Stop what you’re doing. Get off the Internet (and for sure, get off Facebook and the other moronic “social media” time wasters). Start planning a trip to Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania. You need to see Bill’s Old Bike Barn. The riding is fabulous in rural Pennsylvania and with Bill’s as a destination, the ride is even better. You can thank me now or you can thank me later, but you will thank me.
Any motorcycle museum that includes in its directions “turn where you see the dinosaurs” should grab your attention. In the case of Bill’s Old Bike Barn, your undivided attention is warranted. To say I was blown away would be an understatement of immense proportions. To cut to the chase, I’ve never seen anything like Bill’s, and I know for damn sure I’ve never met a man like Bill. That’s Bill artistically framed by Milwaukee iron in the photo above, and yeah, I shot that picture. I’m proud of it. It hints at the dimensions of the man and what he’s created out there in Pennsylvania.
During our interview I asked Bill his last name and he told me: Morris, just like the cigarettes. I didn’t get it until later, and then I couldn’t stop laughing. If you don’t get it immediately, you will. Bill has that kind of slingshot wit. I love the guy and his collection. You will, too.
Above all else, Bill is two things: A collector, and a people person. The extent if his collection…well, I can’t describe it. You need to see it. You’ll get just a hint here in the ExNotes series of blogs we’re doing. When you visit the place, you’ll feel like you owe me. When you meet Bill, you’ll know you’ve made a friend. A most interesting friend.
Up above, that’s the building that houses Bill’s collection. You can’t really see it from the highway. You have to look for the dinosaurs (just like the directions say), turn, and then head uphill. You’ll go by the bison, some other cool items, and more. The building looks deceptively small from the outside. Inside…you could spend weeks and not see all of what’s in there.
You can learn about Bill’s Old Bike Barn on his website, but we’re going to give you more here on ExNotes. We’re going to do it over the span of several blogs over the next few weeks, and in an upcoming article in a major moto mag. Ever watched and enjoyed American Pickers? Trust me on this (and trust me on everything else, for that matter): Bill Morris puts American Pickers to shame. You and I have never seen anything like what’s in Bill’s Old Bike Barn.
I’m excited about what I’ve seen and what I’m going to be sharing with you. I’ll do my best to bring it to life in print and in the photos, but it won’t be enough. You really need to visit Bill’s Old Bike Barn.
Other than good buddy Arjiu (that would be Joe Gresh), I’m guessing most of you have never been to Chongqing. Chongqing is home to China’s motorcycle industry and it was the starting point for your two blogmeisters’ putt across the Ancient Kingdom. I enjoyed that ride enormously. Gresh and I had some fantastic times.
I first visited Chongqing and Zongshen as a consultant to CSC when we used Zongshen’s 250cc engine in our Mustang replicas. One thing led to another, and before too long CSC was Zongshen’s exclusive North American importer, and CSC introduced the RX3 to the US. I was blown away by Chongqing, the people, the size of the city, the photo ops, the cuisine, and more. I’ve been there many times and I’d go back again in a heartbeat.
Good buddy Fan shared this video a few days ago, and I knew I had to share it on the blog. Pro tip: Hit the little button on the bottom right of the video (after you start it) to view it full screen. It’s impressive.
You can be a China hater all you want. I know more than a few people over there I call my friends. Yeah, the world is going through some shaky times right now, but that’s not the Chinese people and it’s for sure not the guys I know. I like the place.
If you want to know more about our trip across China, pick up a copy of Riding China. There’s a link here on the blog. And take a look at our Epic Rides page, where we have links to posts about that ride.
I’ve ridden motorcycles through Baja probably 30 times or more over the last 30 years, and it’s unquestionably the best place to ride a motorcycle I’ve ever experienced. Many people are afraid to venture into the peninsula for fear of a breakdown. Hey, it happens, but it’s not the end of the world and it doesn’t happen often. They don’t call it adventure riding because it’s like calling for an Uber.
Not all “breakdowns” result in your motorcycle being nonoperational. Some are just mere annoyances and you truck on. A few breakdowns result in the bike not running, but there are usually ways to get around that. When it happens, you improvise, adapt, and overcome. Here are a few of mine.
Heritage Indeed
The first time I had a motorcycle act up was on my beloved ’92 Harley Softail. It started clanging and banging and bucking and snorting somewhere around Ensenada. I was headed south with my good buddy Paul from New Jersey. It was obvious something wasn’t right and we turned around to head back to the US. The Harley got me home, but I could tell: Something major had happened. The bike was making quite a bit of noise. I had put about 300 miles on it by the time I rode it back from Mexico.
A roller lifter that converted to a solid lifter.
One of the Harley’s roller lifters stopped rolling, and that turned it into a solid lifter. And when that happened, the little wheel that was supposed to rotate along the cam profile started wearing a path through the cam. And when that happened, the metal filings migrated their way to the oil pump. And when that happened….well, you get the idea. My 80-cubic-inch V-Twin Evo motor decided to call it quits after roughly 53,000 miles. It happens I guess. Nothing lasts forever.
Potato, potato, potato.
Here’s where it started to get really interesting. My local Harley dealer wouldn’t touch the bike. See, this was around 2005 or so, and it seems my Harley was over 10 years old. Bet you didn’t know this: Many Harley dealers (maybe most of them) won’t work on a bike over 10 years old. The service manager at my dealer explained this to me and I was dumbfounded. “What about all the history and heritage and nostalgia baloney you guys peddle?” I asked. The answer was a weak smile. “I remember an ad with a baby in Harley T-shirt and the caption When did it start for you?” I said. Another weak smile.
An S&S engine in my ’92 Softail. It let me ride a slow bike fast.
I was getting nowhere fast. I tried calling a couple of other Harley dealers and it was the same story. Over 10 years old, dealers won’t touch it. I was flabbergasted. I tried as hard as I could, but there was no getting around it…the Harley dealer would not work on my engine. It was over 10 years old. That’s that; rules is rules. For a company that based their entire advertising program on longevity and heritage, I thought it was outrageous. A friend suggested I go to an independent shop. “It’s why they exist,” he said. So I did.
So, I went with Plan B. I took the Harley to a local independent shop, and they were more than happy to work on my bike. I could have the Harley engine completely rebuilt (which it needed, because those metal bits had migrated everywhere), or I could have it rebuilt with an S&S motor. I went with the S&S motor (the cost was the same as rebuilding the Harley engine), doubling the horsepower, halving the rear tire life, and cutting my fuel economy from 42 to 33 mpg.
Justin’s Countershaft Sprocket
On the very first CSC Baja trip, I was nervous as hell. The CSC bikes had received a lot of press and the word was out: CSC was importing the real deal, a genuine adventure touring motorcycle for about one sixth of what a GS 1200 BMW sold for in those days. The naysayers and keyboard commandos were out in force, badmouthing the Chinese RX3 in ways that demonstrated unbridled ignorance and no small amount of bias. And here we were, taking 14 or 15 guys (and one gal) who had bought new RX3 motorcycles that had literally arrived in the US just a few days before our departure. There was one thought in my mind as we headed south from Azusa that morning: What was I thinking? If the bikes started falling out on this first trip, it would probably kill the RX3 in America.
Hey, it worked. Adapt, overcome, improvise. The adventure doesn’t start until something goes wrong.
I need not have worried. None of the engines failed. We had a few headlights go out, but that’s not really a breakdown. And then, when we were about halfway down the Baja peninsula, I took a smaller group of riders to see the cave paintings at Sierra San Francisco. That trip involved a 140-mile round trip from Guerrero Negro into the boonies, with maybe 20 miles of that on a very gnarly dirt road. As we were returning, good buddy Justin’s RX3 lost its countershaft sprocket. We found it and Justin did a good enough MacGuyver job securing it to the transmission output shaft to get us back to Guerrero Negro, but finding a replacement was a challenge. We finally paid a machinist at the Mitsubishi salt mining company to make a custom nut, and that got us home.
On every Baja trip after that, I took a spare countershaft sprocket nut, but I never needed any of them after that one incident on Justin’s bike. Good buddy Duane had a similar failure, but that was on a local ride and it was easily rectified.
Jim’s Gearbox
Four or five Baja trips later, after we had ridden all the way down to Mulege and back up to the border, good buddy Jim’s transmission wouldn’t shift.
Good buddy Jim in the Mulege mission.
That’s the only breakdown I ever experienced anywhere on an RX3 that wouldn’t get us home, and that includes multiple multi-bike Baja trips, the multi-bike 5000-mile Western America adventure ride, the multi-bike 6000-mile ride across China, the 3000-mile circumnavigation around the Andes Mountains in Colombia, and quite a few CSC local company rides. One of the guys on that Baja ride lived in the San Diego area and he owned a pickup truck, so he took the bike back up to Azusa for us.
Biting the Bullet
A couple of years ago Joe Gresh and I did a Baja road test with Royal Enfield press bikes. One was the new 650 Interceptor twin (a bike I liked so much I bought one when I got home); the other was a 500 Bullet. The Bullet was a disaster, but it really wasn’t the bike’s fault. The dealer who maintained the press fleet for Royal Enfield (I won’t mention them by name, but they’re in Glendale and they’re known for their Italian bikes) did a half-assed job maintaining the bike. Actually, that’s not fair to people who do half-assed work (and Lord knows there a lot of them). No, the maintenance on this bike was about one-tenth-assed. It was very low on oil, it had almost no gas in it, the chain was loose and rusty, and on and on the writeup could go. The bike kept stalling and missing, and it finally gave up the ghost for good at the Pemex station just north of Guerrero Negro.
Joe Gresh, inflight missile mechanic extraordinaire, getting intimate with the Bullet in Baja. “The Bullet needs me,” he said.
Fortunately for me, Gresh had one of those portable battery thingamabobbers (you know, the deals that are good for about 10 battery jumps) and it allowed us to start the bike. We bought a new battery that didn’t quite fit the bike in Guerrero Negro (big hammers solve a lot of problems), but the entire episode left a bad taste in my mouth for the Bullet and for the Glendale Ducatimeister.
Big hammers fix all kinds of problems.
That bike had other problems as well. The kickstand run switch failed on the ride home, and Gresh did an inflight missile mechanic bypass on it. Then, just before we made it back to my house in So Cal, the rear sprocket stripped. Literally. All the teeth were gone. That was another one I had never experienced before. The Bullet was sort of a fun bike, but this particular one was a disaster. We joked about it. The Bullet needs me, Gresh said.
John’s Silver Wing Leak
Ah this is another motofailure that tried but didn’t stop the show. On one of my earlier Baja forays, Baja John had a Honda Silver Wing. That’s a bike that was also known as the baby Gold Wing (it had all the touring goodies the Gold Wing had). It was only a 500 or a 650 (I can’t remember which) and it had no problem keeping up with the Harleys (but then, it doesn’t take much to keep up with a Harley).
Baja John and the mighty Silver Wing, somewhere well south of the border.
The Silver Wing was a pretty slick motorcycle…it had a transversely-aligned v-twin like a Moto Guzzi and it had plenty of power. Unlike the Guzzi, the Silver Wing was water cooled and that’s where our problem occurred. John’s bike developed a coolant leak. I was a little nervous about that. We were more than halfway down the peninsula and headed further south when the bike started drooling, but John had the right attitude (which was not to worry and simply ignore the problem). The little Silver Wing was like a Timex…it took the licking and kept on ticking, and to my great surprise, it simply stopped leaking after another hundred miles or so. I guess it doesn’t really count as a breakdown.
John’s KLR 650 OPEC Bike
Baja John had another bike, a KLR 650, that developed a fuel petcock leak on another one of our Baja trips. As I recall, it started leaking on the return run somewhere around El Rosario. I get nervous around fuel leaks for the obvious reasons, but John stuck to his policy: Don’t worry, be happy.
Baja John: The man, the legend.
We stayed in a hotel in Ensenada that night. The hotel had an attached enclosed parking structure, which immediately started to smell like the inside of a gas tank. Not that I’ve ever been inside a gas tank, but that parking garage pretty much had the aroma I imagine exists in such places.
John’s luck continued to hold, and we made it home without John becoming a human torch.
The Bottom Line
The bottom line is you basically need four things when headed into Baja:
A tool kit.
A good attitude that includes a sense of adventure.
A well maintained motorcycle.
Maybe some spare parts.
So there you have it. If you’d like to know more about riding in Baja, please visit our Baja page and maybe pickup a copy of Moto Baja.
If you’re headed into Baja, don’t leave home without BajaBound Insurance. They are the best there is. If you are nice, they might even fix you up with a cool BajaBound coffee mug!
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This is a blog I posted a few years ago for CSC Motorcycles. It was a one-day road trip headed north on the Three Flags Highway. That’s US Highway 395 in the photo below, which runs from the border with Mexico all the way up to Canada. My destination was the Manzanar National Historic Site, and I went there to do a story for Motorcycle Classics magazine.
Highway 395 is magnificent, but I wanted to scoot up there quickly and do a bit of exploring in and around Manzanar, which is 210 miles north for me.
Any road trip through this region wouldn’t be complete without a peek at the Cottonwood charcoal kilns (and a peek from within the kilns).
The Cottonwood charcoal kilns are about 10 miles south of Manzanar and about a mile to the east of Highway 395. It’s soft sand getting there. It was no problem on my KLR 650.
When World War II broke out, Franklin Roosevelt had Americans of Japanese descent from the three western states on the Pacific interred in what were basically concentration camps. It was a national disgrace, it’s hard to believe such things occurred in this country, and if I had to choose a single word to describe my visit, it would be “disturbing.”
The camp was just to the right of the guard tower you see above. Even though it was 104 degrees down on the Mojave floor when I shot this photo, you can still see snow in the eastern Sierras.
There were 10,000 Japanese-American prisoners kept at Manzanar. This is the inside of one of their barracks.
One of the Japanese-American internees was a kid named Bob Uragami. When I worked for Aerojet (in another life a few decades ago), Bob worked with me in the cluster bomb business. He was a test engineer.
There was a list inside the museum at Manzanar, and I found Bob’s name…he was rounded up with the rest of his family when he was a boy.
Here’s a view looking out the door of one of the barracks toward the Sierras.
This is the Manzanar cemetery. It’s about a mile away from the barracks on a dirt road, but the road inside the prison grounds is hard pack. It’s not a problem on a motorcycle.
And the exit…the camp was guarded by US Army MPs.
I had my Nikon with me, and I made a bunch of stops to take photos as I rode through the desert on the home. Check out this unusual house, guarded by a rusty T-rex.
You see a lot of unusual things out in the Mojave, not the least of which was a collection of iron art.
One final shot, folks…a selfie.
The ride to Manzanar and the National Historic Site was a good one. You’ll want to check the weather before you leave. Highway 395 has temperatures well over 100 degrees during the summer, and it can be a very, very cold ride during the winter.
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Zion. The name implies something of biblical proportions, something religious or heavenly. It’s easy to understand that’s what the Mormon settlers thought when they entered this area in the mid-1800s. One of the crown jewels of the National Park system, Zion may be as close to heaven as you can get without a one-way ticket.
Late in the day, entering Zion National Park from the east on Utah SR 9.
I’ve visited Zion many times, and I’d go back again in a heartbeat. Living in So Cal, Zion is only a day’s ride away. I’ve been there in cars and many times on motorcycles ranging from 250cc Chinese imports to Big Twin Harleys. My strong feelings for Zion are personal: It was the destination of my first big motorcycle trip. My riding buddy and departed friend Dick Scott suggested Zion back when we were going through our Harley phase (a phase most of us passed through), and it was beyond beautiful as we rolled into the park on Utah State Route 9. Zion exceeded anything I could have imagined; I remember feeling like I was riding into a Western painting. It has this effect on everyone with whom I’ve ever visited the Park. That big photo above? That’s Mr. Tso, a very likeable visitor from the Peoples Republic of China who rode with us on the CSC Motorcycles/Zongshen 5000 Mile Western America Adventure ride (a publicity effort that sold more than a few RX3 motorcycles worldwide).
Riding into Zion National Park, peering over the windshield. It’s almost a religious experience.
Nestled where the Mojave, the Great Basin and the Colorado Plateau meet, Zion requires adjectival adeptness to even approach an accurate description. Pastel pink mountains, verdant vegetation, electric blue skies and emerald pools combine with abundant wildlife to create a surreal collage of seemingly endless picture postcard scenes. As national parks go, it’s small, but the scenery is absolutely over the top. I’ve been to a lot of places on this planet, and I can state with certainty that Zion’s beauty is unsurpassed. The wildlife add to the experience. On one of the CSC rides (the Destinations Deal ride), we hit what I thought was traffic and had to stop in one of Zion’s tunnels. I was frustrated until I lane split to the front of the line and found that the delay was caused by a group of bighorn sheep majestically and casually crossing the highway in front of us. They were magnificent, and no, I did not get a photo.
Stopped by a bighorn sheep herd, with my fellow Zongers in the rearview mirror.Taking in the splendor that is Zion, this group of riders is stopping to takes photos.Tony, who is finding Zion to be a bit different than the Peoples Republic of China.
The folks who know about such things think the first humans inhabited Zion a cool 12,000 years ago, hunting local game including woolly mammoths, camels and giant sloths. As these critters were hunted to extinction, the locals turned to farming and evolved into an agrarian culture known as the Virgin Anasazi. The Paiutes moved in when the Anasazi migrated south, and then the Mormons settled alongside the Paiutes in the mid-1800s (that’s when the area received its biblical moniker). Archeologists are still finding evidence of these earlier civilizations. These earlier folks were moving into Zion around the same time that the indigenous peoples were creating the cave paintings in Baja.
A wide-angle photo of SR 9 winding through Zion National Park.One of the tunnels through Zion’s mountains along Utah SR 9.
The Great Depression brought great change in the 1930s, and Franklin Roosevelt’s Civilian Conservation Corps built roads and added upgrades to make the park more accessible. The Virgin River cut deeply through sandstone to create magnificent channels and impressive geologic formations, and the CCC work made these areas easier to reach. For most people, a visit to Zion is to see the sights from the valley floor, but you can also take a half-day excursion up the western edge of the park on Kolob Reservoir Road. From there, you can look down into Zion for a completely different and equally magnificent perspective of the area.
Good buddy Rob, Willie, and more on a ride through Zion National Park.
Let’s talk about the ride — more superlatives are in order here. From any direction, you’ll know you are approaching a magical area. Antelope. Deer. Brilliant blue skies. Magnificent forests. Stunning mountains; it’s all here. From Southern California, you’ll experience tantalizing two-wheeled treats as Interstate 15 cuts through the canyons carved by the Virgin River. Riding in from Arizona’s Grand Canyon region southeast of Zion, the roads are similarly magnificent. And if you’re riding in from Bryce Canyon National Park to the northeast, well, you get the idea. This is one destination that has to be on the bucket list.
An easy ride from southern California…just take I-15 north and exit at Utah SR 9.
Zion National Park is an easy one-day freeway ride from southern California. Grab Interstate 10 East, then I-15 North through Nevada into Utah, to Utah Route 9 East (as you see in the above map). From the south, pick up State Route 89 North in Flagstaff and watch for the signs where Route 89 crosses 9 West before Mt. Carmel, Utah. From the northeast, it’s I-70 West and grab the exit for Route 89 South.
Looking up from the floor of Zion National Park. In Zion, you are mostly in the canyons looking up.
As mentioned above, unlike Bryce Canyon or the Grand Canyon (two National Parks in which you look down into the rock formations), at
Zion you are in the canyon looking up. For a different Zion perspective, take the Kolob Reservoir Road from the north to see things looking down into Zion. Check weather conditions first, as the road climbs to over 8,000 feet and may be impassible during the winter months. Kolob Terrace Road begins in Virgin, Utah, about 13 miles west of Springdale. Look for the sign to the Kolob Reservoir.
If you’re looking for a good place to eat, Casa de Amigos Restaurant in Springdale, just before you enter Zion from the south, is a good spot (the shredded chicken burritos are my favorite). It may be a victim of the pandemic, as Google indicated it was closed temporarily. If you enter Zion from the east, Mt. Carmel is the last town before you reach the Park and there are several restaurants and hotels there.
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If you would like to learn more about our 5000-mile christening ride through the American West on Chinese 250cc motorcycles, pick up a copy of 5000 Miles At 8000 RPM.
A wise man once said there comes a time in every man’s life when he decides to hang it up…his riding days are over. Ignoring the sexist tone of that gender-specific comment, I guess the follow-on comment has to be: Or does there?
I turned 71 a few months ago. To a lot of folks, that’s old. The funny part of it is, though, I don’t feel old. A little earlier today I was putzing around in the garage and my Royal Enfield was making me feel guilty. I hadn’t had the 650 twin out on the road in the last few weeks, a character deficiency I promptly corrected. The old girl and I had a nice ride around the neighborhood, I got the oil circulating again (in the Enfield and in yours truly), and I snapped that great photo you see at the top of this blog. That’s snow-covered Big Bear you see off in the distance, a destination I’ve visited many times on a motorcycle.
But to get back on topic: At what age should we think about hanging up our riding gear? Now that I’m a septuagenarian (I had to look it up, so you can, too) I’m wondering about things like that. But then I think about the guys I’ve ridden with and maybe I’ll continue riding for another 20 years or so. Take a look.
Simon Gandolfi, who just turned 90 and is arguably the most interesting man in the world, is a novelist and moto adventurer extraordinaire. He’s ridden around the world on small displacement bikes.Colorado Dan, the man. He cuts a dashing figure and is a great traveling companion. He’s a year or two older than me.Another most interesting man in the world…good buddy Willie. He’s usually riding when he’s not pitching Dos Equis.James, our Texas Ranger and a serious traveler, is in my cohort and he rode Baja with us.
You know, the funny thing is the tone of the conversations during and after a good ride hasn’t changed at all over the nearly six decades I’ve been riding. The topics have changed a bit, but not really that much. We still mostly talk bikes and good roads. But instead of bragging how drunk we were the previous night and who we spent the night with (which was mostly bullshit, anyway) the topics today address different specs. Instead of 0 to 60 times, quarter mile performance, and top ends, now it’s things like our A1C, PSA, and HDL numbers. You fellow geezers know what I’m talking about. But the discussions are just as lively, I think a little more interesting, and probably a bit more truthful. We’ll touch on politics on occasion, but if the conversation gets too heated or goes too far in that direction, I can always get us back on track (and get a good laugh) when I weigh in with a single question:
You guys know what the problem is in politics today? All the guys who really know how to run the country are out screwing around riding their motorcycles.
So, at what age should you hang it up? I’m finding that’s hard to say and most guys my age and older seem to just keep on going. I’ve ridden with guys well into their 70s, 80s, and sometimes even more. Good buddy Dan is heading down to Baja next month to camp on the beach near Gonzaga Bay, and he’s a little older than me. Sim0n Gandolfi, the British novelist and adventure travel writer, rode to Cabo San Lucas and back with us on 150cc CSC Mustangs about a dozen years ago, and he’s about to leave on another epic moto trip at age 90. James from Texas bought a new motorcycle and rode one of the Baja trips with us. He spun off somewhere about halfway down the length of the Baja peninsula to take the ferry across to mainland Mexico, and he was going to ride home to Texas through Mexico. And Willie, another most interesting man in the world, rides every chance he gets when he’s not doing Dos Equis commercials. Like me, all of these guys qualify for that 89-cent cup of coffee at McDonald’s.
Yeah, I think I’m going to stay at it for a while. I think you should, too.
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The best riding in the world? In my opinion, it’s unquestionably Baja. Take a look!
Utah, hands down, is the most beautiful state in the Union. I’ve been to every state in the US except North Dakota, and unless there’s something hiding up there, Utah gets my vote. There are places in Utah with scenery and riding that are as close as you can get to heaven without a one-way ticket. There’s Zion National Park (to be covered in a future blog), there’s Bryce Canyon National Park, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, and Capitol Reef National Park (which I’ll cover in this blog), there’s Cedar Breaks National Park (a topic for a future blog), there’s Kodachrome Basin State Park (another future blog), there’s Flaming Gorge National Park (that’s coming up in another blog), and there’s Arches National Park (to be yet another blog). And then there’s the Dinosaur Highway. I’ve been to all of them, and I’m telling you, if you like road trips it doesn’t get any better than Utah.
Panguitch on the western end of this trip, and Hanksville on the eastern end. It is a grand ride.
There’s a reason I’m touching on Bryce, Grand Staircase-Escalante, and Capitol Reef in one blog. Two reasons, actually: State Routes 12 and 24. These two roads run through all three National Parks, and they are two of the best roads I’ve ever ridden. If you want to plan this grand adventure, start in Panguitch, ride Utah SR 12 and 24, and spend the following night in Hanksville, Utah. I’ve got good places to have dinner in both towns, and I’ll share them with you in this blog. It’s a full day’s ride to get from one to the other (maybe longer if you want to stop and see the sights).
The large featured photo at the top of this blog is in Bryce Canyon National Park. This is another photo in Bryce. Unlike Zion ((where you are in a basin looking up at the rock formations), in Bryce you are up top looking down into the colorful canyon. Bryce has stunning views.
This is the most beautiful stretch of the planet I’ve ever ridden. The colors and the riding are stunning. Think bright blue skies, vibrant and verdant pine trees, and multi-colored pastel rock formations. The formations include stunning pinnacles called hoodoos, plus arches, large rock mounds, exposed vermillion cliffs and monstrous domes and folds in the Earth’s surface. Although the region was once alive with dinosaurs, you most likely won’t see fossils. But you will see an artist’s palette of pleasing pastels: reds, pinks and browns due to iron in the sandstone, yellows and creams created by limonite, and purples presented by pyrolusite. Whatever the chemistry, the display through this stretch is dazzling.
The spot for dinner in Panguitch is the Cowboy’s Smoke House Cafe. You’ll probably have to wait to get in. Trust me: It’s worth it.
You can ride US 89 from Panguitch to pick up SR 12 at its western end. Head east and in just a few miles you’ll be at Bryce Canyon National Park. Bryce is one of America’s jewels, with hoodoos arranged in several natural amphitheaters. An early morning start will help capture dramatic photos; the sun will be low in the eastern sky and the resultant lighting makes the colors pop. Native American Paiutes thought these hoodoos were ancestors turned to stone. Take a long look at some of these formations and you’ll see why.
Stay on SR 12 after Bryce and you’ll skirt Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument on tantalizing twisties. All of SR 12 is breathtaking; it is something out of a dream. It takes you through a series of red rock formations and then winds along a ridge with sheer drops on either side. Forget about guard rails and shoulders; you’ll feel as if you are riding the sky. Cook a corner too fast on this stretch and you’ll wish you were wearing a parachute. This area, more than any other I have ever ridden, is a near-religious experience.
The red rocks of Utah along SR 12.It was tough to keep going on Utah SR 12…I wanted to stop after every corner for photos.One of many scenes along Utah SR 12. You need to ride this road. It’s one of the best.
State Route 12 tees into SR 24, but you’ll be able to see Capitol Reef National Park long before you get to SR 24. Head east on SR 24 toward Hanksville and you’ll ride through much of the accessible portion of Capitol Reef. It’s perhaps the least known of Utah’s national parks, but its scenery is as stunning as any of the other parks.
Capitol Reef and Utah SR 24.
Only a portion of Capitol Reef is visible from SR 24, but it is outstanding. Hundreds of miles of unpaved roads into Capitol Reef offer similar scenic views. The park’s unique white sandstone domes (similar to the U.S. Capitol building) were formed by a warp in the Earth’s crust 65 million years ago. “Reef” refers to any barrier to travel, and when you see these formations, you’ll certainly understand the name.
Another scene along SR 24 heading east.Gabriel, Juan Carlos, and Uncle Joe along SR 24 after rolling through Capitol Reef. We rode 5000 miles through the western United States on brand new 250cc CSC motorcycles. It was a great ride with great guys.
State Route 24 follows the Fremont River through Capitol Reef National Park, and as it twists and turns on its way to Hanksville, you’ll be thanking me for turning you on to these very special roads. The Whispering Sands hotel is a good, clean place to spend the night, and Duke’s Slickrock Grill is a great place for dinner. Try the trout; it’s wonderful. And don’t miss the photo op standing next to Duke.
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Located 297 miles south of the US border, Cataviña makes for a good spot to stop after your first day’s push into Baja. You might also try to make it all the way to Guerrero Negro, but that’s another 140 miles. When traveling in Baja through the mountains and all the small towns from Ensenada to El Rosario, you can’t grind out big miles like you can on a US freeway. And, trust me on this, you don’t want to travel at night in Baja. A 300-mile day in Baja when you’re starting at the US border is a good day, and that puts you smack dab in Cataviña.
Cataviña’s location on the Baja peninsula.It’s a full day’s drive from TJ to Cataviña.
What’s cool about Cataviña is that it is in one of Baja’s boulder fields, as depicted in the big picture at the top of this blog. Those are just flat wild…the stark landscape, the giant boulders, the Cardon and Cirio cacti…it’s all impressive. The boulders were formed by wind erosion, which is kind of amazing. I didn’t believe that at first, but I checked with one of my Cal Poly colleagues in the Geology Department (I’m a retired university professor) and he confirmed it for me. Wow.
That’s a Cirio plant in front (the long thin one), and a giant Cardon cactus behind it, all in the boulder fields of Cataviña.
There’s only one decent hotel in Cataviña and it’s the Hotel Mision Cataviña. It’s gone through a number of name changes in the 30+ years I’ve been traveling in Baja (the La Pinta, the Desert Inn, and maybe one or two others), but the hotel has stayed the same and that’s a good thing. The Hotel Mision Cataviña has a good restaurant and bar. It also has a nice swimming pool, and that pool has been just what the doctor ordered for me and my friends on more than a few occasions riding Mexico Highway 1 through Baja.
Parked in front of the Hotel Mision Cataviña. I’ve toured Baja on all kinds of bikes. The blue Triumph Tiger was my ride on this trip.My friends and I once rode all the way to Cabo and back on 150cc CSC Motorcycles Mustang replicas. You can read about that adventure here. We spent the night in Cataviña.
At around $80 a night it’s a bit pricier than most other Baja hotels, but it’s still inexpensive by US standards. There’s really nothing else in the Cataviña area for either hotels or restaurants other than a concrete-floored hotel on the other side of the highway. We had to stay in that other hotel once when the Hotel Mision Cataviña was full. That was more than 20 years ago and my wife still mentions it when she gets mad at me. Take my advice on this: The Hotel Mision Cataviña is where you want to stay.
One the Hotel Mision Cataviña’s coutyards. It’s a classy place.
I enjoy eating in the Hotel Mision Cataviña’s restaurant even if I’m just passing through. If you let the staff know you’re in a hurry, they’ll get you in and out. If you don’t, things kind of run on a Cataviña pace. That’s cool if you’re staying for the night; it’s not if you’re trying to make Guerrero Negro. I’ve done that, but it is a very long day. The restaurant and bar have kind of an arched brick roof in the dining room. It’s fun. As you might imagine, they are well stocked with Tequila and Tecate.
Joe Gresh enjoying chicken tacos during a brief stop at the Hotel Mision Cataviña restaurant.They look good, don’t they?
If you’re traveling with a bunch of guys and you don’t mind sleeping 8 or 9 to a room, the Hotel Mision Cataviña built a separate just to the north of the main hotel and it has a dormitory style room. I don’t know what it costs, but it’s got to be (on a per head basis) cheaper than one of the double rooms. The rooms are nice. The place is clean, it’s air conditioned, and its comfortable. The only issue with the new building is that the hotel runs a diesel generator all night, and if you stay in the new building, it might keep you up.
Fuel is less of a concern today than it used to be. We used to buy bottled gasoline from enterprising guys by the side of the road, but there’s a convenience store just across Highway 1 from the hotel now with gas pumps, so I think getting gasolina today is less of an issue.
If you would like to know more about the Hotel Mision Cataviña, you can do so here.
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Shortly before the pandemic began, Uncle Joe and yours truly borrowed two Royal Enfields from Royal Enfield North America and toured Baja. One was the new 650 Interceptor, and I liked it so much I bought one when I came home. The other was a 500cc Bullet, and, well, you might want to read the blogs to understand how we felt about it. Truth be told, the Bullet was probably better than we perceived it to be (that was because the dealer did a half-assed job prepping it for us). Nah, that’s not fair (it implies the dealer did half of what he should have). But there’s no expression for 10%-assed, and even that might be giving the dealer too much credit. But I don’t want to spoil the story for you. You can get to the Enfield adventures here.
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I miss a lot of things about our pre-COVID days, and one is the foreign travel. I love heading to exotic cities all over the world, and one at the top of my list is Bangkok. I’ve been there a few times on assorted secret missions. These photos are from a blog I wrote for CSC Motorcycles a few years ago, and I thought I would share them here.
Soi Cowboy (“soi” sort of means street) is a famous Bangkok road that played a role in the movie Hangover II and another movie named, well, Soi Cowboy (a movie I haven’t seen, although I’ll look for it). It’s sort of an entertainment district with a lot of clubs. There were a lot of photo ops centered on two of my interests – food and two-wheeled transportation. With that as an intro, here we go.
These guys in orange vests are motorcycle taxi dudes. They carve paths through traffic as if it wasn’t there. It’s an amazing thing to see.One of the many food carts and clubs on Soi Cowboy.Another food cart. I had my Nikon D3300 (a relatively small but incredibly capable DSLR) on its “auto ISO” setting, which basically means it runs the ISO up as high as it thinks it needs to be to get a good shot. Some of these photos were at ISO 12,800.Scooters and small-displacement motorcycles dominate Bangkok. Here are a few scooters lined up on Soi Cowboy.More Thai street food.A look down Asoke (that’s the street name) from a pedestrian overpass. Soi Cowboy is just off of Asoke.The Bangkok grand prix.Good buddy Kevin and friend. Rain? Not a problem!A Thai SUV.A Thai taxi scooter in action. Scenes like this are common throughout Bangkok.
One more thing, and that’s a video I shot just off Soi Cowboy showing the scooter action in vibrant downtown Bangkok. It sure was fun.
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