Riding Johnson Canyon Road (Utah) on a Gravel Bike
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When I was a kid, I used to look out at the odd road or random trail disappearing into the countryside as our family car passed on the highway and wonder… “where does that go?” As I got older and found myself with my own car, backpack, and bike, I realized I could finally explore some of those whims. With that delight, I also quickly learned that a little bit of a plan goes a long way — and that learning a route ahead of time, to plan food, water, and supplies, could keep the adventure going.
When Matt, our Dude, the pets, and I pulled into a campsite at Bauer’s Canyon Ranch RV Park in Glendale, Utah — north of Kanab — we delighted in the apple trees dropping fruit all around us in the old orchard. While walking the dogs morning and evening, one road kept grabbing my attention. On its west end it’s called Glendale Bench Road, and by the time it winds east, then south, it ends about 34 miles later on Highway 89, just east of Kanab.
It’s an unsuspecting-looking road, starting with nearly fist-sized gravel and heading straight up the “bench” from the town of Glendale. There wasn’t much written about it at the time, but I couldn’t resist — so I started googling it, looking at maps and satellite images, and decided I needed to ride this stretch on my bike.
I had no idea what I was in for.
On the day I departed, I left just as the sky was lightening. I packed my normal riding kit — water, food, energy chews, tools, and a flat-repair kit — but because it was remote, I also took a walkie-talkie (we didn’t have the Garmin inReach yet, and I definitely would have brought it on this ride), a headlamp, an external battery charger, an extra layer, and offline maps downloaded so I could access them without signal.
Matt and I made our plan: I’d head out and ride for a few hours, and he and Eric would have an easy morning and then take the truck up the same route to see when and where they’d catch me. I’m really glad we planned it this way, for two reasons. First, once I got a few miles out, I lost all cell signal and the walkie-talkies wouldn’t connect unless he was getting close. The second reason would come at the end of my ride.
Those first few miles were enough to make me question what in the world I was doing. In less than three miles, I climbed nearly 1,500 feet. I think I walked my bike as much as I rode it — the inclines were steep, followed by flatter sections, with plenty of “teaser” peaks: hills you climb hard thinking you’re almost there, only to reach a flat and see the next climb waiting. Ugh.
Once I finally reached the peak of the peak of the peak, the views opened up and I realized I was looking at the backside of Bryce Canyon National Park. The gravel at the start was brutal — huge chunky rocks that bounced everything and made it nearly impossible to ride in a straight line. But what I didn’t realize until I saw the sign was that I was about to ride straight into Grand Staircase–Escalante National Monument.
Almost instantly, the gravel got smaller, completely bearable, and a whole lot more fun. This section was beautiful, with vast stretches of views and small canyons starting to open up. At this point I was texting Matt to tell him to leave plenty of time to enjoy the drive — hoping the message would send if I picked up a whiff of cell signal.
This is clearly a popular area for off-road enthusiasts, too; many were packing up their ATVs, RVs, and campsites from the weekend and heading home as I rode past. But the beauty of this road wasn’t over.
The brownish-red colors began to morph into chalky white rock outcroppings: I was entering Johnson Canyon. It’s an underrated drive — well, maybe not underrated, but definitely not talked about enough. Not only are the swirling white craggy bluffs easy on the eyes, but as I wound through farmland farther down the canyon, I stopped the moment I saw the wooden sticks of a ghost town. By then I had cell signal, and while I still hadn’t heard from Matt, I knew they’d have started by now. I googled where I was to learn the ghost town’s name — only to find it was the old movie set for Gunsmoke. It’s on private land, off-limits to curious tourists, but easy enough to see and photograph from the road.
Now came the hot stretch. Officially out of the rocky canyon and committed to a hot, straight, flat run of pavement through farmland, I sweat through my shirt while soaking up the colors, cows, and speed. This was when I caught sight of Matt and Eric, and we planned where to meet at the end of my ride.
Here’s where my second reason for appreciating a plan — and being willing to change it — comes in. From where Johnson Canyon Road empties onto Highway 89, it’s only about four miles into town. I figured I’d just ride the highway shoulder in and meet them at Willow Canyon Outdoor (a gear shop AND a coffee shop — can it get any better?). But once I rode out into the open, away from the canyon and valley, the wind picked up dramatically. I didn’t even mind the building rain, but as I entered the highway shoulder that strong wind became a crosswind. Add semis passing at 80 mph, with the push and suction of their wind currents, and riding the shoulder got sketchy fast.
Fortunately, Matt read the situation from the truck and stopped about a mile up the highway on a pullout to wait for me. I was happy to call it a day rather than get beat up by wind and traffic after an already epic — and tough — ride.
Would I do it again? If someone could drop me off after that first 1,400-plus-foot climb, you bet. Truly, though, this was a memorable, gorgeous backdrop for a gravel ride close to Kanab, with plenty of neat geology, public-land appreciation, wildlife, and history.
