7/26/14 Threading the Needle

True to its name, the Silver Thread Highway threaded us through the rain today.

An early start form Durango, saw us out on route 160 in beautiful weather.  Riding into the Ute Reservation, we passed Chimney Rock. A national landmark created by erosion, the stony formation juts into the skyline . We paused here to appreciate this oddity.

Into the San Juan Forest again, we began a lovely ride of ascents and descents into Pagosa Springs. Here we headed north on route 148, the Silver Thread Scenic Byway. Loosely following the Rio Grande to its roots, the road is scenic, historic and a mighty fine ride.

We stopped for lunch in a campground planted by the river. Clear skies had given way to fluffy clouds and now as we got into the mountains these cotton balls had picked up all the moisture they could handle and were angry and dark, exploding everywhere. Thunder echoed from the mountains as we watched a storm roil toward us, trying to ruin our picnic. But we stared it down, rejoicing in its shade, and watched it head away. Just as we were relaxing, a clap of thunder from behind announced another boomer rolling in. So we packed up. 

On the way out of the campground we met Melvin, the camp attendant. Many retired people spend their summers in RV's watching over these state parks. A low talker, Melvin had us listening intently to his stories of being a football coach and teacher, told in his Texas drawl. He assured us that the road to Lake City tracked right between these two storms and we wouldn't get wet. A friendly man in this lonely spot, he seemed hungry for conversation.

So we threaded the storms. Following the river, the road took us through Creede, a once thriving town built on silver, with a population of 10,000. Now boasting a population of 400, the town exists on tourist trade. Once the home of Bat Masterson, Calamity Jane and Bob Ford ( the killer of Jesse James who was shot here himself), Creede is kept alive by tourists who come to immerse themselves in its history.

At the Slumgullion Pass between Creede and Lake City, we were given a modern geological lesson. The Slumgullion Earthflow began 850 years ago when an earthquake ripped out the top of the mountain. About two hundred years ago, the earth began to move again. The red dirt still continues to flow at approximately 20 ' a year. An active geological site! We looked for movement and were glad we saw none, because we had to ride right under it. The flow got its name because it looked the unappetizing stew prospectors used to make. 

From this pass we could also view the massive mountain range peaked by the Uncompahgre Peak. The Rio Grande Pyramid on the other side of the divide is the birthplace of the grand river that flows from here for 1850 miles to the Gulf of Mexico. Surrounded by such grandeur, we failed to notice that our thread through the storms began to disappear.

Lake City sits on Lake San Cristobal, the result of the earthquake and ground movement at Slumgullion. After passing through here, we picked up the Gunnison River and followed it to our home for the night. Pursued by thunderclouds, we were rained on briefly, but soon dried off in the next patch of sun. The Gunnison cuts deeply into the rock, creating beautiful canyons that we followed to the city of Gunnison where we rest for the night. Even on our dinner trek out to the Gunnysack Cowboy Bistro, the rain threatened us, but we rode there and back unscathed. At 7700' we are sleeping in our highest elevation of the trip. Breathe!

Getting home dry in the Rockies is a crap shoot. We have learned to disregard the ominous clouds, claps of thunder and darting lightening. There is no planning with these fickle storms that pop up every day and everywhere, sucking up the heat and laying down cool green moisture. Some days, like today, we are lucky and feel confident in our good fortune. But, our rain suits are always packed on top for the next foray into the clouds.

Chimney Rock

Our ride

The Rio Grande

Our picnic spot by the Rio Grande

Our picnic friend

The Rio Grande starts out as a stream through meadows

The Uncompahgre

The Slumgullion Slide

We ride under the slide

Creede

An abandoned silver mine

The Gunnison

An antique steam tractor

7/25/14 The Million Dollar Ride

For most of the day, we rode on silver and the ride was priceless.

The Million Dollar Highway, Route 550 from Montrose to Durango, certainly gave us our money's worth. Also known as the San Juan Skyway, It was built with the overburden from mines, historically estimated to be containing over a million dollars worth of silver. Our interpretation of the name is that the experience of riding this singular road is worth well over a million.

From Montrose through Ridgeway we passed desert then farmland. Soon trees lined the road and the rugged peaks that define the Colorado Rockies began to appear. Gearing down into Ouray, the fun was about to begin. One of my favorite towns in the Rockies, it is cupped into a box canyon, insular and protected. Home to artists and writers, there is no surprise that creativity oozes from the walls of this tight little box. One can only wonder what happens in the winter when the gates come down on the roads and the residents snuggle down in their cozy town.

We crossed a dubious bridge and climbed s-curves to reach today's picnic site. Over 500 feet above Ouray, we drank wine, ate cheese and lived in the wonder of our place accompanied by the sound of a nearby waterfall. The town sat below us, seeming as unreal as a Christmas display. All it needed was snow.

But snow was not the issue. Thunder, distant lightening and dark clouds were also part of our picnic entertainment. We watched the storm track across our intended route, calmly waiting for it to pass. Why rush from heaven? Too soon the storm swept by and it was time to leave but we knew what a great ride was in store for us.

Atop Ouray and into the mountains, we leaned over unguarded cliffs and then soared up to the next dogleg that took us even higher. My gut feeling was that they should have used some of that million dollars worth of silver to put up some guard rails! At 10,222' we reached the Red Mountain Pass. Abandoned silver mines appeared sporadically along the way. Breathless we attacked the incline to Silverton. Swishing through curves, we angled ourselves to the hill and won the road evading the blossoming thunderstorms around us.

Silverton appeared as if we have ridden through a time warp. One paved road, the historic hotel and town hall define it. The thrilling antique cog rail steam train ride from Durango brings tourists here for the day and a small economy has been built around that. A stage coach and The Shady Lady Saloon can be found on a secondary dirt road. At night, they roll up the sidewalks, and dogs howl at whatever is wild. We know, because several years ago we stayed in the hotel. 

Every time we have been in Silverton, it has rained. Not so today, but bikes rolling in from Durango carried riders looking like drowned rats. Again we took the challenge and jumped into the clouds. Our first test was the Molas Pass. Direct lightening and thunder pulled us to a halt as we suited up for the rain. From this height down and then up again to the Coal Bank we had successfully challenged two 10,000' passes in the rain. Every time we have ridden here, the afternoon rain is an element. Finally, we have begun to accept it as part of the picture.

Durango is always a disappointment at the end of this ride. Hot and flat, the segue to the next range, it is a large and busy city. We closed the door on our day here, glad to kick off our boots and settle in. 

There are no mountains comparable to the Colorado Rockies in The US. That is why ,on our trips, we save them for last. If we rode here first, everything else would be small change. Geologically incomprehensible, they take us through formations built by eons and humble us with their grandeur. The Almighty Architect's hand is eminent at every twist and turn revealing even greater mysteries. Sublime!

My favorite town in Colorado

Boxed in

The road to our picnic spot

My lunchtime view 

My face says it all

And then there's nothing!

A silver mine

Montana Roja

Just wow!

Silverton

Looks busy!

Only one paved street in town

I want to live here

We flirted with this cloud all day

7/24/14 Escape From Utah

Sometimes it can be a good thing when it rains on your parade...

Last night we fell asleep to the sound of fireworks, oblivious to the colossal event in which we were entangled. Only at breakfast did we find out that July 24th is  Pioneer Day, a state holiday commemorating the arrival of Brigham Young and his band of Mormon settlers to the Salt Lake area in 1847. SLC has a huge parade, but so do most of the smaller towns in the state. Vernal was amping up for a big one too, and since there is only one way out - Main Street - we would be trapped once the parade began. Speed packing put us on the bike only minutes after we heard this news and we squeaked through town in the rain, watching the streets lined with umbrella covered parade goers. Moments later and we would have been trapped, although a small town parade can never be a bad thing.

Route 40, also known here as The Dinosaur Diamond Prehistoric Highway, took us through several other small Utah towns preparing their celebrations. Escaping the festivities, we rolled into Colorado with not much of a scene change. Through Dinosaur ( prehistory reigns here), we turned onto route 64 to Rangely. A God-forsaken stretch of road, the desert heat was abated by gentle rain that cooled us, then evaporated as quickly as it had fallen. Dirt roads with actual route numbers branched off with warning signs admonishing travelers to go at their own risk. Jules looked longingly at every road and switchback that climbed up above us, he and Rascal yearning to fly a little higher, but knowing that they were bound to the mundane paved world.

But then we did get to soar. The Douglas Pass Road, Route 139 from Rangely, took us to the clouds. Our first Colorado pass, it gave us the promise of what was to come in these Rockies. Winding up open edges to the summit, then funneling down through narrow passageways, we knew we had arrived in the state that is the king of great rides.

Diving back into another of the many basins we have ridden through, we prayed for rain to cool us and it did. The smell of thirsty old dust, tasting water for the first time in months, filled the air. At Grand Junction we picked up route 50, part of the "Loneliest Road in America" and headed south to Montrose where we are spending the night.

Prehistory and history ruled our ride today. Geological mysteries encapsulating millions of years, Triassic dinosaurs, ancient native tribes and recent historical religious settlement traveled with us. At night, I wander aimlessly through the internet, trying to capture pieces of the past I have just experienced. Frustrated by the enormity of the task, I must close my browser and my eyes, sink into the pillows, relive the day and relish in the mere essence of other times.

Don't rain on our parade!

Ready to parade

No Jules, you can't!

Climbingthe Douglas Pass

How quickly the scene changed

7/23/14 So Spoiled

So I don't wear a sun bonnet, a long dress and many layers of underclothes. I am also riding at high speeds with a bit of cooling from the wind and not walking beside my wagon under this grueling sun. How can I complain when pioneer women endured this territory, full of unknowns and little recompense. One of the reasons the Donner Party failed to cross the Sierras before winter was because they got bogged down in the salt flats. I am spoiled. 

After carving our way through the smog and traffic of Salt Lake, we found trees and fresh air on route 190 through the canyon. Zionesque walls of geological history, telling the story of the ancient sea that once covered this area, lined the road. Each breath was like a cool drink from a mountain stream after the stifling atmosphere of the valley. 

With the elevatation came a myriad of ski slopes sculpted into the mountains. Always studying the map, Jules had found the Guardsman Pass. A road made for skiers, it took us on a ride equal to any black diamond slope. Unprepared for this adventure, I harangued my ever stalwart husband with curses and tears as we careened on a one lane pitted road up to some of the most beautiful views that I actually managed to enjoy. And yes, it was a real road and we landed in Park City, surrounded by condos and too much civilization. Again, my guide, my hero, managed to terrify and excite me with the path that he had chosen.

Route 40 ( yes, the same one that runs all the way to the Jersey Shore) was the next leg of our journey and it headed us through rolling green hills into the desert. Lunch at Starvation State Park on the Starvation Reservoir caught us sitting with faces into the lake's breeze, watching speed boats show off their rooster tails.  Aptly named, pioneers who attempted to settle in this area (why?) encountered cruel winters and impossible growing seasons. 

The afternoon furnace booted up as we left our lunch. Riding through the basin afforded little entertainment and plenty of BTUs. Water bottle after water bottle clued us that it was time to end the day. We parked in Vernal, not quite making it to Colorado, but glad for shelter from the heat. This town's claim to fame is that many remains of dinosaurs have been found here. I heard they died of an elevation in temperature.

Every day that we are on the road writes a new memory for us. Inscribed in my mind will forever be today's ski slope thrill, our blue lake picnic, and maybe the pink dinosaur at the entrance to Vernal. I refuse to remember the heat.

Out of SLC

Zion?

Park City

Picnic entertainment 

Vernal, UT