Passes & Canyons Blog

This group ride included two Slingshots as well as a Porsche in addition to the bikes.

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.

From left: Bill, Dennis, Brett, John, Friggs, me.

For once on this trip we did not need or want to get an early start, so we got to sleep in a little. Our ride for the day was to be short and we were still hanging with John. It was cool departing but Dennis pulled over within 10 miles to shed a layer, and it quickly got warm.

It was a quick ride to Montrose, then east on U.S. 50. This is a nice ride, with hills and curves, and comes over Blue Mesa Summit to the Blue Mesa Reservoir. We then rode the rest of the way into Gunnison and stopped for lunch.

The weather changed dramatically while we ate. Leaving Gunnison the sky was very threatening and the winds were whipping. I suggested we should try to outrun the weather. Whether or not that was Bill’s intention, he took off and rode hard and fast up the valley. Meanwhile the wind beat on us with malice, with dust so thick at times we could hardly see and gusts shoving me several feet to the right on a number of occasions. This was the only time on this trip I wished I was on the Concours. Those extra 200 pounds would have provided welcome stability.

Whether we outran the weather or just got lucky, by the time we got to the mountain the extreme winds were past but then it got gusty going up the mountain. It also got cold. We blasted up and near the top of Monarch Pass the wind kicked up substantially again and at times it was not one bit of fun. We got over the top and kept on pushing hard but now it was the weather ahead that looked really bad. There was serious wet up ahead. After a stop at Poncha Springs, however, it appeared the wet had already made its way east of our route. I put on my rain jacket for the warmth but it was not needed for dryness. Winds buffeted us at times as we made our way north on U.S. 285 to Buena Vista—our day’s destination—but all in all it was a good ride.

Next day it was homeward bound. The last day’s ride home is almost always anticlimactic. With just 120 miles to go there was no need to hurry; all we felt we needed to do was get home before the afternoon rains began. It was cool so we wondered how warmly we needed to dress but we were getting gas on the outskirts of town so the ride there would give us some idea. And yes, we put on more layers.

Then it was off toward Fairplay and once again the sky was threatening. What’s more, the temperature was dropping. That 35 miles to Fairplay was a chiller! I didn’t know if Dennis, in the lead, was planning to stop there for more warmth but I definitely was. Fortunately, Dennis pulled over at the first opportunity and we all bundled up. It was cold!

Taking off again, Dennis noted that there was probably no reason to stop again. So we rode on to Conifer and he dropped off, then on down to where 285 hits C-470, at which point I went straight and the other guys turned north. My last few miles through the city were now pretty warm but not enough to prompt me to stop and peel off layers. At home I quickly shed the warm gear and sighed a happy smile to be home, with intentions of staying there, after three weeks on the road.

Biker Quote for Today

Sorry, I’m busy. I have to ride my bike.

Cruising into Ouray.

We took off from Silver City this morning in the cool and made good time. We went through some nice farming and ranching land and then got into the Apache National Forest and went up and down and winding around through some beautiful country. And it stayed cool. Early in the day we stopped at a tiny little place and found they had ice cream so 10 a.m. was ice cream hour on this day.

Then we continued north and ran into more chip seal. This road was not all twisty like the one the day before but the chip seal went much longer. It’s about 38 miles from Apache Creek to Quemado and we hit the chip seal after about 5 miles. This was where the work was going on where the overlay was the freshest. It got progressively better–more embedded with less loose stuff–as we went along and toward Quemado it had even been swept, although none of it had been striped yet. I explained that while planning the route I had consulted Chipseal.gov to find where all the work was planned so I could route us through as much as possible (wink). Dennis noted that I had done a fine job in that regard.

By lunch, though, it was hot and the land was still nice but not as nice. These New Mexico highways have 55 mph speed limits and, in the lead, I generally ran at about 65. But later in the day, on a highway with zero traffic, I kicked it up to 75-80 just to burn through these very straight miles. We reached Gallup and found our hotel and kicked back with some beers.

Friggs was feeling amazingly good this morning, considering his crash yesterday. He had expected at least a sore shoulder but didn’t even have that. It’s pretty amazing. The one really telling image though is his helmet. This top quality, expensive helmet is absolute trash, though he will wear it home. All you need to do is look at the side of the helmet and then think about the side of his face and there is nothing at all to be said. No words can ever say as much as that image.

Leaving Gallup the next day we had a long, straight, relatively uninteresting ride north to Shiprock. Yes there are some big rocks around here sticking up hundreds of feet from flat ground but the area is mostly flat and very brown and barren. Then east to Aztec and north to Durango. It gets prettier as soon as you get into Colorado and I was surprised to find that it is only 33 miles from Aztec to Durango.

North out of Durango it gets dramatically beautiful quickly. Up to Silverton over Molas Pass and then to Ouray over Red Mountain Pass. The Million Dollar Highway. There was construction in places on U.S. 550, so at times it was pretty slow going. Of course, if you were behind Friggs—which I was—it was all slow going. After his crash the other day, Friggs is spooked and not at all confident on the mountain curves.

Then there were the idiots. We got behind a tanker truck over Red Mountain Pass and traffic piled up behind us. We’re not crazy, nor did we have any reason to rush, so no problem. But several idiots sped past us and then proceeded to pass the truck on blind curves with double yellow lines. If someone had been coming the other way there would have been slaughter. It was only luck that kept everyone alive. What is wrong with people?

Reaching Ouray, our day’s destination, we found our motel and awaited the arrival of OFMC co-founder John, who was missing his first ride in our 30-year history. Health issues have forced John to give up riding but he lives just a few miles north of Ouray so he came to join us for the night. The first thing Friggs did when John arrived was to tell him about his crash and how he has decided to give up riding after we get home. This was the first time Friggs had stated such an intention, though I had wondered if he was having thoughts of that sort.

In discussion, however, John mentioned that he had thought about continuing to come along, in his truck, but didn’t think driving alone was all that appealing. But if Friggs would like to ride with him then by golly, the two of them could be right back with the group again next year. Friggs jumped at that suggestion so that may well be the way we go next year.

Biker Quote for Today

Motorcycles: more spacious than a car.

Friggs (right) and Bill inspect Friggs’s bike after his crash. Note his jeans and shirt.

We left Ruidoso early to take advantage of the cool and made good time down the mountain, to Alamogordo, and across the White Sands valley to Las Cruces. Then we turned north on I-25. I toyed with proposing to the guys that we go the 36 miles south and cross the border into Mexico, just to do it, but I didn’t. I realized later that none of us had our passports so we couldn’t have done it anyway. Years ago, on the eighth OFMC trip, Bill and John and I crossed into Canada for about an hour, just so we could say we did. Nevertheless, Las Cruces for me was about 1,500 miles south of where I had been in Canada, on a bike, just nine days earlier.

We got off I-25 at Caballo and headed west through Hillsboro on New Mexico 152 to ride “The Snake,” New Mexico’s answer to the “Tail of the Dragon.” But before we even started to climb we ran into a chip seal in progress. We actually waited on the pilot car on a surface that had only been spread with gravel earlier that morning.

The chip seal went all the way to the top of Emory Pass, probably two-thirds of the fun, twisty road we came to ride. The fun quotient was radically reduced. We made the ride slowly and carefully and I was so glad I was on the V-Strom. I can’t imagine how unpleasant it would have been on the Concours.

We stopped at the view area at the top of the pass and then started down the other side on the good, clean asphalt. I was in the lead and a short while later I was not seeing Bill behind me. I slowed and Bill caught up but he had his turn signal on so I pulled over in a good pull-out. He told me he had not seen the others behind him for too long, so we waited there a few minutes for them.

After about five minutes we headed back, fearing we were going to come around a bend and see something we were really hoping not to see. And the further we backtracked the more our apprehension grew.

Finally there was Friggs headed the other way and he gave us the OK signal. We kept going until Dennis and Brett also passed and we turned around. Obviously we were hoping to find them all stopped somewhere waiting for us and we did, in the same pull-out where we had first stopped.

Friggs had crashed. He was OK, a little skinned up with ruined shirt and pants and boots. Probably looking at a very sore shoulder tomorrow. He had been down-shifting as he headed into a curve and in the blink of an eye he was on the ground. He had no idea why. Dennis had been ahead of him and thought he heard a bang. When Friggs did not immediately come around the curve after him he turned right around. As Dennis rounded the curve he saw Frigg’s bike laying in the middle of the road and Friggs dragging himself out of the road.

The two of them tried without success to stand the bike up but a guy in a car stopped and the three of them got it up. This was just when Brett reached the scene after turning back.

So, only cosmetic damage to the bike and nothing significant with Friggs. But what a scare! This is the first time in the 30 years the OFMC has been taking these trips that someone has gone down. Sure, we’ve dropped bikes but we’ve never had a crash.

The rest of the ride in to Silver City was uneventful but oh, man, we sure had a lot to talk about over brews at the end of the road on this day.

Biker Quote for Today

Sometimes adventure isn’t fun while it’s happening — Mark Tuttle

Ride we must.

Leaving Angel Fire, we got an early start to beat the heat, and cruising down New Mexico 434 was sweet with the extremely narrow—barely more than one lane—and very twisty and sometimes amazingly steep sections. But the state is “improving” this road so it may not be so sweet for long. Go ride it soon–it’s a nice road.

We reached Las Vegas (New Mexico) and it was getting warm. A quick jog on I-25, then off on U.S. 84 and just start burning miles. At times, for no discernible reason, the speed limit drops for long stretches from 65 to 55. But all the traffic was screaming past us so we did 70, too.

Lots of drivers were absolutely blasting, passing us and continuing at 90 to 100. And one guy in a big pick-up hauled past us but not in time to get all the way past when another car approached from the other direction. He could have pulled in between two of us but he chose to stay in the oncoming lane and forced the guy coming to swerve onto the shoulder. Insane.

By the time we were getting within 100 miles of the day’s destination, Ruidoso, the temperature was hitting 100. So glad we started riding when the temp was about 60.

At a gas stop at Vaughn we were approached by a group of Christian Motorcyclists Association folks, who were doing their thing and asked to do a blessing of our bikes. I stood off to the side and when one of them approached me I said, “I’m not a Christian.” He said, “That don’t matter,” and I replied, “It does to me.”

We got into Ruidoso and I was leading the group to our hotel and as I came to an angular intersection, on a slope, I had my head turned way, way to the left to look for traffic and just dropped the V-Strom right there. Now, all the guys were there to help me lift it right back up, and there was no damage at all, so it was essentially a non-event. But it was annoying. That’s twice now in just a couple days I’ve dropped that bike. Still, if that’s the worst that happens on this trip I can live with that.

And then we arrived at the Inn of the Mountain Gods, and as we were checking in they brought us complimentary margaritas. On this blazing hot day that was truly a nice touch.

There was no travel the next day. We stayed two nights in Ruidoso and played golf and gambled and I hit the biggest win of my life–$280 on a single 60-cent spin. I’ll take it, thank you. This was the first day in 18 days that I did not get on a motorcycle.

Biker Quote for Today

Some will walk through the Pearly Gates and some will ride.

Getting ready to ride, headed for New Mexico.

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.

It was very annoying to drop my bike while loading the bags on.

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.

Separate on motorcycles is very different from together in a car.

As once-new technologies pervade our entire lives it can be hard to remember what we did before we had these devices. Cell phones are an example, and the change they have made in motorcycle trips with the guys is far-reaching.

First you need to recognize that three guys traveling on three bikes is not at all the same as three guys traveling together in a car. In a car, where one goes, all go. And if you park somewhere and go in different directions, all it takes to regroup is to wait at the car until everyone returns.

Not so on motorcycles. If you get separated, good luck finding the other guys. Except that now, with cell phones, you just call the other guys and ask where they are.

We didn’t used to have cell phones.

John and Bill and I were in western Wyoming one time going south on U.S. 189 from Kemmerer and it was wide open country. Bill got a wild hair and twisted the throttle, shooting past the two of us on his way to speeds in excess of 100 mph. Catching the bug, John cranked it up, too, and they both disappeared ahead of me.

The only problem was that we were planning to turn off to the southeast on Wyoming 412 headed to Lyman and they both blew right past the turn. I did the only thing that made sense, I stopped to wait.

After a bit, John noticed I wasn’t behind him so he slowed down to let me catch up. When I didn’t catch up he stopped and waited, and then turned back. He found me sitting at the turn-off. So we both sat to wait for Bill. And we waited. And we waited.

Just about the time we were getting concerned, Bill did show up. Seems a Wyoming state policeman had wanted to have a chat with him. But OK, we were back together, let’s go.

Another time, we decided we wanted bike-to-bike communicators, so we bought these cheapo units from Radio Shack. They worked fine in the store and out in the parking lot so we bought them. Then, as it turned out, I couldn’t leave with John and Bill so we agreed to meet several days later at the Grand Canyon. I told them to be sure to have the communicators on so we could find each other.

I reached the Grand Canyon and had my communicator on but got no response to my attempts to reach them. As it turned out, they had found these things to be perfectly worthless and never tried using them again after their first day out. It was sheer chance that we connected. The only option I would have had would have been to find a pay phone, call John’s wife and leave a message, and then hope that he would call her. We were very, very lucky.

Then there was the time John and I had to leave without Bill because his bike developed mechanical problems as he was coming to John’s to meet us. John’s wife Cheryl did serve as the intermediary this time. Bill resolved his problem and called her to tell her his plans. She relayed that info to John when he called her. Bill would meet us in Thermopolis, WY, so when we got there we parked our bikes out along the main street. Bill came into town, spotted our bikes, and we connected.

Those days are gone now. Everyone carries a cell phone and getting separated is no big deal. But that didn’t stop Bill and me from causing a bit of an upset some years ago. Once again we were in Wyoming, this time headed south from Casper to Medicine Bow. Bill and I were in the rear when we reached a turn-off we knew was just an alternate route that would meet back up with the main road a little further along. As a prank, we took the alternate route.

One of the primary rules in group riding, however, is that you keep an eye on the guy behind you. When our absence was noted, the other guys pulled over. When we didn’t catch up they sent someone back to check on us, to no avail. And there was no cell service way out there.

Bill and I, in the meantime, reached the reconnection point and waited. And waited. Finally we decided we’d better head back up the main road, and in a few miles we encountered the other guys coming the other way. They were not happy. We’re not ever going to live that one down.

Biker Quote for Today

I know not the destination, let the road decide. It’s not the destination, it’s the glory of the ride.