Riding a motorcycle gives you lots of time to think. There's a reason "The Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" is one of the best selling philosophy books of all time. You know how, in the shower, you start to think of all the things you should have done, and all the things you should do when you get out and dry off? Riding a motorcycle is like that too. I think the din of the motor is akin to the white noise of the water and the rush of wind like the patter of water on your head.
Sometimes it just actually rains and you get both motorcycles thoughts and shower thoughts at the same time!
Anyway, lately I've been thinking a lot and most of my thoughts have been about the way society has changed since the last time I took a trip out West.
The last time I made this trip, I came back humbled by the kindness of strangers. People offered me rides and meals and places to stay. A woman I met while hiking in Colorado offered me her timeshare for a week. Somebody I met in Oregon let me stay in their vacation house while they were away.
When I was hitchhiking, I felt like I was listening to the pulse of the people in the areas I traveled through. They'd tell me their stories, their thoughts, and tons of stories about their towns and areas.
This trip, some of the people I met were SO mean to me. Not in outrageous ways or in ways worth mentioning here, but just in a rude "I'm doing the bare minimum not to get fired at this gas station" sort of way.
The default kindness towards a stranger just seems to be gone. With the way the internet works now, we're more connected than ever before and we're also madder at everyone else than ever before. The "culture war" is now everywhere.
I know part of it is that I'm a lot more visibly queer than I was back then. And mayyyyybe traveling to Utah as a trans person the week after a political assassination was a bad idea. Honestly, I think we're just at a breaking point. It's not about politics anymore, it's about fundamental differences in life. People are developing an incredible amount of hate for each other based on the things they see online or on TV. We have to figure out how to stop it from getting worse.
Anyway, here are the photos I took on my real camera. I hope you enjoy them! I'm still really glad I made this trip!
The diary
September 19
i've decided to ride my motorcycle west
September 20
In the words of Charlie Boorman, it was a hard ol’ sleep. Last night I put down a lot of mindless miles through Oklahoma on 412 West. I watched a beautiful sunset directly ahead of me and then hunkered down through the rest of eastern Oklahoma, which I’ve already seen too many times.
I ended up stopping in Enid for dinner and had a really nice quesadilla from a food truck while watching locals have a contest for who could rev their Chevy trucks the loudest up and down the strip.
I finally made camp a little west of Enid under a giant windmill, and it was an EXPERIENCE. These things are so massive and fast and loud that they trigger this sort of primal fear. It's like looking up at an incomprehensible god.
I thought I was tired enough to ignore it, and I might have been if it weren’t for the thunderstorms that came in. My spot was just a little too close to the lightning for comfort. Somehow I dodged the rain squall, but the wind was insane. It blew my helmet off the bike and into a nearby field, along with various other personal effects (burger cat)
At one point I heard the wind stop and the turbine slow. It very slowly and deliberately made a rotation to the north, just as the wind picked up again. It started getting faster and faster and faster, my stuff started getting blown around, and then finally some sort of emergency brake kicked in and it ground to a complete halt and just quivered there in the wind. I thought to myself, “Does this thing know something I don’t?”
I frantically checked the radar and saw a big thunderstorm warning just to the north of us. It was a beautiful lightning show that came close but never dumped water on me.
I feel like I developed some sort of attachment to my turbine after watching it track the wind all night. It's so interesting how it turns and manages speed.
It was a weird night. Anyway, I’m setting off again now, headed through the panhandle towards Taos.
September 21
Following in the footsteps of Chris Clunk’s dog, my first stop of the morning was Gloss Mountain in Oklahoma. I love this place because it’s the first taste of the “west” you get along the journey. You can experience everything else in Arkansas, but when you get to Gloss Mountain you have to appreciate that this kind of red, layered, landscape couldn’t exist back home.
From there I just rode straight through the Oklahoma panhandle until every part of my body was numb or in pain. I didn’t even eat; my whole existence was focused on miles and locating the next gas station before my tiny fuel tank ran out. This was a mistake.
It’s a bit meditative to ride through the empty space of No Man's Land for hours and hours, but I sure was happy to hit the New Mexico border. I had a lovely drive through the Cimarron Canyon. I also saw Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, standing right next to the road, undisturbed by passing cars and motorcycles.
By the time I made it into Taos, I was exhausted. My butt was too sore to even sit in the restaurant I found. I decided camping was not the move today, and I’m glad I found a hotel. I have a sore body, a sore throat, and everything hurts. I miss my girlfriend and my dog. I’m considering turning around, but I figure I should see if things get better today.
I’m probably going to hit up the rich people thrift stores here for a warmer jacket before I leave town and then head deeper into the mountains!
September 22
Taos left a bad impression at first. The ride in was full of slow-moving cars and disorganized MAGA countryside, and then, once I finally found a park to sit and get my bearings, two giant dogs barked at me until I left. And then I had to pay $7.50 for chips and salsa at a Mexican restaurant. Upsetting.
Taos is like Eureka Springs but southwestern-themed. It’s one of those places where it’s all either rich tourist stuff or the folks barely scraping by on the poverty line who serve them. You get the impression that everyone is being paid to be nice to you.
With all that said, it has a certain charm that doesn’t really exist anywhere else in Northern New Mexico. It has authenticity, and I’ve never seen a group of people so proud of the town they live in. Every single car has some sort of Taos bumper sticker on it. By the time I left, it was growing on me.
I left town around noon after having a really tasty burger, and immediately ran into the Rio Grande Gorge. After miles and miles of flat desert, it’s crazy to see such a big canyon out of nowhere! I’m telling my kids this was the Grand Canyon.
From there I drove into the Carson National Forest and had the best motorcycle ride I think I’ve ever had. It’s beautiful, and the roads are well maintained. The little Royal Enfield struggles a lot with the altitude, and I had to keep it fully cranked a lot of the time just to get to the top of the pass.
I also saw this insane lynching edifice beside the road that said “We do things the old way.” I risked my life to go back and get that picture. Wild.
I worked my way north into Colorado and started getting into the really big mountains and some really cool hot springs. I love all these little towns I could never afford to live in. The vibe is COMPLETELY different than New Mexico.
I was feeling rough after 750 miles in a 24-hour period. Slowing down and seeing some sights was the right move for sure.
I’m in Silverton tonight, ready for the Million Dollar Highway tomorrow!
September 23
Yesterday I woke up to a very cold and very wet Silverton. It was 90 degrees when I left Arkansas, and I knew it would be cold, but I think my mind prevented me from packing appropriate 35-degree riding clothes. It's hard to imagine biting cold and rain when you're in the middle of an Arkansas summer.
Despite all that, the ride across the pass to Ouray had to be the most insane and beautiful road I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s soooo vertical. I’m usually not too scared of drops on the side of a highway, but these ones would absolutely end your whole career. You’d go ALL the way down the mountain, and they’d have to get a whole team of climbers to get your body back.
They called it the Million Dollar Highway back when that meant the same as “infinitely expensive highway,” and you can see why. The engineering must have been insane. Also, there’s a really big waterfall that goes under the road. That's pretty neat.
After that, I wanted more twisty roads. I rode east towards Sapinero and then north towards Grand Mesa. They were some of the most fun driving roads I’ve ever been on. And every five minutes I had to pull over to take pictures. I kept being like “oh, this is the prettiest place in the whole trip” over and over again. There were beautiful golden aspen forests and alpine lakes and little wee goaties running around. It was magical.
I ended the day in Grand Junction and am typing this from urgent care. My cough is getting worse, and it sucks to cough inside a helmet.
I’m still trying to decide if I want to go west to Moab and Bonneville or continue north to the Tetons and suffer further cold.
Later
i stopped to grab oil and got the full harley davidson experience (it’s a photo of a flame toilet seat and a “not for sissies” shirt).
September 24
The urgent care in Grand Junction basically told me to get lost and that they wouldn’t prescribe me anything until I actually have pneumonia. It cost $55 with insurance to hear that and I felt like I got a deal by the time it was finished.
I noticed I was a little low on oil, so I stopped by the Royal Enfield/Harley dealership in town. I asked about doing an oil change because it was time, but they wanted $70 for a half hour of labor, plus the cost of some really expensive motorcycle oil. I just topped it off and kept going. I’d rather break down in the desert than pay $140 for a motorcycle oil change. As a side note, how hardcore do you have to be for a Harley Davidson employee to respect you? 1700 miles on an air-cooled parallel twin isn't enough, apparently. It's like 00s Hot Topic but with guys with beards.
Grand Junction was a bust, so I went north towards Dinosaur, Colorado, where they have big fossils and everything is dinosaurs. To get there, you have to cross a beautiful and rainy mountain pass. I was cold all day, but this was the coldest spot. On the bright side, I rode through a really cool cloud and it was lovely.
I also stopped to see the "ancient hands reaching for titty" rock art. Turns out human hands have ever yearned for tid. There was also a really cool looking little guy called "The Guardian!" He's perfect.
After that, I started cranking out miles, heading through Utah towards the Bonneville Salt Flats. I ended up in Heber City, which is an absolutely lovely place.
Now I’m about to cross a little mountain road on my way around Salt Lake City and will have a couple of hours of flatlands to cross before I get to the salt. Bonneville is legendary and I’m excited to see it!
September 25
Yesterday started with one of the most twisty and technical mountain road I’ve ever seen. I’ve seen a LOT of twisty roads all over the country, and this beats them all. It was a complete surprise to find it there as well! It’s an alternate route between Heber City and Alpine, Utah. It was such a fun way to start my day, which would otherwise be full of very flat, empty blacktop.
I passed through Salt Lake City and had a lovely shurpa at a lovely Uzbek restaurant called “Cafe Plov and Borsche.” They had just opened and were so excited to show me their menu. The owner kept bringing things for me to try. It was great!
From there, I hopped on an absurdly straight and mind-numbing section of interstate and went to see the legendary Bonneville Salt Flats. Visiting the site of all the legendary land speed records was a pilgrimage and it felt very special. A fully loaded Royal Enfield Interceptor goes 97.7 mph, by the way. You know. Just in case you were wondering. It would be faster, but the luggage acts as a giant parachute that 650cc of displacement just can't overcome.
From there, I hopped on some lonely highways and headed towards Great Basin National Park.
Utah has one of the darkest skies in the country, and I scoured the map for an area to camp with zero light pollution. I ended up in an abandoned livestock station in a place called “Snake Creek.”
I didn’t see any snakes, but I did see lots of shooting stars!
It was so cold at night, and my cough is just getting worse. And it rained in the morning. Spirits are low. At least I got this really cool rainbow photo! I can’t wait to show you all the pictures I’ve been taking on my big camera (not just cell phone pics) that I can’t post yet.
Today I think I’m headed to Monument Valley on a big arc back home. Lots and lots of empty highway miles coming up.
September 26
I started the day with hours and hours of mind-numbingly straight desert roads. There was nothing to do but wipe the bugs off my faceshield and count cows in the road. The little motorcycle has been doing really well. It just keeps ticking over. Sometimes I check the chain to make sure it’s still there and sometimes I make sure it still has oil inside the engine. So far so good. I’m probably going to run out of rubber on the rear tire before I get home. I’ve got to figure that one out soon.
Speaking of reliability, it’s clear I’m the weakest link of this machine. My body is sore and I’m sick and I’m wind-burned and it’s too cold for me in the mountains. My ears hurt and even the best earplugs I could buy don’t keep enough wind-noise out. I also keep somehow getting rained on, in a desert that was said to be experiencing historic drought. Maybe I should come ride here more often and help raise the water level in Lake Powell.
The only failures so far are things I've added. A strap on my saddle bags broke, my phone charging cable stopped charging, and the vibration from my handlebar phone mount completely destroyed my phone camera's stabilizer. It constantly shakes and defocuses and makes a crazy sound. I'm stuck with wide angle or telephoto now.
Anyway, I did see some cool stuff today. I rode through Bryce Canyon and Capitol Reef National Parks. Bryce Canyon was like Branson but Capitol Reef was beautiful and a really enjoyable twisty road to ride.
I ended up getting to Ticaboo, Utah just before some rather historic storms landed. I’m staying in a hotel tonight, luckily.
Next is Monument Valley (finally!) and then to Los Alamos I think!
Later
if you're a motorcyclist and you see one of these, your life is in danger (talking about a rv4rent rv)
September 27
From Ticaboo, it’s 131 miles to Mexican Hat. The Royal Enfield has a 3.6 gallon tank and I was getting around 43 mpg on the wide open fast roads between Salt Lake and Bonneville, so with that math, I have a theoretical range of…. 155 miles. It was going to be close.
I filled the tank as much as I possibly could and set out, hoping to take it a little slower through Glen Canyon to conserve gas. It was a beautiful twisty road, like if they made the PlayStation One video game “Hot Wheels Turbo Racing” into a real thing. It was sooooo good. I also stopped by “Hog Springs” because I thought maybe if I drank from the font, Harley riders would respect me. Time will tell.
I made my turn towards Mexican Hat. I had about 80 miles to go and the gas level was looking good. After cruising this perfect two lane desert highway for over an hour, I started seeing signs like “heavy vehicles prohibited,” and “high ground clearance vehicles recommended.”
And finally “PAVEMENT ENDS”
WHAT
It’s too late to turn around. I didn't have the gas for it. I pulled over to check my rear tire wear and realize it’s wearing through extremely quickly. I thought I might make it home without swapping it. Now I’m not sure I’ll even make it to Mexican Hat. It’s worn down to that weird layer of rubber right before the cords start showing through.
There’s no other way but forward. I end up on this donkey-trail looking road that descends from mesa level into a grand valley. It’s gorgeous and scary and is one of the most visually impressive roads I’ve ever seen. I saw loads of adventure and dual sport bike riders coming up. They gave me some funny looks, scrambling down the hill on a bald tire with a fully loaded street bike.
Against all odds I made it to Mexican Hat with fuel remaining and air in my tires. I called around and found a tire in my size at a Honda Dealership in Cortez, Colorado about two hours away. It was a very stressful ride and the tire was fully on cords by the time I got there. It must have been misaligned for it to wear that fast.
They very graciously got me fixed up in about an hour and sent me on my way. The bike rides SO much better now, who knew??
I finished the day in Pagosa Springs, Colorado. 850 miles to get home! I’m going to see how far I get today.
Later
I encountered a massive rainstorm
September 28
621 miles yesterday! I ended up in Enid, Oklahoma again, after riding for one million years. I spent most of the day either dodging storms or riding directly into them. At 80 mph every drop of rain feels like you're being hit by hail. It's best to cover any exposed skin and huddle into any wind protection your bike has.
Mine has almost none.
Luckily your clothes dry out really fast on a motorcycle, since it's so windy.
There's not much of a story today except the plains were really pretty. Only a few more hours and I'm home!
