First the three S's, pack up my gear, call Denmark to make them make my credit card work again (apparently I hit some limit), and on the way out of town a compression test at a bike shop. "125 psi", the mechanic says. I have no idea if that's bad or good, but at least he thinks it's good. It leaks a bit he then says, and suggests that maybe one of my valves isn't closing properly. Clearly he's not used to seeing two-stroke engines.
Climbing over a couple of passes in 2nd gear is tedious, but then that's what I also did on the Nimbus back in 1982. And - paraphrasing Kris Kristofferson - going down is worth the coming up. 'The Million Dollar Highway' they call it. 'The Swiss Alps of Colorado' they also call it, and they got both right. It does indeed look like Switzerland, just at about twice the scale.
Two retired couples in an enormous 4WD truck stop at a mountain pass. The guys are members of 'The Blue Knights', a motorcycle club for police officers. They're from Texas and tell me to drop by if I go to San Antonio.
In Silverton I notice the trailer tyre has punctured, but the only mechanic in town fixes it for next to nothing. In this rare case the flat was a good thing, because he is actually a nice guy to meet. He also recommends The Brown Bear Cafe, which has the kind of stamped steel ceiling that I'm so fond of.
Kevin, sole proprietor of 'Bearded Wonder Services', posing next to his 1964 Cadillac.
Trucks work their way past me, as do yet another bunch of Frenchmen on rented Harleys. I catch them on the way down, see them tiptoe around serpentine curves with three inches of air beneath their footboards, and briefly consider showing off by taking the inside line past them. (Overtaking other vehicles has not been a defining feature of my trip). These tourist aren't used to big bikes, wobble uncertainly on inclines and a few days ago I even saw one being dropped during a parking maneuver.
Up the road a snowplow comes by, then another. I'm getting cold enough to put on the military style padded jacket I bought ($10 at a thrift shop) - and it makes me look like a complete wanker.
The motorcycle parked in center of picture gives some sense of scale.
I stop in Ouray, where Travis Scott a.k.a. The Nimbus Nut and his brother Eric are going to meet me. They come here by motorhome, one Nimbus inside a trailer, and we spend the afternoon and evening talking bikes, music and whatever is worth talking about. Travis has been a regular contributor to Nimbus Tidende ['Nimbus Times', a motorcycle club magazine of which I'm the editor], and it's good to finally seeing him in person, after 4 years of emailing.
The ancient and the merely old: The car is a Ford Model A with a 'boat tail' rear end, that I see it driving around the quaint tourist town of Ouray. Looks cool, but I do wonder about the mechanical brakes in this environment.
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