Pikes Peak Pirates

In June of 2011 I fulfilled a lifetime dream/goal that I have wanted to do it since I was a boy. Maybe it was more of a bucket list item.

The point is, I was able to ride a motorcycle to the top of Pikes Peak in Colorado. Pikes Peak is one of the Colorado fourteeners, the 31st tallest peak of the 54 Rocky Mountain peaks at 14,114 feet above sea level. The 19 mile road to the top of Pikes Peak was completed in 1888 and until recently, unpaved.

I always had the perception that Pikes Peak was a difficult road on a motorcycle. That may have been true in the past, not so much anymore. Most of the road is paved and what little gravel remains is wide and well groomed. It was mostly like a really nice bike path up a big hill. I suppose being the second most visited mountain peak in the world deserves a good road even if it was disappointing to me. Don't get me wrong, it was fun and a little bit of a challenge, I guess I was looking for the Pikes Peak I discovered in a 1960's motorcycle magazine. What I found was was almost amusement park-ish.

Pikes Peak was incredible to this flatlander. The views and the nonstop switchbacks were fun too.

The real letdown was arriving at the top and finding it overrun with pirates. Not the Johnny Depp kind, the kind that trailer their cruisers everywhere and dress up like, well, pirates. There seemed to be hundreds of them scurrying everywhere.

Not a real pic of a Pikes Peak Pirate

Clones, all wearing the allegedly stylish and mandatory black leather vest. There seemed to be several groups/squads of them. Most of the lemmings had big blue and white laminated name tags stapled to their leathers.

One guy, named Ride Leader, scowlingly informed me that my chosen parking spot was "in the way of my group!" I parked next to a car, apparently "his group" had trouble steering around things. Rather than point out to Mr Leader that the road they were going to attempt not only had curves, but hills too, I just moved my bike to the other side of the car. As Mr Leader and his group of inexperienced clones rumbled and paddled past me, I couldn't help but think how much trouble they were going to be in when they arrived at the end of the parking lot. Maybe the trailers were parked around back. 

After moving the bike, twice, I realized I was seriously out of breath. Not just the I ran up the stairs and now I have to catch my breath, but really not getting it back. The air at 14,000 plus is about 60% of what it is near sea level, like close to where I live. Walking to the gift shop was a chore. 

I soon forgot about my breathing problems; the gift shop was crawling with more black leather vest clad, doo rag wearing, nametag holders. 

The names must have been pseudonyms unless Cranker is a real name, he was trying to appear all bad whilst looking at a rack of doo rags with Podunk and Amp. Goofy and Happy were trying to strongarm a cashier out of an extra doughnut. They were hoping the sunglasses would scare her into acquiescence no doubt. 
  

The only person straying from the compulsory black leather was "Blondie". Blondie was probably blond back when she bought her red leather riding outfit, she was probably much lighter too. That didn't stop her from squeezing herself into the pair of red leather pants. Just the thought of how much work she did getting the pants back on in the restroom made me short of breath.  I gotta salute the maker of the leathers, any lesser quality would have blown the seams out long ago. A red leather camel toe is not a pleasant memory, jus' sayin'.

Trying to disguise my laughter as panting, not hard to do here, I moved back outside. 

I watched with amusement as four doo ragged, name tag wearing, clones wrestled a chopper closer to the edge of the parking lot across some loose rocks. Another guy fished around in a leather saddlebag and produced a beer can. One of the clones held up the beer and a cigarette while the others fussed with cell phone cameras trying to produce a Kodak moment to hang on the club wall.    

It is hard to believe we rode 1,200 miles for this. Like Mt Rushmore, the Wisconsin Dells, and many other places, the taming of America is oozing it's way into everything. I did not expect to see handicap parking on the top of Pikes Peak. If I wait too long there will likely be guardrails and a pressurized dome to quell any type of hazard that may cause a lawyer to reach for a suit.

Mount Evans was much more in line of what I was looking for.