Willard Bay State Park, Utah
We spent the morning crossing back and forth between Wyoming and Utah on a really gorgeous road. It followed a river named Henry's Fork and was one of the most bizarre mix of topographies in such a relatively short distance that we've seen. One side of the road was lush with pasture land, big swatches of purple fields and tree lined meandering creek. The other side of the road was parched desert hills with sage or pinion trees dotted here and there. Then it all suddenly changed to badlands that looked like a futuristic science movie. All within about 40 miles. Dang, our country has some pretty unique environments!
We finally crossed into Utah for good and headed for Ogden. We did a little exploring around town, had lunch at Union Station and were going to visit some museums (free today), but the weather was so gorgeous we couldn't bring ourselves to be stuck inside. Instead we headed for our campground planning on spending some time enjoying a little R&R.
A couple of nights ago we realized that we'd be pulling into a populous area on a Saturday night in the dog days of summer so we pulled the trigger and booked a campsite on line. The good news is that we're glad we did cause the camp ground is sold out. The bad news is that we picked a site in the wrong campground. It's the marina campground and is pretty much a parking lot. Fortunately we have the one campsite in the shade and if we face our chairs with the backs to the road, all we can see is dried prairie. Denial is a wonderful thing.
Several years ago when we camped here (in the north campground) we had a great time biking. We decided to see if we could bike to this campground. These two campgrounds are several exits away on the freeway, have a marina and pasture separating them, but we were confident we could find a trail. Looking at the satellite view of the area it looked like a trail was on the levy surrounding the lake. Off we went. Yes, we encountered the marina - no problema we'll bike around. Gate, no problema we'll skirt around - thru high dried out prairie. Hey, we made it to a dirt road. That road ends, no problema we'll just go through this cornfield. The other option was going through the active skeet shooting range, but we're not THAT stupid. The cornfield ended at a feedlot. We tried going around, but the cows were running around like crazy thinking that they were going to get fed. At this point, we decided okay, let's go back and try perhaps the road.
That was when Ned realized he had a flat. Yes, we had a pump, we had a spare tire, but didn't have the bike tool tire pry bar thingy. Ned, being the gentlemen he is, offered to take my bike and ride back to the van. Heck no, and leave me out in this field with a bunch of stampeding hungry cows? I valiantly (ahem) offered to ride back and get it. By the time I reached the van and got back, Ned had managed to find a shady spot under a tree and had already replaced his leaky tire with the new one. (Maybe I wasn't exactly the Pony Express). Just as we were ready to take off, he looked down and said, "Deb, my front tire is flat!!" Apparently, we had picked up quite a lot of thorns riding through the prairie and cornfields. Ned pulled the tire, did a little "Ned mojo" on it, slung the bad tire over over his shoulder and across his chest like a bandolier and shouted, "Poncho Villa rides again!" Ned always cracks me up.
Ned was marveling at the fact that I didn't pick up any thorns, especially since I had ridden through this mess twice. We hadn't ridden more than two feet when I looked down and I had a flat too. Unbelievable! Thank goodness we each carry spare tubes and a patch kit. So far on this trip, between Winnie and our bikes, we've blown 5 tires! Unfortunately I didn't bring my camera so there are no photos to document any of this excursion.
By the time we made it back to the campsite we were pretty tuckered out. It was a short, but brutal 10 miles. A beer was definitely in order. Because we are in Utah we're honoring the occasion with a "Polygamy Porter." Got to love the description. "Why have just one? Polygamy Porter is a smooth, chocolatey, easy-drinkin' brown porter that's more than a little naughty. Take some home to the wives!"
Our bikes are shot, our bodies are tired, we've got a bag full of dirty laundry, the can of bug spray just ran out, and the Yuba River is calling. The only thing between us and home are 10 hours and the bleakness of Nevada. We've survived 2 months on the road, had the time of our lives, great stories to tell and memories of a lifetime. We can do this.
