The Long Night ... a Motorcycle Story
It was a dark and stormy night ...
And we were riding. For years our local riding group had a summertime "moonlight" ride up Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park. We'd meet somewhere convenient in the Denver metropolitan area then ride up to Estes Park where we'd then stop, grab a bite to eat, rally with riders who skipped dinner or came in from another direction, before heading on up the mountain.
Some years we did this and some we didn't. It really depended on whether anyone organized the ride or not. For years someone else organized the event, but then that person ... disappeared. I can't recall whether they moved away, stopped riding or just faded into the distance from our group. So, with a vacuum to fill I took up the reigns and periodically organized this ride because it's fun and adventurous.
This particular ride had been planned a couple of weeks in advance and had roughly 10 people said they'd be on the ride.
I live nearly an hour from the meet point and wanted to get there early so the others wouldn't have to wait for me so I left just before four just to give myself the time. Plus, I wanted to meetup with an old friend as I passed through his town twenty miles away from me.
He met up with me and we rode the remained of the 60+ miles to the staging point. Surprisingly, we arrived over a half-hour early. Why surprsingly? Because I'd made this ride before and each time I ran far later than I had this particular day. While fueling up we decided to just hang out at a nearby brew pub until closer to 6PM when I noticed brake fluid had spewed all over my instrument panel.
WTF?
Upon closer inspection neither me nor my friend noticed any cracks or leaks at the failure points (where the hoses met the brake fluid reservoir or at the cap). So, we ran down the street to the nearest car wash so I could rinse the brake fluid off and then headed to the nearest autoparts store, which was across town. Inside we bought the appropriate brake fluid and refilled my reservoir. I was just hoping maybe I hadn't tightened the cap on tight enough after bleeding the brakes earlier in the day. When I tightened the cap down this time, I think I over torqued it because the next thing I know, the entire cup broke off of it's mount.
Things were not going well for this ride. If the brake fluid reservoir, or master cylinder, couldn't be held up then I had no front brakes and no chance of making it out alive from a couple hundred mile night ride.
I ran back into the autoparts store and purchased some super glue, the kind with a quick drying recipe, and we rode back to the staging point where we were now "late" and the other riders were waiting on us. After a quick explanation I whipped out the glue and glued the plastic reservoir back together.
A few minutes later and we were on the road. We began the ride with seven, not 10 people.
Two of our riders thought we were racing and sped off at over triple digits leaving the rest of use to catch up, which became much more difficult when a local sheriff's deputy pulled out in front of our group and set the pace for the remaining 5 of us. Then we had to wait for a train. Then the sheriff's deputy pulled over and let us pass, but we - I mean, I, as I was the one leading the group - didn't go above the speed limit while the deputy trailed us.
We met up with the other riders at our turning point and headed further along the road until our next turn, which was thirty-something miles way. There the two faster riders were waiting for us and four of us caught up a couple of minutes later. One rider had been left behind and I suddenly became acutely aware that we didn't have a safety brief and I'd just assumed the riders were all experienced and capable. AS it turns out, I was wrong. This last rider, one of the three on the ride I'd never met before, was new to Colorado, didn't feel comfortable in the twisties and was left far behind the group.
And it wasn't even dark yet.
We waited about 15 minutes. One of the other riders mentioned this new guy was taking it easy and afraid to push the speed limit, wouldn't pass other cars and riders and couldn't keep up with the group. Yet, he never showed up and I began to worry something bad had happened. Had I known he was such an inexperienced rider I would have assigned him a buddy or taken that role on myself. As it was, he was out there and alone, possibly wrecked, on my ride.
Everyone makes it home on my rides. Everyone.
I sent our most experienced rider back ten to fifteen miles to look for this guy. He's the only one who's met this rider before and he was also a former ride instructor, racer and a current race corner guard. If there was a situation he'd be able to handle it. The remainder of us went on ahead and waited at a gas station in Estes Park.
It didn't take long for the rider to return with news he couldn't find the lost rider. He also saw no signs of a wreck, but went ahead and sent him a message asking where he'd went.
A few minutes later we were at the midway rallying point where other riders were expected to meet us. We parked and walked over to a little restaurant and waited. The lost rider responded to the message saying he didn't feel comfortable on the roads and decided to turn around and head home without telling anyone. That's a big No-Go, folks. Never leave the group without telling people you're leaving.
We ate and waited. The other riders never showed. Now we were six.
It was nearly 10PM and fully dark. The clouds were being swept away and the moon's brilliance was raining down upon us. We headed up the mountain.
The night was clear, not a drop of rain even though the forecast called for 40% chance of scattered showers. Only the temperature caused us some pause. Being mid-summer, we knew the weather would be cooler towards the top, but this week in Colorado had many days of cold wet rain. A week ago we were battling near-100℉ but the day of this ride were were hovering at a mere 80℉. Subtract a about 15 degrees for the night and another twenty or so for the elevation and we weren't even near the top. It only gets colder.
I'd brought a long sleeved t-shirt, but still wore my perforated "summer" gloves, jeans and my highly ventilated hiking boots. Yes, it was cold.
We arrive at the top at about 10:30PM only to pull into the large parking lot behind a Goldwing rider's group. So, we weren't as innovative as I had hoped.
He hung out at the top for a few minutes then jumped on our bikes and headed back down. We were spread out far more than I like, my personal preference is always to keep the bike behind you in your rearview mirror. This keeps everyone riding at a reasonable rate and ensures the rider behind you doesn't get into trouble without someone knowing.
We arrive down at the bottom and rally at the entrance/exit gate. Well, four of us do. Two aren't with the group any longer. So, we wait. One of the two riders I've ridden with for years and know him to be a capable rider. The other, his friend, didn't seem to have any issues thus far, but riding up the side of a mountain in the pitch black can unnerve the best of us.
And we waited.
After ten to fifteen minutes I finally decided someone should ride back up and look for the two riders who didn't make it down. Since no one jumped on the chance, I took the lead and my friend, the one with me since the beginning, rode with me. He pulled off a mere 5 miles or so into the trip, but the route was twenty-something miles long and I decided to go further, at least to the halfway point.
At the halfway point, or the closest approximation thereof, we pulled over and discussed. There was no sign of the two missing riders. We would have passed them if they'd been going down, but we saw nothing. I was worried.
Remember, no one dies on my rides. No one.
I flagged down a rider coming down the mountain and he said he hadn't seen anything either. What the heck was happening? Aliens? Bigfoot? Chupacabra? Where'd our riders go?
Once again I made the decision to head up the mountain to our turn-around point. That was the last place I definitely noticed them and wanted to ensure no one was broken down at or near the turn-around point. The other rider with me I sent back down to the others as we had no cell phone coverage on his or my providers and no way to keep them informed.
The parking lot was empty. So, I turned around and headed back down. That's when my Low Gas light came on. While worrisome, it wasn't an issue as when the light comes on it usually means I have half a gallon left and roughly 20-25 miles. But (and you weren't thinking anything else could go wrong, were you?), the Universe was working against me and the Low Gas light turned into a No Gas light pretty quickly.
Now I was screwed. No cell phone service, I'd checked at the halfway point, and I was twenty-something miles from the bottom and a few more from the nearest gas station once we were back in town.
What's a guy to do?
Well, Timmy, this particular guy happened to be well acquainted with a little theory called, gravity. It pulls you towards the center and this 'towards the center' happened to be down. I kicked the bike into Neutral and literally coasted nearly the entire way down. Why "nearly"? Because there were a couple of spots that were flat enough or had a short incline where I lost my momentum and had to kick it back into gear just to get through that portion of the road.
I arrived at the bottom only to discover the two other riders never showed. What the hellz happened?
With no other options I pulled out my phone wondering if I was going to have to be the guy who called for search and rescue, but I noticed an SMS message from one of the riders. He'd replied to my message while I was in a no coverage zone. He and his friend were fine. Instead of following the road straight down they took a turn a "lost us." They ended up coming out of RMNP via a different exit and headed on back home. They were already in Boulder, 35ish miles away from where we waited at the entrance gate to the park.
How do you spell "frustration"?
NEVER LEAVE YOUR GROUP without telling someone!
Once we learned they were alive we jumped on our bikes, fueled up at the nearest gas station and headed home.
All-in-all, I put in just under 350 miles and arrived home at just after 3AM.
... okay, no it wasn't. It was actually a semi-clear night in that the day time clouds dispersed as the afternoon turned to evening.In fact, it was a full moon in North America and a red eclipse in other parts of the world. Mars was the closest it had been to Earth in nearly two decades and shone bright red in the sky just and hand's width from the moon.
And we were riding. For years our local riding group had a summertime "moonlight" ride up Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park. We'd meet somewhere convenient in the Denver metropolitan area then ride up to Estes Park where we'd then stop, grab a bite to eat, rally with riders who skipped dinner or came in from another direction, before heading on up the mountain.Some years we did this and some we didn't. It really depended on whether anyone organized the ride or not. For years someone else organized the event, but then that person ... disappeared. I can't recall whether they moved away, stopped riding or just faded into the distance from our group. So, with a vacuum to fill I took up the reigns and periodically organized this ride because it's fun and adventurous.
This particular ride had been planned a couple of weeks in advance and had roughly 10 people said they'd be on the ride.
I live nearly an hour from the meet point and wanted to get there early so the others wouldn't have to wait for me so I left just before four just to give myself the time. Plus, I wanted to meetup with an old friend as I passed through his town twenty miles away from me.
He met up with me and we rode the remained of the 60+ miles to the staging point. Surprisingly, we arrived over a half-hour early. Why surprsingly? Because I'd made this ride before and each time I ran far later than I had this particular day. While fueling up we decided to just hang out at a nearby brew pub until closer to 6PM when I noticed brake fluid had spewed all over my instrument panel.
WTF?
Upon closer inspection neither me nor my friend noticed any cracks or leaks at the failure points (where the hoses met the brake fluid reservoir or at the cap). So, we ran down the street to the nearest car wash so I could rinse the brake fluid off and then headed to the nearest autoparts store, which was across town. Inside we bought the appropriate brake fluid and refilled my reservoir. I was just hoping maybe I hadn't tightened the cap on tight enough after bleeding the brakes earlier in the day. When I tightened the cap down this time, I think I over torqued it because the next thing I know, the entire cup broke off of it's mount.
Things were not going well for this ride. If the brake fluid reservoir, or master cylinder, couldn't be held up then I had no front brakes and no chance of making it out alive from a couple hundred mile night ride.
I ran back into the autoparts store and purchased some super glue, the kind with a quick drying recipe, and we rode back to the staging point where we were now "late" and the other riders were waiting on us. After a quick explanation I whipped out the glue and glued the plastic reservoir back together.
A few minutes later and we were on the road. We began the ride with seven, not 10 people.
Two of our riders thought we were racing and sped off at over triple digits leaving the rest of use to catch up, which became much more difficult when a local sheriff's deputy pulled out in front of our group and set the pace for the remaining 5 of us. Then we had to wait for a train. Then the sheriff's deputy pulled over and let us pass, but we - I mean, I, as I was the one leading the group - didn't go above the speed limit while the deputy trailed us.
We met up with the other riders at our turning point and headed further along the road until our next turn, which was thirty-something miles way. There the two faster riders were waiting for us and four of us caught up a couple of minutes later. One rider had been left behind and I suddenly became acutely aware that we didn't have a safety brief and I'd just assumed the riders were all experienced and capable. AS it turns out, I was wrong. This last rider, one of the three on the ride I'd never met before, was new to Colorado, didn't feel comfortable in the twisties and was left far behind the group.
And it wasn't even dark yet.
We waited about 15 minutes. One of the other riders mentioned this new guy was taking it easy and afraid to push the speed limit, wouldn't pass other cars and riders and couldn't keep up with the group. Yet, he never showed up and I began to worry something bad had happened. Had I known he was such an inexperienced rider I would have assigned him a buddy or taken that role on myself. As it was, he was out there and alone, possibly wrecked, on my ride.
Everyone makes it home on my rides. Everyone.
I sent our most experienced rider back ten to fifteen miles to look for this guy. He's the only one who's met this rider before and he was also a former ride instructor, racer and a current race corner guard. If there was a situation he'd be able to handle it. The remainder of us went on ahead and waited at a gas station in Estes Park.
It didn't take long for the rider to return with news he couldn't find the lost rider. He also saw no signs of a wreck, but went ahead and sent him a message asking where he'd went.
A few minutes later we were at the midway rallying point where other riders were expected to meet us. We parked and walked over to a little restaurant and waited. The lost rider responded to the message saying he didn't feel comfortable on the roads and decided to turn around and head home without telling anyone. That's a big No-Go, folks. Never leave the group without telling people you're leaving.
We ate and waited. The other riders never showed. Now we were six.
It was nearly 10PM and fully dark. The clouds were being swept away and the moon's brilliance was raining down upon us. We headed up the mountain.
The night was clear, not a drop of rain even though the forecast called for 40% chance of scattered showers. Only the temperature caused us some pause. Being mid-summer, we knew the weather would be cooler towards the top, but this week in Colorado had many days of cold wet rain. A week ago we were battling near-100℉ but the day of this ride were were hovering at a mere 80℉. Subtract a about 15 degrees for the night and another twenty or so for the elevation and we weren't even near the top. It only gets colder.
 |
| Bob is tired |
I'd brought a long sleeved t-shirt, but still wore my perforated "summer" gloves, jeans and my highly ventilated hiking boots. Yes, it was cold.
We arrive at the top at about 10:30PM only to pull into the large parking lot behind a Goldwing rider's group. So, we weren't as innovative as I had hoped.
He hung out at the top for a few minutes then jumped on our bikes and headed back down. We were spread out far more than I like, my personal preference is always to keep the bike behind you in your rearview mirror. This keeps everyone riding at a reasonable rate and ensures the rider behind you doesn't get into trouble without someone knowing.
We arrive down at the bottom and rally at the entrance/exit gate. Well, four of us do. Two aren't with the group any longer. So, we wait. One of the two riders I've ridden with for years and know him to be a capable rider. The other, his friend, didn't seem to have any issues thus far, but riding up the side of a mountain in the pitch black can unnerve the best of us.
And we waited.
After ten to fifteen minutes I finally decided someone should ride back up and look for the two riders who didn't make it down. Since no one jumped on the chance, I took the lead and my friend, the one with me since the beginning, rode with me. He pulled off a mere 5 miles or so into the trip, but the route was twenty-something miles long and I decided to go further, at least to the halfway point.
At the halfway point, or the closest approximation thereof, we pulled over and discussed. There was no sign of the two missing riders. We would have passed them if they'd been going down, but we saw nothing. I was worried.
Remember, no one dies on my rides. No one.
I flagged down a rider coming down the mountain and he said he hadn't seen anything either. What the heck was happening? Aliens? Bigfoot? Chupacabra? Where'd our riders go?
Once again I made the decision to head up the mountain to our turn-around point. That was the last place I definitely noticed them and wanted to ensure no one was broken down at or near the turn-around point. The other rider with me I sent back down to the others as we had no cell phone coverage on his or my providers and no way to keep them informed.
The parking lot was empty. So, I turned around and headed back down. That's when my Low Gas light came on. While worrisome, it wasn't an issue as when the light comes on it usually means I have half a gallon left and roughly 20-25 miles. But (and you weren't thinking anything else could go wrong, were you?), the Universe was working against me and the Low Gas light turned into a No Gas light pretty quickly.
Now I was screwed. No cell phone service, I'd checked at the halfway point, and I was twenty-something miles from the bottom and a few more from the nearest gas station once we were back in town.
What's a guy to do?
Well, Timmy, this particular guy happened to be well acquainted with a little theory called, gravity. It pulls you towards the center and this 'towards the center' happened to be down. I kicked the bike into Neutral and literally coasted nearly the entire way down. Why "nearly"? Because there were a couple of spots that were flat enough or had a short incline where I lost my momentum and had to kick it back into gear just to get through that portion of the road.
I arrived at the bottom only to discover the two other riders never showed. What the hellz happened?
 |
| Proof of Life |
With no other options I pulled out my phone wondering if I was going to have to be the guy who called for search and rescue, but I noticed an SMS message from one of the riders. He'd replied to my message while I was in a no coverage zone. He and his friend were fine. Instead of following the road straight down they took a turn a "lost us." They ended up coming out of RMNP via a different exit and headed on back home. They were already in Boulder, 35ish miles away from where we waited at the entrance gate to the park.
How do you spell "frustration"?
NEVER LEAVE YOUR GROUP without telling someone!
Once we learned they were alive we jumped on our bikes, fueled up at the nearest gas station and headed home.
All-in-all, I put in just under 350 miles and arrived home at just after 3AM.
 |
| Evidence of an Adventure |
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