Well, I’m getting far behind on all my writing, so I’ll make this far more brief than it should be. I’ve been back on the road since Memorial Day Weekend. This time I’m focusing my travels on Colorado solely. It is a state that truly deserves its own trip. I’m also switching bikes since there’s a tremendous amount of rough roads and Jeep trails that access the many abandoned mines and mills, and a significant number of ghost towns.
so many ghost towns…
June was spent outside of Moab, Utah though. I was invited back to help with Veterans Charity Ride (VCR), which I was honored to be a part of again. For this year and last they are doing multiple smaller rides, instead of the one big ride to Sturgis. I didn’t participate last year, but I was there for all three rides this year, piloting a sidecar for one trip and riding a solo-bike for the other two.
Motorcycle therapy is a viable concept, but since I live off of a motorcycle it doesn’t really work that way for me. It’s hot or cold or the wind is trying to pull my head off, or I’m covered in dirt and bugs. It’s not complaining; that’s just the reality of getting around on a motorcycle and sleeping outdoors.
So VCR helped me connect with other veterans, get my head more realigned, and allowed me to enjoy both being on a motorcycle and being of service to others. I’m grateful every time I get a chance to participate in this program. I also got a deeper understanding of my own personal journey. The founder, Dave Frey, is someone I consider a personal friend and a fellow deep-thinker…in the conversation for what is possible.
A few of our 1-on-1 chats got me thinking outside the paradigm of “survive today, and try to make tomorrow better.” That conversation is still going on almost a month later, and this year’s exploration is far more metaphysical than my 2022 road trip. The big ones are out there: who am I, who do I want to be, what should I be dedicated to, what guiding principles bring these things about, where do I belong both in physical space as well as in community…deep stuff.
But it isn’t a swirl of silliness or general pondering. I said I’d keep this post brief so I sure as hell won’t be going into detail now. The main thing is to update people on what I’m actually seeing out here on the road. I’ll try to keep up proper posting intervals but I am camping in dispersed locations that usually don’t even have water, let alone electricity or wifi. It’s mostly flies and mosquitoes, squirrel and deer, and another damned bear encounter.
This guy decided to taste test my shoe while I was pondering alone in the woods.
The General Plan
Yes, Colorado, here I come (am). I’m trying to cross Colorado from west to east, but it also needs to take two months. That means north/south zig-zagging, many a Forest Service Road, and crossing some of the toughest mountain passes the continental US has for motor vehicles to traverse. I’ve already made myself very sick and weak from a combination of poor eating/exercise habits and the altitude.
Another problem is that I’m extremely skills as a motorcyclist, but at least 95% of my experience is on asphalt. This makes it very hard to self-assess my skill level when technical terrain appears. Rocky sections have proven the worst so far, as the heavily loaded rear of the bike does not want to follow the front wheel when things skew sideway. It is exhausting to ride at these altitudes, the bike is quite heavy and unbalanced, and I’m more out of shape than I realized.
Snow in July at these altitudes is totally common, though there is more than usual I’m told.
There’s also the obvious danger of losing balance on a ledge and sending me or the bike off a cliff. Many trails are one-lane and two-way, and passing Jeeps while teetering on a ledge is a bigger deal than I thought it was going to be. I’m also trying to bag as many mountain passes as I can, while seeing as much human history and physical reminders of our nation’s past. That means remote areas, as the big cities have a lot of history paved over or accessible by paying a fee. They’ve also got panhandlers, distracted drivers, no free places to sleep, and seriously high prices for everything.
But let me not digress. I’ve seen some of the kitschy tourist towns of Colorado: Telluride (passed right through), Ouray (felt like Frontierland at Disney, but nice to stop for some photos), Gunninson (still a working town despite its history), and I was able to stay with my friend Patrick at the remote (but gorgeous) lodge they own and run. That few days is its own story, and I’m actually going back Aug 4, so perhaps I’ll talk more about him, his wife Jess, and the lodge after that.
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Johnny Killmore 