Passes & Canyons Blog

How the heck do we get through this herd?

If you’ve been around the West much you may have encountered this sort of thing yourself: There’s a sheep herder moving his flock, or maybe it’s a bunch of cowboys moving a herd of cattle to new pasture. Either way, they’re taking up the entire road and you’re kind of stuck.

It happened to Judy and the kids on a summer camping trip many years ago. They were going along this little-used road when they came upon sheep. Everywhere. The sheep herder was apologetic and said he’d get them moved out of their way as quickly as possible but Judy and the kids were fascinated watching the sheep dogs do their work. Take your time, they told him.

It also happened to the OFMC one year. We were heading northeast out of Chama, New Mexico, toward Antonito, Colorado, over Cumbres and La Manga Passes when we encountered a herd of cattle. The cowboys and their dogs were doing their best to keep the herd moving but they could not have been less concerned about this group of bikers being held up by the cattle.

We didn’t see that we had much option other than to wait, but that might have been a long wait. Not certain what to do, we did nothing for a bit. Then a guy in a large pick-up came up behind us, sized up the situation, and pulled past us and started blowing his horn as he came up on the cows’ rears. They started jostling and pushing the crowd away, opening up a path for the pick-up.

We were thrilled. Let’s go guys, make some noise!!

We did our best to fall in behind the truck, though it got further ahead of us after a while and the herd filled in the space. All of us were blowing our horns, the Harley boys were revving their engines as loudly as they could, and we just counted on the cattle to get out of our way, which they did, sort of.

So we’re shoving our way through the herd and John, who was leading, took to pulling some shenanigans. We didn’t get it at the time but he told us later that he would deliberately ride through a cow pie and then rev his engine to break traction and–hopefully, for him–throw chunks of the cow pie up onto those of us behind him. Nice guy, John. Fortunately for the rest of us, his plan didn’t work.

This was slow going, and a good number of cows left the road and started climbing up the hill on the left or down the slope on the right. The cowboys and dogs kept busy guiding them back to the herd. And we finally got through. That was one unexpected highlight to this trip.

Now every time I go over those passes I wonder if I’m going to run into another herd. And I try to identify the stretch along which it happened but you’re out in the forest, you know, and one stand of trees looks pretty much like any other stand of trees.

But it makes a great story.

Biker Quote for Today

“What happened on the way, who I met, all that was incidental. I had not quite realized that the interruptions were the journey.” — Ted Simon, Jupiter’s Travels

A group of bikes enters Yellowstone National Park.

We’ve all faced this situation I’m sure: When you’re riding with a group, what extremes do you really need to go to to keep the group together?

In the few days I was with the RMMRC California trip group I had several opportunities to consider this question.

I, for one, am of the school that it really doesn’t matter all that much. If everyone knows where you’re going to wind up at the end of the day what does it matter if someone separates or gets separated from the group? Of course, that assumes the separation is voluntary: you don’t want to lose sight of someone behind you and keep going, only to find out later that they had mechanical trouble and could have used your assistance. I have been that guy who got left behind and I did not appreciate it.

In the old days it was a different story. Before cell phones. Back then, getting separated could be a real problem. But that day is long gone.

But I’m really not even talking about that kind of separation. What I’m talking about here is keeping all bikes in one group with no other vehicles in between. That means passing, for instance. If you have six bikes–which we did–and you go to pass someone it is not a surprise when one or more bikes are not able to get around immediately. Does it really matter? I think not but I’ve seen people make risky passes just to stay with the guy ahead. Why? Why not wait until it’s really safe and then pass?

The flip side of that is the guy in the lead. If you’re going to pass someone, don’t get by, pull in, and then ride sedately. You need to maintain some speed so that you open up space for the guy behind you to pull in ahead of the car you just passed. And then for the guy after him and the guy after him. On this trip I saw both of these things happening.

And yes, sometimes the leader passes but cannot keep putting distance between themselves and the car they passed because there is another car in front of them now. That should be visible to the guy behind and he should respond accordingly. But I didn’t think that was much at issue on this trip. Maybe it was and I just didn’t notice.

Bottom line is, don’t do risky stuff just to keep the bikes together. Problem is, some people seem to do exactly that.

Biker Quote for Today

I ride motorcycles because punching people is frowned upon.

Taking a break along the road in 2010. That’s Pawnee Buttes off on the horizon.

Chicks dig guys on motorcycles, it has been said. And yeah, there’s some truth to that–we all know it. So it’s natural to wonder what encounters or even escapades have been visited upon the OFMC over the years. Well, there have been a few.

First we need to make clear that in the very early days neither Bill nor I were married, so potential did exist. But the fact is that nothing ever happened in those years and then we both got married. Being married changes the dynamic a bit (he said with considerable understatement).

Way back in 1995 Bill had a problem with the stator on his Honda Shadow so John and I left without him. He jury-rigged a fix and later met us in Thermopolis, Wyoming. Meanwhile, that first day, John and I made it to Wheatland and got a room for the night. Being a couple guys out on a fun trip, we had a bite to eat and then hit a nearby bar.

We were just minding our own business when a quite drunk and not at all attractive local woman approached us. We were happy to make conversation but she quickly brought the conversation around to, would the two of us like to head back to her place? OK, didn’t really expect this. Um, no. No thanks. Gosh, thanks for asking. But by golly, she is not forgotten.

In 2003 we spent our only night ever in Aspen. Aspen is super expensive but John found the one reasonably priced place in town. Cool. It was the three of us, Bill, John, and me, and again, we headed for a bar after dinner.

We ended up sitting at the bar right next to a couple women whose tight, taut facial skin told of “work” to banish lines of age. Clearly the well-to-do sort you expect to find in Aspen. We got to chatting with them and they seemed to have some interest in these biker guys they had met, until . . .

At some point I brought up the subject of Hunter Thompson. Besides being an outlandish gonzo journalist, Thompson, a resident of the area, had run for sheriff of Pitkin County. He didn’t win but as I recall he didn’t exactly get crushed at the polls either. I asked the woman next to me if there had ever been an likelihood that he might win.

Her reaction took us totally by surprise. She immediately grew very hostile and acted insulted at the idea that we would think they were stupid enough to vote for such an idiot. Um, excuse me but I was implying nothing and only asking a question. Guess maybe it’s time we move on to some other watering hole.

Then in 2005 we were in Encampment, Wyoming. This was the first day of the trip and it was a pretty short ride to get there so once again (is there a theme developing here?) we were in the only local establishment when a big crowd of bikers on a poker run engulfed the place. We got to talking and partying with the crowd and then at one point a local woman seemed to take a bit of an interest in Bill.

Bill was still single at this point so when she suggested they go for a ride he was happy to oblige. John and I were thinking, OK, Bill’s going to get lucky. But then it wasn’t long before he was back, without her. Turned out, he told us, along the way they spotted a guy who didn’t look friendly. “Oh, oh, that’s my ex-husband,” she told him. So he dropped her off and made a possibly well-advised exit.

In 2010 we didn’t go to Wyoming, we did a trip around Wyoming. By now it was a much bigger group, with sons and friends of sons joining the older guys on the ride. We stopped one night in Big Timber, Montana, where the only thing going at night was the bowling alley. It was a happening night at the bowling alley, with a lot of drinking going on, and after awhile the old guys headed on back to the hotel, leaving the scene to the young guys.

We were in an old hotel of the sort where there were no private facilities; the restrooms were down the hall. Sometime during the night John pulled on his pants and went down the hall to get rid of some beer and heard some odd thumping going on in one of the shower stalls. The next morning he learned it had been Matt–the brother of a friend of a son, on his only ride with the OFMC–and some lady he met at the bar. So for once something actually happened.

Later on that same trip we were in Broadus, Montana, and just hanging out in the parking lot at our motel in the evening. Some woman also staying there was attracted to all these bikers and came over to chat. Very friendly. Turned out she was working. Why anyone would choose to ply that trade in this little wide spot in the road is beyond me. She didn’t find any business among our crowd, although Matt did show some amount of interest. Young guys and testosterone.

So yeah, that’s the sort of wild and crazy life you lead when you’re a stud biker.

Biker Quote for Today

You know you’re a biker when nothing heals like two wheels.

A rest stop on that trip in 2002, just a bit south of Jackpot.

We of the OFMC have always had a soft spot for one really out of the way spot: Jackpot, Nevada.

Jackpot is a wide spot in the road, right on the state line with Idaho, about 50 miles south of Twin Falls. By right on the state line I mean that coming south you cross into Nevada and you’re in the middle of town. I once, back in the days before we always wore helmets, came across the state line figuring I would be fine without a helmet the short distance (100 yards?) to our hotel. (Nevada is a bucket state.) Wrong. A cop flagged me down immediately and said no, I needed to stop short of the state line and put the helmet on. OK, lesson learned.

The OFMC favors Jackpot for a couple reasons. First, it’s a gambling stop, which is mandatory on any trip. Second, it has a surprisingly nice golf course, which is also an OFMC must.

But it can also be a fun place. As with any big casino, Cactus Pete’s has an auditorium where they have shows. It’s not like way out here in this podunk place you’re going to get top headliners but on the other hand, ticket prices are nothing like what they are in Las Vegas.

We were there one time and the show that night was Bowser, the lead singer from the group Sha Na Na. OK, that sounds like fun, let’s do it. Besides, the longer you spend sitting and watching a show the less money you lose at the slots or the tables.

So Bowser was good and we enjoyed his part of the show but I don’t now remember much about it. What we all remember was what they did during intermission: a hula-hoop contest.

By this time the OFMC was a mixed group of the original guys and others of our generation, plus the sons and friends of sons of the older guys. Everyone was egging on anyone who might be willing to get up there on stage and potentially make a fool of themselves and I got up there and so did Johnathon, John’s son.

They started out with three categories: men, women, and kids. Yes, there were kids allowed because it was a show and they just weren’t allowed to drink, of course.

Johnathon was a hot shot and he figured of course he would take the men’s competition and he was dumbstruck when I emerged the winner. Not the first or last time Johnathon has underestimated me. Then the winners of each group faced off.

I don’t remember anything about the winner of the women’s group but there was a young girl who won the kids’ group. And oh my gosh, she skunked us totally.

We got up there and I’m gyrating and trying to keep that hoop up above my waist, struggling mightily, and unsuccessfully and the girl was just very easily, casually, sedately, swinging that puppy around and around. Just to rub it in, she kept going for a good while after the other two of us had lost. And Johnathon was pleased to see me lose so decisively after he had lost to me so badly.

I’ve thought about the whole thing since then and I think I understand how it worked out. This little girl had hips wider than her stomach, whereas we older folks had more belly and less hip. I think it’s just easier to keep the hoop above your hips when you’re shaped that way. I mean it couldn’t just be that she was better at hula hoop than me, could it? No, no. couldn’t be.

Anyway–we always had a good time at Jackpot. Always a favorite stop.

Biker Quote for Today

You might be a Yuppie biker if your saddlebags have a special pocket for your cell phone.

That’s Johnathon’s Virago before it fell. That’s Johnathon on the left, next to his dad.

Have you ever parked your motorcycle and come back to it later to find it laying on the ground? If you ride a Harley, probably not. Those broad, sweeping kickstands hold things really solidly. Not so much with a lot of other bikes. But sometimes even Harleys can fall.

On the second ever OFMC trip we were headed back into Colorado from New Mexico when we got caught in a cloudburst. We just rode through it and we dried off quickly enough but by the time we reached Alamosa that moisture and subsequent evaporation combined to bring us hypothermia. We headed for the nearest coffee shop and sat there for two hours drinking pot after pot of coffee, trying to stop shaking.

As an aside, coffee is not the best thing to drink in this situation. You’ll get a lot better results if you drink something like hot chocolate. Just FYI.

When we finally got warmed up we figured it was time to find a motel, so we walked on out to the bikes. Well, guess what. This coffee shop’s parking lot was newly repaved and the day was a really hot one. John’s kickstand, which was pretty vertical with a small foot, had sunk right into that asphalt and his bike had toppled over onto Bill’s, with both of them going down.

OK, lesson learned. From then on when it was hot and we were on asphalt we knew to find a flattened aluminum can or a broad rock or something to put under the stand. Later we all acquired pucks to carry with us. We do learn.

A couple years later, on a trip where John’s son Johnathon was with us, we were up in Idaho, heading north from Arco. At some point we spotted a nice, shady spot to pull over and take a break. We weren’t on pavement or rock but no big deal. Until, as we lounged there taking it easy, there came a crash. Johnathon’s bike–the one that had been John’s and knocked Bill’s bike over previously, had sunk into the soft dirt and gone down. At least no other bikes were involved and Johnathon, too, now learned the lesson.

A couple years after that, with Dennis now part of the group, we were up in Wyoming in the Bighorn Mountains. We stayed at a lodge where the people were so creepy it gave us thoughts of the Stephen King novel and movie, “The Shining,” but that’s a whole other story.

It rained hard that night. No problem, the parking lot was gravel. Well, maybe gravel and sand. And Dennis came out in the morning to find his Gold Wing laying on its side, with the kickstand sunk deeply into the more sand than gravel spot where he left it. Dang.

Now, those are the kinds of falls that even a Harley would be vulnerable to, because when the ground is soft even something broad and flat will sink. But it’s especially likely with a very vertical stand with a small foot. Such as on my Honda CB750. Or my old Kawasaki Concours. Or my Suzuki V-Strom. Are you catching my drift?

It was not long at all after I first bought the CB750 that I rode over to meet John and his wife Cheryl at a park where they were watching Johnathon playing soccer. When I parked the bike the ground was sloped such that it was standing up pretty straight but I figured it would be fine. Wrong. We came back to the bike and there it was on the ground. Apparently just the wind was enough to tip it too far.

Then there was the day I was out on the Connie and parked along a street with a pretty good crown to it. Which is to say, with the kickstand on the left and a slope to the right, that bike was quite upright. And yeah, I came back to it and it was down.

And then later I got the V-Strom and on one of my first rides with it I was with a group down along the Platte River up in the hills and we pulled off by the river. I jockeyed that thing a good bit to be sure I had it somewhere where it would be OK but I misjudged. I got off, walked away, and had only gotten about 10 feet when there was this big crash behind me. Dang. Dang. Dang.

There have been others. And there’s always something that breaks. I guess it’s all just part of the expense of riding motorcycles. It sure has been for me.

Biker Quote for Today

100 reasons not to date a biker: 30. Yes, the bike gets a Christmas gift.

After our stupid joke Bill and I bought a round for the group in a bar in Medicine Bow.

If you ride in a group it’s the generally accepted practice that you are responsible for making sure the guy behind you is still there. And if he’s not you slow down to let him catch up, and if he still doesn’t show maybe you stop and wait. And if he still doesn’t show you go back.

My friend Jungle always says that if you stop you should wait five minutes before going back. If the guy behind is OK, five minutes won’t matter. If he’s dead it won’t matter either.

Now, that’s not to say that the OFMC has always followed this rule. I was heading west on I-70 behind Brett and Randy one time when I had a flat just east of Rifle. I pulled over but I couldn’t get off the bike because the road sloped away and if I put out my kickstand the bike was going to fall to the right. Fine, I’ll just wait here until they come back for me.

Well, they didn’t. After awhile I started waving at any bikers passing on the highway, hoping someone would stop to give me a hand. Several did pass, and seemed like they wanted to stop, but they were going fast and by the time they could have stopped they would have been a quarter mile down the road. But finally a couple did stop, and they started hoofing it back to where I was.

Just at that time a guy in a pick-up came along and he stopped. Do you need help? You bet I do. He helped me hoist the bike up onto the center stand, which is amazingly hard to do when you have a flat tire–not sure why. So by the time the biker couple got there all I could say was thanks a whole lot but I don’t need you any more. But thank you so much.

It turns out that Brett and Randy noticed I was not behind them so they pulled off at Rifle. But the exit goes downhill, to where you can’t see the vehicles passing by above on the highway. After sitting there a few minutes they decided I must have just gone on past them on the highway so they took off again. Wrong. Once I was finally able to rejoin the whole group the next day neither of them said one word, like “Oops” or “Sorry” or anything. Jungle told me, “You need new friends.”

Which brings me back to Bill and Ken’s really bad practical joke.

We were up in Wyoming one time coming down a highway in the middle of nowhere, me riding sweep and Bill just in front of me. We got to a fork and I don’t know how we knew this but we knew that if we took the fork to the right it would rejoin this same road a little further along. The other guys were going to the left. Presumably, considering when this was, Bill must have pulled over at the fork and when I pulled up next to him he suggested that we take this other road and ride fast and be waiting for them up ahead. A fun surprise.

So we peeled off and we got to where the roads rejoined and we sat and waited. And waited. And waited. Oops, you don’t suppose they noticed we weren’t there and are looking for us? Bill headed back on the road they were coming on while I sat at the intersection in case someone came the other way. And of course that’s what it was. They were looking all over for us, riding back the way we had all come and getting very concerned.

Considering how unorganized we were back then, the ploy might have worked except that just a quarter mile past the fork there was a rest area and the group pulled off. It was not hard to realize we were not there. Where are those guys? When did you see them last? They found out when Bill got all the way back to that spot.

They were not happy. They wouldn’t let us live that one down for a long time. What in the world made us think this would be a clever trick?

I do think that after my flat by Rifle everyone in the group really came to understand that you are responsible for keeping an eye on the guy behind you, so we’re not unteachable.

Biker Quote for Today

100 reasons not to date a biker: 20. We smell like leather and gasoline.