March 26th - Pilot RV Stanfield OR
N 45 45.888 W 119 12.463
It’s been a long time since I wrote anything on the computer - even my log from which this message and the Golden Falcon blog get updated. This is surely a function of my hectic lifestyle combined with almost no free days to sit down and tap away on the computer. This message is coming from the Pilot RV Park in Stanfield Oregon, my penultimate (The Omak Walmart being the last) stop before crossing the border.
At the time of writing the last e-mail, I was still in Arizona near Bouse. On March 13th, I pulled up stakes and headed for Moab, via Prescott National Forest, Flagstaff and Monument Valley. On the way, I stopped at the Bouse County Park to dump 6 weeks of black tank effluent (sewage) – this to lighten the load and improve my fuel consumption statistics for the mostly uphill route. My thought was to pass along #60, #71 and then #89, through Prescott to join up with I-40 which leads to Flagstaff, then get back on 89 for the northward trek. The Prescott road from Kirkland Junction was one of the twistiest ones that I have driven, highly scenic and , if one is not in a hurry, then highly recommended (not, however, if one is over 40’ in length). Prescott is an attractive small city at about 6500’ – there was snow all over the place from the storm of the last weekend but the road itself was fine. One day earlier and I might have had to contend with over a foot. Because of cool temps (29° and dropping through Flagstaff), I figured that I might as well keep on moving until getting somewhere a little lower and, hence, a little warmer. Monument Valley, where I ended up at the Mitten View Campground (N36 58.865 W110 06.881), is at 5600’ but temps levelled out a little below freezing and all was well. I stayed two nights and took the 17 mile scenic tour of Monument Valley in the truck on my free day. This place is incredible with buttes and mesas rising from the desert floor in huge red sandstone formations. The cliffs are sheer and rise up to 1000’. Mitten View is on the Navajo Tribal Park property and is run by the Indian band. The Visitor Center and end of the road are right next door (another $5.00 charge) with gift shop and restaurant (closed). They sell locally made Navajo rugs in the shop and have them displayed on the walls. The price range for these went up to $12000.00, though there were some bargains, none bigger than a queen sized blanket, for $8000.00 – $9000.00. Navajo blankets, an excellent purchase for campers, were $45.00. I was tempted but don’t really need a blanket.
With cool nights, I though that I would ration battery power by using the generator, since the furnace might have had to operate (at minimum heat) just to keep the water lines thawed. Monument Valley is a very impressive place and will likely be a regular stop on future journeys.

I got to Moab, part way up eastern Utah, on March 15th and settled into Ken’s Lake, a BLM campground near a waterfall coming off the red cliffs and located some 8 miles south of town. On Saturday, my friend Darch Oborne from Merritt, BC, arrived with his friend Howard Kelly. The plan was for them to camp in tents, use the trailer as a base of operations (a term chiefly involving food, beer and rum components). The campers survived two nights of hard ground, cool temps and general hardship before making an executive decision to move into a camping cabin at Portal RV, one of the commercial parks in Moab. To be sociable, I packed up the trailer and joined them. This was probably a good move, since Howard is the next best thing to a non-biker and seeks his entertainment on the Internet playing poker – this, in addition to truck-shuttling the two of us to our various bike ride departure points. I have been to Moab before and was well aware that most of the rides were at the upper limits of my competence and general state of fitness. There are no easy trails in Moab. Everything involves a climb of a thousand vertical feet or so with trails down ranging from slickrock with ledges to cliffside singletracks with every imaginable hazard, including, but not limited to, disappearance over the edge with a landing anywhere from 500 to 1000 feet below, a manoeuvre for which even the most expensive helmet fails to prevent instant death. For those who have been to Moab, the run names might be of interest. We did Porcupine Rim, Amasa Back - with a return along the “insanely” treacherous Jackson’s Trail, Gold Bar Rim, a trip of 27miles in all - steep climbs followed by the equally notorious, vertigo-inducing”, Portal Trail. We also rode Flat Pass, which isn’t flat at all, but happened to be near Ken’s Lake and was therefore convenient. To Moabians, these are all “epic” rides. Since I walked most of the steep stuff, my epic was really just a question of survival. Midweek, I decided to take a “day off”, since I was getting worn out. This was a good opportunity to take Howard for an “easy” ride. On the map, I had spotted a short, “green” category trail called Round Mountain. The map made no mention of the fact that it was for jeeps and ATVs but definitely not for bikes, since most of it was surfaced with loose cobblestones and involved quite steep climbs into and out of several deep gullies. Even though Howard pitched off his bike about five times and ended up covered in blood, I’m sure that this ride will go down in his books as being “memorable”, if not “epic”. Luckily, my trailer is equipped with vast quantities of Hydrogen Peroxide and bandages of every description, so we managed to put Howard (I was going to say Humpty) together again without too much mess. Darch had met one of our campground hosts who offered to act as guide. On the one trip that I joined, we still wouldn’t be back in camp today if not for the local knowledge. Anyway, that’s Moab; a good time was had by all.
We left Moab yesterday, March 25th, with Darch and Howard opting for a two day push back to Merritt, me choosing the more sedate route, planning to take about five days, of which this is the second. Yesterday afternoon, I was just pulling in to Twin Falls, Idaho, for fuel and then a night in the parking lot at a Flying J Truck Stop, when, all of a sudden, an opaque red cloud of dust blew in, obliterated almost all visibility, covered everything, including the entrance to the service station with a layer of dust and threatened to blow over the canopy of the station – under which I was hiding. This dust soon turned to rain and we had a heavy downpour for a while with high winds that lasted throughout the night. I was thankful that the timing was such that I was reasonably well protected at the Flying J rather than out on the highway. My radio station interrupted whatever it was broadcasting to give a few beeps and then an emergency message saying that winds of 70 mph (over 110 kph) were expected and that all semis and RVs should get off the road. I’m still upright, as is the trailer, though the nerve-calming rum and coke that I served myself, once I got set up, managed to slop over the table as the trailer rocked and rolled in the wind.
Unless I get diverted, I should make it home by the 28th after which the annual tussle with my water pump will likely occupy much of the following week – more on that later.