Sometimes, a trip sears a string of vivid images into your memory forever. This was one of those times. The first image: my buddy Snake’s (aka Alex) look of sheer terror as he launched his 500-pound KTM 790 Adventure off a rock and into the air. The next: Snake flying like Superman toward a massive boulder, followed by a blood-curdling shout as he landed chest-first. My immediate thought? “Mrs. Snake is going to kick my ass for killing her husband.” Maybe, just maybe, we shouldn’t take our Safety 3rd Riders (S3R) name quite so literally.

Snake didn’t die. However, we did find out a week later that he had broken a rib. Once again, I’m getting ahead of myself. This was an epic trip—and like any good story, it deserves to be told from the beginning.

Prologue: The S3R Crew Assembles 

Readers of my previous adventures know things get interesting (and quite often sideways) when the S3R crew hits the road. After months of customizing my KTM 890 Adventure R, I was eager to test it properly. Snake had also been dialing in his KTM 790 Aventure. The plan: a ride across Colorado, Utah, and Nevada, including dirt trails, mountain passes, red rocks, and just the right amount of tequila.

Fellow S3R member Chill (aka Emil), our Ragin’ Cajun, joined the mission and recruited two more Louisiana friends: Tiger (who had a place near Aspen) and Bart, who had allegedly been begging to join S3R (ok, maybe I exaggerate a bit).

The plan was for me to ride three days from LA to meet Chill and Bart in Denver, where they rented brand-new Yamaha Ténéré 700s from EagleRider. We would then head to Tiger’s house in Aspen. Snake would meet us a couple of days later.

Day 1: Denver to Aspen 

Departing for a two-week trip on a motorcycle is always an exciting thing for me. Planning the right gear, packing correctly, and knowing the open road awaits is a great feeling.

To avoid some of the searing Arizona desert heat, I took a less-direct route through Nevada, and then through Utah to Colorado. The long roads and wide open spaces of the high desert along U.S. Routes 6 and 50 provided much-needed moto meditation time.

After a nice, uneventful ride, I met the guys at Eagle Rider in Denver to pick up the shiny T7s. From there, we set off on a stunning ride up into the mountains and on to Aspen. This was highlighted by the curvy and fun Independence Pass (Colorado State Highway 82)—an iconic mountain road that twists its way over the Continental Divide. That night, Snake was humping it from Truckee, California, to join the adventure in two days.

Day 2: Off-Road Baptism by Fire 

For our first day, we took the four middleweight ADV bikes off-road. I was on my KTM 890, Chill and Bart on T7s, and Tiger on a Triumph Tiger 800. While Tiger and Bart had a lot of dirt bike experience, their off-road time on bigger bikes was limited. Chill had almost none. What could go wrong?

Tiger had previously scouted a loop in his Bronco—up the face of Aspen Mountain, then back through the mountains to Basalt. The ride started great—a beautiful, sun-drenched morning climb up Aspen’s gravel cat tracks and switchbacks. Tiger and Bart led the charge up, tapping into their dirt bike skills, with Chill handling the unfamiliar terrain like a pro.

Once we crested the top, things quickly got spicy. The first technical descent was a deeply rutted trail that tested everyone. The KTM immediately showed its off-road chops, allowing me to crisscross the trail to the bottom. A couple of the guys were not so lucky. There were a few dropped bikes, but no injuries—just rattled nerves.

Things didn’t improve, unfortunately. A few miles later, in the lead, I came to a steep, very rocky climb with multiple switchbacks through the dense forest. I wrangled the KTM up with determination and some dumb luck. Behind me, it was chaos.

After parking my bike at the top, I hoofed it down to witness the carnage. Chill’s bike was lying sideways halfway up the first pitch. Bart wasn’t faring much better. Both riders complained their T7s lost power on the initial climb. Unbeknownst to us, the Ténéré 700 automatically re-engages traction control when restarted—exactly what you don’t want when trying to climb loose terrain.

We righted the crashed bikes and got them back down the hill. I climbed back to the top and rode the KTM down the same way I’d gone up, holding on for dear life, barely making it! After regrouping, we decided to turn back, choosing discretion over valor.

Getting back wasn’t much easier. That earlier rutted descent was now a brutal sandy and rocky uphill. Managing heavy bikes on dicey trails requires some confidence. Unfortunately, team confidence was low after the crashes, so the climb did not go well.

Tiger went down first and couldn’t lift his bike. I made it to the top, parked, and helped with trail support. Chill and Bart had similar experiences, with Chill’s bike taking the brunt of the damage on a couple of falls. Forty-five exhausting minutes later, all the bikes were up—battle-scarred, but intact. The T7s looked like they had been through a zombie apocalypse. Sorry, Eagle Rider.

We ended the day at my namesake bar, the Woody Creek Tavern, and then rolled over to Woody Creek Distillers across from Tiger’s house. Elation, dehydration, and poor judgment combined with whiskey and tequila meant that Snake arrived to a full-blown shitshow.

Day 3: Asphalt Therapy 

We started the morning, assessing the damage to our bikes, bodies, and psyches—bent levers, scratched plastic, bruised shins, and battered egos. It was time for road therapy, so we planned a loop that followed several fantastic, winding roads.

From Basalt, we headed west, down to the reservoir that ran through the Gunnison Valley, and then up and over Cottonwood Pass on the Continental Divide. Cottonwood Pass is one of the highest paved roads in the United States, at 12,126 feet above sea level, and was not fully paved until 2019.

Cottonwood served up dramatic alpine vistas, perfect tarmac, beautifully banked switchbacks, and long straights all the way to the top and down the other side. The road conditions and lack of traffic allowed us to wind out our motors and clear the previous day’s events from our minds.

After Cottonwood Pass, we recrossed Independence Pass and ended the day with cocktails in Aspen. We were just in time for the annual Food & Wine Classic.

Day 4: Fire Detours and Steak Dinners

It was time to say goodbye to the Cajuns, and Snake and I began Phase Two: a six-day ramble to Truckee through the mountains and desert.

We started the day heading north from Aspen on SH 82, and then south on SH 133 in Carbondale to Country Road 12, a fun dirt road over a summer pass to Crested Butte. From there, we aimed for Silverton on the Million Dollar Highway. Unfortunately, wildfires had closed the pass.

We stopped short at Ouray—a charming historic mining town on U.S. Route 550 tucked in at the end of a box canyon. Dinner and drinks were at The Outlaw Restaurant. It was a solid night with massive steaks, friendly locals, and buying food for soot-covered firefighters just off the lines.

Day 5: Ouray to Moab – Red Rocks and Dirt Roads 

This was one of the most beautiful sections of the trip. We headed north on U.S. Route 550 to Ridgeway, then onto Colorado State Highways 62, 145, and 141, making our way west. SH 141 is an amazing, deserted, curvy, red-cliff-lined canyon road to Gateway, less than five miles east of the Utah border.

Once again, it was a perfect section for moto-meditation as the KTMs fell into a rhythm banking through endless curves and stunning red rock cliff vistas. From there, we hit the dirt on John Brown Fire Road (Mesa County Road 4.40) and over a mountain pass into Moab—an absolute must-do.

Day 6: White Rim Trail – The Crown Jewel 

White Rim Road is a legendary, 100-mile loop through Canyonlands National Park—a dream route for ADV motorcyclists and Jeepers alike. It’s mostly dirt and rock, with sections of deep sand, sharp switchbacks, and countless stunning Canyonland views.

Permits are required and campsites are scarce, but miraculously, there was an unused site at Murphy Hogback—50 miles in. Plus, we were deputized as Junior Park Rangers—the only adults to ever achieve this award, I am certain.

We entered via the Shafer Trail, a dizzying descent of steep, narrow switchbacks carved into a cliff face. It’s not highly technical, but the exposure and drop-offs demand full attention.

Once at the bottom, the trail loop begins. While generally not overly difficult, it’s slow-going with sand, rock, and ledges that make it challenging on middleweight adventure bikes carrying two weeks of gear.

The views of epic red rock canyons and buttes make it worth it. We had to stop several times to secure bouncing luggage and take pictures. Both of us had minor tipovers on steep switchbacks—no damage, just wounded pride.

About four hours in, we came to a steep left-hand climb. Most of the terrain we had encountered had looked harder than it actually was. This section was not the case. Dodging potholes, boulders, and deep sand, I made it—barely.

On the Cardo comms, I warned Snake: “Keep your speed up through the sand.” Snake really took that advice to heart, launching himself and his bike five feet into the air like Super Dave Osborne (see opening description).

After confirming he wasn’t dead, we wrestled the bike—wheels uphill—back upright. Snake, battered but determined, tried again and aced it.

One mile later, our hearts sank as we faced the final climb—a steep, narrow, rocky path cut into the side of a cliff that ended at our campsite. It wasn’t terribly technical, but the 100-foot drop and loose conditions added drama. We reached the top exhausted, cracked open our “medicinal” tequila, and soaked in one of the best views on earth.

Day 7: Dehydration, Redemption, and the Long Way Out 

We camped under a sky jammed with stars, fighting dehydration with warm bottled water and dreams of cold beer in frosty mugs. The next morning, we opted to backtrack instead of finishing the loop—we were told that even worse technical sand and climbs awaited us further down the road, and we were nearly out of water.

The same dreaded switchback from the day before tripped up Snake again. With the help of a passing mountain biker, we got his bike up and were rolling soon enough.

With about an hour left, I realized I was out of water and feeling it. I bombed up the Shafer Trail at a questionable speed to find civilization and water.

Getting to the Ranger station, we were euphoric and parched. They had a drinking fountain and, I’m not exaggerating, I must have spent an hour at that fountain consuming gallons of water! I’ve never been that dehydrated.

The White Rim Trail did not disappoint. It threw at us everything from stunning Canyonlands vistas to technical sections where fully loaded, middleweight motorcycles weren’t the best tool for the job. If I were to do the White Rim again, I would probably choose a dual sport bike or with minimal gear loaded onto my KTM.

Final Stretch: Delta, Tonopah, and Home 

From Moab, we headed west to Delta, Utah. There isn’t much in Delta, other than Mi Rancherito Mexican Restaurant across from the Days Inn. Mi Rancherito had great food and, finally, ice-cold Modelo in frosty mugs. Heaven.

In Tonopah, Nevada, another historic mining town, we stayed at the excellent refurbished Belvada Hotel, which began life in 1906 as the Nevada State Bank & Trust. There, we drank one too many at The Longshot Bar at the Mizpah Hotel, and closed out karaoke night with locals at a bar across the street. I was in pretty rough shape the next day, limping into Truckee and collapsing completely spent.

Epilogue 

Two weeks and over 3,000 miles of travel—it was definitely a commitment, but well worth it! Colorado’s high-mountain passes, Utah’s red rock canyons, technical trails, and late-night karaoke. The ride was a perfect example of why middleweight adventure bikes from KTM, Yamaha, Triumph, and others are so popular—they can handle nearly anything and come back for more.

Despite the crashes, our KTMs held up impressively well—no major damage, no catastrophic failures, and just the kind of battle scars that add character.

This trip through Colorado and Utah reminded me of the magic in these kinds of rides—equal parts challenge, camaraderie, and chaos. And, as always, Safety 3rd.

Colorado and Utah Adventure: Safety 3rd Rides Again Photo Gallery