We got an early start on our trip back home. We did as much packing last night as we were able, loaded everything into the car (Laura named her 'Sweet Pea') that we didn't need, and stacked as much by the door as possible. All of us did a complete walk-through of the condo this morning just to make sure nothing got left behind after packing the last of our stuff out to the bikes. By 8:30 AM (a record for us, I think), we had turned in the keys and were on the way north to Mesa, DeBeque, and I-70 East.
Stopping for a bite to eat and our second latte of the trip, we took a few minutes in Mesa before getting back on the road to the DeBeque Canyon cutoff, a two-lane road that led us away from the construction zone that led directly to the interstate from Mesa. I had expected a canyon much like the Poudre or Big Thompson, but I was disappointed in that this was more of a desert canyon, with dry stream beds lacing the landscape. Still, it was a beautiful, and quiet, ride. The lack of traffic was refreshing.
Gassing up before jumping on the concrete ribbon leading east, we took a few to make sure our oil was good. Then came the 180-mile speed fest. As we rode, I kept wondering how the truckers felt about the "mosquito-cycles" that kept buzzing around them -- or that they screamed around. Every time I passed a truck, I thought about "mosquito-cycles" and that made the boring, but hazardous, ride a bit more tolerable.
We decided to stop for lunch in Frisco, and less than 20 miles from the town we get harassed on the road by some jackass in a flatbed pickup rolling coal at every motorcycle and convertible on the road. Where's a cop when you want one? The convertible actually pulled out and followed him for a while, so I hope he got the guy's license number and reported him.
For the most part, the trip was uneventful, and except for the one incident, most drivers gave us space and didn't ignore us too much. I suppose it helped to have Laura and Sweet Pea as "tail-gunner."
We got off the interstate at Idaho Springs and Donna led us to Golden where we filled up our tanks again before picking our way through the foothills toward I-25 and north to Fort Collins. Everything was going well until we lost Laura to a leg cramp around Windsor, then Donna and I got a bit concerned. We pulled over at the rest area and called to make sure she was OK. By that time we were about 10 minutes from where we garage the bikes, so we agreed to meet her there.
Laura was walking around, albeit with a bit of a gimp, when we arrived. Unloading the bikes took a few minutes, so she had time for her leg to settle before she jumped in her car and said she'd meet us at her house. We had to get Donna's car anyway, so our last leg began with a post-trip toast to another successful ride.
I think this was the first trip we've taken that didn't involve rain, high winds, or any other type of crappy weather. Some of the mountain roads along US Hwy 40 and the road over the Grand Mesa left a bit to be desired from a motorcycle point-of-view (I had a pucker moment or two), and we didn't see the crowds of people or traffic that we normally encounter, but except for the swarms of mosquitoes (take your bug spray), I would say this was one of the best trips we've had.
