440 miles, 3 days, a fishing pole, a carefully picked Dual sport motorcycle and 40 liters of gear storage was the start to this high mountain Brap-packing trip. I had been planning this route since I bought my bike at the end of May. I picked a random weekend in early September when the weather looked decent to trailer my bike and with the help of a friend made it down to Ouray, Colorado. The Goal: make it back home to Grand Junction, Colorado, catch some fish, and enjoy the beauty that the high country of Colorado has to offer before the snow leaves these passes untraversable.

My trip starts in Ouray Colorado, “The Switzerland of America”; as I'm making my way up Camp Bird road. On a motorcycle, even a modest 40 degree morning can feel frigid. With multiple layers on, I started my journey. Camp Bird road eventually led me to Imogene pass. The sun had come out and the layers were finally able to be shed. This being the first trip with my Mosko Moto bag setup, I wasn't sure how hard I could push the bike. I figured that more weight up high on the bike would throw me around, making riding more difficult. However, by the time I was halfway up the pass, the bags were no longer on my mind and the bike and I were one. The flow state feeling, where the bike is no longer a vehicle but just an extension of your own body, had kicked in. I knew I was in for a great day.

Many miles of loose, rocky jeep trail brought me to the top of the pass. It's hard to explain how sitting at 13k feet feels, surreal maybe? It truthfully feels like the top of the world. You can see as far as you want on a clear day. It's hard to take it all in. As the heavy mountain breeze cooled me down, I knew it was time to begin my long, scree filled descent down to Telluride.

From Telluride, I had a bit of “Slab” to get over to my next destination, the Dolores river, near Rico, Colorado. The shame about riding a dual sport is it feels uneasy and less comfortable on the highway than it does on difficult trails. The vibration of the bike and its knobby tires, coupled with a not so aerodynamic dirt helmet beats you up. The Knobby tires wander on the highway and produce an unsettling drone and the dirt helmet can be loud in the wind. Therefore the highway miles can be somewhat dreadful. Arriving at the Dolores, I hooked up to a small rainbow trout on a dry fly, third cast. This was likely bad luck as that was the last fish I saw for the few hours I had waded the river. Knowing that my luck had run out it was time to get back on the road.

I made my way to Ophir pass, an easy road with 1-2 miles of loose scree towards the top. My bike (Husqvarna Fe 501) made quick work of the trail and I quickly arrived at the top of Ophir. I had a great conversation with some fellow Austrian motorcycle enthusiasts. The adventure motorcycle community has been one of my favorites to be a part of. I have yet to meet someone on the trail who was rude. You can always talk to someone about their bike, or about their journey, and have great conversations.

My travels took me to Silverton, Colorado where I desperately needed fuel. With winter in the high country coming up quickly, I wasn't able to get all my Farkles (modifications) done to my bike in time. The stock 2 gallon tank would have to suffice for this trip. Talk about range anxiety when you're remote… When the low gas indicator comes on you have about half a gallon of fuel left, depending on the terrain you’re riding it could be 15 to 35 miles worth of range.

From Silverton, Engineer Pass was the goal. With some calm dirt road riding and then a few technical moves on a pass, I made it up to the top. Even though Engineer sits lower than Imogene by about 300 vertical feet, it feels much higher, as you're sitting much closer to the peaks in the area. The vast views were hard to leave, especially as there was minimal wind which is rare for elevations of this magnitude.

Making my way down to Lake City, I stopped in town to grab some food. With limited space I was eating mostly at restaurants as well as gas stations. It's amazing how much space a tool kit and extras parts take up, especially when riding solo. The ability to share tubes and tools with friends would have lightened my load substantially, and allowed for a few dehydrated meals.

Now to find a spot to camp, I ended up camping next to a nice river near a dirt road. September in the Mountains can still be pretty busy, therefore finding a campsite proved to be a challenge as my options were limited. My choice of shelter was the Sunlight from Seek Outside. Easy to set up, Lightweight, and packable. Offering an enclosed area was important to me as this time of the year bugs can be bad in select spots. The mosquitos at camp were incredibly unforgiving, so I was very happy with my choice of shelter.

The sun fell and the night sky came out. Mother nature gave me a proper show. As the new moon and low light pollution gave an incredible show of stars, I sat and watched with a small bottle of Tequila (my go to camp drink) until it was time to call it a night.

Day Two started out cold, very cold. It froze that night. With a sweaty body and a lower end sleeping bag, sleep wasn't the easiest to come by. Rolling over every hour or so to find comfort on my lightweight backpacking pad didn't help either.

I realized my initial 160 miles of riding on day one was harder on my body than previously thought. I was happy to have an easy day ahead of me. Some pavement, good views and some time spent wading in the river was all on the agenda.

After packing up camp, Gunnison, Colorado was my next destination. I'd planned to fly fish the East River. After an hour and a half of Slab, and talking to some knowledgeable folk at the fly shop, I built up my rod and wet waded the East River. Two hours of fishing produced one fish. I'm pretty sure the fish gods were not on my side this trip as this would be my last moment of success. Although most of the time I commit to bringing only the fly rod, my skills subside and fish become harder to catch.

I rode another 30 minutes to the town of Crested Butte. After an impressive hour and a half wait for a few slices of pizza I took Kebler pass, an easy dirt road with gorgeous views. This is where I’d set up camp for the night.

Pulling into camp at dark I set up my shelter, started a small contained fire, and enjoyed the serenity of solo camping. Funny enough camp was at mile 300, on the dot… Well almost.

Day three I woke up feeling pretty rough. I had ignored the fact it was hunting season so there were what felt like hundreds of vehicles (likely 10) driving up the dirt road near me at 5:00 a.m. However, I don't blame them. We’re all users of this land and camping so close to a dirt road was part of my poor planning. Tired from my early wake up as well as being mentally and physically exhausted, I began to make my morning coffee. The thing with riding a motorcycle is your brain has to be on 100% of the time. You're always looking for road hazards, vehicles, and people that might not be paying attention to their surroundings. Add to that riding technical terrain and line choice, it takes a toll on you.

Packing up camp, I decided I wanted to check out a lake I’d never been to. Seven to eight miles of moon dust covered double track brought me to a lake with a stunning view. However, the water was low and storm clouds were moving in. I built up my rod and threw a few streamers at the water. Six casts later it was raining profusely. I broke down my rod and decided to get out as fast as I could to avoid any slippery mud. The fish gods were obviously unhappy with me this trip. Out of frustration this would be the last time I bothered to build up my rod.

After a refuel, and a few essential snacks at a small gas station, I took off for the final leg of my trip over Colorado’s Grand Mesa.

I wanted to take a new route and with the help of ON-X Offroad, I found a secluded route of double track that proved to be very rocky, with what I counted as upwards of 15-20 stream crossings. A few were deep enough that I turned my bike off, put my sandals on and walked the bike across so I wouldn’t drown the bike. Messing up the bike or myself was not an option at this point.

40 miles later, after some of the more abusive endurance riding I've done. I found myself back on a dirt road with a gentle descent to Colbran, where I hastily went to a cafe and scarfed down a healthy amount of chicken tenders.

Knowing my trip was basically over and having a 45 minute ride of slab home, it gave me some time to reminisce on the trip and what I'd do differently. Given the 440 miles I had ridden over three days, I would have split those miles into 5 days and enjoyed some more areas. Maybe taken my bags off and checked out some new trails. I thought to myself “this is exactly like backpacking except more stressful”. You're worried about hurting a machine, getting a flat tire, and at no point do you ever get a mental break. You just can’t turn off your mind because when you do, your risk of mistakes and injury go up astronomically.

I arrived home with 440 miles on the trip odometer, a tired mind, and a smell that only someone who’s ridden in moto boots for three days straight could comprehend. Incredibly content with my trip I looked back at all the memories I made for myself. As cliche as it is to say, I’m grateful for everyday I get to do things like this. Being solo for three days always produces a clear mind. As hard as it was in many facets, I can't wait to go do it again.