Category: China

Indiana Jones: Part II (The Mo Gao Grottos)

A few weeks ago, I wrote a blog about the Indiana Jones aspects of riding a motorcycle across China, and in that blog, I told you about the Roman Legions that had settled in Liqian two thousand years ago. I mentioned that there were other Indiana Jones experiences to be had in China and I said I would write about them.  It’s time to keep that promise. This blog is about the abandoned Mo Gao Buddhist grottos in the Gobi Desert. It’s an excerpt from Riding China, and if you want to get the whole story, well, hey, buy the book!

Dun Huang

The day was to be a short one for riding (only a hundred kilometers), but it would be rich with sightseeing in and around Dun Huang. It started with a short ride to Dun Huang’s vendor stalls with all kinds of brightly-colored trinkets, lots of Chinese tourists, and around it all, huge sand dunes. We had arrived at what might possibly be the least known and most inaccessible tourist attraction in the world: The Gobi Desert, up close and personal.

The Lake of the Crescent Moon in the Gobi Desert.

The signs pointed to the Lake of the Crescent Moon (and if that doesn’t sound like an Indiana Jones movie title, I don’t know what does). It was a small bright green crescent lake surrounded by the Gobi’s massive pale white dunes. The city planners in Dun Huang were making good use of it as a tourist attraction. It was amazing. The lake was a bright green arc of still water perhaps 300 meters long, forming a natural arc in the dunes, surrounded by bright green vegetation. I can only imagine how a camel caravan would have felt coming upon this place a thousand or more years ago, slowly drifting through the oven that is the Gobi, long before Dun Huang built its five-star tourist hotels. They must have viewed it as a miracle. A true oasis in the desert. It seemed to be a miracle to me and I had it easy; I had ridden here on my RX3.

Gobi Camel Riding

What really interested me were the camels. I was still feeling smug about seeing camels in the desert the day before, and I had wondered what it would be like to ride one. This was to be my day. There was a large camel riding operation set up specifically for tourists, and I realized I might never have an opportunity like this again. I needed to ride a camel. Yep, I became Joe Tourist, and I’m glad I did. It was fun. The camels took us to the top of one of the dunes, and I loved every minute of it. I’ve heard camels described as ships of the desert, and I realized as I rode along on mine that it was an appropriate description. A camel kind of rocks back and forth as it walks, the same way a ship does as it sails the ocean. The sand dunes, devoid of any vegetation, could be rolling waves. It’s all very calming. The camel behind mine came closer, and closer, and closer until its face was literally right alongside me. Its nose was just an inch from my arm. I could feel its warm dry breath on my arm and my face. It sounds a bit on the strange side, I know, but it was all somehow very soothing, riding along in the hot dry air, gently rocking left and right, with a camel breathing in my ear.

Camels in the Gobi.
Quite a sight. I enjoyed Dun Huang enormously. You may have seen this photo before. It’s the cover photo for the ExhaustNotes home page, and it as a two-page spread in RoadRUNNER magazine.
The view from the camel cockpit.

We spent the entire morning riding camels, taking photos, and being tourists. As much as I like riding my motorcycle, it was good to be off it for a day. We were all feeling great, even though it as incredibly hot. But it was dry, and that made it bearable.

A very attractive young woman who allowed a photo on our camel caravan. I told her I walked a mile for my camel. She smiled politely. I don’t think she spoke English.

The Mo Gao Grottos

That afternoon, we parked the bikes and rode in air-conditioned buses to the Mo Gao Buddhist grottos. This was more Indiana Jones stuff. It’s another incredible story, and it is one I had never heard until this trip. Listen to this: Ancient Buddhists created a massive temple complex in the grottos along a riverbed canyon wall in a location called Mo Gao. It’s in the desert outside of what is now Dun Huang. It was a thriving Buddhist center a thousand years ago, and then the people living there left. No one really knows why. Time and history forgot about the place. It was only recently rediscovered, and a few years after that, it opened to the public. The place was stunning. I can see it possibly being named the 9th Wonder of the Ancient World, just as Xi’an’s Terra Cotta soldiers (which I’ll describe in a later chapter) became the 8th Wonder of the Ancient World. It’s that wondrous.

The Mo Gao caves consisted of many smaller grottos that were apartments for ancient monks, and larger ones that held majestic statues and ornate decorations. I can only imagine what it must of have been like for the archeologists who uncovered these things. Today, it is all closely managed and Chinese police were there to enforce a photography prohibition.

A small portion of the Mo Gao Buddhist grotto.
A forbidden photo inside one the Mo Gao grottos. Once again, the Nikon D810’s low light level capabilities came through for me!
The sights and photo ops at Mo Gao were well worth the trip. There were many, many more, but I called it quits after grabbing these photos.

There are two reasons for a photography prohibition in these kinds of places. The first is that flash photography could degrade the statues and artwork. A natural light photo (one shot without flash) would prevent that kind of degradation, but most people wouldn’t understand the distinction and a “natural light only” photo policy would be too hard to enforce. The other reason is that the owner of the place (I assume it would be the Chinese government) probably wants to sell its photos. Allowing people to grab their own pictures would interfere.

The bottom line to all of the above is that the no photography policy only slowed me a little. I waited until somebody else took a photo and the picture police started yelling at them, and then I would discreetly do my natural light thing. I got some good shots, too.

Let me go tangential here for a moment and tell you a quick story about Joe Gresh. He is a great guy to travel with and I’d go anywhere with him. We both have a twisted, extremely wry, and very corny sense of humor. He cringed every time I said something I thought was clever, and I did the same with him. I enjoyed being with him on this trip immensely. The guy just has a way with words, which is readily apparent in his columns for Motorcyclist magazine. Anyway, as we walked along one of the landscaped Mo Gao pathways, I noticed a ground-mounted speaker that was in a plastic case designed to look like one of the naturally-occurring rocks. It blended in well with other real rocks along the path. I pointed to it and said to Joe, “Look at that…even a thousand years ago, these Buddhist monks had electric speakers…”

Gresh, without missing a beat, responded with, “Yeah, they loved their grotto blasters…”

I slept well that night in our unusually upscale hotel. I probably had dreams along the lines of an Indiana Jones movie plot, but I didn’t remember any of them. I was tired when I called it a night and I felt refreshed the next morning. This was the trip of a lifetime, and I was enjoying the hell out of it.

So there you have it. The Mo Gao Grottos. Lost in time nearly a thousand years, only to be discovered again a few years ago. And we were there. Indiana Jones? You bet! And if you want to read the earlier Indy in China blog about the Romans, it’s right here!

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Home Page Updates, and more…

We updated the ExNotes home page to make it easier to find our blogs on Baja, Epic Rides, Berk’s magazine articles, Gresh’s magazine articles, our YouTube videos, the new CSC RX4, motorcycle resurrections, Dream Bikes, Tales of the Gun, electric motorcycles, police motorcycles, and how to advertise on the ExNotes site.   Here are the home page links and the stories behind the photos…

This is the first image on the ExhaustNotes home page, and it provides a link to the ExNotes blog. This is the Gobi Desert in northwestern China, and that’s the real deal…a camel caravan. Gresh and I rode there on our motorcycles.
The link to articles by Joe Gresh previously published in a variety of magazines. There’s good reading here! The photo? That’s Gresh entering the Gobi Desert on a Zongshen RX3.
This is at the entrance to the Forbidden City in Beijing, and it’s your link to magazine articles by Berk.
Want to know what the ExNotes site is all about? You can get the story here. That photo? Hey, Gresh and I like gladiator movies. We were actors in one filmed in central China, near the city of Liqian.
Trust me on this: You need to advertise on ExhaustNotes.us. Here’s the link to get that process started. This photo was up on the Tibetan Plateau, with the city of Aba in the background.
The best riding on the planet, and it starts just across the border! Click this link to get our stories, our guidance, our suggested itineraries, and more on this magical place.  I took this photo while riding my CSC Mustang through Baja’s Catavina boulder fields.
Yep, we’re a motorcycle site, but this is one of the busiest places in all of the ExhaustNotes empire. Click this link for our Tales of the Gun stories.  That’s me firing the mighty M1 Garand.  My daughter shot the above photo on her iPhone, capturing the cartridge case in midair!
The only thing better than our Epic Motorcycle Rides page is actually getting out and creating the adventure yourself! Enjoy our tales of the adventure riding trails here!  Oh, and that photo?  It’s Gresh on an Enfield in Mexico!
Gresh doesn’t do 100-point restorations. Nope, his deal is rustorations, not restorations. A bike is only original once. The photo is Gobi Gresh’s mighty Z1 Kawasaki at the Tinfiny Ranch. It runs now, and you can read about how Joe brought it back to life here.
The stuff of dreams, the ones that got away, and more. You can peek into our dreams here. That’s my old 1200 Triumph Daytona after a 120-mph sprint across Highway 58 in California.
Who you calling Tubby? Here’s a cool collection of our videos. The photo was taken in Qufu, the birthplace of Confucius. Gresh and others are grabbing videos during a changing of the guard ceremony.
Motors, the best job on the force. I believe it, and you should, too. We’ve recently added a page indexing our police motorcycle stuff, and you can get to it here. The photo is good buddy Jim Watson on a Honda ST1300P police motorcycle.
The RX3 is a great bike, but folks wanted more displacement. Zongshen responded with the RX4, and upsized version of their iconic RX3, and CSC is taking orders now. You can read all about the RX4 and how it compares to the RX3 and the KLR 650 here. We rode the one above in the San Gabriel Mountains, which is where we shot this photo.
It’s a new world out there, folks, and electric motorcycles are part of it. You can catch up on what’s happening here. That’s a CSC City Slicker, a phenomenal buy at just $2495!
Writers write. Hey, it’s what we do. With something north of 20 titles under our belt, yeah, we’re gonna brag a bit. Read all about it here, and get links to buy our books on this page!
Want the e-ticket ride back to the ExhaustNotes home page? It’s right here. And that photo? It’s the Bridge of the Gods, spanning the mighty Columbia River from Washington to Oregon. When I’m there, it feels like it’s a place where I belong. What could possibly be a more fitting home page link?

There you have it, my friends.   You’ll see all of the above when you open our home page, and it’s your nav system to the rest of the site.

Hey, there’s more good stuff coming your way.  We do our best to blog every day, and we’ve got great stories lined up for you:

Good buddy Steve’s Norton Commando
More vintage police motors
The continuation of our .45 ACP ammo series
The Indiana Jones aspects of riding in China

And much, much more.   Don’t miss any of it…sign up for our automatic email updates (add your name to our email list), and you’ll stay up to date!

Motoracism

Hugo, Joe, Tony and Zuo near Mt. Rushmore, South Dakota.

My good buddy Joe Gresh is an astute observer of the human condition and he writes about it well.   This is a piece he did after the 5,000-mile Western America Adventure Ride, when we rode 250cc Chinese motorcycles from LA to Sturgis to Portland and back to LA.  We had about a dozen riders and not a single motorcycle breakdown.  The bikes’ stellar performance notwithstanding, we sure caught flak on the Internet about riding Chinese bikes (and it was only on the Internet; no one we met in person had anything but compliments for us and the bikes).  Joe wrote a column titled “Motoracism” in the now-defunct Motorcyclist magazine about that trip (along with an outstanding story about the ride).  Joe’s adept at stirring the pot by telling the truth, and the keyboard commandos  crawled out in droves from under their bridges when “Motoracism” was published.  Here’s the original article.  Take a look…

Motoracism and Brand-Bashing in the Moto World
Are you offended by a Chinese-built bike?
Joe Gresh January 11, 2016

Look out! An army of strange bikes aimed at our heartland! Or is it just a line of motorcycles like any other, except this time they’re made in China?

We all suffer from racism’s influence. It’s an off-key loop playing from an early age, a low frequency rumble of dislike for the “other.” It’s ancient and tribal, a rotted pet forever scratching at the door because we keep tossing it scraps of our fear. Racism gives the weak succor and the strong an excuse for bad behavior. We work hard to become less racist, but exclusion is a powerful medicine.

Especially when it comes to motorcycles. Brand bashing is ancient, part of what motorcyclists do. It’s our way of hazing new riders and pointing out the absurdity of our own transportation choice. Unlike more virulent forms of racism, motoracism doesn’t prevent us from enjoying each other’s company or even becoming friends.

In web life, we are much less tolerant. Whenever I test a bike for Motorcyclist I spend time lurking on motorcycle forums. This is partly to gather owner-generated data, stuff I may miss in the short time I have with a testbike. Mostly I do it because it’s a way to rack up thousands of surrogate road test miles without having to actually ride the bike. Think of yourselves as unpaid interns slogging through the hard work of living with your motorcycle choice while I skim the cream of your observations into my Batdorf & Bronson coffee.

Every motorcycle brand has fans and detractors, and I enjoy the smack talk among riders. Check out the rekindled Indian/Harley-Davidson rivalry: They picked up right where they left off in 1953. Then there’s this Chinese-built Zongshen (CSC) RX3 I recently rode. Man, what a reaction that one got. Along with generally favorable opinions from Zong owners I saw lots of irrational anger over this motorcycle.

All because it was built in China.

To give the motoracists their due, until Zongshen came along Chinese-built bikes were pretty much crap. (I read that on the Internet.) Except for the Chinese-built bikes rebadged for the major manufacturers. I guess if you don’t know that your engine and suspension were built in China it won’t hurt you.

Mirroring traditional racism, the more successful the Chinese become at building motorcycles the more motoracists feel aggrieved. The modest goodness of the Zongshen has caused motoracists to redirect their ire at US/China trade relations, our looming military conflict in the South China Sea, and working conditions on the Chinese mainland.

Like Japanese motorcycles in the 1960s, buying a Chinese motorcycle today reflects poorly on your patriotism. You’ll be accused of condoning child slavery or helping to sling shovelfuls of kittens into the furnaces of sinister ChiCom factories. Participate in a Zongshen forum discussion long enough and someone inevitably asks why you hate America. I’ve had Facebook friends tell me I shouldn’t post information about the Zongshen—that I must be on their payroll. I’m just testing a bike, man. This reaction doesn’t happen with any other brand and they all pay me the same amount: zilch.

So if you’re angry about working conditions in a Chinese motorcycle factory, but not about similar conditions in a USA-based Amazon fulfillment warehouse (selling mostly Chinese products) you might be a motoracist. If you type moral outrage on your Chinese-built computer complaining about China’s poor quality control while sitting in your Chinese-built chair and answering your Chinese-built cell phone you might be a motoracist. If you’re outraged that the Zongshen 250 can’t match the performance of a motorcycle five times its displacement and five times its cost you might be a motoracist. I want you to take a thoughtful moment and ask yourself if your motoracism isn’t just plain old racism hiding behind mechanical toys. If it is, stop doing it, and let’s get back to bashing other motorcycles for the right reasons: the goofy jerks who ride them.

Good stuff, and great writing.   If you’d like to read Joe’s piece about the ride, just click here.  And if you’d like to know more about the RX3 motorcycles we rode on our ride through the American West, just click here.

The plaintive wail of a high performance motorcycle…

As the title implies, there’s nothing quite like the plaintive wail of a high performance motorcycle.  If you’re good enough, you can identify specific bikes just by (dare we say it) their ExhaustNotes.  Harleys have their distinctive rumble, a ’60s Triumph Bonneville sounds like raw power, the Ducati dry clutch rattle, you get the idea.  Do you think you know motors?   Hey, see if you can identify this one before you see it…

Canon S100 Review

The only camera that survived our 40-day, Zongshen RX3 China tour was the one inside my cell phone. My Canon 5D, that weighs a ton, broke its battery door and the 28-135 zoom lens actually fractured and stopped zooming. It sounds like the gears inside are broken. Both were inside a padded camera bag and the bag was wrapped in extra clothing. Don’t let anyone tell you we didn’t pound on those Zongshen RX3’s.

My go-to travel camera, a little Canon S95, also could not survive the rough Chinese trails we explored. The S95 suffered a broken screen and refused to boot up due to a broken top plate. Again, this camera was in my jacket pocket and not rattling around in a bag. We ride hard, you know?

Back in the USA the 5D battery door was an easy $7 fix. The 28-135 zoom lens is still broken and the parts to fix it are nearly as much as a used lens. I may not even replace it as I’ve gotten away from hauling the big 5D on motorcycle trips. It’s a great camera that takes beautiful pictures but magazines and web sites do not require technically perfect photos, only interesting subjects.

The Little S95, by dint of its size was harder to fix. I bought a new top switch plate for $14 and using a microscope, replaced the part without damaging a lot of other parts in the process. To my surprise the little camera booted up and would take photos. The broken screen was slightly annoying but the worse problem was that the front ring did not work anymore. The S95 really needs that ring to operate correctly. I’m pretty sure I broke the ring in the process of installing the top switch. These tiny digital cameras pack a lot of components into a tiny space. Fixing them is nothing at all like concrete work. The S95 was consigned to the busted camera drawer.

Joe Berk and I recently went to Mexico to road test the new Royal Enfield 650 and that trip convinced me that I needed a decent point and shoot camera. The cell phone camera is great but there were times I needed zoom but didn’t feel like digging out the big camera. I wanted a pocket DSLR.

Back to the busted camera drawer and the S95 I went. The parts to fix the screen and the front ring switch cost around $50. Add to that the $14 I had already spent, and the fact that I would probably end up breaking something else while fixing the S95, and things were looking glum for my S95. The little beat up Canon is a great shooter and I’ve had two-page spreads published in magazines with it, so while I hated to give up on an old friend I began to look for a used, working S95.

Prices for used S95’s hover around $100 for a fairly straight, functioning example. The funny thing is the next generation model, the S100, was the same price as the older unit. With a wider and longer lens and a much faster processor than the S95 the only thing making me hesitate was the S100’s bad reputation for a lens error glitch. When the glitch hits the lens stays extended and the machine refuses to take photos. So it’s kind of a major glitch, you know? Here you can see the extra bit of S100 (left) vs S95 (right) wide angle.

Here you can see the extra bit of zoom. S100 on left.

I researched the camera forums and found some S100 owners never have the lens error and of those that did a ribbon wire falling out of its socket was the cause for most of the failures. So I bit on a sweet 100-dollar, S100 that looks like brand new and seems to function perfectly.

The S100 boots up noticeably faster than the S95 but I am never in that much of a hurry. It will burst a bunch of shots faster than the old model. This may come in handy for action shots. The wide-angle lens is only noticeable when comparing both cameras side by side. When it comes to photography, more is always better. I’m happy with the little S100 and can’t wait to try it out on a motorcycle trip. If I ever go on another motorcycle trip, that is.

Riding China

A couple of years ago I gave a presentation on our ride across China to one of the Horizons Unlimited gatherings.    It was a 56-slide PowerPoint deal and I thought I might share it with you here.  It’s big bandwidth, so bear with me as the images load, and enjoy…

The riding was great, the friendship was even better, and the photo ops were off the charts.   Both Joe Gresh and I published stories on that adventure, too.  And don’t forget the book, Riding China.   You can buy it here!

Sausage Making

The China tour story I wrote took a long, winding road to publication. I like to pre-sell any feature-ish story and since we had recently done another big CSC story at That Other Magazine I pitched the China ride to Editor in Chief, Marc Cook. He liked the idea and suggested making the story less about the CSC motorcycle and more about the ride.

All went swimmingly on the tour but while I was in China That Other Magazine was going through upheaval on every level. I returned to a smoking, charred magazine landscape of fewer, thinner issues and a frequently changing vision for That Other Magazine. I ran the China story past each new editor (in quick succession) they all liked it but the reformatted book had many must-print stories and little space for a long feature on China.

That Other Magazine went through another major restyle opting for a spare, photo-heavy layout, a cut back to 6 issues a year and hired a platoon of fresh, new writers. I re-re-re-pitched the thing, refusing to believe it was over but like any failed love affair the day came when I realized my blue passion for That Other Magazine had faded to grey.

Whenever I do a free-riding junket for a motorcycle manufacturer there are no preconditions. I may love or hate their motorcycle but I will write honestly about it. The only thing I can offer in return for their hard-earned money is publicity. My job was to write a story and get it published: I had failed myself, CSC, Joe Berk, my fellow China Riders and Zongshen.

At this point I pretty much gave up on the China tour and shoved the thing into a dark, dusty corner of my hard drive. I couldn’t stand looking at the story, so much effort that came to naught. Newer challenges awaited writing and I wasn’t going to let the China story drag me down. I moved on.

Enter this blog and its demanding publishing schedule. While I’m no fountain of content I’ve never written as many words a month as I have since we started ExhaustNotes. The hectic pace and all-consuming need for content has changed my opinion of writing from an art form into a trade. I make stories like I pour concrete. Instead of a failure, the China tour became just another slab. I pitched the thing to Motorcycle.com and thankfully they bit. I rewrote the story to reflect the new realities regarding That Other Magazine and the result can be found here: Kung Fu Riding.  Sorry it took so long.

Riding in the rain…

Wow, it has been pouring here for the last week, with little respite other than this past Sunday. Sunday was nice. Every other day this week and the tail end of last week has been nonstop rain. Big time. Buckets full. And my iPhone just started buzzing with a flash flood warning for this area. Wow again.

So I’m sitting here at the computer, enjoying a hot cup of coffee, looking out the window, and I’m thinking about what it’s like to ride in the rain. We’ve all had those rides. Those memories stick in my mind. I remember every one of those rides like they happened yesterday.

The first was the return leg of my first international motorcycle foray, when good buddy Keith Hediger and I rode up to Montreal and back. That was in the early ‘70s, and we didn’t call them adventure rides back then. They were just motorcycle rides. I was on a ’71 CB750 and Keith was on a Kawi 500cc triple. It rained the entire length of Vermont at about the same intensity you see in the video above. We had no rain gear. It wasn’t cold, but it sure was wet. We were soaked the entire day. Wouldn’t trade a minute of it. It was a great ride.

Another time was on the second ride I ever did in Baja with good buddy Baja John. It was pouring when we left at 4:00 a.m., and it didn’t let up for the entire day. I was on a Harley then, and we finally stopped somewhere around Colonet to checked into a cheap Baja hotel (a somewhat redundant term, which is becoming less redundant as Baja’s march in to the 21st century unfortunately continues). Leather, I found out on that trip, makes for lousy rain gear. I went hypothermic, and I had the shakes until 4:00 the following morning. It made for a good story, and the rest of that trip was epic. Down to Cabo, back up to La Paz, on the overnight ferry over to Mazatlan, out to Puerto Vallarta and Guadalajara, back up to Nogales, and a thousand-mile one-day dash to make it home on New Year’s Eve. Wouldn’t trade a second of it.

Riding with Marty on the ’05 Three Flags Classic, we were caught in a downpour the second day out as we rode along the Dolores River in Colorado. It was a magnificent ride, with Marty on his K1200RS and me on my 1200cc Daytona.  It wasn’t a drizzle.  It was a downpour, just like you see in the video above.  I remember it vividly, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Colombia had lots of rain, but it only hit us hard on the very first day. It was raining hard that first morning as we rode out of Medellin and into the Andes early on that fine Colombian morning, but it lightened up by breakfast. I had real rain gear and the only issues were visibility and passing 22-wheelers on blind curves, as my Colombian riders did with gleeful abandon. Exciting times. But good times, and certainly ones I remember. Colombia was an adventure for the ages. I wouldn’t trade a second of it for anything else.

I’d have to say the heaviest rains I ever rode through were in China, where it rains a lot. It probably rained 25% of the time on that trip, and the first few days were the worst. Imagine riding up into the Tibetan Plateau, in the dark, on dirt roads, in rain way heavier than what you see in the video above. That’s what it was like, and I loved every mile of that ride. I wouldn’t trade it for anything else on the planet.

You might be wondering…why no photos? Well, the simple truth is that my cameras on each trip were tightly wrapped in plastic bags, and I wasn’t about to break them out in the rain. That’s something I guess I forgot to mention in my earlier blog about what to bring on a Baja trip: Garbage bags. They take up almost no space when you’re not using them, and they work great for keeping stuff dry when you ride in the rain.

Janus: The men, the motorcycles, Mexico, and Made In America!

I’m back after a 4-day, thousand-mile ride through Baja on a Janus Gryffin. I’m well-rested, I’m warm, and I had a great time.  It was a ride I’ll remember.

Brrrrr. That’s Devin Biek on the left, one of the two Janus founders (Richard Worsham is the other one). The guy on the right is Jordan Swartzendruber, the Janus video and photo guy.

On our first day we rode up to Idyllwild on icy roads, on to Julian, and then to the border near Tecate. Wow, was it ever cold! On every motorcycle trip, there are those “Why I am doing this?” moments, and I had more than a few of those on that first day. We stayed in Pine Valley on the US side that first night, a wide spot in the road with one restaurant open that evening, the appropriately-named Frosty Burger with outdoor seating only. Nope, too cold for that. It was to be a general store with sandwiches and pizza that night, which we ate standing in the store (the place had no seating). We joked with the two ladies behind the counter. “I’m married, ladies,” I told them, “but my friends Jordan and Devin want to know if you’re single.” It was that kind of an evening. We were out in the world on a motorcycle ride, headed for Mexico.

We crossed the border the next morning and the Mexican immigration officer successfully pitched his homemade salsa to us. It was funny. I tried to imagine a US Customs officer examining my passport in LAX and asking “hey, have you ever considered becoming an Amway rep?”

The bikes drew a crowd of Mexicans at the immigration control point, and that occurred every place we went. Even folks with no motorcycle knowledge knew they were looking at something special. Those who knew bikes understood these machines even better. A Mexican gentleman about my age examined the leading link front suspension and said “Ah, like Montesa.” His knowledge of vintage Spanish motorcycles surprised me and I immediately thought of Joe Gresh (it’s a private joke, folks).

Devin’s Halcyon model on the Rumarosa Grade. Note the Montesa-like leading link front suspension. I rode the Gryffin model, which I liked a lot. Richard Worsham rode this bike across the United States.

That day we stopped for photos as we rode through the Rumarosa Grade, and then it was on to the Mexicali bypass. We picked up Highway 5 south, and it was on that stretch that I really bonded with the Gryffin. I can only do that on a motorcycle with a soul. Some motorcycles have no soul and no character. But the Janus did. My good buddy Marty once bought a new Honda CBR1100XX, a bike with incredible performance stats. But he sold it after only a few months, and when I asked why, Marty told me it had no character and no soul.  I realized as I rolled through Mexico at a steady 50 mph that the Gryffin was something special. It spoke to me. The burble of its CG engine had a good sound. The cold air felt less cold, and the bike just felt right. It’s not something that’s easy to explain. Some of you will know what I’m talking about.

I knew a taco stand I wanted to visit for lunch, but we were already out in the desert coastal plains north of the Sea of Cortez and I had not seen it. Maybe it closed since I was here last, I thought, or maybe I just missed it. That would be disappointing. Then, nope, there it was. It was to be our first meal in Mexico. I was hoping Devin and Jordan would like it. Some folks get Baja, and others don’t. I would soon know if these guys would understand Baja’s magic.

The boys, about to savor their first Baja cuisine. It was grand. One bite and these fellows totally understood Baja.

Jordan ordered tacos. I ordered a quesadilla, and Devin did, too. We sat at one of the tables in front of the counter, all outdoors, and I looked at Jordan. He was chomping down on a taco bathed in guacamole sauce. He nodded approvingly, savoring the best of Baja. My quesadilla was delicious. Devin took a bite of his and smiled. At that instant, I knew this was a great trip, one for the ages. These guys get it, I realized. Devin, who had said something about being a vegan at the start of our trip, abandoned all thoughts of vegan purity. Hey, it’s the 500-mile rule. We were outside the perimeter of all mortal regulatory constraints and anything went. Devin wondered aloud if he had time to order a second quesadilla. He looked at me. You bet, I said. Go for it. More Mexicans stopped to admire and ask us about the motorcycles parked at the edge of our table. It was fun.

We burbled further south on Highway 5. The bikes purred. There’s just something about a single that says all is well with the world. And all was that fine day.

Dinner in along the Malecon in San Felipe that evening was fun. It had grown cold again, but it was not the bitter cold of Pine Valley. We looked out into the dark over the Sea of Cortez, knowing we had been carried to this spot by our Janus motorcycles. We had Tecate cerveza, con sal, with a wedge of lime. Devin ordered a bowl of guacamole. Chips and salsa were before us. They say you truly know the limits of your self-control when the chips and salsa are in front of you. I had none (self-control, that is). It was a wonderful dinner.

“So how does it feel,” I asked Devin, “knowing that you’re riding a motorcycle you designed and built, being in a place like this?”

Devin smiled. “It feels good,” he answered. He ordered another Tecate, one of the life’s grand treats, bottled in a city we had ridden through just that morning.

Burbling along on Highway 3, headed to Ensenada along a road few ride. We owned the road that fine morning.

We were up early the next day, and we were on our way diagonally across Baja to Ensenada. We owned the road; there were almost no other vehicles on Highway 3 that morning. The photo ops were great. The scenery was impressive. We stopped for fuel at a Pemex in Valle Trinidad. It was grand, as riding a motorcycle in Baja always is. We rolled on for 70 miles and entered Ensenada from the southeast. It was a heavily-littered area and the traffic soon grew heavy. We caught glimpses of the Pacific Ocean. We passed an intersecting road that entered Highway 3 at an angle at least 45 degrees steep. I wondered how any vehicle could make it up such a grade, stop, and then enter our roadway. Ah, Mexico.  I love it.

We rolled into Tecate late that third night. The Janus motorcycle’s headlight is impressive; it did a much better job than I expected. The El Dorado hotel had no vacancies, so it was on to the Hacienda (a mile further up Benito Juarez Boulevard), and we were in luck. Dinner that night was Chinese food. Yep, Chinese food in Mexico. Chinese restaurants abound in Mexico, and they are excellent.

We were concerned about the next day, as the forecast was for rain. Up early again, we turned in our tourist visas at the Mexican immigration office (no pitches for salsa this time), and we cut through the K-barriers to jump the line to the US border crossing. That little trick took at least an hour off our trip, and nobody tear-gassed us for rushing the border. The US border control officer was intrigued by my motorcycle. I told him about Janus and mentioned that the founder was on the next bike.  I think he found that even more intriguing.

Our ride home yesterday began with the mountains and twisties of southern San Diego County, and then we entered San Diego’s morning rush-hour traffic. It was the 94 to the 805 to the 15, and then a 120-mile drone north. Rain hit us just south of Temecula. We rode through 30 miles of it, we stopped to top off the bikes in Elsinore (yep, a Honda was named for the very same city), and a few miles further down the road the rain stopped.

That was our ride. Like I said above, I loved it. Even the cold parts and the rain. Those are the parts of any motorcycle trip I always remember. Time washes away the fleeting discomfort and it all blends together as part of the adventure.

So, on to the Janus motorcycles themselves. What are they like?

In a word, they are unique. They are vintage, but new. They target a special kind of rider.  They are not for everybody and not everybody will understand what they are.  But those who do….well, read on, my friends.

I’ve read comments about Janus on the forums saying they’re too expensive, they’re Chinese, Janus won’t last, you won’t be able to get parts, they’re overpriced, and on and it goes. There’s a behavioral science term for this kind of Internet forum negativity and nastiness: Online disinhibition. It means that folks say stupid stuff on the Internet they would never say in person. Couple that with the fact that a motorcycle is an emotional purchase, and you see some really wild stuff out there. Anyone with a keyboard and a connection thinks they are an expert on motorcycle design, manufacturing, procurement, service, and of course, marketing. My take on all of this?  If ignorance truly is bliss, there are lots of really happy people out there.

As I said above, somewhere on the road to San Felipe I bonded with the Gryffin. It just felt right to me. The motorcycle had a gem-like quality, with the precise and exquisite feel of a Rolex wristwatch. The fuel tank is a work of art. The leading link front suspension has a hint of R69S to it; the bike doesn’t dive on braking (a benefit of this kind of suspension). The colors just flat work and they are elegant. The seat looks right (Devin apologized about the comfort level and he told me they have a new seat coming, but it felt okay to me as is). The frame is a deep gloss black. The rear rack works and it looks good. The switchgear was slightly different than what I am used to, but I became comfortable with the Janus layout quickly.  The fit and finish are superior.

I know the CG engine well, having ridden many long-distance trips on CG-engined CSC motorcycles. It’s no secret that I’m a big fan of the CG engine, and the Janus bikes showcase the engine well. I know where the engine is made (China) and I know where the design originated (Brazil and Japan), but this vertical single has a distinctly British look.  In fact, even though the Janus and nearly all of its parts are fabricated and assembled in Goshen, Indiana, the bike looks British to me. Not British as in Triumph’s Kawi-inspired multis or today’s Thai-built Bonnevilles, but British of the Cotton 650 single, the BSA M20, or Brough Superior days (and I realize as I type this that the naysaying keyboard commandos will have no idea what I am talking about). I like that early British look, and I think the Janus guys nailed it. Maybe that’s why I bonded with the bike. Cue in the theme music from any James Bond movie, with Sean Connery’s voiceover: Bond. Janus Bond.

I like that you can see the motor. It’s a motorcycle, see? You’re supposed to be able to see the motor on a motorcycle. You can see the engine on this bike. It’s the way God intended a motorcycle to be. Body work? Fairings? We don’t need no stinking fairings!

Here’s something else I like: The Janus folks don’t like chrome. That doesn’t mean the bikes have no shiny components (they have many), but when you see something on a Janus that’s shiny, it’s not chrome. In nearly all instances, it’s polished stainless steel. Made in Goshen, Indiana. That’s right here in the US, you know.  Tell me again why you think $7000 is too much for this hand-built motorcycle?

About 25% of our trip involved riding in the mountains and that meant tons of twisties. The bike handles well, even with the weight I had strapped on the rear rack. Devin told me that I went through a corner with the motorcycle leaned over way more than he had ever seen. I told him I wanted to assess how the bike took a corner hard; I didn’t tell him I hadn’t been paying attention and I entered that corner way too hot. Trust me on this: The bike handles.

The Janus motorcycles excel in drawing a crowd, far more so than any other motorcycle I’ve ever ridden. The things are magnets. People know they are seeing something special, and once they get close enough, the Janus attention to fit and finish makes the motorcycles even more visually appealing. The closest thing I’ve ever seen to a bike attracting this kind of attention were the CSC Mustangs, and the Janus was even more of a magnet. Many folks thought the Janus motorcycles were restored vintage machines. We experienced this kind of attention at virtually every stop.

Look, I know you can buy a used (fill in the blanks here, keyboard commandos) for less than the cost of a new Janus. That’s missing the point entirely. I’m fairly confident that no one ever considered a used Sportster as an alternative to a Janus. Nope, this bike is for someone who wants something special, something different, something that is not made to appeal to the broadest possible market. I asked Devin if he and Richard Worsham (Janus’ other founding partner) did a market study before they introduced the bike. You can guess the answer. “No,” Devin answered. “We built the bike we wanted to build.”  So, if you’re a person who follows the crowd, this is not your motorcycle.  If you’re a person who makes your own decisions, though, then you’re in the zone here, folks.

About that $7K price: The keyboard commandos have said that’s too much for a 250. I don’t think so. Consider the BMW G 310 GS recently reviewed here on the ExNotes blog. That’s a 250-class bike made in India that goes for something north of $7K. Consider the Versys 300 Kawi. Same story there by the time you’re done screwing around with the typical dealer’s larcenous setup and freight charges. Yeah, there are other machines out there for less, most notably the CSC motorcycles with the same CG engine (the TT250 and the SG250). The CSC motorcycles are phenomenal motorcycles and their value is off the charts. They don’t have the look and the exclusivity of a Janus, though, and they are not made in America. Is that important? I’d say no, but a lot of people think otherwise to read their Internet forum comments (which they type, of course, on computers made in China).

Think about that for a second. Motorcycles made in America. Yeah, the Janus CG motor is Chinese. What’s your point? Nearly everything else is fabricated and assembled right here. Maybe it’s time for some of the naysayers and keyboard commandos to put their money where their mouths are. It’s not likely the strokesters would ever do that, but maybe it’s time they should.  Me? I think what the guys in Goshen are doing is amazing. You have two young guys with a vision and a great team building motorcycles in America.  Exquisite motorcycles with style and a unique character. Motorcycles that can take you through Baja and bring you back safely.  Motorcycles with a soul. A motorcycle with which you can form a bond.  What’s wrong with that?

Want to read the rest of the story?   Please visit our Baja page for an index to all of the Janus Baja blog posts!

Managing Expectations

Alta, a manufacturer of electric dirt bikes, very recently announced they are closing their doors.   Here’s the article I read on it:  Alta Motors Ceases Operations.  This is interesting on several levels.  Alta previously announced a strategic partnership with Harley-Davidson.  I thought this would figure into Harley’s Livewire project and help both companies enormously, but I guess that isn’t the case.  Last year, Alta lowered their prices substantially.  I thought this would  increase their sales, even though their prices were still high.  Alta had the electric dirt bike niche all to themselves, and this niche seemed to be more suited to an electric motorcycle’s range limitations.   Basically, motocross racing doesn’t require extended range, making Alta’s focus appear to be a well-thought-out strategy.   And finally, Alta had sold a large number of bikes, and they had orders for several hundred more (see the link above).

I guess, in the final analysis, it all comes down to profitability and cash reserves, and if you don’t have enough of either, you can’t keep going.  This makes Alta the second big US e-bike effort to flop (the first being the Brammo).

We are living in interesting times, and that is especially true with respect to the e-bike world.  The e-bike industry is simultaneously emerging and going through a shakeout.

I have been to the mountain. In this case, I did it on Slick. Slick isn’t the last e-bike that will emerge from Chongqing’s inner chambers; he’s only the first of many.

The CSC City Slicker, the newest player in this arena, is already playing a significant role.  The three big things Slick has going for it are its price, its quality (it’s world-class; see our earlier blog posts) and CSC’s well-earned reputation for customer service.  The biggest challenges for CSC and the City Slicker, I think, will be overcoming the US aversion to Chinese products, the ongoing uncertainties in the US/China trade relationship, and redefining customer expectations.

Overcoming US aversion to Chinese products is the least of these issues, and personally, I wouldn’t waste a single second attempting to do so. I think CSC and Zongshen put that issue to bed with the RX3 (it’s a world-class machine, with quality as good as or better than any motorcycle produced anywhere in the world).  To be blunt, anybody still singing songs about Chinese slave labor and low Chinese quality is too stupid and too ignorant to waste time listening to.  They won’t change their minds, so expending any effort attempting to convince them otherwise is an exercise in futility.  Hey, there are still people who think the earth is flat and that we faked the moon landing.  Best to forget about them, thank your lucky stars you aren’t that stupid, and move on.

I think the current uncertainties in the US/China trade relationship will sort themselves out within the next several months.   I think the tariff issue will either go away or have relatively insignificant effects, and I think much of what is going on now is posturing and positioning for a serious set of negotiations between our leaders.  Our trading relationship with China is, to borrow a phrase, too big to fail.

So we’re down to that last issue, redefining expectations, and that will be the biggest challenge for CSC and the electric motorcycle market.  There’s no question that CSC has a pricing advantage that is insurmountable, and I think when CSC announced the City Slicker it set a new reality in the US e-bike industry.  I think Alta realized that and that it might have played a role in their throwing in the towel.   I have to think that the folks at Zero are similarly eyeing the situation and ingesting huge amounts of Pepto-Bismol (and that’s using as charitable a phrase as I can think of).   You might argue that Alta and Zero have (or had) bigger motorcycles with different missions, but that would be as shortsighted and wrong as arguing that all Chinese goods are low quality or the earth is flat.  Yes, Zero motorcycles are bigger and have more capability, but that’s the world as it exists this instant.  The world does not stand still, my friends.   Do you think, even for one second, that the City Slicker is the only sensibly-priced e-bike that will emerge from Chongqing?  Do you think that future e-bikes from China will be small and have the same limitations as do today’s e-bikes?   I have been to the mountain, folks.  The answer is no.

A street scene in Beijing. You might see 50 e-bikes for every gas-powered scooter over there. It’s a tsunami, and it’s coming this way, folks.

But I digress:  Back to this expectations thing.   The City Slicker is not a bike that you can hop on and ride 2000 miles through Baja with a few stops for gas (or topping off the battery).  The range is limited to something like 40 to 60 miles today, depending on how fast you want to go.   The challenge here is to reach customers willing to use their City Slickers like their iPhones…something you plug in and top off whenever you have a chance.  That’s a different market than folks who buy internal combustion bikes.  But it’s potentially a huge market, as I saw firsthand in China where zillions of e-bikes were tethered to extension cords in front of every business on every city street.   More on this expectations thing:  CSC recently announced the price for a replacement Slick battery, and I think it’s about $1100.  Some of the keyboard commandos were choking on that number.  Hey, go price a replacement Zero battery.   You could buy three brand new City Slickers for what a Zero battery costs.   Like I said earlier, the challenge is going to be redefining expectations.  Are we up for it and will CSC market the City Slicker (and the Chinese e-bikes that will inevitably follow) in a manner that emphasizes this new reality?

Time will tell, but I know where I’d put my money.