Honda Goldwing and Bunkhouse Trailer

Bunkhouse folds out into  camper

On Top of Iceberg Pass

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Part Two #

Rocky Mountain High Rollers Tour

 

 Sunday September 3, dawned to partly cloudy skies and mild temperatures.  Tom, his bike "Dick," and trailer "Harry," were in the mood to ride.  Tom, Dick, and Harry headed west in search of,... well...., The West!  Leaving Illinois on I-88 and taking I-80 west towards Colorado allows plenty of miles to contemplate life's twists and turns before arriving in the Rocky Mountains.  At about 600 miles west of Chicago is the Double Nickel Campground, which sports a liquor store, pool, and camping.  After drinking a few cold ones, then taking a dip in the cold one, then sleeping soundly to the music of 18 wheelers rolling by on I-80, Tom, Dick, and Harry awoke to find Nebraska being held for ransom by an endless,  thick bank of fog.  Feeling our way along the interstate blind at 55 miles an hour with the locals bombing by in their pickup trucks doing 80 mph was amusing to Tom, but Harry was a little nervous.  On C.B. Channel 19 the truckers heading east reported that the fog lasted for over 200 miles!  Fortunately, "Sugar Momma" and "Popcorn," two friendly westbound truckers, took pity on the "poor lil' ol' motorsickle" and spread apart about 300 feet creating a rather comfortable and secure nest for our hapless trio to ride in without fear of being run over.  About 3 hours later the sun banished the fog and Tom sped onward without ever getting the chanced to give "Sugar Momma" the ride he had promised her.

 

Having taken many trips by ground to the Rocky Mountains in the past to go skiing, I have always considered driving through Nebraska to be the epitome of drudgery. The prospect of pristine mountain twisties awaiting my Gold Wing was encouraging, but Nebraska is still some 450 miles long! While riding through the fog I laughed out loud at the thought that at least I didn't have to stare at endless repetitive corn fields. But the fog did more than limit my vision of the road ahead and force me to slow down.  In the 150 miles or so early that morning, the fog obscured a gradual, subtle change in the landscape that I might not have noticed had I been watching it as I whizzed by.  As I emerged from the fog I was stricken by how different the landscape was from when I had set up camp the night before. While I had went to sleep surrounded by an endless sea of golden topped corn fields,  I now burst into the sun amidst lush, green grassland.  Within an hour or so the tall grasslands yielded to much shorter and browner pasture. The Rocky Mountains were still a half days ride away and nowhere in sight, but I could see their effect on the landscape as I drove further into their rain shadow.  It wasn't long before the land turned into the flat, greenish-brown scenery characteristic of the high plains.

About an hour east of Ogallala I caught up with a parade of Gold Wings traveling in two separate tight formations. Using  hand signals to learn that C.B. channel 5 was being used, I learned that the two groups were GWRRA Colorado Chapters A & L, heading back home from the holiday weekend in the flat lands.  We all laughed at the Irony of Colorado Wing riders going to the midwest for fun, while mid westerners traveled for days to get to the Rockies.  GWRRA riders conduct their group rides a bit differently from our chapter.  The ten bikes were split into two groups of five almost a mile apart.  This allowed the interstate traffic to whiz by a lot easier than having 10 bikes all in a row. Furthermore, when changing lanes each group's sweep bike would secure the lane, then the lead bike would call for the group to move in unison to the new lane.  The results were rather pretty to watch from behind, but since AGWA members are so much more individualistic I don't think it would work for us.  After riding with the Road Riders for a few hours I parted company with them by taking Colorado route 34 west into the rockies as they continued west on the interstate. Route 34 passes through Loveland, Co., before ascending into the Rocky Mountain National Park.  After about an hour of winding mountain roads there is the town of Estes Park, home to numerous restaurants, motels, and campgrounds, just the perfect place to stop for the night before some serious twisties on Trail Ridge Road (Rt. 34).  Just outside of town is the Mary's Lake Campground complete with heated pool, grocery store, and firewood, all at about 8000 feet elevation.  A full moon was rising over the front range just as the sun went down and the campfire roared into life.

At about dawn the next day the skies were clear and the rest of the world was peacefully slumbering.  The bunkhouse trailer was folded and connected to the Wing within minutes, and I slowly idled past a group of cycles camping on the other end of the campground.  I had spoke with them the night before and learned that we were heading in the same direction. Should I wake them? Yeah, right. Should I wait for them? Heck no!  When in God's country  you WANT the roads to yourself.  I left the campground and took Route 34 over Iceberg Pass (elev. 12,183 ft) passing only one vehicle (a park ranger).  On the downhill side of Trail Ridge Road I practiced "stealth winging"- coasting down the twisting roads with the bike idling in neutral.  At nearly every turn there would be a small meadow with abundant wildlife grazing undisturbed as I silently rolled by.  At one point I actually coasted to a stop just feet from three mule deer who eyed me curiously as they chewed on roadside plants. Down in the valley a large female Moose was soaking up the early morning sun and graciously posed for a few photos. Trail Ridge Road ends at Route 40 after passing by the town of Grand Lake, a fine place to eat breakfast.

From Trail Ridge Road, I took route 40 over Berthoud Pass (11,315 ft), passing the Winter Park Ski Area and its beautiful scenery in the Arapahoe National Forest.  A short 5 mile hop on I-70 takes you to the Eisenhower Tunnel, but  since this reminded me of the expressway by the same name in Chicago (which I ride with disdain each and every day), I took  the bypass route 6 over Loveland Pass (11,992 ft).  At the top of Loveland Pass you can gaze at miles of endless peaks reaching for the moon that often is still visible in daylight, and just to the west you can see the ski lifts serving Arapahoe Basin Ski Area.  Descending from Loveland Pass route 6 goes by the Keystone Ski Area before ending in Dillon.  Two miles West on I-70 is route 9  towards Breckenridge, a quaint little ski town with a rich mining history.

While buying gas in Breckenridge  I met Rubie and Bob, from Colorado Springs,  on their GL1000 pulling a home made trailer. Traffic was heavy in Breckenridge but faded quickly as Rubie, Bob, and I headed to Hoosier Pass ( 11,541 ft.). Riding behind Rubie and Bob was quite a thrill as Bob flicked his GL1000 and trailer through turns at speeds that had my knuckles white as I hung on trying to keep up.  Not Rubie though, her arms were waving and flapping as she pointed out wildlife and interesting scenery from the back seat, apparently oblivious to the way Bob was hurtling through the turns.  After Hoosier Pass route 9 and route 285 become rather straight and flat, but I wasn't disappointed since it allowed me to comfortably view the gorgeous mountains crowning the valley on each side.  An easy ride over Trout Creek Pass (9,346 ft) leads to another straight (but pretty)  valley road, route 24, where Rubie, Bob, and I parted company.  About an hour north on route 24 I turned west towards Aspen on route 82.

Between route 24 and Aspen on route 82 is Independence Pass (12,095 ft.).  Independence Pass was not the highest pass of the trip ( Trail Ridge Road was 88 feet higher) but it was definitely the grandest. As I snaked my way up the east side of the pass there were sheer drop-offs into huge valleys, all of them guarded by massive peaks towering into the sky.  The valleys were decorated with blue and violet wildflowers scattered across the valley floors and walls. Looking over my shoulder revealed miles of the road I had just traveled as it winds out of view below.  On the west side the curves became tighter and more frequent as the road narrows. Every few miles a sign would remind me to yield to ascending traffic, since at many spots the road is not wide enough for both a motor home and a car to pass one another!  At the bottom of the pass lies Aspen, a pretty town who's numerous restaurants and shops slow traffic to a crawl.  Outside of Aspen the road becomes flat with a few twists and takes you to Carbondale, where Route 133 begins.

Mountain Top Pool at Independence Pass