Moab, century day

Yesterday I woke up in an RV park just outside of Torrey, Utah, freezing my ass off. The wind was just howling out of the West. Tom and I rode out around 7:30 and I was cold enough that I wore my wool Pendleton. Capitol Reef was really cool. About 20 miles after starting my ride, a woman on a bike passed me, asking me where I was going. I told her that I was on my way to Hanksville, but the goal was the eventually end up in Virginia. She indicated that she too was on her way to Hanksville, but that she was going to go as far as Green River, another 50 miles or so up the line. After chatting for a while (and kicking ass with the monster tail wind) I learned that she was averaging more than 100 miles per day! Granted, she wasn't camping or carrying a whole lot of gear, but that is still an insane amount of mileage. After reaching Hanksville, we said our goodbyes, and I waited around for Tom to show up so we could get lunch and set up camp. The plan was to spend the afternoon in Hanksville, and then go to Hite Recreation Area the next day. After lunch, Tom and I decided that it might behoove us to check out the campsite at Hite, as no one had been answering the phone at the  Ranger station, and we'd been getting rather ominous reports from locals about the location. Driving down into Glen Canyon was spectacular. Utah continues to blow me away with the scenery. When we got to Hite, after crossing the Dirty Devil and Colorado Rivers, we quickly realized why locals had been telling us such negative things about the area. There was no shade at the campsites, and it was hot. Not Abu Dhabi style hot because there was almost no humidity, but hot nonetheless. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot by the ranger station, I felt an oppressive sense of isolation. The area was desolate. It felt like the most desolate place I'd encountered on my trip. Lake Powell, the centerpiece of this area, is no more. The Colorado River practically trickles through the huge valley. In years past, the river dammed up to form a lake, but now there simply is't enough water. The campsite was once located on the edge of the lake; yesterday the campsite was easily 150 m from the edge of the water. The drought you've been hearing about in the West is real.

Tom was freaked about Hite. I think the desolation of the area really got to him. I felt a sense of foreboding about staying at the campsite, but I figured I would leave late from Hanksville (around 4 or 5 in the afternoon) so we would minimize our time there. After sitting around in Hanksville for a couple of hours, I said fuck it, and resolved to bike to Green River. Tom was down. So I biked to Green River, starting at about 5 in the afternoon. I had a monster tailwind, so I averaged about 22 mph for the 55 mile ride. I rode 109 miles yesterday, and I got to ride my bike on a freeway (I-70). The girl I met in the morning inspired me to bike on. Today kind of sucked, especially in the morning, but we made it to Moab. By taking this detour from the Adventure Cycling route, I think I'll end up cutting about 100 miles from my trip. Moab is a really cool little town. Lots of bike shops, bike geeks, and dazed looking people with a thick layer of red grime covering their figures.