Colorado Cruiser: Colorado Hidden Roads - Day 3 - Naturita

I always get melancholy when John and I head our separate ways at the end of a ride, and today's that day. John made the comment that to him it always feels like he's in a rush because he has such a long ride ahead of him and I'm always relaxed because I have such a short ride. It told him it's because I live somewhere nice to ride, and Arizona just isn't.

Actually I think it's more because John gets "get home fever", and I try real hard not to. John texted at the end of the day to say he only had high heat the last 50 miles of the ride, and actually has some cooling rain for a couple of hours.

My ride began about 7:00. I had no idea where I was going to go, and it was too early to be calling people asking if I could come hang out for a night, so I just picked a general direction and headed West back toward Naturita and Utah. The 20 miles to Naturita was very chilly. Probably 60 degrees, but it felt wonderful. As I approached the town I saw a sign for the "Nucla Loop". Nucla is another town just a couple of miles from Naturita, but it's not on a highway, so it's always felt like a poor 2nd cousin. The Nucla Loop also had a sign saying Highway 90 to Montrose.

I was tricked years ago by Highway 90 and Google. If you ask for the directions between Montrose and Naturita, Google will send you down highway 90. But it's all unpaved and very rough. I didn't take the road, but I used the length given as part of my trip planning, and when I went down the actual road, I was over an hour late to my destination.

Anyway, I decided to take the Nucla loop and see where it went. It led past a power plant, past some homes and farms, then led me to the main road into Nucla. I turned right up to the main part of Nucla which is about a block and a half long.

I remember coming to Nucla as a child with my Grand Father. It hasn't changed all that much in general appearance, but all of the stores have switched around. My favorite used to be a candy store run by a guy named Blind Pete. My brothers tell me they used to try to snitch candy but Blind Pete always caught them. All I remember is my Grandpa buying a bag of candy and giving me one, then eating most of the rest. I've tried to maintain that tradition with my own children and grand children. I love orange wedges enough that my grand kids will say "Can we have some popop candy?"

Anyway, Blind Pete's candy shop is gone and I was too young to remember much else. But there was a restaurant open for breakfast called the 5th Street Cafe and I went in. Breakfast was pretty good and I talked with several of the patrons about motorcycles and the various roads in the area.

One of the things that really struck me was a big picture on the wall of a Girl in a Marine uniform with a sign over the top that read "Home of the Free Because of the Brave".

After breakfast i rode back to the Nucla Loop and continued West. I knew where the Western end of the loop came out because I've ridden it many times and know it comes out near my first home. It descends through a really nice little canyon down to the Delores river. I rode through the farms and down the canyon, then turned right on highway 141 for about a mile. There just off the road to the right is the little farm house where I lived the first years of my life.

The house is in pretty rough shape. The fields around the house are green and filled with hay, but the house is abandoned. I walked around a while and took a few pictures. In front of the house were the remains of the front door. It was a paneled door but all of the panels were gone, and most of the frame was broken apart. I picked up the part of the frame with the lock and nobs. They still turned and functioned, so I strapped it to my bike. I'll see what I can do with it when I get home.

Once I left the house, I turned West onto highway 90 towards Bedrock, Paradox and La Salle. It's a really nice 2 lane road that was recently re-paved. It felt really smooth to ride on, sun was shining, the sky was blue, and I felt great. What a glorious cool morning to be out and about enjoying the majesty of nature.

After 30 minutes of easy riding I approached Bedrock. I'd been here 5 years ago with John and his wife. There was a small general store and we stopped back then for a soda and munchies. Its been closed for a few years now which was kind of sad to see.

Once past Bedrock the road turns left and climbs a big ridge up towards La Salle. Off to my right and ahead was the small town of Paradox. My dad used to mention Paradox occasionally but I don't remember ever being there so I figured I'd just go take a look. I exited the highway to the right down a narrow road that lead to a small group of houses. Looking through the town took about a minute. It once had a small store but that's closed. The houses were all nice, but no one could be seen, so I looped around and headed back to the highway.

As I climbed up the canyon wall I could look down at Paradox and the whole valley. It was very pretty, but the all pervasive smoke haze made the photos more bland. Once I was up the wall the road follows some canyons through small homesteads until you reach the Utah border. I stopped for a picture of the Utah sign. I've always been headed down this road rather than up, so I've always gotten a "Welcome to Colorful Colorado" sign in the past.

Picture taken, I headed back West and up onto the plateau around the La Salle mountain and the town of La Salle. Highway 90 eventually leads to highway 191 that runs North/South through Moab. But I turned South, away from Moab and towards Blanding where I have an Aunt and her family. I thought about going into Canyonlands for a quick tour, but I don't have enough gas for the 36 miles in and back out, so I kept going South through Monticello and into Blanding.

Just past Monticello I saw flashing signs along the highway warning that it's a deer migration area. Soon after I saw several dead deer along the road. I also saw a small herd of about 8 does and fawns just down off the road nervously pacing like they wanted to cross. I throttled way back and became a bobble head looking left and right for any signs of the hopping menaces, but other than the first few, I never saw any more.

I started to recognize allot of landmarks like the turnoff to long canyon where my grandfather used to run cows, the dood ranch where my mom still has propery, and Devil's canyon where we've cooked many a batch of dutch oven potatos. Finally I descended to Recapture Reservoir, then up and over radio hill into Blanding.

I'd timed it perfect. It was just after noon and the Patio Drive in was open and calling my name. I pulled into the packed place and scanned the menu. Last night the waitress had screwed up our order and brought super hot wings rather than the (cough) mild ones we'd ordered (hey, I'm getting old, don't judge me).

I ordered a basked of wings and onion rings, then looked for a table in the crowd. A small 2 seater opened just in time and I snatched it up with my helmet taking the other seat. The table across the way was a 4 seater, but filled with 8 people who were all speaking something scandinavian. The table behind was a group of rock climbers who were discussing a quick trip to monument valley and trying to be back by sundown, and all the other tables were filled with happy munching groups deep into their own conversations.

I pulled out my phone and called my aunt's house to be sure I'd have a place to sleep tonight. My cousin answered and once he assured me I could stay the night, I told him "Good, I'm at the Patio and will be over in an hour or so"

My wings came soon after. I sat munching wings, sipping my soda and trying not to look like I was listening in on the conversations around me, except that when the table behind me asked "Why is this town called Blanding", I had chime in with the quick version of the man who wanted a town named after his wife and promised a library to any town that would change it's name. Once the name was changed, the man delivered 2 boxes of old books to the town. Several other tables chimed in with comments and anecdotes as well. Then we all went back to pretending we weren't listening in one each other.

By the time I'd liked my fingers clean for the last time, the lunch rush was nearly over and it was down to me and the table of Scandinavians. The mom left for a few minutes, then came back in with a big nice camera and started taking some pictures of the kids posed about to eat french fries and burgers. I offered to take a picture of all of them together (it's amazing how universal that gesture is). They nodded and said a very broken "yes ples", so I had them all sit at the table with the "Blanding" sign behind it and took several pictures. The mom was ecstatic and kept saying "tank yu".

I suited up and went out to take my own staged photo. While I was getting on the bike, the mom came out again and walked over to a massive motorhome with rental signs all over it. They sure looked like they were having a great vacation together with kids, parents and grand parents.

I turned the bike back up the way I'd come and rode back to the big Blanding sign that welcomes you to town. I've never gotten a posed shot by this sign, so now was the time. Blanding's motto is "Basecamp for Adventure". My kids would disagree that Blanding is much of an adventure, but I've always had great memories there. My oldest does think it's the greatest place to spend the 4th of July though, and she's brought her kids here several times.

After the Blanding Sign, I rode to the local cemetery where much of my family history is buried, including my father, his brother, and their parents. I walked around the grave stones where an Aunt, and a brother were buried as babies, and a young cousin as a small girl.

My father's stone was miss-carved when first laid, but has now been fixed. That was new to me. My father's funeral took place in Arizona, but he is buried here. A brother brought the casket and body up in a truck but they couldn't close the tail gate because it was so long, so they had to tie it in. I remember the joking about putting a sign on "If found, please forward to Blanding" in case it fell out. My family has quite the history of joking our way through the hard times. My grandpa wanted a good dinner and a rousing game of volleyball at his funeral. My dad said that if his funeral was over 1 hour long, he'd come back and haunt someone.

Tonight my aunt told me about the day my grandmother died. She was ill and seemed to know that the end was near, so they sat around all day chatting and reminiscing. Every so often my grandma would look up and stare. Finally my aunt asked "Mom, what do you see when you look off like that?", my grandma said "Nothing, what do you think I'm doing, looking into heaven?". They all wanted their lives celebrated, not whined about.

I stood there and felt sorry for myself for a bit, then reminded myself how lucky I was to have 2 of the men I respected most in the world for a father and a grandfather, and a grandmother and mother who have always loved me dearly and could never seem to see the faults in me that seem so plain to myself. I walked around a bit more, then hopped on the bike and began celebrating life again.

I took a quick ride around the town looking at old haunts from the many times I'd visited, but mostly from the summer I spent there with my grandparents. It was a fantastic summer when my grandpa taught me what a nap was all about. He'd built a real Navajo Hogan that was 1/2 sunk into the ground and stayed cool even during the hottest part of the day. We'd move pipe, plow, weed, bail, fix fence, or whatever till noon. Eat lunch, then head over to the hogan for a nap. Man oh man can you sleep good after a hard morning's work.

After the tour, I rode over to my aunt's home. The heat was on by then and I was glad to be done riding. I unloaded the bike and we sat around much of the afternoon catching up on family gossip and solving the world's problems. If only the world leaders would do what we said, it would all . . . probably fail, but we'd feel better.

After that I worked a bit on uploading photos and writing this report and they all worked on Saturday chores. At 6:00 we piled in her car and headed 20 miles South to the town of Bluff and the Twins trading post/restaurant. I got a Navajo Taco.

A Navajo Taco starts with a piece of good fry bread. It's a leavened dough that stretched out like a pizza, then fried in oil till it's got a good cripy exterior. It's then covered with (in this case) a good meat and bean chili, lettuce, tomato, black olives, and cheese. Sour cream if you like it. You can try to pick it up and eat it, but I find it easier to cut with a knife and fork. This taco was so good because the dough wasn't super oily, and it stayed firm and crispy through the meal. Sometimes they come soggy, or they're thin and tough. This one was awsome.

I got a few pictures of the twins and the sunset, then we headed back to their place. I worked on this report. I have no idea where I'm going tomorrow. Aint it great.

Looking down Main street of Nucla. I didn't even think to turn around and get a picture of the diner