Phantom Canyon, Colorado
After dropping off my daughter for her summer job in Colorado Springs, I ended up looking for a place to stay for the night. I had a tentative plan for the week, and knew I needed to be in the Canon City area for the first two days, so I headed out of Colorado Springs via State highway 115, which intersects SH 50 just east of Canon City (pronounced ‘canyon’). This is a nice short cut to 50 rather than having to straight south to Pueblo to pick up 50. The great scenery and twists and turns on 50 begin just west of Canon City anyway, so the shortcut is a valuable time saver. As I drove, I kept looking for any kind of sign that mentioned camping and perhaps if lucky ....... showers as well.
Driving along, almost to Canon City, I saw a sign signaling Phantom Canyon just a few miles ahead. I had remembered a friend of mine who lives in the area telling me about a great road through the canyon. Since it was early afternoon and I was ready to start my adventures, I decided to head that way and hope to find a campground.
Phantom Canyon road is actually 67. It runs north and south from SH 50 all the way to 24 near Woodland Park, Co, just outside of the Springs. However, there is approximately 25 miles of it traversing the canyon which are not paved. That was my destination.
Here is a google map link to the road:
Phantom Canyon Road
And here is what it looks like via satellite:
I pulled down 67 and found the first part to be very promising for a great ride. Now - all I need to do is find a campground~
I felt like I had just discovered some unknown secret road. No motorcycles on this road at all. Hardly a car even. As I headed further north on 67, I saw the sign I had been wanting to see: “Campground - with showers” YES!! The pavement gave way to a meandering one lane trail of red dirt which I followed for quite a while it seems. It was probably merely 2-3 miles, but you know how it is when you are trying to get somewhere; those miles go on forever!! Looking around me, I reminded myself that this looked like rattlesnake country, so “be careful and choose wisely.” Ha!!! The longer I am on my own on this trip, the more I find myself talking to myself. Not something I’ve had the pleasure of hearing before. However, I’ve decided I have some things worthwhile to say to myself, so I’m listening a little closer these days. (and laughing at myself a whole lot more as well).
Here is what I drove down to find the promised campground with showers.
I really would like to give the name of this campground, because it was absolutely perfect for me, but there is a story about my arrival there that I’d like to tell, and I’d hate for it to be coupled with the campground itself, because all in all, it did end up being a great place and one I would love to visit again.......... but maybe not the right time for me to do so. I’ll give the name of it later, because if you are ever in the area, you really would enjoy this canyon and this campground is a great staging place for rides in the area - especially with it’s showers and bathroom facilities,and the privacy at the tent sites is tops!
When I arrived in the F350 4x4 Diesel pickup with a tandem trailer and two bikes, I got a few stares. I suppose you’d expect a guy to step down from the rig instead of a woman in Capri pants and sandals. So it did cause some questions. Questions I have had to answer a few times on this trip - “Why are you traveling alone?” “Why do you need two bikes?” “Don’t you get scared by yourself?” “Why are you traveling alone?” and then “Why are you traveling alone?” Yes, periodically, I get that one more than once from the same person. Perhaps because I assume that unless I volunteer the information, it’s none of their business, and for safety reasons, I always like to leave open the possibility in their minds, that I don’t intend to be alone the whole way. My standard answer, when I don’t feel threatened or in a potentially bothersome situation, is: “because I can.” That usually stops further questioning. The two bikes with one person - me, driving a big truck by myself through the Rockies seems to be especially bothersome to the officials who take your money at National Park entrances. Unless I’m on my bike, when they look at the truck with 2 bikes on a trailer, they assume I must have some male stashed away somewhere, so I get quizzed a bit more in those situations. They certainly wouldn’t want to be cheated out of their additional $3.00-$10.00 entrance fee. And I certainly would not do so. Eventually, unable to produce a male amongst my belongings, they realize that some women really are capable of travel on their own. However, if they did actually ever produce a male adequate to travel with me, I would not complain, and would gladly pay his entrance fee into the park.
So - I pulled up to the office, a plain rectangular terra cotta colored building with many voices and chatter coming through the wooden screen door. I was greeted by a lady who apparently was running the campground for the day. I asked about a tent site, the facilities, the cost, and all other information I felt I needed to make a decision. By then, a couple of other women had joined her and a man about my age. They all had a familiar look, and sure enough it turns out that they are all related. There are so many related people around me by this time, that I feel like I must have walked into a family reunion. I did. But not theirs. The answers to my questions about the campground were sufficient for me to decide to stay. The women all turned to do their part in getting me registered, while the man stood and talked to me a bit about the bikes. He saw my cameras and we talked about photography. He had some photos of the moon and some photos of animals he wanted to show me later, and some drawings he had done, and some poetry and ................... pretty soon, one of the women called to him, “ ______, come back in here.” And off he went. Now - honestly, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with ____ in my opinion. He seemed a little ‘country’ and maybe not well educated, but certainly nothing that should frighten me. So I was surprised and gradually became a bit worried as his aunt, then another aunt, and then his mother, and eventually an uncle all said to me at different times when he was not around, “Don’t be afraid of ______. He’s a bit retarded (their choice of word, not mine), but he won’t hurt you. He talks with a lisp, but he don’t mean you no harm.” The part about the lisp being thrown in there never made the connection in my mind about being retarded. I was kind of laughing on the inside, but also kind of wondering - ‘why would they think I would be afraid of him? Has he done things before that would make women afraid?” But, judging for myself, he was probably not retarded at all, and certainly did not seem to be a threat to me.
After giving them money for the nights I intended to stay, they directed me up a hill to where I would be able to camp - separate from the RV’s parked right near the pool and showers. “Way up there?” “Yes”. Hmmmmm. “Are there any other tenters up there?” “Well, there is a men’s group, but that’s all.” Hmmmmmm. I decided I’d let instinct lead when I got to the tent area. I mentioned that I could use some help getting the RR out of the chock later, if someone could come by. No problem. Later, ______ came by to help me unload the bikes. Still no hint that he was a dangerous person or even retarded. He was there only 5 minutes helping when a cousin showed up to oversee the situation and then to drive him back down the hill to the office area. I could tell by the way he helped unload bikes, that he was not lying when he mentioned he had grown up on bikes and worked on them many times. I was grateful for the help. And then they were gone. You are probably wondering if there ever is going to be a part in the story where their remarks about ____ proved true. Sorry. None. Their comments about him more odd than he was. The day I left, he did pull out a portfolio of things he had built, drawn or photographed. He was a gifted welder and builder. He was a pretty good artist as well, and he had collected enough in a portfolio that he had plans on approaching a publishing company with an idea of a coloring book from some of his drawings from Biblical stories. Whether or not he was retarded or had anything wrong with him, I could not tell. But at least he never felt judged as such by me. Sometimes people get labeled early in life, and it ends up being the people who should be giving the most support and encouragement who do the most damage in holding them back. I wish the best for him and his dreams.
The camping area was stark, and certainly rattlesnakes would love living in this area. But I didn’t intend on hanging around the campsite all day, just sleeping and eating there, so it was fine for me.
For added privacy from the ‘men’s group” across the way, I parked the bikes up close to my tent. It turned out they were a church group, and so probably nothing to fear. It was the drunk men from the family reunion that decided to camp 50 yards from me who concerned me more.
After setting up camp, I got on the RR and rode into Canon City about 11 miles away to get some gas before going into the canyon. When stopped, to fill up I noticed red final drive fluid covering the final drive, and splashed on my wheel - leaking from the vent cap. Great!!! All the talk and chatter on the forum about final drive failure came to my mind. I moved the bike away from the pumps after filling it, to clean it up and to assess what was happening.
The bike was running fine for those 11 miles. Not a true test, I know, but it seemed that if something tragic was happening, I would have known pretty soon. There was no foul smell (it seemed I had read somewhere that a foul smell indicated problems) and the fluid was fresh. It looked like it was merely an overflow, but I dont’ know enough about my bike yet to fully trust myself, and to go into a canyon alone on a bike which might be having a problem didn’t seem real wise. So I put out some emails or call or text messages to 3-4 people on the forum who have offered to give me mechanical advice if they can while I travel. Only one was available. My thought was that the altitude had caused some expansion of fluid from a recently filled final drive (by my dealership - who probably overfilled it) and that was why it was coming out the vent. That’s what it’s suppose to do, right? He agreed and sent me a link after a search on the forum that answered some of my questions as well. But in the meantime, I had help from 5 or 6 strangers, all who were very kind and helpful and had tons of knowledge about bikes - but none about the BMW. Every single one of them told me that the altitude would not do that to final drive fluid. I may be completely wrong here, but I looked at that fluid, felt that fluid, and it was certainly thinner and lighter than my toothpaste, and yet my toothpaste had undergone the same situation and made it’s way out the cap into my toiletry bag - so I don’t know why final drive fluid could not do the same - especially because there was a built in vent for it to do so. But they all assured me that cannot happen.
I needed help in two areas after being assured by a member of the forum that my assessment was probably correct and to just clean it up, remove some fluid, and go on my way with a watchful eye. The two areas: I needed help getting the bike on the center stand. A Honda owner helped with that. And I needed help getting the final drive fill cap off. Both required strength I did not have. Once the cap was off, this one guy just took the tool and started pushing final drive oil out onto the gas station’s drive area. I was embarrassed. I would have put down paper towels to catch the mess had I known. When the owner came out and saw the mess, the guy was already gone. I cleaned it up as well as I could, but did feel badly that it had happened that way. Here’s the mess that was left after I cleaned up the wheel, tire, and final drive and tried to wipe up the ground.
I got back on the bike, rode another 10 miles and no fluid showing. So I felt comfortable about heading into the canyon. But - it was starting to get late, and after a few miles, I realized I would probably want the DR to make this trip. But it was an incredible first taste of the fun to come the next day.
Heading into the canyon I started to see white flakes streaming toward me. I knew it was going to be cold that night, but it certainly wasn’t cold enough for snow yet!! I slowed to get a look - The Cottonwood trees were blooming - and these little white particles were everywhere I went for a while in Colorado. I tried to capture it with the little point and shoot - kind of cool.
Here’s my first view of the canyon before the road turns to dirt. I was so excited to have found this so easily. I never saw another bike on this road.
Since it was already late, I turned back just after three miles and headed to my campsite while it was still light.
Once back at the campground, and assessing the family reunion drinking binge going on as well as the promised drop in temperatures to 34 degrees and the news that there was a bear in the camp while I was gone - I decided that even though my tent was already set up - that perhaps tonight would be a good time to try out sleeping on the back seat of this truck. So I fixed myself some dinner - Beef Stroganoff MRE and made a ‘bed’ in the back seat. It got very cold that night, but I managed to stay warm enough - and safe. The bear was reported to have climbed into the back (bed) of a truck the next morning. I can imagine how scared I would have been had that been the truck I was sleeping in. The whole next day, different people working at the camp had a shotgun with rubber bullets always at the ready. That ought to make a bear really mad!!!
The next morning, as soon as the sun was up, I was ready to explore the canyon. But clouds moved in and rain seemed imminent. I readied the DR650 for a canyon ride and then waited to see if the clouds would move out. They didn’t. I rode into town to fill up the bike and check the pressure in the tires, hoping the clouds would move out. They didn’t. I went back to camp and waited. Still - the clouds lingered. Once in a while a small sprinkling of rain would fall, but never anything more. Finally I decided, if that is the only amount of rain, then I don’t need to fear a wash out in the canyon, so I headed off on the 650 for Phantom Canyon, just a mile up the road.
Around the first bend, two mule deer sprang from the creek on my right, bounding across the canyon dirt road, but the canyon wall stopped them. Rather than turning back to the creek, they instead kept looking for a place to up the canyon wall. And before I knew it, I was chasing mule deer down this canyon path. I don’t know what got into me. It just seemed like the right thing to do at them moment and certainly not something I would get to do very often.
A little further up the road, I saw this sign. It just seemed like something you would enjoy seeing.
So - now - some shots from the canyon. This road could be ridden on any of our BMW RR bikes or even the K bikes. But since I had not ridden it before, I was unsure what I would find, so I took my dual sport. Toward mile 14, the road gets a little more rocky, but nothing an RR could not handle. Cars travel this road. They have a length limit of 25’, but still, they are traveling this road often. I saw several cars - and most not 4WD, but never a motorcycle. Here are some scenes from the canyon. An incredible ride that I will do again when I’m back in that area the first of July. There are so many shots I took, it is hard to pick just a few. Every turn yielded another shot that I had to take.
There were two of these stone tunnels. Very cool.
(and because I have recently been accused again of not really being the person riding in these reports - here is an attempt at a self shot with the camera perched on the seat bag)
Here is what the road looks like when it starts to get a little rough as I was climbing up to around 8000 feet.
I had gone 16 miles on this road and the clouds were moving in when I saw this sign:
I decided to go a bit further just to see if it would ever turn to pavement, but by mile 18, it was still dirt and getting late, so I turned back shortly after crossing this cool bridge.
I look below at the road I had just ridden
So I turned back and just started riding and not taking as many photos. I was having a blast - almost too close to the edge a couple of times and that scared some sense into me - but not enough. I had come to a flat, more open area and started playing around on the 650 - something I should not do when alone in a canyon in the late afternoon with storms threatening. Lesson learned. But sliding to a stop was fun.
So then I decided sliding OUT of a stop - throwing some dirt on taking off would be even more fun. What was I thinking? This bike is too tall for me to let it spin out! And although certainly not as heavy as the RR, I found that I could not control the weight of it on the spin out, so it laid down while I stood standing trying to keep it upright. It wasn’t technically a “drop”, I just could not hold the bike up any longer in a leaning spin, and with one leg planted, I had to lay the bike down.
Trying to get it off the ground, was impossible for me. I tried every method taught and nothing was working for me. In fact, I pulled something in my back. Thankfully, I don’t have lower back problems, so I knew some anti-inflammatory and care the next day would have me feeling right again soon. But I did try for several minutes to get the bike up. No good. I was within minutes of pushing the ‘help’ or the 911 button on SPOT, but kept thinking I would see a car sooner or later as I had seen at least a dozen on my way up the mountain already. So I waited.
Eventually an older vacationing couple from Ontario arrived. He got the back end of the bike, I got the front end, and together we lifted it. While doing so another car arrived. This time it was a young couple from the area. How fortunate I was. Steve and Mary both rode bikes. He had a Ducati and a Yamaha dual sport. The 650 was flooded from laying on it’s side that long. Steve showed me how to open up the carbuerator and let out some of the gas, let in some air, wait a couple of minutes and voila - the 650 started right back up. But to make sure everything was going to be fine, they waited with me while I put the tail pack back on the bike and got my gear on - moving kind of slow because of my back. They didn’t mind at all when I asked if I could take the picture of those who had helped me.
To be sure I stayed safe, Steve and Mary drove behind me for a few miles to make sure I had no more trouble with the bike. None at all. In fact, there is not even a mark on the bike from the lay down. That’s the differnce between dirt and cement!!!!
Coming out of the canyon, the sun was setting and the canyon walls began to glow. I did not stop for many pictures on my way out, but I couldn’t pass up this shot of the sun lighting up the mountain rock wall in this photo.
That’s Steve and Mary taking off ahead of me now, once they saw me stopping for photos again. Thanks again to them and the couple from Ontario.
Back at the campsite, I knew my back was hurting pretty badly. I was not sure if I would stay there another day or not because I had plans to photograph a cowboy shoeing horses the next day. I feared if I waited till morning to load the bikes, my back would be too sore, so just in case, I loaded them that evening - sore back and all, and settled in for another cold night waiting for the Aleve to kick in. It took all of the next day of taking Aleve and alternating cold and heat, but by the evening, my back was fine again.
If interested in the name of the campground near Phantom Canyon, send me a PM. It really is a nice campground and I would readily recommend it to anyone. In fact, later on, I met a man who had hosted a group ride and they stayed at this very campground. And as I said earlier - although I took a dual sport on this road - it is completely doable on the RR, and really worth your time to do so. I found out when I returned to the campground that once I saw the sign stating 16 more miles to Victor, that there was actually only 5 more miles of dirt road before I would hit some nice pavement. I just didn’t go far enough. A nice loop would be 67 to Cripple Creek, then 102 west to Guffey (story of that place coming up soon), or you could take 11 west (Gold Belt Scenic Historic Byway), until you hit 9. 102 also runs into 9. Go south on 9 to Canon City, then east on 50 back to 67. Only 22 miles would be dirt, the rest is wonderful paved winding, twisting mountain roads, with interesting towns along the way - as well as interesting people.
More to come of more roads in Colorado. Next - Highway 50 to Montrose, Colorado and the Black Canyon on the R1150R.
