We set out in 30 degrees, light frost clinging to the bike. So happy it was clear, the cold didn't bother us and we were warm by 11.
Last night, I read that Pikes Peak is not the tallest paved road - Mt. Evans, near Idaho Springs surpasses it by a few hundred feet. On our ride to Granby today, we took the road less traveled by, so we could conquer an even higher peak. Yes, I stand corrected - we were not peaked out.
Route 24 boxed us in with the Rockies at every turn. Then on to 70, a major highway, the likes of which we usually avoid. But this freeway is different. From Utah and the San Rafael Swell, into the Rockies, four to six lanes speed through constant bombardment of changing scenery. The Eisenhower Tunnel itself is an attraction in its length and the fact that it passes under the Continental Divide. So highway wasn't too bad today.
We turned off 70 at Idaho Springs to climb Mt. Evans. Not an advertised park, it was difficult to find. Route 103 was the gateway and I thought that this climb had to be easier than Pikes because we hadn't heard anything about it. Well ......
On the way to the entrance we picnicked at a secluded table by a cold stream. So many days our stops have been graced by settings that defy description. This one was at the top of the list.
A Ranger met us at the gate and immediately warned us of some road heaves at mile 9 that he called moguls. About 100 yards into the park, the road heaved and split. I knew immediately that this was going to be the ride of our lives. The forest ended about a mile in and the Alpine Tundra began. So poor was the road that chunks of it had fallen onto the switchback below. Ruts, potholes and cracks decorated our route. Each time we turned on ourselves, a car coming wide the other way could have pushed us out onto an eroding edge or into a sinkhole. The moguls that the ranger warned us about were mild in comparison because they were in a valley. Now, Pikes Peak seemed like a Sunday Ride.
Finally at the top, we realized that you had to hike to the summit. As oxygen-deprived as us flat landers are, we opted to take pictures instead. Most amazing of all was the appearance of mountain goats, climbing easily over the rocks and watching those of us who had to take the hard way up, with bemusement.
No big summit sign, no gift shop, no T-shirts. A place on the top of the world that few people choose to visit.... And I think the road stays unimproved for just that reason. Again, knees watery and eyes brimming, I gazed down at the road we had conquered and felt the powerful beauty of my country.
For me, the descent is always easier, because, at least I know what is in store for us. Even though we were often skirting road that disappeared over drop offs of hundreds of feet, we were going down!
To Jules, this was the ultimate challenge - the Black Diamond of motorcycle roads. As I clung to him with sweaty palms, he navigated curves and terrain like none other. I don't think either of us has ever been more alive.
Winter Park tonight. Rocky Mt. National tomorrow. The candle keeps burning brighter.
Breathless! Does Jules have anything along to wear that does not say Harley Davidson on it? Maybe we need to pass around the hat and send a CARE package!
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