Passes & Canyons Blog

Sort of the opposite side of my mantra to never let Bill lead is probably part of the reason he is so bad a leader: he doesn’t know the roads and he doesn’t even remember the ones he has ridden previously.

Of course, Bill is not the only one in this category. I can’t count the number of times Judy and I have been out on a trip and she has remarked that, gosh, I’ve never been on this road before. Except that she has. More than once. And I can cite her those times.

Dennis is no better. Both he and Bill on this year’s OFMC trip remarked on several occasions that, gosh, I’ve never been to (blank) before. Take Scottsbluff, NE, our first night’s stop. Bill said he had never been there. I said yes you have, the OFMC was through here in 2014. And then there was the 2004 trip. When we went to dinner I pointed out that this was the same place we had eaten at in 2014 and he did recognize the place.

We got to the Black Hills and spent one day riding the Iron Mountain Road, the Needles Highway, and the Custer State Park Wildlife Loop. We stopped for a break in Keystone and then I led the way up to Hill City via Old Hill City Road. Both of them claimed they had never ridden that road before but I assured them we had all ridden it in 2014. Do you guys ever pay attention?

Then later in the trip we were in the Black Hills and we got on Nemo Road to get to Vanocker Canyon and Dennis said he had never been on this road (Nemo) before. I had to point out to him that this was the road where he almost died in 2014. We had stopped where Nemo Road intersected another road and were getting ready to roll again. I pulled across the road to get in position and without looking down the road, Dennis followed me, slowly. What he did not see because he did not look, and did not hear because of the noise of all the Harleys, was a semi coming along straight toward him. I yelled but, again, there was no way to be heard. He finally heard the scream of the truck’s brakes and goosed that Indian to scoot out of the way. Yes, Dennis you have indeed been on this road before. It was almost the last road you were ever on.

Then there was another time, the night we spent in Spearfish. We were talking about previous trips and Buffalo, WY, came up. Bill said he had never been to Buffalo. This time even Dennis joined in to say yes you have; we have spent nights there more than once.

So is it any wonder these guys have a hard time knowing where they’re going? I don’t know, I think it may just be a particular mind set, one that John and I share but these other guys don’t. John loves poring over maps, and always knows where he’s going. I wouldn’t say I love maps, but I sure as heck can read them and when I read I lodge the relevant information in my brain. That’s what they’re for, aren’t they?

But some people are just followers. This has always been true of Dennis and Bill. John used to always plan our trips. I objected, saying I wanted a say in the planning. The other guys didn’t care. Let someone else do the work; if it’s a good trip that’s all that matters. I’ll just follow whoever is leading.

Well, that’s not me. And that’s why I’m now the planner and the leader. And speaking of that, it’s getting to be about time for me to be thinking of next year’s trip. I wonder what cool stuff I’m going to come up with.

Biker Quote for Today

You were born an original, don’t die a copy.

I was off camping last week down near Ridgway with a bunch of the guys and as we headed home Bill was driving. Getting to Denver is a pretty straightforward thing but it occurred to me that because we wanted to take the Clifton cut-off from US 50 up to I-70, rather than take 50 all the way to Grand Junction, I had better navigate for him.

Why? Because one thing I’ve learned and relearned is that on a motorcycle trip you should never let Bill lead. And while this was not a motorcycle trip, Bill was driving and thus totally likely to take us astray from our planned route.

I can’t begin to relate all the times on bike trips when Bill has missed turns or otherwise gone wrong when he has been in the lead. The earliest I remember is a day up in Wyoming when we were coming south from Kemmerer and needed to turn off US 189 onto WY 412 to get to I-80 at Lyman. Bill was leading and just as we got near the turn he decided to hit the throttle a bit and took off at 100 mph. John cranked it up and followed him while I pulled up to the intersection and parked. A while later John came back, having seen that I was not behind him. He had no idea where Bill was.

We waited and it was a good long wait. Finally Bill showed up, very sheepish. He had gotten nailed by a state patrolman and got a big ticket. Then when John and I never caught up to him he figured he ought to go back and see what was up. Of course, this was before the days of cell phones.

So there have been plenty of other times when Bill has shown his inability to navigate well, and this summer’s OFMC trip was no exception. Back when there were more guys doing these trips Bill didn’t often have the opportunity to take the lead but now that it’s down to just him and me and Dennis, Bill ends up leading more often, although usually I take the lead. With Bill in the lead more, the chances for errors are greatly increased.

This past summer, on the first day out, we met at a shopping plaza alongside I-76 up by Brighton. It was obvious to me that to get onto I-76 from the lot where we met up we should just go out and take a left, then a quick right to get to the highway. Bill led and immediately went to the right. I hoped that maybe he had an idea where he was going but several miles later he pulled over and as I came up beside him he asked if I knew how to get to the highway. “Follow me,” I said and went back the way we came.

A couple days later we were up in the Black Hills and we were riding the Needles Highway, the Custer State Park Wildlife Loop, and the Iron Mountain Road. I was shooting pictures with my GoPro and wanted them ahead of me in the pictures so I could not lead. At one point we stopped and I told the guys we needed to go right when we got to the highway ahead. So, of course, Dennis, who was leading, went left. He can be as bad as Bill sometimes.

We ended up backtracking and then coming out of the Wildlife Loop I told Bill, who was leading at that point, that we needed to go right up ahead. So of course he turned left. No Bill, your other right.

But that wasn’t the end of it. A couple days after that we were headed to Torrington and we had stopped a bit down the road for a break. I told Bill when we got into Torrington we needed to go right on the main street of town. This should have been fairly obvious because it was the only place you could turn because the road we came in on runs alongside a railroad track. You guessed it: he blew right past that turn and we had to go back.

So you can understand my concern heading up to the Clifton cut-off. But I was navigating so we didn’t miss it.

If you ever ride with Bill, don’t let him lead. Just don’t.

Biker Quote for Today

Why motorcycles are better than women: Motorcycles always sound pleasant.

If anyone pays attention to the time of day when these posts generally go up you’ll be aware that this is much later in the day than usual. That’s because I only just got back from an all-day ride with the RMMRC. Roy called last night and told me to be at his place just before 8, so I was. So were Charley and Tim. We headed on out to Morrison to meet up with the rest, and there were a bunch today, about 12 of us.

Essentially this was a fall color ride. This is the time of year when the mountainsides are covered in yellow and gold and it’s always the sort of thing you want to take pictures of. Happily for us, it was also one of these incredibly beautiful October days that Colorado is know for. Let’s ride!

We headed up past Red Rocks to US 40 where it runs alongside I-70 going up Mount Vernon Canyon. Right away we lost Roy, who rides sweep. No one had any idea what happened to him and we hoped he didn’t break down but the plan from the start was that if we got separated just regather at the Subway in Granby.

We took US 40 and then US 6 as much as possible, just getting onto I-70 briefly when we had to, and then followed 40 up over Berthoud Pass. Bob, who I consider one of the fast guys, suggested that the guys like Mike, who Bob considers a fast guy, might want to blast on ahead. Mike said he would stay with the group until we hit the pass but then look out, he’d be gone.

So we were totally splintered by the time we got to Granby, and who should I see first but Roy. Seems as sweep, he saw two bikes behind him so he waved them ahead and then followed them. They were not part of our group. Oops. So he went up Lookout Mountain and caught US 40 that way and ended up ahead of us.

The Subway in Granby was not going to open for another 15 minutes so some elected to stay and wait while the others went on to the Subway in Kremmling, with the others to catch up with us there. The idea was to get lunch to go and then go have a picnic down by Green Mountain Reservoir south of Kremmling.

I took off with the group heading to the Kremmling Subway and what happened then was like much of the day. Everyone else was on newer, powerful bikes. I was on my very old, decidedly less powerful Honda CB750 and I just can’t keep up with these guys. No matter, we all knew where we were headed.

Food in hand, we turned south. CO 9 runs along the east edge of the reservoir but we turned onto the road that runs along the west shore and finally found the only campground still open. Time for lunch.

I wrote last week about differences in the OFMC and the RMMRC and here’s another one. The road down into the campground was gravel and none of us were on dual-sport bikes, but we all went down it anyway. The OFMC–other than me–flat out refuses to do any gravel. They would not have done this.

After lunch we continued south on CO 9 with the plan to get gas at Silverthorne. Some people were more antsy to ride so even while a few were not ready to roll yet, a bunch took off. I was the tail end of that group. We were going to go over Loveland Pass rather than through the tunnel. Once again, they left me in the dust.

I was not unhappy with that. I like to ride at my own pace and blasting over a high mountain pass at excessive speed is not my thing. I figured at this point we were all totally scattered and that was really the end of the group ride but to my surprise, as I got down to I-70 they were waiting. And not just for me. Did I know where the others were? No, I hadn’t seen them since the gas station but in less than a minute there they were and they passed us and we pulled in behind them.

Bob, in the lead, was still following the practice of avoiding the slab so we got off at Bakerville and onto US 6 again, down to Silver Plume. This old road running alongside but away from the interstate is such a nicer ride than the slab. We had to get back on I-70 at Silver Plume, just to get down to Georgetown, and then we were off again, although we lost one rider who didn’t realize we would do this and was stuck in the left lane going past the exit.

So it was US 6 on down to Idaho Springs and two people, I’m not sure who, headed up Squaw Pass. For the rest of us, once we were back on the interstate this time it was all over. I quickly found myself riding just with Roy. But I didn’t figure I wanted to do the slab all the way home so I got off at El Rancho and turned down Kerr Gulch Road, angling down to CO 74 at Kittredge. Much nicer ride.

And there I was, heading east on US 285/Hampden when who pulls up alongside me but Tim. He had been way out in front of me. How the heck did I get ahead of him? Was my shortcut that much faster? Or was Tim one of the ones who took Squaw Pass, and he did it so fast that he barely ended up behind me? I have no idea.

Whatever. Bottom line was, this was a terrific day of riding. The weather was great, the colors were good, most especially down CO 9 from Kremmling to Silverthorne. Of course it totally disrupted everything else I had had in mind to do today but that’s the price you pay when you’re (deep, rumbling voice) a biker.

Extra: In my earlier post comparing the OFMC and the RMMRC I forgot one really big thing, which I have since added into that post. But rather than make you go look for it I’ll paste it in here.
In the OFMC, if we get cold, we’ll stop and put on more gear. If our legs are getting stiff, we’ll stop and take a break. With the RMMRC it seems that once we get rolling we are going to continue rolling. These guys like to ride, not stop. Of course, with a group of any size, stopping requires time. One or two people can stop quickly and get going again, but with eight people it takes about four times as long. And you don’t cover lots of miles in a day if you’re stopping all the time.

Biker Quote for Today

You know you’re a biker if taking your wife on a cruise means a putt down the interstate.

After five years riding with the Rocky Mountain Motorcycle Riders Club (RMMRC) I recently went on my first extended ride. All the others have just been day rides. Meanwhile, I’ve been going on week-long rides with the OFMC for more than 30 years. I figure a comparison of the two groups might be in order.

Some sharp contrasts come readily to mind. For one, the OFMC has gotten to be just one long ride and at best two day rides each year. Meanwhile, I can’t even count the number of rides I’ve been on with the RMMRC just this year. A lot. That’s why I joined the RMMRC.

Concern about safety is another sharp difference. To come on an RMMRC ride you must wear a helmet, and we always ride in staggered formation. In the OFMC no one is going to tell you you have to wear a helmet, although in later years none of us would even consider riding without one. The early years were a very different story.

As for staggered formation, the OFMC response to that would be “What’s that?” This had been a bit of an issue for awhile, with some of us lobbying for it while others responded with “don’t tell me how to ride.” I resolved the issue for myself by primarily riding sweep. Otherwise, I would try to make sure not to have Randy riding right behind me. Randy seemed to get target fixated on the rear tire of whoever was in front of him, and you’d check your mirror and there he was barely 25 feet right behind you. I was not grief-stricken when Randy chose to stop riding with us.

I have to say, though, that for awhile there was a guy like Randy in the RMMRC. And he was actually worse than Randy, a lot worse. It was suggested to me that maybe he had poor vision and that made sense. And maybe he had Lasik or cataract surgery because he no longer does that. What a relief.

Going on longer rides with the two groups has one very big difference. With the OFMC we know for sure how many will be coming and we divide motel reservations so each of us only needs to make one or two. Then we reserve rooms for the whole group. In the RMMRC it’s every man for himself. So if you’re going to be out for four nights, that’s four reservations each person has to make (unless you’re doubling up with someone else, which only a few people do). The difference here is probably that with the OFMC we’re friends outside of riding and I know that Bill or Dennis is not going to stiff me. With the RMMRC, these are people I see only for rides and with many of them I don’t even know their last names, much less where they live. Not that I would expect to get stiffed if someone decided at the last minute not to come, but it’s the difference between friends and folks you are friendly with.

One thing that seems to be true for both groups is that we mostly avoid talk of politics. There are people of differing opinions in both groups and there is no better way these days to tear a group apart than to get into pointless political arguments.

When it comes to hard riding, the RMMRC is definitely the high-miler club. There are members who are Iron Butt riders and it’s pretty much the norm to blast out 500 miles on the first day of a long ride in order to keep the days within the needs of people who have jobs. All OFMC riders are now retired and nobody is much into long days. A couple years ago I told the guys I could come up with a really nice route if they were willing to do a few long days. They said OK, and we had a nice ride, but afterward they told me they really don’t want to do long (350 miles in this case) days any more. Heck, with the RMMRC just recently we covered 400 miles going from Denver to Grand Junction via a wandering — and extremely scenic — route.

Inserted later: Now that points out one other important difference in the two groups. In the OFMC, if we get cold, we’ll stop and put on more gear. If our legs are getting stiff, we’ll stop and take a break. With the RMMRC it seems that once we get rolling we are going to continue rolling. These guys like to ride, not stop. Of course, with a group of any size, stopping requires time. One or two people can stop quickly and get going again, but with eight people it takes about four times as long. And you don’t cover lots of miles in a day if you’re stopping all the time.

Also, in later years the OFMC has decided we like to take it easy and have at least one non-riding day in the middle of the week. That has become our golf day. So we get to stay two nights in one spot and not have to pack up and head out every single day. I don’t think the RMMRC does anything like that. Maybe I’m wrong; I’ve only been on one long ride and that was just a four-day ride.

And then there’s this difference between the groups: the OFMC is and always has been just guys, while the RMMRC has women members. Not that it makes any noticeable difference.

Of course, the RMMRC has meetings and officers and all that. The OFMC is just a bunch of guys with motorcycles.

What else? That’s all I can think of right now. I enjoy riding with both and I’m glad I have both to ride with.

Biker Quote for Today

Sons of Alzheimer’s: Where’s my bike?

Everybody’s familiar with what some people call the Minnesota Good-Bye, right? That’s where you spend half an hour talking as your guests get up to leave, then maybe you see them to the door and talk some more, and then you go out with them to their car and talk some more before they finally drive away.

Yeah, that’s fine if you’re the chatty type but if you really just want to get going and someone in your group won’t shut up it can be pretty annoying.

On a motorcycle ride there can be something similar. Let’s say you and your buddies have been out on a week-long ride, like the OFMC does each year, and it’s the last day and you’re headed home. You’re sticking together but it’s starting to take on a horses-headed-for-the-stable feel to it. But then you stop one last time to get gas, stretch your legs, or whatever, and say your good-byes.

Then you get back on the bikes and head out but you’re still riding together. And even as you get closer to town and get into heavier traffic, which can make sticking together harder, you still more or less try to stick together. Until finally someone peels off in their home direction but still everyone else tries to stick together. Until either you totally break up in different directions or traffic just makes it impossible. The long good-bye.

I was really kind of relieved a few weeks ago when the OFMC was coming back to town. We left Walden, got gas in Kremmling, and made one last stop for ice cream–and good-byes–in Empire. Great ride guys, good to see you all . . . all that.

And then we got on the bikes and Dennis took off like a bat out of hell. In just a minute or two he was totally out of sight. Not really feeling a need to stick with Bill, I stuck with him anyway but before we made it to Idaho Springs we were in heavy traffic and definitely separated. So I didn’t even try. We’ve been together a week, we said our good-byes. What point would there be?

And that was nice. It was quick. It was clean. And it just totally uncomplicated things. I’m heading for the stable, I’m not concerned with the other horses. Every horse for himself. I approve of the short good-bye.

Biker Quote for Today

Sons of Arthritis: Ibuprofen Chapter

The blazing hot weather finally broke overnight while the OFMC were in Torrington. We came out in the morning and the whole place was enveloped in fog. Really? Where did this come from. More importantly, the weather was a lot cooler than the 100-plus we had had for most of a week.

We headed out in the fog, going south on US 85, which later turns southwest toward Cheyenne. This was some of the flatest, straightest road we had been on.

We got out of the fog but it stayed cooler and then there was an amazing thing: the sky was clear and blue. All week long, everywhere we had been, there had been a haze from the smoke from all the forest fires all over the west. All of a sudden the sky was actually blue!

US 85 hits I-25 a little north of Cheyenne and we got on it but then off again just a few exits later. The plan was to take WY 210 west to Laramie. Things got a little odd here.

The exit sign said this was the turn-off for WY 210 but there was an “Exit Closed” barricade across half the exit. The car in front of us ignored the sign and turned off and we did the same. At the bottom of the ramp there was no way to go anywhere except to the right, toward the closed entrance to Warren Air Force Base. We had to make a left-hand loop around the median to head south and then make a quick right to get onto WY 210. What a strange intersection.

We had been riding non-stop since leaving Torrington so I was on the look-out for a place to pull over. There really wasn’t anywhere to pull off, though, until we went past Curt Gowdy State Park and got into the Medicine Bow National Forest. Yes, we were ready for a break!

WY 210 is a very nice alternate to taking I-80 between Cheyenne and Laramie. It meanders through the hills and is lightly traveled. Perfect for just putting along. About 15 miles shy of Laramie, however, it ends and you have to ride I-80 the rest of the way in.

We got off the interstate in the west side of Laramie, at WY 230 and followed 230 into the Snowy Range. I screwed up on this one, though. We cruised along on 230 and I kept expecting to see mountain peaks and alpine lakes but they never showed. Looking at the map later I saw we should have turned off 230 after just a mile or two, onto WY 130, the Snowy Range Road. WY 130 is the scenic route; WY 230 is the direct route, if you’re heading toward Colorado and North Park. Taking 130 would have added about 50 miles to the ride, bringing us out just south of Saratoga onto the road that runs down from Saratoga through Riverside and on down into Colorado. We had plenty of time so an extra 50 miles would have been fine, and it would have been a much nicer ride.

One thing we would have missed, however, was a semi loaded with huge bales of hay pulled off with his load listing heavily to the left side. That was a sight. At least the guy managed to get stopped without losing his load. But it was going to be a lot of work for him get that all reloaded and strapped down properly.

We got into Walden and settled in out motel. While we were at dinner it rained hard and for the first time on this trip the evening got downright cold. Taking walks to call our wives we needed sweatshirts or jackets! None of this 94 degrees at 10 p.m. stuff now.

The next morning we had some issues to figure out.

Bill and Dennis got up earlier than me and walked down to the Mad Moose for breakfast. As I headed down there later I stopped at the next-door gas station/convenience store to see if they had any bananas. I always want a banana in the morning.

No bananas but the lady at the counter told me that CO 125, the direct road down to US 40 at Granby, was closed due to mudslides. Not only that, CO 14 over Cameron Pass and down the Poudre Canyon was also closed due to flash flooding. Yow! How far out of the way are we going to have to go? Normally the last day, riding home, is totally mundane. Not this year.

The good thing was that CO 14 down to US 40 at Muddy Pass was fine and US 40 itself was fine, so it was only a modest detour. We blasted along through Kremmling, Granby, Winter Park, over Berthoud Pass, and made one last stop at the ice cream spot in Empire. We said our good-byes there and very quickly got separated in the heavy I-70 traffic. One more OFMC trip in the books.

Biker Quote for Today

100 reasons not to date a biker: 6. We crash. It’ll cost a small fortune to fix the bike, and you’ll have to help us in the bathroom until we get the screws out of our collarbone.

If the OFMC had just headed straight for our next stop after Spearfish it would have been about a 90-mile ride. That meant this was another time to play tourists.

We went north out of Spearfish toward Belle Fourche then turned west on SD 34 back into Wyoming, now on WY 24, to Hulett. That was our first stop of the day, and because we had been in no hurry to get going, time for an early lunch. We then continued west to Devil’s Tower.

We’ve been by Devil’s Tower before and gazed at it off over there, but for the first time we went in, rode up to the base, and then took the walk around it. It’s an easy stroll and well worth it, if you’ve never done it. Parking was tricky but we managed to grab a spot a few other bikers were vacating.

Up on the monument we could see some climbers, very obviously coming down. They must have started for the top around 4 a.m. or something like that, in order to beat the heat, and now as they came down it was another scorching day. Then we headed back down for a stop at the cafe/bar down on the highway. And ice cream! Riding is all about ice cream, isn’t it?

Rolling again, we caught US 14 down to Sundance and headed south from there on WY 585. Then we picked up US 85 at Four Corners a continued to south to Newcastle, our destination this day. Newcastle’s a nice town but there wasn’t much to do other than walk out for dinner and then hang out at the motel. The place we stayed was nice, run by some nice people, but the potted plants they put out to make things more homey were totally withered with all this heat. I plucked what looked like a ripe strawberry off a vine and it was like cardboard–zero moisture beneath the skin.

The next day was also to be a short ride so again, no hurry heading out. We headed south on US 85 through Lusk and on down to US 26 at Lingle, then turned east to Torrington, our destination. We stopped for a lunch in Lusk–easily the worst meal of the trip–and then for another break in Lingle. No hurry, you know.

Bill was leading as we headed for Torrington. You know what that means, don’t you? We had looked at the map and saw that we would come into Torrington and then turn right at the main street, and go a couple blocks to our motel. I don’t have to tell you what happened, do I? Bill blew right on past the main road and we had to pull off and turn around. Never let Bill lead.

Our accommodations in Torrington were the second seemingly abandoned warehouse of the trip. How do you build a motel and make it look like an abandoned warehouse? Somebody seems to be good at it.

But this was home for the night and at least there was a more than decent Mexican restaurant just down the street for dinner.

Biker Quote for Today

You might be a Yuppie biker if its not fun to ride unless someone sees you.

The OFMC pulled out of Custer and headed north. But not too far north. This was another day when a short ride called for a diversion. In this case it was that mandatory OFMC-trip stop, gambling.

We headed north on US 385, through Hill City, past Pactola Reservoir, until we got to SD 44, then turned east. We wanted to connect with Norris Peak Road and run up to Nemo Road that way but they really don’t have these things marked very well. We went past it and stopped to reconnoiter, then headed back and figured this must be the road. It was.

Reaching Nemo Road we didn’t stop to discuss it but I was very much aware that this was where, a few years ago, Dennis nearly met his doom. We had stopped for a break and as we got ready to head out I pulled across the road and sat waiting. Dennis followed me without looking to see if the road was clear. It was not. There was a semi coming along at a good clip. Dennis later said he couldn’t hear anything except the roar of all those Harley engines.

He pulled out in front of that truck and that guy slammed on his brakes. I’m sure he must have been cursing this crazy biker but it was not Dennis’s day to die and the truck managed to stop. This was that place.

We cruised up Nemo Road to where County Road 3, Vanocker Canyon Road, goes off to the right. As the guys noted when we stopped, Vanocker Canyon Road is a beauty with the kind of sweepers you dream about. We rode it all the way up into Sturgis.

This was a couple weeks before the rally so things were gearing up but still quiet in Sturgis. Another reason there wasn’t much going on in Sturgis was that the temperature was well above 100. We got into town, parked, and walked to the Knuckle for lunch. We enjoyed the cool in there as long as we could and then just headed back to the bikes and out of town, on our way to Deadwood. But we barely got out of town when we were stopped on the road by construction. No shade, 106 degrees, just sit and wait. Yow!

Finally we were moving again and we made it on up to Deadwood and, after a hassle finding parking, headed into a casino. Nobody was having much luck that day, however, so we didn’t stay long. Back out at the bikes I pulled a bottle of Gatorade out of my bag and took a sip. I might as well have been drinking coffee, it was that warm. Let’s get moving!

On up to Lead and then down to Cheyenne Crossing where we turned north again down Spearfish Canyon. The canyon was beautiful, as always, and a nice ride but if we thought we were going to get some coolness in the canyon we were deluded. We got to Spearfish and quickly found our motel and settled into our rooms, savoring the cool.

Later that evening I went outside to give my wife a call and sat where I could see a time and temperature clock. Talking to her at 10 p.m. the clock was still telling me it was 94 degrees. I guess I’ll name this year’s trip “The Journey Through Heat.”

There would be no rush in the morning, it was to be another short day’s ride. With more heat.

Biker Quote for Today

We know you’re a poser if your $500 boots aren’t scuffed from riding.