Part 2: Bicycling through the Land of the Sleeping Rainbows

By Frosty Wooldridge

Part 2: Riding mountain passes, open sky and raging colors

“The bicycle is just as good company as most husbands and, when it gets old and shabby, a woman can dispose of it and get a new one without shocking the entire community.” Ann Strong, Minneapolis Tribune, 1895

Many men and women down through time comment on bicycling.  Strong’s words have survived the test of time. Today, women ride, race, tour around the world and generally delight male riders with their grit, gumption and Lycra cartoon outfits.  Nothing like women’s fashion to make a male cyclist’s eyes light up!

It’s a little different on tour, however, we ride for long distances.  We wear colors like orange, white and lime green to be seen—rather than run over.  If you notice the pictures, you see our bikes feature an 8 foot flag flying vertically off the back of the bike and a 20 inch flag running into the traffic side.  We like to catch auto and truck drivers’ attention before they roll up on us at 70 m.p.h.  They can’t help seeing our flags, which keeps their attention rather than swatting at flies, the kids, texting or crying on the phone over a lost friend.   So far, so good, we’re still rolling our bikes along the world’s highways.

(Crossing the river of the canyon we traveled)

We rolled along through dry, bush country surrounded by sedentary rock mountains rich with burgundy, gray, tan and brown colors.

Bob and I pulled over on Route 40 at the Frontier Motel and Grill for a whopping breakfast of pancakes, oatmeal, hash browns and toast.  We filled up our water bottles and headed west to Duchene.

We pedaled toward Duchene.  On major highways, it’s always disconcerting to see endless bottles, cans, plastic, Styrofoam and fast food trash lining the highway like ugly stepchild.  While citizens pick it up through “Adopt a Highway to make Utah Clean”, many more throw it down faster than it can be picked up.    It makes me wonder what kind of a person can through his or her trash on such beautiful landscapes.

The conservationist Aldo Leopold said, “We abuse the land because we regard it as a commodity belonging to us.  When we see the land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect.”

At Duchene, we turned south on Route 191 through a beautiful river canyon.  Quiet, no traffic to speak of and a serpentine highway leading us south toward warmer weather. Late in the afternoon, the shadows of the setting sun played on the rocks for a grand finish of the day.

(Bob pedaling through multi-colored landscape)

At one stop, a sign read, “Life is best enjoyed when time periods are evenly divided between labor, sleep, and recreation.  All people should spend one-third of their lives in recreation, which rebuilds their energy, revitalizes their aspirations and renews their dreams.”

As luck would have it, we camped a mile off the highway over a bridge that led into a solitary rock-cliffed canyon, but we had to cut through a gate to find our camping spot.  We couldn’t have found a more solitary spot in the middle of wide open country.   But at sunset, two guys drove up in a pickup and horse trailer. 

“How’d we camp in such a remote area and two guys came up in a horse trailer?” said Bob.

“Go talk to them,” I said. “Tell them we are two lost sheep. They won’t make us move.”

Bob walked off to meet them, “Hope you don’t mind us crashing on your land.”

“Just pick up after yourselves,” the older man said.

“No problem,” said Bob. “We’ll leave it pristine.”

Next day, we climbed for 18 miles through gorgeously striated rock ramparts 1,000 feet over our heads. Huge erosion channels wore the rocks down in a tapestry of formations.  Some pinion and junipers grew across the ridges with folded canyons cutting through from different angles. 

As we pedaled higher, the air freshened and pines took over along with changing aspen—gold and red in colors.  The last two miles in the afternoon, the grade changed from four percent to seven percent. We clicked into Granny gear for the last few miles to the top of the pass.

At 3 p.m., we reached the top to see for 50 miles north across the mountains.  A sign read, “Indian Summit at 9,114”.  Beyond that sign, another one delighted Bob. It read, “8 percent downhill grade for 5 miles”. 

“That’s my favorite sign,” said Bob. “That’s why I loved cycling across Kansas last summer.  Nothing bigger than a prairie dog mound.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” I said.  “Let’s get down this mountain to find a nice campsite.”

John Forester, Effective Cycling said, “People like to travel: that is why the grass is greener over the fence. The bicycle seduces our basic nature by making walking exciting. It lets us take 10-foot strides at 160 paces a minute. That’s 20 miles an hour, instead of 4 or 5… It is not only how fast you go — cars are faster and jet planes faster still. But jet-plane travel is frustrating boredom — at least the car gives the pictorial illusion of travel. Cycling does it all — you have the complete satisfaction of arriving because your mind has chosen the path and steered you over it; your eyes have seen it; your muscles have felt it; your breathing, circulatory and digestive systems have all done their natural functions better than ever, and every part of your being knows you have traveled and arrived.”

Can’t argue with John Forester! 

We pulled the bikes forward and began dropping into gravity power.  Really a neat feeling when you reach the top of a mountain pass and feel the power of gravity take over.  It releases a sense of joy throughout your body, mind and spirit.

(Frosty’s bike stopped to enjoy colors as we coasted down Indian Canyon into Helper)

We coasted for more than 10 miles through beautiful Indian Canyon with sheer rock walls hovering directly over our heads.   We passed through golden aspen groves along with dark green lodge pole pines.  Trees grew on rock cliffs. The underbrush burned yellow, bronze, burgundy, red and gold.  Exquisite! 

Further down the canyon, golden-leaved willows blazed along a silvery river with the backlighting of the setting sun.  The scene kept us awestruck.  A visual feast of raw colors and rugged rock formations!  At the bottom of the canyon, we rolled into a steep canyon town called “Helper.”  Back in the 1800s, the mountain passes required trains to use an engine at the end to push the train over the passes. They called it a “Helper.”  Thus, the town gained its name because it housed a round-house to send the helpers out to assist the big trains over the passes.

(Another stop along Indian Canyon to show the rock ramparts and colors)

We pedaled into Price where we met another cyclists named Grant who invited us to shower and camp at his home.  We followed him to his place for an evening campfire, hot dinner and a warm shower.  Life doesn’t get any better than that.

Cyclist Elizabeth West said, “”When man invented the bicycle, he reached the peak of his attainments. Here was a machine of precision and balance for the convenience of man. And (unlike subsequent inventions for man´s convenience) the more  he used it, the fitter his body became. Here, for once was a product of man´s brain that was entirely beneficial to those who used it, and of no harm or irritation to others. Progress should have stopped when man invented the bicycle.”

Part 3: Moving closer into the land of the sleeping rainbows.

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Frosty Wooldridge has bicycled across six continents – from the Arctic to the South Pole – as well as eight times across the USA, coast to coast and border to border. In 2005, he bicycled from the Arctic Circle, Norway to Athens, Greece. In 2012, he bicycled coast to coast across America.  His latest book is: How to Live a Life of Adventure: The Art of Exploring the World by Frosty Wooldridge, copies at 1 888 280 7715/ Motivational program: How to Live a Life of Adventure: The Art of Exploring the World by Frosty Wooldridge, click:

www.HowToLiveALifeOfAdventure.com