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Today was the scariest ride I have ever had. Leaving Monticello I headed down route 95. I stopped at the tourist office in Blanding where a jovial and knowledgeable fellow was there to help. As soon as I speak folks ask me where I am from, when I say Virginia they look at me strangely which leads me to make an around the globe explanation. After I was done with that the jovial fellow said, “why bother with this, you have seen everything.” Nice guy. He set me off on a path I will not forget in a hurry. At first I was disappointed as I headed along 95 and down 261. If you were just plonked there you would go wow, but when you have been exposed to days and days of amazing scenery its well, blah. That was about to change. Suddenly the road turns to dirt and starts a steep downhill grade. Around the corner is the Valley of the Gods several thousand feet below. And so begins a steady hairpin infested descent along a corrugated dirt road. I was surprised Boo managed to keep his hat on. I am not good on dirt. With a fully loaded
bike it was a real challenge particularly with a sheer drop on my right-hand side. Yesterday paled by comparison as that was black top with lots of people around. This was soft dirt and isolation. Way below was the Mexican Hat, a mesa that, you guessed it, looks like a Mexican hat. There are things in life that when you have done them you feel like you challenged yourself. This was one of those moments for me. Route 263 joins 163 and you are on the road through Monument Valley. I have been there several times, but it never fails to impress. It was Boo’s first trip and he almost jumped up and down.
The ride south west down to Flagstaff was like Monument Valley without the monuments, in other words, a grind. A grind with a wind. Unlike the winds of Kansas this was an Arizona head wind. My riding buddies are always so well prepared, this trip I did my best to compete and invested in a waterproof motorcycle bag to accommodate the yet to be used camping gear. It sits atop the passenger seat. In a head wind somehow it got lifted thanks to the elastic straps. When I looked in the rearview mirror it looked like I was trailing a weather balloon. Adjustments were needed. Arrived at the Hotel Monte Vista in Flagstaff. At the end of the ride I will be providing some overall impressions about the state of America which will include a lambasting on American hotel chains. That is because I am comparing them to the Hotel Monte Vista. The hotel is 100 years old, just look at the stair carpet. The pattern is but a distant memory. The shared bathroom is across the hall, but wait there are two bars down market and up market, the latter surviving exotic cocktails from people who a) know what they are doing and b) take pride in what they are doing. So rare in my trip thus far. The rooms are named after famous people - the usual. But wait again, they actually stayed here - Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, Michael J. Fox and many more. Regrettably no one famous has stayed in my room, 207.
But wait yet again. Walking around town I ran into Beth and Mel. They had many stories to tell, but most importantly they told me that Paul McCartney has stayed in the hotel multiple times. Not in the bed I am sleeping I suspect. Linda or whoever came later would have wanted a bit more space. Beth and Mel were delightful. They took off on a motorcycle to Central and South America in the 70’s from San Francisco and had many stories to tell. We humans offer such a rich fabric. Get that from AI!.
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