Madness on the Pass
About every three weeks, I make an early Monday morning drive from Denver to Aspen. I’ve been doing it since last winter, racing across Interstate 70 in cold and icy blackness, to arrive in the Roaring Fork Valley just at sunrise, and joining with the regular commuters for the battles on Highway 82.
In the summertime, a second option is available in Independence Pass. I’ve driven this route at least a half dozen times, and I never cease to enjoy the solitude and natural scenery for the two hours away from the interstate.
Independence is a serious pass, with tight switchbacks and some very narrow sections where a descending truck must stop in place to let an ascending vehicle through. But it is all paved and easily navigable in the summertime.
In early October, I took a risk heading up for the pass. I felt that it may be my ‘last chance’ before CDOT would close the pass for winter. I knew that a storm had hit the mountains on Saturday, but I hadn’t seen the conditions of the pass in any news report. I based my final decision when I saw the sign at the Copper Mountain exit of I-70 that read “Independence Pass: OPEN”.
For most of the drive up the pass, the road was all clear. However, during the last few miles, above treeline, the conditions turned to blown over snow, with ice beneath. I pulled over and locked the hubs on my truck, then transferred over to 4 wheel drive and continued my climb.
At the top of the pass, the entire road was a sheet of ice. I pulled into the parking lot and saw a group of people struggling to load motorcycles onto a truck. “What were they thinking?” I thought, for they were crazy to be up here on bikes in this condition. But perhaps they, like me, were not expecting the icy conditions.
“Do you need some help?” I asked. They responded affirmative. I put on my hat and gloves, and carefully stepped over across the ice in my hiking boots (how I wished I had my Sorel rubber boots!)
After helping them out, I got back in the truck and sat for a while, contemplating the danger of an icy descent down to Aspen. I watched a large CDOT plow truck scrape at the top layer of snow. However, he was not dropping Magnesium Chloride (or “Mag” as Colorado drivers term it) to melt out the ice and allow tires to grip the pavement. Finally, I figured that my trusted truck could handle a very slow and cautious descent.
As I crested over the pass, and could see the road below me, I was struck with a scene of chaos. There was a line of vehicles, all struggling and spinning out as they tried to climb the steep eastbound slope towards me. The sheet of ice prevented any traction for 2WD cars with summer tires, and many motorists were just stuck on the side of the road, unable to climb any more but too scared to turn around and go down.
First I encounted two irishmen in an old F150. One guy was driving, and spinning one rear wheel uncontrollably, while the other had tried to push.
I pulled up in front of them and explained their futility. For even if they could gain some momentum by pushing, there would be no hope of the tire ever gripping the road and making it to the top. I offered to tow them up.
“Oh, God Bless ye!” they said.
I wasn’t entirely confident it was going to happen, but I just had to try. I brought my truck directly in front of them, almost until both our front bumpers touched. Then I pulled out a 6 foot tow chain that I have (that saw a lot of use last winter!) and hooked it up between us. Getting back in the truck, I shifted into reverse, and eased off the clutch, to take up the slack in the chain.
I had expected a bit of resistance, and was suprised to feel very little. My truck had no problem pulling a half-ton pickup up the mountain, and my brand new BFG All Terrain tires never once slipped on the ice. Slowly, I drove backwards, while looking out my rear window to stay in the lane, and towed the guys to the top.
At the top, the man came out and embraced me in a big hug. Both of them thanked me many times. One pulled out his wallet. I said it was not necessary, but he shook his head, and said “This is for da beers.” ( I wasn’t sure if he intended for me to buy some beer, or find a bookie and bet the money on “Da Bears”!)
For the second time, I left the summit and attempted a descent into Aspen. This time, a front-wheel drive sedan was stalled perpendicular across the road. There was a long line of vehicles trying to get around him, and many people out trying to push the car off to the side and out of harms way. Again I parked my truck and walked down and encountered a middle age woman.
“Would you like me to tow you up?” I asked her.
“Oh! Do you have a tow truck?”
“No, just my F-250, but it can do it.” This time, I was extremely confident in the abilities of my vehicle.
“Please! My husband will be so grateful. I will go tell him.”
Again, I drove down and hooked up both front ends, and towed the small sedan all the way up the pass in reverse. This couple (tourists in a rental car, i later found out) were so excited that they even took a photo of me and my truck, and called me their “Guardian Angel.” Again, I was offered money, and when I refused, I was told “Sometimes miracles can happen. This is not like the parting of a sea. It is a miracle that you just happened to be here when we needed help. Consider this a donation to your church.”
By this time, the CDOT truck had dropped the Mag and started to thaw the ice. The cars were now making it up the pass without help. I made it down a few hundred feet and found dry pavement again.
Once again, I am so proud of the power of my truck and new tires. I hope that it comes in handy many times this upcoming winter. To me it was second nature. I have the means to help people out in trouble, so I do so, without question. Although I arrived a few hours late for work, it was well worth it, to see the smiles on those grateful faces.Some people may have called me stupid or gullible, but I got much more reward out of the good feeling up on the pass than I’ve ever felt at a job, current or past.