The golden morning sun was streaming through the open fly on my tent, a warm welcome to the new day. The morning shadows were long across the playa where we had made camp last night and apart from the song from a lone meadowlark, the desert was silent.  There was not the slightest breeze to stir the scrub around us.   The sky was cloudless and blue, reflecting the tranquility on the land below.    It was a magnificent morning.

The evening before we had entered the Transcontinental Railroad National Historic Byway from the west at Lucin, UT, after a very long day tracing sections of the original Central Pacific Railroad grade from Wells, NV.  Twenty or so miles in, with sunset fast approaching we found a suitable site; a relatively clear, level area just 50 or so feet from the track-bed now serving as our docent as we explore one of the greatest industrial achievements of the 19th century.

As I lay there, slowly waking, it was hard not to imagine the cacophony that once filled the desert—at this exact spot—in 1869.  Thousands of men, mostly Chinese, scraping at the ground with picks and shovels, talking amongst themselves, tirelessly laboring from sunrise to sunset.  Teamsters, with four or six horse rigs, pulling scrapers, cutting and filling.  The slow rhythm of Central Pacific locomotives, the sound of steam escaping through pressure valves, backing onto the freshly laid track, force-feeding new rail and freshly cut timbers toward the working men, sometimes laying as much as 10 miles of track per day.    I am feeling energized by the picture I have in my head and feel compelled to get up and get dressed, almost as if I’m late.   Ten minutes later, bathed in the history around us, my brother and I sat silently alone in our thoughts, each waking up with a cup of hot coffee made on the Jet Boil.  

This is why I love Adventure Touring by motorcycle. To say you couldn’t make this journey in a Jeep or four by four isn’t the point. The byway is very drivable except for sections where it detours around trestles, unstable culverts and cuts—all easily done in dry conditions with a four-wheel-drive vehicle.  But the experience is different on an adventure or dual sport motorcycle.  I don’t know that I can adequately describe just how it’s different.  But for me, I feel there is a level of vulnerability on a motorcycle that connects me to my more primitive self—to my past.  It’s the modern equivalent of taking a horse into the frontier.  You’re exposed and your security is limited to what you can carry.  You’re hot, you’re cold, and you’re dirty.  The smell of sage brings your senses to life, and the occasional smell of death—the stench of a rotting carcass somewhere upwind—is a grim reminder just how precious life really is.  Adventure touring on two wheels is immersive.  I feel more connected to life and the experience of living, than at any other time.   My mind is open here and the daily issues that normally challenge me are pushed to the back of the shelf for a while. This is my Zen.

I’ll cover this trip’s itinerary in a little more detail in my next BLOG—with video series closely following—so please stay tuned!  It was a great start to 2023 and I can’t wait to tell you more about it!

Cheers!

John