Day Whatever This Is: Delta to Kinda Close to Torrey

Dirt Road to Scipio. Best stretch of the whole trip

Today was my favorite ride of the trip. My original plan was to ride from Delta, UT, to Torrey, UT—but snow had other ideas. (My mom called because she was confused about why I was in Delta, Colorado, and hadn’t called her.)

I used Google Maps, taking me through a maze of farm roads in some beautiful country. Every house and field looked well cared for. Then it had me cross Highway 50 and head down a dirt road—about 20 miles of dirt road. That stretch was one of my favorite parts of the ride.

I went through Scipio. What a great town. If hippsters ever discovered this town, it would all be over. Cool building, cool houses, and views to die for. I saw a lot of potential for a lot of namaste everywhere. Don’t tell them.

Cute house in Scipio. Great potential place for crystal therapy

It started with some mud, which, on a unicycle with a street tire, feels like trying to ice skate on a one-legged barstool. But the worst was short-lived, and the road quickly dried out. I didn’t see a single car or structure the entire way. The road climbed gradually, and patches of sleet started to fall lightly. I could see snow coming down across the valley, and it was easily one of the most beautiful scenes of the trip.

Snow in the valley. Eventually I got to experience it too

My neck was aching a bit, and it made me think of my son Mark. He’s one of the most disciplined young people I know. He works out daily, eats incredibly healthy, works like crazy, and is deeply committed to personal growth. Last Christmas, he did a 10-day silent yoga retreat. I have ADHD and am a talker—I’d last five minutes. Mark spent ten days in silence, sitting in the same position, dealing with pain and discomfort, and not being allowed to move. I thought about that, acknowledged my pain, and kept riding. I have five kids. They each teach me things. I'm lucky to be their dad.

I rode through Salina and stopped at Mom’s Café. What happened next was unexpected and meaningful.

When I walked in, I asked if I could charge my gear. The owner said yes, and I headed to the back dining room, still in my goofy outfit, EUC in tow. An older man in a cowboy hat and boots sat alone, eating half a sandwich and a bowl of soup. I said, “Great town! Are you a rancher?”

Cheryl. 79 and still moving cattle!

He replied, “No, but I work for them. I’m a range rider. I move cattle around based on the season. Been doing it for almost 20 years since I retired.”

I asked if he worked with dogs. His face lit up.

“You know, the best part of the whole job is working with the dogs. I’ve got eight. They do all the work. My favorite’s named Stitch.”

He was the state livestock inspection manager for the area south of Provo. Now he moves cattle, patrols land, and fixes fences. I asked if he uses horses.

“Nope,” he said. “I have ten horses and rotate them. I ride about 10 to 12 miles a day.”

We talked about towns we’d both been to—Cow Springs, Kayenta, Mexican Hat, and Mexican Water. I can't always remember my age, but somehow I remember every town in Monument Valley.

“Yeah, of course I’ve been through there,” he said. “All over southern Utah and northern New Mexico.”

I asked where his favorite part of Utah was. He pointed at the floor and said, “Here,” with a big smile.

“Sometimes my grandsons ride with me. It’s the best. They live close. All my family does. My son’s a welder at the salt mine—he’s real good.”

We discussed welding since I’ve just learned to TIG weld (poorly). The conversation went on for an hour.

On the way back from the restroom, I passed a table of motorcyclists—older, looking hedge fund guys touring southern Utah. I said, “Hey, where are you riding?” They stared at me like I’d just loudly farted.

Eventually, one muttered, “We’re on a motorcycle trip across southern Utah.”

I asked what direction they came from. “We came through snow.”

I replied, “Thanks, good to know. I’m riding a unicycle across the country. I can’t do snow.”

The oldest one said, “Great. Have a nice ride.” Then they all went back to talking to each other. Friendly bunch.

When I returned to the dining room, the cowboy, Cheryl, stood by my unicycle, taking a picture.

“When I was younger, I could ride a real unicycle,” he said. “Bet you can do that too.”

“I can’t,” I replied.

He giggled.

We went out back so he could take a video of me riding. It was a blast.

As I rode away, I thought about Cheryl—79 years old, still moving cattle year-round, living in his favorite place, surrounded by his kids and grandkids, still working hard every day… or at least with hard-working dogs. I didn’t dare to tell him Cheryl was a girl’s name. He would have politely kicked my ass and then helped me off the ground.

I have friends doing important, meaningful things in this phase of life—my wife included. So why am I doing this bizarre ride under the hashtag #ForNoBetterReason?

I can’t say.

But I do know this: I’m 63. I can stand on a unicycle for hours. And I’m probably healthy enough to do something better with myself when I eventually get home.

Back at the hotel, I got a call from Whipper, who started the fistfight at Jeff’s bachelor party. (Jeff’s the friend who is playing the role of virtual mission control for my journey. He provides incredible information on anything on my route.) We caught up and made plans to see each other soon when I hopefully get to Denver.

I also got an email from a guy I went to college with—someone I haven’t talked to in 40 years. He saw the blog and thought it was funny. We were in the same freshman dorm. He was from New Jersey, a high school All-American in lacrosse, and became a college All-American. He also did saddle bronc riding, because one extreme sport isn’t enough.

We worked together at a camp/ranch the summer between freshman and sophomore year. I drove his Volvo station wagon back from Texas while listening to the Grateful Dead’s Reckoning and Jerry Jeff Walker. I’ve heard both of them earlier on this trip. He became a physical therapist, married, lives in the mountains, and races mountain bikes. One of the most interesting people I’ve ever known. He lives a very full life that I have admired from afar.

Later, I got calls from my wife, son, Skip, mom, and Jeff. I spent over four hours on the phone with six different people today. That’s more than I usually talk to in an entire week.

It’s funny: I’m alone in the middle of nowhere, and somehow feel more connected with a broader set of people than I do at home. Maybe the purpose of this was to get me to make more effort to get in touch with people in my past that I’ve let slip by, and get better connected with my current friends that I ignore. Maybe there is a reason for this trip? Or could it be to set the Guinness World Records for the oldest man to try to cross the United States, specifically from Antioch to Washington on an electric unicycle in May and probably part of June.

I think it was snowing above 7000ft. Glad I stopped in Salina