My Scariest Ride

© Ken Bingenheimer / Rum Bum.com

Loveland Pass, Continental Divide

Which way is up? Which way is down? Can you imagine being out on the road and not being sure of those directions? I can, because I’ve been in just that situation, and it wasn’t pleasant.

Keeping a car firmly planted on the ground is simple because you’re on four wheels. You don’t lean and you’re not going to fall over. Riding a motorcycle, on the other hand, is all about leaning, at least when you go around curves. But too much lean and you go down. Bad idea.

One night last September I was heading home from the little mountain town of Keystone, CO, and I had two options. I could take I-70 through the Eisenhower Tunnel or I could go over Loveland Pass on US 6 and meet up with I-70 on the east side of the Continental Divide. I chose the pass.

It was a dark and cloudy night. There was no moon and there was almost no other traffic on the pass. Of course there are no street lights so the only thing I had to light my way was my headlight. You don’t realize how pathetic the amount of light you get from one headlight is until that’s all you have. I found out quickly enough.

The thing about any road over any pass is that they wind and turn and mostly go upward but occasionally are level or go down. On Loveland Pass there are few guardrails.

All that my headlight illuminated was the road directly in front of me. Everything else was blackness. Total blackness. There was no horizon, no visible sky, and nothing at all to serve as a frame of reference. All there was were the white lines at the side of the road and the yellow line down the middle. These rose and fell and curved with the road.

Then, with no frame of reference, my equilibrium started playing tricks on me. Am I leaning or is the road ahead curving? I know I’m leaning because I’m in a curve, but am I leaning too far or is the road rising through the curve? I could not tell. It was amazing the way I could not tell. And it was scary.

I slowed down to about 10-15 miles per hour and just poked along, although going around a hairpin curve can be tricky in and of itself at that slow a speed. But at least I could keep going. And when the occasional car came along I took advantage of their lights as much as I could.

Finally I made it to the top and started down. Down was actually easier than up because the east side of Loveland Pass is mostly switchbacks with straight stretches in between. Straight was easy and shining from above, my headlight gave me a better view of the curves. Finally down, I’ve never been so happy to get onto the interstate on a motorcycle. The super slab is something I normally avoid.

Are there any lessons to be learned here? Gosh, I don’t know. Don’t go over mountain passes at night on a motorcycle? The truth is I normally don’t. Riding in the forest at night is dangerous enough with the deer that may bolt in front of you unexpectedly. Of course, if there had been a moon it would have been a totally different situation. But then I wouldn’t have had this story to tell.