Flying through Fisher Valley, we take a quick detour through a wash where the road is completely missing. It's fast and fun, dodging ruts and washouts. Up we go again, the snow capped La Sal mountains getting closer. A fat brown bear runs across the road a ways in front of me. Eventually, we find ourselves on pavement and it is absolutely frigid, even in the sun. Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. My heated grips are on but they are not enough. Oh no, we're on a long shady stretch of road. I have to stop to warm up so I pick a nice sunny patch. Cooler King doesn't see me stop and continues out of sight around a bend. I place my hands on the air cooled engine, ceremoniously anointing it, until the heat soaks through my flesh and I continue onward. I find Cooler King on the side of the road doing the same thing. Brrrrrr, we can't wait to get out of the mountains. CK says "how much farther to breakfast?" I check and the GPS says about 25 miles as the buzzard flies. He says "let's stop in Moab for some thick leather gloves."
Down the mountain we go, shivering.
Oh, I missed the turn off for the dirt, ah, there we go, this is a nice trail. Bouncy bouncy, we're quickly going down in elevation. Woohoo, Sand Flats Road, I can smell that burrito.
Then, Sand Flats, and it pains me to pass up a ride on Slickrock. I tell the dude at the Sand Flats gate that we had just come from Colorado. Really? Yup. He thinks that's pretty swell and says we don't have to pay because we're not using the Sand Flats trails.
The next thing we know, we're sucking down New Mexican burritos and tasty muffins at Love Muffin Cafe. The folks at Love Muffin are being really good to us, although I'm having a hard time talking and shoving food in my mouth at high velocity. As we're leaving, one of them gives us a personal number for help if we need it (we didn't ask for it). That place is great.
We cross the street to the Shell station for some fuel and water refills. CK only drank a few sips so far, I had almost a half gallon. I had pre-packaged several portions of electrolyte powder mix into zip-lock bags. So I'm standing there at the gas pump pouring what looks like cocaine into my backpack. Haha, that's how we do it, this train runs on cocaine!
We deposit the half-used water jug next to the pumps. I can't help myself: "That's for KTMs" I say, and then we roll out of there.