Six of us rafted down the Green River, a tributary that feeds into the mighty Colorado River: with friend John, his partner Susan, their friends Sarah and Gary plus Gary's son Kyle.  All of our crew were experienced rafters, bar the failed computer programmer who couldn't tell one end of an oar from the other.  Sarah in particular has been on rivers for 45 years, with all the skills to match.

"Deso Gray" refers to Desolation and Gray canyons. They're said to be amongst the most isolated places in mainland USA, in eastern Utah.

The trip goes like this: put in at one place, take out a week and 84 miles later.  Pack everything in, take everything out. This is not a mild statement; river users have a strong ethos of keeping everything pristine.

In particular, this applies to human waste.  We had the "groover" for #2s. Traditionally one shat directly into a metal ammo can, leaving marks on one's buttocks.   Nowadays it has the extra sophistication of a plastic toilet seat propped on top.

Oh boy, there is lots of wow factor in this part of world.  Big canyons, layers of sedimentary rocks, intriguing shapes. A feast for the eyeballs.

Each craft had a rower captain, who steered through the grade II and III rapids, plus a passenger, whose role was to help balance the front end in waves.  The passenger was also required to get splashed on said rapids.

I didn't find the rapids dramatic, but others in the crew have suffered disasters on past trips - broken bones, being ejected into freezing water and so on.  They had a healthy respect for the white water. I was in ignorant bliss, so the week was a relaxing drift downstream with occasional pulling like buggery on the oars.

Gary is a keen hunter of petroglyphs (rock carvings made by past peoples, depicting animals, human figures, plants etc cetera). We'd hike into side canyons, revisiting these sites he'd collected notes of over the years.

A paleontological imprint that appeared turtle like, about 250mm long.
 

Each day has a rigorous camping protocol:
• Unload the three rafts, communal items first, personal last
• One family sets up kitchen, the other sets up the groover
• Everyone sets up their own tent
• The kitchen family prepares dinner and breakfast
• Dishes get washed in three stages: scraped of food  redidue, washed in heated river water, rinsed in fresh water
• All food scraps are packed out, even the detritus in the wash tub is strained and bagged
• Upon approaching the kitchen, hands are washed and disinfected
• Next morning, it all gets reversed

Meals were superb.  Our cooks had gone to great lengths with healthy, tasty and varied grub.  Thanks chefs!

For a couple of days, I wondered if I'd made a good choice in taking up John's offer of a river trip. It was hardly the motorcycle trip I was aiming for.  However as the days went on, it was natural to relax into a calm, sociable and visually stunning journey.  Swapping between vessels allowed different interesting conversations.

To be clichéd, it was all over too soon and we headed back to Colorado.

Seems bears are not just in the woods. 

Once  back "home" the mission was to finish preparing the bike.  Replace rear wheel bearings, install soft panniers, find homes for every item big or small.

Here's a novel maintenance item: some wee rodent had filled the airbox with nuts.  Time to cover the inlet with mesh.

I added a tool tube, but struggled to both fill and empty it, especially given the PVC is slippery and pointing downhill. Solution: a thin tube that slides inside the main tube, made of cut up lemonade ("soda" in these parts) bottles. Looks like a kindergarten art project, but works.

Final maintenance item was my hair. Since the turn of the century, I've trusted Kirsten with a set of clippers. No wife here, so instead I went to the top local beauty salon.

Time to get my motor running ... head on the highway ... looking for adventure ... in whatever comes my way ...