Aiming for the gravel
I somehow missed the turnoff to go west toward Utah, and ended up heading south. The San Juan Mountains and the Million Dollar Highway (named for the gold ore used in the original pavement) were both so spectacular that I decided to keep going. Red Mountain Pass is the first of three, and I made it over that one with just light snow flurries and slushy roads. Motorcyclists hate when there’s gravel on the road, but this was the first time I’ve aimed FOR the gravel – it was either that or slippery road surface.
The weather got progressively worse and by the time I got to Coal Bank Pass, the sky was black and the clouds had that cloud-to-ground mist that means they’re seriously dumping water. The snow hit hard and fast, sticking to the road in a layer of an inch or two. I probably should have turned around, but I knew it would get better soon: I was two miles from the summit, on the north side of the mountain and I could see light through the clouds. So I just stuck my feet out like pontoons to catch the bike if it started to fall over, stuck my chin out and went for it. I rode in a mini-van’s tire tracks, and I met the people at a gas station in Durango, at the bottom of the mountain. They said, “We were watching you - we’ve never seen anything like that before!” I told them, “I’ve never done anything like that before, and I don’t mind if I never do it again!” I would have felt much more comfortable if they had spread more gravel on the road…
