I'm not afraid of birds, I just think they're creepy, unnatural beasts. With their beady little eyes, ability to fly, sharp beak thingies, and prehistoric scaly claw-feet, they just need to go back to Paleolithistan.
But today while on a walk with my dog Harper, he turned around to sniff a robin standing on the sidewalk. It weird that the bird hadn't moved when Harper walked up, so I pulled Harper back and got closer myself. The bird didn't look injured, but it didn't move even as I moved my hand close. Its eyes weren't alert and wide, but it was obviously looking right at me. And it just STOOD THERE.
I don't know if birds can have a "look" in their eyes. I swear I've seen a look of intent as they've bombed my car. But between the body posture of the bird, its lack of movement as we got close, and the look in its eyes, I felt bad for the bird. It honestly looked like it had lost its will to live and was just begging to be put out of its misery.
I walked away slightly disturbed. A few steps away I saw what might've been the reason for what I saw in the bird's eyes. A tiny, dead bird in the middle of the sidewalk.
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Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
Motorcyclin' to Moab
Being one of the sportiest motorcycles in the Harley Davidson line, my VRod is not the most comfortable bike for long trips. You can buy accessories that make it more comfortable - things like firmer seats, windshields, and saddle bags. But I have none of these. Well, I have a windshield, but somehow I didn't think about bringing it on my trip to Moab. And so sets the tone for our adventure.
Courtney sent out a text message asking who wanted to join her and Michael for a motorcycle road trip. I waffled, knowing how uncomfortable my trip from Idaho Falls had been, where I had picked up my bike from the eBay seller. But Courtney is some kind of convincinator, and I agreed to go the day before they were leaving. It was me, Courtney & Michael on their touring-style Honda, and their friend Paul on his Honda Shadow.
Knowing the weather would be unpredictable, I wore my leathers - a lined leather jacket and chaps. I had packed everything I needed into an old backpack, save for my huge, 15 year old sleeping bag which I bungeed to my bike on the back.
We left Courtney & Michael's house shortly after 10am on Friday, and after a quick stop in Spanish Fork, we were on our way to Moab on the scenic route of US Highway 89.
We knew we were going to hit some cold spots, specifically through Ephraim, which was going to have a high of 40F. It turned out to be fairly warm through that beautiful stretch between US 6 and Salina. As we fueled up in Salina for our long, 110 mile stretch on I-70, Michael told us that the coldest was behind us. I think his words were "It only gets warmer from here."
In our weather gear
Well, after a few dozen miles we started to hit wet asphalt, evidence of rain on the pavement and in the sky ahead. I didn't mind the drizzle or the mist that passing cars sprayed because my leathers kept me comfortable. But we soon decided to stop so the others could put on their rain gear. It really wasn't a moment too soon because then we ran into rain, and at the highest point there was even had snow on the ground. It only gets warmer my ass.
After a stop in Green River to get a burger at Ray's Tavern, we made our final push to Moab. The idea was to get a spot at the Slickrock campground and head back into town for a drink. Well, there wasn't a single available camping spot at the campground. We even drove on a washboard dirt road to find the overflow camping, to no avail. Threatening clouds loomed, so we turned around, determined to find something in another area.
Dirty, dirty bike
Too late. We were hit with a downpour, rain so heavy and fast that we could've all sworn it was hail for at first. We couldn't drive fast because of the road, which was perfectly suited to hold the water in its depressions and splash us if we didn't pick a good line. Michael got to a point where he couldn't see and was driving blindly *with a passenger* on this bad road. The decision was quickly made to just find a hotel room and split the cost.
Sunset from Eddie McStiff's
Moab was strangely busy, almost like Easter weekend for the Jeep Safari. We probably lucked out when we found the last room of the second hotel we tried. Dinner was at Eddie McStiff's, and we were in bed by 10:30, all of us sore and exhausted from the 300+ miles we had ridden over 7 hours.
After a late breakfast at The Love Muffin Cafe (employees wore t-shirts that said "Go down on our muff"), we headed off to Arches National Park. I've been to Arches dozens of times, but never on a motorcycle. It was brilliant. The weather was perfect, the roads were curvy and open, and the scenery was so much better than what you get from the inside of a car.
Me, Michael and Courtney
We stopped at Balanced Rock and a few random viewpoints, but once Courtney found out that Michael had never seen Delicate Arch, the convincinator worked her magic and coaxed us all into a death march to see the arch. 1 and a half miles; me in my riding boots and jeans, Michael in his flannel-lined jeans, and Paul in his long johns AND flannel-lined jeans. It was perfect riding weather, but it wasn't perfect hiking-in-your-long-johns weather. Once we got to the the arch Paul took off his long johns despite the huge crowd up there, deciding that if anyone gave him grief he'd just act French.
The road ahead
With enough sun to burn my freshly shaven head, we stopped for lunch at Pasta Jays in Moab, and then headed home. Once again we ran into rain and heavy winds, but it wasn't until we jumped on one of the nation's deadliest stretches of highway, US Route 6 between Price and Spanish Fork, that we got downpour rains. Luckily this rain didn't last too long because my helmet would not quit fogging up, making it really difficult to navigate the curvy wet road.
Paul, Michael, me
