SLC to 143


This A/B living is interesting in what it does to my psyche. A being home in SLC and B being back in StG. It’s the transitions that give my noodle pause, the in-between, the commute where time and miles are now measured in thoughts instead of per-hour.

Thoughts like hoping the lawn hasn’t overgrown beyond the mower’s approach, or I told her I’d be safe so stick to the right lane and watch your speed limit, or how my rear-end now picks up every little nuance in ride and vibration, my hyper-aware ass constantly running its flat-tire algorithm in comparing suspension travel and rebound between the front and rear wheels. 

Thoughts like getting beyond my wave-bias with Harley riders or my disdain for Richfield or how silly superstition is. And relentless.

Thoughts like why can’t I just relax when it’s time to go? Something I’ve inherited from my dad. Doesn’t matter when it’s time to go, when the day of departure wanes every damn tick to the second hand is time to go. And as I get increasingly antsy with every moment, does she take that as my wanting to leave? Because I don’t want to. Ever.

I don’t know if my brain is exhausted at the end of the day’s ride from the constant sensory-scan required of motorcycle riding or the hamster wheel that is my psyche. On the Blackbird I’d only think about one thing, staying alive. On the KLR, its casual ambling down the road lets my mind do its thing. I think there’s a pill for that.

Before this retour chez moi, I thought I’d make a few frames in the city in which I ride. There are spots that catch my eye and I file them away to shoot them later.

I’m looking forward to winter light and early dusks to shoot some more.

I ran the usual 89 route but diverged in Panguitch on 143 to head up the mountain and camp. I’ve gotten into the habit of checking the first campgrounds I come to. They’re typically the overflow of what’s closer to the top or what’s more desirable, and this one, The White Bridge Campground, had one spot left, just barely big enough to fit the KLR and my solo tent. Taking this as a sign of no room up the mountain, I staked my claim. The upside is it sits right on Panguitch Creek.


I set up my little camp with one new addition to my gear, a Joey chair. REI calls it their Flex Lite Chair.


It doesn’t look like much, a bit on the spindly side, but it’s wonderful. It packs up small enough to stow with the rest of the gear on the bike,

…and it’s sturdy enough to hold 250 pounds, giving me fifteen pounds of wiggle room. More or less.


Its little aluminum frame is held together by shock cord and the seating surface is a strong nylon mesh.

This is by far the most comfortable camp chair I’ve ever used and its utility in being small enough to pack on the KLR makes it all the better. Simple pleasures.

This was the first time I completely deployed the ALP Linx tent with the fly. It sets up in moments and the fly has nice touches like a clever adjustable vent and windows at a height that’s just right.

All this makes for an enjoyable experience, one last respite before Fall semester starts.

Later Saturday evening I went further upstream on Panguitch creek and made a frame or two.


Up early this morning (Sunday), I had coffee by the creek, broke camp and made my way through Cedar Breaks and on down to Cedar City and slabbed I-15 to Hurricane.


Three hundred forty nine miles.

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