Passes & Canyons Blog

Breakfast starts serving at the Lodge at San Isabel at 8 a.m. but we were up before that and mostly packed and ready to ride. As we waited, the four rat bike guys from the day before, with three others, pulled in to the restaurant. Man, did it look strange as they reached down to the left to shift gears by hand. I believe this is what is called the “suicide shift.”

These bikes were old, beaten up, with the tiny peanut gas tanks that must hold about one gallon. Two of the guys had gas cans tied on the rear. A couple of them had car tires on the rear and their front tires looked like they could have come off a mountain bike. And of course the high ape hangers. A very interesting crew.

After breakfast they took off just ahead of us. We continued down Colorado 165 to where we met I-25 at Colorado City and went south. Our destination this day: Angel Fire, New Mexico. South of Raton we left the slab and headed southwest on U.S. 64. This is a long, boring, straight stretch of road but partway along there were three of the rat bikes parked by the road with no one around. The river and trees just off to the side suggested they stopped for a dip. We then saw the rest of those bikes at a restaurant a little further along.

I had been in the lead but Brett got a wild hair and wanted to ride fast for a bit so be blasted past me and shot ahead. It was fortunate for him that he didn’t do so for too long because very soon after he slowed down we passed a state patrol car waiting for him.

Finally reaching Cimarron Canyon and starting to climb there were signs warning of post forest fire flooding potential. And oh yes, they had had a fire in that canyon, and not long ago. Sad.

After lunch in Eagle Nest we ran the last few miles to Angel Fire and settled into our motel, following a pretty short day’s ride. Now what? Checking around, we found there’s pretty much nothing to do in Angel Fire. Oh well, we have a long ride tomorrow. Just kick back and relax.

Biker Quote for Today

You only live once; don’t leave it covered in the garage.

I had the V-Strom parked out on the driveway and was maneuvering the left side bag into position on the two pegs when a simple nudge of the bag sent the bike toppling over the other way. Was the loaded, already-mounted right side bag enough weight to destabilize the bike like that? I guess I’ll mount the left bag first from now on.

The main damage was busting the right turn signal but it still worked, so with duct tape it was back to OK.

So after getting home yesterday from the 3,300-mile Canada trip, I left today on the OFMC trip. Bill and Friggs and Dennis left early but Brett works and had to leave later so I arranged to go with him. Our first night destination: Lake San Isabel and the Lodge at San Isabel.

Brett and I got on I-25 to blast (as much as possible) down to Colorado Springs to catch Colorado 115 to Penrose, then Colorado 67 and Colorado 165 on down. Of course, for much of the way on I-25 there was no blasting, just the perpetual traffic jam that defines that highway.

Exiting the slab, we got turned around a bit but thanks to GPS got righted quickly. Heading south from Florence on 67 we hit major wind, with a couple gusts threatening to push me into the opposite lane. Yow!

Up to this point we had been very hot. Now, however, the sky threatened rain, a few drops fell, and the temperature dropped more than 30 degrees. We were cold!

Turning off at 165 for the final leg we pulled over to add layers. There were four guys on some old rat bike Harleys stopped there doing the same thing. We would see more of them later.

The rest of the ride was uneventful but when we met up with the rest of the group we soon heard what happened to them at that junction where we stopped. Seems Friggs was riding third and lagging behind, as is his wont, and a car got ahead of him, plus he got pretty far behind. Now Bill had explained a couple times what roads to turn on, so when he and Dennis got to 165 they stopped for Friggs to catch up.

But Friggs was doing his Mr. Oblivious thing. He blasted right past the junction, past Bill and Dennis sitting right on the highway such that a car coming the other way might have hit them. Bill took off in pursuit but it was right about this time that Friggs figured he ought to speed up a bit and catch up. Which left Bill racing at what he considered dangerous speeds on this twisty road, trying to catch Friggs.

All did end well but Bill was a bit angry with his clueless brother.

Biker Quote for Today

Up with the sun, gone with the wind.

Three times over two days recently I observed some interesting people on motorcycles.

I was up in the hills and had no intention of coming down on I-70 but a wrong turn left me doing exactly that. I was in no hurry and so I kept to the right lane, where I got passed by a couple guys in a bigger hurry than me. They were something to see.

These two guys were obviously traveling because their bikes–Harleys or something similar–were totally loaded with gear. But I’m not talking big bags on the sides and a big top bag. No, they had all their individual items bungeed on all over the back ends of their bikes. And they had a lot of gear.

They were barreling along the interstate and neither of them had a riding jacket on. Both were wearing sleeveless t-shirts, although they were wearing helmets. And on top of each helmet was a GoPro camera.

Yeah, they were an interesting sight.

Further along the way home on this same ride, I was coming east through town on Hampden and it was rush hour. Or crawl hour, more appropriately. I was aware of the traffic around me so it was with some surprise that I glanced in the mirror at one point to see there was another bike right behind me in my lane. Where did that guy come from?

I barely had time to wonder if perhaps he lane-split his way up behind me when the traffic came to a complete stop and he blasted on ahead, going up the middle. Question answered. Lane-splitting is not legal in Colorado but that obviously did not bother him.

Then the next day I was once again on Hampden, this time headed east near Kennedy Golf Course, when I came to a stop at a red light. In front in the left-hand lane was a guy on a sportbike. A big pick-up was in front of me, first in line, and to our right a small orange pick-up, with a riding lawnmower in the bed, pulled up first in line.

But this was no ordinary pick-up. This one had no hood because the engine stood up about a foot above where the hood would have been. And this guy was revving his engine, clearly planning to blast away as soon as the light changed.

The light did change and whether there had been some communication between them or what, both the bike and the orange pick-up rocketed away. Most likely, the biker decided it would be fun to shut down this orange guy, whose intentions were clear.

I quickly lost sight of them both because of the guy in front of me, but as we neared Havana, where the road curves hard to the left, I caught sight of the bike going about 70, screaming around the curve with no orange guy anywhere to be seen. I’d say the biker definitely shut down that orange guy. Just having fun, you know.

Biker Quote for Today

If you can park it and not turn around to admire it before walking away you bought the wrong one.

This seems like a good time to share some thoughts I’ve had about riding motorcycles in Canada, vs. riding in the U.S., where I normally find myself. I just finished telling about our two-week trip to British Columbia and Alberta and there were definitely some things that struck me on that trip.

First off, of course, is the fact that they measure distances up there in kilometers rather than miles. This is something you have to keep in mind as you read road signs. Else, you’re going to say to yourself, “Dang, another 80 miles to (wherever)” and then you’ll be amazed just 20 minutes later when another sign says “(wherever) 50”–you know you weren’t cruising at 90 mph.

But that sort of thing actually doesn’t happen too frequently. That’s because the Canadians do not sprinkle road signs as liberally across the landscape as we do. As far as I can make out, they put a distance sign out there only when the road you are on has intersected another highway, and they’re informing the folks newly turned onto this road how far things are. And if you don’t intersect any other highways you can go 90 miles or more with no sign at all. You start wondering how much further it is but they’re not about to tell you. You need to look at your odometer when you see a sign, do a quick calculation, and then try to remember what that odo reading should be when you get there.

Also, they don’t have mile/kilometer markers. You might figure, well, it was 50 kilometers away when we were at marker 164 and now we’re at marker 184. So you would know how far you’ve gone. But no, no markers.

And then, even if you do keep in mind that they’re talking kilometers, you have to translate your mph speed into km/h. Most speedometers do have both km and mph displays but one thing I learned about my Concours is that while mph is easily readable in white lettering, km/h is in a shade of blue that is absolutely invisible unless the light is hitting the console from exactly the right angle. By the time I finally figured out that I ought to take a good look at some point and memorize what, for instance, 80km/h is in mph, we were already back in the U.S. Next time.

Another difference is that Canadians measure gasoline (do they call it petrol?) in liters, not gallons. The first time you see a gas station sign listing the going price as $1.47 you’re inclined to wonder how the price can be that low. Then you realize it’s liters, and there are nearly four liters in a gallon, so the price is really close to $5.50 for one gallon of gas. Ouch!

Biker Quote for Today

Sometimes I ride to forget, but I never forget to ride.

Judy and I were facing a hard day’s ride this day. Not having gone to Red Lodge as we sort of planned to, we really needed to cover ground.

We blasted on I-90 to Columbus, where we went south on Montana 78. The wind was also blasting so this was the windiest day we had had so far. I had been on Montana 78 once, going north, and Judy remarked correctly that it was a lot prettier going south because that way you have mountains in front of you. We figured that to make it a long distance we needed to stop often, even if only for a few minutes, so we stopped both in Columbus and Red Lodge.

From Red Lodge it was east to Belfry on Montana 308, then south on Montana 72 into Wyoming, where the road became Wyoming 120. South on 120 to Cody (gas stop in Cody) and on south, to Meeteetse (stop for lunch) and to Thermopolis (rest stop).

At Thermopolis we picked up U.S. 20 and followed it south to Shoshoni, then south west on U.S. 26 to Riverton (long rest stop). South out of Riverton we turned southeast on the easy to miss Wyoming 135, which was the start of the really brutal part of the ride. But first the road went up a hill/mesa where we got a fabulous view of the valley and mountains to the west of us. Then it was into the heart of Wyoming’s desert.

At the intersection with U.S. 287 we stopped at the rest area and observed the chip seal going on in both directions on 287. Oh crap. Seeing at one point that the line of cars that had come the way we had come was going to get to move, we hurried to gear up and join them but were just too late. Time to sit, no longer in the shade, for 15 minutes. I guess I didn’t mention that the weather had once again turned blazing hot.

Once we were able to move, we were delighted to find that the chip seal was only going on for about half a mile in our direction. We lucked out there. But then it was a long drone across this barren wasteland in the center of the state. I’ve been across this numerous times and it is never pleasant. Amazingly, the map shows it as a “scenic route.” Someone has a different definition of “scenic” than I do.

The map also showed another rest stop midway between the junction and Rawlins so we planned to stop there but there was no such thing so we rode on the last 80 miles with no breaks. Getting in to Rawlins we were dismayed to find that although the town has many big motels, they were all full. Fortunately a woman at one where we asked looked on her computer and told me the Best Western at the other end of town had two rooms left and they were the last in town. She very nicely went ahead and made our reservation for us and by the time we actually got there the other room had been taken. We didn’t even know what we were paying but we didn’t care. We had ridden 430 hard miles that day and for us that is a lot. We don’t have iron butts.

Heading home the next day, it was going to be a relatively easy day so we didn’t hurry to get going. When we hit the road it didn’t seem windy heading east on I-80 but as soon as we turned south on Wyoming 130 we realized we had simply had a nice tailwind. Now it was a crosswind, and it didn’t let up until we were climbing Berthoud Pass south of Winter Park.

We cruised through Saratoga and stopped at Riverside for gas. Then on to Walden on Wyoming 230, which became Colorado 125 when we crossed the state line. A quick rest stop in Walden and on south on 125 over Willow Creek Pass. I’ve been over Willow Creek Pass several times but have never thought it was grand enough to put on the website but I’ve changed my mind now. This is not a high pass, it’s definitely a minor pass, but it is quite nice and there is almost no development along the way. Just a bunch of hills and forests and streams. Worth the ride for sure. OK, add that to my to-do list.

The road comes out on U.S. 40 just west of Granby so east we went on 40. Got gas in Granby, stopped for lunch in Winter Park, and then over Berthoud Pass and down to I-70 after an ice cream stop in Empire. Then I-70 down the mountain, C-470 south to U.S. 285, east on 285, which becomes Hampden, a right turn, a left turn, and a curve to the right and we were home.

Altogether, 3,310 miles. Great trip. Great to be home. Now tomorrow I’m leaving on the OFMC trip with the guys for another eight days. I’ll take the V-Strom on this one.

Biker Quote for Today

Riding is my meditation, mind flush, cosmic telephone, mood elevator, and spiritual communion.

After breakfast at the grand old Prince of Wales Hotel we left Waterton and got back on Alberta 6 to the border. Judy and I had dressed somewhat warmly anticipating cool temps later on the Going to the Sun Highway. But sitting in the sun waiting our turn I thought I would suffer heat stroke. Called forward (and into the shade!) we were thrilled when the border guy looked at our passports and looked at us and said he couldn’t see our faces clearly enough. We’d have to remove our helmets. Oh, please don’t throw me in that briar patch! That felt sooo good. After leaving customs we peeled off all extra layers.

Montana 17 and then U.S. 89 took us down to St. Mary and the east entrance to Glacier National Park. Traffic was relatively light here on the east side of Logan Pass. The one big difference from the OFMC had been here in 1966 was that they had had a big forest fire. With the trees burned you could see a lot more but what you could see was not as beautiful.

Over the top of Logan Pass and down the other side it was a total traffic jam. The road itself is beautiful, similar in ways to Independence Pass in Colorado, but longer. A narrow, twisting road hugging the hillside with sheer drops on the cliff side. And so crowded.

We made it out of the park and turned south on Montana 206, the road we had come up on five days before, then Montana 35 to Big Fork, our stop for the night.

The following day, Tuesday, Judy and I needed to split off from the group and blast home. Shooting to reach Denver on Thursday, I was scheduled to leave on Friday with the OFMC for our yearly ride.

We cut over from Big Fork back to Montana 83 and went south alongside Swan Lake to Clearwater and Montana 200. Then east to Montana 141, all of this retracing our route coming up. Past the Helmville Road, however, it was new road and 141 took us to Montana 142 at Avon. Past Avon we were soon forced to stop and put on rain gear for the first time this trip. Another 25 miles, in Helena, we stopped to peel it off. Continuing on U.S. 12, now also U.S. 287, we reached Townsend, and stayed on 12 going east and leaving 287.

A beautiful ride through the hills took us to U.S. 89, where we went north to White Sulphur Springs, after which the two highways split and we continued east on U.S. 12. At this point we were dodging the interstate. We could have made better time on I-90 but instead did more miles going east on 12 all the way to Harlowton. We probably didn’t see 15 cars all the way from Townsend to Harlowton, but we did see three motorcycles.

At Harlowton we turned south on U.S. 191 to Big Timber and our stop for the night.

Biker Quote for Today

Riding is not about being different, it’s about being yourself.

In the morning we completed our glacier-sky walk tour by going to the sky walk—which had been totally enveloped in a cloud the evening before—and then headed north to Jasper. The glacial valley and glacially carved peaks continued to inspire awe.

But there were entire mountains of red, dead pine trees. A major fire waiting to happen. Jasper was our furthest point from home and it’s all heading back from here. Jasper was your basic tourist town so we got lunch to go and headed back south to Wapatka Falls to eat. Then south past the glaciers, past Bow Lake, to Lake Louise, our stop for the night.

The next day, Terry and JC got up extra early and took her Porsche about 70 miles back the other way to do a 9 a.m. helicopter ride over the icefields, glaciers, and the valley. They would meet up with us at our day’s destination, Waterton Lakes National Park, on the Canadian side of the border from Glacier National Park. Meanwhile, Mario, with Willie in his car the last three days, went ahead with Willie, dropped her off at Waterton, and headed to Calgary to fly home to the Yukon. So there were only four vehicles in our train today.

The rest of us headed south and then east, crossing the width of Glacier National Park but to the north, on the Canadian side. By this time, Jean’s Slingshot was making a horrible squealing and we feared we might lost another vehicle. But she called the rental people and they said yeah, it may do that, just stop at a Polaris dealer to have it checked and we’ll cover the cost.

We started out on Canada 1, the Trans-Canada Highway, which is basically like our interstates. However, after only about 40 miles we turned off on Kananaskis Trail, Alberta 40, headed south and oh my gosh! Let’s just say Canada has no shortage of incredible motorcycle roads. And the bikers know it. Calgary is not far away, it was a gorgeous day, and it was Sunday so the bikers were out doing this loop by the hundreds. At one point we had five Spyders in front of us, then our three bikes and one Slingshot, two more Spyders, a pick-up truck, and then six more bikes behind that guy. And that was as far back as I could see. I found it necessary to invoke the Sturgis rule, which is that when there are more bikes on the road than cars, you stop waving at each other.

Alberta 40 finally turned east and came down out of the mountains, ending at Longview, where we picked up Alberta 22. On this Sunday afternoon the numerous restaurants and bars in Longview were doing huge business with an amazing number of bikers.

Alberta 22 took us way, way south to Alberta 3 at Lundbreck and we turned east, then south on Alberta 6, then Alberta 5 took us into the park. The town of Waterton is one of those great old towns now totally engulfed by tourism. And, of course, a gorgeous spot.

Biker Quote for Today

Do you know why your windshield is so large and your rear-view mirror is so small? Because your past is not as important as your future. Look ahead and ride on.

Starting out from Radium Hot Springs in the morning the 103-degree temps of Vernal, Utah, had given way to a cool 50s. Time to actually add an extra layer, at least for a while. The Banff-Windemere Highway passed through an impossibly narrow defile into the canyon we would go up and we climbed and climbed.

Starting out had not been uneventful, however. Jungle was having trouble getting Willie’s FJ to start. Uh oh. It turned out to be a simple fix, though. Add water to the completely dry battery. OK, we’re rolling.

These tall, jagged mountains we’d been looking at were now the tall, jagged mountains we were riding into. Then, for a long way we followed the Kootenay River up the broad, glacial valley. Here, the mountains towered above us and it was one jagged mountain after another, on and on. Some were absolutely pointed at the very top and I had a need to understand this topography.

It turns out that back during a distant ice age, this entire area was buried under thousands of feet of snow and ice. Most of these mountains were completely buried, with just a few of the very tallest poking a bit of their peaks above. The snow was compressed into ice and became a glacier and followed the path of least resistance downhill. Along the way, over the centuries, the glacier cut away the sides of the buried mountains, leaving a broad, U-shaped valley. That explains why on the side of the mountains facing the valley they are steep and sheer. Cut away the side of a cone and you end up with something similar.

On and on we went, along the river and past numerous lakes. We stopped for lunch at Bow Lake, which Willie tells us is like Lake Louise 40 years ago, which is to say, quiet and undeveloped.

Then we started climbing. And climbing. At this point Judy was feeling the consequences of wearing her mesh jacket and I was zipping closed the vents in my leather jacket. The sky was also growing gray and threatening. But then we arrived at the day’s destination, the Glacier View Inn, right across the road from the Athabasca Glacier. Our rooms were not ready yet so we stashed our gear and went on our planned glacier tour.

Glaciers are very cool, in more ways than one. They took us up there in vehicles with huge tires and geared so that when we went down one slope that was a 37 percent grade it just acted like this was the most normal thing in the world. And it got cold out on the glacier. Some people were wearing shorts and flip-flops. Some people perceive cold a little differently than I do.

Biker Quote for Today

Life, five gallons at a time.