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Page 2 of 3
The
storm we were warned about was real, and after riding through the canyon in
relative calm, we enjoyed the last of the good riding for the day, as we emerged into a gusty nightmare. We opted to skip a desert section as nobody
there ever been in a sandstorm, and figured today was a bad day to begin. The highways, however, were no better, and
our bikes were blown all over the road, and struggled to maintain 60 mph into
the headwind. To add to the adventure
we sought so desperately that morning, it had begun snowing again, and somewhere just East of
Salida, UT. we cried no joy, pulled off of the road, and into a rest area.
We were in Utah, in mid
June, and were stopped by sleet and snow at 8,000 feet. The roads were wet, and temperatures were
expected to drop as the storm pushed through. Jeff and I had planned on finishing the day with the boys, and then
beginning our way back East toward Buffalo, OK. to get the truck and back to our
families waiting in Georgia. Given the
weather, we decided to leave our company half a day early, and try to get in
front of this storm, using the tail wind to help the thumpers run down the fast
highway that we’d follow east.
We set out, leaving the boys
who had decided to stop at the first motel they found and hunker down, and to
try again tomorrow. Jeff and I ran out the
tanks heading East, and managed to get in front of the snow and sleet, and
stopped for gas in Green River, Utah. once again.
Another few hours on the
slab put us well outside of Gunnison, to which the clerk at Texaco assured us
was less than a 2 hour trip. We were
battling a setting sun, but decided to push on to Gunnison for the night. As the sun set, the temperature plummeted,
and we barely made it to a Rodeway Inn before our fingers turned the darkest
shade of purple. The Texaco clerk had
misjudged our time, and the 45 minutes she missed by left us in the dark, at
close to 10,000 feet, pushing the mercury into the 30’s. Luckily there was a room, and a continental
breakfast with hot coffee and waffles would greet us as we woke. I gladly handed over my Master Card for the
privilege to get off of the bike.
It was well into the 30’s
when we woke, and as we packed the bikes we had to swipe ice off of the seats
and bags before we could stuff them for the last time. We repacked, but were in no hurry to beat
the sun out today. Jeff’s KLR had taken
to burning a quart of oil per tank, and we knew stops would be plentiful as we
kept an eye on his bike. We planned to
cross Colorado, via the wonderful asphalt of State Road 56, stopping for
pictures and a break at the Continental Divide at Monarch Pass. After that we’d put our heads down and
charge across the state into Kansas. It
would be a long day, but we were missing our families, and 400 miles seemed
well worth it to get to the truck, and home in time for a bit of Sunday nookie.All was well crossing
Colorado, as we once again fought snow and ice over the Continental
Divide. Once we were below 11,000 feet
again it warmed up and the sun brightly kept out spirits up as we thumped back
East. The mountains and peaks gave way
to rolling hills, and eventually plains, and the big horizon we still could not
catch
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