Started the day well with a big breakfast. We had negotiated a special deal which include a FULL breakfast as opposed to the normal continental. Always keen to get value for money, I decided to try and get the price of the room back in food.

Bacon, sausage, eggs, hash browns, biscuits and gravy and then pancakes left me a rather rounder shape and with no need for food for the next week, or perhaps lunchtime. We met back at Desert Sports where Ted had his flat repaired and a couple of more oil changes were done.

I took the spare time to give the scoot a quick wash to get some of the dust off and then browsed the shop one more time in case I'd missed some vital piece of HD clothing during the 8 hours browsing the day before. Fred appeared and told me that Sam, the technician, was looking for me. Seems he'd had a dream last night that he'd forgotten to tighten a bolt and wanted to check just to set his mind at rest. Ten minutes later the slack bolt on the rear brake lever was tightened and both Sam, the psychic wrench and myself were a lot happier.

We left Farmington at 10.30, doubling back on US 64 through Bloomfield. I liked this area a lot with the dry dusty cliffs the stripy rocks and the river in the valley below. Ron had spent some time living and working in the area and said he enjoyed it, I can see why.

We took a right turn onto the road leading to Navajo Dam and this turned out to be a great route. The road was a serious of twisties, more gentle bends really taking us into a broad canyon with cliffs immediately to our right and then the valley, the flat broad river and then more cliffs to the left. The sun was beating down and the heat surround us as I road in T-shirt and my now "famous" Daisy Dukes!, a pair of old 501s which I'd cut down, rather too much, into shorts reminiscent of the short shorts worn by Daisy Duke in The Dukes of Hazard.

We followed the road along the route of the river dropping down to near river level then rising again zigging and zagging as the road followed the line of the cliffs. All around were small sheds with short sections of pipework nearby indicating small gas fields, the reason for Ron's work here those years ago. The dam came into view in the distance, a large "earthwork" type dam, no concrete just a large heap of earth built up to make the dam with a concrete spillway like part of a sin wave to the left of it. We could see the road climbed up the sided of the dam and another road with traffic ran along the top. We rose up above the river which was fed from the dam and parked up in the car park for a photo shoot.

The water behind the dam proved too inviting for the McCarthy brothers who peeled off and went for a swim. I stood watching jealous of the cool and decided to join them. A five-minute splash was all I had but it felt great. My body was dry by the time I climbed back up to the car park.

We doubled back again and stopped for a beer at The Sportsman's Bar served in frosted glasses in a cool dark chalet style building which was obviously very popular with local workmen. The huge burgers and fries looked very tempting but my breakfast was still in residence so I stuck to a couple of beers.

Our planned trip to Mesa Verde National Park had had to be cancelled due to fires in the area so our new route took us from Navajo Dam directly to Durango on US 550. More New Mexico scenery passed with the desert colours slowly changing to more green as we went north. Parts of the country were very strange with one side of the road bare and dry and the other green and fertile. We passed into Durango down a steep road giving an excellent view of the town from above

5 miles to the north of Durango I sensed that the feel on the handlebars was wrong and the roughness was far in excess of what the road should be. I lean to the right to check the wheel and saw the front tyre was almost completely flat so pulled over. A can of fix-a -flat did no good so the bike was once more loaded onto the trailer. The local Suzuki dealer had us back on the road again in 40 minutes along with sales of several inner tubes.

As we stood at the dealer the rain had started so we suited up then headed for the mountains. I remember the contrast at Durango being quite stark with a very sudden move from New Mexico style terrain into very green, tree-lined hills along each side of the valley. We were now at the start of The Rockies and Ron told us to expect rain in the afternoon every day at this time of year. It was clear the additional wetness had a big effect on the amount of vegetation

Due to the rain, for the first time since Houston, I decided to put my helmet on, partly as the risk of sliding off in the wet was higher but more for the visor to keep the rain off my face. From Durango US550 climbs quickly from about 10 miles out of the town becoming a twisting climbing mountain pass through pine woods, and steep green hills. Still no strong smell of pine as I'd expect back home but the sun was coming out again. Right now a wasp flew into the right side of my head. Any of the days before it would have bounced of but for half an hour I had a hat on. It managed to sting three times on the temple before I killed it and boy it was sore and swollen for the next few days. However I counted myself lucky as I could have been wearing my "Daisies" and it may have flown up the leg and done severe damage.

We kept climbing on wonderful roads that twisted and rose and dropped, snaking along the side of the mountain. All around the land rose above us to peaks and the dropped below to the river valley. It was hard work keeping on the road while all the time trying to look around and take in the sights. We climbed and climbed, stopping here and there to gulp in more scenery. The bikes were a bit breathless by now and with that and the climbs it was mostly 3^rd gear to keep the scoot happy.

Up and up to Coalbank Pass (10,640ft) then onto Molas Pass (10,910ft) stopping for sightseeing in the chill air. The trees had been left behind some time ago and the land was now low vegetation similar to our own back home on the moors. Anything which dared stick its head into the wind would be knocked back down so things stay low.

From here followed a steep drop winding down now and more steeply than the climb. Constant braking all the time which I hadn't thought about until I started to notice brake fade. Thinking back I was aware of the smell of hot brake pads but it didn't dawn on me it was us. I've not had that experience for years and if you never had its weird. You pull on the brakes and the bike goes faster, you pull harder and nothing!. I dropped a couple of gears and then Ron decided to stop within a few hundred yards which gave the brakes time to cool.

The road down into Silvertown was one of my favourites, cruising down the twisty and seeing the town from a height, the grid structure clear from above. We stopped at red mountain a huge lump of iron ore hence the rusty colour then the natural Amphitheatre of grey rock just before Ouray. The road into Ouray again dropped steeply but by now we were aware and used our engines to brake us down the hill.

After fuelling up in Ouray we had to ride in a big anti-clockwise circle to get round the mountain which lay between us and Telluride. The road opened out into a broad grassy valley and the temperature rose quickly again. We circled round through pine wooded; narrow roads into a tree lined canyon the side rising at about 75 degrees but still populated with pine. The road ran along side a brisk river, with lodges dotted here and there, then opened out into a wide plain as we approached Telluride.

Telluride is one of Ron's favourite places in the world and it was well appreciated by the rest of us why. A single road leads into the wide valley which narrows to a bowl of steep mountains in the middle of which lies the town. In the town you look round about 320 degrees and see steep mountain within half a mile. The town itself is like an old western town you see in movies some with frontages that bear little resemblance to the shape of the building behind. A mixture of wooden and masonry buildings along the main street with mainly wooden houses in the side streets parallel. Replace the modern paving on the road with a dirt road and you've gone back a hundred years.

The towns claim to fame is that Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid robbed their first bank here, strange as the getaway route must have been tricky. Now a popular ski resort and fast becoming an exclusive area for moneyed people and celebrities but as yet still retains a pretty down to earth feel and charm.

We parked up beside "The New Sheridan" hotel, established in 1895; it was a hotel with character. Small rooms with shared toilet facilities and showers but decorated in the style it would have been a hundred years ago. Simple old-fashioned furnishings and a big, HIGH, bed.

We met up in the bar of the hotel, again an old fashioned place where the temptation was to have the bar staff slide the beer glass along the bar. This place had a real "western" atmosphere to it. Earlier Ron had announced his intention to get drunk tonight and we didn't doubt him. He recounted a story of his favourite bar in the world which was right here and went by the name of "The Last Dollar Saloon".

He explained he'd been sitting at the bar one night and looked very depressed. The guy behind the bar sought an explanation for Ron's melancholy and he'd told him this was his last night before returning to the oilfields for a looong time. His new friend behind the bar then announced, " Tonight son, you drink for free" which Ron did! Ever since then Ron has been trying to put money back into the coffers of the bar and tonight would ably assisted by some friends.

He'd also recommended the restaurant Floradora's which was excellent, sort of Nouvelle Cuisine with large portions, one of the best meals I had on the tour and well worth a visit. The starter was called Black n Blue consisting of very thinly sliced sirloin steak served with two very tasty sauces, a mild horseradish and a soy sauce. Michelle followed that with stuffed trout while I had a steak with a jalapeno sauce which turned out to be not very spicy but extremely tasty.

After a walk round town we met Ron and co in The Last Dollar for a couple of drinks but Michelle and I then left the serious drinking business to the "guys". Mr Natrass apparently had a mild disagreement with an "Irish" witch (don't ask me?) and claimed to have "lost" $300 while Ron ended up back at the campsite staring into space trying desperately to remember his own name. From all accounts Ron had achieved his chosen mission that night.

Jim Galford meantime developed a sudden fear of heights electing to wade through the river at the campsite rather than take a 3-foot high bridge but we have yet to unearth the scandal of the McCarthy boys and Russ but I'm sure there is some.