Motorbiking through eastern San Diego county

My original intention for this weekend had been to get the bike loaded and get on the road as soon as I could Saturday evening after work. I would find a place to camp Saturday night, lounge in my tent and around camp over breakfast, hike the late morning and early afternoon away, then ride back into San Diego just before dark. I had plans to sail on Monday, otherwise I would have camped both nights. However, the impending opening of yet another show had me sticking around Saturday night to be on call for any emergencies that might crop up that night, that would need to be taken care of before the next afternoon. I know, I know--costume emergency!?! Well, it does happen, and as The Old Globe has so many performances, extra help is sometimes necessary.

Of course, as it turned out, I was not needed. And since I awoke Sunday morning to a bright, beautiful sunny day sans work, I did what I really love to do on a Sunday. I went out to breakfast--many thanks to Judy The Beauty at Big Kitchen in South Park--and then I took myself for a nice long ride. Most of today's miles were on pavement. I headed east on 94 through Jamul until I came to Honey Springs Road. A left turn there took me further from civilization to a slightly higher altitude and lovely foothill country dotted with sprawling farms.

Feeling like I had missed out on another great weekend with the RMAR Rendezvous, my heart and my motorbike went in search of dirt roads and found them.

Eventually, I made my way back north to I-8 and headed east a few miles. Missing the exit for the Sunset Highway (doh!) I hit the next exit--Buckman Springs Road--which, conveniently, had a rest stop. I had a nice long drink of water and noticed that my thermometer was reading just over 90 degrees. I hopped back on the bike and took Buckman Springs Rd to Morena Stokes Valley Road. This road immediately turned to dirt and gravel, and led into hill country to the Corral Canyon OHV area.

Oops! Pardon the finger. I love this jacket, but boy, the day was almost too warm even for that one. The thermometer was edging towards 100 degrees, and I was whisking I had armor and a light jersey instead of a full on jacket.

Oops! Pardon the finger. I love this jacket, but boy, the day was almost too warm even for that one. The thermometer was edging towards 100 degrees, and I was whisking I had armor and a light jersey instead of a full on jacket.

I rode out to the staging area for the OHV area and then kept going until I found a campground. Before leaving for San Diego, I did a little research on areas to ride off pavement, and was one of them. At the campground, I rode through to check it out. There were three or four groups of people, all with quads. Not so much with the motorbikes, or a smile for that matter. In fact, the stares looked just menacing enough that all I did was continue riding through. Was I being paranoid? I don't know, but I chose to not press my luck.

The dirt roads had sections that had gravel dumped on them for some reason. I kept flying around curves just to find there was another one ahead, only it was covered in 2-3" of gravel. I hate that!

The dirt roads had sections that had gravel dumped on them for some reason. I kept flying around curves just to find there was another one ahead, only it was covered in 2-3" of gravel. I hate that!

My original plan in riding that area had been to take Los Piños Road to Corte Madera Road which would then spit me back to the interstate. I had looked at it on Google Maps in the satellite mode, and thought it might be doable. But as I sat at the junction where Los Piños Road began, I got a little nervous. I like riding off road a lot and I have a method that works for me when I ride alone. I ride as far as I like as long as I feel relatively comfortable with a couple of things. One is that I need to be able to turn around and go out the way I came in if I got into terrain I didn't think I could handle. The other is that I need to ride in spaces that are wide open enough that if I drop my bike, I won't be run over by a quad or a 4x4 zipping around a curve. Los Piños Road failed it both categories from what I could see. So...I exercised my first rule above, turned around, and rode out the way I came in, and continued south on Buckman Springs Road to the turn off to Morena Valley.

Cooling down in some shade for a bit after riding about 20 miles of twisty dirt road in the screamin' sunshine.

Cooling down in some shade for a bit after riding about 20 miles of twisty dirt road in the screamin' sunshine.

I love all of these old oak trees. The first couple miles of this road were like a tunnel through them. They had grown ov from each side and interlaced their branches.

I swung into Morena Valley and stopped at the gas station/market for some more water. The only thing I needed was water. I had planned on just buying water. When I got to the cashier, I had water. And cranberry juice, a king-sized Neapolitan (mistake! I really only like the vanilla) ice cream sandwich, and the largest bag of chile and lime chicharrones they had. The cashier asked if I had everything I needed and told him that, yes, yes I had all the ridiculous things I could possibly need. He just laughed and said he does the same thing when he stops at stores like that. It could have been true. Then again, he may have been trying to make me feel better about my truly horrific culinary choices.

Ice cream sandwich! It's just about the only way I really eat ice cream--you know, between two cookies!

Ice cream sandwich! It's just about the only way I really eat ice cream--you know, between two cookies!

Lake Morena Road took me out of town, and hooked me back up with Buckman Springs Road, which I then followed south to 94. I headed west, back towards San Diego, and after I had gone a few miles, I started to notice a really impressive fence off to my left. My left, meaning south. Duh! It was the border, and it was a REALLY impressive fence.

See the dark line of fencing near the top of the hill--that's the U.S./Mexico border. Looks small in the pic, but its actually quite tall.

See the dark line of fencing near the top of the hill--that's the U.S./Mexico border. Looks small in the pic, but its actually quite tall.

After stopping to take a picture--in an area I'm not entirely certain I was allowed to stop in (don't tell anyone...)--I rode to Potrero and turned off onto Potrero Valley Road. According to Google Maps, this road would head north, then loop around back to 94. Only...that road split. Not into to other paved roads, or a paved road and a dirt road, or even two dirt roads. This road split into what looked like sand quad trails! Right before the split, there was a very handy sign warning drivers that the pavement ends. Well, no shit! So, once again, I turned around and headed back to 94.

 

There was a completely unnecessary sign saying "Pavement Ends".

Getting back to 94, I wound up behind a jerk who couldn't get off his phone (this is super illegal in California, but many don't pay attention to this law) and then had to sit behind him for twenty minutes when I came upon the immigration checkpoint (not on Google Maps!). I briefly considered trying to get around him and asking the immigration agent to give him a hard time because of the phone, but there wasn't really a good opportunity. They made each vehicle stop and the occupants get out so they could look in back seats, trunks, way-way backs, etc. I was waved through without having to stop. I guess they could see I wasn't smuggling any undocumented immigrants in my tank bag.

The sign on this building advertised buffalo meat. When I went in and checked out their meat department I also discovered "dog burger". Uh...what!?!

The sign on this building advertised buffalo meat. When I went in and checked out their meat department I also discovered "dog burger". Uh...what!?!

As we continued along 94, we reached Honey Springs, where I made my first turn off of the day. I decided to get out from behind the phone jerk and turned. I thought I might head to Alpine then home, but as I got to the turn to Alpine, I made the decision I hadn't put enough miles on. I headed up to the 8, then across and up to Julian again. I didn't stop there, but turned and rode to Santa Isabel. There is a bakery there called Dudley's which conveniently also sells locally made jewelry. I bought a loaf of jalapeño cheese bread and mini cinnamon rolls, then stood in the parking lot putting on new earrings while snarfing down two cinnamon rolls. Yeah, they were pretty good.

In Santa Ysabel at Dudley's bakery. I bought Cinny minis and stood in the parking lot, next to my bike, scarfing two of them down.

In Santa Ysabel at Dudley's bakery. I bought Cinny minis and stood in the parking lot, next to my bike, scarfing two of them down.

I rode on home through Ramona and Santee, a ride that has become my "usual" route. I put on a little more than 250 miles that day. I wore down the rest of the good road rubber on my tires, and I'll be ready for off road worthy knobbies next. Now, just to get back to Colorado and good off road riding!

 

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Riding to Julian: aka--The Apple Pie Run!

Sunday morning dawned sunny, with a little city haze in the sky. I had a plan, and it started with getting my gear together and doing some motorbike maintenance which included checking my tire pressure. I always forget how much tire pressure I lose when I drive from Denver to San Diego whether its in the car, truck, or motorbike. It's easy to keep on top of with the bike when I'm actually riding it, but with it getting a ride in the back of the truck out here, I didn't even think of it.

All ready to go! Chain lubed, tire pressure correct, and I topped off the tank on the way to the freeway.

 

It is expected that 60,000 people will descend on Balboa Park to celebrate Earth Day. I'm there five days out of the week, so the thought of that is sending me to the hills. More specifically, to Julian, CA. For those of you not in the know, Julian is a quaint little old town with the typical array of stores full of tourist stuff and a few local vineyards. But it is also known for its apples, and more importantly, apple pie! Or berry pie! Or peach pie! Take my word for it, there is PIE!! The ride is nice once one is off the interstate, the scenery is lovely and ever-changing as one gains then loses almost 6000 feet of altitude--hey, almost felt like home--but the real reason I go is for pie.

I took the 8 east of the city until I could hook up with 67 and head northwest to Ramona. 67 is a mostly two lane highway that, although not really twisty, is considerably more interesting than an interstate. It runs through some beautiful country, and ends in the city of Ramona, where it turns into 78 to Julian.

Lots of motorbikes were out on the road today. San Diego seems to be full of sport bikes and Harley Davidsons. I am clearly in the minority, riding a dual sport or adventure touring bike--whatever you want to call it--and even more so as a woman who rides alone. I saw no women riding their own bikes today, and as far as bikes go I saw one KTM 990 in Julian and two other GSs on the road going home. People in general were friendly though, whatever they were riding, smiling and saying hi.

Still the filthiest bike in all of the San Diego area. And I also seem to be the only person who leaves her helmet on the bike and not locked.

The Julian Cafe and Bakery was packed, with small groups of people waiting for a table. I briefly considered asking a group of three people if I could join them when they were seated (if there's a square table for three, there would be an extra seat for the fourth person...) but they were paramedics with their ambulance parked outside, and I was afraid they would get called out and I'd be stuck with the bill! Ok, not really. I'm just too shy to do that. So I wandered the town and stopped in at the Julian Pie Company for pie and coffee, and a lot of people watching.

Getting back to my bike, I swapped out my medium weight gloves for the light ones, and removed the quilted liner from my jacket. I wore my Olympia Air Glide jacket and was so glad that was the choice I made that morning. I left town and headed south on 79, the Cuyamaca Highway, and after a few fun miles of twisties, I turned onto the Sunset Highway.

At the start of the Sunset Highway.

Right after making the turn, I had to pull over. I removed the waterproof lining in my jacket so it was nothing but mesh and armor, and I opened all the vents on my pants. (I left the lining out of my pants that morning, putting it in my top case, just in case I needed it...) Two weeks ago in Colorado, I rode with my heavy jacket and riding pants, all linings in, and heavy weight electric gloves. Here, I could have ridden in jeans and a tank top!

This area was ravaged by a wildfire years ago and what was left is a beautiful ghost forest. I love riding through this area with it's stark beauty of sun bleached trees standing tall over new growth.

This area was ravaged by a wildfire years ago and what was left is a beautiful ghost forest. I love riding through this area with it's stark beauty of sun bleached trees standing tall over new growth.

That picture above is where I rediscovered that I really do ride a bike that is too big for me. I pulled off the pavement onto this little dirt road, and immediately my tires started sinking in to the soft sandy dirt. No knobbies here, so I sat back and rolled on the throttle to get myself to what looked like hard packed dirt. Here I slowed down and nearly dumped the bike as I realized my bike was up on a ridge and my legs were two inches too short! Aargh! Short woman, heavy bike! I saved it though and got myself to a spot where I could comfortably, if not gracefully, dismount.

At the top of Kwaayamii Pt. Road.

At the top of Kwaayamii Pt. Road.

I cruised on a few miles further and turned left onto a road I was keeping my eye out for. Kwaayamii Pt. Road gives one an amazing view of the Anza-Borrego desert, and it is often windy enough that paragliders and hang gliders take off from there. I saw both that day, and while the views were spectacular from where I was standing, I can only imagine what those two men were seeing as they floated over the valley.

Kwaayamii Pt. Road is the literal jumping off point for hang gliders and para gliders. The views must be amazing up there!

 

This is Bi-Polar ("My diagnosis and my handle!) He's hiking the Pacific Crest Trail.

Super windy up at the top, with stellar views.

South of that point is the northern boundary for the Cleveland National Forest. It looks like there are good possibilities for getting out on dirt roads, but there were a lot of closed gates. I also intend to look into how I get an Adventure Pass (I like adventures!) as one is required in order to play in that area. I stopped in to each parking lot that looked as though it belonged to the forest service, but everything was closed except the fire station.

So I cruised on home, swinging by the ranger station in Alpine (CLOSED! Nuts!) and taking smaller roads until I was dumped, unceremoniously, onto the 8 again. It wasn't a long day--only 152 miles--but it was a good start to my real riding season. I have to say, I'm a little jealous that people here can ride like this ALL YEAR LONG. I figure I do okay in Denver; it's rare that I go two weeks without riding, even during the winter. But truly, I could live on my motorcycle.

Things Lulu needs for her bike: new handguards and mirrors (I was supposed to do that over the winter, thank you very much bear and buck!), knobbies--thinking maybe the Heidenau Scouts, but I'm open to suggestions from Cali riders, a plastic tube for the Stebel horn, cotter pins for my pegs (apparently they broke off at some point and I'm currently using baling wire to keep them on),and a new visor for my helmet.

 

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Landed: San Diego!

Two days of driving west landed me in San Diego. Man, once I got here I was so happy to be here! Although I drove through a bunch of snow the first day, the second day was the tougher of the two. Once I got outside of Vegas, the wind blew wildly. Driving through the high dessert area of eastern southern California, the wind was blowing entire sand dunes across the highway. Sand coated the road, and I was concerned for those few motorbike riders I saw out on the road. I had to slow it down once I turned south and was hit by the wind from the west. With the bike in the back of the truck, it made me high-profile, and I felt the truck rocking back and forth as gusts hit me. It was a little unnerving, but Thumper the Ice Queen, The Cos', and I made it into San Diego safe and sound; I was exhausted, the shocks on The Cos' are now squeaking from hauling me, my shit and the bike, and Thumper is officially the filthiest bike in San Diego.

 

But I don't care--I'm here!!!

This group of 8 women riders on Harley Davidsons passed me in southern Caifornia. I was excited to see such a large group of all women riders. Welcome back to So Cal, Lulu!

My company has given me a town home in Point Loma, surrounded by the Navy's former NTC buildings and marinas as far as the eye can see. I am walking distance to restaurants and stores, including Trader Joe's, and I pass an In N Out on my way home each night. My commute involves about a fifteen minute ride on two freeways. Although freeways are not usually my favorite roads, the 163 is twisty and lush with wild tree and plant growth. It's usually clear, so it's a pleasure to ride.

Thumper sweetly tucked into the garage with The Cos'. And 4 bicycles.

Going from the garage to my bedroom is like hitting the gym and using the Stairmaster!

 

My town house came with three beach cruisers and one mountain bike. Who wants to visit??

The first week and a half here, the sun refused to come out. It was damp and cold, and I'm pretty sure there was a stretch of about five days when I was never warm. Not once. But, yesterday morning dawned bright and sunny, in that clear blue sky kind of way that San Diego has. Not a cloud to be seen and the sun was warm. I ate lunch sitting on the wall of the dog park, absorbing the sun and getting my vitamin D. It was still sunny and gorgeous when work was done, so I hopped on my bike and road up the coast. Finally!

I CANNOT keep the hair under control! At the state beach parking lot in Cardiff By The Sea.

Gorgeous sunset that night. First time having a motorbike at the beach in 16 years. Ahhhh...this is what it's all about!

Despite the numerous stop signs and lights, it was a great ride. I passed a number of motorbikes going the opposite direction, and when I pulled up at a stop light, there was a woman on a bike in the next lane over. I looked over, smiled and waved, and the bitch stuck her nose up in the air. There she was, on her shiny Harley, and there I was on my filthy dual-sport. I'm not gonna lie, my feelings were a little hurt. I get so excited when I find other female riders, I just assume other women do too. Apparently not. But, that didn't stop my great ride, and my nice evening on my bike. It felt so good to be out, riding the coast, smelling the sea air.

One note: I discovered I REALLY need a new visor on my helmet!

 

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From 2 wheels to 4 this weekend

Saturday morning, I took my last ride in Colorado for a while. Josh, Ian and I left the house a little after 8:00 am and headed south. We rode down Santa Fe (it has a highway number, but I never remember what it is!) until we hit Sedalia. We turned right and headed west and south, eventually into the Pike National Forest. I've done this ride a couple of times, and its a great twisty little road, which eventually ends in a fork made up of two dirt roads. I don't think I've written about it before because the last time I rode this was the day I hit the deer, and that seemed to be a little more at the forefront of my mind--go figure!

The V-Strom is so big it makes Nalla look like a normal-sized dog!

At the fork, we went left. Both roads are really easy dirt roads; the road to the right is about three miles with a steep grade about halfway through, and the road to the left is ten miles with a bunch of switchbacks. Ian was leading, and a couple of miles in he pulled up and pointed right, shouting at me that the trail over there was the "Noodle" the single track that they took the 1150GS and the 650 V-Strom on and bashed up their bikes. They asked if I wanted to do it. I declined.

At the end of the dirt road, we turned left on 67 and rode a few more miles to Decker's Corners. Without stopping, we turned right at 126 and started heading north again. We rode up through the area where Ian and I spent a couple weeks last summer, and turned into the Jefferson County Open Space where Baehrden Lodge is located.

We stopped to use the facilities and gaze up at the lodge and our beautiful log railing we built. There were loads of cyclists getting there at the same time as us, getting out their bikes and getting ready for rides on a beautiful sunny spring day.

Ian and Josh. This was my last ride with Ian as a single man--he's getting married in June!

 

The building in the foreground is a maintenance building for the open space. The one in the background with the peaked roof is Baehrden Lodge, an historic log home we worked on with Historicorps.

From the open space, we turned and headed about a mile back the way we came and turned left on a road that took us past The Bucksnort tavern, and back up to highway 285. I was glad that was the choice. The last time I rode from the Jeffco Open Space, I attempted wildlife population control with my motorbike. When we got back to the Conifer area, we got off the highway and headed out to Evergreen. It was obviously a weekend, and traffic got heavier the closer we got to Evergreen. I had been leading once we left the open space, and was quite dismayed to find that as we turned into Evergreen and rode through heading towards Morrison, I was behind two big flat bed trucks FILLED with porta-potties.

Aargh!!! Following trucks of crap down the road was not what I wanted to be doing!! We got to Idledale and I told the boys I would be turning onto Grapevine Road if the trucks didn't get out of our way. They didn't, so I did, and we rode the twisty little single lane road which was part of the first ride I ever rode with the guys, back when I rode The Red Devil. The sun was out and once we got past the heavy residential section, we clipped along at a good pace, standing around the gravelly curves and having a great time. The road spit us out onto I-70, and we cruised home.

The three of us then loaded the bike into the back of the truck. Not the place I like to have my bike, but I am headed to The Old Globe Theatre in San Diego for three months of work. I couldn't bear to be parted from my motorbike for that period of time, so she's going with me. I hadn't originally planned to go back to San Diego, but I needed to work, so I said yes. As the time has grown near and I've had to get ready to leave, I find myself pretty unhappy to be going. I didn't really want to leave Colorado, my friends, home, and family. And now I am really sad to be leaving my new love, Miss Nalla.

But, on the plus side I get to spend time with my family while I'm in California, and I've already been given maps of places to ride near San Diego. My next few blog entries should be all about the great times I'm having riding in the national forests east and north of the area. I'm going in search of dirt, and have all my camping gear to spend weekends far from the city. Know of any areas I shouldn't miss? Leave me a comment and I'll head out there.

Do you think anyone would mind if I taught Nalla how to drive the truck and I rode back here?

This morning, I got the truck loaded with clothes, motorbike and camping gear, work tools and books, and an unbelievable number of shoes. I gassed up before getting on the freeway, and headed out of town. Passing motorbikes going in the opposite direction on this trip, I know what they are thinking. "Sad and pathetic! Who puts a motorcycle in the back of a truck?? Just ride the damn thing!" No, really, that's what they're thinking. I mean, that's what I have always thought when I've seen it.

After nine hours of driving, I'm sitting here in a hotel room in Cedar City, UT. Apparently all Mexican restaurants are closed on Sunday nights, the one place I figure I can always find a beer here! So, after a crappy dinner with no beer, I'm watching an Ashton Kutcher/Kathryn Heigel movie with one redeeming feature--Tom Selleck!

 

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First ride of 2013!!

We've had a few days in the last couple of months where I could get the bike out for a short ride, and if it wasn't actively snowing or icy, I have ridden to work. But St. Patrick's Day was the end of a beautiful week, and on the Tuesday before, I sent a text message to a bunch of friends saying let's ride!

I got messages back almost immediately from everyone, and it looked like six people were up for riding that day. There would be three dual sports, two street bikes, and one cruiser. Come Sunday, we were down to four riders. We had an 1150GS, a 650 V-Strom, a 650GS, and a Suzuki GS500. Weather reports called for partly cloudy, windy, and 50-57 degrees depending on where we would be. Everyone met at my house, we made a stop to get gassed up, and we headed west into the mountains.

Getting ready to head out. What, you want to join next time? No problem, my driveway is large enough to be a staging ground for a dozen bikes.

We rode through Golden to Golden Gate Canyon Road (one of our usual twisty foothill runs) and headed to 119 with me leading. About six or seven miles before reaching 119, Ian and I are chatting away on our Senas, and I say, "What the...!?! Is it snowing?" Ian assured me that it was not, telling me I was just experiencing drifting dandruff from the back riders. In case I haven't mentioned this before, my friends and I are super classy.

By the time we got to 119, it was actually snowing, not just flurries. We all pulled over to discuss what to do. We could head back through Blackhawk, grab a cup of coffee and go home, or we could keep going. We decided to keep going--if it got worse, we would ride more slowly. So onward we went to Nederland, home of the Frozen Dead Guy Days. (If you don't know what that is, look it up. The video, "Granpa's in the Tuff Shed" is worth a view!)

Our first stop to determine what we were going to do--continue on or go home. You can't tell, but its snowing at this point.

We made it to Nederland through a little more snow and on wet roads, but nothing scary. We stopped briefly to take stock once again. We looked in the general direction we were headed and all concurred that it didn't look bad and we should keep on going. If it got bad, we would just ride more slowly.

Heading out of Nederland, it was briefly windy--as it always is in that town--but then the sun came out. It felt warm on our bodies and definitely warmed my spirits. I don't like riding in the snow and generally do everything I can to avoid doing it. I stay plenty warm with my gear, the heated grips, and my Gerbings electric gloves, but I would just prefer to not ride in the snow. Call me crazy--go ahead.

A couple miles outside of Nederland, the sun went away, and the snow came back. And then more snow came. We slowed down, and though the roads were wet, I could still easily feel the road through my tires, knowing I was making good contact. Then we came around a curve and the patches of snow, left by the plows, on the side of the road and the middle of the road went all the way across. There was nothing to do but ride through it. I am sure many people would say, " No big deal, I ride through that all the time." But I don't ride through it all the time and it freaked me out!

So I held on, stood up on my pegs a little (not sure why, it's just what I do on loose dirt so I thought it might apply here...) and rode through it. Okay, that wasn't so bad. It had been warm enough the week before that it was just slushy. Tire still made contact, and at that point nothing new was accumulating. A few miles on, the snow would get heavier and start accumulating on the road itself. We were behind two cars who were driving at slower speeds, and we just stayed in their tire tracks. The three of us who could talk via the Sena headsets all said we were riding with our masks up so we could see through the snow and not fog up.

Dennis, Ian, and Josh in front of the Oskar Blues bus.

When we got to highway 7, we turned right and headed towards Lyons. The original plan had been to go left and go to Estes, but as the clouds appeared dark in that direction, the choice was made to drop elevation and get out of the snow. We had all been there before, it's not like we were going someplace new and fascinating. And to be honest, a pint at Oskar Blues Brewery in Lyons sounded fascinating to me.

Me, Dennis, and Ian in Lyons at the Oskar Blues Brewery.

We pulled up and parked and had the only bikes that were not cruisers. There were easily 20 of them lined up, and the brewery was filled with men and women in jeans and leathers, enjoying the day. I hoped they weren't heading to where we had come from--they wouldn't have liked it.

When we left Lyons, Josh was leading and we rode out to Boulder and down 93 to Golden. (Does this sound familiar?? I swear I wind up on that road more often than not!) Josh and I talked about ideas for lunch, and then I went back to music and he and Ian talked about lunch. Eventually Josh came back to me and we realized poor Dennis was really just along for the ride. The three of us could all chat and Dennis was just hanging out with no idea where we were headed. To be honest, although we occasionally discuss wildlife or future trips, we mostly just listened to music.

The ride to Boulder was windy. Heading through town on Broadway, we were able to see the way college students were celebrating St. Patrick's Day. Inebriated young men and women in skimpy bright green clothing, skipping down the street. They looked like they were having a great time, but I'm pretty sure Monday was going to hurt.

We made our way down 93 to Golden, picking up a Gold Wing at the back of our pack. It was windy. It was actually windier than I had ever experienced on that road. Everything was fine until a place in the highway when the passing lane on our side was ending. A woman driving a convertible Jaguar came flying up on our left so fast, not one of us ever saw her coming. She managed to get behind Josh (who was leading) and wedge herself next to Ian and in front of Dennis and me. When she realized she was going to run people off the road--I can only assume that's what was going through her head--she moved into the center of the undivided highway, and sped around a car in front of us. She was driving like an asshole, and we were all relieved when she turned off the highway and we could continue in windy peace.

We cruised into Golden and stopped at Woody's for lunch. Ian, Dennis, and I had a Killian's Stout in honor of St. Patrick's Day--and the first ride of the year--and Josh had herbal tea. Don't judge. Well, go ahead. We did. After some riding in circles around town, Ian headed out his own way and Dennis, Josh and I came back into town via 32nd Ave.

Killian's Stout--on tap for St. Patrick's Day--brewed at our own Coors Brewery.

I had planned a 200 mile ride. We only put about 125 miles on that day, but it was great to get out and RIDE! Now I just have to figure out where I'm going next weekend....

 

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Ice Racing!!!

I had never even heard of motorcycle ice racing until a couple of years ago. Charlie Dallas, one of our props carpenters at the shop (Buell, AJS, 1976 Honda CB200) has been trying to get to the races for years, and each year I have thought I might go. This year, I finally went. I'm pretty sure the temps never made it out of the teens, and we were standing on a frozen lake, but we had a blast!

Gorgeous blue sky made up for the fact that it was freezing. Once the sun went behind the mountain though, it got cold. Quickly!

We headed south to Rainbow Falls and the Harry's Roamers Motorcycle Ice Races, but none of us really thought about how long it would take. It is off Hwy 67, just north of Woodland Park. It was almost 11am when we arrived, and we thought we might have missed a lot of it. There was so much more to come.

Motorcycles, trikes, and quads all race in their own classes, and there are bare tire and studded tire classes. The quads and trikes were fun to watch slide around the track, but I thought the real fun was the two-wheeled races. Duh.

Studded tire class. Long low fenders prevent ice chips from flying dangerously.

Studded tires on a stadium bike

The studded tire races were pretty incredible. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but this wasn't it. They were riding on ice and HAULING ASS around the track, taking the turns at insane lean angles. After reading some posts on ADV Rider, I expected a lot more riders to be wiping out. Those instances were actually pretty rare.

First rule of ice racing on two wheels--the left foot always stays down

Bummer dude

The bare tire races were my favorite. They were a little slower, and riders stayed nearly vertical, but there was a constant worry about whether they would stay upright or not. The amateur class only had three riders, but two out of the three were women, and a woman won!

The amateur beginners' class the two far riders are women.

Siped bare tires. I'm sure it helps, but it was still iffy out there.

The variety of motorbikes out on the ice was impressive. Professional racers on high dollar bikes were in the pits next to beater, late model trail bikes. I saw one Harley Sportster, and there were four or five stadium bikes. The stadium bikes were especially fun to watch. The back ends would swing forward in the curves so the riders were basically sliding through the curves sideways. There was one class of bikes with single wheel outriggers, and the children's class of motorcycles had several little ones riding with two-wheeled outriggers. The kids on the bikes were so cute!

The stadium bikes were awesome

Trail/dirt bikes were the most common

The best race of the day involved riders starting on foot. They had to run around a smaller track in the infield, then head to their bike which was being held up by a friend. They would then jump on, start the bike, and take off. The field of competitors was huge and they must have run close to twenty laps, but watching them run/slide/eat it on the way to the bikes was hilarious.

I have found what I will be doing next winter. Beginner bare tire class, you better look out! Whatever trail bike I pick up this year will become an ice racer next January. Fun all year 'round!

 

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