Rocky Mountains Tour - Colorado

"Gentlemen, start your engines" - we are at EagleRider's in Denver, Colorado, and after taking care of all the paperwork, we are now almost ready to roll. We - that is Werner, Erhard and myself, on our three Harley Davidson motorcycles: Werner has opted for the Heritage Softail, Erhard's bike is the Fatboy, and I ride the Dyna Low Rider. I press the starter button, the 1450 cc engine roars to life, we roll off the yard and hit the Denver peak hour traffic at 4 p.m., but what the heck - the sun is up in the sky, the baggage is safely stowed away in the panniers and on the buddy seats of the bikes, and we are ready to face the adventure of the next two weeks which will take us through six US states altogether.

The first night we spend in a Denver motel - we made reservations in advance. The afternoon gives us time to get used to the bikes and the altitude (Denver is called the mile-high city), the heat and the chance of sorting out our baggage. We know it will take a day or two until we know exactly what goes where, but since we travel light, we do not really worry about minor things like this. Maps, raingear, camera, drinks - they all go into the panniers, the rest must find room in the bags. After a good Mexican dinner we enjoy a beer (or two) and then go to bed to have an early start next morning.

The alarm clock makes us hit the ceiling at 5 a.m. - this is definitely too early! But then it is not the alarm clock, but Werner's mobile phone. Helen needs to call him to find out about some unimportant business details - for a second I'm in the mood for some gruesome killing, but then I cool down and turn around again, but it is not easy to fall asleep now. So after a while we all get up, pack our bags, and having had breakfast we leave Denver westbound on US 285.

The sun is up high in the Coloradio sky - it promises to become a nice, warm day. This is exactly what we have come here for - "Rocky Mountain High, Colorado" - John Denver's beautiful song is on my mind when we turn left at Turkey Creek and follow a small byway. The lush smell of conifers fills the air, the sunrays warm our bodies, and the mind is free to ride west.

West, yes, we are heading west instead of south, which we orginally wanted to do. Our first destination was meant to be the 1,260-foot-long Royal Gorge Bridge near Cañon City. It is the world’s highest suspension bridge, which hangs 1,053 feet above the Arkansas River. But then people have kept telling us that it is also a spectacular tourist trap with countless entry charges before you finally reach the bridge, and to top all this, it is no longer possible to cross the bridge by bike.

That settles it - now we have to turn to plan B - heading west to snake up Kenosha Pass (10,001 feet high), Hoosier Pass (11,541 feet) and finally Loveland Pass (11,990 feet, popular skiing area). So far it has been rather warm and comfortable, but the higher we climb, the cooler it gets. A patchwork of snow covers the mountains, and snow fields lie like white irregular blankets in ditches and gorges. The sun is too weak to warm you much, and the chilly wind reminds me that I have a jacket strapped to the rear of my Low Rider. Well, I don't like to be called a sissy, but it is friggin' cold up here, and therefore I just pull out the warn jacket and don't care about what people may think of me.

We stay in rainy Silverthorne (Dillon), a busy town for tourists and outdoor lovers, but the Old Dillon Inn offers good Mexican food plus live country music. The waitress greets us with the standard "Hi, I'm Cindy, I'm your waitress tonight." The music is a bit on the loud side, though, but after a few beers we don't mind it anymore, and we don't plan to stay the whole night anyway, so we grab a sixpack at the nearest gas station and retire to our motel room.

The next day we pick up a bagle and a cup of coffee at the motel breakfast counter and push on south to Breckenridge, where we treat ourselves to a grand meal. The restaurant is a lovely wooden farmhouse, chipmunks and squirrels play in the garden, and the landscape reminds me of Scotland - narrow roads that hug the towering mountains to both sides, once in a while a lake that reflects the mountain tops with its glistening icecaps - simply breathtaking.

In July Fairplayers celebrate Burro Day with pack-burro races. Racers run beside a loaded burro over a 30-mile course up Mosquito Pass (13,186 feet) and back - tough guys, and tough burros .

We pass through Fairplay, a town which would make the perfect background for any John Wayne movie, but there is a special event scheduled for the weekend: Girls' Ride, but on bikes, not on horses! All the girls of the area can hitch a ride to get to know what it's like to sit on a Harley Davidson - or any other motorbike. We are a few days early, though, and we don't want to wait for this special event - plus, we don't have any spare seat to offer, anyway - isn't this sad?

In Salida we swing west and travel US 50 to Gunnison. The road takes us through the Sawatch Range (Monarch Pass, 11,312 feet). The early morning drizzle has given way to sunny and warm weather, and we almost have the road to ourselves. Pine trees and conifers line the asphalt, long straight stretches alternate with sharp bends - we split up, each of us rides his own pace to enjoy this biker El Dorado.

Time is on our side, and we want to move on to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison, but when we ride through the city of Gunnison, we learn that it's Cattlemen's Day today - so we decide to stay and take part in this famous annual celebration. But first we check into the Swiss Inn (run by a lovely 80-year-old lady), dust ourselves off and prepare for the feast. Farmers from all over the West (literally) have come to Gunnison for the Cattlemen's Day to present themselves in period costumes, show their authentic or beautifully restored chuck waggons, and cook genuine western food for their guests. The smell of steaks, beans and coffee hangs in the air, and having purchased our meal tickets, we enjoy the hearty food of the West. No Cattlemen's Day without country music, of course, but the concert is not entirely to our taste, and we'd rather stroll around and talk to the farmers.

The next morning sees us at the entrance to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, a canyon so deep, so sheer and so narrow that very little sunlight penetrates it. Each of us purchases a National Parks Pass for $50, which grants us free entrance to 388 National Parks, a great deal, because now we do not have to pay for all the other National Parks anymore. The Gunnison River has cut its way nearly 2,500 feet below the plateau, and the 6-mile-long South Rim plateau road takes us to altogether 11 overlooks which offer dramatic views (including the feeling of vertigo) into the deep chasm. At its narrowest part the canyon is only 1,100 feet across, but 1,800 feet deep. Since the speed limit is slow 25 mph, we take off our helmets, kidney belts and gloves to enjoy the beautiful summer day "naked".

Back at the entrance we notice a small road leading down into the canyon, but a sign warns drivers/riders of its 16-percent grade. Of course, this is more an invitation than a warning to us, and so we ride down the steep descent with its numerous hairpin curves, but conscious of the danger of falling rocks we are now wearing our helmets again. A spectacular view awaits us at the bottom of the canyon, but it is not until we ride up again that we understand why the two tow trucks park so close to the granite walls. They are hauling up the wreck of a van that broke through the barrier the previous day - a gruesome sight, and we hope that its passengers may have survived the accident.

I'd rather ride on to Moab and visit Arches National Park, but Werner keeps telling us about the legendary Million Dollar Highway south of Ouray (pronounced like "you-ray"), and since we are not in a hurry, we turn south on US 550 in Montrose, pass Ridgway and arrive in Ouray as the sun is about to set. Ouray is also known as the "Switzerland of America" because of its many alpine peaks. The name derives from the famous Ute Chief Ouray, who gave the early ore miners of the area land to keep peace. There we meet Brian and his family, whom we got to know at the Swiss Inn in Gunnison. They are from Ohio and have ridden their Electra Glide and Softail all over the states. They want to do the Million Dollar Highway today, whereas we rather check into a comfortable motel, have dinner and then stroll through the town. There's a small restaurant near our motel which serves buffalo sausages - which tempts us, but it has a peculiar strong taste to it. We are not exactly painting the town red, but we do play some pool and have a few Margheritas and some beer before we finally decide it's time to get some rest.

Between Ouray and Silverton, US 550 is known as the Million Dollar Highway because the roadbed fill contains precious ore. In the early 1880's valuable columns of silver ore called "pipes" were discovered in the Red Mountain valley and prospectors, miners, cooks, freighters, prostitutes, gamblers, saloon keepers, boarding house operators, and families flooded into the area. Six towns sprang up and the population increased to more than 3.000 people. By 1883, nearly forty mines were sending silver ore to the smelters. Sadly enough, the miners also felled lots of trees, so that many mountain peaks look bare today.

On the east side of the Red Mountain Creek lies the headframe of the Yankee Girl Mine. In 1882 prospector John Robinson discovered a massive "pipe" of silver ore and staked the Yankee Girl claim, which contained an enormously valuable vein of silver. In those days this mine contained one of the richest concentrations of silver ore in the US.

We leave the Yankee Girl Mine and ride on through an extraordinary alpine scenery. The speed limit is 25 mph - mostly - although the road is in excellent condition. However, you don't really want to go fast, but enjoy the phantastic view: steep mountains to one side, deep gorges and creeks to the other side. The road takes us up and down, straight stretches alternate with hairpin curves - bikers' heaven!

We turn around in Silverton to ride back via Ouray to Ridgway, where we take US 62 west. The Dallas Divide is 8,970 feet high, so the air is fairly cool, but when we ride US 145 northwest, the temperature rises again. We are crossing the desert, the Uncompahgre Plateau dominates the east, and due to the blasting sun we are quite exhausted when we reach Naturita. There we buy gas for our bikes and treat ourselves to an ice-cold orange juice at the gas station.

In Vancorum we choose US 141 north, which leads us through the impressive Dolores River Canyon. The road clings to the flanking canyon walls to one side, and to the other side of the road we have the Dolores River, which flows through the creamy-coloured canyon. The landscape reminds me of Monument Valley, but I have to admit that riding through this canyon scenery may be even more spectacular than standing amidst the mesa landscape of Monument Valley. This is "hands-on" country, people live here, farm their land, it's not protected land like the Navajo reservation in Arizona, and you are in the midst of it - thrilling! The road winds its way through the canyon, and sometimes you have the feeling that you are riding head-on into the walls, but then the road bends left or right to give way to a different overwhelming view. It is late afternoon, and we experience a remarklable play of colors; the sun paints the sandstone formations in various soft tones of red, brown and yellowish, and the setting sun blinds me when we reach the wide mouth of the canyon. We are sad to leave it behind but we have to reach Grand Junction tonight, which is the only place where we can spend the night.