Ute Mountain Circumnavigation

For the third installment of HiFi TRAX, we head to Taos, New Mexico (can you hear the hum!?) where Nate Draeger brings us along on a 200-mile epic winter exploration of Northern New Mexico and Southern Colorado. 

Do you have something to contribute to HiFi TRAX? Check out our guidelines page and get in touch!

Each HiFi TRAX comes with a song. For Ute Mountain Circumnavigation, Nate selected Hick's Farewell, by the Weirs. It feels like we're rolling along on those hard-earned winter miles with Nate already.  

Ute Mountain Circumnavigation

by Nate Draeger 

Song: Hick's Farewell, by the Weirs (Originally by Doc Watson)
My time is swiftly rolling on
When I must faint and die
My body to the dust return
And there forgotten lie

"With the sub-freezing temperatures, there's an impending sense of dread and doom with death seemingly creeping into your thoughts on this ride. I listened to this song for a few hours in the dark as the sun rose slowly over my right shoulder."

Throughout the year in Taos, New Mexico, I have a seasonal cycle of long rides I attempt to tick off. Sign posts to mark the changing of seasons. These rides, while varying in mileage, are substantial enough in various ways to pacify any band of mortals hubristic enough to attempt to finish one.

Overall, I’m fairly successful with completing these rides. But, there’s one ride I’m only at a 50% success rate on, and no other ride quivers my body, legs, and spirit like the annual wintertime attempt on the Ute Mountain Circumnavigation.

Ute mountain is a large, broad volcanic cone which dominates the horizon on the Taos Plateau and San Luis Valley in Northern New Mexico and Southern Colorado. The Taos Plateau is one of the wildest, most inhospitable landscapes to bike through, but it’s largely off limits in winter or mud season. The San Luis Valley is the largest alpine valley in the world and one of the consistently coldest inhabited parts of the USA.

Ute Mountain isn't the most imposing mountain on this route, or perhaps the most beautiful—but it’s evenly shaped and handsome and big enough that you stare at it for hours and seemingly never get to it, or even around it. Add in wintertime temps that rarely get about 35 degrees with wind speeds approaching the same number, and you’re in for a very long day.

This year I set out to finally complete a clockwise loop of Ute Mountain. Previously, I’ve always opted to complete a counterclockwise circumnavigation. Logistically, it’s less challenging clockwise as you can stop every 25-30 miles to begin your day and warm up. By going clockwise, it’s a long 60 miles to Antonito in single degree temperatures, with the first 50 being slowly uphill to the broad shoulders of San Antonio Mountain and the Colorado border where, with the rising sun, you’ll be treated to the first view of Ute Mountain.

After Antonito, its 30 miles of bucolic and pastoral scenes while riding past the communities of Romeo and La Jara, with views out your 11 and 9 o’clock of Ute Mountain and all the way to Alamosa. By then, hopefully, the wind that kicked up is offering an assist; otherwise the 25-degree temps will feel bitterly cold and you’ll be contemplating turning back, catching a tailwind, and feeling happy with a 130-mile day. 

This ride will continue to make you take back shit you never stole. In Alamosa, it’s time for a treat. At 90 miles you’re not quite halfway there, but you’re definitely SOMEWHERE. Snap some photos and grab a bite. But you’re burning daylight and you've got miles to go and promises to keep, to borrow from Robert Frost. 

As you turn east, you’re finally staring directly at the snowy peaks of Southern Colorado and the ultra-prominent snow capped Blanca Peak. In fact you’ve probably been staring at this mountain for miles, whenever you bother to look away from the white line of the highway. White lines and white peaks abound and hem in the miles.

But, more than likely, you're getting battered by a wicked crosswind, shedding three of the four gloves you brought, and shoving them down your bibs. Even though it’s only 30 degrees now, you dressed for 10 at Zero Dark Thirty, and now you must account for all the extra clothes. 

Finally, after 120 miles you make the turn at Fort Garland and lock in your target of Taos due south. Only 80 miles to go! With any luck, you have a crosswind out of the west and you can muster 20 mph. But, you're treated to a few five- to 10-mile “climbs” that barely register on your GPS. One percent grades that send your heart rate soaring with the headwind. 

Miles come slow and hard and it’s a crawl back up to 8,000 feet altitude in San Luis. And you might as well stop for a few smiles and a Quad espresso shot at the San Luis Coffee Company, because it’s a lonely road back to Taos. 

Finally, you cross back into New Mexico and you can feel the pull of home—But that wind!! Your eyes burn, and the road seems straight, but it keeps turning a few degrees and the wind seems to never push you. But you’re staring at that beautiful and warm winter sun at least. And the slow grind from the New Mexico border to the shoulders of the Latin Peaks and El Rito will wreck most mortals. And, yes, it’s downhill to Questa, but it sure don’t feel downhill. 

From Questa, where you’ve filled up and contemplated calling a buddy for a lift, you have only 25 miles, but one quarter of the total elevation of the ride still to climb. However, the road generally arcs a little SE, which if you’re lucky provides a wind-assist and a gentle push.

And then the final crux, a bit of a punchy climb out of the Rio Hondo, then another punch to-the-face of a headwind across some sage flats before, wait… you’re there! You Made It! Some cottonwoods to block the wind and a gentle downhill to Taos and all the good eats and treats you’ve been dreaming about.

Words will never capture the desolate beauty of such a flat and seemingly boring ride. The Taos Plateau and the San Luis Valley are both bounded by numerous huge mountain ranges that you stare at, but never quite get to. It’s all at elevations above 7,000 feet and, while it’s not the most high altitude ride, if it’s December or January, the cold and wind can work to constrict even the strongest of lungs in other ways. Ute Mountain is always a glance away, letting you know how far you’ve come, but how far you still have to go.