I’m Baaack. I couldn’t even post into my blog last night, I was so spent. It was necessary for me to get home from Santa Fe to Phoenix and that wasn’t exactly close.
It was up early with the sound of bells ringing from an old church by the main square and prepare for a long day of riding. As I had planned, it got in to Madrid NM, which was a very short ride from Santa Fe to look around and absorb the Wild Hog phenomenon (this is where many scenes of the movie were shot). I had heard references to the movie from family and friends alike since I was planning this trip. And although I found it entertaining I tried my best to separate myself and my experiences from being a cliché of the movie. For me, Madrid was more that I came, I saw, I bought a couple T-shirts, and I went.
It seemed somewhat inevitable that I had to spend some time riding down the I-40 west bound. As I stared into the horizon during the early morning I could already see the skies looking quite ominous. I am thinking to myself, “not again”. Being wet and cold for another day just lost its appeal and I had too many miles to go to spend it fatigued from the elements.
As I rode through all of the storms of the previous days, the vision of what seemed like every other biker pulled over to the side of the road as they put on their rain gear in anticipation for what was ahead came back into my head. As I zoomed passed them into the dark streaks falling from the sky it was obvious they knew something I didn’t. It was obvious they were better prepared. It was obvious they were not from Phoenix. All this was going through my head as it was imminent that I had another day of storms ahead of me.
I-40 dumped into Albuquerque I decided to pull over and find the local Harley dealer and take the next step in my touring commitment and purchase rain gear. It didn’t take long to pick out the gray reflective suit that matched my bike well. It was a matter of minutes and I was off again.
I took the 25 south for what seemed forever until I hit the 60 west. By this time I was underneath the dark clouds but I still had a few miles to go before I hit the rain. I had a little less than a half tank of gas, it was hot where I was, there were lines at the pump, so I decided to fuel up at the next town. Not a good call. You know when that voice in your head is calling you an idiot. When I ride with my friends and we pull over to gas up I always top off my tank. I tell my friends, I never regretted not fueling up… The last person to take my advice; me.
I get into this dilapidated tiny town that was way past its best days and pull into the Conoco station. There are yellow bags over each and every pump nozzle. This wasn’t a good sign. By this time I was getting low on fuel. I was climbing in altitude and my mileage certainly had dropped so I didn’t think I was going to make it to the next town, about 35 miles away. I went inside to ask what was up with their pumps. The attendant told me they couldn’t afford to keep gas in the tanks, business was too slow. With probably a desperate look on my face I asked for options. Maybe there was a liquor store around and I could find out if my bike will run on Jack Daniels. The lady pointed out an old garage that I had past and to check there.
I headed back a mile, which was half the distance of the town, and pulled into the old rundown garage. The entire property was gravel dirt with two old single hose pumps in the middle of the lot and a two bay garage that didn’t look like it even had doors. One pump served diesel and the other 87 octane gas. I was hoping I wasn’t pumping turpentine into my tank but I didn’t have a lot of alternatives at that point. I pulled out the bottle of octane boost I kept in the side bag. A couple of ounces of that and a prayer and over 5 gallons of gas later I was off again.
My next stop was when I felt the first of many rain drops to come. I was so excited; I was now prepared for what was to come. I pulled off the side of the road as I saw so many more experienced bikers do before me and dawned my rain suit. Man, I looked good and I looked like I knew what I was doing! I took off again. I soon kept hearing this whipping sound that hadn’t been there before. I didn’t have to be a genius to know something wasn’t right. And it is not usually necessary to be a genius to know you should remove the new tags on your gear. Yes, I must have screamed to anyone passing the other way, “hey, I just bought a new suit!” Once that was removed I was off again and the weather could no longer beat me up. In fact, I was probably too aggressive on the road as a personal statement that the 81 miles of rain was a non-issue.
By Springerville I was once again down to my regular riding clothes and on a mission to get back to Phoenix. If you see the Spot II link you will see I hauled ass. The balance of the ride back was uneventful. My mind started to go a bit blank with all the miles of the past week and my ever increasing body temperature as I got closer to home. I promised my family and a few friends that I would wear a helmet on this trip. I kept that promise all the way until I got to 68th street and Shea. It was so damn hot that the last few miles home were with my helmet hanging on the back of my bike.
I was asked as soon as I got home; would I do it all again? Would I ride alone again on a trip like that? My answer was, “I would do it again next week!”
The Numbers:
Length of trip: 7 days, 5 nights, one day no riding
Total miles: 2562
Longest day: last day at 563 miles
Shortest day: 4th day in Aspen 0 miles
Total fuel used: 58.95 gallons
Fuel cost: $187.42
Average MPG: 43.5
Experience: Priceless
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Maybe Mother Nature had enough of my blog and my raves about how amazing this trip has been and so it was time to serve me the proverbial curve ball . I am thinking that was the reason she threw so much at me today.
My eyes opened at the crack of dawn this morning. The air was cold, 30 degrees, crisp and clean. A mist was hovering over the nearby river and I could still see bicyclists, in their crazy costumes now dawned with big puffy ski jackets, still riding around the town in the twenty four hour race.
While it seemed like most of the town was still asleep I took my stuff down and loaded my bike. It as soaking wet either from dew or it had rained, again, in the middle of the night. My Harley strained to start in the freezing weather. But the sun felt good on my skin and I thought it wouldn’t take long to drop in altitude and both me and my bike would warm up.
That wasn’t to be the case. I stayed cold to the bone with jacket, Under Armor and gauntlet gloves all the way to a little mining town that Barry insisted I visit, Creed.
Creed it a charming, once vibrant, mining town turned tourist trap. I took the first chance to talk to one of the locals there to find out the scoop on the town and where to get a cup of coffee to warm up. Although it was still early, well before 10 a.m., a crack of thunder interrupted the directions I was receiving for that coffee. I knew it was more important to keep out of the rain than that warm cup so I was out of there pretty fast.
I guess I wasn’t fast enough because I was poured on from just south of Creed all the way past the turn off to Taos in New Mexico. And if it wasn’t raining it was blowing so hard that my bike and I were at a 45 degree angle to the road. And if that wasn’t enough, going through Wolf Creek Pass I drove through the most intense storm I have ever endured on my bike. There was no place safe to stop. There was nothing I could see through the driving rain and hail. My sun glasses had fogged over so what there was to see I had to look over my glasses into the rain. Now to top it off I was really wet and exceptionally cold. It took a moment to look at my lap to see I had accumulated a large pile of hail stones between my legs. It was like riding up a chair lift during a snow storm and watching snow accumulate in your lap. Did I mention that it was cold?
I survived and got to Pagosa Springs. I went into the Conoco station with a complete change of clothes for the balance of the day. But it was all in vain because I was rained on continuously all the way to Taos. I had to say enough and turned around to make a ‘b-line’ for Santa Fe.
Now the question probably should be; hey Rob, did you think of bringing rain gear? I did in fact and a full face helmet. But I check the weather with as much enthusiasm as I wrote in this blog long before the start of this trip. Sunny, Clear, Strong High Pressure. I was confident that my only concern would be sunburn.
I guess it makes for another story for the trip. For instance when I got settled at the Inn at Crested Butte and couldn’t find one set of keys to my bike. Then it dawned on me where I may have dropped them earlier when I had stopped previously to escape the rain. Sure enough, this morning on my way down the hill, I stopped again in that dirt lot and there they were, my other set of keys….
So I have to wind the trip down and head back to reality. Tomorrow I am heading to Phoenix. I am hoping it will be closer to dark than not, way too hot for an afternoon arrival. I also hope to salvage some of what I missed today and stop through Madrid tomorrow on the way back (that is where some of Wild Hogs was filmed, another suggestion by Barry). I also hope to keep it all on back roads like most of the trip thus far….
My eyes opened at the crack of dawn this morning. The air was cold, 30 degrees, crisp and clean. A mist was hovering over the nearby river and I could still see bicyclists, in their crazy costumes now dawned with big puffy ski jackets, still riding around the town in the twenty four hour race.
While it seemed like most of the town was still asleep I took my stuff down and loaded my bike. It as soaking wet either from dew or it had rained, again, in the middle of the night. My Harley strained to start in the freezing weather. But the sun felt good on my skin and I thought it wouldn’t take long to drop in altitude and both me and my bike would warm up.
That wasn’t to be the case. I stayed cold to the bone with jacket, Under Armor and gauntlet gloves all the way to a little mining town that Barry insisted I visit, Creed.
Creed it a charming, once vibrant, mining town turned tourist trap. I took the first chance to talk to one of the locals there to find out the scoop on the town and where to get a cup of coffee to warm up. Although it was still early, well before 10 a.m., a crack of thunder interrupted the directions I was receiving for that coffee. I knew it was more important to keep out of the rain than that warm cup so I was out of there pretty fast.
I guess I wasn’t fast enough because I was poured on from just south of Creed all the way past the turn off to Taos in New Mexico. And if it wasn’t raining it was blowing so hard that my bike and I were at a 45 degree angle to the road. And if that wasn’t enough, going through Wolf Creek Pass I drove through the most intense storm I have ever endured on my bike. There was no place safe to stop. There was nothing I could see through the driving rain and hail. My sun glasses had fogged over so what there was to see I had to look over my glasses into the rain. Now to top it off I was really wet and exceptionally cold. It took a moment to look at my lap to see I had accumulated a large pile of hail stones between my legs. It was like riding up a chair lift during a snow storm and watching snow accumulate in your lap. Did I mention that it was cold?
I survived and got to Pagosa Springs. I went into the Conoco station with a complete change of clothes for the balance of the day. But it was all in vain because I was rained on continuously all the way to Taos. I had to say enough and turned around to make a ‘b-line’ for Santa Fe.
Now the question probably should be; hey Rob, did you think of bringing rain gear? I did in fact and a full face helmet. But I check the weather with as much enthusiasm as I wrote in this blog long before the start of this trip. Sunny, Clear, Strong High Pressure. I was confident that my only concern would be sunburn.
I guess it makes for another story for the trip. For instance when I got settled at the Inn at Crested Butte and couldn’t find one set of keys to my bike. Then it dawned on me where I may have dropped them earlier when I had stopped previously to escape the rain. Sure enough, this morning on my way down the hill, I stopped again in that dirt lot and there they were, my other set of keys….
So I have to wind the trip down and head back to reality. Tomorrow I am heading to Phoenix. I am hoping it will be closer to dark than not, way too hot for an afternoon arrival. I also hope to salvage some of what I missed today and stop through Madrid tomorrow on the way back (that is where some of Wild Hogs was filmed, another suggestion by Barry). I also hope to keep it all on back roads like most of the trip thus far….
Saturday, June 26, 2010
If you are one of the potentially disappointed people that have been following my blog then you are aware of my declarations about how wonderful the experiences are each day. There were amazing views I have tried to share in my blog, there were amazing roads that I have taken pictures of, and there were amazing things I have experienced. But dare I say that today was the pinnacle of my trip.
Essentially it all started with a wrong turn. I went from Aspen to Leadville and my intent was to make my next stop Vail. There was a ‘fork’ in the road at Leadville and I guess I took the wrong one. Well, I thought it was the wrong turn at the time. I am heading north from Leadville and get to the I-70 and head east from there expecting that I will see Vail shortly.
The ‘Million Dollar Highway’ was a fabulous ride and I lost track of time. It was a good half hour that went by before I realized that I hadn’t seen the Vail turn off yet. It turns out that the ‘fork in the road’ that I chose took me east of Vail so I never saw the turn off. I decided to just go with it and stopped at several ski resorts off the I-70. All the time I was telling myself “go with it, it is meant to be”.
Just before Denver, I believe it was a place called Evergreen, I pulled over to get an idea of where I was and how to get to where I wanted to be, which was Pagosa Springs. Again, I truly kept saying to myself, “who cares, just go with it”. It didn’t matter that I was somewhat lost and not sure where to go or how to get there.
So I took the ‘back roads’ and worked my way over to Gunnison. By the time I got there I was so ready for a drink and to ask someone directions of how to get to Pagosa Springs from Gunnison. I saw a bar with several Harleys parked out front. Well if you ride you know as well as I do that it is a sign that this bar is where I should stop. It will be friendly and I will have something in common with the people inside.
I go inside and order my Corona. I ask, pretty much out loud to the bar, how do I get to Pagosa springs from here? The bar tender shares his vague opinion and then so do the ‘bikers’ that were in the bar. There were seven of them and they were all friends from Oklahoma. They took the time to share their knowledge of the roads and towns with me and gave me their opinion of what and where I could get to before it night falls.
Our conversation continued and somehow I find out this group is going to Crested Butte. Crested Butte? Is that close to here? They told me it was only 28 miles from Gunnison and that I was welcome to follow them. Remembering my declaration at the beginning of this trip; ‘stay fluid and go with the experience’, and despite the fact it was the opposite direction of where I was going, I said, “OK I’m in”.
Well this group, 4 guys and three of them had their wives with them, were nothing short of a jewel. They were so warm and inclusive to me. It didn’t seem to matter that I was this stranger that they had just met. They led me to Crested Butte and saw that I had a place to stay. They invited me to hang with them and have drinks. And they invited me to have dinner with them as well.
This is where I declined. It wasn’t that I didn’t want this wonderful day to continue. Nor was it that I didn’t want to continue to hang out with ‘my new friends’. It was that the day was perfect and I wanted it to end that way. They insisted that I come with them and yet I still declined. I watched them walk away and I instantly missed them. I had a fleeting moment of regret that I didn’t say yes. But it was the right thing to do. It was the perfect travel day.
A couple of side notes; the guys were so fun to hang with and it was so comfortable to hang out with them. We laughed together like I too was also from Oklahoma. As I was getting to know them and they were sharing little parts of their lives, there was this guy named Cliff. Cliff’s friends told him to go ahead and share his past with me but you could tell the group had heard the story he was about to share a million times before. Cliff pulled off his riding glove and slipped off this amazing ring. It was a (the) Super bowl Championship ring. Cliff played for the Chicago Bears when they won the Super bowl. Although Cliff, and his friends, are so much more than that story, it was certainly a bonus to a guy who remembers the Bears during their rein.
So, if my new Oklahoma friends are reading this blog, THANK YOU. Ya’ all, reminded me that this trip wasn’t about the amazing roads and all the miles I now have under my belt. This trip was about the opportunity to meet amazing people like you. As I sit here in my room at this ‘bed and breakfast’, I can hear the roar of all of your bikes as you are leave town. I hope it is not too long before we connect again.
The ‘gang’ did leave me in Crested Butte with plenty to see. It turns out that this weekend is something called the ‘Fat Tire’ Festival. Crested Butte is teaming with crazy people on bicycles and funky costumes riding around the town. Currently there is a 24 hour ride through town going on past my window (and there is a full moon). Just another unexpected jewel in my ‘perfect’ day
Essentially it all started with a wrong turn. I went from Aspen to Leadville and my intent was to make my next stop Vail. There was a ‘fork’ in the road at Leadville and I guess I took the wrong one. Well, I thought it was the wrong turn at the time. I am heading north from Leadville and get to the I-70 and head east from there expecting that I will see Vail shortly.
The ‘Million Dollar Highway’ was a fabulous ride and I lost track of time. It was a good half hour that went by before I realized that I hadn’t seen the Vail turn off yet. It turns out that the ‘fork in the road’ that I chose took me east of Vail so I never saw the turn off. I decided to just go with it and stopped at several ski resorts off the I-70. All the time I was telling myself “go with it, it is meant to be”.
Just before Denver, I believe it was a place called Evergreen, I pulled over to get an idea of where I was and how to get to where I wanted to be, which was Pagosa Springs. Again, I truly kept saying to myself, “who cares, just go with it”. It didn’t matter that I was somewhat lost and not sure where to go or how to get there.
So I took the ‘back roads’ and worked my way over to Gunnison. By the time I got there I was so ready for a drink and to ask someone directions of how to get to Pagosa Springs from Gunnison. I saw a bar with several Harleys parked out front. Well if you ride you know as well as I do that it is a sign that this bar is where I should stop. It will be friendly and I will have something in common with the people inside.
I go inside and order my Corona. I ask, pretty much out loud to the bar, how do I get to Pagosa springs from here? The bar tender shares his vague opinion and then so do the ‘bikers’ that were in the bar. There were seven of them and they were all friends from Oklahoma. They took the time to share their knowledge of the roads and towns with me and gave me their opinion of what and where I could get to before it night falls.
Our conversation continued and somehow I find out this group is going to Crested Butte. Crested Butte? Is that close to here? They told me it was only 28 miles from Gunnison and that I was welcome to follow them. Remembering my declaration at the beginning of this trip; ‘stay fluid and go with the experience’, and despite the fact it was the opposite direction of where I was going, I said, “OK I’m in”.
Well this group, 4 guys and three of them had their wives with them, were nothing short of a jewel. They were so warm and inclusive to me. It didn’t seem to matter that I was this stranger that they had just met. They led me to Crested Butte and saw that I had a place to stay. They invited me to hang with them and have drinks. And they invited me to have dinner with them as well.
This is where I declined. It wasn’t that I didn’t want this wonderful day to continue. Nor was it that I didn’t want to continue to hang out with ‘my new friends’. It was that the day was perfect and I wanted it to end that way. They insisted that I come with them and yet I still declined. I watched them walk away and I instantly missed them. I had a fleeting moment of regret that I didn’t say yes. But it was the right thing to do. It was the perfect travel day.
A couple of side notes; the guys were so fun to hang with and it was so comfortable to hang out with them. We laughed together like I too was also from Oklahoma. As I was getting to know them and they were sharing little parts of their lives, there was this guy named Cliff. Cliff’s friends told him to go ahead and share his past with me but you could tell the group had heard the story he was about to share a million times before. Cliff pulled off his riding glove and slipped off this amazing ring. It was a (the) Super bowl Championship ring. Cliff played for the Chicago Bears when they won the Super bowl. Although Cliff, and his friends, are so much more than that story, it was certainly a bonus to a guy who remembers the Bears during their rein.
So, if my new Oklahoma friends are reading this blog, THANK YOU. Ya’ all, reminded me that this trip wasn’t about the amazing roads and all the miles I now have under my belt. This trip was about the opportunity to meet amazing people like you. As I sit here in my room at this ‘bed and breakfast’, I can hear the roar of all of your bikes as you are leave town. I hope it is not too long before we connect again.
The ‘gang’ did leave me in Crested Butte with plenty to see. It turns out that this weekend is something called the ‘Fat Tire’ Festival. Crested Butte is teaming with crazy people on bicycles and funky costumes riding around the town. Currently there is a 24 hour ride through town going on past my window (and there is a full moon). Just another unexpected jewel in my ‘perfect’ day
Friday, June 25, 2010
I guess I am still on my ‘ride’ so I should post to my blog. Well, I hate to disappoint the ‘iron butts’ out there (not like anyone really cares) but I took the day off.
I could whine about being tired, wind whipped and a little sun burned but I can’t. I have had to deal with all those things before and that was just to Laughlin (have you ever been to Laughlin with me?) and those were the least of what I was suffering from on those trips. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to throw the proverbial towel in for a day and rest but the truth would be this place is pretty damn close to perfection. I did post a picture or two of the views from where I am staying. You would take the day off too!
So the bike in now clean, the clothes are washed and the bugs have been removed from all my pairs of sunglasses, it is time to get ready and head out.
Tomorrow I think it is Leadville then Vail, Beaver Creek, Gunnison and Pagosa Springs. That should make for a good day of riding! You know you have riding in your blood when you are sitting on the patio, it is 73 degrees, the sound of wind whipping through the aspens and evergreens are only surpassed by the distant rumble of oncoming thunderstorms and you are sitting with your map planning tomorrows ride.
I could whine about being tired, wind whipped and a little sun burned but I can’t. I have had to deal with all those things before and that was just to Laughlin (have you ever been to Laughlin with me?) and those were the least of what I was suffering from on those trips. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to throw the proverbial towel in for a day and rest but the truth would be this place is pretty damn close to perfection. I did post a picture or two of the views from where I am staying. You would take the day off too!
So the bike in now clean, the clothes are washed and the bugs have been removed from all my pairs of sunglasses, it is time to get ready and head out.
Tomorrow I think it is Leadville then Vail, Beaver Creek, Gunnison and Pagosa Springs. That should make for a good day of riding! You know you have riding in your blood when you are sitting on the patio, it is 73 degrees, the sound of wind whipping through the aspens and evergreens are only surpassed by the distant rumble of oncoming thunderstorms and you are sitting with your map planning tomorrows ride.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
When does the time come when metaphors and similes are no longer useful in ones’ writing? The answer; when you have been riding through some of the best parts of Utah and Colorado on a Harley and have been in awe the entire time.
This morning I left from Blanding Utah and headed north to Montecelo. From there it was east into Colorado and then down into Durango. The never ending rolling farm land was so beautiful with green fields and dark brown fertile soil. As I drove past what seemed like endless plots of land I couldn’t help but think about the type of person it takes to work the land tirelessly and to have your closet neighbor a mile away. Is it contentment or just the way life worked out for those people? I don’t know but as I roared passed on my Harley I would get the occasional glance like they wanted to be with me for that moment.
It took a couple of hours but I got into Durango. This is a very cool town. Like so many towns in Colorado, they hold fast to the old ‘cowboy’ way and flavor of architecture. It could have been Aspen or Steamboat I was walking through it all has the same natural feeling in the summer.
From there it was north through Silverton and Ouray. Now I have at least a 100,000 motorcycle miles under my belt but I spent a lot of the time on those roads white knuckled and or with a pit in my stomach. The biggest problem wasn’t that the roads were too tough for my riding skills. No, the problem was my rubber necking though all the amazing scenery I rode past. It would scare me when I would try and balance my attention between the profound beauty and the task of keeping my bike on the road.
There were a few times today when I couldn’t help but wish I could have shared this experience with certain people in my life. There have been plenty of moments when being alone on this trip is beyond perfect. I don’t have to worry that I have stopped too many times or for too long, you get the idea. On the other hand, words don’t do much justice to this trip and sometimes a glance between you and the person you are riding with can sum up the entire journey without saying a word. My friend Barry has been texting me throughout the trip. Barry has helped me prepare for this trip with his vast experience. He has posted so many rides on his website, Cyclerides.com. Through his text he said he could see me smiling as I was taking the roads in front of me. I could see the same smile on his face as well. These are experiences that are easier shared than described.
So the lesson for riding today wasn’t about being comfortable; at the top of the passes it was in the 50’s and in Montrose it was 102. The lesson I got from riding today is to heed the signs that say falling rocks. I am sure you have seen this sign on the mountain passes and we look around and don’t think much more about it than the boulders tucked to the side of the road. Well, through the pass between Paonia and Redstone, this was the last pass as I was getting into Carbondale, there was a avalanche right in front of me. If I had been a couple of seconds faster it would have taken me off the road and into the canyon. I know that is a pretty dramatic statement but literally the mountainside gave away right in front of me. One moment I saw a car coming the opposite direction and the next the mountain slid into the road and a ball of dirt filled the air that was so dense I could no longer see through it to the oncoming car. I was at a complete stop for a good minute or two until the dust settled. The southbound lane was blocked with debris and my northbound lane had some scattered rocks on it (these rocks were way too large to ever want to run over with a truck tire let alone a bike yet I would not describe them as boulders). The benefit of being on the bike and not being swept away was I could pick my way through the blockage and continue my way to Aspen. It really didn’t freak me out or shake me up at all. I just thought that it would make an great addition to an already amazing adventure.
I am up in the air about tomorrow. I have 1300 miles on my body in three days. It is a lot for me and I am feeling it. My parents have shared their amazing place with me here in Colorado. I just may take the day tomorrow and clean the bike, wash some cloths, see Aspen and prepare for more days of riding! Sounds great, doesn’t it?
This morning I left from Blanding Utah and headed north to Montecelo. From there it was east into Colorado and then down into Durango. The never ending rolling farm land was so beautiful with green fields and dark brown fertile soil. As I drove past what seemed like endless plots of land I couldn’t help but think about the type of person it takes to work the land tirelessly and to have your closet neighbor a mile away. Is it contentment or just the way life worked out for those people? I don’t know but as I roared passed on my Harley I would get the occasional glance like they wanted to be with me for that moment.
It took a couple of hours but I got into Durango. This is a very cool town. Like so many towns in Colorado, they hold fast to the old ‘cowboy’ way and flavor of architecture. It could have been Aspen or Steamboat I was walking through it all has the same natural feeling in the summer.
From there it was north through Silverton and Ouray. Now I have at least a 100,000 motorcycle miles under my belt but I spent a lot of the time on those roads white knuckled and or with a pit in my stomach. The biggest problem wasn’t that the roads were too tough for my riding skills. No, the problem was my rubber necking though all the amazing scenery I rode past. It would scare me when I would try and balance my attention between the profound beauty and the task of keeping my bike on the road.
There were a few times today when I couldn’t help but wish I could have shared this experience with certain people in my life. There have been plenty of moments when being alone on this trip is beyond perfect. I don’t have to worry that I have stopped too many times or for too long, you get the idea. On the other hand, words don’t do much justice to this trip and sometimes a glance between you and the person you are riding with can sum up the entire journey without saying a word. My friend Barry has been texting me throughout the trip. Barry has helped me prepare for this trip with his vast experience. He has posted so many rides on his website, Cyclerides.com. Through his text he said he could see me smiling as I was taking the roads in front of me. I could see the same smile on his face as well. These are experiences that are easier shared than described.
So the lesson for riding today wasn’t about being comfortable; at the top of the passes it was in the 50’s and in Montrose it was 102. The lesson I got from riding today is to heed the signs that say falling rocks. I am sure you have seen this sign on the mountain passes and we look around and don’t think much more about it than the boulders tucked to the side of the road. Well, through the pass between Paonia and Redstone, this was the last pass as I was getting into Carbondale, there was a avalanche right in front of me. If I had been a couple of seconds faster it would have taken me off the road and into the canyon. I know that is a pretty dramatic statement but literally the mountainside gave away right in front of me. One moment I saw a car coming the opposite direction and the next the mountain slid into the road and a ball of dirt filled the air that was so dense I could no longer see through it to the oncoming car. I was at a complete stop for a good minute or two until the dust settled. The southbound lane was blocked with debris and my northbound lane had some scattered rocks on it (these rocks were way too large to ever want to run over with a truck tire let alone a bike yet I would not describe them as boulders). The benefit of being on the bike and not being swept away was I could pick my way through the blockage and continue my way to Aspen. It really didn’t freak me out or shake me up at all. I just thought that it would make an great addition to an already amazing adventure.
I am up in the air about tomorrow. I have 1300 miles on my body in three days. It is a lot for me and I am feeling it. My parents have shared their amazing place with me here in Colorado. I just may take the day tomorrow and clean the bike, wash some cloths, see Aspen and prepare for more days of riding! Sounds great, doesn’t it?
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
It is almost 11 pm and I am just now settling in to my hotel room in Blanding Utah. I am exhausted! I put on more than 500 miles today!
The morning started at the break of daylight because I was sleeping in a tent at the North Rim. It was so cold. It was below 40 and I was buried in my sleeping bag zipped up in my tent. It was novel, it was fun, I am happy to be in a hotel room tonight.
I didn’t get to Zion this trip. The road through at the tunnel was closed. I would have only been able to see lower Zion and then had to turn around and head back the other way. So I went up to Bryce. It was magnificent. From there it was off to a couple state parks including the Grand Stair Case.
From there I thought I would make it to Durango for the night. Uh, no way in hell that was happening. But I have to say I took some of the most beautiful roads I have every ridden a bike on. Some even induced the ‘pucker’ factor. Steep canyon walls and roads that dropped of for a good 1000 feet on both sides made for some tense moment. The forests were green and lush with pines and aspens. I had to stop on the road 3 times; two for cattle and once for deer. It was very cool! There was so many amazing roads and views today. It was truly sensory overload. It was all I could do to absorb some of the view without going off the road. The day turned very long as I tried to stay somewhere with a hotel and a restaurant. I had to go all the way to Blanding. I got here at 9 pm and it was pretty dark.
Anyway I am so tired I am going to crash. Maybe I can share some more details of today’s ride later. Like I had mentioned, these are some of the most amazing roads I have taken on the bike, no exception.
Tomorrow I am heading south to Durango and then up through Silverton and Gunnison. I am hoping to be sleeping at my parents (my in-laws but I hate calling them that) house in Snowmass tomorrow night. If I get there, it will be another long riding day. I can’t wait!
The morning started at the break of daylight because I was sleeping in a tent at the North Rim. It was so cold. It was below 40 and I was buried in my sleeping bag zipped up in my tent. It was novel, it was fun, I am happy to be in a hotel room tonight.
I didn’t get to Zion this trip. The road through at the tunnel was closed. I would have only been able to see lower Zion and then had to turn around and head back the other way. So I went up to Bryce. It was magnificent. From there it was off to a couple state parks including the Grand Stair Case.
From there I thought I would make it to Durango for the night. Uh, no way in hell that was happening. But I have to say I took some of the most beautiful roads I have every ridden a bike on. Some even induced the ‘pucker’ factor. Steep canyon walls and roads that dropped of for a good 1000 feet on both sides made for some tense moment. The forests were green and lush with pines and aspens. I had to stop on the road 3 times; two for cattle and once for deer. It was very cool! There was so many amazing roads and views today. It was truly sensory overload. It was all I could do to absorb some of the view without going off the road. The day turned very long as I tried to stay somewhere with a hotel and a restaurant. I had to go all the way to Blanding. I got here at 9 pm and it was pretty dark.
Anyway I am so tired I am going to crash. Maybe I can share some more details of today’s ride later. Like I had mentioned, these are some of the most amazing roads I have taken on the bike, no exception.
Tomorrow I am heading south to Durango and then up through Silverton and Gunnison. I am hoping to be sleeping at my parents (my in-laws but I hate calling them that) house in Snowmass tomorrow night. If I get there, it will be another long riding day. I can’t wait!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
What a wonderful first day! Getting out of the house and leaving my family was the hardest part. I was out the door at 6 a.m. this morning, just what I had planned. I just knew I had to beat the Phoenix heat and I would take any route necessary to get out of Dodge!
So it was up the I-17 to Cordes Junction and then I knew things would chill from there. And chill they did. It was below 60 up Mingus Mountain. There was a chill in the air and the bike ran great.
I got into Jerome way too early, even the breakfast joints hadn’t opened yet. And getting a beer at the Spirit Room definitely wasn’t happening. So it was breakfast in Sedona. Not a bad compromise.
After breakfast I was hitting the twisties through the canyon up to Flagstaff. It was crazy up there! I was riding through smoke and burning ambers. It wasn’t scary but it did feel chaotic if not surreal. I don’t know if it was subliminal or what but I wore my ‘Globe Hot Shot’ shirt (as in forest fire fighter). Needless to say I was welcome at the staging area where I happened to stop for gas. I admitted I wasn’t a hot shot fire fighter but I did immediately tell them I have put out plenty of fires in my life!
On the way north from Flagstaff it got hot! Maybe in Phoenix hot but 70 miles an hour for, well, too long, things got uncomfortable. I was happy to get north and work my way into the Grand Canyon National Park.
It is so beautiful here! I got here sometime after 3 and it is too beautiful to rush out. I found someone who sold me their camp site pass for $10. The place was sold out and I was waiting in line to beg for a spot and this lady came up to me and offered her pass. Woo Hoo! It just couldn’t be more perfect for me right now. Yes, I would love a shower and a bed (I will make sure I get those tomorrow). But I am walking distance to the edge of the North Rim. I have a bottle of wine (Ericka would be so proud), cheese, crackers, apple and plenty for stuff. I am CONTENT! And actually having fun, I just don’t get to do this every day.
I hope this made some sense. I have 390 miles and a couple of glasses of wine under my belt. The sun is starting to set. The smell of camp fires is starting to fill the air and I have actually already seen a doe and several squirrels. People are friendly and fascinated by the contrast of my Harley and my rough appearance and the contrast of the bottle of wine and the laptop. Again, things are good.
So it was up the I-17 to Cordes Junction and then I knew things would chill from there. And chill they did. It was below 60 up Mingus Mountain. There was a chill in the air and the bike ran great.
I got into Jerome way too early, even the breakfast joints hadn’t opened yet. And getting a beer at the Spirit Room definitely wasn’t happening. So it was breakfast in Sedona. Not a bad compromise.
After breakfast I was hitting the twisties through the canyon up to Flagstaff. It was crazy up there! I was riding through smoke and burning ambers. It wasn’t scary but it did feel chaotic if not surreal. I don’t know if it was subliminal or what but I wore my ‘Globe Hot Shot’ shirt (as in forest fire fighter). Needless to say I was welcome at the staging area where I happened to stop for gas. I admitted I wasn’t a hot shot fire fighter but I did immediately tell them I have put out plenty of fires in my life!
On the way north from Flagstaff it got hot! Maybe in Phoenix hot but 70 miles an hour for, well, too long, things got uncomfortable. I was happy to get north and work my way into the Grand Canyon National Park.
It is so beautiful here! I got here sometime after 3 and it is too beautiful to rush out. I found someone who sold me their camp site pass for $10. The place was sold out and I was waiting in line to beg for a spot and this lady came up to me and offered her pass. Woo Hoo! It just couldn’t be more perfect for me right now. Yes, I would love a shower and a bed (I will make sure I get those tomorrow). But I am walking distance to the edge of the North Rim. I have a bottle of wine (Ericka would be so proud), cheese, crackers, apple and plenty for stuff. I am CONTENT! And actually having fun, I just don’t get to do this every day.
I hope this made some sense. I have 390 miles and a couple of glasses of wine under my belt. The sun is starting to set. The smell of camp fires is starting to fill the air and I have actually already seen a doe and several squirrels. People are friendly and fascinated by the contrast of my Harley and my rough appearance and the contrast of the bottle of wine and the laptop. Again, things are good.
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