2019 — Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

OFMC 2019 route

It was like the early days of the OFMC when Bill and Dennis and Ken took off for this year’s trip. Originally the group was three of us–Bill, John, and Ken. John no longer rides and a lot of others who used to ride with us have gone their separate ways so now we are back to three. We miss the camaraderie of the others but riding with three bikes–rather then ten–is a pleasure.

On a blazing hot day we headed west on I-70 and then north on U.S. 40 over Berthoud Pass and down to Winter Park and Granby. Just west of Granby we turned onto CO 125. This road goes over Willow Creek Pass to Walden, in North Park. We have ridden Willow Creek Pass north to south before but we suspect this was the first time we’ve ridden it south to north, so it was sort of the first of several firsts on a variety of roads on this trip. And it was terrific. A really nice road through a very nice area–albeit with about a million dead pine trees–and almost zero traffic.

We stopped for lunch in Walden and as we were getting ready to head onward three other guys on bikes–younger guys–pulled in. Of course we talked. Like us in the old days, they were out for a week and had no plans as to route or stops. And like us back then, if there were no motels available they had their camping gear. The one difference was that they were on much more capable machines and their gear was probably better than even ours is today. For us in the beginning, gear consisted of two gym bags loaded with stuff tied together and thrown over the seat behind us, plus tent and sleeping bag bungeed on.

Heading north out of Walden we entered Wyoming and made our next stop at Saratoga. All we wanted besides to stretch our legs was shade–it was still blazing hot! Then on to Rawlins for the night.

Hanging with Buffalo Bill In the morning we expected more heat so we didn’t put on anything for warmth. We were going to be crossing central Wyoming on U.S. 287 and that is usually a long, hot, dry run. And we got cold. In fact, we stopped twice in the first 80 miles to put on more layers because that heat just never showed up. Meanwhile, it was above 100 in Denver that day.

So north and west on 287 as far as Sweetwater Station and then north on WY 135 to Riverton. Then U.S. 26 to Shoshoni and U.S. 20 to Thermopolis. Then finally WY 120 to Cody, our destination for the day. And just a few miles out of Cody it did finally get hot.

Cody was a bustling place. Apparently the hundreds of motorcycles roaring up and down the main street were there in connection with the Beartooth Rally, which we had not been aware of. Of course, this is why we make our motel reservations in January, and this was not the only time we were glad we had done so.

Not to take anything away from Yellowstone National Park–it’s an incredible place, no question–but we’ve been there before, as in more than 4 or 5 times. So as we headed out of Cody toward the park the main thought in our minds was, just how terrible was the traffic going to be? Dennis had aptly noticed that riders coming into town from the west were warmly dressed, so we followed suit. Good plan; the morning was definitely cool.

Bill Dennis Ken One thing you need to understand is that the beautiful scenery you come to a park for does not begin at the entrance to the park. You’ll ride 20 miles west out of Cody before you actually enter the park but it is a stunningly beautiful ride. And on this morning, fresh and cool, with–as it turned out–very little traffic, it was heaven.

We got into the park, still expecting but not finding heavy traffic, and enjoyed the relaxed ride. The road runs up and over a line of hills and yes, we did get behind some campers at times, but they usually pulled over and let us pass so it was a good run. Then, approaching Yellowstone Lake, we hit a construction zone. Good-bye pavement. While Ken was on his V-Strom and enjoys some gravel, Dennis and Bill do not, but no matter--you just have to do it. And it wasn’t bad. Dennis and Bill said later they had no problems.

We hit pavement again at Fishing Bridge, where we turned north to run up to Canyon Village. Now we had traffic. This is a stretch where bison are common and yes, we did find ourselves behind a camper that stopped dead in the middle of the road to look at a bison. Really? You can’t pull off to the side at least? This is Yellowstone.

At Canyon Village we turned west, heading over to Norris Geyser and U.S. 89, which goes north and on out of the park. Traffic continued to move pretty well so we were making good time while enjoying an easy ride. There were more bison along here, including one big fellow who was lounging pretty much right on top of the white line at the edge of the pavement. So yeah, we steered a pretty safe distance away from him.

A stop in Yellowstone Then guess what? More construction zone and unpaved road. Here we go again, only this time it’s a little slick because the tanker truck we saw filling up from the stream apparently just wet the road down to control dust. But that makes things a bit trickier on street tires. Again, though, no issues. The bikes did get dirty.

Reaching Mammoth Hot Springs we passed through the village and found ourselves descending a steep incline down into the canyon of the Yellowstone River. This was when we realized that none of us had probably ever gone this way before. We had been at Mammoth Hot Springs before, but then had turned east to go out the northeast gate and on to the Beartooth Highway. Not this time.

And it was a beautiful ride. Again, the scenery doesn’t stop at the park boundary.

After lunch at Gardiner we continued north just a short distance to where we turned off for Chico and the old Chico Hot Springs resort. This is not a place you’re just going to see riding along, and it was probably a good thing Dennis had his GPS fired up to guide us to the off-the-main-road establishment.

We stayed in the old lodge, which features restrooms down the hall as so many old places did. But it’s a grand old place with hot springs pools, restaurants, horseback riding, hiking, and more. We opted to play Frisbee golf which, through the sage brush and going up and down hills, was some good exercise, especially after spending the last three days on the bikes. And then the hot pools were just what sore muscles needed.

Frisbee Golf at Chico Leaving Chico the next morning it was a short run up the valley to Livingston. We needed gas and right next to I-90 was a gas station. A big gas station. All the pumps in front were busy but there were more around back so Dennis and Ken headed that way. With a variety of hoses to choose from it was important to choose the right one. Dennis didn't. Leaving and getting on the highway Dennis could tell his bike wasn't running quite right and Bill, behind him, smelled something odd.

Frisbee golf at Chico After a while, Dennis pulled off at a gas station hoping to dilute what he took to be bad gas with good gas. Then the bike wouldn’t start at all. After a trip to a nearby auto parts store for spark plug wrenches he pulled one plug and it did not look fouled. So no easy fix. Some googling told him that the nearest Indian dealership was in Idaho Falls and the nearest U-Haul place was about 25 miles west of us, in Whitehall. We rode to Whitehall to get a truck and came back to the bike. Now we needed some help pushing this 800-pound bike up that ramp into the U-Haul. Earlier there had been plenty of strapping younger guys around but now all there were was a couple of older guys who we weren't so sure about. But with their assistance the bike was loaded. Dennis strapped it down securely and we took off.

Of course, this meant canceling our reservations that evening in Missoula and the following day in Cascade, Idaho. We got off cheap because we were able to do so.

We got into Idaho Falls after the dealership had closed but that was not unexpected. What we did not count on was that there appeared to be zero motel rooms available in town. But we lucked out and did find one. Relief! The next morning Dennis was over at the dealership before they opened and got the process rolling as quickly as possible. We walked over for breakfast and when we got back Dennis asked how it looked. The guy grabbed a beaker of some red fluid and set it on the counter. This was red diesel. It had come out of Dennis's tank.

Dennis checked his receipt and it said right there that he had purchased red diesel. It seems the plastic covers on the pump handles denote different things in Livingston than they do in Denver. Ouch! That was an expensive mistake. But a little later the guy came back out to announce happily that "We've got a diesel truck running out there." He said it might smoke a bit for a while.

We had already told the motel lady that we were staying a second night but it was early in the day. Maybe we should head for Jackpot, Nevada, a day early. A call to Jackpot confirmed that they could accommodate us, the motel lady let us off the hook, and off we headed for Jackpot, a day earlier than planned.

Red diesel Pulling into Twin Falls, Bill, who was leading, saw a sign for a bypass and took that right. There had never been a bypass here before but it made sense. But Bill had forgotten how far west it was to where U.S. 93 turns south so after just a couple miles he pulled over and said he wasn’t sure and wondered if we had passed the left turn. Ken took the lead.

Then Ken made a bad assumption. He figured it didn’t really matter where we turned left, we would just cut through town and find 93 and go west again. Just FYI, the north and south sides of Twin Falls are separated by a deep gorge. The only streets that go through are those with bridges, and there aren’t many of those.

We ended up wandering through neighborhoods, into and out of dead ends, and finally found the way back to the bypass. We headed west again, finally reached the spot where the bypass turns south, and then we were clearly on the road to Jackpot.

Of course we were going to play golf in Jackpot but what else is there to do in a tiny gambling town for three nights other than gamble? None of us left winners. They don't build those big casino hotels by sending everyone home with extra cash in their pockets. But we played golf and enjoyed a couple days off the bikes. Dennis did manage to add one more little bit of stress to his life but misplacing the fob for his bike. He can start the bike without the fob but he had locked the fork and for that the key attached to the fob was essential. It was a huge relieft for him when he found it had fallen into his boot.

After a three-night stay in Jackpot, Nevada, it was time for us to do some moving. Our next night’s stop was set for Heber City, Utah, and nearly 300 miles away. The plan was to head south to Wells and then take I-80 east through Salt Lake City and on to Heber City. This is not what you would describe as a fun ride–it was just a matter of burning up some miles. Before we headed out, though, Dennis checked his weather app and showed us that it was projecting heavy thunderstorms all along the I-80 corridor. Was there a different route?

Consulting the map we saw that there was. If we went back north to Twin Falls and then east the way we came on I-84 past Burley we would reach a spot where I-86 split off from I-84. I-86 was the way we had come down from Idaho Falls so we didn’t want that, but I-84 turned southeast to where it hit I-15 a little north of Ogden, Utah. The two roads merged and continued south until, a little south of Ogden, I-84 split off again and made a loop around Salt Lake City to the northeast, terminating when it hit I-80 coming west out of Wyoming. From there we would go west (theoretically–in actuality it was south) on I-80 to where we would jump off at U.S. 40 and go south to Heber City.

Either way we were destined to do a lot of interstate but this route would at least help us avoid Salt Lake and also the possible severe storms. We headed toward Twin Falls.

What can you say about interstate miles? You just ride them. We hit I-15 and went south and as we got closer to the urban areas the traffic started getting heavy. But those folks in Utah don’t believe in driving slow. We were in thick traffic going a steady 80 mph, and don’t you even think about going slower.

Heavier and heavier grew the traffic until we could see, just ahead, traffic at a standstill. Wondrously, this was right at our exit onto I-84 and we pulled into the right-hand lane hardly slowing down and passed all these stopped cars and left them all in our rear view mirrors. Hallelujah!

Now we were on a road none of us had ever been on before. I-84 cuts through a very pretty area that it seemed not that long ago was completely rural but is now obviously becoming something of a bedroom community for the metro areas. Sad to see. But it was a very nice ride (for interstate), with sparse traffic and good speeds. And somewhere along the way we were going to have to cut through the hills on either side of us, presumably down some canyon. And that was what we did. We turned down this canyon and now it really got nice. And there was a very welcome rest area right there that we availed ourselves of. Rolling again, we came out of the canyon, cruised on a bit further, and hit I-80. The section of I-80 we were on was also pretty nice and in about 13 miles we got off onto U.S. 40.

Now we were seeing the storm clouds we had been warned about. Dead ahead of us it was looking pretty black. The sign said it was only 14 miles to Heber City but we were pretty sure we’d be getting wet. But with only 14 miles, nobody felt like gearing up. We’d just get wet for a few minutes if it came to that.

Then we hit the traffic we had avoided by going around Salt Lake City. This was Friday and everyone in the city was heading to the hills for the weekend. Traffic on U.S. 40 was backed up, stop and go, for miles. If the rain did more than just drip, as it was doing, we’d be drenched. But we got past a lone traffic signal that seemed to be causing the entire back-up and gained some speed again. It was dripping a bit more as we rolled into Heber City but we pulled into the entrance to our hotel and quickly unloaded.

Then the skies opened up. And we didn’t care.

Heading out of Heber City the next morning the OFMC was back on extremely familiar ground. We were already on U.S. 40 so we headed southeast and then east through Vernal and on to Dinosaur. We’ve ridden this road many times. At Dinosaur it was time to stop for ice cream.

By then our riding for the day was almost done. We turned south on CO 64, to Rangely, and there we were.

The ride through Utah had been nice, weather not too hot, countryside pretty. The heat came as we came back into Colorado.

At Rangely we had a whole afternoon free so considered playing nine holes of golf on the local course. A call told us, however, that they had a tournament going on so no dice. Then a huge storm with lightning and thunder hit right when we would have been out on the course so that was probably a good thing that we didn’t play.

As we relaxed on the hotel patio a guy on a really good-looking BMW adventure bike rode up and parked right there. So of course we struck up a conversation. He was from Connecticut (I think) and had trailered bikes out with a buddy with whom he had covered a couple thousand miles all within Colorado in the last week. Now he was off on his own for another week. He said he liked that because his buddy was very fond of speeds above 100, while he himself preferred to stay at about 90.

The next morning we were headed home. It was Sunday and we were going to be on I-70 and we all know what that means: Heavy, heavy traffic coming down out of the mountains. If we got an early enough start we hoped we could slip through before it got horrible.

Getting an early start had other benefits as well. We continued east on CO 64 to Rio Blanco County Road 5, the Piceance Creek Road, which is a jog around and avoiding Meeker. There wasn’t much traffic on 64 but there was none at all on this road. It was cool and beautiful in the early morning and the valley was as green as it could possibly be, thanks to all the rain we’ve had this year. The road was clear and smooth and we just reveled in it all.

Stopping for gas in Rifle we heard from other riders that there had been a landslide the day before that closed part of westbound I-70, a little west of Glenwood. No problem for eastbound, however, and we were headed east. We saw that slide as we went past and it was very interesting. It wasn’t like you might imagine, where a hillside slipped down. Rather, there were several washes where it had apparently rained really hard and the water carried a huge amount of dirt with it and dumped it on the road in the various spots where the washes–essentially gullies–came down to the highway. One lane of westbound traffic was moving while crews worked to clear the other lane.

We made one last stop in Frisco for gas and lunch and then said our farewells. We knew we were going to get into traffic ahead and at this point trying to stay together was pointless. We took off together but before we even made it to the tunnel we were separated and on our own. We each made our individual ways home and the 2019 OFMC trip was over.

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