This ride had some setbacks. Luckily it wasn't anything mechanical (at least not yet) but more of a logistical series of setbacks.
There are two east-side entrances to RMNP from Estes Park and the two group leaders did not coordinate which entrance we'd be going in from. Therefore, one group went into the East entrance and one, my group, went in at the North entrance. Where the two roads cross in the park we were able to send someone to the other entrance where, sure enough, the other (faster) group was waiting for us to show up.
They joined us at the T-intersection and we headed up as a group. I can't really explain to you how surreal the riding is when there are no lights other than your headlamps and yet the moon is giving off enough light that you can see by. Granted, we couldn't see a lot, but we could see like anywhere with a full moon.
Watching the string of head- and tail-lights riding up and down the mountainsides is amazing, as thought a giant white and red serpent was winding its way about.
We got to the top and pulled into the visitor's center to hang out for about a half an hour before we headed back down.
This is where it really annoyed me. Without coordination or consensus people were hopping on their bikes and taking off in smaller groups than the one large or two small we rode up in. This created confusion and people didn't know who to ride down with, what speeds the smaller groups were trying to keep or which exit the groups were exiting the park from.
I ended up in one group and followed them out the east exit where a couple of us pulled off at a gas station to regroup. While there a couple more people pulled up, people who rode with other groups but didn't want to leave Estes Park from highway 7 at midnight. We decided to take the less risky 9and therefore faster) ride down highway 36 to Lyons where we stopped at our original staging point. Other riders filtered in and we all agreed that the return trip down the mountain was a giant cluster f*ck.
I was worried about a friend of mine, a good rider but a guy who doesn't ride as often as I do. I hadn't seen him since the top and lost him in the fray to get down the mountain. Where was he? He is an old Army buddy I reconnected with on Facebook and although he's technically a year older than me, I still think of him as one of my troops and therefore my responsibility.
A few minutes later more riders pulled into the gas station where we were waiting and I finally see my friend with them. Whew!
As it turns out, his bike is old enough to still be carburated and had trouble starting at the nearly 12,000ft above sea level. But, he was able to make it down so all was good.
For those of us heading south from Lyons, to Boulder and the Denver Metro Area, we mounted up and started to leave. At that point I see a another friend of mine ride into the gas station. I'd lost track of her at the scramble to get off the mountain, but she was with about 10 people in the group I last saw her in. yet she rode into the gas station alone.
I ran over to her to let her know we were heading south if she wanted to go. It took me a few minutes to realize those were tears in her eyes and not just from the colder weather. She was shaken up. Apparently, the group she was riding with left her on the way down to fend for herself. She's not a strong rider to begin with and as I found out later, that was her first night ride at all. I asked her if she wanted to ride south with us, we weren't going to go fast and there were a number of people in our group she knows and who wouldn't leave her stranded. She shook her head no and said she would wait for someone else she knows who was supposed to be keeping an eye on her. I verified she was sure of her course of action and when she said yes, left to catch up to my group who had already taken off.
Who knew the highway would be the most treacherous part of the trip for me? Somehow, for some reason, an ass-hat in a dark (blue or black) Audi kept trying to run me off the road. He first changed lanes so close behind me that I swear he was within a foot or so of my rear tire. Then he moves up next to me and comes over directly where I was, not in front and not behind. I slammed on my breaks and he moved into my lane in front of me. The slammed on his breaks. I was able to change lanes before running into the rear of his car and he tried to come over to the left lane, either on top of me or pinning me to the concrete barrier wall, I had no idea. This happened for about 10 miles and I was ready to follow him home and beat the snot out of him (I was wearing head-to-toe body armor after all). However, I lost him when we came close to downtown Denver. While trying to keep up and not get hit by other cars I lost his tail-lights and therefore lost him.
Luckily there were 3 of us and the other two bikes witnessed the whole thing.
I arrived home somewhere around two-am.
This is how dark it looked to the naked eye at the top.
The SV. Unfortunately I wasn't getting the pictures I wanted.
Most, but not all of the bikes that went.
Same, but without the light in the corner.
Route
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