Day Four - Rocky Mountain Splendor
I woke up in Durango at my normal O’Dark hundred hours, logged into the internet to check the weather site only to learn that they were right, again; it was going to be a cold start. Temperatures out there were in the low forties so that would mean donning the heated gear because if it was this cold down here at 6,523 feet elevation I dreaded to think what those three high mountain passes would bring.
The front desk did not open until 7:00 or, to the rest of the normal world out there, O’Light hundred hours so I had some time to contemplate the cold temperatures.
Complimentary breakfast was bagels so I grabbed a couple and took them back to my room where I was catching up on the posting I had not done the day before because of exhaustion from the long trek across the prairies. I wolfed those down with what they called orange juice and then packed my things and loaded the bike.
As I was loading the owner of the Honda Gold Wing that had overnighted next to my bike was also getting ready for the day. He was a nice gentleman from Pennsylvania and he had just retired and decided to get out and see the country. He owns gear from the same company, First Gear, as what I own and I asked him why he chose that over the other brands out there. I told him the reason I bought mine is it was the brand carried by my dealer. He told me that he had been riding for many years and this stuff simply works – nuff said!
Although it was cold, there was not a cloud in the sky down here and I was hoping for the same up in the mountains so I could see more. With the bike loaded I hopped on and headed north. I did not get far before I had to stop and take a photo. The road north out of Durango runs along the Animas River and it is flanked to the west with sheer cliffs that are photo worthy.
Not long after that I started to see mountains. It was mountains to the left, mountains to the right and mountains straight ahead. The photos I posted yesterday tell the story of the ride up route 550 to Ridgway.
As I approached the first pass, Coal Bank Pass, elevation 10,640 the curves in the road got tighter and tighter and I realized that one thing I noticed yesterday seemed to be holding true for this road too; there are no guard rails even when the curves are tight and the drop offs measured in hundreds of feet ....... straight down.
Nothing will keep your speed down like a twisty road with steep drops and no guard rail. It is a psychological thing because even a guard rail is not a fun thing to encounter sliding along on your rear end but at least you can come away alive, if not in one piece. Cliffs hundreds of feet high? That is a whole other matter.
I was stopping everywhere to take photos and when I reached the top of the pass I zoomed by unintentionally and had to go about a mile down the other side before I found a stretch of road where I could safely turn around. Interestingly, this side of the pass had guard rails.
I got off the bike and walked around a little, listening to the sound of the mountains which is possible because the traffic is rather low. Beautiful though it was I did not have an epiphany. I did, however, feel really out of shape because just climbing stairs to look around at this altitude really got me winded and I wondered just how out of shape I really am.
The story is the same between Coal Bank Pass and Molas Pass at elevation 10,899 ft. I stopped at every opportunity to take photos of increasingly incredible scenery. Winding roads, forested mountainsides where the underlying rock was not exposed and towering snow covered peaks just took my breath away. It really is visual overload and I am going to make my level best to get back out here more often so that I can spend time up in this beauty and not simply pass through taking photos.
At the top of Molas Pass I ran into three women who were out touring together and I recognized them from the motel in Durango as I had taken their parking spot when they left, apparently for dinner. The were good natured about it and we laughed about my twinge of guilt at having done that but they understood why I would want a spot as close to me as possible. We chatted for a little and they took a couple of photos of me on my camera.
As I descended from Molas I noticed a little dirt road leading to what looked like a camp ground so I went down there to take photos of some distant peaks which looked particularly impressive from the main road and I was not disappointed.
The town of Silverton is located in a valley between Molas Pass and Red Mountain pass and it is one of those picturesque towns with mountains rising thousands of feet all around it. The one thing I wondered was how much snow came down into this town and what happened in there in the middle of the winter. Here in Colorado, all the roads leading up to the mountains have lockable barriers that the State Police lock and to close off the road if avalanches have blocked it, which apparently is not a rare occurrence. Anyway, with all roads leading out going through mountains it is entirely likely that several times each winter there is no way out of this place for days at a time!
Just north of Silverton I got off the road onto a forest access road so that I could get a look at the mountains from a stream bed. What a beautiful sight!! I took a couple of photos from down there and not even they tell half the story.
On to Red Mountain Pass, elevation 11,075 ft and the beauty continues. On the approach into Ouray the forested hillsides give way to faces of bare rocks with the occasional tree here and there. The road drops down several thousand feet on the descent into Ouray, passing an old mine where tour are available. As you descend, the color of the rocks begins to change from the various shades of gray to a reddish brown. Ouray is a classic western looking town with old stores but it does look a little contrived and touristy.
The switchbacks have ended and given way to a winding road along the Uncompahgre River which flows north. I stopped in Ridgway for gas and then turned onto route 62 towards Moab, Utah. Down here in the valley I was sad to have left the mountains behind but there was still more to see ahead so I pocketed the sadness and pressed on. There is a winding road climbing gently out of Ridgway and, though there are no sheer cliffs there are guard rails aplenty! Hmmm, strange! When I crested the little hill I was greeted by the western view snow covered peaks I had just seen close up and they were equally as impressive from down here. I stopped several times to take photos and my two favorites of this part of the drive are one of the mountains looking over a pasture where some cows are grazing and the other was taken at the entrance to a farm showing the rusty gate in the foreground and the peaks in the background.
The road took me to Placerville through the Dallas Divide which was unmarked so I missed it (this is becoming a habit!). This is another curving road but with nowhere near the drama of the mountains and the views on either side are the red rock covered sides of the valley. I really enjoyed the hell out of these twenty three miles, leaning hard in the corners and blasting down the straights. There was no traffic so I figured I would be pretty safe from any wandering officer and, thankfully, I was.
The drive was pretty uneventful from Placerville to Norwood. After Norwood I had to stop in Naturia to take off a few layers as it was getting into the 80’s. There was a little roadside shack constructed from unfinished lumber under a tree that looked kind of neat so I parked in the shade and proceeded to de-layer.
The ride from Naturia to Bedrock was pretty amazing as the plains dropped into a wide valley with the La Salle Mountains looming larger in the background. The north side of the valley had a red rock cliff wall several miles out and beneath the cliff extending to the road was beautiful green pasture widening at the bottom to a wide plain in the shadows of the three peaks of the La Salle Mountains.
The bottom of the valley is marked by the crossing of the Dolores River which descends from an impressive red rock gorge to the south as it flows north to a point near Uravan where the San Miguel adds to its bubbling flow.
I stopped in the “town” of Bedrock to take photos off the camera memory card and put them on the computer. There is a general store standing alone by the side of the road and a woman is sitting on the front porch sharpening a lawnmower blade. It turns out she is the proprietor and hails from Iowa but ended up liking the west so much she stayed. Though it is the only store for miles, for the twenty minutes or so that I am there only about a dozen vehicles passed by and none of them stopped so I think she pretty much only serves the other 19 inhabitants of the town.
She guesses that I am either a college professor or a doctor and I thank her ever so much for the assessment but tell here that I only work in a bank.
Looking at my bike she lets me know that the highway patrol has not passed through yet so I have free reign of the road from there to the Utah border. With that, I pack everything away and get back on the road. The climb over the shoulder of the La Salle Mountains re-introduces me to switchbacks but out here rather than forests of pines there are the short (6 – 8 feet tall) evergreens of the semi-desert. Again, there are no guard rails and the drop offs are rather severe so I take it easy until the major climbing is done and then I open her up.
Blasting along enjoying the sound of the motor and the sweeping curves I pop up over a rise and there, coming out of the shrubs to the left of the road is something shaped like a deer but about the size of a healthy cow. Startled, I apply maximum braking force hoping it will either run and get out of the way, and is alone, or turn back for the bushes. It is also startled, stops to look in my direction and decides to turn back into the bush just as I pass by the potential meeting point having slowed to well under 20 mph, a speed at which I could have either dodged, or, had a less severe, though, still dramatic encounter with this beast of the western Colorado. I later learned that it was a cow elk.
With the adrenaline pumping I bring my speed down to a little over the limit as I cross into Utah. The winding road opens up into plains with more visibility on either side of the road but I still take it easy. At the intersection of routes 46 and 191/163 I decide against going into Moab because that would mean an after dark arrival in Blanding and I had no intention of driving those roads at night with the potential for another beast stepping out into the road.
So, I headed south and decided to make a stop at the Needles Overlook into Canyonlands National Park. It was quite a view into a large eroded valley and it was hot! I hopped around on the path along the cliff edge taking photos of the different views of the valley and I met a couple from Holland who took my photo and I returned the favor by taking theirs together.
Getting back to the bike I chatted to a local who told me about the two motorcycles he owns, and, as seems to be becoming the pattern, he was amazed at the distance I had covered in the little time I had for my vacation.
I bade him farewell, he wished me a good and safe journey as he stuck a fork into his freshly opened can of sliced pineapples. The ride to Monticello was made interesting by the fact that it crossed the migratory path of whatever species of deer live out here. There were large yellow signs about every half mile warning of deer in YOUR lane of travel for the next 15 miles. After my close encounter earlier, I was glad that I had decided not to go into Moab and cover this stretch of road in the dark. I slowed down to a crawl several times upon deer sightings the first of which was coming over a crest with the sun in my eyes. I decided to shield my eyes with my left hand and just as I did, I saw two sets of ears wobbling on top of the profile of a head that had to belong to deer. Yup, you guessed it, I braked, though I did not have to brake as hard as I did earlier as I was going slower and they were a little way up the road and they stayed on the shoulder, eyeing me as I putted on by before resuming their oh-so-rudely interrupted dinner.
I stopped in Monticello to pick up tourist brochures because I was not yet decided on what I would do the next day. The ride into Blanding was uneventful, the motel was new and very clean! I had a so-so dinner at the place next to the motel, having chosen it because I wanted to have a beer and not have to get back on my bike. No such luck, the place did not have a liquor license. Oh well, the beer would have to wait. I turned in for the night after looking at the photos I had taken in the trip in and was amazed that, even though they did not tell half the story, they were still beautiful.
Well, tomorrow is another day and I shall be in the desert.
The front desk did not open until 7:00 or, to the rest of the normal world out there, O’Light hundred hours so I had some time to contemplate the cold temperatures.
Complimentary breakfast was bagels so I grabbed a couple and took them back to my room where I was catching up on the posting I had not done the day before because of exhaustion from the long trek across the prairies. I wolfed those down with what they called orange juice and then packed my things and loaded the bike.
As I was loading the owner of the Honda Gold Wing that had overnighted next to my bike was also getting ready for the day. He was a nice gentleman from Pennsylvania and he had just retired and decided to get out and see the country. He owns gear from the same company, First Gear, as what I own and I asked him why he chose that over the other brands out there. I told him the reason I bought mine is it was the brand carried by my dealer. He told me that he had been riding for many years and this stuff simply works – nuff said!
Although it was cold, there was not a cloud in the sky down here and I was hoping for the same up in the mountains so I could see more. With the bike loaded I hopped on and headed north. I did not get far before I had to stop and take a photo. The road north out of Durango runs along the Animas River and it is flanked to the west with sheer cliffs that are photo worthy.
Not long after that I started to see mountains. It was mountains to the left, mountains to the right and mountains straight ahead. The photos I posted yesterday tell the story of the ride up route 550 to Ridgway.
As I approached the first pass, Coal Bank Pass, elevation 10,640 the curves in the road got tighter and tighter and I realized that one thing I noticed yesterday seemed to be holding true for this road too; there are no guard rails even when the curves are tight and the drop offs measured in hundreds of feet ....... straight down.
Nothing will keep your speed down like a twisty road with steep drops and no guard rail. It is a psychological thing because even a guard rail is not a fun thing to encounter sliding along on your rear end but at least you can come away alive, if not in one piece. Cliffs hundreds of feet high? That is a whole other matter.
I was stopping everywhere to take photos and when I reached the top of the pass I zoomed by unintentionally and had to go about a mile down the other side before I found a stretch of road where I could safely turn around. Interestingly, this side of the pass had guard rails.
I got off the bike and walked around a little, listening to the sound of the mountains which is possible because the traffic is rather low. Beautiful though it was I did not have an epiphany. I did, however, feel really out of shape because just climbing stairs to look around at this altitude really got me winded and I wondered just how out of shape I really am.
The story is the same between Coal Bank Pass and Molas Pass at elevation 10,899 ft. I stopped at every opportunity to take photos of increasingly incredible scenery. Winding roads, forested mountainsides where the underlying rock was not exposed and towering snow covered peaks just took my breath away. It really is visual overload and I am going to make my level best to get back out here more often so that I can spend time up in this beauty and not simply pass through taking photos.
At the top of Molas Pass I ran into three women who were out touring together and I recognized them from the motel in Durango as I had taken their parking spot when they left, apparently for dinner. The were good natured about it and we laughed about my twinge of guilt at having done that but they understood why I would want a spot as close to me as possible. We chatted for a little and they took a couple of photos of me on my camera.
As I descended from Molas I noticed a little dirt road leading to what looked like a camp ground so I went down there to take photos of some distant peaks which looked particularly impressive from the main road and I was not disappointed.
The town of Silverton is located in a valley between Molas Pass and Red Mountain pass and it is one of those picturesque towns with mountains rising thousands of feet all around it. The one thing I wondered was how much snow came down into this town and what happened in there in the middle of the winter. Here in Colorado, all the roads leading up to the mountains have lockable barriers that the State Police lock and to close off the road if avalanches have blocked it, which apparently is not a rare occurrence. Anyway, with all roads leading out going through mountains it is entirely likely that several times each winter there is no way out of this place for days at a time!
Just north of Silverton I got off the road onto a forest access road so that I could get a look at the mountains from a stream bed. What a beautiful sight!! I took a couple of photos from down there and not even they tell half the story.
On to Red Mountain Pass, elevation 11,075 ft and the beauty continues. On the approach into Ouray the forested hillsides give way to faces of bare rocks with the occasional tree here and there. The road drops down several thousand feet on the descent into Ouray, passing an old mine where tour are available. As you descend, the color of the rocks begins to change from the various shades of gray to a reddish brown. Ouray is a classic western looking town with old stores but it does look a little contrived and touristy.
The switchbacks have ended and given way to a winding road along the Uncompahgre River which flows north. I stopped in Ridgway for gas and then turned onto route 62 towards Moab, Utah. Down here in the valley I was sad to have left the mountains behind but there was still more to see ahead so I pocketed the sadness and pressed on. There is a winding road climbing gently out of Ridgway and, though there are no sheer cliffs there are guard rails aplenty! Hmmm, strange! When I crested the little hill I was greeted by the western view snow covered peaks I had just seen close up and they were equally as impressive from down here. I stopped several times to take photos and my two favorites of this part of the drive are one of the mountains looking over a pasture where some cows are grazing and the other was taken at the entrance to a farm showing the rusty gate in the foreground and the peaks in the background.
The road took me to Placerville through the Dallas Divide which was unmarked so I missed it (this is becoming a habit!). This is another curving road but with nowhere near the drama of the mountains and the views on either side are the red rock covered sides of the valley. I really enjoyed the hell out of these twenty three miles, leaning hard in the corners and blasting down the straights. There was no traffic so I figured I would be pretty safe from any wandering officer and, thankfully, I was.
The drive was pretty uneventful from Placerville to Norwood. After Norwood I had to stop in Naturia to take off a few layers as it was getting into the 80’s. There was a little roadside shack constructed from unfinished lumber under a tree that looked kind of neat so I parked in the shade and proceeded to de-layer.
The ride from Naturia to Bedrock was pretty amazing as the plains dropped into a wide valley with the La Salle Mountains looming larger in the background. The north side of the valley had a red rock cliff wall several miles out and beneath the cliff extending to the road was beautiful green pasture widening at the bottom to a wide plain in the shadows of the three peaks of the La Salle Mountains.
The bottom of the valley is marked by the crossing of the Dolores River which descends from an impressive red rock gorge to the south as it flows north to a point near Uravan where the San Miguel adds to its bubbling flow.
I stopped in the “town” of Bedrock to take photos off the camera memory card and put them on the computer. There is a general store standing alone by the side of the road and a woman is sitting on the front porch sharpening a lawnmower blade. It turns out she is the proprietor and hails from Iowa but ended up liking the west so much she stayed. Though it is the only store for miles, for the twenty minutes or so that I am there only about a dozen vehicles passed by and none of them stopped so I think she pretty much only serves the other 19 inhabitants of the town.
She guesses that I am either a college professor or a doctor and I thank her ever so much for the assessment but tell here that I only work in a bank.
Looking at my bike she lets me know that the highway patrol has not passed through yet so I have free reign of the road from there to the Utah border. With that, I pack everything away and get back on the road. The climb over the shoulder of the La Salle Mountains re-introduces me to switchbacks but out here rather than forests of pines there are the short (6 – 8 feet tall) evergreens of the semi-desert. Again, there are no guard rails and the drop offs are rather severe so I take it easy until the major climbing is done and then I open her up.
Blasting along enjoying the sound of the motor and the sweeping curves I pop up over a rise and there, coming out of the shrubs to the left of the road is something shaped like a deer but about the size of a healthy cow. Startled, I apply maximum braking force hoping it will either run and get out of the way, and is alone, or turn back for the bushes. It is also startled, stops to look in my direction and decides to turn back into the bush just as I pass by the potential meeting point having slowed to well under 20 mph, a speed at which I could have either dodged, or, had a less severe, though, still dramatic encounter with this beast of the western Colorado. I later learned that it was a cow elk.
With the adrenaline pumping I bring my speed down to a little over the limit as I cross into Utah. The winding road opens up into plains with more visibility on either side of the road but I still take it easy. At the intersection of routes 46 and 191/163 I decide against going into Moab because that would mean an after dark arrival in Blanding and I had no intention of driving those roads at night with the potential for another beast stepping out into the road.
So, I headed south and decided to make a stop at the Needles Overlook into Canyonlands National Park. It was quite a view into a large eroded valley and it was hot! I hopped around on the path along the cliff edge taking photos of the different views of the valley and I met a couple from Holland who took my photo and I returned the favor by taking theirs together.
Getting back to the bike I chatted to a local who told me about the two motorcycles he owns, and, as seems to be becoming the pattern, he was amazed at the distance I had covered in the little time I had for my vacation.
I bade him farewell, he wished me a good and safe journey as he stuck a fork into his freshly opened can of sliced pineapples. The ride to Monticello was made interesting by the fact that it crossed the migratory path of whatever species of deer live out here. There were large yellow signs about every half mile warning of deer in YOUR lane of travel for the next 15 miles. After my close encounter earlier, I was glad that I had decided not to go into Moab and cover this stretch of road in the dark. I slowed down to a crawl several times upon deer sightings the first of which was coming over a crest with the sun in my eyes. I decided to shield my eyes with my left hand and just as I did, I saw two sets of ears wobbling on top of the profile of a head that had to belong to deer. Yup, you guessed it, I braked, though I did not have to brake as hard as I did earlier as I was going slower and they were a little way up the road and they stayed on the shoulder, eyeing me as I putted on by before resuming their oh-so-rudely interrupted dinner.
I stopped in Monticello to pick up tourist brochures because I was not yet decided on what I would do the next day. The ride into Blanding was uneventful, the motel was new and very clean! I had a so-so dinner at the place next to the motel, having chosen it because I wanted to have a beer and not have to get back on my bike. No such luck, the place did not have a liquor license. Oh well, the beer would have to wait. I turned in for the night after looking at the photos I had taken in the trip in and was amazed that, even though they did not tell half the story, they were still beautiful.
Well, tomorrow is another day and I shall be in the desert.
posted by Bongo | 8:22 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home