Eddie's Colorado Trip - July 2007

I wrote this over a year ago, but never really did anything with. Warning... this is a long post.

Eddie's Colorado Trip July 2007

Average MPG – 70.08 MPG
High Point – 94.13 mountain roads (probably not exceeding 60MPH)
Low Point – 56.22 highway speeds (80+ MPH) between Amarillo & Vernon TX
Total Fuel Cost – 134.42
Total Miles – 2,744 miles

A trip of a lifetime, an epic journey, Chasing Shadows… well maybe it was not any of those, but to me it was a little mini adventure. An 11-day solo bike ride from McKinney Texas to Estes Park Colorado and back – the “long way round” so to speak. I would not get to Estes Park from the east like I have dozens of times before, but rather from the west. I really had no plans; I just wanted to ride through Ouray, other than that - no other route planned out. I have a good friend of the past 20 years or so who lives in Estes Park. The plan was to be at Bill’s house on the Big Thompson River some time on Wednesday, and I had 5 days to get there.

Preparation for the trip was pretty uneventful, other than the calamity 3 days before my departure. I had just installed my Jesse bags a week earlier, and the Wednesday before I was to leave; I put my bike up on the center stand and was lubing the chain etc… Went to roll the bike off the center stand like I have done dozens of time before, I don’t know if it was because it was the first time I did it with the Jesse’s installed and I was standing in a different position or what, but down went the bike. Right up against my truck. The fall busted the side view mirror clamp and the windscreen. I immediately looked for the rewind button on the remote… Luckily the BMW dealership was able to get another clamp overnight and the Honda dealership another Givi windscreen overnight – so the day before I left, I was back in business.

As far as riding experience goes, I was departing almost exactly a year after I bought the bike. One year and 7 days later to be exact. This is my first motorcycle, so that 1 year and 7 days includes all of my riding experience, and in that year I had logged 8,700 miles. So, on this trip alone, I would add to my riding experience by almost 1/3. My previous long rides were McKinney to Broken Bow OK, about 400 miles or so (single day), and then a trip to Big Bend that totaled about 1,300 miles (on and off road). Both of those rides were with Gary. Gary is an experience rider who, although I had always thought about buying a bike, is really the one who finally got me to actually do it. He is also responsible for teaching me pretty much everything I know about riding, safety, etc… He has always been good at telling me if I am doing something wrong or dangerous – and without being an ass about it. Like me, he also has a BMW F650GS, and when I had my garage mishap he immediately offered to take the parts off of his bike so I could use them on my trip. I learned a lot about riding from Gary, but for this trip I would be alone. He made suggestions, and I listened. It also helps that Gary and I have made several trips to Big Bend together and climbed a peak called Elephant Tusk once (a whole other story). As far as any evidence we can find – we are only the 2nd group to reach the summit, and only one group has summited since. So I guess the point is, I trust him. We went for a short ride and a couple of beers a few days before my trip and talked a little about it. I think it was that conversation that Gary said I should go through Aspen. He is a photographer, had spent a few days shooting a wedding in Aspen a while back and said it was a really cool town. So, Aspen was added to my potential itinerary.

The Friday before I left, I got home from work called my Mon & Dad, finished packing, and went over a few last minute checks on the bike. I had arranged for my ex-wife, Sandy, to pick up my mail and check on my house while was gone – so I gave her a call just to go over a few last minute things. Everything was in order, and I was all set to head out on my journey.

Day 1
Saturday July 14, 2007
McKinney, TX – Dumas, TX
423 miles

I had planned on leaving the house pretty early. I had to take my dog to the vet to be boarded and they did not open until 0800 on Saturday morning, so I knew I was not going to be able to leave to early. But I figured I would be on the road by 0830 – 0900 for sure. Well, things don’t always go as planned. I already had the Jesse’s packed, but I needed put my tail bag on the bike and then my tent, etc… When I bought the Jesse luggage, I did not get the rack mounts for the top of the bags – thinking I would wait to see if I needed them. When it came time to mount my tent, etc… I wish I had purchased the mounting racks. As it were, I would have strapped the tent to the top of the tail bag along with the other miscellaneous gear, but it started to get awkward and bulky. Ultimately I decided to leave the tent, sleeping bag, pads, etc… at home. I had not really planned on camping, but was just going to take them in case I could not find a hotel, motel, B&B, or somewhere else to stay. I was taking off each day without knowing where I was going to end up at the conclusion of that day so I thought bringing the camping gear would be a good idea. But I really was not heading into the Australian outback, it was Colorado, I figured I would certainly be able to find a place to stay no matter where I ended up. So, ditching the tent and camping gear was the most logical course of action. In the end it was the correct one, at least for this trip. Future trips I will probably camp, but I am glad I stayed where I did on this trip – I met some really nice people at the places I stayed. Also getting rid of the camping gear freed up a lot of room in the Jesse bags, everything was easily accessible. All of my clothes and everything I would need to take into a hotel room with me I kept in the tail bag. The tail bag is a BMW tail bag designed specifically for the F650gs. It attaches and comes off pretty easily and even has a unique feature that converts into a backpack, which makes it very easy to get up and down stairs, into hotel rooms etc… Pretty much everything else, tools, spare tubes, maps, etc… could stay locked in the Jesse’s.

All in all I ended up not leaving the house until after 10:00. At first I was disappointed in my late departure. Then I realized that the entire spirit of the trip was the fact that I had no plans, no destination for the end of each day. The beauty in the trip was that I was going to ride until I felt like stopping and that was where I was going to stay. If I decided to take a different road, then the different road I would take. If the journey meant spending an hour longer than anticipated repacking the bike in the beginning, then the journey had already begun. I was already on my way, and right on time.


Just about the time I was departing, Gary called. I told him I was just heading out. I said something about wishing I had charged my cell phone because it did not have a full charge. He said he had a charger and to stop by. So the first unscheduled stop, Gary’s house – McKinney TX. I got to Gary’s house about 5 minutes or so after leaving my house. He brought out the phone charger, but then I realize I did not have the adaptor for the bike, so it was for naught. Not that it really mattered, my phone had over half a charge and it was not like I was going to be calling anyone before I could charge it that night. About 10:30 or so, I departed Gary’s house and headed west on hwy 380.



One of the things that always amazes me is the camaraderie among riders. That was clearly evident to me on this trip, almost right from the beginning. Even on 380 I felt a connection with the other riders on the road. That is always there with the wave or a nod of the head, but maybe because I had all of the gear on the bike, the other riders knew I was going on a road trip. It’s like the nod or the wave had a little more behind it. Kind of like a “yeah, I wish I was doing that” or “good luck on your trip” because they had “been there - done that”. It was even more obvious to me when I got on I 35 for a short period between Denton and Gainsville. By shear coincidence when I merged onto the highway, I happened to be right by a guy on a big Honda VTX that looked like he was out on a long trip as well. For the 20 or so miles of road heading north we rode together. We did not know each other, really had no idea what each other even looked like under the helmet and gear, but we both just automatically rode together until I headed west on 82 in Gainsville and he continued north on I-35. When I exited, we both gave each other a wave and headed back on our solo journeys.

The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. It was July in Texas – that equals hot. Luckily I had mesh gear. Olympia Jacket and Pants. Both mesh, so I just wore a t-shirt and underwear underneath and was pretty comfortable. Mesh gloves also kept the air flowing over my hands, my hand guards had not come in before the trip so there was nothing to restrict the air flow there. When I got tired or thirsty I stopped for a drink. I was getting 200+ miles before the low fuel light would come on, so often I would stop just to stretch my legs or get a bottle of water. The first stop was at the Chisholm Trail Mercantile in St. Jo. It is a small motorcycle apparel shop in a little town called St. Jo. If I remember right, St. Jo used to be a stop along the old Chisholm trail back in the Texas cattle drive days. It’s kind of a neat little town, there is a unique “yard sculpture” a couple of miles south of town. Kind of a mimic of the Cadillac’s at Cadillac Ranch out by Amarillo. I had been to the yard sculpture before, but did not stop this time. This time I just stopped by the Mercantile for a coke, and to talk to the folks that worked there. They cater more to the Harley crowd, as does most of the motorcycle world. But the girl behind the counter actually remembered me. I had been through there a few months earlier and had a flat (out by the yard sculpture), I had gone back by the mercantile to see if they knew of anyone that could help (now I always ride with a spare tube and tire irons…). Anyway, that is another story too, but she remembered me from that – and that I rode a BMW. They seemed to be fairly impressed that I was going on a 10 day ride to Colorado, that kind of surprised me. I figured that they would get a lot of people riding through. But I guess they mostly just get weekend riders, after all, that’s what I was doing the first time I went by there. I drank my coke, chatted for a while and headed back on my trip. As I headed out north of Amarillo, I noticed a storm starting to build up to the west, it was starting to get to be around 7:30 PM, and I was getting hungry, so I decided to make my first overnight stop in Dumas Texas.

As I rode into Dumas, there was a plethora of motels to stay at. That kind of surprised me. I had been through Dumas several times before when driving to Colorado, but had never done more than stop there for gas. Apparently Dumas has become some sort of jumping off point for people going to Colorado or New Mexico. Although I can’t figure out why, it really is not all that close. I rode around to a few of the different hotels and that is when I got my first sticker shock of the hotel prices. I have traveled a lot, but usually for work and or on vacations with my wife (or ex-wife now…). For work the arrangements are all pretty much made and I don’t usually worry to much about the prices, they are corporate approved and chosen hotels. When my wife and I traveled, I expected to pay a little more for a hotel because we wanted to stay at a decent place. But this was just me, by myself, hell I was ready to camp. I really did not care. All I wanted was a bed and a place to take a shower in the morning. I was thinking I could certainly find something in the $50 - $60 per night range. Well, not quite so much the case there buddy… Everything was $100+ per night. But I guess that is what you get for traveling in peak Vacation season, but once I got past the sticker shock I was okay. I did end up finding better deals during the trip that kind of evened everything out. So, I got my first hotel room, got back on my bike and started to head to the room. That’s when I dropped my bike… Damn, it was embarrassing. I did not drop it hard, just kind of laid it down softly and picked it right back up. But immediately I was like “damn, I hope no one saw that”. I was pulling in the parking lot the opposite direction of the parking spaces, saw a spot next to a Harley that I was going to pull into. Was making a pretty sharp turn to the left and that is when I realized all of that extra weight on the back of the bike made it a lot more top heavy than what I was used to at low speeds. So, although it was embarrassing, it was really a very valuable lesson learned and a no-cost lesson at that. The only thing hurt in the fall was a little bit of my pride. I had just rode into town after 400 miles of relative ease and was probably feeling a little confident in myself. This was probably Gods way of telling me that I had better keep things in check. Like the way I would listen to Gary when he would tell me something about my riding. I listened to this as well. I would not ride over confident, even on what seemed to be the simplest of maneuvers.

After I unpacked, I headed out to get something to eat. Cuisine of the evening, K-Bobs. Yum. I think K-Bobs is the staple of any small vacation town or vacation jump off town. Badly cooked steaks and a salad bar, what more could a road weary traveler ask for. I say that a little tongue in cheek, the food was actually really good and I was surprisingly hungrier than I thought I was. After dinner I went back to the hotel and took a look at my maps. Early on I had always figured that my corridor to Colorado would be Trinidad. In fact, my original plan was to try to make it all the way to Trinidad in the first day. But my goal was to not have any plans other than being at Bill’s house in Estes Park some time on Wednesday and not making it to Trinidad on the first day was falling right into that plan. I did see a road out of Trinidad called SR-12 that looked interesting, so I figured that once I got to Trinidad I would take SR-12 up to 160. A bit out of the way, but that is what the trip was for. So with that, I went to bed after my first days journey.


Day 2
Sunday July 15, 2007
Dumas, TX – Durango, CO
484 miles

Whereas my first day out was kind of a cloudy day, in fact I thought I was going to be riding through rain on my way out of McKinney… today was more or less cloudless. It was really a beautiful morning. The first order of business after a quick continental breakfast and coffee - courtesy of the hotel, was to go by the Dumas Walmart to buy a toothbrush and contact lens case, which I had conveniently forgot at home. All of my preparation, and I forgot to put these in my bag after using them the morning of my departure. Sleeping in my contacts is not such a big deal, I do that quite often, but brushing your teeth with your finger, well it works but not something you would want to do for 11 days. So, Walmarting was the top of the list, and Dumas had a fine facility. I guess I should also take this opportunity to mention that this morning, or actually the evening before, was my first introduction to “the Fully Dressed Harley”. It was the bike I was going to park next to when I dropped my bike the evening before, but I met the rider, or rather riders, this morning. I now know what they mean by fully dressed – I mean this thing had a recliner on the back end, was almost as long as a car, side bags, top case, stereo, CD, hell there may have even been a microwave and a place to cook jiffypop. I mean this thing was loaded. As far as bikes go, it was the King of the Road. Don’t get me wrong, I am not in any way dissing this bike. It may not exactly be my cup of tea as a solo rider, but for a couple it was the way to go. In fact it may have been more enjoyable for the pillon than the driver. And I get that, if you want your wife or girlfriend to ride with you because you enjoy riding, then you had better make sure they are enjoying the ride just as much as you. Otherwise, the next trip you make, may just be solo again. Although I did not know it at the time, this bike was also the first bike that led me to my adage “every bike on the road is a Harley”, but more on that later.

After my Walmart excursion, I ended up leaving Dumas and heading west on 87 at about 0830. On the outbound leg of the trip this was probably the straightest, most boring part of the ride. It is the same way when driving it in a truck or car too. Sure, riding through northwest Texas can be kind of the same way, but there are numerous little towns to ride through, each one is just a little different and each has its own unique kind of charm to it. Out here, between Dumas and Raton NM, you are pretty much just trying to burn up the miles. There were a couple of interesting things I ran across along this 150 mile or so stretch though. The first was a crop duster about an hour outside of Dumas. I watched him as I was riding west. It was pretty amazing, like an aerobatic pilot but with a purpose. He would do these sweeping turns fly just a few feet off the ground and then straight up, bank again, straight down, pull up at what seemed like the last possible second and make another pass over the cornfield. It looked like he was having a blast. I stopped for a while and took some photos that of course did absolutely no justice to this pilots flying ability. But I think he knew I was watching. After about 15 minutes and about 10 passes over the field, I put my camera away and took off in the same direction as the plane on one of the passes. As I did, I looked over at the pilot and he gave me a wave, like an actor taking a bow at the end of a play. As he flew past, I waved back, and went on my way.

About an hour west of Raton NM, I had settled in at about 75 MPH, kicking back slightly against the tail bag, my feet propped up on my makeshift highway pegs, just kind of humming along on an endlessly straight stretch of highway. Not really thinking of much and truthfully not really paying much attention to anything except what was in front of me and beside me – just king of glancing at the side mirrors from time to time. So I did not notice two bikes approaching from behind. When they did, they passed on the left. Zoom, bike #1 passed. A big GS… then about 2 or 3 seconds later, a Dakar. The guy on the big GS gave the obligatory wave, but the guy on the Dakar, was almost turned sideways when he passed giving me a thumbs up sign. Like me, they were both fully geared, and both on Beemers. Maybe 5 minutes later all 3 of us had pulled off the highway at a rest stop.

We immediately started talking to each other – well after we did what we all stopped at the rest stop to do. While we probably did want to stop and shoot the shit for a moment, there was a reason for stopping, and that reason revolved around consuming mass quantities of liquids on a hot day in July. So after we all had our break, I found out that Jim and Matt had just returned from a 24 day trip to Guatemala, and were on their way back to Denver. They had some really great stories. Jim was a videographer who set up adventure trips and recorded them. He had a website that I checked out when I got back home and he had some pretty cool stuff on it. He seem to know quite a bit about BMW motorcycles, and if I remember right I believe he said that he had either worked for BMW at one point, or maybe worked at a BMW shop – I really can’t remember, as I am writing this 6 months after the fact. Anyway, he checked out my set up and gave me a couple of tips. Mostly I had everything set up right, he just suggested I run my tire pressure a little higher with the addition weight I was carrying. Matt was the guy on the Dakar. A Dakar, is basically the exact same bike as mine. While they are both dual sport, the Dakar is tuned more for off-road than my bike. Bigger front wheel, taller seat, a few other things that make it better suited for off-road handling. But they are both F650gs’. So, Matt and I did a lot of comparing of our bikes. We both had exactly the same tail bag, and like me, he loved it for exactly the same reasons I did. I found out that they had been to Guatemala and back, pretty much incident free. We did not have a lot of time to talk because we all had to get back on the road, but we did spend about 45 minutes or so talking about bikes, rides, etc… I told them that this was my first big, multi-day ride (other than my Big Bend trip). They were very encouraging, and the fact that they had just gotten back from a 24 day ride made me want to get on to my ride even more, and hope that some day I can take off on an adventure like they were just completing.

An hour later I was in Raton NM, a good place to have lunch. And it is just a short hop to the Colorado boarder. As I dined on my Arby’s roast beef sandwich, I looked up and across the street, over in the Denny’s parking lot was none other than the “King of the Road”. Something like 4 hours and 160 miles later, the same bike I was parked next to the night before was parked only 50 yards away. I guess Dumas Texas really is the jumping off point for Colorado and New Mexico.

Trinidad is only about a 30 minute ride from Raton via Raton pass. So finally, I was in Colorado, and I was quite happy to be there. As soon as I got to Trinidad I found SR-12. It was bit difficult, there was some construction going on – there always seems to be construction going on in Trinidad – and there was quite a bit of zig zagging through town to actually get to 12. But once I did, I was IN Colorado. It was a beautiful road and a beautiful ride, a perfect introduction to Colorado after a day and a half of straight flat Texas highways, and I soaked up every single minute of it. My only regret is that I did not stop to shoot any photos. I would pass scenic church after scenic farm, or just scenic scene, I was awed by all of it. Each time I would pass one, I would think “I should have stopped to take a picture of that”, but I would just keep riding. I would figure there would be another opportunity, and I did not want to spoil the ride by stopping all the time. Of course by the end of it all, I ended up with no photos, other then the ones in my memory, and probably those will be the best ones of all. They will remain forever perfect, not to be scrutinized later, or edited in photoshop. Just about every ride in Colorado is memorable, but the first ride down scenic SR-12 is going to remain in my memory for a very long time. Probably because of where it happened to fall during my journey as much as for its grandeur, it was like bursting the bubble. It was like the completion of a building a boat, building it is fun – but now you get to sail it. I was finally here, getting here was a great experience, but now, now the real fun begins.

I don’t remember if it was the night before, or if it was sometime during the day. I think maybe Saturday night. But at one point I talked to Bill and during that conversation, Durango was discussed as being a really good stopping/starting point. When I first decided to take this trip, the only place I really wanted to ride through on my way to Estes Park, was Ouray Colorado. I was not so much committed to staying there, but I at least wanted to ride through. Ouray is along Hwy 550, or “The Million Dollar Highway”. Supposedly back when 550 was built, I guess back in the gold rush days. They took gold dust and sprinkled it in with the material to build the road. So they road became known as the Million Dollar Highway. At least that is one version of where it got its name, and the one I heard. The most famous part of the Million Dollar Highway is between Durango and Ouray. I really wanted to enjoy it, so after talking to Bill we figured it would be best to ride it in the morning, and to do that - the best jumping off point would be Durango. So, at some point during the day I had decided that Durango would be my destination goal. Whether or not I made it that far, I did not know, but that was the goal. I had gained an hour by crossing a time zone, and it did not get dark until late this time of year, so things were looking pretty good.

After I got off of SR-12, I got onto Hwy 160 somewhere well east of Alamosa. I thought about heading over to the Great Sand Dunes National Monument, but at this point I was kind of looking at Durango, then Ouray the next day as a goal, so I figured the Sand Dunes could wait for another trip. So it was on through Alamosa and on towards Durango. It was along 160 that I ran into my first real rain storms. I had run into a couple of showers earlier in the day, but nothing that lasted more than about 5 minutes, and nothing that I just did not ride through – and truthfully felt good for a little relief from the heat. But somewhere between Alamosa and Durango, I actually had to stop and put on rain gear. I was a little nervous. I had ridden through rain before, but never more than just a small shower, or just on wet roads, never through the mountains. When Gary and I had gone to Big Bend back in September of ’06, we ran into a little bit of rain as we approached the park, and then riding into the basin around 2100 that evening the green gulch road was wet. Green gulch can be a little harrowing at night, when wet and on a motorcycle, but you can not really go more than about 15 or 20 MPH in the hairpin S turns even when it is dry, so it is relatively slow going anyway. This was a bit different, this was at highway speeds, in the mountains, in the rain, and with other vehicles on the road. But this was one of the things I was looking forward to in a way. I knew that at some point, probably on this trip – I was going to have to ride in the rain. And although I was not necessarily relishing the thought, I knew it was a part of growing up as a motorcycle rider. I knew that the only way I was going to gain riding experience was to ride and that was going to mean riding on not-so-sunny days. Well, here was my opportunity. I pulled off the road, donned my rain gear, got back on my bike and kept heading west on 160. It rained off and on for the next couple of hours, the first 30 to 45 minutes was on more or less flat road, I started to get into some mountains around Pagosa Springs. Riding the curving mountain roads in the rain was a little scary at first, but I slowly gained confidence in my bike, my tires, and my ability.

I arrived in Durango somewhere around 1900. I found a hotel, and promptly parked next to three Harleys…, by the way did I mention “every bike on the road is a Harley”. Tonight there would be no K-Bobs, only local fare would do. I found a local brewery called Carvers. It was a cool little place on the main strip in downtown Durango. I can’t remember what I had to eat, but I had a really good beer called Colorado Trail Nut Brown Ale. They brewed it there of course, and man that beer was good after 450 or so miles on the road. The perfect way to top off a days ride. Oh yeah, and the waitress was really friendly, and really cute too. I guess that added to the experience, having a friendly, cute waitress sit and talk to you on your first day in Colorado, all in all a perfect first day in Colorado.


Day 3
Monday July 16, 2007
Durango, CO – Glenwood Springs, Co
259 miles

Woke up, fell out of bed, dragged a comb across my head – no wait that wasn’t me, that was McCartney, and my hair is way to short for a comb anyway. Today was my first full day in Colorado, and the day that I was going to ride the Million Dollar Highway through Silverton and Ouray. I also noticed that once I started getting into the mountains yesterday, it was quite a bit cooler than riding through Texas, not so much in the valleys, but over the mountain passes it got to be downright chilly. My riding gear is mesh, and while it has liners, the liners were really for cold weather. I could have just worn jeans, but for at least this portion of the ride, I was riding in full gear. So, I decided to wear jeans under my mesh pants, and a long sleeve T-shirt under my jacket. That turned out to be the right combo. Not to hot in the valleys, and not to cold on the mountain passes.

I left Durango at 0900 and headed north on 550, the Million Dollar Highway. Not to long after leaving Durango, I was riding through the San Juan National Forest. The first mountain pass I was to make was the Coal Bank Pass at 10,640 ft. It would not be the highest mountain pass I would make, but it would be the first one of significance, and the first of the 3 signature Million Dollar Highway passes. This was the first time on the trip too that I actually was stopping to take photographs. I had learned the day before from my ride along SR-12, that if I thought an opportunity would present itself again, it usually would not. So if I saw something I wanted to shoot, I stopped – assuming there was a place to safely pull of to the side of road, which there was not always. This was also the first time on the trip that I was riding on winding roads. A lot of them had posted speed limit of 25 – 35 MPH. At home when riding, I know that generally speaking, I can take a turn that is posted at 35 MPH, at around 55 MPH with no problems (not that I am condoning speeding…). However with the added weight of the Jesse bags and the tail bag, I was riding a little more top heavy than I was used to and I was not sure how the bike would handle. Needless to say, I was taking all of the turns a little slower at first.

I reached the Coal Bank Pass summit about an hour and a half after leaving Durango. On the way up to the summit, I had stopped to take a picture, one of the photos I was taking was of my bike with the road and mountain in the background. Just as I was going to take the photo, I noticed another rider coming up the road. I captured the shot of my bike just as he was riding past in the background.

By the time I had reached the second pass, Molas Pass, I had gained confidence in the bike and realized that the added weight was not affecting the handling of the bike at all at speed. At that point, riding the mountain roads became a joy that is indescribable. The bike was handling great, leaning into turns with the mountain rising on one side and falling on the other, often times with no shoulder to speak of at all between me and a sheer drop. It was a rush of adrenaline, kind of intense and relaxing at the same time – is there is a word for that? I don’t know; intaxing…. I would lean into turns and watch for the next turn, all the while the sky, the mountains, the drop, all rushing by. Nothing but concentration and enjoyment, completely different than city riding, but the same dedication to what you are doing, except in stead of paying attention to the person in the suburban on the cell phone in the next lane, you were watching the next turn, the road, the mountain, the side of the roads. Some people think this is too intense, having to pay to much attention to your surroundings and what is going on to enjoy those surrounding, but for me – it enhances everything, brings my awareness to the forefront of my mind. I am keen to everything, the sights, the sounds, the smells, and that to me enhances the experience, it was glorious. I was in beautiful country and in a beautiful frame of mind, I was at peace and full of emotion all at the same time. And it was going to be this way for the next 5 or 6 days.

The first mountain town I rode into was Silverton. I knew about Silverton, saw it on maps when I used to look at all of the 4x4 roads out of Ouray and make plans to take my Xterra up there that never seemed to pan out. I really did not have much expectations, or rather did not give Silverton much thought. It was actually a pretty cool little town. I stopped for a little while to get a bottle of water. Parked next to 3 or 4 Harleys (of course), all of them with Minnesota license plates. I did not spend much time in Silverton, but I think I will have to go back some day.

There was one more pass between Silverton and Ouray – Red Mountain Pass. There are 3 peaks in the Red Mountains, and at least one of them has a mining operation, you can stop and view it as there is a pull-off that overlooks the operation. The three peaks are abundant in iron-oxide which gives them their red color. Between Silverton and Ouray, there was a noticeable increase in the number of motorcycles on the road, and especially for a Monday. I had stopped to shoot a few pictures, when I got back on my bike, I just happened to get back on the road right behind several groups of HD’s. The bike right in front of me was a black Sporster, the rider in black helmet, black leather jacket and black leather riding pants. The rider was also rather petite, and looked really good in the leather riding pants - a “chick rider”. While I do “get” the Harley thing, one thing I have learned about them in the year I have been riding, is that they are slow. Or rather, I think they are really built for the long straight roads of America, not so much the twisting turning mountain roads of Colorado. So while the twisting, turning roads between Red Mountain and Ouray was not quite as fun as the roads prior, the chick HD rider in the tight leather pants in front of me certainly did not make the ride un-enjoyable. I rode into Ouray around 1130. The first thing I noticed was all of the bikes parked along the main thoroughfare, and you may have guessed by now, they were almost exclusively Harleys. But for the fist time in Colorado though, I actually saw another BMW! Two of them, both big GS’s and there just happened to be a parking spot right beside them, so I happily parked next to by big BMW brethren. Just about the time I was securing all of my gear, the Black Betty HD rider, who had parked just a few spaces ahead of me walked by. She had noticed me on the side of the road taking pictures. Because Harleys are slow - I had caught up to her when I got back on the road into Ouray. We talked for a little while, she was meeting her aunt there to have lunch. What a great life, to be able to ride into Ouray for lunch! After speaking to “Betty” for a while, the two GS riders came out and I talked to them for a while. They were both from the area and were just up for the day. They seemed to be impressed that I rode all the way from Texas on a 650, and really liked my Jesse luggage. They kind of confirmed some of what I thought when I first bought my bike. One of the reasons I bought the 650 instead of the 1200 was the weight. I figured that if I were to do any off-road riding, the 650 would be much easier to handle at 430 lbs. They more or less confirmed this and said that the 1200’s were okay for dirt roads, but on some of the mountain roads, they were beasts and that my bike was much better suited. Obviously they said that on long hauls the 1200’s rule, but really I did not seem to have any problems on my bike – but then I have never ridden a 1200, so I don’t have anything to compare to.

I had lunch at a little burger place there on the main strip and then walked around the town for an hour or so. There were some pretty cool hiking, climbing, camping shops. Pretty much everything you would expect. Somewhere around 1300 – 1330, I decided it was time to get back on the road. As I got back to my bike I noticed that the biker chick on the black HD was getting back to her bike too. She asked which way I was heading. I told her North, she was heading back south, the direction she had come from. To bad, it would have been nice to have someone to ride with, and she was cute too. It was not until later that I thought that I really did not have to go north, I really did not have to go anywhere… but at the time, I was headed north towards Estes Park.

After I left Ouray, and descended the foothills, I got into some flatlands. I came to a crossroads, a town called Delta. At this point I could keep heading north, or I could go east. I really wanted to avoid any and every interstate I could, at least until my trip home, which I decided I would probably ride the portion of I-25 between Denver and Raton. Heading north in Delta would have pretty much just taken me to I-70, so east it was. This was the right decision, but I had to cross about 100 miles or so of flat hot Colorado Plaines. And it was hot. I don’t know what the temperature actually was, but I seem to remember seeing on the weather somewhere that it got up to 100 degrees that day, and I believe I was riding through it. It did not start cooling down until I finally got back into the mountains. When I did get back into the mountains it started getting fun again. Not only the mountain roads, but the road was running along a river, and along the river there were river access roads. These roads were dirt roads that left the pavement and took you down to the river. Some of them were just little turn offs, but some of them went down embankments and ran along the river for quite some distance. As I would find one that looked interesting, off I went. I was taking advantage of the dual-sport aspect of my bike. The first couple of access roads I took were no more than little side roads, but then I started to find others that were much more fun from an off road point of view. I probably took 4 or 5 of these, none of them for more than maybe a mile or so off of the main road, but I was having a blast. The problem was that it was starting to get late in the day, and I really needed to start to think about where I was going to stay that night. I stopped and took a look at the map. I thought about Aspen, but then also thought that I would want to be in Aspen during the daytime. Plus Apsen was still quite some distance, and it looked like it was going to start raining again. The other option was Glenwood Springs. The night before, I had talked to Bill, and he had mentioned Glenwood Springs and that it was a cool place. So, Glenwood Springs it would be, or at least that would be where I was headed. About the time I got to Carbondale it started to rain. I Thought about staying the night in Carbondale, but it was only about 15 miles from Glenwood Springs, so I just road up Hwy 82 on to Glenwood Springs.

When I got to Glenwood Springs I started to look for a place to stay. I found a Best Western, but it was some kind of a fancy Best Western called “Antlers”, and it was kind of expensive – at least for what I was looking for. At $135/night (+tax), I thought I would try to find another place. The very first day of my trip as I passed though a couple of the small towns along 287 through Texas, I stopped by a couple of the chain hotel/motels and picked up some of their directories. When I would get to a place I was going to stay for the night, I would look through the directories to see if they had a hotel in that town and then make a few calls to see what the rates were. I found that this worked out pretty good and saved me from riding around to different motels, finding they were more than I wanted to spend and then riding to another. So, I broke out the EconoLodge directory and found one in Glenwood Springs. Or at least it said it was in Glenwood Springs… I called, got a rate for under $90, got directions and proceeded to the motel. As I was heading up I-70, I kept getting farther and farther away from Glenwood springs – and heading in the wrong direction. My plan the next day was to ride through Aspen and that was east, the EconoLodge directions were taking me farther west. About 10 miles outside of Glenwood Springs, I decided to call the hotel again to make sure I did not somehow miss the exit. When I spoke to the girl on the phone, I told here what exit I was at and she said I still needed to go another 10 miles or so west! I asked if they were in Glenwood Springs like the directory said, and she told me “yes, well just outside of Glenwood Springs”…. Yeah, like 20+ miles outside of Glenwood Springs… I’m not sure what kind of B.S. that was, but I decided then and there that I was not going to mess around with this shit any more and just suck it up and spend the $135 at Antlers. I turned around and headed back to Glenwood Springs.

When I checked in to my room at the Best Western Antlers, I parked my bike next to – you guessed it… what every bike on the road is – a Harley. This was a black Electroglide from Minnesota. It was a couple on the bike and of course we struck up a conversation as soon as I pulled in to the parking space. The guy, I don’t remember his name, was about my age, maybe just a little older, but the girl seemed pretty young – maybe mid 20’s. It was her birthday and they were staying at a nice hotel because of it. I’ve got to give it to the Minnesotan’s, they are some riding fools. Of all the states I saw license plate tags for, Minnesota had to have the most, and MN was probably about as far to CO as I had ridden from TX. I would say that the three of us sat outside the hotel room for probably an hour or so just talking before I headed out for dinner. That is one of the things I enjoyed most about the trip, the people I met. I don’t remember all of their names, as in this case. Just that they were really friendly interesting folks.

Glenwood Springs’ historical claim to fame is that Doc Holiday died there. They have this big swimming pool there too, which is spring fed, and where the town gets it name – but I had dinner that evening at a bar called Doc Holidays – so that historical fame of the town sticks in my head. The food at the bar was good, I again attempted to sample the local beer. There were two really cute girls working the bar at Doc Holidays. The first girl who took my order was the classic blond cheerleader type. As asked her if they had Coors Light as I did not see any “mirco-brew” type beers. She looked at me like I was crazy and said “no…”. I asked about local beers (Coors of course being a Colorado beer), and she gave me a Fat Tire out of Ft. Collins. Gotta say, I am not a big Fat Tyre fan. The other bartender was a burnet, not so superficial looking as the cheerleader, and in my personal opinion, better looking. She ended up helping me the rest of the night (and brought me a Coors Light….). She also talked to me quite a bit, and is the one who told me that Glenwood Springs was where Doc Holiday died – hence the name of the bar. Funny thing, the barmaids got better looking as the trip went on, and as I came to find out – they all moved to Colorado from somewhere else. In fact most of the people I met on my trip had moved to Colorado from somewhere else. No wonder most who live in Colorado don’t have a fondness for people from other states.

Day 4
Tuesday July 17, 2007
Glenwood Springs, CO – Frisco, CO
143 miles

I would say that this day was probably the best day of riding overall, and the biggest part of that would be Independence Pass. I left Glenwood Springs around 09:30 and headed southeast on Hwy 82 towards Aspen. Aspen is about 40 miles or so from Glenwood Springs but it took me about an hour and a half to get into Aspen as I took a couple of side roads on my way, just to see the sights. There were some magnificent houses in some very scenic valleys on these roads. No wander people like Kevin Costner choose to build houses around these parts. I guess I got into downtown Aspen a little after noon, parked my bike, shed my gear and started to walk around the town. When I got back to my bike I saw a “parking meter maid” . I told her that I could not get the meter to accept my bank card and she told me to not worry about it, just to move my bike and park between a crosswalk and the last parking spot by the crosswalk. That motorcycles were allowed to park for free in Aspen if they parked in those spaces – a good thing to know about Aspen. It was kind of neat, you would see all of these hot little Aspen women riding around town on their scooters with little baskets on them carrying everything from flowers to groceries. It almost had a European flare to it. All in all, Aspen was a really cool place, there was a water fountain spraying water about 10 feet in the air. All the kids would bring balloons and little balls, place them on the fountain and the fountain of water would lift the balloons up into the air while the kids played in the fountain below them. There was a weird little dude playing a clarinet (or some sort of woodwind instrument) out in front of the sidewalk cafes as very well dress ladies enjoyed their light lunch of finger sandwiches and fish tacos. There were dogs running free, getting cool drinks of mountain stream water from the flower lined babbling brook running beside a cobblestone sidewalk shaded by a row of Aspen trees – and then go back to lounge in their comfy spots beside their owners. It was almost like the Land of Oz, except without taking the hit of acid before hand. It was like this perfect little peaceful world. Ah, what money can buy. I ate lunch in Aspen, but no fish tacos for me, it was a roast beef sandwich and a Coors light. After lunch I walked around for another hour or so, bought a couple of t-shirts and just kind of checked out the part of town closer to the ski mountain. I spent almost 3 hours in Aspen, a well spent side trip.

Right after Aspen is the White River National Forest and about 20 miles south on Hwy 82 is Independence Pass. This was one of the most enjoyable rides of my trip up to Estes Park. Hwy 550 along the Million Dollar Highway through Ouray was great, but it was a relatively wide road, the road through Independence Pass was much narrower, it had a mountain climbing on one side and a river flowing on the other – almost the entire way. And the twisties were much more pronounced. It started to cloud up and even mist just a little, but that did not seem to detract one bit from my enjoyment of the ride up to Independence Pass. It was sheer riding enjoyment. The curves in the road were such that you really did not need to slow down, just lean into them; as soon as you would finish leaning left, the road would have you immediately leaning right, and then to the left again. And it was this way almost the entire way up to the continental divide at 12,095 feet. On the way down the other side of the divide it was just as fun, and there were forest and river access roads. I took two or three of them on the way down. Most of them were just short little jaunts down to the river and back. But I did take one forest access road that went up the mountain on a road that looked like it had not been traveled on since the beginning of summer, it was pretty well overgrown. Overgrown to the point that no matter which side of the road I was riding on, branches were scraping my side cases. The road was a lot of fun, a little steep and rocky in some places, but the bike has much more ability than my skill, and it climbed everything with no problems. There were a couple of small stream crossings on my way up this road, nothing more than a foot or two wide, and then there were a couple of spots where there was just water and mud on the road. I cross through a few of the muddy spots, but came to one, probably a couple of miles up the road that I decided I should not cross and that I was probably far enough down the road anyway to turn back towards the pavement and get heading on my back towards Estes Park. So, I managed to get my bike turned around on the narrow road and started heading downhill. I was doing pretty well for about a mile or so, but then I got to a particularly steep and rock part. I made the carnal mistake – I looked down at where my tire was, and not a where I was going. At the last second I decided, this was not a good spot for my tire to be and tried to cross the road to the other side. Needless to say, I looked down, and down I went. My bike went into the side of the hill, and me into the side of a tree. Neither me nor the bike were hurt, I can’t say the same for my pride… I immediately got up and shook it off, once I realized I was okay and that the bike seem to be okay, I remembered that I should have just kept looking ahead and I probably would have just rolled right through the rocks – as they say, a lesson learned. The next 30 seconds to one minute were a little more nerve racking for me. When I pick up my bike, I always lift it with my legs, basically with my back to the bike. The way the bike was positioned, facing downward, and up against the hill – this was impossible, and even more so with all of the baggage on the bike. I went into a bit of stupor for about 30 seconds when I thought I was not going to be able to get the bike back up. I thought I might actually have to walk a mile down the road, to the pavement, stop someone, get them to hike a mile up the road, and help me lift my bike. Then rationalization set in and I realized that I could just push the bike up forward by pushing up against the hill – bam, bike was back up in no time, problem solved and again, I felt like an idiot for loosing my cool for that brief moment of time – again, another lesson learned. The biggest lesson learned however was that I probably should not go so far off road with my full bags etc… by myself. If something did happen and I could not lift the bike, I would be in trouble. So, from now on I would just stick to within a half mile of so of the road. If I wanted to go farther, I would wait until I stopped somewhere and could take the tail bag off of the bike. At least until my off road riding skills have improved.

After my off-road excursion, I continued down 82 until I picked up Hwy 24. I headed up 24 towards Leadville. In Leadville, I headed north on 91 towards I 70. I did take a couple of more side roads – a couple of river access roads, they were pretty much just gravel roads down to the river and back, but they were a lot of fun. Some of them had some pretty good climbs back to the paved road. Since Independence Pass, it had been clouding up, partly cloudy to mostly cloudy, to partly cloudy again. By the time I hit Interstate 70 a storm was brewing. My original intent by this time was to make it to Silverton. I had stayed in Silverton before on a couple of Ski trips so I knew there would be places to get a hotel room. However when I go onto I-70, it started to rain and the wind was whipping me around pretty good. I decided that I would just take the first exit I came to after the storm blew in. This exit happened to be for Frisco Colorado. When I exited, the wind died down a little and the rain subsided to a light drizzle. As I road through the town of Frisco, I saw a sign that said “Frisco Lodge”, I pulled over, parked the bike walked in and asked the lady if they had any vacancies. I was very glad to hear her say, “yes”, they did. I was even happier when I heard her say she had two types of rooms; one that I could share a bath for $45, or a room I could have my own private bath for $55. I told her to sign me up for my own private bath. The Frisco Lodge was the coolest hotel/motel I stayed in on the entire trip, and ironically it was one of the least expensive. I guess it was technically a Bed & Breakfast. And damn, did they have a great breakfast the next morning. Eggs, bacon, coffee – in a real coffee cup – there were hash browns, waffles if you wanted them. All kinds of muffins and breads, fruits, etc… definitely blew away the pecan roll and styrafoam coffee cup “continental” breakfast’s I had been getting at those $100+/night hotels. I will be going back to the Frisco Lodge, and would recommend it to anyone.

Needless to say, when I checked into my room – got all of my gear situated, went back downstairs to my bike and what pulled in on both sides of me. Yup, you guess it – a Harley to the left of me, and a Harley to the right of me. To the right was a blue Dyna/electra –Glide (don’t know which one) but it was a “king of the road” Harley. It was a guy and his son out for a few days. The other bike was a bit older, an “80’s” vintage, oil leaks and all. The riders of this bike were a husband and wife. As I am writing this I cannot remember their names or where they were from, but I do remember that it was from a pretty good distance and it was up north. I got to talking with them, and we talked for probably close to an hour before I went to dinner, and then again the next morning before I headed out on my last day of riding before getting to Estes Park. They were really good folks, I remember that they were traveling really light for two people. They said that as they moved along on their trip, they kept shipping stuff home. At this point they were traveling with only a couple of pairs of clothes and were just stopping at laundry mats along the way to wash clothes. I kind of had that same philosophy, but I had enough clothes (well socks, underwear and T-shirts) to get me to Estes Park, where I figured I would wash clothes at Bill’s and that would be enough to get me back home. Of course I was also traveling with spare parts, tools, camera equipment, etc…

I had dinner that evening at a little bar just around the corner. It was still raining out, so I really did not want to deal with rain gear and all that, so I figured I would walk somewhere as opposed to riding somewhere to eat. The place was called Farleys Chop House, and I had a Prime Rib Sandwich at the bar. It was a bargain, on the main menu it was like $13.00, but at the bar, as a sandwich – it was only $7.99, and it was exactly the same thing, it was just served as an open face sandwich. It was quite the tasty treat with a couple of brewskis.

Day 5
Wednesday July 18, 2007
Frisco, CO – Estes Park, CO
125 miles

I figured I had a relatively short ride today, so I slept in a bit. Had the best breakfast of the trip so far, no pecan roll today. I guess I had everything situated by 0900 and was ready to get on my way. I talked to the other riders that were parked next to me. The blue Harley was heading back home, and the 80’s Harley was just heading north. I probably spent the next 30-45 minutes talking to them before I finally pulled on to the road. It was a relatively uninteresting ride from Frisco to the entrance of the Rocky Mountain National Park. I got back on I-70 for a short jaunt up to Silverton, and then took hwy 9 up to Kremling. Hwy 9 is supposed to be a scenic highway (or by-way…). It is pretty scenic from Cannon City, where Royal Gorge and the SuperMax prison are, I had driven this route in my truck before, but between Silverton and Kremling – not so much. I don’t mean to say it was ugly by any means, I guess it’s just that compared to what I had been riding the past several days, it was not all that impressive. Once I got to Kremling I took Hwy 40 towards the RM National Park. I would then go north on 34 through the park and then on to Bill’s house. I remember I had missed the turn onto 34 in Granby. I had gone about a mile before I realized this and turned around. When I got back to 34, I saw 3 or 4 BMW R1200GS’ turning off of 34 and heading west towards Kremling. I’m not sure why that image sticks in my head, but I really thought the 1200 looked good. They had full bags, side and top cases and two of the bikes were two-up. I just remember thinking what a great bike for that. The “King of the Road” Harleys I had seen hundreds of prior to this, suddenly became a little less royal and a little less interesting. These were some cool bikes. Sure I had seen them dozens of time before in pictures or the motorcycle showroom, but seeing the 3 of them in their element, well it was just an impressive sight. This would not be the last time I would see these big GS’s. They didn’t outnumber the Harleys by any means, but I saw a lot of them from this point on. They just looked like they had a purpose, and were built for that purpose.

Once I started north on 34, the scenery just got better and better. Grand Lake is about 15 miles from the intersection of 34 & 40 and it is situated at the western entrance to the Rocky Mountain National Park. I had been to Grand Lake a few times when visiting Bill, and we would always eat at the Grand Lake Lodge. The Lodge is situated so that it overlooks Grand Lake and the mountains surrounding it. It is really a beautiful place to have lunch on the patio and just take in the cool mountain air and magnificent vista. I was really looking forward to it. I pulled off of 34 onto the road towards the lodge, and much to my disappointment, I found that the lodge was closed. Apparently they were remodeling or something. I guess it was a little bit before noon, and truthfully I was not really all that hungry, I just mostly wanted to sit on that porch have some lunch and a brew, take it all in and relax for a little while – I had plenty of time to get to Bills. However seeing that it was closed, I just decided to head on through the park and get something to eat once I got to Estes. After expecting the Grand Lake Lodge porch, nothing else in Grand Lake would suffice.

I guess I hit the park entrance around noon. Riding through the park is great the roads are beautiful and like some of the other national parks I’ve been to, they don’t have wide ugly shoulders. The only complaint I would have about Trail Ridge Road (as 34 is called through the park), was the traffic. You get about 3 million people visiting the park annually, and July is the heaviest month at around 650,000 visitors. Almost all of them are not watching the road, but scouring the sides of the road for wildlife. God forbid one of the seemingly millions of elk happen to show up. The park visitors all think they just discovered bigfoot. And it’s not just in the National Park, this is pretty much anywhere close to the park, especially in Estes. Everyone stops to look at the elk, and the elk in Estes Park are like rabbits on a rabbit farm, they are everywhere – they may even outnumber the Harleys. I guess this is why Bill and all of the others in Estes refer to this type of visitors as Tourons. Okay, if you need really “need” an explanation, that is a moronic tourist.

As I did not need to be in Estes for a while, I kind of took my time. I stopped quite a bit, road slowly behind the tourons, took photos when I saw the opportunity and just had a kind of slow ride through the park. Trail Ridge Road is about 50 miles from entrance to entrance, and it is the highest continuous road in the US at 12,183 ft. Of course I had been on Trail Ridge Road several time, but this was the first time on a motorcycle. I guess the most interesting part was that maybe a mile or so of the highway was under repair just as you reached the summit. Because of this the traffic had to travel on a single lane gravel road. Because the gravel road was next to the repair road, it was right on the edge of the mountain. It would have been really neat to ride if you could have gone at a decent speed, however it was basically a traffic jam at 12,000 ft. I had no problems on my bike, it was made for this type of stuff, but you could tell a lot of the other bikers were nervous – they were riding extremely slow and cautious.

It took me a little over 2 hours to travel the 50 miles through the park. Around 2 PM I finally rode in to Estes Park, my destination for the outbound leg of the trip. It was a sense of achievement. I had achieved my goal without having any goals along the way. I felt really good to have ridden so far from home without a schedule, and to arrive at my destination right on schedule. It is hard to describe the feeling of accomplishment, but I had a great trip along the way. Just taking it easy and doing what I wanted to do along the way. I now understand how people can take motorcycle trips like this year after year, it is definitely something unique in it’s own right and I was hooked.

I figured I would arrive in Estes some time late afternoon/evening on the 18th. Bill works night shift and had just got off work that morning. I did not want to pull into his driveway on the Big Thompson river to early and wake him if he was trying to sleep. As it was around 2:00, and I had not been able to enjoy my vista lunch in Grand Lake, I decided to grab a quick bite before heading over to Bills and then maybe ride around town a little. I had just picked up my Chicken Selects at the Estes Park McDonalds when the phone rang. It was Bill… “where you at?” he asked, I told him that I had just pulled into Estes and was at the Micky D’s grabbing a bite. He said that he had been up for about an hour, so I scarfed down my lunch and headed over to his house. I don’t really remember what we did after I got there, but I know it involved Crown & Coke. I was ready for one - I had just ridden about 1,500 miles in 5 days, so hanging out at the house with a cold beverage was good enough for me.


Days 6 - 10
Thursday July 19, 2007 – Sunday July 22, 2007
Estes Park, CO
422 miles
Average 105.5 miles daily

I spent the next four days in Estes Park. Bill has a kick-ass house just outside of Estes Park in the Big Thompson canyon. He has a mountain in his back yard and a river running through the front yard. It’s inside the Roseavelt National Forest, so the wildlife is protected and abundant. The house was built sometime in the 40’s and Bill bought it from his family in the early to mid 90’s. When he first bought it, he still lived in Dallas and rented the house out during vacation season, but usually spent a few weeks a year at the house. Towards the end of 1995 he found a job at a printing company in Greely, and made the permanent move to Colorado. I had been up there probably a half dozen to a dozen time prior to that, but since he moved up there, I’ve been to Colorado and Estes Park at least once or twice a year. It’s good to have a friend who lives in Colorado.

We pretty much hung out at the house, rode our bikes a little over 100 miles per day, had a few crown and cokes after the ride, and just relaxed on the porch and watched the river run by. Each morning consisted of riding to breakfast at The Mountaineer. Then taking off on a different ride each day. I can’t remember where we rode each day, but we rode to the top (top of Trail Ridge Road), a couple of times. Did a couple of rides through Rist Canyon, on a twisty, turning, almost MotoGP kind of road called Stove Prairie Road. The road to Glen Haven – Devils Gulch they call it. Into Ft Collins, Loveland, Left Hand Canyon outside of Boulder, and a few other places. It was spectacular riding. Not the same as what I had just ridden through from Trinidad up to Estes Park, but it was unique in it’s own way. It was amazing how diverse Colorado can be – even in the mountains where you would think it would all start to look the same. Each part of Colorado has its on identity, and I saw a lot of it. Most of the riding out of Estes Park was on road. Bill has a Honda V-4 Magnum that he bought not to long after moving up to CO. Him an his buddies rode a bit when he first moved up there, but over the past several years they started businesses that required them to work most of the summer days. So most of the off-road excursions were kept to a minimum. I took a couple of rides on some of the river access roads when I would get up early in the morning and try to find something scenic to shoot. But other than that we pretty much stayed on road. After my trip up there, Bill was thinking about getting a dual sport also. That way he could take advantage of the roads that get you to places most others can’t get to. All in all, I had a great time in Estes, it was almost like 2 vacations in one… the 5 days riding to get to Estes, and then the 4 days using Bill’s house as a base and doing day rides from there. The nice part about 4 days is that we could ride each day, and then get home and relax on the porch. There are dozens of stories I could tell about the 4 days – there always are when Bill and I get together. I’ve known him for about 20 years so we have so many stories, I tend to get them mixed up. I guess the point is that we had a great time, I just can’t get them all written down on paper. Maybe some day I will come back to this and get more detail, but for now this is about motorcycle riding, so I will leave it at that.


Day 10
Monday July 23, 2007
Estes Park, CO – Childress, TX
630 miles

To day was my “big ride” day. I was heading home and I knew I was going to burn up some miles as I had to be home by Tuesday and back to work on Wednesday. I had no idea how far I was going to get, but I knew I wanted an early start. I got up around 6:00 and was on the road by 6:30, my earliest start of the entire journey. As I said earlier I wanted to avoid as many interstates as I could on this trip, and the thought of riding through Denver at rush hour on a Monday morning did not exactly appeal to my sense of adventure. I get enough of that type of adventure riding 75 from McKinney to Dallas each morning. This ride was about the scenery and keeping to smaller roads. I knew that I was going to get on I-25 from Denver to Raton NM, but I wanted to ride around Denver’s rush hour traffic. The day before, Bill and I had discussed it and he gave me a back route that would take me through Boulder, but around Denver. The ride through Boulder would not be as bad as 25 through Denver. I was a man on a mission, I rode as hard as I could during the morning to get south of Denver. Hwy 36 through Boulder, 93 through Golden and then 470 to just south of Denver. I did not stop for breakfast or coffee until after I got south of Denver. Once I got to somewhere near Castle Rock, I found a Starbucks, had some coffee and breakfast. But I had made pretty good time so it was still early. At this point I had ridden over 1,700 miles, and during that 1,700 miles I had zero encounters with another vehicle. That was until I got to Colorado Springs. By the time I made Colorado Springs, I was not quite out of the rush hour time frame. I was riding along when a young girl talking on a cell phone in a white Honda almost side swiped me. Luckily I was paying attention, saw her coming, made sure there was nobody beside me and just calmly moved out of the way. But boy did it freak her out. I think somebody became aware of motorcycles that day. It irritated me a little when it happened, but like I said I was ready for it – but this is the exact reason I wanted to avoid I 25 through Denver that morning.

Once I crossed over SR-12 in Trinidad, I more or less figured I was back to where I started in Colorado and my mini, out of the way circumnavigation of the state was complete. The next stopping point on my agenda was Raton NM. I figured that is about where I would be for lunch – maybe a little earlier than I had intended for lunch, but once I hit 64 heading back east, there would not be a place to stop for lunch for a couple of hours. I figured why not complete the circle and eat at the same Arby’s I had eaten at 10 days earlier. I took a quick glance over at the Denny’s, but I did not see what I expected to see – the King of the Road did not make an appearance. After lunch I headed east on 64 towards the Texas boarder and burned up some miles. As I started approaching Dalhart and Dumas I was thinking I would probably stay the night in Amarillo. However when I got to Amarillo, it was right around 6:00 PM. I thought, Hell – I can keep going. So I grabbed a burger at a Wendy’s and started to head east/southeast on 287.

While I was enjoying my tasty Wendy’s dinner, I noticed the sky was starting to cloud up in the direction I was heading. So I finished eating and got back on the road thinking I may be able to beat or get around the storm that was boiling up. The farther southeast I headed, the greener and darker the sky was getting. The wind was beginning to pick up too… it would blow hard from one direction, and then switch and start blowing from the other direction – circulation… not a good thing. Somewhere around 20-30 miles outside of Amarillo it started to rain. It was coming down pretty good so I just thought I would stop at the next town and stay the night. Unfortunatley, the next towns were Claude and Clarendon. I don’t think either of them had a place to stay the night. At least none that I could see from the main road, and I was not about to start cruising around the 3 street towns trying to find one, so I just road through. I can’t remember exactly where it was, but not too much later, added to the barrage of wind and rain, the third element that sometimes accompanies them, hail. It was not large hail, maybe a little larger than pea size, but it was hail nonetheless. Traveling at 70MPH in a hailstorm on wet and windy roads is probably not anyone’s idea of a grand time, but I was on a mission. I tucked my head behind the windscreen, slow downed to about 60 and pushed through. Luckily I had on full gear and a rain suit by this time, so the pelting hail was tolerable. I saw a group of bikers pulled off to the side of the road heading towards Amarillo. I just waved and kept on plowing through the storm. Part of this was because I could see a clearing a few miles ahead, I chased it for probably close to an hour before I finally caught it. I never got out of the rain enough to remove my rain gear, but I was definitely out of the storm, or at least on the fringe. Just about that time I made it to Childress, TX. It was around 8PM, so I decided to stay the night in Childress. They had plenty of motels, so I stoppe at the econolodge and stayed the night.

It had been a great day of riding. My longest ride of the trip at 630 miles in 13 hours. Only stopping for breakfast, lunch, dinner and gas. It was my iron-butt ride. Surprisingly it did not seem too bad. Some people have asked me how I could ride so long, they say they could never do it, or they could but it would be a beating. To me it did not seem like that many miles or that many hours. I more or less got in a zone and the time flew by. I had been riding for 6 hours at one point and I remember thinking that it had only seemed like an hour. I tried listening to music at a couple of points during my trip, but I found that I actually liked riding with only my ear plugs in better. The solitude was calming, the muffled sound of the engine, road and wind allowed my thoughts to go on their own adventure. Watching the road, the sky, and my surroundings gave me all of the stimulation I needed and the miles hummed away beneath my tires. It was a great ride.



Day 11
Tuesday July 24, 2007
Childress, TX – McKinney, TX
258 miles

The final day of my trek. I wanted to get home early, to pick up my dog, get some yard work done as it had gone 11 days in July with being mowed or watered, and just have to time to relax before having to go to work the next day. So I got up packed my bags and left really early. I pulled onto 287 some time between 5:30 and 6:00. It was a pretty nice day, no rain, very few clouds and not too hot considering it was the end of July in Texas. This was a fairly uneventful ride for the last 250 miles of my trip. It was interesting to see the same roads I had crossed on my first day out, the same sights, the same towns. The trip was coming to a conclusion. At some point between Decatur and McKinney, after I had turned back onto 380, I crossed the same geographical point at the same chronological time 11 days later on my inbound leg as I did on my outbound leg. In my mind this was the finish line. I still had a few miles to go to get home, but they were miles I ride or drive on a normal basis. Ironic that I crossed this point at same time of day on my last day, as I did on my first day, and it just happened to be where I would normally take my exit off of 380 on any given day. It was like completing a circle.

I pulled into my garage at 11:27 AM. I was home. It had been a great trip. Everything I had hoped for and more. I was more confident in my riding and my bike. I had ridden through the flats of Texas, the mountains of Colorado, up mountains, beside rivers, through rain, shine and hail. I knew when I got home that I had accomplished something for myself. Fulfilled something that has always been inside of me. I can’t wait to do it again next year.