Passes & Canyons Blog

You can see how Bill doesn’t exactly stand out from the background in this picture.

A little over a year ago Dennis traded in his Indian and got a BMW that he had long wanted but finally found lowered enough so he could ride it. Dennis is kind of short. One of the benefits of buying used is you get all the extras already in place as part of the package. One of the extras on this particular bike is really powerful lights that do one heck of a lot to make you visible.

On this recent OFMC trip I was in the lead most of the time and when Bill was second and Dennis third I never had any trouble checking my mirror to make sure they were behind me. One quick glance showed Dennis’s lights blazing like the sun. I think these things could be seen from outer space.

When Bill was in the rear it was a different matter. I’d glance back and see Dennis instantly but I would have to search to be sure Bill was visible behind him. Not a big deal, especially considering that I assumed Dennis was keeping his eye on Bill, but the difference between the two could not be more extreme.

Bill, on the other hand, appears to have a very weak headlight on his Harley. Or maybe it’s pointed more toward the ground so it’s not as visible further ahead. I really don’t know about that. But I do know Bill does not stand out against the background and I had to search for him.

On one day, however, Bill had a close call. We were in Idaho heading south from having crossed Lolo Pass and Bill was in the middle. A pick-up heading the other way did the usual thing, turning left right in front of him. Everything worked out fine but that got me to thinking.

I wonder if the driver saw Dennis’s lights (of course he did see them!) but failed to notice, closer to him, this much dimmer figure that was Bill. In that case you could make the argument that Dennis’s lights, which make him unmissable, render others (Bill) less visible. That could be a real safety issue.

What it definitely points out is that Bill really needs more lights on his bike. He just fades too readily into the background. Plus, his bike is black and he wears a black leather jacket and his helmet is black. Not exactly conspicuous.

I know I don’t necessarily stand out all that well either, and Roy had mentioned that to me more than once. He has urged me to get an orange vest to wear over my jacket as many riders do. I probably will at some point when I’m in a store and think about it.

Meanwhile, I need to bring this up with Bill. I’m sure he has no idea how low his visibility is. But knowing Bill I really don’t expect him to do much about it. Maybe he’ll surprise me.

Biker Quote for Today

My bike is more demanding than my lover, she wants me to ride her every day.

Bill (on his bike) and John on one of our earlier trips when it was still just us three.

The OFMC took its first trip in 1989, and has done a trip every year since. The original three were me, John, and Bill. Other members have come and gone over the years but we three were regulars until just a few years ago when John could no longer ride due to health issues. Now Bill is talking about bowing out.

Dennis and I had a pretty good idea this was coming while we were out on our recent trip. We had decided to do Lolo Pass and that meant we needed to do some longer days and also an extra day. Several of these longer days were also blazing hot. Bill was not enjoying a lot of this and he was making comments such as “Remind me again why we do this.”

So it was no surprise the next to last night out when he said flatly that he doesn’t want to do it anymore. OK, let’s get into particulars. What exactly don’t you want to do anymore.

Well, he doesn’t want to do these long days. He also doesn’t want to be out for as long. And he really doesn’t like doing long days in 100+ degree weather.

Fair enough. What would you say to shorter days and fewer days? As for the heat, I’ve pushed for years to move the week of the trip later than the last full week of July. But you insist on doing it that week.

Dennis had the idea that we could do an all-Colorado trip where rather than ride past all the tourist attractions we actually stop and visit them. Take it easy.

Well, OK, something like that Bill said he could probably get into and enjoy. Fine, said I, the official trip organizer. Let me give this some thought.

The next day I had some ideas. A lot of ideas, actually, but the best–I thought–was to do this all-Colorado ride where we spend our last night some place like Estes Park–close to home–and all the wives carpool up and we stay at some fancy bed ‘n’ breakfast and have dinner at some really nice restaurant. Dennis liked the idea. Bill’s response was pure Bill.

“My wife will still be in Brazil.”

Bill’s wife is from Brazil and every summer she goes there to help her sisters care for their aged mother. She is a teacher so she comes back just before school starts, which is not the last full week of July.

But Bill, we don’t have to do the ride that same week in July every year, and if you don’t want the heat all the more reason to move it to something like the last week of August or first week of September. Or the second week of September, after the kids are back in school and the tourist crowds thin out.

No, no, that won’t do.

Now, Dennis and I are of a different mind. Earlier in the trip we had discussed what we saw coming and Dennis had said that if he didn’t have his wife at home he’d be saying let’s take a month. We’re retired, for Pete’s sake. I totally agreed.

So the thought arises, if Bill dropped out would Dennis and I continue and maybe finally do some of the longer rides I’ve been wanting to do for a long, long time? Apparently not. Dennis didn’t elaborate on his thinking but he did say at one point that if it got down to only two he would not be inclined to go on. So that would mean the end of the OFMC. Wow.

I don’t think that’s going to happen next year. I do think Bill will be interested in a shorter trip. But things continue until they don’t. And then they end.

Biker Quote for Today

100 reasons not to date a biker: 32. You’ll have a burn mark or two from the exhaust.

Ten minutes earlier this road was jam-packed with stop and go traffic. Now you can see the first car that filtered past the burning truck down the hill.

We got an early start out of Spanish Fork on the next to last day of this year’s OFMC trip and I figured we’d be climbing into the hills east of the extended Salt Lake City metropolitan area but in fact we plunged down a canyon. We were on US 89, which led in a short while to US 6.

Another surprise was that at the mouth of this canyon there were about 10 wind turbines. You normally think about those things being out in the open where they catch a lot of free-flowing wind. I figure it must be that the wind blows in across the salt flats and then hits these hills and gets channeled into this canyon.

So we went down and down and finally started climbing. Very pretty along this part. Then we started down again, a long way, and finally came out on the desert floor at Price. Now it’s going to get hot and boring. It did. We got lunch and gas at Green River and then just blasted the rest of the way to Grand Junction, our stop for the night. Not an eventful day.

Leaving Junction early in the morning we were figuring on getting down the hill on I-70 before the inevitable crush of traffic that happens every Sunday afternoon. Wrong. We started getting into heavy traffic at about Vail. But before I get into that, something else happened just west of Vail.

As I said, traffic was getting thick and we got behind someone going too slow in the right lane, so Bill and Dennis moved over to the left and when I had the chance I did, too. I looked back and was about 50 feet ahead of the guy coming up in that lane so, as I always do, I threw my left arm straight out to clearly signal my intent and simultaneously moved into the left lane. Totally normal move.

About five seconds later I heard the familiar sound of a car coming around me on the left . . . but I was in the left lane. I turned to look and there was the guy I had pulled in front of, now about even with my rear fender, going past me half way on the shoulder. I moved right to give him more room and threw up my hand in a “what the heck” sort of motion. He threw up his left hand in a sort of “oops, sorry” kind of motion. And we rolled on.

The way I figure it, he must have been looking at his phone and looked up only just in time to realize he was about to murder a motorcyclist.

Back to the story. I told the rest of this story here but there was a lot that I left out in that account. For one thing, I was not alone sitting there by the highway broken down. I could see, in the space of about a quarter mile, five other vehicles all pulled over with problems. I walked back and spoke with the two women in the car behind me, and they had also overheated. But for them it was normal. They had a bottle of coolant and once they could safely remove the radiator cap they poured some in and took off. The couple in front of me had overheated and had called for a tow. I didn’t walk up to the three vehicles ahead of them.

All this time the interstate was a parking lot. Three lanes full of traffic stopping and starting. Then about 500 feet down the hill there was a bang and a lot of smoke or steam or something and within a few minutes there was not a single vehicle on the road in front of me. I learned later from the tow truck driver who picked me up that there was a truck on fire back there.

Obviously, when this truck erupted in flames everyone behind him stopped. Then, after maybe five minutes cars started filtering past and one by one they would go speeding past me. And gradually there were more and more as they all got bolder.

What impressed me was how quickly the emergency folks handled the situation. It took a while for them to get to the scene but once they did they had the truck moved and whole road open again within 15 minutes. And then it was the same old parking lot again.

I did eventually get home that day, at 10 p.m., and that was finally the end of this year’s OFMC trip for me–though not yet the end of my hassles getting the bike home. But it could have been a lot worse. What if I had overheated out in the middle of the salt flats, in blazing heat with no shade? What if it had happened at any of the other times we were stuck in 100-degree-plus weather with no shade? At least when I broke down up on the mountain my actual concern was the oncoming rain storm. And I had rain gear.

Meanwhile, the Kawi is now in the shop for service and to find out if the overheating was due to a bad thermostat or heat sensor. Stay tuned.

Biker Quote for Today

If I were to die from riding a dirt bike my crash better look awesome.

Rest areas with shade are very, very welcome when the heat is this bad. This one was in Buhl, Idaho.

After that ride through Boise and then down to Jackpot all of us were happy to stay put for two nights and get off the bikes. It’s an OFMC standard to spend an extra day somewhere and play golf, and also to do some gambling. Jackpot, Nevada, offers both.

That day in Jackpot would have been a good day to ride. There was cloud cover all day, right up to the time we were walking back from the golf course at about 5. But it also made for a nice day out playing golf.

The next morning we headed out early, with similar cloud cover. Nice. But it didn’t last. By the time we reached Wells the sun was out and it was getting hot. We got on I-80 and cranked along till we got to Wendover and stopped there for lunch. If you’ve never come into Wendover from the west you’re missing an impressive sight. You come over a hill and there ahead of you is the vast flatness and bleakness of the salt flats. It really is an “Oh god!” moment.

Then we blasted across the flats. Hot, hot, and more hot. There are two eastbound rest areas and we stopped at the second and fortunately it had a building with air conditioning. Bad news for other people, it had a sign that as of the following day it would be closing, presumably for renovation considering that the grounds looked like they had just been thoroughly redone.

We didn’t want to go through Salt Lake so we turned off I-80 at Grantsville, down to Tooele and around the south end of Utah Lake and the ridge that separates the valleys. En route we passed right by what used to be called Miller Motorsports Park, now the Utah Motorsports Campus, and it was swarming. There were people and campers everywhere, with all these folks just out there in this blazing heat with no shade except of their own making. Not for me, thanks.

We came around the hills and angled back north, headed to Spanish Fork. Dennis, with his GPS, was leading and we got to Spanish Fork and the exit off I-15 and traffic was crazy. It turned out that to get to our motel we needed to cross two packed lanes of traffic to get into the left turn lane immediately. Dennis managed to shove his way into the left lane but there was no way to merge into the turn lane. So he went ahead and made the next left turn, to turn around and head back. He had gotten separated from Bill and me and as we sat in the left turn lane I saw Dennis do a U-turn and then a right heading back the other way. I looked at the traffic situation and at a moment I deemed safe I just did a U-turn right there, with Bill hurrying to follow me. Not exactly legal but it worked.

We pulled up behind Dennis as he sat waiting to take a right turn off this busy highway and we followed him, much to his surprise. He had no idea we were there and had planned to pull over where we could see him and know to turn there. But there we were right behind him. So we got to our motel and what a relief to get out of that heat. Later, at about 10 p.m., I took a walk and the temperature was still around 85. But hey, at 7:45 it had been 99. Way too much heat.

At least we managed not to have to ride through Salt Lake. That would have been worse than Boise.

Biker Quote for Today

You might be a Yuppie biker if you worry about what bikers are supposed to look like.

Construction delays are just an opportunity to stretch your legs and adjust your layers.

We got up early in Cascade, Idaho, that morning of this year’s OFMC trip. We had a long way to go and wanted to take advantage of the morning coolness. As we were getting ready we saw a group of 31 Harleys rumble in and stop for gas across the road, and about 20 minutes later another group of comparable size followed them. Heading to Sturgis?

They were heading north but we were heading south. One of the first things of interest we saw was a guy skinning a deer right beside the road. Road kill we assume and no reason to let it go to waste. Certainly not here in Idaho.

We continued to follow ID 55 across this huge alpine park when all of a sudden the road veered to the west and soon we were plunging down a steep, narrow gorge. And it just kept going. We had to be giving up a lot of altitude. Along the way we encountered a delay at a place we had been warned of by another biker we spoke to several days earlier in Arco, where they were widening this narrow road, and doing so by blasting. Not a very long delay, though.

We knew if we continued on this road it would take us straight into the heart of Boise, which was something we did not want. Checking the map we could see that if we took a left at Banks, over to Lowman, and then south again we could catch I-84 just on the east end of Boise. That was our plan. But we came to Banks and at the intersection was a sign saying the road was closed between Lowman and More’s Creek. We had no service way out here and no map showed More’s Creek so we didn’t know what to do. There were cars coming from the direction of Lowman, though, so as one came to the stop sign I waved to him. Yes, the road to Lowman is open but the road south–which is where More’s Creek is–was closed. We had no choice but to go through Boise. Dang.

Meanwhile, all of this was still just gorgeous riding so it was not as if we weren’t having a good time. We stopped for gas on the north side of Boise and as I was checking my phone for routes a woman at the next pump asked if I was lost. No, not lost, just trying to figure out how best to get around Boise. Is there a bypass? No, there’s no bypass, she told me, but here’s the best route through.

So we took off from there but where she had said to go right Dennis’s GPS said go left, so we went left. That took us pretty deep into town and we decided it was time for lunch. After lunch we needed to turn left out of the parking lot but traffic was horrible. Deciding to go right and then make a left and double back, Dennis took off. But Bill and I were blocked by traffic and by the time we could do anything we had totally lost Dennis. We flailed a bit and finally figured we would just ride on to the spot we had discussed getting gas next. (Dennis had not filled up when Bill and I did.)

We got headed back the other direction and soon saw a sign for I-84. OK, if we can get on the interstate right here this won’t be too bad. We got on and rode just a couple miles and this road–what I now see was I-184–just dumped us onto the city streets in downtown Boise. Not at all what we wanted. So we made it through that mess and then finally picked up the main road south of town and started blasting.

By now we were in phase two of this bifurcated day. All the green and cool were gone and now we were deep into the brown and hot. And if you weren’t going at least 80 mph you were practically going to get blown off the road by everyone else who was going that fast and more.

We got down to Glenns Ferry, where Dennis was to get gas, pulled off the highway into town, turned down the mail street, and found Dennis pumping gas. At least that worked out fine. Something about this town just cried out to me that it must have an ice cream parlor so I asked at the station and they said yes, and here’s how you get there. That was one very welcome break in this long, hot day.

From Glenns Ferry it was only 18 miles till we got off I-84 again, at Bliss, where we picked up US 30, which runs through the Snake River Valley for quite a ways. This got us off the interstate, through some pretty country, and enabled us to not have to go all the way to Twin Falls and then double back to the west to reach US 93 south to Jackpot, Nevada, our destination for the day.

We found a nice rest area in Buhl, Idaho, and took a break there and then hit 93 and turned south. Another 45 miles and we came over the hill and down into Jackpot. This crew was ready for a day off the bikes.

Biker Quote for Today

“On my tombstone they will carve, ‘It never got fast enough for me.’” — Hunter S. Thompson

A sign we saw in a restroom at Alpine Junction.

It was cool in the morning as we left Kemmerer and a very pleasant ride past Fossil Butte National Monument, north through Cokeville on US 30, on north into the Star Valley, and a stop for gas at Alpine Junction.

That’s a really nice road leading up to the Star Valley and it was freshly paved with almost no traffic. Sweet! Getting into the Star Valley it was startling to see how development has discovered this once undiscovered place. It’s down the road a bit from Jackson so I guess it was inevitable; maybe the question is why it took so long.

We split off from US 89 at Alpine Junction, riding past the enormous Palisades Reservoir and down to the little town of Irwin to stop for lunch. I was leading and as we came up on this place I couldn’t tell if it was a motel or restaurant, or both, or whether it was open. By the time I saw there was a restaurant and it was open I was past the turn for the parking lot so I motioned for Bill and Dennis to pull in and made a turn just ahead to come back. What happened next is hearsay for me because I was totally unaware of any of it.

They tell me that as I was preparing to come back–and I know I looked both ways–that I pulled right out in front of a guy coming the other direction. And then nearly stopped right in front of him as he braked and blew his horn. For me what happened was that I looked both ways and maybe I saw this guy but he seemed to be far enough away and/or not moving so fast that it was not an issue. Then, I had failed to downshift when I pulled off to turn around so as I started moving the bike faltered till I quickly downshifted. And then I pulled in at the restaurant.

Bill and Dennis were beside themselves and I was totally oblivious. Oops.

After lunch we rode on to Idaho Falls, me leading, and all I knew for sure was that we wanted US 20 west and that meant going through town. I just followed the signs but our route was the epicenter of a major road construction project. And it was blazing hot. We crept through town until I was no longer seeing signs for US 20. Apparently I missed a turn in among all this chaos. I pulled into a gas station/convenience store and we went inside. After all that heat it took me 10 minutes in the cool to begin to feel like a human being again.

Dennis has GPS so we decided he would lead us out of town and to US 20. We took some country lanes and wandered a bit, all in the right direction, and then finally regained US 20. Then it was a scorching hot ride to Arco, our destination for the day.

The next day we were headed for Missoula, Montana. We took US 93 up to Challis and then north through Salmon. We gained some altitude so it was a little cooler but not as much as I had expected. But a nice road. One spectacular canyon coming down into Salmon. We had lunch and moved on.

The next town of any size was Darby and that was where we had the same experience as coming up the Star Valley. The entire 50 miles or so from Darby to Missoula is like the Colorado Front Range was 40 years ago: open spaces quickly turning into one unbroken city. The highway was four lanes and packed. In 10 years they’ll probably be expanding to six lanes and it won’t be enough.

Missoula itself astonished me. That town must be four times the size it was the last time I was there, less than 10 years ago, and it must be more than 10 times as large as it was the first time I was there, about 50 years ago. It was just mind-boggling. At least we didn’t have to go far into town to get to our motel but once there, to get across the road to the McDonald’s or other fast-food places meant either walk a tenth of a mile to the nearest traffic signal or risk your life crossing directly. Crazy.

Oh, and it was 104 degrees coming into Missoula.

Biker Quote for Today

Sometimes I look back on my life and I’m seriously impressed I am still alive.

Taking a break at the Flaming Gorge.

The OFMC, at this point consisting of Bill, Dennis, and me, took off on our yearly trip two Fridays ago, planning a longer trip than usual and thus an extra day to do the extra miles.

We headed out from Golden up Clear Creek Canyon, got on I-70 near Idaho Springs, and continued west on the slab. I was on my Kawasaki Concours, Bill on his Harley, and Dennis on his BMW. An uneventful ride to Vail, where we stopped for lunch at McDonald’s. That raised a question: Why does a place like that send a guy to clean the bathrooms during the lunch rush? Wouldn’t his efforts be more useful on the line at that point, and you know of all those customers there have to be quite a few wishing to use the restroom. Do these people ever think about these things?

Glenwood Canyon seemed especially beautiful in this very green summer. At Rifle we got gas, then turned north to Meeker. We got behind a truck and at a clear spot with no oncoming traffic I figured Bill would pass but there was a double yellow line and he didn’t. Then there was a dense stream of oncoming traffic and I was sure we were coming to construction. We did, but got there just as the tail end of the line started moving, so we didn’t have to stop. It was quite a few miles of gravel and dirt, and slow going.

We got to Meeker and typically for Bill, he rolled right past the motel. Dennis and I did not. My mantra on these trips is “never let Bill lead” but on a straight shot like this he could hardly go wrong . . . until he did.

Bill has friends who now live in Meeker and they said there were “doin’s” in the town park, come on down for free food and music. So we did. Bill and Dagney seemed quite nice and agreed to ride with us the next day to breakfast in Rangeley. They showed up the next morning on their Harleys and we had a really nice early morning cruise.

The place we went for breakfast turned out to have one cook and one waitress/cashier/drink preparer and the place was packed. It was 45 minutes before she was able to bring us water and ask for our orders. Everyone knows at this point how hard it is to get people to hire. We finally rolled out of there about 11 a.m.

We picked up US 40 at Dinosaur and went west to Vernal, Utah. Hot as blazes. It got a bit cooler as we gained elevation heading north toward the Flaming Gorge. That’s always a nice ride. Got a late lunch at Mountainview, Wyoming, passed under I-80, and rode another 45 minutes to Kemmerer, our stop for the night.

We learned from our waitress at dinner that there was a bluegrass festival going on in town that whole weekend, including right at that moment, but we were at a place just south of town and none of us was inclined to ride into town. Too bad, it would have been fun. Instead we spent a long time talking with a guy from Texas who had ridden his Harley-Davidson Pan America up to the Arctic Circle in Canada, then did a circuit through Alaska, and was now headed back home. Some people are more hard-core than us.

Biker Quote for Today

You know you’re a biker when you can identify bugs by taste.

How lucky Tom was to have a sag wagon along on this trip.

It was only a terrific stroke of luck for Tom that when his motorcycle died in Arizona on one of the loneliest, most out-of-the-way roads around that Dave was right behind with his Ford F-250 pick-up and a trailer. Dave had planned on doing the ride but then had surgery the week before and couldn’t ride. On the morning of our departure, on the spur of the moment, he decided to heck with it, he was going even if that meant he had to drive. And as long as he was driving the F-250 he figured he might as well bring along his trailer, just in case someone needed it. And Tom did.

How much would a tow truck have cost to get him anywhere the bike could be worked on, and then how long might he have to stay in that town until parts arrived? We’re talking a significant chunk of cash here. As it turned out, the problem was just in the switch that keeps you from riding off with your side-stand down, so not expensive to fix at all. But Tom had the leisure of handling the problem back at home and the only cost, besides not getting to do the rest of the trip on his bike, was paying Dave for gas.

Not surprisingly, this whole situation has ignited a discussion within the RMMRC. Perhaps it would be nice to have a sag wagon along on all our long trips. After all, it was just last year that Dave was the one with a problem–bad stator on his Beemer–that resulted in him staying in Minnesota while the rest of us rode on home. Then he had to deal with this away-from-home dealer rather than the local shop he knows and where they know him.

Of course the real issue here could simply be, who among us wants to make the trip but not ride? Somebody would have to drive the truck. Well, the RMMRC has another long trip coming up soon, out to the Columbia River and the Cascades. And Tom has volunteered to be the driver. If, he adds, everyone else pays for his gas.

It would be like insurance. Everyone pays a little, hoping truthfully to get nothing in return, but really happy to have the coverage if you do need it.

This pay-for-the-gas provision has generated some discussion. Initially some people were immediately willing to pay it; some others were hesitant. On its own the cost would not be negligible–except compared to a huge towing bill. An F-250 gets about 15 miles per gallon. Let’s figure $3.50 per gallon, and a 3,200-mile trip, like this Columbia River thing. That would be about 213 gallons, with a total cost of about $745. Let’s say there are 10 guys going; that would be about $75 each for insurance. You see where this is heading?

Suppose eight guys are willing to pay but two are not. If one of them does break down then what? We’re not going to abandon them. Maybe at that point they have to make the choice to pay the entire gas cost or else figure out some other way out of their predicament. I mean, at that point if one of the guys who paid for the insurance broke down he would not have his sag wagon available that he was paying for. That totally doesn’t work.

If you just decided, as a group, that anyone going had to join in on the insurance are you going to drive people away? Nobody wants to do that.

And even if everyone is paying, what are you going to do if more than one person breaks down?

To get some perspective, let’s look at what would happen without a sag wagon. Just last year, coincidentally not 50 miles from where Tom had his problem, Bill had a problem. He hit a big rock in the road and bent his wheel, causing the tire to lose air with no possibility of reinflating. Amazingly, the tire did not go flat until we reached our day’s destination.

After exploring several options what he finally ended up doing was getting a tow to the next town, where a shop put in a tube that we figured had solved the problem. That tow cost about $150 and delayed our next day’s start till 3 p.m. on our longest day of the trip. But we handled it and we rode on. (Although by the time we got to Farmington the tube had lost air and the next morning Bill paid $2,000 for a new tire and wheel at the local Harley shop. At home he figures he would have gotten the wheel and tire for half that.)

As a different example, in 2018 on an OFMC trip we had a major disruption when Dennis unknowingly put diesel fuel in his Indian. Obviously we didn’t have a sag wagon so we replicated one. That is, Dennis made phone calls and then we rode him over to the nearest town where there was a U-Haul shop, he rented a truck and we went back to his bike, we loaded his bike on, and we altered our course to go to the nearest Indian dealer. It wasn’t cheap, especially since it was a one-way rental on the U-Haul. But we made it work. And it cost Dennis a pile of money.

In short, there is no obvious best answer. Perhaps the thing that will keep this from becoming too much of a dilemma is what I mentioned before: Who wants to get stuck driving the truck? Tom is willing on this next trip but then what? Who? Certainly not me–I came to ride!

Biker Quote for Today

A dirt bike is like your buddy. A road bike is your lover.