The Odyssey

You know it's going to be a long day when your first flight on the itinerary gets cancelled. We received no advance notification, no call, no e-mail, no nothing. Thanks, American Airlines.

We managed to convince the lady to try and get us to Moab TODAY. Sure, she could get us to Dallas, but the flight to Grand Junction happened only once a day from Dallas, and we'd miss it. The only other option was to fly to Salt Lake City, Fly to Denver, lay over at Denver, then take some unknown airline (picture "Raiders of the Lost Ark II", cattle and chickens running loose in the passenger area)... and on top of that, it would be 6 hours in Denver. If all went well.

Fortunately I had an epiphany. "Why are we flying to Utah, flying out of Utah, then flying back into Utah?", I asked. It was only a 3-hour drive from SLC to Moab, we could surely rent a car and make it today. So that's what we did.

Getting the car wasn't as easy as it sounded. No company wanted to rent one-way, that is until Avis. They put us into a nifty little Dodge Avenger (you know, what state troopers now use?), red of course. It did take a while to straighten out the red tape, but Leisa is a bruiser in negotiations.

It was the best way to go, as it turned out. We saw a huge hunk of Utah, noting how the grey hues of the northern mountains change to clay coloration in the southeast. The terrain varied greatly too, far more so than you can imagine. This state has a strong demarcation of geography, with one foot in the Rockies, another in the high plains, and a third still in mesas.

Entering Moab, one could not help but notice all the bikes and jeeps. Every third vehicle was either a jeep or a vehicle with a bike on it. Off-road vehicles littered the countryside around, and once in town, there were at least four different bike shops within a square mile.

You had me at Moab. You had me at Moab.

We ate at a little a little Italian place called Pasta Jay's, and it was the best pizza and bread I've eaten since Italy. It really was worth every penny. It was even better the excellent Japanese restaurant we hit at lunch, "The Last Samurai". Lunch was delicious, and it was all the more fascinating because of the three homeless guys dancing half-naked outside the window, begging passing cars for change. The climax of the performance featured one homeless guy pouring a jug of water over the head of another, who was by then in the throws of rapture. The only thing, and I mean the ONLY thing missing was "Frankie Goes to Hollywood".

Tomorrow we go to Arches National Park. I also find a biking jersey. Oh yes, I find a biking jersey...


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