Why are “good intentions” never good outcomes? I had a bundle of “good intentions” last night. I would get up early and start riding before the heat. But instead, I start cooking breakfast at the time I had planned to leave. As a result, the day is already blistering. I stop at the camp store and buy three 20-ounce Gatorades. I drink one and fill both my insulated bottles with the other two. Before riding out of our site, I stuffed food and a third bottle of water into a sack that is strapped to the rack on the bike.
Out of the campground, I pause at the busy double highway that goes into Moab. At first chance, I zip through an open slot of traffic to the center turn lane and wait for my escape to the trailhead of the bike trail that I will follow to Arches National Park.
I wait in line for my turn to enter the Park. I get to the window, and the Ranger asks how she can help. “I would like to ride to the Arches.” She tells me to just go ahead; I’m riding a bicycle.
I am climbing the switchbacks up the side of a cliff. I gain five hundred feet of elevation in the first mile.
The Park road is a gradual climb through the rock formations.
I am at the Arches named the Windows. This is my turn-a-round for today. There are pit toilets; that’s it.
No place to sit and eat, so I plant my checks on the bottom rail of a fence and eat peanut butter crackers. I am also enjoying ice-cold Gatorade from an insulated bottle.
I start following the road back to the Park entrance. The wind has picked up and is, of course, a headwind. I am now on a downhill grade, but I need to pedal into the strong wind.
I get to the switchbacks and gingerly make my way to the bottom and stop at the Visitor Center and find a bench in the shade.
I get onto the bike trail that will bring me back to the campground.
It is now Nancy’s turn to go to the Arches. Moe and I sit in hard-found shade, and I rehydrate. Nancy returns with excitement and plans for tomorrow. We sit eating sandwiches and watch the moon light the sky.
