The USA - Hardly any other country we seem to know so well, without ever having visited it before. The yellow school buses - "Forest Gump" - the newspaper boxes - we smile, when we remember the scene in "While You Were Sleeping" when the newsboy caught the ice with the front wheel of his bike and flies with elegance over the handlebar - the lights and neon signs of Las Vegas - venue for the big gangster's coup of "Ocean's Eleven". We know the country of countless Hollywood films, from the daily media coverage, of brands and chain stores, who have made it around the world. But what of it is cliché, what is reality?

We are sitting in a McDonald. On the small plastic table are two Big Mac menus and the receipt.
$6.99 costs us lunch, plus we can refill our cups as often as we want. A good deal - plus free wifi. If we look through the window, we see the flashing lights and the crowds that press through the Freemont Street. Almost a bit of culture shock after the lonely and wild Alaska - and somehow not quite as bombastic and cool, as we had imaginad Las Vegas by the film images. But it is still better than Alaska, because there it is now raining, snowmelt turns the roads in mud streams, everything would be wet, dirty and unfriendly - mud season. Nothing we were longing for and that is why we are now sitting in the Nevada desert. So fast and easy you can cheat the climate.

Like a rattlesnake its too narrow skin, we have stripped the thick gloves, double thermal underwear, winter boots and thick sleeping bags. Everything sent home, in a twelve-kilogram package. Only now our Bikepacking era really begins. With just under fifteen kilos of luggage each we seem to fly along the highway, which leads us out of Las Vegas. And yet we still have everything what is needed for bike touring. A tent, camping mats, sleeping bags, petrol stove with one pan, one long and one short set of clothing, thermal underwear, fleece sweater, down jacket, rain gear. Some tools, a spare tube, various cables and chargers for cameras and tablet, necessaire and a small first aid kit. And not to forget: The frame bag filled with food for four days.

After we have visited the famous Zion and Bryce National Parks for free during the anniversary week, we reflect back on our beliefs: discover highlights at our own and not snap a hundred times seen sights, traveling off the beaten path, not to pay any money for landscapes and nature. The Staircase-Escalante National Monument in Utah proves us that we are on the right track with this in the States as well. Deep gorges, colorful canyons, ocher red mesas, a rough dirt road that passes in between - and we all alone. It could be the backdrop of a western.

We camp at Alstrom Point. From a steep cliff we look over the many bays of Lake Powell and further into Monument Valley. The last rays of sun stain the rocks and mesas even redder, the lake surface even in a darker blue. A few fish are jumping for mosquitoes. Water droplets burst golden in the evening light, small circles are lost in the water when the wind picks up.

The next day it goes over the steep Smokey Mountain Road up onto a high plateau. Even with our lightweight bikes we have to push the steepest parts. Once at the top the vegetation changes. It is cooler and smells strongly of the resin of juniper trees. Gnarled and misshapen, the bark torn and brittle, they assert themselves against the desert climate and the everlasting wind. We call them tree pioneers, drawn by the ruthless nature and the harsh climate. Defiantly persevere, not driven away from any adversity. They remind us of the first settlers, who have discovered this country for themselves.

After a rough downhill through the Collet Canyon we reach the Hole-in-the-Rock Road, the historical path that took the Mormon's wagons. Amazing how their scouts could find a way through this inhospitable and labyrinthine land. It is also astonishing that this happened hardly more than a hundred years ago. Previously this was Indian land, no roads, no towns, just wide grandiose wilderness. Hard work, perseverance and sometimes a good part of brutality have changed the land and made it arable. We understand that the Americans are proud of it, it would be as if our grandparents had founded Bern.

In a large water tube we hide our bikes, pack a picnic and two liters of water in the backpack and hike to the zebra slot canyon. The first fifty yards we have the muddy brown water up to the chest, but after that the ground rises and we climb over the porous sandstone in the narrow hallway and into a magical world. The walls are so close that we barely fit through. Far above we see the sky as a blue ribbon and a few white cirrus clouds. In dim light the strips in the rock shine in warm brown, orange, red and beige. The water flowing through has carved the soft stone in centuries to elegant curves and shapes. After lunch it gets colder in the canyon and we make our way back into the sunlight. On the plateau above the narrow chimney we let us dry from the sun and marvel fascinated at hundreds of Moqui Marbles lying around. Perfectly round balls made of sandstone and iron in all sizes.

Through the Lockhart Basin and over the Kokopelli Trail we reach Fruita in Colorado. There awaits us Penny, a Warm Shower hosts. Here in the US we take for the first time advantage of the Internet platform, connecting cycling travelers and bike enthusiastic hosts together. Not only because of our travel budget suffering under the local price level, but also because we are missing the cultural challenge more and more. Life in the USA is so similar to our own in Europe that we sometimes start to get bored slightly. Although we are always amazed at the openness and friendliness of the Americans. When we sit somewhere on the roadside and take a break, it never lasts long, until someone stops and asks if we need help. In front of the supermarket there are always strangers talking with us and responding enthusiastically to our story. When our water supplies are slowly coming to an end, we will find someone who fills us the bottles again. If we ask at a campsite, if we can pitch our tent beside an RV to save the campground fee, we are hardly ever rejected. Total strangers drive us 100km in their jeep, when we fight against a massive food poisoning and have to break off in the middle of the Kokopelli Trail, even if their way would go in the opposite direction. In a motel we spend the night for half of the regular price. For us these encounters are in stark contrast to all the "no trespassing - keep out" signs that we see every day and also to the otherwise very capitalist and regulated society.

Penny is a godsend. For one year she cycled together with her husband through Southeast Asia to find a way from worklife to retirement and now she is making her at home here in Fruita. She knows the ups and downs of travel life, she is interested and active. We spend the day with exciting discussions on various topics and in the evening we watch movies on a big screen. We enjoy it to have a bed and a roof over our head after a long time without it and to hold discussions that go beyond the everyday superficiality. The farewell is not easy when we leave eastwards over the Tabougache Trail.

Utah was a famous highlight for us. When we cross the border to Colorado, the bizarre desert landscapes end. Meadows in the mountain spring - it could be in the Bernese Oberland, dense forests with squirrels and ants - a short trip in Graubünden. Gravel roads, which could also be somewhere in the Alps. We question our future plans. Do we really want to ride the next three months on the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route, that is nice for sure, but is possible very reminiscent of home? We received an annual visa upon arrival, but do we really want to remain in North America for such a long time? Are there not corners in the world, which tempt and challenge us culturally more?

We decide to ride a loop through New Mexico and then to give the Great Divide a chance - at least until we see the first bear. What comes after that is written in the stars.