|
527
miles
to
pick
up
my
junk
mail?
By
Kevin
Pinkham,
Sales
Although
I
have
been
a
permanent
resident
of
Colorado
for
the
last
13
years,
I
still
suffer
from
a
flatlander’s
affliction.
(Also
known
as
Cornhusker’s
disease)
I
have
poor
judgment
when
it
comes
to
weather
here
in
Colorado.
With
that
in
mind,
here
is
my
adventure
from
September
25th.
It
was
a
perfect
day
for
a
ride.
The
sky
was
a
brilliant
blue
that
is
only
seen
here
in
Colorado
during
the
fall.
Not
a
cloud
in
the
sky
and
a
very
nice
72
degrees.
I
safety
checked
my
Ducati
ST2
for
a
ride
that
I
thought
would
be
approx
1
½
hours.
I
threw
on
some
summer
vented
riding
pants,
BMW
all
around
boots
with
BMW
socks
and
a
touring
jacket
sans
the
liner.
On
such
a
nice
day,
my
shirt
of
choice
was
a
coolmax
short
sleeved
t-shirt.
I
really
hate
overheating
in
my
gear.
Looking
like
Darth
Vader
(black
from
head
to
toe)
I
set
off
for
my
favorite
ride:
The
Big
Thompson
Canyon
and
Rocky
Mountain
National
Park.
My
intention
was
to
pick
up
my
mail
in
Estes
Park,
ride
the
loop
from
the
main
entrance
to
the
north
entrance
of
the
park.
This
is
only
approx
5
miles.
The
aspens
were
in
full
color
and
the
elk
were
singing
their
songs
of
love.
Aahh
yes,
it
is
fall
in
the
mountains.
What’s
this?
The
ranger
at
the
entrance
just
took
down
the
“Fall
River
Road-
Closed”
sign.
I’m
in
luck!
My
ride
just
got
extended
for
the
day.
Hey,
it’s
only
1pm
and
this
is
possibly
the
last
time
this
season
I’ll
be
able
to
ride
Trail
Ridge
road.
So
I
hit
the
road
and
headed
up
towards
the
old
ski
area-
Hidden
Valley.
The
temperature
was
about
15
degrees
lower
than
in
Loveland,
but
still
quite
nice.
Not
many
people
on
the
road
at
this
point.
Guess
everyone
was
gawking
at
the
elk.
Bonus
for
me!
The
roads
are
decent
in
RMNP,
but
not
the
greatest.
At
least
this
time
of
year
you
don’t
have
to
watch
out
for
gravel
mounds
in
the
middle
of
the
road.
I
like
to
get
my
bike
out
of
3rd
gear
occasionally
and
that
means
breaking
the
speed
limit.
4th
gear
at
5000
rpm’s
is
about
65mph
on
my
bike.
Since
Trail
Ridge
was
closed
earlier
in
the
day,
no
one
is
on
the
road.
Yippee!
I
blast
by
Beaver
Meadows
and
Hidden
Valley.
Many
Parks
curve
and
Rainbow
curve
soon
follow.
The
exhilaration
of
the
ride
and
the
crisp
mountain
air
fuels
my
speed
as
I
reach
the
Lava
cliffs
in
record
time.
The
roads
are
now
hugged
with
snow
cuts
a
few
feet
deep.
It’s
obvious
the
plows
were
working
hard
the
past
few
days.
By
the
time
I
reach
Gore
Range
overlook
(one
of
my
favorite),
I
failed
to
notice
the
temperature
has
plunged
below
the
freezing
point.
There
are
chunks
of
snow
on
the
road,
melting
from
the
sun’s
intense
UV
rays
upon
the
tundra
plateau.
I
get
a
few
odd
looks
from
the
tourist
passing
by.
A
few
thumbs
up
and
a
couple
of
laughs.
It’s
obvious
to
me
now
that
I’m
doing
something
that
few
others
thought
of
for
the
day.
Or,
even
worse
yet,
were
smarter
that
I
traveling
in
such
extreme
conditions.
I
make
the
turn
from
Gore
Range
overlook
and
start
heading
down
to
the
Alpine
Visitor
Center.
This
is
the
highest
elevation
on
Trail
Ridge
at
12,138
feet.
It
was
around
that
corner
that
my
ride
took
an
unfortunate
turn.
(No
pun
intended)
I
failed
to
notice
that
the
road
was
now
in
the
shadows
and
that
melting
snow
is
now
ice.
My
back
tire
slid
out
to
the
left.
In
what
can
only
be
described
as
an
ice
racers
maneuver,
my
right
foot
planted
on
the
road
and
held
the
bike
in
a
45
degree
angle.
A
white
truck
with
a
green
stripe
was
approaching
from
the
other
lane.
Oops,
a
park
ranger!
I
slid
out
of
the
ice
and
back
onto
dry
road
and
stopped
within
5
feet
of
the
terrified
ranger.
She
yelled,
“Why
the
hell
are
you
riding
your
bike
up
here?”
My
reply,
“because
it
was
open”
did
not
please
her.
She
suggested
that
I
continue
to
Grand
Lake
and
not
back
to
Estes
Park.
The
sun
was
starting
to
get
low
and
ice
would
be
covering
many
of
the
curves
I
just
rode
past.
I
agreed.
My
stop
at
the
Alpine
Visitor
Center
was
out
of
necessity.
After
the
“ice
racer”
maneuver,
I
needed
to
relieve
what
was
left
in
my
bladder.
Stretching
for
a
few
moments
and
noticing
my
hands
arms
and
legs
were
now
numb,
I
took
time
to
snap
a
couple
of
photos.
Documenting
such
stupidity
is
always
good
for
a
few
laughs.
That
is,
as
long
as
you
survive
the
ride.
At
least
I
could
leave
some
lasting
memories
to
loved
ones
of
my
final
journey.
Descending
to
Never
Summer
Range
was
a
blur.
My
body
so
frozen
from
the
alpine
weather,
I
decided
to
stop
at
the
Kawuneeche
Visitor
Center
to
warm
up.
The
ranger
tending
to
the
center
asked
if
I
was
heading
up
over
the
pass.
I
asked
him
“which
one?”
“Trail
Ridge”
he
replied
with
a
big
grin.
When
I
told
him
I
just
came
from
there
he
looked
rather
puzzled.
Apparently,
the
rangers
from
the
other
side
failed
to
inform
him
that
the
road
was
open.
Or,
he
realized
that
it
had
just
opened
28
minutes
ago
and
how
fast
I
must
have
ridden
to
arrive
at
the
Visitor
Center
in
such
a
short
time.
My
departure
was
swift
as
I
left
him
to
do
the
calculations
in
his
head.
Now
what
to
do?
I
wasn’t
planning
on
going
over
Trail
Ridge.
I
could
go
to
Winter
Park
and
jump
on
I-70,
then
up
I-25
and
back
home.
It
was
early
afternoon
and
plenty
of
sunshine
left
to
get
back
before
sunset.
I
decided
to
ride
to
Walden,
up
125
then
take
highway
14
down
the
Poudre
Canyon
and
back
to
Loveland.
125
is
a
nice
open
road
with
plenty
of
vista’s.
I
stopped
to
take
a
few
pictures
of
the
bike
and
try
to
warm
up.
My
jumping
jacks
caught
the
attention
of
a
local
farmer
gather
hay
bales
and
he
decided
to
see
what
was
up.
Nice
guy
with
no
idea
what
a
Ducati
was
or
where
it
is
made.
After
telling
him
of
my
adventure,
he
said,
“That
must
be
one
hell
of
a
bike.”
“Wouldn’t
try
to
do
that
on
my
’72
Harley.”
He
also
suggested
that
I
avoid
going
over
Cameron
pass
due
to
all
the
snow.
Damn!
This
after
riding
within
5
miles
of
Walden!
Had
I
known
this
prior,
I
would
have
taken
the
southern
route.
After
arriving
in
Walden
and
re-fueling,
I
decided
to
give
a
call
to
friends
of
mine
in
Steamboat.
Dinner
plans
were
made
for
5pm
and
I
was
to
meet
them
at
Giovanni’s
Ristorante.
During
our
fine
Italian
meal,
the
conversation
came
up
as
to
where
I
was
heading
on
my
“trip”.
After
telling
them
Loveland
and
the
ensuing
laughter,
the
question
posed
was-
what
was
I
doing
riding
the
bike
so
far?
My
lighthearted
reply
was
“having
fun”.
Unconvinced,
they
then
asked
if
I
was
planning
to
go
back
tonight.
My
“Yes”,
left
them
dumbfounded
and
questioning
my
sanity.
After
a
great
meal
and
finally
regaining
feeling
in
my
torso,
I
departed
for
Craig.
The
sun
was
getting
low
and
I
assumed
I
had
a
few
more
hours
of
light.
I
could
not
have
been
more
wrong.
Outside
of
Craig
heading
towards
Baggs,
WY
the
sun
set
and
I
was
riding
blind.
I
failed
to
bring
(along
with
any
winter
gear)
a
clear
visor.
Combine
that
with
speeds
in
excess
of
the
century
mark,
I
believe
my
relatives
had
enough
to
have
me
officially
committed.
I
actually
believed
I
could
make
it
back
to
Loveland
safely.
It
was
about
15
minutes
outside
of
Laramie
that
I
passed
Bambi’s
cousin,
Mr.
Antelope
within
mere
feet
and
at
a
very
high
rate
of
speed.
That
was
all
I
needed
to
get
a
grip
of
reality
and
call
it
a
night.
Spending
$45
on
a
hotel
room
was
worth
living
to
ride
another
day.
I
arrived
late
to
work
on
Tuesday
morning.
The
only
thing
that
was
warm
on
my
body
was
my
feet-
courtesy
of
my
BMW
boots
and
socks!
The
rest
of
my
body
finally
thawed
on
Friday
night.
Next
time
I
decide
to
ride
up
to
Estes
Park
to
pick
up
my
mail,
I
will
make
use
of
my
side
cases
and
pack
a
few
extra
pieces
of
clothing.
Oh,
and
perhaps
my
GPS.
Sure,
riding
527
miles
just
to
pick
up
a
couple
of
Sierra
Trading
Post
catalogs
and
a
sweepstakes
entry
may
seem
extreme.
But,
on
a
Ducati,
it’s
just
another
blissful
ride.
|
