Motorcycle Adventure Ride – Page 4 – The ExhaustNotes Blog

Returning to Vietnam – Ha Giang Loop: Part 3

By Mike Huber

At 10:00 a.m., I was behind schedule, for whatever that means as I don’t really have much of a time constraint these days. But I did want to complete 200 kilometers that day. My usual thinking is to make up time by simply twisting my right wrist. I fully controlled time and distance with that slight move. This mentality had been successful in the past and so why not stick with what works?

It only took about 20 minutes of thinking that way before I saw a metal overhang with what appeared to be a speed camera. Tigit Rental warned me about speed cameras. I was not concerned. I figured it would be a fine when I returned the motorcycle. The fine would be a small price for the control of time and distance, and just another problem for future Huber to deal with.

Well, this time future Huber and present Huber were about to meet as three Vietnamese police and waved me over. There was quite the collection of motorcycles from tourists that had also been pulled over. I was then ushered across the street and found myself instantly sitting in front of a judge. I was quite frustrated and said, “Look, I just paid your buddy down the street 8 million Dong. I have no more money to pay.”

It was a stalemate between the police and me. I refused to pay the fine. After about 30 minutes he came back and started a video call with who I am assuming was the officer I had just paid 8 million Dong. By this time my day was shot, so I didn’t care if he had me sit around the courthouse all day. I wasn’t paying.

After another 30 minutes of me obnoxiously broadcasting the play by play of the other tourists in front of the judge, they decided I had learned my lesson (and they had obtained enough of my money). The judge and officers took pity on me and let me go.

It was now approaching noon, and it was finally time to put some kilometers and the morning’s incidents behind me, but perhaps at a slower pace. I had spent about four hours of my morning with the local police and the courts. It was time to salvage the day. I kept my speed down, at least in the more populated towns and villages. Either way, I was now officially on the Ha Giang Loop.

It only took a mountain pass or two before the morning’s frustration was replaced with my enjoying being back in the moment. The road and the amazing mountain ranges of northern Vietnam lay before me.

Catch up with Huber in Vietnam:

Ha Giang Loop: Part 1
Ha Giang Loop: Part 2

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Coming Your Way…

By Joe Berk

Boy oh boy, do we have cool stuff coming up on the ExNotes blog! Here are just a few of the things coming your way…

The Rough Rider Knife and Custom Holster

Wow, a super cool Rough Rider large folding knife, so big it actually makes a Buck 110 look small, along with something that makes it even better: A custom-made holster, stitched together by good buddy Paulie B! It’s the one you see at the top of this blog, and it sure is sweet!

More Buell

Joe Gresh is going great guns with his new Buell. I am so jealous. You can expect more on Joe’s bringing the Buell up to Tinfiny moto standards, and maybe even get a chance to listen to the awesome potato potato potato aural splendor that is the essence of all things Harley.

Good times and good stories coming up on this one, boys and girls, including more on the Iconic Motorbikes auction process. Gresh greatness inbound, folks!

Good Morning, Vietnam!

We are digging Mike Huber’s Tales of the Open Road from Vietnam, and his stories have spiked a significant uptick in donations to the ExNotes site. Being the inveterate veteran that he is, there’s more TOTOR (Tales of The Open Road) revelry from Mike in work.

After Vietnam, it’s going to be Japan TOTOR, and then Colombia. I’ve been to both spots, and like you, I’m looking forward to Mike’s keyboard kraziness. Bring it on!

An Update on the How To Series

I’m doing a lot of How To articles for my favorite moto mag (one that should be yours, too), and that, of course, is Motorcycle Classics. I’m back in the saddle as you read this headed toward Indio and Cycle Garden, home to all that is classic Guzzi.

In addition to the Guzzi goodness, good buddy and ace tech Steve roasts his own coffee beans, and I am already jonesing for that first cup of Joe. The How To articles are running in Motorcycle Classics magazine, and if you don’t have a subscription to Motorcycle Classics…well, you should. Stay tuned!

Dirty Harry Rides On!

We haven’t forgotten our gun stuff. Want to read about a great .44 Magnum load in a superior sixgun? It’s on the way, my friends.

This is good stuff. So much so that Baja John and yours truly are talking about using the .44 Mag sixguns on our next Arizona pig soiree! Sooey! Clint Eastwood, eat your heart out!

Pizza Pizza Pizza!

It’s no secret…I like to cook. We’ve done a few recipes here on ExNotes before, and we’re going to be adding a lot more. If you can cook, oh, how can I say this? I learned from good buddy Texas John that the easiest way to meet beautiful women was to invite them over for a home-cooked meal. I’m an old married guy now, but prior to that, I put John’s advice to good use!

That’s a story for another blog, and I’ll get to it, but in the meantime, I’ll share my favorite pizza recipe with you in a near term blog. And yeah, that pizza above was as good as it looks!

Stay tuned, folks, keep clicking on those pop-up ads, and work that Donate button you see here and at the bottom of every blog. It’s what keeps us going!

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Returning to Vietnam – Ha Giang Loop: Part 2

By Mike Huber

I awoke in Ha Giang prepared for an early start. This would be my first day on the Ha Giang Loop. After a quick breakfast (see the photo above) and some coffee, I was packed and ready to ride.

I knew the roads could get busy, so I made it a point to have everything packed up. This would allow me to wrap up riding by 3:00 p.m., so I could explore whatever city or village I would be staying in that afternoon. Tigit Rental had printed out the route they preferred and my plan was to stick to it.

My kickstand was up just after 07:30 and I was off. It was about 07:40 when my kickstand went back down. I had been pulled over by the Vietnamese police. I wasn’t speeding (I never am, right?). It was a routine license check. I quickly pulled out my IDP (International Driving Permit) and handed it to them. Tigit Rental had warned me that my IDP was not valid in Vietnam. It literally goes back to some clause Vietnam refused to sign in 1949.

Tigit Rental had also warned me to keep a certain amount of currency separate to pay the “fee” to the police. That was where my ADD kicked in and I had forgotten the amount. Utilizing Google Translate and handing my phone back and forth, I now had three officers around me. One officer said it was 8 million Dong (about 256USD). I didn’t have that amount with me. I explained that to them and that a trip to an ATM was required and I would return with the payment for the “fee.” I was forced to either surrender my passport (which was not happening) or leave my bag.

As I ran the money conversion in my head, I realized the amount was not good. What’s worse is it took visits to three banks to find one that took my card (and that would allow that amount to be withdrawn). I also had forgotten to pay myself that month, so my bank account was now pretty close to zero after my previous numerous withdrawals. I was getting a bit flustered as I finally got all 8 million Dong and was ready to head back to the checkpoint, pay them, get my backpack, and depart. That was when I realized I had forgotten where the checkpoint even was located. I had been turned around so many ways in hunting down banks I was fully disoriented. The only thing I could think of doing was returning to the starting point, my hotel, and just re-riding my path from that morning.

That worked out and I finally made my way back to the checkpoint. The officer than asked why it took me so long and I know I typed something to the effect “I’m not that smart” into the translator. He then ushered me over to a van and in the passenger front seat opened a briefcase full of cash.

Looking back, this entire experience is a “what NOT to do” outline for these types of situations. I get it, and I fully deserve any bashing I get because I was beyond dumb here. I managed to get ever more stupid.

I thought taking my phone out to take a photo of the briefcase full of cash would be a great addition to this story, which I knew I would write eventually. As I angled my phone, another officer behind me grabbed it. This was not good. He spent five minutes reviewing every piece of data and photo in my phone searching for the photo that I never managed to take, and all the while I kept repeating “no photo.” He finally returned my phone.

I unknowingly overpaid the Vietnamese police about 150USD ((2 to 3 million Dong is the going rate; I had paid 8 million). I was almost arrested due to my own stupidity. There was just one final step to take before I could go on my way: A photo of myself and my motorcycle. This photo was uploaded to what I will describe as a massive group text chat for future altercations with the police that would prove I had paid my “entry fee.”

It was now close to 10:00 a.m. My early start was shot. I threw my leg over the Honda and fired it up. Feeling relieved I wasn’t going to jail, there was still plenty of daylight to salvage my slow and difficult start. Sadly, that relief was short lived. In just under 30 minutes, I found myself sitting in front of a judge and more police.

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Scenic Byway 163 (Arizona to Utah): Part 2

By Mike Huber

As I left the gas station in Mexican Hat the sky was looking extremely menacing. I knew that camping in a lower elevation in the Valley of the Gods may not have been the best idea, due to possible flooding. The roads can get really slick with rain. There was a great state park just a few miles away. In fact, it is such a great place to camp I was hesitant to name it here, but it is Gooseneck State Park. There are about 20 campsites there which are on the edge of a 1,000 foot drop into what looks exactly like Horseshoe Bend. This park would suffice for my home for the evening, although in hindsight I should have gotten a hotel. But then there wouldn’t be a story.

I pulled into Gooseneck State Park and set my tent up. The sky was black. It really looked menacing, and I was quite sure it wouldn’t be a dry night. After setting up my tent I did my usual walk around the park and talked with other campers. I began chatting up some other riders and invited them over for a beer and to share my fire. Within five minutes of talking to them one replied to me as he pointed to the sky. “Yeah, you may need all those beers for yourself, and there is no way we are having a fire. Good luck.”

A few minutes later I found myself in my tent alone drinking my beers as the sky opened up. This was not good. As the rains continued to pelt down the winds picked up. Within two beers the ground became so soaked that my tent stakes had uprooted in the now mud puddle I was camped in. The tent was being blown all over just making loud cracking noises like a whip. Fortunately, I had brought my panniers inside and positioned them at diagonal corners of the tent in an attempt to keep the tent somewhat grounded. Unfortunately, the winds had grown so strong that my entrance zipper was ripped apart.

I felt like this was as bad as it would get. Sadly, I was mistaken as a strong gust got under the tent and threw my pannier across the tent and in doing so the floor of my tent was ripped apart. I managed to get a little bit of sleep that evening but not much. In the morning as I awoke at 5:00 a.m., I noticed my tent had a couple inches of water in it. It resembled a kiddie pool. Everything I owned was soaked.

By 05:30 I had everything packed up and I was ready to find a coffee shop to dry out in. My plan for that day was to meet one of my 82^nd Airborne friends in Cortez, Colorado for lunch. Even though I had an early start I showed up late, due to trying to dry my gear out. When asked why I was late I simply replied I had to hit a hardware store for duct tape. He then looked me up and down as I was covered in mud and even my 82^nd Airborne hat was destroyed from the previous night. “What the fuck happened to you?” he asked as he took in my appearance. I ordered a beer and began to tell him of my adventure. Even though I had a rough night, Scenic Byway 163 is still one of the greatest roads in the United States.

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Scenic Byway 163 (Arizona to Utah): Part 1

By Mike Huber

Arizona Highway 163 is one of the most iconic roads in the United States. This is the road through Monument Valley. From Easy Rider to Forest Gump to numerous westerns, when you ride this road you are in a magical place (especially on a motorcycle). It’s a big reason why I chose it as the cover for my book (and that’s cheap plug for A Trip Into The Moment). I’ve ridden Highway 163 many times on my BMW GS1200. Most times it was uneventful, but as with most things in life, as soon as you relax and feel comfortable Mother Nature will find a way to remind you exactly how small you are.

One of my last trips on Highway 163, I stopped in Kayenta to fuel up and reload on water. It was late September, and the weather was perfect. I had a 45-mile drive to Mexican Hat, where I would grab firewood and camp in the Valley of the Gods. I never listen to music but felt The Band’s song, The Weight, was warranted to just set the tone and add more color to this final stretch. I was the Easy Rider!

As I tore out of Kayenta everything was just coming together perfectly. This was to be the coolest ride I’d ever done. With the music screaming throughout my helmet I eased into the moment and just embraced it. That was until I looked to the left and saw a sheet of brown coming at me. It was a sandstorm. Without missing a beat I pulled in my clutch, clicked down two gears and took off. I had about 30 miles to go and felt confident I could make it to safety in Mexican Hat. Safety would only be a gas station awning, but that would be enough to protect me from the stinging sands.

I made it as the sandstorm changed direction and went due south; however, I wasn’t out of the woods yet as a downpour began. I loaded up on a few snacks and water, and was waiting the storm out when a Harley rumbled up to join me under the awning. The two-up Harley riders had just come down Moki Dugway and were soaked and shaken. Fair enough. Even on my BMW GS1200 I would not want to attempt that, especially going down those hairpin dirt roads with no guardrails and nothing but a sheer vertical drop if you were to slide. It’s very unforgiving.

We chatted for the better part of an hour on our riding experience as the rain came down around us. When asked how long I was out riding, the guy almost fell off his bike with my reply: I think I have been out for four years or so. As the rain let up, we said our farewells. They went south and I went west toward Valley of the Gods to set up camp.

I think the best part about this story is a year later learning how small the world actually is. I had been helping a friend who I didn’t know too well navigate working remotely. I gave him a lot of ideas and tips and offered to assist if he needed anything else. I hadn’t heard from him for almost two years when I received an email. He had been hiking in Colorado and sat on an overlook to take in the views when a couple joined him and they began chatting about life and travel (the usual overlook conversations). The conversation then turned to people they had met and the couple mentioned this long-haired guy on a BMW with a stuffed animal they had met on Highway 163. My friend replied that he knew me; he had helped me get off the ground working remotely. They all had a good laugh and continued their hikes. These coincidences in meeting others who had met me probably could be its own blog, but I felt this story fits nicely here.

Returning now to that beautiful September day: Upon leaving the gas station in Mexican Hat the sky began to darken yet again. A new adjustment had to be made to avoid another storm. This one looked worse than both the sandstorm and the thunderstorm I had dodged. I was pretty confident my luck had run out in terms of staying dry at this point. Being familiar with the area there I knew there was one alternative that could protect me from the storm, but would I make it before the sky opened up?

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The Road to Pai, Thailand

By Mike Huber

After spending a couple months freezing in Nepal I was more than ready for a restful month (or three, as it turned out). I was craving warmth, a steak, and some scuba diving, and southern Thailand quenched my thirst for all three.

After a month or two in southern Thailand spending the days scuba diving and embracing the sun it was time to head north. The previous year when I was in Chaing Mai I got sick off eating elephant poop, not intentionally but it had me leashed to a toilet for four or five days and ruined my entire itinerary. It was now time to return to Chaing Mai and steer clear of the elephants.

Everywhere in Thailand there are a ton of Temples to visit and northern Thailand was no different. After a few tours and meeting a ton of new friends the road to Pai kept coming up as one of the best roads to motorcycle in Asia. I located a rental shop in Chaing Mai and rented a bike for seven days. This was a rather long time as the road to Pai roundtrip only took two or three days. I figured with the added days I may do a layover day somewhere and just blast around the northern tip of Thailand to some less frequented parts of the country and have some shorter days on the bike.

My trip to Pai ended up being delayed two days as there was a massive monsoon that blew through and needless to say it wasn’t good riding weather. Once the storm cleared I left on a Honda 500cc motorcycle ready to tear these roads up. Although it rained usually once a day at one time or another it was tolerable and outside some wet roads my first few days were going well. The roads were incredible and it was quite similar to motorcycling in Vermont, outside of driving on the left hand side of the road. There were beautiful twisties and colorful canopies of vegetation that provided a kaleidoscope of colors when the sun made it through the foliage.

As I stated most the times the roads were wet and I adjusted my speed with the ever-changing road conditions. What I didn’t factor in was an oil spill on one of the corners as I approached Pai. All I remember is “boy that slid out from under me really smoothly” and the next moment I was floating through the air. Prior to being a paratrooper is I am very proficient at playing patty cake with the earth. I executed the perfect PLF (parachute landing fall) and as I slid down the road after that execution I couldn’t stop laughing as the bike was spinning like a 600-pound fidget spinner and went off the road and settled into the grass.

As I stood up I performed a self-assessment of the damage to myself. I was very fortunate. Just a few scrapes and bruises. My shirt and pants were pretty tore up I noticed a very sharp pain in my ribs. I definitely cracked, broke, or fractured a rib. I picked up the bike and noticed one mirror was destroyed and my right foot peg was snapped off. Also my front brake handle outside of a 2-inch piece was snapped off. I had about four days left with the motorcycle so I would just use one finger on the front brake and move my leg from the rear peg to tap the rear brake as needed for the remainder of my trip. My tourism layover days were now replaced with staying in bed to nurse my injuries with Chang beers.

I ended up completing all the roads I had planned on and it was now time to return the motorcycle to Chang Mai and continue to rest the cracked rib. I am certain if this accident had happened in the United States the bill to the damaged motorcycle would have been over 1,000USD, but in Thailand it was under 100USD and I threw in a few Chang beers for a tip. The road to Pai is really one of the better roads I have ridden on, outside of the oil slick of course. Still, it was a great way to explore northern Thailand.

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Minnesota’s Split Rock Lighthouse

By Joe Berk

When driving around Lake Superior (and all the Great Lakes), the waters appear to be calm. At least they do to me, and it feels kind of odd, because each of the Great Lakes are so big you can’t see the other side. In other words, from the shore they appear to be as big as the ocean, except there are no waves. But that’s not always the case. In stormy weather, the Great Lakes can get rough. In 1905, just one storm damaged 29 vessels. You might wonder: Is there that much shipping on the Great Lakes? The short answer is yes, and in particular, a lot of iron ore mined in Minnesota went by ship to Wisconsin and other locations. U.S. Steel alone had 112 ore-carrying ships in 1901.

Split Rock’s location along Lake Superior. We rode there from Duluth.

The U.S. Steel president lobbied Washington for a lighthouse along Minnesota’s rocky shoreline, and in 1907 Congress allocated $75,000 to build one. It became known as the Split Rock Lighthouse because the huge rock upon which it sits has a large vertical cleave.

A view of the Lake Superior shoreline from atop Split Rock.

Construction started in 1907 and finished in 1910, when the lighthouse was commissioned. The U.S. Lighthouse Service operated it until 1939, when all U.S. lighthouses came under U.S. Coast Guard. The Coast Guard is responsible for all lighthouses, but that no longer includes Split Rock. Split Rock shut down as a navigational aid in 1969. Other navigation systems such as Long Range Navigation (LORAN) and the Global Positioning System (GPS) now meet that role. Only five staffed U.S. lighthouses remain in service today; all others have been decommissioned or operate under automated control.

Looking up at the lighthouse tower from its base. I was armed only with my D3300 Nikon and a 35mm 1.8 prime lens. It’s a system you zoom with your feet (i.e., moving closer to or away from the subject). Sometimes there’s not enough room to move around.

Foghorns atop the foghorn building. When they were operational, they sounded a 2-second blast every 18 seconds. They went out of service in the 1960s. The horns are activated once a year now.

The foghorns were initially powered by two compressors driven by internal combustion engines. Cooling water for the engines was drawn from Lake Superior.

The site transferred to the State of Minnesota in 1971, and in 1976 control shifted to the Minnesota Historical Society. In 2011, it was designated a National Historic Landmark.

Susie had Betty’s fish and chips; I opted for the caribou chicken pasty. Both were excellent.

We split a slice of Betty’s toffee cream pie for dessert. It was awesome.

The ride out to the lighthouse from Duluth (where we stayed for a couple of days) was beautiful. We followed Minnesota 61 north for 47 miles. It was a beautiful ride along the Lake Superior shoreline. On the trip north, we notice Betty’s Pies (a restaurant), and we stopped there for dinner on the way back. There was an hour wait to get in, but it was worth it.

After our dinner, there was a young couple parked next to us on a pair of sports bikes. The gal was on a nondescript Japanese bike; the guy was on a Triumph Speed Triple (and that definitely caught my attention). We followed them back along Minnesota Highway 61, and after a few miles they veered left on Scenic Drive (which follows the Lake Superior shoreline much more closely). That is an appropriate name. Scenic Drive took us directly into Duluth and our hotel. It was a fun day.

Looking for a great place to ride? Hey, that’s our specialty. I write about great Destinations regularly for Motorcycle Classics magazine. You can read about my favorites here:

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Phavorite Photos: Utah Highway 12

By Joe Berk

When good buddy Baja John and yours truly ran the mother of all publicity stunts (the CSC Motorcycles Western America Adventure Ride) through the western United States, I had the easy part. I simply rode at the head of the formation of our dozen or so Chinese, Colombian, and US riders. Baja John did all the heavy lifting: Selecting our routes, mapping out the course, and handling all the hotel reservations. John did a hell of a job, finding roads that were scenic, twisty, and representative of the best riding America has to offer. Of all the roads we rode, one in particular stands out: Utah’s Highway 12.

Utah Highway 12 runs from just east of Bryce Canyon National Park to Capitol Reef National Park, and it something out of a psychedelic mapmaker’s mind with the vibrance turned up. Way up. The road winds its way through by bright pink and white sandstone cliffs, with its black tarmac and yellow lines piercing a path through a dramatic landscape. It is fine motorcycling; the stuff of dreams and brilliant memories. If you’ve never ridden Utah, trust me on this: You need to.

I enjoyed that stretch of Utah so much that a year or two later Susie and I repeated the trip, and it was along Utah Highway 12 that I stopped and grabbed the photo you see above. Sometimes these photos are a little tricky to capture while standing in the road, focusing on composition, angling the polarizer for the best saturation and reflection elimination, holding the camera steady, and grabbing the best possible photograph, all the while listening intently for any traffic barreling up the road behind me. The trick is to not get run over while seeking the perfect picture. So far, I’ve been lucky.

I used my Old Faithful combo (my Nikon D810 camera and 24-120 lens) for the above photo. I used to think prime lenses (i.e., lenses of the non-zoom variety) provided the sharpest images, but the Nikon 24-120 lens changed my mind. It’s as sharp a lens as any of the several I’ve used. I did not use a tripod. The Nikon 24-120 has a built-in vibration reduction feature, so on a bright and sunny day there’s really no need for a tripod. Hand-held is good enough.

There’s a bit more to the story, and that’s another story. I pitched this stretch of road as a “Destinations” piece for Motorcycle Classics magazine, and they bought it. You can read that article here, and you can read a few of my other destinations pieces here. If you are not a Motorcycle Classics subscriber, you should be. It’s one of the few remaining motorcycle print publications, and it has always been one of the best. And if you want to read more about our trek across the western US, get yourself a copy of 5000 Miles at 8000 RPM.

Earlier Phavorite Photos? You bet! Click on each to get their story.

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Magnificent Motoliterature!

By Joe Berk

It had to happen: Good buddy and frequent ExNotes blogger Mike Huber wrote a book! Mike’s book is A Trip Into The Moment, published by Native Book Publishing. You should buy it now from Amazon. Here’s the back cover blurb:

We are a literary bunch, us ExNotes writers. Joe Gresh and I published a collection of our favorite stories not too long ago, and I’ve penned (or keyboarded) a few myself. Here’s a link to the Gresh and yours truly book, A Cup O’ Joes:

Want to lose weight, ride faster, and impress your friends? Add our books to your library and drop a Huber, Gresh, or Berk quote from time to time. Better yet, buy a copy of each of our books and post this blog’s link on your social media (it will help with sales)!

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Yuma Territorial Prison State Park

By Joe Berk

There were four territorial prisons in the early western United States: Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, and Yuma. I’ve been to two of them. Sue and I visited the Old Idaho State Penitentiary last year (it was awesome), and most recently, the Yuma Territorial Prison tucked away in the southwestern corner of Arizona. Years ago, I’d been to the Yuma Territorial Prison on a motorcycle ride with good buddy Dick Scott. It was way more primitive then; it wasn’t much more than a few remains of the original prison with not much identified. That’s not the case today.

After catching up with John at dinner over fish tacos the night before, we had a nice breakfast the next day at the Yuma Denny’s (don’t laugh, it’s my favorite place for breakfast when I’m on the road). After that, it was on to the Yuma prison.

On this trip, Sue and I were on our way home after visiting the Buddy Stubbs Motorcycle Museum in Phoenix (it was awesome) and we decided to divert down to Yuma to visit with my motorcycle riding and hunting buddy, Baja John. It was a good visit.

Yuma often sees temperatures over 110 degrees, and sometimes 120 degrees, during the summer months. It must have been brutal being incarcerated there.

Bleak. Desolate. Dehumanizing. I see nothing wrong here.

If you were an inmate, you’d be home now…

Six to a cell. Impressive. High density housing.

The Yuma Prison apparently had some interesting houseguests.

As soon as you enter the Yuma Territorial Prison State Park, there’s a very nice museum. One of the displays that immediately caught my eye was a Gatling Gun.

I like Gatling guns. You should, too, and as I always say, don’t way for the movie. Buy the book…

As mentioned above, Yuma is located in the southwestern corner of Arizona directly across the Colorado River from California. It was an interesting and vital stop for many ’49ers who entered California seeking gold. There are scenic overlooks that allow a clear Colorado River view.