through the sky and a terrible thunderclap leaves no doubt that the weather is right upon us. It is getting dark quickly now, and torrential rains set in, but we stay dry under the bridge. However, we can't stay put forever, and so, eventually, we decide to push on to Cedar City, in spite of the rain. In Cedar City we become aware of the true force of the storm, because the deluge has washed large patches of soil from the nearby hills over the streets. We are lucky, we find a decent motel at the outskirts, where we can dry our clothes and rest from the day.

Salt Lake City, finally we're there! It's been a long ride on I 15, but finally we have made it. We stay on the Interstate until we have passed the city center, then we swing right and rely on our small Salt Lake City map, which directs us right to Temple Square. We park our reliable bikes close to the main entrance and smoke a cigarette - well, Werner and I do at least, Erhard does not smoke.

We are still wondering if it's OK to park the bikes right along the Temple walls, when a nice lady addresses us and asks us if we may be interested in visiting the Temple of the Latter-day Saints. Of course we are - that's what we have come here for, and in the course of our conversation we tell her that we have come from Germany. Carolyn Howard, that's the friendly lady's name, is delighted, and she offers us three tickets for tonight's choir concert. Although we hesitate and argue that we have to ride on, she politely insists and hands us the free tickets for the concert anyway. Of course, it would have been nice to listen to Carolyn and her choir tonight, but we have not really considered staying in SLC for the night. She understands, but then this lovely lady urges us to wait for a few minutes and leaves only to come back with two CDs for each of us. Carolyn does not want us to leave without having the chance to listen to the Temple Choir. Isn't this great!?

We walk around Temple Square, visit the Tabernacle, take photos of wedding couples coming out of the Temple, which is forbidden territory to non-Mormons, and relax at the Temple Plaza Fountain before we finally return to our waiting Harleys to catch I 15 north again.

And then it happens - having avoided major roads and highways so far, now we find ourselves stuck in an awful traffic jam. A few miles ahead, so a friendly truck driver informs me, a serious accident occurred which has caused the rush hour traffic to jam up for miles on end. I can see Erhard a few cars ahead of me, and I pass them to catch up on him, but we can't make out Werner's position in the seemingly endless line of cars, which means that we cannot just overtake them to reach the next exit together. Tough luck, we just have to be patient, but eventually we are lucky - we find Werner, and after two hours in the hot sun and exhaust fumes we pass the line of cars and exit I 15 at the next possibility - phew, we made it!

The last leg on I 15, which we return to after a decent detour, is fairly uneventful - at sunset most travelers have already reached their respective destinations, and the Interstate to Idaho is fairly empty. So we turn the throttle a bit and speed towards the next city where we are looking for a motel and a restaurant to grab a bite.

Malad City - the signpost says - and we take the exit to check into the only motel in town. Right next to it we find "Me & Lou's" restaurant, where we order a hearty dinner, but the portions are truly gigantic, at least for me, and so I'm filled up before I can even eat half of my pasta. Werner and Erhard seem to be hungrier than me, because they manage easily to finish their meals. The food is very good, and many local people frequent "Me & Lou's" this Saturday evening. That's probably the reason why Cindy entertains her guests with her music. She plays the keyboard and sings popular songs - she really has a very nice voice. The salad bar is right next to her, and since I wear my Arizona T-shirt, Cindy asks me if I am from the Grand Canyon State. I find out that she is from Prescott, AZ, and in the interval we talk a lot about the desert and the mountains of Arizona, a state I love (I spent a year down there in Tucson). Before we go back to the motel, we drop a generous tip into her box to show her how much we have appreciated her music.

The day is a bit cloudy, but it doesn't rain. We are riding north towards Pocatello, but turn east at McCammon to pass Lava Hot Springs on the way to Soda Springs. As the names already suggest, this is the place to go to if you're looking for hot springs, and bathers can enjoy the hot pools between 102° and 110° F. Whereas it is soda in Soda Springs (no kidding!), it is sulphur in Lava Hot Springs, but we don't really want to linger. We take US 34 northbound, which later swings east to lead into Wyoming at Freedom.

Goodbye Idaho, it is only a very small part of this state that we have seen on this trip, but one day we may return and see some more of it.