Day 156 (Rest day): 5.26 miles, 0:31 hours, Moab Campground
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I felt bad tying my guitar to my bike this morning. Last night I noticed that the neck is pulling away from the body of the guitar. It still plays ok but buzzes occasionally. I feel bad to have brought it on this trip. It seems a little weird to describe my bike and guitar as having personalities, but they've been through thick and thin with me and I can't help but feel that they are somehow more than mere possessions. So I feel guilty to have forced my lovely 12-string acoustic on such an arduous trip that it never asked to be on. It's survived cold, heat, damp – all the sorts of things that you shouldn't expose a beautiful instrument to. And now it's sick and it's all my fault.

We got up late this morning, we cleaned up the cabin and said our goodbyes. I started to miss them before the dust from the car in the distance had even settled (oh crap, spouting more clichés...). I couldn't help but admire and feel attracted to Lindsey and her car trip. Here she was doing something that I had always dreamed of doing. Driving across the US in a car with no fixed plan or route. I wish I'd met her while living in Oakland, turned out she only lived down the road from my old house. And quirky Cat, with her stones and astrology, couldn't help but like her good nature towards everything, whether it be a person or a tree.

So I had my bike packed and ready to go by lunchtime. I was held up for a while by two friendly, but extremely talkative, English brothers who were mountain biking in Moab. It seems there is a mountain bike on the top of every single SUV in this town, it definitely feels like the mountain biking capital of the universe.

I headed towards town and out the other side. There was a slight headwind and I felt a few drops of rain. After being spoilt with a roof over my head and being driven around for the last few days I immediately felt tired with the idea of riding again. So I turned around and went back to town, found a campsite and stayed another night. I called my good friends Brooke and Stef in Long Beach for a chat. They suggested coming out and meeting up with me next weekend in Zion National Park. It'll be great, I haven't seen a familiar face for months.

Day 157: 55 miles, 7:01 hours, Monticello RV Park
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As soon as I got on the bike this morning I was in a constant struggle against strong headwinds. It was tiring and slow going. It was right on the border of being too cold to just wear a t-shirt and too warm to wear my rain jacket. Bored with riding again, I had long breaks at roadside rest stops. Spent an hour chatting with James, who lived out of his pickup and cleaned and maintained the toilets and lawns at one of the stops. His mower had a flat tyre and he was hoping the wind would keep blowing so that he wouldn't have to rake up all the leaves.

Another hundred metres past that stop and I stopped for another half hour coffee break at the Hole in the Wall. Some guy built a house into the side of a rock and had also built some fabulous sculptures out of number plates, old tools and scrap metal. By lunchtime I'd barely done thirty miles. It was sad. I remember when I was with Norbert we'd asked each other questions like; "What would you prefer; this biting, cold, terrible, snowy weather or sunny warm headwinds?". Of course, at the time, I'd answered warm headwinds, so I shouldn't be complaining. It's amazing how much the wind plays havoc on my psyche. A day like this makes me consider quitting the bike and getting a rental car. It'd take me a week to see all the parks in a car rather than spending almost a month doing it by bike.

I eventually got to the turnoff for the Needles entrance of Canyonlands National Park. I'd so much wanted to see the Needles but the idea of riding thirty six miles to a possibly cold and lonely campground put me off. Especially when it was only fourteen miles to the next town South of Moab; Monticello. I was tired of concentrating on keeping my bike upright. I'd done the "spit test" and the result was that the wind was strong.

Monticello is a small town with nothing much of interest it seems. It's just over 7000 feet in elevation with the beautiful La Sal mountains to the north. I found the first campground in town and pulled in. My tent looked tiny and lonely amongst the four caravans parked there.