Cedaredge was over our shoulders as we rode out toward the mountains. Down into the valley toward Montrose, Jules thought he could get an oil change, but we encountered yet another Harley dealership that has closed. Hard times are apparent everywhere.
Out toward the mighty peaks, we were hot under valley skies, but clouds on the mountains started sucking up the heat of the day.
Route 550, the "Million Dollar Highway", took us up and away from the valley. There are several explanations for this nickname. Jules and I thought it was because it costs millions of dollars to keep the road in service. White lines disappear as roadway crumbles down the cliffs.
My favorite tale of the naming of this road is that the builders used discarded gravel from nearby mines to construct the amazing pass through the mountains. Later, to their dismay, they found that it was loaded with silver. Whatever the reason for the name, a free-falling roller coaster ride up and down 11,000 foot mountain passes was priceless to us.
Down into a box canyon, Ouray nestles impossibly surrounded by rising cliffs and winding switchbacks. A charming town that enchants me, one has to realize that living here means you can't leave in the winter. Riding up and out, you look back at great heights and think it is only a dream.
Toward Silverton, the clouds that were full to capacity, loomed. We rode through the town, revisiting sights from an earlier trip, the "Bent Elbow" and "Shady Lady" saloons. At the end of the Million Dollar Highway, this town is wonderful. There is no through road, so at the end of the day, when the train to Durango stops running, they roll up the sidewalks. This happened as we sat at a cafe, watching the stage coach wheel through, waiting for better weather. By 4:00, there were few tourists left. It seemed that the rain had lessened, so we took off.
Around the bend, more dark clouds appeared and we hit rain, thunder and lightening. Loving the fact that we were back on the road after our delay in Silverton, it didn't matter. We roared on, but stopped in Durango, where we bunk tonight, because weather was still happening all over the place.
On the back of the bike, I take the lesser hit of the elements. When the rain starts to feel like BB's hitting our faces, Jules hunches down behind the windshield. I crouch behind his back. But as he cautiously watches the road ahead, I peer into the rear view mirror to look at the sunlit valley behind. He navigates, I dream.
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