The Hogsback is where Highway 12 stops being a road and becomes an experience. Between Escalante and Boulder, the road climbs onto a narrow ridge of Navajo sandstone, with a steep drop on both sides and the canyons of the Escalante River spread far below. For a mile or two there is no verge, no barrier worth the name, and nothing to look at but a lot of air. Nervous riders slow down; confident ones slow down more, because the view is worth it.
The land here is a maze of slickrock domes, canyons, and mesas, cut by the Escalante and its tributaries into one of the last river systems in the lower forty-eight to be mapped. It was so remote that it was the last part of the continental United States to be charted. The road itself is a story of stubbornness: Boulder was so isolated that mail arrived by mule until 1940, and the highway across the Hogsback was not paved until the 1980s. When it was, Boulder lost something of its seclusion and gained a steady stream of curious visitors.
The riding is the best on the byway for sheer drama. The corners are open, with big views, and the gradient is steady, though the road is narrow and the surface can have patches of gravel. There is little room for error, so stay in your lane, keep your speed modest, and take photographs from a pull-off rather than the saddle. Wind can blow across the ridge with real force, especially in spring, and in winter ice can form on the shaded slopes. Rain turns the red dust into mud, so check the forecast.
Services are far apart. Escalante, to the southwest, has fuel and food and is the most sensible place to fill up, and Boulder, to the northeast, has a few places to eat. Do not rely on anything on the ridge itself. The light is best in the morning or late afternoon, when the rock glows and the canyons fill with shadows, and the best time of year is spring or autumn, before the heat of midsummer or the cold of winter. The sense of space is something you do not forget.