The North Rim

We had a later start than planned as I read my watch as 6.45am when it was really 8.45am. Oh well we are on holiday and there was no real rush to start the day. Marty’s view was slightly different but there was little he could do about it.

Pulling into the gas station we noticed a guy on a Ducati programming his GPS. He was still there pushing buttons when we pulled out some 10 minutes later. Thank goodness we don’t have one or we would never get anywhere.

We didn’t do the loop through Monument Valley as we were both feeling a little Red Rocked out so we carried onto the town of Page. Called into a tourist info shop and got talking to a local native American guy who was very helpful in pointing out a good motorcycling route that would take us to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. The very touristy South Rim will have to wait for another time.

First stop was to see Horseshoe Bend, a famous view of the Colorado River as it winds its way 180° around a huge rock. It is a ¾ mile walk from the carpark but well worth it. Marty had to take control of the camera as I couldn’t bring myself to get close to the edge.

Next stop was at the Navajo Bridge. It is no longer used for traffic but you can walk out on it and view the Colorado River. It was built in 1927.

The road that took us to Lake Jacob where we hoped to spend the night took us past the Vermillion Cliffs which were again a spectrum of colour depending on the sunlight.

We pulled up outside the one and only motel in Jacob Lake to be met by a fellow motorcyclist who informed us that there were no rooms left at the inn, nor in the camp some 30 miles up the road but he would be happy to share his room with us as it had two double beds and as it had cost him $118 he really wanted to find someone to share the cost. We happily agreed. Our new room mate, Jorko, was travelling on his BMW that he had shipped out from Finland. It was an interesting night and despite him telling us he planned to retire early he kept us up with his tales. He writes for a Finish motorcycle magazine and is also supplied with various articles of clothing from Rukka which he tests and writes reports on. His most prized possessions seemed to be the 3 pairs of undies valued at about $500. Amazing that anyone could afford them. That amount of money would give Marty two lifetimes worth of underwear.

Hoping to see the sunrise we were up and on the road early but cloud cover spoilt any chance of that happening. It was a 45 mile ride to the North Rim from Lake Jacob. Apart from a couple of vehicles travelling in the opposite direction we were the only ones on the road so it was quite a surprise to find the carpark already 80% full until you see the vast amount of accommodation there.

We set out on a short walk to Bright Angel Lookout and our first real view of the Canyon and how huge it is. For those interested it is 277 river miles long, up to 18 miles wide, and a mile deep. The North Rim is 8000ft while the South Rim is only 7000ft. No way my little camera can capture that!

Back on the bike and onto a narrow twisting road for 24 miles to reach Cape Royal. Again we had issues with car drivers who don’t know how to drive these roads. Despite there being room for two vehicles to pass one car just stopped dead in front of us when he saw a car approach from the other direction. You can’t afford inattention.
We did the 1km walk admiring the views from various vantage points then headed back down the road and onto Point Imperial which is 8800ft high and offered the most spectacular views of the day. The weather was starting to close in so we decided to hasten our departure. It was a cool damp ride out of the park but by the time we reached Fredia some 80 odd miles away in the valley we were warm and dry. Stopped for a cuppa at the local garage come store and was amused by their road sign. Nearly bought the T-shirt but Marty’s sighs and groans at even that small amount of extra weight on the bike changed my mind.

Somehow or other we ended up on the road that led us back to Zion National Park. At the big tunnel we were given the baton to carry through to the ranger on the other side signifying we were the last vehicle through. As I handed it to her I said " That unlike American’s , Kiwi’s knew how to pass a baton without dropping it" She laughed and we continued on our way. We didn’t stop in Zion as we were both feeling quite canyoned out.

Parked up for the night in the town of Hurricane. Hopped into the pool for a dip and met a lady from Hamner Springs. Kiwis are everywhere.