Passes & Canyons Blog

That place across the street, just to the right of the stop sign, is where we intended to eat. But no dice on this ride.

As I have remarked previously, I’ve seen yellow leaves before, so going for a fall color ride for me is more about the riding than the color. But if it’s a really nice show of color I certainly appreciate it. Well, apparently the place to go for color this fall was the southern part of Colorado, not the northern part.

Last week the RMMRC did one more fall color ride, this time down to Victor and Cripple Creek. It was a much smaller (seven) and therefore more comfortable group that headed south from Lincoln Avenue down Daniels Park Road, over to Sedalia, and down CO 105 to Monument and then I-25 into Colorado Springs.

We stopped just before turning onto US 24 to shed some layers, though it seemed odd to be taking layers off just as we were about to climb. But I did take off my sweatshirt knowing I could always turn on my electric vest if I needed to. I needed to, and as the temperature dropped as we climbed I soon wished I had left the sweatshirt on. Follow your instincts, not the crowd.

We took US 24 to Divide and turned south on CO 67, but took the fork to the left toward Victor (Teller County Road 821) rather than going into Cripple Creek. The plan was to have lunch in Victor. However, we got to the intended restaurant only to find it closed. This was the second Wednesday in a row that we got somewhere for lunch and found the restaurant closed. Note to all: Any time you plan a lunch ride, call the restaurant first to make sure they’re going to be open.

Meanwhile, backing up, the fall colors along CO 67 were by far the best I’ve seen all year. This is where you needed to go to see fall color. It was definitely beautiful. An unexpected treat.

In the middle of the week there apparently are not very many restaurants open in Victor so we had little choice but to cruise on over to Cripple Creek. But I wondered because I’ve been in Cripple Creek quite a few times and I’ve never identified any particularly good places to eat, unless you want to do some fine dining place in the evening and pay $40 or more for your meal–not what we look for in a lunch stop.

We did see one place, however, that looked like it might be good so that’s where we headed. Funny thing: I can’t remember the name of the place and I stroll down the street on Google Earth and the images are all old, there’s a lot of construction going on, and I can’t find the place. Sorry, I’d like to recommend it because I ordered a pulled pork sandwich and it was one of the best I’ve ever had. Also, Tom ordered an avocado toast and said it was exceptional. It’s on the north side of the street, at the western part of where the street is elevated on one side. If you’ve been to Cripple Creek you know what I mean.

Gearing up before leaving Cripple Creek I was putting my sweatshirt back on and mentioned to Roy how I had thought it odd to remove layers before going up. He said he had that same thought and he did not take anything off. Yeah. Follow your instincts, not the crowd.

We headed straight up to Divide, then east to Woodland Park and then turned north on CO 67 up toward Deckers. Heading toward Divide the sky to the north was starting to look ugly. But where we were it was blue sky and sunshine. OK, enjoy it while you’ve got it.

Heading north out of Woodland Park rain was threatening and soon it was falling. But we rode through it for about a minute and came out on the other side and once again it was blue sky and sunshine. Nice. Up through Deckers and Buffalo Creek to US 285 at Pine Junction and we turned east. Oh boy. Now off to the east the sky didn’t just look threatening, it was black. But there was one spot of lightness on the horizon right exactly where I knew we were headed and I’ll be danged if our luck didn’t hold.

We got all the way to Denver, and I crossed the city on US 285/Hampden and just as I crossed I-25, now two miles from home, it finally started to rain. But even that stopped before I covered those two miles. What a nice day to be out riding! Maybe one of the last really good days we’re going to have for a while.

Biker Quote for Today

If motorcycle riding were a job, I would be the most hardworking employee.

There was a little more color on the south side of Guanella Pass but not a lot.

The RMMRC planned a fall color ride last week so of course I went along. Gathering at the Phillips 66 in Morrison the group was huge. There were at least 14 bikes plus two cars. Wow. Big group, I mentioned to Dave. Yeah, he said, too big.

We headed up Bear Creek Canyon to Evergreen, through town and out the west side on Upper Bear Creek Road to the Witter Gulch Road, which is a really steep climb with super-tight switchbacks near the top. A fun motorcycle road, in other words. At the top you come to CO 103, the Squaw Pass road, which we took left, over the pass, past Echo Lake, and down to Idaho Springs.

It was a really nice day to be riding in the hills, a little cool but I had on full cold weather gear and could not have been more comfortable. But there was not much color to be seen on the way up. That was no surprise to me because Judy and I had just been up to Estes Park, over Trail Ridge Road, and down to Grand Lake the week before and we didn’t see much color then either, and now another week had passed. Mostly the green was just turning brown.

From Idaho Springs we took old US 6 up to Georgetown, where we had a lunch stop planned. Arriving, we found the restaurant closed. Someone had checked with the visitor center and they had pointed us to a brewpub on the east edge of town by the lake. Presumably that was where we were going to go.

Roy asked me to help him push back off this gravel parking area we were on and I did, so I was the very last to leave this first restaurant. I knew where this brew pub was, though, because I had seen it coming into town. As I headed back that way I soon started seeing members of our group coming back toward town, apparently having gone not far enough and thinking they had missed the place. I waved at them to go the way I was headed. Then at the roundabout off I-70 I saw others pulling into a restaurant right there. I waved to them as well but nobody seemed to be following me.

I rode on out to the brew pub and pulled out my phone. Meanwhile, a couple from the group did show up but did not stick around. The only phone number I had was Dave so I called him and told him where I was and that the place was open and there were people inside eating. He told me the place by the roundabout didn’t even open for another 15 minutes and he would tell some of the others but meanwhile he was coming out to join me. A few minutes later he did, no one else did, and we went in to eat. It turned out later that Dave is diabetic and he was nearing a blood sugar crisis so he just needed food, NOW!

So it was kind of pleasant just the two of us. It gave us a chance to talk and get a little better acquainted. I’ve known Dave for about five years now but in a group setting you often don’t have a chance to really get to know people. One on one you do.

After lunch Dave asked if I intended to rejoin the group. I had planned to but he noted that what with finding a place to eat and then getting such a big group served they were not likely to be ready to ride for maybe another hour. He was just going to go on over Guanella Pass without them. Besides, Dave is a go-fast guy and he had not enjoyed the sedate pace you have to take with such a large group.

I went with Dave. At first there was a lot of traffic going up Guanella but apparently a lot of people were planning to hike and every time we passed a trailhead the numbers thinned so soon we were cruising along comfortably. And what a beautiful day! But not much color. Oh well, I’ve seen yellow leaves before.

Over the top and then we pulled out at a view area to get a few photos, such as the one above. Just then in pulled John, another RMMRC member, in his car with his wife, out to see the leaves. Fun. Oh, and there was a bit more color over on the south side of the pass.

So we cruised on down to Grant, picked up US 40 back to town and split up when the time came. It really was a much more pleasant ride just the two of us. I hope the rest of those folks found a good place to eat.

Biker Quote for Today

You are not alone when your bike is with you.

That’s Roy, fourth from left, before our Saturday ride to celebrate his 92nd birthday. We can all wish we’ll still be riding when we’re 92.

On Saturday I rode out with other RMMRC members to a lunch down in Monument for Roy to celebrate his 92nd birthday. That’s right, Roy is 92 and he is still riding. Not just riding. In any given year he probably rides more miles than you do.

It’s no surprise that Roy is an inspiration an awful lot of us in the club. I know I want to be Roy some day. I always end these posts with a Biker Quote for Today and the most apropos of these would be “We don’t stop riding because we get old, we get old because we stop riding.”

This all ties in with an email exchange I’ve been having with Nick, who a couple weeks ago came out from Chicago with his BMW R1250RS. We did three day rides and then a three-day ride while he was here.

Nick had been reading this blog and saw that I was talking about maybe swapping my V-Strom and Concours for one bike that would be between them in size and capable of replacing them both. One bike I’ve identified as a possibility is the Yamaha Tracer. It seems that everyone who I mention this to is wildly enthusiastic about me making the swap. Which, frankly, makes me a little more hesitant.

Anyway, Nick emailed me last week and offered this thought:

I was thinking about your process for potentially getting a new bike. It is understandable you take a lot of time to pull the trigger. My question is what is your “riding life expectancy”? At some point in the not-too-distant future you will likely stop for one reason or another. (This is obvious to you I am sure).

I for one would encourage you to do it sooner rather than later. I am not sure how much longer I will ride but although my bike is expensive to maintain, it is pretty satisfying to ride. If going lighter makes sense, that Tracer seems like a decent bet. I think the GT version runs about 485 lbs wet, vs my 550 lbs with bags.

My reply sums up my current thinking pretty well:

As for riding life expectancy, just yesterday I went out with a bunch of guys for a lunch celebrating birthday 92 of Roy, the RMMRC president. Roy still probably rides more than you and me put together in any given year. I aspire to be Roy, as do many others in the group.

Realistically, I see no reason for me to give up riding any time soon. Having had my heart surgery, without which I would probably already be dead, I’m in extremely good, robust health. If my largest bike–currently my Concours–ever gets to be just too big and heavy I will move to something smaller. I could be riding that V-Strom for a long, long time.

So I’m in no hurry to pull the trigger. And while I have plenty of money, in terms of cash on hand this has been an expensive year. On Tuesday of this week I finally got my final crown on a new implant–the end of about an 11-month process. That tooth cost as much as a new motorcycle.

No, I’m not going to rush into anything. In about a year, if I’m still even thinking about it I may get more serious. Meanwhile, looking at the possibility of getting rid of any of the bikes I have has got me thinking more deeply about what I like about these bikes and why I got them in the first place. In fact, I’m already thinking that heck, I may end up replacing the Concours but I’ll probably not let go of the V-Strom. Stay with three bikes rather than cutting back to two.

It’s that kind of evolution of my thinking that leads me to move slowly.

So don’t expect to be reading anything here anytime soon about me and a new bike. But someday . . .

Meanwhile, yeah, I want to be Roy. I intend to be Roy. And then all these younger guys in that future RMMRC can aspire to be Ken.

Biker Quote for Today

“If you end up with a boring miserable life because you listened to your mom, your dad, your teacher, your priest, or some guy on television telling you how to do your s—, then you deserve it.” — Frank Zappa

Is this where the problem is?

The RMMRC was doing a lunch ride last week and I figured I’d go. The bike to take this day was the Honda CB750. It seemed a little hesitant starting but I didn’t think a lot about that. But I did take note.

We were gathering as we so often do at the Phillips 66 station in Morrison so I headed out that way. Oh my god, what traffic! Bandimere Speedway is immediately north of this station and it turns out they were having some blow-out farewell event. Which is to say, after all these years, Bandimere is shutting down and presumably is moving somewhere else. There was a long line of cars coming off the highway from southbound and that line snaked around and made the right turn onto Rooney Road, which runs up to Bandimere. Normally I would turn onto Rooney and then do a quick left into the station. This time, fortunately, I could go past Rooney and turn into the station’s other exit.

I needed gas so I pulled up to the pump. After filling I wanted to pull over where the other guys were gathered but this time the bike very nearly did not start. Not the hesitation of at home; this time it was extremely iffy. But it did start and I pulled over.

I needed to hit the restroom so I parked and ran and did that and when I got back they were all firing up and getting ready to ride. I turned the key, pushed the starter, and nothing happened. Not for a second or two anyway, but then it fired and caught immediately. I leaned over to Roy and told him I was not sure about my bike, it seemed there was a battery problem. He said he thought I’d be fine, and if need be he had cables to jump-start me. So reluctantly I decided to cruise on.

We rode into Morrison just enough to get on Mount Vernon Avenue, which runs around the east end of town and heads up past Red Rocks. We went on up to and then under I-70 and made a left turn onto old U.S. 40, which runs alongside I-70 heading up Mount Vernon Canyon. For some odd reason there was a ton of traffic here and we had to wait a couple times before we could get through the light and make our turn. And some idiot woman coming the other way thought that she ought to go ahead and make her right turn onto U.S. 40 even though we were clearly using the space but I made it entirely plain to her that I was not yielding.

These were all red flags and I didn’t like how this day was shaping up. Plus, now that we were above the interstate on the side of the hill we could see that it was a parking lot. Good thing we’re not on that road.

Mixed in with us up ahead was a guy in a 1968 Impala and we hadn’t gone very far when he did a quick u-turn and held his finger up waving it in a circle as he went past going the other direction. I didn’t have to wonder why for more than a second or two because I then saw that our road was also a parking lot just ahead. OK, that’s it. I’m taking the hint and going home. I waved to Roy and Charley, behind me, and turned back.

I figured stop-and-go like that is never fun, it’s murder on your clutch wrist, and with a bike that probably won’t start again if I make a small error in hand and foot coordination one of the many times I would need to move forward–going uphill–this just was not something I was going to do. I hoped I would have no problem getting home but as long as I kept the bike running I should be fine. And I was.

At home I flipped open my Samsung tablet and immediately saw an item about a crash on I-70 up by Floyd Hill backing up west-bound traffic. Yep.

So I saw Roy two days later and he told me I made the right choice. They soon turned around and just headed over to a place in Golden to have a somewhat early lunch. Then they all went home. This was a ride that was just not going to happen.

Of course, then I was still going to need to figure out what’s wrong with my bike.

Biker Quote for Today

When writing the story of your life, never let anyone else hold the pen.

The EagleRider tour stopped at Marin Headlands on the last day of the ride.

I got a reminder on this recent RMMRC New Mexico ride of the differences in how Europeans ride vs. Americans. Alberto, who I guess I haven’t mentioned before, is Italian. He connected with the RMMRC for this trip because someone posted the ride on the BMW riders club‘s events listing. Welcome Alberto.

I rode with a bunch or Europeans way back in 2010 on a media tour hosted by EagleRider. There were French, Italians, Brits, Canadians, and even a few of us from the U.S. And it turns out that accepted protocol varies from one country to another.

Alberto reminded me of all this by the way he rode so close behind the leader whenever he was riding second. That is to say, he didn’t ride so close when he was further back. My interpretation was that when he had people in front of him riding at a decent gap he fell into the same pattern, but when the only one in front of him was the leader he was always right behind the leader.

For most people in this country–certainly for me–that’s a no-no. I don’t want somebody crowding me like that.

But here’s the thing: For the most part, those guys are much better riders than 90 percent of American riders. Their training and licensing rules are vastly stricter than what we have here. In short, they ride close together because they know the other people around them, in cars and on motorcycles, are highly trained and skilled and they can all do this together safely. Say that about Americans and you’ll get laughed out of the room.

I remember on that EagleRider tour being really annoyed by how these guys would be right on my butt, and some of the others were also not pleased. But for them it was perfectly normal. I mean, I consider myself a pretty darn good rider but I would not be at all comfortable going 130 on the Autobahn. That’s what these guys do–safely.

Could we have stricter training and licensing regulations–and safer roads? Probably not a chance. Over there driving is defined as a privilege, one you have to earn. Over here it is deemed a right and don’t you dare try to impinge on my rights. And yes, that includes my right to talk on my cell phone while I’m driving in heavy traffic. (Not!)

But even if you really are that skilled, I’d appreciate it if you would give me a bit more space. It’s just what my comfort level desires.

Biker Quote for Today

Riding a motorcycle is like an art–something you do because you feel something inside.

One of the sweet roads we rode on this trip.

Q: What do you call it when your whole group just splinters?
A: The last day.

Heading out on the last day of the RMMRC New Mexico ride it was every man for himself. Some wanted to get home ASAP and got up early and blasted. Others didn’t get such an early start but were gone before the rest of us had finished breakfast. Then there were those of us who were not in a hurry and still intended to have a enjoyable day’s ride.

John and Alberto got up early and headed out. Tom and Dave left without me knowing it, as did Bruce, who I was told planned to take I-25 and may or may not have been traveling with Dave and Tom. That left Charley, Gene, Randy, and me, and we got off about 8:15.

Gas at Questa, then north. At first Gene set an easy pace, about 75, and that was fine with me. His speed increased gradually till we were going about 85. Turned left at Fort Garland, over to CO 17 at Alamosa and north. There was a sign that there was chip-sealing going on along 17 and we soon ran into that, but at first they stopped us, let a car pass the other way, and waved us on. Turned out it was not a fresh chip-seal and in fact they were sweeping off the loose gravel. And it only went on for a few miles so we got past it easily and quickly. Much nicer than the chip seal we ran into coming into Grants a couple days earlier.

Then lots of blasting and passing. The weather was beautiful. Above us only blue and to the northeast some light clouds, not of the thunderstorm variety. We stopped for a pee break in Fort Garland and then rode on to Poncha Springs. Stopped for a bit at the same place we stopped on the way out. Then rode on just to Buena Vista and stopped to get gas. This is a much more civilized way to travel than the river trip where stopping in less than 150 miles was frowned upon.

Then we just rode. Running pretty fast and passing a lot of other vehicles. The weather held and it was a really nice day to be out on the road. Saw a lot of other motorcycles, which seemed a little odd considering it was a week day. But we’d seen a lot of bikes so I guess maybe it’s just summer.

I’m getting the hang of coming back to town down US 285 with a group on bikes. Leaving Fairplay I was not committed to keeping up with Gene and Randy but did so as much as possible and, because of traffic, succeeding. Charley seemed to be thinking the same thing. Then we got to Pine Junction and the two of them got in the right lane and I moved into the almost vacant left lane and blasted past them and was now well out in front. I cruised at a comfortable, for me, pace of 75 and after awhile they caught up and passed me, with Charley now having caught up with them so he followed me on in.

We got to C-470 pretty much together and Randy cut off and we three continued east. All the way. I was the first to turn off although Charley had moved to the left lane in considerable lead of his left turn. I believe Gene lives in Aurora, somewhere not far east of Havana. Not sure they even saw me turn. And then in another eight blocks I was home. All in all a really good ride.

Biker Quote for Today

Dad, why do people who ride motorcycles look so happy?

Look son, in my opinion they are crazy. Also, they have a weird philosophy, they think they are free, they believe in enjoying the wind in their faces, the dust, the rain, the sun and everything else. They call their friends brothers; they help each other, they greet each other even though they are strangers. When they get off their bikes they embrace as if they have not seen each other in years, they live for the day, they are likely to die at any time but apparently do not care.

Dad, can you buy me a motorcycle?

On the New Mexico ride.

If you only have one motorcycle then you have no issue, the bike you have is the best one for this ride. But I have three, so that requires some decision-making any time I go out.

On this recent RMMRC New Mexico ride I took the V-Strom and it ended up I was glad I did. It wasn’t in the plan and I’m not sure any of us knew what it was like, but we ended up riding US 191 which, as I mentioned previously, was a motorcyclist’s dream. On a road with lots of curves marked 15 mph and 10 mph it’s really nice to have a light, agile bike.

I was riding ahead of Charley and he really brought it home at one point when he told me it was just everything he could do to keep up with me. Now, Charley is a good rider but he has a really big BMW. Not one of the very biggest, but no small beast. So while he was really working that thing I was dancing.

I think the general tendency of a lot of riders is to discount something small like the 650 V-Strom I ride but then there are days like that one when they are forced to reconsider. It happened last year on the Great River Road ride. We did a day going through some hilly country and I was riding second, behind Dave, who is a very good rider, on a large machine. I was on the V-Strom.

Thinking about it at the time, I concluded that with Dave on that machine, surely my little bike was more agile and so if he could do it, I could do it. And I stuck right with him the whole way–a bit to his surprise I believe. That night as we walked to dinner he told me, “You did some fine riding today.” Yeah, it has a lot to do with the bike.

Later on this New Mexico ride we had left Grants but had to stop briefly to regroup at Milan. While there we talked with some guys on mid-sized dirt bikes. I watched one in particular who walked along the line of our bikes checking out each one. He came to mine, with me on it, and he broke into a big grin and gave me a thumbs-up. He came over and said this was his favorite street bike, that he used to have one just like it, even the same color. Then he leaned in and in a lower voice, conspiratorially, said “All these other expensive, fancy bikes . . . this one’s more fun to ride.”

So now the OFMC is getting set to take off on our annual trip and I’m torn. We’re going to be doing a lot of miles and the Concours is the better highway bike. But we’re also heading up to Lolo Pass, up near Missoula down into Idaho. At the top of Lolo Pass, heading west, there is a sign “warning” you that there is nothing but winding road for the next 99 miles. Please don’t throw me in that briar patch. And that’s the kind of road the V-Strom is best at.

I’ve ridden Lolo once before, and I was on the V-Strom that time. But my recollection is that these 99 miles don’t have the 10 mph and 15 mph curves that US 191 has. Whatever; I’ve already taken the V on a long trip this year and the Connie gets to have her chance.

Biker Quote for Today

Sometimes I wonder if my bike is thinking about me too.

Time to relax after a 300-mile day.

As the crow flies it is about 175 miles from Grants, New Mexico, to Red River. Of course that’s not how roads go but sometimes, if you really try, you can make the ride a whole lot longer. On this recent RMMRC New Mexico ride, we made it about 300.

Grants to Red River is northeast, so we started by going west. That’s because there’s really no way to make that run going east without going through or around Albuquerque. No fun. Plus, that would have entailed riding all the way from Grants to Albuquerque on I-40. Extra no fun.

Instead, we headed west on I-40 about 25 miles to Thoreau, and then turned north. But first, barely getting going, I noticed that Charley, riding sweep, was nowhere to be seen. It turned out that just as he was getting on the highway his glasses simply fell apart. Unable to put them back together there on the spot, he pulled out some prescription sunglasses and put those on, then cranked it to catch up.

Seeing that he wasn’t behind me, I slowed down a lot. Once he caught up with me I tried catching up with the other guys but they were blasting. I was hitting 95 at times and couldn’t catch up, although when we passed a radar sign the other day it said I was going seven mph slower than what my speedometer was saying, so who knows how fast I was really going.

The others pulled off at the next exit, Milan, which is where we caught up with them. We sat there a little while, during which time we chatted a bit with some guys on dirt bikes. Then we were off again.

At Thoreau we headed north on NM 371, and then reached CR 9, which turned east. We were on the rim of a basin right there, heading into the basin, and as far as I could see we were heading into a lot of nothing. That told me this next stretch was going to be long and mostly straight. And it was. Plus, a mileage sign said Cuba, our next destination, 94 miles.

So we cruised along a ways and came to an intersection of a road coming up from the south and there were three dirt bikes parked there. I wondered if those were those same guys. If so, either we took a longer route than we might have or they rode on gravel. Who knew?

After awhile we came upon maybe the biggest array of solar panels any of us has ever seen. There was a little store there and we were overdue for a stop so we did. Meanwhile, apparently the dirt bikers went past us while we were in there because when we stopped in Cuba there they were again. I asked and they said they came up on the road from where we’d seen them and it was paved and a nice road. Some of the navigation on this trip has not been the best, it seems. But it can be really hard to know what a road is like with just maps.

We headed on from Cuba, presumably to Alcalde and to the south end of Taos to do the Angel Fire loop. At some point Gene took the lead and we were headed the route I expected and then he made a left turn. I forgot my maps on this trip so for maybe the first time ever I was not able to check and see where we were and what our route was. But this seemed wrong.

We kept going north then turned east past a sign saying Ojo Caliente ahead. I thought oh man! Ojo Caliente? Why are we so far north? And then we hit US 285 and Ojo Caliente was south and we turned north. I thought, oh man, if we take 285 up to Tres Piedras and go east we’ll be on US 64 headed for the north end of Taos. And I decided if that happened I would go left to Questa regardless of what everyone else did.

But we didn’t go to Tres Piedras, we turned east on what turned out to be a cut-off. Nobody ahead of me stopped to make sure folks behind made the turn so I did, but I wasn’t really in a place where they could see me in time to make the turn. Bruce did made the turn, and Charley, but Bruce said later he knew about the turn and would not have seen me in time. We reached US 64 just west of the Rio Grande Gorge and yes, that’s where we were.

Coming up to the NM 150 intersection, Gene pulled over and said we had two options: go left to Questa and over and beat the rain or go through Taos and head right into the belly of the beast. “Look at that over there.” The sky “over there” was as dark and ugly as you could imagine.

We headed to Questa. We got to Red River and got checked in, then sat out on the deck drinking, smoking cigars, and talking. And then about the time we were heading out to dinner the rain arrived. Two days in a row now that we dodged it while on the bikes. Our luck continued to hold.

Biker Quote for Today

Happiness is a motorcycle, a full tank of gas and twisty roads.