223 Miles
Last year, when we got Q, we had to go to community close to Delta. We decided to stay the night before in Grand Junction and pick him up on Sunday morning. When we got up on Sunday morning, instead of being a 30 minute trip down the road, it turned out we needed to take a two hour trip across the Grand Mesa as US50 was closed. Other than knowing it’s name, I really did not know much about it. However, after driving across it, I knew I had to come back and ride it. The Grand Mesa is the largest flat top mountain in the world. It covers 500 square miles and rises to over 10,000 feet above sea level.
For a few days, we had seen Open Range signs along the road. We had seen plenty of wildlife, deer, elk, and antelope. Today, riding up the mesa and coming around a corner, we got to see it firsthand. A herd of cows was just hanging around in the middle of the road and eyeing us suspiciously. A guy in a big diesel truck scattered them for us and we continued on.
In the town of Mesa, we stopped for a coffee at a little general store. There were lattes on the menu but there were no cortados. Mac and Martyn persuaded the owner to add them to the list by just pouring less milk. They also suggested that he could charge more for less as well. We got chatting with an ER nurse in the store who suggested that Mac and Martyn forgive Americans for the current resident of the White House.
When we came down off the mesa, I tried to keep us off I-70 as much as possible. I took us along the old US6 back road through the vineyards and orchards down into Grand Junction. I figured that I could get us to Fruita without getting on the highway. As we went through Grand Junction, I saw a sign for the Colorado National Monument. As with the Grand Mesa, I knew the name but that was it; detour.
The detour through the monument was well worth it. The sights and views are spectacular. We stopped in a few places to go and look over the edge. While nowhere near as deep as the Royal Gorge, it is far more scary as there are no barriers at the edge to lean over.
The views in the monument are expansive to say the least. You can see all the way across the valley past Grand Junction and on to the mesa and mountains beyond.
After we left the monument, we rolled into Fruita to grab lunch. We found our way onto the Main Street and into a little coffee shop that also sold sandwiches. As we left town, we passed a gas station and I thought it was too soon to get gas and we’d fill up later.
Pretty much as soon as you get out of Fruita the landscape changes. It goes from beautiful green orchards to desert. As, we trundled along and over the Utah border. As we crossed the Utah border, I started to worry about my fueling strategy. I don’t think it matters where you are in Utah heading east or west, I-70 or I-80, you are heading directly into the wind. My fuel gauge was figuratively dropping by the minute.
Not long after the border crossing my fuel light came on with the note of 44 miles to empty. My GPS showed the nearest gas stations were 30 miles behind us and didn’t show any ahead. My mental calculations said there was a gas station about 50 miles ahead. The miles to empty kept clicking down pretty much in sync with the miles travelled. Mac suggested that I slow down to preserve gas, so I brought up the instantaneous gas mileage indicator and slowed to the point that indicated the best consumption which was about 36 US MPG. Soon, miles to empty read 0. I was now in worrying territory. The last time I rode across Utah, on my own that time, I pulled into a gas station with a reading of 1 mile to empty. It remained on zero but the miles continued to click away at about 10 miles past zero, the engine began to hiccup. I started to shake the bike from side to side and it picked up again. At mile 11 it hiccuped again but the sign for the next exit and a gas station showed up. I made it to the exit and cruised down the off ramp and into the gas station. I now know, I have about 12 miles of highway riding past zero but I don’t ever want to do that again. It does have me thinking of a Rotopax for long and out of the way trips. Being wary of overfilling and swamping the evap canister, it took about 5.6 US gallons so, it was pretty much empty.
Given we were going to stay in Moab for a couple of days, we decided that we needed booze for the room. I had forgotten about the Utah liquor laws and booze only being for sale at the ABC store. We followed the directions to the ABC store and when we got there it was closed with a sticker on the window for the new address – 963 Main Street. Being the know it all, I knew when there was no directional it means north, so we headed in that direction, however, we all got separated so Mac and Martyn went to the hotel. I went off to find the store. Guess what, there is no 963 North Main Street in Moab. So, I turned around and went back down Main Street to the other end and the ABC store. The drink orders were beer and Bloody Marys. I picked up vodka. I picked up beer. I couldn’t find mixers. I could get pre-mixed Bloody Marys but not the mixer for them. Off to the grocery store. After wandering the aisle wondering whether mixers were verboten, I happened across them and picked up a couple of bottles.
I finally made to the hotel, and found that it was full of bikers. The lot was teeming with motorcycles. It turned out that there were a group of Quebecois riders traveling around. We gathered for beer and cocktails on the balcony and struggled with our French to ask how far the Canadians had come. We got an answer of 20,000 KM. Which I think really mean the “mileage” on the bike rather than how far they had ridden on their trip.
Every time I have been to Moab, the Broken Oar has been recommended for dinner. Every time I have been there, the wait time has been ridiculous. This time as had happened the last time I was here, we walked down the street to Josie Wyatt’s Grille, got straight in, and had a fantastic meal.
