Day 10: August 20th, 2008 – A Good Guess is Always West

Cannonville --> Cedar City

The next time you drive over a bridge and see the artifacts of transients strewn around its underside, don’t pity the ‘Trolls’ beneath for their lack of conventional shelter. Bridges are the Ritz-Carlton of the transient world and ‘Trolls’ the upper crust of roaming society. My bridge in Cannonville offered absolute privacy, sturdy shelter, a soft dry creek bed for a mattress, and even the occasional hum of a gentle lullaby provided by the cars above.

My night’s rest was disturbed only by my worry about the broken load. I had packed extra screws but I carelessly returned them to Nashville in a package my second day. I was intent on ridding myself of every gram of extra weight and apparently a few critical grams as well. When I woke, I rigged the rack to the wheel stays in such a way that they would take me no further than nearby Tropic outside of Brice Canyon. Every mile or so between Cannonville and Tropic I had to stop to repair a broken zip tie or wish my load back onto the bike.

I reached Tropic at 7:15 AM and was pleased to see an Ace Hardware that had opened only two days before, my luck continued. The Ace didn’t open till 8:00 and I was fairly hungry so I moved down the complex, which contained all of the town’s stores in one 100 meter cluster, and found a nice little place for breakfast. I sat and was waited upon by a nice young lady who for whatever reason, probably that living in a town of 200 people leaves you with few romantic outlets, was coming on to me….. a guy who had woken from under a bridge only an hour before and who looked the part to boot!

I got to chatting with Miss Ukraine and we subsequently went over my story down to the very last detail of why I was in her Café at 7 AM looking like hell. I told her I was waiting for the Ace to open so I could “Swipe a screw” and upon hearing that statement she gave a mischievous smile and called out to her mother who was waiting another table; “Di ya hear that Ma? This boy’s gonna swipe a screw from the Ace.” I realized something was up and asked if her mother owned the Ace while also explaining that my jargon simply meant that I planned to buy a screw rather than steal one. Miss Ukraine explained to me that the whole complex, which constituted 80 percent of the town, was owned by her parents. So for the rest of my breakfast I got sarcastic sass about my would be sticky fingers, but I always repaid the joshing by addressing her as Princess Ukraine of Tropic. Needless to say I got my screws and fixed the bike up right.

I rode cameraless through the wonders of Bryce Canyon National Park towards the Red Canyon bicycle trail. The magnificent colors of Bryce are unmatched elsewhere in the world. Created by the deposits of an ancient sea, the Hoo Doo spires that fill the park are simultaneously mesmerizing and perplexing. Halfway through the park I ran into the Belgian couple again! It had been two days since I last saw them! I ragged them for being the slowest tourists in the country but they insisted that I was just too fast. Like I said before, we bid farwell to each other yet again in a way that suggested that we might meet again. I’m still waiting…….

The Red Canyon trail stretched through miles of outcroppings worthy of a National Park designation but instead were left for sweet recreational opportunities like the bike trail that rolled through land usually reserved for “Revegitation” or “Restoration”. After rolling down into Panguitch, I faced a 4000 foot climb to Brian’s Head (10,500 ft) and then a monumental decent into Cedar City. The climb was every bit as grueling as it was daunting. The road did not hide the seriousness of the climb behind the bend in the road, rather every segment was straight up and straight ahead leaving no hope of level ground in sight. The wind was strong and unpredictable. At one point I felt has it I had a linebacker on my back pushing me uphill then and instant later the force had changed directions and nearly knocked me to the ground by lifting my front tire slightly off the ground.

I stopped at The Burger Barn at Panguitch Lake where a sign read; “Calories don’t matter above 10,000 feet….. your elevation 10,010 ft.” I took advantage of the situation and ordered a huge polish sausage and chili cheese fries. While I ate the air was filled with hummingbirds zipping back and forth, sometimes nearly intersecting their flight path with my face. The French tourist were videotaping them endlessly like they had never seen them before (because they haven’t, they only reside on the American Continent), just another reason France stinks.

At the top of the climb lay the Cedar Breaks National Monument, another dazzling spectacle that defies explanation (or at least an adequate one). The Breaks are a fiery display of red, orange, white, and yellow sheer rock cliffs that form multiple 2000 feet deep bowls facing west toward Cedar City. From the Breaks, I descended 4500 ft in a matter of about 20 miles reaching over 50 mph for the first time on the trip and averaging around 45 mph for the entire decent…..it was a blast! Cedar City was pretty large and didn’t have any camping so I set up in a cheap motel and walked to Lucky Chinese Buffet to reward myself for putting half the trips distance behind me. While stuffing my face, I called my folks.

Up until this point the only destination information I had given my parents was for lack of a better description…west. Initially I had told them I intended to head a few hundred miles west to around Gunnison and the San Juan Range (6 days ago). Each night I would call and tell the folks that the next morning I planned on heading further west. This was for their sanity not mine, it was incredibly difficult not to spill the beans but I had enough doubt in my head as it was without hearing the dangers of the trip reiterated to me over the phone. So after stringing them on for far too long I broke the news.

Me: Where do you think I’m headed?

Mom: I don’t know where you’re going? Please tell us?

Me: You’ve been following me on the map, connect the dots, where is it leading?

It seemed obvious to me the dots pointed to Frisco but then again my entire existence pointed me there. Frisco was the only solution to the equation I had set out for myself. If you’re on a bike in the middle of nowhere all you need is a destination, and I had it, even if that’s all I had.

Mom: We don’t know ……..(long pause while I was thinking how to actually say it)

Me: I’m…….I’m riding to San Francisco……….. (Absolute silence)

Day: 95.53 mi

Total: 885.24 mi

Elev. Climbed: 5800 ft

Elev. Difference: 0 ft

Elev. Peak: 10600 ft