Story by Pete Jessen
Editor’s Note: This story was originally published the June 2014 edition of the MSTA Colorado/Wyoming Chapter newsletter. The story has been edited to match the MSTA website’s style.
I rolled my bike out of the shop exactly at 5:00 p.m. on a May afternoon. There’s three hours of daylight left.
That’s three hours more than a couple of months ago, when a trip into the foothills featured ice, snow, gravel and the
blackest of darkness.
My plan was to bite off small chunks of evening daylight this late spring day. by riding Colorado State Highway 93 toward Boulder. No GPS required — just ride till the sun gives out.
The evening scurry to the hills is in full force, but everything moves at a good pace. Everyone wants to get home. The snow has just receded, leaving a winter’s worth of trashy limbs and leftover leaves. No one has time for a crash tonight. My left turn signal flashes brightly as Colorado State Highway 72 comes up. Take it.
Onto SH 72 and up Coal Creek Canyon. I’m behind a 70s motor home built by GM. They were cool, but the GM’s heart wasn’t in it. They quickly gave up the Winnebago chase. This model has been well maintained, and is hauling butt up the canyon. It is the first time I haven’t needed to pass an RV for cause. The RV is pushing a brace of commuters
that lack spirit for the race. Their small engines were probably screaming in protest at having to keep ahead of the huge beast lurking mere inches from their trunk.
After the straight section ends with a few slaloms under the railway, the compacts dive off into the weeds to find their nest for the night, and the GM barrels on. There is only one place to pass legally in the canyon. As we turn onto it, the bike is a gear down and tight on the GM’s left rear bumper. It’s clear — the jump is on. The GM knows what’s up, but is out of firepower to counter.
Full throttle at max power and my Kawasaki 650 Versys blows by the GM and hard into the next turn. A beautiful series of unimpeded esses gets leads to a hard curve by the quaint real estate office that signals the intersection of SH 72 and Twin Spruce Road. Take it.
The first paved portion of this lovely path soon featured more folks headed home. Their pace is lively, however. One could almost hear the papers, coffee cups and sunglasses sloshing from side to side in the pickup cab ahead. Fun to watch until it too dives into the woods, leaving my bike to get on with the evening’s entertainment.
At the end of the asphalt pavement there is a rough section that doesn’t drain well. It’s rough, without rhythm. It’s a good warm up for the shocks and is followed by a majestic section of wide, flat, smooth, compacted, haul road. After passing the Rifleman camping area, the vistas unwind and compete for my attention. The peaks are glorious in their simplicity. The snow is amazingly deep at this time, making most of the gnarly peaks look monolithic for just a few more weeks. Any kid could draw them!
With a hard left curve, the road becomes Gap Road. No explanation, just more scenic vistas. A lovely meadow back-dropped with hard, naked flanked peaks is a favorite fall hunting ground for the camera. Squatters’ shacks, that look like the “after shot” of a hurricane, signal my approach to Peak to Peak Highway. It smells like Nederland. Take it.
Nederland is always working hard not to be Boulder, with its population of hippies and hippie wannabes. In spring it looks more unruly than average. Nederland’s best feature is a roundabout that leads to more happy smiles on SH 119. Take it.
SH 119 is an endless venue of snow-capped views that scream for you to pull over and take one more photograph. It’s a carpet of national forest laid right up to the Great Wall of the Rockies. No photos tonight. The image needs an early morning sun blast to capture its full essence. A few more miles bring the village of Ward, a great place for the hippies that can’t afford Nederland. Ward — what a pancake flat name. Why didn’t they name it “Euphoria” or “Eden” or something California-ish?
I turn one lane too soon, and it takes me through a series of ramshackle abodes, populated by big scruffy dogs that give chase. Thankfully, the street is open and allows escape. I end back on SH 119 for another run at getting past the general store and on down the canyon. I wish I were more dusty and worn. My appearance screams “foreigner” to all the residents who look at my passing. The canyon calls. Take it.
Lefthand Canyon is one of the reasons we live in Colorado. You’ll see. Lefthand is an endless series of sweepers through the woods. Pure heaven on a bike — pedal or motor. It should never end. But it gets better . . . here’s Lee Hill Drive. Take it.
I found sharp hairpins, climbs and turns in a more residential area with eclectic lodging from modest to mansion. The road will keep your attention and occasionally wow the hell out of you. As you start to descend, a meadow opens with a fabulous view of the canyon before the hogback. It is a must see, ending with the intersection of Olde Stage Road and Broadway Street in northwest Boulder. Take it.
Broadway cuts through the heart of Boulder, bisecting the Pearl Street Mall and the University of Colorado campus. Both are a magnet for the watchers and wannabe watched. No time for either this evening.
Riding down SH 93 to Golden is typically a manic scream of max performance passes or pack horse plodding. You know, stick your nose up the butt of the one in front of you and stay there till a few brief stretches of four-lane give relief. Even SH 93 is an excellent ride tonight. Everything smells fresh — except for that ‘68 rolling trash bin someone lovingly calls their “good ol’ truck.”
Back at the shop the clock says 8:00 p.m. I check in for dinner.
“Really, dear, I have no idea where the last three hours went.”
I look at the only evidence of the adventure. The perfectly black rear tire from shoulder to shoulder. I never fired the camera, but there are at least 2,000 images dancing in my head. All interesting, exciting, different and stimulating. Dang, that was a great ride!
There are hundreds of these rides in the Rockies. The roads are in great shape. The sun doesn’t disappear until 8:00 p.m. Three hours of heaven await you. Do you REALLY believe you have forever to “get in a ride?”
Help yourself. YOU LIVE IN COLORADO! Take it.