Day Twenty-Eight: Hite - Blanding

Inspired by Node’s habitual 4 a.m. wakeup, we attempted to wake with the sun… but that didn’t happen. We were up earlier than usual, however, in an attempt to get out before the scorching heat, and we packed up our gear just in time to catch the doors open at the small convenience store. There was quite literally no food, only dried up rice cracker-esque granola bars and overpriced pasta from 2008. We grabbed what we could and made like thieves off toward Blanding, a daunting 75-mile climb ahead of our weary bodies.

Just a mile up the road, I felt myself bouncing up and down awkwardly on the seat and knew something wasn’t right. I stepped off reluctantly and gazed down at my back wheel dejectedly as I saw a dead, flat tire. After all the fixing up Node had done the evening before, I was faced with more problems—and a flat on the back tire (as compared to the front tire) is a bitch. I was completely out of fresh tubes, so we attempted to patch one of the old ones, and after thirty minutes discovered that there was not one hole, but rather, five holes. We figured that replacing the current tube that had a slow leak was a bad idea if our best option was a tube with five patched holes, so we pumped up my tire and carried on, hoping and praying that it would hold pressure throughout the day.

It didn’t (no surprise there), especially considering the fact that my back tire was worn completely through in multiple places. Plagued with tire gashes, a bent wheel, missing spokes, and a leaky tube, we knew it was time to flag down a truck. We rode about fifteen miles before actually spotting a pickup truck heading in our same direction, and hesitantly waved them down. I rolled up next to the driver’s side window and clenched my teeth as I asked, “Any chance you’re headed toward Blanding?” They nodded ‘yes’ and clearly got the memo, parking the car and dropping the tailgate to load our rigs in the back.

Jeff, the driver, was a tall, laidback man with SoCal running through his veins, despite the fact that he was wearing a boldly blue, red and yellow-colored Colorado t-shirt. Maria sat alongside him, a firecracker of a woman with a passion for exploration. She told us that she was a firm believer in ‘everything happens for a reason’, meaning that we were more than welcome in the cozy cab of their Ford F150. We explained ourselves and our bike troubles to the couple as we wound through mountains and hills, feeling guilty as we passed by Node and Craig who laughed at the sight of our bikes in the bed of our rescue truck. About forty minutes through, we pulled down a side road that lead to a trailhead off the beaten path. Maria joked, “You’re on our vacation now!” as she lured us out of the truck and onto the trail, promising there would be treasure at the end of the path.

We huffed and puffed up the dirt trail (we’ve become quite estranged with walking), and laughed with Jeff as he detailed story after story of Maria’s ambitious hikes that he struggles through in flimsy flip flops. Not long after, we arrived at a railing, and discovered what Maria likes to call a “miniature Mesa Verde”; that is, a preserved site of ancient cliff dwellings. We could see small doorways and structures of different sizes, with areas resembling terraces and foyers hidden in stone caves. This was quite the surprise to Slater and me; never would we have expected such a hidden gem to appear just off the road, and we were so grateful to Jeff and Maria for showing us a side to Utah that we never would have experienced from the shoulder.

Back in the car, we carried on to Blanding, UT. It was a small town, yet bigger than most that we have encountered, and we were hopeful that the nearby Ace Hardware might (and I mean might) have the tire I was looking for. We forgot, however, that it was Sunday—and we were in Utah—meaning that not one store was open besides the gas station. We saved our plans for the next morning, when the town would open its doors once more, and instead said goodbye to Jeff and Maria before riding over to a nearby campground for the night. It was a lovely little site, lush with freshly mowed grass and robust green trees. We set up camp across from a helpful couple in their RV, who offered to drive us through town in search of a bike shop. It was a gracious offer, but the town showed no signs of life; so we opted to set up our hammocks and cook a gourmet dinner of hot dogs and chicken tortilla soup.

The night was quite refreshing, as we were surrounded by green (finally—Utah has been mostly red rock) and were able to enjoy the company of Node and Craig when they arrived later in the day. The four of us shared laughs and gripes for a couple more hours before retreating to our tents and enjoying our first night of sleep on soft ground.