After a great night’s sleep and spending a little time visiting with Terry and Claudia in the morning I was soon on my way. I traveled up Clear Creek Canyon as Terry had recommended and thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful scenery and curvy road.
Back on the freeway I remembered having read someplace that if I avoid the tunnel and take route six up over Loveland Pass I would be rewarded with beautiful views.
Well, it was an overcast day with the peaks of the mountains in the clouds and the threat of rain hanging in the air and snow was clearly visible at the higher elevations. But, me being me, I decided to chance it figuring the worst that could happen is I would find it impassable on the bike and have to turn around.
The view beyond the immediate valley was obscured by clouds.
Hmmmm ....... should I be up here on a motorcycle?!?!?!?!
I figured the altitude on the sign was the measurement for the road so when I climbed up those steps I was over 12,000 feet.Well, it was rather chilly up there but the road was good and clean so while I didn’t get to see much because of the clouds I did get to enjoy the ride up to and down the other side of the pass. Now, here is a revelation ….. I don’t remember having seen people down hill ski other than on television. As I was descending the other side of the pass I stopped to take photos and noticed as I looked through the view finder that to my great astonishment the trees were moving down the hill on the slope across the way.
I did one of those pauses where you blink, think for a moment and then shake your head as if to clear it and then go back for another look. Sure enough, these little trees were moving down the mountain side ……. But they were not going straight down. Instead they were arcing from side to side. It thought that to be rather strange and it was only after putting the camera away and riding down another mile or so that I rounded a bend that I was close enough to distinguish people rushing down hill on skiis. Putting two and two together I had a hearty laugh at myself and was releived to learn that I retained a certain level of sanity!
Route six got me back to the freeway at the beautiful town of Dillon where the views of the mountains over the lake are simply stunning! Back on I-70 I enjoyed what has to be the most beautiful stretch of freeway in this country as I rode over Vail pass and on to Glenwood Springs where I stopped to get gas.
This is the valley in which Marble, Colorado is nestled
This is the road up out of the valley on route 133 near McClure Pass which has an altitude of 8,763 feet
One of the lakes outside Marble Colorado offers beautiful views for those who want to fish or hike
The view as you descend the western side of McClure pass towards Dillon
It is rather lonely at the top!
My original intent was to hop back on the freeway and make good time to Moab Utah where I would set up my tent and then spend the afternoon in Arches National Park. However, as I was getting ready to operate the pump a fellow pulled in on a nice Harley and he was a chatty one. His bike was a beautiful Electra Glide, I think, and he was wearing a beanie helmet and sporting a shaggy salt and pepper beard that was, oh, a good six inches all around. He was very friendly and wondered where I was headed, where I was from and how I was enjoying my trip. Now, if you have read my other blogs you will know that the closer I get to my destination the less likely I am to reveal it to strangers so I told him I was just out riding whatever, wherever and I would just have to see where the end of the day would find me.
That got him going. This road is great if you want this, that road is great if you want that and so on. Some of the roads he was recommending I had already ridden and when he paused to remember the name of a town I would tell it to him and his face would put on an expression of appreciative wonderment. He said he was impressed that someone from Ohio knew the roads in the area so well.
When we were done chatting I turned to operate the pump and he showed me which button to press (like I didn’t know) and then let out that he owned the place – which was pretty much confirmed when the mechanic who had been politely standing on the other side of the pump followed him to his bike for some quiet conversation (and quiet for him had to have taken some effort because he did not seem to have an “inside voice volume”) with the mechanic’s posture and gestures being defferential and respectful. As I left and waved my goodbye they were headed inside fo r something.
I left Glenwood and rode up to Carbondale along route 82 and then branched off on route 133. After I passed the town of Redstone (which was is characterized, surprise, surprise, by red rocks all over the place) I saw a sign for barbeque in Marble so when that turn came I took it and rode into Marble which, is the site of several marble mines.
The barbeque place turned out to be the only restaurant in town ….. to the extent that it can be called a town. Marble is more like a collection of “resorts” which are basically cabins available for rent, bed and breakfasts and some residential houses and art (marble sculpture) galleries. It is a rough and rugged little place and I would really hate to imagine the winters here. The summers have to be beautiful with dozens of streams to fish, hundreds of trails to hike and high lakes to sit and gaze or fish or canoe. The folks at the restaurant were very friendly and the waitress recommeded the fried green beans. I am not a big fan of green beans – I like them but they are not the first thing I will pick off a menu, especially not for an appetizer. But, I like to try new things so I ordered a plate and when they came they did not disappoint. They had been dipped in a spicy batter and then deep fried to a point where the outside was crisp and the inside was still firm. They were served up with a zesty chipotle sauce which complemented the batter very well. For my meal I orderded brisket and potato salad neither of which dissapointed. The meat was so tender and the layers of flavor permeated through the meat and were rounded off with a hint of wood smoke. The tab was a little steep for a small town eatery but it was well worth the $20 (which included the tip). Fed, fat and happy I got back to the business of burning gasoline and rolling on the miles as the peaks and valleys of the central Rocky Mountains whizzed by. I had initially intended to ride over to Gunnison but in the interest of getting to Moab before dark I opted to head back north towards the freeway.
My other interest was not to ride the mountains in the rain and the road to Gunnison looked to promise a wet one. As I apporached Grand Junction where I would hop back on the freeway the clouds opened up again and the rain did not let up until I was a good ten miles along on the highway. The ride across the Colorado Utah state line was dry but as I approached the exit to Moab I saw that there was a line of storms to the west and while I was happy to not be riding into them, the skies to the south also looked pretty forbidding. I was soon in a light drizzle and hoped it would be just like that for a little bit but my wish was not granted. A little after I crossed the Colorado River the skies really let loose and it was a sopping wet ride for a good fifteen miles. Thankfully the rain stopped before Moab and I got to ride through town in wonderful warm sunlight.
In Moab I was staying at the Lazy Lizard Hostel which was tucked behind a storage company. The Lazy Lizard in is a friendly place and they told me to set up my tent wherever I could find space. To my dismay the tent area was sand. Anyone who has been camping in sandy places knows that it gets into everything. I introduced myself to the folks who had already set up camp and I dawdled about looking at the radar on one of my neighbor’s computes as we tried to guess if the storm to the south was coming through or passing by. It turns out that I should have spent that time putting up my tent because when I finally got around to starting …… tent unrolled and all the rain started good and heavy. Anyone who has done it knows that setting up your tent in the rain is not exactly a fun enterprise.
My riding gear had not dried from the ride in and now it was completely soaked. When I had arrived I had taken off my heated vest and hung it on the fence and with my attention turned to the tent, I forgot to put it on the bike and it got soaked. Every drop that fell sent up a splash of sand so when I was done setting up the tent was covered in sand as were my boots and pants and sleeves. It was a violent storm and it soon passed. My tent has a vestibule but with the rain having fallen the covered area was a mess of wet sand so I set out to get a meal and also buy a tarpaulin to put on the ground under the vestibule so that I could have a place to put things other than inside the tent.
I was not in the mood or appearance, for a sit-down meal so I picked up stir fry at some teriyaki place on the main strip, wolfed that down and then went looking for a hardware store. At the first light I pulled up next to a police car and asked the officer what my best bet was for finding a tarp and he recommended two places. I found the tarp at the first place and I was happy to learn that they cost only three dollars, which was great given that I was fully expecting to pay around twenty. For security I bought two.
Back a the Lazy Lizard I unloaded the bike and got things prepared for the night. Being that there was no place to hang anything in the tent I went for a half hour ride to try to dry off my gear and that got it from wet to damp which was good enough for me.
Back in camp I got busy getting acquainted with my fellow hostellers and I will devote a posting to that. It was my first time staying in a student hostel and I will say that the experience has me convinced that this is the way to travel if it is interesting people and conversation you want at the end of your day.
