Green River to Green River, by way of the wind: A bike tour journal

Some bike tours will live in infamy as tests of strength and fortitude against even the most treacherous and exhausting conditions. That might sound like I'm describing an ascent up Everest, but for four friends who had never been on a bike for longer than two days before, the wind, the rain, the snow, and more wind made it the hardest thing they had every done on a bike.

Drew and our stuff.
(Photo: Tom Millar)

Bike tours can be memories that you share with your tour companions for years to come - celebrating and remembering the good moments, and dreading the memory of the toughest times. When Brandon, JT, Drew, and I set off on our Southern Utah bike tour last March, none of us had really done a multi-day, bring-your-own-food tour.

Day 0 - Preparation
The night before our tour (officially the first day of the University of Utah's spring break), I took my bike completely apart, got it all back together at 5:30 am, went home, went downtown, packed and got ready for the tour, and left that afternoon. We loaded up the minivan in Salt Lake City, drove to Green River, and stayed with great friends at Epicenter in their volunteer house. It had been 40 hours since I last slept, and I was a bit tired. Probably not the best preparation for a 6-day tour.

Outside the Epicenter volunteer house, about to begin.
L to R: Drew Thompson, JT Allen, Tom Millar, Brandon Patterson.
(Photo: Jack)

Day 1 - Green River to near Goblin Valley
The next morning, our journey began from Green River as we headed southwest along Interstate 70 and Highway 24 toward Hanksville. The winds were relentless from the beginning and wouldn't quit. 50 mph headwinds threw black dust and dirt into our faces as we approached the offramp from I-70. Head/cross winds beleaguered us for the remainder of the day till we had to give up after 6 hours, only getting 35 miles away from Green River. We camped on BLM land near a cattle watering trough and patch of salt licks. The wind wouldn't give us any respite as we set up camp. The end result was very dusty and dirty tents, inside and out. I fell right asleep.

Campsite and sunrise, beginning of Day 2.
Brandon (L) and Drew.
(Photo: Tom Millar)

Day 2 - Near Goblin Valley to UT-276
The next morning the wind had died down a bit and we came to the consensus as a group that it would be better to do the majority of our riding in the mornings, before the wind really picked up. We set off at 8 AM toward Hanksville, where we hoped to refuel a bit before heading south and trying to make it to Lake Powell, some sixty miles further south. Needless to say, lunch at Blondie's and an extended rest in Hanksville proved to be the cause of our demise. The wind picked up before we even had time to pay for our Reuben sandwiches and get some beef jerky from the Store in the Rock place. I mailed a postcard to my Mom, and we set off, up the hill, toward Powell.

The wind changed, and started gusting hard from the south.
Drew (L) and JT.
(Photo: Tom Millar)

The wind wouldn't quit (again) and we only made it 30 miles south of Hanksville, and 55 miles on the day, till we had to give up at the UT-95 / UT-276 fork. We camped under a nice red rock overhang next to the road. I half expected all of our stuff to get stolen in the night. It didn't.

Food on the tour was not the greatest. We had to bring everything with us because the only "major cities" on the trip were few and far between, usually one per day. I remember eating Apple Cinnamon oatmeal in a paper pouch that we got from the great people at Epicenter. Night after night, I didn't have the desire nor the means to cook anything. I even slept in my clothes the second night.

Our campsite under the rock, where we slept after the 2nd day.
(Photo: Tom Millar)

Day 3 - UT-276 to Blanding
By far the most bipolar day of the tour. We left our makeshift campground next to the highway and enjoyed a tailwind for about an hour as we wound our way through stone cliffs and canyons heading toward the mighty Colorado River and Lake Powell. Hite, UT was our intermediate "lunch" destination and Fry Canyon, UT was to be our respite for the night. Unfortunately, neither of those towns exists. Hite is closed in the "winter" and Fry Canyon is now a uranium mine encampment. But more on that later.

Drew descending toward Powell and the Colorado River.
(Photo: Tom Millar)

Crossing the Colorado River was great. It was very pretty and a great milestone to know that we would now be turning back toward Moab and Green River. When we pulled into Hite (after 20 miles on the road), we soon came to find out that the only store was closed and that the only amenities we had were a picnic bench, an awning from the ranger station, and a bathroom (luckily with running water). Perhaps it was because the map we were using was forty years old, or maybe it was because of poor planning, or both (yes), we weren't very happy campers when we left Hite to make the 25 mile trek southeast to Fry Canyon, Utah, where we imagined that warm baths and soft hotel sheets would await us. Nope.

The storm was about to hit us, just a few miles outside of Hite.
(Photo: Tom Millar)

Five miles outside of Hite, the rain came. And then the snow came. And then the temperature, which had been a pleasant 65-70 degrees, dropped below freezing within a matter of minutes. Completely soaked for the last twenty miles and riding without gloves and only a windbreaker to keep me warm, the rest of the ride was the worst time I have ever had on a bike. Brandon and I rode together as JT and Drew pushed on ahead of us, hoping to make it to the hotel as soon as possible. After three very, very long hours, we arrived in Fry Canyon. But there was no hotel in sight. Our daydream bubble burst.

Cold and wet still, we changed into only slightly less soaked clothing in an abandoned general store. No one was around, so we knocked on the first door of a row of small cabin rooms, in front of which were parked several trucks. Without an answer, we moved to the next door. But when we knocked, the first door opened and a half asleep man asked us what we wanted. "Hi. We have been riding in the rain for three hours and we want to stay in the abandoned store. Is that alright?"

"No, you can't do that. It's too much of a liability for us. That place has been shut down for years. Don't you know that this is a uranium mine now?" Unbeknownst to us, we were talking with one of the miners, who had to be up at 4 am to start his day in the mine. "No, I can't help you," he said, and closed the door. We sat thinking for a second, and then came up with our genius plan.

"You again?" he asked, increasingly more perturbed after our second knock at his door. "Hi," we said. "If we can't sleep in the store, will you take us to Blanding [50 miles away]? All of our stuff is wet and we have no way of getting to Blanding and no chance at sleeping outside in the snow."

"No, I can't," he said. "I told you I have to get up to work at 4. But there is a guy who might take you who will be back in ten minutes. I'll talk to him when he gets back and tell him your situation." Then he closed his door again. We went back to the overhang of the store, shivering, but with hope that his time maybe someone could give us a ride to Blanding. It seemed like our only option.

Shivering and miserable in the abandoned store's entryway.
L to R: Brandon, Drew, JT.
(Photo: Tom Millar)

Our potential driver showed up about ten minutes later, and after an exchange between the man we woke up and the man who might drive us, Drew made his ambassadorial intercession. Working his magic, he convinced the heaven-sent uranium miner to take us to Blanding (a 100 mile round trip for him) for $20 a person, $80 in all. He agreed, and we loaded up our bikes, bags, and trailers in the back of his quad cab, extended bed Ford F-350. With a beer in hand (yep), and finishing his cigarette before he got in the truck, our chauffeur started the engine and off we went.

Finishing the first beer and starting on his second, our newly found friend told us of his childhood as a Mormon and how he almost went on a mission. Then, other things came into his life that made him change his mind. I was never really sure how uranium mining seemed more appealing than any of the other options, but he was happy, he told us. "My girlfriend wants me to go to a church, but I tell her that I ain't going to just any church. If I go to a church, I'll be going back to the Mormon church." Fine with me, I thought.

Obviously a veteran of Highway 95, our driver put the pedal to the metal and wouldn't let us go slower than 110 mph unless we were going around a curve, at which point he graciously slowed to 90 or 95. "Oh man, I gotta tell you guys about the time my friend went into this corner too hot and took out the guardrail. See those tires marks? Yeah, those are from him." Comforting, thanks.

I was surprised we made it to Blanding, honestly. He dropped us off at Comfort Inn, where we got a room for the four of us and our bikes for $80. We got showered and put on fairly dry clothes if we had them, and then enjoyed a warm meal at the Blanding-famous Old Tymer's Inn restaurant. I can't remember what I had. I fell asleep as soon as we got back to the hotel room.

Day 4 - Blanding to Church Rock

Lunch at Wagon Wheel Pizzeria in Monticello.
Brandon (L) and JT.
(Photo: Tom Millar)

I woke up with a sore throat. Luckily, all of my clothes and supplies had dried out during the night. After getting some cold and flu meds from the grocery store, we headed toward Monticello, where we had lunch at the Wagon Wheel Pizzeria. Still fatigued from the day before, we took an extra long lunch and enjoyed the additional rest. Then it was down the hill to the entrance of Canyonlands. We camped on the east side of the road across from the turnoff to the park, just north of Church Rock.

I got more and more sick as the evening and night went on. I sweated through three sets of clothing and couldn't keep my core temperature regular. My ears were ringing loudly and I couldn't sleep. I didn't know if I was going to finish the tour feeling like this. Tired, feverish and swollen, I tried to get as much rest as possible before the next day.

Day 5 - Church Rock to near Arches National Park
Still achy and sick, I got on my bike in the morning after dusting off the light snow that had fallen the night before. The sick and deathly feeling subsided after being on the bike for a while. We rode quickly to Moab, making good time, and allowing ourselves enough time to get lunch at Fiesta Mexicana (which we highly recommend), microbrew root beer at Moab Brewery, and some food for the next few days at the grocery store. After a four hour lunch break, we took off again.

A winding and rolling path, heading north out of Moab. About 10 miles like this.
(Photo: Tom Millar)

The excellent trail along the highway north of Moab allowed us to go at our own pace and enjoy the ride rather than worrying about traffic and trucks and keeping a strong pace. The longest day of the tour, we set up camp near Dinosaur Tracks, as few miles south of Crescent Junction, after a total of 65 miles on the day. I still felt terrible, but we were so close, I didn't want to quit.

Camping near Dinosaur Tracks, a few miles outside of Crescent Junction.
L to R: Brandon, Drew, JT.
(Photo: Tom Millar)

Day 6 - Near Arches to Green River
The last day was short, but 30-40 mph headwinds made it seem just as hard as all the rest. We finally made it back to Green River where all we wanted to do was thank the great people at Epicenter for their hospitality and for watching our van all week. I climbed into the van, ready to go home.

Finished! L to R: Brandon, Tom, JT, and Drew.
(Photo: Jack)

Immediately after I got home, I went to InstaCare at Memorial Clinic. The diagnosis: two ear infections and strep throat. "How long have you been like this?" the doctor asked me. "Oh, about three days, I'd say," I replied.

"I hope you've been getting lots of rest," he said, inquiring. "Not really, doctor. I just rode 140 miles so that I could finish the tour. I'm ready to rest now." After a miraculous weekend recovery, I was back at school on Monday.

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