How’s it goin’, eh?

I’m heading to Canada.

I left this morning, but won’t get there ‘til the middle of July. With any luck, I’ll be there in 10 days.

It’s a long ride.

Over the next three weeks, I’ll rack up about 5,500 miles going to Canada and back.

Might as well get started.

***

So, I roll out of our Carbondale driveway, and head west.

I’ve never been a big fan of Interstate highways. But for the next couple of days, there are few good alternatives.

I-70 West is the preferred route to tonight’s destination – Richfield, Utah. I’ll be on I-70 today for more than 300 miles.

At one time in my riding career, that would have terrified me. But technology, being the great equalizer, makes my journey bearable. Cruise control gives my right wrist a break. The stereo gives my Harley a rolling rock concert feel. It helps to have playlists put together just for this trip.

And the navigation system tells me everything I need to know – time and distance to destination, rest stops along the way, gas stops, elevation, even Harley dealers en route. And it shows outside air temperature, as if I can’t feel it for myself.

I can pretty much just hold on to the handlebars and do my best to stay awake. It’s not quite a driverless car, but riding a modern Harley is miles beyond anything I ever thought possible when I first saddled up on a Honda S90 in 1965.

Riding a motorcycle these days is so easy, even a 10-year-old could do it.

***

In 20 minutes, I arrive in Glenwood Springs, the jumping-off spot onto I-70. Glenwood Springs, with a population of around 10,000, is the largest town in the Roaring Fork Valley. We go there for doctor appointments – an occasional dermatology check or colonoscopy – but little else.

Yes, Sarah makes her presence known at the Glenwood Springs Wal-Mart. And, we pass through Glenwood Springs on our way to the Costco in Gypsum, Colorado. But other than retail and medical visits, we’d much rather hang out in our hometown of Carbondale.

The first place of any consequence on the road west from Glenwood Springs is New Castle, whose motto is: Authentically Colorado. About 12 miles west of Glenwood Springs, New Castle is a bedroom community for towns up valley.

Because of the ridiculously high cost of housing in the Roaring Fork Valley, it’s not uncommon for workers in Aspen to live in New Castle, 55 miles away. Their morning commute is known as the up-valley rally.

Other than driving by it on the interstate, I’ve been to New Castle only twice.

The first time was about four years ago, when I played golf at the Lakota Canyon course – now in bankruptcy, but operating – at least for this season. As in many communities across the country, golf courses have been overbuilt in the Roaring Fork Valley, and are hanging on for survival. Too many courses, not enough golfers. It’s a demographic issue. Golf is “aging out.”

The second time in New Castle was six weeks ago, when Sarah and I went plant shopping at Dwyer’s, a family-owned nursery with prices considerably more reasonable than what you’d find in the Basalt, Aspen or Carbondale areas.

One other thing about New Castle: it’s home to Murr Ranch.

Every time we drive west on I-70, Sarah perks up when she see highway signs pointing to Murr Ranch. She even checked to see if the New Castle Murrs are any relation to the Tennessee Murrs. No connection, other than the spelling.

You might be saddened to know that the Colorado Murr patriarch, Richard Murr, died last year following 52 years of marriage to his wife, Linda. After earning a Bachelor’s degree in Horticulture from Colorado A&M (now Colorado State) in Fort Collins in the late 1950s, he used that degree working the family’s ranch, growing and harvesting various kinds of fruit and alfalfa hay.

***

As I roll along I-70 through western Colorado, there are occasional small towns dotting the interstate’s edge, many with fun names. Here are a few:

• Silt, named for the silt deposits at the original town site.
• Rifle, named not for a firearm, but for Rifle Creek.
• Rulison, which shares its name with Project Rulison, an underground 40-kiloton nuclear test project in 1969 where Rulison now stands.
• Parachute, which gets its name from the watershed patterns of the nearby Roan Plateau. A surveyor thought those patterns looked like the shroud lines of a parachute, and the arc of the ridge line above the streams resembled the canopy of a parachute.
• DeBeque, named after Dr. W.A. E. deBeque, who explored the area in 1884 while looking for a suitable location for a ranch.

The last town before Grand Junction is Palisade, named for its nearby cliffs. Merriam-Webster defines a palisade as a line of bold cliffs. Palisade, of course, is known for its wineries and peach orchards.

Grand Junction, with a population of more than 60,000, is the largest city between Denver and Salt Lake City. It’s named for the confluence of the Grand River (now called the Upper Colorado River) and the Gunnison River.

My cousin graduated from Grand Junction High School, class of 1959. The city was no great shakes in his day, and still isn’t today. The years have not been kind to Grand Junction.

Best thing about Grand Junction? Grand Junction Harley-Davidson. It’s the closest Harley dealer to Carbondale (“only” 100 miles away), and their service department keeps my bike running smoothly.

Today, with about 13,000 miles on the odometer, it’s time for a new rear tire. So I pull into Grand Junction Harley for a replacement tire that should enhance my traction and safety over the next few weeks, and decrease our net worth by $300. A shout-out to the GJ Harley service department for being prompt, getting me the first appointment of the day (9:00 am), and sending me out the door on my way to Canada by 10:00 am.

Vroom!

***

A few miles west of Grand Junction is Fruita, which began as a fruit-producing region. Today, Fruita is better known for mountain biking, hiking, rafting, and its proximity to the Colorado National Monument. The monument’s feature attraction is Monument Canyon, which includes rock formations such as Independence Monument, the Kissing Couple and Coke Ovens. I’ve explored Colorado National Monument on previous trips. If you’re in this part of western Colorado, it’s a must see.

I-70 runs through McInnis Canyons National Conservation Area, a 124,430-acre parcel of land that includes the second-largest concentration of natural arches in North America. The Colorado River flows through this conservation area, which is managed by the Bureau of Land Management.

At McInnis’ western edge is the Utah state line. State line fun fact: Utah and Colorado are two of the only three states whose borders are entirely made up of straight lines; the other is Wyoming. America loves its straight-line borders. Forty-nine states have at least part of their border in a straight line. The only state without a partial straight-line border is Hawaii. Go figure.

Seventy boring miles later, I roll past Crescent Junction, the turnoff onto US Highway191 that takes you to Moab, Arches National Park, and Canyonlands National Park. These areas are examples of nature at its best.

From Crescent Junction, it’s about 30 miles west to Green River, named for the waterway on which it sits. John Wesley Powell, who made the first passage through the Grand Canyon on the Colorado River, made two voyages down the Green River in 1869, floating the river all the way to its confluence with the Colorado.

Green River has a few gas stations and little else. Fill up. Snack. Hydrate. Move on.

Time to continue toward tonight’s destination: Richfield, Utah.

There’s pretty much nothing between Green River and Richfield. Well, lots of natural beauty, but no development. Maybe that’s a good thing.

***

It’s 125 miles of nothingness from Green River to Richfield. Seriously, nothing. No civilization, but a lot of beauty.

Then why overnight in Richfield? What’s up with that?

Located in south central Utah, Richfield is about halfway between Carbondale and tomorrow’s destination, Henderson, Nevada. Richfield has become a regional tourist center, in part because it’s about halfway between Los Angeles and Denver.

Like so much of Utah, Richfield was founded by Mormon settlers who found fertile soil, good water, and wood in the nearby hills. You’re gonna see a pattern on this year’s blog: it’s challenging to find a small western town that was not settled by Mormons.

Beginning last year, Mormons officially hated being called Mormons. They now wanna be known as the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Not Mormons. Not even the LDS Church. The church’s August 2018 rebranding supposedly stemmed from a divine communication between God and the church’s president, Russell Nelson.

Whatever you call them — Mormons, LDS, Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Saints — they’re a big presence in this part of the world. There are about two million Mormons in Utah, more than 6.5 million in the US, and north of 16 million worldwide As someone who lived in Utah for seven years (1968-1975), I just think of them as friendly people who are the world’s largest cult.

That last paragraph may have lost me any remote chance I had at getting into the Mormon celestial kingdom — the highest of their three degrees of glory in heaven. How to get there? Be properly righteous.

I’m out.

***

Good things can happen to those who come from Richfield. US Senator Jake Garn, the first member of Congress to fly in space, was born here. Walter Frederick Morrison, inventor of the Frisbee, was also born here.

I arrive in Richfield in the late afternoon, ready to relax, chow down, and write tonight’s blog post.

Tomorrow, I meet up with most of the posse that will be joining me on the journey to Canada.

‘Til then, good day, eh?

***

Day One Summary: Goodbye, Carbondale. Hello Richfield.

Click here to see today’s complete route from Carbondale, Colorado, to Richfield, Utah.

I’m on my way to Canada, eh?

Vroom, vroom.

***

Today’s Canada Fun Fact, eh?  The highest tides in the world occur in the Bay of Fundy, between the Canadian provinces of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. There’s a 56-foot tidal range in one part of the Bay of Fundy. Twice each day, the bay fills and empties a billion tons of water during each tide cycle; that’s more than the flow of all the world’s freshwater rivers combined! Check it out.