Passes & Canyons Blog

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.

When Tom pulled his Kawasaki off the road as we RMMRC riders were headed south on US 191 I had no idea why. But I was right behind him so I pulled off, too, as did Bruce, behind me, and Charley, behind him. Then Dave came along with his Ford F-250 and trailer and it fortuitously was one of the only places we had been past in quite a while large enough for us all.

The problem appeared to be that the engine was not getting enough fuel. Filter? Fuel pump? We couldn’t diagnose the problem right there so it was a simple decision to load the bike into the trailer. Dave had ramps and plenty of tie-downs, so let’s get it done. Right about then Bruce said he would ride ahead and let the others know what was going on, and off he went. The rest of us were thinking, gosh, maybe your muscle would have been good to have to get this thing rolled up into the trailer.

Fortunately, Tom had the idea that maybe he could start the bike and get enough out of it to ride it up into the trailer. We sure hoped so. And he did. The engine died just as soon as he was up but it did the work. Now just tie it down.

I’ve never been at all expert at using tie-downs so I just stood back and watched while the others did their thing. But I noticed a few things.

I had a boss once who was fond of the saying that all of us are smarter than any of us. That is, put our heads together and we’ll probably come up with better ideas than any one of us could do alone.

While the others were focused on “let’s run this line from this bar to that hook-up,” I was the one thinking “yeah, but do you really want to run it over that rail, rather than under it?” Or when I saw one tie-down hooked to a crash bar midway up and said, “don’t you think this is going to slip down and then be too loose?” With the response being, “yeah, let’s connect it above that joint so it can’t slip down.”

So I made a contribution. Which was better than standing there feeling useless.

Once everything was secure we took off and Tom had to have been of mixed feelings. On the one hand, his ride was over. He would be sitting in the truck with Dave the rest of the trip. On the other hand, oh my gosh, how expensive would the tow bill have been to have some truck come way the heck out there and haul him anywhere? Plus, then what? Sit in a motel for four days while the local shop is getting parts and fixing the bike? You couldn’t call the whole situation good luck but it turned out to be about the least bad luck he could have had. I’d be happy with that.

Biker Quote for Today

If I can’t be a good example then I guess I’ll just be a horrible warning.

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.

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.

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.

I’m back now from that RMMRC New Mexico ride I mentioned previously and it really was an excellent ride. Here’s a quick synopsis and I’ll follow up with a more detailed narrative.

On Day One we started out with eight riders on bikes and one in a pick-up pulling a trailer. Our very own sag wagon. This was Dave, who had had surgery just the week before and couldn’t ride. But he was the one who organized the ride and on Saturday morning he got up and thought how much he hated to miss it so on the spur of the moment decided to drive the truck. The trailer was a totally generous thought that might easily have entailed pulling this trailer for 1700 miles for no real reason.

Montrose was the destination that day, over Monarch Pass, and we got there uneventfully. It was raining a bit in Denver as we departed but the skies cleared and it was a good day to ride.

On Day Two we turned south. Over Lizard Head Pass, past Telluride, down to Cortez, and then a long slog to Gallup, New Mexico. The first half was a sweet ride and the second half, as I say, was just a slog.

Day Three had us heading further south and we made our way on to Alpine, Arizona, where we stopped for gas. The route Dave had mapped out had us turning off here and heading east on US 180 but some roadside reconsideration led us to continue south on US 191. That turned out to be a great decision as we ended up on one of the twistiest roads you’ll ever find. And if you look at the map you’ll that this road doesn’t really seem to go anywhere so there was almost no traffic at all. But what a fun road to ride. Ultimately we ended up for the night in Silver City.

On Day Four we headed north, taking US 180, which we would have been backtracking on if we had followed the original plan the day before. Because we hadn’t, this was new road. NM12 connected us to NM32 up to Quemado and then other state roads up to I-40 at Grants, this day’s destination.

Day Five was definitely not a typical day on the road. We were headed east but to get there we first went west on I-40. North on NM371 and then east on County Road 9, over to Cuba. Then things got a bit screwy. The plan was to make it over to the south end of Taos and then ride the Angel Fire loop around Wheeler Peak, to Red River. But we ended up on the north end of Taos and the sky to the south was threatening so we turned north to Questa, then east to Red River.

And then we were at Day Six, with the destination being home. Some folks were in a hurry, some were not, and we left in several smaller groups taking various routes. Rain was anticipated but we made it all the way home dry. Nice.

That in a nutshell was the trip. But there’s a whole lot of meat in that nut and I’ll get into that next.

Biker Quote for Today

You’re only as old as you feel when you ride your motorcycle.

The RMMRC is leaving in a few days on this New Mexico ride and at last week’s meeting someone asked me which bike I’ll be riding. Gosh, I hadn’t even thought about that. I guess I ought to.

The Honda CB750 was out right away because its tires are too thin and would not be enough for a 1,500-mile trip. That left the Concours and the V-Strom.

I figured what I really ought to do is take both of them out for runs and see which seems to be most ready, or else figure out what each of them might need.

I checked the tires on the V-Strom and the air was good. Check. Tires are good. Check. My top bag has suffered some damage in a couple times dropping the bike but I pulled out a strap that secures it well so no worries there. Check.

How is the oil? I just got the oil changed in my car the day before because I realized I had pretty much forgotten about paying it any attention. And I couldn’t remember the last time I changed the oil in the V.

I checked, which first meant figuring out how. That’s how bad an owner I am. So there’s a sight glass and you’re supposed to hold it level and check the level in the sight glass. Well, I didn’t see anything in the sight glass. I figured it would be good to take it for a ride over to Vickery to get some oil. That way I would also get a chance to see how it’s running.

It ran great. One thing I like about this bike is that it always runs great. I’ve had my troubles periodically with the Concours and the CB but the V-Strom, as they say, is bullet-proof.

I got home, put in some oil, checked the sight glass, put in some more, and it looked fine. So this bike is ready to go. I guess I’ll be riding the V-Strom. But now I really ought to check the air and oil in the Concours, just because they need to be checked. And if I do that before I leave, and I take it for a ride, maybe I’ll change my mind about which bike to ride. After all, the Concours is a really fine highway bike . . .

Biker Quote for Today

You know you’re a biker when you hate the fact that you were in front of your computer long enough to read this and not on your scoot.