My wife and I decided to celebrate our second anniversary with a trip to the Rocky Mountains. I had four weeks of vacation saved up but she only had two. She also has never been on a bike for more than about 300 miles in a day and since I haven’t taken a long ride in many years I was very anxious to put down some serious miles, so we decided it would be best for me to ride to Denver myself and pick her up at the airport. Once there we would have two weeks to explore Colorado before she flies home leaving me another week to get home myself. I made three rules for myself for this trip. First was to avoid freeways whenever possible, second was no fast food, and third was to avoid riding after dark. I ended up breaking all three rules for various reasons, but was able to stick to it for the most part.
I don’t know about anyone else, but by my standards this definitely qualifies as an “epic” trip.
6,278 miles, 31 mountain passes, 6 National Parks, more than 750 pictures, and around 20 brewpubs all in 24 days.
Although I’m no author, I hope to convey the plethora of stories I accumulated along the way in such a way that a few readers might enjoy a small fraction of what I experienced.
PHASE 1,
ACME WA TO AURORA CO
July 4th, 2009
It’s 7:30 in the morning and I’ve not slept most of the night. The bike is packed and all I can think of is riding. This first day is going to be a bit of a tease since I’m only going about 300 miles on roads I’ve ridden many times before. My destination is Portland to check out the fireworks and spend the night with my buddy Kevin.
Not more than 20 minutes on the road I come up behind a Harley bagger following a few cars, and wait for a chance to pass. When we finally came to a safe place to pass I hesitated momentarily so as not to cut off the Harley if he decided to pass. Well, sure enough he did, and quite slowly. So here I am just waiting for him to get his pass over with and get out of the way, but he then realizes that I intend to pass him as well so he speeds up to about 80. I figure OK, that’s good enough for me, so I pull in behind him. Here we are, toolin’ down the road at about 80 mph and up ahead, in the rather near distance, is a left hand corner with a 35 mph sign. Naturally, I figure this guy is going to slow waaaay down for the corners,as Harley riders are prone to do, thus annoying the hell out of me, but to my dismay I end up seeing my first fireworks display of the year when his highway pegs send a shower of sparks into the air and he runs wide off the road. I think it was probably about that time that he realized a Harley low rider doesn’t corner as well as an FZ1. Even a fully loaded one.
Portland is a great city. Kevin and I went to a few pubs to kill some time before the fireworks started. I had, for the first time, an Ocho Negro by Deschutes brewery. As the name says, it is the eighth in their black IPA series. Kinda messes with the mind to drink what by taste is very obviously an IPA, but it’s as dark as a stout.
For such a large city I was a little disappointed in the fireworks display. I guess the economy is taking its toll.
July 5th
The ride across Oregon was pretty uneventful. It took for ever to get out of Portland, but once I did the ride over Blue Box Pass on hwy 26 was beautiful with many great views of Mt. Hood.
From hwy 26 I followed 97 south to hwy 31 to 395 into California were I spent my second night.
July 6th
Shortly after entering California I came across a derailed train. I know nothing of the story behind this, but I thought it was an interesting picture.
I crossed over to hwy 50 in Nevada which I discovered along the way is known as the “loneliest road.” Well, in the 110 miles between Fallon and Austin I learned why. There are 2 stretches of road, straight as an arrow, that went on for 40 or 50 miles each with nothing more than a looooong sweeper so shallow that the only indication that you are turning is the fact that the road no longer disappears directly in front of you, but off to the right somewhere. It was all I could do to keep from falling asleep through this section. Then, after monotony that could bore the socks off a corpse, comes the beautiful little town of Austin. I found the local town park and took a short nap before leaving town and continuing on what I assumed would be more of the same.
Imagine my surprise when immediately outside of Austin I was greeted by a real mountain pass, complete with steep grades and tight windy roads. Then there were more 30 plus mile stretches of totally straight road, but it never got as bad as the stretch west of Austin.
On one of the last straight stretches I came up behind a group of 4 cruisers riding staggered, split into 2’s. I passed the first two and the guy in the #3 position nailed it to hang with me. He then pulls up along side with his flip face helmet up, huge grin on his face, and challenges me to a top gear roll on contest. Now, granted this guy is on a big full dress Harley, but at 80 mph in 6th gear I’m only running about 5k rpm and the fizzy doesn’t even begin to produce power until 7k. Needless to say, he walked away from me. That is until about the time his rear tire was even with my front and the tack hit 7k. At that point I left him standing there wondering where his new friend had gone. At about 137 my tank bag tried to jump ship so I decided to bring it back down to more sane speeds.
About 20 miles down the road I finally pull into Ely for gas. My new racer friend and his buddies happen to stop at the same place so we strike up a conversation. This old dude looks at me and says “That’s the first time I’ve been beaten by a BMW, at least it wasn’t a Gold Wing.” I told him he could relax, it’s not a BMW it’s a Yamaha. He say’s “Well no wonder you beat me.” Then goes on to tell me about how he used to sell Yamaha’s. While in the store his son-in-law informed me that he was also a hell of a flat track racer back in the day. I guess he still has a bit of the racer still in him. BTW, this dude had to have been pushing 80.
July 6th
In Nevada I also stopped at Grimes Pt. Archaeological Area were I got some pics of petroglyphs.
While checking out the petroglyphs I was also greeted by this little guy.
July 6th
I spent the night at Cave Lake state park in eastern Nevada.
While in camp I met a guy from Montreal named Greg riding a BMW GS. This was his first bike and he had never ridden dirt before. Despite this, he was on his fifth week of a DS ride cross country, had gone over 7000 miles and had about 2000 more before getting home. I sat and BS’d with him for a couple of hours and just as I was returning to camp a 750 Magna pulls in with a trailer in tow. So I went over to his camp and introduced myself.
Mike was a retired metal worker and had fabricated his trailer and hitch in his garage. This guy had everything. As a matter of fact, he invited me the next morning to join him for coffee and bacon. It sure must be nice having the ability to carry everything you could possibly need, but somehow I just don’t think the riding would be as much fun with a trailer back there.
Here are some pics of my campsite.
July 7th
My original plan put me in Denver on Wednesday, but Kriss’ plane wasn’t to arrive until Saturday. So I decided it would be a good idea to kill a little time in Utah along the way. My first stop was Kolob Canyon in Zion N.P.
Kolob Canyon is the western most part of the park, and I’m told it doesn’t get nearly the amount of visitors as the main area. When I went through I only saw maybe a dozen other people. I decided to hike the short trail to Timber Cr. Overlook and didn’t see another person the whole way.
Next I decided to do battle with a bunch of mindless automatons in rented motor homes. Zion was absolutely beautiful, but it can be nerve racking trying to ride, enjoy the scenery, and watch out for idiots who shouldn’t drive cars much less mansions on wheels.
I spent the night in a small campground just outside Bryce Canyon N.P. and since I’d seen Bryce before I decided to skip it on this trip and just head up hwy 12 and on to Capitol Reef N.P. I suspected that as I headed north east away from Bryce that the scenery would become more mundane, but I was surprised to see that IMHO all of hwy 12 is deserving of National Park status. The view is absolutely stunning, and what a fun road to ride. Just make damn sure you don’t make any mistakes on this road. As fun as it was, one mistake here may well be your last. Sheer drops of hundreds, if not thousands, of feet just inches from the road with no guard rail and more tar snakes than I‘ve seen in my life (I think this may be where they come to breed). It was certainly enough to peak the attention and calm the racer-boy within.
The pics don’t completely do it justice, but this section of hwy 12 has you riding across the top of a ridge with sheer drops on both sides.
As if on cue, just as I was getting hungry, I came across a little coffee house. It was easy to miss since it is an earth sheltered building that is basically under the parking lot, but the signs led me to the right place.
This was the view while I drank my coffee and ate my raspberry scone. You can’t see it as well in the picture, but the contrast between the bright red and orange of the rock and the green trees was very dramatic.
After hwy 12 I headed east on 24 and rode through Capitol Reef NP. I'm at a loss for words to describe the scenery to be found in this state, so I'll just post pics.
Some petroglyphs in Capitol Reef NP.
Years ago my friend Kevin told me about Goblin Valley State Park in Utah and by his description I instantly felt I had to visit. Fortunately it's on the way to Moab, which was my next intended stop.
The geologist in me was instantly amazed at huge boulders balanced on a bed of lightly lithified mud.
The kid in me instantly thought of an army of goblins amassing to take over the world.
After seeing all the goblins gathered in the valley I walked to the north and found where the valley opens up into a larger plain. I saw this formation which is nearly twice the size of the others and I think to myself that this must be the guardian of the valley looking out onto the plain.
Then I was kinda wierded out when I walked around to the other side and saw this.
Here's the wizard of the valley
After walking around in a parched valley in what had to have been over 100 degree temperatures all I could think of was some good food and a cold beer, so my next plan was to find the Moab brewery.
An Ortega Chile burger was the perfect compliment to their Scorpion Pale Ale.
By the time I finished drinking a beer and waiting around for any effects to wear off it was getting pretty late. I figured I would find the first campsite I could and call it a day. I turned into Arches N.P. and the first thing I noticed was a long line of cars. The second was about ten minutes later when I saw the "campground full" sign.
Then I remembered in the brewpub I met a couple riding from Wisconsin who had told me that Dead Horse Point S.P. was a great place. So I rode about 25 miles down a dead end road only to find that they too were full. My last chance is Willow Flat campground in Canyonlands N.P. at the end of the dead end road, another 12 miles.
It's about 8:00 PM, I've been on the road since 5:00 AM, it's getting dark, and I want to sleep. I look at the map for other options but they are few, so I decide to continue on and I promise myself that if it's full I'll go back to Moab and get a room...no matter the price.
I'm ecstatic when I pull into the campground and find it nearly deserted. Quickly I throw a few things on the table to claim my spot and then ride to the lookout at the end of the road for a few pics.
I managed to make it back to camp just in time to set my tent up in the dark.
July 9th
Canyonlands N.P., what a great place to wake up.
I like this angle a little better.
I was hoping to see Arches N.P. today, but there were a lot of ominous looking clouds in the sky and it was still early enough in the trip that thunder storms had not yet become common place to me. As a matter of fact, it was freakin my $#!t out! So I ran to the lookout again to get some morning pics,
and then hauled ass to get out'a the heat, out'a the storms, and out'a Utah. (Yeah, I guess that's a little redundant.)
COLORADO, HERE I COME!!!
As per the advice of an FZ1 owners association member I head south out of Moab until I hit UT 46. As I'm going through one of the small towns on 46 I'm doing about 55, in a 40, when I come up behind a pickup. You may be thinking, just as I was, no big deal right? It's just a truck. Then as I get right up behind him I see "Utah Highway Patrol" painted on the tailgate. So as he's pulling over, letting me by, and then pulling back out, naturally the only thought in my head is “awe fudge sticks” or something to that effect. Amazingly he didn't give me a ticket, as a matter of fact; he didn't even pull me over. I guess he figured scaring the crap out of me was enough.
After waiting for about half an hour for construction I finally made it to Colorado!
I wanted to get to Denver without using I 70, which in itself isn't all that hard to do, but with the help of another FZ1OA member who lives in CO I found a way that optimized the riding experience. In other words the roads were awesome. Somewhere I heard someone describe hwy 141 as the best motorcycle road in Colorado that no one knows about. From what I've seen I concur, totally twisty and very little traffic.
I found a plaque on the side of the road that told me there is somewhere on the order of 500 abandoned uranium mines in this particular valley. I also learned a little about the history of the mines, but one topic I found conspicuously absent was any mention of the effects of uranium ore on the miners or their families? A little further along I came across a part of the gorge where one mining operation had built a "hanging flume." This was a wood aqueduct attached to the canyon wall to carry water to the mine. I was able to shoot a few shots of the ruins still on the wall.
I stopped in a tiny little town called Gateway to get some gas and food. While sitting in what, if I remember correctly, I described at the time as a "pretentious little cafe'" I was reading a ride report about a cool auto museum in the town of Gateway. Wow, what a coincidence. I asked the waitress, and sure enough, it's right behind the restaurant. So I went over to check it out.
This is one cruiser I wouldn't mind owning.
This place also had a one of a kind Oldsmobile F-88. This is a 250 HP, fiberglass bodied 324 V8 with a 4 speed "hydromatic" transmition. I'm not sure what hydromatic means, but it sounded impressive to me. This was also one of the first cars with automatic door latches and windows.
I continued north on 141 until I came to hwy 65, then turned south and rode over Grand Mesa, the first of many passes in Colorado. Actually, Grand Mesa is the town. I'm not sure what the name of the pass is. What I do know is that it was absolutely beautiful. I think the single sentence I wrote in my notes at the time sums it up pretty well. "What a hoot."
As I was coming down the east side of the pass I noticed a couple of sport bikes in my mirrors and since I had a lot of gear on the bike I figured I would pull over and wave them by. Once they were past me I twisted it back up a bit and hung behind them for a while. There was a Gixxer leading and a CBR600 following. They were both wearing t-shirt, jeans, tennis shoes, and (surprisingly enough) a helmet. From a distance both of them looked like they were hauling azz by the way they were working the bikes, leaning off etc. The funny part was that I was able to hang right behind them, with a bike that I must admit was not only fully loaded, but a bit over loaded, and it didn't even take any effort. Meanwhile these guys were both blowing lines and running wide in nearly every corner.
Now, I'd be lying if I claimed to be totally ATGATT. I once rode my fizzy 3/4 of a mile to the corner store, wearing no jacket or riding pants. But to see a couple kids riding powerful machines with no gear and readily demonstrating that they had little skills started to make my skin crawl so I backed off a bit and let them go.
I rode west on hwy 92 to hwy 133 and stopped in Paonia for dinner, then spent the night in Paonia S.P.
Immediately after packing up camp and hitting the road I was climbing another pass. McClure pass to be precise, then back down the other side and east on hwy 82. As I was riding through Aspen I saw a fizzy parked on the side of the road and realized that it was the third I had seen on the entire trip from Washington and the other two were in the last two days. Apparently Coloradans like their fizzies.
East of Aspen I came to Independence Ghost Town. Prospectors first discovered gold on Independence pass on July 4th 1879 and by 1880 there were 300 people living there. By 1882 there were 40 businesses, 3 post offices and an estimated 1500 people with over $190,000 worth of gold being produced between 1881 and 1882. In 1883 production dropped to $2,000 and by 1888 only 100 people still lived there. The town also managed to go through six different names in those eight or nine years.
My next photo op was Independence Pass which at 12,095' is the highest point my fizzy had yet seen.
Here's a shot of the road going down the east side of the pass.
After Independence Pass I stopped in a restaurant in Twin Lakes where I was side tracked by a local who loved to talk. He filled me in on pine beetles, altitude sickness, and just about everything else he could shoe-horn into a 45 minute conversation. It was really quite entertaining, but before long I had a serious need to roll so I turned north and passed through Leadville and over Fremont Pass before stopping again at Backcountry Brewery in Frisco.
I tried their IPA and sat in the bar with nothing better to do than annoy the bartender who I'm sure had plenty of better things to do. Then after a while I continued east to ride over Loveland pass, the forth for the day, and past Denver to Aurora where I got my first comfortable bed in six days.
2 comments:
Nicely written Dan! The perfect antidote for a rainy bellingham afternoon. Thanks!
* Twitch twitch *
-- Next time, I'm going with you --
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