.png "Powered by vBulletin")
Day 3
I awoke to a pale dawn and the chattering conversations of forest squirrels, which are apparently much more vocal than their city counterparts. I went for a short morning hike, and discovered that what I had thought was the sound of rustling trees lullabying me to sleep was actually a gurgling stream. No wonder I had slept so peacefully.
I was too lazy to cook breakfast and not particularly hungry so I began packing up camp. As I was packing I was pelted by what I thought was probably the biggest bug i had ever seen. I swatted it away and jumped back... it was in fact a humming bird. It was in fact, several hummingbirds, apparently attracted to my bright red helmet and gas can. I sat and watched them hover around restlessly until they realized there was no nectar to be had and disappeared back into the forest along with the chatty squirrels and timid chipmunks.
I carefully made my way through the mile or so of gravel that the GS wasn't particularly suited for, until I had reached the highway once more. I made my way through a surprisingly camper/RV packed 2 lane highway, whomping on the poor little 550 engine every time a passing lane emerged. It’s a great beginner bike, but is sadly lacking in mean acceleration at highway speeds. Or possibly I could blame it on the high altitude, or the fairly ragged state of the specific motorbike in question. Finely tuned and expertly maintained it was not. But hey, it got the job done.
I made it as far as Durango before both I and the bike began getting dangerously close to empty. Stopped at a Denny's for a quick bite, and then went to the grocery to buy some more food, and to use their bathroom to get rid of the thermal underwear that kept me warm in the early morning hours but were quickly becoming a hot and uncomfortable liability.
I then wound my way to Mesa Verde whereupon arriving at the entrance I realized that I had left my wallet in the grocery store restroom... 40 $%&! Miles back. So I race back to Durango, with the ever growing realization that if I don't find my wallet I will be stranded there with no gas and no money, desperately calling relatives, and searching for a western union. I park my ride on the sidewalk, swiftly walk to the bathroom, and burst into the stall not really stopping to even worry whether it was occupied. Fortunately no one was in it, but unfortunately neither was my wallet. it wasn't on the TP dispenser, it wasn't on the sink, it wasn't behind the toilet, it wasn't IN the toilet (yes I would have reached for it if it was). I went to the customer service desk asking about it. No luck.
I began frantically tracing my steps through the store, back to the parking lot. Almost reaching the parking spot I had last used, I hear a loud shout across the lot.
"Hey! DONATO!!" I spin around oddly as though I’m preparing for a gunfight, and there is a municipal bus driver with a big grin, waving out of the driver's side window. "I recognized you from your driver's license picture." "Found it in the bathroom; figured you'd be back for it sooner or later."
How much 'later' he planned on waiting I didn't ask, but just thanked him and my luck stars and headed back on my way.
With much relief I re-entered Mesa Verde and made my way through the twisty ass roads that led to the cliff dwellings. I only had time to see one, and I fortunately chose the one that kept me from getting rained on during the ensuing downpour. Though, forgetting to cover my bike before the tour, I couldn't say the same for it. The tourists were sparse, the ranger guide far too annoying, and the cliff dwellings magnificent. I only wish I could have camped out in them. The rain had stopped by the time the tour was over, and my pack was waterproof enough to keep my clothes fairly dry. I drove back through the miles of eerie, naked, burnt trees (apparently, lightning and fires are a common occurrence) stopping only once to admire a large 12 point buck. He simply stood at the road side staring back for what seemed like 2 whole minutes before slowly turning and striding away.
Back to the Highway I raced for Arizona. The desert spread farther and farther around me as did the sunset, until soon I was driving through nothing but a panorama of lavender, and pink, and orange, and crimson. In contrast to Colorado's close quarters of heavily stacked pines and rocks that bound my puny vessel with it's massive mountains, the expansive desert of Arizona set ablaze by the sinking sun released me into the west. I at once felt larger and smaller than I ever had during my waking hours.
Rain began to sprinkle as I resigned myself to find a hotel now that the sun had fully set. All full up in Kayenta. The shabby hotel 30 mi farther past town wanted to fleece me on a room. For $80 I'd sleep on the roadside instead, or at least I’d drive the extra 35 miles to the nearest camp site in monument valley. Even if the rain was picking up, and it was pitch black out, and I was tired as hell. In retrospect I should have shelled out the dough, but it was really the principle of it (and my cheapness). The thought of being flung off my bike like a rag doll and not being found until sunrise, if at all, did a decent job of fighting off the sleep. But I was definitely not prepared for the moderate rain combined with moonless driving on an unfamiliar road populated with reckless speeding desert drivers. Several times I considered pitching camp in a pullout or side road, but thought better of it. Had I only known what true rain and maniacal driving was, I would never have complained at the time.
I pulled into Goulding's lodge and camped out in the dusty, gritty campsite, more tired than I ever thought possible from sitting on one's ass all day.
End of day 3.
Sorry for the mild spoiler, but no, the oil plate is not what i needed to worry about.
I awoke to a pale dawn and the chattering conversations of forest squirrels, which are apparently much more vocal than their city counterparts. I went for a short morning hike, and discovered that what I had thought was the sound of rustling trees lullabying me to sleep was actually a gurgling stream. No wonder I had slept so peacefully.
I was too lazy to cook breakfast and not particularly hungry so I began packing up camp. As I was packing I was pelted by what I thought was probably the biggest bug i had ever seen. I swatted it away and jumped back... it was in fact a humming bird. It was in fact, several hummingbirds, apparently attracted to my bright red helmet and gas can. I sat and watched them hover around restlessly until they realized there was no nectar to be had and disappeared back into the forest along with the chatty squirrels and timid chipmunks.
I carefully made my way through the mile or so of gravel that the GS wasn't particularly suited for, until I had reached the highway once more. I made my way through a surprisingly camper/RV packed 2 lane highway, whomping on the poor little 550 engine every time a passing lane emerged. It’s a great beginner bike, but is sadly lacking in mean acceleration at highway speeds. Or possibly I could blame it on the high altitude, or the fairly ragged state of the specific motorbike in question. Finely tuned and expertly maintained it was not. But hey, it got the job done.
I made it as far as Durango before both I and the bike began getting dangerously close to empty. Stopped at a Denny's for a quick bite, and then went to the grocery to buy some more food, and to use their bathroom to get rid of the thermal underwear that kept me warm in the early morning hours but were quickly becoming a hot and uncomfortable liability.
I then wound my way to Mesa Verde whereupon arriving at the entrance I realized that I had left my wallet in the grocery store restroom... 40 $%&! Miles back. So I race back to Durango, with the ever growing realization that if I don't find my wallet I will be stranded there with no gas and no money, desperately calling relatives, and searching for a western union. I park my ride on the sidewalk, swiftly walk to the bathroom, and burst into the stall not really stopping to even worry whether it was occupied. Fortunately no one was in it, but unfortunately neither was my wallet. it wasn't on the TP dispenser, it wasn't on the sink, it wasn't behind the toilet, it wasn't IN the toilet (yes I would have reached for it if it was). I went to the customer service desk asking about it. No luck.
I began frantically tracing my steps through the store, back to the parking lot. Almost reaching the parking spot I had last used, I hear a loud shout across the lot.
"Hey! DONATO!!" I spin around oddly as though I’m preparing for a gunfight, and there is a municipal bus driver with a big grin, waving out of the driver's side window. "I recognized you from your driver's license picture." "Found it in the bathroom; figured you'd be back for it sooner or later."
How much 'later' he planned on waiting I didn't ask, but just thanked him and my luck stars and headed back on my way.
With much relief I re-entered Mesa Verde and made my way through the twisty ass roads that led to the cliff dwellings. I only had time to see one, and I fortunately chose the one that kept me from getting rained on during the ensuing downpour. Though, forgetting to cover my bike before the tour, I couldn't say the same for it. The tourists were sparse, the ranger guide far too annoying, and the cliff dwellings magnificent. I only wish I could have camped out in them. The rain had stopped by the time the tour was over, and my pack was waterproof enough to keep my clothes fairly dry. I drove back through the miles of eerie, naked, burnt trees (apparently, lightning and fires are a common occurrence) stopping only once to admire a large 12 point buck. He simply stood at the road side staring back for what seemed like 2 whole minutes before slowly turning and striding away.
Back to the Highway I raced for Arizona. The desert spread farther and farther around me as did the sunset, until soon I was driving through nothing but a panorama of lavender, and pink, and orange, and crimson. In contrast to Colorado's close quarters of heavily stacked pines and rocks that bound my puny vessel with it's massive mountains, the expansive desert of Arizona set ablaze by the sinking sun released me into the west. I at once felt larger and smaller than I ever had during my waking hours.
Rain began to sprinkle as I resigned myself to find a hotel now that the sun had fully set. All full up in Kayenta. The shabby hotel 30 mi farther past town wanted to fleece me on a room. For $80 I'd sleep on the roadside instead, or at least I’d drive the extra 35 miles to the nearest camp site in monument valley. Even if the rain was picking up, and it was pitch black out, and I was tired as hell. In retrospect I should have shelled out the dough, but it was really the principle of it (and my cheapness). The thought of being flung off my bike like a rag doll and not being found until sunrise, if at all, did a decent job of fighting off the sleep. But I was definitely not prepared for the moderate rain combined with moonless driving on an unfamiliar road populated with reckless speeding desert drivers. Several times I considered pitching camp in a pullout or side road, but thought better of it. Had I only known what true rain and maniacal driving was, I would never have complained at the time.
I pulled into Goulding's lodge and camped out in the dusty, gritty campsite, more tired than I ever thought possible from sitting on one's ass all day.
End of day 3.
Sorry for the mild spoiler, but no, the oil plate is not what i needed to worry about.
/
Comment