Road Ramblings (Continued)
by: goon73
 Next on the list of attractions was a stop in Cripple Creek and the rally that was going on that weekend. The short ride I had seen on the map ended up being almost 2 hours when I realized the light brown roads are dirt roads on my map, and I would have to make a long loop to get there, as I was headed through the mountains to Cripple Creek, I ran into what would ultimately be one of two rain patches I hit on my trip. One thing to note is Rain at 9000 ft above sea level, on a 60 degree day is COLD! Another notable item to remember is I only brought my fingerless gloves with me on this trip. By the time I actually got into Cripple Creek I had mostly dried back off and somewhat warmed up. I as I headed down Main Street of Cripple Creek I noticed two things. 1) there were tons of bikes, 3 rows down main street, 2) there were almost as many casinos as there were bikes. As I parked and headed out to explore I quickly realized that even though it was only around 6:00 pm the rally was pretty much shut down, 90% of the vendors were closed. I looked around at the remaining vendors and decided that since there only action going on was in the casinos I would pass on this one and head out to find some lodging nearer to my ultimate destination.  After another map check, and deciding I would stay in Manitou Springs at the base of Pikes Peak, I headed out, along the way I stopped for dinner at some “Mexican Restaurant” along the way. You would figure that with the 1000s of bike in the area and all the ones I have passed on the road this day no one would bat an eye at a biker stopping to eat. However, I guess the sight of me in full leather (which I didn’t even bother to take off the entire meal since temps were in the 50’s by then) and my 1000 yard stare from being rode hard and put up wet the last couple days was a little unnerving. One couple actually turned around and left instead of being seated at the table next to me. After the worst excuse for a margarita I have ever had, followed by mediocre fajitas it was back on the road for a place to stay. I exited into Manitou Springs, and the entire town was PACKED. Every hotel I passed was full; finally I found an overpriced super 8 and crashed for the night. After setting the gear for a quick exit in the morning and an extremely long hot shower it was time to crash. 6am came all too early in the morning, and as I laid there contemplating just rolling over and getting more sleep the realization that I was about to achieve my goal hit me. I was about to ride Pike’s Peak. I geared up in my full leather and half gloves and walked outside to the 41 degree morning. WHAT THE HELL!!!!!!!!! This is August! It is not supposed to be 40 anywhere in August! At the toll both to the Pike’s Peak highway I asked what the temp at the summit was and the ranger told me around 20! The road to the top started out innocent enough, good blacktop, tight corners, good switchbacks, and cold hands. I was having a blast riding this section. I knew the road didn’t go all the way, but the pavement ended all too soon, and the very technical and hard section of twisting, turning, washboard dirt came all too soon. I was having fun with the road, and riding the mountain, I found out quick that the worst parts of the road meant a top speed of 5mph. I also found that there were sections where 40mph and digging into the corners was a blast as long as I didn’t look over the edge and get reminded of the very long and quick trip down the side of the mountain so should I make a mistake. At mile 13 I stopped to have a smoke and collect my nerves while my hands thawed out a little. I was informed by one of the rangers at the parking area at mile 13 that the reason it was so busy was because of the race up the side of the mountain. WHAT? What kind of idiot would find it fun to run up the side of a mountain? I finally figured it was probably the same type of person that would ride 2200 miles to ride a motorcycle up the mountain. Finally the last push, those last six miles were cold, and the bike was running a little rough at idle, but Finally I made the last turn into the parking area at the summit of Pikes Peak. The view from the top was amazing to say the least. The view seemed to go on forever, after spending more time at the top than I planned and making a few phone calls to let people know I had made it was sadly time to begin the decent.
The trip down the mountain was still just as amazing as the trip up and maybe a little more scenic since I was more comfortable with the road and took a little more time to look around. Finally at the bottom I realized the trip was over, I had done everything I planned, and now all that was left was the trip home. The trip into Colorado Springs was somber as the adrenalin that I had been running on for three days began to fade. After a gas and smoke stop. It was time to begin the return trip, Back to the interstate and more uneventful roads (or so I thought) I made the run from Colorado Springs to The New Mexico Line at an average speed of about 90 the closer I came to New Mexico the more I noticed the Storm I was heading directly into. The closer I rode the more detail I could make out and realized that it was POURING up ahead of me. Just before I ran into the storm the road made a turn to the west of a mountain and I realized if I kept up the pace I could make it around ahead of the storm that was stalled on the other side of this mountain. Twenty Minutes later and surprisingly dry I made my first gas stop of the return trip in New Mexico. I grabbed a bite to eat at the local McDonalds and realized McNuggets and fries fit nicely into my vest pocket for on the road snacking. As I filled the tank I noticed the sprinkle of rain from the storm that had caught up with me. Quickly I was on the road again and blasting down the New Mexico highway just ahead of the storm. An hour and a half later I was back in Texas and filling up my tank under blue skies. Back on the road I noticed a pretty bad storm that looked to be right around Amarillo Of course in this part of Texas it is hard to judge just where the storms are Finally with Amarillo about 10 miles on my horizon I could tell there was no ifs, ands, or buts about it I was about to get wet. Another quick fill up and the decision NOT to put my rain gear on found me heading head first into some of the blackest clouds I had seen in a while. AS I rounded my turn in Amarillo onto highway 287 I found that rain I had been so effectively outrunning all day. I was inundated at 80 mph by a wall of water while I was surrounded by three eighteen-wheelers. I had no option put to keep on keeping on, not easing back on the throttle. After about ten minutes of the wet stuff I finally broke through to the other side. As I began the drying process still at the same steady speed all I could see ahead were blue skies. The next leg of the trip was pretty much uneventful, I began noticing the signs of fatigue creeping in on me little by little but I tried to hold them at bay. I was doing pretty well until the Full moon rose then the urge to sleep was almost more than I could take. I finally decided to throw in the towel for the night as Wichita Falls appeared on the empty road ahead.
After stopping by four motels looking for something cheap, then settling for something available I found my lodging for the night, again was the ritual of unpacking the bike humping the gear into the room, a quick shower and setting the gear for a quick exit in the morning.
As the alarms began blaring at 6 am on this the last day of my trip the urge to cover my head and go back to sleep was almost unbearable. Somehow I drug myself out of bed and was on the road with fifteen minutes of the first alarm. The morning was crisp and cool, although I knew that wouldn’t last very long. I was right; by the time I was in Ft Worth the hot Muggy August I was so used to was in full effect. The last leg from Ft Worth was as uneventful as it was hot, that is a section of slab I have rode so many times I could ride it with my eyes closed which is probably a good thing since by that time the enormity of the trip had finally caught up with me. When I pulled into the driveway a few hours later it was all I could muster to kick the kickstand down and lean back against my gear as I smoked the last cigarette of my trip to Colorado. All told the total mileage was 2220 miles, Three and a half days, one five hour flat, and a sore ass.
Would I do this trip again?
Hell Yea, in a heartbeat.
Goon |
