Day Twenty-Seven: Hanksville - Hite

Around 8 a.m., we heard people mingling outside our motel room, so Slater went out to socialize while I fell back asleep (whoops). It turned out to be the four motorcyclists from the night before, plus Craig and a new guy: Node. Node is an upbeat guy from Portland who is riding to Boulder, CO. He has a thick red beard and a smile that, well, makes you smile. He told Slater that he was headed the same direction, so we would see him later that night at the campground in Hite, UT. Slate came back to the room to get ready for the day, and we showered and packed up before eating one last meal at the Red Rock Restaurant.

When we arrived, we saw yet another cyclist outside. We waved him down and invited him to eat breakfast with us. His name was Garrison; he is a grad student studying climatology at the University of Arizona, and he was able to explain all of the questions that we had about Utah’s geography, from its red-colored rocks to its cavernous canyons. We shared funny stories and gripes about Utah drivers, then parted ways after endless glasses of coffee and orange juice. One more stop at the gas station for snacks left us on our way toward Hite, and the ride went fairly smoothly until…

A flat. We had ridden 48 miles already, and the campground was within site, but we still had a gnarly hill to climb and about three miles of winding road to coast down. We chose to walk it; after all, the sun was beating way too intensely to sit on the melting asphalt and change a tire. So up we went, huffing and puffing while pushing our bikes up the road, then clenching our brakes as we walked downhill, fearing that our bikes might run away from us. Thank God we arrived before 5 o’clock, because the “store” (there were more magnets in the convenience store than there was food) closed at 5:00 on the dot, and we were almost out of food. We bought crackers and granola bars and other mismatched ingredients for a meal, then walked about a half of a mile further to the “campsite” (a large patch of rocky dirt with a few picnic tables).

Craig and Node were there as well, and they were setting up a structure formed with picnic tables to use as shelter from the approaching storm. And though the clouds were threatening, we only were hit with about five minutes of rain. We shared food amongst ourselves and chatted with a German traveler whose English was sub-par (but better than my German), swatted gnats until sundown, then had a full-blown bike maintenance class with Craig and Node when we noticed that just about everything on my bike was broken. They trued my wheel, fixed three spokes, and examined my tire—which, by the way, is shot. We’re pretty lucky that we run into these kinds of people along the way, because we’d be pretty screwed if we didn’t. Around 10:00, we all retired to our respective tents and slept in the heat, joined by a few gnats and a layer of dirt that had blown its way in.