How to get really, really high on a motorcycle

Now that the riding season is about to start in earnest here, this seems like a good time to post this piece I wrote for Motorcycle Tour & Cruiser Magazine several years ago.


Psssst!
Want to get high? I mean really high. Higher than you’ve ever been on a motorcycle or in a car or anything else besides an airliner.
Then chart a course to Colorado. But be warned: this is no ride for wimps.
I’m talking about Mount Evans and the highest paved road in North America.
At 14,264 feet above sea level, Mount Evans is 154 feet higher than better-known Pike’s Peak. On most days, it can be easily seen from Denver, some 30 miles to the east.
You get there by taking the Exit 240 south from I-70 at Idaho Springs and heading up the Chicago Creek canyon into the mountains on Colo. 103.
Fourteen miles from the Interstate, you’ll round a curve and be treated to a gorgeous view of Echo Lake, where anglers try their luck in the chilly waters and hikers stop to picnic and admire the lake and mighty Mount Evans beyond.
The Echo Lake Lodge overlooks the lake and is a great place for a break and to psych yourself up for what’s to come. The lodge dates from the 1920s. It no longer accepts overnight guests, but is a pleasant place for a snack and souvenirs.
If you just rode in from the flatlands, you may feel a little light-headed as you climb the front steps of the lodge. That’s because Echo Lake is more than two miles high – 10,600 feet to be precise. Suck all the oxygen from the air that you can get, because there’s precious little where you’re going next.
Just beyond the lodge parking lot is the turnoff for Colo. 5, a 12-mile miracle of highway engineering that snakes its way to the rarefied heights of Mount Evans. It’s winter most of the year at the summit of Mount Evans, so the road is only open between Memorial Day and Labor Day.
Talk of an auto road up Mount Evans began in 1910 and the Colorado Division of Agriculture commissioned the road in 1915. Construction of a dirt and gravel road started in 1917. It took a decade to build because savage weather conditions limited work to the summer months. The road was paved in the 1930s.
The Crest House restaurant and gift shop was built at the summit in the 1940s and was billed as the highest store in the world. It served visitors until 1979 when a spark during the filling of a propane tank triggered a fire that gutted the building before the fire engines could race the 26 miles from Idaho Springs.
The drive up Mount Evans used to be free, but a fee was instituted a couple of years ago to help pay for road maintenance and the new facilities at the Mount Goliath Nature Center a short distance up the road. The fee is $3 for motorcycles ($10 for four-wheelers) and buys you a daily entrance pass that’s good for three consecutive days.
The first few miles are nothing special, the same kind of ascending road through pines and aspens you’ll see on the way up from I-70.
Presently, you’ll come to the Mount Goliath nature area. The most significant feature here is a stand of bristlecone pines, among the oldest living things on earth. At 11,540 feet, this stand of bristlecones has been around an estimated 1,600 years.
The road veers right, then left then right again and you’ll find yourself above the treeline in a barren zone of alpine tundra where fragile flowers thrive despite six-month winter blasts and intense solar radiation.
Once beyond the trees, you can see for miles. Echo Lake lies down and to the right and you suddenly notice there are no guardrails. Get used to it. Some people consider the Mount Evans highway the scariest road in North America because of this little omission.
By this time, you’ll begin to experience what mountain climbers call “exposure” – being in a place where you can see a long way out and a long way down. Mount Evans has the most extreme exposure I’ve ever experienced. If you’re afraid of heights, you’re in for the white-knuckle ride of your life from here on.
Suddenly, you’ll realize you’re headed for a sharp left turn. With the mountain on your left, the view ahead is nothing but sky. You may instinctively angle over closer to the centerline to put a little more distance between your bike and the edge of the road.
But if you creep over to the right a bit, you’ll realize it looks worse than it is. The terrain slopes steeply down to the right, but it’s not a sheer drop-off.
That comes later.
If you’re on a normally aspirated bike and you haven’t adjusted your carburetors, your engine may run a little ragged – well, maybe a lot ragged – since before Echo Lake. You may want to focus some attention on keeping the revs up. Try not to be distracted by the smell of burning brakes trailing in the wake of cars coming down from the summit.
By now, the vistas will be breathtaking. You can see the grand peaks of the Rockies arrayed all around you, but don’t forget to keep an eye on the road.
You may notice it’s getting cooler, too. Temperatures drop 3-5 degrees for every 1,000 feet of elevation gained. If you were comfortably warm back in Idaho Springs, that warmth will be just a memory by this point. Be warned that the weather can change quickly in this high-altitude alien world and it can snow in the middle of summer.
As you approach Summit Lake and mile marker 9, keep a sharp eye out for woolly white mountain goats. They’re a common sight along the roadway, picking their way up and down impossibly sheer cliffs. You may also catch sight of a yellow-bellied marmot, a roly-poly little groundhog-like animal whose shrill alarm call won him the name “whistle pig.” I’ve also seen pikas here – little animals the size of a ground squirrel who dart across the road.
Summit Lake, which is frozen most of the year, is where the ride gets, shall we say, interesting.
Summit Lake is at 12,800 feet. If you were flying an airplane, the FAA would want you on oxygen after a half-hour at this altitude.
The road up from Summit Lake looks straightforward enough: turn left at the end of the lake and ascend a steep ramp-like stretch with the shoulder of the mountain on your right. Folks coming down are on the outside here, getting a good dose of exposure. After a long uphill straightway, the road curves to the right, eventually leading to an abrupt and very steep switchback to the right. Now, you’ll be on the outside and will notice there’s no centerline anymore and the pavement looks a little narrower and – Jeez, Louise! – look at that drop-off to the right! No! Don’t look at that drop-off! Just keep your eyes on the road! Just keep thinking, “Never mind the scenery. I’m still on the ground and this is just a road.”
Yeah, but what a road!
The switchbacks come more frequently now as the road zig-zags up the sheer face of the mountain. You may find yourself relaxing on the inside lane on the zigs and squeezing deep grooves in your handgrips on the zags, climbing ever higher.
For me, the scariest point comes at mile marker 12 – a steep, violently sharp switchback to the left. The approach is Exposure City with nothing but sky beyond the crumbling edge of the pavement. This is where I have to fight the temptation to creep into the downhill lane. Every time I’ve ridden this road, I’ve met a four-wheeler booming around this particular corner and filling the oncoming lane.
A few more thrilling switchbacks and the end of the road is in view. You’ll catch sight of the ruined Crest House and beyond it the domed observatory operated by the University of Denver. There’s also a restroom, if you still have need of one.
Someone thoughtfully allocated parking space for motorcycles in the paved lot. It’s at the far end on the right near the gift shop ruins. Ease into a parking spot, drop your sidestand and shut off your engine. Then congratulate yourself on the ride and try to breathe. The parking lot is at 14,130 feet. If you were a pilot at this altitude, the FAA would require you to be on oxygen constantly.
With that thought in mind, you can explore the area around the summit and take the obligatory photos. It’s said that on a clear day you can see an area five times the size of Switzerland from the summit of Mount Evans. The panoramic view is amazing. To the east is Denver and the plains of eastern Colorado stretching out beyond. Pike’s Peak spikes the southeastern horizon. The vast valley of South Park stretches out to the southwest and the mighty peaks of the Continental Divide stand to the west.
If you’re already adapted to high altitude, or if you brought a tank of oxygen, you can hike the quarter-mile trail that leads the last 130 feet to the peak.
If not, you can sit in the parking lot and contemplate the ride down.






Some Tips for Riding the Highest Paved Road in North America

Keep the speed down to 20-25 mph. This is no road for racing.
Keep an eye on changing weather conditions. Daytime temperatures are usually 60 degrees or lower and wind and clouds can drop the temperature quickly. Lightning is particularly dangerous in the mountains. In a thunderstorm, try to get back below the treeline or take refuge in a vehicle.
Ultraviolet radiation is 40 percent stronger at this elevation than at sea level. Wear sunglasses and cover exposed areas with a sunscreen with a rating of 15 or higher.
Be alert to altitude sickness. If you start to get a headache and feel nauseous, move to a lower elevation and drink lots of water to ease the symptoms.
Save your brakes on the downhill ride by using engine braking.