Four Corners Rally – Labor Day weekend, 2020

Weekend In Durango

I’d never been to the Four Corners Rally so I decided there was no time like the present to check it out.  I was wrong.

Since it was only about 500 miles from Tucson to Durango I figured a day up, a day there and a day back.  Also, this would be a good time to check out my new 4-man Eureka Timberline tent.  For years I’ve used my 2-man on the road when traveling solo and it has been a great tent.  But putting your jeans on in a small tent requires more flexibility than I have these days and the idea of having a taller tent appealed to me.  For Sturgis I towed my tent trailer. 

But that was different.  For one thing, Patricia went with me and for another I was going to be in Sturgis from Monday to Saturday.  The plan for this trip was to leave Friday morning, spend Saturday checking out the Rally, ride home Sunday. 

Preparation for the trip started on Tuesday.  To avoid problems and potential embarrassment, I practiced putting up the tent before I left home.  That turned out to be a good thing.  A new tent, even though it was similar to my 2-man Eureka Timberline, posed new issues.  The first was obvious; the size.  It’s a longer reach to put the frame together and requires following the right sequence of assembly.  The second was that a new tent sort of has to be broken in.  It has to be stretched into place for a while to get things to go together more easily.  Doing this in my driveway was a lot better than trying to do it in the campground.  No spectators to laugh at the effort.  And there is a fridge full of beer in the garage to drink during breaks. 

These models of tents have an accessory Eureka calls “a vestibule.”  It’s an attachment that fits to the front of the tent and makes a great place to put boots, jackets and other stuff you don’t need inside the tent competing for what is limited room.  I had a vestibule for my 2-man and had found it to be quite useful.  I didn’t have one for the new tent.  Enter Amazon.  I ordered it Tuesday and had it Thursday. 

In addition to tent-pitching practice, I did my usual check of the bike.  The Limited has the liquid cooling of the heads so I check the coolant level, engine oil, tranny oil, tire pressure, tread depth and all the lights.  Checking the tightness of all connections came off my list of bike preparations about the time that the shovelheads gave way to the Evos.

Most of my friends “motel it” when on the road.  But I like camping.  I like waking up, making a pot of coffee, and being outside enjoying the early morning.  There was a time when I typically camped anywhere there was a flat spot, or a place to hang my net hammock.  But as I’ve gotten older, I kind of prefer established campgrounds with water, bathrooms and, if I’m going to be there a few days, showers.  The KOA in Durango was full, but I got a reservation for the KOA in Cortez.  I figured the 45 miles between would be a nice ride.  By Thursday afternoon the bike was packed and I planned to leave early Friday to avoid some of the heat.  It had been running in the 106-108 range in Tucson for several days and I wanted to get north of Globe before the hottest part of the day.  That plan was held up by a bird.

I had backed the bike out of the garage and went in to let Patricia know I was leaving.  But when I came back out there was an unusual potential passenger sitting on the back seat.

There are lots of hawks and falcons living around the house, but I had not seen one exhibiting this behavior.  The falcon had dived for a dove that was on the driveway.  Some feathers flew, but the dove escaped.  So the falcon decided to wait around for another opportunity.  The bird sat on the bike, hopped down and walked around and then back up on the Harley.  It was cool to watch at such close range, about 15 feet, and the bird hung around for the better part of an hour waiting for another shot at breakfast.  I finally got on the road around 8.

The ride to Colorado was pretty good, but hotter than I had expected.  I took Arizona Highway 77 out of Tucson and continued north, through Globe, Show Low and on to I-40.  Then, some Interstate riding to Gallup, then north through part of the Navaho Nation.  I stopped along the road to have a smoke and refill my water cup (and take a leak).  Of course, a truck towing a trailer with two Harleys stopped to see if I needed help, or water.  That’s something that hasn’t much changed in recent years.  Unless you are in Southern California, you won’t sit on the side of the road long before someone will stop to see if you need help.  I continued up the road to U.S. 160 and eventually to Cortez. 

I still carry paper maps when I’m on the road, but I do like the Harley’s navigation system.  When I got close to Cortez, I put the campground into the navigation system and followed its directions.  It took a right at the big KOA sign on U.S. 160 just east of town.  The road to the campground was gravel, one of my least favorite surfaces on which to ride.  You have to be careful and maintain forward momentum.  I checked in at the office and then unloaded the gear off the bike, set up the tent and then went into Cortez for dinner. 

I had made a note coming through town on the way to the campground of a sign for Fargo’s, food and micro-brewery.  It turned out to be a good choice.  Then back to camp and to sleep. 

Saturday morning I lay around for a while, then made coffee and prepared to go check out the Four Corners Rally.  The ride to Durango was great.  I rode at a leisurely pace and enjoyed the mountains and the weather.  There were a lot of bikes on the road, but when I got to Durango I couldn’t find anything that looked like a bike rally.  I couldn’t even find a bar.  Eventually, I started south thinking maybe it was set up a bit out of town.  I saw the sign for Durango Harley-Davidson and figured that would be a good place to find out where things were set-up.  It turned out that I had finally found the Four-Corners Rally.  It seems the city had not allowed anything to be set up or any area designated for the Rally, but the shop was outside city limits.  There were vendors set up and a bunch of bikes parked in the lot, maybe 100, but that was it.  Whether Durango doesn’t want to have bikers gather there or it was concern over this year’s version of the flu, the Rally was essentially shut down. 

From this point, things started to improve.  The Million Dollar Highway Saloon is tacked onto the back of the shop.  There was an outdoor patio, shade and Pabst on draft.  They did have some event shirts.

Things continued to improve.  I had been trading messages with Prospect Neil of the Colorado Chapter.  His latest message was that he was with UGLY Vinny and I should come to Durango Harley.  Of course, I was already there.  Apparently, they were near for front door of the dealership.  I responded that I was at the Saloon to the rear of the dealership, if Vinny was there tell him I rode 500 miles to see him, tell him to walk 100 feet to see me.  Eventually, they worked their way to where I was sitting in the shade, sipping Pabst and passing the time rather pleasantly. 

After a bit, we headed back into town for lunch.  With Vinny were friends, Woody and Paul.  We found a place to park 4 bikes together and walked down the street to a beautiful old hotel with a restaurant and bar.  For the next 3 hours, we had lunch, a few cocktails (my cocktail of choice is beer) and talked.  It turns out Woody owns and operates Buffalo Chip in Sturgis.  I have been to Sturgis many times but have not been to the Chip since 1985.  I told Woody about my one trip to Buffalo Chip, how it was just a big field with a temporary stage and some plywood beer stands.  Vinny told me it looks more like a city than a field these days.  I asked Woody what he did with the property the rest of the year.  His answer was pretty straightforward – “Get ready for next year.”  I guess it is now quite a place. 

I told the story of my one time there in 1985.  Besides the absence of any even semi-permanent structure, the show was interrupted when a guy came to the mike and announced:  “Somebody stabbed Bummer.  No one leaves until we find the guys.”  At that point the AK47s came out.  Woody denied any knowledge of that situation and asked that I forget it too.  So I will not say anything about it.

My friend Mark and I had exchanged messages but never did get together.  Maybe next time.  He’s moving to Durango.  Then the ride back to Cortez with a stop to pick up several bottles of water for the ride home.  Then back for a second night in the new tent.

Sunday morning and time to tear down, pack up and head home.  I made coffee, because nothing much happens before coffee.  It took me about an hour to take down and stow away the gear, but I wasn’t in a hurry.  Eventually, everything was packed, the area policed and I was back on the road.  Cortez is nice little town.  And it had a sign that I needed a picture of to add to my collection of memorable signs.

Just out of town on U.S. 60 I was passed by a group of 10, all wearing patches for a club, Soldiers for Jesus.  Now I wasn’t dogging it, but these riders blew by me.  I kicked it up to just under 80 but they continued to pull away.  I passed them again when they had stopped along the road, waved and kept going.  Down the road a bit they blew past again.  I’m at 80 and they were out of sight soon.  More on that group later.

I learned many years ago not to let the fuel get low riding through the Navaho Nation.  Especially on Sunday.  And especially now with concern over the flu.  The Navahos have a reason to be concerned.  It seems that American Indians are more susceptible to this stuff and so they take greater precautions.  Like closing up.  I stopped in Kayenta to fill up.  At the first station I tried, the store was closed and the pumps could not read credit cards.  There, I met up again with the Soldiers for Jesus and we talked for a bit.  They were out of San Bernardino.  Nice folks, mixed group including several women members.  I then found a station with working pumps, filled up and continued west on U.S. 160 with the cruise control set about 78.  The Soldiers blew by me again.  But a few miles later I saw several of them pulled over and the leaders coming back.  One of them had gone off the road.  He was lying in the bushes about 15 feet of the road.  His bike was about 10 feet further on. 

Of course, I stopped.  I asked if anyone had first aid training but it was better than that.  They had a chase truck and one of the people riding in the truck was a registered nurse.  It appeared that the guy was not seriously hurt.  He was conscious, everything moved and there was no bleeding, except a few scratches.  (He was riding in shorts.)  Someone had already called for an ambulance and said it was on the way.  Seemed there was nothing I could do so I wished them luck and headed on down the road. 

U.S. 160 ends at U.S. 89.  Then south on 89 to I-40 near Flagstaff and 4 or 5 miles west on I-40 to I-17 south.  Between Flagstaff and Phoenix the elevation drops from over 7000 feet to about 1400.  Along the way the temperature rose from about 92 to 118.  In anticipation of the heat, I had four 38 oz. bottles of water and had been using those to refill my 20 oz. water cup.  About 40 miles north of Phoenix, I stopped again for gas and two quart bottles of Gatorade.  That stuff is magic.  Down a quart and you feel like a new man.  On through Phoenix and stop at the rest area south of the Gila River.  I pulled to the right, away from the buildings and the marked parking spaces, and found the shade of a mesquite tree where I sat down to drink the second quart of magic juice. 

Another one of those things that happen when you travel on a motorcycle but would never happen if you drove a car.    About 150 feet further down were a couple of middle aged women and what were likely their daughters, with the hatch up at the rear of their vehicle, ice chest out and taking a break.  I was drinking my Gatorade and not paying much attention when one of the women walked up to me.  She was a Hispanic lady and offered me a cup of Ceviche.  Maybe she felt sorry for me riding in the heat, but I thanked her and accepted her kindness.  The cup was cold, obviously having come out of the ice chest and the stuff was really good. 

A few minutes later, a car pulled up next to me.  The driver got out, lit a smoke and walked over to the shade of a Palo Verde tree.   If you’re not familiar with Arizona trees, Palo Verde trees have needles similar to pine needles but not leaves and the needles are spaced further apart than pine needles.  Mesquite gives much better shade.  I spoke to him; “Better shade over here” and he walked over and joined me.  He has a hell of a commute.  He works in Phoenix and lives in Vail, Arizona, a distance of about 140 miles.  We talked for a bit then he got back in his car and back on the road.  He was a black guy.  Between the Hispanic lady taking the time to walk down to where I was sitting and offer me something cold to eat and my simple invitation to the black guy to share the better shade of my mesquite, we may have done more for better human relations that the government has done in the last 150 years.

Anyway, I got home about 6:00 Sunday evening.  Good trip.  The Rally was a disappointment, but meeting up with Vinny, Prospect Neil and Vinny’s friends made the trip worthwhile.  I may go again.  Maybe the organizers will find a way to put it on, with or without the cooperation of the City or Durango.  I know Woody was thinking of the possibility of a Buffalo Chip, South.