Motorcycle Adventure Ride – Page 11

Life as a Digital Nomad: Peru Part 3 (Lake Titicaca)

By Mike Huber

No trip to Peru can be complete without a journey to Lake Titicaca. It is the largest alpine lake on the planet at an elevation of 12,500 feet, and the lifestyle of those who live on the lake is beyond fascinating. This huge lake is nestled in a giant basin between two of the Andean mountain ranges and extends across the border to Bolivia. And yes, it has a funny name. There was no way I was going to miss this place even though it was quite a distance from my home base in Cusco.

Having planned to use all my vacation time while in Peru, it wasn’t too difficult to load up on my work early in the week and take a four-day weekend to knock out Lake Titicaca (did I mention it has a funny name?). Allowing four days would provide me with enough time to take a leisurely tour bus to this region of Peru, get some hikes and tourist attractions in along the way, and then return on an overnight bus on Sunday. This would assure (hopefully) that I would make it to work on time Monday morning. Instilling project management principles usually results in a successful outcome. To me the planning of a project or a vacation followed the same rigid processes. Of course, the vacation ones always had a few surprises along the way that I would have to adjust to, but that’s part of the fun.

The bus ride was filled with incredible beauty with stops at local markets and panoramic mountain views that had me saying to myself “wow, I am in the Andes!” over and over again. Out of all the bus rides I’d been on, this was by far the most pleasant. I was used to the altitude, there were no Kirk Cameron movies, and I had made a special tea to enhance the ride (PM me for details on that, but it will probably bleed into another article). The entire ride was an extremely joyful 8 hours where I had an opportunity to meet two wonderful girls from Japan (we are still friends to this day).

Feeling beyond happy but tired, we finally pulled into the lakeside city of Pulmo, Peru. This first day here would be relaxing and adjusting to the world I had just entered. There was a giant golden condor statue on a steep hill above the city, which provided a sense of calm. There was a large market that made for great people watching while having some coca tea and even a coca beer. The beer was like a prehistoric provided a buzz and amp at the same time. It almost reminded me of my Jager bomb days in Boston. Thankfully for the people of Pulmo I didn’t take it that far.

The next day I joined a boat tour that took us to many of the man-made islands. These islands were floating and made of dried totora, a type of papyrus the local population harvested from the lake marshes. The people are known as the Ura. The islands are fairly large, some of them over an acre or more in size. There were stores, restaurants, and cafes on some of the islands.

The islands were surprisingly stable and didn’t rock as we stepped onto them. When talking to one of the Ura (and speaking as well as I could in Spanish), I asked how they made the islands once they gathered the papyrus. It was a constant cycle of drying the papyrus, bundling them, and tying them to the upper part of the island. He showed me a hole cut into the center of one of the islands. It looked like a hole you would ice fish through and it was about 3 feet wide. The hole was large enough to see the bottom reeds starting to decay and back into the water. It was a constant process to keep their “land” from being swallowed by the lake. Many of the Ura, not much more than a mile offshore, hardly ever returned to the mainland shores of Pulmo. They much preferred their isolated yet tightly knit community on the lake where life was simple.

The city of Pulmo was so different from both the Amazon jungle and where I lived in Cusco. The more I explored Peru the more diverse and mystical it became. Sunday was a relaxing day with more coca beer and local foods with my new Japanese friends.

As the sun began to set it was time to find my way back to the bus depot and board the redeye that would return me to Cusco. It didn’t take too long for me to peacefully fall asleep on the bus. I didn’t wake up until the bus entered Cusco. It was a short taxi ride to my home and just in time to lead my first conference call of the day. Still bleary-eyed and having a buzz from the weekend (and the coca beer) my workday progressed as though the trip was just a dream. It was an adventure I wanted to share with my co-workers, but they wouldn’t understand as they were still under the assumption I was living in my condo in Boston. Throughout the day I wondered if and when I would ever return to Boston.

The Long Haul: Riding a Motorcycle All The Way

By Joe Gresh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another mileage story? You bet!

Hanford National Historic Park

By Rob Morel

Joe Gresh’s Oppenheimer review reminded me of going to the Hanford National Historic Park up here in Washington along the Columbia River in the years before Covid. A lot of things have changed with Covid, and the tours offered by the US Park Service at the Hanford site. This article is about the Hanford site, the tours Hanford offered before Covid, the tours currently being offered, and the photos I collected during previous visits.

Hanford is a place with a story. Hanford was the world’s first nuclear production facility, it was designed to produce plutonium for use in nuclear weapons, and it did. Plutonium produced here was used for testing at the Trinity Site in New Mexico during World War II and in the Fat Man bomb dropped on Nagasaki. The Hanford plant was built along the Columbia River because the reactors used Columbia River water for cooling. I’ve been told that Hanford was the biggest and most expensive construction site in the US. The place covers just under 600 acres.

The air-conditioned bus that Hanford provides for getting around the site.

Hanford produced plutonium for several years after World War II. The result was a set of serious issues with radioactive waste and contamination. Cleanup efforts are still ongoing, and are part of the Hanford tour.

Before Covid, there were three tours available during the summer. Today, there are two. It’s best to check with the Hanford site before visiting to find out what is available for any planned visit.

Tour 1: The Full Meal Deal

A tour Hanford used to offer included everything (that’s why I call it the Full Meal Deal). This tour required registering online in advance, and I found I had to do so as soon the registration page started accepting reservations. The tour slots filled up quickly for the entire summer. When I last signed up, the government ran a background check on me ahead of time to make sure I was not a bad guy.

The Full Meal Deal tour started in the morning and went most of the day. It included seeing the B Reactor (where the Nagasaki bomb plutonium was created), cleanup work that involved filtering underground water, and the vitrification plant being built to turn the highly radioactive sludge in the 1940s storage tanks into glass. The vitrification process involves melting sand and mixing it with the radioactive waste to make it into a solid form. This solid form can then be buried without fear of it leaching out into the water table.

The Full Meal Deal tour includes a visit to the environmental restoration disposal waste facility. It is a covered, city-block-sized dump pit used for low level radioactive building materials, equipment, machinery, and other nasty stuff. The pit is lined with a barrier clay that absorbs radiation. Pumps remove any rain water that seeps into the covered materials. Hanford buries a level of radiated items across the bottom of the pit and then they cover it. That’s followed by burying more on top of the previous layer and covering that. This will continue until they fill the pits. When the pits approach their capacity, Hanford plans to take any equipment used to haul the debris and bury it, too. When the pit is completely full, Hanford will to cover it. It will look like the surrounding desert when they are done.

Tour 2: The B Reactor Tour

The B reactor tour includes (as the name implies) the B reactor, and I believe this tour is still offered. It provides a close up look at the reactor that made the Nagasaki bomb plutonium. As the name implies, it only includes the B Reactor. You can stay longer at the B Reactor than the Full Meal Deal tour above allowed, and Hanford opens up more of the building to explore. There are some places in the building you cannot go. The off-limits area includes where the fuel rods were pushed out of the back of the reactor (after which they fell into a water tank, cooled, and were then transported by rail to a building that processed them into plutonium).

There were nine reactors built at Hanford. Of these, seven were cocooned in concrete to contain radioactivity and cool to safe levels. By 1987 they were all shut down. None are operational today.

I didn’t get any photos other than the B Reactor. If I remember right, there were no cell phones or cameras allowed on the Full Meal Deal tour for security purposes. But I took photos of the B Reactor, as you can see below.

Hanford’s historic B Reactor. This reactor produced the plutonium used at Nagasaki.

Entering the belly of the beast: The Hanford B Reactor where spent nuclear fuel cells provided plutonium for the Nagasaki bomb.

A model of the nuclear reactor showing the cooling and beryllium rods used to control the reaction.

The actual reactor, with cooling pipes on each side that used Columbia River water to cool the core.

The water plumbing. Some valves are taken apart. That satisfies the Russians that the Reactor is non-operational. This is a part of the nuclear arms agreement. The Russians actually inspect the reactor to verify it is shut down. We do the same for their reactors.

A signature. Was this a previous worker at Hanford?

A clock that shows when the plant was shut down.

A control center for watching core power and temperature.

There were no computers in Hanford back in the 1940s.

Another view of some of the reactor controls and monitors.

The train used to transport highly radioactive highly radioactive depleted fuel rods for further processing into plutonium.

Beryllium balls used for controlling the nuclear reaction.

Massive amounts of air were needed for ventilation.

Personal Protective Equipment. Hanford was not a typical office job.

Tour 3: The Old Hanford Town Site Pre-War Tour

In my opinion, there’s not much to see on this tour. There’s a farming area where the previous inhabitants were told to leave at the start of the Manhattan Project. There is what’s left of the old concrete high school. The tour guide explained that someday Hanford hopes to restore it. You can see the old roads that went through the town and where the ferry crossed. The history the guide presented made it worthwhile.

Another Option

You can go to www.vtours.hanford.gov and take a virtual tour if you’re not able to go in person.

The Bottom Line

Look online (Hanford National Historic Park) for more info. I don’t think they are doing the Full Meal Deal tours since Covid (other than online virtual tours). Hanford is offering the B Reactor and Old Hanford tours the last time I checked (on a first come, first served basis).

I recommend a visit to the Hanford site, either in person or the virtual tour. The Hanford National Historic Park reveals a world that few of us have ever seen. It is an important part of our history.

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GRIN Times In Datil, New Mexico

By Joe Gresh

Among the many crazy conspiracy theories masquerading as knowledge today are the Walmart tunnels. These tunnels supposedly crisscross the nation for the usual nefarious reasons: FEMA camps, New World Order population control and extraterrestrial alien smuggling (to steal your jobs and women). When you stop to think about it, this whole insane, Walmart-tunnel thing is no wackier for Datil than the nearby Very Large Array radio-astronomy telescope.

The VLA was used in a movie about the search for alien radio transmissions. Or was it just a movie? If that doesn’t fire up our odd American mix of gullible/skeptical idiocy nothing will. Like all good conspiracy theories there is a grain of truth to the Walmart-tunnel thing that feeds the plot. New Mexico is full of old mining tunnels so if you look hard enough you’ll find one. Just not the ones owned by Walmart. Those ones are top secret.

Naturally with all the weirdness going on near Datil, GRIN chose to hold its Guzzi motorcycle rally directly over a tunnel leading to Lake Como in Italy. I could hear the water rushing through the tunnels if I put my ear to a Quattro valvole rocker cover.

Finding Moto Guzzis in New Mexico is much harder than finding Walmart tunnels. I can’t recall seeing one on the road or parked up at a Starbucks. My buddy Robert rode his 850 Guzzi out to New Mexico one time but that doesn’t count. Guzzis aren’t super popular anywhere so a rally with 25-ish bikes is something to see. I forgot to add that GRIN stands for Guzzi Riders In New Mexico, the club that put on the show and rally.

Datil consists of an expensive gas station, a motel, a campground and a pretty good restaurant. I’m not sure you could call it a town, it’s more of a traveler’s rest. Behind the motel and gas station you’ll find the campground, and this is where the wrong-way, Italian V-Twins were situated.

The gang of Gizzard riders was an easygoing bunch. It took no time at all before I felt like one of the boys and damned if I didn’t start wanting one of these goofy motorcycles. An unusually high number of rally attendees told me that they had once owned a Kawasaki ZRX like the one I rode to the event. I did 410 miles round trip but there were riders from Texas and Colorado who had traveled much further.

I’m a sucker for high pipes on a street bike so this Scrambler was my favorite of the bunch. Later in the day we went to the Datil restaurant and had a good lunch that totally blew my diet. I had the southwest turkey sandwich and it was smothered in Hatch green chili.

GRIN hosted several dinners for the 3-day rally and there was a Guzzi bike show. Attendees judged the bikes in a people’s choice sort of deal. It was kind of hard to see the entry numbers that were on tiny round stickers applied the Guzzi headlight glass. I didn’t get to vote because I wasn’t actually a member of GRIN. I feel this should invalidate the whole election process and make GRIN a dictatorship.

Late in the afternoon I had to head back to the ranch as I don’t like riding at night. My night vision is much improved since I had cataract surgery but an elk running across the road in front of your 70mph motorcycle takes a lot of seeing.

The seasons are slowly changing here in New Mexico, so it wasn’t unbearably hot on the ride home. Cool, dry air on top of the higher passes made me worry less as the sun set behind me. I pulled into the ranch in full darkness with the ZRX running on all four cylinders. It was like riding in a tunnel.

Cayucos, Hearst Castle, and the Wine Country

California’s Pacific Coast Highway is one of the best motorcycle roads on the planet, and I never miss an opportunity to travel it. One of my favorite destinations on the Pacific Coast Highway is Hearst Castle. We’ve written about it previously here on ExNotes.

As the title of this blog implies, base camp was in Cayucos, California, instead of Cambria (more on that below). And from a photography perspective, instead of lugging around my boat-anchor, full-frame Nikon D810, I took the smaller and lighter Nikon D3300 with a “walking around” 18-55mm lens and a Rokinon 8mm (a super wide angle). I’ve been using that combination more and more lately.

The Rokinon 8mm super wide angle lens. Manual everything, it’s fun to use and it does a surprisingly good job.

There’s not much in San Simeon, so people who visit Hearst Castle usually stay in Cambria. We stayed a stone’s throw away from Cambria in Cayucos, which is just north of Morro Bay.

Most folks who visit Hearst Castle stay in Cambria, a touristy, kitschy spot just down the road from San Simeon (the Hearst Castle location). This time we tried Cayucos, a tiny town that’s a bit further south down the Pacific Coast Highway. It’s friendlier, less expensive, and for my money, a lot nicer and more enjoyable than Cambria. Sue and I stayed in the Sunset Inn, a bed and breakfast in Cayucos. If you’re in Cayucos, the Ludano restaurant is the place for dinner (William Randolph Hearst was a regular here while building Hearst Castle). For a more casual Cayucos dining experience, Duckie’s (near the Cayucos Pier) is an awesome walkup seafood restaurant (try the fish and chips; they were great).

Hearst Castle, as seen through the Rokinon 8mm super wide.

The Neptune swimming pool at Hearst Castle.

One of the Hearst Castle’s guest bedrooms.

The Rokinon lens is strictly a manual affair. It doesn’t autofocus and it doesn’t work with the camera’s automatic metering features. It’s manual everything…focus, f stop, ISO, and shutter speed. The focus part was easy…I simply cranked the focus ring all the way over to infinity (with a wide-angle lens, that works). For ISO, shutter speed, and f stop, I used the camera’s histogram. Shoot, check the histogram, adjust, shoot again, check the histogram, adjust, and keep going until things are just right. Too dark, and I adjusted the shutter speed, the f stop, and the ISO until the histogram showed everything between the histogram upper and lower limits. Too light, and I made adjustments in the opposite direction. For the money, the Rokinon lens is a lot of fun, and I like the effects I get with a wide -angle lens. Some folks don’t. That’s okay. It’s my gear and these are my photos.

As mentioned earlier, I also used the Nikon 18-55mm lens on this trip. It’s not the sharpest lens but that’s okay. I’m not the sharpest matzoh in the box, either, and a matching lens fits me well. When I shoot in RAW (the camera’s capture everything, sort-it-out-later-in-Photoshop mode), the 18-55mm lens works surprisingly well, like in the photo at the top of this blog. It’s a shot of the Cayucos Pier, in which I did a little bit of post-processing to darken the sky and the water. I’m pleased with the results.

While we walked the pier, we talked to folks who were fishing from it. The fishing was good: Halibut, perch, and one fellow had landed a 4-foot shark earlier in the day (I wish I had been there when that happened; that would have been a hell of a picture).

The Nikon D3300 digital single lens reflex camera and the 18-55mm zoom lens that comes with the camera. It’s not a super sharp lens, but it’s not super expensive, either.

I took the photo below with the 18-55mm lens just a few miles up the Pacific Coast Highway. These are elephant seals and I liked how this photo turned out, too.

One of several elephant seal vista points along California’s magnificent Pacific Coast Highway. The two in the water was grunting loudly at each other in a domination contest. These seals can weigh up to 5,000 pounds.

You know, the discussions about lenses, cameras, and photography can go on endlessly. Sometimes all you need is a cell phone. I was blown away by the photos Joe Gresh grabbed when he recently visited Laguna Seca after riding his Kawasaki ZRX from New Mexico. Joe shot all of those with his iPhone, which is a much easier way to go on a motorcycle. When I travel with a digital single lens reflex camera on a motorcycle, the camera and a couple of lenses steal a lot of saddlebag space. There’s advantages and disadvantages to everything, I guess.

Old Creek Road out of Cayucos is a fun ride.

Riding the Pacific Coast Highway is a bucket list ride, and if you get an opportunity to do so, you should grab it. The area I’m describing in this blog is roughly halfway between San Francisco and Los Angeles. The Pacific Coast Highway is currently closed around Gordo (well north of San Simeon), but that still leaves a lot of nice riding on the table. One of the best rides is Old Creek Road northeast out of Cayucos. It’s a lightly traveled and grand road, full of twisties, and it cuts through the California wine country to link up with State Route 46 (another fine road through the wine country). A few miles further east, 46 intersects Highway 41, and that’s where James Dean lost his life in a car accident (there’s a sign marking the spot). There are a lot of interesting things and a lot of interesting roads in California.

More Epic Rides are here!

Nick Adams

By Joe Berk

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

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

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

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Everyone but me…

By Joe Berk

It seems I am the only one of your ExNotes writers not on the road. Joe Gresh rode his resurrected Kawasaki ZRX to Laguna Seca (where he is camping and spectating this weekend), Bobbie Surber rode her Triumph Tiger up to Canada for a Horizons Unlimited event, and Mike Huber is rolling around the Pacific Northwest on his recently repaired BMW GS (presumably headed for the same event as Bobbie in Canada). I need to get out on my Enfield. Soon, my friends, soon.

Me? I’m home, continuing to play with things that go bang. That big photo up above? It’s a Ruger No. 1 in .257 Weatherby, with the best piece of wood I’ve ever seen. Keep an eye on the ExNotes blog; we’ll have a story on how my .257 Roy No. 1 came to wear such exquisite lumber.

Stay tuned; there’s good scribblings coming from all of us.

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Volcan Nevado del Ruiz

By Joe Berk

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Volcanic ash on my beautiful black AKT motorcycle.

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

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

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

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

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

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A Triumphant Change from my BMW

By Mike Huber

The 4^th of July is a perfect time to tell my riding story from this weekend spending two days riding a British motorcycle. This was a 180 from my usual chant this time of year of “Screw the British,” but my BMW GS1200 happened to be in the shop for another week waiting parts from Germany so getting on any bike for a weekend was just what my soul needed. My girlfriend allowed me the honor of taking her 2023 Triumph Tiger 900 GT Pro out to tear up 200 miles of Route 299 through northern California. Along this stretch of highway, it is more important than ever to be alert as it is Sasquatch Country.

I was excited to ride this portion of northern California but didn’t expect to be that impressed with the Triumph. Previously having test rode several Triumphs I was familiar with them. They are wonderful machines but they never really spoke to me or my riding style, so I steered towards Ducati or BMW. However, one of my favorite guitar players, Billy Duffy (from the band The Cult) is a HUGE Triumph rider. I had the pleasure of meeting him last November and being semi star struck. All I could mutter was “I am sorry I ride a BMW GS, but my girlfriend rides a Triumph, and oh yeah…you’re an incredible guitarist.” I guess there have been worse encounters with celebrities than that. He high fived me, we shook hands, and we had a laugh over my awkwardness (more him than myself I am sure). Anyway, back to the Triumph Tiger and Sasquatch hunting along Route 299.

This bike is fast. It doesn’t hesitate to go once you twist that throttle, and the acceleration is smooth. Coming from a background where torque is king it was almost a relief to not have to worry about your front wheel leaving the earth every time you go to pass someone, although I have always felt wheelieing by cars as you pass them is just…. Well, it’s cool.

The Tiger is 60 pounds lighter than my BMW GS1200, and the weight is distributed much lower. This makes it extremely easy to just throw into turns, which I did numerous times along Route 299. There are no longer chicken strips on the tires. The Tiger is also much easier to maneuver due to this, which is helpful in sand, difficult terrain, or having to move it 8 feet into a different parking spot.

Changing modes on the BMW when switching from on road to offroad modes you simply hit the button and shift gears. With the Tiger you need to stop the bike, place it in neutral and switch modes. This is a minor complaint I understand, but I was in the heart of sasquatch country and any delay could result in serious injury or death by being mauled by one of these magnificent beasts.

For some reason Triumph didn’t add a steering damper, or weights on the handlebars ends. This can at times cause a wobble at high speeds and it is not a wind friendly design. When bringing this up to the Triumph dealer they stated it wasn’t supposed to go over 85 MPH with a full load and he asked how fast I was riding it. Without divulging the answer in this write up I will say he raised his hands and walked away at my answer (this happens frequently with me when I am too honest).

Overall, I am much more impressed with this motorcycle now than I was previously. It was a breathtaking 200-mile ride in northern California as the road snaked along the Trinity River and in Six Rivers National Forest. The twisties were a blast and by simply clicking down two gears I was able to rocket past slower vehicles with no problem and put any threats far in my rearview mirror (to include Sasquatch). Speaking of which, we didn’t see any Sasquatch along this route. I swore I could smell them as I dropped into Humboldt County but I suppose that could have just been the marijuana cultivation.

Disclaimer- I moved the Triumph to the other side of the Starbucks parking lot as soon as I saw several GS riders pull up.

Highway 50: The Loneliest Road in America

By Bobbie Surber

Embarking on a motorcycle trip from Arizona to British Columbia I set two goals for myself: to visit as many national parks as possible and to explore remote and intriguing roads. During my pursuit of the latter that I stumbled upon Highway 50, also known as the “Loneliest Road in America.” It offered the bonus of passing through the Great Basin National Park.

Like any good planner, I turned to social media for advice on surviving this desolate route (add in a touch of sarcasm). The responses I received were mostly negative, with warnings about the challenges of riding alone, extreme heat, lack of gas stations, and overall boredom. However, a few seasoned riders who were familiar with the road reassured me that not only would I survive, but I would also have the opportunity to earn a certificate attesting to my survival. With this mixed bag of feedback, I embarked on my journey, eager to uncover the truth about the Loneliest Road.

Highway 50, stretching from West Sacramento, California, to Ocean City, Maryland, is a scenic route that earned its moniker from a 1986 Life magazine article that described it as desolate and isolated. The section of Highway 50 referred to as the Loneliest Road is in Nevada. This road winds through vast stretches of remote desert landscapes, featuring rugged mountains and expansive plains that contribute to its reputation.

Traveling along the Loneliest Road offers a unique experience, characterized by long stretches between services. It is essential for travelers to come well-prepared, as gas stations, restaurants, and accommodations are few. Adequate fuel, extra food and water supplies, and an acute awareness of weather conditions, particularly during extreme heat or summer and winter storms, are crucial.

Despite its reputation for solitude, the Loneliest Road in America showcases stunning natural beauty, allowing travelers to immerse themselves in the vastness of the American West. Along the route, one can encounter remarkable attractions such as the Great Basin National Park, Lehman Caves, and several ghost towns. These highlights offer a glimpse into the unique charm and allure of this road less traveled.

Let’s dive into my own epic experience along this renowned route.

My journey began when I left my home in Sedona, AZ, riding my trusty Triumph Tiger 900 GT Pro, affectionately nicknamed “Tippi,” as she likes to take what I call unscheduled naps tipping over often at inconvenient locations. Loaded with gear for a summer of adventure, I set off on a bright June Sunday morning, spending five days exploring North Grand Canyon, Zion, Bryce Canyon, and the captivating Highway 12, before spending two nights in Capitol Reef.

Leaving Capitol Reef, I eagerly anticipated joining the long-awaited Highway 50, where it intersected Interstate 15 in Utah. Initially, the road meandered through open plains with scattered ranches along the way, offering nothing too remarkable. However, about an hour later, the ride became more intriguing as the winds picked up. As I glanced ahead, an ominous sky threatened an impending storm. Riding past sand and salt fields, I witnessed a bewildering phenomenon—the salt in the fields seemed to defy the wind, rising straight up in vertical columns rather than blowing or swirling. Bracing myself against the wind’s force, I pulled over to capture this puzzling sight but struggled to capture it adequately, settling for a short video clip as proof of my encounter.

Continuing across more plains, I found myself nearing the turnoff to Baker and the Great Basin National Park, my intended destination for two nights of camping and sightseeing. As I gazed at the mountain, I found an angry and ominous sky with snow-covered peaks that seemed to dare me to face the challenges of reaching its 7700-foot elevation to my destination at Upper Lehman Campground. Rain and lightning accompanied me as I rode into the tiny town of Baker, where I hastily stopped at the Visitor Center to check the weather report and determine how cold it would get during the night. Assured of temperatures above freezing, I pressed onward, rewarded with an epic campsite at Great Basin. Nestled alongside the rushing Lehman River, my campsite offered complete privacy, and I reveled in the wonders of the park over the next two rain-filled days and nights. The Lehman Cave tour was an unforgettable highlight not to be missed. As an avid hiker I loved that I was able to experience an epic 7-mile round trip hike along the mountain following ever upwards along the Lehman River complete with snow covered meadows and towering views of the mountain summit.

During my stay in Baker, Nevada, I discovered two places that I highly recommend. The first is the 489 Grill and Whispering Elms Motel and RV Park, which boasts a bar, RV and tent camping facilities, firewood, and the best burger I have ever tasted. Trust me when I say this is a significant claim, as I am a true burger aficionado. The food is not the only remarkable aspect; the owner and staff are incredibly hospitable, making your visit all the more enjoyable. The second recommendation is the Bristlecone General Store, a quaint establishment offering unique local gifts, an unexpectedly diverse selection of food options given its small size, and a coffee bar serving locally roasted beans by a blind roaster with an extraordinary sense of smell, resulting in a delightful brew devoid of the bitterness found in commercial beans. Among the store’s charms, one staff member named Rachel stood out for her warmth, hospitality, and willingness to share insights about Baker and local hidden gems. I was informed that Sandra’s Food Truck serves excellent and affordable Mexican cuisine—an experience I now eagerly anticipate for my future visits.

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

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

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

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

Determined to soldier on, I pushed forward to Carson City, Nevada, before ascending the switchbacks and descending towards Lake Tahoe. The ride and the stunning view of the lake were awe-inspiring. I completed the remaining portion of my day’s journey with ease, covering over 400 miles. A warm hotel bed awaited me after seven nights of camping, and I eagerly anticipated reuniting with my boyfriend, Mike Huber, a fellow adventure rider who also happens to be a badass. I recommend checking out his posts on ExhaustNotes for a combination of insightful rides and outrageous travel stories.

In conclusion, my time on the Loneliest Road in America was an unforgettable experience. Despite the dire warnings I received, I found this historic stretch of highway to be well worth the ride. Contrary to popular belief, there are plenty of services available along the route, and the road itself is intermittently adorned with scenic mountain passes. The friendly locals and the sense of freedom that permeates this lightly traveled road are rare treasures that I seldom encounter. If you’re seeking a unique journey through the American West, I wholeheartedly recommend venturing onto the Loneliest Road in America.