True Love Riding the COBDR

[MotoNews]

Published in: Rides

After a divorce I’d started dating again. It was exciting to think I was going to find a man who was into riding motorcycles as much as me, someone I could travel the world with and explore the backroads on two wheels. Growing up on motorcycles, they were an integral part of life, so my mission was to find that compatible match to live happily ever after with. Well, in the real world, that doesn’t always happen. What’s a girl to do when she can’t find that man? Mold him, make him a rider, and then live happily ever after.

I finally met that gullible guy who was willing take on the challenge. It would take a few years, but time would eventually shape him into the riding partner I’d always wanted to share life with.

The evolution had begun, and after teaching him the ropes of off-road riding in the first year of our relationship, we decided the inaugural “big trip” would be the Colorado Backcountry Discovery Route (COBDR). We would take two weeks to ride from the southern part of Colorado to the northern edge and have enough time in between to do some climbing and exploring. Since he was an avid climber, I figured we’d better bring the climbing gear since this dirt biking thing was still new to him. And I was concerned he’d become bored, so climbing would be a good outlet during our trip.

Prior to launch, I’d have to teach him the next level of off-road fundamentals. He’d graduated beyond sharing one of my machines, so it was time for one of his own. Being a typical guy, he wanted to buy a brand new, fully decked-out $10K dirt bike. But, luckily, I was able to intercept this irrational thinking and brought him back to reality.   If this was going to be his first taste of riding some distance, I didn’t want him to invest a ton of money before really experiencing something entirely new. After all, there was a chance he might not like it, and why throw all that money away? My logical argument was to buy two reliable smaller displacement bikes that he could learn on, and we could share parts if needed during our trip. I eventually found a couple of KLX250 dual-sports and brought them back to their new home.

After that first year of training, it was time to prepare for the big trip, which took another few months of planning. Then, just like that, we were off, heading down from Washington to Colorado with the bikes and gear loaded in our truck. We left the truck in Fort Collins, CO, at my sister’s house, and rented a U-Haul. From there, we transferred the bikes and gear and after a great dinner with family and a good night’s rest, we set off early the next day for Dolores, CO. Seven hours later, we were at the U-Haul drop-off in Dolores. It was a bit nerve-wracking knowing we couldn’t   leave any gear behind. This was it; hopefully we had everything and not too much because from this point on, we were going to be off for two full weeks of riding.

After multiple “idiot” checks to ensure we didn’t leave anything behind, we locked the U-Haul and dropped off the keys. There was a particular sense of freedom at that point, and we were ready to experience whatever was ahead. After departure, there were just four hours remaining before sunset, so getting adjusted to riding our fully loaded little 250s was quick, as was navigating with the GPS. Luckily, Day One was a success, and we found a nice camp spot in a meadow surrounded by a grove of aspens. Settling into our tent that night, I was giddy that my partner was thoroughly enjoying his time. Over the next two weeks, I would witness him morphing into an incredible dirt biking partner, filling that void in my life.

The COBDR had plenty of challenges—not just the terrain, but also the weather. A few times we found ourselves outrunning lightning storms, seeking shelter before getting drenched by sporadic thundershowers, and drying out in some of the most stunning little remote towns. And the food was unbelievable, as was the abundant selection of micro beers.   We were not disappointed. The fuel in our tummies kept energy levels high, which helped push the bikes over a few 13,000-foot passes. At one point, heading up and over Imogene Pass at 13,114 feet, I looked over my shoulder to check on my partner and saw him pushing his KLX the last 50 feet. I couldn’t stop laughing. The little 250s might not have had the power, especially fully loaded, but they had the stamina to keep going. It was exhausting and rewarding all at the same time.

The trip was going so well that my partner decided to dump the climbing gear. We found   a post office in Telluride and shipped it back home. No time for climbing, we had too much exploring to do on the bikes. However, we did make time to hike one 14,150-foot peak, Mt. Sneffels, his first successful climb of a Colorado “14er,” but that didn’t require climbing gear. The rest of the ride was spent visiting old mines and exploring single-track in Taylor Park.

We camped most nights and when the dirt was building up on our skin, we’d find a quaint hotel in one of the many tiny towns the COBDR passes through. One of our favorite stops was in Leadville, where we stayed at the old, haunted Delaware Hotel. Next door was the cheapest steak house in town, maybe in the entire state, and one of the best steaks I’ve ever consumed. Another great stop for a shower and cozy hospitality was the Pitkin Hotel in Pitkin, CO. Built in 1904, when Teddy Roosevelt was President, there was a rumor he stayed in Room 1, now known as the “Roosevelt Room.” Room 1 was available so we took it and were greeted by a teddy bear on the bed. The trip was nonstop adventure, and I could tell my partner was enjoying every minute of it.

By the end of the COBDR run, I knew I’d molded my man into that motorcycle fool I wanted. It didn’t take a lot, he pretty much figured it out and knew this was going to be  part of his life, too. After we made it back to Fort Collins, we repacked our    truck to head home. The 18-hour drive went by fast due to the lengthy discussions about the ride and about our two-wheeled future together. A few weeks after our trip was over, he found two Husqvarna 501s at a dealer in Ellensburg. Of course, I couldn’t say no. It was as if he’d graduated from training, and was taking the next step into the real world of off-road riding. So, we pulled the trigger and came home with two new bikes.

After eight years of dating, my molded motorcycle guy has sustained a PCL tear, an ACL blow-out followed by surgery, a visit to the ER in Moab to remove part of a juniper branch from his elbow… and yet, these injuries have not stopped him from riding, maybe just slowing him down a bit. Watching him progress over the years has been extremely rewarding. We are currently up in the beautiful north Cascades riding happily ever after.

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Influenced by her uncle, Donni Reddington began riding when she was eight. Since then, she’s owned road bikes, dual-sports and, now, mostly dirt bikes—hosting a fleet of Betas for the Skool of Moto, a riding academy she opened after semi-retiring as a recovery room nurse in Wenatchee, WA. Long before reaching her 40s, Donni practiced yoga, Tabata and other activities to keep herself strong, pliable and healthy, both on and off her motorbikes. If she’s not riding, exercising or educating, she’s rock climbing, mountain biking, skiing or photographing the world around her. 

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[roadscholar]

Good article.