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BMW RA #287 |
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The Colorado 100,000 Ride
By Neil F. Reno 
Foothills BMW parking lot prior to bikes departing for the run. I took the opportunity on Saturday, August 3, 2002, along with 300 other riders, 19 of whom were fellow Texans, to participate in a day ride sponsored by the BMW Motorcycle Club of Colorado and Foothills BMW of Lakewood. The premise of the ride was to follow a route across 10 mountain passes totaling 101,556 vertical feet. An optional or bonus pass at 12,126 feet was also available. By taking in all eleven passes, we could either reach or cross the Continental Divide five times today. The main route traversed 447 miles and adding the bonus pass pushed the mileage to 487. In Texas this is just part of a day ride, but in the mountains that kind of distance makes for a long day. 
Glenn Johnson and his R1100RS at Foothills Since my time is so limited and vacations are almost non-existent, I chose to fly to Denver and rent a bike. I had an '02 R1150GS waiting through Atom Rentals. Jim and David Pearson, a couple of misplaced Canucks, own and operate the service, and did a great job. Their primary rentals seem to be off-road rides. They had several Suzuki's they were prepping for a ride the following weekend. Considering my off-road background, that's a ride I won't be going on any time soon. Just getting to Denver proved to be the hardest part of the weekend. I was scheduled to depart the big airport Friday afternoon at 2:20 pm on America West Airlines. The arriving flight came in and shortly one of the gate attendants announced that the captain had called for a maintenance crew. Eventually the flight was cancelled and about one-half of the passengers were held over for another flight with a 5:30 pm departure. I tried in vain to get onto another carrier as I just had a feeling this whole thing wasn't going to go right. The 5:30 departure came and went without me, whereupon I found myself booked onto a straight through Frontier flight. This I like. The transit of 2 & 1/2 hours would only set my schedule back by 1 & 1/2 hours, and Dave Pearson would still be able to pick me up at the airport. Now I had to retrieve my checked bag and re-check it, as well as confirm my ticket at Frontier. If anyone has flown after 9/11 then you are well aware that security is now different, and generally increased. My checked bag had to be run through an x-ray machine. A skycap came over and picked up the bag while I accompanied him. Luckily they didn't make me go through the machine, just the bag. Now I am ready to fly to Denver. This is cool because in spite of all the delays, things are still going to work out. No sooner had I finished with the bag check than I found out that Frontier had delayed departure to 8:20, followed by another delay until 9:20. By now I am feeling like I am under a cloud and wondering if this is a sign that I am supposed to forever stay away from riding in Colorado. In previous years I had two other trips cancelled due to extraneous circumstances. I called David back and we agreed that I was now going to have to make my own travel arrangements in Denver. I got a cab, mistake of the night, from the airport to a LaQuinta in Lakewood, where my buddy and fellow Houston Club member Glenn Johnson was waiting. Glenn had left Houston Wednesday afternoon on his R1100RS. At around 12:20 am CDT, I awoke Glenn and we talked for about 30 minutes while I was attempting to get myself ready for the ride on what would be about 4 hours of sleep. Good Night Irene! 
Foothills BMW parking lot prior to bikes departing for the run. I would ordinarily be sleep deprived with a 5:30 am wake up call, but it is amazing what the anticipation of a long planned ride can do to get your body going. I caught another cab at 6:30 am to take me to Foothills BMW. The cabbie thought I was nuts. He kept telling me the place wasn't open yet, it is too early. After he questioned me the second time about where I wanted to go, I realized he did not understand that a special event was going on. He probably didn't get very many fares that were dressed in motorcycle gear and carrying a suitcase. I wonder how he would have reacted if I had put my helmet on and asked to ride on the hood of his cab.Check-in started at 7:00 am and we arrived at 6:45 pulling in right behind the Atom Rentals van and trailer with the R1150GS. I took this as a sign that things were going to be OK and that I had left all of the bad karma at the America West gate. Glenn was already in line and the lot was beginning to fill up fast. I signed the rental papers and helped David offload the bike.I pulled the rest of my gear, along with the bag liners, out of the suitcase to transfer to the bike.Then I tossed the suitcase back into David's van and cut into line with Glenn. Within another 10 minutes we were through registration, grabbed some food from the buffet and were ready to ride. Before we departed I snapped a few digital pictures of the gathering. As you could probably guess the bike of choice was BMW, but several other brands were also present. We rolled out of the parking lot around 7:30 behind some other bikes with a few others following. Glenn and I tagged along through the city and for quite a distance along State Highway 285 west. Somewhere along 285 I became weary of the accordion affect you experience when riding with a group. I think a great deal of this effect is the result of riders being uncomfortable in curves. They will slow entering a curve and then gas it after they are through the curve to make up their distance deficiency. Smooth consistent riding is so much more efficient. Eventually I decided I should begin to ride my pace after too many miles of watching the leaders refuse to pass over the double yellow. Oops, did I just suggest breaking a traffic law? Since sight distances for passing are designed with cars in mind, I tend to make passes when I am comfortable with the conditions. By now I had seen far too many comfortable passes with more than adequate sight distance ignored for the sake of the double yellow, so I went around a few riders on the outside of a curve, cut inside and passed on the outside of the next curve. The passes happened quickly on 285. We crested Kenosha Pass at 10,001 feet and immediately on the west side of the pass began a long and glorious descent onto a plain. The highway was visible for miles ahead. Within 16 miles we had climbed back up to 9,993 feet to cross Red Hill Pass. We were skirting the east side of Pike National Forest and in another 20 miles, right after we merged with State Highway 24, we climbed Trout Creek Pass to an elevation of 9,346 feet. The weather at this point was nothing if not magnificent. Cool and clear, but clouds were building in the mountains to the west and north, the direction of our travel, and a portent of things to come. The oilheads work so well and the GS is especially suited for so many different types of riding. I thought it would be an ideal bike for this ride and I have to say that it was, except that they are so dirty pushing through the air. It kind of makes you believe you have a barn door in front of you. But there is no substitute for horsepower coupled with streamlined bodywork, and the K1200RS has both. Even at altitude a couple of K's were just burning down the road, and all I could do was watch them disappear, even though I was ignoring BMW's recommended limit of 80 mph with saddlebags. Glenn and I kept pushing on since I had never lost a bag because of speed in excess of the recommended limit. The GS was also equipped with a Givi top case, which certainly makes access to your gear easy. But I didn't have a tankbag, which meant that I couldn't glance down at a map. Besides not having a tankbag, David forgot to put the RAM mount on the GS so that I could use my Garmin GPS III. There were still plenty of other bikes to follow, which made it easier to take in the stunning visual sights. Did I mention that Glenn had nominated me as navigator? As you will find out later, this too has its drawbacks. 
Neil Reno at Cottonwood Pass, elevation 12,126 feet We continued on west for another 14 miles to Johnson Village. At this point 285 turned south and we headed north on 24 into Buena Vista. Checkpoint number 1 yielded a door prize of a flashlight, with two AA batteries included. The bonus pass was immediately west of Buena Vista, and it was a turnaround at Cottonwood Pass, elevation 12,126 feet. It seemed as if most of the riders were headed west and since we had traveled this far, another 40 miles didn't seem to be too much. The top of the pass was where we got our first feel of cold air, low clouds and raindrops. The pass also represented another digital photo opportunity. At the top of the pass I saw Deb Lower, past president of the BMWMOA, and said hello. We still had a long way to go, so we got back on the bikes to return the way we came. Going up the pass I was on the gas, so it seemed only right to be on the gas going down. I worked past a few bikes until I caught up to Deb, who was riding a beautiful silver '02 R1150RS, and another bike, one of those powerful K12RS's. Both of the bikes in front of me were being ridden very smoothly and aggressively. At this point I fell in behind these two excellent riders to cruise the road at a very enjoyable pace. Towards the bottom of the descent we came into a construction staging area with a lot of dirt across the road. On the way up I backed it down through here, but this time there wasn't a let off. In the middle of a right hander Deb's front wheel tucked and I just knew she was going down with me as witness to the destruction of a new motorcycle. Then I saw the most remarkable save. Deb planted her right foot and jerked up on the bars. The bike snapped upright, regaining traction. Wow! I saw Deb make that little sign to indicate that her Aerostitch suit was probably all that was keeping her heart from bursting out of her chest. I was very impressed. After a few miles I pulled up beside Deb and gave her a thumbs up. She pointed to her gas tank and I nodded in the affirmative. In Buena Vista we all pulled in for gas, where I found out that the lead rider was Dave Mishaloff from San Diego, California. I also found out that their third rider, who had waved me past on the descent, was Helen Twowheeels. Deb asked me if it looked like she was going down, to which I replied that I thought she was as good as crashed. With introductions and gasoline taken care of, I asked if they would mind if we tagged along for a while. They said it was all right, so we headed north on 24 towards Vail at a very quick clip. 
Glenn Johnson at Cottonwood Vail was 70 miles away and the weather was beginning to deteriorate to that cold and sodden state you are likely to experience any time you are in the mountains. We passed through Leadville and stayed on 24. If we had taken the fork in the road to the right we would have been on the short route, but we came to Colorado for the full ride. Tennessee Pass was between Leadville and Vail at 10,424 feet. We stopped in Minturn two miles south of Vail for Helen to gas up again and to allow the three amigos to discuss their ride strategy. They elected to cut back east on IH-70 to Colorado Highway 9 to the short route to Checkpoint 2. Glenn and I headed west on IH-70 from Vail. We had 14 miles of interstate, traffic and rain until we reached our exit to Colorado Highway 131. As I said, you never know what you will get in the mountains. Just as we reached 131, the rain stopped and the clouds began to break allowing the temperature to warm. You just have to love this kind of riding! Had I read all of the ride instructions, you could tell that the organizers had ridden these roads before. Sometimes I read the instructions, sometimes I don't. This time I hadn't. I was following the highlighted map that was part of the ride instructions. The directions warned of the first 10 miles of 131 north of IH-70, and as soon as we got onto the road it was evident what the warnings were about. TAR SNAKES!! It makes you wonder if highway engineers ever rode a motorcycle. After negotiating this section of road we covered the remaining 24 miles to Toponas and turned east on Colorado Highway 134 to cross Gore Pass at 9,527 feet in the Routt National Forest. I guess one could get jaded by all of the natural beauty that you were riding through, but rain or shine, it was so marvelous that one could not possibly tire of the view from the saddle of a bike. Just then as I was setting up to bank into a left hander, my peripheral vision picked up the one sight that I hoped I would not see on today's ride. A K1200LT lodged between trees. We pulled over to see if the rider was injured. He wasn't, but the K bike was stuck for sure. He had missed the curve and caught some gravel. When he tried to bring it back it just wouldn't make the curve. The front of the fairing was pretty badly broken up and the rear wheel was over a small creek. The only way this big boy was coming out was with a winch. After everyone decided that all was well, we continued east to State Highway 40, then turned south for 6 miles into Kremmling to reach Checkpoint 2 and lunch at the town park. Our hosts laid on a very nice spread of salad, spaghetti with sauce, cookies and soft drinks or water. With this brief respite behind us, Glenn and I were ready to continue on. This was easier said than done. I got back to the bike and began to get that sinking feeling you get when you think you have misplaced something. The more I looked the more certain I was that I had lost the ignition key. I felt all of the pockets, searched the jacket and even took it off, but no key. I retraced my steps, no key. I came back to the bike and looked in the unlocked Givi bag a second time, no key. My day was beginning to look like it was over. By now more than five minutes passed, but less than 10. I would hate to sit this out in Kremmling waiting for another key, or worse yet, trailer back to Denver. Then I finally put my hand in the pants pocket and there were the keys, just where I had put them. With the thigh pads it was so padded that I couldn't feel anything. Why I did that instead of using the jacket pocket as I had previously done, I was unable to fathom. We headed north on Highway 40 to Colorado Highway 14 and over Muddy Pass at 8,772 feet. This was the lowest pass of the day. Somewhere in this area is where my navigational skills deserted me. We had been following four other bikes and two trucks, when Glenn decided it was time to pass, and I followed. I could say it was fatigue or maybe oxygen deprivation from the altitude, but it was really not paying attention that allowed us to continue north. The rain had started again a few miles before and Glenn, who was wearing a leather jacket and jeans, did not want to stop and tussle with his rain suit. Uncertain weather conditions make one appreciate the versatility of Cordura Nylon and Gore-Tex or whatever kind of Tex material MotoPort puts in their suits. I knew we had gone too far when we began to close in on Rabbit Ears Pass, which was not part of the route. I didn't mind because we talked about trying to bag this pass as a personal bonus and add another 9,426 feet to our total. But it was not to be. We were within a mile of Rabbit Ears and the rain was coming down hard ahead of us. We turned around and made a run for it. We talked about our mistake and Glenn said that he thought it was where we had passed the bikes and trucks. Then I realized what the horn was that I had heard when we made the pass. At first I thought it was one of the trucks, but it was the lead bike trying to tell us we had missed the turn. As we headed northeast on 14 toward Walden the rain continued with heavier rain and lightning moving in from the west. Almost immediately after tuning onto 14 we were blitzed by an R1100R and a K1100LT. We caught them before long as they had stopped to don their raingear. Glenn decided to begin the struggle of putting his one piece suit on again, while I slipped my Outdoor Research mits on over my gloves. The other two riders were off and gone well before us. The rain was pretty intense for a few miles, but had practically stopped by the time we reached Walden, which I was glad to reach as my low fuel light had been on for about 25 miles. In Walden we met a local rider on an R1100R without a windscreen. He had just come through the rain from the north and did not have a rain suit. He was cold and wet in his leather jacket and jeans, and wasn't going to dry out for a while, especially since he was heading into more rain. His family was with him, warm and dry in their car. In the spirit of a true rider, he did not seem the least bit concerned, and was thoroughly enjoying his ride. 
Bikes in the foreground at Fall River Pass looking east with Trail Ridge Road ascending into the clouds. From Walden we tuned south and southeast on Colorado Highway 125 for a run of 54 miles that was in and out of rain until we once again reached Highway 40. Along the route we passed through the Arapaho National Wildlife Refuge, before entering the Arapaho National Forest where we topped Willow Creek Pass at 9,621 feet. We arrived at Granby 45 minutes after Checkpoint 3 closed. No prize for us. 
Fall River Pass sign In Granby we picked up State Highway 34 and passed Lake Granby, Shadow Mountain Lake and Grand Lake before entering the Rock Mountain National Park. Now it was raining and you just had the feeling that it wasn't going to stop until you came down from the higher elevations. On the way in we saw moose and elk. These were some gorgeous animals in their natural habitat. Our first crossing was Milner Pass at 10,758 feet, which was followed shortly by Fall River Pass at 11,796 feet. We stopped here for a few photos, but it was cold, the rain was getting harder and the cloud cover lower, so we pressed on. This part of Highway 34 is known as Trail Ridge Road, and it isn't an exaggeration. Glenn was well up ahead as he had pulled out from the Fall River Pass before me. I wanted a picture of the sign at the pass. Continuing east I crested Trail Ridge Road at 12,183 feet in a cloudbank that had cut visibility to about 50 feet. This is the kind of riding that slows you down, heightens your senses and puts all of your skills to work. I was following a Suburban which unexpectedly pulled over. This was disappointing because that big SUV made for excellent protection against oncoming traffic. The descent was just about to begin and within a few minutes I popped out of the clouds. The beauty of the valley on the left with another mountain going up and away, shrouded by clouds, was awesome. With no guardrails on the rain slicked road, caution was the word of the day. The scenery was breathtaking. Glenn was waiting at the junction of State Highways 34 and 36. At this point I was really starting to fade. I continued on to the east on 36 into Estes Park. I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe someone to be standing at the side of the road with a sign, a flag or frantically waving to tell me which way to go to get to dinner. By now it was approaching 7:00 pm. After riding through town, which was bustling on a Saturday evening, I finally stopped and asked for directions. It is always easier than reading. I could not even comprehend where we had missed the turn or how to get there. Glenn said he knew where it was and away we went, backtracking through Estes Park. We reached Checkpoint 4 and dinner about 30 minutes before the two hour dinner window was to close. The dinner was a delicious deli spread with sodas or water. Glenn and I bought tee shirts and this was when we found out that we had only missed out on ear plugs at Checkpoint 3. If I had to miss anything this was it, since I have used custom fitted earplugs for the last 10 years. Thanks to all of the club members who put this great ride together. What a riding experience. By the time we checked into the motel for the night, according to my odometer Glenn and I had clocked 542 miles and ascended all eleven passes totaling 113,682 vertical feet in elevation. Sunday morning the sky was blue and crystal clear. We decided to do a short loop back into the park to pick up the part of Highway 34 we had missed. About half way through the loop we decided to ride back up to Fall River Pass. It was worth it. No traffic at 7:30 in the morning and the view was even more spectacular without the cloud cover. The same elk herd was grazing on the slopes above the 12,183 foot elevation of Trail Ridge Road. The day for me was short, so we headed back to Estes Park. From there we turned south on Colorado Highway 7 to 72 to 119 and State Highway 6. Once again, outstanding roads, but heavier traffic. Glenn turned west to visit a friend in Winter Park and I headed east towards Golden and Denver. I only rode 173 miles on Sunday, but it was enough as I had to turn in the bike and catch a 5:00 pm flight back to the swamp, or Houston, and home. This time all went well with America West. I had a three hour layover in Phoenix which put me in my truck and out of the Park'N Fly at 2:00 am Monday. What did the whole weekend cost? I did not keep an exact account, but $950.00 would be pretty close. Not bad for a weekend that I will long remember for the riding, scenery and companionship. If I do this again, I will rent a car and navigate myself around instead of using cabs. On the way home I was already thinking about next year. Maybe a longer weekend, because it is the ride and not the destination, isn't it? |
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