The Stanley Hotel is over 100 years old and has a reputation as being one of the most haunted hotels in America.
Interstate 70 is rife with channels that cut right through mountainsides, but soon we enter the longest tunnel I’ve ever ridden through. At a fraction under 1.7-miles long, The Johnson Tunnel is an incredible feat of engineering. It carries I-70 under the Continental Divide and at 11,158 feet is one of the highest vehicular tunnels in the world. The way it supports the weight of a mountain both astounds and frightens. The speed limit is 50 mph but a big rig is really moving on the inside lane so I rev up to get past him instead of sitting beside him in his blind spot. I’ve been inside a mountain for what seems like an eternity before a pinpoint of light in the distance lets me know I’m almost out, but for a spell I began to feel like Jonah in the bowels of a whale wondering if I was ever going to get out.
Before too long the interstate begins to descend at five to six-percent grades and signs warn trucks to gear down. The mountains finally yield to a great plain as the metropolis of Denver sprawls out as far as the eye can see. In the distance, a monstrous thunderhead looms, its white columns stretching to the upper stratosphere like the plumes of an atomic explosion. The road is heading straight toward it and I fear that its lightning and hailstone-infused wrath lies between us and our night’s destination, Fort Collins.
Before I pull off to start layering on my Icon PDX rain gear, the turnoff for Interstate 25 changes our direction 90 degrees and the storm I feared earlier, now resides off to the east. It’s been a long day and the speed limit picks up to 75 mph again so we pick up the pace. The road way is grey and wet and the air is filled with that earthy post-rain smell. Fingers of sunlight are shooting through the clouds above the peaks of the Rockies to our left while the white billows of the thunderstorm are now orange-hued in the setting sun. It has been a 350-mile day made longer by numerous photo stops at scenic points along the way. About 28 miles out of Fort Collins, flashing road signs warn motorcyclists not to change lanes because of uneven lanes ahead. The road entering the town is in the same state of disrepair. I fight the internal struggle between the desire to ride on and the need to stop and rest. But a trip up to Estes Park is in store for tomorrow before we make the final push to Sturgis so I take the turnoff to the Hilton and go to bed restless with visions of Lazelle Street dancing in my head.
A little confession - Ever since Jack Nicholson hacked his
We had the pleasure of interviewing and riding with legendary custom bike builder Sugar Bear and relished in the opportunity to be photographed by one of the best in the biz, Michael Lichter, at the
2010 Sugar Bear/Michael Lichter Ride.
way through the bathroom door and said “Here’s Johnny” in Stanley Kubrick’s movie
The Shining, I’ve been hooked on horror films. So when I heard the hotel that inspired Stephen King to write his novel
The Shining was in Estes Park, it became a must-see on my trip itinerary. I also heard that the ride up to Rocky Mountain National Park is fantastic, the views incredible and that Estes Park was a hip community to visit.
Google maps claimed it was only an hour’s ride to Estes Park. Though it’s only about a 50-mile ride, Google’s approximation doesn’t account for the mad exodus of cars up the mountain and the signal-to-signal struggle through Loveland traffic. The popular tourist destination obviously attracts many fans from the Denver metro area. After about 45 minutes fighting traffic, we finally get through town and enter a tight, rocky canyon, so narrow there’s barely room for two lanes and the river below. Fly fishermen stand knee-deep in the fast-moving water, trying to land coveted river trout. The mystery is where they park because the canyon’s so narrow that there’s few spots big enough to squeeze in a car, but
We hung out with Jerry Garcia and jammed some Grateful Dead at this little shop on the outskirts of Loveland, Colorado.
they’re everywhere in the river. This, despite roadside signs that warn people to run to high ground in case of a flood. And with good reason. A catastrophic flood ripped through this peaceful canyon in the summer of 1976 and killed 145 people, leveling everything in its path. The rocky walls are so steep and the gorge so narrow, it’s easy to see how water levels could quickly funnel through with devastating might.
Higher up the mountain, the canyon widens and fishing cabins and camping sites line the river. Bicyclists are pedaling their hearts out as they challenge the mountain. I have no battle to wage thanks to the power of the Vision’s Freedom 106 engine, which is easily handling every grade. Victory opting to outfit every one of their 2011 models with this powerplant is one of the smartest moves they’ve made. The road winds back and forth past fruit stands and beef jerky huts. The speed is posted at 40 mph with 30 mph bends around every other turn, but it’s so heavily traveled motorcyclists never really get into a flow.
Highway 34 finally plateaus at Estes Park. The town sits in a fish bowl of rugged peaks at 7500 feet. The town is kitschy and cool, filled with B&B’s and boutique shops. Like much of the state, it also emphasizes the abundance of outdoor activities available, from nature walks and alpine tours to serious mountaineering or off-road fun. It is also a gateway to Rocky Mountain National Park, 416 square-miles of rugged wilderness with 60 mountains over 12,000 feet tall and the highest point, Longs Peak, topping out at 14,259 feet.
The Stanley is famous for being the hotel that inspired writer Stephen King to pen his classic horror novel,
The Shining.
As much as I entertained the thought of riding the Trail Ridge Road and a tour of the park, we stop at the visitor’s center instead to find out information about The Stanley Hotel, the resort that helped fuel the imagination of Stephen King. All we needed to do was look off the road to our right to see the grand, multi-storied white façade of what is billed as one of America’s most haunted hotels. Construction of the main building started in 1907. The efforts were funded by F.O. Stanley, whose claim to fame was the Steamer automobile. Besides the massive 139-guestroom hotel, Stanley also helped develop a sewer, power and water company for the town as well as Estes Park’s first bank. Over 100 years in existence has allowed the lodge to amass quite a spectral history. The Stanley uses this otherworldly reputation to its advantage, offering both daily $15 ghost tours and $50 ghost hunts. It is said that the specter of Lord Dunraven resides in Room 401 and Lucy is the Concert Hall’s resident spirit. We reveled in the magnificent architecture of the grand old building and its turn-of-the-century ambience before making our way out of town.
Rolling back down the mountain, we prepare to jump back on Interstate 25 North. There are definitely more bikers out today making their way to Sturgis than the day before. Riding over a freeway overpass, I catch a glimpse of Harley passing by underneath me, the unmistakable horns of a bull skull tightly bound between the bars of its apehangers. It’s the enigma I’ve named Wild Bill. The tan tassels of his pants and jacket are blowing wildly in the wind and the brim of his hat is curling back to expose eyebrows that are as bushy as his ‘stache. Last time I saw him he was headed west, but now it appears he’s joined the exodus.
The lone ranger rumbles across the plains of Wyoming on his way to Sturgis.
After winding down the mountain and crawling back through Loveland, it feels good to be able to open up the Vision 8-Ball beyond a crawl. It’s not long before we see a giant buffalo billboard mounted on the highest hill that doubles as a “Welcome to Wyoming” sign. The land has flattened into undulating hills of dried chaff and every time you come to another rise, tan fields stretch as far as the eye can see. Just outside of Cheyenne I jump on to 85 North and when the first sign I see says “Next Service 72 Miles” you know it’s going to be a long haul. It’s not long before we see buffalos, cows and horses roaming the ranges of the farms and ranches along the Pawnee National Grassland. This is John Deere country, full of till-the soil, salt-of-the-earth types.
The road is straight and houses are far and few between. Every rise looks like the one before it. The sun is to our left cutting prisms of light blue through thin clouds. The sameness of the landscape would be monotonous if not for the smells along the way. First the aroma of fresh fields of hay wafts across the roadside. Further along, green-stalked rows of corn warming in the afternoon sun fill my nostrils. A little later, the unmistakable smell of cow dung from a huge cattle ranch turns the experience from pleasant to putrid.
Highway 85 is straight and barren so I roll on the throttle, kick the Vision into sixth gear and try to make some time as we enter the Thunder Basin National Grassland. The one good thing about the lack of trees is that there’s little place for cops to hide. We stop for a quick photo shoot in Hawk Springs and encounter the self-appointed historian of the tiny Wyoming town when we park the 8-Ball in front of one of only three buildings in the settlement, the Hawk Springs Trading Post. An elderly lady in her paint-stained pants and floppy hat was mowing dead grass in a makeshift park across the street. She lets us know that the building was once a fire department before it was a trading post, but now “some guy just lives there.” The worn-down building next to it was a movie house in the ‘20s too, she continues. Going back to her task of mowing the sparse weathered grass, Eric, my traveling partner and Motorcycle USA’s videographer, walks into the park to ask her the population of the town and almost steps on a bull snake while wearing flip flops. She takes up arms, grabbing a spade out of the bed of her old Ford pickup to kill the snake in defense of “the bikers who might stop in the park.”
While taking pictures in front of this old trading post, we learned all about the history of Hawk Springs from the self-appointed town historian.
“Rattlesnakes are bad, too this year,” she continues, and in five minutes of conversation Eric and I have been made honorary citizens of Hawk Springs by this amicable gal.
The sun is setting to the west and the wooded forests are returning as we get closer to the South Dakota state line. Green is a welcome sight after wading through a sea of brown all day. Curvy roads are back too and I’m enjoying tilting the Vision into the turns, its well-sorted chassis giving the bike handling that belies its size. The pines are getting taller and the air cooler as roadside signs say “Welcome Bikers.” Tents and campers fill every campground and impromptu roadside gatherings are common. A green sign points the way to Spearfish Canyon, one of the must-do rides for Sturgis. We roll through Lead and Deadwood and though the rally is barely getting underway, the police are already picking people off right and left for little-to-no reason. As we get closer to Sturgis, flood lights fill the sky above Main Street, beckoning us to join the party. Lightning ignites the sky in the other direction and memories of last year’s hailstorm fill my head. But the throngs in One-Eyed Jacks breathe new life into road-weary bodies and the partying commences.
Pee Wee Herman orchestrates the "World's Largest Tequila Dance" along with the Legendary Buffalo Chip Girls. He would later lead a pack of 300 riders out of Deadwood for the third annual Legends Ride.
The next eight days are a blur of bad-ass bikes, bare naked ladies and burnouts. We kick it off with the Sugar Bear/Michael Lichter ride at the Broken Spoke Saloon and follow it up with the Legends Ride to the Legendary Buffalo Chip. The Legends Ride is an annual fundraiser that has raised over $150,000 for local charities. It is always a star-studded affair, attracting TV personalities and famed custom bike builders alike. We got a chance to interview Rupert of
Survivor fame before heading out on a ride to Sturgis lead by comedian Pee Wee Herman.
The event starts in the old western town of Deadwood, South Dakota. With an hour to spare before the start of the ride, I wander the antique-buildings of Main Street. Just down the block from the Silverado Franklin Historic Hotel I see the familiar mustachioed face of the one I anointed as Wild Bill. With his trapper garb, his style fits right in with the Wild West motif of the town. We pass by as total strangers but our eyes meet momentarily, just long enough to exchange nods. Something tells me I’ll run into him again somewhere down the road.
A few storefronts down I find myself standing in front of the wagon-wheeled windows of the Old Style Saloon #10. The original bar was the place where Wild Bill Hickock was shot from behind by Jack McKall, but the building burned down long ago. The “new” Old Style Saloon #10 sits across the street from the original location and features daily recreations of the incident at 3 p.m. in addition to the alleged death chair of Wild Bill in a display case. I turn to look for his doppelganger that I just passed but he’s disappeared like a ghost in the crowd.
The Scorpions were just one of many bands that rocked Sturgis 2010.
Sturgis is something every motorcyclist should experience at least once in a lifetime. It’s one of the last bastions of true biker revelry. Estimates put attendance this year at over 600,000. In between the AMD World Championship of Custom Bike Building and the Harley-Davidson Ride-In Bike Show we manage to squeeze in ZZ Top, Buckcherry, Stone Temple Pilots, Wolfmother, Ozzy, Disturbed and the Scorpions in concert. Days blend into nights, nights fade into day and the sound of a V-Twin firing up serves as our daily alarm clock. There’s no snooze button here so we caffeinate heavily and prepare ourselves to do it all over again until it all blends into a Mobius strip of memory.
* To get the full Sturgis experience, be sure to check out our Sturgis Rally 2010 page, view our Sturgis photo gallery and watch our Sturgis Rally 2010 Review video.
