Was up very early Saturday morning, not feeling the greatest, with a bummy ache. Too much information, well, these are the risks of a motorcycle trip. Worked on things the best I could with the limited tools I had on hand, and as the 0730-departure time crept nearer I knew I wasn't going to be able to leave on time.

I go to knock on Bill's door and I see his bike is packed and he is ready, and rarin' to go. I tell him there has been a revolt south of the border, which momentarily confuses him as we've recently been so close to Mexico, but eventually he understands my double entrende. Perhaps my greenish complexion helped to explain my condition.

There was a group of 5 motorcycle enthusiasts staying right next door to us, they were good conversation yesterday, and this morning. They all live in Phoenix and had 5 days or so to do a loop they all had done in the past, just never together. They are on a combination of sport bikes and dual purpose, they are, in turn, quite enamored by both The Scooter and The Rocket.

Eventually I feel a little bit better, better enough to stray from the readily available commode in my mo'tel room. A guy's gotta be sure cus once he leaves, he is out in the wilds, right? I am going to blame my bummy ache on the Mexican food we had last night, I actually had something called Camarones Flores, which was shrimp on tamales. Perhaps the 2 double Margaritas contributed as well? That is as much Tequila as I have had in the past decade, all in one sitting. After a number of bad experiences stretched over a number of years my wife and I have agreed upon a Tequila Moratorium, one that I have now broken. If I need additional motivation to stay away from the stuff, I now have it!

After thinking about it for half the day I am going to blame my condition on the Dollar Store popcorn. Who can sell a huge bag of popcorn, for only one dollar, not knowinbg how long it is going to sit until it is purchased and consumed?

As we head first west and then northbound, we drive on roads and through towns that are still soaking wet from recent rainfall, although there is hardly a cloud in the sky. The sun has barely risen so the temperature is still quite low, and with the wet roads and spray from oncoming vehicles I am shivering. Again I know the feeling is going to be short lived so I don't stop for additional layers, if only I could store the shivers and release them later in the day when I am sweating!

We stop for a Banana, some gas (and some Pepto-Bismal!) and end up having a political discussion with 2 good ole boys in the parking lot. You gotta be careful these days who you call Trump bats*** crazy in front of, apparently these 2 guys were staunch supporters. Took some skillful back pedalling to prevent an international incident with Bubba and Red. (Bill, that's not Bubba the accountant either!)

We press on, we have a pretty ambitious day of over 750 kms which will include, because there is no other choice, a substantial amount of time on the Interstate. As we leave we are headed straight into a huge rain curtain, we're gonna get wet for sure, there is no escaping it. The road bends and wends and somehow he find a way through the curtain. We get rained on for about 45 seconds. On the Ping Doink Twack meter it registers a soft Ping, just enough to cool us temporarily, like 5 minutes worth, then back into the Sun and the heat.

The entrance to I70 is about 200 kms into our day and the last 20 kms for me are torture as I am facing the sleepies again. I do all the tricks; deep breathing, unzip my jacket, visor up, nothing works. I am not getting on the Interstate in this condition, but I need to stop somewhere that has shade for Bill, it is very inconsiderate to expect him to wait out my nap under the blazing sun.

We stop for gas at a station tight on the apron for I70, the building casts a shadow and once he has filled up I inform him of my need for a nap, he is, as always, gracious and understanding. I sleep for 20 minutes on the ground next to The Rocket, serenaded to sleep by the pings and pops of my cooling engine. I should point out at this moment that The Rocket has been bullet-proof. The check engine light I was instructed to ignore has stopped coming on and it hasn't used a drop of oil. Yesterday climbing the hill to Mesa Verdes it started running rough at about 7500' of elevation. I pulled off the road, shut the motor off and restarted it so it would load a different fuel injection map based on the revised altitude, smoothed it right out.

We set out on I70 again, I am feeling alert and refreshed. This Interstate has the very reasonable speed limit of 80 MPH, or 130 kmh, you need to go that fast to get anywhere. There is literally nothing between here and there, no matter where you're here might be, or where you're there is. We see a sign that there are no services for the next 106 miles. I do the math in my head and that will put me at 345 kms on this tank of gas, but as we'll be at high speed my range is prolly lower. I choose to stop and fill up rather than chance it, even with Bill's gas can reserve.

The scenery on I70 is nothing short of spec-fuggin-tacular, ranging from red clay, to grey and purples, to greens and yellows all in prehistoric looking rock structures. The variety is diverse, they are as beautiful as they are timeless. They are silent sentinels having stood for millions of years and will stand for millions more.

The riding is quite tiring, it is in the high 30's, there is a brisk head/cross wind, you have to keep the hammer down. About halfway through our 170 km run there is a rest stop with signs talking about how Brigham Young called His People to come to the area and settle it, land no one else wanted, and for good reason. People showed up hoping for the land of Milk and Honey and instead found Scorched Earth, but they made it work, such was their faith in their leader!

We make it through the 106 mile Doldrum and stop for gas for both of us. Leaving I see the marker for highway 50 but I am confused and decide to continue on I70, big mistake. In the desert there are few turn offs so we have to drive about 20 minutes, and through a construction site before there is another opportunity to turn around. We can finally turn around, drive through the construction site again and take that exit again. No signs for hwy 50, but I make an arbitrary decision, turn right, and end up on a dirt road. Way to go!

The only reference I have is that one marker sign back by the gas station so we go to it. As it turns out we should have turned right, not left out of the Cenex, and we wouldn't have wasted all that time and effort. But we are on Route 50 now, it is, at this point anyways, an agricultural road of our liking. It is also a bit of a maze running on various roads, on another Interstate for 5 minutes, many twists and turns. I stop to consult the map frequently instead of blinding moving forward, which is my nature.

Once the twists and turns are over we are now headed to the Utah/Nevada border towards the town of Ely, NV. The sign says 173 miles, of mostly nothing. We will be stopping about 45 miles short, at the border of the 2 states, at The Border Inn. I was there about 15 - 20 years ago, and there are some caves about 15 miles west we're going to take a look at tomorrow. It is part of the Smell the Roses plan.

Gone is the scenery of this morning, the road is laser beam straight through featureless landscape straight into the Sun. The inevitable sleepies overtake me again. None of the tricks work, but I am holding out until I can find Bill some shade. I slow down to 100 kmh so if I hit the ditch it will be survivable. It is finally too much and there is a small pull out on the road, I take it. Bill is, of course, gracious and patient as always. There is nowhere for him to escape the sun, but he waits for me while I have a nap of indeterminate length. I wake up feeling better, maybe not a million bucks, but well enough to go the last bit. There have been distance markers counting down the miles to the border and therefore our destination. The last one I clearly remember was 62, I await the next one trying to guess where we are, I guess 40. The next marker is 21, so I can't quite account for about 40 miles, spent in a trance I suppose.

We finally arrive at The Border Inn; gas station, mo'tel, restaurant, bar. It is the only game in town, in fact it is the town! We decide to skip DustBusters on the Patio and meet for dinner an hour later, I am going to take it easy today, no beers, Rum, popcorn or seeds. And no Tequila! We have a nice dinner at the bar, nice except for the lady at the bar having a 30 minute cell phone conversation at the top of her lungs. Hey lady, say hello to Joe for us, and tell him to take his antibiotics fer chissakes!

As we are in Nevada now there are some slot machines in the bar as well, every once in a while one will start playing some attention getting music and sound effect sequence. Also the barmaid and her friend are smoking at a table next to us. It is hard to remember living in our world when smoking was allowed in so many places, it is truly a blessing now to not have to put up with the stench anymore.

We retire to our rooms for the evening, we have no internet today so I cannot finish yesterdays blog, which sits 75% done but not published on the site, and I do today's in a Word Doc I hope to paste into it tomorrow when we have, hopefully, better web access.

Day Seventeen

Cortez, CO to Utah/Nevada Border

758 kms