In addition to the fantastic people, great riding and a chance to look at more unique BMW motorcycles in one place than anywhere else another reason to attend national rallies are the vendors.

I recently returned from the BMW Riders Association‘s annual Rally.  Held in Wellsboro, PA it was one of the better big rallies I’ve been to in a while with great riding right outside the fairgrounds.  One thing you used to count on at the big events was vendors.  Before the internet if someone made it for a BMW they brought it to the RA and BMW MOA national rallies and they advertised it in the club’s newsletter.

While not every vendor elects to pack up and come to the rally the ones that do are appreciated greatly.  For a vendor introducing a new product it is still the best way to reach your audience.  That’s how I discovered Mosko luggage back when…

My find at this years rally was the Moto Power Puck. (www.motopowerpuck.com).  This is a wireless charging solution for modern smartphones that have inductive charging such as the Samsung S8 and up along with the Iphone 8.   Wireless charging is a fantastic feature as my phone stopped charging through the USB port when I arrived at the RA.  As a result of a dead phone I had to  ride to a big town (three hours round trip) to purchase a wireless charger instead of enjoying the rally with my friends.

The Moto Power Puck is designed to be mounted on a RAM X-Grip mount although I was told some riders toss it in their tankbag with a rubber band to keep the connection.  The puck  comes with some super duper adhesive and you are cautioned twice that sticking the wrong side down will not be joyful.  The Puck comes with bare ends to which I installed a SAE connector similar to what we have on our battery tenders.  I did this because I want to be able to use this on multiple bikes and I also want to be able to disconnect it as I expect the puck may have a slight static draw.

I use a LifeProof case and I have ordered the combo audio cord / tether.  One beauty of the LifeProof case is it’s waterproof and with this mount it will remain so vs opening the case for the cord.  I will be using this on the pavement ride west.  I love my music and I can either connect to my SENA and then plug in my ear buds to the SENA or go wired to the phone directly.  The difference is with BT I can make and receive phone calls (yuk) or wired in enjoy better sound.  When I head out on the BDR I will secure the phone my tankbag and the mount will fold down over the cross brace.

Update to follow post trip.

I could not tell you when I became a syrup snob but it was at a very early age.

Unlike most of my memories and habits coming from time on boats the syrup thing started in the winter.  That’s when my dad would make us pancakes on Sunday morning, often at a place he’d rent in Vermont.  I blame him for the introduction and Daniel and Karen Fortin for making it easy for me to share my love of Real Vermont Maple Syrup.

In the summer of 2004 the US National Enduro Championships were held at a farm in Swanton, Vermont.  Swanton is tucked way up north near the Canadian border, just a bit southwest of Highgate Springs.  The orgainzers posted flyers all over and encouraged spectators to attend with the promise of free camping.  I packed up my bike, met up with a few friends and we headed 300 miles north to Swanton.

Upon arrival we were directed to the free camping.  This was a freshly mowed cornfield with  most of the mowed areas  occupied by trucks, trailers and EZ ups.  The farmer, Daniel Fortin was there to greet us.  He looked at us and we looked at the field.  We both agreed that it would not work for us to camp on the stalks so he directed us up the road to the hay barn.  He did caution us that the first milking was at 04:30 and the cows liked classic rock.

Daniel Fortin.  Fifth Generation farmer. Carman Brook Farm Swanton Vermont.

We went up to the hay barn and settled in.  We had a lovely evening and enjoyed a visit from Dan who enjoyed our beer and bourbon.  We were enjoying his company when his amazing “farmers sense” kicked in and he stood up and said he had to go.  30 seconds later we met his wife Karen who was wondering where her husband was.  We pleaded the fifth and she went to find her errant husband.  We stayed up and enjoyed a wonderful evening under the stars.

04:30 came way too soon.  It felt like someone threw on a 440 volt power feed to the barn.  Lights, cows and Southern Rock.  Loud.  We staggered out of the hay barn to see what life was like on the farm at an hour that was long before us city folks were even considering going to the gym.  Did you know that here in the United States 2% of the population produce all the food for the other 98%? Every day, twice a day the cows get milked.  Holidays, birthdays and even when you’re hosting a National Trails Championship with strangers in the barn, the cows get milked.  Fed too; the average diary cow will consume 35 gallons of water and up to 100 lbs of food per day while producing 80 lbs of milk and 90 lbs of waste.  It’s no wonder he never has much time to go for a ride.

Farmer Dan.  One of the two percenters.

It’s not a barn without a cat.  The cat keeps the barn mouse free and does a little quality control sampling of the milk.

Soon we were joined by Daniels wife Karen.  In addition to keeping Daniel fueled, raising four boys, breeding dachshunds and doing all the things necessary to help keep the farm going she also produces Real Vermont Maple Syrup.

Karen Fortin
If she was upset with us for harboring her fugitive husband the night before she hid it well.

Maple Syrup.  Everyone knows it delicious on waffles, pancakes and french toast, a true New England native knows it’s also wonderful in ice cream, pork, coffee, with a scoop of snow and all sort of other places too!  Here I was at the true source.    As an aside If you say source with a good Boston accent it sounds like sauce.  I was happy to be at the source of my sauce.

Like everything else produced on the farm the easiest part of the process is putting the product in the bottle or in the tank, everything else is a lot of work.  They have over 11,000 taps.  When the sap starts flowing it’s piped to a storage tank, then gravity fed into a RO (reverse osmosis) machine to remove moisture which will make for more efficient boiling.  There is nothing low tech about Karen’s maple operation or the rest of the farm.  Computer controlled “windows”  maintain the perfect cow happy environment in the barn and a computer helps mix up to 10,000 lbs of proper feed a day.  There is more technology on the farm than one might think.  Not only is Log Cabin fake syrup but their images on the bottle depicting how it’s made are fake too!

Sometimes the best things happen purely by coincidence.  In this case it was opportunity and it was knocking.

I had already been working on two projects.  The fist was how to put on an Iron Butt style event in New England; the second was how to satisfy my insatiable craving for RVMS.  I had put on a 12hr mini rally earlier in the year with a pint of pure maple syrup as a bonus, now I had a farm to send them to!  Not only that but it was perfectly positioned to be the corner of a Saddle Sore 1k (1,000 miles in 24 hours) so the Minuteman 1000 was born.   From the Minuteman 1000 Rallybook:

SS1

VT

Swanton

SS1K Route Corner 1

5000

Lat: 44.97718 Long: -73.0818 1275 Fortin Rd. Swanton, VT

Purchase one pint of real Vermont  Syrup Grade Amber Rich Case from
the Carman Brook Farm.

To reach the Carman Brook Farm from Interstate 91 North, exit I-91 at exit 21.
Turn right at the bottom of the ramp and make an immediate left onto Frontage Road.
Follow Frontage to the stop sign, continue straight onto Fortin Road.
Farm is on the left.

NB:  The syrup you purchase become property of the rallymaster
and it will not be returned.

So… how can you get your hands on some Maple Goodness without having to jump through hoops (the Minuteman 1000) or join me for breakfast at Ribfest or Wailin Waynes?  Easy, order on line!

But wait there’s more!  To honor our friendship and keep the fun flowing Karen has most generously offered that any friend of mine is a friend of hers so if you put in friendofrob in the coupon code box at check out you’ll get 20% off your order!  Yes it sounds like an advertisement has crept into my blog but I receive no compensation, not even a free drop of syrup for my pimping the Carman Brook farm far and wide.  I just love our farmers and I hope you do too.

Always remember:  You can fix a bad pancake with real Vermont Maple Syrup or you can wreck a great pancake with the fake stuff.

To order some of Daniel and Karen’s goodness visit their website.

It was tough leaving the group in Telluride.  It had been an truly epic trip and I was sad to be heading east yet I was riding an incredible high from the last five days.

I figured I’d break my ride east in segments with the first being from Telluride to near the front range, there to Chicago and Chicago home.  No matter how much I hate slab going east from Chicago into New England on any sort of schedule requires big roads.  I really wanted to avoid the interstate as much as possible.  I figured it would make “re-entry” easier.  When you travel from New England there comes a point on the return trip when you’re reminded of how populated the region is. It’s the first sea of brake lights for no real reason that reminds me I’m heading back to the zoo.  I wanted to put it off as long as possible.

One last stop to enjoy Colorado.

The guys headed to Alta Lakes to camp and I started east.  I decided to stay in Gunnison; there was no need to push on in the dark.

Quite a day.  Start in Lake City, Engineer Pass “the hard way”, Black Bear Pass, lunch in Telluride and overnight in Gunnison.

Friday, July 21, 2017 9:20 AM MDT
Distance: 186.2 miles
Duration: 9 hours, 6 minutes, and 52 seconds
Average Speed: 20.4 mph
Minimum Elevation: 5900 feet
Maximum Elevation: 12851 feet
Total climb: 15501 feet
Total descent: 16197 feet

I had no real plan.  I was on 50 which could take me all the way to Maryland if I had a week (and the patience).  36 is another good way east as is 32.  Good to have choices. I got an early start.

Meanwhile my friends were waking up in Alta Lakes.  Today their plan was to ride Imogene Pass.  Chad Warner had his own plan which was to pull off his “Distinguished Gentleman’s Adventure Ride”.  This was a play on the Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride which is a fund raiser for prostate cancer research.  For the ride folks bring out their vintage and classic motorcycles, dress up and have fun.

Have fun.  That sums up being with Chad.  He’s the one who was a Marine Recon and jumped out of planes at very high altitudes with “just enough” oxygen.  I bet they give them more now.

Chad brings hyperdrive to the group and he’s not afraid to pack heavy and drag along the perfect prop for the perfect moment.

Chad Warner:  A most Distinguished Adventure Gentleman.
Jim Bean photo

While they were enjoying one more pass I was moving east.  The last glimpse of the Rockies came early in the day.  It’s always a moment; the exciting first sight of the mountains coming west followed by the last glimpse in the mirror heading home.  One is exciting, the other bittersweet. This was bittersweet.  I was leaving the mountains where geography dictates that roads cannot be straight.  Or flat.  Middle America offers little in the way of barriers to travel and the settlers went straight as much as possible; MIT researchers proved Kansas truly is flatter than a pancake.

In the United States there are a few ways to describe real estate.  One is Metes and Bounds and the second is Lot and Block.  Metes and bounds is used in New England and the eastern part of the United States where many natural boundaries exist.  For example the location of a property line in New England can be found by going to a known location (marker of stone) and then going xx feet in a specific direction to a stream or other natural feature (or another set  marker) followed by turn with another bearing and so on.

Out west it’s flat and everything is a grid so it’s described in terms referencing a grid; this is how we got the four corners vs state lines that run down the middle of rivers as they do in New England.

This is also why almost every local road between Chicago and the Rocky Mountains is dead straight, they follow the grid lines.  This also provides opportunity to get off the slab and see America.
I made my way east to Lincoln, Nebraska using a little chunk of slab at the end of the day.  I rode a bunch of dirt running north/south or east/west to successfully avoid rain.  It was fun and so much better than I-80.

Saturday’s ride:

Saturday, July 22, 2017 6:34 AM MDT
Distance: 701.0 miles
Duration: 13 hours, 32 minutes, and 30 seconds
Average Speed: 50.6 mph
Minimum Elevation: 1161 feet
Maximum Elevation: 11090 feet
Total climb: 12201 feet
Total descent: 18827 feet

On this trip I decided to see if I could save money by going to the mom n pop motels.  Mom and Pop are long gone, they sold to some immigrants hoping to make a start in America.   After a career in shipping many of these people came from countries from which I’ve had colleagues which adds a nice dimension to it.  Some of these hotels are great and some are dumps.  Lincoln was a dump. Even dumps can offer opportunities for entertainment but tonight they were not filming Cops so I got a good rest.

Riding middle America is an experience everyone should have.  Get off the interstates and away from the truck stops and fast food.  Chat to the kid at the gas station and the waitress at the diner.  Try the pie.  Be approachable.  I had a great chat in Nebraska with two guys and their ladies who were riding wicked custom harleys and why not?  You’re in the heartland where roads were designed with a ruler, be loud and proud.  Well proud anyway; I don’t like straight pipes anywhere but the chrome and paintwork was very impressive, plus he had a sticker referencing a stripper on the rear fender.  When his gal approached she saw me look at the sticker and look up to which she said:

“I’m not a stripper.”

I told her I didn’t think she looked like one and I told him that if he got rid of the sticker perhaps she’d act like one. Behind closed doors of course.

She was quite taken with my muddy bike, dirty rally suit and alpinestar boots; he explained that I was riding in the dirt.  He then wanted info on my TKC 80’s because he thought they’d look “badass” on his hog.  I pointed to my tire and said it was mounted 7 days ago.  We agreed it wouldn’t last more than 60 seconds in the burnout pit.  He decided it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to mount a TKC 80 on a custom Hog.

From here it was some more off slab to just west of Chicago, then slab to Cleveland for the night.  915 miles in 18 hours, another dump and home for dinner Monday.  What a trip.  I’ve tried but it’s one where “words can’t describe.”  So many wonderful moments with fantastic humans.  New friends who are great riders, great people and welcome to visit my home, ride my bikes, smoke cigars and drink some rum.  Jury’s out on whether or not they get take home syrup.

Upon my return home I was catching up with my best buddy, Seamus.  Seamus is a sailor and you can be a great sailor and be all thumbs around internal combustion powered machinery. You can be a sailor and have raced to Bermuda but never spent a night in a tent.  That’s Seamus so it’s always fun to catch up after a big ride.  I started telling him things about the trip and he interrupted me with the following:

“So you found your balls you lost on that Iron Butt thing.. Glad to hear it.”  Let’s blast out to Block Island for lunch”

I laughed and said: “Actually yes.  Yes, I did find my balls in Colorado.  When are we going to Mahogany Shoals?”

Fini

This is an exchange I initiated with an old friend who recently retired from 21 years as a Captain in the Telluride VFD.  Not the first time he’s told me I’m nuts but it’s been almost 30 years.   Time to grow up?

After a fantastic night Thursday I awoke with a bit of the blues Friday morning.  I’d been on the road a week.  One glorious week.  I left home with little idea what to expect.  I spooled off what could only be called an angry 14 hr 1,000 mile ride the previous Friday, chilled in Denver with Woody, survived the heat of the White Rim Trail, hung at a ranch, met some wonderful folks and dove headfirst into Billysride.

It was coming to an end.  We started Monday morning with 10; at Lake City we were down to 7.  I had a meeting in Connecticut Tuesday morning.  2,100 miles away.  I had anticipated this when I decide to tour and my plan was slab west and two lane back as far as possible.  I no longer have much joy in riding on the slab.  More cars, dramatically more trucks and everybody fiddling with something makes for a sub optimal riding experience.  With this in mind I was anticipating three to four days to get home which meant a Friday departure.

At the beginning of the week I would have been very hesitant and probably would have taken Jim’s advice but he had been wrong about the White Rim Trail, probably because he does it with air conditioning or late October.  Now, after riding with this group I had the feeling that if a 4×4 could do it we can too.  I was going back and forth between sticking around for one more day and do the most extreme pass or start making my way east when Rick casually mentioned that he’d left these trips early and the last day is always the best day.

Ultimately it came down to what do I want to do more.  Squeeze in one more ride with this group was the clear answer.  I made it door to door in 38 hours to get here, surly I can still relax and stay off the slab if I have 72 hours to get home.

We went over to the Aloha Moose Cafe.  I had eggs as Big John had my syrup.  One last visit with the Hawaiian girl from Colorado, now back in Colorado.  She remembered me and my syrup. Most do.

We got packed up and headed back over Engineer “the hard way” to Ouray.  The FJ Jamboree was in full swing and the trail was crowded which added to the degree of difficulty.  The good line would have a vehicle on it so we’d be forced well off to the side while trying not to slide off into the ditch or down into the Cruiser.  No issues, just took time, patience and cooperation.

Time, Patience and Cooperation.

We’d need plenty of all three soon enough.

One of the challenges as a rider out on tour is sorting through all the information available on trail conditions.  Unlike researching a pavement tour there are so many things that can trip you up off pavement and no amount of research will eliminate the unexpected.  What was considered easy a few years ago (Ophir Pass) might be considered big bike hard this time.  A small stream may become a deep river 70 miles in.  Riding jeep trails in Colorado is not terribly different than riding Class IV roads in New England from a technical standpoint.  The big difference is out west the technical section can be the entire ride and the margin of error is at times reduced to a fraction of what we’re used to at home.  I’d had a good week so far with only a few little oops moments.  I reminded myself to ride within myself while surrounded by better riders who go faster.  I made a conscious decision to stay one more day and ride what was by all accounts the most extreme pass in the area.

Telluride is located in the San Juan National Forest, our playground for the last few days.  This area was settled in the 1800’s with the discovery of silver and gold.  Ouray, Silverton and Telluride were all mining towns and the passes we’d been riding were the trails connecting the mines and the towns.   Originally built to accommodate a mule and a wagon some have been widened a bit while others such as Black Bear remain close to original.   I had spent more than a few moments during the week thinking about this pass.

Thanks to the internet I had all sorts of information.  I learned that the hairy section was very steep, off camber with “steps.”  It was described as having the best line closest to the huge drop and the “chicken line” which was closest to the inside had the biggest steps. I learned that a couple from Missouri passed away on the trail and another couple in a rented side by side went off the cliff. I also learned that locals like my friend Jim would be happy if it was closed to vehicles.   If found this photo that gave me a bit of an idea of what to expect which was not to expect to ride this.

With this information normally I’d say no way but within this group of riders there was a bit of what I’d call “competent crazy” as in sure we’re going to do something some might recommend against but we’re not going to be reckless / careless / dumb about it and we’ll get it done as a group.  This is why I stayed an extra day.   Not necessarily to kill myself on some pass but to spend one more day riding with these guys.

After a short break in Ouray we went south a little bit on the Million Dollar Highway to Black Bear Pass.  It started as a beautiful day but like almost every day in July afternoon thunderstorms were forecast.  The first few miles are lovely and scenic; some of the easiest riding we’d done so far.  I figured this must be the calm before the storm so to speak.  It really was pretty with some of the best high alpine meadows of the trip.  Here’s a sign giving one a bit of a hint as to what’s coming.

The trail stays easy until the steps, then it’s one way downhill with no chance of turning around.  As we approached the steps it started to rain.  Perfect.  It was going to be way too easy anyway, much better to attempt steep off camber shale when it’s wet.  I got off the bike and went for a walk to check it out.  I walked back up the hill and with a little theatrics told our British rider “We’re fooked” and to some degree I meant it.  This was not going to be easy and the only way to Go Home was to Go Big.

We had a quick huddle and developed a plan.  We’d team up using a spotter and helpers to get each bike town this section.  The rider would be on the bike, engine off and use the clutch as a brake as paddle walking would be necessary.  Spotters were required because there were places on the steps where one or both feet would be a long way from the ground.  Being wet there was little traction which meant walking speeds.  Any loss of control or traction would result in a slide off the trail and down the mountain, any fall even at no speed would be very painful if not a bone breaking event.

Chad gets an assist.  We split up the group and positioned ourselves along the trail in an attempt to minimize the amount of climbing.
Chris (shown going back up for the next rider) climbed the hill five times. There is also a hiker in this photo.
They were plenty of hikers and some would stop to take photo or short video of these crazy guys and their bikes.
Jim Bean photo 

The last rider makes it to the corner.
Jim Bean photo

At the bottom of the steps is a hairpin with a bit of a turnout.   This is where we’d park after competing the steps, then hike back up to help the next rider.   It overlooks Telluride and is quite a spot.  Of course by the time we all got down the rain let up.

Chad Warner photo

We continued down into Telluride, past Bridal Falls.  Spectacular scenery and a great way to unwind from the steps.

Jim Bean photo

We went into town for a celebratory lunch; what else was there to do?  We had all accomplished a ride that none of would have completed alone.  Is Black Bear big bike friendly?  That’s for you to decide, but like the White Rim Trail in 107 degree temperatures, Black Bear Pass in the rain is not for the timid.

We lingered over lunch.  The overnight plan for Telluride was to camp at Alta Lakes and ride one more pass tomorrow.  I was looking forward to camping in the wild and Alta Lakes looks like a fantastic spot however it was mid afternoon on Friday.  I felt I had done a very good job of bending space and time to squeeze in one more ride and it was one for the ages.  I also really wanted to ride Imogene with this group and see Chad do his Distinguished Gentleman’s Adventure ride yet again the realization that if I stayed one more day it would be another interstate death march ruled.  I had such an amazing experience that I wanted to relax a bit and process it on America’s original highways.

We said our goodbyes and went to our bikes.  They and we were a bit battle worn and in need of a good bath.  Anything less would have been unacceptable.

Stephen Gregory photo

Next:  What I missed; fun in middle America

Pie for pre-breakfast.  Not a bad way to start the day.

When I first saw the sign post I immediately wondered how it was going to get to Odom Point.  This was a substantial sign post.  I was also wondering how it was going to get erected.  I was pretty sure digging a hole was not part of the plan and I was sure there was a plan.  Big John was going to bring the materials in his jeep.  To factor for the speed difference we were going to ride Ophir Pass on the way over to Silverton while JD would take a more direct route.

We loaded up and zipped into town for a good New England farmers breakfast in a Mexican restaurant.  I brought the syrup and left the bottle with Big John. Personally I think direct trade between Colorado and New England would be a good thing.

I had heard a few different things about Ophir Pass.  Early chatter had mentioned it was easier than the other passes and it was going to be a nice scenic diversion.  It was nice, very scenic but one comment overheard at the top was “it’s much different than last time.”   It was big rock and very loose which made it by no means easy but it wasn’t a ball buster either.  We relaxed for a bit and I tried tossing a few snow balls which is a lot harder to do than you might think when you’re wearing riding gear and a camelbak.

Clockwise from left:  Rick Giroux, Larry Reed, Rob Nye, Capt. Ben Profitt and Blair Young
Stephen Gregory photo

We got to Silverton, gassed up and checked the status of the passes.

There’s some good advice on that wall.

We headed up to Engineer Pass via Animas Forks.  It was dusty and there was traffic.  There was a Land Cruiser Jamboree in Silverton and the trails were thick with Land Cruisers.  Sadly most were the new FJ which is but a shell of the FJ40 of my youth.  I owned a modern FJ and was underwhelmed.  I was reminded of the challenge of wheeling without locking differentials as we passed a modern FJ that was stuck on a hairpin all because of limited slip differentials.  This must have been some sort of guided tour as the guy who appeared to be the expert was bouncing on the bumper trying to bring the lazy wheel into contact.  Think of your worst group ride on a motorcycle except do it in a not quite capable truck with other people who are also in not quite capable trucks.  That’s the FJ Jamboree.

Speaking of trucks one of the things I just love about riding around out west is the variety of vehicles you’ll see.  Everything from six figure Defenders, perfect old broncos to wicked cool home built rigs wander around in this dry climate and the winches, big tires and hi-lift jacks are put to real world use.

Meanwhile Big John was still chugging along.

Photo by Jim Bean

We gathered at the designated spot and set about erecting the sign.  Big John had a perfect plan and the materials to execute it.  Rather than dig a hole for the post we were going to use a wire basket and fill it with rocks. An absolutely perfect zero impact way to leave a sign in such a spot.  John had prepared a wire basket; yesterday we prepared the pole for the sign.  The plan was to center the post in the basket and fill it with rocks.

L-R  Larry Reed, Big John Davis and Jim Bean prepare to stand the post
Stephen Gregory photos

 We got it done.  Stacking rocks at 12,000′ isn’t easy for a flatlander either.  Something of an achievement, getting a group of guys together from all over the country to erect a wonderful tribute to a departed friend.  I believe there was a small nip consumed with the bottle placed among the stones.  It was a moment.

It’s been said you can judge a person by the quality of the company they keep.  I thought of this as a group of riders came together to do something that took coordination, effort and teamwork to accomplish.  I thought about how this was no group of “average joe’s”  These were all solid people; as fine as fellow humans can be and this is what they decided to make the focal point of their summer vacation.  I was deeply honored to bear witness and even participate to a degree.  I’m sad for their loss and quite sure that by the company he kept Mr. Odom was a hell of a guy.

Billy Odom.
Jim Bean Photo.

Our ride leader, Jim Bean.  Mr. Odom was richer for having this man as a friend.

Stephen Gregory photo

L-R  Chris Jones, Capt. Ben Profitt, Chad Warner, Big John Davis, Jim Bean, Rick Giroux, Larry Reed, Rob Nye, Stephen Gregory

We hung out for a bit and took in the view, the day and our handiwork.  Other people started filtering in and as expected some started taking photos at Odom Point.  This group had no idea they were the very first to pose with the new marker.

Should you wish to visit the coordinates for the marker are:
N 37.96989
W107.89405

We finished up and said our goodbye to Big John.  We had only one challenge and that was reconnecting with Blair.  Blair had gone ahead to his truck which was in Lake City to retrieve something he wanted to place at the marker.  Unfortunately he had not returned yet which was cause for some concern.  The concern while mild as Blair was clearly one of the strongest riders in the group but he was fighting some medical challenges which were made worse by heat.  We split off into two groups to cover the only options Blair could have chosen with the plan on meeting in Lake City. We met in Lake City and did not find Blair.  After further investigation it was determined that his medical issues forced an early exit and the local challenges with cell service meant we didn’t get the word until late.   This put us back in Lake City for a late lunch.

It also meant that the original plan of spending the night outside of Telluride after two more passes was no longer feasible.  We decided to camp in Lake City.  I remembered from the other day that while there is a very pretty lake with plenty of camping opportunities the camping I did see was primitive, not that isolated and being on a lake full of flies.  I also remembered chatting with Scotty about his cabins on Main Street.  These were across form the Aloha Moose Cafe and a short walk to the bar.  I made a deal for two cabins and we had a wonderful night swapping lies around the fire.

Our ride for the day:

Thursday, July 20, 2017 7:33 AM MDT
Distance: 117.2 miles
Duration: 9 hours, 22 minutes, and 40 seconds
Average Speed: 12.5 mph
Minimum Elevation: 6346 feet
Maximum Elevation: 12966 feet
Total climb: 10427 feet
Total descent: 8181 feet

Next: ToHellYouRide

After the heat of the White Rim Trail nobody was up early.  Today was to be a very casual day, a transit of sorts to a special place outside of Delores, Colorado.

The plan for the day was to head over to a Vineyard called a ranch owned by man known only as “Big John.”  This was not to be a big riding day but a day to relax, recharge and prepare for the placement of a marker in the San Juan Mountains.  This was the day the Lost Sailor tour was fully merged with Billy’s Ride.

We got going out of Moab at a very relaxed hour.  As hard as Jim and Rick tried there was no escaping that today would be about 200 miles of pavement.  I’d love to share some great story about the transit but it was simply that; start here, end there.  In sailing terms a Squadron Run.  I tucked in with the group and worked on being as relaxed as our pace.  This took some extra effort after we got passed like a bunch of old ladies by two guys on sport touring bikes.  It’s probably a good thing I did not have the destination otherwise me and that guy on the big BMW GT would have had something to write about.

The reality was I had no idea where we were going.   For the first time in decades I was not the ride leader. I was not involved in the planning and I had no idea what the plan was which suited me just fine.  One could say the best plan I had made in a long time was managing to get an invite to this ride and not worrying about the details.  This had been working quite well for the last few days so I felt no reason to be concerned.  “We’re going to a vineyard” was all I knew.  Of course.  In SW Colorado.

There were some clues as to what might transpire “at the vineyard”  One clue was on the back of Jim’s helmet.  I figured it was some sort of inside joke among good friends, sort of like the dead chicken incident.

A double entendre perhaps?

We arrived at JD’s Ranch right around noon and got settled in.  Big John is a lucky man.  He’s recently retired after over 20 years of service to the County.  He’s got a great spot near the San Juan National Forest and yes, he makes wine with grapes grown on the property.  He is a friend of many of the riders in the group and together with Jim gave this ride purpose.

A vineyard, right where you’d least expect it.
Jim Bean photo.

When I first spoke to Jim about joining him he mentioned the following:

“We plan on riding the WRT the morning of the 18th , then back into Colorado for some off pavement riding. We also plan to erect a sign in CO where we spread our friend Billy Odom’s ashes last year. ”

In the vernacular of the GS Giants one common phrase is “Go Big!”  It can mean all sorts of things.  When I received Jim’s message I didn’t focus on the sign.  I had never met their friend but I had heard many wonderful stores about him at Ribfest last year.  From all accounts he was a wonderful husband, father and friend who lost his life in an accident.  I planned on being a worthy witness to whatever they had planned.  I didn’t know they were planning on Going Big to honor their friend; but with Big John involved nothing less would do.

Bip not Gary and Big John Davis prepare the post.

With the sign prepared we went into town for lunch.  After lunch we split into two camps; those that wanted to relax at the vineyard and those that wanted to explore a bit.   We did a little hunt and peck with the GPS with a ride that left us not quite full but ready to go hang with JD.  I was really hoping to put together something extra fun as Blair was going to join us.   There was a little confusion with Big John’s suggestion so we tried something else, proving it’s generally a good idea to pay attention to the local.  We found some nice sandy two track but every good opportunity was closed with a gate.  We bailed out and went back to John’s original suggestion losing two riders to the Vineyard on the way.

What was a ho-hum romp in the forest in Colorado would have been an epic ride in Connecticut and I appreciated it very much but the opportunity to spend some down time at JD’s Ranch was calling.   Big John’s place is a little slice of paradise.  He’s got a very nice main house with chef’s kitchen, a small (perhaps original to the property) guest house, a few outbuildings, a great outdoor seating / dining area and a wonderful western view.   He operates the vineyard as a hobby which means he doesn’t sell his wine.  He enjoys making it and I enjoyed drinking it.  That worked well for both of us.

We had a wonderful dinner on the patio with some grilled treats, and local veggies.  Then came dessert.

Yeah, we got your pie right here.
Jim Beam photo.  I hear he laminated a copy and glued it to the inside of his tent

Ok so you’re probably less than impressed.  Apple Pie.  Everybody makes a decent apple pie right?  Of course.  I thought I made a good pie.  I have a friend in California who I know makes great pies.  These pies prompted a guy to get a Got Pie sticker made for his helmet.  Game, set and match.  Yes they were that good.  Like the vineyard itself; unexpected.

We had a wonderful evening at Big John”s outdoor table.  The sun went down, the stars came out and then off in the distance lightning started.  It rained hard that night, thankfully while we were sleeping.  Apparently it was quite a show but I slept through it all.   We woke with the plan to head into town for breakfast, then ride Ophir pass to what was about to be renamed Odom Point which was halfway to Lake City, then down Engineer Pass “the hard way” over to Black Bear Pass and into Telluride.

This was the first time I heard a plan I thought might be a bit ambitious on timing but I didn’t care.  This was now Billy’s Ride and it really didn’t matter how long it took, the rest would be easy to adjust.  I slept like a baby, woke up refreshed and used my touring experience to pack up quick.  This allowed me to sit with Big John for a few more minutes and have one more slice of pie.  I felt I won the day and we had yet to move 10 feet.

Next:  Billy’s Ride

This is the graphic on the National Park Service Website for Canyonlands National Park.  I figure they post this in June and take it down in September.  Today’s forecast (August 8) is for high tempratures in the mid 90’s  The forecast for July 18 was for a high of 105.

One Hundred and five degrees Fahrenheit.

Tuesday morning we got up early.  One of the guys (Bip not Gary) had a reputation as an early riser and considering we were packed in the AirBnB like sardines once he was stirring we all got up.

This was all part of the plan.  The forecast was for a picture perfect day if riding in an oven is your idea of perfect.  We wanted to get an early start and we did.  We had a brief discussion of safety and what to bring and we decided that between the group we’d bring one tent and one sleeping bag “just in case.”  I also carry my bike cover at all times which can be used for emergency shelter and as a signal too as it’s red.  I had my 3 liter camelbak and my 10 liter MSR dromedary bag which I had filled and put in the freezer the night before.  My goal was to have more than enough water for me and plenty to share should anyone else run dry.  With almost 3.5 gallons of water on the bike I felt prepared.

Off we went into the great unknown.  110 or so miles with no shade, no services and a very expensive rescue should one be necessary.  Oh and don’t ride off a cliff please.

We ran the loop from the south meaning we went clockwise.  I was very excited.  I determined the day before that each rider was not only good on a bike but great to be around off the bike.  We were going to adventure together today, that was for sure and I was happy to be a part of it.  Very happy.

We stopped for a bunch of photo ops.  In the White Rim trail there’s a photo op every 500 yards but Jim, Chad and Stephen have a real eye for this sort of thing so the stops were all at spectacular vistas and most thankfully more than 500 yards apart.

Group selfie courtesy Chad Warner

The trail itself is a great ride.  Huge views, big drops and scenery out of the movies, because they make movies here.

With 9 riders there was a little bit of the herding cats element to the ride.  Those of us out front made a “wrong” turn to go up to the closed visitors center; then we came back down only to turn around to go back up for a photo. No worries and good fun!

The temperature broke 100 at about 11:00.  In endurance riding such as the Iron Butt Rally I’ve learned that once the temperature is over 98.6 there’s no point in having mesh or open vents.  As the air is hotter than our ideal body temp allowing air flow at a higher temperature is the same as standing in a convection oven unless you have plenty of water to get your shirt wet.  The challenge here is with the low humidity one dries off very fast.

That’s all good if you’re just sitting there and twisting that and in that application it is very effective.  Things are a bit different when you’re riding a GS off pavement.  Obviously the speeds are much lower but you’re not just “sitting there and twisting that”, there is a bit of work involved riding off pavement on a big bike.

A few hours later it was 103 and I started to think, F-Me it’s effing hot.  Still a ton of fun but it’s hot.  We’d stop every now and again for a rest and what shade we could find.

Cools as cucumbers we are.  Dust added for manly effect.
Chris Jones, Jim Bean and me taking a rest
Rick Giroux photo

As we motored along I had my first “this sucks” feeling coupled with “how much effing hotter is it going to get?”  I admit I had allowed myself to get soft over the years and it had been a very long time since I was outside in such heat let alone doing something physical.  But I was on the bike in an amazing place with amazing riders who were surely just as hot as I so I hitched up my big boy pants, took a swig of now hot water and motored on.  I reset my odo on the way in so I knew we were only half way or so.  It is what it is so suck it up and keep moving.  It was an easy choice as it was the only option.

Every now and again we’d come across a restroom in the middle of nowhere.  The entire park is a 100% no trace environment meaning you bag your poo and carry it out or you find one of these pit toilets.  As we came around a turn at a great vista point I saw two pickup trucks with trailers, a bunch of bicycles and a large EZ up providing shade to the group about 100 yards uphill from the restroom.  Was it a mirage?  What the hell are they doing?  Bicycles? Here?

It was no mirage.  It was a Boy Scout troupe out for a three day ride on their bicycles while the adults led and followed in the trucks.  They were just finishing their lunch and invited us to sit for a spell.  We had a fantastic time chatting with the boys and their scout masters.  I don’t think they fully appreciated the achievement ahead but when doing difficult things the feeling of accomplishment is distant indeed.  Right now none of this mattered.  We were enjoying a moment with some wonderful kids some of whom could be future leaders of America when one of the scoutmasters said:

“Would you like some ice cream?”

I scream, you scream we all scream for ice cream!
L-R  Bip not Gary, Chad, me and Chris
Rick Giroux photo

Amazing things, dry ice and a Yeti cooler.  105 degrees and we’re having ice cream at least 50 miles from the closest freezer.  We finished up, thanked the scouts and then dealt with the fact that we still had at least two to three hours of riding left.

There’s not too much to say about the backside of this ride.  My highlight was a good hard drop on a hill.  I came around a tight turn, went to go up and over there to the left is Chad with a Giant Camera!  Did you know that half the time a photographer gets a great photo of a biff it’s because the mere presence of the photographer causes the biff?  He may as well have been pointing a surface to air missile at me.  I look up through the turn, see the rocky hill, see the camera and next thing I know I’m on my ass.  No pain, a busted piece of plastic that’s supposed to break to save a more expensive part and a bit of wounded pride but I came up laughing.  Damn you big cameras!  Considering we had some seriously good photographers with us I better get used to it.  I laugh thinking about it; the last time this happened was at the Pine Barrens 500. Same deal except at speed.  See the obstacle, see the camera and wham!  On my ass.  As they say on Social Media. LOL. Before I could figure out what happened I was joined by a few guys who were more than ready to check me over and make sure everything was good but it wasn’t that kind of crash.  I accepted some help righting the bike and carried on.

At one point we saw a rider coming the other way, also on a GS Adventure.  He had removed his jacket and strapped it to the back and his helmet was strapped to a holder on the right side.  I was impressed with his level of confidence, if I was sans jacket on my “photo shoot” I would be sporting a major bruise if not worse.  If my lid had been strapped to the side of the bike it would have been damaged.  I also thought it was a bit late in the day to see him where he was but for all I knew they were planning on camping in the park.

As we rode on I watched the temp bounce between 104 and 107.  That’s hot and I was starting to struggle a bit telling myself that if I started to puke we were in trouble; then we found the sand. Deep sand.  We don’t have deep sand in New England except at the beach and if you ever want to find out what real trouble is try taking a motorized anything on a beach in Connecticut.  Gravel, rocks, snow, tar snakes, choppy pavement, steep loose hills; none of these things give me pause like deep sand.  I can ride it but it takes a few minutes to remember how and I didn’t have a few minutes.  In this heat I didn’t have the energy for a drop or two.  I gladly accepted help from Larry which at the time was a real good thing.

This would prove to be my last stop.  As we got going again I felt I was heading toward real problems.  I still had plenty of water but by now it was hot water.  It took care of dry mouth but did nothing for cooling.  I felt at this point the best course of action was no more stops, just keep a steady pace for the last 30 miles of trail and the transit back to town.  I think this was understood by the group because at one point Rick the navigator held up at a turn and when I arrived he just pointed and said go.  Bip not Gary was in the same boat and we both made good pace to pavement, then to a gas station where we walked in without a word and went straight to the ice and water.  The man in charge knew what he was looking at, took mercy upon us and didn’t charge us an arm and leg for abusing his ice maker.

When Bip not Gary and I felt ready we got on our bikes to head into town and the AirBnB.  We returned just as the rest of the guys were locking up and leaving to go the the bar which was the last place I wanted to be.  Thankfully we didn’t get locked out.  I got off the bike, enjoyed a few dry heaves from the heat and went inside for a cold shower and colder beverage.  I felt like hammered shit but I was happy. Bip not Gary’s bike was hammered; as we returned to the house he complained of a big pull to one side when braking.  It was determined that his fork tube was separating which is a known issue.  Known to the point of a recent service bulletin from BMW which was so recent that Bip not Gary’s bike had yet to be updated.   We decided we’d figure out what to do about it tomorrow and went inside.

It’s been said that the strongest bonds are formed under duress and I believe this to be true.  I was so impressed with this group of men and so happy to be a part of it.  Is the White Rim Trail easy?  Is it Big Bike friendly?  That’s a hard question to answer because so much of this is subjective but I can say for certain that if you want to dramatically ramp up the challenge of any dual sport ride do it when it’s over 100 degrees with no relief available for 100 miles.  That’s the White Rim Trail in mid July.

NEXT: #Billysride, pie and Colorado wine

We all survived a night under the watchful eye of the Hosts.

Now it was time to start the first day of the real tour, up to now it was just wandering about getting ready to ride with the Big Dogs.  There were 10 of us between two campsites that were not close enough to each other for conversation.   The plan was made to pack up and head to a restaurant in Montrose for breakfast.  10 riders on the first day meant the departure was a little later than anticipated and breakfast was re-routed to a local McDonalds for Egg McMuffins.

In a conversation I had with Jim Bean prior to the ride he mentioned that from Ridgeway the plan was to ride over to Moab.  I asked if his plan was to ride CR 90 west out of Montrose which is a nice dirt road through the Uncompahgre National Forest.  He said it was and asked me if I had ridden it.  I indicated I had and he asked what it was like.  I told him I rode it about 8 years ago when I was taking my son cross country to his freshman year of college on a GSA with a sidecar. No big deal.  Certainly not technical but a nice way to get over toward Moab without using too much pavement.

He must have mentioned this to Rick who as his co-navigator and leader decided that I was to lead us to and on 90.

That’s right “you lead”.   I found this hilarious.   At home I end up leading rides most of the time and have a pretty good reputation for looking at a map and finding good routes.  It had been a long time since I enjoyed my single ride on CR90 and as the newest of new guys I had no business leading; especially a group including GS Trophy Riders and a retired instructor from the BMW Performance Center.  Pace? No idea because other than some campground games I had never ridden with any of the guys but I was quite sure any of them could pass me at will.  Fantastic. I did a quick check of my GPS and we were off.  I managed to get us out of town and onto the correct road.  It’s not easy to lead and keep track of 9 riders you’ve never ridden with unless they are this group.  It became apparent quite quickly that any pace would be acceptable and each rider in the group took responsibility for knowing that the rider behind them made the turns.  It worked perfectly but as we rode I was getting concerned that this was going to be a pretty boring ride unless we really wicked it up, which as the new guy in a new group I wasn’t going to do.. to much.  Finally a few passed me and we all started to get comfortable together.

We got to a fork in the road and I stopped to collect the group and check bearings.  Rick came up and suggested a turn to the right.  I took the opportunity to say “You lead” and Rick took over providing a wonderful and scenic ride over to Moab.  Now I could really relax and enjoy myself.   It became apparent that Rick is also a navigator and can look at a map.  I call him a navigator because he understood immediately when I started railing on the concept of “GPS Coordinates” as a way of describing.. well anything actually.  We had a lovely ride. Nothing overly technical but plenty of time on very scenic dirt and fast twisty two lane pavement with plenty of group bonding opportunities.  A great first day with new friends.

We arrived in the late afternoon and it was hot.  Rick had secured an AirBnB because camping in Moab is for the insane.  Our accommodations for the evening were a prefabricated housing unit with three bedrooms, two baths and a kitchen / living room all on the footprint of what we used to call a mobile home.  It had AC, a beer fridge and a big screen TV.  Perfect for a two night flop house.

We dumped our gear and headed to the local brewpub for a beer and some dinner.  As a bonus there was a good chance we were going to meet up with some other riders who were also out west.  We got to the pub, got settled and then got confused by Utah Liquor laws.  Apparently there’s a maximum alcohol content Utah allows in draft beer.  It’s lower than what is allowed for the same product sold in cans. The bar can sell draft for consumption in house but if you have a can it can’t be consumed on premise.  I wasn’t concerned about alcohol content as much as I was sympathizing with the brewmaster who has to make different batches of the same thing to satisfy the folks in Salt Lake City.   Soon we were joined by Tom Asher and Brenda Priebe.

I’ve seen it in sailors, the moment when friends end up in the same bar after a voyage.  The outside world disappears and buddies get lost in recounting the tales of what brought them to the same place at the same time.  Tom and the guys got right into it and I ended up chatting with Brenda.  Almost immediately I was blinded by an impressive stone on a gold band that adorned her ring finger.  Left hand.  Oh my.

I pointed at the ring.  Brenda smiled the smile of someone recently engaged.  Radiant.  “Him?”  I said pointing at Tom.  This got a good giggle and I offered congratulations.  I also laughed at the fact that Tom had what most would call pretty big news of a pretty big event yet the boys were all just bikes, bikes, bikes!  Personally I think it’s a fantastic match and they are going to enjoy a great life together.  It was a real treat to bump into them while it was still fresh news.

Three of these gentlemen are oblivious to the fact that the fourth got engaged that day.  Mind you nobody’s 24 either.
L-R  Chris Jones, Jim Bean, Chad Warner and Tom Asher

After dinner we went back to the AirBnB for a gab session but we didn’t stay up too late.  The plan was to get up and out early to get on the White Rim Trail and back before it gets too hot.  As much as I tried to defer I ended up in a bed while Rick put out his air mattress in the living room.  Comfortable I was but I still had the “I’m the new guy here” approach and new guys don’t take bedrooms.  I did share it with Captain Ben and neither of us bear scars from the experience.  I’m willing to testify the chicken was still alive at this point.

Here are the numbers on the day:

Monday, July 17, 2017 9:16 AM MDT
Distance: 187.8 miles
Duration: 6 hours, 15 minutes, and 29 seconds
Average Speed: 30.0 mph
Minimum Elevation: 3996 feet
Maximum Elevation: 9768 feet
Total climb: 9289 feet
Total descent: 12331 feet

Next:  Hot, Hot, Hot!

Sunday morning I was up early.  Excitement, anticipation and even a bit of nerves greeted me in my hotel room.

Thankfully the Aloha Moose Cafe opened for breakfast at 6 so I strolled over to be their first customer of the day.  The Aloha Moose Cafe is operated by a recent transplant from Hawaii.  To be correct the owner was returning to Colorado after a stint in Hawaii.  It seemed many of the residents I met had a “here and there” residency of Lake City.  Perhaps it’s the fact that the winter population is 350 and it is somewhat isolated (the closest dentist is 100 miles away) that makes people come and go.  I’m not sure I could do a winter in Lake City, it comes end of September and might hang around until June.

One of my touring habits is I always carry a pint of real Vermont Maple Syrup when I tour.  Being a good New England boy I can’t enjoy french toast, pancakes or waffles with the crap corporate America calls table syrup.  This usually generates conversation, especially out west.  Sometimes I’ll leave the syrup and I’ll always offer a taste.    I’m always taken aback when someone tells me they’ve never tasted real maple syrup.

A delicious breakfast thanks for the good folks at the Aloha Moose Cafe and the Carmen Brook Farm!

With breakfast in the gut it was time to figure out my plan for the day.   This is the day I’m to meet the group in Ridgway to camp in the state park.  It’s not yet 7 and it’s still rather chilly out.  What plan I had was to go over the mountain to Ouray / Silverton.  I wanted to acclimate to the environment and get in some riding before I met up with the group.  I was a little apprehensive about riding alone but I did realize I was in a popular tourist area so while I’d be riding alone I would probably never be too far from some sort of help, plus I had my In Reach tracker / SOS device which is fantastic for offering false confidence.  I was also feeling a bit worn out from the blast west, hanging with Woody Friday and trying to drink beer with Irishmen the night before so I took my time getting going.

To get the dirt party started I decided to ride Cinnamon Pass over the Silverton.  This was the pass I rode back in 2004.  I figured it would be “easy” or at least as it was something I did once without killing myself I should be able to do it again.  Off I went.  It didn’t take long before I gained a strong appreciation for the practice, training and experience I gained in the last 13 years; what was pucker inducing way back then was pure fun now.   My only challenge was getting comfortable with the heights and potential life ending drops off sheer cliffs.  I had prepared for this and my little reminder which I said often all week was “ride within yourself.”  It’s very easy to get what I call too much happy hand (throttle) in the dirt or when with a new group to get going faster than one’s comfort speed.  This can lead to bad things which I like to avoid.  Especially in a group ride.  Not only is it embarrassing but good group etiquette says don’t crash and ruin everyone’s day.

I check a few campsites on my way out of town.  As I got on the trail I saw a sign for a site “up there” so off I went.  4.5 miles of a muddy, rocky big bike hard route which had me panting like a horse and no sign of the group.  The campground was deserted and I kicked myself for going there by myself.

As I came down the backside of the pass I saw a rider on a Husky coming up a few turns away.  This got my full attention because when on the trail my biggest fear is a head on collision.  So many people get lazy off pavement and ride not only left of center but often in the left track  wicked fast and here was a rider coming up hill.  I only saw him due to brief opportunity and I doubt he saw me.  I also figured it would be fun to chat so I was ready to stop.

Around the turn he came and we both stopped.  He looked at my bike; saw some stickers and said “Ribfest, who the fuck are you?”

There is only one correct reply:  “Who the fuck are YOU”

He then introduced himself as Blair Young.  I introduced myself and we realized we’d already met!  Good fun!

Now at this point I have no idea who is on this tour. All I know if Jim is in charge and my friend Chad will be there too and I need to be in Ridgway at the state park sometime this evening.  So I ask Blair what he’s doing in Colorado and he looks at me like I’m a dope and says “Riding with you!”   This is getting better!  He then explained he was going to Lake City to retrieve some gear from his truck.  When they all met up in Lake City they decided to camp on the west side of the mountain which is why I couldn’t find them the night before.  He told me where the rest of the group was and I set off not at all worried about finding them as my “arrival” wasn’t planned until that evening.

I did find the gang at a BLM site.  We chatted briefly and made some introductions.  Their plan was to ride some of the Colorado Back Rode Discovery Route to Ridgway, while my plan was lunch in Ouray, a quick stop at an outdoor supply store and a nice afternoon nap on some shady grass.  We split up to execute or respective plans.  I never asked when they thought they would be in Ridgway, next time I will.

I had a lovely afternoon featuring a very casual lunch and a close to two hour nap.  I still had plenty of time so I took a dirt road over to Telluride and tried to find an old friend who was unfortunately out of town that day.  I got over to the state park ,set up my camp and waited.  While waiting I chatted with the campground hosts.

Most parks supplement the rangers with what are known as campground hosts.  These are people who commit to spending the summer in a campground at no cost in exchange for light clean up work and to act as another set  of eyes.  Depending on the park they may also have a golf cart and a radio.  If you’ve been to a BMW National Rally you can see what happens to people when they have a golf cart and radio and it happens in state parks too.  On top of this while the Ridgway state park is nice and all that like many state parks it’s not really the spot the park the rig for an entire summer but it’s free and you get a golf cart and a radio.

Golf carts and radios are one of the easiest ways to catch a RIP.  What is a RIP?  A RIP is a Retired Important Person.  They spent their career in white collar mid level management with a small team of up and coming (usually younger) talent that held their every word as gospel.  Now that they’re retired nobody has to listen to them *unless they have a golf cart and a radio*

I met Mark the host and he was perfectly charming.  I was first to a walk in site which by all accounts appeared to be one big group camping area with individual fire pits an gravel pads.  I put my tent up on some earth under a tree and waited for the others.  First to arrive was Chad, over from Salt Lake City.  Then Captain Ben, Blair and a few more arrived and the party got started.  What was strange was Rick had reserved two sites but they were not together.  This was especially weird because the walk in area was wide open with tons of room but according to the host all those empty sites were reserved.  They sure do have a lot of no shows in Ridgway.

Next thing I know is Mark has his radio out and he’s calling in the Rangers.  We have too many people on our site, someone is cussing and gosh darn it, you can’t use a hammock here either plus all the tents have to be on the gravel.  Go Mark!

Fortunately the Rangers were not RIPs (yet!).  We all had a calm discussion and review of the rules.  Between the late arrival, the separate sites and the overbearing “hosts” it didn’t feel like much of a meet up but we were together and ready for the next day.

Next:  Ridgway to Moab – You lead!

Saturday morning I awoke somewhere between eastern and  mountain time zones.

Woody did not.

We had a wonderful night.  When I arrived Woody was still at the shop so I was greeted by another rider on a KLR with Alaska plates.  He shall forever be known as Dave not Mark or was it Mark not Dave?  We sampled some left overs from the fridge along with a few things whipped up in the kitchen.  Talk, bourbon and all sorts of treats were shared along with some fine tequila I decided would be better to gulp than sip.

Eventually we all came to, or at least  woke up enough for me to get some of the things I had shipped to the shop and for Dave not Mark and Woody to go out for breakfast.  When it came time to mount the tires Woody walked passed the tire machine into the dark shop to retrieve my TKC’s.  He looked at me looking at the tire machine and said “you got your spoons, right?”

So Dave and I mounted my tires on the shop floor.   It was fun, good practice and Dave gave me some excellent tips based on years of doing it by hand.

My only mistake in planning this trip was not planning enough time with Woody.  There was so much to see and chat about but I only had a week and I came to ride.  I also planned on visiting a REI for a pair of waterproof socks which I realized on the way out would be very nice to have.  On the other end of this was the casual comment from Jim Bean that some of the group was getting together in Lake City that night.   Before the big night I was thinking I’d get over to Ouray or Telluride Saturday.  I wanted a little time to acclimate to the altitude and such before joining the group but by the time I found socks it was close to 3pm.  Lake City was 247 miles away.  4.5 hrs according to Google.

This is where I absolutely love my GSA.  247 / 4.5 hours is 55 mph if you don’t stop.  If you stop for gas, a pee, candy and a soda for 20 minutes you now need to go 60 the rest of the time.  The same bike I am going to ride in the trails is the one I can count on going at least 300 miles between stops.  I went “door to door” and beat the estimate by 20 minutes.

Sunset is late in Lake City and while it was close to 8:30 when I arrived it was still daylight and there was plenty of activity.  I figured my first order of business was to get some food. As I rolled into town I noticed a rather rally looking bike; half unloaded with a rear tube on the ground.   The rider wasn’t around but his buddy was; he looked a bit dusty from a big day on the trail.  I found out they were all set so I went on for dinner.   I wasn’t planning on cooking and I wasn’t even sure I was going to camp so I stopped at the first place I saw that didn’t look too fancy.  I was to learn that there’s nothing fancy in Lake City.  My kind of place.

After a quick bite I went for a ride down main street and out to the camping spots I thought Jim and his group might be in.  I didn’t look too hard for too long before heading back into town.  I stopped at the gas station / hotel office where the rally bike was sitting and found I could get a room at a decent rate, plus it was also a short walk to the bar.  So much for camping.  I unloaded the bike and went to the bar for a beer but not before taking a closer look at the “rally bike.”

Home built special.  DRZ motor.  A serious bike by a serious rider.  NB the tube on the rear.
Iron Butt Riders will recognize that as would serious enduro competitors.

I left the bike wondering if there was an issue with tires and tubes.   Turned out to be no issue; he left it like this as a beacon to a friend they lost on the trail.  I took the very short walk to the bar and found the owner and his buddy ordering dinner.  They were from Ireland and had shipped the bikes over with the plan of doing the Trans America Trail together followed by separate plans after arriving on the west coast.  As I watched they ordered enough food for a party of four and a few pints of Guinness.  It’s always good to see an Irishman in the United States order a pint of stout.  I can’t stand the stuff so it’s good to find out that at least a real Irishman does.  I suppose they may feel the same way when a Yank orders a Budweiser in Dublin.

We’re chatting away and I find they camped the night before and never stopped for any food while covering close to 450 miles of trail.  That’s pretty serious and fits with the relief tube I saw on the bike.  I was confirming what I was hearing when one of the two mentions their over all average for the day was 45 mph.  On the Trans America Trail.  He then reveals his mate is a two time Paris Dakar Rally rider and he was the current Irish National Enduro Champion and Romaniacs finisher.   After I got my jaw off the floor I excused myself to grab my camera and a round of beers.  We had much to discuss.

Irish National Enduro Chamption Michael O’Leary and Paris Dakar finisher Nick Craigie.

I asked Nick if he enjoyed the Dakar.  He paused for a moment and said “No.”  He said he enjoyed the experience and had no regrets but the riding itself was pretty brutal.  He tried to describe it and all I could think of is the Iron Butt Rally is a walk in the park compared to the African Dakar.  Here’s a quote from an article about the CCM bike and the rally:

   ‘The deep sand was really hard going and forced the bikes to drink fuel, we were using fuel at a rate of to 7km/litre which, sustained, would have dropped our effective range from around 450km to barely 300km. The organisers hadn’t allowed for this and set the refuel too far out. There was no borrowing fuel from another competitor – everyone was trying to conserve every drop they had.

   ‘Our Dakar could have ended there – as it did for so many – but we found a solution by the three of us CCM team-riders working together. We effectively pooled our fuel, putting it all in the one bike (Adrian Lappin’s) and he rode on to the refuel.    There he filled every tank he had and came back, riding the course in reverse, to share out the fuel. It was a high-risk strategy – he could easily get lost, breakdown, crash, certainly not find us – but it was all we had. Fortunately he did find us, but it had taken four hours and an incredible 350 additional kilometres riding for Adrian.

   ‘And it’s at that point, at about 5pm in the late afternoon, when the Dakar rally changes. Dusk comes quick, and it’s pitch black before you know it. That changes everything. A distance that takes you one hour in daylight takes you four in the dark. You can imagine the navigation is a nightmare. At 6pm at night we calculated we had 450km to the end of the stage.’

   The team ploughed on through the night, and even saw the dawn come up, before reaching the bivouac just as the first competitors set-off for the sixth stage. For the CCM teammates there was just enough time to refuel, grab a snack to eat and line-up to start the next stage.

   ‘We stayed together after that. It wasn’t easy and again we hit trouble with night riding. At one point Vinny Fitsimmon’s lights went on the blink. We were each on our own sand dune at the time. I stopped, went over to him to help, when I got back to my bike I sat down and immediately fell asleep. I only awoke when Vinny came over and kicked me, his lights now fixed. “If you sleep now you’ll never wake up,” he said.

  ‘That stage we finished at 4 or 5am’, says Craigie. ‘Then it was, within an hour or two, time to be starting on into the next stage.

   ‘We got two precious hours sleep that time, but it was essentially 72 hours riding non-stop – we just had to get to the rest day.

   ‘So many things would happen, were always happening. On that last stage before the rest day we found Si Pavey [also on a CCM], he’d had a horrendous crash and was just gaga with concussion. We stuck with him and got him un-gaga enough to ride his bent bike between me and Vinny. We got him to a checkpoint and told him to stay there until the morning; with the next day being a rest day he could ride-in in the morning and still be in the rally. That was day nine with 11 still to go!

   ‘Of course the rest day was anything but, we spent the day changing the engine in my bike, although when we got the motor home and checked it was fine, it would have done the whole rally.’

It was a wonderful evening hearing this and other stories about his experiences with the Dakar.  We chatted for a bit until I finally left them in peace.

One of the joys of being on tour with nothing but the bike is the way it opens doors to conversations with new people.   It can be a casual rest stop conversation with one of the largest cattle ranchers in Nebraska or hanging out with a guy named boots who runs the only licensed bar in Montana with only an outhouse for relief; if one is open to it there is the opportunity to connect with some amazing people.  That night it was a two time Dakar rider and his mate both of whom were great guys to share a few beers with.

I went to bed delighted to have had the chance to hang out with Micheal and Nick while looking forward to what was coming next.

Next:  First pass, meeting the gang and RIP’s