I was pretty much a bit early for the large rally in the Blackhills known as Sturgis. There was already a good number of people present and of course bikes and the vendors who were still showing and setting up. There was an electric charge in the air as I walked Main St. and rode to the Full Throttle Saloon, Buffalo Chip and the Broken Spoke Saloon campgrounds, but everything was still in set up mode. I hung around for a good couple of hours, taking pictures of the creative rough bikes with personality, saw what I needed to see and decided it was time to pack up and head towards Wyoming.
Once out of the Black Hills it's instant straight up grassland, more to the point, Thunder Basin National Grasslands. I was going to look for a spot to sleep but I figured I should make Wright, WY at the end of 450 while I still had daylight. There's nothing to see except rolling hills of grass and more of it, peppered with oil and coal sights. I make Write just before nightfall and I find the rest stop that was actually on the map. The rest stop was decent not a lot of traffic and set up by the chamber of commerce, it was a rest stop with a fishing hole and a park. I hung around and made my spot under the pavilion, ate some cans of food, and got comfortable as the fishermen and passerby's started retreating with the setting sun. I threw the blanket on the concrete pad and caught some sleep along with a trucker and another vehicle who had the advantage of sleeping inside.
I woke early with the Sun, fueled up on 87 octane and a cup of mud and hit the road through the prairie heading towards Riverton, WY where I was to meet up with my brother, Zach later in the day. The road towards Capser, 387, just like 450 was long, windy and desolate, passing through towns that looked deserted and grasslands that looked and was endless. At the end of 387 I had to get onto I-25 to Casper, maybe a 30 mile run. Once in Casper I took 20/26 to hit Riverton and yet again, long, desolate and passing towns that looked deserted. A highlight was Hell's Half Acre, which Wicked John introduced me to, not even expecting to pass it, there it was. It's a mini Grand 'Like' Canyon sinkhole in the Grasslands with vibrant colors, beautiful. Nothing else but a shot gun blasted sign and a chain link fence that I stepped over for a better look.
I made Riverton sometime in the early afternoon, expecting Zach in a couple hours. I took refuge in a city park where I talked with 2 Arapahos, Kinkaid and Tom, slightly tipsy and eager to talk. I was enlightened to a couple of holy spots but figured I should leave it alone, that's their spots and the whiteman has intruded enough as it is in their lives. They told me of little people; A white miner blew open a cave and found a small dead man, the indians took the little man, buried him back in the hole, and as Kincaid put it, the indians then skidaddled. They also told me of the Deer Woman. A beautiful woman that would pull up her robe and she had deer hooves for feet. She was a negative spirit like human that would show up at the pow wows, lolling men with her looks and bad things would happen to them later on Don't mess with the Deer Woman. They also had a joke on the whiteman introducing the Christian faith to the tribes. With their drink over and ready to move on, I rode around town and finally got in touch with Zach who was still 2 hours out because of a ridiculous citation in Laramie in regards to a headlight that burned out so I went out of town to the Boysen Reservoir where I read, wrote and waited. He shown up around 8, we talked for a moment and found a spot to squat for the evening on the other side of the reservoir, waking early in the morning to leave before the State shown up.
In the morning heading north to Thermopolis, WY we were surprised with a grand ride through Wind River Canyon. Once in Thermopolis, we fueled up, had a half assed breakfast with a smoke and went for a soak in the hot water the town = is known and named for. Walking around the grounds and catching up with each other, we had a great morning, taking our time and enjoying each other company, saying how this is good to be doing.
Leaving Thermopolis, we headed out to the Cottonwood Creek area NW of town to witness petroglyphs carved in rocks, some dating back 9,000 years back. The ride out was a rutted gravel road to rough to enjoy so we ditched the road and took to the land on the sides of the road for a smoother ride. The petroglyphs were phenomenal and mysterious and I found a thunderbird which I may get marked on me at some point. It''s thought to have been on a spiritual trail from the hot waters of what is now Thermopolis to the Yellowstone area. It's great to think of what people were doing back in the day with themselves.
Onward to Cody, WY on WY120, which took us all afternoon. I passed on to Zach, Dave's words of wisdom, ride slow and stop often, which we did with ease. Once in Cody, the Sky was looking angry, we took our time, ate fast-food with coupons Zach brought and got a bit of provisions for snack and drink for when we made camp. We bought drink at a bar/liquor store where we met and talked a good bit with Paul, who's a weld inspector in the area and headed out hoping to stay dry, and what do you know, the Sky cleared and we hit the Chief Joseph Highway in Custer NF and found a great dispersed camp spot that may be the greatest of all, Dead Indian Summit. We took a forest dirt road out about a mile, opened a cattle gate, went through, shut the gate and we were rewarded with a spectacular view of the land to the east, we had the World to ourselves.. Dispersed camping is where it's at, not because it's free, it's because you have no neighbors but the critters that you can't see but they see you. YOU"RE OUT IN IT! We're in Grizzly country, their country not ours, don't sleep with your food. We had a great evening of watching the stars and shooting the breeze, putting on the longjohns as it got pretty cold once the Sun went down. Goodnight.
Waking to a clear beautiful Morning in Wyoming, we packed up and headed out the dirt road and got back on WY120 towards Red Lodge, MT where the famed Beartooth Pass beckoning us. We made a stop in Bear Creek at a small road side stop for coffee and delicious creme cheese and raisin pie for breakfast. We hung around for an hour or so, smoking, drinking coffee, taking in the scenery and talking with the proprietor. It was a great one road town, I respect those, there are not enough of them left.
We made Red Lodge fairly early and decide to hold off on Beartooth till the following morning and take a route that a fellow biker passed on at the Bear Creek cafe, Fishtail on MT78. It was a great 2 lane road for 40 miles where we waded in some water and talked on an island. On the way back we stop in a general store that's been in continual operation for like 100 years and drink a coke mixed with peanuts and eat actual beernuts. We get back to Red Lodge round 6, hit up a local festival of nations in town where kilts were being sported, get a 12 pack of cheap brew head back to our camp spot we set up previously on a forest road at the foot of Beartooth.
The next morning was great filled with anticipation, this was the road of roads, Beartooth Pass. Once starting we noticed bicycle riders climbing with us as there was a bike race on Beartooth from Red Lodge to Cooke City. It's one thing switch backing up mountains with 2 way traffic, throw in bicycles, it's another story. I respect them and give them as much room as possible as they are fellow 2-wheelers. Beartooth was grand to say the least, we had total blue Sky and the views and scenery of the mountain tundra reminded me of Alaska and here it is in the lower 48, I love you, Earth! You can't get a better home and playground! We took 5-6 hours to complete the ride which ended in Yellowstone. There's no rush and why rush an experience like this? People in cars rush, wanting to get to the next destination. On a bike, it's about the ride, the direction, not destination as you breath it, feel it, live it and love it.
Cooke City was a good little stop. ALot of bikes cos of Sturgis and everyone with a smile on their face, even the wannabe badass ones. While sitting and having a smoke, what do you know, Paul from Cody walks up! He's scouting out routes on his bike to take his girlfriend on who is flying into town for his vacation. We mock at how small a world this is, shake hands and depart. Zach, having a hankering for ice cream gets me wanting some. We find a general store with cheap pints of cream, I get a couple of postcards and we sit on the porch eating the dessert with wooden spoon paddles next to a great sticker that says, 'No Bozos', a picture of THE Bozo with a void sign, great!
Outside Cooke City, you run right into the north gate of Yellowstone, it's either go in the park or go back over the pass, which isn't a bad thing, but of course we went in the park of parks. Bummer is, motorcycles are $20, usually at NP's, bike's are $10. All's good regardless, as we're dorking around no bikes and not working. FREEDOM! The park proves great once again. We stop to baptize ourselves in the Lamar River hearing Bison grunt on the other side. We break for a good bit, ride park roads with a pepper of inpatient cagers and make West Yellowstone, MT for over priced Ronald food and find a forest road literally outside of town for free sleep. The following morning we head back into the park looking for hot springs, we don't find any so head up a road and take another dip in the Lamar, life is good! We're supposed to meet our Folks that day, but it doesn't happen, as we ride slow and stop often, which I've been doing with skill for the last couple of months.
Onward to Idaho! I've yet to have the Beemer in this State, and it was a point to make. I've been in the state on Zach's Suzuki, which he decided to ride on this venture instead of the HD-Classic for nimbleness, 4 years back when I had my baptism by fire with riding motorcycles. I had to stop at the State sign and kiss the Beemer that has become an extension of my soul and well being. We meander Idaho and venture ID20 through the town of Island Park's 30+ miles of main street which through us off. We jump on 47, Mesa Falls Scenic Byway and stop to view the awesomeness of the actual Mesa Falls which was deja vu for me, remembering being here with Uncle Dan, Mom and family on the summer before Junior year of high school. I have to give a shout out to Uncle Dan and Mom for loading us in the van on summers and hitting the road when we were kids, traveling bled on me and I bleed it to this day with no need for tourniquet! We proceed southerly and find ourselves back in Wyoming by steep mountain grade. Meaning to skip the tourist trap of a town Jackson Hole we find a county road that snakes the Snake Range, a paved road which turns to gravel 10 miles down with spectacular valley views that remind me of the back roads in WV, which Zach agrees. The road spits us out on 89/26 and the sun is hanging low and we make Alpine, WY where we decide it's too late to meet the Folks who are holed up in Kimmerer, WY, still a good klick south, and we arrange to meet in Montpelier, UT in the morning. We stop in Afton, WY for the paper bag that holds the bottle and cans of chili from the dollar store. It's definitely getting dark and I spy Dry Creek Forest Road where we roll a mile up hill and find a spot to sleep in the Bridger-Teton NF. The spot is a local teenage party spot by the looks of left trash and spent shotgun shells. A local pulls up asking if we saw anyone on horse back who's looking for a stray calf, which we didn't. We eat our cold cans of chili, pass the paper bag, and guess who comes down the hill? 2 people each on horse back, leading the stray calf down the hill. Good stuff this is!
Montpilier, ID was only about 45 miles away. We stop in the park, and sure enough, 5-10 minutes later we hear a Harley and we see Mom's silver helmet, it sure was good seeing them roll in after all this time on the road. I'm thankful that I have family willing to go the distance to share a bit of ride with their Son's. We hug and smile and find a local establishment where we share breakfast and what's happened the last couple of months on the road.
From Montpilier, we drop south into Utah, where Dad think's weird derived from cos people aren't out in the towns in the evening and you can't order a sunny side egg, even though he hates slimy eggs. Me, I love a good runny dippy egg! Which is how we found out 4 years back in the State on my initial bike travel, which I've been doing ever since without apology!
We take a wonderful ride in the Logan Canyon where all 4 of us get in the freaking cold ass rejuvenating water of the Logan River. Afterwards we're dumped into Logan, UT where it seems they have an mandate that everyone needs to be in their vehicles. Traffic everywhere, plus it's a college town. My motors has been puking oil and the culprit was a bunk oil switch. I message Desert Dave for generic parts numbers which he quickly replies with his Airhead knowledge, I hit up a parts store and find a switch for $14, at least half of what BMW would charge. With switch in hand, I perform a quick parking lot oil change behind the O'Rielly's and we're on back on the road heading south towards Liberty, UT by means of a dirt road which turned into a haul road, sandy switchback, rutted surface, rocks jutting out everywhere, and there's Mom and Dad bouncing along with smiles on their faces on a loaded down HD Ultra Classic. Dad takes these bikes where there not meant to be rode, cheers to the Folks! 30 miles later with the sun getting low, Dad's ready to eat. We find food at Eats of Eden, a great little pizza joint with the friendliest young waitress ever. She's local and gives us direction for free camp. We leave and of course it's dark, and of course we take the wrong direction given to us. We head up hill which she said don't do. We end at the top of a ski area, no where else to go but back down, where we take another wrong turn, turn back and find the road to Huntsville. Looking for a camp spot in the dark doesn't work out. If I was by myself, I would tuck in wherever, being 3 bikes, that aint going to happen. We pull over at a lake beach scoping things out and there's this line of running cars stuck behind a locked forest gate. Sheriff pulls up and unlocks the gate, Dad goes up to him and we get an escorted run to a wildlife preserve where Zach and I sleep under the stars and Dad is setting up this '2' man tent that is totally meant for '1'. Regardless, Mom and Dad being the troopers they are, they both pack in this tiny tent that's the size of a coffin.
The following morning was clear and grand. Our plan is to skip the mess known as Salt Lake City and keep to the county roads which sweep us up and down. We make Morgan were we break and have eggs at a breakfast spot that has no coffee. Dad gives the look as, 'here's another reason they're weird, no runny eggs and now no coffee at a breakfast spot', which leads into a religion ran State. Ha, I love the way the way this guy thinks. Him and Mom go get coffee at a gas station and we have a decent meal. It's then that it's noticed that my side-stand is missing it's foot, making it just a simple piece of round stock, ready to punch through whatever surface the bike is leaned on. Good thing for center stands! the Sticking to the county roads, we take a wrong turn, we should have actually aimed for SLC, but we didn't and found ourselves on the dreaded interstate for 45 miles and enter back into Wyoming, oh well, no plans, no big deal. We find ourselves in Ft. Bridger, famed as the last provision stop for the Donner party, and we all know how they ended up... We fuel up, I ask Dad if he recognizes the station, as it's where we fueled up the truck moving Jesse and Family to Seattle this past April.
Onward, the stupid Interstate put me in a fowl mood, we stop and I put in tunes and it brings me back to reality. 'Wake up stupid, you have no job voluntarily and you're dorking around on a bike!' I feel better. We meander up and down and around the prehistoric landscape of Wyoming and back into Utah where we halt in Ashley NF south of Manilla, UT. We take a dip in the water at Navajo Cliffs and find a nice secluded spot off the forest road to sleep. Dad and I go back into Manilla for some dogs, chips and drink and using my bikes rear end as a picnic table, just like at the MOA rally, we cook the dogs in chili and eat like kings. Zach, being the eldest son, offers to sleep in the coffin and me and the Folks sleep in the tent I've been carrying.
The following morning we make for Vernal and take a break at Ronald's house. I know it seems there's a lot of breaks at Ronald's house but it's ridiculously cheap and that matters more that spending 3 times as much elsewhere. Regardless, we're all being good little consumers no matter where we spend our cash. While loafing around Ronald's house, I noticed an auto shop across the street. We venture over, talk to Sam the welder who hooks Bike up with a solid fix for the side stand with a 1/4" washer and a nut welded to the side stand as a foot, better than stock, says I!
Leaving Vernal, Zach pulls a louie and wants to go back to Dinosaur NM, "We've passed this before, it's time to stop and see what's up." It turns out to be a great spot that the evil baron Andrew Carnegie (yeah Pittsburgh???) sponsored. Its high dry land and we took a trolley out (yeah Pittsburgh!!!) to the fossil spot which they left what was left intact. There before our eyes was a mass fossil collection with bones everywhere you looked on this sheltered hillside. Amazing, just imaging how long ago that was. What they figured out, this spot resided where what is known as South America currently is during the massive continental land shifts. It was once a river bed that after millions of years of push from Mother Earth was now a vertical wall. Cool stuff that really is unimaginable. I love it! Instead of taking the trolley back, the 4 of us decide to take the trail the mile back to HQ. The walk was great as all trails are and seeing the colors that rock hold, desert contrasting against the Green River Valley with the brilliant blue Sky, phenomenal, how all can exist in harmony.
The rest of the day was more of the same brown hilly terrain and scenery where we got a room in Craig, CO. This mind you, is my 3rd hotel in the same number of months I've been out. I figure if the Folks want a room instead of dealing with the coffin tent more power to them. We had a friendly Polish truck driver fellow managing the Black Nugget where we stayed. Walked to and ate delicious Mexican food for dinner that seemed to be the talk of the town. We got back to the room, played cards on the patio when an oil worker (guess) can down and told us he found bed bugs in his room and got another room of course. We checked the beds, didn't see any and went back to rummy.
Next morning was to be the morning of the green areas on the map, the beloved Rocky Mountains! We cruise through the tourist trap towns hawking western art and over priced western wear, and make a B-line for Idaho Springs, where the fabled Mt. Evans resides, the highest auto road in North America. The ride there was great, seeing how the land changes from the violent reactions of Earth creating the wall of stone from Alaska to New Mexico. Some say the Guadalupe Mountains of Texas are the true end or beginning of the Rockies, but I don't know or care, I love them regardless. From Steamboat Springs we start climbing this glorious monster of land and wall. Climb and climb, we reach the top greeted by rain and cold, I can't get enough, bring it on Mother Earth, wash me in your beautiful cold tears! Precarious downhill grades, 15MPH switchbacks and we're dumped onto I70 where thankfully we only traverse maybe 10-20 miles to Idaho Springs. It's approaching evening, it's 13 miles up hill to the NP gate and another 13 miles straight up to 14,200+ ft to Mt. Evans summit. The first 13 miles was slow, stuck behind a minivan, though we're not in a rush, we're amped for the finale. We make the NP gate where the Folks lifetime Parks card covers all 3 bikes and we start the real ascent. Carving our way up, we were warned of frost heaves. Frost heaves are caused by the constant warming and cooling of the land, making the pavement jut up and down violently for maybe a half a mile. On our way to Alaksa last year, we dealt with 80+ miles of frost heaves from Destruction Bay, Yukon to the Alaskan State line. Climbing and climbing and were above the timberline where only rock and hardy tundra ground growth reside. About a mile or two from the summit, were greeted with mountain sheep that I loudly greet in capricorn solidarity. I'm hollering, tear in my eye excitement and it thrills me to hear Zachary doing the same being behind me approaching the summit where sleet and cloud cloud envelope us mountaineers, my rear tire sliding but grabbing. Montani Libre! We reach the top, it what I was expecting ad extremely cold, we dismount the bikes, I warm my hands on Bikes cylinders and I can't wipe the smile off my face and I acknowledge my companions are in the same state of mind. I tell Mom it's extremely cool to do this with my Parents which chokes her up. We're at the summit for vehicles but there's a trail to the actual summit by foot which we climb slowly as the elevation and lack of air makes it somewhat strenuous. We climb and are halted by the extreme beauty that has opened up to us, sheer cliff walls, thick clouds and the immense beauty of the larger than life proving just how small we are and here we are!!! This is living, this is life! We're above the clouds and can see for miles where the clouds we're in provide windows for our accomplishment. Travelers unite!!! This is an accomplishment! How many exclamation points can I provide? It's unlimited! It's very cold and the Sun is laying down for the night, it' time to descent. A mile or two down and it clears. I'm telling myself how cold I am, and I apologize to Monnsier Evans for being a prat and enjoy how cold I am. We head back into Idaho Springs looking for grub and a room. We find a cheap roach motel, unpack and head to Tommyknockers (little people!) pub kinda late where the waitress was unsmiling and put off, but we make the most out of it and enjoy our time and reflect and ask her to make that pot of coffee. They shouldn't have sat us is the way I look at it, and if she's put off by that she shouldn't be a waitress. We head back to the hotel where a comforter is stained with blood and smells of dog, toilet knocked from the wall, and relax and sleep good with dancing dreams of tomorrows road.
The morning holds nothing but beauty, our next stop is Mt. Evans contemporary, Pikes Peak, a mere 200' less in elevation. Low and behold, the weekend is the long running and admired event, Pikes Peak Hill Climb, where, bikes, cars and trucks scramble to the top. Being $100 entrance fee and a tangle of traffic, we opt out and change plans (tourists we are not, travelers we be!) and head south towards Pueblo, CO and back west to experience Bishop's Castle. Heading south, we found ourselves on the Colorado prairie, hard winds and nothing but miles and miles of horizon filled grass. Putting Zach and I in a foul mood, the Folks still smiling of course, we shake it off and head west on CO78 slowly staying being a storm we find ourselves in the hills of the Greenhorn Range. 78 started as pavement but turned to dirt for a good slow 20 miles, good slow fun dirt. Again, the Folks, trooping along with smiles on their faces. 78 dumped us onto CO165, where Zach asked if I remembered any of this as him and I visit Bishop's Castle a good 15 years back. I said, "I don't remember any of this.", and he guessed right which proved right!
Cresting a hill, we saw the tower…
Bishop's Castle in all it's glory, a man made full size castle made by one eclectic man and his truck with a system of pulleys and rock from the NF that he claims is his cos he pays tax. Jim Bishop is a man of man and fights to prove it. He's been building on this ever evolving castle with no plans for the last 44 years. It's great to see him carry this on. Zach and I visited the castle 15 years back and he's added on a great deal of additions. It's free admission though he stresses support and donations as he builds it for all of us to enjoy. He's been dealing with the headache of politics ever since the start, cos of permits, 'stolen' rock from the national forest and other various run ins with the 'LAW'. He's a tax payer but has no time for politics, though he's very well read in what's going on. The harassment has left the battled man bitter, chipped shoulder but stronger and more vocal than ever and I commend him for that. The castle MUST BE SEEN and SUPPORTED!!! He invites everyone and even politicians to walk through and on the castle grounds. This structure can not be described with justice done. I'm serious, this may be the greatest offering Colorado has besides the Mountains, and I stand behind him. It's his land and he can do what he pleases if you ask me. Thank you Mr. Jim Bishops for what you have offered us. You are a master of thought and build. Cheers!!!
We headed to Rye, CO where we were greeted by the Rye Library, which I though should be called the Ryebrary, ha. We stayed at a hotel, tried a local establishment for dinner, Odies or something like that. They were having a band play with 2 waitress's, we weren't noticed so we left and had mexican which was good. The following morning was a bit somber as Zach had to head back to Guymon, OK as he had to get back and greet and teach students back to high school. I love you Brother!
The Folks and I decided to get back in the mountains and give Pikes Peak another go. We wormed our way NW maybe a 100 miles, stopping at the head waters of the Arkansas River for baptism. Once in Salida, CO the Sky helped us to decide to just hang tight and get a room and relax in the hot tub and have a good meal complimented with a delicious local hopped up IPA brew. The following morning it was NE. We took 24 back towards Pikes Peak area, Woodland Park, CO, a nice chill slow ride, threatened with rain that never happened and stopped for a break where we saw a cinnamon colored black bear ramble around in scrub on a mountain side. Getting back in Woodland Park, we found that Pikes Peak was ready for us and we made the climb which happened to be more topsy turvy than Mt. Evans. Climb, climb, climb we did passing the hay bails from the weekends race, wondering if anyone goes over the hill. Mid way up we were shown just that, a tangled vehicle the way a vehicle should't be tangled, a mess of metal and rubber. Later we found out all was OK, go figure… At the summit of Pike, it was a clear day, 15 minutes later the clouds roll in and the shivers set in, so we opt for a cup of joe and chill. The Cog train brings in a mess of anxious tourists pushing and shoving their way through. All I want is a sticker, they want everything ushered. The clouds are growing thicker and we decide it's time to leave as it's snowing. O the bikes, sleet and snow pelt us, stinging flesh they somehow find, clouds so think that I couldn't see 20 feet in front of me, using the lines of the road to stay on the road, LIFE IS GOOD! A mile down out of the clouds, we're greeted with a rainbow I shall always remember because we were above the rainbow and looking like we might go through it, though as a true rainbow, you're always chasing the spectrum.
The evening, the Folks and I were roomed in a good hotel with better hot tubs and a good pool. It was their last night with me on the road. We had salads for dinner and I broke the ice by saying, "I'm sure gonna miss you guys…" which really got to Mom and choked me up as well. I do miss you guys and THANK YOU! The evening didn't hold a somber veil, we collected pictures and kicked back. The following morning was good, went through the dance of packing up and before we knew it, it was time to say goodbye. Parting in Colorado is pretty cool if you ask me, I think it's just great we can AND do this. I watched them toll they disappeared from sight and collected my things and hit the road slow with traces in the dirt on my face.
It was definitely a melancholy day, I took it slow and headed 15 miles out of town and hit south towards Cripple Creek, CO. The visitors center was good filled with history which I can't get enough of, but the town was eh… Gambling tourist town. I did get a call from Desert Dave which hit the spot on my return to solitude, it was good to hear the voice of a good friend and contemporary in my moment of morose.
I ditched Cripple Creek for Victor, another gold rush boom town sans tourist junk. I spent time wondering the grounds of the desolate Independence Gold Mine, snapping pix and walking the trail. Good town, mostly dirt roads. I dug the pace and demeanor.
I took the time on CO1 and meandered the hills and valleys taking a stop at Florissant Fossil Beds NM, observing ancient prehistoric petrified red wood tree stumps 30' in diameter and walked a mile trail. I traveled another 4 miles to 24 and then west about 10 miles and hit right on Terryall Road which skirted Terryall Creek that dumped into the meandering South Platte RIver. Jefferson was 42 miles at the end of the road on 285. I found the Terryall Reserve about midway down and found a knoll made just for me a few miles down a dirt road and set up camp and observed the falling sun while the open range cattle and yipping coyotes lulled me to sleep.
Good morning, what a good day, I'm back in the groove of solitary ramble and a clear day greets me. I finish off Terryall Creek Road and hit 285 to Grant where I hop onto another county road which treats me to Guanella Pass at 11,000+'. A good dirt/pavement road that follows water, up a pass and down into Georgetown where I fuel up and find myself back at Idaho Springs. I head a very short distance on I70 and exit to Central City which puts me on a wonderful byway shooting up hill towards Estes Park, CO which resides outside Rocky Mountain National Park, my actual place of intrest. Estes Park was another tourist trap of a town catering to tourist, there I was. I pass through town and head straight for the NP, get my Parks Card, which I've been saving receipts since May towards, come to find out, it's got to be within a 2 week timeframe, not 3+ months, half didn't count, oh well, roll with the flow. I go ahead a get a card, I'll use it. RMNP is great, I took the dirt road to the top and the ride was a yelling top of lungs ride, which I recorded. I took a left at the summit which shot me back to Estes Park after sitting on the mountain tundra pondering and contemplating. Running low on day light I took a chance a took a county road in the Rossevelt NF hoping to find a forest road to squat on. It happened to be a canyon and no roads, so I back tracked to Estes, and 11 miles south where I found an forest access road 3 miles down a dirt road and set camp just before dark and cooked noodles, a can of veggies and a can of tuna together warming my soul.
I broke camp fairly late, sleeping in till I couldn't any longer and organized and using a defunct BMWMOA anonymous book for bike shop locations for a rear tire. I went back to RMNP, took the dirt road again to the summit known as Old Fall River Road and hung a right instead of a left as I did before. I was running on one heck of a natural high that left me shivering all the way to Grand Lake. I skirted the NP on the western side and shot north towards Walden, CO. I was riding mountains when after the summit I entered I mountain plains farm land where the wind was literally howling and me riding at a 45 degree angle leaning to the left to go straight. Once in Waldon, I took a break and headed back east towards Ft. Collins, a loop if you will for the day. The ride on 14 was great, a canyon ride once back in the mountain terrain, following what I think may be the Poudre River, I don't know and man's names don't matter, as the river will flow regardless. This route was proof that the Earth breaths and lives, flowing with live. I passed spots of previous forest fires that looked like a bomb went off, eerie yet invigorating. Ft. Collins is a bustling college town, I only stopped to hit up a K-Mart for 5 days worth of rations, through Loveland and back west on 34 back towards Estes Park, where I cut off on the county road I did yesterday hoping to find the forest road I hoped to find which I did.
I'm currently at the top of Storm Mountain, a weathered looking spot, rough dirt road to the top where I set camp and typed out the last two weeks of experience. This is good and just what I needed. Today I turned down a very profitable freelance gig back east, as I told the potential, there's no way I'm going to interrupt this possible once in a lifetime experience. This venture will be on my resume if I ever bother with one again, I know the road, the bike as it knows me. I could do this from here on out, this is living, this is knowing, this is experience I highly recommend. I've been traveling extensively by bike the last 4 years and I hope, I will carry this on. I feel for once I have accomplished something that definitely matters.
Joy to all, love to all, and may you rest in peace tonight.
Everyman is a King.
No comments:
Post a Comment