Passes & Canyons Blog

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.

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.

Lunch time in Quemado.

Leaving Silver City on Day Four of the RMMRC‘s recent New Mexico trip we enjoyed the benefits of taking a different route than planned the day before. In addition to enjoying the fabulous US 191, which we would have missed entirely, we now rode north on US 180, the route we would have been backtracking on if we had not taken US 191. So now it was a new road, not a repeat.

And make no mistake, US 180 is a very nice road, going through some really nice terrain. The day before, when the decision was made to take 191 I was displeased because I knew what a nice road we were missing, while not suspecting what a great road we had in store.

We headed north, through Buckhorn, Alma, to Rancho Grande Estates, where we turned east on NM 12, to Apache Creek, where we turned north on NM 32, to Quemado. The last time I had been on this road was in 2018 when the OFMC was on what I dubbed “the Chipseal Tour.” At that time this entire 38-mile stretch was being chip-sealed and that was really about all we paid attention to. This time it was just smooth road and I got to enjoy the road and the country. And like the run up US 180, it was a nice road to ride.

We got to Quemado and figured it was time for lunch and gas. One question we’d had earlier was whether we might like to go a little further east on US 60 to a place called Pie Town. The main thing going on in that town is that they sell pie. How inviting is that? The problem would have been that it is another 20 or so miles out of our way, which would have made it a nearly 40-mile side trip, just for lunch. Did we want to do that? Plus, the sky was looking pretty threatening. We had decided we would put off any decision until we got to Quemado.

So we got to Quemado and pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant, which turned out to be closed. Was there another restaurant in town? We weren’t sure. We had noticed a road running northwest out of Pie Town that connected to our route a bit to the north–was that road paved?

Our deliberations were interrupted by a woman who drove over to us and got out. Were we looking for a restaurant? There is a really nice one just up the street past the gas station. And by the way, she owns them both and due to a labor shortage they each close on different days of the week. We asked her about the road out of Pie Town and she said it definitely is not paved and it is a dirt road you really, really do not want to get caught on if it rains–which is what the sky was seriously threatening. We ate at her second place up the street.

After lunch we headed out in a hurry but there was no need for speed–the clouds were going the other way and we stayed completely dry. We took NM 36 north to where it connected with NM 117, which runs northeast through El Malpais National Monument. No surprise that this is a very pretty area, too, and if I had been in the lead we would have stopped at Ventana Arch, a big arch very near the road with a parking area. But I wasn’t and we didn’t.

We reached I-40 four miles east of Grants, our stop for the night. We got gas right there and then had the option of blasting four miles on the interstate to town or taking a four-mile stretch of old Route 66 to town. Most of us chose Route 66. Bad, bad choice.

I didn’t see what happened with the guys ahead of me but just before we got onto that stretch of road I noticed a pilot car parked next to the road. Some construction going on? Immediately ahead it was obvious from the very clear difference in appearance that some work had been done on the road. In another second I knew what the work had been, it was chip seal. And apparently, earlier that day, when the crew got to their stopping point they had just dumped all their remaining gravel right there.

I hit about four inches of completely loose gravel and fish-tailed wildly, struggling to keep the bike up. Charley, behind me, tells me he saw me fish-tailing and at least had some time to prepare but nevertheless found himself fish-tailing wildly, too. After that first part the gravel wasn’t so deep but we had four miles of the stuff to ride through to get to Grants. It was a slow, unsteady ride. I was just glad I was on the V-Strom and not the Concours.

Within minutes of reaching the motel the skies did finally open up. After dodging rain all day we were off the bikes when it finally hit. Nice.

Biker Quote for Today

“Damn, buying that motorcycle was a bad investment,” said no one ever.

I guess this is one way you can work on steep slopes alongside a highway.

As John Lennon famously remarked, life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans. This was one of those days.

The plan the RMMRC had in mind was simple: head south out of Gallup to Alpine, turn east and then south to Silver City. Right. We did head south out of Gallup, retracing the route the OFMC took last year going the other direction. For a long time it didn’t look familiar to me until we stopped at the same junction–AZ 61 and US 191–we stopped at last year. Roads look different going in different directions, plus it was probably a lot greener this year than last.

Then on to Alpine. John was leading and at Alpine the only gas station is where the two highways meet. The plan was to get gas in Alpine, John made the turn and kept going. Several of us knew this was wrong. Tom was behind John motioning for him to turn around but no response. I finally just pulled off and stopped but everyone behind me kept going so I went after them. Outside of town everyone finally stopped and turned back. There was discussion at the gas station of whether we wanted to go the way we first started to go, US 180, or not turn and go south on US 191. We would take 180, but first, it’s a little early but maybe we should have lunch here.

We went in a restaurant and seated ourselves but got no service. They were very busy. Forget this, we agreed, let’s just ride.

Back out on our bikes we were ready to go and several took off after John in the direction agreed upon when Bruce motioned toward Tom’s bike sitting there with no Tom in sight. OK, whoa. Charley radioed John to stop, that we weren’t all ready yet. Just then Tom came out of the store across the road and was startled to see everyone ready to ride. So he geared up and got ready but by the time he was ready, the ones who had gone ahead had apparently conferenced and made the decision to go the other way. They came back, passed us, and made the left turn. We shook our heads and followed.

I knew the way we had planned to go was beautiful, going through a canyon and over a couple passes, but US 191 turned out to be a motorcyclist’s dream: 50 miles of tight turns, ups and downs, scenic views, and almost zero traffic. I mean, like almost zero. And if you look at the map you’ll see why: it doesn’t really take you anywhere you can’t get to a lot easier and quicker on other roads. It makes you wonder why this road was ever built. But for motorcyclists it is heaven.

Not so much for other vehicles. Dave was following us in his Ford F-250 with trailer on behind and he noted when we stopped at one point that it was really work for him and he knew we were all just having fun. But 10 mph and 15 mph turns with his rig are just not fun.

And then at one point Tom pulled off at a place where there was a bit of shoulder. What’s up? The other guys were gone up ahead but there were Bruce, Tom, and me, and then Dave pulled in with his truck.

Tom had no power and was barely able to keep moving. Seemingly a fuel issue, either filter or pump. But his bike was not going any further under its own power. For Tom’s incredible good fortune, however, there was Dave with a truck and a trailer and lots of tie-downs. This whole business of getting the bike loaded deserves and will receive its own separate post; suffice it to say for now that we got the bike loaded and strapped down and took off again.

Just ahead we found that the road goes right through–not around, through–one of the biggest open pit mines in the world, the Morenci Mine. I’ve seen huge open pit mines before but this had to be 10 times the size of the biggest I’ve ever seen. It’s really hard to comprehend until you see it, and even then. And you really do go right through the thing. On all sides of you there are these humongous earth movers carrying their loads of ore and it’s astonishing.

So that was a highlight. We then met back up with the rest of the guys in Morenci, the town, and were on our way. We missed the turn we intended to take and so followed AZ 75 to where we got on US 70 almost all the way to Lordsburg, back in New Mexico, and turned northeast on NM 90 up to Silver City. Long day; nice to park the bike and walk away from it.

Biker Quote for Today

There is absolutely no excuse for what I’m about to do – let’s ride.

A break to use the facilities south of Telluride.

The second day of the RMMRC New Mexico ride had us heading south from Montrose to Gallup, New Mexico. This is a ride with two distinct parts.

In Colorado it was a nice ride along the east side of the Uncompahgre Plateau to Ridgway on US 550. Then we turned west toward Placerville on CO 62 and south past Telluride on CO 145. This takes you over Lizard Head Pass.

I’ve ridden this road many times but apparently it has been a long time since I’ve been over it heading south. Particularly after we got past Telluride it turns incredibly scenic. There are some amazing views! And I really did not remember that.

Then, heading down the pass, John, who was leading, pulled over. It was time for a break. Wow, this is not something I’m accustomed to with the RMMRC. But it turned out that with the leader and the sweep communicating by radio, when one guy decided he needed to stop and indicated such to Charley, at sweep, he told John, at lead, and it happened. This may seem absolutely normal but in my experience with this group I assure you it is not. But I like it.

Heading on we eventually came up behind a camper going slowly with about five cars just sitting behind it. Now, the courteous thing to do would be for him to pull off now and then and let all the folks behind him pass. This guy showed no courtesy.

John bided his time, presumably to let the cars pass when the opportunity arose but when it finally did, not a one of them made a move. So when it was almost too late John pulled out to go around the lot of them. That was a little too much. He got past all the cars but passing the camper another camper appeared ahead coming the other way. John goosed it and slipped in but not before the oncoming camper braked and swerved onto the shoulder. Not a good thing, really.

That opened the door. At this point others ahead of me started passing and darting in and out of the row of cars. The people in the cars made no move to spread out to open space for the bikes so the bikes ended up forcing their way in when necessary. I watched all this saying hey guys, don’t be stupid, but in some cases they were. Fortunately nothing bad happened. I made no rush to get around but got past when there was no risk.

We got down to Cortez and it was time for lunch so we stopped at a major intersection where we figured Dave, trailing behind in his pick-up, would easily spot us. You see, Dave got stuck behind this line for a lot longer than we did. It was a whole lot different for him in a Ford F-250 pulling a trailer than for us on bikes. But signals got crossed and Charley, phoning Dave, told him we were stopped in Shiprock, New Mexico, rather than where we actually were, in Cortez. You can look all day in Shiprock for the intersection of CO 145 and US 160 but you’ll never find it. Finally Dave just said see ya in Gallup.

The second of the two parts of this ride was the New Mexico part. This is mainly just a mile-burning trek. US 491 goes south to Shiprock and continues on through mostly flat, dry, brown territory, mile after mile after mile. No more twisty mountain roads; just crank that throttle and ride.

We got to Gallup, got checked in at the El Rancho, and it was time to have dinner and some beers and settle in in the bar to watch the Denver Nuggets in the championship play-off game 2. Nice way to end the day, except the Nuggets lost. Oh well, next time.

Biker Quote for Today

I don’t know the question but a motorcycle ride is definitely the answer.

I’ll interrupt the telling of this New Mexico trip story because life goes on and doesn’t wait for all the old stories to be told before new ones occur. In other words, we (the RMMRC) did another day ride on Saturday and rode what was for me, and I suspect for most of the folks, a new road. Have you ever heard of Grapevine Road? I hadn’t.

We started out from the Phillips 66 station in Morrison to head up to Wondervu for breakfast. I figured we’d go up CO 93 to CO 72 and head up Coal Creek Canyon. Nope.

Gray took the lead and I thought as he headed into Morrison that we would take the back way over past Red Rocks but no, he kept going. We got up to Idledale and very much to my surprise he braked and signaled a right turn. A very, very sharp right turn, about 45 degrees sharp, up onto a gravel road. Oh my gosh. Two things: first, I was really glad if we were getting on gravel that I was on my Honda CB750 rather than my Kawasaki Concours, and second, I had no idea this road was even there. This was Grapevine Road.

The road was not really gravel per se; it really seemed like a road that had been paved 20 years ago and not touched since. It wasn’t loose gravel, although there was plenty of loose gravel on the surface, but it had a firm base and was not rutted. And it was twisty as hell.

The road wound up through an area that was full of houses where you would have no idea there were houses at all. I’ve heard that you never really comprehend how full the hills are of homes until you fly in a small aircraft low over them. Then it blows you away. The hills are alive with people!

Make no mistake, this is a slow road. There are plenty of turns marked for 10 and 15 mph, and with the loose gravel you really don’t want to go much faster than that. And it’s really, really pretty. As in, what a nice place to have a home. As long as you don’t need to get somewhere in a hurry.

So we wandered up and down and around hills, saw a bunch of deer bounding down the slope, and I wondered just where in the heck we were going to come out. Eventually we reached pavement and before long that question was answered as we came out to I-70 and US 40 at the Lookout Mountain exit. OK.

We turned left to follow US 40 up to the top of Floyd Hill and then down into Clear Creek Canyon and US 6 but at the bottom, rather than turning right down the canyon we went left and jumped on I-70 just long enough to get to the next exit, for Central City Parkway. Now I see how we’re going.

Central City Parkway was more interesting than usual in that there is some roadwork apparently intended to address the recurring issue they have up there of the downhill side of the road wanting to slough off. In one place they had cut away an entire hillside on the uphill side and seemed to be pushing it over to fill in the downhill side. I mean, the cut in the hill was enormous, about the size of what they’ve done in Central City and Black Hawk when they’ve wanted to build a huge casino hotel where there was previously a hill. Kind of amazing.

We reached Central City, rode down to Black Hawk, got on the Peak-to-Peak and headed north to where it hit the road down Coal Creek Canyon. All this while it was intermittently dripping rain, enough to put droplets on my visor but never enough to make you want to stop and put on a rainsuit. I was keeping my fingers crossed we could get to Wondervu without having to do that. Meanwhile, I was darn cold and wishing I had worn at least my riding pants because they’re warmer than my jeans and they’re waterproof. Thank goodness I had my electric vest.

We did get to Wondervu without a downpour and went in the Wondervu Cafe for breakfast–at this point a late breakfast. And then breakfast got much later. As is true of so many places these days, they were understaffed. Not only that, at least some of the staff they have were not very good at their jobs. Rather than go on at length with the details, let me simply say that we finally ate breakfast well into lunch time and for many of us, when our food was served it was stone cold. And several of us were done eating long before others even got their food. I won’t be eating at the Wondervu Cafe again any time soon.

Suiting up to leave, the sun had come out. And it was warmer. Yay. And we were all on our bikes and ready to go but Roy had not even come out of the restaurant. Gray may have known something about Roy’s delay and seemed to be waving us to go on and take off but no one did and we just sat there. For quite a while. Finally, I had had it with waiting and I just took off. I like riding alone anyway, so I was perfectly fine with leaving the rest behind. All the way home I dodged the rain clouds never did get wet. In other words, a good day for a ride.

Biker Quote for Today

No matter how bad your day is your bike will make you feel better.

Stopping at the Blue Mesa dam.

My start to the RMMRC New Mexico ride was not entirely auspicious. It was raining lightly when I was leaving so I started out fully geared up with rain jacket and my waterproof riding pants. I also had all the other gear on, too, because it was darn chilly.

Barely a mile from home I had my first encounter with a careless driver. I was heading west on Hampden, in the left lane, pulling past a car on my right. At a point when I’m certain I was in their blind spot they decided to change lanes–about three feet in front of me. The guy probably checked his mirror but did not do a head check. I hit my brakes, blew my horn, and shook my fist at the guy but who knows if he noticed me at all.

Out in Morrison, where we were gathering, there were nine of us: eight bikes and Dave in his Ford F-250 pick-up with a trailer on behind. Turns out Dave had just had surgery the week before and could not ride but he woke up that morning and decided he was going, even if he had to take the truck. And he hooked the trailer on behind just in case we needed a sag wagon. A very generous move on his part.

Very, very frequently on these trips either Dave or Bob lead but in this case Dave couldn’t and Bob was not coming. Roy normally rides sweep but he was not coming. So Charley took sweep and John, a fairly new member of the group, agreed to lead. Dave would bring up the rear with the truck.

We headed through Morrison intending to go south on the road at the west end of town that runs down to US 285 only to find it totally blocked off for a run and other festivities. So we did a U-turn right there in the intersection and headed back to C-470 to get down to 285. OK, now we can roll.

The further we went the clearer the sky got but it stayed very cool. At a stop in Fairplay I even put on my heated gloves. We rode on down to Buena Vista and Poncha Springs, where we stopped for lunch. Some folks got gas and others, including me, didn’t, figuring we had plenty to get to our day’s destination, Montrose. Then it was west over Monarch Pass, through Gunnison, past the Blue Mesa Reservoir, and made a stop at the Blue Mesa dam.

Here John asked if we would be interested in riding the north rim of the Black Canyon rather than continuing on US 50. Running up through Crawford, Hotchkiss, and Delta would only add about 5 miles to the ride, he said. I replied that that was absurd, that doing that route would add at least 40 miles. We were all fine with that route because the road on the north rim is great, but that threw off my calculation that I had plenty of gas. I would need to stop in Hotchkiss.

Headed toward Crawford John pulled in at a viewpoint, where you could see US 50 off to the south and a valley I took to be the route up to Silver Jack Reservoir over Owl Creek Pass and down to just north of Ridgway. The stop for a viewpoint was unusual in my experience of RMMRC rides but very welcome in my mind. One of my biggest complaints about RMMRC rides has been that we don’t do enough of that. John, being new, did not have that mind-set and that’s fine with me. I like at least semi-frequent stops.

I got gas in Hotchkiss and as everyone else took off I pushed my starter button and got nothing. Oh crap. Tried again and again nothing. Charley was there, as he was riding sweep, and we conferred. Then I checked my kill switch and that was it. How I hit that switch I don’t know but soon we were rolling. We never caught up with the others, though.

We made it to Delta and turned south to Montrose. Wondered at one point why everyone was going so slow in the right-hand lane while the left-hand lane was wide open, started pulling around, and saw the state patrol car leading the pack. OK. Got it. After he made a U-turn and flipped on his lights and took off in the other direction everyone on our side increased their speed about 15 mph.

We got to Montrose but really didn’t know where the motel was so Charley and I ran a bit of a wild goose chase around town but finally found the place. All in all a much more enjoyable ride than what it looked like it could be in the morning. Tomorrow: Gallup.

Biker Quote for Today

We only regret the rides we didn’t take.