Mike Thurber and I are going to be working as guides together in China for Travis Winn and his company, Last Descents River Expeditions (http://lastdescents.com). Mike and I made plans to meet with Travis at his parent's house in Grand Junction. Another friend of ours, Rachel Morr, who lives in Denver planned on meeting us at Travis' house also. The window that everyone could be there at the same time looked to be pretty small, so it was important that I get up there as soon as I could. (Travis, Mike, and I had an epic time on the Middle Fork of the Feather river in northern California last year; Rachel, bless here soul was there to drive shuttle and initiate the search and rescue effort. I'll write down that story later.)

So, I drove from Santa Fe to Grand Junction on thursday, Oct. 5th. It took a while to decide which way to go. There was a more direct route that would definitely save time and there was the more scenic route that would surely show the fall colours that I was anxious to see as well as the twisty mountain passes that are just so fun on a motorcycle like mine. I was worried about time but I didn't leave Santa Fe until around 9:30.
I chose the scenic route and it was incredible. I ran into rain just north of Chama, New Mexico, but didn't get soaked until I rolled into the outskirts of Durango. I stopped at a large motorsports store in Durango and bought a pair of waterproof padded motorcycle pants by Cortech. The ankles and shins of my jeans were the only things really wet when I headed up the pass toward Silverton. But by the time I got to Silverton, i was chilled and tired. I still had 120 miles to go until Grand Junction. The ace up my sleeve was a new piece of gear that I bought in Santa Fe from Centaur Cycles. Heated Vest and Heated Gloves made by Widder. Oh My Lord! These have made all of the difference. After a liesurely half hour to hook up the wires to my battery and drink a cup of coffee, I was ready to head up over Red Hill pass to Ouray. The rain was comming down pretty hard in Silverton and on up the hill but once over the pass, it slowed to a sprinkle. There was snow on the sides of the road and intense skies but the pavement was fine. Hardly any traffic. I was stopped at an abandoned mine trying to take a self portrait when a truck pulled over and offered to take my photo for me. This is the image here. The man is a motorcyclist named Will D. Howard. Thanks, Will.
This part of my journey was so incredible. I was listening to my music, warm and dry as i could hope for, and just cruising down one of the most beautiful shist/granite gorges I have ever seen. There were waterfalls and tunnels, twisty corners and kind travelers. The intensity of the weather made it so much better. When I dropped down into Ouray, the light was fading fast. I took this photo as the town ate dinner or stoked the fireplaces. I was still another 2 hours from where my dinner was but I knew that the roads were fairly straight and flat from there on out.

I was greeted at Peter, Cindy, Travis and Carmen's house by a fantastic hot dinner and good friends. Rachel was there and Mike had shown up with one of his friends Eric Shedd and another of my friends, Eric Griffith. These are some photos of our time there. I stayed for 3 nights and it was so nice to be someplace where where I could work on my website, hash out logistics for running rivers in china, play with good friends, and eat wonderful food. I want to thank Pete and Cindy for putting up will all of us youngins staying up late and generally taking up a lot of space. It was wonderful staying with you.

My next stop: Denver. I drove on i-70 over to Littleton, CO where my aunt and uncle, Linda and Steve Ambrose live. I was running late and we had dinner plans in Boulder with thier two daughters, my cousins, Jennifer and Emily. It was great to see the whole family together and get to know more about what they are all up to. Here is a picture of us from left to right, me, Linda, Steve and Emily. This is photo of me and Jennifer when I had chai with her on my way to wyoming the next day. Its opportunities to connect with family that makes this trip worthwhile.

My friend Oliver Deshler (river guide for AzRA in the G.C. And a great kayaker that I boated with in Portland last winter) grew up in Laramie Wyoming, and was staying there with his family for a couple weeks this fall before heading back up to the northwest. It was important for me to get up there before tuesday the 11th so that we could spend some time before he left on a climbing trip. I left denver after having lunch with Heidy Spaly (uofo m.arch student, we had a couple studios together). I spent a little while in Boulder with Jennifer then headed up to Laramie. It was raining cats and dogs by the time I got to Fort Collins and dark as can be. I decided to take i-25 up to cheyanne instead of taking the more mountainous road directly to Laramie. 60 miles outside of Cheyanne, the snow started flying. It was an inch deep when I pulled into a hotel in Cheyanne. Screw That! Man, that was scary. The hotel felt real good on the feet and hands. I had a bath and shave and a good night sleep. Here is my bike in the morning. Oliver was urging me to make to Laramie that morning so that I could go hunting with him and his Dad. I made it there by 10 and we went out on a full day of hunting.

One quick thing about the drive from Cheyanne to Laramie before you go on to read about the hunt. Driving in the snow on a motorcycle is one of the scarriest things that I have ever done. The roads started out fine, then as I got halfway up to the pass, the snow started to get packed down and form tiny ridges like micro sand dunes on the beach. Tractor trailers would pass me and spay me with slush, the whole while my handlebars shaking with the packed snow ridges. I am never going to do that again. It taught me about relaxing under pressure (i feel those lessons are ones that I want to stop having.) and focus. The point is: I am still here, and I feel great. The road down into laramie felt like I was driving on griptape.

sorry mom, I wont do it again. (I mean it.)