It was somewhere around 11,670 feet of elevation – amid a cramping leg and with storm clouds on the horizon – that I started to wonder if I had made a terrible mistake. Months prior, I enthusiastically signed up for a motorcycle ride of epic proportions through Colorado’s mountainous terrain despite my own experience being outnumbered by decades compared to those I would be with. Now about 150 miles into that ride with another 350 miles ahead of me, I struggled to shake off the nerves and re-focus my mind on the basics that had gotten me that far already.

Despite motorcycling being a hobby that occupies much of my free time, I don’t write about it much. That said, the 500-mile day-trip I embarked on this past weekend is one that those traveling the Centennial State via any sort of wheeled vehicle would be sure to enjoy, thus here’s a little tale about what it was like.

At about 5 a.m. this past Saturday, the many alarms I had set the night before started blasting off loud and clear. Despite the neighborhood bear waking up my dog, thus me as well, a few hours prior, I snapped awake with ease, eager to get going – the big day had arrived.

A day I had been looking forward to for months, I was set to team up with two friends to tackle the BMW Motorcycle Club of Colorado’s 25th Anniversary 100,000 Foot Ride, which involved a long route through much of central Colorado traveling over 11 paved mountain passes. The peak elevation of the mountain passes adds up to about 116,000 feet, hence the name of the ride. The ups and downs weren’t the only aspect of the route that was set to be epic either – the route itself, not including transport to and from the start and finish was about 350 miles long through some of the state’s most scenic terrain.

After fighting off some morning grogginess aided by plenty of caffeine, I threw on my protective gear and was out the door, soon to meet up with my friends on my Catalano Grey 2019 BMW RnineT Pure – a 1,170cc naked street bike that had more than enough horsepower for the task at hand. We said our brief hellos at a gas station and within a few minutes, we were headed up to the Denver-area start at Foothills Motorcycle in Lakewood.

We opted to take Highway 105 instead of I-25, more scenic opposed to the latter and the perfect hilly ride to get aquatinted with the cool morning air and the body movements we’d be using for the rest of the day. After cruising through a couple small towns still fast asleep, we made it to Lakewood right on time.

This group ride was a bit different opposed to the group rides that many might be imagining while reading this article. Instead of setting out as a larger pack of the 150-plus participants, each party left on their own. This meant less impact to other travelers on the road, also allowing everyone to make progress through the route at their own pace. Eventually, we’d all reconvene in Morrison, but we had many miles ahead of us before we could even start to think about that.

The first pass we traveled was the recently renamed Mestaa’ehehe Pass, which makes its way from Evergreen through Pine Valley. A stunning pass I knew well after having completed two marathons on the road in recent years, this Front Range drive delivers big on views and sweeping turns. Ahead of traffic once we hit its 9,790-foot summit, we had the downhill grind to ourselves with the exception of a few grapefruit-size rocks on the road and a couple other riders.

And then we hit Juniper Pass, which has a summit of about 11,057 feet – high enough to have me sucking for oxygen through the small opening in my helmet. This portion of the ride was similar to what we had already seen, smooth sailing through lush forests, eventually passing the Mount Blue Sky Scenic Byway entrance. It dumped us out in Idaho Springs, where we took a brief stop to fill up on gas.

The next mountain pass ahead of us was one I knew well – Guanella Pass. I’d been on this road many times before, but I’d typically driven it from south to north opposed to north to south from the Georgetown entrance.

Facing many tight turns and caught behind a group of car enthusiasts moving at a rather leisurely pace, I soon realized that I needed to work on my U-turn abilities at slower speeds in steep terrain – a skill I’d be fixated on improving for the rest of the ride.

We eventually reached the summit of Guanella Pass at 11,670 feet, perhaps best known for being home to the trailhead for Mount Bierstadt – one of the most popular fourteener hikes statewide. Despite the new ‘no parking’ signs, dozens, if not hundreds, of vehicles lined the roadway. From the saddle of a motorcycle amid roadway congestion, I fully understood why parking in this manner can be so problematic – it severely limits a driver’s view and on top of that, there’s a constant concern that random doors might open into traffic or that an off-leash pup might dart across the road fueled by eagerness to hit the trail.

After our descent down the other side of Guanella, we headed west on Highway 285 – another stretch of road I’d somehow missed in my decade-plus of Colorado life. This stunning stretch rolled through hilly terrain amid views that stretched for miles. The road travels over both Kenosha and Red Hill passes as it heads west, and as we pulled into Fairplay, a bit of drizzle started to splash across my helmet’s visor – a preview of several wet hours ahead.

Another quick break and we were on our way to Hoosier Pass and the Continental Divide. After paying close attention to our speed as we rolled through Alma, we were once again on a steep climb. Wet roads had us cautious but put no damper on the day – and as I shuddered in the wind chill, I realized I should have dressed for a ride with temperatures of 40 to 50 degrees, not a ride in the 70s and 80s.

From Hoosier Pass, we dropped down into Breckenridge, and after a brief stop to check out the Breckenridge Troll – about a 20-minute family-friendly excursion, we were headed to Frisco, stopping for gas once again before hopping on I-70 West for the next leg of our trip. I started to feel tiredness creeping in and opted to purchase a Five-Hour Energy shot for the first time in my life, later realizing that the ‘five-hour’ claim was a bit of an understatement while wide awake on my couch at about 2 a.m. the next morning.

After a brief stint on I-70, we took Fremont Pass to the edge of Leadville followed by Tennessee Pass to Minturn, and this is really where the rain started to pick up. Flanked by high-consequence drops amid blind corners with light snow visible on the top of a few high-elevation peaks in the distance, we were thankfully able to dodge the more serious portions of storms that surrounded us. Despite that, I still found myself wiping off my visor every couple of minutes on whatever straight stretch of pavement I found.

During this portion of the route, our bikes were in a close-to-constant lean as we progressed through turn after turn. We zipped across Red Cliff Bridge, and I was admittedly a bit in awe as I caught its beauty from the corner of my eye. I’d seen it before, but it never fails to demand attention.

Minturn was bustling – live music and what appeared to be a farmers market in full swing – and soon, we were back on I-70 again, headed over Vail Pass and back to the same Frisco pit stop where we had stopped before.

While I-70 could have been an option from that point on back to the Morrison area, the designed route took us over Loveland Pass instead. Loveland Pass has long been one of my favorite drives statewide, with turns I’m quite familiar with from my days of heavy skiing, albeit always traveled in a car and not on two wheels. It was also at this point that my more talented and more experienced motorcycle buddies ushered me to the front of the pack in the lead position for the first time of the day. Despite a little hesitancy on my part given the realization that I was indeed still a novice rider, I took on the challenge.

While I ride my motorcycle frequently and have done so for a few years, early on during our Saturday ride it had become apparent to me that my experience in riding with a group is minimal. While groups of motorcyclists encountered from behind a steering wheel tend to make it look simple, this practice adds a new layer of technicality to the ride that’s hard to explain until you find yourself in the mix. Instead of focusing solely on the road ahead, I couldn’t help but monitor what those around me were doing despite fully knowing that they had more than enough experience to ride around me responsibly.

We made our way around Dillon Reservoir and onto Loveland Pass, and even though it was mid-day on a summer Saturday, we had no traffic ahead of us and despite the stormy conditions we’d be riding through for hours, the road was dry. We moved through sweeping turns in unison and as we we crested over the top of the pass at the Continental Divide at about 11,991 feet of elevation, it would have made for a hard-to-beat photo op. Instead of stopping, however, we cruised through, locked in on the road ahead of us and simply having too much fun to think about much else. As I stared at the peaks in the distance, I was enamored by the moment – this is what riding a motorcycle is all about.

And then it was back to I-70, and with rain falling down once again, we encountered something we had managed to dodge throughout the 300-plus miles we’d traveled already – stop-and-go traffic. My clutch hand started to quickly fatigue as I shifted in and out of gear to only make a little bit of progress each time. I started to wonder if there would be a time I’d go to squeeze the lever and my hand would be too stubborn to respond at all. The traffic would remain like this for 20-plus miles, reminding me why I dreaded this stretch of Interstate so much – one I’m often able to avoid by taking backroads out of Olympic City, USA for my excursions out west. Another reason I’m happy to call Colorado Springs home opposed to the Mile High City.

One last mountain pass was on our list – Windy Saddle, which features numerous hairpin turns above Golden. Found along Lookout Mountain Road, I’d never traveled this stretch before and had no clue what to expect. Once again, we found ourselves sitting behind a couple slower-moving travelers, but there were no complaints from me. My butt was starting to get sore, my legs were cramping a bit from the sheer number of turns we’d made that day, and I was starting to feel the exhaustion of eight-plus hours of wind-blasted motorcycle travel.

Despite my fading condition, this mountain pass still blew me away, the perfect cap to what had been a day I’ll forever remember. Switchbacks down a mountainside were surrounded by views of peaks to my left and the city of Golden below me on my right. I could easily see why this road gets so much attention as a Front Range scenic drive.

After making our way through Golden, we moved on to our final official destination – Morrison’s Piggin’ Out Smokehouse, where a barbecue buffet awaited – and we did indeed pig out, mac n’ cheese included.

We stuck around for about an hour, and as soreness started to swell, we hopped back on our bikes and we were on our way home. We headed south along on the same 105 route we had started on under the sunrise, now taking familiar turns in the opposite direction as the evening golden hour hit its stride. Rolling hills of greens and yellows dotted with cattle and aging barns stretched toward a westward mountainscape horizon with nothing but pavement ahead and pavement behind, accompanied by the engine roar of our bikes.

Bidding farewell to one member of our trio, the other remaining rider and myself capped off our travels in the way that anyone heading back into the Springs should after a long day of adventure – with a stop by Fossil Craft Beer Company for a celebratory brew.