The ride up to Mt Carmel Junction was fairly uneventful, marked only by a roadside buffalo ranch containing widdle baby buffalo. I made a "cute baby animals!" squeal that even Steph, cute baby animal squealer extraordinaire, would be proud of.

Peter modeling the adorable pre-burgers.

Highway 9 west into Zion National Park was amazing as always. There had been warning signs that the Zion-Mt. Carmel Tunnel was under construction and to expect delays, but apparently we lucked out, and they weren't working on the tunnel that day. The tunnel is a pretty amazing engineering feat; 1.1 miles long, it opened along with the Zion-Mt. Carmel Highway (Hwy 9) in 1930 and contains six large windows blasted out of the sandstone cliff.

Peter at the east entrance to Zion.

Checkerboard Mesa on the eastern side of Zion.

After the tunnel come the six switchbacks that lead down to the canyon floor. The scenery is amazing, and it's hard to stay focused on the technical bends and cambers in the road as you're surrounded by the sights of the Great Arch and the Three Patriarchs.

The white Three Patriarchs peek out along Hwy 9.

Along Hwy 9.

Another interesting tidbit about Hwy 9 is the wild growth of Sacred Datura, an anticholinergic and deliriant of the same classification as deadly nightshade. See what you learn by reading?

Sacred Datura.

Our goal for the day was to do some horseback riding, though, not loiter amongst hallucinogenic flowers, so we rode the bikes to the main Visitor's Center and parked. While I was changing into "walk around" clothes, a ranger came by and informed Peter that our impromptu sidewalk parking space just wouldn't do, so he rode around and found another -- though far away -- spot. When I returned, I needed to move the Z, bringing me to my worst squidly moment of the trip: riding through the parking lot in my wicking shirt, khaki pants, and sandals, the helmet locked to the bike.

The parking situation now under control, we hopped on the shuttle bus to The Grotto, where the stables were located. Traffic from private vehicles in the narrow canyon became a huge problem in the 1990s, so a shuttle system of propane-powered busses was established in 2000. It's actually pretty nice to pocket the bike keys and let someone else drive while you gape at the scenery.

By the time we arrived at the stables, we were minutes too late for the 2pm ride. We decided to be disappointed for barely a moment, though, since that meant we could eat lunch at the neighboring Zion Lodge, and even get a mini hike in before the horseback ride. And thus we did.

We started off on the Emeralds Pool Trail, easily accessible from the Zion Lodge shuttle stop. The entire trail is 3 miles roundtrip, but since we only had an hour before we needed to be back to the stables, we did the 1.2 mile roundtrip walk just to the Lower Pool. The lower trail is paved, though it gets pretty slick when it ducks behind the waterfalls at the Pool. I'd really like to return to this trail someday to do the full 3 mile walk.

Kinda hard to get a non-backlit photo along Zion trails.

Waterfall at the Lower Emerald Pools.

Peter ducks behind a waterfall at the Lower Emerald Pools.

Waterfall at the Lower Emerald Pools.

Our horseback ride got underway shortly upon our return. I rode a cute little horse (I think technically she was a mule, but let's simplify) named Chalkboard, who was relectuant to follow too closely behind Lovey, Peter's horse. No matter how I kicked in with my heels or cajoled her, she was keeping her distance. This confused me until partway through the ride, when Lovey began, well, farting incessantly. Perhaps Chalkboard had ridden behind Lovey before. ;)

Chalkboard says, "I ain't getting any closer than this!"

The horseback ride itself was really fun. We did two river crossings, some steep ascents and descents, and lots of nice relaxing trail riding with the beautiful Zion scenery as a backdrop. Our guide was a funny woman with a wicked sense of humor; she cracked jokes with us and good-naturedly teased the horses when they'd fall behind or stop to try to eat trailside bushes (maybe they were looking for those hallucinogenic flowers?).

Peter and Lovey pass a catctus garden.

Peter and Lovey at the Court of the Patriarchs.

Chalkboard and I

Peter and I with Chalkboard and Lovey

Once back on the stables, we took the shuttle back to the Visitor's Center and geared back up for the next leg of our ride. It was a short little jog back on I-15 to Las Vegas but, surprise surprise, it was getting dark. At first, this wasn't a problem; the desert scenery is never ugly at sunset, even along an interstate.

Even I-15 is gorgeous in the southwest.

But after dark, things got a little stressful again. This was my first time planning an entire vacation's worth of route for more than just myself, and I made some mistakes. I thought I'd factored in the "multiple people make longer stops" equation, but apparently not by enough -- by this point, we'd done at least 50 miles in the dark every night. I felt rushed, anxious, nervous...like I was simultaneously constantly running behind schedule yet still not seeing everything I wanted to or stopping when I wanted. So I was a little manic by this point, freaking out and rushing us through gas stops, etc.

That became a problem as the evening wore on. Peter hit that nasty mental wall that we've all been through -- that horrible feeling of touring craziness where you try to convince yourself you can go "just a bit further" until you finally get so physically and mentally exhausted that you just shut down completely. Peter started shutting down in the desert about 60 miles outside of Vegas, but I was blissfully unaware. I didn't even have an inkling until he pulled off in the outskirts of Vegas which -- to put it nicely -- isn't a very nice neighborhood. We got back on the highway and I started leading us down the Strip, but he zipped ahead and pulled off at the Bellagio, where we made an emergency stop alongside the valet parking so he could hydrate and rest for a minute.

He felt well enough to continue on to a hotel room, so we rode to Ceasar's Palance next door and parked at the top level of their parking garage. Leaving our stuff on the bikes, we walked allll the way down to the casino and then alllll the way through the casino, only to find a huge, slow, line. So we left Ceasar's and walked across the street to the Flamingo, only to find they were sold out for the night. A phone call to Bally's found a room, so we walked allll the way through their casino to the check-in desk, then allll the way back through the casino to the elevator. We then did an assembly line thing where Peter walked allll the way back to the bikes (still about a mile away now at the Ceasar's lot), rode one bike to the valet entrance at Bally's, I'd grab the hard luggage and walk it alllll the way back through the casino to the elevator and up to the room while Peter parked the bike and walked alllll the way back to the other bike. Lather rinse repeat.

So, it was close to midnight by the time we were even settled enough to eat anything for the evening. It was hotter than we'd expected, we were tired and pissy, and the next day's route called for 350 miles of seriously back-country desert riding. "Screw that," we said, and decided to stay an extra day in Vegas instead.

Day's mileage: 213 miles
Day's max speed: 102 mph
Total trip mileage: 1469 miles

Next Day --> September 28: Valley of Fire State Park day ride