Go West Young Man!

32 Days and 5,536 Miles On My Vintage Motorcycle

In the morning I did not expect Lake Powell. If you've ever seen an artistic rendering of dinosaur era Earth you would recognize this place. Probably every one of those pictures is based on Lake Powell. The funny thing is it's got a huge population of house boats and has to be party central in the Summer. So I can't help imagining a guy in pink shorts and Wayfarer glasses being chomped in half by a T-Rex, saying "Bogus!"

Also, this was the first night we ventured to sleep without the tent cover, which was totally gnarly.

The Glen Canyon Dam is equally huge. There's a saucer shaped visitors center perched over it and, while we were there, a guy mowing the weirdest patch of grass on Earth at it's base. The bridge spanning the canyon is nauseating to walk across and whoever dangled over it's sides, riveting and welding his way across, is a hardcore badass in my book. There were dinosaur footprints on display that I palmed my crazy looking hand to. So awesome.

The night before Jordan and I had ridden through an RV park in downtown Page and deemed it too lame to sleep in. We returned in the morning though, hoping to scam a shower, which are normally five bucks a pop. A very confused guy from the Netherlands was nice enough to give me his key code for the bathrooms and we showered up. I tossed my now filthy jeans in the dryer while Gord got his coffee fix at the gas station. I watched the Netherlands group get ready for a day of hiking, presumably through the desert East of downtown Page, as I saw them walking in the opposite direction of Lake Powell. Poor guys, I've never seen such nice people so lost. Highway 89 cut up and over the dull red hills, taking us South through Echo Canyon. I loved Page, I could live here.


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