7.11.2014
For some time, I was feeling the need to ride to Colorado and concurrently was contacted by my friend Rob in Michigan. Rob informed me he was riding to Colorado to meet his friend Jimmy at the Horizons Unlimited event in a few days. I’d met Rob and Jimmy two years earlier on my first ride into Mexico. Horizons Unlimited was an online world motorcycle travelers community where information could be shared with other riders, and they had a large following worldwide. Once a year, or possibly more, they had a rally and this year it was in Grant, Colorado.
That fit my need for Colorado perfectly, and Rob also mentioned he was planning to go from the rally all the way to Banff before heading back to Minnesota to attend the national BMW Rally. I was invited to ride along, and though I hadn’t planned for that large a trip, I simply said yes.
I’d had a day’s delay in Dallas and left for the 600 mile stint to Raton, New Mexico on Friday, the first day of the Horizons Unlimited meeting and campout. I’d realized I’d only catch the tail end of the event, but it didn’t matter since I’m not a social butterfly anyway. Jimmy had been in Colorado working the Pikes Peak Rally, so he was nearby and interested in attending. Hitting Montana again had sounded great since it had been 7 years since I’d been. I told Rob I’d track with him until Montana for sure, though I wasn’t sure where I’d end up.
I got on the road as early as I could to try and miss the heat, however in July in Texas that’s about as pointless as anything. Still, 600 miles is a long day no matter the weather.
There’s little point in discussing the ride from DFW to Amarillo, as anyone who’s ever driven or ridden knows, but at least Amarillo signals a change is on the horizon…
Ahh, northwest Texas.
After a mind numbing day’s ride, Dalhart slipped past and the excitement of reaching the New Mexico border lifted my spirits.
The extinct volcano Capulin is always a welcome sight on the prairies of New Mexico and a signpost of the Rockies ahead.
I rolled into Raton, NM just about sunset and grabbed a cheap motel for the night.
7.12.2014
The next morning I was dragging from the previous 600 mile day, but the sunshine and cool air refreshed me for Raton Pass into Colorado and north for Grant, which lay in the vicinity of Denver.
Butt break
By the time I got near Grant it had begun to rain and I pulled into an almost empty campground, as most of the attendees were out on the organized rides for the day.
The campground had a beautiful stream running through the center and was covered with tents under the trees.
I set up camp across the stream running through the campground and wandered over to the cast of characters under the canopy to pay my dues - literally - and get the scoop on the day.
I was told the main speaker for the evening was Greg Frasier, an author and motorcyclist who’d ridden much of the world. Greg had driven in from Montana in his old Monte Carlo.
After sign in, I chilled out for the afternoon and grabbed a barbecue sandwich from the food vendor. The rains started and I watched the bikes pulling in from the days’ ride, dry and warm under the barbecue tent.
Rob and Jim rolled in in the pouring rain and pulled up near a white Ford van with an awning on the side. When the rain slowed a little, I ran over to find them sitting inside the van with a glass of red wine and cheesy smiles. We had a good time remembering our experiences in Mexico from a couple of years before.
Jimmy had volunteered for the recent Pikes Peak Rally and had trailered his motorcycle up behind his new Ford van, which was about to be converted to an adventure van. Sitting inside while the rain came down outside, the idea struck me as a good one!
The rally was ending the next day, Sunday, and Jimmy said he wouldn’t be continuing with us as he had to get to his business in Texas. Rob and I concocted a plan to head northwards to intersect with another of Rob’s friends who was riding from Michigan to meet him.
The rains eventually stopped and it dried out a little for the evening.
That evening, Gregory Frasier did a presentation on a recent ride through Vietnam. The rains started again, the small stream was now roaring and I began to question my decision to camp on the other side. I had memories of getting stuck on the wrong side of a river when an overnight storm flooded it on a backpacking trip. That night I fell asleep to the sound of rain and roaring water, fully expecting to be awakened by lapping water in my tent during the night.
7.13.2014
Morning came early with a wakeup call from a massive leg cramp that forced me out of the tent in agony.
The stream was swollen and muddy but still well within the banks, though in the darkness it sounded like it was a raging torrent. I slowly and quietly began packing up, seeing no other campers awake, then wandered down to the common area for some instant oatmeal and coffee.
After a while some shafts of sunlight began appearing as it crested the mountain top, so I grabbed my wet tent and carried it to a sunny spot to dry. I fired up the bike and rode it as quietly through the tents as possible, crossing the foot bridge to the main driveway.
The roaring stream had made a great soundscape for a night’s sleep.
Rob and I connected and prepared to ride out.
The plan for the day was to ride from Grant north to I-70, then west to Glenwood Springs, then back south to Paonia and Crested Butte. But you know how plans go… In Glenwood Springs, we stopped for lunch and to refresh a little at a Mexican restaurant. It was Sunday and happened to be the World Cup Finals, so the employees were absorbed in the soccer match on television. Rob, a native Hollander originally and Spanish linguist, was quickly ensconced in the game and our plan went out the window. The afternoon was spent enjoying the match and shouts of the Mexican workers.
Entering Guanella Pass from Grant.
That evening we met up with Rob’s friend Dennis, who’d ridden from Michigan to meet us. I’d had the pleasure of meeting Dennis when he rolled through the Texas hill country the year previous.
7.14.2014
The next day the plan was to head north through Walden, Colorado up to Riverside & Encampment, Wyoming then back west across northern Colorado and then north to the Flaming Gorge area in Wyoming to camp.
Interstate 70 from Glenwood Springs was a fantastic drive, as the highway is two levels and follows the river through canyons. It’s an engineering feat and a fun road to ride.
At Wolcott, we headed north for Kremmling by way of a gravel road and then continued north into the lush valley that Walden lies in before breaking the Wyoming border and grabbing lunch at the Bear Trap Cafe in the tiny town of Riverside adjacent to Encampment.
Lunch in Riverside, WY
Continental Divide Trail thru hikers taking a break and getting replenished
From Encampment and Riverside, we headed back west on Wyoming Hwy 70, winding up in the mountains and really had a great ride with no traffic. An excellent road which eventually dropped back down to plains on the western side.
By the time we neared Baggs, WY the terrain was flat and featureless. A little south of the border back into Colorado, we caught CO 4 across the northwest corner of the state into Wyoming.
CO 4 turned into a well maintained dirt road far from anyone or anything, save for a few oil wells and herds of wild horses.
Wild horses
Colorado 4 ended into Hwy 430 and by the time we were running north for Rock Springs, a storm blowing in from the east filled the sky with dust and high winds, keeping the eyes watering and the bikes leaning into the hard gusts.
We gave up on heading into Flaming Gorge to camp due to the weather and ended up in a KOA in Rock Springs that thankfully had wooden fences to block the winds for tenters.
Rob and Dennis making their evil plan for world domination. Or maybe just the next day’s route to Cody.
The winds continued deep into the night and I awoke with dust on everything inside the tent.
Traveling Techno-ho. 2 cameras, laptop, cell phone, helmet communicator and spare batteries…