It was about 10 a.m. when a friend and I set out from Colorado Springs on our motorcycles. We were headed west with the goal of reaching the iconic Bucksnort Saloon while catching a few fall colors along the way during a 180-mile loop around central Colorado.

We knew the leaf peepers would be out en masse, and we knew it would likely be a trip spent traveling well below the speed limit. That didn’t matter though. As many motorcyclists would admit, slow cruising on a good weather day amid stunning scenery can be a welcomed change of pace to defensive driving in city traffic. Don’t get me wrong, the traffic is still a drag – but with a bit of exercised patience, this slow cruising makes it easier to find peace in the fresh mountain air and the view.

As expected, we encountered the ‘weekend warrior’ crowds almost immediately after pulling away from our meet-up spot at Rudy’s BBQ on the west side of town.

Ute Pass was crowded, and Woodland Park even moreso. My friend – a longer-term resident of the state than myself – noted that he wished I could have seen what Woodland Park was like in the 80s, before the arrival of hustle and bustle spurred on by Front Range growth. I’ve always found Woodland Park charming, but I could see where the surge in thru-traffic over recent years could be quite frustrating for people trying to go about their local daily life, especially those with memories of fewer visitors so fresh in the mind.

Following the route that we had established ahead of time, we broke away from most by turning north after passing the ‘business district’ of Woodland Park, heading up highway 67 toward a little place called Deckers. Winding road and a shorter line of vehicles stretched ahead of us, still more crowded than any other time I’d been on the route, but manageable – especially given the rural nature of the road and the number of sights to see along the way. Light blue water flowed down a rocky creek to our left intermittently during this leg of the trip, and we were already starting to see golden aspens sprinkle the landscape.

Once in Deckers, we took the westernmost option of a Y-turn and headed toward Pine. There’s not much going on in Pine in terms of roadside tourism, with most travelers likely passing through the town while admiring the surrounding landscape. This is where we made our first stop, though, at a destination long-popular among motorcyclists – Bucksnort Saloon.

Tucked away up a steep road in the mountainous terrain outside of town, Bucksnort is indeed a spot you’ve got to know previously in order to find it. In a sort of rural residential area, my immediate thought was ‘how could a place this remote’ survive in the restaurant world.

After stepping inside, however, I soon realized that I was simply late to the club – years of dollar bills from patrons were tacked to the ceiling, and about 20 minutes after our arrival, it was clear we had barely beat the lunch crowd. About 20 to 30 millennials started to trickle in over a 10-minute span. Bucksnort had indeed already been discovered by Denver.

My friend’s wish that I had seen Woodland Park in the 80s crossed my mind again. While Bucksnort still managed to hang on to its ‘Wild West’ charm, I imagined what Bucksnort must have been like years ago, first opened as a mercantile in 1919 and making its transition to a bar in the 70s.

I had the burger, my friend had the loaded potato skins, and both meals were what you’d expect, and soon, we were on our way, back down the old and steep mountain road that brought us there, surely tight enough to have some in the SUVs of today a bit nervous.

From Pine we headed toward Bailey to visit a brewery my friend had been speaking highly of – Mad Jack’s Mountain Brewery, which opened in 2016. Upon arrival, however, we found that Mad Jack’s was no more, with ownership of the spot assumed by Craft Mountain Brewing in 2024. My friend noted how the outside seating had been expanded, and amid the leaf peeping surge, that expanded seating was paying off. Craft Mountain made for a great pit stop, but we got out of there relatively fast despite our prime patio seating and with live music on the way. Surprise storm clouds had appeared on the horizon, and we still had more than a hundred miles to go.

Out of Bailey, we encountered a bit of stop-and-go traffic, but it was nothing like what awaited. We eventually passed Grant and the southern entrance of popular leaf-peeping spot Guanella Pass. This offered a little bit of relief to the congestion, but we were soon caught in stop-and-go motion again, this time accompanied by rain drops on our visors.

The traffic did make sense, though – we were headed to one of Colorado’s most well-known fall color spots, Kenosha Pass.

As we ascended the mountain route, we started to notice vehicles lining the sides of the road at a higher frequency, and about a mile from the summit, the stop-and-go motion hit its peak. Thankfully, golden aspens lined the road and massive groves of yellows and reds filled the mountainsides around us – there was plenty to look at to distract us from our pace.

As the top of the pass got closer, our movement somehow got even slower. One lane moving in each direction and no chance of safely (or legally) making a pass had us stuck in the mix.

At long last we reached the 10,000-foot summit, and my friend gestured to a massive parking lot in the distance. We now understood the reason for the hold-up – vehicles attempting a left-hand turn across a very busy lane into a lot that was most likely at full capacity. No worries to us though – from the saddle of a motorcycle and now under clearer skies, we could take in the view without complaint. And I’ll be honest – this weekend’s view on Kenosha Pass probably delivered the best fall colors I’ve seen in my 10-plus years of calling Colorado home.

As we eventually crested over the pass, traffic was finally cruising again and we made our way to Jefferson – a small town along Highway 285 that’s about 16 miles northeast of Fairplay and caught in the vast wind-blown openness that fills much of Park County. That’s when my friend revealed he had an ace up his sleeve – a far less-traveled road that would prove to deliver equal beauty with few passersby to disrupt the serenity of the moment.

I saw his turn signal flip on and soon we were headed south, down a winding two-lane road that started off with ranch scenes typical of those found around that part of the state; relative flatness with mountains in the distance and cows flanking the pavement.

After 15 miles or so, however, it became clear he had taken me somewhere special. Rocky crags started to rise around us, and fall colors dotted the landscape just past a creek with too many curves to count. Aged structures abandoned to face time alone long ago amid a lack of other vehicles had me feeling like I was somewhere more remote – like Creede – opposed to somewhere in between two of the state’s most crowded highways. We had indeed stumbled on a spot still reserved for in-the-know locals.

Turn after turn, we navigated our way to Highway 24 and eventually back to the traffic, spending the rest of our return ride to Colorado Springs stuck behind an endless row of vehicles traveling about ten under the speed limit. Granted, as we had reminded each other throughout the day, we were in no rush – a good thing, as the congestion stuck with us until we pulled back into the Rudy’s BBQ lot to bid farewell and part ways.

Once I made it back to the safety of my couch, I popped on Instagram to realize that about a dozen other friends of mine had made the same trip to Kenosha Pass on the same day. I probably passed them on the road without noticing, after all, those 12 people would have been lost in the mix among the 1,000s in the area also seeking prime leaf-peeping views. With that in mind, I started to reminisce a bit more about the ride.

I recognized how my friend’s longing for a time before the Centennial State’s rapid development made sense, and I’m sure many long-term residents could relate with his sentiment. With growth comes change and sometimes, that change means a departure from cherished aspects of life.

I also noticed how so many people were spending their Saturday enjoying the beauty and accessibility that Colorado’s nature provides – something many people around the country don’t get to experience throughout a lifetime. There’s something to appreciate in the way the masses opted to leave behind their screens in unison, breaking away from what could have been a lazy fall Saturday for the sake of appreciating a fleeting moment in the forest together.

There’s no doubt about it – Colorado is quite different than it used to be, even compared to what it was like when I moved here about 11 years ago. Growth and development has proven inevitable, and the changes that have followed come with give and take.

Many natural spots are more crowded, yes, but that’s because more people than ever are open to finding that same appreciation for the landscape that so many have long held dear. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again – there’s something special about that; more people caring about nature inevitably leads to more people developing a passion for protecting it. From the trail to the ballot box, this passion can mean more support when it comes to preservation – something I hope will make it possible for those roaming trails decades from now to experience the same moments in nature that we’re able to chase today.