Passes & Canyons Blog

We had a Vanderhall Carmel autocycle with us today.

I just got home from a ride with the RMMRC. With temperatures expected to be in the 70s on this early March day it should be no surprise there were altogether 17 people on this ride.

With so many people it was basically assured we could not stick together all the way to our destination west of Colorado Springs, in old Colorado City. But we also needed to pick up three others in two spots along the way, so we just made sure everyone knew the two spots and said get there and regroup.

That worked pretty well but then, leaving the second stop, in Franktown, we were headed to a restaurant in Colorado City that nobody was familiar with and getting there was not going to be necessarily simple. So once again the deal to get into Colorado Springs, get off at Fillmore Street, and regroup. Then try to stay together to get to the restaurant.

Let’s just say we managed. Only a little bit of chaos.

After lunch we were going to essentially backtrack, but Tim said he could lead us on a nice ride up through Garden of the Gods and then on the way we were figuring. OK. Tim is the one person I know who knows the roads better than me.

So we all got on our bikes and ready to go and looked around and where the heck was Tim? Nowhere to be seen. What the heck? So someone else took the initiative and led us off on what was not a very good route and within two traffic lights we were already getting broken up. We got on US 24 headed toward I-25 and then someone got in the left turn lane. Some people were able to get over but others weren’t and I saw Susan and someone else just go on straight on 24. The rest of us turned, except the one who initiated the turn did a U-turn and went back the other way. We just went ahead.

By the time we reached I-25 at the Uintah interchange there were only four still together in the pod I was in. Then we got on the highway and very soon Gene was the only one behind me and no one in front. So we got off at the designated exit and were cruising along when I saw someone coming up behind. It was Susan. So the three of us headed north toward Denver on CO 83.

Just before we reached Castlewood Canyon State Park I checked my mirror and Gene was nowhere to be seen. In other circumstances that would be cause for concern but with everyone basically just headed home he could easily have decided to take a different route. So we kept going. Around about Orchard Susan peeled off so I was alone but just then I saw in my mirror someone who looked to be Gene.

I figured I’d take it easy and let him catch up but Gene has a way of hanging back. Finally at a stoplight he got close enough that I could see it wasn’t Gene, but Pat, who also rides a Concours 14, as does Gene. Then things took a twist.

Traffic started moving and the guy in front of me started moving, just as I was looking behind me to ascertain that it was Pat. As I turned my gaze forward I saw the truck in front of me was stopped. I later learned there was a car stalled a few car lengths in front of him. I nailed my brakes and, fishtailing wildly, tried to direct the bike to the left of the truck. I came to a stop with my front wheel past the back of the truck but to the side and his rear bumper about two inches from my fairing. I would not have gotten hurt but there would have been damage to the bike. I got lucky. You know, forget trying to see who that is, ride your damn bike.

The rest of the ride home was uneventful, thank goodness.

Biker Quote for Today

Why motorcycles are better than women: Your motorcycle never wants a night out alone with the other motorcycles.

Getting parked out in Kiowa.

I just got back about 20 minutes ago from my first ride of the new year. Nothing special, just a run out to Patty Ann’s in Kiowa for lunch. But what a great day to be out on the bike.

There have been a couple other nice days already but our street was still covered in ice and snow. Yesterday’s sun finally cleared enough that I had about a 10-inch path I could take to carry me past the ice that was still there. And by the time I’m home now that path has expanded to about three feet wide. That alone tells you it’s a nice day to be outside.

There were five of us of the RMMRC who met up at Sam’s #3 and with uncertainty about the roads we opted to stick to the main highways, figuring they, for sure, would be clear. I was leading.

Out Parker Road to Franktown and then east on CO 86. Nothing eventful, just clear roads and not that much traffic. At Patty Ann’s we were sorry to learn that due to the universal lack of workers they were cutting no slack and since we had arrived after 11 a.m. we could not order off the breakfast menu. Darn, because I really wanted the huevos rancheros. So did Roy. Oh well.

To the total shock of no one, we were approached while we were there by two guys in riding gear, asking who owned a particular bike. So there were stories to be exchanged and ride invitations extended. Roy is always good about recruiting new members for the RMMRC.

Heading back, Roy had the idea to head north on the Kiowa-Bennett Road but Harlan offered what we all thought was a better route. With him in the lead we headed west on CO 86, through Franktown to Castle Rock, across I-25 and then turned north on Daniels Park Road. Where the road splits at the entrance to the park we turned east and then at that first roundabout turned north on the road that eventually becomes Quebec St. Shortly after, we started shedding riders as each person turned toward home.

And that was that. Chalk up one motorcycle now ridden for January with two more to go.

Biker Quote for Today

100 reasons not to date a biker: 7. It’s perfectly natural to have a motorcycle parked in the living room.

It’s so nice to see my Concours out with the gang again, and running well, which is to say, normally.

I can’t even remember how long ago it was that my Concours started giving me trouble, but it seems like it’s been all summer. I packed it off to Joel before the OFMC bike trip but when he brought it back Joel said it still needed more work. But there wasn’t time to do that before the trip.

Once I got back from that trip I ordered the necessary parts and called Joel to let him know they were in hand and I was ready for him to come get the bike again, and this time bring it back really, truly fixed.

Well, Joel brought it back the other day and first I took it on a brief errand run to the wine store and then a few days later I rode it with the RMMRC to Daniels Park. And there was just one word for it: normal.

How wonderful it is for that bike to be operating normally again, finally. Normal is so great.

No more racing at a screaming pace when I pull up to a stop. No more dying as I coast to a stop. No more needing to ride around the neighborhood first to get the bike running halfway smoothly before getting out on the less forgiving main roads.

It was also nice once again to have the feeling of power. I had never noticed a lack of power in my other bikes before but lately I have. On the Colorado Cruise with the RMMRC I was on the V-Strom and for the first time it seemed like it was struggling for power going over the highest passes. That bike is currently with Joel and I hope it feels more back to normal when he brings it back. And then the other day I rode the Honda CB750 with the RMMRC up to Kremmling, and that bike was totally left in the dust by those other bigger bikes. The Connie has the power to keep up with any of these other guys.

Yeah, normal can often be boring. We crave some change, some variety. But when you’ve had a steady diet of not normal, and it hasn’t been fun, it’s amazing how wonderful normal can be. We all know that old Chinese curse: May you live in interesting times. Right now I’m really hoping to be living in some boring times.

Biker Quote for Today

100 reasons not to date a biker: 19. We “need” a bunch of expensive riding gear, usually 2 or 3 of each item.

Val hams it up for the camera at Daniels Park.

I did a short ride with a small RMMRC group Saturday and we had an interesting encounter.

Val and Chris had invited everyone over to their house for breakfast before a ride down to Daniels Park. It was kind of nice because it offered a comfortable situation for a few of us who weren’t well acquainted to get to know each other better. Val is a relatively new rider who has a nice little KTM but thanks to Covid has not been able even to schedule a riding test to get her license. So she has to ride with someone who does have a license, such as all of us. From Daniels Park the group could decide to keep going, and they did, but I opted to head home–too much needing my attention at home.

So anyway, we headed out and were winding our way through Littleton and the south suburban area headed to the park when we came to a spot where we needed to turn right. There were seven bikes. I was riding sixth, behind Gene, who was behind I don’t know who.

Approaching this intersection the leaders passed a bicyclist in the bike lane. Not a problem, they were well ahead of him and they turned. One by one these motorcycles made the turn, but with each one the bicyclist drew closer. I was observing this with interest. It occurred to me that I wasn’t really sure who ought to yield the right of way when the cyclist got to the intersection, assuming he planned to go straight. But my thinking was that whatever was the “right” thing, he really ought to slow down and let these string of motorcycles make their turn as a group. I mean, how big a deal would that be?

But he didn’t. As he came to the intersection the rider in front of Gene turned in front of him, he hit his brakes and wobbled pretty fiercely, and as he then crossed ahead of Gene he angrily yelled at Gene. OK.

When we stopped I asked Gene what he had said but Gene had been listening to music so he didn’t catch the words but nobody could miss the anger. And I asked and everyone agreed that the right of way is supposed to be ceded to the bicyclist. But the guy in front of Gene, the offender, said he figured he had plenty of room to make the turn without interfering with the bicyclist. And apparently he thought he had done so and was surprised that there had been an incident.

Which just gets back to my original thinking. OK, the guy had a right to believe the right of way should have been yielded to him. (Nobody has the right of way, it’s a matter of who is supposed to yield the right of way. That’s a technicality but it’s good to keep that clear in your mind.) But in this case, wouldn’t it have been smart for the cyclist to have decided for his own safety to just defer to this string of motorcycles?

We motorcyclists know all too well that if someone violates our space that no matter how in the right we are, we’re still the ones who are going to get hurt. Clearly that applies even more to bicyclists.

And even if someone understands and accepts that the cyclist had the right of way, sometimes people make bad judgments. In this case that apparently happened. We follow the maxim of riding as if we’re invisible. Again, bicyclists should follow that concept even more since they’re even more vulnerable. I don’t think it’s any secret though that at least some bicyclists are overly self-righteous in asserting their right to their share of the road. And I think this guy was one of those. Fine, be that way, but I personally think my own safety and well-being take precedence over my rights on the road. I’d rather rant about some idiot later than wake up in the ER.

It all comes down to one over-riding principle: don’t be stupid. I think this guy was stupid.

Biker Quote for Today

We know you’re a poser if you’ve never ridden long enough to know that stock seats are never comfortable.

Stopping on top of Wolf Creek Pass. Guess what? It was cold.

If there was one thing that became abundantly clear to me on this recent RMMRC Colorado Cruise was that if you are riding in the high country, summer is over.

I very foolishly wore my mesh jacket and I intended to find the liner but forgot it, and that was quite a mistake. Every time we got up high–which was frequently–I was cold because that cold air just cut through that mesh. That’s what they’re for, to give you nice ventilation on hot days. But these were not hot days. So why was I wearing mesh? Idiot.

I did finally think to use my rain jacket as a wind breaker and should have done so a lot sooner. Sometimes your brain works better than other times.

At the same time, it’s not cold yet down here on the prairie. Shortly after getting home I took the Honda out for a ride and, having gotten plenty chilled again and again on the last trip, I pulled on leather AND a sweatshirt, and for good measure, my winter gloves. Out I went and gosh, who coulda thunk it, I was way too hot. I mean, heck, it was all of 80 degrees or more. But my brain was still back on top of Cottonwood Pass and Red Mountain Pass and you know, you can never be too cautious.

Yes you can.

So here’s a little simple, very obvious advice. At this time of year, if you’re going up high, dress for cold. If you’re staying down low, and the temperature is above 75, expect warmth. How difficult is that? I don’t know, apparently for some of us (me) it’s not as simple as you might think. Maybe some day I’ll figure it out.

Biker Quote for Today

Why motorcycles are better than women: The rashes you get from motorcycles go away without those painful penicillin shots.

A gas stop on the ride.

There was no rush leaving Gunnison on our last day out. It was a short ride home and we might as well let it warm up a bit. Except for Mark, who slipped out on his own early, just wanting to get home.

Now that Cottonwood Pass has been paved all the way it makes a really good alternative to Monarch Pass. Not only is it shorter, there are still plenty of people who have never been over the new road yet. That was true of at least a couple of our folks so that was the obvious route.

Despite our later start it was still darn chilly heading up Taylor Canyon but oh boy was it beautiful in the morning light and there was almost no traffic. Just nice for a cruise. Still, the further we went, and the higher we went, the colder I got. Thank goodness I had my electric vest.

Just below Taylor Reservoir we stopped because Ralf again wanted to talk about hydro-geological issues. He pulled over right below the dam and talked about the Colorado River Compact. At this point the wind was whipping a good bit so it was very cold standing there. I had the idea to pull out my rain jacket to use as a windbreaker and as I turned back to my bike I saw that Susan had already had the same idea and was pulling on her rain jacket. That made a lot of difference and I kicked myself for not thinking of this a couple days earlier.

We continued on past the reservoir and up the pass. The new road is very nice but I still miss some of the twisting and turning that they straightened out when they redid this road. I guess that’s what they call “progress.”

We stopped at the top and this was in fact our time for good-byes. Heading on down, Susan planned to make a stop in Buena Vista, Ralf was going to be heading down toward Salida, and Charley and Karen had no intention of trying to keep up with the fast guys–Bob and Dave–on US 285 on their double-loaded 650 BMW scooter. That left Bruce and me to play it how we saw it.

Down to Buena Vista, to US 24, to US 285, and east. At first the four of us were together but it didn’t take long for traffic to separate us. But then, thanks to passing lanes, we were back together. This continued until we reached Fairplay and then somewhere between Fairplay and Jefferson Bruce dropped off. Now it was just me, sort of trying to keep with Bob and Dave but not really expecting it to last.

But somehow I did stay with them all the way to Bailey. Making the bend and heading up Crow Hill I figured this would be where the final split occurred. We started up the hill together but soon cars had moved between us and that was the last of it. I would occasionally catch a glimpse of them up ahead but by the time I got to Conifer they were lost in the distance.

Not a problem. After four days in a group I was enjoying being on my own. Rain was threatening, and even dripping a little here and there, but it finally really came down around Conifer. I already had my rain jacket on so I just rode through it and sure enough, it stopped soon. Then on down the hill and into town.

Now of course, I was hot. There’s just no way to avoid hitting one extreme or the other when you’re on a motorcycle. So I got home as quickly as I could and eagerly peeled everything off. Ah! Time to relax. Good ride. Nice trip. Nice to be home.

Biker Quote for Today

100 reasons not to date a biker: 31. You’ll have to help us with bike projects, because sometimes it takes three hands.

The Animas River where it is crossed by Baker’s Bridge.

Red Mountain Pass was going to close for construction at 8:30 a.m. so we agreed to play it safe and leave Ouray at 7 a.m. You could call that an excess of caution, and Ralf did, saying he planned to leave at 8 and maybe we would still be in Silverton having breakfast when he got there. We were and he did.

This was day three of the Colorado Cruise, my first multi-day ride with the Rocky Mountain Motorcycle Riders Club (RMMRC).

It was not as cold in Ouray at 7 a.m. as we all expected but we were already at 7,800 feet and the top of Red Mountain Pass is 11,000 feet. I blessed myself for having brought my electric vest and cursed myself for not digging out the liner for my mesh jacket. It was somewhere at home.

We started up the pass and it got cold in a hurry. The sun was up somewhere but with the mountains we sure couldn’t see–or feel–it. By the time we got to the top my fingers were ice cubes and the rest of me was not far behind. I really couldn’t feel the warmth from my vest except I know that without it I would have been totally frozen. I anticipated warmer air as we descended.

But Silverton is still 9,300 feet up there so you can be excused for not noticing much more warmth. Finally we were coming to a bend where I could see sunshine but as we came around it we suddenly had the blazing sun, barely above the horizon, smack in our faces, almost totally blinding us. And then we were back in the shadows.

We got to Silverton and stopped first for gas. My tank bag on the V-Strom covers the gas cap and there are two clasps that need to be undone to access it. For a couple minutes my fingers were too numb to open the clasps. And then it was only with difficulty that I inserted the key to open the gas cap. Give me some coffee and some breakfast!

Not so easily done. Every restaurant in this country seems, at this time, to be short of staff. Posted hours mean nothing; they open when they open. We could find only one open restaurant in Silverton and they had a 90-minute wait. We settled for coffee and pastries at an open coffee shop. And Ralf showed up.

Back on the bikes, we headed toward Durango but Bob knew a better route. About 20 miles south of Silverton we turned off onto County Road 250, took a couple of sharp turns, and stopped at a bridge over a good-sized stream. This was Baker’s Bridge and Bob explained that it was the place where, in the movie “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” Butch and Sundance landed after they jumped off a cliff into the river below. Now, it wasn’t where they jumped from, but this is a movie and they filmed the jumping somewhere and the landing somewhere else. This was the somewhere else.

We then stayed on 250 as it ran along the hillside of the valley leading down to Durango. Coming into Durango we turned onto North College Drive, still on the hill skirting the town, and finally coming out on CO 3 at the south end of town before getting onto US 160 eastbound. We totally missed all the mess and congestion that is Durango. What a great route! And it was very pretty, too.

So we headed east on US 160 over to Pagosa Springs. We stopped for lunch in Pagosa but again found it hard to find a nice restaurant that was open and didn’t have more than an hour to wait. Finally we just split up with some going to a nicer place and others going to fast food joint. And Charley and Karen went off to their daughter’s house.

We had agreed to meet up again on top of Wolf Creek Pass but that didn’t happen. Nobody was interested in waiting who knows how long at the top of the pass when they’d rather be riding. So our group rode on down to South Fork where we stopped for gas. Then we turned north on CO 149 up over Slumgullion and Spring Creek Passes. Starting down Slumgullion we caught up with some riders and — surprise! — they were part of our group. They had passed us while we were getting gas.

On through Lake City and down to the Blue Mesa Reservoir and to Gunnison. That was a long day’s ride. Good to reach the end.

Biker Quote for Today

You might be a Yuppie biker if you’re a HOG member and think you’re an outlaw.

Ralf discusses plate tectonics, uplift, and erosion in a place where you can really see the results.

Dave and I loaded up and rode across the street to join the rest of the RMMRC group on our four-day ride the second morning. While I parked, Dave disappeared. After a few minutes it occurred to me and I asked Susan if they had all already gotten gas. She said yes and I realized that was probably where Dave had gone. I figured I’d better do so, too.

I filled up and used the facilities one last time and as I came out I saw a group of bikers heading down Horizon Drive toward the westbound I-70 ramp and then realized it was my group. They were leaving without me. I guess I should have said something to someone other than Susan about getting gas.

I hopped on and blasted away to catch up but this is a fast group of riders so that didn’t happen at all quickly. Meanwhile I considered the situation. I recalled some discussion of riding Colorado National Monument. Our ultimate destination this day was Ouray so it would make the most sense if you’re going to ride the monument to start on the Fruita end. But they might not; could I get to the exit to the other end before I lose sight of anyone? Regardless, I figured if I didn’t find them I would ride the ride I considered nicest, which would be to go to Fruita, ride the monument, and then meet them all at lunch down in Gateway.

Just as I got to the exit to the non-Fruita entrance to the monument I caught a glimpse of riders ahead on the interstate so I figured that was them and I cranked the throttle even harder. Just as they were exiting at Fruita I pulled up alongside Charley, who was riding sweep with his wife Karen on behind. Charley waved me on ahead of him and I was back with the group.

We rode the monument, stopping a couple times so Ralf, a hydro-geologist, could give us a little education on plate tectonics and uplift and erosion. Ralf is very knowledgeable so these were interesting presentations.

Leaving the monument we headed down US 50 to Whitewater, where we turned west on CO 141 toward Gateway and the Unaweep Tabeguache Scenic Byway. The Paradox Grille in Gateway is excellent, but also on our agenda was the Gateway Auto Museum. I’ve been to Gateway numerous times, eaten at the Paradox several times, but I had never been in the museum. Let me tell you it’s worth it. They have some amazing cars in there.

The road to Gateway is very nice but the road south from there to Naturita is spectacular. If you are familiar with the canyon country of Utah, this is a small area where the canyons crossed the state line and made their way into Colorado. Beautiful country and a beautiful ride.

We stayed on CO 145 until Placerville and then took CO 62 on to Ridgway. From there it’s just a few miles south on US 550 to Ouray. Coming into town we saw signs warning that 550 over Red Mountain Pass would be closed for construction beginning at 8:30 a.m. the next day. Oh, oh. We’re going to have to get an early start. And it’s going to be cold.

Biker Quote for Today

We know you’re a poser if you set at least one mirror, if not both, to reflect yourself.