WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DRIVE THREE HOURS FOR A BURGER
“Don’t have lunch here”, said Noah, the Ski School Director at Telluride, Colorado. “Go have a burger at Milt’s. You won’t regret it”. We had just finished a two-hour-long meeting at the cool, posh, (and criminally expensive) ski resort, and were in need of some carbs and protein. Given the circumstances, the offer – coming from a true local – resonated very well. “Sounds like a great idea,” we said, “where is Milt’s”?
“In Moab, Utah”, 213 Kilometers and some 3hrs drive away.
Being emotionally invested, we grabbed some overpriced energy bars from a nearby kiosk and hit the road.
What other choice did we have?
Meeting with reality. Head on.
Three hours, and one restroom stop later, we parked in front of an unassuming little shack on the edge of an abandoned parking lot, just off Moab’s sleepy town center. We step outside into a 40-something degrees (Celsius, not Fahrenheit!) scorcher. As an added bonus, the gust of hot dry air feels like the inside of a baking oven turned to “max”. Looking at the run-down burger stand, we can’t help feeling a bit cheated. A regional legend, we assumed, should have been a bit more accommodating. “Well, at least the Hamburgers would be awesome”, we promised ourselves as we crossed the car park and narrowed the distance between Milt’s and our hungry eyes. This better be good!
A little sign on the shutters says Milt’s is closed until the middle of August, some ten days into the future. Words cannot describe our frustration having driven for so long in vain. Yes, the drive was scenic, very much so to be frank. Still, I’d rather have the “cherry on the top” done medium with a side of fries.
All I can do now is to look at the depleted energy bar and hear my stomach churns in anger. We find some consolation at the nearby Moab Diner. The hamburgers are OK-ish, but at least the AC is in full presence, and the retro décor done to taste. At this point, however, we are too hungry to care about these things nor bother if the paddy ranks 10 or just 7. A side of fries and a nice milkshake later, and we’re back on the road heading north toward Salt Lake City.
Moab city limits
As we near the town’s limit, Bobby suggests we make a little detour. “A small canyon nearby that’s fun to drive”, he promises. Having been frustrated by Milt’s, and with nothing better to do, we all agree Salt Lake can wait. We turn left from Moab’s Main Street into Kane Creek Boulevard – a funny euphemism as the “Boulevard” is no more than a slightly paved single-lane path – and head out of the settlement and into the wild.
Some say the best off-road vehicle is a rented one. Luckily, ours is a Grand Cherokee, courteous of Avis. It’s a pitiful choice for a road trip – noisy, sluggish, and outdated in every respect – it is, however, a great choice for an off-road excursion. As the tarmac disappears beneath our tires, the Jeep begins to shine. The Kane Creek Canyon Road hugs the grand Colorado River, which at this point is not much more than a small tepid stream. The gravel path then leaves the banks and starts carving its own path between the steep red bluffs that surround it.
Into the wild
It doesn’t take too long for the straightforward dirt path, easily navigable by any company car, to turn rougher and harder to cross. The Grand Cherokee excels here. With robust off-road capabilities, it devours the terrain at ease, dispatching with obstacles that would otherwise hinder less capable SUVs. As we ventured ahead, the steep canyon opened to a beautiful wide valley bounded by steep rock outcroppings. The view is staggering.
But something is amiss.
People.
We’re pretty much all by ourselves. A random ATV passing by rarely manages to disrupt the grand emptiness. Given the extraordinary scale of the area, the absolute solitude seems a bit bizarre, as if we ventured by mistake into a secret closed-off base. Or worse – into a Zombie apocalypse. We will get back to that later.
A national park nobody had heard about
In any case, the grand area called Kane Creek would have easily merited a national park status anywhere else, but Utah. It certainly ranks among one of the most beautiful western classics landscape I’ve seen, superior to the Joshua Tree National Park I visited a few months prior. Here, in Utah, it’s just another unmarked spot on the map. Unbelievable.
We continue our drive, which slowly becomes more technical and difficult until we park on top of a red rocky ledge to decide what to do next. Bobby, who has prior knowledge of the place, suggests we head back before sundown. “Can’t we continue up the road until we hit a settlement?” I enquire. “Not unless you want to meet those Zombies”, replies Bobby. I’m usually not easily convinced, but something inside tells me Bobby has a point there.
With that said, we turn back, scraping the lower side of the Jeep’s chassis at one point. “That’s what rentals are for”, I tell myself as I hear the rock meeting still with a high pitch screech.
We hit the North 191 freeway as the sun set to our left.
It’s a four-hour drive to Salt Lake City, and we begin to feel hungry.
