“There’s This Road” #4: The Moki Dugway
Not for the faint of heart, and tricky as hell on a motorcycle.
Excerpt from my upcoming book: “There’s This Road…”
Whenever motorcycle riders gather and the stories start to flow, we hear this opening again and again.
“There’s this road… up in Utah, and man it’s wild.”
“I was in Montana in June and dude, and there’s this road…”
“Have you been to Taos? Did you know there’s this road that goes from Santa Fe up along the mountains?”
It is part and parcel of those who love roads, and the seemingly magical places they can take us.
Up along the Arizona/Utah border sits the little town of Mexican Hat. Right along the San Juan River, and in a most beautiful, but desolate desert.
As I was checking my maps for a trip up to the Escalante, I decided to go through Mexican Hat for gas and lunch. My plan was to get up to Hanksville as quickly as possible so I pulled out the phone and looked at possible routes. And there it was; Utah Highway 261 running almost due north from Mexican Hat and right up to the Hanksville route I was wanting to take.
Perfect.
I finished the burrito just as a group of Swedish tourists pulled in on their rented Harleys. We chatted a bit while they gassed up. They had been in Bluff that morning and were heading down to Monument Valley. They were taking photos of everything. Apparently, barren red sandstone and riverbanks of pure stone aren’t a thing in Sweden. Good people, we parted with them going right and me to the left.
261 was a nice little road, and a few miles in there was a sign for the “Goosenecks State Park”, so I figured what the hell, and made the left.
A few miles later I came to an entrance shack and the sign said $10, no CC due to power outage.
I smiled at the ranger and told her I would have to ride past her to turn around because I did not have a $10 bill and she probably couldn’t break a hundred.
She smiled and said — “go on in, the park is kind of empty today.”
Well, that was cool. The day started out with a great breakfast, good chatting with folks who loved the area as much as I do, and now free admission to the Goosenecks.
This is a portion of the San Juan River that just seems to fold in on itself and create a very interesting landscape of flat desert, deep canyon, and undulating river.
The light was harsh, although still morning. Not a cloud in the sky, but I made a few shots anyway. Who knows when I will be back and I thought the rough-hewn canyons were amazing.
(Note: if you really want to see the Goosenecks, head to Muley Point. A different set of Goosenecks lay directly below you and the view is astounding.)
Back on 261, I noticed a giant bluff ahead of me. I could not see any way the road would go through a notch or anything that was visible. I got to the Garden of the Gods turnoff and pulled over to check the map.
The road looked like it just went through them. And then I pinched it to make it bigger. That’s when I saw this:
I had stumbled on to the infamous Moki Dugway.
And I got very excited. I had heard of it and even watched a video on YouTube about this magnificent carve-out of a road that simply and steadily takes on this bluff from bottom to top. It does this at a steady 11% grade.
Which is really steep.
In gravel. Soft gravel.
My bike is not really a dirt bike, nor is it an adventure bike, or any sort of bike that loves to get in the gravel. It is a bigass cruiser made for pavement.
But there was no way I was going to let this opportunity pass.
I headed up the road at a very cautious speed and made the first hairpin curve to the right — and immediately rode into deep gravel.
“Just let the bike find its way,” my instructor had told me. Don’t fight it, it will get you there I kept telling myself.
The road is wide, and there is little to no traffic, so finding the less gravelly parts was fairly easy. I kept my speed at the required 15 MPH, and the cruiser was right at that point where first gear was too much and second gear was not enough. Perhaps bike makers could create a “Moki” gear?
I found a few wide spots to pull over and make images of where I was, and tried (in vain, I fear) to capture the exhilarating views this road was providing me. Along with the exhilarating hard corners with loose gravel and pavement. Not only very sharp but on an 11% grade… steep AF!
Did I mention that the road was ALL GRAVEL!!!!
As the challenge of the gravel became a little easier, I made the third hard curve… this one to the right. I knew I only had a turn or two left, so I leaned into it pretty strong to make my line.
The bike had other ideas and began to slip a bit on the loose gravel. On a bike this big, these sorts of moments usually end shiny side down. For some reason, possibly the knowledge that if I dropped it, there was no way for me to right it on this steep of a road, with gravel on the surface, I fought it and stayed shiny side up.
That whole incident lasted perhaps a second or two but felt like a longass day. I have ridden the Moki three times, and every time that curve tries to take me down.
Was it something I said?
A jeep was approaching from the top and going way faster than I would have thought prudent. I was about 75 feet or so from the curve when I heard him stomp the brakes and start skidding. There were screams and shouting from the passengers who obviously had no control over Speedy McFool.
A little berm built up from rain gushing down the side of the road, and a lot of luck, had saved him from careening into a shallow flat full of giant boulders. He backed up, turned tightly, and took off at a stupid rate of speed.
It was at that moment that I realized he was in his own micro-brain world. Too bad he had kids in the jeep with him. I wonder what they would have chosen to do?
I was nearing the top but wanted one more photo to show how far I had come in a relatively short amount of time.
This stop was special. I had made all the tight corners, stayed on two wheels and the air was at least a few degrees cooler. Looking through this little notch gave a real indication of how far I had come. Not only physically, but as a rider as well.
The Moki is a challenge for bigger bikes. Not a terribly big deal, but a challenge nonetheless. I felt I had made it pretty well, no thanks to curve number three.
From this point, I headed straight north on 261 where I joined up with 95 and a short, but sweet visit to Natural Bridges National Monument. This quiet little place should be on every hiker’s map. The main canyon where the bridges live is alabaster white. Simply amazing and so rugged and remote that there are few access points. Look into Natural Bridges, the place is amazing.
The heat of the day had been building and I hadn’t noticed it much while concentrating on not dropping a nine-hundred-pound bike into 3 inches of gravel, but once I reached the top I realized that while it was indeed a bit cooler, it was warming up rapidly.
There is no shade in this part of the world. Few trees, and nothing along the road to take a moment's respite from the hot sun and super dry air.
BTW, it is at the top where you can find the road to Muley Point. I hear there is a very nice campground there for photographers who love sunrises over spectacular landscape.
I haven’t ridden the Moki for about five years this Spring. It is time for a return match between me and curve three. And the beautiful thing about the Moki is that it takes you to Utah 95, which is one of the most beautiful roads you will ever take. Spend the night in Hanksville, or Torrey.
You will be positioned right in the neighborhood of Capitol Reef National Park. Capitol Reef is spectacular.
And if you have a little time, there’s this road…
I am a photographer, designer, and photo editor. You can find me at my self-named website or at Project 52 Pro System (enrollment begins January 6, 2023) where I teach commercial photography online. This is our tenth year of teaching, and it is the most unique online class you will find anywhere.
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You can find my books on Amazon, and I have taught two classes at CREATIVELIVE.
