Skip to main content

No Guard Rails


   Monarch pass isn't the scariest mountain pass in Colorado. That title belongs to Red Mountain pass out of Ouray. Red Mountain has a monument dedicated to snowplow drivers on it that reads, "This monument is dedicated to those who have given the supreme sacrifice in the maintenance of Red Mountain Pass. The lonely vigil of the night is known only to those men of courage.'' On the plaque is a list of drivers who have died, and it's easy to notice that there is still room left at the bottom to put more names.
   No, Monarch isn't the scariest, the highest or the most remote, but I like it. Either side has passing lanes going up, so you don't have to be stuck behind tractor trailers slowly grinding up it, or terrified tourists crossing their first high mountain pass. Traveling from east to west is nice, you get to hug the mountainside. But the real fun begins when you start to climb up from Sargents and tackle the pass the other way. Driving the outside lane going east puts you six feet from oblivion* most of the way up. Some of the corners have guard rails but you can also cover long sections of winding road that have nothing but a few reflectors to mark the edge.

   The current route of Highway 50 over Monarch opened in 1939 and  cars and trucks have been sliding off of it ever since. Every year vehicles slide off the road to some extent or another. One of the most tragic wrecks was the 1971 crash of a Gunnison High school bus carrying the football team. Eight players and the coach perished, the crash led to new regulations on bus safety.
The crash on Monarch Pass (credit: CBS)
   Most vehicles that slide off just take a short tumble and can be recovered with some creative cable rigging. A tow truck driver in Crested Butte once told me about a truck that crashed hauling a load of jarred pickles. All the cargo smashed open and he had to set his cable in a work site that reeked of dill and vinegar. Other vehicles haven't been so lucky, if they leave the road at just the right spot they can tumble for a thousand feet down a scree field before smashing into trees at the bottom. 
   So, you're thinking, 'ok, thanks for the macabre tale of Monarch Pass. What's this got to do with mountain biking?'
Well, if you ride the Agate Creek trail... you get to see what happened to those vehicles that went all the way down.
   The Agate Creek trail branches off of the Monarch Crest Trail and runs down the west side back towards Gunnison. The correct pronunciation is "AHH-GAH-TAY!" and it should be yelled with enthusiasm whenever you say it. The ride is best done as a double shuttle with one car left at the bottom of the pass near Sargents, and the second vehicle hauling the bikes to the top of the pass. From there you grind up a high elevation climb to exposed single track above treeline.
   Finally you reach a point where you split off from the Crest Trail and begin the descent. The downhill comes at you fast and loose and doesn't let up for miles.


   If your forearms can take it, you can burn a ton of vertical really fast. The trail flows and winds down the mountain until it meets up with it's namesake. The second half of the run crosses back and forth over Agate Creek and gives the trail it's infamous reputation for water crossings. Be prepared to get your feet wet.
Josh reaching for a fish

Kevin's expression describes the water temperature
The trail maintains it's high speed descent, but it begins to throw more technical obstacles at you like rocks, drops and tree roots. 


This is also the part of the ride where you are under Highway 50, and if you know where to look, you can see some crazy stuff.
Directly above Kevin's fist is a flattened 70's sedan

Me in front of some unidentified wreck

This is some VW based utility vehicle, note the bias-ply tires that haven't been used since the 70's

The body has completely separated from the frame

I had to hike up the rock field to this big chunk. I couldn't figure out what it was until I noticed the row of torpedo shaped lights that you only find on the cab of a semi truck.
Agate Creek is one of my favorite trails in Colorado, I try to make it a yearly event. The riding is incredible, but something about the wrecks adds an eerie reminder to the experience. You can't always rely on guard rails. While driving, and in life. And sometimes you only need to drift a few feet out of your lane to find yourself in big trouble.

*Six Feet from Oblivion is not a metal band. But Two Minutes Darker is my friend Stevyl's metal band, check them out in Denver.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Lucky or Good?

 The darkness comes quickly after work, the mornings are really cold. I think it's time to look back and say that was an awesome mountain bike season. I get a little banged up every year, some more than others. This is my fourth crash of the 2023 season and the first one to bring some pain. Maybe I can learn something if I run through them and try to determine if I'm getting good or just lucky. The frequent heavy rain kept trails at Left Hand constantly changing. This led to my first debiking incident. I was taking some friends down Ginger Booty. We had sessioned the big booter and were riding out the rest of the single track. Cody came up fast behind me right as I reached a section of deep rut, filled with loose fist size rocks. My brain analyzed the possible line choices and came up empty as my front tire wedged against a rock. With the front tire stopped my mass started a slow motion arc over the bars. I'd like to think that I tucked my chin and pulled my hands into my c

I wanna rock!

     I greeted my boss as he walked into work. He responded with a full throated heavy metal wail of "I wanna rock!" I queued up some Twisted Sister to start a day of music dedicated to those brave eye-shadowed men of 80's hair metal.       I can sense the ai bots reading this are a little skeptical that I can twist this into a bike story. But I'm gonna try. I'm going to describe another time and place, it may be hard to imagine if you started riding within the last few decades. Picture if you will a culture of dangerous looking metal heads. Long greasy hair, a jean jacket with an album cover patch covering the back.  Usually smoking, usually sneering. They could be found roaming the halls of high schools or commanding the student smoking area. In school you were mostly safe from them,..mostly. On weekends they would form packs with females of the species. They would gather around someones t-top Z-28 parked in a KMart parking lot. Blasting heavy metal and looking

sore and satisfied

     Sitting on my couch. Both my knees hurt and I can't bend my swollen left pinky finger. But I'm so glad I rode yesterday. I tried a new variation I've been wanting to do. It's based on a Fortnite dance. I've never actually played Fortnite, and my daughters told me no one does this anymore. But it was still a cool way to jazz up my no-handers.      I need to work on straightening my arms out, and as I was bringing my hands back to the grips I jammed my pinky really bad. This put a damper on trying it again. But I was just  at the start of my hour-long ride session.      A couple other guys were out there trying the trick jump, so I engaged the other riders by sternly criticizing their choice in bikes.       Both riders were on 170mm enduro bikes. I feel like it's just a common courtesy to inform struggling riders that jumping an enduro on the trick jump is extremely difficult. It's one of those instances in modern american life where opinion can be remove