The real trip is finally underway.

The first couple of days, John and I headed to Moab Utah via backroads.  "Backroads" meant a mix of tar mountain passes (11,000ft - never been so high), snow/mud covered tracks (challenging) and pretty rural landscapes.

We met with fellow bike nut and DR650 owner Keith, to ride The White Rim.  This has been the highlight so far, a 90 odd mile trail snaking down into/alongside/over canyons cut by our old friend the Colorado River. Riding wise, it had the lot: embedded rocks, fast sandy sections on hard packed dirt, rocky base, rutted switchback up and downs.  Not often beyond third gear.

Visually it was stunning. Always changing. Mesas, side canyons, sedimentary layers, mixes of wild shapes and colours.

We disected the day over beers.
Keith: I love going faster.  Everything is smoother, I'm focused.
John: Yeah,  but you miss seeing things
Gav: I'm kinda with Keith

Mind you, Keith (ex motocross racer) was the only one to have a 'moment'.

We said goodbye to Keith the next day.  Over the next couple of days John showed me familiar and new-to-him places.  One delightful campsite was in a pine forest south of Canyonlands NP.  At first light I heard odd sounds.  Thinking it was my mate getting up, I shook a leg, only to find deer grazing next to the tent.  Equally surprised, they ran off, wiggling their white bums.

By and by we went until it was time to shake hands and part company. John returned home while I headed west. Again this bloke that I just happened to have met briefly 35 years ago was generous with his time, knowledge and humour.  Thanks mate!

Now alone, I've felt that the trip is truly happening.

A highlight was the Smoky Mountain Highway, from Escalante down to the Arizona border.  80 miles of remote 4WD track.  I saw just a pair of dirt bikes plus one 4WD the whole time.  Absolutely brilliant scenery and riding conditions.

One fast, hard packed dirt section with a sandy covering had me convinced I was back in Aus, barreling along an outback track. Sit back, flat chat in top gear and don't look at the front brake.  Feel it wriggle side to side in the sand.  Riding bliss.

I was buggered at the end, so wimped out with a hotel room in Page, Arizona. It was weird to be back in the big smoke.

JoJo left his home in Tuscon Arizona, for some California grass. I reckon it was so he could get a tent peg in. Everything around here is rocky. I've seen enough rocks for a lifetime. Mind you, they delight the eye.

The front tyre has worn to about nothing plus the chain and sprockets have had it. Parts are on their way to Washington. Not DC, not the state, but Washington, Utah. While they were on the way, I dropped into Zion, reputedly America's most visited national park. More rocks.  At 8am it was packed with all us tourists. Recommendation: ride a bicycle into the canyon, rather than play sardines with everyone else on the shuttle bus.

Along with the rocks,  there's one other constant: contrails. No matter how remote one is, there's always a jet going overhead.

A joy of traveling, particularly solo, is the random conversations with others. Other murderbike riders have suggested entertaining road alternatives, including the Smoky Mountain Hwy. One bloke asked if I needed any mushrooms. Quite considerate, I thought; they make an excellent meat substitute in a sandwich and I hadn't found any at the last supermarket.

Two fellows separately offered their contact cards, unsolicited, "just in case you need help". Nice.

Culinary learning experiences:
• Menus in north America list main meals as "entrees"
• I ordered "spaghetti marinara" and was puzzled to receive said spaghetti with a generic tomato paste.  Upon querying the lack of seafood, I was told that "marinara" is a sauce and they had a separate seafood pasta. Having seafood is an antipodean idea.
• Turns out keeping cheese and chocolate in the pannier next to the muffler is not ideal

Once I'm sorted with new rubber, I'll double back to the Grand Canyon.   They say it has cool rocks.