To Toroweap

Bell Rock is an almost magical place. Some will go as far as to say it’s mythical. And to those members of the Church of the Bell Rock, it’s a sacred place that can only be seen at the right moments of the day and by those who are faithful enough to know how to look.

As legend has it, the rock is actually a space ship that leaves every morning and returns only as the sun begins to set in the west. It leaves its earthly abode to travel through the heavens and returns with just a bit of the stardust to keep wild places wild and the dreamers dreaming of finding a bit of heaven on earth.

Toroweap is home to this magical place. Unknown by most, forgotten by a few and loved by those leftover. Had the lines of statehood been drawn differently, it wouldn’t be what it is, but the Arizona Strip, or NoZona as we like to call it, sits mostly abandoned. The giant ditch known as the Grand Canyon cuts it off from most of the state. The state boundary cuts it off from Utah. It’s as close to no man’s land that you can get.

There’s no paved roads and the dirt ones stretch for what seems like countless miles creating this buffer of land that keeps to itself, isn’t valuable for much more than being alone. At the edge of this emptiness sits the place where you can look directly down to the Colorado River.

It’s pretty spectacular. And probably the #1 trip I get asked about.

I can hear my tires rolling over the dirt road.

A butterfly appears in my prereferral and begins flying parallel to me. After what seems like forever, I think to myself, I should pull my phone out and get a picture, but it’s gonna fly away. Another 30 seconds of this continues when I think I really should have got my phone out. I continue pedaling and the butterfly continues flying along side me. Ok, now I have to get my phone out this is ridiculous still don’t pull it out. Butterfly continues “racing” me down the road and finally veers to the left and flutters off.

I thank the Bell Rock for accompanying me.

I return to listening to my tires. It’s been a while since I’ve been alone. I mean really alone. It’s only been 15 minutes or so, but there is no one around. Kenny and Heather were swapping out with Dylan and I just kept going. There coming and at some point, I will wait for them, but for the moment it’s just me and this butterfly and a whole bunch of open space. It feels amazing. I promise to make it a point to do this whole thing alone, soon.

There’s a fork in the road. I stop as it seems prudent that we regroup.

I don’t know exactly what it is about open space and spectacular views that do it for me, but this trip clicks off so many boxes. Maybe it’s the draw of the Rock. I’ve never been to the edge without feeling something that makes me promise to come back soon. When you look at it from the components that make it up, it’s just dirt roads, another sandstone canyon and camping via bikes. Not much to write home about, but then again, it makes me wonder if I ever want to go home. I could just…

One of the tenets of the Church of the Bell Rock is the annual pilgrimage. It must be non-motorized, involve some beer poured out in sacrifice to the Holy Rock and friends.

Sitting here at the end of July, sweating and pecking at a keyboard, I think it’s high time we start preparing/planning for the next one.

May all praise be to the Bell Rock.