Passes & Canyons Blog

I’m not certain, but this could be the last of these Examiner Resurrections. I’m about at the end of these pieces that I feel are good enough and timeless enough to be republished since the demise of Examiner.com, where I originally published them.

I stopped here to stretch my legs and found marijuana growing in profusion nearby.

Boredom Totally Lacking In Ride Across The Prairie

Kansas, Nebraska, and South Dakota are known as long, boring states that you just have to get across by a lot of travelers heading east or west, but it doesn’t have to be that way. If the journey is the destination, as motorcyclists so often like to say, these middle states are an enjoyable part of the ride.

I left Denver Monday morning in a rainstorm. In fact, by the time I got four blocks from my house I was drenched. Though the sky was threatening I figured I didn’t need to suit up yet as my first stop was to be for gas, and I’d see how the sky looked then. Four blocks later I was pulling under a shelter and putting on rain pants and jacket, but didn’t see the need for the glove and boot coverings that I have. But the rain just came down harder so by the time I reached the station my gloves were soaked through, worse than they’ve ever been soaked before.

At the station I carefully put everything on and, typical of Colorado, by the time I was ready to roll the storm was abating. By the time I made it out by the airport it was already time to start peeling things off. It was getting hot! And though the sky to the west looked like a boxer’s face after a title bout, to the east there was blue sky and sunshine.

I blasted northeast on I-76 to Sterling and then cut north on CO 113, to Sidney, NE, where I picked up U.S. 385. At Alliance I headed east on NE 2, which my map indicated was “scenic.” These terms are relative such that a scenic road in Nebraska would probably not be rated such in Colorado, but you take what you can get. The point was that in my first two days all I did was cross the prairie and it was a very interesting ride. Once I got past Alliance it was all new and all of it was different and beautiful in its own way. I never once wished I could just get beyond this horrid stretch of nothing.

From Alliance I could take the road north out of town, past Carhenge, and that was the shorter, most direct route, but it was also straight. If I headed east on NE 2 there was a squiggle on the map with lakes on both sides that looked to hold promise. That was NE 250 and it delivered on that promise. Who knew western Nebraska had so many curves?

This brought me out to U.S. 20 at Rushville, an east-west road that quickly took me to Gordon, where I spent my first night with some Motorcycle Travel Network (MTN) people. Ray and Shirley are also Christian Motorcyclist Association (CMA) members and Ray made a point of telling me that the $15 gratuity I gave him per the MTN protocols would go to the CMA’s fund raised each year to promote its missionary work overseas.

In the morning I headed east on 20 as far as Valentine and then got onto NE 12 to stay as close to the Nebraska-South Dakota border as possible. Approaching Valentine I was doubtful of signs I saw that described Valentine as a “vacation paradise” but the buttes above the Niobrara River formed beautiful topological features and I could see that if hunting and fishing and horseback riding were what you like to do on vacation, this could indeed be a paradise.

Quickly crossing the river on NE 12 and ascending the butte I saw a turn-out to an overlook, so even though it was about 3/4 mile of loose gravel, and my Kawasaki Concours hates gravel, I took it and the view was fantastic. There was also a lone buffalo just grazing right there, close enough to make me nervous. But I didn’t provoke him and he just watched me nonchalantly and we got along fine.

I finally crossed into South Dakota at the town of Niobrara and then zig-zagged my way north and east to Sioux Falls where I had arranged to stay with a friend from high school who I had not seen in more than 40 years. We had a lot of catching up to do and I think we both found that the other really hadn’t changed all the much in all those years. Let’s not wait to get together again so long next time.

Today it’s on to the Minneapolis area, with a brief side-trip down into the corner of Iowa. Vintage Motorcycle Days, I’m on my way, but it’s an indirect route.

Biker Quote for Today

The fact that I’m a biker doesn’t make me a different kinda Christian, but the fact that I’m a Christian makes me a different kinda biker. — Dano Janowski

A rest stop in Yellowstone, just before the second patch of construction.

The OFMC left Cody headed into Yellowstone National Park wondering just how bad the tourist traffic would be. We weren’t going in to see the park–we’ve all been there many times–we just needed to get through and out the north gate at Gardiner. If there had been a realistic alternative we would have avoided the park.

Somewhat to our surprise, the road from Cody to the park was not busy and as we got into the park the road was still not busy. Maybe we were going to have a pleasant ride after all.

U.S. 14 into the park goes up over a small pass and it was inevitable that we would get behind some campers going up the hill but there were passing lanes and some of the camper drivers were polite and used the pull-outs to let other traffic pass. Nice. We got down on the other side to where the road runs along Yellowstone Lake and all was clear sailing. And then we hit the construction zone.

For about 12 miles or so, from Yellowstone Lake to Fishing Bridge, the road was totally ripped up. I didn’t mind because I was on my V-Strom but Dennis was on his Indian and Bill was on his Harley. Neither of them ever willingly gets off onto the gravel. This time they had no choice.

So we weaved our way through and around loose gravel and mud holes. Loose gravel is one thing but you really don’t want to go into the mud holes. We did our best. And we uneventfully reached the intersection where the road goes north or west, with our route north.

I was in the lead and the construction ran all the way to the very lip of the road we were getting onto. It was not clearly visible at all but just before I hit the pavement there was a considerable dip that sent my front end first down and then up sharply to the point of getting some air with my front tire. Then bump-boom as the rear did the same. OK, glad I have deep suspension. What about those guys?

Dennis was right behind me and he saw me go up and down. But he’s short and sure as heck didn’t want to come to a stop in the middle of that mess, with no way to touch the ground. So he powered on through. What else could he do? Bill followed, doing the same. Great. No harm, no foul.

It was on this stretch going north that we did encounter the idiotic tourist delays Yellowstone is famous for. Is there a bison way over there? Everybody stop and grab your cameras. Oh, we’re in the middle of the road? Who cares?

So we got on through that section and headed west at Canyon Village, over toward the Norris Geyser Basin, then north hoping for clear sailing out of the park.

Wrong. Long before we reached Mammoth Hot Springs we ran into more construction. More gravel. More slow going.

While this stretch was in pretty good shape, not as torn up as the stretch coming in, it was wet. The truck had obviously just recently sprayed water to keep the dust down, and while there was no dust, the wet made things very slippery. Time to take it really easy around these curves.

And finally we were out of the park. OK, that wasn’t so bad. We’ve definitely seen it worse. Try cruising past Old Faithful just after that geyser has done its thing, for example, and everyone is leaving. Yeah, that wasn’t too bad.

Biker Quote for Today

Reasons not to date a motorcyclist: Our idea of a date night is riding to a sleazy biker bar.

The Biker Buddy logo.

I have talked numerous times about the Motorcycle Travel Network (MTN) and once at least about Biker Buddy. Both of these are similar to Airbnb in that it’s a matter of motorcyclists providing accommodations for other traveling motorcyclists.

But I haven’t said much lately and there’s a reason: It has been more than two years since we’ve had an MTN guest and in the almost two years since I signed up for Biker Buddy we have had no one contact us about a stay.

Until Monday night. On Monday night I got a Biker Buddy email saying that Maureen would like to stay with us on Tuesday night. That would have been great except we had plans to go to the Rockies game Tuesday night. So what time would she be arriving?

Here’s where it got frustrating. There may be ways to contact potential guests directly but because this was our very first we have no experience in doing so. This thing is an app on my phone and it showed that Maureen had requested a stay. I tried tapping her name, hoping to go to a profile that would list an phone number or email but it did not. I tapped a drop-down menu and one option was “Send an email” but when I tapped that it wanted me to fill in the email address, which I could not do.

What to do? Judy insisted that I cancel the reservation because if we couldn’t be here she should not be coming by expecting us. I did tap the cancel button but was told that a reservation cannot be canceled within 48 hours of the arrival. The only thing that left was the “Confirm reservation” button. If I tapped that we would be confirming but with no idea whether we’d be here when she came. If I did not tap it, perhaps she would call, or else figure out we weren’t able to accommodate her.

On the chance that she might come by because the reservation had not been canceled, I left a note on the front door with my phone number and telling her she was welcome but we would not be home till late. No one was here waiting for us when we got home.

Then on Wednesday I checked my email and found that around 4 p.m. the day before Maureen had emailed me. That was followed up about half an hour later by an email from Ginger, one of the folks who runs Biker Buddy. But I didn’t think to check my email before we left for the game.

It turns out Maureen was expecting to arrive around 10:30 p.m. You never know how long a baseball game will last but this was a short one and we were home before 10:30. It would all have been fine. So darn. We enjoy hosting other bikers when they come through town and we’re sorry we missed Maureen. I explained to Ginger what happened; maybe they’ll revise the app to make it possible for hosts to do what I wanted to do, i.e., directly contact the guest.

So that’s a disappointment. But it’s nice to finally get a request after two years being a member. In the meantime, the Motorcycle Travel Network seems to be fading into the sunset. We had not had a guest in quite awhile but when I checked I found that our membership had expired. So I renewed for two years. Well, that two years expired in February and we had zero guests during that time. That’s sad. We’ve had nothing but good experiences with MTN, both as hosts and guests.

If you are comfortable with the whole Airbnb idea, you really should try one or both of these programs. There is no cost to host on Biker Buddy, while membership in MTN is $40 per year or $60 for two years. Biker Buddy pays you $40 per night to host, while you get $20 per night with MTN. And most importantly, you meet a lot of good people who share your motorcycling passion. Just do it, OK?

Biker Quote for Today

It is incredible what a rider filled with irrational desire can achieve. — Dr. Claudio Costa

Cruising past Yellowstone Lake.

This year’s OFMC trip was a surprising one in terms of the temperature. The whole week before leaving Denver we had had temps near 100 and so it was on the day we departed. We really wanted to get moving so we could at least have some breeze.

This is Colorado, however, and when you get up high the temperature drops. So as we had taken off dressed for heat, crossing Berthoud Pass was, shall we say, chilly. This set the stage for a week of see-saw temperatures.

By the time we got down to Winter Park it was hot again and that heat stayed with us up to Walden and then to Saratoga, Wyoming. In fact it was so hot in Saratoga that we parked next to a small office building where there was shade on the east side. There was nowhere to sit or anything but we wanted to get off the bikes and we absolutely wanted shade, so we took what we could get. Then we cruised on into Rawlins for the night.

The next day we were going to be crossing the heart of Wyoming, which we know from experience tends to be a long, hot, dusty ride. Again, we dressed for the heat. We had gone about 40 miles when I pulled over. I was cold! The day had started out cool and it was not getting a bit warmer. Bill and Dennis were happy to layer up, too.

We took off again but then reached a rest area and while we were stopped there we added another layer. It was still darn chilly! This was totally unexpected.

Our destination that day was Cody and when we reached Riverton we made another stop. Now it was definitely heating up and layers came off. Then, as we neared Cody, the heat really set in. Where was this heat this morning?

Come morning and this time we were warned. Dennis noticed some riders coming in from the west, from Yellowstone, where we were headed, and they were warmly dressed. So we dressed warmly and were glad we did. It was sure nice to be getting away from that 100 degree heat in Denver, which we could see was still going on.

We got through Yellowstone, spent the night at Chico, Montana, and headed up to Livingston to catch I-90 toward Missoula. Then we got rerouted toward Idaho Springs by Dennis’s by now legendary mistake of putting red diesel into his bike’s tank. We ended up heading south on I-15 and it was a pleasant day. Getting used to the cooler temps I had even put on my electric vest before he headed south with the Indian in the U-Haul, though I certainly did not have it turned on.

That changed when we reached the state line between Montana and Idaho. Just like going through a door into another climate, suddenly it got really cold and I flipped the “On” switch on my power cord. Boy, did that heat feel good!

And then about five miles outside of Idaho Falls it suddenly got blazing hot! Of course I turned the vest off but I couldn’t wait to get stopped to tear off my extra layers. How was it so cold just 50 miles ago? It’s not like we came down out of the mountains or anything.

For the rest of the trip the temperature fluctuations calmed down a bit. As expected it was hot in Vernal, Utah. As expected, it was comfortable through most of Colorado, only getting hot again as we neared Denver.

But the thing that really got me was how we headed out initially expecting hot weather and how little of that we encountered, yet all the while Denver was baking. Meanwhile, those folks in cars are pretty much oblivious to all this. I’ll take the bike any day.

Biker Quote for Today

The cheapest part of a project bike build is the initial purchase.

We pose with Buffalo Bill Cody in Cody, Wyoming.

Heading out of Heber City the next morning the OFMC was back on extremely familiar ground. We were already on U.S. 40 so we headed southeast and then east through Vernal and on to Dinosaur. We’ve ridden this road many times. At Dinosaur it was time to stop for ice cream.

By then our riding for the day was almost done. We turned south on CO 64, to Rangely, and there we were.

The ride through Utah had been nice, weather not too hot, countryside pretty. The heat came as we came back into Colorado.

At Rangely we had a whole afternoon free so considered playing nine holes of golf on the local course. A call told us, however, that they had a tournament going on so no dice. Then a huge storm with lightning and thunder hit right when we would have been out on the course so that was probably a good thing that we didn’t play.

As we relaxed on the hotel patio a guy on a really good-looking BMW adventure bike rode up and parked right there. So of course we struck up a conversation. He was from Connecticut (I think) and had trailered bikes out with a buddy with whom he had covered a couple thousand miles all within Colorado in the last week. Now he was off on his own for another week. He said he liked that because his buddy was very fond of speeds above 100, while he himself preferred to stay at about 90.

The next morning we were headed home. It was Sunday and we were going to be on I-70 and we all know what that means: Heavy, heavy traffic coming down out of the mountains. If we got an early enough start we hoped we could slip through before it got horrible.

Getting an early start had other benefits as well. We continued east on CO 64 to Rio Blanco County Road 5, the Piceance Creek Road, which is a jog around and avoiding Meeker. There wasn’t much traffic on 64 but there was none at all on this road. It was cool and beautiful in the early morning and the valley was the greenest I have ever seen it, thanks to all the rain we’ve had this year. The road was clear and smooth and we just reveled in it all.

I had been looking for a place to pull over and finally found one and we agreed that this was heaven. We were there more than 10 minutes and there were still zero other vehicles. Then we rolled on. All along the way on this loop until we hit CO 13 headed down to Rifle we saw exactly two cars. Talk about sweet.

Stopping for gas in Rifle we heard from other riders that there had been a landslide the day before that closed part of westbound I-70, a little west of Glenwood. No problem for eastbound, however, and we were headed east. We saw that slide as we went past and it was very interesting. It wasn’t like you might imagine, where a hillside slipped down. Rather, there were several washes where it had apparently rained really hard and the water carried a huge amount of dirt with it and dumped it on the road in the various spots where the washes–essentially gullies–came down to the highway. One lane of westbound traffic was moving while crews worked to clear the other lane.

Bill and Dennis and I made one last stop in Frisco for gas and lunch and then said our farewells. We knew we were going to get into traffic ahead and at this point trying to stay together was pointless. We took off together but before we even made it to the tunnel we were separated and on our own. We each made our individual ways home and the 2019 OFMC trip was over.

Biker Quote for Today

Some grandpas play bingo. Real grandpas ride motorcycles.

Bikers along the shore of Yellowstone Lake.

After a three-night stay in Jackpot, Nevada, it was time for us to do some moving. Our next night’s stop was set for Heber City, Utah, and nearly 300 miles away. The plan was to head south to Wells and then take I-80 east through Salt Lake City and on to Heber City. This is not what you would describe as a fun ride–it was just a matter of burning up some miles.

Before we headed out, though, Dennis checked his weather app and showed us that it was projecting heavy thunderstorms all along the I-80 corridor. Was there a different route?

Consulting the map we saw that there was. If we went back north to Twin Falls and then east the way we came on I-84 past Burley we would reach a spot where I-86 split off from I-84. I-86 was the way we had come down from Idaho Falls so we didn’t want that, but I-84 turned southeast to where it hit I-15 a little north of Ogden, Utah. The two roads merged and continued south until, a little south of Ogden, I-84 split off again and made a loop around Salt Lake City to the northeast, terminating when it hit I-80 coming west out of Wyoming. From there we would go west (theoretically–in actuality it was south) on I-80 to where we would jump off at U.S. 40 and go south to Heber City.

Either way we were destined to do a lot of interstate but this route would at least help us avoid Salt Lake and also the possible severe storms. We headed toward Twin Falls.

What can you say about interstate miles? You just ride them. We hit I-15 and went south and as we got closer to the urban areas the traffic started getting heavy. But those folks in Utah don’t believe in driving slow. We were in thick traffic going a steady 80 mph, and don’t you even think about going slower.

Heavier and heavier grew the traffic until we could see, just ahead, traffic at a standstill. Wondrously, this was right at our exit onto I-84 and we pulled into the right-hand lane hardly slowing down and passed all these stopped cars and left them all in our rear view mirrors. Hallelujah!

Now we were on a road none of us had ever been on before. Heck, I didn’t even know this road existed. I-84 cuts through a very pretty area that I’m sure not that long ago was completely rural but is now obviously becoming something of a bedroom community for the metro areas. Sad to see. But it was a very nice ride (for interstate), with sparse traffic and good speeds. I knew that somewhere along the way we were going to have to cut through the hills on either side of us, presumably down some canyon. And I was right.

We turned down this canyon and now it really got nice. And there was a very welcome rest area right there that we availed ourselves of. Rolling again, we came out of the canyon, cruised on a bit further, and hit I-80. The section of I-80 we were on was also pretty nice and in about 13 miles we got off onto U.S. 40.

Now we were seeing the storm clouds we had been warned about. Dead ahead of us it was looking pretty black. The sign said it was only 14 miles to Heber City but we were pretty sure we’d be getting wet. But with only 14 miles, nobody felt like gearing up. We’d just get wet for a few minutes if it came to that.

Then we hit the traffic we had avoided by going around Salt Lake City. This was Friday and everyone in the city was heading to the hills for the weekend. Traffic on U.S. 40 was backed up, stop and go, for miles. If the rain did more than just drip, as it was doing, we’d be drenched. But we got past a lone traffic signal that seemed to be causing the entire back-up and gained some speed again. It was dripping a bit more as we rolled into Heber City but we pulled into the entrance to our hotel and quickly unloaded.

Then the skies opened up. And we didn’t care.

Biker Quote for Today

I use to love the rain because I felt like it made my motorcycles exactly the same as everybody else. At that point it turned into a rider to rider battle. — Kevin Schwantz