By Dean DeVito


T.A.T. - The Ride of a Lifetime, part 2

We had a pair off road mountain passes ahead of us, and would be charging directly up to almost 12,000 feet. Our failure at Hancock pass made Tim and I eager to get back out there and try another pass. It had been an incredible experience that morning, and even though we were turned around before reaching the summit, riding at that elevation in snow and ice covered tracks had created a buzz, and fired a determination to reach the summit, crest over it, and point the tires downhill.

Tim and I wanted more, and the rest of the fella’s wanted an off day. In the end, we split the group. Tim and I remained on the trail, and faced nearly 300 miles which included, two off-road mountain passes, a few short miles of twisty roads way up where the Aspen trees grow, and several miles of single-track and OHV trails before we’d get to rest at Moab that next night. The others would stay and fish, and take about 150 miles of slab to Moab later in the day.

With the schedule tight, and the day to be packed with terrain that promised to both thrill and challenge, we rose early, and were pumping burned hydrocarbons into the atmosphere, 650cc at a time, by 7am. It took a few hours to get to the base of Cinnamon pass, and I used that time to loosen up and try and shake off the cold and frost that had greeted us on our tents that morning. This proved to be difficult, however, since the wind chill factor was winning as we continued to climb up and wind down lesser peaks and passes. I alternated putting my hands on the air cooled fins of the DR 650 to try and keep my fingers pliable, but there was no use. The wind was removing heat an alarming rate, and we remained thoroughly chilled all of the way until we stopped for gas and coffee at a peculiar little shop. They had ATV’s, gas, snacks, coffee and lawn equipment parts available for purchase.  We passed on all but the gas and coffee.

Cinnamon Pass lies just miles ahead, and without much fanfare, we turned off of the asphalt and onto the gravel pass toward the summit. The gravel road wound around the edge of the mountain, and there was no guard rail to speak of to make up for any misjudgments in pace or traction. Consequently, we tread easily and did our best to watch ahead. Lessons and warnings about target fixation are common, but real time applications such as this are hard to come by. Playing a constant refrain in my mind was, “look where you want to go.”  Mind over matter, they say...but I certainly minded the cliff off of the road to our left, and knew that it could matter.

As we crested 10,000 feet the snow was beginning to return, despite the clear blue Colorado sky, and intermittently we were axle deep in mud washes and snowmelt. The route Tim carefully plotted on the GPS seemed unnecessary now as any deviation from the track beneath the tires would result in a spectacular fall, or a collision with a snow bank; given the choice I’d take the latter, but fortunately, neither of us had to make that decision.

Off camber switchbacks became the norm, and the rate of climb became more intense as we traveled around the mountain and continued toward the summit. We were the only motorcycles on the pass, and we drew awkward gazes from tourists in rented Jeeps. Carefully we’d pass, wave, and continue until we reached the top…11,640 feet above sea level.