XR650R Dual Sport Project & Travels

Black Bear Road! - 1996

The following is an account of a memorable day from a six-day BMW R100 GSPD trip in Colorado in 1996.  The setting is the San Yuan Mountains.  The rider is (or was) a 42 year old male from Central Illinois who has no fortune, no heirs, and no sense.  The story begins in Ouray.  I didn't have a camera at the time so I apologize for the lack of pictures.  See the separate trip report Colorado - 1996 for an account of the other 5 days.

The plan was to do Black Bear Road from Ouray to Telluride, then Imogene Pass back to Ouray.  Local jeep rental places FORBID renters from traversing Black Bear.  Now I understand why; it is not for the timid.  I debated long and hard before setting out, deciding that I could always walk the bad part ("the steps") and turn back if I wanted.  There were 172 miles on the trip meter, and many of those were 1st gear, high-rpm miles.  I decided to save weight by not buying gas.......wise decision.  I should have removed my center stand, but didn't think of it.  I had discussed my plan with the motel operator, so again, they would know where to recover my body.

On the trip up Hwy 550 to Red Mountain Pass, the cliffs toward Telluride looked imposing.  Just beyond the pass a small dirt road climbed the hillside to the right.  I turned off and started up, passing the Jeeps Only sign.  The climb was mostly two-track dirt, with rock and loose shale in the steeper sections.  It was definitely GS'able, but I wouldn't choose it to instruct a novice.  From the high point I could see most of the Eastern approach, but the "steps" to the West were beyond sight.  I shared the view with a man in a 4X4 pickup, who thoughtfully drew on his pipe.  Drove the steps years ago, he said, wouldn't do it again in this thing!  A rock slide, he reported, had blocked the switchbacks above Telluride.  Several dirt bikers had passed by and had not returned.  I wondered what that meant.  Pressing on, I descended on dirt and shale into upper Ingram basin, from which the lower basin became visible.  On the final descent to the steps, I learned what the term "pucker factor" means.  Somehow I kept it pointed in the right direction and got things stopped in time.

Dismounting, I surveyed my situation.  I was facing West, and before me was etherial emptiness.  Far below, the city of Telluride nestled in it's box canyon.  The edge of the basin dropped off vertically for about 40 feet, over which a waterfall plumeted.  Below, a series of sharp switchbacks led steeply into Telluride.  A rock ledge, blasted into the cliff face, led downward, not much wider than a Ford Bronco.  It was similar to the section I had just "survived", except the sides held no soil or vegetation.  The right side was continuous with the cliff, which rose vertically (can't fall in that direction).  The left side was, in a manner of speaking, a huge exclaimation point.  The surface was full of rock steps with crazy angles.  Loose shale was everywhere.  The ledge descended steeply toward the abys, then curved right and continued to the relative safety of the first switchback.  The turn was slightly off-camber in the direction of "!".  Two Bronco drivers, first time on Black Bear, were deliberating.  They eventually decided to inch down the steps, with their wives in front of the vehicles as spotters.  I surmised that each lady had a huge insurance policy, which the drivers intended to collect.

I walked the bad section, then looked up the slope I'd just decended.  I honestly didn't think I could climb back out of the basin; too bumpy, with no chance to gain or maintain momemtum.  There appeared to be no choice.....I had to go down the steps.  I could not walk the bike, since I would need both brakes, and based on the previous section I considered it unsafe to "drive" down the steps.  I hadn't forgotten about the slide, but then, one thing at a time.

Stradling the bike with engine running, clutch in, and left leg out for bracing, I began to inch my way down.  Most of the weight was on the front wheel, and due to the crazy surface and camber of the ledge, I was tiring quickly trying to keep things upright.  My brain was looping:  stay calm.......plan your moves.......remember to breath.......what a gorgeous view!.......stay calm.  I wondered if I would leave the world the same way I entered it.....screaming and shitting.  Only a small amount of sliding ocurred.  The engine stopped part way down (overheating?), and I dropped the bike once on the left side, but was able to pick it up again.  Finally, I rounded the bend and coasted to the first switchback.  Several levels below, the Bronco drivers were resting and wanted to know what I thought.  Hairiest damn thing I ever did on a motorcycle, was all I could think of.  Further down I encountered the site of the slide, which had been cleared.  I could hear the dozer below, slowly grinding its way back to some machine shed.  What had been a mountainside moments earlier, was now a road.  I got the impression it was routine.

Half way down I encountered an old mine entrance, which was was blowing cool air.  I stopped to cool off and reflect on my experience.  I didn't know whether to feel stupid or triumphant.  Gassing up in Telluride, I encountered a local dual-sporter who was interested in the GS.  He seemed incredulous at what I had done.  Thinking back on it, I probably should have ridden straight down the steps without stopping, but then hindsight is 20/20.  As intimidating as it was, it doesn't seem like it should have been that difficult.

I ate and rested in Telluride, then headed south on 145 to ride Ophir Pass back to Hwy 550, and Ouray.  The road to Ophir was improved gravel, but East of town it was rougher, becoming shaley and narrow on the final ascent.  Some momentum was required to stay on course, and while the valley was pretty, I could not look.  The pass had a strange crest, consisting of a small passage between slopes of broken shale, green on the right, orange on the left.  At the top (in the middle of nowhere) a dog with a collar trotted by, showing no interest.  He/she demonstrated perfect 4-paw-drive-etiquite, slowing while passing.  The descent to Hwy 550 was picturesque, starting with switchbacks then transitioning to forest road.  I reached Hwy 550 and headed back to Ouray.

Needless to say, day 4 was satisfying, and I felt I had earned a nice meal, a cup of strong gormet coffee, and a restful sleep in Ouray.  I cashed in on the nice meal and the yuppie coffee, but I did not, dear reader, go to sleep immediately (and it wasn't the coffee).