Today: 105 Miles – AVG Speed: 10.2MPH – Top Speed: 41.2MPH
Total 3,722.10
So that’s goodbye to Colorado, then. To the state that has held me as willing prisoner for longer than any of its siblings: I bid you farewell.
And an early farewell at that. I knew that this leg would be a long grind so I decided to get going at 7am in order to make some progress before the afternoon's inevitable stifling heat drew in. I had planned for the day by carrying a lot of water (nine litres to be precise), plenty of energy bars and three sandwiches. Plus I had some bagels in reserve just in case things got really tough. Enough there to ensure the day wouldn’t be a disaster, I would say.
Things started better than expected, a nice gentle tail wind was propelling me along at an average of 18MPH for the first three hours, by which time I was nearing entrance to the state of Utah: home to the Navajo Nation, Mormonism and highly taxed beer. The first thing I noticed upon entering Utah, as if I had a choice in the matter, was the ostentatiously glitzy “Welcome to Utah” sign that, ironically for a state noted for it’s conservatism, appeared to have been dreamt up by Hunter S. Thompson after a visit to the an 80's Sci-Fi convention in Las Vegas. And if there isn’t such a thing, there should be. Still at least the sign was peppered with bullet holes. That made me feel much better about riding through a religiously fanatical state in Lycra. Much better, indeed.
It was about this time that the tailwinds became headwinds, and their ferocity was on par with, if not greater than anything I have experienced previously. At times it was like running full pelt into a NASA wind tunnel operated by a sadistic cartoon villain. Soon after that invisible and vicious assault I arrived in the town of Bluff, home of some impressive rock formations, including the Navajo Twins (pictured below) and it was here that I stopped for some lunch, a spot of ice cream and a quick evaluation of the day. I had 40 miles remaining until Monument Valley, and felt fine to carry-on. How wrong I was.
Out here, the air is so dry that there are no visible signs of perspiration. Every-time I checked my arms I could see nothing but dry skin. I was aware of this speedy evaporation in such climes, but unaware quite how much water was being lost. The heat became more potent and as the afternoon wore on and I could feel something wasn’t right. The sweat then began to pour out of me like liquid from a watering can. I was starting to feel dangerously lethargic and after a smooth downhill I found a shaded area next to a rock. I was jittering and aching. Looking at my legs I could see the muscles twitching around the ankles and calves as if I were under electric shock treatment and I decided to take about 25 minutes out to try and revert back to something resembling normality and continue with the day. A couple of people stopped to check on my well-being and also to inform me that the rest of the ride to Monument Valley wasn’t so bad. Just a few uphills, they said.
Well, on I went. The first uphill going on for 2.5 miles. This was agony. All my muscles were aching at this stage: my shoulders, neck, lower back, and, of course, my legs. “We’ll wait for you” shouted a voice from one car as I was struggling at a steady 4MPH to claw my way to the horizon. When I did, eventually, reach the ridge, I was greeted by the greatest sight my eyes have seen since this tour began, and perhaps ever. The Valley of The Gods. A truly inspiring bank of red-rocks stretching for miles. The problem was, I was too bloody shattered to appreciate them or, as you will see, take a photograph that did justice to their wonder. I made my way on the long downhill without pedalling, conserving my energy for any more climbs that awaited around the twisting, scenic road. As I was whistling down the hill I spotted five people standing next to their car. It was the “We’ll wait for you” gang. On closer inspection, they were a family and as I approached the vehicle they began clapping and whooping with cries of “You can do it”. It was at this stage I cried a bit myself. Their small act of seemingly unimportant motivational yelps combined with my delirium and agony was enough to briefly send me over the edge.
At this stage my body was screaming at me to stop, but I had to get to Monument Valley as there was nowhere else to stay. The town of Mexican Hat was fully booked. Everywhere. Every last bit of it. After a 10 minute break in this town named after a rock formation - which, I might add, resembles a toadstool more than a sombrero - I powered on. Well, limped on, anyway.
Attempting to climb another two-mile hill I, after several stoppages, decided to call it a day. Actually, that's not true. There was no decision. I could simply go no further. I found a comfortable spot a hundred yards in from the road and set-up camp. When I eventually laid down for rest, it was the greatest physical relief I have ever felt. My body had had enough. As I lay in the tent drifting in and out of sleep, my muscles continued to twitch and contract. This was true exhaustion, and there really is no more a poetic way to put it than that.
Total 3,722.10
So that’s goodbye to Colorado, then. To the state that has held me as willing prisoner for longer than any of its siblings: I bid you farewell.
And an early farewell at that. I knew that this leg would be a long grind so I decided to get going at 7am in order to make some progress before the afternoon's inevitable stifling heat drew in. I had planned for the day by carrying a lot of water (nine litres to be precise), plenty of energy bars and three sandwiches. Plus I had some bagels in reserve just in case things got really tough. Enough there to ensure the day wouldn’t be a disaster, I would say.
Things started better than expected, a nice gentle tail wind was propelling me along at an average of 18MPH for the first three hours, by which time I was nearing entrance to the state of Utah: home to the Navajo Nation, Mormonism and highly taxed beer. The first thing I noticed upon entering Utah, as if I had a choice in the matter, was the ostentatiously glitzy “Welcome to Utah” sign that, ironically for a state noted for it’s conservatism, appeared to have been dreamt up by Hunter S. Thompson after a visit to the an 80's Sci-Fi convention in Las Vegas. And if there isn’t such a thing, there should be. Still at least the sign was peppered with bullet holes. That made me feel much better about riding through a religiously fanatical state in Lycra. Much better, indeed.
It was about this time that the tailwinds became headwinds, and their ferocity was on par with, if not greater than anything I have experienced previously. At times it was like running full pelt into a NASA wind tunnel operated by a sadistic cartoon villain. Soon after that invisible and vicious assault I arrived in the town of Bluff, home of some impressive rock formations, including the Navajo Twins (pictured below) and it was here that I stopped for some lunch, a spot of ice cream and a quick evaluation of the day. I had 40 miles remaining until Monument Valley, and felt fine to carry-on. How wrong I was.
Out here, the air is so dry that there are no visible signs of perspiration. Every-time I checked my arms I could see nothing but dry skin. I was aware of this speedy evaporation in such climes, but unaware quite how much water was being lost. The heat became more potent and as the afternoon wore on and I could feel something wasn’t right. The sweat then began to pour out of me like liquid from a watering can. I was starting to feel dangerously lethargic and after a smooth downhill I found a shaded area next to a rock. I was jittering and aching. Looking at my legs I could see the muscles twitching around the ankles and calves as if I were under electric shock treatment and I decided to take about 25 minutes out to try and revert back to something resembling normality and continue with the day. A couple of people stopped to check on my well-being and also to inform me that the rest of the ride to Monument Valley wasn’t so bad. Just a few uphills, they said.
Well, on I went. The first uphill going on for 2.5 miles. This was agony. All my muscles were aching at this stage: my shoulders, neck, lower back, and, of course, my legs. “We’ll wait for you” shouted a voice from one car as I was struggling at a steady 4MPH to claw my way to the horizon. When I did, eventually, reach the ridge, I was greeted by the greatest sight my eyes have seen since this tour began, and perhaps ever. The Valley of The Gods. A truly inspiring bank of red-rocks stretching for miles. The problem was, I was too bloody shattered to appreciate them or, as you will see, take a photograph that did justice to their wonder. I made my way on the long downhill without pedalling, conserving my energy for any more climbs that awaited around the twisting, scenic road. As I was whistling down the hill I spotted five people standing next to their car. It was the “We’ll wait for you” gang. On closer inspection, they were a family and as I approached the vehicle they began clapping and whooping with cries of “You can do it”. It was at this stage I cried a bit myself. Their small act of seemingly unimportant motivational yelps combined with my delirium and agony was enough to briefly send me over the edge.
At this stage my body was screaming at me to stop, but I had to get to Monument Valley as there was nowhere else to stay. The town of Mexican Hat was fully booked. Everywhere. Every last bit of it. After a 10 minute break in this town named after a rock formation - which, I might add, resembles a toadstool more than a sombrero - I powered on. Well, limped on, anyway.
Attempting to climb another two-mile hill I, after several stoppages, decided to call it a day. Actually, that's not true. There was no decision. I could simply go no further. I found a comfortable spot a hundred yards in from the road and set-up camp. When I eventually laid down for rest, it was the greatest physical relief I have ever felt. My body had had enough. As I lay in the tent drifting in and out of sleep, my muscles continued to twitch and contract. This was true exhaustion, and there really is no more a poetic way to put it than that.
Welcome to Utah
Rocks. Interesting.
...ho, Let's go.
The Navajo Twins and other rocks.
£20. Do we have a deal, hombre?
Valley of The Gods.
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