Motorcycle Adventure Ride – Page 27

Bikes Gone By

Do you dream about the motorcycles you used to own?

Yeah, me, too. I don’t have photos of all my bikes that have gone down the road, but I have a few and I’d like to share them with you.

My first motorcycle was a Honda Super 90. I bought it from Sherm Cooper, a famous Triumph racer who owned Cooper’s Cycle Ranch in New Jersey. My Super 90 was cool…it was white and it had an upswept pipe and knobby tires. Mr. Cooper used it for getting around on his farm (the Cycle Ranch actually started out there). I was only 14 and I wasn’t supposed to be on the street yet, but I was known to sneak out on occasion. I liked that Honda Super 90 motor, and evidently so do a lot of other people (it’s still being manufactured by several different companies in Asia).

Yours truly at about age 14 on the Honda Super 90. What’s that stuff on top of my head?

The next bike was a Honda SL-90. Same 90cc Honda motor, but it had a tubular steel frame and it was purpose-built for both road and off-road duty. I never actually had a photo of that bike, but it was a favorite. Candy apple red and silver (Honda figured out by then that people wanted more than just their basic four colors of white, red, black, or blue), it was a great-looking machine. I rode it for about a year and sold it, and then I took a big step up.

That big step up was a Honda 750 Four. I’ve waxed eloquent about that bike here on the blog already, so I won’t bore you with the details about how the Honda 750 basically killed the British motorcycle industry and defined new standards for motorcycle performance. The 750 was fun, too. Fast, good looking, candy apple red (Honda used that color a lot), and exotic. I paid $1559 for it in 1971 at Cooper’s. Today, one in mint condition would approach ten times that amount. I wish I still had it.

My first big street bike…a 1971 Honda 750 Four. It was awesome. It’s a miracle I never crashed it. I rode it all the way up to Canada and back in the early ’70s. Check out the jacket, the riding pants, and my other safety gear.

There were a lot of bikes that followed. There were two Honda 500 Fours, a 50cc Honda Cub (the price was right, so I bought it and sold it within a couple of days) an 85cc two-stroke BSA (with a throttle that occasionally stuck open), a 1982 Suzuki 1000cc Katana (an awesome ride, but uncomfortable), a 1979 Harley Electra-Glide Classic (the most unreliable machine I’ve ever owned), a 1978 Triumph Bonneville (I bought that one new when I lived in Fort Worth), a 1971 Triumph Tiger, a 1970 Triumph Daytona, a 1992 Harley Softail (much more reliable than the first Harley, and one I rode all over the US Southwest and Mexico), a 1995 Triumph Daytona 1200 (the yellow locomotive), a 1997 TL1000S Suzuki (a sports bike I used as a touring machine), a 2006 Triumph Tiger, a 1982 Honda CBX (a great bike, but one I sold when Honda stopped stocking parts for it), a 2007 Triumph Speed Triple (awesome, fast, but buzzy), a 2006 KLR 650 Kawasaki, and a 2010 CSC 150. Here are photos of some of those bikes:

My high school buddy Johnnie with a Honda 500 four I later bought from him. That sissy bar was the first thing to go. It was a fun bike.

A Honda 50cc Cub, the most frequently produced motorcycle on the planet. In China and elsewhere, this bike is still being manufactured. I bought this one in the 1960s, mostly because I knew I could sell it and make a few bucks quickly.

My ’79 Electra-Glide Classic. I called this one my optical illusion, because it looked like a motorcycle. I couldn’t go a hundred miles on that motorcycle without something breaking. And people badmouth Chinese motorcycles.

Me with my 1982 Suzuki Katana. In its day, that was a super-exotic bike. Uncomfortable, but very fast, and way ahead of its time. I bought it new and paid over MSRP because they were so hard to get. I was a lot skinnier in those days.

My ’92 Softail Classic Harley. This motorcycle was superbly reliable right up until the moment the oil pump quit at 53,000 miles. At about the time I shot this photo on a trip through Mexico, I started thinking that maybe a Big Twin was not the best answer to the adventure touring question. And I know, my motorcycle packing skills in those days were not yet optimized. That’s a Mexican infantry officer behind the bike.

My buddy Louis V and me with our bikes somewhere in Arizona sometime in the mid-’90s. I’m not sure why Louis had his shirt off…we sure didn’t ride that way. Louis had an ’81 Gold Wing and I had an ’82 CBX Six. That old CBX was a fun bike…it sounded like a Ferrari!

My ’97 Suzuki TL1000S on the road somewhere in Baja. Wow, that bike was fast. Here’s a story about my good buddy Paul and me featuring this motorcycle.

The 1200 Daytona. I won it on an Ebay auction. It was an incredible motorcycle and you can read more about it here.

I’d always wanted a KLR 650, and when I pulled the trigger in 2006 I was glad I did. Smaller bikes make more sense. They’re more fun to ride, too. It seemed to me that this was the perfect bike for Baja. That’s me and Baja John out at El Marmol.

The ’06 Triumph Tiger. Fun, but a little cramped and very heavy. It was styled like a dual sport, but trust me on this, you don’t want to get into the soft stuff with this motorcycle.

Potentially the most beautiful motorcycle I’ve ever owned, this 2007 Speed Triple was a fast machine. The joke in motorcycle circles is that it should be named the Speed Cripple. That’s what it did to me.

My CSC 150. Don’t laugh. I had a lot of fun on this little Mustang replica. My friends and I rode these to Cabo San Lucas and back.

That brings up to today. My rides today are a CSC TT250, an RX3, and a Royal Enfield Interceptor 650. I like riding them all.

Do you have photos of your old bikes? Here’s an invitation: Send photos of your earlier motorcycles to us (info@exhaustnotes.us) with any info you can provide and we’ll your story here on the blog. We’d love to see your motorcycles.

Want to see some of our Dream Bikes? Give a click here!

Slow Ride Home

The other day while surfing the offerings on Prime, we found Slow Ride Home, an indy movie about eight scooter dudes riding 3,700 miles from Jacksonville, Florida to Seattle. The bikes were Yamaha Zumas, the displacement was 125cc, the top speed was 40 mph, some of it was kind of silly, and the language was crude, but hey, it was a good flick. What struck me immediately were the similarities between this ride and the long-distance group rides I led for CSC Motorcycles. Listening to the complaints about getting everybody on the road each morning was pure deja vu. If you rode with me on any of those rides, you’ll really appreciate this one, and even if you didn’t, you’ll still like Slow Ride Home. There’s no hidden messages and this is not a movie that makes you think, and that’s what made it fun.

Here’s your link to Slow Ride Home.

Riding Tools

Our good buddy Mike Huber, who literally lives his life from a motorcycle, has shared several great stories with us in the past. This one came in yesterday, it’s one of his best. It’s about the websites and services that support you when in the field, and it’s a great read and a great resource. We’re happy to share it with our ExNotes readers.

Mike, thanks again!

Many people think motorcyclists just wake up, ride in whatever direction we want, have no plans, and live without a care in the world. This stereotype often is true, but for veteran riders who have battled weather, crashes, and other unforeseeable incidents we know that being prepared with the proper tools and having our awareness honed can not only save our lives, but will allow for a more enjoyable ride when we do encounter these obstacles.

There have been a lot of trial and error moments over the years living as a fulltime motorcyclist; some of these errors in hindsight could have been easily avoided with little planning and the use of a few tools. I want to share a few links and tips with you to improve your safety and riding experience while avoiding the headaches I have had to conquer in the past.

Camping

For me, dispersed camping is the only way to go. When beginning motorcycle camping KOAs and local state parks are great for training wheels to learn and overcome mistakes or equipment you forgot or need to purchase, but can be rather loud and unfulfilling as a camping getaway. After a few incidents with generators running at all hours, kids screaming, and dogs barking I realized this wasn’t communing with nature at all. It was, however, testing my patience and destroying my Zen. From that moment on dispersed camping on a motorcycle is all I do (with the exception of some National Parks). Dispersed camping allows you to be alone deep in nature with a crackling fire reflecting off the steel of your motorcycle while embracing the silence. This is an experience not to be missed as a motorcyclist and these two links below have greatly helped in guiding me to some beautiful and unforgettable campsites that otherwise would never have been located.

freecampsites.NET
ioverlander.com

Riding Offroad

Everyone has different ability levels on their own style of motorcycle when it comes to off-roading. The links below provide information on the terrain you will likely encounter and difficulty levels which can keep you from getting in over your head while riding these beautiful roads. Along with these links, speaking to locals in coffee shops and bars can be an invaluable resource since many of them will be up to speed with the current conditions and be able to provide you with tips and suggestions that websites just can’t compete with.

alltrails.com
trailsoffroad.com

Weather/Area Warnings

The apps below are another must have for any serious rider. Storms in the mountains can appear very ferociously and with little warning at times. Staying current on weather and fire conditions will minimize your risk of being caught in a dangerous situation. These tools when used can enable you to avoid and even learn to wait out, outrun, or detour around many storms. An added suggestion would be to scout out the weather and fire conditions in the area you plan to camp. Dispersed camping often will leave you with no cell phone signal or other warning capabilities. Researching these conditions ahead of time will not only ensure you are comfortable from a weather standpoint, but can also save your life if there are adverse conditions or wild fires you aren’t prepared for.

myradar.com
windy.com
https://www.fireweatheravalanche.org/fire/

Emergency Support

When I began my journey I spoke with several riders (especially those doing the BDRs (Backcountry Discovery Routes) who swore on using a GPS or satellite communication device for emergencies. I thought at the time this was overkill even for my deep level of preparedness. Well it just took one solid fall while off-roading to convince me otherwise. I now keep this device in my riding jacket at all times (not on the bike, as in a crash you and the bike tend to part ways) in the event I do require help and am alone without cell phone coverage. The SPOTGen3 also has an “All OK” signal I use each evening when camping so my Mom knows I am safe and not in any danger.

https://international.findmespot.com/#/

These are the websites and apps I have learned to use and appreciate while riding and camping off my motorcycle. I am always interested in learning what other tools people are using on their motorcycle trips in order to continue and pass on ideas to others in our tightly knit motorcycle community.

Mike, that’s awesome. Thanks so much for sharing this with us and our readers. All the way, Amigo!

A Santa Cruz Mountains Loop

I had a great ride this week…a loop through the Santa Cruz Mountains down to the Pacific coast and back. Think giant redwoods, beautiful scenes, great roads, and a rich history.

First, the route: It’s a quick hop down the 280 to the Woodside exit (that’s Highway 84), and then a twisty ride west on the 84 to Highway 35. Highway 35 is called Skyline Boulevard, which runs north to Highway 92, and 92 drops down to Half Moon Bay. Then it was another left onto the world-famous Pacific Coast Highway. I had an interesting stop at a very old cemetery just off the PCH, and after that I continued south to San Gregorio State Beach. Another left put me back on 84 and on into La Honda. From there, the 84 completed the loop. Here’s what it looks like:

The area to the west of 280 is surprisingly rural for a location so close to San Francisco (about 30 miles to the north) and Silicon Valley (which sort of starts just on the other side of 280). Highway 84 is a quick ride to the first town on this loop, and that’s Woodside.

Woodside is one of the wealthiest towns in America. A partial list of the big names who live or have lived in Woodside include Charles Schwab (yes, that Charles Schwab), Steve Jobs, Michelle Pfeiffer (the classiest actress ever), Joan Baez, Nolan Bushnell (the founder of Atari and the Chuck E. Cheese restaurant chain), Scott Cook (the founder of Intuit), Carl Djerassi (a novelist and the guy who developed the birth control pill), Larry Ellison (the CEO of Oracle Corporation), James Folger (as in need a cup of coffee?), Kazuo Hirai (the CEO of Sony), Mike Markkula (the second Apple CEO), Gordon E. Moore (Intel’s co-founder and originator of Moore’s Law), Prince Vasili Alexandrovich (the nephew of Tsar Nicholas II of Russia), Shirley Temple, John Thompson (Symantec’s CEO), and Nick Woodman (founder and CEO of GoPro). Woodside is within commuting distance of Silicon Valley, so it’s understandable, I guess, why so many high-rolling Silicon Valley types call it home. Needless to say, I didn’t bump into any of these folks on my ride (if I had, you’d see photos here). Given the choice, I’d like to meet Michelle Pfeiffer, but it just wasn’t in the cards that day. Charles Schwab would be cool, too, as Charles Schwab & Company have done well for me. Maybe next time.

After passing through Woodside and climbing into the Santa Cruz Mountains, it’s on to the intersection of Highways 84 and 35. Alice’s Restaurant is right at that intersection. Getting there was fun. The road has 15-mph hairpins and there are redwoods, eucalyptus, and other tall trees on either side. In many cases they form a green leafy tunnel over the road. I would have liked to grab a photo or two, but there was literally no place to stop and truth be told, I had my hands full.

It’s only about 3 1/2 miles from the 280 to Alice’s on Highway 84. Before you get too excited, it’s not that Alice’s Restaurant (you know, the one in the Arlo Guthrie song). But the woman who started this restaurant is named Alice, and hey, why not ride that coattail? I was there during the week and I was able to get a photo of the place. When I went by on an earlier weekend, Alice’s was jammed with people, motorcycles, and Ferraris.

Highway 35 is called Skyline Boulevard. I think of a boulevard as a city street, but this was nothing like that. It was another twisting mountain road and the views were stunning.

Skyline Boulevard tees into Highway 92 at its northern end and my ride along it was only 13 miles, but 13 miles can take a while on mountain roads. Part of it is the twisting nature of the roads and part of it is the scenery. I had the road to myself and it was awesome. Skyline Boulevard follows the ridge of the Santa Cruz Mountains. There are places where you can see San Francisco Bay looking to the right, and the Pacific on the left. The photo below shows the Crystal Springs Reservoir to the east, and if you look real hard, you can almost see San Francisco Bay beyond it.

When I reached Highway 92, another quick 5.4 miles brought me to Half Moon Bay.

Highway 92 has twists and turns, but it’s a busy road and Half Moon Bay is a tourist place. Not needing any refrigerator magnets and having been there many times before, I didn’t stop in Half Moon Bay on this ride. But it’s a cool place and based on my earlier visits, it’s impossible to find a bad restaurant (my favorite is the Greek Taverna on the left side of 92 as it nears the PCH; it’s a great walkup place for fresh seafood). Bring money; things are not cheap in Half Moon Bay. The major employer is the Ritz Carlton Hotel (it’s that kind of place).

Another interesting tidbit about Half Moon Bay: They used to host big wave surfing competition here. They get 50 to 60 foot waves when conditions are right and the area attracts the best surfers in the world. The organizers moved the competition someplace else about three years ago. Me? I’ll stick to something safer, like riding motorcycles.

Highway 92 ends at the Pacific Coast Highway (also called the Juan Cabrillo Highway) and it runs long the Pacific for about a dozen miles before our next turn comes up (and that’s Highway 84 again, to complete our loop). Even though the road is the Pacific Coast Highway, it’s a fair way off to the Pacific and for most of that distance I couldn’t get a photo with the road and the ocean in the same frame, but hey, it’s the PCH, man. It doesn’t get much better than that, as these two Triumph-riders near San Gregorio State Beach already knew (where I finally did get the photo I wanted).

Before I reached San Gregorio State Beach, though, I had a stop I wanted to make. In researching this area before the ride, I discovered that there’s a ghost town and an old cemetery about four miles south of Half Moon Bay. It’s Purissima (with two “s”s), not to be confused with the La Purisima Mission, the subject of a recent ExNotes blog. The town of Purissima is long gone, but the cemetery is still there, and I stopped for a few photos. It’s a left on Verde Road, and the cemetery is about a half mile up the road.

I like old cemeteries. After snapping a few photos, I was back on the PCH pointed south.

Eight miles down the road at San Gregorio State Beach I made a left on Highway 84. The town of San Gregorio is just up the road. There’s not much there, but the people are friendly. When I stopped for a shot of their general store there was a guy with a white beard taking in the day. When he saw me taking pictures, he asked if I wanted him to move. “No way,” I said. “Stay right there. You add character to the place.”

The Spaniards were the first Europeans to pass through this area in 1769 when they were expanding the Alta California mission chain. They stayed for a bit and named the area San Gregorio after Pope Gregory I. San Gregorio became a favored 1850s destination when San Franciscans visited the area for swimming, fishing, and hunting. Grizzly bears used to live in these hills, you know. And mountain lion. And deer (the ones the mountain lions didn’t get). I’ll bet the hunting was good. I’ve hunted California’s coastal mountains a hundred miles or so further south (we were chasing wild boar, but all I ever got was poison oak). The thought of going after a grizzly bear with a single-shot muzzleloader 170 years ago crossed my mind more than a few times as I rode through this area.

Further up the 84 (heading east) I entered the tiny town of La Honda (the name means “the sling” in Spanish). Impressive redwood trees made me stop for a photo, but before I could get to the trees this motorcycle whizzed by:

La Honda is a nice little place. I chatted with an old guy who had an English bulldog. I say old, but he was probably about the same age as me. “I did that once,” he said. “Stopped because my car was making a noise and decided this is where I was going to retire.” We had a nice conversation. He’s a former aerospace guy like me, and we talked shop for a bit about the good old days. You know, when the cold war was still in a full tilt boogie and the aerospace industry was the closest you could get to Heaven without a one-way ticket.

La Honda is a wide spot in the road that isn’t very wide at all, but it sure has a colorful background. The outlaw Cole Younger and his brothers used to live here. That’s the Younger brothers who ran with Jesse James (the real one, not the reality TV dude). The Younger brothers hid out in La Honda because it was cool and it was remote. Ken Kesey lived here (he wrote One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest), and his drug-fueled La Honda exploits with Hunter S. Thompson and Tom Wolfe are documented in Wolfe’s The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. And like I mentioned above, grizzly bears used to live in these mountains. There are stories about a guy who survived a grizzly attack by killing the bear with his knife (not Davy Crockett, but the two would have probably got along). Fewer than a thousand people live in La Honda (at least as recorded by the last census). It’s a cool place made even cooler (literally and figuratively) by the giant redwood trees in the area.

So, about those redwoods:

I was hungry when I reached La Honda. I usually select a place to eat based on how many vehicles are parked in front (who needs Yelp?) and by that measure, the La Honda Country Market looked mighty inviting (I had to wait for other folks to leave to get the unobstructed photo you see below). The Country Market has a killer deli bar. I had a pastrami sandwich on toasted marbled rye and it was maybe the best pastrami sandwich I ever had. Give it a shot. You can thank me later.

I’m up in this area fairly regularly, but this is the first time I’ve done the loop described here. It’s a great ride best done during the week. Because it is such a great ride (and because it’s close to both Silicon Valley and San Francisco), these roads are jammed on the weekends (motorcycles, Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Cobras, McClarens, and other motoexotica). When I did the ride on Tuesday, the roads were delightfully open.

I’d advise avoiding speeding (especially on the weekends, as the roads had a significant CHP presence) and I’d also say don’t wear a tinted visor. The giant redwoods and eucalyptus trees bathe the roads in alternating patches of bright sunlight and deep shade (the riding equivalent of chiaroscuro), and in the shade it’s tough to see through a dark visor.

The ride I described above is about 60 miles from the point you exit the 280 until you get back on it, as shown in the map at the top of this blog. I’d allow about two hours for a relaxed ride during the week, and maybe throw in another hour or two if you want to stop for breakfast or lunch.

Want to see our other rides on one of the greatest roads in the world? That would be California’s Pacific Coast Highway, and you can see it here.

Day 7: Volcan Nevado del Ruiz

On my 8th day in Colombia and 7th day on the road, we left the town of Honda and rode to the top of Volcan Nevado del Ruiz, which took us up to about 14,000 feet. It was the highest I’d ever ridden and I was surprised at how well the RS3 (the carbureted version of the RX3) was doing. But I’m getting ahead of myself…let’s get into the blog I wrote for CSC Motorcycles at the end of that fine day.

Posted on December 21, 2015

A delightful hotel, sweltering heat, more mountain twisties, freezing cold, fog that cut visibility down to 30 feet, dirt roads, riding at 13,576 feet, hot sulfur baths, and a burbling volcano that killed 23,000 people in 1985…all in a day’s ride for us.

The hotel first…it was the Epoque, a great little boutique hotel in Honda that was one of the coolest places (in one of the hottest cities) I’ve ever parked a motorcycle. It was arranged in a square around a small pool (which we enjoyed immensely the previous night). Here are a few shots of the courtyard, Juan and Carlos having breakfast, and an antique record player in the dining room…

From there, it was another trials ride following the boys from Medellin as we twisted, turned, climbed, and descended cobbleboulder streets in Honda. Juan took us to the first bridge to ever span the Magdalena River, where I grabbed this shot of a Colombian woman taking in the humid morning air of Honda…

Here’s the bridge. It has planks across the bottom as the road surface. It’s real Indiana Jones stuff….

We saw the Magdalena River museum, and stopped in to check it out. Folks, it was hot. I was soaking wet by now, drenched in sweat.

The museum was interesting and it had some bizarre art. This guy reminds me of a boss I had a couple of decades ago…

The Colombians used steamships on the Magdalena, just like we did on the Mississippi River.

We left Honda and started to climb. The temperatures dropped mercifully. We stopped in Fresno. Yep, Colombia has a Fresno, too.

That’s me in the town square. I’m the guy on the right.

Two young ladies in a small store in Fresno.

As we were sipping energy drinks, Juan pointed out our destination for that evening, the Volcan Nevado del Ruiz. It was showing a little steam, and I stuck an arrow in this picture so you could see it.

We continued our climb. The roads were magnificent.

The photo below shows my front tire, with chicken strips that are about as small as I’ve ever been able to make them. I was getting better at keeping up with the Colombian motorcycle community.

Our riding positions are Juan, me, and Carlos. Juan is amazing. I’m struggling to keep up in the twisties, and I know he’s dialed it back for me. He’ll ride through the corners (and the roads are all corners, folks) standing on the pegs. At one point, we were taking a set of curves at speeds way above those at which I would normally ride, with the bikes leaned over at an unimaginable angle, when I looked ahead and saw Juan. He was standing on the pegs, similarly leaned over, and while all this was going on, he was reaching back to check the latch on one of his saddlebags as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do. The guy is an incredible rider.

As we continued to climb, we entered the clouds. Literally. We left the pavement and got on a dirt road headed up to the volcano.

4,138 meters! That’s 13,576 feet, and it’s as high as you can go on a motorcycle anywhere in Colombia. Juan told me he once did this ride on a Yamaha DT100, carrying a passenger on the back!

That’s not dirt on my RX3, folks. It’s volcanic ash. This was not your typical motorcycle ride.

Yours truly, posing with Carlos, on the top of the world, on top of a volcano with indigestion. Wow. This volcano is the very same one that blew in 1985 and wiped out an entire community. It was like Pompeii, as the guys explained it to me. 23,000 people lost their lives in that event. And here we were, riding in conditions where I could barely see Juan’s tail light in front of me, on dirt roads, in bitter cold. Wow.

Here are a couple of shots showing my helmet and my jacket, dusted with Volcan Nevado del Ruiz ash.

We left the volcano, rode another 20 kilometers on this dirt road, and found our hotel in the middle of nowhere.

The hotel had hot springs, and they were awesome. I had a good soak, we had dinner, and that was the end of Day 7 on this epic journey.

Today is our last day. We’re finishing our great circumnavigation and headed back to Medellin. Much of our ride today will be on dirt. I’ll take a few shots and post about it tomorrow.

Later, my friends.

You can read the earlier blogs from this great trip, and a few other moto adventures, here on our Epic Rides page!

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La Purisima Mission

As a New Jersey boy, our history courses in grade school and high school mostly focused on local and regional things, like the American Revolution and maybe a little bit of the Civil War, and then it was time to graduate. I grew up in the middle of a lot of significant Revolutionary War stuff, with maybe a little Gettysburg thrown in, and our class trips and studies tended to focus accordingly. What I’m getting at is I had never heard of the California or Baja missions until I moved to California, got married, and had kids. Then one day my young daughter came home from school and told me she had been assigned a mission.

“To do what,” I asked, thinking it was like getting a mission in the Army.

“San Gabriel,” she answered.

“Huh?” I was a curious and articulate parent.

My daughter patiently explained to her dumb old Dad what the California missions were. I had never heard of the missions until that day. But I’ve been making up for it ever since. I never pass on an opportunity to learn more about the Alta California and Baja missions, and it’s a story that’s far more interesting than the stuff I studied in school.

My favorite California mission, hands down, is La Purisima. It’s the best one there is north of the border. But I’m getting a little ahead of myself.

A bit on the photography first: I shot all the images here with a film camera (a Nikon N70). That’s how long I’ve been stopping in at the La Purisima Mission in Lompoc, California. It’s just a few miles inland off the Pacific Coast Highway. Surprisingly few people know of it, but if you’re planning a trip up the PCH, La Purisima is a must see destination.

This California motorcycle ride occurred as a backup to a plan to dive deep into Baja 20 years ago that just didn’t work out. Good buddy Paul flew out from New Jersey and rented a Harley in San Diego, and the plan was to ride into Baja to see the whales. That’s how it started. I had my ’92 Softail, but it gave up the ghost somewhere around Ensenada. It happens, I guess. Paul and I had to turn around and head home. No problem. I owned four or five motorcycles in those days (I was like Joe Gresh back then, with lots of hair and lots of motorcycles). We’d just park my Harley and I’d grab another bike.

Yours truly and Paul, both suffering from the two of the worst cases of helmet hair ever captured on film. I no longer have that problem. That’s the Pacific Ocean in the background.

Paul had a Harley Fat Boy he rented from EagleRider in San Diego. It was a motorcycle that worked well for this trip. It would have been cool if I could have ridden my Harley, too, but on this trip the motorcycles were a two-wheeled odd couple.

A skinny guy on a Fat Boy somewhere on the Pacific Coast Highway.

I switched over to my Suzuki TL1000S, a bike most people would think was totally unsuited for long-distance motorcycle touring. But it did the job and it did it well. I was younger then and I bent easier; I don’t think I could do a long ride on a sportbike today. The ADV style suits me better. So does a Subaru Outback, but I digress.

A tankbag and a tail pack, and oila, the TL became a touring machine.

Paul and I rode north on the 101 out of LA a bit and then took California’s 246 west from Buellton. I had been to the La Purisima Mission before and I wanted to show it to Paul. It’s not well known as a tourist destination, but it should be. The place is amazing.

A view out front showing the length of the main building and the bell tower.

La Purisima Mission (Misión La Purísima Concepción De María Santísima, or Mission of the Immaculate Conception of Most Holy Mary) was founded in December of 1787. It was a good stop and I got some great photos with my old film Nikon.

A cool front porch. It’s easy to imagine the original inhabitants seeking shade under this roof.

Another exterior view of the La Purisima Mission.

A sundial that appeared to be keeping excellent time. A friend asked what the sundial did when it was time to switch to Daylight Savings Time. That watch is the first version of Citizen’s Blue Angels GMT. It has a bezel slide rule. I still wear it.

The 2000-acre La Purisima Mission is one of only two missions in California not run by the Catholic Church, and it is the only one that faithfully recreates a complete historic mission operation.

A bit of background: La Purisima sort of fell apart starting in the early 1800s. Things were not going well for Spain in the New World and things were especially not going well for the California missions. The mission’s enslaved Chumash natives rebelled, smallpox decimated the indigenous population, Mexico won its independence from Spain and disbanded the mission system, and things generally just went to hell in a handbasket if you were the guy running the missions. The La Purisima property went through several owners. Union Oil bought the place in 1903 and then donated it to California. A huge research and reconstruction effort commenced, and the La Purisima Mission was opened to the public on December 7, 1941 (yep, the same day as the Pearl Harbor attack). Everything at La Purisima had been resurrected as it existed in 1820, including the furniture, the buildings, and even the adobe bricks made from surrounding soil.

You’ve seen the exterior in the photos above. Let’s head into the buildings to see what life was like in the late 1700s and early 1800s for the mission inhabitants.

Inside the chapel. One of the Mission’s objectives was to convert the native Chumash to Catholicism.

Another one of the rooms in the La Purisima Mission.

There’s disagreement these days about whether the Spanish mission system provided enlightenment or enslavement for the natives. The missions were intended to establish a Spanish presence in Alta California. Spain had claimed Mexico and California (and large parts of the American southwest), but they didn’t really have anyone there watching the store until they started the missions in the second half of the 1700s. The Spanish had concerns about other nations claiming the territory. Teach the indigenous people a trade, keep them busy farming and making stuff, and let’s grow it from there. It didn’t quite work out that way.

An objective of mission life was to teach leather work and other skills.

I’m not sure what this equipment was used for, but that’s okay. It means I have a reason to return to La Purisima.

The Mission’s original latrine. That’s Paul behind the curtain.

Thick adobe walls kept the inside of the Mission cool.

La Purisima is still an active farm and ranch. This rather photogenic turkey kept asking us how many days it was until Thanksgiving.

This, my friends, is a Longhorn. Like the turkey above, he had no qualms posing for us.

If you’re planning that bucket list ride on the Pacific Coast Highway, my advice is to include a stop at the La Purisima Mission. You’re only about 13 miles inland from the PCH, and it’s too grand a destination to pass without a visit. You might want to allow a couple of hours to see and photograph this marvelous old place.

Another word on the images here: I’m going to use some of them in a story I recently wrote for my favorite motorcycle magazine. I knew I had these 20-year-old images squirreled away somewhere, but finding them was a challenge. I finally found the prints, but I couldn’t find the negatives. After another hour digging through old boxes, I miraculously found them, too. I thought I’d just have Costco’s photo department scan the negatives for me, and then I thought it might be a good idea to call first and make sure the photo department was open (you know, what with Covid 19 and all). They were, and I told the photo dude I’d be right over to get my negatives scanned.

“We don’t do that,” he said.

“Yeah, you do,” I answered, figuring I was talking to a new guy who just didn’t know. “You’ve done it for me before.”

“Sir, we haven’t touched anything with film in years,” he said.

Hmmmmm. Come to think of it, it had been a while since I’d seen any film for sale in Costco. And it had been a lot of years since I shot anything on film.

The Costco guy suggested a small mom and pop operation across the street from the Costco store, and that’s where I went. What you see here are the results of the Photo Factory’s scans (thanks, guys!).

Time marches on, I guess.

More Epic Rides are here!

Day 6: Honda

The Colombia motoventure continues! This is Day 6 of my epic ride through Colombia’s Andes Mountains with good buddies Juan and Carlos, two great guys with whom I’ve stayed in contact ever since our Andean adventure. Without further ado, here we go!

Originally posted on December 20, 2015

Let me see if I can get this right: I’m a guy from California riding a Chinese motorcycle in Colombia headed to a town called Honda. Yep, that was yesterday’s ticket.

We left Villa de Leyva early in the morning, climbed higher into the Andes, and wow, was it ever cold. Juan Carlos stopped so we could grab a few photos..

As I was taking in the scenery, this Colombian SUV rolled into the scene…

We next stopped at the point where Colombia was born. The last battle of the Colombian war of independence (against Spain) occurred right here at this bridge in Boyaga…

The Colombian rebels defeated the Spanish regulars here, and at that point, Colombia was born. There are a lot of parallels between how Colombia came into being and our Revolutionary War.

Boyaga is actually pronounced “boy-jogga.” In Colombian Spanish, a y is pronounced like a j. So is a double l (as in ll). A montallanta (a tire repair place) is called a “monta-jonta.” Interesting.

Following Juan through these small towns was fascinating and taxing. We’re up in the Andes, and everything is steep. Juan is incredible…we climb these steep cobblestone streets, cut across some guy’s front lawn, grab a dirt road, pick up a new street, every once in a while (while still riding) he pulls up alongside a guy on horse or a tractor to confirm directions (Juan’s GPS, as he calls it), and we cut across the Colombian countryside. It’s amazing. Here’s a sampling of what it looks like, both in the dirt (and there is a lot of dirt riding) and through the small towns…

We hit a last stretch of twisties (a 50-mile stretch) and then we pulled over for a photo of the Magdalena River valley. Our destination (the town of Honda) is down there somewhere…

Honda is a another steep town. This street (that’s our hotel, the Epoque, on the left) is a typical super steep Colombian town road. The road is a one way road…I tried parking the bike facing down hill, but it was too steep. I thought I could just leave the bike in first gear and kill the ignition, but the street was so steep it pulled the bike through the compression stroke. That’s why the bikes are facing uphill. These are unusual riding conditions for me, but totally normal to the Colombians.

Today we’re headed to Santa Rosa de Cabal. You can read all about it in the next installment in this series!

You can read the earlier blogs in this series from Colombia here!

A TT250 Ride

I woke up last Friday with but one thought: I have got to get out on my motorcycle today.

Well, I did, and I had a glorious ride up through the Cajon Pass in southern California. That’s the pass that cuts between the San Gabriel Mountains and the San Bernardino Mountains. Most folks would just take Interstate 15 from So Cal to the High Desert through the Cajon, but to me riding a motorcycle on the freeway is a bit of a crime against nature. There are surface streets that get you through most of the Cajon Pass, and if you know where to look, there are dirt roads that do the same. Those roads are way more fun, but it’s like I said…you have to know where to look.

Me? I know where to look.

On old Route 66 through the Cajon Pass. Yep, it’s still there, and it was a perfect photo op with my black CSC TT250 on a cloudy June morning.

Big freight trains slog through the Cajon Pass on a regular basis, and there’s a dirt road that runs along the tracks for several miles. It was a perfect road for the TT250. I was out there on my own, having a good old time when I stopped to grab a photo, and that’s when I heard it. The rails, that is. They started singing. They do that when there’s a train downrange. You can actually hear the metallic buzz the rails emit miles before the train comes into view. Time to switch the cell phone camera to the video mode. I didn’t see anything for a couple of minutes, and then way down the hill in the distance I could just make out a headlight. Then that one orange orb became three blurry headlights, the signature of the first of several freight locomotives. They were working hard. It takes a lot of power to pull a train up a mountain pass. The lights grew in size, the indistinct three orange dots came into focus, and there it was:

The train was a monster. I finished the video, I took several stills, and then I mounted up and rode at a sedate pace in the opposite direction for a good five minutes before I saw the end of that train. I’ll bet it was three miles long. Maybe more. There were four locomotives pulling and there was a fifth on the tail end. It’s hard to imagine the weight and the energy of a freight train like the one I saw that morning. And it was doing it all going uphill, charging through the Cajon Pass from the Pomona Valley up to the High Desert. It was impressive.

That train just kept coming, and coming, and coming.

I had a hell of a ride that morning. A bit of freeway (but not too much), a fair amount of dirt, a stream crossing that was deeper than I thought it would be (and damn, there was no one to video me standing on the pegs with water splashing all over my boots and jeans), a train, Old Route 66, and nice, cool weather. It was grand.

It was about 5 years ago that I was sitting in Zongshen’s marketing offices in Chongqing discussing this, that, and the other thing on the RX3 for CSC Motorcycles. All the while, I kept stealing peeks at a 150cc dual sport bike the Zongshen wizards had mounted on a display pedestal in their conference area. Finally, I asked…what’s the deal on that motorcycle? Can it be had with a 250cc engine?

My good friend Chongqing Fan smiled. I could read that guy like a book, and what I was reading was this: He knew, and he knew I knew: The guys at Zongshen, China’s largest motorcycle manufacturer, they can do anything. A few quick digital pics back to CSC, a recommendation, a quick decision from a CEO who’s not afraid to make decisions (that would be Azusa Steve), and the CSC TT250 was born. I own one of the very first to arrive in America, and it’s been a hoot. We’ve even done Baja on the TT250s (talk about brand loyalty…half the guys on that ride also own an RX3). CSC can barely keep TT250 motorcycles in stock; they sell as soon as they arrive. Most of the time, they’re sold before the ship gets here.

I selected black for my TT250 (one of three or four colors available in 2016) because I thought it would photograph well, and I was right. It does a lot more than just sit there and look pretty, though. The TT250 is a great motorcycle. It’s simple, torquey, easy to maintain, great handling, reliable, comfortable, and inexpensive. Plus, I know the factory and the people who make and import this motorcycle. Good buddy Gerry and I wrote the shop manual for this motorcycle, and I know the bike’s innards. You might say I know it inside and out. I think the fact that I know most everyone involved in creating and importing this motorcycle makes it even more of a hoot to ride.

TT250s on the production line in Chongqing. Mine was in there somewhere.

The TT250 is about as simple as a motorcycle gets, and it has what has to be one of the most ubiquitous and reliable motorcycle engines on the planet. You see these motors in various versions (ranging from 125cc to 250cc) everywhere. They’re bulletproof. They’re designed to be rode hard and put away wet, and that’s what folks in South America, Central America, Asia, and the Middle East do. It’s no accident that my good buddies at Janus Motorcycles chose the same engine to power their amazing 250cc motorcycles. I’m going to ride my TT250 until the wheels fall off. Then I’ll buy replacement parts for probably something like $9 and repeat the process.

The TT250 is a light bike. It’s easy to ride and easy to keep vertical (they tell me it’s easy to pick up if you drop it, but I’ve never dropped mine). The TT250 weighs 309 pounds wet and in an age of overweight, bloated, and expensive monster motorcycles, riding it is fun. It’s not an ego statement. It’s a motorcycle. It’s what a motorcycle should be. I feel like a kid every time I get on it (and in six months, I’ll be 70 years old). I started riding motorcycles on a Honda Super 90 (a 90cc single) when Lyndon Johnson was in the White House. Riding a simple single makes me a hooligan again, braapping the mean streets of rural New Jersey before I was old enough to have a license and loving every second of it.

I have the 49T rear sprocket on my TT250 (one down from the stock 50T), and that’s about perfect for me. My bike tops out at about 66 mph indicated, and after my hundred mile ride through the Cajon Pass that morning I topped off and checked my fuel economy. 62.5 mpg. Just a little better than I usually get. Your mileage, as they say, may vary.

I have the Wolfman bags on my TT. They’re light, they don’t get in the way, they’ve held up well, and they’re handy if I want to carry stuff. That’s usually a few tools (just in case, but I’ve never needed them on the road), a bottle of Aleve, a change of underwear, and I’m good for a couple of weeks in Baja.

Speaking of Baja, good buddy Baja John is another guy with the same affliction as me: He owns both an RX3 and a TT250. And a .44 Magnum or two, but that’s a story for another blog. Baja John keeps his TT250 at a beachfront home in Baja, and as soon as this Covid 19 business is in the rearview mirror, I’m headed down there. I want to photograph one or two of the more remote missions, John knows the trails, and the TT250 is the motorcycle to get us there.

More good times are on the horizon, folks. Stay tuned.

Epic rides reside here!

Good buddies and a great ride…

When the phone rings and it’s good buddy Duane wanting to head into the San Bernardino Mountains for a motorcycle ride, I know it’s time to hop to. That’s what I did last week and it was an awesome ride. East on the 210, up Waterman to Hwy 18 into the mountains, and then down the 138 on the other side to ride home through the Cajon Pass. Good times, and this trip was made all the more special because of two more good friends we connected with on the ride.

Duane and his magnificent Indian up in the San Bernardino Mountains. It was a glorious day.

Geezers. Motorcycle geezers. CSC Mustang and RX3 geezers. Former Army motorcycle-riding geezers. Former Army motorcycle-riding gun nut geezers. Whatcha gonna do? Great minds work alike.

It was a grand ride through one of the greatest motorcycle playgrounds on the planet. The weather was perfect and the bikes were running like Chinese 250s (I was going to say like Swiss watches, but I have Swiss watches and I have Chinese 250s, and the Chinese 250s run better). Both the Indians were running great. My Indian is an Enfield made in India. Duane’s bike is an Indian made in America. It’s very confusing, I know.

A grand day for a grand ride. No polarizers or saturation sliders needed.

So we turned onto the 138 somewhere in one of the little mountaintop towns and we had a fun slalom down through the twisties. As we approached Silverwood Lake, I wanted to stop to get a photo of the bikes. There’s this huge parking lot and it was completely empty, so I thought we would park there and I could angle my shot for the best photo.

So we’re rolling to a stop and I noticed this silver SUV pulling in behind us, and wouldn’t you know it, the guy parks right next to us. I was thinking that would completely screw up my photo. You know the drill…a parking lot the size of Texas and the guy, this, this, this interloper parks right next to me. I was all set to dip into my not-such-a-nice-guy routine when Mr. Silver SUV stepped out of his car with a giant grin.

Twin Peaks Steve!

Wow, we were ever surprised and happy. Duane and I have a lot in common, as alluded to in one of the photo captions above, and Twin Peaks Steve is right there with both of us in every regard.

We had a real nice visit overlooking Silverwood Lake and caught up on things. Steve’s beautiful wife Rosemary was there, too, and we had a wonderful chat with her. I can’t tell you how great it was bumping into these two. Steve told me he recognized us when we rode by and he and Rosemary followed us down hoping to have a chance to connect. I’m glad he did. We all met back in the CSC Mustang days about 10 years ago, when Steve was the very first guy to order a custom CSC Bobber. It was one of the prettiest bikes we ever built at CSC.

Steve’s custom CSC 150 Bobber. It was a real show stopper…a visually arresting, gorgeous little jewel of a motorcycle.

Twin Peaks Steve rode with Duane and me on a bunch of CSC rides, and the more we learned about him back in those days, the more impressed we were. How about ultra-lights as a hobby? Yep, Steve did that, too.

Ah, for the love of adventure. Twin Peaks Steve has done it all!

Then CSC went into the ADV motorcycle business by importing the RX3. Steve and Duane both bought bikes from the very first RX3 shipment to arrive in America, and we rode together (Duane, Twin Peaks Steve, and yours truly) on a bunch more rides.

Steve is a serious rider and camper, and he outfitted his RX3 with all the good stuff for disappearing into the boonies. He did a lot of trips up and down the 395 (one of the prettiest highways in America), and the motormaestro even did a guest blog or two about his adventures when I was writing the CSC blog. If you poke around on the CSC blog and search on “Twin Peaks Steve” you’ll find he’s a regular there!

Steve’s RX3 somewhere up along Highway 395. Steve is the real deal; he’s done some amazing trips on his RX3.

What a ride and what a day!

So, how about you? Are you getting out on your motorcycle? Do me and yourself a favor and live large, like Steve, Duane, and the rest of us. Get off your computer, get your riding gear, and get on the road!

More great rides are right here!

Concluding an Extended Stay in Baja

You’ll remember our intrepid troopers and guest bloggers Mike and Bobbie. Well, they managed to exit beautiful Baja after an extended stay of nearly 10 weeks. Here’s the wrap-up to that adventure. Mike, we appreciate your blogs. Ride safe and stay in touch.

Preface: When we last left our heroes (the description probably suits my girlfriend Bobbie more than myself) we were in staying in with a new friend at her house in San Felipe, Baja, Mexico to see what comes next with the COVID19 updates in the USA before deciding when to return.

San Felipe seemed the perfect place to ride out the COVID storm. We were in a safe location, plenty of supplies at local stores and the residents seemed to take the warning seriously and were wearing masks, using hand sanitizer, etc. It didn’t take long, however, for most public beaches and really everything to be shut down. Traveling too far outside the city became impossible due to Mexican Army checkpoints turning people around, so it wasn’t worth the risk to be actually “locked out abroad.”

There was one private beach that remained open that we were able to use and moto camp in, and that was Pete’s camp. We had camped here 6 weeks prior when the world was quite different and the camp was about 70% full with campers, with side-by-sides roaring up and down the beach playing Van Halen at an uncomfortable decibel level (and I love Van Halen loud), and everyone was carefree enjoying their vacations. Now, however, the scene was completely different. The beach was abandoned, it was eerily silent with nothing but us and approximately a hundred empty palapas on the beach for miles in both directions. We frequented this beach a few times a week as it was a short 4-mile ride and was our only opportunity to really get out as we cut back on our off-roading in the event we should get injured.

We fully understood how fortunate we were to be lying in hammocks, soaking up the sun on a beautiful beach that kissed the Sea of Cortez while we watched the surreal news that was coming in from America. We held weekly touch points on when and where we should go, if anywhere. Wednesday was an optimal day for these touch points since our plans would have us leave on a Friday thus allowing us 3 days to return to Arizona.

After a month we decided it was time to return as it seemed the supplies (toilet paper, etc.) were being replenished in America while the COVID fatalities seemed to be lowering and our concern that the bubble we were living in would burst quickly if (or when) the virus would make its way to Baja. More importantly, it gave us a solid excuse to get a great weekend of riding in.

We left on a Thursday afternoon to return to the United States. The ride was beautiful. There was NO line at the border to the point I almost didn’t even place the moto in neutral when going through, whereas normally there is a 1 to 3 hour line. Once inside the United States we were a bit hungry and noticed only drive thrus were open, so we got creative and set up our camping gear outside a Chili’s and had several margaritas (probably not legal, but there’s a pandemic; act accordingly!) and a burger in the parking lot.

We had eyed Kofa National Forest as a decent place to camp, and I had always wanted to visit this area so this was a perfect time since it was extremely isolated. This ensured there’d be no temptations to break social distancing. We were not disappointed in choosing this location. It was a beautiful desert landscape with the setting sun lighting up the mountains surrounding our campsite. The weather was perfect and we could take a moment to gather ourselves with it being our 1st night back in our home country in some time.

The following day after getting McDonald’s for breakfast (don’t judge; I couldn’t find a Starbucks open for my BMW to get its fix) Bobbie came up with a different route then just the boring I-10 to I-17 we normally take. Great call! It made what would have been a drab highway drive into a longer, but much more scenic ride through little towns and National Forests, where we could really enjoy the break from everything and just be in that moment fully present and enjoying each moment as we lowered off the mountain passes returning to Sedona, and for a few hours forget about the rest of the world as we returned safely home after our nearly 10-week Baja adventure.

So these two adventure riders are on the road, and at last sighting, they were camping in Colorado’s beautiful Mesa Verde National Park. Our two troopers are living the good life. I’m looking forward to their next blog.

All the way, folks.