Friday, June 11, 2021
Let me put it this way:
Let me put it this way:
My morning had started with a ride down from Grand Mesa that wasn't particularly noteworthy; far less so was fueling up in Clifton, making my way to US-50, and just a few miles later swinging right onto CO-141.
That's when noteworthiness started.
CO-141 was exactly as I'd foreseen: a curvy stretch of smooth pavement I had entirely to myself, winding through a narrow canyon that was occasionally almost lush with riparian vegetation.
That's when noteworthiness started.
CO-141 was exactly as I'd foreseen: a curvy stretch of smooth pavement I had entirely to myself, winding through a narrow canyon that was occasionally almost lush with riparian vegetation.
For a while I found myself in a zone rather more populated than I expected, and began to think I'd misperceived the route as being utterly desolate. But the dwellings then became less frequent and soon there was rarely an indication of human habitation.
Meanwhile the scenery became steadily more dramatic, as the road gradually descended into a broad valley rimmed by ever taller cliffs and red rock mesas.
Alas, I was then brought to a halt at the construction zone of which I'd been warned during my first few seconds on CO-141.
I sat for twenty minutes chatting with the flagman, who mentioned he was taking delivery of a new Gold Wing the next day.
Meanwhile the scenery became steadily more dramatic, as the road gradually descended into a broad valley rimmed by ever taller cliffs and red rock mesas.
Alas, I was then brought to a halt at the construction zone of which I'd been warned during my first few seconds on CO-141.
I sat for twenty minutes chatting with the flagman, who mentioned he was taking delivery of a new Gold Wing the next day.
Eventually a pilot truck appeared in the distance. It gradually crawled up to us, then pulled aside and waited as a very long string of traffic moved past.
Finally it was time for me, alone, to follow the pilot truck south. I hung well back as we drove for several miles on deep loose chip seal pea gravel. Some interminable time later we reached and passed the oil spreading equipment and I was free.
But it wasn't long before I was compelled to pull over, and record that video clip.
Ahead was a landscape more like the Grand Canyon than anywhere else I've ever been.
And I was riding right through it.
Finally it was time for me, alone, to follow the pilot truck south. I hung well back as we drove for several miles on deep loose chip seal pea gravel. Some interminable time later we reached and passed the oil spreading equipment and I was free.
But it wasn't long before I was compelled to pull over, and record that video clip.
Ahead was a landscape more like the Grand Canyon than anywhere else I've ever been.
And I was riding right through it.
Gateway Canyon was jaw dropping from the start, and with every turn another stunning vista revealed itself.
My jaw kept dropping for mile...
My jaw kept dropping for mile...
...after mile...
...after mile...
I hadn't had an experience like this since the Canadian Rockies.
It was further enhanced by a particularly apt musical soundtrack that had emerged randomly from my iPod.
I'm looking forward to crafting this CineMusicalMotoEpic when I get home and get a decent video editing deck up and running on my desktop computer. I wouldn't do this ride the injustice of hacking a video together using the Windows photo editor on my Surface Pro, which technically works but has provided disappointing results so far on this journey.
*
I muttered bad words when I came to this sign.
It was further enhanced by a particularly apt musical soundtrack that had emerged randomly from my iPod.
I'm looking forward to crafting this CineMusicalMotoEpic when I get home and get a decent video editing deck up and running on my desktop computer. I wouldn't do this ride the injustice of hacking a video together using the Windows photo editor on my Surface Pro, which technically works but has provided disappointing results so far on this journey.
*
I muttered bad words when I came to this sign.
But then I told myself, have some perspective, John, have some perspective.
I consoled myself that no matter how bad the upcoming stretch might be, I'd just had one of the most astounding rides of my life.
Eventually I concluded the sign must have been referring to 35 miles of brand new and utterly flawless blacktop winding along the Dolores River, during which the terrain gradually wound down into scenery I'd describe as merely "typical southwestern".
I consoled myself that no matter how bad the upcoming stretch might be, I'd just had one of the most astounding rides of my life.
Eventually I concluded the sign must have been referring to 35 miles of brand new and utterly flawless blacktop winding along the Dolores River, during which the terrain gradually wound down into scenery I'd describe as merely "typical southwestern".
CO-141 continued south from Naturita and I was eager to see what it had to offer.
It was worth riding. There was a segment with some great curves, and a long straight stretch during which there was nothing better to do than have an extended conversation with Therese's alter-ego, Scarlett.
It was worth riding. There was a segment with some great curves, and a long straight stretch during which there was nothing better to do than have an extended conversation with Therese's alter-ego, Scarlett.
The scenery here was not lacking in epic desert vistas, but didn't compare to where I'd just been. And the further I rode, the more I found myself dwelling on the notion of riding Gateway Canyon from south to north; by reversing direction of transit the landscape would reveal itself in an entirely different manner, and I dearly wanted to know which way would be "better" before I recommended the route to anyone or, better yet, guided my riding buddies through it.
But there was no telling how soon, if ever, I'd be back this way. Even for someone who tours Colorado as often as possible, this was a pretty remote place.
As I'd studied and refined this route in the condo on Grand Mesa I'd noted a possible fallback option should continuing the ride prove undesirable, for example if I found myself riding through intolerable heat. Rather than continuing south on CO-141 after Naturita I could instead go east on CO-145 and land in Telluride, one of my favorite towns.
At this point I was far south of Naturita -- too far to return there, in fact; I had no option except to continue to Dove Creek for gas. But I began to reformulate my plan, which never had a particularly firm destination; I'd expressed to my family the ambition of reaching Flagstaff, but that I might stop as early as Monticello Utah (possibly camping in the mountains west of town) if I was in danger of melting.
Now, rather than heading west toward Monticello from Dove Creek, my thought was to go southeast to Dolores, then north to Telluride.
I'd book two nights. Tomorrow I'd leave my camping gear and soft luggage behind for the day, ride Gateway Canyon south-to-north, then return and enjoy a Saturday night in Telluride.
There was only one problem with this plan, and that was getting a room in Telluride for the weekend with no prior reservation.
*
In Dove Creek I refueled Therese and enjoyed a cold drink and ice cream from the gas station convenience store. The day had gotten fairly hot toward the latter part of the ride, but I sat outside on a bench in the shade.
Calling the historic New Sheridan Hotel in Telluride, where I'd stayed more than once, I was amazed when my inquiry about a room for Friday and Saturday wasn't summarily dismissed; apparently there was a possible cancellation. He'd call back in ten minutes.
When he did it was with bad news, but he suggested other possibilities. A chain of calls did locate the requested vacancies, but for nearly six hundred dollars. I thanked him and declined...because I did after all have the option to camp. I recalled that Frecks and Katie had found what he said was the best site of their entire 2018 tour just outside of Telluride.
I geared up and motored southeast toward Cortez, then turned left to Dolores, hung another left on CO-145, and rode north to Telluride.
It was a fine day for that ride, which I've done many times.
But there was no telling how soon, if ever, I'd be back this way. Even for someone who tours Colorado as often as possible, this was a pretty remote place.
As I'd studied and refined this route in the condo on Grand Mesa I'd noted a possible fallback option should continuing the ride prove undesirable, for example if I found myself riding through intolerable heat. Rather than continuing south on CO-141 after Naturita I could instead go east on CO-145 and land in Telluride, one of my favorite towns.
At this point I was far south of Naturita -- too far to return there, in fact; I had no option except to continue to Dove Creek for gas. But I began to reformulate my plan, which never had a particularly firm destination; I'd expressed to my family the ambition of reaching Flagstaff, but that I might stop as early as Monticello Utah (possibly camping in the mountains west of town) if I was in danger of melting.
Now, rather than heading west toward Monticello from Dove Creek, my thought was to go southeast to Dolores, then north to Telluride.
I'd book two nights. Tomorrow I'd leave my camping gear and soft luggage behind for the day, ride Gateway Canyon south-to-north, then return and enjoy a Saturday night in Telluride.
There was only one problem with this plan, and that was getting a room in Telluride for the weekend with no prior reservation.
*
In Dove Creek I refueled Therese and enjoyed a cold drink and ice cream from the gas station convenience store. The day had gotten fairly hot toward the latter part of the ride, but I sat outside on a bench in the shade.
Calling the historic New Sheridan Hotel in Telluride, where I'd stayed more than once, I was amazed when my inquiry about a room for Friday and Saturday wasn't summarily dismissed; apparently there was a possible cancellation. He'd call back in ten minutes.
When he did it was with bad news, but he suggested other possibilities. A chain of calls did locate the requested vacancies, but for nearly six hundred dollars. I thanked him and declined...because I did after all have the option to camp. I recalled that Frecks and Katie had found what he said was the best site of their entire 2018 tour just outside of Telluride.
I geared up and motored southeast toward Cortez, then turned left to Dolores, hung another left on CO-145, and rode north to Telluride.
It was a fine day for that ride, which I've done many times.
I'll skip detailed descriptions of seeking a campsite near Telluride; they're as hard to come by on a weekend as hotel rooms.
I considered camping "anywhere" in the national forest nearby, as the kid at the Shell station suggested before his lady manager stepped in to make sure this scruffy-looking character settled farther from town.
I was more amused than offended.
What finally happened was a ride that took me ever farther west, where (after many more miles than the lady at the Shell station had implied) I did pass some primitive campsites along the San Miguel River that would have been quite nice, but were miles from anywhere; I'd hoped to find somewhere close to a grocery and internet access and a place to charge devices, be it a brewery or tap room or just a rural dive.
In Norwood I stopped at a motel that appeared wide open -- but was completely booked for a wedding party that had not yet arrived.
I poked at Googlemaps on my phone and found the Naturita Lodge, where I had no difficulty booking a very inexpensive room for two nights.
I'd not been favorably impressed by Naturita when I'd ridden through it several hours earlier; it was little more than a wide place in the road where the local drive-in was called "The Uranium".
Naturita did, however, have the singular advantage of being exactly where I wanted to start the next day's ride.
The hotel manager was kinda wacky, kinda creepy. He and his unseen but audible wife lived with a mob of similarly invisible and extremely yappy little dogs that raised an obnoxious ruckus every time I so much as emerged from room #1.
The room right next to the office.
Just like Marion Crane's room at the Bates Motel.
Dark stains on the carpet didn't make the place seem any less murdery.
I considered camping "anywhere" in the national forest nearby, as the kid at the Shell station suggested before his lady manager stepped in to make sure this scruffy-looking character settled farther from town.
I was more amused than offended.
What finally happened was a ride that took me ever farther west, where (after many more miles than the lady at the Shell station had implied) I did pass some primitive campsites along the San Miguel River that would have been quite nice, but were miles from anywhere; I'd hoped to find somewhere close to a grocery and internet access and a place to charge devices, be it a brewery or tap room or just a rural dive.
In Norwood I stopped at a motel that appeared wide open -- but was completely booked for a wedding party that had not yet arrived.
I poked at Googlemaps on my phone and found the Naturita Lodge, where I had no difficulty booking a very inexpensive room for two nights.
I'd not been favorably impressed by Naturita when I'd ridden through it several hours earlier; it was little more than a wide place in the road where the local drive-in was called "The Uranium".
Naturita did, however, have the singular advantage of being exactly where I wanted to start the next day's ride.
The hotel manager was kinda wacky, kinda creepy. He and his unseen but audible wife lived with a mob of similarly invisible and extremely yappy little dogs that raised an obnoxious ruckus every time I so much as emerged from room #1.
The room right next to the office.
Just like Marion Crane's room at the Bates Motel.
Dark stains on the carpet didn't make the place seem any less murdery.
But Larry would have approved of this room because a motorcycle can be parked mere inches from the bed.
Well, OK, perhaps he wouldn't actually "approve" of the place.
In fact I'm not sure anyone would "approve" of the place.
But it did meet the most important requirements for my purpose: nearby food, very good cell service and internet, a power strip, and location, location, location.
In fact I'm not sure anyone would "approve" of the place.
But it did meet the most important requirements for my purpose: nearby food, very good cell service and internet, a power strip, and location, location, location.
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