Day 17: Thin Air, Brake Burners, and the Alternating Smells of Kansas
Yesterday was an absolute giant of a day that tested our patience, our brakes, and our lung capacity. We went from meeting 80-year-old riding legends in a Colorado parking lot to scaling a legendary 14,000-foot summit, dodging distracted delivery drivers, and racing the sunset across the flat expanse of Kansas.
From bathroom blunders to victory passes on the highway, here is how the run from Salida to Colby went down.
The Morning Log: Norton Legends and Close Calls on Highway 24
We kicked off the morning packing up the rigs in the Salida parking lot, where we struck up a conversation with two retired riders named James and Jeff. One of them used to be a mechanic, and he told us a wild story about how, back when they were in their 20s, they threw a leg over a 1969 Norton and rode it all the way to Alaska. The guy is about 80 years old now but still absolutely loves to ride. Talking to fellow bikers like that is always the best part of being on the road.
Before hitting the asphalt, we pulled over a couple of times to check Dean’s hydraulic fluid, hoping that might fix his lingering clutch issues. We finally launched onto Highway 24—a gorgeous stretch of road packed with very curvy lines and long, sweeping bends.
Unfortunately, the scenic peace didn’t last long. In one tight stretch, an Amazon delivery truck driver—who was either texting, falling asleep, or completely oblivious—came drifting halfway into our lane.
Pikes Peak: Halfway Bathrooms and Mountain Traffic
Shaken but unscathed, we pushed on toward Pikes Peak. At the base of the mountain, we pulled over to grab a quick cup of coffee to warm our hands and find our bearings before navigating to the park entrance.
While standing in a long line for the bathroom before the big climb, a kid suddenly threw one of the stall doors wide open and held it there—revealing his dad standing inside, completely exposed and in the middle of peeing! The mom and daughter lost it laughing, and so did we. Turns out the family was visiting from Hernando.
After paying our gate fees, we had to park it and wait for a convoy of 10 massive semi-trucks to crawl down the mountain after dropping off construction materials at the summit. Once the road cleared, we started our ascent slow and easy. The drop-offs over the edge quickly became incredible, with 16 designated scenic points spacing out the climb all the way to the top.
[ RIDER REPORT: THE CLIMB TO 14,115 FEET ]
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The Traffic: About eight or nine points from the summit, two cars wedged themselves in front of us and slowed to a crawl, slamming on their brakes in the middle of sharp curves to take pictures. On a heavy touring bike, losing your momentum on a steep alpine switchback is incredibly dangerous.
The Crisis: Dean’s clutch started severely acting up again. At one point, one of the tourist cars came to a dead stop right in the middle of a blind curve. Luckily, we were on just enough level ground to stabilize the rigs, or it would’ve been an absolute disaster.
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We rolled past Checkpoint 13, which features a gift shop and an intermediate parking lot where visitors can opt to take a shuttle. We decided to ignore the gravel driveway, kept riding, and managed to secure a spot parked tight on the side of the paved mountain street just below the summit.
Because of local restrictions, the summit shuttle line was backed up with a brutal two-hour wait. Instead of standing in the sun, we decided to hike up the remaining rocks on foot. The air up there is incredibly thin, making it a real battle to breathe, but standing at the official summit of 14,115 feet is an unbelievable feeling.
The Descent, Brake Burners, and Ivywild School
Getting the heavy touring rigs out of our tight parallel parking spots on the side of the cliff was a challenge, but heading down was all downhill from there. We dropped the transmissions into first gear and just let the engines do the work—rolling down a steep grade is a million times easier than wrestling a failing clutch on the way up.
About halfway down the mountain, we got stuck behind a black SUV. The driver was riding her brakes completely raw all the way down the mountain, even on the wide-open straightaways. Drivers behind her were laying on their horns to warn her about brake fade, but it didn’t help. She kept her foot buried on the pedal until she finally pulled over into a turnout to let the massive line of vehicles bypass her.
We had zero cell service until we finally cleared the canyon and spilled back out onto the main highway. As soon as the bars lit up, I saw a text from Jan. We navigated over to meet her for lunch at Ivywild School—an awesome old neighborhood preschool that has been completely converted into a marketplace and restaurant. Melissa, Bob, Jan, and I actually ate lunch there together a couple of years ago, so it was great to be back.
Harley Diagnostics and the Highway Diversion
After lunch, we escorted Dean’s bike over to Pikes Peak Harley-Davidson to get an expert opinion on his clutch. Jan tagged along with us, marking her very first time ever stepping foot inside a Harley dealership.
The service techs checked over the rig and told Dean it was likely just a combination of the extreme high altitude and the intense desert heat expanding the system. They gave him the green light, saying it should be perfectly fine to ride all the way home to Tennessee, where he can properly drain and refill the fluids.
Leaving the shop, the roads were an absolute zoo. Massive traffic flows from both I-70 and Highway 24 were being aggressively diverted due to the active wildfires, making the transition off Highway 24 heading east completely nuts. We pushed through the gridlock, ran hard for about 60 or 70 miles, and pulled over for a quick splash of fuel.
The Kansas Sunset Sprint
While at the pumps, we called ahead to our hotel in Colby, Kansas. They confirmed our rooms were ready, but warned us we needed to check in by dark. We hammered the throttles, making one final high-speed fuel stop about 40 miles out as the sun began to drop and the prairie air turned crisp and chilly.
Watching the sun sink completely below the horizon in my rearview mirrors was a trip. Once total darkness hit the plains, we came up on two other touring bikes cruising down the blacktop. We pulled out, clicked down a gear, and swept past them, rolling hard all the way to the hotel parking lot. They rolled into the lobby right behind us—let the record show, we win!
[ LOGISTICS & LODGING: COLBY, KANSAS ]
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The Reward: Ordered a stack of pizzas straight to the rooms and put on the final chapters of *Austin Powers* to unwind.
The Sensory Experience: Riding through Kansas at night is wild. The air serves up this rapid-fire, alternating conveyor belt of smells: fresh dirt, live cows, green grass, old hay, manure, mountain pine, and distant rain, over and over again.
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We are officially fed, warm, and resting our legs after a massive mountain haul. Tomorrow, we keep pushing east toward home.
Until then, keep the shiny side up, watch your brake temps, and keep the rubber side down!