Adventure Motorcycle Books – Page 3

Adventures on Borrowed Time

By Joe Berk

I guess a good way to start a blog is to grab the reader’s attention, and I can do that here: How many people do you know who ride a Panther?

A few weeks ago I wrote a blog about Nick Adams, an interesting man, fellow motojournalist, and author. Nick is about the same age as me and he enjoys exploring the world on his different motorcycles. In other words, he is our kind of guy.

In my prior blog about Mr. Adams, I mentioned that I planned to purchase one of his books. I did, and a few days after ordering Adventures on Borrowed Time, it arrived.

Adventures on Borrowed Time is well written and well organized. It’s 191 pages long and it has lots of pictures. Nick’s writing style is conversational and easy to follow (it feels more like listening to a good friend’s stories than reading). The first chapter is about Nick’s ’72 Guzzi Eldorado (the one you see in the photos above). The following chapters take you through Canada, mostly on gravel roads, in good weather and bad. There are instances in which Nick’s Guzzi didn’t feel like starting, and Nick takes us through the steps he took to coax the old V-twin back to life. There are parts where Nick switches to his ’86 Suzuki Cavalcade (Suzuki’s attempt to cash in the Gold Wing craze), that monster of a bike’s surprisingly good handling, and the repairs Nick made to it. Parts of Adventures on Borrowed Time describe exploring Canada on Nick’s 650cc Suzuki Burgman scooter. And then, returning to my attention grabber at the start of this blog, Adventures on Borrowed Time describes Nick riding Canada on his 62-year-old Panther.

Never heard of the Panther? Don’t feel bad. The Panther is a 600cc single English bike made from 1900 to 1968, and most folks have never heard of it. They are fairly primitive, I think. I say “I think” because I’ve never even seen a Panther. And here’s Nick, describing what it’s like to take major trips through Canada on one. A long-distance moto adventure ride through the Canadian wilderness on a 62-year-old British motorcycle…what could go wrong?

The writing is superb, the photos are great, and the character development all make Adventures on Borrowed Time a book you need to read (the characters being Nick, his wife, the people he meets, and the bikes). You can purchase your copy of Adventures on Borrowed Time here. Trust me on this: You’ll enjoy it. You can thank me later.

A Clever Cup of Joe, Japanese Style

By Joe Berk

Here at ExNotes, we cover a lot of topics: Motorcycles, motorcycle touring, product reviews, concrete, guns, reloading, and more. And coffee. The thought occurs to me we’ve written a lot about coffee, from the primo Batdorf and Bronson beans provided by good buddy Ren to just about everything else. About now, you might be wondering: Where is this blog going?

Well, I was recently in Tokyo. I gave a class in Singapore and Sue and I thought as long as we had invested the 20+ hours to get there, we might as well stop in Japan on the way home (neither of us had ever visited Japan before). I’ll post a blog or two about the land of the rising sun in the coming days, but for now I wanted to talk about making coffee in our Tokyo hotel room. On these Asian trips, I’m usually up by 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. (there’s a 16 hour time difference between Japan and LA, and my biological clock doesn’t handle it well). They don’t serve coffee in the hotel lobbies over here, so you either make coffee in your hotel room or you don’t have coffee. For me, not having coffee has never been an option.

If you’ve read Riding China, you know that Gresh and I became experts at making coffee at places in China so remote they had to pipe in water and air. Our coffee was always prepared using instant Nescafe, which is almost a crime against nature for folks who enjoy a good cuppa Joe. Nescafe reminds me of that old engineering saying: Halitosis is better than no breath at all. But when it comes to making coffee in a hotel room, the Japanese had a better idea. It took me a while to dope it out and I finally had to read the instructions to do so. When I did, I realized: Clever people, these Japanese are. Take a look.

The water heater for making coffee. I thought the coffee bag would to into the white gizmo below the lid. I was trying to find a way to open it up. When I spotted the Phillips head screws securing it to the lid and I thought I needed a screwdriver, I realized I was on the wrong track. There are no English instructions anywhere on this pot.

The bag of coffee. How the hell does it fit into the coffee pot?

Ah, the flip side. No instructions in English, but there are pictures. I panicked initially when I couldn’t find the holding fixture the pictures show.

Could it be? A cardboard fixture built into the coffee bag?

Ah, these people are very, very clever. You heat the water in the pot, mount the coffee bag with its included cardboard mounting fixture in your cup, and pour the hot water over the coffee.

And it was a damn fine cup of coffee, too!

Gresh and I sure could have used this when we rode across China. Next time, I guess, if I can find a place to buy these coffee bags. And you know what? As soon as I wrote that last line, I remembered: Amazon is your friend. I did a search on drip bag coffee, and wow, here they are!

I couldn’t let a story about coffee get by without a commercial or two…the first one being for our book, A Cup O’ Joes. Have you picked up a copy yet?

And the second commercial…how about Riding China, from which you can learn all about how two die-hard coffee drinkers struggled across the Gobi Desert, the Tibetan Plateau, and more in China, the land where people don’t drink coffee?

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My Solo Motorcycle Journey from Sedona to Canada: Part II

By Bobbie Surber

Welcome back to the next chapter of my solo motorcycle journey from my hometown of Sedona, Arizona, to the captivating landscapes of Canada. In Part One, I shared the exhilarating start of my adventure, from Sedona to the awe-inspiring beauty of the Grand Canyon and the mesmerizing Zion National Park. Now, as I continue northward on my trusty Triumph Tiger 900 GT Pro, lovingly named Tippi, join me in experiencing the next leg of this epic ride.

As I left the captivating beauty of Zion National Park behind, I couldn’t help but marvel at the magic of solo travel. The open road stretched out before me, promising new adventures and the opportunity to connect with the world in ways that only solo exploration allows. My heart swelled with anticipation as I headed north into Utah, a state known for its stunning natural landscapes.

A Return to Bryce Canyon

My next destination was my beloved Bryce Canyon National Park. The ride to Bryce Canyon was a scenic marvel in itself. Utah’s highway 89 to Route 12 made its way through crimson canyons, past towering rock formations, and into high-altitude forests. Every twist and turn of the road revealed a new panorama of breathtaking beauty.

Arriving at Bryce Canyon, I was greeted by a surreal landscape of hoodoos—towering, otherworldly rock spires that seemed to defy gravity. I hiked once again the trails that wound through the park, taking in the views from vantage points like Sunrise Point and Inspiration Point. Wall Street trail was closed for repairs, but trusty old favorites satisfied my need for a day of hiking. My camp spot at Sunset Campground gave me the chance at an early morning sunrise the next morning. A predawn wakeup found me walking to the rims edge to watch the sun slowly rise below the horizon, the hoodoos took on a fiery glow, casting long, dramatic shadows that danced across the amphitheater-like terrain. Bryce Canyon’s mystical allure left an indelible mark on my soul, reminding me why I embarked on this journey in the first place. After a second night at Bryce, I was ready to tackle another epic day of riding Route 12 through Escalante to the sweetest underrated Capital Reef National Park.

Exploring Route 12 and Capitol Reef

Continuing my adventure, the following morning, I eagerly resumed my route on Highway 12, heading towards my favorite section of the road, high above the captivating Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. This expansive and remote region boasts rugged canyons, vibrant cliffs, and extraordinary geological formations. The landscape, with its impossible rock formations, treated me to endless twisties, creating a sense of otherworldliness. My Tiger 900 was as happy as I was as I relaxed into the ride and allowed her to remind me again what her three cylinders can do. Both of us were in sync as we leaned into curve after curve as we blasted down to the bottom of the canyon.

As I reluctantly approached the tiny town of Boulder, Utah, I realized I had made short order through the endless twisties of this section of Route 12. However, I was unexpectedly greeted by an old-school cattle round-up, complete with cowgirls and boys herding a large herd down Highway 12! After a brief turnaround, I found solace in my favorite restaurant, the Burr Trail Grill. Their farm-fresh ingredients delighted my taste buds, whether it was their fresh arugula salad topped with local goat cheese or their beastly-sized burgers that proved a challenge to conquer.

Resuming my journey on Highway 12, I found myself in an unexpected predicament. The cattle herd’s progress was slow, and I crawled along, clutching endlessly as I felt my left hand about to begin a serious complaint! Amidst the frustration, two memorable moments emerged. Firstly, a passerby exclaimed, “Dude, you have the sweetest bike and setup!” We shared a laugh as he realized I was indeed “dudeless.” Secondly, after navigating my way to the front of the line, I convinced the lead cowboy to move the herd slightly to the right, allowing me to pass. Maneuvering my bike through the cows became a comical adventure, with prayers that the sound of my motor wouldn’t startle them. Experiencing this traditional cattle drive in 2023 felt like a slice of Americana and added yet another reason to love Utah.

Leaving the cattle behind, I ascended Boulder Mountain, where endless views revealed the backside of Capitol Reef on the right and scenic meadows with clusters of aspen, fir, and spruce trees on the left. Surprisingly, the mountain still boasted more snow than expected for June. Camping, fishing, and wildlife viewing opportunities abound in this mountainous region, with numerous campgrounds and dispersed campsites available. I’ve personally spent nights here, savoring the breathtaking vista overlooking Capitol Reef and the sprawling valley floor. Soon enough I was descending Boulder Mountain and into the small town of Torrey, UT, and just a short few miles away from Capitol Reef National Park for two more nights of camping. A quick setup of my camp, and I was off to town for a much-needed shower and a cold beer! Later that day, a lovely couple I met in Zion joined me at my campsite and I was treated to a homecooked Korean chicken dinner, which was a far cry from the instant ramen I was planning for dinner. A lovely couple who reminded me that the gift of travel is the unexpected friends we make along the way.

The next morning found me out on the trail a hump up to the top of the mesa for a panoramic view of the park. The air was crisp with hints of the heat to follow. The trail descends into a slot canyon then an arroyo wash to the other side of the park and beyond. Reluctantly heading back, I got on Tippi and explored the nearby petroglyphs. All in all, my short stay was a rewarding two nights and now headed to the not-so-famous outside of crazy riders who seek out remote roads Highway 50, billed as the loneliest highway in America!

Highway 50: The Loneliest Highway with a Detour to Great Basin National Park

I made a short order of breaking camp, and in no time Tippi and I were on highway 24 with the goal of making it to my 5th National Park, Great Basin. Following Route 24 goes through a rural farming section of the state with many small Mormon communities and opportunity for a breaks, food, and gas. I was eager to blow through this well-familiar route to get to Highway 50 and cut my teeth on a section of road I had been warned NOT to ride.

As I picked up Highway 50 off Interstate 15, I soon hit the famous first road sign and stopped to document my ride on her with a pic. With once again threatening storms, I glanced at the mountain ahead and thought how bad could it be? It was bad, I was wrong once again guessing the threat of a storm. A short very wet ride later, I left behind Highway 50 for a few days to visit the park. As a first timer to Great Basin NP, I was truly blown away! You enter the tiny town of Baker on the desert floor then 20 minutes later you are in the mountains with thick forest and views overlooking the high desert plains that seem to go on forever. Not to be missed is a guided tour of Lehman Caves. Truly the highlight of my stay. I selected one of the higher small campgrounds and was rewarded with a huge site surrounded by trees and brush with the river roaring behind me.

Reluctantly bidding farewell to Baker, I rejoined Highway 50, heading towards my next destination, South Lake Tahoe. Contrary to the dire warnings of scarce gas stations, I discovered that this notion was unfounded. Approximately 70 miles down the road, I arrived at Ely, another small mining town with plenty of services. After a quick refuel, I resumed my journey, realizing that the otherwise flat stretches of road were intermittently punctuated by mountain passes exceeding 7000 feet in elevation. These segments offered breathtaking vistas and enough twists and turns to satisfy both Tippi and me.

My first mountain pass, before descending into Ely, Nevada, presented an exhilarating ordeal with rain, lightning, and a brief ten-minute ride through hail. Eighty miles further, I found myself in the town of Eureka, where the threatening skies curtailed my exploration time. Nevertheless, I managed to visit a few must-see attractions, including the Opera House, built in 1879, the still-functional Courthouse of the same vintage, and a brief excursion to the town’s cemetery, where a variety of burial sites represented different social organizations, religious groups, and ethnicities. This walk-through history provided a fascinating glimpse into the town’s past.

Continuing on Highway 50, with the ominous skies in my rearview mirrors, I was reminded of the urgency to press on towards my next stop—Austin, Nevada. This old mining camp retains its rustic charm and has evolved into a haven for camping, hiking, and mountain biking, thanks to its proximity to the towering Toiyabe Mountains. During a pit stop, I encountered a large group of riders following the Pony Express Trail, who praised my adventure, while I vowed to return in the near future to explore that historic route.

Reluctantly bidding farewell to this enchanting mountain town, I embarked on another 112-mile stretch to Fallon, Nevada. This promised a well-deserved lunch break and refueling opportunity before the final leg of my journey to Lake Tahoe. As hunger pangs intensified, I hurriedly pulled into the first gas station I encountered. Curiously, the ground appeared slanted, making it impossible to safely park my bike with its kickstand without an extreme lean. Oddly, as my kickstand tends to be a bit high, I often worry about Tippi toppling over. Trying another station, I realized that my kickstand was not misaligned but broken—a sudden and unfortunate realization. With every ounce of strength, I fought to prevent Tippi’s full weight from pinning me between the gas pump curb and the engine crash bar. As I cried out for help, a kind soul named Caleb rushed to my aid, assisting me in righting Tippi. Examining the kickstand, I conceded that my lunch break was a lost cause. I refueled while seated on my bike and came to terms with the fact that I would have to ride the rest of the way without lunch and with a dangling kickstand, just inches off the ground.

Continuing Towards Lake Tahoe

Arriving in Lake Tahoe was like reaching an oasis after a day filled with challenges and stunning scenery. The sight of the crystal-clear waters surrounded by towering pine trees was simply breathtaking. I met up with Mike Huber, a fellow adventure rider, as we eagerly exchanged stories of our respective journeys over drinks and pizza. Mike is a seasoned rider with an incredible collection of travel stories and insights, and this blog, which is a treasure trove of motorcycle adventures.

We decided to make the most of our time in Lake Tahoe by exploring the area together and spending time with our dear friend Yvette who had left Sedona for the mountains and lakes surrounding Tahoe. Two up on Tippi, our first stop was a visit to Emerald Bay State Park, a gem nestled on the lake’s southwest shore. A short hike up a roadside trail took us to a stunning vista overlooking Emerald Bay below. The clear blue waters and Fannette Island in the middle of the bay made for a postcard-perfect scene. At sunset we were even rewarded with a surprise pop up of a brown bear who a few feet away provided us with a pose straight up worthy of National Geographic!

Lake Tahoe, with its stunning shoreline, pristine waters, and surrounding mountains, offers many outdoor activities. We decided to spend the next afternoon cruising around the lake, taking in the panoramic views and stopping at scenic overlooks. Riding around Lake Tahoe was a highlight of my journey, and I couldn’t have asked for better company.

Conclusions

As I reflect on the second part of my solo motorcycle journey from Sedona to Canada, I’m filled with deep gratitude for the experiences and sights that have unfolded before me. From the awe-inspiring beauty of Bryce Canyon to the challenging twisties of Route 12, from the serene landscapes of Great Basin, this adventure has been a testament to the power of the open road and the indomitable spirit of solo travel.

Every mile has been a lesson in self-discovery, a reminder of the world’s beauty, and a celebration of the freedom that comes with embracing the unknown. The road has been my companion, and the landscapes have been my muse. And as I continue to ride north into Canada, I know the journey is far from over. There are more roads to explore, adventures to embrace, and stories to tell.

Stay tuned for the next chapter of this solo ride from Sedona to Canada. The open road beckons, and I’m eager to see where it will lead me on this journey of a lifetime.

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ExNotes Book Review: Mi Papi Tiene Una Moto

By Joe Gresh

If you’re looking for the rare children’s book that features a motorcycle as the prime mover, Mi Papi Tiene Una Moto is the book for you. Mi Papi Tiene Una Moto is made of sturdy paper and the covers are thick cardboard so the thing should hold up well to repeated reading by destructive little hands.

Warning: Spoilers ahead!

Mi Papi Tiene Una Moto is written by Isabel Quintero in Spanish so your target child will learn a few Spanish words along the way, unless they already speak Spanish. Who knows, maybe reading Mi Papi will generate a life-long interest of languages in your spawn. With my very basic Spanish skills I was able to figure out most of the text and any words I didn’t know I looked up on the Internet. Even if you don’t understand a single syllable of Spanish the beautiful illustrations by Zeke Pena tell the story in an exciting and colorful way.

The book begins with a young girl’s father coming home from his job as a carpenter and the two go for an afternoon motorcycle ride. During the ride the have various little adventures. They visit folks picking lemons; they are chased by dogs; Papi stops and chats with some fellow workers. There’s even a fantasy sequence involving old style racecars on a circuit through town (maybe it wasn’t fantasy, my Spanish comprehension is not so good).

These micro adventures really remind me of why I like to ride a motorcycle. Simple acts seem more vital: making a turn, waving to a bored kid staring out a car window or just feeling the breeze. Mi Papi Tiene Una Moto’s motorcycle trip ends like all of them should: at the snow cone vendor for a sweet treat.

If you’re an ATGATT Nazi you probably shouldn’t get Mi Papi Tiene Una Moto. They wear helmets but the hot weather finds them in shorts and light clothing. Spare me the clichés: “Dress for the slide not the ride.” “Gear is cheaper than skin grafts.” You make your choices and the riders in Mi Papi Tiene Una Moto made theirs.

I’ve only shown a few of Zeke Pena’s fabulous artworks in the book and just looking at the stuff made me want to go for a ride. It’s that exciting. Amazon has the book in hard cover for $17 and that’s the only way you should buy the thing. You need to feel the solid way the cover opens and the smooth, cool pages. Kids get enough content with their phones, give them a real world, tactile experience that will create a lifetime memory. I think there is an English version but reading Mi Papi Tiene Una Moto in the original Spanish makes it seem more like a secret world that only your kid can access. At least I felt special decoding the thing page by page.

Mi Papi Tiene Una Moto reminds us that we don’t need to do heroic, epic rides every time we swing a leg over our motorcycles. We don’t need the latest electronic buffoonery to enjoy the simple act of riding and interacting with our environs. I highly recommend Mi Papi Tiene Una Moto for both kids and adults who are not yet dead inside.

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The Long Haul: Riding a Motorcycle All The Way

By Joe Gresh

In these Covid-aware times being a long hauler means suffering from the effects of contracting the virus that caused so many problems a few years ago. But “long hauler” used to have a different meaning in the motorcycle community. It meant a rider that rode long distances over relatively short periods of time. The Iron Butt group sprang up to create a framework of recognition and certification for the tough riders that did 1000 miles in 24 hours and the challenges escalated from there.

I’ve never felt the desire to ride 1000 miles in 24 hours although I would have loved to run that pace the time I raced the Baja 1000. No, I usually go a few hundred miles if I’m bopping around near the ranch on a day ride. If I’m traveling long distances I’ll shoot for 400 miles a day or a little more depending on the time of year. On motorcycle trips I try to take it easy and enjoy the countryside. I’ll stop often to read historical markers or pull off the road to sip a little piping hot Dancing Goats coffee from my Thermos. I might see a stream and wander over to look for gold nuggets or stick my feet in the cold water. To me, motorcycle rides should be fun, not an endurance test.

Sometimes I end up pushing it a bit like on the ride to Laguna Seca. I clocked 590 miles from Grand Junction, Colorado, to Tonopah, Nevada. I was riding the ZRX1100, it was hot, and I had plenty of daylight, so I just kept riding. I wasn’t in any great pain and there aren’t many places to get a motel room in the wilds of Nevada. That 590-mile run may not seem like much to an Iron Butt rider but I’ve done some other long distance rides on much less capable motorcycles.

The longest single-day ride I did on my 1971 Yamaha RT1-B, 360cc Enduro was from Cross City, Florida to Big Pine Key, Florida, a distance of 530 miles. The old two-stroke, single-cylinder dirt bike is a fairly comfortable place to sit and it will happily cruise along at 60-65 miles per hour so it’s not like I was doing something all that special. At the time a hurricane had blown through Big Pine and our house was a mess, so I was hustling to get back home and start cleaning up.

Another long day in the saddle was back in the 1970s riding my 1973 BMW R75/5. I was returning from a 41-state tour around America and the last leg was Cashiers, North Carolina to Miami, Florida. I racked up 750 miles in one, national-55-mph speed limited day. Back then you had to keep your eyes glued to the speedometer because it was nearly impossible to ride a 750cc motorcycle on a wide-open highway at 55 mph. You tended to creep up and all of a sudden you’re doing 70. The 55 mph speed limits stuck around a long time because it was a huge moneymaker for the Highway Patrol and local police forces.

I rode my Husqvarna 510cc Super Motard 500 miles from Window Rock, Arizona to Caliente, Nevada in one agonizing stint. This run was the most physically demanding and it demanded it all from my butt. The Husky’s seat is narrow for ease of mobility in the dirt. It has almost zero padding towards the rear and the front area was no wider than a pack of cigarettes. I did a lot of stand up riding and crossed leg riding that day.

The closest I got to an Iron butt ride was on a 1968 Sportster. This motorcycle is another poor choice for long distance riding. At least the seat wasn’t 4 inches wide on the Sporty. I started out from Van Horn, Texas. It was late March, so it was still pretty chilly in the pre-dawn hours. I rode all the way to Point Loma, California and it took around 18 hours. Of course, with an old Harley all that time wasn’t spent riding. You have to twirl wrenches a bit.

The Sportster’s charging system failed because the mechanical, coil and point type voltage regulator shook itself to pieces. Running a total loss ignition system I had to stop at gas statins and charge the battery every so often, kind of like a modern EV car. As the voltage would drop the bike would start missing due to the plugs whiskering.

Motorcycle plug whiskering isn’t common with today’s high powered ignitions and alternators but back then it was not out of the realm of possible failure modes. It happened when the plug shorted out from a tiny piece of metal stuck between the electrode and the body of the plug. The remedy was fairly easy: you had to remove the plug and clear off the bit of metal that was causing the short, then put the plug back in. Don’t ask me where the tiny pieces of metal came from; it’s best not to think about it.

At some point on the ride, I found a voltage regulator wire broken from vibration and figured out how to make the old, brush-type Harley-Davidson generator charge its battery. I made the last 200 miles at night without having to stop for a charge. All in, I rode the Sportster 854 miles and man, were my arms tired. It’s kind of funny that the long haul effects of Covid (foggy brain, tired feeling and dizziness) were the same symptoms I felt after riding that Sportster 854 miles.

I don’t think I’ll ever do a thousand miles in 24 hours. It’s just not important to me and defeats the purpose of riding a motorcycle in the first place. I guess if it was an emergency and I had to do it I could ride the Kawasaki ZRX a thousand miles in a day, but honestly, if that situation arose, I’d rather take the Toyota truck.

What about you? Are you a long hauler? How far have you ridden in a day? Does racking up mileage for mileage’s sake mean anything to you?

Another mileage story? You bet!

British Motorcycle Gear, Motorado, and more…

By Joe Berk

On occasion, I’ll post a blog that’s a general update and a peek into what’s coming down the pike. I’ll be on another secret mission to Asia next month, returning to one favorite Far East locale and visiting another for the first time. They each have a vibrant motorcycle and auto culture and I’ll get as many photos as I can. You can bet I’ll have several blogs on both places. It’s going to be fun.

Andrew Capone of British Motorcycle Gear at the Isle of Man.

We’re quite happy to welcome British Motorcycle Gear as an ExNotes advertiser. BMG is a New Jersey moto shop with very high quality motorcycle clothing, parts, and more. Good buddy Andrew Capone is the owner and he’s good people. In addition to being a Jersey Boy (as is yours truly), Andrew is a serious rider, a motojournalist, and a world traveler. He’s Motorcycle.com’s “go to” guy on all things related to the Isle of Man, and there’s a chance he may even pen an article or two for us here on ExNotes. Gresh tested and reviewed British Motorcycle Gear products here on ExNotes and it’s good equipment. And here’s even more good news: Andrew is offering an exclusive discount to ExNotes readers. Just punch in the code BMGJOES when checking out, and you’ll get an 11% discount on everything (except gear that’s already on sale, and Halcyon mirrors and goggles). Check out the British Motorcycle Gear website; I know you’ll enjoy it.

Joe Gresh is headed to a New Mexico vintage motorcycle show and the Motorado event in the near future, and you’ll read about that right here. I’m looking forward to reading all about it. Mike Huber, Bobbie Surber, and Rob Morel all have more stories in work for you. Mike is BMWborne on a transcontinental blitz, Bobbie is headed off on another motoexpedition to points south (as in way, way south), and Rob is working a few more projects up in Washington.

One last note: Our request for financial site support (or, as some would call it, my high tech begging) is doing quite well. Thank you to all our supporters. We appreciate it greatly.

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Sponsors: A Call To Arms

By Joe Gresh

Sponsored content is a way for publications to earn money. How it works is companies pay cold hard cash for bloggers to write a story about the products they’re selling. Most reputable websites and magazines print a notice letting you know the story is paid advertising. We’ll never have to worry about that because we don’t write sponsored content.

Not writing sponsored content is not the same as not having sponsors, though. Sponsors pay money for advertising on our website but don’t have any say about what we write. Sponsors support the website because they feel the content will attract the sort of people who they want to reach. For ExhaustNotes those people will be motorcyclists, shooters, travelers (especially Baja travelers), and concrete finishers. I know, it’s an odd mix of topics, but both Berk, me, and our other contributors write about what we know.

So here’s the pitch: If you have been reading ExhaustNotes and think the eclectic collection of stories we create might appeal to your customers, by all means become one of our sponsors. If you just like reading the website and want to help support us, become a site sponsor even if you have nothing to sell. Maybe we’ll make a wall of names for people who sponsor the site. We want sponsors to support ExhaustNotes.us because they think that the writing we are doing is worthwhile.

So dig down into those dusty advertising budgets and drop an email to us (info@ExhaustNotes.us). Let us know how we can help you spend your money.

Nick Adams

By Joe Berk

Sometimes you get lucky and a hidden Internet gem emerges. NickAdamsWriting.com is that hidden gem for me. I found it surfing the web for Moto Guzzi information. I always wanted a Moto Guzzi, preferably an older classic, and when searching on that topic Nick’s website popped up.

Nick Adams is a guy my age who has cool website and an even cooler set of videos. He’s based in Canada. The video below about his ride across that great land is a treasure. Nick is a skilled videographer and photographer, his narration is soothing, and the scenes and the story are magnificent. The fact that he rides a classic V-twin Guzzi makes it a joy to watch. My advice: Grab a cup of coffee, click on the video, expand it to full screen, and enjoy. I sure did.

Nick wrote a series of books on a variety of topics (including motorcycle touring). I ordered one a few days ago (you might consider doing the same), and after I’ve read it I’ll post a review here. I’m expecting a great read, and I intuitively know Nick won’t let me down.

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Volcan Nevado del Ruiz

By Joe Berk

That big photo above? That’s my old HJC carbon fiber helmet at an elevation of 13,576 feet, and the gunk you see on it is ash. As in volcanic ash. We’ve written about Colombia’s Volcan Nevado del Ruiz before here on ExNotes. I’m writing about my ride there again because it seems the old girl has awakened again.

The view from afar. I would be a several hour ride and a monstrous elevation climb (but on amazing roads) to get to the Volcan Nevado del Ruiz.

Volcan Nevado del Ruiz is an active Colombian volcano 80 miles west of Bogotá. Starting in April of this year, it started acting up again. I say “again” because in 1985, Nevado del Ruiz erupted and killed 25,000 Colombians. That event was not only Colombia’s deadliest eruption…it was all of South America’s.

The National Park entrance. They turned us around a half hour after we arrived when the volcano started spewing ash.

I’ve been to the Volcan Nevado del Ruiz. I rode to the top on a motorcycle with good buddies Juan and Carlos. We were there in 2015, and a short while after we entered the Colombia’s Brisas National Park at the 4,138-meter summit, the park rangers told us we had to leave because the volcano was active. It had started spewing ash. It was snowing at that elevation, too. It made for a fine mess and exciting riding.

The ride up to the top of the Volcan Nevado del Ruiz was awesome. The roads were typical Andes Mountains Colombian switchbacks and we were in rare form. The day was beautiful at the lower elevations, but that was about to change as we continued our Andean ascent.

Ah, the Andes. The riding in Colombia is amazing.

On that ride, we were mounted on AKT Motos RS3 motorcycles. That’s the Colombian equivalent of CSC’s RX3, but with carburetors instead of fuel injectors. The fuel is a bit more flaky in Colombia, so AKT opted for carbs instead of injectors. People have asked if the carbs were problematic or if the bikes were slower than the US RX3. I couldn’t tell the difference.

Volcanic ash on my beautiful black AKT motorcycle.

Colombia has a pretty good deal for AKT making Zongshen motorcycles over there. If AKT brings in assembled bikes, they would have to pay a 30% import duty on them. If they components from Zongshen and then buy 15% of the bikes’ content in Colombia (thus encouraging Colombian manufacturing), AKT pays only a 2% import duty. Ah, if only our politicians were that smart.

Carlos and I at the park entrance. It was cold, wet, and gritty with the airborne volcanic ash mixing with the snow. This wasn’t a beer and burger run to Cook’s Corner!

My Olympia motorcycle jacket, spotted with ash and my CSC pilot wings.

After running to the top of Volcan Nevado del Ruiz, we descended along dirt roads to a magnificent Colombian hotel just a few miles down the road, the Termales Del Ruiz. My buddy Juan knows how to organize a great ride, and I sure had an awesome time. The Termales Del Ruiz is at the end of that dirt road somewhere in the fog, and it’s at 3,500 meters above sea level (still pretty high). It has a thermal pool fed by water (heated by the volcano, I guess) and that water was hot! The air was bitter cold, but the water was nice. It was one of the best nights in Colombia, and that’s saying something. Every night was awesome.

So, back to the Volcan Nevado del Ruiz going live again: It’s really happening, and it wasn’t that many years ago that this same volcano killed 25,000 people in Colombia. Here’s a recent news story on what’s happening now:

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The Wayback Machine: Romania’s Transfagarasan Highway

By Mike Huber

Throughout my adult life (although, many will argue I have yet to reach mature adulthood) one of my greatest passions is motorcycling. Like many of you, I seek out the most beautiful and exciting roads to experience on two wheels. Whenever possible I try to achieve this on a global level and not limit this quest to just my state, or even my country. This isn’t always the easiest objective to reach. Many roads that are the pinnacle of any rider’s dreams are usually quite far off the beaten path. This can seem like a deterrent to many, but my mindset is to use the distance to reach these places only adds more depth to the adventure and in doing so adds not only miles, but new friends and stories to each road.

Transfagarasan Highway

If you perform a Google search on “best motorcycle roads on Earth” or any similar phrase, what will appear before you in the top images will be a photo of the Transfagarasan Highway. This mind-blowing highway is nestled deep in the Transylvania Mountains of Romania, and for us it was a four-day ride from Krakow, Poland. This is where my girlfriend Bobbie and I rented our Honda motorcycles (she had a CBX500 and I had the CB600F).

We began the day waking up in a yurt at an amazing moto camp in Sibiu, Romania that is hosted by Doru Dobrota. Doru has been running this camp out of his family’s old mountain cabin for years and over that time has meticulously grown the camp to a perfect launching point to the many beautifully challenging roads of Romania. Once we finished breakfast, confirmed the weather would cooperate with us, performed routine maintenance checks on the bikes, and a had chat with some other riders staying at the camp, we were ready to set out for one of the greatest days possible on a motorcycle.

It was a two-hour ride through some remote Romanian villages that we had to remain alert for deer, cattle, horses, and the usual obstacles to dodge around as we traveled from Sibiu to the base of the mountain pass where the roads started really becoming fun. Once the switchbacks began in the lower parts of the pine forests, we quickly twisted the throttle and leaned into the perfectly paved corners as we begin to ascend the highway to where you eventually are at the bottom of what would be like in skiing terms a giant bowl. Looking up I am instantly in awe of what looks like a gigantic matchbox car racetrack thrown recklessly together by a 6-year-old.

After regaining our emotions of what lies before us, we jump on the Hondas and hit the throttles hard. The road has nonstop switchbacks but since its so open it allows you the ability to constantly overtake any vehicle in front of you easily. This enables us to really lean in deep to each corner pushing the red line of these little Hondas, as well as challenging our own riding abilities. We continue to traverse the switchbacks for what seemed like forever and just as we summit the pass, we stop for a quick breather at a waterfall to absorb what we have just completed and imagine what was ahead of us.

We now begin our decent down the south side of the pass. The southern side is less dramatic but nonetheless has spectacular views for miles until we are well below the tree line and back into another tight pine forest with switchbacks. This seemed less dramatic until out of the corner of my left eye I spotted something crawling onto the road. At this point the road has some sand on it, so we were only traveling at about 25 miles per hour. My first thought was a deer, but when I was able to decipher what it was, I had to stop and shake my head. It was a grizzly bear eating a bagel. Now THAT is worth stopping for a photo of. As I am taking the picture, I hear a loud shout through my headset “Go! Go! Go!”

I looked in front of me and there were three more grizzlies. What was so concerning at this point was they consisted of a mother bear and two cubs, fully blocking the road. So, I have one next to me eating a bagel and three in front of me. I hang my head down and reply over the headset with my usual response to when I am in a bad situation “So this is how it ends…” We sat extremely still on the bikes for a few minutes until the bears dispersed in front of us, retreating into the thick pine forest.

As the sunlight retreated into the dense forests, we still were admiring the beauty of the road and what Romania had shined upon us this day. After a fresh fish dinner and the semi comfort of a hostel bed we were able to fully absorb and appreciate the experience for having ridden one of the greatest roads on Earth: The Tranfagarasan Highway.