Now I sit in middle age, fat, dumb and happy.  Channel surfing one night I ran across John Ford's Stagecoach, the movie that rocketed John Wayne to stardom.  There in all its glory was Monument Valley, the setting for any western worth its salt.  Deciding to fulfill my manifest destiny I made plans, read maps and rode out 2 weeks later.

Taking off faster than a prom dress, I left on a Friday morning at 4:15 AM heading west on I-10.
Through grid locked traffic in Houston and San Antonio I still managed 965 miles to Sonora, Texas.  A violent rainstorm stopped me with 2 hours of daylight left.

The next day would take me through the continental divide and El Paso al Pacifico.  In our travels we have all noticed discarded re-caps from 18 wheelers littering the by-ways.  Well, at 85+ mph, passing a behemoth in heavy traffic, they go off like a thundering cannon, shooting up into the air,  revolving and twisting ever higher. In microseconds I calculated that I had to gun it or this rubberized shrapnel would tattoo Firestone on my forehead.  Suffice to say that my formerly black saddle now has the puckers and patina of ostrich leather.
Upon arriving in Willcox, AZ local intel told me about the Cochise Loop so I decided to do this picturesque route after bedding down for the night.  Rode into the Chiricahua National Monument to see the Balanced Rock then on to the Cochise Stronghold.  Then back on I-10 to Saguaro National Park and its massive cacti.

Flattening the pleats on that prom dress I flew through Tucson and Phoenix on to Wickenburg, the entrance to the Prescott National Forest, home of Mingus Mountain and Oak Creek Canyon for some serious floorboard scrapping to finish off in Flagstaff.  This area is a premier motorcycle and hiking country with exquisite vistas.  Unfortunately the old mining and ghost towns of Jerome and Sedona are now infested with urban buckaroos and bourgeois bohemians.

On the third day I went to Walnut Canyon National Monument to hike the dwellings on the cliff face. The Sinaqua people inhabited this area more than 800 years ago. Heading for Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument I rode a part of old Route 66.  Once at the park I hiked Sunset and up Lenox Crater to overlook the cinder hills of the San Francisco Mountains and Humphrey's Peak, the highest point in Arizona (12,643 ft.).  I never realized that this whole area and mountain ranges are volcanos and lava flows.

Down the road a bit is the Wupatki National Monument also a stark but strangely beautiful volcanic landscape where I trod along the pithouses of these masonry pueblos.
Taking the road to my resting place for the evening, the Grand Canyon South Rim, I marveled at the Painted Desert and the Little Colorado River Gorge.  At the park I hiked Bright Angel Trail to watch the sunset and finished off in darkness.  No matter how many times you visit this national treasure the visual impact always impresses.

Dawn broke with me sitting on the rim playing Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture on my portable CD.  The cannons exploding as the Sun broke over the horizon.  The memory of a lifetime.

Leaving the park I ride along the Echo Cliffs then cross Marble Canyon by way of the Navajo Bridge.  Entering the spectacular Vermilion Cliffs and Paria Plateau.  I stop and take the tour at Pipe Springs National Monument. The only water for miles and a Mormon pioneer settlement.

Zion National Park in Utah rivals the Grand.  You ride in the belly of the canyon.  Sheer cliffs tower above, 3,000 feet high with names such as The West Temple, Towers of the Virgin, Checkerboard Mesa and Court of the Patriarchs.  The Zion-Mt. Carmel Tunnel completed in 1930 is 1 mile long.  The great attraction is the Great Arch of Zion, a "blind" arch carved high in a vertical cliff wall.

This days' final destination is Bryce Canyon National Park.  One rides through Red Canyon to get there.  Blood red sandstone cliffs and arches/tunnels across the roadway.

Bryce offers up a sense of wonder and disbelief.  The sculptured rocks rise high like a sea of phalluses that any lusty lady would appreciate.

After enjoying the sunset I make preparations for a hike to the bottom on the morrow's sunrise.
Here I walk through Wall Street, a canyon so narrow that if you spread your arms they scrap the rocks.  Thor's Hammer, a monolith leads one to the Queen's Garden, offering spectacular views of hoodoo formations.  This hike is moderately stressful, unlike the more difficult Grand or Lennox Crater.

While loading up my bike a rheumatoidal old lady is starring at it in admiration.
"Want a ride?"
"Lord no son, I'm to old" she replied "Just wish they had those things when I was younger.  Could of had me a real fling."
With that retort breaking the ice she started querying me about the trip.  I explained what I had done to date and that I was heading back to AZ to do Monument Valley.
She said "Son, you've got to do the Stairway to Heaven, Hwy 12."

It didn't take much convincing and I'm glad I took her advice.  The Escalante Mountains are housed by the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.  So named because the series of cliffs and plateaus rising 6,000 feet from the Colorado River at the Grand Canyon to Bryce Canyon.  They hold a little slice of motorcycle heaven.  Atop of the brow of the mountains sits a narrow 2 lane road, 3,000 feet of vertical death on either side with no guard rail.  The vistas stretch for miles.

Still pushing on this long day I ride through Capitol Reef National Park to marvel at its massive twisting canyons and jumble of eroded colorful cliffs.  The Dixie National Forest is in full autumnal splendor.

On Hwy 24 there are a series of cliffs that stretch for miles, devoid of all red, pinks, and violet, they stand in stark contrast.  I could not find out the name of the area except some one called it the Blues, for its blue-gray sandstone.
My rheumatoidal friend had also told me to go see Natural Bridges National Monument, but take the long way, across Lake Powell and Glen Canyon National Recreation Area by ferry.

Naturally I complied.  Stopping at Hanksville for gas I was told Halls Crossing at Bullfrog Basin was 58 miles away and because of the canyons it would take 1 hour and 15 minutes of hard riding.  The ferry departed promptly at 3 and the next one was at 5 PM.  It was 2:02.  I viewed it as a challenge.  The park ranger seeing the prom dress flapping in the wind behind me waved me on through.  Made it with 2 minutes to spare.
 

After the long ferry ride it was still a ways to Natural Bridges.  Knowing I still had to make tracks I dashed to the bottom of Sipapu Bridge (200 feet high and 300 hundred feet across) so as to take pictures.  This was a stressful run/walk as the cliffs are so steep that the park service has installed 3 rustic wood ladders and numerous grab holds to lead you to the bottom.  A couple coming out said it took them 1 hour 15 minutes round trip.  Did it in 38 plus change.

When I came out the park had closed.  On the ferry some Indian school children had been excited about the bike trip.  Giving me all kinds of advice they told me about the Moki Dugway.  It was a shortcut looping off 2 hours from the standard route but dangerous.  How dangerous I would come to find out later.
 

A 33 mile ever climbing jaunt delivers you to the rim of the cliff.  You stand overlooking the Valley of the Gods in awe and reading the huge sign saying: 10% GRADES SWITCHBACKS NARROW GRAVEL ROAD 5 MPH I swallow hard.  With steely resolve switch my steed on the rump, she lays back on her haunches and we begin our dusty descent from the cliff.

Into Mexican Hat we ride and bed down.  Getting ever closer to the focus of this trip- just 10 miles away.
 

A good nights sleep and the dawn breaks over Monument Valley. Through the early morning light and my tears of joy I spy the Duke riding next to me.  Then Dale and Roy appear.  Chill Wills on a stagecoach behind me.  Zane Grey and the Riders of the Purple Sage.  Comancheros and Federaleez.  Hi ho Silver, away.  My emotions get away from me.

The Europeans might have their Louvre and Prado but by God we have the WEST.  I spent 3 hours riding and walking through it.
Moved on to Canyon de Chelly National Monument, rode both rims and all the overlook stops.

This is another must do stop for some serious canyon hiking.  On to Fort Defiance and Window Rock, the heart of the Navajo Nations government.  Finally Gallup, New Mexico and sleep at the famous El Rancho Hotel.  Here the famous cowboy stars of old would stay during filming.  Hmm,  wonder who got nailed in this room I'm staying in?
 

Outside of Gallup I find the Mother Road and decide to get my kicks for as far as she'll take me.  Through local leads and much backtracking, as there is no official map, I ride it north through the heart of Santa Fe and then down to La Loma, Canoncito, Pecos etc.  I spent a full day in New Mexico finding and riding this bitch.

Downtown Tucumcari has the most original businesses still operating from the glory days.  Stayed at the Blew Swallow a 1940ish kitsch "no-tell motel".  Every room has its own garage keeping out prying eyes. It's on the National Registry of Historic Places.   Dale's Dinner is still family owned since the fifties.

In the morning I proceeded on the Mother Road through Texas and swear a red Corvette with George (Todd) and Martin (Buzz) passed me.

In Oklahoma before she turns north towards Chicago the Joads where still heading west.

Arkansas, from Ft Smith to Hot Springs.  The back roads are motorcycle friendly and the leaves are beginning to turn.  The people are another matter.  Their idea of higher education is taxidermy or beauty college at the vo-tech center.

From Pine Bluff, AR to Yazoo City, MS cotton is king.  The harvest was in full swing.  The waste boles littered the side of the road like a light dusting of snow.  Didn't have time to stop at the Catfish Museum or the Mississippi Petrified Forest State Park.

Finally arrived home at dusk.  10 days, 5,044 miles and 1,182 dollars richer.
 
 

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