Do you dream about the motorcycles you used to own?
Yeah, me, too. I don’t have photos of all my bikes that have gone down the road, but I have a few and I’d like to share them with you.
My first motorcycle was a Honda Super 90. I bought it from Sherm Cooper, a famous Triumph racer who owned Cooper’s Cycle Ranch in New Jersey. My Super 90 was cool…it was white and it had an upswept pipe and knobby tires. Mr. Cooper used it for getting around on his farm (the Cycle Ranch actually started out there). I was only 14 and I wasn’t supposed to be on the street yet, but I was known to sneak out on occasion. I liked that Honda Super 90 motor, and evidently so do a lot of other people (it’s still being manufactured by several different companies in Asia).
Yours truly at about age 14 on the Honda Super 90. What’s that stuff on top of my head?
The next bike was a Honda SL-90. Same 90cc Honda motor, but it had a tubular steel frame and it was purpose-built for both road and off-road duty. I never actually had a photo of that bike, but it was a favorite. Candy apple red and silver (Honda figured out by then that people wanted more than just their basic four colors of white, red, black, or blue), it was a great-looking machine. I rode it for about a year and sold it, and then I took a big step up.
That big step up was a Honda 750 Four. I’ve waxed eloquent about that bike here on the blog already, so I won’t bore you with the details about how the Honda 750 basically killed the British motorcycle industry and defined new standards for motorcycle performance. The 750 was fun, too. Fast, good looking, candy apple red (Honda used that color a lot), and exotic. I paid $1559 for it in 1971 at Cooper’s. Today, one in mint condition would approach ten times that amount. I wish I still had it.
My first big street bike…a 1971 Honda 750 Four. It was awesome. It’s a miracle I never crashed it. I rode it all the way up to Canada and back in the early ’70s. Check out the jacket, the riding pants, and my other safety gear.
There were a lot of bikes that followed. There were two Honda 500 Fours, a 50cc Honda Cub (the price was right, so I bought it and sold it within a couple of days) an 85cc two-stroke BSA (with a throttle that occasionally stuck open), a 1982 Suzuki 1000cc Katana (an awesome ride, but uncomfortable), a 1979 Harley Electra-Glide Classic (the most unreliable machine I’ve ever owned), a 1978 Triumph Bonneville (I bought that one new when I lived in Fort Worth), a 1971 Triumph Tiger, a 1970 Triumph Daytona, a 1992 Harley Softail (much more reliable than the first Harley, and one I rode all over the US Southwest and Mexico), a 1995 Triumph Daytona 1200 (the yellow locomotive), a 1997 TL1000S Suzuki (a sports bike I used as a touring machine), a 2006 Triumph Tiger, a 1982 Honda CBX (a great bike, but one I sold when Honda stopped stocking parts for it), a 2007 Triumph Speed Triple (awesome, fast, but buzzy), a 2006 KLR 650 Kawasaki, and a 2010 CSC 150. Here are photos of some of those bikes:
My high school buddy Johnnie with a Honda 500 four I later bought from him. That sissy bar was the first thing to go. It was a fun bike.A Honda 50cc Cub, the most frequently produced motorcycle on the planet. In China and elsewhere, this bike is still being manufactured. I bought this one in the 1960s, mostly because I knew I could sell it and make a few bucks quickly.My ’79 Electra-Glide Classic. I called this one my optical illusion, because it looked like a motorcycle. I couldn’t go a hundred miles on that motorcycle without something breaking. And people badmouth Chinese motorcycles.Me with my 1982 Suzuki Katana. In its day, that was a super-exotic bike. Uncomfortable, but very fast, and way ahead of its time. I bought it new and paid over MSRP because they were so hard to get. I was a lot skinnier in those days.My ’92 Softail Classic Harley. This motorcycle was superbly reliable right up until the moment the oil pump quit at 53,000 miles. At about the time I shot this photo on a trip through Mexico, I started thinking that maybe a Big Twin was not the best answer to the adventure touring question. And I know, my motorcycle packing skills in those days were not yet optimized. That’s a Mexican infantry officer behind the bike.My buddy Louis V and me with our bikes somewhere in Arizona sometime in the mid-’90s. I’m not sure why Louis had his shirt off…we sure didn’t ride that way. Louis had an ’81 Gold Wing and I had an ’82 CBX Six. That old CBX was a fun bike…it sounded like a Ferrari!My ’97 Suzuki TL1000S on the road somewhere in Baja. Wow, that bike was fast. Here’s a story about my good buddy Paul and me featuring this motorcycle.The 1200 Daytona. I won it on an Ebay auction. It was an incredible motorcycle and you can read more about it here.I’d always wanted a KLR 650, and when I pulled the trigger in 2006 I was glad I did. Smaller bikes make more sense. They’re more fun to ride, too. It seemed to me that this was the perfect bike for Baja. That’s me and Baja John out at El Marmol.The ’06 Triumph Tiger. Fun, but a little cramped and very heavy. It was styled like a dual sport, but trust me on this, you don’t want to get into the soft stuff with this motorcycle.Potentially the most beautiful motorcycle I’ve ever owned, this 2007 Speed Triple was a fast machine. The joke in motorcycle circles is that it should be named the Speed Cripple. That’s what it did to me.My CSC 150. Don’t laugh. I had a lot of fun on this little Mustang replica. My friends and I rode these to Cabo San Lucas and back.
That brings up to today. My rides today are a CSC TT250, an RX3, and a Royal Enfield Interceptor 650. I like riding them all.
Do you have photos of your old bikes? Here’s an invitation: Send photos of your earlier motorcycles to us (info@exhaustnotes.us) with any info you can provide and we’ll your story here on the blog. We’d love to see your motorcycles.
Want to see some of our Dream Bikes? Give a click here!
On my 8th day in Colombia and 7th day on the road, we left the town of Honda and rode to the top of Volcan Nevado del Ruiz, which took us up to about 14,000 feet. It was the highest I’d ever ridden and I was surprised at how well the RS3 (the carbureted version of the RX3) was doing. But I’m getting ahead of myself…let’s get into the blog I wrote for CSC Motorcycles at the end of that fine day.
Posted on December 21, 2015
A delightful hotel, sweltering heat, more mountain twisties, freezing cold, fog that cut visibility down to 30 feet, dirt roads, riding at 13,576 feet, hot sulfur baths, and a burbling volcano that killed 23,000 people in 1985…all in a day’s ride for us.
The hotel first…it was the Epoque, a great little boutique hotel in Honda that was one of the coolest places (in one of the hottest cities) I’ve ever parked a motorcycle. It was arranged in a square around a small pool (which we enjoyed immensely the previous night). Here are a few shots of the courtyard, Juan and Carlos having breakfast, and an antique record player in the dining room…
From there, it was another trials ride following the boys from Medellin as we twisted, turned, climbed, and descended cobbleboulder streets in Honda. Juan took us to the first bridge to ever span the Magdalena River, where I grabbed this shot of a Colombian woman taking in the humid morning air of Honda…
Here’s the bridge. It has planks across the bottom as the road surface. It’s real Indiana Jones stuff….
We saw the Magdalena River museum, and stopped in to check it out. Folks, it was hot. I was soaking wet by now, drenched in sweat.
The museum was interesting and it had some bizarre art. This guy reminds me of a boss I had a couple of decades ago…
The Colombians used steamships on the Magdalena, just like we did on the Mississippi River.
We left Honda and started to climb. The temperatures dropped mercifully. We stopped in Fresno. Yep, Colombia has a Fresno, too.
That’s me in the town square. I’m the guy on the right.
Two young ladies in a small store in Fresno.
As we were sipping energy drinks, Juan pointed out our destination for that evening, the Volcan Nevado del Ruiz. It was showing a little steam, and I stuck an arrow in this picture so you could see it.
We continued our climb. The roads were magnificent.
The photo below shows my front tire, with chicken strips that are about as small as I’ve ever been able to make them. I was getting better at keeping up with the Colombian motorcycle community.
Our riding positions are Juan, me, and Carlos. Juan is amazing. I’m struggling to keep up in the twisties, and I know he’s dialed it back for me. He’ll ride through the corners (and the roads are all corners, folks) standing on the pegs. At one point, we were taking a set of curves at speeds way above those at which I would normally ride, with the bikes leaned over at an unimaginable angle, when I looked ahead and saw Juan. He was standing on the pegs, similarly leaned over, and while all this was going on, he was reaching back to check the latch on one of his saddlebags as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do. The guy is an incredible rider.
As we continued to climb, we entered the clouds. Literally. We left the pavement and got on a dirt road headed up to the volcano.
4,138 meters! That’s 13,576 feet, and it’s as high as you can go on a motorcycle anywhere in Colombia. Juan told me he once did this ride on a Yamaha DT100, carrying a passenger on the back!
That’s not dirt on my RX3, folks. It’s volcanic ash. This was not your typical motorcycle ride.
Yours truly, posing with Carlos, on the top of the world, on top of a volcano with indigestion. Wow. This volcano is the very same one that blew in 1985 and wiped out an entire community. It was like Pompeii, as the guys explained it to me. 23,000 people lost their lives in that event. And here we were, riding in conditions where I could barely see Juan’s tail light in front of me, on dirt roads, in bitter cold. Wow.
Here are a couple of shots showing my helmet and my jacket, dusted with Volcan Nevado del Ruiz ash.
We left the volcano, rode another 20 kilometers on this dirt road, and found our hotel in the middle of nowhere.
The hotel had hot springs, and they were awesome. I had a good soak, we had dinner, and that was the end of Day 7 on this epic journey.
Today is our last day. We’re finishing our great circumnavigation and headed back to Medellin. Much of our ride today will be on dirt. I’ll take a few shots and post about it tomorrow.
Later, my friends.
You can read the earlier blogs from this great trip, and a few other moto adventures, here on our Epic Rides page!
The Colombia motoventure continues! This is Day 6 of my epic ride through Colombia’s Andes Mountains with good buddies Juan and Carlos, two great guys with whom I’ve stayed in contact ever since our Andean adventure. Without further ado, here we go!
Originally posted on December 20, 2015
Let me see if I can get this right: I’m a guy from California riding a Chinese motorcycle in Colombia headed to a town called Honda. Yep, that was yesterday’s ticket.
We left Villa de Leyva early in the morning, climbed higher into the Andes, and wow, was it ever cold. Juan Carlos stopped so we could grab a few photos..
As I was taking in the scenery, this Colombian SUV rolled into the scene…
We next stopped at the point where Colombia was born. The last battle of the Colombian war of independence (against Spain) occurred right here at this bridge in Boyaga…
The Colombian rebels defeated the Spanish regulars here, and at that point, Colombia was born. There are a lot of parallels between how Colombia came into being and our Revolutionary War.
Boyaga is actually pronounced “boy-jogga.” In Colombian Spanish, a y is pronounced like a j. So is a double l (as in ll). A montallanta (a tire repair place) is called a “monta-jonta.” Interesting.
Following Juan through these small towns was fascinating and taxing. We’re up in the Andes, and everything is steep. Juan is incredible…we climb these steep cobblestone streets, cut across some guy’s front lawn, grab a dirt road, pick up a new street, every once in a while (while still riding) he pulls up alongside a guy on horse or a tractor to confirm directions (Juan’s GPS, as he calls it), and we cut across the Colombian countryside. It’s amazing. Here’s a sampling of what it looks like, both in the dirt (and there is a lot of dirt riding) and through the small towns…
We hit a last stretch of twisties (a 50-mile stretch) and then we pulled over for a photo of the Magdalena River valley. Our destination (the town of Honda) is down there somewhere…
Honda is a another steep town. This street (that’s our hotel, the Epoque, on the left) is a typical super steep Colombian town road. The road is a one way road…I tried parking the bike facing down hill, but it was too steep. I thought I could just leave the bike in first gear and kill the ignition, but the street was so steep it pulled the bike through the compression stroke. That’s why the bikes are facing uphill. These are unusual riding conditions for me, but totally normal to the Colombians.
Today we’re headed to Santa Rosa de Cabal. You can read all about it in the next installment in this series!
You can read the earlier blogs in this series from Colombia here!
When the phone rings and it’s good buddy Duane wanting to head into the San Bernardino Mountains for a motorcycle ride, I know it’s time to hop to. That’s what I did last week and it was an awesome ride. East on the 210, up Waterman to Hwy 18 into the mountains, and then down the 138 on the other side to ride home through the Cajon Pass. Good times, and this trip was made all the more special because of two more good friends we connected with on the ride.
Duane and his magnificent Indian up in the San Bernardino Mountains. It was a glorious day.Geezers. Motorcycle geezers. CSC Mustang and RX3 geezers. Former Army motorcycle-riding geezers. Former Army motorcycle-riding gun nut geezers. Whatcha gonna do? Great minds work alike.
It was a grand ride through one of the greatest motorcycle playgrounds on the planet. The weather was perfect and the bikes were running like Chinese 250s (I was going to say like Swiss watches, but I have Swiss watches and I have Chinese 250s, and the Chinese 250s run better). Both the Indians were running great. My Indian is an Enfield made in India. Duane’s bike is an Indian made in America. It’s very confusing, I know.
A grand day for a grand ride. No polarizers or saturation sliders needed.
So we turned onto the 138 somewhere in one of the little mountaintop towns and we had a fun slalom down through the twisties. As we approached Silverwood Lake, I wanted to stop to get a photo of the bikes. There’s this huge parking lot and it was completely empty, so I thought we would park there and I could angle my shot for the best photo.
So we’re rolling to a stop and I noticed this silver SUV pulling in behind us, and wouldn’t you know it, the guy parks right next to us. I was thinking that would completely screw up my photo. You know the drill…a parking lot the size of Texas and the guy, this, this, this interloper parks right next to me. I was all set to dip into my not-such-a-nice-guy routine when Mr. Silver SUV stepped out of his car with a giant grin.
Twin Peaks Steve!
Twin Peaks Steve and Glendora Duane…two great guys!
Wow, we were ever surprised and happy. Duane and I have a lot in common, as alluded to in one of the photo captions above, and Twin Peaks Steve is right there with both of us in every regard.
We had a real nice visit overlooking Silverwood Lake and caught up on things. Steve’s beautiful wife Rosemary was there, too, and we had a wonderful chat with her. I can’t tell you how great it was bumping into these two. Steve told me he recognized us when we rode by and he and Rosemary followed us down hoping to have a chance to connect. I’m glad he did. We all met back in the CSC Mustang days about 10 years ago, when Steve was the very first guy to order a custom CSC Bobber. It was one of the prettiest bikes we ever built at CSC.
Steve’s custom CSC 150 Bobber. It was a real show stopper…a visually arresting, gorgeous little jewel of a motorcycle.
Twin Peaks Steve rode with Duane and me on a bunch of CSC rides, and the more we learned about him back in those days, the more impressed we were. How about ultra-lights as a hobby? Yep, Steve did that, too.
Ah, for the love of adventure. Twin Peaks Steve has done it all!
Then CSC went into the ADV motorcycle business by importing the RX3. Steve and Duane both bought bikes from the very first RX3 shipment to arrive in America, and we rode together (Duane, Twin Peaks Steve, and yours truly) on a bunch more rides.
One of my favorite photos of Steve.
Steve is a serious rider and camper, and he outfitted his RX3 with all the good stuff for disappearing into the boonies. He did a lot of trips up and down the 395 (one of the prettiest highways in America), and the motormaestro even did a guest blog or two about his adventures when I was writing the CSC blog. If you poke around on the CSC blog and search on “Twin Peaks Steve” you’ll find he’s a regular there!
Steve’s RX3 somewhere up along Highway 395. Steve is the real deal; he’s done some amazing trips on his RX3.
What a ride and what a day!
So, how about you? Are you getting out on your motorcycle? Do me and yourself a favor and live large, like Steve, Duane, and the rest of us. Get off your computer, get your riding gear, and get on the road!
I haven’t been riding the new Enfield all that much since I bought it, which was exactly one week before the virus hit our shores. You know, Covid 19, the lockdown, autonomous zone crises, and all that. And as a consequence, I’ve come under heavy criticism from two good buddies for my failure to accumulate miles on the Taj Mahal (as I sometimes refer to my orange Interceptor).
“I can’t believe you’re not riding that new Enfield all the time,” said Joe Gresh. Guilt. The guy reminds me of my Mom. You should try riding across China with him.
And then after I published that bit about getting out on the RX3, good buddy Rob had to weigh in: “Take the Enfield on the same road,” he said. “It will be a completely different ride.” Guilt again. If you don’t believe me, read the comments on the RX3 blog a few entries down. Rob, a guy who rode with us on the Western America Adventure Ride. He was waiting for us on a lawn chair by the side of the road early in the morning when we first met, already suited up, just before we crossed into Idaho. Rob’s RX3 was parked right alongside, both man and motorcycle ready to roll as soon as we approached so we wouldn’t have to wait. He seemed like such a nice guy back then.
Well, it worked, guys. Your guilt tripping got me out on the Enfield two days later, and it was awesome. I didn’t do the Glendora Ridge Road ride, but I was up in the San Gabriels. The very eastern end of that range, actually, riding deep into those glorious So Cal mountains through the little town of Lytle Creek. I went right past the West End Gun Club without stopping to send lead downrange, and that doesn’t happen too often. Not stopping in, that is.
So this is another one of those blogs where I’ll let the photos do the talking. Here we go, folks.
The first time I ever put gas in the new Enfield, and it returned 58 mpg and change. That’s consistent with what I saw on the first tankful on the Enfield I rode in Baja. By the end of that trip (nearly 1500 miles later), the bike was consistently getting between 70 and 72 mpg. Not too shabby for a 650 twin.This is a good-looking motorcycle. My good buddy Art over at Douglas Motorcycles gave me a hell of a deal on it.Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I take a good photo. I look better in a full face helmet, people tell me.Not today, but I had to stop for the photo op. Top gun. That’s what I want to be.You could interpret that sign to mean it’s okay to shoot at my street legal vehicle. Time to move along.Ah, the great San Gabriels, just west of the little town of Lytle Creek. The road dead ends a few miles further.A man, a motorcycle, America, and a mirror. Gets me every time.Time to open her up a bit. But not too much. I’m still breaking in the Royal Enfield.Editors hate these “motorcycle by the side of the road” shots. I kind of like them, especially when the road is in the San Gabriels.And finally, re-entering the burbs. Lawrence of Suburbia, as Gresh sometimes calls me. Look at those donuts. There’s probably 20,000 miles of tire wear there; the guy who did it probably owns stock in a tire company. I used to have tire company shares when I worked for GenCorp, the corporation that owns General Tire, but that’s a story for another blog.
Wanna know a secret? The ride above occurred several days ago. I went for another ride this past Friday with good buddy Duane. Duane was on his Indian, a motorcycle made in America. I was on my Enfield, formerly a British motorcycle but now made in India. As you can see above, the Enfield is a glorious orange and that’s the fastest color…just ask my good buddy Orlando (about the orange thing, that is). Duane and I had a hell of a ride, and along the way we bumped into good buddies Steve and Rosemary by Silverwood. But that, too, is a story for another blog. Stay tuned!
Want to read about the Royal Enfield ride in Baja? Just click here! Want to know more about the CSC RX3 I mentioned above? The skinny is just a click away. Are you interested in a killer deal on a Triumph or a Royal Enfield? Check out Douglas Motorcycles in San Bernardino!
Want to read a story about another beautiful motorcycle? Motorcycle Classics recently published my piece about good buddy Steve’s stunning and brilliantly bright red ’82 Yamaha Seca. You can read it here.
My RX3, one of the very first bikes in the US. Numerous Baja trips, a ride through the American Southwest and Pacific Northwest, and more. That little 250 is always good for an attitude adjustment.
Not a lot of writing today, my friends. I fired up the old RX3 and rode into the mountains to clear my mind and create my own reality. It was long past time to shed the shackles of a world gone mad. No left or right wing news media (that’s all there is any more), no Covid 19, no protests, no riots, no police brutality, no defunding police departments, no masks, no shelter in place, no stupid stuff on Facebook (now there’s a redundant expression), no ridiculously bad choices in the next election (damned if you do and damned even more if you don’t), and no one telling me how to think about this, that, or the other thing. No thank you, I can think for myself, and today I thought I would go for a motorcycle ride. Other than captions, I’ll keep the words down and let the pictures do the talking.
That headlight grille and the spotlamps were gifts from Enrique Vargas, AKT Motos General Manager (and a genuine nice guy) in Medellin, Colombia.Steve Seidner, CEO of CSC Motorcycles, created decals for each of our multi-day company rides back in the good old days. I ran out of campaign ribbon real estate on my fuel tank.Glendora Ridge Road, my happy place. That’s Mt. Baldy and Mt. San Antonio dead ahead.Glendora Ridge Road is one of the best wildflower spots in the country. I’ve been up there when there are red, orange, yellow, and purple wildflowers blooming at the same time.I’ve done Mexico, California, Nevada, Utah, Arizona, Colorado, South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Washington, and Oregon on my 250. The most beautiful state? That’s easy: Utah, hands down. But they are all pretty if you know where to ride (and I do). The best riding and the best times? That’s another easy call: Baja. I’ve ridden Colombia and I’ve ridden China on RX3 motorcycles. Once, when I was in Turkey, a young Turk let me ride his RX3. This is a bike with long legs, folks.
So there you have it. I’m back, it was a great ride, and I had a good time. You might consider doing the same.
We’re up to Day 5 in Colombia from my December 2015 circumnavigation of the Andes Mountains. The riding was incredible, the scenery even more so. Juan and Carlos were amazing riders, as was every person I saw on a motorcycle in Colombia. Ah, enough of a prelude…here’s what I posted for CSC Motorcycles on December 19, 2015.
Actually, it’s pronounced “Via Da Layba.” I’m learning how to be a Colombian and how to speak like one. Colombian Spanish is different than Mexican Spanish. Much to my regret, I don’t speak either one. Someday.
Juan Carlos and Carlos told me they’re making me an honorary C0lombian because my riding has progressed significantly in the last few days. Folks, these two guys are the best riders I’ve ever ridden with, and for them to tell me that was quite a compliment. Every rider I know in the U.S. would be subpar compared to your typical Colombian motorcyclist. The way they carve corners and carve through heavy traffic on these mountain roads is a thing a beauty. They are the best riders I’ve ever seen, and the two guys I’m riding with are beyond incredible. But I digress…more on that later. The focus of this blog entry is Day 5, which was yesterday for me.
As you know from reading the blog, we stayed in Barichara. It’s an awesome little town and we stayed in an awesome little hotel. Getting there was an experience. We passed through a bunch of small towns up here in the Andes Mountains. In these small towns, everything is either uphill or downhill. The roads are either cobblestone or dirt. And when I say cobblestone, I’m not talking about little rocks. These are 6 to 12 inch boulders that are basically mashed together to form a street. The cobblestones (actually, cobbleboulders) throw the bike left and right and up and down, and this is all going on while riding up or down extremely steep hills. The RX3 is the perfect bike for this. I couldn’t imagine doing it on anything bigger or heavier.
We stayed at the Artepolis Hotel, and it was an experience. The guy in the room next to me was an Austrian photographer who came here just to photograph the place. It’s that stunning. Here’s the hotel the next morning (it was dark when we arrived the preceding evening, and we had to ride up a rough dirt road to get to the hotel).
The next morning Juan and Carlos wanted to ride a bit and get some photos. They took me to the edge of a cliff and we got some great shots…here’s one of Carlos I especially like:
And here are a couple more:
We continued on a paved road to a little town called Guane, and along the way I spotted a couple of Colombian vultures perched in a tree not far from the road. I always wanted to get a decent shot of a vulture during my Baja travels, but my results have always been mediocre. I’m carrying my 70-300 Nikon lens on this trip, and I thought I would try for that vulture photo I’ve been wanting for years. The lighting was perfect and I think I did okay…
After photographing the vultures, I grabbed a couple of shots from the saddle on our way to Guane.
Guane is a beautiful little town with a magnificent church…I was working the little Nikon D3300 and its 18-55 lens as best I could. That camera is really doing a great job on this trip. I bought it because I wanted something light and small. You folks who are planning to ride to Baja with us in March might want to give the D3300 a look if you don’t already have a camera. It really adds a lot to the adventure if you can capture stuff like this.
In many Colombian towns, the taxi services use tuk-tuks. Tuk-tuks are little three wheel things that have two wheels in the back and one wheel up front. I’d seen them in Thailand, but encountering them again in Colombia was something I had not expected. The ones in Colombia are made by Bajaj, an Indian manufacturer (as in India, not Indian motorcycles). They’re powered by a little 200cc single, and I was surprised at it’s ability to haul Carlos, Juan, and me up and down the hills in Barichara (we took one to go to dinner in Barichara). Juan told me he tested one at Bajaj’s request a year or so ago and he was impressed with it.
The tuk-tuks are often customized with really cool paintwork, and so are some of the other commercial vehicles. Here’s the artwork on one such vehicle in Guane that caught my eye:
After our brief exploration of Guane, we rode back to Barichara. The guys had been telling me I had to see the cemetery, and they were right. It seemed weird to visit a cemetery for the artistry, but it was impressive…
After that we were back on the road, headed for Villa de Leyva. I had mentioned to Juan that I wanted to get photos of the police motorcycles in Colombia, and when he spotted a few motor officers in one of the many small towns we rode through, I checked another photo op off the list.
This first photo shows one of the more common Colombian police bikes, the Suzuki 200 single.
Here’s another bike the Colombian police use…the Suzuki V-Strom 650…
There’s a lot more to tell you about the Colombian police motorcycles, but that will come later. I’m seeing and learning so much I just can’t get it all into the blog. I’m thinking maybe another book is in order. We’ll see.
Juan found our hotel just outside of Villa de Leyva, we checked in, and then we rode into town. This is the town square…it’s the largest in all of Colombia.
If you’re really impressed with that last shot, so am I. I wish I could take credit for it. It was a photo for sale in one of the Villa de Leyva stores, and I shot a photo of that photo before they told me I couldn’t.
It was a good day. The next one would be even better.
And one last thing, folks. On that day in Barichara before we left, I did a video in their beautiful cemetery. This wasn’t in the original blog, but I thought I’d add it here.
One more thing…if you’d like to read the first several blogs from Colombia, you can do so here.
Continuing the Colombia adventure, this was my post for the CSC blog on the 18th of December in 2016. We were having a hell of a time and very nearly everywhere we went good buddies Juan and Carlos explained to me that we could not have ridden these roads just a few years ago due to the narcos and FARC instability in Colombia. It was an amazing trip and I was thoroughly enjoying myself.
More riding, another Andean crossing, a bit of rain, and we arrived in Barichara!
Barichara is an artist’s town, and it’s one of the most exclusive places in all of Colombia. It was another glorious day of mountain riding. I did not take too many photos on the ride to Barichara, mostly because of the rain, our late arrival, and I was enjoying our dinner too much that evening in Barichara to break out the Nikon. But I did get a few photos.
My lunch at a restaurant along the Chicamocha River…
One of my “from the saddle” shots of a hydroelectric dam on the Chicamocha River…
A couple of shots chasing Juan Carlos through a massive tunnel in the Andes Mountains…
A fine feathered friend at a fuel stop…
And finally, a shot after the rain ended of the Chicamocha valley…
I’m enjoying the AKT Moto RX3. It’s different in a few minor ways than the CSC bike, and they are both fantastic motorcycles. I’ll do a blog after I return home describing the differences.
I’m calling it a night, folks. More to follow…as always, stay tuned!
I’ll post a few more photos and another video or two from Barichara in the next installment of our Colombian trip travelogue. I wrote this blog before we went out that night, and I grabbed a lot more with my Nikon on our night out in Barichara. It was an impressive town. I’ve got to get back there one of these days.
More of the Colombia adventure and other epic rides are here!
I had my RX3 out this Memorial Day weekend. It’s an iconic motorcycle, and it’s one I’ve ridden on three continents. I hadn’t ridden the RX3 in a few months, and it felt good to be on it again. Light, responsive, fully equipped, and five years old, my RX3 can and has gone the distance.
I’m thinking about a motorcycle ride up the Pacific Coast Highway to Hearst Castle, and Hearst Castle is a bucket list destination on a bucket list road. I’d like to do it on my RX3. Trust me on this: It doesn’t get much better than the Pacific Coast Highway and Hearst Castle.
The Pacific Coast Highway. Life doesn’t get much better than this, folks. Any motorcycle ride on the PCH is magnificent, and a stop at Hearst Castle makes it even better.
What’s Hearst Castle all about? Here’s the Reader’s Digest version: William Randolph Hearst is a dude who had more money than God. His dad came to California during the Gold Rush and somehow managed not to find any gold, but he went a few hills over and hit it big with silver. Ever hear of the Comstock Lode? Well, that was George Hearst back in the 1800s. Father George was a mining guy, and he sort of fell into the newspaper business when he accepted the San Francisco Examiner as payment for a gambling debt. While all this was going on, young William Randolph Hearst (George’s son) got himself expelled from Harvard, and somehow after that landed a job on the Examiner (ah, nepotism in action). And while all that was occurring, George bought 40,000 acres in the Santa Lucia Mountains (on the central California coast) so the family had a place to go camping.
I guess some folks run out of things to do when they’re rich, but not young William. He decided to he needed a castle. So he built one. On the family property (which he inherited in 1919) in San Simeon. It’s one hell of story, and there’s more to it than I can cover here in the blog, but it will soon be in a major motorcycle magazine (and when that happens, I’ll give you the link here). In advance of that, though, I’ll share a few Hearst Castle photos with you.
The front door to Casa Grande. Bill Hearst liked big doors.Art, tapestries, ceilings, and more…all this stuff is the result of Hearst’s agents scouring the castles and churches of Europe, and returning the good stuff to California. It’s good to be the king.One of two Olympic-sized pools at Hearst Castle. This is the first one Hearst built, but guests complained they could hear the staff working upstairs. Undaunted, Old Bill designated this pool for staff only, and built an even larger one outdoors for his guests. The indoor pool makes for a stunning photo op, I think. The blue tiles are custom crafted. It really is amazing.Dinner was a big deal when Bill held the Hearst Corporation reins. The word “impressive” just isn’t adequate here.The view from La Cuesta Encantada (the Enchanted Hill) looking west to the Pacific Ocean.
So there you have it. But there’s more…lots more. You have to see Hearst Castle to believe it, and it is a stellar thing to see. Hearst Castle and the Pacific Coast Highway make for a great motorcycle ride.
Our Colombian adventure continues…this is the blog from the third day on the road in beautiful Colombia. It was a ride sponsored by CSC Motorcycles and AKT Motos (one of the largest motorcycle manufacturers in Colombia). Our destination was La Playa de Belem and it was awesome. Juan and Carlos were taking good care of me, proudly guiding me through their beautiful country, and I was loving every minute of it.
They tell me la playa means beach in Spanish, and Belem means Bethlehem. There was no beach, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
La Playa de Belem was our destination on the third day of our Colombian moto adventure, and it was indeed awesome. We did a cool 260 miles to get to the evening’s destination, and I have to tell you that 260 miles in Colombia is a long day. What I didn’t realize when we started in the morning is that a good 40 miles of it would be on dirt. And sand. And mud. And I’d even get a chance to play cowboy, except I was mounted on an RX3 instead of a horse.
No kidding, folks, those are cows, and they were on the road. This was something new to me. I mean, when you’re on a 250cc motorcycle, how do you make cows get out of the way? Even if you’re on a big bike, what’s the protocol? These questions were on my mind, when like always, Juan Carlos took the lead. Our bovine buddies just kind of moved aside to let him move through the herd. I wasn’t too sure about that, and then a guy on a little 100cc something-or-other did the same. In for a penny, in for a pound. As I got closer, the sea of cows parted, and I was through. Amazing stuff.
As was the case the day before, it was sweltering, so we stopped to get a juice drink. They have a lot of juices in Colombia, and I’ve been trying them all. I haven’t found one I didn’t like yet.
This little gal was fascinated by us. She let me take her picture.
What I missed getting a photo of were the dinosaurs. No kidding. I looked over at a tree and there were three or four iguanas that were huge. As in 2 1/2 or 3 feet long. They startled me. We ain’t in Kansas anymore, Toto. I jumped up and fumbled around putting the 70-300 lens on the D3300, but by the time I was ready the lizards were gone. Maybe I’ll see more of them again on this trip. Who knows? Things like that are incredible. I’m enjoying the hell out of this trip.
Ah, a few more “watching the world go by in Colombia” photos…all the gear, all the time.
After dodging and dicing through traffic (and there’s lots of traffic in these Colombian towns, and it’s mostly motorcycles), we finally hit a highway that ran straight. Yippee! We accelerated up to about 70 mph and cruised, and then Juan pulled over. What he pointed out to me was amazing. Ant hills. Not the little kind we are used to, but big monsters that are as hard as concrete. Check this stuff out, folks.
And then, much to my surprise, the animal signs started popping up.
Okay, that one was easy. Fox. I get it. I never saw a sign before warning about a fox crossing, but I can wrap my mind around that one.
What came next…well, that wasn’t so easy to surround with the old gray matter.
Anteaters. Wow. The image quality isn’t so great, but hey, we were zooming along and that one crept up on me. And how about this next one?
Okay, enough monkeying around. Back to the journey.
We entered the eastern arm of the Andes Mountains and started to climb. It was a two-lane road, and we rode it for a good 150 miles. It’s like the Angeles Crest Highway, but it goes on forever, and there were construction stops every 10 miles or so. These next few shots were taken at one of the construction stops. Juan Carlos told me we were very close to the Venezuelan border at this point.
A shot of Juan Carlos.
A Colombian taxi driver.
I’m seeing medium-sized trucks that are 60 years old nearly every day on these roads. The ’56 Ford seems to be especially popular.
Our next stop was in another Andean town at a cool little restaurant. This was our waiter.
I had chicken and mushrooms. It was awesome. I ate maybe half of it.
Carlos and Juan Carlos both ordered something in Spanish (naturally), and they were excited to get it. I thought it was beef, or maybe pork. Nope. It was pig stomach lining. Very tasty, according to them. They offered a taste, but I declined.
A word or two on the riding is in order, I guess, at this point. It is exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. In the cities and towns, it’s a free for all. It’s like one of the YouTube videos you see of city intersections with tons of scooters in Asia. Here, it’s scooters, motorcycles, cars, and trucks. There are few traffic lights, and Juan told me nobody pays attention to the stop signs or speed limits. “They are like suggestions,” he said.
I’m a big fan of the twisties, but in Colombia, they take on a new meaning. The national sport seems to be passing everyone you can everywhere you can. It’s tense. Juan Carlos and Carlos are totally used to it. I’m getting there, but it is unnerving. It’s also weird just how good every rider seems to be. I’m riding at my limits (not the bike’s limits, but mine) too often, and while I’m doing this taking a corner way faster than I ever would in the US, some Colombian will pass me on a 125cc Suzuki cruiser or something with his girlfriend on the back, leaned way over, like it was the most natural thing in the world. They look totally at ease doing it, too. These folks are natural riders, and they’re good.
We arrived in La Playa de Belem about an hour before sunset, and immediately split for a one of many Colombian national parks. It was kind of like Bryce. I grabbed a few shots there, including one of my AKT RX3.
Getting in was interesting. We had to ride a pretty rough dirt road that had a stream running down it because it had been raining. The RX3 took it in stride.
So, back to the Bethlehem thing (as I said at the start of this blog, Belem means Bethlehem in Spanish). La Playa de Belem is a beautiful little town dominated by the town square and a magnificent church (like many little towns in Colombia), and it turns out we arrived at a special time. The Colombians start celebrating Christmas nine days before Christmas, and this was that day. The town was buzzing. We hung out and watched kids singing at an outdoor service, we saw fireworks, we watched the service in the church, and then we got to see the vaca loca. I recorded it, so I won’t tell you the vaca loca story now, but if this Internet connection holds I’ll upload the video and tell you about it later.
Two more quick photos in La Playa de Belem, a video, and that’s all for now.
There’s lots more coming, folks. You probably already know this, but I’ll say it anyway: I’m having fun.
If you want to catch up on the Colombia ride, or explore any of the other exotic rides we’ve had, click on over to our Epic Rides page!
