I don’t generally name my cars, and I don’t really set out to name my motorcycles, but it seems like over the past decade most of the motorcycles I’ve owned have somehow let me know what they wanted to be called. This year all my motorcycling is being done on a Suzuki DR650, AKA Putt Putt. This is part two of the story of Putt Putt’s and my trip to the canyon country of Utah.
With the end of our visit to Natural Bridges, it was time for Howard and me to head west. With Glen Canyon / Lake Powell in the way, and the ferry across Lake Powell no longer running because the lake level is so low, we had no choice but to either head north to take the bridge on the upstream end of the lake or head south to the Glen Canyon Dam end of things. Since our return trip would bring us across the northern bridge, our wheels turned south to Page, Arizona where we would be spending the night.
But for Howard and me the direct route is never the best, so we headed out to take the Moki Dugway – A section of Utah 261 that turns into three miles of mostly gravel switchbacks dropping down dramatically off the edge of Cedar Mesa and ending up near the Valley of the Gods.
The view down from Cedar Mesa. Three miles of gravel switchbacks will get you there.
You can see a little of the Moki Dugway in the top center of this photo.
Once we arrived in Page, we encountered the strangeness that is Arizona time. Most of Arizona (save the Navajo reservation) does not go on Daylight Savings Time in the summer, so its time is different from everyone else on Mountain Time. We decided to just keep living on Utah time, which meant our 6 a.m. Utah-time alarm actually had to be set for 5 a.m. Arizona time. It wasn’t that tough to deal with, but it still doesn’t feel right seeing that time you ringing alarm…
Our hoped for target for the day was Zion National Park. Unlike the parks from earlier in the trip, Zion is a popular, crowded park where there is never enough parking and many of the roads are open only to the park’s free shuttle service. Howard and I were concerned we might not be able to find parking at the park, even with our early start.
We needn’t have worried. As Handel foretold in his oratorio The Messiah, “Oh thou that tellest good tidings to Zion, there is plenty of motorcycle-specific parking.” Or something like that…
Despite our worries, there was plenty of unpublicized motorcycle specific parking at the park. (It’s attached to the oversized-RV lot, if you’re looking for it.)
We were soon in line for the shuttle to the far end of Zion where we were to go on the Riverside Walk. For us there was about a 45-minute wait.
In line for the Zion shuttle bus.
But the wait was worth it. The views along the paved Riverview Trail were spectacular. As Howard wrote in a post on Instagram, “I can’t imagine a person seeing it for the first time 400 years ago. How could you explain it to someone who’s not only never seen it, but never seen anything like it?”
At the end of the trail comes the legendary Narrows – a route into the depths of the park accomplished by wading up the river.
The jumping off point of the Narrows was a popular place on this warm afternoon, but we had neither the time nor the right equipment to follow it.
Despite all of the people and accompanying noise and fuss, it was still possible to have a moment of peace in this incredible park. Just listen for a moment to burbling of the Virgin River I recorded on our way back.
Next – Putt Putt starts heading back east.