Thursday, April 27
I filled the Insight’s tank at the station around the corner from the house, 66,6680 miles on the odometer. It was cloudy from horizon to horizon. The wind blew. I expected to get out from under the clouds and out of the wind as I went east. Ha!
Unleaded regular gasoline was $3.219 in Mojave, about a dime more than I paid in Quartz Hill. I changed from Highway 14 to 58 and headed east. At Kramer Junction, where 58 and 395 intersect, unleaded regular hit $3.499. I thought that was high. Ha!
Hot rods headed west. Motorcycles headed east.
By 11:30, there was rain but it never reached the ground. Virga curtains.
I stopped for lunch at a Subway in Mesquite, Nevada. There was a Radio Shack across the parking lot. Braving the heat, really!, I walked over to Radio Shack where a compliant clerk fround the answer to my question, “How do I recharge this cell phone from a car?”
I had picked up a one-time-use cell phone in order to call back home while on the road. It came with a 110-volt AC charger, but the optional 12-volt DC charger was as costly as the phone itself. Radio Shack had a nice little 12 VDC unit for about one-third the “official” unit.
I had seen that a Vixen motorhome was for sale in St. George, Utah. I’ve always thought the Vixen was well thought out, but I’ve never had the chance to really paw through one. (See http://www.vixenrv.org for more.) I called ahead and made an appointment.
After I entered Utah, the Insight’s fuel gauge hit the half-tank mark at 385 miles. Stops on this trip would be mandated by something other than fuel supply.
The coach wasn’t in St George, it was in Hurricane. Back in the ‘70s when we made our annual pilgrimmages to Colorado to join Jim Irving for a week of skiing, we’d quite often take the cutoff that goes through Hurricane and Zion to Highway 89. As a matter of fact, Hurricane played a role in our honeymoon when the generator bracket on the Triumph broke and a diligent fellow cobbled up a solution that got us to Salt Lake City. I know where Hurricane is.
It’s not the same Hurricane as in 1963 or as in 1973 for that matter. Subdivisions, franchise restaurants, four-lane roads, stop lights; you know the song of progress. I like the old Hurricane better, he said curmudgeonly.
The owner of the coach met me at the parking area where the Vixen was already idling (bad sign) and we had a very nice visit while I got to take a really good look at the coach. It wasn’t pretty. The original owner had sold it to Farley six months earlier. The couple had put more than 130,000 miles on the unit in the 20 years they owned it. Drove it everywhere. It showed it. The Vixen still looks like a well thought out motorhome, but that one looks like a really good project.
Heading north on Interstate 15, I watched for a route over the Wasatch Front to get to Highway 89. It’s a much quieter road, traveling through farming country, herds of deer here and there, little canals carrying water here and there, and eventually entering Sevier Valley where the Sevier River flows through Sevier County.
I found that route in Highway 14 (no kidding) at Cedar City. I stopped at a gas station to inquire if the pass was open. The attendant didn’t really know, but it was probably open. Gas was $2.799. A Reese’s Cup package was 75 cents. I took the Reese’s and headed up the canyon through Cedar Breaks. When I topped the summit it was 9,991 feet in elevation and there was a couple of feet of snow on the ground.
I joined Highway 89 and turned toward Hatch, then Panguitch ($2.899. “Rodeo tonight at Circle C Arena”), passed a massive herd of deer (probably more than a hundred), got through Circleville ($2.799), Maryvale, Bridgeport ($2.699) and found myself driving beside the Sevier River bicycle trail.
It just popped into my awareness that, off the right side of the road maybe 20 feet, there was a paved, two-lane bicycle trail. With a centerline, at that. One end of the trail is in Sevier, but I don’t know where the other goes except that for awhile it parallels Highway 89. It looks like a delightful ride. No one was on it, but it was after 7 p.m. and getting dark. That may have played a role.
Gas in Sevier was $2.699. That may have played a role, too.
I staggered into Richfield at 9:15 p.m. more than 13 hours after leaving Quartz Hill. The motel that Mary Lou and I used to stop at was still in business and I gave it mine. The restaurant next door was still open (but just barely) so I bought fish and chips and went back to the motel so they could close up properly.