THE JOURNEY
PREFACE
Everything in life is relative. The story you are about the read is, to some, a sophomoric trip; a warm-up, if you will, for real adventure. To other people, this story could tell of an epic, once in a lifetime, journey. There are people riding solo across Africa and Asia, or from The Arctic Circle to the tip of Patagonia. The real ultra-committed souls are the Iron **** crowd. Unimaginable things like 10,000 miles in 10 days. For me, covering more than 2,700 miles in 9 days, was an accomplishment and an incredible journey of new sights and experiences with some genuine self-discovery thrown in for good measure. If you want to read about
truly epic adventures on a motorcycle, head on over to
ADVRIDER.COM where there are more than 36,000 trip reports for journeys longer than one week. Many of those stories are multi year, multi continent odysseys.
I first rode a real motorcycle in 1986. A college friend lent me his Kawasaki GPz 750. I don’t know how many two wheeled miles I’ve ridden since then, but relatively speaking, it’s not a lot. There was, at one time, a 15 year hiatus from riding. Still, I’ve been riding regularly since the early 2000’s. I’ve always ridden a bit scared, meaning I think everyone, or everything, is out to kill me. Part of my riding mantra is to stack the deck in my favor, as much as is possible. For years I adopted ‘BARN’ as my no-fly zone. No Bad Attitude. No Alcohol. No Rain. No Night. These things I could control, compared to things I can’t, like distracted drivers, road hazards and wildlife. Another part of my motorcycle mantra is that time and space are your friends. These two variables can be manipulated with speed and position. When something bad happens on a motorcycle, aside from intentional or unintentional pilot error, it is usually because not enough time and space is available to manage whatever issue has materialized.
This trip started as an idea without much consideration, or commitment, in early 2015. I had recently picked up a brand new 2014 Ducati Multistrada 1200S ‘Pikes Peak,’ a production motorcycle based upon the actual machine used in the Pikes Peak International Hill Climb race. It was the first new motorcycle I’d ever owned.
*brand new as received from the dealer.
“Someday it would be cool to ride up Pikes Peak on this thing.”
That idea slipped in and out of my head over the next several years. Sometime in the early stages of Covid, I started to consider the idea with a bit more focus. That focus evolved into a goal and by mid 2021 I’d begun to do some basic research. What I learned motivated me, and at some point, the idea had fully morphed into the cliche "Bucket List" item.
When I began serious planning, in late fall of 2022 I had sketched a route targeting late July, early or mid-August.
Stage 1: ~3 days - Mostly Interstate: Detroit > Ohio > Indiana > Illinois > Missouri > Nebraska > Colorado
Stage 2: ~2 days - Pikes Peak (also visiting my son who lives in Denver)
Stage 3: ~6 days - Avoiding Interstates: Colorado > Wyoming > South Dakota > Minnesota > Wisconsin > ferry across Lake Michigan to Michigan > Detroit
I would research the gear and planning others had used and began to acquire thangs I needed. I put in some time on training rides to see how I would respond to long days in the saddle and to try out gear placement and function. I had set two primary goals: 1) Ride to the summit of Pikes Peak, 2) Avoid Sturgis and the Black Hills during the annual Sturgis Rally. I am not a fan of crowds and traffic. Secondary considerations were to visit people I knew virtually, but never had met in real life. AKA, a few Garage Journalers. That list changed a bit when the route changed. I also committed to the journey as the destination, to actually stop and smell the flowers, so to speak. (I didn't actually smell flowers. I did smell cows though). I'm an impatient man and most of my travel time is spent trying to get 'there' as efficiently and quickly as possible. I planned, and did take time to appreciate most of what I saw. In some cases, even doubling back to check something out or get that picture I thought might resonate with others or as my own hard copy memory. I would add a few more considerations as planning progressed. Avoid Interstates. Avoid fast food and chain restaurants. Top off the gas tank if I passed a station with anything less than half a tank. This would also force some riding breaks, even if for just a few minutes. These short breaks turned out to be very important for both physical and mental comfort and fatigue. The plan would continue to evolve, not just before departure, but in real time on the road. I needed some flexibility to compensate for weather and other impacts out of my control. I would have a few.
The biggest route and timing changes were a result of my wife’s input. Her family has a reunion in Osage Beach, MO. every year. Why not leave from there? This might work, and save a lot of boring, traffic laden interstate travel. The new plan: trailer the bike to Lake of the Ozarks, attend the reunion, and then depart from there on June 17th, 2023.
I would finally land on a specific-ish route:
Stage 1: ~1.5 days - Missouri > Kansas > Colorado
Stage 2: ~1.5 days - Pikes Peak (also visiting my son who lives in Denver)
Stage 3: ~5.5 days - Colorado > Wyoming > South Dakota > Minnesota > Wisconsin > ferry across Lake Michigan to Michigan > Detroit
‘Specific-ish’ in that I’d have hard plans for certain elements like a timed entry into Pikes Peak and the first 3 days of accommodations. I also mapped out where help was available along the route. General help, motorcycle help and Ducati specific help, like Erico Motorsports in Denver. I would plan 8 or 9 days with time to pivot, shorten or extend as needed.
Once underway it became easier to envision several stages, each with an underlying tone and a mission.
STAGE ONE (2 Days) The easy part.
Trailer the bike from Detroit to Osage Beach, MO. An easy trip courtesy of U-Haul. A one way rental worked great, the trailer was in excellent condition and towed nicely. The trailer actually weighs quite a bit for its size, 1240Lbs., I’m sure this helped the ride comfort, but also ‘tanked’ my gas mileage: 19.5 to 13.5. Pun intended. We left Detroit after work on Friday June 9th. My wife, her 80+ parents, me, all our ‘stuff’ and the bike. We spent the night in Effingham, IL and continued on to Osage Beach, MO. the next morning.
*leaving home
*Effingham, IL
*Osage Beach, MO
STAGE TWO (2 Days) The run west.
*ready to roll
Leaving Osage Beach at 8:00am on Saturday June 17th, I set out on US-54 towards my stop for the night, Dodge City, Kansas, ~440 mile to the west. The ride began on some nice roads with gently rolling hills and sweeping curves. It was a terrific start to what would be a long day. As the lake faded in my rearview mirrors, the topography settled and became much more open. Farmland and ranches. Small towns. And very small towns. Preston, Missouri, with its population of 157, is somewhere in between small and very small.
*1st gas stop in Preston, MO.
The road also straightened out. I rolled into Gas, Kansas at about noon and stopped at a local restaurant called Tina’s Place.
*Lunch with locals
This was my first opportunity to live by one of the rules I’d imposed on myself for this journey; no fast food and no chain restaurants. I was clearly an outsider here, my motorcycle suit standing in sharp contrast to all other attire of the restaurants patrons. The waitress was very nice, and service was good. With my belly full and my bladder empty, I would press on. The temperature began to climb and by mid-afternoon, it was warm enough for me to happily endure the noise of a slightly vented face shield on my helmet. By 2:30 in the afternoon I was ready for a break from the saddle and the heat. A few hours of facing down a virtual hair dryer will do that to you. So, I broke a rule. On day 1.
*Starbucks near Wichita, KS
A frozen Caramel Crunch Frappuccino, a ‘loungey’ chair and A/C. It was a good break. Pushing on, I made it to Dodge City at 5:30pm, a couple of hours ahead of some approaching rainstorms.
*bike is about center, behind the tree and under a silver/grey cover
In my room after dinner, I watched the rains arrive and quickly become heavy. Then, the alert from the National Weather Service on my phone chirped: take cover, 80 MPH winds and heavy rain were coming. At 8:00pm they arrived. With a vengeance.
It was a huge error on my part to use a cover. I keep my bikes meticulously clean and despite being 9 years old, this machine was nearly pristine. I also have a full-service history with all recommended services performed at or ahead of schedule and with all OEM parts or upgrades. That cover acted as a sail an America’s Cup racer might envy and Mother Nature would do her best impersonation of a Big Time Wrestler. Whatever the ‘move’ was, it upended my 460Lb. bike. At 10:30 the storms had moved on (turning into tornadoes east of Dodge City) and I went to survey the damage. A few key items were immediately obvious: Left hand guard and turn signal. Right rearview mirror. The left pannier looked like it ran into a belt sander. I was heartbroken.
*80MPH winds...
*damage uncovered
*back upright
I got the bike up on its kickstand, picked up all the pieces and moped back to my room. The cover, with its soaking wet fleece lining, now weighed a metric ton. I wrung it out as much as possible and took into the hotel room to hang dry in the shower. In the morning, I would discover that drying would take days and the thought of a wet, moldy mess was not something I wanted in my luggage. I binned it and went out to perform a more thorough evaluation of the bike in daylight. No major or mechanical damage was visible so I started the machine up. An immediate and familiar cold start bark and snarl told me the heart of the beast was OK. I would separate the turn signal housing and lens, which still worked, from the remains of the broken hand guard. I carried a respectable tool kit which I assembled from researching other riders’ suggestions on a couple of internet forums. Most of the basics and a few oddballs, like a Ducati specific 55mm socket for the rear wheel and a chain adjustment tool. Not that hand signals wouldn't work, but with a few creatively placed zip ties, I was able to have a functioning, visible turn signal.
*Zip Ties to the rescue
Ugly, but functional. Great, I can ride to a store and get supplies for a better solution. Enter Gorilla Tape. I used a generous amount to affix the turn signal lens to the rearview mirror, replacing the zip ties. Still ugly, but somehow less so.
*Before
*After
I packed up and was rolling west again at 8:30am. I use my right mirror far more than my left but I didn’t know this until I started out and kept checking my six only to see the shoulder of the road and the ditch low to my right. The topography west of Dodge City is vast.
*Empty
Huge ranches. Farms as far as the eye can see. Those giant crop circles you can see from a plane – everywhere. Roads that stretch straight, all the way to the horizon. Cows. Lots of cows. Even more cows. And cow aroma. I reached the Colorado border at 11:15am as temps were climbing.
*Prowers County, Colorado
Small towns dotted the route, often understandably dropping the speed limit from 65 to 35. I took the signs seriously and passed a few members of the law enforcement community without concern. Eastern Colorado is just as vast and empty as western Kansas, but the people were friendly, and traffic was very light. I was heading to Manitou Springs where I would rendezvous with my son, on Father’s Day! Lunch at Las Brisas in Lamar, Colorado was a welcomed break. Tacos and ice-cold sweet tea. 120 miles later, in Pueblo, I would turn north on I-25 towards Colorado Springs. It was here, from about 70 miles away, I would get my first glimpse of Pikes Peak, its majestic, snow-capped, summit dwarfing all other mountains in view.
*Pikes Peak from Henkel, CO (about 50 miles away)
I had stopped to fill up at a gas station just a half a mile from the hotel. My son passed and saw me while I was fueling up for the next mornings’ big adventure. Arriving just a couple of minutes before I did, he took a video clip of my arrival. We would have dinner and a couple of drinks at the Keg in Manitou Springs.
to be continued...
