We met at Christina's Grill and commandeered a private room in the back. That meal, I sat between John, the other 'Mystery Guest' at the rally who had ridden in from Ohio, and Ruthann, who isn't much of a breakfast person and doesn't do bananas :) Stuffed French Toast, topped with roasted almonds, with a side of two fried eggs and bacon sounds pretty good, doesn't it? It was...my opposite at the table ordered the same thing and was having to defend it valiantly from the Iowan who decided he ordered the wrong thing once he saw the lovely platter.
We did have an incident where a total stranger saw our group of bikes outside, and thought to give us some encouragement, by hollering in the doorway for us to ride safe and ride strong. Near the end of our meal, he popped back in to say he was going to leave us alone now, but to ride strong (again). Rather random, and quite amusing, actually.
When everyone was getting ready to go out for the ride, Jo came over to tell me they were going to run back to the house real quick so we could pick up some riding gear in case some of the newer riders didn't want to go the whole loop, and there might be a chance to ride that way. One couple had driven to Durango from Salt Lake City, and Todd (the bearded half of the couple - Ruthann being the other half) also didn't have a working bike to ride, but was going to get his riding gear as well. Back to the ranch we go and to
ss our helmets, boots, gloves and suits into the back of the Mercedes. We headed out of town and caught up with the group at Coal Bank Pass. From there, Todd was able to ride Greg's (Jo's husband) Harley XR1200 through to Ouray, which included Molas Pass and Red Mountain Pass, going the reverse route I'd taken the day before. Greg then took the driver's seat in the Merc
edes, and we followed the last of the bikes who headed up the mountain. From the vantage point of the Merc, I got to get some really nice shots of the valleys I'd missed the day before, and we rode ahead of the bikes at one point to get some action curve shots (stupid camera is too slloooowww). I also finally figured out how to get the camera to not darken every bright shot I took, which was a nice change.At the top of Red Mountain Pass (where there was no sign to commemorate the location), all of the riders (bike and SUV) got together for a group picture before heading down the pass for lunch at Ouray. Jo
had thought I could be relief rider for Heather, since she's only been riding for about 6 weeks (right?), but Heather was doing really well and loving the ride, and since her bike had been borrowed for this trip, she wasn't comfortable with letting someone else ride it (and nor would I, in her same situation). I was ok with that, and figured I'd have to just enjoy the ride from the comfort of four wheels.
Once in Ouray for lunch, Jo came up to me and said she had a proposition...that I ride Greg's bike for the rest of the loop (another 120 miles or so), and she and Greg would head back to the house to get things ready for supper, along with Todd and Ruthann. I had to think about that one. A millisecond of thought later, I said something like, "Really??!!" It's quite a bit more bike than mine, both in weight and in power, but I was willing to try it and very grateful they were willing to offer the use of it. The bike's only a year old and had just over 1600 miles on it, so it is still practically new! I went down to the Mercedes to suit up (with mismatched socks, it turns out), and walked back over to join the group of riders. Bwahaha!When we started filing out from the parking places in front of the sandwich shop, I was third or fourth in line, ready to try the new bike out and get on the road. 550 meets up with 160 north of Ouray, and there was a gas station where everyone stopped to fill up and regroup before the next part of the loop. The rides typically divide up into three categories: the plaid group (think Spaceballs), the touring group (slig
htly peppy), and the slow group (newbies and slower bikes are often here). Since I could tell the bike was itching for a good ride, I decided to run with the plaid group, ready to stretch out a little, but not being willing to get outside of my comfort zone.The first few curves and hills fell away quickly, and the XR was always ready with more power whenever the throttle cracked open just a little more. I took an Advanced Rider Course back in September, and was able to put to good use some of the cornering techniques I'd learned. I saw some of the same technique in a couple of the more advanced riders who've had track time, so I knew I was on the right trail. After a few minutes, though, our quasi leader pulled over to turn around and go back to an overlook. Three of us followed him, and we passed the slower ones in the group going the opposite direction. When we stopped, Jim mentioned something about the fallacy of him being our leader since he wasn't totally sure how the route went, and after a couple of pics back at the Dallas Divide, we hopped back on the road to catch back up with the group. The other plaid participants had waited for us at the turnoff to 145 from 160, and when we rejoined them, headed up the road at a good clip.
One thing I really appreciated was the fact that, even though we were in a quick paced group, no one was passing on double yellow lines or in curves. There was a small group of cars in front of us, however, after a few miles, that are a rider's prime annoyance. They would go about 10 mph under the limit when the curves showed up (probably from Florida) and then speed up to about 10 over the limit when in the straight sections. After a few miles of this, the front four riders made a break in a passing zone to get around the cars. I was next to pass, but I could tell the dotted line would have run out before I could get around, so I hung back. I watched the riders ahead, and with the way the cars were acting, the first rider got clear of the cars, but only after the dotted lines had ended (and not too much before oncoming traffic was showing up), and the other ones had to merge among the cars, one of which almost wouldn't let one of our riders in.
Within seconds, I could hear the siren of a police vehicle, and wondered where in the world he'd come from. My rear view mirrors showed red and blue lights flashing on a rapidly approaching SUV, so I started pulling over to get out of the lane of traffic. He passed me and kept going around the vehicles and around the curve . I wasn't sure where he came from or who he stopped, but I had my camera ready, and snapped a shot over my shoulder as I passed one of our tall boys on a bike, sitting in front of the police SUV. When the officer was walking back to the driver side door, he stomped rather than walked, and slung his door open, so things didn't look good.
We finally got clear of the cars, and before too long were mingling with the slowest of the riders in our group. We eventually formed a loose coalition of bikes, and ended up at the Lizard Head Pass for our next 'look at the pretty mountains' picture opportunity, and waited to see if Josh would show up. His brother Charley (ie?) was convinced he'd likely get a reckless driving citation, along with speeding (although we weren't but about 7 over the limit), and was half thinking the bike might be impounded. We calculated it would take him at least 10 minutes to catch up with us, and waited. Waited. Waited. Annnddd.....there's Josh at the bottom of the hill. We waved him up to the parking area, and gathered around to hear the worst. Speeding? Reckless? Ticket?? None of the above! He ended up getting a warning, and only for passing past the dotted lines. For all his body language of utter fury, the officer sounded pretty reasonable, and since Josh has a relatively clean driving record (only two tickets ever, sounds like), he let him off with a warning. That definitely helped the last bit of the ride end with a good note.The plaid group headed out from the pass first, but at a pretty sedate pace (for plaid). One other rider had gotten a verbal warning at the start of the day (yay Brian!), and no one else really
wanted to get any performance awards, so we mellowed along the road. At one point, we were passed by a Porsche Cayenne (and if you're going to get passed by an SUV, that's probably one of the best ones to take), and the town limits of the next burg appeared too quickly for Jim to reclaim any honor lost from being passed by a soccer mom (who probably wears Gucci). In Dolores, we all filled up one last time, chugging water and chowing on snacks. I got an honorary membership approval to the plaid group, having hung in there on a borrowed bike and not doing too shabby. I'm pretty happy about being able to ride Greg's bike for that stretch because it was much
more suited to the kind of riding I was doing, way more so than my bike would have been, even at sea level.Once out of Dolores, we split with a rider who had joined the ride from another forum, and the remaining five of us headed back to the ranch. The next stretch of road really brought home how the XR is NOT designed to be ridden on bumpy roads, but thankfully it was a short section of road. I got a few pictures of the guys riding (with my usual hit or miss accuracy), and settled in for the last few miles to Durango.
We were the first few to arrive back, because the slower groups (who had passed us when we fueled in Dolores) had to stop and fuel as well. After settling in, Clair suggested we look at the bike to check the air filter and/or plugs to see what shape they were in (which had been a plan in my mind as well). Brian used to own a Ninja 500, and was familiar with the steps required to get to the air box (disconnect petcock and fuel line, remove fuel tank, loosen fairing screws, unbolt bracket over air filter and remove the filter). We pulled it out and...nothing looked wrong with it. Not dirty. Not too dry or too oily. Nothing. Since the tank was off, we (they...Jim in the pic) went ahead and took the spark plugs out. The first one came out and almost looked shiny. The second one had a bit of black on it, but not the crusted mess that was expected. Hmm. The two easy buttons turned out to be a big bust. Everything was put back together, and Brian did adjust the idle screw on the bike as one last thing to do, because it did keep sounding like it wanted to die at normal idle.
We were the last to head over and get some of Greg's famous brisket and a plate full of good food for supper. I wanted to ride in to Farmington on Sunday to go to church, and to check the general locale out for a friend. There was probably a spare bike I could borrow for the ride, but I figured I'd try it on mine just to see how it was doing.
The final event for the night was a bonfire lit in a field away from the house. The fire was big and the fire was hot. Just the w
ay I like them :) I wasn't much into the conversations around, since drinking tended to notch the vulgarity levels up, but was content to sit and watch the fire. A couple of times, when I was sitting with my back to the fire, people got a little alarmed when they thought they saw my hair smoking. I'm not sure what they saw, exactly, since my hair never got that distinctive burned smell, but I did scootch out from the fire a little, just in case. Folks started straggling off to bed as the night got later, and I kept enjoying the fire, occasionally seeing shooting stars in the night sky. Finally, around a quarter of 2 a.m., I decided sleep would be a good thing and headed off to my bunk bed.
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