Bettie & I are planning to go to BMW's off-road riding school sometime this fall. Former students glow with enthusiasm, turning from total neophytes into competent off-road riders in a day or two of professional training. We don't plan to tackle the Trans-America Trail or ride to the North Slope; we simply want to handle the occasional dirt/gravel road without stressing out.

WRAP UP OF OUR COLORADO TRIP

This is a bit late in coming, but here are a few more details of the final days of our unlucky Colorado adventure. When Bettie broke (we did not know at the time) her foot, we were out of cell phone range, so we could not simply call 911. No problem: I had acquired a SPOT satellite emergency communicator designed for such situations. What a great opportunity to try it. So I popped open the lock and and pressed the 911 button. The device determines your location via GPS and sends a signal to a satellite network that causes the monitoring service to send local emergency responders to your aid. OK, press button. Lights begin blinking. Just to be sure, press again. 

Now we wait for help. And wait. And wait. After about 1/2 hour, when we could have been bleeding to death, no help. Eventually I gave up and rode my bike a few miles further on until I got cell phone service to call conventional 911. Help came right away, and based on the paramedic exam, we decided against immediate carriage to the hospital. Instead we chose to be transported to a local restaurant (biker bar, actually) from which we intended to call friends for help. The ferrying back and forth from the accident site to the restaurant provided me with my first (and hopefully last) opportunity to ride locked in the back of a sheriff's car. 

At the restaurant things didn't work as we expected, and Bettie's foot was hurting more and more. So we arranged for a taxi to take her on into Denver (about 45 miles) and I followed on my bike. I first stored her bike in a lockbox provided by the bar. Did you know that biker bars have storage lockers for motorcycles? When a patron has celebrated to the point of incapacity, the bar persuades him to take a taxi and leave his bike safely stored at the bar. I was able to avail myself of this arrangement.

The hospital did its thing and determined that indeed there were broken bones. So all doubt about continuing our vacation on motorcycles was resolved: we made plans for Houston. The next day was full of scrambling to identify and engage a shipping service for our bikes, retrieving Bettie's bike from where we stored it, preparing the bikes for shipment, getting air reservations,  acquiring TSA approved lock boxes for transporting firearms, figuring out how we would get our bulky riding suits and other stuff back. (It turns out you can take a surprisingly large amount of equipage on a motorcycle.) Etc etc. 

Our friends in Denver were great and helped us every way they could. Things worked out as well as we could hope, and we eventually arrived in Houston. I was still pissed that the SPOT system had so badly failed. Until I realized, that when I pressed the 911 button the second time (just "to be sure"), that was a signal to cancel the help request. It actually says that in the manual, and in fine print on the back of the device. Brilliant. Later I learned that SPOT faithfully contacted the Colorado emergency service, but then withdrew the alarm after I inadvertently said "never mind". Oh well.

Broken but not bowed

Update on Bettie's foot: We saw a specialist in Houston today. The bones should mend by themselves (no surgery) in about 6 weeks. She now has a "cam walker" (sounds like something from Star Wars), a sort of buckle-on boot that serves as cast. She can walk on it and take off when not needed. She is already talking about attending the BMW off-road riding school.

I wonder if we ...

Bettie arrived at the terminal on crutches. We were given a chair and
an official pusher who whisked us through lines and gates like VIPs.
We've never had it so good in an airport (except for the
aforementioned TSA scrutiny)
.
I grant that it is impractical for Bettie to break her foot prior to
every flight. But could she simply wrap it and arrive on crutches? We
would not claim disability, but simply rely on the imagination of the
checkin agent. Hmmmm ....

Bomber Bettie

Returning by air, we had to check our concealed you-know-whats in
locked cases and declare them to the TSA. I was apprehensive, never
having done this. No sweat. The TSA didn't even look at them. What DID
through our dedicated agents for a loop was Bettie's temporary splint.
It took 5 agents 10 minutes and 1 Xray to prove she is not a dreaded
Bandage Bomber.

Miss Indomitable

Colorado Oops

Colorado Oops

On Tuesday a few miles after leaving Deckers it started raining. We looked for a place to stop and don raingear. The narrow twisty road had few turnouts so we took a left into one that suddenly appeared, appropriately named "Quandary Peak Road", and came to a full stop.  

A) Major premise: all surface areas in Colorado are steeply sloped. 

B) Minor premise: a foot that barely touches ground on flat surfaces will be hovering in air on sloped surfaces. 

C) Conclusion: Bettie dropped her bike. 

Unfortunately the bike decided her foot was softer than pavement and landed square on, breaking (we learned later) three metatarsals. 

After assorted adventures involving satellite rescue services, 911, biker bars, a ride in the paddy wagon, emergency rooms, to be detailed later, we and bikes wound up in Denver at the house of friends. 

As I write this,  by a frenetic day of developing contingency plans, we and our bikes are awaiting return (in separate conveyances) to Houston. Colorado won this round, but we will have a rematch someday. 

Bettie is all right (for a person with a broken foot) and is not discouraged. See the associated photo of Miss Indomitable.   

Green chile @ Deckers

Deckers on CR126

Deckers is a popular (the only) stop between Woodland Park and Pine
Junction on the Platte river. They make mean green chile.

On the "Highway of Legends"

The National Hamburger of New Mexico

The green chile cheeseburger. X

On the Steppes of Central Asia

On the Steppes of Central Asia
They say Borodin had never seen Central Asia when he composed his
symphonic poem, and neither have I. But it is the soundtrack in my
head as we ride the High Plains near Amarillo. Vast, limitless,
featureless, barely undulating. So easy to imagine the cloud of dust
approaching over the plain hides a band of fearsome Huns on their
tireless Steppe ponies, or of our own Steppes warriors, the
yet-more-fearsome Comanches. But it's just a farmer in an F250 Super
Duty

Leigh Anderson
Sent from my iPhone