Gremlin's Tall Stories

Again, the alarm at 7.30am to drop off my bag to the van. Oh wait, I hadn’t even collected it from the van the previous evening. I was about to roll over and then I remembered I’d parked a couple of bikes in, in the evening because of a lack of space (and that some bikes seem to take up a whole park). Damn, still have to get up, because of the kindness in my heart.

It turned out they didn’t need me, having been able to get out and turn the bikes around. Back to bed, set the alarm for 9am. Why this desire to get up before the sun? I assume it rises some time after 8am…

At 9am it was time for breakfast, and I end up chatting to a couple of Yamaha R1/6 riders, on a short break. The younger one is planning to do 600 miles in the day to get home… yeah, good luck with that and I hope you have a chiropractor on speed dial. Back to the room, pack… yeah, usual stuff and I’m heading out of town on Highway 160 just after 11am with a full tank of gas.

I stay on 160 right past Cortez to Four Corners Monument. The area is dessert, and roadworks on one section of 160 is real fun. Sit in the sun, no shade anywhere in sight and the temperature is in the mid-30s. The Four Corners Monument is sadly a bit commercial. Instead of being sign, to note that the four states of Utah, Colorado, Arizona and New Mexico are meeting, it’s been turned into a series of buildings along each side, filled with Indian stalls selling trinkets. It also cost to enter, but only about $3.

I took some pictures but couldn’t be bothered walking up to it, as the state borders are really only an imagination from the human mind. Turning onto 41 which became 162, I headed through Aneth and Bluff, heading towards Mexican Hat and there’s still bugger all to see, besides the straight roads and flat country. Seeing a nice gravel road to one side, I investigate and remember after reading a sign that it’s the Valley of the Gods. When researching my routes in Mapsource I had decided not to bother, but I’m making good time, so why not?

I pass an SUV going far too slow, pausing now and then to take some scenic shots (as they are very scenic) and the SUV never catches up. The temperature is staying in the high 30s, and once I eventually finish the Valley of the Gods I can feel it’s had a lasting effect on me and I need to take a break from the heat and get some fluids into me. The closest place is Mexican Hat, which requires going the wrong way, but safety first after all.

I’m almost in Mexican Hat when I have a close shave with a cop. I’m over the limit, wanting to get there asap, but probably within the tolerance zone (that, or he doesn’t feel like leaving his buddy the aircon) as he doesn’t spin round. I find the shell and head straight in. I’m lucky, as it’s also a bit of a deli, so there are benches to sit and eat at, and best of all, air conditioning.

I really don’t feel like eating anything but I know I must, so I force down two sandwiches, one of which was tired biker proof, having to resort to borrowing some scissors to get the packaging open. Drinking wasn’t so much of a problem. I bought a 32oz soda cup, and the first fill disappeared quite quickly. The refill lasted longer, putting some into a bottle for later. Later, we guessed that 64oz would be about 2.4L, which is a decent amount of liquid to drink in one sitting.

After more than a half hour break it was back on the road, feeling much better. Backtracking to 261, I climbed the Moki Dugway, basically a road cut into the rock of the mountain which is quite sheer. The corners were sealed, the rest gravel. I went off-roading at the top to get a nice picture of the vista below. I then turned left onto 95 heading through Fry Canyon and Hanksville to Torrey.

At least, that was the plan. After a couple of little off road excursions to get nice pictures, I was travelling along when I saw a normal SUV down a gravel road. It looked really nice, so managing to locate it I saw the SUV coming back out. That should have been a good warning… but no, I’m not nearly that intuitive. The road is a bit rough getting down, but not toooooo bad. I hit the bottom… a river bed. Ok, still not too bad but the previous rain did make it a bit soft.

Bit of a wobble and I’m through. Climbing up the other side I get another good shot. I need to get cracking though, because if I stop at every corner I won’t get to the accommodation any time this week. Dear Karen is saying it’s 17 miles on this road, but my arrival time has blown out to after 8pm. Do I continue or U-turn? 8pm isn’t too bad and 17 miles isn’t too far, so I figure hey, I’m only here today.

Well, in hindsight, it’s one of the poorest choices I’ve made (and my mates will tell you I’ve sure made a few ). I need to find out from some others (who I’ll email the details to) as to exactly who does attempt this road, but after doing it, I reckon it’s a 4WD track clubs would use, and not alone. Small dirt bikes would probably be OK, but again, not alone. I was alone, with a heavily laden GSA and the road was really rough, requiring some clambering on rocks at times.

It was one of these climbs that proved my undoing. I was about to bounce the bike up a rock or two, when the rear wheel lost grip when a rock rolled underneath it. Suddenly the bike isn’t moving and I don’t have enough of a footing to stop it going over especially with all the weight… so going over she does. I do have the presence of mind to hit the kill switch as I do my best to arrest it’s fall to minimise damage.

Foolishly I immediately try lifting her… alarmingly, she doesn’t even budge, and she’s flat on her side, slightly downhill. I take off my helmet and jacket and give it another crack… barely moving at all. This is a bit of a problem since I haven’t seen a single person, don’t expect to, and my predicament is all too clear. My way forward is also too clear. The bike has to be upright.

The luggage is obviously a problem, so I detach the top case and the left pannier. The bike is lying on the right pannier, and trying to lift it, it’s better, but still not close. I half pick up the rear of the bike and kick the right pannier loose from its mounting, denting it slightly. A few kicks the other way and it’s straight again.

The bike is easier to pick up and I can get to 45 degrees (I’m even using the move girls are taught) but with gravel underfoot I can’t get enough traction before sliding and losing my grip. While I don’t want to do it, I drag the bike around, so that it’s pointing nose uphill and the wheels won’t be uphill while trying to pick it up. I have to take a few attempts but finally (and probably in desperation) get the bike upright, gingerly handling adrenalin and making sure the side stand has a good footing and the bike won’t roll.

I hadn’t taken pictures before, reasonably desperate to get it upright as soon as possible, but I had been trying a bit of video before (it had stopped recording before the bin due to low battery) and all I did was pull it off before picking up the bike. Now I was happy to take a picture so have a look at the area of destruction of gremlin. I was exhausted from getting the bike upright and even the thought of carrying luggage made me tired. I started the bike up, checking it was OK, and while there was a lot of smoke from the exhaust, it was understandable the oil had been where it shouldn’t.

Very (very) cautiously and without the luggage, I got the bike up the piece of rock and onto some more flat land. It took at least another 15min before I had all the luggage up with the bike, and I slowly lifted it all on. I was finding it hard to believe I was that tired, but now I was definitely over the whole off-roading experience and wanted it to be over. I couldn’t face putting on my jacket and armour again, so tied it to the back seat, wearing my cordura pants, shirt and helmet and gloves.

It felt a lot better and I struggled on, enjoying it a bit less than before, stubbornly bouncing the bike into and over the rougher stuff. I hit some pieces so hard I felt my teeth jar. You can’t imagine the relief I felt after probably more than 2 hours to reach the end of the 17 miles and find a gravel road.

The feeling didn’t last long, when I quickly found that this gravel road wasn’t actually that much better than the one I had left, and the initial piece I managed to go down, but probably couldn’t have gone up. I was extremely impressed by the handling of the GSA, because while it was still loaded down, I could balance it at low speed and inch my way across obstacles.

After feeling I had gone a fair distance of the next 23 miles to a turn, I looked down… I’d completed 1 mile. This didn’t feel good at all, almost wailing in my head I would be here forever, and why the hell did I think this was a good idea? Still, there was no other solution, I sure as hell wasn’t going back, and eventually I’d look back on it with humour… eventually.

Reaching the conclusion of 23 miles, nope, I’m out of luck, and it’s another gravel road. It’s approaching 8pm, I’m still not even on the highway. It’s tempting to find out how many more gravel roads I have, how many more miles, but I sort of don’t want to know either. I have a very close call on one section of road, not realising I went into soft sand, the bike goes all vague, I’m cramming on the brakes as much as possible and bump to a stop on the banked roadside, the bike stalling.

My arms hurt like hell from all the tensing, I’m probably in more pain than after dropping the bike, but the important thing is that the bike is upright. Starting it again, a bit more tentative on the road surface. I think I’m nearing the end as the GPS is talking about a highway, but some arsehole has named a gravel road a similar name… it’s all still gravel. I take some shots of the sunset and the battery goes flat. The temperature is still in the low 30s.

After a couple more gravel roads, each 5-10 miles, I finally come out on the highway. I’m tempted to get down and kiss the road, but my ETA is almost 10pm and the rest must be wondering where I am, so I need to get moving. As soon as I get onto the road, I have the weird sensation of the bottom of my arms being warm… it’s the road that’s generating most of the temperature, and it climbs a few degrees to 37. I’m close to the Colorado river, needing the large bridge to cross it, but in the fading light, the battery in the camera is flat (and I can’t be bothered changing out the battery) I put my head down and set about finishing 90-100 miles of remaining road.

The miles are completed at a pace law enforcement would have had issues with, but it’s late at night, the roads are quiet, and I can finally test out my new lights AdvDesigns installed. In short, high beam is crazy, I’m lighting up reflective boards up to 1km away. I’m struggling to tell if my low and high beam are even working, as the Clearwaters are doing most of the work. I deliberately don’t dip my lights until I see each car, as one flashes me thinking I’m on high beam.

80 minutes later at 9.40pm I pull into the accommodation in Torrey. The desk is still open, and I check in. Some of the others are around, asking what I got up to, so brief explanations and I unpack into my room. The general store at the front of the Motel is still open for a few minutes so I grab some fruit, yoghurt, bread and an ice-cream to suffice as a meal (and probably double as breakfast).

I eat my food and watch a bit of TV, dozing afterwards and then putting myself to bed, rather knackered, but glad to have made it to the motel.

https://photos.app.goo.gl/Z9GVov2Nb2h27YbZ9

Map: https://www.google.co.nz/maps/dir/Du...38.2988691!3e0

Just bear in mind Google Maps doesn't show all the dirt roads I took, so pointed them out as best possible.