Once again, the room I was sleeping in didn't have a clock. I had opened the curtains the night before hoping that the daylight would stream in and wake me, but I slept so hard that no amount of lumination was going to make me stir.
Ames knocked on my door at 7:45. Rosalee had spent the night at Laura's to help with the new baby, and we had made plans to meet her for breakfast at 8:30.
My original plan for the day was to ride up Pike's Peak in the morning, then ride through the Garden Of The Gods. After lunch I wanted to ride down to the Royal Gorge bridge, then ride up through the Rockies towards Denver, circling back to Colorado Springs. Total mileage for the day was to be a "light" 339 miles.
During supper the previous evening, however, Rosalee had mentioned that she and Ames would like to go to the Royal Gorge with me, and thought we could all ride down together in their car. One of the purposes of this trip was to ride my motorcycle, so my initial reaction (which I didn't voice) was negative. However, my shoulder pain really had me concerned about my ability to pull off a Saddlesore 1000 ride on Tuesday. I decided that having a light mileage day wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing as it would give me a little time to recuperate. So, I agreed. The IBA website states that an experienced rider should know his own limits, and I decided that my shoulder had reached my limit for me. Giving up a little riding on Monday would (hopefully) afford me to get a lot more in on Tuesday and complete the Saddlesore 1000.
Ames and I drove over to the restaraunt ("The Egg And I"), which just happened to open for the first time that morning. I love pancakes, so I searched the menu but the only pancake option I saw was for the "big flapper", which only came with one. I reluctantly ordered the one pancake, however when it arrived I discovered it was at least 14" in diameter. Seriously, it was the size of a medium pizza. The one pancake was more than enough to fill me up.
After breakfast, we drove back to the house and I geared up for the morning's ride up Pike's Peak. I made plans to be back around 1:00 for lunch, after which we could all go down to the Royal Gorge.
I pulled out and headed back down highway 24 towards the mountain (by this time, I knew the way.) I stopped for gas, and realized that on the previous tank I had averaged over 50 mpg! Before I left on my trip, I turned in the PMS screw on my carburetor by 1/4 turn, as I knew in the higher elevations I'd be running richer than what I was jetted for back home. Apparently, I leaned the mixture out a little too much, as my mileage usually runs in the low 40s. Well, no time to mess with it now, I had a mountain to conquer.
At the base of the mountain, I saw this covered wagon which pretty much summed up my trip.
The Pike's Peak highway is a toll road run by the city of Colorado Springs. It costs $10 for a motorcycle to make the trip. At the toll booth, the gatekeeper made certain that I knew the ride up the mountain on a motorcycle was not for amateurs. I assured him that I knew what lie ahead, and he waved me through.
The first portion of the mountain is a beautiful winding paved road. I came across this sign, which amused me so I had to get a picture.
About a third of the way up the mountian there is a dam which provides the drinking water for the area. The water is nice and clear and would have made for a great picture if the fence wasn't in the way.
Approximately halfway up, the pavement ends and loose gravel starts. At the same point in time, the switchbacks began and the grade got steeper. There aren't any guardrails along the entire highway, which is why my wife will never come up this road again. She near-panicked when we did it in a car twelve years earlier, so there's no way she'd ride a cycle up the mountain!
Speaking of cars, a car had overheated and was stalled in the middle of the road. I stopped for a few minutes to help, and offered the driver a lift to the visitor's center a few miles up the road. The driver opted to stay with the car until it cooled down and then try and resume the trip up the mountain. I looked at the pool of coolant underneath the car and was skeptical, but I rode off. In any event, later when I came down the mountain the car was gone.
At the vistor's center, the pavement returns for a short time before turning back to loose gravel. I did come across one hairy spot, where a road grader was working and had scraped up a stretch of the road, but hadn't yet gone back over and packed it down. There was about four inches of very loose dirt on that 100 yard stretch, which made for some wobbly riding.
Near the top I saw one of the strangest sites of the day: coming down the mountain was a man who had what looked like his CPAP mask strapped to his head, with the oxygen tube going straight up to the headliner, then heading down into the back seat. The guy was sucking air with all his might as he drove. Color me skeptical, but I tend to think that maybe he shouldn't have been up on that mountain. At the very least, he should have let one of the passengers drive (yes, there were passengers!) I wish I had gotten a picture of that one.
I survived and arrived at the top intact. The temperature was in the low 50s, so it was cool but not uncomfortable. The altitude is very noticeable, as walking from the parking lot to the gift shop made me feel winded. I regularly run three miles at a fairly good clip, so I'm not in terrible shape. I could really notice, however, that the thin air wasn't giving me the oxygen to which my brain is accustomed.
After purchasing a few obligatory souvineers, I went out to the observation deck. There is a memorial to the woman who wrote "America The Beautiful" after being inspired by the view from the top of Pike's Peak. While looking at the memorial, I struck up a conversation with two other guys. They told me that they had trailered their bikes from Missouri to Colorado in order to ride through the Rockies, but had been too scared to try and ride up Pike's Peak. That made me feel pretty good, but I didn't gloat audibly. Anyway, they took my picture next to the memorial.
The ride down was just as scenic, if not a tad bit scarier. I didn't take as many pictures on the way down, as I wanted to get back to Rosalee's house by 1 PM. The lack of guardrails made some of the curves kind of spooky as you're barreling down the mountain side, and where the road jogs it looks like it drops off into infinity.
One nice thing about riding a cycle is at the brake inspection checkpoint the ranger just waved me on through. I had been riding 2nd gear most of the way down, and had hardly touched either brake so I was pretty confident that they weren't getting hot.
At the bottom of the mountain, I got back on the highway and headed east to Colorado Springs. The descent was slightly faster than I had anticipated, so I figured I had plenty of time to ride through the Garden Of The Gods on the way back.
I had been through this park a few times before, so I didn't stop for anything more than to snap some pictures.
Once I got out of the park, I had about seven minutes until 1:00. I figured I'd be back at Rosalee's house right on time. Unfortunately, I was still figuring time according to how long it takes me to travel a similar distance in Sioux Falls. The traffic was heavier than what I was used to, so I wound up being about 15 minutes late.
In any event, we had ourselves another lunch that couldn't be beat (polite nod to Arlo Guthrie) and discussed our plans for the afternoon. Circumstances had changed since I'd left that morning, and Rosalee was needed that afternoon to help with their new grandson, so she was not going to go to the Royal Gorge. Ames said he would still go if I really wanted to see it, but I could tell that he wasn't that interested. I thought about riding down myself, but then I reminded myself of my shoulder issues, so I decided to come up with an alternate plan.
Earlier in the year when I was doing some trip planning, I remember reading about a motorcycle museum located in Colorado Springs. I got the phone book and looked it up, and sure enough there it was. I decided that would be a nice relaxing afternoon activity, and I could easily be back in time for a long nap before supper.
I copied down the address, bid farewell to Ames and headed out to the museum. When I arrived, I was dismayed to discover two things: first, it was small. The building was maybe 30 by 40 feet. Second, it was only open on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Seeing as today was Monday, that put a crimp in my plans.
The museum is in the front portion of a Harley Davidson dealership. I browsed around as I formulated a third alternate plan for the afternoon. I must say that this dealership had more new bikes than any I've ever seen. There must've been at least 150 bikes for sale. Every model in every color. I found a really cool Road King with custom paint that had me drooling, until I saw the price tag and realized that to purchase it I would have to trade two years of my son's college education. Funny how economics has a way of bringing one back to reality.
After looking around for a few minutes, I decided to just hit the road and see what I would find. Again I was tempted with heading down to the Royal Gorge, but by this time it was getting too late in the afternoon for the trip to be leisurely enough to enjoy. I hopped on the interstate and started heading south.
Towards the south end of Colorado Springs I saw a billboard for Seven Falls. I had been to Seven Falls as a child, but my biggest memory of the visit was that my little brother found about two bucks worth of change in a pay phone and I was green with envy. I decided to revisit the area.
Pulling off the interstate, I rode through some residential streets following the signs to Seven Falls. I passed by the Broadmoor Hotel, which is very, very fancy. I also went by the Figure Skating Hall Of Fame, and was thankful that my wife wasn't along on the trip, otherwise Seven Falls would have been postponed.
I arrived at Seven Falls and reluctantly paid my entry fee. I'm a cheap sap. They assign parking spaces, and I rode into the attraction and up a hill to find my spot. I began to walk to the falls area when I saw a sign that said that there was no bathroom at the falls area; the only one could be found at the front of the parking lot. I really didn't have to go, but the dire warning of the sign had me thinking that maybe I should try anyway.
So, I walked back down the hill quite a distance and used the restroom. Then I proceeded to walk back up the hill, and decided that where I parked was a lot closer to the falls than to the bathrooms, so I would have been better off risking a full bladder than climbing up the incline they call the parking lot. I also began to realize that I should have brought some more comfortable shoes for walking, as my riding boots were a bit heavy and cumbersome as I clomped around.
The falls themselves were beautiful, but what struck me the most was the large open staircase that goes up the side of the thing to a height of nearly 200 feet. Now I don't like heights, but I had come so far on my journey that I knew I would always regret it if I didn't at least try to scale that thing. If nothing else, the pictures would be worth it.
So, I started up the stairs. I did OK as long as I kept moving and kept looking up. The problem was, there are a heck of a lot of stairs (225 to be exact!) In the altitude I was becoming winded, but I didn't dare stop. At the halfway point there is a rest platform with a bench. When I got to it, there were about 50 people jammed onto that thing, all with the same desire I had: oxygen!
I stood for a few minutes until a seat on the bench opened up, then I was able to sit and get the blood flowing to my brain again. I snapped a few photos, but was was really fun was watching the combined look of exhaustion and terror on the faces of the people as they came up the staircase. It was amusing until I realized that I probably had that same look of terror myself.
After about five minutes of recuperation, I traversed the second portion of the staircase which brought me to the top of the falls. A few more pictures and another break, and I was ready to explore the area at the top of the falls.
To my surpise, there were a couple of hiking trails. I decided that as long as I was here, I'd go ahead and do a bit of hiking. They had two trails, a intermediate trail approximately a mile long and an easy trail that was 1/2 mile long. The sign said to allow at least an hour for the mile-long trail, which seemed like an awful long time just to cover a mile of terrain. I mean, I often walk more than four miles on my lunch break!
So with a big-headed load of confidence, I took off on the intermediate trail. About 100 yards into it, the grade suddenly became quite steep. Rather than slowing down and pacing myself, I kept my rate of speed as fast as I could up the side of the mountain. Once again, I found myself hampered by the elevation, and gasping for air about 2/3rds of the way up the trail. I rested just enough to catch my breath, then took off again.
Once at the top of the trail, the view was wonderful. You can't see the Seven Falls from this trail, but you can see much of the canyon that leads to it. There is also a great view of Colorado Springs. At the top of this trail is the grave of Helen Hunt (the author, not the actress.) She would sit on this mountain and write. I sat on a bench drenched in sweat for about 15 minutes enjoying the view, and letting my heart rate come back down from the stratosphere.
I decided to head back down the mountain (which was much easier than climbing it) and realized once again that my motorcycle boots were not well suited for this type of activity. The return trip down took about half the time that the climb did.
When I arrived at the part of the path that split into the two trail options, I decided to go ahead and walk the other trail as well. This trail was much easier, as it didn't have the steep grade the first one did. It was also much shorter. It ended at a small waterfall called "Midnight Falls". I took in the scenery for a couple of minutes, then headed back (I wasn't near as winded on this trail.)
Back at the top of the Seven Falls, it was time to descend down the long flight of stairs. My fear of heights had not subsided during my brief visit to the top of the mountain. What allowed me to get to the top was to not look down. Obviously, that technique wasn't going to work on my descent. I decided that I was going to have to "man up" and just go down the thing, otherwise I'd be the moron you see on the 6 o'clock news that had to be rescued via helecopter because he was too scared to walk down a flight of stairs.
With a deathgrip on the hand rails, I began to traverse my way down. I made each step deliberate and kept a rhythm so as not to stop. I didn't pause at the rest platform as coming down didn't require the physical exertion that climbing the stairs did. The scariest parts were when I would have to pass people coming up the stairs, which required both parties to each remove one of their death grips on the railing.
Each step got easier and easier as I neared the bottom, and finally I set foot on solid ground. My trip had caused me to sweat profusely, and I was now feeling the effects as thirst was starting to well up in my throat. However, there was no water fountain and the gift-shop drinks were horribly over-priced (have I mentioned I'd excessively cheap?) so I decided to just try and hold out a little longer.
I made the second stairway trip up to a lookout area that gives a better view of the falls. This flight of stairs wasn't near as long as the first, but my fatigue was starting to take it's toll and I could tell my body was wearing out. I spent a few minutes at the top, but decided it was time to get back to my relative's house. I descended the staircase, hiked back to the bike and headed out of the park.
I knew that the way I had come in to the park from the interstate was not the most direct way back to Rosalee and Ames's house. However, I wasn't 100% sure which way would be the best way back. In fact, I wasn't 100% sure which way was north! I decided to pick a direction and ride. After winding my way through some back-streets and following another biker who I guessed was probably headed to a major street, I came out on highway 24. Now I knew where I was and made my way back "home".
Once at the house, I took a quick shower and had time for about a 20 minute nap before we were supposed to meet my cousin Diana and her husband at a restaraunt. The five of us had a wonderful time together at supper, and soon it was 9 PM.
My Saddlesore 1000 ride was scheduled for the next morning. I decided that I didn't want to rely on Ames to wake me up in time, so Rosalee and I ran to a nearby Wal-Mart where I purchased a small alarm clock.
Back at the house, Rosalee was heading off to spend the night at Laura's again. She wasn't going to be there when I left at 5:00 AM the next morning, so we said our goodbyes and she loaded me up with a bunch of granola bars as she was concerned that I would get hungry while riding.
I gave a quick call to my wife to let her know I was still alive, then turned out the lights at approximately 10:30 PM, trying to get as much sleep as I could before the alarm was to go off at 4 AM.
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This page last updated on 06/28/2018