Not being in the United States for Memorial Day and seeing our flag lining every Main Street throughout our country is one of those times I miss being home. Having served as a soldier in the United States Army I have endless respect for those that lost their lives in defense of this great nation. I now am learning how to respect it even more so from a global level.
This year on April 25th my travels afforded me the opportunity to celebrate a Memorial Day for two of our allies, New Zealand and Australia. While on a guided tour through Frazer Island, a remote sand island off the northeastern coast of Australia, our tour was delayed an hour at the ship wreck of the TSS Meheno HMNZ Hospital Ship 1. The Meheno was a critical resource in WW I in retrieving the wounded from Anzac Cove in Gallipoli for both New Zealand and Australia. When I asked why the tour was delayed the guide explained, “Today is Anzac Day,” and went into the meaning of this holiday.
Anzac Day is a combination of Veteran’s Day and Memorial Day for both Australia and New Zealand. Well, once I learned this I left the tour group and made my way into the heart of the ceremony before it began. I knew I was with my people here at this ceremony. I am not quite sure how I knew, but I just knew. It didn’t take me long to be welcomed by the Australian Army Veterans partaking in the ceremony. They eagerly invited me to stand with them front and center to pay respects to their fallen and veterans. As many people know I only own two shirts, an 82nd Airborne Division shirt and a Boston University shirt. This day I was lucky enough to have worn the 82nd shirt and it didn’t go unnoticed by the Australian Army veterans. As the ceremony concluded, one of the veterans pulled me aside, thanked me and handed me an Anzac Day pin. I don’t travel with much, but that pin is now part of my sensitive items list.
I was beyond humbled to be standing there, shoulder to shoulder with our allies as they laid wreaths, gave speeches, and played both the Australian and New Zealand national anthems. On more than one occasion I teared up, and for good reason. These servicemen and women easily could have been backing any of our 6’s as Americans. The ceremony resonated deeply within me in realizing that Memorial Day is much more far reaching than just our shores in the United States.
In the following month, I went further with what I took away from that Anzac Day Ceremony by taking the time to visit the Australian War Memorial in Canberra. This museum was as moving as any of ours would be in the United States. They have etched in the walls the names of each of their fallen from every campaign they participated in. This includes The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier for Australia and an eternal flame.
I will forever remember my Anzac Day experience and although this day is for our American fallen, it is important to know that these ceremonies go on for all our allies across the world. Please remember the reason for this holiday over the weekend and take the time to pay respects to our heroes of this great Country. God bless America, and God bless our Allies.
Good buddy Bob Orabona, a fellow rider and shooter, sent in this story about his encounter with one of the Doobie Brothers. I think you’ll enjoy it.
By Bob Orabona
My best Doobie Brothers story ever goes like this. It was around December of 1979. Here in Los Angeles we had a motorcycle toy run that was huge. About 10,000 to 13,000 motorcycles would go from Griffith Park to Pasadena. What a roar!!
Well, that year the organizers decided that in addition to the toy run they would put on a “Veterans Christmas Run” that would be a much smaller affair but the same general idea. You show up at a location on your bike with gifts for the Vets who are in the West LA Veterans Hospital and do a run.
My riding bud at that time was Russ Bromley and we made plans to attend. The morning of I showed up at his pad and he and his girl Sue and I rode off to the Harley dealer in Marina Del Rey. That was the starting point.
After a while we got the ride up and about 300 bikes left the dealership headed to the West LA Vets Hospital. When we got there they had a stage set up in the parking lot and a collection point for all the gifts. The run was very well supported by sponsors and Harley Davidson was there with their traveling museum and several other groups with various types of displays. Hugh Heffner sent over about 8 “Bunnies” to help colllect and distribute the gifts. A band was playing and it was a great scene with a really positive vibe.
After the band stopped playing there was an emcee telling us how much stuff was collected, etc., etc., and then he introduced an official from Harley. The Harley guy told the crowd that Harley wanted to do something really special at this run, so they were going to introduce their newest model for the first time anywhere. It was called the “Sturgis” and it was notable for being the first belt drive Harley.
At the appropriate moment, and after sufficent build up, about 10 of the new bikes came riding into the lot and were put on display. The crowd surged forward and oooed and aahhed over them. I didn’t go with them because I don’t like crowds and I was probably very hung over which was my natural state of being on Sunday mornings in those days (that’s a whole other story best left for another time).
I waited for the crowd to disperse and finally went over and was examining the bikes. I latched on to a factory rep who was the only one still hanging with the bikes and started to ask him a bunch of questions. How long does the belt last? How do you change it? What if it breaks on the road?
Well, this guy was right with it and knew just about all the answers to all my questions. I had noticed while looking at the bike he was sitting on that above the tank emblem someone had painted on “The Doobie Bros.” When I ran out of tech questions I just happened to casually ask him “Hey, how come it says “The Doobie Bros” on your tank?”
Thats when the “factory rep” looked at me and said “Uh, I’m Patrick Simmons and I play guitar for them.” Duh!!!!!! I thought he looked kinda familiar.
Wow, talk about exclusivity: It just doesn’t get any better than this. That rocking chair you see in the photo above? It’s from the Sam Maloof shop and the lead time is about 6 years. Order it today, and 72 months from now, you would be able to rock out in it. I’ll tell you more a little further down in this blog, but first, we have to start with the Sam Maloof story.
Dubbed “The Hemingway of Hardwood” by People magazine, Sam Maloof (1916-2009) was an artist in the world of furniture making. Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan sat on rocking chairs crafted by Maloof, and his work is on display in the Smithsonian, New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, and the Philadelphia Museum of Art (to name but a few). His home and workshop are now a museum, too, and the best news is that it is a very short motorcycle ride from my home. Although I’ve been in California for close to 50 years, I only recently visited the Sam and Alfreda Maloof Foundation for Arts and Crafts. It was impressive. Don’t do what I did and wait 50 years to go see it. Go now. It’s a 5 1/2 acre slice of heaven, and if you enjoy viewing true artistry in wood, you’ll love it. I sure did.
Our tour of the Sam and Alfreda Maloof Foundation included the Maloof home, the gallery, several landscaped acres sprinkled with contemporary outdoor art, and a peek into the shop (which still produces museum quality wood furniture). It’s easy to get to. From the 10 or 210 freeways in southern California, exit either Vineyard (off the 10) or Carnelian (off the 210) and go north (Vineyard becomes Carnelian as you head north). Just follow the road until you can’t go any further and look right. You’ll have arrived.
We toured the original Maloof home and the craftsmanship built into the place is impressive. I was able to grab several photos, and my Nikon and it’s 16-35mm wide angle zoom did what it is supposed to do.
A woodworker’s paradise. Artistly in wood is everywhere in the Maloof home. Check out the spiral staircase.The Maloof home contains tables and chairs exhibiting a blend of artistry and functionality. Maloof used an oil finish on his furniture. I’ve used the same on rifle stocks. It brings out the wood’s natural beauty and can be easily repaired if scratched.A Maloof rocking chair. Maloof preferred to work in walnut.A bedroom in the Maloof home. If you order a Maloof chair or other furniture, there’s a six year lead time. The only exceptions are baby rockers, which you see in the center of this photo. If you need a baby rocker, your kid won’t fit six years later, so the shop stops all other projects and focuses on completing your baby rocker.A Maloof table and chairs. Notice that the side chairs are joined together. We saw one that sat three at a dinner table. That doesn’t seem practical to me, but hey, no one is waiting six years for anything I make.One of many beautiful rooms in the Maloof home.
The Maloof estate consists of several building and gardens mentioned above. The Maloof shop continues to build custom furniture in the Sam Maloof style.
A glimpse into the wood shop.
We next visited the gallery, which is where I saw the rocking chair that is at the top of this blog. I like to think I appreciate fancy wood, and that chair had my attention. I asked a docent if it was English walnut, but I was way off. It’s a wood called Ziricote, and it comes from Belize. I’d never seen anything like it. As mentioned earlier, Sam Maloof preferred to work in walnut, and I understand that. Highly figured walnut is, well, art before anything is done to it. But that Ziricote. Wow!
This is a chair that belongs in a well stocked custom gun room. It would fit in well.
As it turns out, when I asked about the wood I was speaking with a very pleasant woman name Joanne, and that rocking chair was hers. Joanne’s husband Mike worked with Sam Maloof and he is continuing the tradition, along with his son. Mike made that chair for Joanne as a birthday gift. That, my friends, is one fine gift.
The figure almost looks fake, but it’s real.Lumber that is exceptional from any angle.I can’t remember what I bought Sue for her 60th birthday.
After seeing the home and the gallery, Sue and I walked through the gardens. The grounds were impressive and the outside art was, too.
A real flower in the Maloof gardens.
An egg as tall as me. It would be a hoot to have an Easter egg hunt in the Maloof gardens.This piece is presented as an alternative take on Mr. Rushmore.Made of natural materials, this piece looks like a skeleton from the movie, “Alien.”Everywhere you go in California these days, someone has their hand out.Sue grabbed a photo of me as I was photographing the Maloof grounds artwork.
The next morning, I found myself thinking about that Ziricote rocking chair. Man, I would love to have one of those. So I called the shop and asked about it. Yep, there’s that 6-year lead time issue I mentioned above, but that wasn’t the obstacle for me. To duplicate the Ziricote rocker, it would take a cool $28,000. I could cheap out and get one in finely figured walnut; that would drop the price to $22,500. It’s tempting, and as you know, I am a sucker for fine walnut. Maybe if you guys clicked on more of those popup ads…
This press release just came in last week and I wanted to share it with our ExNotes readers. I’ve been traveling or I would have posted it sooner.
TWO MIDWEST BRANDS HAVE COME TOGETHER FOR THE ULTIMATE ADVENTURE
DULUTH PACK + JANUS MOTORCYCLES TO DEBUT LIMITED EDITION MOTORCYCLES AND RIDING BAGS
To celebrate the partnership and collaboration, the brands are co-hosting a launch party at the Duluth Pack flagship retail store in Duluth, Minnesota.
DULUTH, MINN –– Wed May 1st, 2024 – Two Midwest companies focusing on old-school techniques, Duluth Pack and Janus Motorcycles have teamed up to create a collection of expertly crafted riding bags and a one-of-a-kind motorcycle called, “The Rambler Edition”. The collaboration embodies the same ethos of rooted appreciation for the outdoors, and both preserving history with traditional and historic manufacturing techniques. American-Made gear and equipment that is built with purpose for the long-haul. Now the best of both have emerged with “The Rambler Edition”. To kick-off the highly anticipated collection, both brands are co-hosting a launch party on Friday, May 3rd at Duluth Pack’s flagship retail store in Canal Park, Duluth, MN.
The event will be from 2:00 PM – 7:00 PM CST with raffles and giveaways provided by Duluth Pack and Janus Motorcycles every hour during the event. Attendees will be able to be the first to shop the exclusive and limited-edition styles of Duluth Pack bags and the vintage crafted Janus Motorcycle. The collection focuses on both brand’s DNA including colors of the original olive drab colorway and a partnership logo. Families, friends, locals, visitors, and motorcycle enthusiasts are all encouraged to come to the store to celebrate at the launch party.
“Our priority has always been and will always be on our quality and meeting our customer’s needs. The focus of the Rambler Edition collaboration between Duluth Pack and Janus Motorcycles is providing the aesthetic and functionally our customers want and expect from both of our companies,” said Tom Sega, Duluth Pack’s President and CEO. “Both of our company’s products are built for a lifetime of adventures. Between Duluth Pack and Janus Motorcycles, we have a combined 154 years of American-Made history and that is something we are profoundly proud of.”
“This has been a project both Duluth Pack and Janus Motorcycles have been working on since 2021,” added Andrea Johnson, Duluth Pack’s Public Relations Contact. “The DNA of both brands breathes within this exclusive line and our entire team is very much looking forward to celebrating with our customers on Friday.”
“The heritage of classic style and durable quality at Duluth Pack is an ideal fit for Janus’ classic motorcycles and we’re pleased to offer such a well-made product to our riders and customers. – Richard Worsham, Janus Motorcycles CEO
The Rambler Edition line will be exclusively available on Janus’ ecommerce site at janusmotorcycles.com.
For more information regarding the Rambler Edition Launch Party event at the Duluth Pack flagship store, please visit Duluth Pack’s social media pages (Facebook, Instagram, Twitter), visit DuluthPack.com or call the Duluth Pack Headquarters at (218) 722-3898.
So there you have it. This program sounds like a winner from two of the heartland’s iconic brands. For more on our ExNotes experiences with Janus Motorcycles, including a plant visit and a Baja blast, check out our Epic Rides page.
Baja is a motorcycling paradise and I have a bunch of favorite destinations there. Seven of them, to be precise, although truth be told, I like everything in Baja except for Tijuana and maybe La Paz and Loreto. That said, my favorites are:
Tecate
San Quintin
Cataviña
Guerrero Negro
San Ignacio
Santa Rosalia
Concepcion Bay
Here’s where they are on a map:
So what’s so great about these places? Read on, my friends.
Tecate
Tecate is the gateway to the middle of northern Baja, and it’s the easiest point of entry. Both Tijuana and Mexicali are too big and too complicated, and the Mexican Customs guys are too official in those bigger cities. Tecate is a friendly place. The last time I picked up a tourist visa in Tecate, the Customs officer tried to sell me salsa he and his family made as a side gig. That’s what the place is like. I love it.
If you’re into fine dining (not as in expensive dining, but just great food), it’s hard to go wrong anywhere in Baja. Tecate has some of the best, from street taco vendors to Malinalli’s to Amore’s. I could spend a week just in Tecate. It’s that good.
Uncle Joe Gresh with street tacos in Tecate. Wow, were they ever good.The buffet at Malinalli’s is regional, awesome, and inexpensive. It’s a hidden treasure.Dos Joes’ motos on an Enfield expedition that took us through Tecate.The Tecate brewery dominate the Tecate skyline and is visible from just about anywhere in town. A can of ice cold Tecate with sea salt around the rim and a bit of lime juice…life doesn’t get any better.
San Quintin
San Quintin is 186.4 miles south of the border on Baja’s Pacific coast. It’s usually a quiet ag town that has a lot of things going for it, including interesting hotels, good food, and Bahia San Quintin. The Old Mill hotel and its associated restaurant, Eucalipto, is my personal favorite. The hotel is about 4 miles west of the Transpeninsular Highway, and what used to be a harrowing soft sand ride to it is now easy peasy…the road is paved and riding there is no longer a test of your soft sand riding skills. The Eucalipto restaurant is second to none.
What could be better than an ice cold Tecate overlooking Bahia San Quintin after a day’s riding in Baja? We once saw a California gray whale from this very spot.
A man, a motorcycle, and Mexico….the sign on the Transpenisular Highway pointing toward Bahia San Quintin and the Old Mill Hotel. The bike? That’s the 650cc Royal Enfield, perfect for riding Baja. But then just about any motorcycle is perfect for riding Baja.Bahia San Quintin at dawn. It’s an awesome spot.Uncle Joe enjoying breakfast in the Old Mill’s Eucalipto. It is an exquisite restaurant.
You’ll notice at the top of my scribblings about San Quintin I said it is usually a quiet town. The one exception for us was when there was a labor riot and we were caught in it. The Mexican infantryman about 80 miles north of San Quintin told me the road was closed, but his English matched my Spanish (neither are worth a caca), and without me understanding what I was riding into, he let me proceed. It’s not an experience I would care to repeat. But it’s the only event of its type I ever experienced in Old Mexico, and I’d go back in a heartbeat.
The Cataviña Boulder Fields
Ah, Cataviña. Rolling down the Transpeninsular Highway, about 15 miles before you hit the wide spot in the road that is Cataviña you enter the boulder fields. Other-worldly is not too strong a description, and if the place wasn’t so far south of the border it would probably be used more often by Hollywood in visits to other planets. The boulders are nearly white, they are huge, and the juxtaposition of their bulk with the bright blue sky punctuated by Cardon cactus.
Pastel geology. The area really is as beautiful as the photos depict it to be.
I get a funny feeling every time I enter this part of Baja. Not funny as in bad, but funny as in I feel like I’m where I belong. I once rolled through this region in the early morning hours with my daughter and she told me “you know, it’s weird, Dad. I feel like I’m home.” She understood (as in completely understood) the magic that is Baja.
I like the area and its stark scenery so much that one of my photos became the cover of Moto Baja! I grabbed that shot from the saddle at about 30 mph on a CSC 150 Mustang replica, which I subsequently rode all the way down to Cabo San Lucas (that story is here).
You should buy a copy or three. They make great gifts.
Every time I roll through Cataviña with other riders, the dinner conversation invariably turns to how the boulders formed. When I was teaching at Cal Poly Pomona, I asked one of my colleagues in the Geology Department. He know the area as soon as I mentioned it. The answer? Wind erosion.
Guerrero Negro
The Black Warrior. The town is named after a ship that went down just off its coast. It’s a salt mining town exactly halfway down the peninsula, and it’s your ticket in for whale watching and the best fish tacos in Baja (and that’s saying something). I’ve had a lot of great times in Guerrero Negro. It’s about 500 miles south of the border. You can see the giant steel eagle marking the 28th Parallel (the line separating Baja from Baja Sur) a good 20 miles out, and from there, it’s a right turn for the three mile ride west into town. Malarrimo’s is the best known hotel and whale watching tour, but there are several are they are all equally good. It you can’t get a room at Malarrimo’s, try the Hotel Don Gus.
CSC RX3 motorcycles at the Hotel Don Gus. We used to do annual Baja tours with CSC…those were fun times and great trips, and introduced a lot of folks to the beauty of Baja.What it’s all about…getting up close and personal with the California gray whales. They are in town from January through March.Tony, taco chef extraordinaire. You might think I’m exaggerating. I’m not.It’s worth the 500-miles trek to Guerrero Negro just to savor Tony’s fish tacos. You might think I’m exaggerating. But like I said above…I’m not.Man does not live by fish tacos alone, so for breakfast or dinner, it’s either the restaurant at Malaririmo’s or the San Remedio, a block north of the main drag into town. You won’t be disappointed at either.Sue’s photo of a Guerrero Negro osprey enjoying some sushi.
After you leave Guerrero Negro and continue south, the Transpeninsular Highway turns southeast to take you diagonally across the Baja peninsula. About 70 miles down the road (which is about half the distance to the eastern shores of Baja and the Sea of Cortez along Mexico Highway 1) you’ll see the turn for San Ignacio. It’s another one of Baja’s gems.
San Ignacio
San Ignacio is an oasis in the middle of the desert that forms much of Baja. The Jesuits introduced date farming to the region hundreds of years ago, and it’s still here in a big way. Leave Guerrero Negro, head southeast on Mexico Highway 1, and 70 miles later you run into a Mexican Army checkpoint, a series of switchbacks through a lava field, and when you see the date palms, turn right.
An oasis is usually formed by a volcano, and when a volcano is done discussing politics, it forms a lake. That’s the San Ignacio volcano and its lake, visible on the left as you ride into town.The San Ignacio church, built as a mission in the 1700s, dominates the center of San Ignacio. It’s a beautiful spot, one of the most photogenic in all of Baja.Another photo of the San Ignacio Mission. You’ll want to grab some photos in San Ignacio.Dates? Nope, not on that trip, but dates are one of the things San Ignacio is known for. I’ll bet they are delicious.
San Ignacio has a town square that’s right out of central casting, there’s a little restaurant that serves the best chile rellenos in all of Mexico (I’m not exaggerating), and the place just has a laid back, relaxing feel about it.
Santa Rosalia
You know, this town is another one of Baja’s best kept secrets. As you travel south on Highway 1, San Ignacio is the first town you encounter after traveling diagonally across the peninsula. Folks dismiss it because it’s an industrial town, but they do so in ignorance. There’s a lot of cool stuff in this place.
The ride into Santa Rosalia a few years ago with novelist Simon Gandolfi, Arlene Battishill, J Brandon, John Welker, and yours truly. That’s a dead fish I’m holding. We did a round trip to Cabo San Lucas on 150cc Mustang replicas, just to say that we could.
One of the things that’s unique about Santa Rosalia is the all-wooden architecture. The town was originally built by a French mining company (Boleo) and they built it they way they did in France. Like the Hotel Frances, which sits high on a mesa overlooking the town and the Sea of Cortez. I love staying there.
The Hotel Frances. It used to be a brothel.
There’s a cool mining musuem a block or two away from the Frances, and it’s worth a visit, too.
The mining museum in Santa Rosalia.
There are many cool things in Santa Rosalia, and one of the best is the Georg Eiffel church. It was designed by the same guy guy who did the Eiffel town.
Santa Rosalia’s church. It’s an unexpected delight. And I’m not even Catholic.Inside Santa Rosalia’s Georg Eiffel church.Stained glass. Photos ops abound in Santa Rosalia.
I’ve heard people dismiss Santa Rosalia as a gritty, industrial place not worth a stop. Trust me on this: They’re wrong. It’s one of my favorite Baja spots.
Bahía Concepción
Concepción Bay is easily the most scenic spot in Baja. It’s just south of Mulege (another delightful little town, and the subject of an upcoming ExNotes blog). Bahía Concepción runs for maybe 20 miles along the eastern edge of the Baja peninsula. I’ve seen whales from the highway while riding along its edge, the beaches are magnificent, and the photo ops just don’t stop. The contrast between the mountains and Cardon cactus on one side and the pelicans diving into bright green water is view from the saddle you won’t soon forget.
On one of many rides along Bahía Concepción, good buddy Joe Lee and yours truly rode our Triumph Triples. This is a favorite shot of mine.Besides “wow,” what can I say?World-famous novelist and motorcycle adventurer Simon Gandolfi andn yours truly on 150cc scooters. We were on our way back from Cabo San Lucas when we stopped for this Bahía Concepción photo. Hardtail 150cc scooters. Up and down the length of Baja. I think about that ride every time I see a GS parked at a Starbuck’s.
So there you have it: My take on seven favorite spots in Baja? How about you? Do you have any favorite Baja destinations? Let us know here in the comments sction!
As I mentioned in a recent blog, Sue and I recently spent a couple of days in Death Valley. I love the place. I lived in California for 30+ years before I ever made the trip out there on my KLR 650, and since then, I’ve been back several times. Here’s a short recap of those previous visits.
The Teutonic Twins Run
My KLR in Death Valley on that first visit. I loved my KLR; it was a great motorcycle.Good buddy Dennis, who won the chili-eating contest at Brown’s BMW.
That first ride on the KLR 650 didn’t just happen because I decided to finally get out there to see the hottest place on the planet. It came about because the guys at Brown BMW had a chili cookoff and eating contest followed by a two-day ride to Death Valley. If it hadn’t been for that, I wouldn’t have made it out there. I was the lone KLR rider; all the other guys were on big BMW twins. I’d ridden with those guys before and they were too fast for me. Nope, I was happy as a clam poking along on my 650cc single. I left right after the chili cookoff because I planned to meander along through other parts of the Mojave before spending the night in Baker, which was to be our jumping off point the next morning. It was fun, that ride out to Baker was. Just me and the KLR. I explored the desert around Kelbaker (southeast of Baker) and the old train depot there.
The next morning, we all had breakfast at the Mad Greek (a Baker and southern California icon), and then rolled out on California State Route 127 to the lower end of Death Valley. That’s a good highway that cuts through the desert. There’s nothing else out there, and the Teutonic twin crowd quickly left me in the dust. They were running well over 100 mph; the KLR might touch 100 on a good day. But I didn’t need to run at those speeds that day. I was enjoying the ride.
The charcoal kilns in Death Valley, I’m sure glad I didn’t skip seeing them on that first Death Valley foray.
When I left Death Valley on that first trip, I left through the northwestern part to pick up the 395 back down to southern California. That was a good thing. I saw a sign for Wildrose Canyon Road and another sign for the charcoal kilns pointing down a dirt road. I was by myself and I was in no hurry. I didn’t have any idea what the charcoal kilns were all about, but I was interested in learning more. I took that road, and I’m glad I did. Every time I’ve been in Death Valley since that first trip, the road to the charcoal kilns was closed, including on this my recent trip. If you are ever out there and the road is open, you might consider seeing them. The kilns are interesting, and Wildrose Canyon Road (as the name suggests) is a beautiful ride.
The Hell’s Loop Endurance Run
Following Arlene and TK on 150cc California Scooters into Death Valley.
Another ride in was when good buddy TK, good buddy Arlene, and I rode in the Hell’s Loop endurance rally on the 150cc California Scooters. That was a challenging day. We rode 400 miles into and through Death Valley and then returned to Barstow. It was cold and the hardtail CSC 150 beat me up, but it was fun. That little 150 never missed a beat.
We had lunch at the Furnace Creek Inn, and shortly before turning off the road, we saw this guy. He is obviously well fed.As soon as we sat down for lunch at the Furnace Creek Inn, this guy landed a couple feet away. We had just seen the coyote. I asked the roadrunner if he owned anything made by Acme, or if he was being chased by old Wiley. He responded with but two words: Beep Beep.
My next Death Valley adventure was a photo safari with Sue. We did that one in my Subie CrossTrek in a single day. It was a long day, but the photo ops did not disappoint. What was kind of cool about that trip is that when we rode through Badwater Basin, we saw a coyote loping along the road headed north, and a short while later when we stopped at the Furnace Creek Inn, a roadrunner landed right next to us as we enjoyed lunch on the patio. Was the roadrunner running from the coyote? Cue in the Warner Brothers: Beep beep!
The Destinations Deal Tour
The Destinations Deal crew overlooking Death Valley from Dante’s View. We covered a lot of territory on that trip.
A few years ago we rode through Death Valley on RX3 motorcycles. That was part of a promotion we ran when I was working with CSC. We took a half dozen riders through a handful of southwestern states, and Death Valley was the last of several national park visits. It’s where I first met Orlando and his wife Velma. Joe Gresh was on that ride, too. It was fun.
The “My Sister Eileen” Trip
A 20-mule-team borax train.Just like the theatrical title: My sister Eileen. We had a great time on that trip.
After the Destinations Deal run, Sue and I and my sister Eileen had a road trip through California and Nevada, with a run down the 395 through a major league snowstorm. We went through Death Valley the next day (the snowstorm had ended) and it was awesome. I didn’t do a blog on that Death Valley visit (I have no idea why), but trust me on this: Like all trips to and through Death Valley, it was awesome.
That gets me caught up on my prior Death Valley visits. If you want to see more photos and read more about those earlier visits, here are the links:
Watch for a series of Death Valley blogs. The first will be about our most recent visit, and then I’ll post blogs about Death Valley history, Death Valley geology, things to do around Death Valley, Shoshone, nearby Red Rock Canyon National Park, and maybe more. Stay tuned.
Good buddy Paul recently told me about a custom crafted flintlock rifle he bought from rifle maker Tom Caster at a steep discount because the stock had been broken. A stock break sounds like a major defect, but actually it is not that uncommon and repairing the broken stock, if done correctly, makes the stock stronger than new. Paul is a serious black powder shooter and he builds custom rifles, so he knows what he is doing here. Both Paul and Tom gave me permission to share this story.
Here’s what Paul wrote to me about this rifle:
When I first saw it I had the same reaction as you. It ticked off all my boxes for a rifle of this style and caliber as I did not have a .40 caliber muzzle loading rifle. They are supposedly an accurate target rifle. He sent me a target that he shot at 25 yards and seven of the ten shots were around a 2-1/2″ cluster which is not bad for the first time the rifle was shot.
I asked Paul about the accuracy. Here’s what he said:
That flintlock target is good for the first outing of the rifle. From there you will test out different powder amounts, different patch thickness and ball diameters if you want better groupings. The .40 caliber is mostly a 50-to-75-yard gun so you would be hunting squirrels or small game up to small deer. A lot of states only allow .45 caliber and bigger for deer hunting, so the .40 caliber is used for varmints and target work.
Here’s the story on this rifle from Tom Caster:
I finished up this pretty little .40 cal Armstrong rifle last week and was putting a coat of wax on the stock when it slipped off my table and broke in two at the wrist!
Scrapping was never really considered (too much work into it) because I have always been about fixing things that happen on the job or in the shop. It was a pretty clean break, so I set it up in my two vices and glued it back together with Tite-Bond II. After that set up, I drilled a 3/8″ hole from the breech down thru the wrist 8″ deep and glued in a 3/8″ hickory RR in place. After drilling out the holes in the rod for lock screws and the sear area, I sealed the inside up with epoxy.
The crack barely shows now but it is there when you look close. The stock should be fine to use now.
Some guys would use a steel threaded rod instead of wood dowel, but I didn’t want to add any more weight to a 7.6 lb. rifle.
I plan to sell it after the first of the year at a discounted price if anyone is interested.
After another inquiry about the rifle, Tom added the following:
As far as the wood choice goes, I purchased this “in the white” from the estate of my old friend Fred Schelter. He purchased the Getz barrel and had Fred Miller (I believe) inlet it and pre-shape the stock in 2000-2001. Whether it was his wood or Miller’s, I don’t know. He had two Armstrong stocks done this way at the same time, one was a .50 cal (sold) and this .40 cal, rifle. Fred S. did the carving and inlay of the patchbox, butt, toe plate, nose cap, and trigger and guard. He had made the forend escutcheons for the barrel keys but didn’t inlay them.
Both stocks were inletted and drilled for a large Dlx. Siler Flintlock, but only one lock existed and it was curiously interchangeable. So I had to buy a second lock to complete this one. I fashioned a new trigger for a lighter pull and made a patchbox release, side plate and sights. Then I did the engraving and finish work.
…so, now you know…the rest of the story!
Tom Caster
In his email to me, Paul included several photos from Tom. As the photos show, the detail and workmanship on this rifle are stunning. Take a look:
It will be interesting to see if Paul shoots this one. I’m going to visit with him again (hopefully in the not too distant future) for a trip to the range. I’ve never fired my Colt Walker (it is a black powder revolver) and I know very little about shooting these weapons. Paul knows a lot, and I hope to get educated.
As I mentioned at the start of this blog, repaired stocks are not that big a deal. I had an experience where a seller did a poor job packaging a Ruger No. 3 he sent to me. I had the repair accomplished and the stock refinished by a competent shop, the rifle looks better than new, and it is now one of my favorites. It is exceptionally accurate, too. You can read that story here.
This is a follow up to the recent post on my recently reacquired Nikon N70 film camera.
In the prior blog, I mentioned the N70’s rear door gooification issue and that I had read on an Internet forum it was a common issue. My camera’s rear door was like fly paper, with all kinds of debris stuck to it. I used the approach the forum commenter mentioned: A shop rag and alcohol, a little elbow grease, and the goo came off. The plastic underneath has a nice glossy black finish that matches the camera’s other exterior surfaces. It looks good. Here’s a pair of before and after photos:
Good buddy Greg spotted me three rolls of ISO 400 35mm film. He told me the film was 6 or 8 years old, but he thought it still might be good. I loaded a roll in the N70.
I don’t like UV filters and that’s what the Tamron 28-105 lens had on it when I took it home from New Jersey. I prefer a polarizer unless I’m shooting at night or using the flash. At one point I probably had a 62mm polarizer, but I tossed a bunch of camera debris and detritus a few months ago and if I ever had a 62mm polarizer (which is what the Tamron takes), it went out with that batch. No problem; I found a 62mm polarizer and a 62mm lens cap on Amazon. I ordered both, along with three rolls of ISO 200 35mm film. I figured if the film Greg gave didn’t work out, this film would because it was brand new. Even if Greg’s film was good, I’d need more eventually.
You know, it’s not easy to find 35mm film in stores like it used to be. Costco used to have a big area stocked with all kinds of 35mm from Fuji and Kodak, ranging from ISO 100 to ISO 1600 (with everything in between). They also had a huge section for processing film and making enlargements. The Costco film developing and printing services were inexpensive, they did a great job, and they turned it around in under an hour. It’s all gone now. Wiped clean from the face of the earth, as they say. Sometimes I feel like turning around, walking out, and shouting at the clouds. I’m an old man, so I can do it. But I don’t.
Anyway, to get back to the Nikon story, I shot up that first roll of expired ISO 400 film. Just silly stuff…pictures of the house (which immediately caused my neighbor to come over and ask if we were listing the house), my office area, and a couple of motorcycles. The roll of film provided just 24 exposures and it went quickly. When I shoot digital, I might take a hundred shots in a single stop. Shooting film, though, is like shooting a single-shot rifle. You think more. You have to make each shot count.
A quick Google search on film developers near me showed that there weren’t too many, but there was a guy across the street from Costco. I had used him once before to get some older negatives scanned for a magazine article, so I knew he was good. I rolled over there and to my surprise, I had to stand in line. What do you know? There are other people who still shoot film. As I patiently waited my turn, I thought that this guy probably doesn’t mind Costco exiting the film business.
When I was my turn, David (the guy behind the counter) remembered me. He asked if I wanted the negatives and the prints. At first I said yes, but then I remembered I have gobs of old prints and negatives stuffed away all over the house. So I said no, I just want the scanned images. David’s shop scans in either of two resolutions (medium or high); he didn’t know what the DPI (dots per inch) for either. My digital Nikon shoots at 300 DPI, but I have to knock the images down to 72 DPI in PhotoShop for the ExNotes blog (everything you’ve ever seen on the blog is 72 DPI). David told me the digital images (scanned from my negatives) would be in my Dropbox account the next day (he actually delivered them that same night). The medium resolution images were at 256 DPI.
When I opened the scanned images, at first I thought that the expired film may have, in fact, expired. The images were faded, and because I was shooting ISO 400 film, they were also somewhat grainy. Okay, so the film guys were serious about that use by date. I played with one, though, to see if I could bring it to life. Here’s what it looked like initially:
Here’s what it looked like after I worked on it a bit in PhotoShop:
The next step was to try the new ISO 200 film. Sue and I spent a couple of days in Death Valley, and I tossed the N70 into my overnight bag for that trip.
I don’t think it’s possible to have a bad stay in Death Valley, although I understand that the folks who named the place might have thought otherwise. I love it there. This time, we explored the surrounding areas, including Tecopa Springs a few miles away. Tecopa Springs sounds a lot more exotic than it really is. There’s a bar and pizza place so I ordered one of their craft beers and a pizza. I took a photo of it before we dug in and when I received the scan after I returned home, it was depressingly bland. Here’s what it looked like:
The scan with this roll of new 35mm ISO 200 Fuji film, as delivered, looked about the same as the stuff I had shot with the expired film. Maybe the developer didn’t automatically tweak it to highlight the colors. I opened the scan in PhotoShop, cropped it, adjusted the levels and curves, cranked in a little vibrance, deleted the distractions in the upper left corner, and hit it with the shadows feature to brighten the image’s upper half. That brought it to life a little better.
Here’s another set of before and after images in Death Valley’s Artist’s Palette area. This is the photo on the road heading there before any PhotoShop trickery:
Here’s that image with its levels and curves adjusted:
In the photo above, the mountains and the road look exactly as I remember them. The sky is a bit too vibrant, but that’s the polarizer earning its keep.
This is another pair of images at Artist’s Palette. The first is the scan as I received it from the developer:
This is the image above with its curves and levels adjusted:
Again, the sky is too deep, but the rest of the image is true to how I remember it. The guy in the image is using his iPhone, which probably returned the bright colors you see in the PhotoShop-tweaked photos without him doing anything. That’s because the iPhone does all the mods automatically.
So what’s the bottom line? Digital, my brothers. Film photography is fun, but for me it’s a huge step back. I’ll take my Nikon D3300 or D810 over film any time I’m out. The N70 is interesting, but it’s digital all the way for me. With two or three exceptions, and those are the other film cameras I brought back from New Jersey, including a very nice Honeywell Pentax ES (if I can find the right size battery for it). Stay tuned.
For me a motorcycle’s appearance, appeal, and personality are defined by its motor. I’m not a chopper guy, but I like the look of a chopper because the engine absolutely dominates the bike. I suppose to some people fully faired motorcycles are beautiful, but I’m not in that camp. The only somewhat fully faired bike I ever had was my 1995 Triumph Daytona 1200, but you could still see a lot of the engine on that machine. I once wrote a Destinations piece for Motorcycle Classics on the Solvang Vintage Motorcycle Museum and while doing so I called Virgil Elings, the wealthy entrepreneur who owned it. I asked Elings what drove his interest in collecting motorcycles. His answer? The motors. He spoke about the mechanical beauty of a motorcycle’s engine, and that prompted me to ask for his thoughts on fully faired bikes. “I suppose they’re beautiful to some,” he said, “but when you take the fairings off, they look like washing machines.” I had a good laugh. His observation was spot on.
A 1200cc Harley Panhead motor I photographed at the Rock Store in Malibu.
My earliest memory of drooling over a motorcycle occurred sometime in the 1950s when I was a little kid. My Mom was shopping with me somewhere in one of those unenclosed malls on Route 18 in New Jersey, and in those days, it was no big deal to let your kid wander off and explore while you shopped. I think it was some kind of a general store (I have no idea what Mom was looking for), and I wandered outside on the store’s sidewalk. There was a blue Harley Panhead parked out front, and it was the first time I ever had a close look at a motorcycle. It was beautiful, and the motor was especially beautiful. It had those early panhead corrugated exhaust headers, fins, cables, chrome, and more. I’ve always been fascinated by all things mechanical, and you just couldn’t find anything more mechanical than a Big Twin engine.
There have been a few Sportsters that do it for me, too, like Harley’s Cafe Racer from the late 1970s. That was a fine-looking machine dominated by its engine. I liked the Harley XR1000, too.
A 1000cc Harley Cafe Racer photographed at one of the Hansen Dam meets. When these were new, they sold for about $3,000.
I’ve previously mentioned my 7th grade fascination with Walt Skok’s Triumph Tiger. It had the same mesmerizing motorrific effect as the big twin Panhead described above. I could stare at that 500cc Triumph engine for hours (and I did). The 650 Triumphs were somehow even more appealing. The mid-’60s Triumphs are the most beautiful motorcycles in the world (you might think otherwise and that’s okay…you have my permission to be wrong).
A 1966 Triumph Bonneville and it’s 650cc twin-carb engine. My Dad rode a Bonneville just like this one.
BSA did a nice job with their engine design, too. Their 650 twins in the ’60s looked a lot like Triumph’s, and that’s a good thing. I see these bikes at the Hansen Dam Norton Owners Club meets. They photograph incredibly well, as do nearly all vintage British twins.
A late1960s BSA at Hansen Dam. These are beautiful motorcycles, too.
When we visited good buddy Andrew in New Jersey recently, he had several interesting machines, but the one that riveted my attention was his Norton P11. It’s 750cc air cooled engine is, well, just wonderful. If I owned that bike I’d probably stare at it for a few minutes every day. You know, just to keep my batteries charged.
Andrew Capone’s P-11 Norton. You can read about our visit with Andrew here.
You know, it’s kind of funny…back in the 1960s I thought Royal Enfield’s 750cc big twins were clunky looking. Then the new Royal Enfield 650 INT (aka the Interceptor to those of us unintimidated by liability issues) emerged. Its appearance was loosely based on those clunky old English Enfields, but the new twin’s Indian designers somehow made the engine look way better. It’s not clunky at all, and the boys from Mumbai made their interpretive copy of an old English twin look more British than the original. The new Enfield Interceptor is a unit construction engine, but the way the polished aluminum covers are designed it looks like a pre-unit construction engine. The guys from the subcontinent hit a home run with that one. I ought to know; after Gresh and I road tested one of these for Enfield North America on a Baja ride, I bought one.
The current iteration of Royal Enfield’s 650cc twin. I rode this bike through Baja and liked it so much I bought one when I returned from Mexico. Here’s more (a lot more) about that adventure.
Another motorcycle that let you see its glorious air-cooled magnificence was the CB750 Honda. It was awesome in every regard and presented well from any angle, including the rear (which is how most other riders saw it on the road). The engine was beyond impressive, and when it was introduced, I knew I would have one someday (I made that dream come true in 1971). I still can’t see one without taking my iPhone out to grab a photo.
A 1969 or 1970 Honda CB 750. This is the motorcycle that put the nail in the British motorcycle industry coffin. I had one just like it.
After Honda stunned the world with their 750 Four, the copycats piled on. Not to be outdone, Honda stunned the world again when they introduced their six-cylinder CBX. I had an ’82. It was awesome. It wasn’t the fastest motorcycle I ever owned, but it was one of the coolest (and what drove that coolness was its air-cooled straight six engine).
A Honda CBX engine photographed at the Del Mar fairgrounds near San Diego. The CBX was a motorcycle that added complexity where none was required. It was an impressive machine.
Like they did with the 750 Four, Kawasaki copied the Honda six cylinder, but the Kawasaki engine was water-cooled and from an aesthetics perspective, it was just a big lump. The Honda was a finely-finned work of art. I never wanted a Kawasaki Six; I still regret selling my Honda CBX. The CBX was an extremely good-looking motorcycle. It was all engine. What completed the look for me were the six chrome exhaust headers emerging from in front. I put 20,000 miles on mine and sold it for what it cost me, and now someone else is enjoying it. The CBX was stunning motorcycle, but you don’t need six cylinders to make a motorcycle beautiful. Some companies managed to do it with just two, and some with only one. Consider the engines mentioned at the start of this piece (Harley, Triumph, BSA, and Norton).
I shot this photo at Hansen Dam, too. I always wanted a mid-’60s Moto Guzzi. Never scratched that itch, though. They sound amazing. Imagine a refined Harley, and you’d have this.
Moto Guzzi’s air-cooled V-twins are in a class by themselves. I love the look and the sound of an air-cooled Guzzi V-twin. It’s classy. I like it.
Some motorcycle manufacturers made machines that were mesmerizing with but a single cylinder, so much so that they inspired modern reproductions, and then copies of those reproductions. Consider Honda’s GB500, and more than a few motorcycles from China and even here in the US that use variants of the GB500 engine.
The Honda GB500, Honda’s nod to earlier British singles. It’s another one I always wanted.
The GB500 is a water cooled bike, but Sochoiro’s boys did it right. The engine is perfect. Like I said above, variants of that engine are still made in China and Italy; one of those engines powers the new Janus 450 Halcyon.
The Janus 450 Halcyon I rode in Goshen. That resulted in a feature story in Motorcycle Classics. It’s engine is by SWM in Italy, which is a variant of the Chinese copy of the GB500 engine. I liked the Janus.
No discussion of mechanical magnificence would be complete without mentioning two of the most beautiful motorcycles ever made: The Brough Superior SS100 and the mighty Vincent. The Brits’ ability to design a visually arresting, aesthetically pleasing motorcycle engine must be a genetic trait. Take a look at these machines.
The Brough Superior SS100. Its engine had a constant loss lubrication system. This is the same motorcycle Lawrence of Arabia rode. One of my grandsons is named T.E. Lawrence.The mighty Vincent. This and the Brough Superior above were both photographed at Hansen Dam.
Two additional bits of moto exotica are the early inline and air-cooled four-cylinder Henderson, and the Thor, one of the very first V-twin engine designs. Both of these boast American ancestry.
Jay Leno’s 1931 Henderson. He told me he bought it off a 92-year-old guy in Vegas who was getting a divorce and needed to raise cash, and I fell for it.
The Henderson you see above belongs to Jay Leno, who let me photograph it at one of the Hansen Dam Norton gatherings. Incidentally, if there’s a nicer guy than Jay Leno out there, I haven’t met him. The man is a prince. He’s always gracious, and he’s never too busy to talk motorcycles, sign autographs, or pose for photos. You can read about some of the times I’ve bumped into Jay Leno at the Rock Store or the Hansen Dam event right here on ExNotes.
A Thor V-twin photographed at the Franklin Auto Museum in Tucson, Arizona. You almost need a four-year mechanical engineering degree to start one of these. Thor made the first engines for Indian.
Very early vintage motorcycles’ mechanical complexity is almost puzzle-like…they are the Gordian knots of motorcycle mechanical engineering design. I photographed a 1913 Thor for Motorcycle Classics (that story is here), and as I was optimizing the photos I found myself wondering how guys back in the 1910s started the things. I was able to crack the code, but I had to concentrate so hard it reminded me of dear departed mentor Bob Haskell talking about the Ph.Ds and other wizards in the advanced design group when I worked in the bomb business: “Sometimes those guys think so hard they can’t think for months afterward,” Bob told me (both Bob and I thought the wizards had confused their compensation with their capability).
There’s no question in my mind that water cooling a motorcycle engine is a better way to go from an engineering perspective. Water cooling adds weight, cost, and complexity, but the fuel efficiency and power advantages of water cooling just can’t be ignored. I don’t like when manufacturers attempt to make a water-cooled engine look like an air-cooled engine with the addition of fake fins (it somehow conveys design dishonesty). But some marques make water cooled engines look good (Virgil Elings’ comments notwithstanding). My Triumph Speed Triple had a water-cooled engine. I think the Brits got it right on that one.
My 2007 Triumph Speed Triple. Good buddy Marty told me some folks called these the Speed Cripple. In my case, that turned out to be true, but that’s another story for another blog.My 2015 CSC RX3. Before you go all nuts on me and start whining about Chinese motorcycle quality, I need to tell you I rode these across China, through the Andes Mountains in Colombia, up and down Baja a bunch of times, and all over the American west (you can read about those adventures here). It was one of the best and most comfortable bikes I ever owned.
Zongshen is another company that makes water-cooled engines look right. I thought my RX3 had a beautiful engine and I really loved that motorcycle. I sold it because I wasn’t riding it too much, but the tiny bump in my bank account that resulted from the sale, in retrospect, wasn’t worth it. I should have kept the RX3. When The Big Book Of Best Motorcycles In The History Of The World is written, I’m convinced there will be a chapter on the RX3.
The future of “motor” cycling? This is the CSC RX1E. I rode it and liked it. The silence takes some getting used to.
With the advent of electric motorcycles, I’ve ridden a few and they are okay, but I can’t see myself ever buying one. That’s because as I said at the beginning of this blog, for me a motorcycle is all about the motor. I realize that’s kind of weird, because on an electric motorcycle the power plant actually is a motor, not an internal combustion engine (like all the machines described above). What you mostly see on an electric motorcycle is the battery, which is the large featureless chingadera beneath the gas tank (which, now that I’m writing about it, isn’t a gas tank at all). I don’t like the silence of an electric motorcycle. They can be fast (the Zero I rode a few years ago accelerated so aggressively it scared the hell out of me), but I need some noise, I need to feel the power pulses and engine vibration, and I want other people to hear me. The other thing I don’t care for is that on an electric motorcycle, the power curve is upside down. They accelerate hardest off a dead stop and fade as the motor’s rpm increases; a motorcycle with an internal combustion engine accelerates harder as the revs come up.
Wow, this blog went on for longer than I thought it would. I had fun writing it and I had fun going through my photo library for the pics you see here. I hope you had fun reading it.
A few weeks ago I posted a blog about riding in the rain. With all the snow blanketing parts of the US this winter, I thought it fitting that I post a blog about getting caught in the snow. I’ve ridden in the snow four times and none of them were fun.
Crater Lake
On this ride, my buddy Marty and I were on our way home from Calgary to California after completing the 2005 Three Flags Classic rally. Marty was far more worldly than me and he knew all the good spots to stop. One was Crater Lake in Oregon. We rode in from the Oregon coast where the temperatures were cool but not unbearably so. We pointed our front wheels east and rode to Crater Lake. It was a brutally cold ride, and it grew even colder the further we climbed into the mountains.
We had an interesting encounter with a herd of elk on the way to Crater Lake. We had been seeing road signs warning of elk, but we hadn’t seen any until that day. A monstrous bull stepped out in front of my Triumph Daytona from the forest on the right side of the road. He stood broadside 50 yards in front of me, and he looked directly at me as if to say, “What’s your problem?” If he was attempting to intimidate me, it worked.
I stopped and Marty stopped on his BMW K1200RS behind me. My visor started to fog from my breath. It was just the three of us on that cold, cold morning: Me, Marty, and the Big Bull Elk. After what seemed like several minutes (during which I wondered how quickly I could execute a u-turn and accelerate away from those immense antlers), the elk turned his head and lazily sauntered across the road into the forest on the other side. Yeah, you’re bad, I thought.
I started to let out the clutch and moved forward a tiny bit when two more elk stepped out of the forest onto the highway. These were female elk following the alpha male who had successfully stared me down. So I pulled the clutch in again and waited. The ladies crossed the highway and I started to let the clutch out again. Then another lady elk appeared from the right. This went on for the next several minutes. Maybe as many as another 20 elk, all female, repeated the sequence, two or three at a time. I remember thinking the first one, that big bull, probably didn’t get much sleep with that harem to take care of. I wished I had grabbed a photo, but truth be told, I was too scared and shocked to react. I can still see it vividly in my mind, though.
The Daytona 1200 along Crater Lake in Oregon. A few miles earlier, we had a magical several minutes with a herd of elk.
After the elk episode, we continued our climb up to Crater Lake. The sun was getting higher, but we were climbing and instead of warming the temperatures continued to drop. There were bits of snow on both sides of the road, but the road was dry and we were doing okay. I used a Gerber electric vest in those days. It was a godsend.
Another view of Crater Lake. Note the snow in the foreground.
Crater Lake was interesting. I took a bunch of photos and checked that destination off my bucket list. Incidentally, on that trip I was still shooting with film. I had the N70 Nikon I blogged about earlier.
After taking in Crater Lake, Marty and I started our ride down off the mountain. The ride down was on the western side of the mountain, and the road was in the late morning shade. That section of the road had not warmed up. The snow was still there in two different forms…hard pack white snow in some places, and black ice where the snow had melted and frozen over. It was the first time I had ever ridden in such conditions on a big road bike, and I quickly realized my Daytona 1200 was way different than the Honda Super 90 I rode in the snow when I was a kid in New Jersey. Piloting that Triumph down off the mountain was an extremely demanding and mentally-draining 15-mph riding experience requiring intense concentration.
Fortunately, I remember thinking, Marty and I were the only two guys out there and I didn’t have to worry about anyone else on the road. Marty was in front and we both were taking things very easy. Then in my left peripheral vision I sensed a yellow vehicle starting to pass me. I was pissed and confused. Who the hell else is out here, I thought. Can’t they see I’m on a motorcycle, I’m on ice, and why the hell are they passing me?
Then I realized who it was. What I saw in my peripheral vision wasn’t another vehicle. It was my motorcycle in the rear view mirror. The big Triumph was sliding sideways. The yellow I had picked up peripherally was my rear tail light cowling. Damn, that was exciting! (And terrifying.)
Marty and I made it down off that mountain, but it was a religious experience for both of us.
The Sweetwater Rattlesnake Roundup
This was a ride coming h0me from the Annual Rattlesnake Roundup in Sweetwater, Texas (I wrote about the Roundup before and you can read that story here). We spent a half day at the Rattlesnake Roundup, another hour or so at the gun show in the hall next to the Rattlesnake Roundup, and then had a late afternoon departure headed home. The first portion of that ride was okay, but as the sun set the temperature dropped big time and the wind across Interstate 10 kicked up dramatically. We crossed into New Mexico and the wind was blowing so hard it felt like the bikes were leaned over 30 degrees just to keep going straight.
Very cool photo ops abounded at the Sweetwater Rattlesnake Roundup. Check out the fangs; this is the stuff of nightmares.
We pulled off the highway in Lordsburg, New Mexico, around 10:00 p.m. and stopped at the first hotel we saw. It was one of those small old Route 66 type motels (you know the type…a cheap single-story structure still advertising they had color TV). One of us (I can’t remember if it was Marty or me) decided we wanted to look for something nicer. We continued on into town and found a nicer hotel, but the desk clerk told us they had no rooms left. “With this wind, every trucker is off the run and in a hotel,” he said. The next town was 50 miles further down the road. I looked at Marty, he looked at me, and I made the case for doubling back to the Route 66 special.
We entered the lobby and two other people looking for a room followed us in. We were lucky. We nailed the last room in Lordsburg (which, I know, sounds like the title of a bad country western song). The folks behind us were out of luck. I have no idea what they did.
Most of the snow was gone after we returned from breakfast.
When we woke up the next morning, the bikes were covered in snow. There was no way we were going to ride in that, so we walked across the parking lot to a diner and had a leisurely breakfast. By 10:00 a.m. there was still snow on the ground, but the roads were slushy (not icy) and we could ride. When we were back on Interstate 10 the slush had disappeared and the road was dry. It was cold. I again enjoyed my Gerber vest. We made it back to southern California late that night. It was pouring rain (that’s the bad news), but it wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been and there was no snow (and that’s the good news).
The Angeles Crest Highway
I met my buddy Bryan at a water treatment company. Someday I’ll write a story about that company and the guy who started it. He was a crook (the company founder, not Bryan) and I’m not exaggerating just because I didn’t like the guy. He actually was a crook who was later charged with financial fraud and convicted. I know, I’m digressing again. Back to Bryan, me, motorcycles, and riding in the snow.
Good buddy Bryan and his VFR at warmer times in warmer climes.
Bryan was fascinated by my motorcycles (I owned four or five at the time), and within a few weeks he had purchased a Honda VFR. That VFR was a nice motorcycle (one I never owned but always wanted), and Bryan and I started doing a lot of rides together. We both live in southern California at an elevation of around 1700 feet above sea level, and it is rare to see snow here. I think in the 40+ years I’ve been in So Cal I’ve seen snow twice at my home, and it both cases it didn’t stick.
Bryan and I often rode the Angeles Crest Highway. We would take the 210 freeway to Glendale to pick it up, ride over the mountains on the Crest (the Angeles Crest Highway), stop for gas and sometimes a meal in Wrightwood on the other side of the San Gabriels, and then head home through the Cajon Pass on Interstate 15. It’s one of the best rides in the country.
A typical weekend parking lot scene at Newcomb’s on the ACH. Those were glorious days.
One day in the winter months, it was comfortable So Cal winter weather when Bryan and I decided to ride the ACH, but in the opposite direction. We rode up the 15 to the 138, we rolled through Wrightwood, and then we picked up the Crest heading over the mountains to Glendale. It got cold fast, and by the time we were on the Crest it was brutal. Then it started to snow. It didn’t seem that bad at first and we pushed on. I was on my Daytona 1200 again, and I could feel the bike moving around beneath me. I’d already ridden the Daytona on icy roads in Oregon (see above), so I thought I’d be okay. But this was worse. I could feel the big Daytona sashaying around like an exotic dancer in a room full of big tippers.
Bryan and I stopped. “Think we should turn around?” one or the other of us asked. “Nah, it probably won’t get worse and it’s shorter to keep going than it would be to turn around,” one or the other of us answered. We had that same conversation telepathically three or four more times. The weather was worsening and we hadn’t seen another vehicle on the road since we started. No motorcycles and no cars. It was just us.
Finally, we made it to Newcomb’s, a legendary Angeles Crest roadhouse that is no more (a pity, really…you’d see all kinds of moto exotica and sometimes Jay Leno up there on the weekends). We stopped for a cup of coffee and a bowl of chili. The parking lot was empty, but the place was open. The bartender was shocked when we entered. “How did you get up here?” he asked.
“We rode,” one or the other of us said.
“How did you do that? The road’s been closed because of the snow and ice.”
Well, what do you know? We had our coffee and chili and we warmed up. When it was time to leave, we kept going toward Glendale. No sense going back, we thought. We already knew the Crest behind us was bad. But we soon learned the road ahead wasn’t any better. It was a white knuckle, 15mph ride all the way down, and man, was it ever cold. But it made for a hell of story. I’ve ridden the ACH many, many times…but only once on snow and ice when the road was closed.
The “Build Character” Ride
In my opinion (and I’m the guy writing this blog, so it’s the one that counts) riding in the snow and ice is dumb raised to an exponent. If you’re already on a trip and you get caught in it, it’s sort of understandable. Making a decision to intentionally ride into the snow, though (at least to me), is a really dumb move. But yeah, I did it. Once. Peer pressure is a bitch, let me tell you.
The story goes like this: A bunch of us guys used to meet every Saturday morning at the local BMW dealer to listen to and tell tall tales (said tall tales usually involving motorcycles, women, or both). We did a lot of rides together, this group did. Baja. The American Southwest. The Three Flags Classic. Weekend rides up the Pacific Coast Highway to Pismo Beach for a barbeque dinner in nearby Nipomo at Jocko’s. And more. We were not spring chickens, either. I was in my late 50s and I was the youngest guy in the group. Most of the other guys were real deal geezers in their 70s. One guy was in his 80s.
Geezer riding buddies in the Jocko’s parking lot after coming down out of the mountains. Trust me on this: None of these guys needed to build any more character.
One day at one of our Saturday gatherings one of the guys had this brilliant idea that instead of simply getting caught in the rain, it would be a grand idea to start a two-or-three day ride in the rain when rain would be forecast for the entire ride. You know, a tough guy ride into bad weather. We would do the two-day run up to Pismo, through the mountains and along the coast, and do it on a weekend when it would rain all weekend. “It will build character,” said the geezer whose idea this was. Mom had warned me about guys like that. I should have listened.
Everybody was in. Like I said, peer pressure is a bitch. I had ridden plenty in the rain, and if you are properly attired, it’s not that bad. But snow and ice? Nope, that’s positively not for me. That’s what happened on this ride. Remember I said along the coast and in the mountains? Well, it was that mountain part that did us in. It was in the winter, we were at higher elevations, and sonuvabitch, all of a sudden that rain wasn’t rain any more. It was snow. The roads never froze over, but it was plenty slushy.
Somewhere along our descent, the snow reverted to plain old rain again, and we made it to Pismo without anyone dropping their bike. I noticed on the way home, though, we rode the coast (where it was modestly warmer) all the way back. I guess each of us felt we had built enough character to have banked a sufficient amount.
There you have it…my thoughts on riding in the snow. The bottom line from my perspective is that motorcycles and snow don’t mix. Your mileage may vary. If you think otherwise, let us know.
This year on April 25th my travels afforded me the opportunity to celebrate a Memorial Day for two of our allies, New Zealand and Australia. While on a guided tour through Frazer Island, a remote sand island off the northeastern coast of Australia, our tour was delayed an hour at the ship wreck of the TSS Meheno HMNZ Hospital Ship 1. The Meheno was a critical resource in WW I in retrieving the wounded from Anzac Cove in Gallipoli for both New Zealand and Australia. When I asked why the tour was delayed the guide explained, “Today is Anzac Day,” and went into the meaning of this holiday.
Here’s that image with its levels and curves adjusted:
