Day 6: Messages From the Universe
It was at that exact moment, at about 10:00 AM on the morning of Day 6 of the 2019 Prefrontal Tour that the universe decided to send me a message. I licked a stamp and RSVP'ed "Loud and clear. Over and out.", then pulled to the side to let a tailing truck go past and turned to descend back below the snow line...
We left Ouray early, to multiple "Special Weather Statements" and "Winter Storm Warnings" above 9,000 feet, not that you could tell from the beautiful sunrise reflecting off the cliffs above. Destination - Silverton, then Durango, and ultimately Cortez. But we'd need to make it through Red Mountain, Molas and Coal Bank Passes first, all near or above 11,000 feet.
We hit the first switchbacks literally at the end of Main Street and climbed quickly above the town, all matchbox houses and early morning shadows. It was 34 degrees with driving snow and we had a lot of climbing to do if we were going to make it over the first pass. Susan would have loved the ride - a cliff on the left and a sheer precipice on the right with nothing but the white painted line to keep you from falling a few hundred feet.
The temperature kept dropping as we wound our way up the S-curves, some posted at a glorious 10 miles per hour, and I cranked the heated grips from STUN to KILL. It started to snow even more heavily halfway up the eastern slope, and the temperature dropped to 25 degrees. By the time we got to the top the road was a slushy combination of melting snow and that red cat litter they use on the roads in Colorado, coming up through the tunnels and collecting on the controls. Snow plows went past in the opposite direction with the blades down, and I began to question my better judgment.
We made it through and down, passing dozens of avalanches, their broken trees lining the chutes and still pointing downslope to the pile of concreted snow and jumbled trunks at their bottoms, at one point driving right beneath one - through a tunnel that was built in what is probably an annual avalanche zone. I was never so happy to see the temperature return to 30 degrees as we pulled into Silverton for coffee with two more passes to traverse on the way to Durango.
We departed after about an hour, snow still falling heavily and by now coating the bikes and making the roads a wet mess. As we climbed the face of Molas Pass the temperature dropped again and the snow fell so hard it was impossible to see the surrounding mountains - it was us and the road. It began to collect on the evergreens, and then along the roadsides, tenuous fingers reaching into the lanes.
At one magical point there was a line across the road and the pavement beyond was white. Goldwings aren't known as snow machines, and Dunlop Elite 4's are basically heavy slicks with very few sipes or features to divert water and snow. I thought I felt a wiggle or two as the snow continued to pile and then I received the message like a bolt out of the blue. Going upslope and around a corner the rear end gave a wiggle that was undeniable, and I made the necessary reverse maneuver, slowly descending in the slush to the first turnout to wait for Jack.
We collected ourselves at the Visitor's Center back in Silverton, where the attendant assured us it would be snowing for six more years and we would do best to consider buying a house. The ambulance went howling out of town, retracing our route from earlier, on the report of a car having slid off the road in the pass we'd just summited.
She was right for about the next hour and a half, when magically at 11:30 the clouds parted and several inches of snow melted in minutes. But that was in town - what would it look like back up in the passes?
Not to be deterred we had invoked a backup plan, and a tow truck arrived from Durango shortly after noon. He assured us the roads were now clear and we tipped and thanked him and mounted back up. The temps were low, it was still snowing in places, but true to his word the roads were only wet and we arrived in Durango unscathed, all steep descent and fantastic views, eyes wide and ears popping, passing more plows, snowmobiles, and more than a few other motorcycles.
We're tucked into Cortez and looking forward to an adult beverage before getting back at it tomorrow, in search of some warm fricken' weather already!
Onward and upward!
We left Ouray early, to multiple "Special Weather Statements" and "Winter Storm Warnings" above 9,000 feet, not that you could tell from the beautiful sunrise reflecting off the cliffs above. Destination - Silverton, then Durango, and ultimately Cortez. But we'd need to make it through Red Mountain, Molas and Coal Bank Passes first, all near or above 11,000 feet.
We hit the first switchbacks literally at the end of Main Street and climbed quickly above the town, all matchbox houses and early morning shadows. It was 34 degrees with driving snow and we had a lot of climbing to do if we were going to make it over the first pass. Susan would have loved the ride - a cliff on the left and a sheer precipice on the right with nothing but the white painted line to keep you from falling a few hundred feet.
The temperature kept dropping as we wound our way up the S-curves, some posted at a glorious 10 miles per hour, and I cranked the heated grips from STUN to KILL. It started to snow even more heavily halfway up the eastern slope, and the temperature dropped to 25 degrees. By the time we got to the top the road was a slushy combination of melting snow and that red cat litter they use on the roads in Colorado, coming up through the tunnels and collecting on the controls. Snow plows went past in the opposite direction with the blades down, and I began to question my better judgment.
We made it through and down, passing dozens of avalanches, their broken trees lining the chutes and still pointing downslope to the pile of concreted snow and jumbled trunks at their bottoms, at one point driving right beneath one - through a tunnel that was built in what is probably an annual avalanche zone. I was never so happy to see the temperature return to 30 degrees as we pulled into Silverton for coffee with two more passes to traverse on the way to Durango.
We departed after about an hour, snow still falling heavily and by now coating the bikes and making the roads a wet mess. As we climbed the face of Molas Pass the temperature dropped again and the snow fell so hard it was impossible to see the surrounding mountains - it was us and the road. It began to collect on the evergreens, and then along the roadsides, tenuous fingers reaching into the lanes.
At one magical point there was a line across the road and the pavement beyond was white. Goldwings aren't known as snow machines, and Dunlop Elite 4's are basically heavy slicks with very few sipes or features to divert water and snow. I thought I felt a wiggle or two as the snow continued to pile and then I received the message like a bolt out of the blue. Going upslope and around a corner the rear end gave a wiggle that was undeniable, and I made the necessary reverse maneuver, slowly descending in the slush to the first turnout to wait for Jack.
We collected ourselves at the Visitor's Center back in Silverton, where the attendant assured us it would be snowing for six more years and we would do best to consider buying a house. The ambulance went howling out of town, retracing our route from earlier, on the report of a car having slid off the road in the pass we'd just summited.
She was right for about the next hour and a half, when magically at 11:30 the clouds parted and several inches of snow melted in minutes. But that was in town - what would it look like back up in the passes?
Not to be deterred we had invoked a backup plan, and a tow truck arrived from Durango shortly after noon. He assured us the roads were now clear and we tipped and thanked him and mounted back up. The temps were low, it was still snowing in places, but true to his word the roads were only wet and we arrived in Durango unscathed, all steep descent and fantastic views, eyes wide and ears popping, passing more plows, snowmobiles, and more than a few other motorcycles.
We're tucked into Cortez and looking forward to an adult beverage before getting back at it tomorrow, in search of some warm fricken' weather already!
Onward and upward!
