October 13 2006. Nearly 9:00 A.M. on a Friday the 13th: I got a late start towards Bluff, UT, on my DR650, riding north to CO141 at Whitewater because I wasn't in the mood for Telluride traffic and cold air on the closer southern route over Dallas Divide. All was well until Unaweep Canyon where cruising at 70-80MPH in a strong headwind caused the small fly-screen I had fashioned, more for looks than function, to make excessive turbulence and noise around my helmet. Finally, frustrated beyond my tolerance level, I stopped and removed the screen. This smoothed the airflow, lessening the noise, but the wind on my chest was tiring. I'm getting too old for naked bikes.

The headwind hurt my fuel mileage. I switched to reserve just before Gateway, at a little less than 100 miles. This was only the first of several times I switched to reserve during this two-day trip. I ride too hard and far for small fuel tanks.

As I continued on through Dolores Canyon, I discovered riding with my feet on the passenger pegs rotated my body forward, lessening the strain of wind on my chest. After leaving the canyons and heading southwest from Naturita through Disappointment Valley, I had less problem with the wind. I stopped for fuel at Dove Creek, putting 3 gallons in a tank rated at 3.4 gallons and probably holding somewhat less.

I don't remember what time it was but noon was approaching and it was obvious I would not get to Bluff, Utah, until 2:00 P.M. or later. I decided to get a sandwich at Dove Creek since the route I had in mind would not pass through any real towns before Bluff. The gasoline station was also a small grocery store. I selected a $1.95 home-made ham sandwich in a Zip-lock bag from a serve-your-self cooler. I had only two one-dollar bills so I gave the lady a five. She gave me 90-some cents in change. I asked, "What did I give you?" "A five," she replied. "How much is the sandwich," I asked? "$1.95 plus tax," she said. "How come I only get 90-some cents in change," I asked? "That's what the register says," she answered, pointing to the cash register. Apparently realizing that didn't make sense, she continued, "Didn't I give you two dollars and change?" "No," I replied. "You have two dollars in your hand," she pointed. "That's the two dollars that wasn't enough to pay for the sandwich with tax so I gave you a five. If you gave me two dollars I would have four." She grabbed two dollars from the register and said, "I hope I'm not short." I suspect she was short to begin with and hoping to make it up. A few miles down the road, away from people and traffic, I ate the sandwich with a cup of coffee from my thermos. It was a good sandwich.

My reason for passing through Dove Creek, other than needing fuel, was on down the road towards Cortez. Just beyond the very small town of Pleasant View, a sign indicated a paved road west would take me to the Hovenweep Area. This was the road I failed to find from the other end a few weeks earlier. It was an interesting road, high country with expansive views of recognizable landmarks in Colorado, New Mexico, Utah and Arizona. When I came out in the Hovenweep area, I knew where I was but the obvious and shortest way to Bluff was closed, presumably for re-paving but possibly from washout, and I had to ride south to the McElmo Canyon road and west to Bluff via Montezuma Creek. I didn't arrive at Bluff until after 2:30 P.M.

I stopped at the Recapture Lodge to inquire about a room. They had none available but might have one as early as three if it wasn't confirmed by a phone call. While we discussed my options, the owner arrived and said the room was now available. I rented the room and continued on to Mexican Hat for Fuel, on reserve once again when I got there.

Backtrack four miles to UT261, north up Moki Dugway, where's my road? I had often seen a sign marked "Cigarette Springs Road" and somehow had come to believe this was the road I wanted. I turned east on the Cigarette Springs Road. A sign reading, "Impassable when wet" introduced this narrow, one-lane sand road, washed deep with ruts from recent hard rains, spotted with water holes big and small, washed out dry-stream crossings, eventually descending over rough, rock ledges and jumbled rock sections. I met a surprising number of 4WD vehicles, varying from native-Americans gathering firewood in their pickups to adventuresome tourists like myself. Care was required when meeting or passing a vehicle on the narrow, washed out road. Other that that, it looked worse than it was and I enjoyed riding at a modest pace on the agile DR650 -- until the road dead-ended on a canyon rim about half way to Comb Ridge. Oops! It's getting late and I haven't even found the correct road. I had a battered old map from 35 years ago; now I checked it. There was another road farther north. The map didn't show a name for the road but it passed near a place called "Snow Flat Spring Cave." I headed back to UT261. At the worst of the jumbled rock crossings, I found a small jeep with big tires slowly hunting for a good line through the rocks. After his second attempt, I passed him where he thought he couldn't go and continued on. Gotta like that DR650.

Back on pavement and a few miles north, I came to a sign marked "Snow Flat Road," accompanied by another "Impassable when wet" sign. Gotta be my road. I headed east on much the same kind of road as described above, on and on until it began to descend after more than half the 20 mile distance to Comb Ridge and Comb Wash road. Oddly enough, this road which presumably went somewhere had almost no traffic compared to the road that went nowhere. Nagging me, though, was the possibility that this road might eventually be completely washed out and impassable. It was getting late. With every mile I rode east, it became less likely I could ride back out before dark. As the road lost altitude from Cedar Mesa to the lower ground near Comb Ridge, the rock shelves and jumbled rocks became more challenging. I had heard this was an "easy road." A good rider on a dirt bike would find it easy. It wasn't really difficult for an old man on a big dual sport. An average rider on a V-Strom or big GS might be in serious trouble because of ground clearence. I would not ride my DL650 on this road. Friend Billy would probably ride his DL650 over these rocks and think little about it but he would pick his lines down the ledges very carefully and even then I suspect he might bash his skid plate from time to time.

As the pictures below reflect, I was greatly releived as Comb Ridge drew ever closer. You can imagine my surprise when, very near the Comb Wash road, I came around a left hand corner only to discover my road ran off into a rock-strewn, washed out dry stream bed and disapeared completely without a trace. I'm not prone to panic but let's say I was very concerned. I had about a half hour of daylight left. I remembered a similar situation more than thirty years ago in another part of Utah. I never found that road -- not until a year later when I came in from the other end. I knew what to do: get up on a high point and look for the road on the other side of the stream. I did and it wasn't hard to find. Originally, it had directly crossed the stream bed but now the other side was all washed out. I was able to go down stream a short ways, work my way over some rocks, climb a steep, soft sand bank/dune and rejoin my road, much relieved.

I give this ride a big thumbs up. It was just what I needed to wrap up a day that started out somewhat unpleasent. Once back on pavement, I rode a short distance, then down to a running stream to wash mud from my boots and pant legs. Back on the highway I rode into Bluff with the sun setting in my rearview mirror.

I liked the Snow Flat road. Beautiful out there. I would ride it again tomorrow if I could. It's like the Aerostich sticker says: "So many roads, so little time."