Our alarm was set for 6:00. I woke up at 5:30 needing the restroom. I came back to my bed and laid back down, but Jon was staring to stir over in his bed having not slept a whole lot. After about five minutes I realized that my body was an hour ahead and had already slept in compared to my normal wake time, so I got up.
Because I had showered and shaved the night before, preparation was minimal. I loaded my bag on my bike and then wandered off to the motel office in search of a continental breakfast and some coffee. I found the continental breakfast, which consisted of pastries and fruit. I found the fixings for coffee, such as sugar, creamer and cups. But I found no coffee. I resigned myself to getting a cup when we made a stop later in the morning.
We were ready to hit the road, when I realized I had left my key in the bike's ignition all night. Thankfully Gering is a small town so the chances of a thief coming along were minimal. Plus the bike was right outside our window and there was no way they could start it up without me knowing. Even if a thief was going to try, my bike is often a bit finicky to start. I've figured out the way to coax it to start quickly, but a crook would wind up cranking for a while before they got it going.
The morning was cool, but no cooler than it had been the previous evening. Thankfully the wind had calmed overnight. The sky was overcast and the humidity was high. It looked a little like rain, but the weather report we saw on TV stated it was supposed to turn into a reasonably nice day. We opted to forego the preemptive donning of rain gear.
We hit the road about 7 AM, heading south on highway 71. This portion of Nebraska is about as scenic as the state gets. Lots of bluffs and tall hills. We passed by the Wildcat State Recreation Area. As I would later tell my wife, "Who knew there were mountains in Nebraska?"
When we came to the intersection of highway 88, we turned west. After a few miles we entered Wyoming. I stopped to snap a picture of the state sign.
As I snapped the welcome sign photo, Jon pointed out an interesting structure to our right. He suspected perhaps it was a missile silo, and from the looks of it I was inclined to agree with him.
Later on when I got home I did a little research. Sure enough, this was indeed a missile silo. As it turns out the lower panhandle of Nebraska is full of them. About an hour down the road we would ride by Francis E Warren AFB by Cheyenne which is one of the three strategic missile bases. By the way, this isn't classified information so it's not like I'm pulling an Edward Snowden. All this information is completely public. In fact, here's the Google maps image of the missile silo in the picture above:
The missile silo would be the last thing of interest we'd see for a while. We headed west through the town of LaGrange (not the same one that ZZ Top sings about) and then headed south on highway 85 into Cheyenne. On this stretch of highway we met hundreds of fellow motorcyclists no doubt on their way to Sturgis. So many, in fact, that I gave up waving because it was growing wearisome. Likewise, the oncoming riders also weren't waving, probably for the same reason.
Riding in southeastern Wyoming is dull. Crazy dull. It seems that Wyoming is either breathtakingly beautiful, or eye-bleedingly boring with very little portions of the state falling between these two extremes. On this trip we were traveling through the part of the state completely void of the beautiful.
After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only about an hour, we reached Cheyenne and hopped on Interstate 25 heading south. The scenery didn't change much, but at least we were riding at a quicker pace so we could get through it faster.
We hit the Colorado border and continued south to Fort Collins. From there we got off the interstate and would head west into the mountains. But first we stopped for some gas and a short break.
After we filled our tanks, we moved our bikes up closer to the store and went in. I made a bathroom break and then bought a large cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich. The food I ate at the hotel should have been sufficient calories to last me until lunch (and then some) but for some reason I was hungry. So I decided that this was vacation and bought the sausage egg and cheese muffin.
I put some ice cubes in the coffee to cool it down enough so I could drink it before we hit the road. I must say, it was a pretty bad cup of coffee. The breakfast sandwich was decent enough though.
While we were resting, Jon and I were watching a couple of what appeared to be vagabonds leaning against a building and panhandling. One was carrying a large machete. We were speculating what use the machete may have. Jon, being pessimistic, postulated that it was used for offensive purposes. I, being optimistic, thought maybe it would come in handy when preparing a camp site. In reality, we may both have been correct. Neither one of us had any interest in going over to ask the guy, just in case doing so would uncork the crazy.
The mountains could be seen in the distance. It wasn't warm out, but it wasn't cool either. However, we were soon going to be climbing in elevation and we could see snow up there, so we decided to go ahead and put on our chaps now rather than waiting until we got cold.
As I've mentioned in other ride blogs, my chaps were ultra-cheap versions I bought off of eBay (when eBay was relatively new) for $19. They're made from all the little leftover chunks of leather used to make other chaps, sewn together in a random pattern of mismatched textures. They're functional but certainly not pleasing to the eye.
With chaps donned, we headed out toward the mountains. Our ride so far this morning was simply to get from point A to point B. Now we were going to reach the interesting portion.
Well, so we thought. It actually took a lot longer than I thought to get through Fort Collins and weave our way over to highway 14 where the Poudre Canyon road starts. Probably at least 20 minutes or so, which was surprising because on the map it looked like at the gas station we were sitting right on the edge of town.
The further into the canyon we rode, the more interesting and scenic it got. There was quite a bit of tourist traffic on this road, so speeds were kept pretty low. Also because of the traffic and the lack of shoulders I didn't snap as many pictures as I would have liked. Jon suggested a Go-Pro type camera for areas such as these and I'm half tempted to investigate getting one. Nevertheless, I was still able to snap a few pictures.
After riding for quite a while we pulled over in a rest area for a stretch. I was getting pretty hungry again, and so was Jon. According to my map, we were around 80 miles or so to Steamboat Springs which was our planned lunch stop. At our current pace it would take us a couple more hours to get there, but I was hoping that our speed would pick up a bit on the next stretch.
We came down out of the mountains into a bit of a plateau area. As I had hoped, the speed limits did raise for a while as the road straightened out a bit and the hills weren't as drastic.
We passed through the town of Walden, CO which had a few small cafe-type restaurants. At a stop sign I asked Jon if he wanted to stop here and eat, but nothing jumped out at him as looking appealing. I announced that I had a weird craving for bratwurst. He laughed and agreed that that indeed sounded good. We decided to continue our push and stop in Steamboat Springs for lunch. Maybe we'd even find a somewhere that served brats, but neither of us knew what kind of restaurant that would be.
Continuing on highway 14 we rode through an area that, while the elevation was still quite high at over 8,000 feet, didn't seem very mountainous. There was quite a bit of farming and ranching in the area. Curiously enough, during this stretch I kept smelling the aroma of someone smoking pot. It was now legal here in Colorado and I hadn't visited since it had become such (at least for non-medical purposes.) There actually was much less of a visible presence than I expected. The whole time we were in the state I rarely saw any establishment advertising that they were selling. There were a few places here and there, but it wasn't the "on every corner" that my brain had suggested I might see. In any event, on this stretch I kept smelling it. I realized that the whole area couldn't have been smoking, and considered the possibility that we were following a car in which they were smoking.
Not being the types to partake ourselves, it made us no difference. We continued west on 14 until the road junctioned with highway 40.
We continued on and eventually reached Steamboat Springs. This is a popular tourist town with lots of resorts and ski lodges. As we rode through I kept my eye out for somewhere that might serve brats. Nothing jumped out at me, but my eye did catch a little BBQ place. I motioned to Jon, he nodded in agreement and we pulled over on a side street.
Upon parking the bikes I immediately realized how warm it had gotten. We were still wearing our heavy jackets and chaps. As soon as we stopped moving it became apparent that the temp was now in the 90s and we had on way too many clothes. I ditched my jacket and chaps.
We walked into the restaurant. A guy sweeping the floor came over to us and awkwardly pointed us to a booth. I thought it was a little weird, but then later figured out that we had come in through the side door that had been propped open which is why we weren't greeted and seated by the usual hostess.
Jon ordered the ribs. I ordered the brisket. We both got potato wedges. It was all good.
With our bellies full it was time to hit the road again. We were in need of a gas stop so our next destination before we left town would be to find somewhere to top off our tanks.
We rode through town and I finally saw a gas station. We pulled in to discover it was very, very busy. However I hadn't seen any filling stations so I felt we had no other option but to wait our turn. Finally a pump opened and I pulled up and fueled my bike. Then I pushed it over to a parking spot and went inside to grab a soda for the road.
I spent a few minutes packing away my jacket which I had taken off before lunch, but not stored in my luggage. Once packed, I realized that my ear plugs and camera were in the pocket of the jacket. So I had to unpack it, retrieve the items, and then re-pack it. I also spent a few minutes applying sun screen as I was determined not to get burned on this trip.
For the most part this endeavor was successful. I did get burned one morning on a one-inch strip across my right wrist, in the gap between my jacket sleeve and my glove. It wasn't a severe burn, and was an isolated area so the after effects weren't too bad.
That gas stop seemed like it took a lot longer than it should have. To compound things, the temps were really starting to rise so any moment when we weren't on the bike riding was just spent roasting in the sun with no air movement, which compounded how warm it felt.
Back on the street heading out of town we rode about four blocks and came across a gas station that looked nearly empty. Isn't that the way it always works?
We continued west on highway 40 towards Craig. For about 15 miles we got stuck behind a couple of extremely slow moving vehicles. The road was just curvy enough that there was no passing allowed, but not so curvy that a person couldn't easily maintain the 60 mph speed limit. These people decided that 45 was plenty fast for them.
Eventually the slow cars turned off and we were able to open up the throttles a little more. Along this stretch Jon pulled up next to me and mentioned his bike was making a funny noise. I tried to listen, but all I could really hear was wind and exhaust pipes. We pulled over along the shoulder.
After talking a minute, I noticed that across the road was an open gravel area that was much larger than the tiny shoulder we were squeezing onto. I suggested we park over there where we could discuss the mystery noise in more detail.
I looked in the rearview mirror and saw a break in traffic. It wasn't a big break, but enough. I hastily pulled out left towards the gravel area and immediately killed my bike. Not having enough time to restart it before the oncoming car would be on top of me, I panicked and started walking my bike as fast as I could across the road. Unfortunately there's no way to walk a big bike like mine quickly without looking like a complete idiot. Jon had a good laugh at my expense.
He smartly waited for a larger break in traffic and then safely rode over to join me. We listened closely to the noise he was hearing. He said it was a "swishing" noise. I couldn't hear anything myself. I had him ride circles around me, but the only thing I could hear was maybe a little bit of rotor noise. I stated that from what he described, perhaps it could be a wheel bearing. Even if it was, though, from my experience wheel bearings get pretty darn loud before they actually turn into a "must fix it now" situation. They're not subtle.
We decided to press on. As we approached the town of Craig the clouds were looking a bit menacing. Sure enough, as we turned south on highway 13 it started to rain. I could see blue poking through the clouds, so it didn't look like it was going to last. I wasn't raining hard enough to pull over and put on rain gear. In fact, in the heat of the day it felt kind of good. So we just pressed onward and after about five minutes it stopped.
The clouds off to the west of where we were heading looked more ominnous though. I hoped that we could get ahead of them before they turned into something menacing.
We arrived in Meeker a couple hours after we left Steamboat Springs. Time-wise, Meeker was about halfway between our lunch stop and our hotel in Grand Junction that evening. I was in need of a break so I pulled into a gas station. Initially I had planned on a gas stop in Meeker, but our gas gauges said we had plenty of fuel left to make it to Grand Junction so we didn't bother topping off.
I used the restroom and bought some cheese crackers. I wasn't really hungry, but a snack sounded good. We sat on a bench outside the gas station and rested for a while. We had traveled about 400 miles so far since we left that morning, and had 100 more to go. The day was starting to get long. I took off my shoes while we were resting because it felt darn good.
After about 20 minutes of relaxing, we got back on the bikes for the final leg of the day's journey. The menacing clouds I'd been watching were really getting close now. I wasn't in the mood to ride through a downpour so I hoped we could move on to more favorable weather.
Thankfully, once we were rolling down the highway the skies ahead of us cleared up. I kept watching the skies behind us in the rear view mirror as they were getting darker and darker. Clearly we got out of Meeker just in time.
We came across some pretty intense road construction, to the point where the road was gone and we rode through a couple miles of dirt where pavement used to exist. As we were entering the construction I glanced in the rear view mirror at the storm clouds now about 20 miles behind us, and watched in morbid fascination as a funnel cloud drooped down from the sky. I tried to keep an eye on it the best I could, but it was tricky as the dirt road required a lot of concentration. After about a minute the funnel cloud disappeared without ever becoming destructive.
Out of the construction we pressed onward towards Rifle, CO. In Rifle we would enter I-70 and head west to Grand Junction on the final leg of our journey. I was following a 60's VW bus on this last bit of highway 13. I was actually fairly impressed with how well that old bus was holding speed through the mountains.
Once on the interstate, it felt like the temp raised 10 more degrees. This is saying something because for the last couple of hours it had to have been pushing 100. It was crazy hot.
As we rode, my head started to itch. I think it was from the sweat. I tried to ignore it the best I could but finally I had to do something about it. I pulled off on an off-ramp thinking I'd pull over at the stop sign. Only there wasn't a stop sign. There was a roundabout. Well, at this point I didn't care so I just stopped on the shoulder, removed my helmet and scratched myself back into serenity.
I-70 through the western half of Colorado is actually pretty scenic as far as interstates go. For the most part it follows the path the Colorado River cut through the mountains. There were sections where it was curvy enough that the normal 75 mph speed limit dropped to 55 mph. Unfortunately we were both pretty tired by this point, so while it was pretty we were ready to be done.
At long last we reached Grand Junction. I followed my directions to get off the interstate, but for whatever reason the night before I stopped my "translation" before the final instructions to get to the hotel. I pulled over in a parking lot and pulled out the map.
We were still a couple miles from the hotel, but not far now. We rode through a very urban business district and finally came upon the Palomino hotel where we were staying. Once again, the motel looked a bit "iffy" from the outward appearances, but once we were inside our room it was quite nice. In fact, this was probably my favorite hotel of the whole trip.
We unpacked the bikes and relaxed for a few minutes in the room. Jon, whose body was still fighting the sleep schedule change, was subtly suggesting that we just order a pizza and stay in the room for the night. I wasn't sure I wanted to do that, but I did point out that there was a grocery store across the street. We could go over there and buy bratwurst, then come back to the room and cook it in the microwave.
Apparently the threat of a microwaved brat was enough to motivate Jon to go out and get something to eat at a restaurant. He had noticed a Texas Roadhouse we had passed about a half mile back. Steak sounded good so I agreed.
We got back on the bikes and rode down to the restaurant. I accidentally parked on the opposite side of the building from the front door, so we had to walk all the way around to get in. But we made it, and I had a ribeye steak, salad and a sweet potato with all the trimmings. It was a very, very good steak. Sometimes when you get them they're great, and other times they're so-so. This was one of the better pieces of meat I've had.
While waiting for our food Jon mentioned ice cream, and how we never got any on last year's trip. I was pretty sure after I finished a big steak that I wouldn't have room for ice cream. But I promised I'd be up for getting some before we got home.
We left the restaurant and went to find a gas station before we parked for the night at the hotel. It was a pretty populated road with lots of businesses, so I figured it wouldn't be hard to find a gas station. We came across one on the other side of the street, but there was a median and it wouldn't have been easy to get there, so I opted to stop at the next one.
Well, pretty soon we found ourselves back at the hotel. I continued down the road searching for gas. It was very surprising how few gas stations there were on this street. Finally, a couple miles down the boulevard we came across one. It didn't look all that great, but I wasn't going to keep searching for a gas station that looked better.
We filled up, then rode back to the hotel. I had to laugh, because as we were heading back I realized that two buildings down from our hotel was a restaurant that specialized in sausage. We most certainly could have gotten a bratwurst there. Oh well. As it turned out I didn't get a brat until I was back home, and my son and I ran to the store and picked some up to throw on the grill at home.
Back in the hotel room we relaxed. Jon showered and I called my wife. I got the whole story of her bad day she'd had the day before, but with a 24 hour buffer of time I'm sure I got a much abbreviated version.
I then hit the shower and got ready for bed. Once again we got a motel room with a tremendous amount of shower pressure.
I spent a bit of time preparing the map notes for the next day. Then we turned out the lights and tried to get some sleep. I had eaten too much at the steakhouse, so I was a bit uncomfortable. Eventually, though, I drifted off.
In the middle of the night Jon woke me up. He said he thought he just heard a motorcycle start up and asked if I had left my key in the ignition of my bike again. I groggily got up and opened the door. Looking across the parking lot I could see both of our bikes still sitting there. Then I went over to the dresser and dug through my stuff and found that I had indeed removed my key.
I laid back down. As I was laying there I saw a flicker of lightning through the crack of the window shade and heard the sound of distant thunder. Then it occurred to me that's what probably woke Jon up, and he thought it was a motorcycle. In retrospect it's pretty funny.
Luckily, I was tired enough that I went back to sleep without too much trouble.
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This page last updated on 06/28/2018