Springdale, UT. 7111 miles.

It was hard to leave the comfortable confines of my parents’ house in Cave Creek, but after a mom-cooked breakfast I was on the road early to get away from the low desert heat. What turned out to be possibly the most phenomenal ride of the trip started very inauspiciously with a long early morning run up I-17 through bumper to bumper traffic until FINALLY getting off at 89 for the ride through Sedona and the famous Redrocks.

While amazingly beautiful, nothing on this trip has felt more like an Epcot Center ride than the next 50 miles. Traffic crawled through the curves and there were people actually charging money to stop at gravel turnoffs. Otherwise there weren’t even shoulders to be had as the local tourism board seemed dead set on squeezing every last cent out of anyone who wanted to take a picture of the admittedly remarkable redrock towers. Being on a bike, I was able to squeeze into some less-than-legal parking spots and grab a few pictures, but the best views were simply too much of a pain to document. Some turnoffs actually had tire spikes to keep people from stopping to snap a shot or two. It is a remarkably beautiful place and it only makes me appreciate the National Park Service more as it should be a protected site and not a sprawling suburb with people trying to cash in on every inch they can get their hands on.

As the redrocks climb into the hills the air cools again. All of the tourists pull off at the gift shop at the top of the mountain and suddenly there is an amazingly fun expanse of road through the upper pines. With all of the rubbernecking traffic gone the roads run FAS through beautiful pine groves up and over the hills and through sweeping curves. It reminded me of the roller coasters of western Montana and especially after getting out of the heat of southern Arizona it was a blast to ride.

Past Flagstaff things turn in a hurry. The vibrant pine hills give way almost immediately to the Martian red desert of northern Arizona which sprawls out forever. To the west lies the Grand Canyon, which is beautiful if you have never seen it but I have several times so it was not on my agenda for this trip. Otherwise you burn through the dusty red plains which could be fascinating if they weren’t littered with power lines and factories. It’s not to say this country isn’t special because it really does have an otherworldly feel, but it simply hasn’t been taken care of and it shows. The towns are Navajo truckstops and everything caters to the tourists who just want to be 100 miles to the west at the Canyon.

Through the worst of the desert, enormous redrock mesas appear to the east that seem to grow taller every mile. It’s hard to keep your eye on the road as the begin to tower above you and the landscape becomes even more alien. At Gap you finally make a turn and actually crest the giant mesa and up top you would never know what it looked like from down below. The terrain is straight prairie with blue cacti sprawling for miles. I never wanted to see a satellite image of a road I was on more than I have wanted to see this just to know what the falloff looked like from above it was so stark.

A flat burn through the high plains takes you back to the edge of the Colorado River at Horseshoe Bend and up to Antelope Canyon as you reach Page, AZ, where I had lunch. Soon after I reached Utah and things got really fun.

After realizing I had forgotten to plug it in, my phone died just before I reached the border and I am so upset it did because there is no greater border line than this one. Overlooking the lower basin of Lake Powell surrounded by the white mountains of Big Water there is nowhere I have been that looks more like an alien planet than this and I wanted my Utah sign goddammit. Soon I was into the vast expanses of Southern Utah with their massive cliffs and mountains. You would think they would resemble the rock formations of Arizona at least a little bit but you would be wrong. It is as if whoever built them knew where the state line was and decided to change the plans right there. This isn’t the first time I’ve experienced this. Montana/Idaho has a similar feel as does Oregon/California.

The ride across the southern border of Utah is stunning and vast. It greens and then browns and then reds and there is a constant wall to the north of massive rock cliffs that each have their own distinctive face. While not as large, there is something about them even more imposing than the Rockies. But all of this is fun and games until you reach Zion.

I am not even going to try and describe Zion in words. I am going to just dump a pile of panoramic photos and say this: When I die please donate all of my organs, burn what’s left of me, and scatter my ashes from the back of a motorcycle in Zion. Words can’t do it justice and the pictures are almost insulting.

There is definitely something going on here and it’s hard to deny it. Everything is 10 times bigger than it feels like it should be and the landscape literally spins you around in circles until you are dizzy. It is only 13 miles and I rode through at pretty much a walking pace. If there is a more incredible 13 miles anywhere in the world I want to see it.

I ended up in Springdale, UT, which is technically a half mile outside of the park but is still very much in the middle of the mountains. It doesn’t seem like a town should be allowed to sit in a place like that it is so beautiful. Fair warning, it is overrun with tourists and if you want a motel room you should book it in advance, but if you do go with Canyon Ranch Motel.

I was going to circle around up north and go through Dixie on my way to Bryce, but I just have to see Zion one more time so this morning I’m backtracking through the park on my way east across the Canyonlands. I suspect it will be another big picture day.

Wyatt Neumann was a phenomenally talented photographer and director, a loving husband and father, and a passionate motorcyclist. On June 11th he was doing what he loved riding in Delaware when he suffered a brain aneurysm which caused him to lose control of his motorcycle. He died shortly after. Wyatt was instrumental in both inspiring this trip and planning many of its routes and logistics. The title of this site was unapologetically stolen from his series of photographs from his own travels. He leaves behind a wife and two young children. A memorial fund has been established to help his family in this very trying time. Please consider donating. Any amount will help. Thank you.