For more than two decades, Memorial Day weekend has often meant two things to me: the Iron Horse Bicycle Classic and Mountainfilm in Telluride – whether I made it over the passes or not. One begins in Durango with excitement and anticipation for the 47-mile, 5,800-foot climb ahead. The other unfolds in darkened theaters, panels and talks in Telluride, where stories from around the world challenge, inspire and sometimes break your heart.
Together, they have become part of Memorial Day weekend in Southwest Colorado – two longstanding traditions, a mountain pass apart, rooted in challenge, community and the human spirit.
I’ve ridden the Iron Horse more than a dozen times since 2003. Some years, I’d drive my truck to Silverton the night before the race, ride the next morning past fun-loving, cowbell-ringing spectators up Shalona Hill before climbing Coal Bank and Molas passes toward the finish in Silverton. Then, exhausted and exhilarated, I’d head over Ophir Pass toward Telluride and Mountainfilm.
What I’ve always loved most about Iron Horse weekend is that it belongs to the entire community, not just cyclists. The energy builds for months, especially in the final weeks before riders of every age and ability make the climb to Silverton. On race day, strangers cheer for strangers along a closed highway as bikes wind through the San Juans beneath bluebird skies, ribbons of snow against dark rocky peaks, technicolor green aspens and crisp mountain air. It takes organizers, volunteers, first responders, transportation crews and the communities of Durango and Silverton working together to make it happen.
Sometimes Ophir Pass had only recently opened, with 10-foot snowbanks flanking the road near the top. Back then, there was a longstanding annual competition between San Juan and San Miguel counties to see who could plow their side first. All I cared about was that both sides connected. I was ready to let Mountainfilm transport me into worlds and lives I likely never would have encountered otherwise.
This year, the Iron Horse celebrates its 54th year. Mountainfilm marks its 48th. Both have endured for generations because our communities continue to sustain them. One tests physical endurance. The other tests our empathy, imagination and willingness to engage with the world as it is – and act to make it better.
Memorial Day weekend in Durango also includes the Healing Field at Santa Rita Park, made possible by the Blue Star Moms of Durango. The symmetry of 500 American flags stretching across the park is striking, honoring fallen service members and inviting quiet reflection and remembrance. In years past, I’ve sponsored a flag for my father, a U.S. Marine. In his poem “Remember Me,” Durango veteran Bob Harms asks readers not simply to mourn the fallen, but to live fully in their honor – to “feel the wind on your face” and remember that what we enjoy “was not free.”
In different ways, both the Iron Horse and Mountainfilm ask people to push beyond themselves – physically, intellectually and emotionally.
While climbing and alpinism remain a core part of Mountainfilm’s DNA, the festival has evolved far beyond its mountaineering roots to explore climate change, conservation, culture, migration, mental health, Indigenous identity and much more – conversations communities increasingly need to have. Since 1979, Mountainfilm has celebrated what it calls the “indomitable human spirit” and challenged audiences not just to observe the world, but to help improve it.
This year, after Saturday’s ride to Silverton, I made it to Telluride on Sunday – driving around the long way – and once again found myself inspired by stories of conservation, community, identity, adaptation and the resilience of people navigating a rapidly changing world.
Despite Telluride’s reputation for being expensive, Mountainfilm has expanded access through low-cost volunteer passes, discounts for students and seniors, youth programs and grants supporting emerging and underrepresented filmmakers.
The Iron Horse, too, continues evolving. Gravel racing, mountain biking and traditions like Ska Brewing’s Faceplant Ale parade – proof that bikes and beer have long paired well in Durango – have expanded the weekend beyond the iconic road race. On Sunday, mountain bike racers once again blasted through Steamworks, bringing an electric energy to downtown.
After all, Memorial Day weekends here have never been about doing only one thing.
They are about testing ourselves physically and emotionally. About gathering in community. About honoring sacrifice. About finding hope. About carrying forward the lives, freedoms and possibilities others gave everything to protect.
