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Life as a Digital Nomad: Part 6 (Ecuador)

By Mike Huber

Feeling confident that Quito, Ecuador would work out for the foreseeable future I wanted to begin absorbing the culture as I did in Nicaragua. One of the best ways of doing this was to begin taking Spanish lessons. A great thing I learned about Ecuador almost instantly is they spoke Spanish much slower than in Central America, where I was frequently lost by the lightning speed with which they spoke. This would be the perfect place to take lessons where I could retain and practice speaking Spanish constantly as I went about my daily routines. Fortunately, there was an excellent Spanish school just two blocks from my aparthotel, so I could attend classes during lunch. It felt great taking steps towards integrating into this incredible culture.

I adjusted to a routine of work and Spanish lessons during the weekdays and on weekends I would explore local hikes and rainforests. I was almost at the base of Cotopaxi, which technically is the highest mountain in the world as it is on the equator and bulges out more than Mt. Everest (if you’re one of those rare people that believe the Earth is round).

With my weekday schedule and routine defined by Spanish classes and runs to increase my tolerance at the high elevation, I returned to being successful at my day job as a project manager. Doing the best to conserve my vacation days for the next country (an upcoming blog will get into that adventure), weekends were the only time to explore the surrounding areas of Quito in more depth. This, of course, had to include a trip to the equator.

The equator was just a short train ride from Quito. I fully understood it would be a total tourist trap but where else would I have this opportunity to jump on both sides of the line like an idiot? It felt almost mandatory to do so. When preparing to leave I saw an indigenous tour that brought you into the Andes mountains and included a 4-mile round trip hike. As I boarded the bus figuring I would be solo on this trip, three Germans jumped into the bus reeking of BO with nothing but a tiny backpack they each held. As we were dropped off and began the hike into the Andes I began a conversation with one of them who didn’t have shoes. It seems someone stole his shoes in Chile while playing soccer with some kids and he decided not to purchase another pair. It was also interesting that the only items in his backpack were a machete, a journal book, and his passport. I was instantly intrigued. These guys were minimalists to another level. Coming from me that is quite an extreme statement.

As we reached the summit of our hike there was an overlook that peered down into a small village in the valley of the Andes. It was abundantly clear that time hadn’t touched or changed this hidden village. As the guide ushered us in a half circle for him to sing and give thanks to all the beauty around us, the German I had befriended was fidgeting around and produced a marijuana joint and sparked it up while the guide was deep into his singing. Although some would see this as very disrespectful the guide seemed to relish in the smoke that emitted from the joint. This German represented full freedom to me. He was probably the most carefree person I have ever met in my life, and most of the people I surround myself with are pretty carefree, so this guy now has another title to add to minimalist in my eyes.

As my Quito adventure continued, I settled into a routine. One of my better work habits is writing a to-do list over the weekend for work tasks with dates. This has helped me in not only my organization, but also in the prioritization of tasks to stay ahead of any deadlines my team or myself are responsible for. Normally I write this list on a Friday afternoon when I am in good spirits and tend to over commit yet hold myself accountable for these deadlines. With hiking most weekends in Quito and exploring I found myself not having written out my list and it was Sunday afternoon with no plans.

I chose to go to a dark Irish bar in the heart of Quito to write my list. As I ordered a cold beer and began outlining my objectives for the week, I didn’t notice the bar became less and less crowded. It was now about 4:30 PM and I was alone in the bar with three beautiful Ecuadorian females. The bartender began pulling the shades down and locking the doors. With no idea where this was going, I thought I would order another beer before the bartender asked me to go home. It seems in Quito if you are IN the bar when they close you can stay. It didn’t take long for the Ecuadorians to invite me over and I quickly decided my task list was completed for the day. I was in love with Quito, Ecuador!

As the weeks flew by my time was filled with hiking, work, and immersing myself in the culture of this beautiful country I now called home. My frustration with work problems melted away as soon as I left the aparthotel every afternoon to meet new friends and partake in all the activities throughout the city of Quito.

Entering Week 4 in Quito I began to feel in the groove enough to venture forward. Although Ecuador has endless activities and places to explore, I was saving my vacation for the next country that I wanted to become even more immersed in. There would be no coin toss for this next stop as my soul has yearned to visit this country for years. Peru!

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ExNotes Review: Nine Years Among The Indians

By Joe Gresh

When I first met CT I used to read a lot of books. We didn’t have a television (by choice) and the Internet hadn’t been invented yet so reading a book was entertainment. I’ve slowly fallen out of the habit. Part of it was that my failing eyesight made it harder to read small print. My job was physically demanding and I had to work outside in the hot Florida sun. I ran my own business and I was always busy working, trying to pay off the American Dream. When I got home I was so washed out I just wanted to sit, drink beer and not think.

For some reason it seemed like the places we lived were always poorly lit. It’s hard to read in the dark. Later, bright computer screens made it easier to read but I consumed mostly junk. Ad copy, moto-journalism, poorly done Youtube videos: my mind had become a vast, featureless wasteland.

I had a couple cataracts replaced with new lenses a year ago and that operation made things a lot brighter. Maybe those places we lived weren’t all that dark after all. For kicks I had the eye surgeon install long-distance lenses and now I can see far away things pretty good. My up close vision isn’t the greatest and I’ve been too busy to get reading glasses. I started a few books but lost interest. Stupid memes and arguing with strangers on the Internet were more to my liking.

It’s been awhile since I’ve plowed through an entire book but I plowed through Nine Years Among The Indians in two short days. You know how they say you can’t put it down? I did put it down but only because my eyes were tired.

NYATI was first published in 1927 about events from 1870 to 1879, which places the language used in the book far from modern sensibilities. It’s the story of Herman Lehmann who was abducted by Apache Indians when he was 8 years old. Herman was raised by the Apaches and became an Apache. The Apaches were his family and Herman tells how the process was accomplished so thoroughly he forgot how to speak English and spoke only Apache.

One of the reasons I liked the book so much was that the area where the action happened (and there is plenty of action), New Mexico and west Texas, feature prominently. The Apaches at that time lived in nomadic bands and traveled to suit the seasons. River crossings serve as waypoints as you follow the tribe across the modern day southwest.

Lehmann writes in a matter-of-fact way and doesn’t sugar coat the things he did as an Apache warrior. Human life was not valued any higher than common animals in the wild west and a lot of people were killed. The Apaches were in an end-of-times war with the White Man and due to superior numbers and disease the White Man just kept coming and taking everything he saw before him. The Buffalo hunters were the worst. They killed and skinned buffalo, leaving the meat to rot and they killed buffalo in the millions. Buffalo were critical to the Apache. How would you feel if someone came along and destroyed your entire way of life? Bitter, I imagine.

Later Herman has a falling out with the Apaches and becomes a Comanche, and he remained Comanche the rest of his life. The Comanches were slightly less stern than the Apaches and Herman noted there was more joy and laughter as a Comanche. There are really no good guys in the book. The Whites are/were just as savage as the Indians and it’s sad how it ended for the Indians.

You know how it played out: eventually the White Man manages to subjugate the Indian tribes and force them to live on reservations. After reading NYATI I can’t imagine a worse fate for a free-roaming American Indian of the west. Herman is sent back to his family but now he is completely Indian-ized so it takes a while to relearn English and the White Man’s dull way of life.

Nine Years Among The Indians kept me reading when the other books didn’t. Each chapter is a story that stands alone once you know the background of the writer. The Apaches lived and continue to live such a different life from Europeans. Herman got to know both cultures and I think if he had his choice between the Apaches, the White man’s world, and the Comanches, he’d be back with the Comanches.

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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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Phavorite Photos: Tall Tales in Chongqing

By Joe Berk

It’s been a little while since we posted a phavorite photo (thanks for the series suggestion, Peter), so I thought we were due. Usually the pics in our Phavorite Photo series are pics I took, but I can’t take credit for the photo you see above. Susie was with me when we visited Zongshen to negotiate CSC’s first RX3 order, and during those meetings, Zongshen asked about sending Chinese folks over to ride with us in the United States. The idea was Zongshen would provide the motorcycles and pay all expenses for a dozen or so riders if we would plan and lead the ride. During our meeting, good buddy Thomas Fan asked if I had any destination suggestions (Fan is Zonghsen’s marketing director; in the photo above he’s the first guy seated on my left). Boy, did I ever. I had a bunch of photos on my laptop from my rides to US National Parks, Baja, and more. I pulled up the photos, told tall tales about each, and our Chinese hosts were mesmerized. Sue had the presence of mind to grab my Nikon and snap the photo you see above. It became an immediate favorite.

Zongshen came through on their promise, and we had a hell of an adventure. We rode from southern California to Sturgis, cut across the country headed west to the Pacific Coast, and then followed the coast back down to So Cal. It was a 5,000-mile ride we dubbed the Western America Adventure Ride. Folks in the US who had purchased RX3 motorcycles joined us on portions of the ride. It was where I first met Joe Gresh (Motorcyclist magazine sent Joe and he wrote a wonderful story). The Western America Adventure Ride was a key part of our CSC marketing strategy and it worked. You can read all about in 5000 Miles At 8000 RPM. Buy the book; don’t wait for the movie.

About those destinations: What Fan didn’t know when he asked if I had any suggestions was that I write the “Destinations” column for Motorcycle Classics magazine. We did a book on that, too. You should buy a copy. If you buy a thousand copies, I’ll ride my Royal Enfield to your place and sign every one of them.

Earlier Phavorite Photos? You bet! Click on each to get their story.

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Live on Amazon!

A Cup O’ Joes is available now on Amazon. Every bathroom in every motorcycle shop and every motorcyclist’s home needs this book. They make great gifts. Check out the blurb:

Joe Gresh and Joe Berk bring you a collection of their favorite articles and stories from the ExhaustNotes.us website, Motorcycle Classics magazine, Rider magazine, Motorcyclist magazine, ADVMoto magazine, and other publications. Ride with the Joes in China, Colombia, Mexico, New Zealand, Canada, the former Soviet Union, and the United States. Read their opinions on motorcycles, accessories, and more. Humor, wit, insight, and great reading…this collection of motoliterature belongs in your library. Published in black and white.

You could wait for the movie, but the movie deal fell through. You know the story…I wanted Leonardo di Caprio to play me or Gresh, the studio countered with Danny DeVito, and things fell apart after that.

Seriously, though, you need this book. It will make you taller, skinnier, more attractive, and a faster rider. Trust us on this.

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The War Wagon in Baja

By Joe Berk

I’ve traveled extensively in Baja and I want to get down there again as soon as possible. It’s the best riding on the planet, the food is amazing, the scenery is incredible, and the people are great. The whale watching is a religious experience. I know Baja is almost indescribably awesome and you do, too, if you’ve been there. When I talk about Baja with folks who haven’t been there, though, the question always emerges: Is it safe?

The short answer is yes. But one time, we came pretty close to it not being safe. On one trip out of many over the last 30+ years in Baja, Susie and I had a bad experience. I almost didn’t write this blog because I didn’t want to scare anyone away from Baja. I’ve been to Baja many times since, and I plan to keep visiting Baja.

The best bike for Baja…my CSC RX3 on the malecon in Loreto, BCS.

So, with that as an introduction, let me add a bit more. I was setting up the first CSC Baja expedition, with the idea being that we would offer free tours to Baja with the purchase of a CSC motorcycle. That idea worked fabulously well and we successfully ran the CSC tours for years, treating people to the ride of their life, selling a lot of motorcycles, and generally having an inordinate amount of fun. It convinced me that the RX3 motorcycle was possibly the best bike ever for exploring Baja, and I still feel that way. You may disagree, but hey, it’s okay to be wrong.

But I digress. To get back on topic, I hadn’t been to Baja in a while and I was taking a big group down, so Susie and I rolled south in my Subie on a pre-ride scouting expedition. With the intro stuff done, here’s the blog I wrote for CSC on that trip.

Susie and I are down in Baja scouting the locations for the Inaugural Baja run, and it sure has been an interesting two days. I didn’t have any Internet access in Catavina yesterday, but I have a spotty connection in Santa Rosalia tonight, right on the Sea of Cortez, and we’ll see how much of this gets through.

First, a few quick photos of our first couple of stops…

Rolling across the US border into Mexico…

Jesus, a giant statue on the way to Ensenada.

Breakfast in Velero’s in Ensenada…worth the trip into Mexico all by itself!

After we rolled through Ensenada, it was on through the mountains south and Baja’s agricultural district. Boy oh boy, did we have an adventure. All that stuff I’ve been telling you about how safe it is down here? Well, I still believe it, but my confidence (and Susie’s) was sorely tested yesterday. See that guy in the photo below? FYI, you’re not supposed to take photos at these roadblocks, and I want you to keep that in mind on our CSC Baja trip…but I never have done too well following rules. I’m talking about the infantryman talking to the car in front of us at our first military roadblock (one of many Puesto Militars) on the way down. He’s the dude standing to the left of the white car.

Well, things got very interesting after that. That photo was about 175 miles south of the border, just north of San Quintin, where we got caught in a mini-labor riot. Turns out the migrant workers down here are not happy with their wages on the farms. A lot of them come from mainland Mexico with their families, including their kids, whom they evidently put to work picking whatever crops they pick in the fields north of San Quintin. The Mexican government is clamping down on child labor, so that affects these people and they are plenty angry about it. Real angry, apparently.

One of the military checkpoint guys told us the road was closed (that dude in the photo above) about 80 km ahead but he didn’t speak English and he didn’t tell us why. I thought it was because they were working on the road, which happens frequently in Baja, and when that happens the road is closed for about 20 minutes. Then you can proceed. Happens all the time. Amazingly (based on what we found out a few miles down the road) that young soldier let the car in front of us proceed, and then he let us proceed.

About 30 miles later, we started seeing what we thought were small piles of asphalt on the road with lots of wires (you know, like for fixing potholes, which they have a lot of in Baja, but I couldn’t figure out what the wires were). We saw this for about the next 15 miles. We saw hundreds of people milling around, too; far more than I’ve ever seen in these little farming towns.

It turns out that we what thought were piles of asphalt were actually the remains of burning tires. As in “let’s light a fire and shut the main highway down burning tires.” The ag workers have been having demonstrations (actually, labor riots) in the San Quintin area, and we found out (the hard way) that this had been going on for 2 days.

We went a few more miles and encountered a roadblock (more burning tire remnants and boulders blocking the road) with about 50 men milling about who immediately surrounded us. They wouldn’t let us go forward or turn around. One of them threatened us and the Subaru with a 2×4. They were all over the car. Susie had the presence of mind to lock the doors. These guys were mad at the world, and we were the world at that instant. I didn’t know what to do, so I fell back on what always seemed to work elsewhere in the world: I asked the guy who seemed to be in charge if I could pay the toll to get through. He seemed genuinely surprised at that, he thought about it for maybe 5 seconds (duly observed by his subordinate seditionists), and then he realized this might be a viable alternative income stream (Sue designs and manages automated toll roads in the US; it seems to work for us). Our Mexican revolutionary said, “hokay,” I gave him a ten dollar bill, and he told the insurrectionists “let them pass.” Crisis averted. Whew!

The tire remnants continued for another 5 miles, but there were no more roadblocks. While we were stopped at the impromptu toll plaza, one of the seditionists keyed my car door on Susie’s side with initials, presumably the initials of their labor movement (LPS or something like that). I’ll guess I’ll get my body shop guy to repaint it when I get home. That little Subie is going to end up having more bodywork than Joan Rivers. A couple of months ago I dropped one of the RX3s into it. This week it was the Nuevo Mexican Revolution. I’m keeping the body shop business alive in California. Or maybe not. I might leave those initials there as a war wound. At the very minimum, I am re-christening the Subie. She’s no longer the Starship Subaru (sorry, Carl, that was a good moniker, but its time has come and gone). My car is now known as the War Wagon.

We found out from a busload of people in El Rosario (next town down the before getting into the mountains) that they expect the demonstrations to continue for a couple more days and then it should be over. One guy had his windows shattered, probably by the same guy we saw with the 2×4.

Folks, all the tourists down here (and there are lots of us) were talking about this. No one had ever experienced anything like it before, and most of us have been coming down here for decades. It’s a blip, and I’m guessing it is already over. It sure was exciting, though.

We continued south after that… and that meant it was time for a few more photos.

Mama Espinosa’s in El Rosario…great burritos!

At one point on our way to Guerrero Negro, I spotted several vultures fighting over a dead rabbit. Time to put the 70-300 on the Nikon and see how close I could get.

The Baja Department of Sanitation hard at work.

When you roll into Guerrero Negro, there’s a giant Mexican flag flying in front of a giant metal structure (an artist’s interpretation of the Mexican Eagle). You’re not supposed to take pictures here (it’s a military installation), but I still had the 300mm lens on the camera and I got sneaky.

That point is right on the 28th Parallel, which marks the border between Baja and Baja Sur (the two Mexican states in Baja).

You know, being anywhere near the 28th Parallel and not stopping for a fish taco or two at Tony’s would be a crime. I’ve been stopping at his truck for the last 21 years…every time I come down here. What’s cool about it is Tony always recognizes me, even though sometimes it’s a year or more since I’ve seen him!

My good buddy Tony Lopez, who is a fish taco chef extraordinaire!

Tony told me he’s been in business for 22 years. I bought my first fish taco from him 21 years ago.

We stopped in San Ignacio next and I grabbed a couple of photos of (and in) the mission there.

The San Ignacio Mission, built by the Jesuits in the 1700s…it’s still in use as a working church

One of the figures inside the San Ignacio Mission

That’s it for tonight, my friends. Time to sign off and get some shuteye. We’re headed south again tomorrow. Watch for more photos!

So there you have it. With more than three decades of exploring Mexico under my belt, this was my one negative Baja experience. I communicated the above to all the followers we had on the CSC blog and asked if they wanted to change the trip to someplace else here in the US, and everyone answered with a resounding No! We did the Baja trip with 15 or so riders, and we did several more CSC Baja rides after that. Every one of those trips was a blast. Here’s a video I prepared from the first CSC ride:

You can read more about Baja and our adventures down there in Moto Baja.

I made a lot of good friends on those Baja rides, many of whom still ride their CSC motorcycles and many of whom regularly follow the ExNotes blog. You’ve seen their comments here over the last four or five years.

To me, Baja is the best riding there is. If you’re headed into Baja, make sure you get insurance. It’s not likely you’ll need it, but the Mexican government requires that you be insured and your regular insurance won’t cover you in Mexico. The insurance provider we always go with is BajaBound.

Want more Baja content? You can find more ExNotes Baja stuff here.

Be a Professional Writer For ExhaustNotes!

Berk and I were discussing the challenges of taking on additional writers here at ExhaustNotes. We print new stories about every two days and while we appreciate our loyal readers it wouldn’t hurt to drag a bunch more subscribers into the fold. We’d like ExhaustNotes’ popularity to reflect the quality of the content and to increase ad revenue to match our prodigious output. Plus, younger, less jaded motorcyclists who actually like all the electronic junk manufacturers strap onto motorcycles would be kind of cool.

So we’ve decided to try a thing: Berk says the best way to increase Internet hits and ad revenue is to publish interesting stories from insightful and entertaining writers on a regular basis. To do that, ExhaustNotes will need more than just two guys typing in their spare time. We may need three. Or four. Or more.

I don’t know about you but I’m ready for some fresh new perspectives on motorcycling and with Berk pushing 72 and me pushing a crusty 65 we tend to give fresh new perspectives a bit of the old stinkeye. You’ll notice we type a lot of dream bike segments and none of them are modern bikes. Do not stand on our lawns.

Perspectives don’t have to be young to be fresh, just different. Let’s hear how you love the way your motorcycle makes all the power and braking decisions for the rider. Hey, you still get to steer… for now. Tell us about the biker lifestyle and how it differs from the cosplay actors at comic-com. Exactly how do you use a 200 horsepower, full-race motorcycle on the street and stay alive? Tell us in an interesting way and you’ll get paid for doing it!

How much will you make?

Glad you asked: ExhaustNotes uses a simple formula to calculate how much we earn. We take the total site income from advertisers and Google ads and subtract the expense of running the site. That gives us a pool of money to pay the writers. You won’t get paid by the word. For example, if revenue after expenses is $100 and we publish 100 stories then each story is worth $1. Now, say Berk writes 70 stories and I write 30 stories then Berk makes $70 and I make $30. This is the part where you new writers will come in: If we publish 5 stories from you then the split will reflect your contribution. Berk divvies the money up twice a year, assuming there’s revenue.

On the surface this seems self-defeating, since you’ll be making the same amount per story as me and Berk then we must be losing money. Maybe not. The idea is to increase revenue, build the reader base and create a bigger pie. If it works we’ll all get filthy rich and go live with the prostitutes. Okay, maybe I can’t go live with the prostitutes but one of you guys might be able to.

We understand the unfairness of a 3000-word story earning the same as a 700-word story but life is full of unfair situations. Writing for ExhaustNotes is just one more. Try to picture this whole ExhaustNotes website thing as a grand experiment that we are opening up to a wider pool of participants. Who knows what will happen?

If you’ve already been a guest columnist for ExhaustNotes you won’t get any money from your past stories. That ship has sailed. This new deal is going forward from today. Mike Huber’s Romanian travel story is the very first one of our new system.

A few other things you should know: Berk is going to be the editor-in-chief and his word is final, meaning submitting is not the same as getting published. Punctuation and grammar matter. If Berk has to re-write your story to make it intelligible he probably won’t use it. ExhaustNotes only pays if we publish your story and we pay poorly at that. You retain all rights to your work and can do whatever you want with it. Remember: You are not going to make a ton of money doing this. If you feel our accounting methods are not strenuous enough don’t submit a story.

Having the proper mindset is critical. Berk and I write ExhaustNotes for the fun of it. If you factor in our time, we lose money doing it and I see no good reason why you shouldn’t lose money writing for us, too. Any beer money that happens to come our way is gravy that we use to buy mini bikes and reloading components. Topics are mostly motorcycle related with guns and construction materials thrown in, but any topic that is interesting will be considered. Everyone has to start somewhere; I started my writing career with a simple letter to the editor of The Key West Citizen. Let’s see what starts your writing career.

If you have a story you’d like to propose on motorcycles, guns, Baja, reloading, great rides, great roads, or any other topic you think would be of interest to our readers, email us with your story idea at info@exhaustnotes.us.

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Back in print, and only $9.95!

The Complete Book of Military and Police Motorcycles is back in print. I wrote the book over 20 years ago. Then the Internet accelerated and the printed book market tanked. Paladin Press (the publisher) went out of business, and just like that, so did the book. But that was then and this is now, and The Complete Book of Military and Police Motorcycles is back in print and available on Amazon.

You might wonder: Where did I get that fantastic cover photo? The photo shows Trooper Ralph Dowgin, a New Jersey State Trooper who went on to command Troop D (the Troop that patrols the New Jersey Turnpike, the most heavily-traveled road in the country). I actually met Trooper Dowgin when I was a boy (my Dad knew him). The photo came to me from my good buddy Mike B, who retired as the New Brunswick, New Jersey, Chief of Police. Like they say, it’s a small world.

The story of police and military motorcycles is an intriguing one, espeically as it applies to the US War Department, Indian, and Harley-Davidson. During World War II, the US government bought motorcycles from both Harley and Indian, but the positions taken by Harley and Indian were worlds apart. The Feds told both manufacturers they had to stop producing for the civilian market and focus exclusively on military motorcycles. Indian did what they were told. Harley told the government that they, not some government bureaucrat, would decide who to sell motorcycles to. Harley called the government’s bluff, and they got it right. The War Department continued to buy Harleys as Harley continued selling to the civilian market, and the results were predictable: When the war ended Harley still had a civilian customer base and Indian did not. Indian struggled for a few years trying to regain market share, but the damage was done and the handwriting was on the wall. Indian went under in the early 1950s.

If you buy a copy of The Complete Book of Police and Military Motorcycles, understand that it describes the market as it existed when the book was published in 2001. Things are a little bit different now. Future plans call for an update to include today’s military and police motorcycles, but that’s far in the future and the book will sell for a bunch more than $9.95. I’ll have a Kindle ebook version at some point in the future, too, but it’s not going to be immediate. For now, it’s print only, and it’s only $9.95. Spend the bucks, make a friend for life, and don’t forget: Click on those popup ads!

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Moto Colombia on Sale for Just $2.99!

We’re announcing a substantially reduced price on Moto Colombia. In fact, it’s as low as we can make it: $2.99. That’s the minimum Kindle will allow. I don’t know how much longer we’ll continue it (ah, there’s the impending doom sales close), but hey, as the man in the White House would say: C’mon, Man, it’s just $2.99.

What’s it all about? Here’s the blurb:

Ride beautiful Colombia with Joe Berk, Juan Carlos Posada Roa, and Carlos Mesa on Zongshen RX3 motorcycles. This is an adventure tour that has it all: Magnificent riding on dirt and asphalt, tight mountain twisties, elevations from sea level to nearly 14,000 feet, delightful Colombian cuisine, stunningly beautiful women, majestic churches, and more. It’s an 8-day circumnavigation of Colombia’s Andes Mountains, with stops in exotic places most people have never imagined. Visit the AKT Motos motorcycle assembly line and meet Enrique Vargas, the AKT General Manager. Cruise the mighty Magdalena River and ride into the clouds. Fight fog, freezing rain, and volcanic dust at the very edge of Volcan Nevado del Ruiz. Punch through a herd of cattle, visit a coffee plantation, chat with heavily armed-Colombian troopers, ride from the tropics to the sky, and learn how you can do the same!

$2.99. Click here, and you’re on your way!

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Baja Breakdowns

I’ve ridden motorcycles through Baja probably 30 times or more over the last 30 years, and it’s unquestionably the best place to ride a motorcycle I’ve ever experienced. Many people are afraid to venture into the peninsula for fear of a breakdown. Hey, it happens, but it’s not the end of the world and it doesn’t happen often. They don’t call it adventure riding because it’s like calling for an Uber.

Not all “breakdowns” result in your motorcycle being nonoperational. Some are just mere annoyances and you truck on. A few breakdowns result in the bike not running, but there are usually ways to get around that. When it happens, you improvise, adapt, and overcome. Here are a few of mine.

Heritage Indeed

The first time I had a motorcycle act up was on my beloved ’92 Harley Softail. It started clanging and banging and bucking and snorting somewhere around Ensenada. I was headed south with my good buddy Paul from New Jersey. It was obvious something wasn’t right and we turned around to head back to the US. The Harley got me home, but I could tell: Something major had happened. The bike was making quite a bit of noise. I had put about 300 miles on it by the time I rode it back from Mexico.

A roller lifter that converted to a solid lifter.

One of the Harley’s roller lifters stopped rolling, and that turned it into a solid lifter. And when that happened, the little wheel that was supposed to rotate along the cam profile started wearing a path through the cam. And when that happened, the metal filings migrated their way to the oil pump. And when that happened….well, you get the idea. My 80-cubic-inch V-Twin Evo motor decided to call it quits after roughly 53,000 miles. It happens I guess. Nothing lasts forever.

Here’s where it started to get really interesting. My local Harley dealer wouldn’t touch the bike. See, this was around 2005 or so, and it seems my Harley was over 10 years old. Bet you didn’t know this: Many Harley dealers (maybe most of them) won’t work on a bike over 10 years old. The service manager at my dealer explained this to me and I was dumbfounded. “What about all the history and heritage and nostalgia baloney you guys peddle?” I asked. The answer was a weak smile. “I remember an ad with a baby in Harley T-shirt and the caption When did it start for you?” I said. Another weak smile.

An S&S engine in my ’92 Softail. It let me ride a slow bike fast.

I was getting nowhere fast. I tried calling a couple of other Harley dealers and it was the same story. Over 10 years old, dealers won’t touch it. I was flabbergasted. I tried as hard as I could, but there was no getting around it…the Harley dealer would not work on my engine. It was over 10 years old. That’s that; rules is rules. For a company that based their entire advertising program on longevity and heritage, I thought it was outrageous. A friend suggested I go to an independent shop. “It’s why they exist,” he said. So I did.

So, I went with Plan B. I took the Harley to a local independent shop, and they were more than happy to work on my bike. I could have the Harley engine completely rebuilt (which it needed, because those metal bits had migrated everywhere), or I could have it rebuilt with an S&S motor. I went with the S&S motor (the cost was the same as rebuilding the Harley engine), doubling the horsepower, halving the rear tire life, and cutting my fuel economy from 42 to 33 mpg.

Justin’s Countershaft Sprocket

On the very first CSC Baja trip, I was nervous as hell. The CSC bikes had received a lot of press and the word was out: CSC was importing the real deal, a genuine adventure touring motorcycle for about one sixth of what a GS 1200 BMW sold for in those days. The naysayers and keyboard commandos were out in force, badmouthing the Chinese RX3 in ways that demonstrated unbridled ignorance and no small amount of bias. And here we were, taking 14 or 15 guys (and one gal) who had bought new RX3 motorcycles that had literally arrived in the US just a few days before our departure. There was one thought in my mind as we headed south from Azusa that morning: What was I thinking? If the bikes started falling out on this first trip, it would probably kill the RX3 in America.

Hey, it worked. Adapt, overcome, improvise. The adventure doesn’t start until something goes wrong.

I need not have worried. None of the engines failed. We had a few headlights go out, but that’s not really a breakdown. And then, when we were about halfway down the Baja peninsula, I took a smaller group of riders to see the cave paintings at Sierra San Francisco. That trip involved a 140-mile round trip from Guerrero Negro into the boonies, with maybe 20 miles of that on a very gnarly dirt road. As we were returning, good buddy Justin’s RX3 lost its countershaft sprocket. We found it and Justin did a good enough MacGuyver job securing it to the transmission output shaft to get us back to Guerrero Negro, but finding a replacement was a challenge. We finally paid a machinist at the Mitsubishi salt mining company to make a custom nut, and that got us home.

On every Baja trip after that, I took a spare countershaft sprocket nut, but I never needed any of them after that one incident on Justin’s bike. Good buddy Duane had a similar failure, but that was on a local ride and it was easily rectified.

Jim’s Gearbox

Four or five Baja trips later, after we had ridden all the way down to Mulege and back up to the border, good buddy Jim’s transmission wouldn’t shift.

That’s the only breakdown I ever experienced anywhere on an RX3 that wouldn’t get us home, and that includes multiple multi-bike Baja trips, the multi-bike 5000-mile Western America adventure ride, the multi-bike 6000-mile ride across China, the 3000-mile circumnavigation around the Andes Mountains in Colombia, and quite a few CSC local company rides. One of the guys on that Baja ride lived in the San Diego area and he owned a pickup truck, so he took the bike back up to Azusa for us.

Biting the Bullet

A couple of years ago Joe Gresh and I did a Baja road test with Royal Enfield press bikes. One was the new 650 Interceptor twin (a bike I liked so much I bought one when I got home); the other was a 500 Bullet. The Bullet was a disaster, but it really wasn’t the bike’s fault. The dealer who maintained the press fleet for Royal Enfield (I won’t mention them by name, but they’re in Glendale and they’re known for their Italian bikes) did a half-assed job maintaining the bike. Actually, that’s not fair to people who do half-assed work (and Lord knows there a lot of them). No, the maintenance on this bike was about one-tenth-assed. It was very low on oil, it had almost no gas in it, the chain was loose and rusty, and on and on the writeup could go. The bike kept stalling and missing, and it finally gave up the ghost for good at the Pemex station just north of Guerrero Negro.

Joe Gresh, inflight missile mechanic extraordinaire, getting intimate with the Bullet in Baja. “The Bullet needs me,” he said.

Fortunately for me, Gresh had one of those portable battery thingamabobbers (you know, the deals that are good for about 10 battery jumps) and it allowed us to start the bike. We bought a new battery that didn’t quite fit the bike in Guerrero Negro (big hammers solve a lot of problems), but the entire episode left a bad taste in my mouth for the Bullet and for the Glendale Ducatimeister.

That bike had other problems as well. The kickstand run switch failed on the ride home, and Gresh did an inflight missile mechanic bypass on it. Then, just before we made it back to my house in So Cal, the rear sprocket stripped. Literally. All the teeth were gone. That was another one I had never experienced before. The Bullet was sort of a fun bike, but this particular one was a disaster. We joked about it. The Bullet needs me, Gresh said.

John’s Silver Wing Leak

Ah this is another motofailure that tried but didn’t stop the show. On one of my earlier Baja forays, Baja John had a Honda Silver Wing. That’s a bike that was also known as the baby Gold Wing (it had all the touring goodies the Gold Wing had). It was only a 500 or a 650 (I can’t remember which) and it had no problem keeping up with the Harleys (but then, it doesn’t take much to keep up with a Harley).

Baja John and the mighty Silver Wing, somewhere well south of the border.

The Silver Wing was a pretty slick motorcycle…it had a transversely-aligned v-twin like a Moto Guzzi and it had plenty of power. Unlike the Guzzi, the Silver Wing was water cooled and that’s where our problem occurred. John’s bike developed a coolant leak. I was a little nervous about that. We were more than halfway down the peninsula and headed further south when the bike started drooling, but John had the right attitude (which was not to worry and simply ignore the problem). The little Silver Wing was like a Timex…it took the licking and kept on ticking, and to my great surprise, it simply stopped leaking after another hundred miles or so. I guess it doesn’t really count as a breakdown.

John’s KLR 650 OPEC Bike

Baja John had another bike, a KLR 650, that developed a fuel petcock leak on another one of our Baja trips. As I recall, it started leaking on the return run somewhere around El Rosario. I get nervous around fuel leaks for the obvious reasons, but John stuck to his policy: Don’t worry, be happy.

We stayed in a hotel in Ensenada that night. The hotel had an attached enclosed parking structure, which immediately started to smell like the inside of a gas tank. Not that I’ve ever been inside a gas tank, but that parking garage pretty much had the aroma I imagine exists in such places.

John’s luck continued to hold, and we made it home without John becoming a human torch.

The Bottom Line

The bottom line is you basically need four things when headed into Baja:

- - A tool kit.
  - A good attitude that includes a sense of adventure.
  - A well maintained motorcycle.
  - Maybe some spare parts.

So there you have it. If you’d like to know more about riding in Baja, please visit our Baja page and maybe pickup a copy of Moto Baja.

If you’re headed into Baja, don’t leave home without BajaBound Insurance. They are the best there is. If you are nice, they might even fix you up with a cool BajaBound coffee mug!