8th September
I wake after a night filled with bizarre dreams – I must stop eating junk food late at night…
It’s a beautiful day – cool and dry without a cloud in the sky. I pack the bike and I’m on the road just after 1000 – I notice this combination parked just outside the hotel car park…
I’m not sure whether you could use a trailer this big in the UK – especially an articulated semi-trailer. It’s carrying a pair of Gold Wings, a Kawasaki something or other and an RT. I’m not sure if they were being transported to a dealer or if they were being positioned for someone to ride. The scale of the USA makes the latter a reasonable option – if you only have a week or so’s holiday, and you want to ride a couple of thousand miles away, meeting up with your bike allows you the maximum time riding where you want – a bit like taking the ferry to Santander, rather than riding down through France.
Riding past what, I hope, was an imaginative mural, rather than a weather forecast…
…I leave Gunnison and head north on Highway 135 towards Crested Butte, a ski resort. After a very scenic ride, I arrive at Crested Butte at about 1045…
…to begin with, the 15mph speed limits and flush of chic little boutiques remind me of Telluride – though I did like their St George sculpture…
…but I was soon distracted by the presence of some venerable old bikes…
…far too many to be anything other than a rally – even some old Brit iron…
I park the Adventure a respectful distance away
and walk over and talk to a couple of the owners of these wonderful old beasts…
This is Ross van Etten, and his beautifully restored Indian straight four…
It took him 13 months of his spare time (he admits to having a lot of spare time) to restore this from a box of parts – he also has a 1921 Harley Davidson, which he shows me a picture of – predictably, it’s immaculate. He’s put 3000 miles on each of these bikes in the past year – I’m impressed 
…
I then meet Carl Vandre, who, I’m sorry to say, I don’t have a picture of. This may be because I was so staggered by his bike…
This is a Henderson V6. Henderson never made a V6. Carl decided that he’d use a couple of spare Henderson Straight 4 engines he had lying about to make one. He also decided to use the magneto from a WWII aircraft (he tells me it was a ‘Ranger’, a type I’m not familiar with).
The right twist grip is a conventional throttle – the left grip is also a twist grip, which rotates the aircraft magneto, located between the 2 banks of cylinders, thereby altering the timing.
Carl starts the bike up – it fires and burbles happily away at the first prod of the kick-start. To say I’m impressed would be a huge understatement. Carl says it took about 2000 hrs to build, working ‘on & off’ – a whole man-year.
And I feel pleased with myself for being able to adjust the valves on the Adventure…
I reluctantly take my leave and head off along CR-12, which starts as a paved road, heading west towards the Kebler Pass but, pretty soon, it changes to dirt and gravel. I’m trying to avoid riding ‘off road’ for a couple of weeks, to give my left leg a fair chance of healing itself. However, the road is well graded, almost as smooth as asphalt in many places, so I continue – carefully. I notice that, whilst engrossed with the detail of Carl’s bike, I’ve forgotten to fill up with fuel. Never mind – the ride I have planned will surely pass a gas station – won’t it?...
At Kebler Pass I meet up briefly with another few vintage bikes – including a pair of BMWs…
…this one is a 1943 – strange to think it was built at a time when Germany was at war…
I carry on past Crested Butte Mountain…
I imagine it gets its name from the rock-tipped ridge which runs up the side like the spine of some giant dinosaur¹…
The road gets a little rougher, but still manageable, and the scenery is certainly worth it…
This has to be one of the strangest notices I’ve seen posted…
…I searched high and low, but without success. Eventually I get to the end of the dirt road…
…and, soon afterwards, join the 133 and head south towards the North Rim of the Black Canyon. The fuel light has been on for a while now, and Bettie tells me that there’s a Conoco station at Paonia – about 14 miles south. I ride slowly and economically and arrive to refuel with 317 miles on the trip meter – the furthest I’ve ever been on a tankful. I fill up with 28.2 litres – the tank holds 30 litres of usable fuel²…
I stop for lunch at what turns out to be a hotbed of left wing discontent in Paonia…
…where I enjoy a chicken wrap, and read a newspaper called something like ‘The Worker’s Vanguard’. It reminded me of the stuff the Socialist Workers Party used to publish – it made a change to read mindless left wing rants, rather than the right wing ones I’ve been getting used to…
I’m soon back on the road and heading for Black Canyon. I’m on the North Rim, opposite where I was yesterday…
This is ‘Balancing Rock’ …
…I’m a bit confused as to which rock is balancing. If it’s the big one, you can’t see its base. If it’s the little one on top – I want my money back…
I’m soon all canyoned-out. It’s become unusually warm - 84º F – and there’s only a certain amount of looking into large holes – no matter how scenic – that I can take in this weather. I retrace my steps and ride north up the 131 towards Carbondale. It proves to be a great road – passing the extensive coal mines in the small mining town of Somerset, and the Paonia Reservoir – which proves to be very low – the base of the dam is almost dry and I’d estimate the water level to be at least 80 ft lower than normal – whether this is by design or drought I don’t know.
I continue up the 131, thoroughly enjoying the ride in the afternoon sun – I take a couple of pictures on the hoof, but don’t stop…
…sometimes you’ve just got to ride…
…rather than see the world through the viewfinder of your camera.
I reach Glenwood Springs just after 1700 and check into the Hampton Inn, to engage in a debauched evening of pizza, laundry and cable TV…
¹ Sorry – altitude sickness – waxing lyrical…
² Just over 51 mpg (UK Gallon)
I wake after a night filled with bizarre dreams – I must stop eating junk food late at night…
It’s a beautiful day – cool and dry without a cloud in the sky. I pack the bike and I’m on the road just after 1000 – I notice this combination parked just outside the hotel car park…
I’m not sure whether you could use a trailer this big in the UK – especially an articulated semi-trailer. It’s carrying a pair of Gold Wings, a Kawasaki something or other and an RT. I’m not sure if they were being transported to a dealer or if they were being positioned for someone to ride. The scale of the USA makes the latter a reasonable option – if you only have a week or so’s holiday, and you want to ride a couple of thousand miles away, meeting up with your bike allows you the maximum time riding where you want – a bit like taking the ferry to Santander, rather than riding down through France.
Riding past what, I hope, was an imaginative mural, rather than a weather forecast…
…I leave Gunnison and head north on Highway 135 towards Crested Butte, a ski resort. After a very scenic ride, I arrive at Crested Butte at about 1045…
…to begin with, the 15mph speed limits and flush of chic little boutiques remind me of Telluride – though I did like their St George sculpture…
…but I was soon distracted by the presence of some venerable old bikes…
…far too many to be anything other than a rally – even some old Brit iron…
I park the Adventure a respectful distance away
and walk over and talk to a couple of the owners of these wonderful old beasts…
This is Ross van Etten, and his beautifully restored Indian straight four…
It took him 13 months of his spare time (he admits to having a lot of spare time
) to restore this from a box of parts – he also has a 1921 Harley Davidson, which he shows me a picture of – predictably, it’s immaculate. He’s put 3000 miles on each of these bikes in the past year – I’m impressed …I then meet Carl Vandre, who, I’m sorry to say, I don’t have a picture of. This may be because I was so staggered by his bike…
This is a Henderson V6. Henderson never made a V6. Carl decided that he’d use a couple of spare Henderson Straight 4 engines he had lying about to make one. He also decided to use the magneto from a WWII aircraft (he tells me it was a ‘Ranger’, a type I’m not familiar with).
The right twist grip is a conventional throttle – the left grip is also a twist grip, which rotates the aircraft magneto, located between the 2 banks of cylinders, thereby altering the timing.
Carl starts the bike up – it fires and burbles happily away at the first prod of the kick-start. To say I’m impressed would be a huge understatement. Carl says it took about 2000 hrs to build, working ‘on & off’ – a whole man-year.
And I feel pleased with myself for being able to adjust the valves on the Adventure…
I reluctantly take my leave and head off along CR-12, which starts as a paved road, heading west towards the Kebler Pass but, pretty soon, it changes to dirt and gravel. I’m trying to avoid riding ‘off road’ for a couple of weeks, to give my left leg a fair chance of healing itself. However, the road is well graded, almost as smooth as asphalt in many places, so I continue – carefully. I notice that, whilst engrossed with the detail of Carl’s bike, I’ve forgotten to fill up with fuel. Never mind – the ride I have planned will surely pass a gas station – won’t it?...
At Kebler Pass I meet up briefly with another few vintage bikes – including a pair of BMWs…
…this one is a 1943 – strange to think it was built at a time when Germany was at war…
I carry on past Crested Butte Mountain…
I imagine it gets its name from the rock-tipped ridge which runs up the side like the spine of some giant dinosaur¹…
The road gets a little rougher, but still manageable, and the scenery is certainly worth it…
This has to be one of the strangest notices I’ve seen posted…
…I searched high and low, but without success. Eventually I get to the end of the dirt road…
…and, soon afterwards, join the 133 and head south towards the North Rim of the Black Canyon. The fuel light has been on for a while now, and Bettie tells me that there’s a Conoco station at Paonia – about 14 miles south. I ride slowly and economically and arrive to refuel with 317 miles on the trip meter – the furthest I’ve ever been on a tankful. I fill up with 28.2 litres – the tank holds 30 litres of usable fuel²…
I stop for lunch at what turns out to be a hotbed of left wing discontent in Paonia…
…where I enjoy a chicken wrap, and read a newspaper called something like ‘The Worker’s Vanguard’. It reminded me of the stuff the Socialist Workers Party used to publish – it made a change to read mindless left wing rants, rather than the right wing ones I’ve been getting used to…
I’m soon back on the road and heading for Black Canyon. I’m on the North Rim, opposite where I was yesterday…
This is ‘Balancing Rock’ …
…I’m a bit confused as to which rock is balancing. If it’s the big one, you can’t see its base. If it’s the little one on top – I want my money back
…
I’m soon all canyoned-out. It’s become unusually warm - 84º F – and there’s only a certain amount of looking into large holes – no matter how scenic – that I can take in this weather. I retrace my steps and ride north up the 131 towards Carbondale. It proves to be a great road – passing the extensive coal mines in the small mining town of Somerset, and the Paonia Reservoir – which proves to be very low – the base of the dam is almost dry and I’d estimate the water level to be at least 80 ft lower than normal – whether this is by design or drought I don’t know.
I continue up the 131, thoroughly enjoying the ride in the afternoon sun – I take a couple of pictures on the hoof, but don’t stop…
…sometimes you’ve just got to ride…
…rather than see the world through the viewfinder of your camera.
I reach Glenwood Springs just after 1700 and check into the Hampton Inn, to engage in a debauched evening of pizza, laundry and cable TV…
¹ Sorry – altitude sickness – waxing lyrical…
² Just over 51 mpg (UK Gallon)
