Day Fifteen: Mesquite - St. George, UT

Although our ride the day before was absolutely awful, the day really turned around when we got to the all-you-can-eat buffet at the Virgin River Casino, which, by the way, was paid for by a British gentleman with a few free coupons. He resembled an older, ganglier version of Russel Brand with a muted green safari hat, safari vest, and short cargo shorts. His hair was wiry and long, and so was his white beard. He returned time and again to our table to ask us questions and comment on the buffet items, which was quite endearing. So despite the rough day, we were able to sleep well and with full bellies.

In the morning, we returned to the buffet. Surprise! I was unaware that nachos are considered a breakfast food, but nonetheless decided to make that the main dish of the meal. We loaded up on unnecessary calories and took advantage of the guest laundry room—after all, we hadn’t washed our clothes in almost two weeks. After heading back to the room and packing up our bags, we checked out at the front desk of the casino (by the way, this place cost only $27/night) and sought refuge once again in a Starbucks. We talked to multiple hotel guests who warned us of the freeway ahead, which was under construction and had been restricted to one lane each way. Bicycles were absolutely prohibited, and our only alternate route, which would have taken us about 60 miles out of the way, was being used mainly as a detour for semi-trucks. Neither route was optimal, so luckily we had a third option. We texted a man that we found on warmshowers.org, Bob, and he was quick to lend us a hand—or, rather, an SUV. He drove over to the casino and picked us up with all of our gear to cart us through the section of freeway that was off-limits. As we crossed through the tiny corner of Arizona and into Utah, we noticed an instantaneous difference in our surroundings.

St. George, Utah, was nothing like the cities we had passed through before. The neighborhoods were pristine, with coordinated homes and manicured lawns. Neither one of us has ever been to Utah, so the shining white Mormon temples throughout the city were new sights to see. Bob informed us on our drive that he and his wife, Carol, are about to take on their own cycling adventure from San Francisco to Washington, D.C. in August, and he asked for opinions on gear and routes—neither of which we were too sure about. When we arrived at the house, he led us through the basement and upstairs to the main level, where we were welcomed by two fuzzy Australian Shepherds named Kiwi and Cody. They followed our every move as we checked out the family photos on the wall, the massive handmade ping-pong table, loads of bulk food items, and a huge Oregon State University sticker on the wall, which Slater was ecstatic to see. We came to learn that Bob and Carol both went to OSU and lived in Bend, OR for years before moving to Utah. Their Oregonian nature was clear from their free-spirited attitudes and love for the outdoors.

Next came dinner, which was a giant spread: wild turkey (which their son, Montana, shot in the mountains the day before), chicken, rice, roasted potatoes, asparagus, green salad, cucumber salad, and lemonade. Carol had arrived just in time, and she had us laughing from the instant she walked in the house. We joked with the couple and two of their four boys at dinner, talking about comedy sketches, crazy friends, and school talent show skits gone wrong (or right, depending on how you look at it). After eating, the boys’ friend, Peter, came over to show off his cherry-red sunburn, and we spent time playing ping-pong and munching on a few more snacks while Bob and Carol went for a bike ride. The end of the night came quickly, which has been common lately, and we hit the hay in a plush, cozy bed.