Passes & Canyons Blog

Get off the pavement and have fun!

I hadn’t done any dirt-biking when my friend John offered me an opportunity. You can think of him as the pusher. “Try this, you’ll really like it,” he seems to say. Then you’re hooked. To maintain your habit, you can kiss your bank balance good-bye.

I didn’t get hooked but I got the craving. My V-Strom is a result of this.

John had a couple dirt bikes he and his son, Johnathon, would take up to the Rampart Range, an area in the hills outside of Denver given over to motorized fun on trails through the forest. They invited me along one day.

They were meeting up with other members of their extended family and this was the first time I ever saw how dirt-biking is such a family affair. It wasn’t just their own family. The campground area was packed with families and dirt bikes of all sizes, from pappa’s big bike, to momma’s mid-size bike, right down to baby’s little two-wheeler carrying young’uns who must have only learned to walk last year. And every one of them in full riding gear. Who even knew they made helmets and jackets and boots that small, not to mention motorcycles?

I have to tell you, I really envied these kids. I would have given anything I had to have had parents who took me dirt-biking as a kid. Instead, I had parents who wouldn’t even let me buy a bike with my own money.

So we went riding, and what a blast that was! First of all, being out in the woods and going up and down hills on these narrow trails is a kick. You never get going all that fast, but speed isn’t the point. That said, a bit of speed is the point when you’re going up and there’s a hump in the trail. “Whoops” as they’re called. You come up on that whoop and gun it and you’ll catch some air and that, I’m here to tell you, is fun. Catch several whoops in a row and you’re having serious fun. Did I mention that this can be addicting?

One big difference between riding in the dirt and riding on the street is that on the dirt you’re pretty much guaranteed to dump the bike from time to time. On the street that’s one of the biggest things you seek to avoid ever doing, but on the dirt it’s just part of the game. You don’t usually get hurt and neither does the bike.

Of course I dumped it more than once but I was right back up and on it and off down the trail. Talking about it at the end of the day I felt I had earned my wings when Johnathon told his dad, “Ken did pretty good. He even caught some air a few times.”

Not long afterward John sold the bikes and his trailer so I’ve never been back to the Rampart Range, and that was my only time to ride with them. But I got in some more dirt riding here and there and finally about four years ago got the V-Strom, which I consider a dual-sport bike, though some folks do not. But it has the suspension and it has the tires.

That day in the Rampart Range whetted my appetite as I started realizing how many, many unpaved roads there are through the Colorado mountains that I’ve never been on. I did finally pick the lock on my checkbook.

Biker Quote for Today

You know you’re a biker if your wife has ever asked you to move the bike so she could see the TV better.

Stopping beside the road is not always your desire.

I read an article some while ago that said, “Nobody runs out of gas any more, not with dash lights and other geegaws reminding you to stop and fill up.” Obviously, they weren’t talking about motorcycles.

Most motorcycles don’t even have gas gauges. What they do have is a petcock that you turn to Reserve when the bike starts to sputter. Then you know you had better find a gas station fairly soon. Presumably you know how much fuel your reserve holds, you know how many miles you get to a gallon, and that tells you approximately how far you can get on what you’ve got left.

My Kawasaki Concours does have a gas gauge, but it’s in a minority. And even that is only a half-way measure because it still has reserve and once you flip that petcock the gauge just registers Empty and you’re judging your range as you would on any other bike.

I have run out of gas. More than once, on both the Honda and the Kawi. And you’ll rarely meet a rider who hasn’t also run out, at least on occasion.

Now, riding with the OFMC I have never run out, for the simple reason that all my bikes have bigger gas tanks than any of the other guys’ bikes. They need to gas up long before I do so as long as I do the same I’m golden. And I carry a long plastic surgical tube so that if need be we can siphon gas from my tank to one of theirs, though that has never been necessary.

That fact is largely due to John’s experience on one of our early trips. He and Bill and I were blasting north through Wyoming on I-25, heading for Deadwood, SD, and I was in the lead. I noticed they had dropped back so I slowed down and after awhile I pulled over. The customary thing in this situation is to wait, with the assumption that they’ll be along soon. If they don’t come along soon you head back to see what the hold-up is.

So I sat there a while, too long, and turned back. I hadn’t gone far and there they were, going the direction I was now coming from, so I turned around again. We all pulled off and they filled me in.

John had run out of gas and hadn’t thought to flip to reserve, so he coasted to a stop. Bill pulled over to offer aid. They quickly deduced the problem, but even after John switched to reserve the bike wouldn’t start because the fuel line had been drained dry and he couldn’t get any gas to the carburetor. Most motorcycles don’t have fuel pumps, it’s simply a gravity flow system.

So they tried jump starting. We were on flat land and Bill pushed and pushed and pushed while John tried to get the thing going. Finally, about the time Bill was ready to die from his work-out the bike did start, and after he trudged his way back to his own bike they were finally on their way again.

Ever since then John is a total fanatic about getting gas long before he even reaches reserve. He also instructed his son, Johnathon, in this approach so a few years later, on another trip, when the bike Johnathon was on started sputtering he had no idea what was happening because he had never gone to reserve before.

Me, I hit reserve regularly. The only problem is when you forget to switch the petcock back to the regular tank when you gas up. Then, if you’re not paying attention to how many miles you’ve ridden, when the bike starts to sputter, guess what? You’re out of gas. Trust me on this, I know.

Biker Quote for Today

You’re a biker wannabe if you spend more time shining your bike than riding it.

John’s driveway.

Some motorcycles are built to go off the paved road, even off any road at all. Generally, these have knobby tires for getting a good grip and serious suspension that can take big bumps without complaining.

Then there are street bikes. As the name implies, these bikes work best when you keep them on the pavement. And the fact is, many street riders are loathe to take their bikes anywhere near gravel. You can slip and slide and bounce like crazy on that stuff. In addition, you kick up dust and the guy behind you gets to eat it. It’s not like being in a car where you can roll up the windows.

But consider this: According to the U.S. Department of Transportation, there are 1.4 million miles of unpaved roads in the U.S. It stands to reason that there are a lot of really nice places you might like to go on your motorcycle that aren’t paved.

So, if you’re like us in the OFMC, sometimes you go anyway. Our experiences have been mixed in this regard. I’m the only one with anything close to an adventure bike, a 650 V-Strom, and everyone else just has street bikes. I have mentioned in the past (not any time recently) how some of our guys took a dirt road outside of Taos down to a hot spring. There wasn’t much to the spring and the road was very rough, with the result that Jason’s bike snapped an electrical connection and he had to make a quick stop at a dealership to get it fixed.

Another time, in the early days of the OFMC, John proposed that we take the road from Phippsburg, CO, over Ripple Creek Pass to Meeker. He had looked at the map and figured there were about 10 miles of it that were unpaved. We could handle that, couldn’t we?

Well, of course we said we could, only it turned out that there were about 40 miles of gravel, not 10. And it wasn’t smooth gravel, either, as is sometimes the case. No, there was a lot of washboard and we bounced and banged our way over this road for what seemed like a long, long time. John even managed to drop his at-that-time brand new Honda Shadow in some deep sand along the way. My luggage rack was shaken so badly that it broke in two places and I had to stop at a welding shop in Salt Lake City to get it fixed.

Later that same day, Bill turned off on a dirt road by a lake we were passing, which quickly turned deeply rutted, and John dropped the Shadow again.

With that day clear in our memories, it was something of a surprise a few years later when John suggested that he show us the Trough Road, another gravel road that runs from Kremmling, CO, over to State Bridge. He had been on it recently, he assured us, and it was smooth and hard packed. It was in fact every bit as nice as he said it was and a beautiful ride to boot that Bill and I had never been on. We’ve all ridden it at least a couple times since then, and I’ve been on it more than that.

So as much as John, especially, dislikes gravel roads, here’s the supreme irony. The worst stretch of gravel I’ve ever been on is John’s driveway. His driveway is a tenth of a mile of loose, unpacked, large stone. On top of that, it’s about 5 miles of better gravel from the main road to his driveway. More than one OFMC rider has biffed it going to or from his house.

We’ll all agree to ride gravel sometimes, but let’s just say we don’t make John’s house a frequent gathering spot.

Biker Quote for Today

Why bikes are better than women: Your motorcycle doesn’t get mad when you ignore it for a month or so.