We were on the road again at 9:00 am headed for breakfast at Mom’s Cafe in Salina. The plan was to take the long way home via Hwy 10 to Huntington and then over the canyon down into Fairview. Of course, we were so close we had to stop at Mom’s. Mom’s has become one of my favorite places to stop in this area. The food is simple but tasty—worthy of a stop if you’re ever near Salina when it’s time to eat.
After gassing up the bikes, be headed east on I-70 for a few miles before we left the Interstate at Hwy 10. I can’t help but imagine Butch and Sundance every time I ride through this part of the state. It would have been a lonely ride on a horse in those days, but it didn’t take us too long before we were in Huntington, topping off the tanks and heading up the canyon to Fairview.
I’ve mentioned this before, but it’s sad to see the fire damage on the Huntington side of the canyon. Nevertheless, the rhythm of the climb was relaxing as we accelerated out of on sweeping turn into another. Near the top of the pass we ran into a herd of sheep we had to share the road with for a while. Riders on horseback waved as we reached the summit. There was still snow from the storm we rode in to Richfield in the shade. My guess is that we probably won’t be riding over this pass again until spring.
The temperature dropped as we descended into Fairview. It was turning out to be a beautiful day. I don’t think we ever stopped that we didn’t get something to eat, and Fairview was no exception. I wasn’t the only member of our group who knew about the Home Plate—we stopped to have lunch before the push home.
I enjoy riding through the fields and the small towns along this stretch of Highway 89. Riding through Thistle Valley I always think of Dan Jones and the Ute Tribe he convinced to stay there. I can almost see the teepees as we climb up to Spanish Fork Canyon where Highways 89 and 6 merge through the canyon.
Once we hit Springville and the windmills there’s no question the ride is over. Traffic going north on I-15 reminds us that we’re not on vacation any more. As riders peel off at their individual exits, they give us a friendly wave. Pulling into the garage, I can’t help but think about how I’m already set for the next trip. I wonder where that one will be?