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.