Passes & Canyons Blog

We all know that anywhere that you have winter, summer is the season for road work. This can mean delays but more importantly, on a motorcycle, it can mean riding through rough conditions that your street bike does not necessarily take well to. One of those conditions is chipseal.

What we’re talking about here is where the basic road surface is in decent shape but there may be cracks, which, left on their own, will cause the road to deteriorate at an accelerating pace. The answer in this case is to coat the road surface with oil or some more sophisticated semi-liquid, sticky substance. Then sand and/or gravel is spread over the stickum and it is left for the weight of vehicles to bear down on the loose stuff and make it adhere to the surface. After a while, when it is deemed that the maximum amount of gravel has adhered, the remaining loose stuff is swept up. Presto, you have an essentially new road surface at minimal expense.

The problem for motorcycles, of course, is that all that loose gravel or sand makes riding very iffy. Plenty of motorcyclists totally avoid riding off the pavement but when you’re on a highway and run into chipseal you have little choice but to ride on the stuff you hate.

For three weeks this summer I was out on my Concours, first, and my V-Strom, second. Would it surprise you if I said we ran into a lot of chipseal? It was almost a daily thing, sort of like the chipseal du jour.

The first chipseal we ran into, on the trip Judy and I took up to British Columbia, came in Montana when we headed north out of Anaconda on U.S. Highway 10A headed to Philipsburg. Here we rode for 15 miles on some of the finest (as in smallest) aggregate I’ve ever encountered as chipseal. It was like plowing through sand, and it had just been laid down that day so it was deep in spots. My Concours hates gravel so it was not at all happy on sand. It’s probably a good thing I had a brand new tire on the back with deep tread. We got through.

Off With The OFMC
My next encounter with chipseal came after Judy and I had split off from the group and were blasting home. We were crossing central Wyoming and the road out of Riverton intersected U.S. 287 a little west of Jeffrey City. There was a chipseal in progress on 287 in both directions from the junction. We were going east.

With only one lane of traffic open on 287, we had to wait until east-bound traffic was allowed through and we then tucked in behind them. This was more of a gravel-sized chipseal, the kind I’m a lot more familiar with, so it was just a matter of staying far enough behind the car in front so that thrown stones were no concern. (I’ve been hit with those in the past.) To our surprise and delight, however, most of the work was to the west of the junction and after less than a mile we were out of the work zone. Big smiles.

The next chipseal showed up after Judy and I got home and I set out with the guys on the OFMC 2018 trip. We were headed north on I-25 out of Las Cruces and turned west on New Mexico 152 to reach Silver City. This took us up over Emory Pass, along the road New Mexicans call “the snake.” This was going to be fun.

Except that after we passed through Hillsboro we came to a chipseal operation in progress. We stopped to wait sitting on new chipseal that had been put down that morning. When we got the go-ahead we had already heard that we would be on this stuff all the way to the top of the pass. And no, it was not any fun at all. I was just glad I was now on my V-Strom, which is better equipped for this sort of thing. The other guys were not so lucky. Mark this road down as one we’ll need to head for again so the guys can have the fun we missed out on this time.

We did get to the top uneventfully, but immediately after, on the run down the other side, Friggs crashed, for no reason he can discern. Go figure. You ride the squirrelly stuff OK and then go down on the smooth pavement.

We ran into more chipseal the next day. Working our way north from Silver City to Gallup, we turned onto New Mexico 32 just east of Cruzville and soon ran into the work zone. They were working our way so what we encountered first was the freshest, i.e., the loosest. This was also the longest stretch of chipseal we encountered–about 30 miles.

Here at least it was not a twisty road. It was the extremely twisty road the day before that made that run so miserable; going straight is easier. In fact, with my V-Strom I felt pretty confident and was hitting almost highway speeds. The other guys lagged behind; they were not going to get up much speed.

You could tell the crews had been working this project for a good while. The further we got the better the packing down got, although we never reached a place where the road had been swept of the remaining loose stuff.

It was after this day that I told the guys that while mapping out this trip I had consulted chipseal.gov to find all the work zones and be sure to visit as many as we could. They agreed I had done my job well.

And that was it. No more chipseal the rest of the trip. Oh, shucks.

Biker Quote for Today

Those voices are telling me to go riding. If I don’t they won’t stop.

When I’ve gone on motorcycle trips, that is just what they have been: motorcycle trips.

Until this summer when Judy and I went with a mixed group on a trip to British Columbia and elsewhere. On this trip, in addition to four motorcycles we had two Slingshots and one Porsche. This may have been the first of many.

First off, it wasn’t at all an issue. I’ve always figured it would be awkward with a car along because motorcycles can stop in a lot of places where a car could not. But that’s really not an issue if you recognize this is something that might happen at times but meanwhile everyone knows where we’re headed and can get there on their own.

Secondly, it can be incredibly convenient to have a car at times. Such as when Jungle’s Interceptor died in British Columbia. Because Terry was there with her Porsche it was easy to load Jungle and his bags into the car and drive on ahead to the nearest town with a motorcycle dealership. And then because we had another friend joining us for a few days–in a car–we were able to continue the trip while the bike sat awaiting repair. And finally, Willie was able to ride with Terry while Jungle rode her bike on the trip home.

I then went immediately from getting home from this trip to heading out on the OFMC 2018 trip, and on the fifth or sixth day of that trip Friggs crashed his bike. This spooked him because he had no idea why he crashed and he told us in a day or two that he had decided to give up riding.

However, this came at the point where we were joined by John, one of the original three OFMC members, who has given up riding for health reasons. John said he had considered coming along with us in his truck but didn’t think that sounded all that appealing, all by himself in the truck. If Friggs would like to join him in the truck, perhaps both of them will be back with us next year. And Friggs thought that sounded great.

So all of a sudden, motorcycle trips are no longer looking like just a bunch of guys on motorcycles. And I guess I’m OK with that. But I swear I’ll stay on two wheels to the very end.

Biker Quote for Today

A bad day just makes an evening ride feel that much better.

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.

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.