Rocky Mountain Higher

Thursday we left Gunnison and headed for Lake City, our originally planned starting point for the day, via paved roads. Once we made it to town, we stopped to gas up and have a quick cup of coffee.

Motorcycles were everywhere in Lake City, and they all had similar red, numbered stickers. We later found out that the annual Colorado 500 charity ride was passing through town the same time we were. As we made our way up Cinnamon pass, we were constantly passing groups of CO-500 riders on dirt bikes, headed the opposite direction.

We made our way all the way to the summit of Cinnamon pass without any serious problems, though some of the switchbacks were tight, and so steeply cambered that it was difficult to make the turns on our heavier, luggage-laden bikes. At the top of the pass, we found ourselves again at an elevation over 12,000 feet, though today it seemed easier to breathe - probably because we hadn't worked as hard to reach the top as the day before.

Down the other side we arrived at Animas Forks, a small, long-since abandoned mining site sitting near 11,000 feet elevation. After making a quick snack out of power bars, Rick decided that he would head down to Silverton to find a hotel for the night while Doran and I rode on, over some of the many mountain passes in the area.

Doran and I took off and within the next hour had made it over California, Hurricane and Corkscrew passes. The way down Corkscrew, leading to the city of Ouray, was the most intimidating descent of the trip so far. Steep, tight and winding the whole way down, Corkscrew lived up to its name. In Ouray, we had lunch of chile rellenos and fish tacos (the best I've ever eaten) at Buen Tiempo.

The whole trip up to this point Doran had been talking about making it over Imogene pass to see Red Mountain, even though it wasn't specifically on the Trans-America Trail. He assured me that it was an "easy" climb up to the summit and a gentle descent back down the other side into Telluride. So we said goodbye to Ouray and started up the jeep road to Imogene. About a third of the way up we stopped for a moment to use "the facilities", and I asked if he was sure the way up wasn't going to be intense, since there was a sign warning that vehicles should not go any further without four-wheel drive, high ground clearance, and a short turning radius. He claimed that we'd already passed another sign like that, and there was nothing to worry about. We remounted and within five minutes I had my second off of the trip. I was following Doran too closely through the only good line in the trail when he stalled his bike, leaving me stopped on a steep, slick rock face, where I, like an idiot, grabbed the front brake and pulled the clutch, resulting in a backwards slide. The math works out to one-third his fault, two-thirds mine (though he still says it was his). My side case got pretty banged up, but it's fixable, and not nearly as serious as the blow to my ego. On the bright side, I learned to leave more space between us, and to pick different lines where possible, which probably saved us from a more serious accident later.

We continued up the trail, which became more and more difficult with each twist of the road. Rock faces became steeper, obstacles became larger, and the bikes (as well as the riders) struggled more and more for air.

Finally we reached the summit at 13,100 feet elevation, and Red Mountain rose in the distance. The climb was worth it, and I can say that I've done it. Down the other side was far easier than the way up, with only a couple switchbacks, and few truly steep descents.

By the time we reached Telluride it was starting to get late, and we'd told Rick we would be to Silverton by 6PM, so we took a short break and then raced on to Ophir pass. Upon reaching the start of the trail, Doran stopped and told me "if I remember correctly, this one a freeway compared to the others." To which I replied "You've said that about every one so far."

Ophir turned out to be the easiest of the passes, peaking just above 11,000 feet and taking us quickly back down to Silverton. The descent was the most fun of the trip, and would have tackled faster if the drop on the right side had been a few hundred feet shorter.

We found Rick's bike parked in front of a small hotel in the middle of town and got cleaned up for dinner. We walked a couple of blocks, past a handful of newer establishments (most of which had been built since our last visit to town nearly ten years ago), and made our way to Handlebars Saloon. Handlebars is a local institution, as much a part of Silverton as mining and jeeping. Found just off the main road through town, the interior is small - almost cramped - but the food is excellent and the atmosphere is as authentic as it gets, right down to the stuffed Colorado Fur Trout on the wall.

The day had been long and challenging for Doran and me, and had provided a chance for Rick to rest up before the long ride home. All in all, it made for a great last day of "westward" riding on the trip.

Catching Up on Pictures

The storefront at Saint Elmo.

The trail up to Tomichi Pass. This was the easy part.

Kyle, our hero, who helped Rick down from Tomichi Pass.

My arm after the fall. And yes, that is my tan line.

Saint Hell-Mo

As a forward, we stayed in a town with poor cel coverage last night, and it has been nearly impossible to post to the blog for the last 24 hours. If this message is posted first, my apologies.

Today we left Salida and headed west through the mountains to Saint Elmo, a small mining/ghost town with easy access to several mountain passes. We stopped in the local gift shop for a quick cup of coffee. Rick entertained himself by feeding peanuts to the gaggle of chipmunks that live on main street.

From there we rode up to the top of Hancock Pass. The trail started easy enough, but by the time we reached the pass the terrain had become rockier than we had anticipated. Rick, who had come from 30 feet elevation up to our current elevation of 12,125 feet, was starting to feel the effects of altitude sickness. Looking at the rollcharts, and knowing what we had come through, we decided to push forward to Tomichi Pass, which was only two miles further down the trail. These two miles proved to be more difficult than the five miles up the first pass. Rock slides across the trail were the main culprits for the difficulty, as was the effects of the altitude, which reached 12,800 at the too of Tomichi.

Looking down from the pass it appeared that what lay ahead of us was much easier that what was behind us, so we pressed onward. Unfortunately, looks can be deceiving, and soon after starting our decent, I had my first off of the trip. And, even more unfortunately, it happened in one of the more inopportune spots. Long story short, I ended up falling a good six feet down a washout on the side of the trail onto a pile of jagged rocks. The one fortunate thing was that the bike didn't follow me down and land on me, which would have worsened the situation. The only damage was cosmetic, both to me and the bike.

Back on two wheels, and as we continued decending the mountain the terrain just kept getting worse. Loose rocks, water crossings and steep grades were wearing us all out, Rick especially. I made it to the bottom of the pass first, and started applying the 20 minute rule. A jeep came by, and the driver let me know that the others were still a good ways up the mountain. So the next jeep that came down I talked the driver into giving me a lift back up to the others and then give Rick a lift back down. Kyle, the driver of the jeep, turned out to be a really cool guy, who used to ride bikes in the area when he was younger, and was able to sympathize with our situation.

We eventually made our way down off the mountain to have a very late lunch in Sargent. At that point we were too far behind schedule to make the rest of the trail to Lake City, so we took the road 30 miles to the scenic town of Gunnison, CO.

Despite the trials and tribulations experienced throughout the day, we still experienced some of the most beautiful views imaginable, and it still beat a day at the office.

P.S. I'm not attaching photos due to difficulties in making the MMS/blog system work. I'll post the photos at a later date.

Leaving La Veta

Today started early at 8am, with the there of us headed for Salida. We had 200 ground miles to cover, and the terrain was bound to become more difficult as we climbed to higher elevations.

Our first major mountain pass brought us rapidly up to 10,800 feet in elevation. Still short of the tree line, but I was finally starting to feel the effects of high elevation, as was the bike.

We stopped in Gardner for coffee and spent some time talking with the locals about ranching and water rights. Back on the bikes and we found ourselves surrounded on all sides by the peaks of the Rockies. Lunch was had at a local diner in Westcliffe.

In the afternoon the roads steadily became worse, developing ruts and rain grooves. The grades became steeper, and the occasional patch of pea gravel made the bikes slide out in the turns.

After we arrived in Salida, we unloaded the bikes and took them by the local self service car wash to knock off the now thick layers of dust. Doran cleaned a load of laundry using the hotel bathtub.

Tomorrow we make tracks for Lake City, looking forward to some of the best riding Colorado has to offer.

Living La Veta Loca

Today saw the most dramatic changes of scenery imaginable. We started out in Guymon, and rode about 100 miles of pavement, finding our way through the Oklahoma panhandle to the New Mexico border, catching back up with the trail near Mexhoma. The barren landscape stretched for miles. While riding down the road I could look out and see 50 miles in every direction. Stand up on the pegs and I could see for 100 miles.

As we rode through New Mexico the scenery changed bit by bit. First, mesquite trees appeared. Then we found ourselves surrounded by mesas, the grass gradually became greener, and the GPS started to show elevation over 6000 feet. Deer became elk and ducks turned into turkeys.

We climbed up switchbacks as we crossed into Colorado, and suddenly found ourselves surrounded by green pastures and the road was lined on both sides by wild sunflowers. We made it to Trinidad in the early afternoon and decided to try to make it to La Veda so that we could make tomorrow's ride to Salida more easily.

On the way to La Veda, Rick had his first close call, running off the road and nearly losing control of the bike several times before finally making it back on the road. All in all, Rick road extremely well today. For someone that's never done this type of riding before, he's doing extremely well.

In La Veda, we found lodging at La Veda Inn. It's a little on the expensive side, but they're pretty much the only game in town, and the accomodations are quite nice. As it turns out, the proprieter, Scott, also rides and is the proud owner of a 950 Adventure.

All in all, its turning out to be a great trip and I can't wait to see what tomorrow holds.

20 Minute Rule

FYI: the local cel network won't let me post this message with the images. Hopefully I'll get them posted sometime tomorrow.

8:30am and we're off and running. We put in about 100 miles on pavement heading north to catch the closest marked point on the trail map. Storm clouds were hanging above is to the east, and we were fortunate that the storm didn't make it any further west.

Just south of Buffalo, where we would eventually start the trail, we came upon a windpower farm. We could see the windmills for 20 minutes before we reached them. The picture doesn't do them justice. The blades are a good 90 feet long each, and the towers are placed in a staggered line along a ridge, stretching for several miles.

Just north of Buffalo we reached a point where the Trans-Am Trail crossed the highway. Oklahoma roads, including the unpaved ones, are set on a 1-mile grid, so most of the riding was straight-line, with little confusion when we reached turns.

The rain storms from the previous day missed the panhandle, so the roads were quite dusty. I took the lead and handled navigation for the day, riding ahead of the others so they wouldn't be forced to eat dust the whole time.

The amount of wildlife today was the biggest surprise. First, before even reaching the trail, I nearly ran over a tarantula. Through the rest of the day I scared up several white-tail deer, a couple of geese, a rabbit, a couple of hawks, and at one point a duck flew level with the ground right in front of my front fender for a good 150 feet or so.

On our last trip I had the first wreck, about 15 miles in. This time Rick earned that honor, getting bit by a wash of soft sand about 25 miles in to the trail. He scuffed a handguard and bruised his ribs (and possibly his ego) in the fall. A couple Motrin later and he seems to feel better.

We reached a stretch of trail that crossed through open cattle land, and found ourselves crossing cattle guards every mile. At one guard a huge black bull stood blocking our path. Rick, the toughest of us, rode up and ran it off so we could pass.

After about 100 miles we had our first SNAFU. I was riding ahead and practicing the "20 minute rule.". This is where when you stop to wait for others to catch up, you wait 20 minutes before going back to find anyone that hasn't arrived. I had been sitting at an intersection for about 20 minutes, and it had been about 8 miles since I'd last seen Doran and Rick, so I decided to head back and see what had happened. Only my bike wouldn't start. I'd left the key on for the whole 20 minutes with the headlight sucking the life out of the battery. Fortunately the 640 comes equipped with a kickstart. Unfortunately, the footpeg mount is bent back (from my wreck last year) to where it blocks the kickstart lever. After trying evertying I could think of to get going, I finally came to two realizations: my bike wasn't going to start, and the others weren't going to show up anytime soon. Fortunatly, Oklahoma has good cel coverage. It turned out that Rick had a flat rear tire and they had just finished patching it. Doran came riding up the trail about 10 minutes later. At this point the 20 minute rule had stretched out to 60 minutes. Doran was able to kick my bike with enough force to get the starter lever past the footpeg with enough speed to get the engine to turn over.

We were all up and rolling again, but exhausted from all the heat, and about 2 hours behind schedule for the day. So we hopped on a nearby highway and made our way to the nearest town to find a cold beverage and fully inflate Rick's tire. Turns out that the nearest air compressor was almost an hour west in Hooker, OK. At this point it was getting late, so we decided to head for the nearest decent sized town, Guymon, OK, and find a room for the night.

The plan for tomorrow is to make for the New Mexico border and pick up the Trans-Am trail at the state line.

The 20-Minute Rule (pt. 1)

8:30am and we're off and running. We put in about 100 miles on pavement heading north to catch the closest marked point on the trail map. Storm clouds were hanging above is to the east, and we were fortunate that the storm didn't make it any further west.

Living on Tulsa Time

We pulled in to Elk City this morning a couple hours ahead of schedule, about 8:30am. Our early arrival cost is in sleep; we only got about two hours each.

The morning was spent catching up with James and Karen, followd by lunch at the Hog Trough with John, Denise and their two girls. Everyone recommended the "chopwich" which is composed of kielbasa and chopped brisket in a hamburger bun. How could I turn down a sandwich made from two kinds of BBQ?

Rick made it in about 5PM, and, after some time spent catching up and unloading the bikes, we made our way over to Sassy's for dinner, which specializes in buffalo. I'm starting to feel like l'm eating my way across America at this point.

After dinner we prepped the bikes for tomorrow and helped Rick get his luggage situation sussed out.

All that's left now is to get some well deserved rest before heading out tomorrow. If all goes well I'll be posting from Trinidad tomorrow night!

Lost Highway

Six hours into the 922 mile journey to Elk City, and we've just crossed into Arkansas. We were fortunate to avoid any real traffic in both Nashville and Memphis. Driving through Memphis on I40 at night is a surreal experience. You don't even see downtown until you're practically through it. Our next landmark is Little Rock, two hours away. At this rate we'll reach James and Karen's house by 10am tomorrow. Or would that be later today?

The moon has shrunk down to a sliver of a thumbnail, so the night is pitch black beyond the shoulder of the road. Its an ominous reminder of how important it will be to make it to the hotel on time each night of the trip.

All packed up and nowhere to go...

The bikes have been ready since Saturday, so tonight I had one thing on my agenda: get packed. It's hard to believe I was able to fit so much into my Zega cases and topcase.

Two sets of riding gear, jeans, two T-shirts, casual socks, five pair of riding socks, six pair of skivies, glove liners, spare gloves, assorted tools and spare parts, no-fog cloth, small towel, sunglasses, flashlight, matches, six powerbars, peanuts, two liters of water, electrolytes, personal kit, spare goggles, tape, notebook and pen, bungee cords, enduro jacket, Tylenol, digital camera and video camera. And I still have room to spare!

Being ready this early for a trip feels strange. Our usual trip prep involves rushing frantically at the last moment trying to fix something on the bike, or searching for some obscure piece of riding gear that's hiding in plain sight. This time the bike is in perfect shape and my gear is all accounted for and packed, and I still have 20 hours left until we hit the road.

Tomorrow we're loading the bikes and packing up the trailer for the long haul out to Elk City. Now if I can just relax enough to get some sleep between now and Friday...

72 Hours and Counting

Ten months ago today my father and I were just starting out on our first week of riding the Trans-America Trail, from Selmer, TN to Talequah, OK. Six days later, after crossing the Oklahoma border, it was time to turn around and head home. All I wanted to do was keep on riding west.

72 hours from now we'll be leaving for Elk City, OK, driving through the night, to spend another week on the trail, this time joined by my uncle Rick. We'll be riding through western Oklahoma, New Mexico, Colorado, and hopefully making it to Moab, Utah before again turning back east towards home.

For those of you who don't know (which is probably most), the Trans-America Trail is a masterfully-crafted route from Jellico, TN to the coast of Oregon that is almost entirely off-pavement. It consists of dirt roads, gravel roads, jeep roads, forest service and power line roads, as well as dried up creek beds, and even abandoned rail grades and farm levies. It's creator, Sam Correro, spent years mapping out the course, specifically trying to avoid as much pavement as possible, and at the same time guiding you through some of the most amazing parts of the country that you would never otherwise see.

Our first trip was a learning experience. What to pack. What not to pack. How to set up the bike. What kind of gear to wear. This time we're better prepared, but it's still going to be quite a challenge. Looking at the maps it's obvious that the terrain is going to become more challenging, and that the days are going to be longer. In a note on the second day's map, Sam says to only spend 20 minutes at lunch – otherwise you might be riding to the hotel in the dark.

So 72 hours left to prep, and then about another 36 hours to get to Elk City, meet up with Rick and visit with family before starting out early on the 19th. I can't wait…