Motorcycles, Scooters, Guns, Adventures, Opinions, and More
Dave Reiss is another one of our good riding buddies and blogging friends who recently told us about a ride on his Yamaha Seca, proving yet again that you don’t have to sell the farm to have a grand motorcycle adventure. Dave’s post is right here. You’ll enjoy reading it. We sure did!
New Jersey may not be a place you would ordinarily think of for a motorcycle ride, but I grew up back there and I’m here to tell you that you can have a good time on a motorcycle in the Garden State. One of the rides I particularly like is along the Jersey shore from Pt. Pleasant to the Atlantic Highlands. Once you’re in Pt. Pleasant, aim your front wheel north and do your best to hug the coastline. It’s Highway 36 for much of that run (it’s called a highway, but it’s really a nice non-highway ride all the way up). Your destination might be (as mine usually is) the Atlantic Highlands, Sandy Hook, and the Gateway National Recreation Area.
I have several recent photos from this area (I was there this past June), and rather than a long narrative, I thought I might simply share the captioned photos…
And there you have it. I like visiting New Jersey, and I never miss an opportunity to ride the Jersey shore. I’m thinking it might make sense to keep a motorcycle back there.
Hmmmm…
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To pick up where we left off, we’ll roll as far south as breakfast in Colonet in this blog. This was to be our first full day on the road, headed south to Cabo San Lucas!
We trucked the bikes down to San Ysidro just north of the border, hopped on the little Mustangs and we were off, with J following us in the chase truck. We had a spare bike in the back of the truck, and that’s when the fun began. We went through the border and took off; J was stopped immediately. Damn, we’re in the Tijuana traffic crucible, we lost J, and we didn’t have any telephone communications. But we did have a plan. Our rendezvous point in case we became separated was the Rosarito Beach Hotel, about 35 miles south of the border.
J was basically kicked out of Mexico as soon as he crossed the border because he didn’t have ownership documents and I guess the Mexican border agents didn’t want him bringing a motorcycle in the back of his truck into Mexico. It just never dawned on me that this would be a problem. Well, maybe it had…he had a letter from CSC authorizing use of the bike, but that wouldn’t cut it with the Mexican immigration folks.
Once he was back on the US side, J was able to reach the CSC truck by phone before it got too far north of the border. J and the CSC guys moved the bike from J’s truck to the CSC truck, and J hotfooted it down to Rosarito Beach, where we had a great lunch.
We rode through Ensenada, and then continued south into the northern Baja wine country. It was grand. Here we were, trekking south, on 150cc hardtail bikes, living large. We stopped in Palomar to top off at a Pemex station, had a snack, and continued.
Yep, you read that right. The CSC Mustangs were all hardtails. The only suspension was in the seat springs. Old school. Cool. You’d think our butts and back would take a beating, but that wasn’t the case at all. Those seat springs did what they were supposed. Surprisingly, at the end of the day we’d be feeling it in our wrists. The handlebars weren’t rubber mounted on the Mustangs, and when the rear wheel hit a bump, the shock went directly to your hands. But I digress. Back to the main attraction…our trek south…
Our little 150cc California Scooters purred. The bikes liked to run right at 45 mph. They just felt relaxed at that speed, and it’s about the perfect speed for riding on Mexico’s Transpeninsular Highway. Here’s a bit more on the impressively-named Transpeninsular Highway. Once you’re south of Ensenada, it’s a two-lane country road (one lane each way) that runs north and south (with lots of zigging and zagging along the way) for a cool 1000 miles, all the way down to Cabo.
After the wine country, Mexico Highway 1 (that’s the Transpensular Highway’s numeric designation) winds through little farming towns. In these little agricultural towns, the road is 4 or 5 feet higher than everything else. When you get off the road, you go down a pretty steep hill to get to the same level as the stores and other businesses, and there’s about a 30-foot dirt area between the street and the town on both sides of the street. People use this dirt area as sort of a parking lot and a street, so there’s traffic on the main road and the dirt areas on either side of the paved road. Which way the traffic flows in these dirt lanes depends mostly on…well, I don’t know. If I ever break the code, I’ll let you know.
We called it a night in San Vincente, and we checked into an inexpensive hotel (they’re all inexpensive down there). San Vincente was a hopping place that Friday night, which was a bit surprising to me. What wasn’t surprising is that we were the only gringos in San Vincente. That notwithstanding, we felt completely safe. All the bad press in the LA Times in those days about Mexico being dangerous was bunk (“bunk” is a nice word for, well, you know). There was so much bunk in the world back then about Mexico being dangerous that I sometimes wonder where it all came from. Is there a high-volume-production bunk factory out there I haven’t heard about? The mainstream media, and the LA Times in particular, was hell bent on portraying Mexico as a war zone. It’s not.
The point I’m making is that the Bajaenos are friendly, warm, and grateful that we visited this wonderful place. They had a double whammy down there…the recession, and the news media sensationalism painting all of Mexico as a terrible place. Not that San Vincente is a tourist area (it is not), but my sense of things is that the people we hung out with in San Vincente were glad to see us.
Arlene and I wandered around a bit, checked out a couple of mercados (grocery stores), and we ended up at another little place that was cooking up a bunch of stuff. Folks were lined up and there were barstools at a makeshift counter. All of this was outdoors. Arlene and I had quesadillas (I had two, actually). The guy who took care of us had this cool meat cooker that looked a lot like the ones I’ve seen in Turkey. He was cool with it all and he seemed to be greatly amused that I was taking his photo.
While we were enjoying the festive atmosphere and dinner, two young kids came up to us as I was savoring a real quesadilla (Taco Bell has no idea how good these are). It was pretty obvious we were out-of-towners, and one of the boys slowly said to me in perfect, unaccented English “It is very good, isn’t it?” I told him it was and asked his name. “Vinny,” he said. I took a flyer and asked if the other boy was his cousin. “No, he is my brother,” he said. Ah, okay. Not his cousin Vinny. Too bad. It would have added to the story.
We were up with the sun and on the road early the next morning, and it was cold. I had checked out the bikes the night before and all were fine (oil, tire pressure, the standard big-road-trip-preflight-stuff for loose nuts and bolts, etc.). I was surprised at how cold it was, because September is the hottest month of the year in Baja. I guess nobody told the weather people, though. Then the fog rolled in. It was thick. Not so thick that we couldn’t ride in it, but thick enough to soak my jeans and my gloves. We saw a coffee shop in Colonet and stopped for a caffeine fix.
I’ve done this run on big bikes many times previously and before we left I had a bit of trepidation about doing it on a 150cc motorcycle, but my fears were groundless. The seating position on those little Mustangs was perfect for this kind of riding, and the ergos were about the same as a Harley Sportster. Simon was surprised…he told me he felt the bike was extremely comfortable, and that it felt to him like a full-sized motorcycle (which is kind of what I was thinking). And this was coming from a guy who rode a 125 cc pizza delivery bike to the southernmost tip of South America and back, and then rode another bike across the length of India.
After that great cup of Colonet coffee, our 150cc trek south resumed…
To be continued…
Good buddy Juan, who showed me a grand time riding in Colombia, recently posted this video. I don’t speak Spanish, but I didn’t need to. The riding scenes brought back fond memories of the Colombia adventure…
The video features a new AKT Motos bike. AKT is a fine company; one of the four big ones manufacturing motorcycles in Colombia. I know Enrique, the General Manager, and he was a most gracious host during our visit. Good times. I sure miss Colombia.
The ExhaustNotes post today has two videos, and both are from Janus Motorcycles.
Janus checks all of the boxes for us: Small displacement, custom crafted, ultra-high quality, hand-built-in-America motorcycles. What I found especially intriguing is that one of the Janus founders, Richard Worsham, rode his 250cc motorcycle across the United States. That, my friends, is extremely cool (it’s downright inspirational, in my opinion). It grabbed my attention because long trips on small-displacement motorcycles to demonstrate reliability is one of the things we did when I was at CSC Motorcycles. It’s a brilliant strategy.
We’ll be telling you more about the Janus line in the future, but one of the things I’ll mention up front is that Janus uses an overhead valve CG-clone engine, which is probably the most-frequently-used engine on the planet. My experience with these engines has been that they are bulletproof, and I say that because I’ve put tons of miles on them. They’re easy to maintain, as they should be. That’s what Honda had in mind when they designed the CG engine.
So, enough yakking. Let’s get to the videos. First, the ride across the United States…
And here’s another one about the Janus culture, and the inspiration for their motorcycles…
If you’d like more information on Janus, just give a click here.
That’s my good buddy Bill in the photo above, at speed, riding the Lake Erie Loop, a 600-mile scooter endurance rally. I first met Bill shortly after starting the CSC blog. Bill is a retired firefighter who is a serious Iron Butt rider, and he wanted a CSC scooter to ride in the Lake Erie endurance event back in those days. We were only too happy to oblige.
Yesterday, I received a nice note from Bill, and I want to share it with you…
Joe:
I’ve just registered for the Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride, a fundraising motorcycle ride to help beat prostate cancer. You’re receiving this because you happen to be in my phone directory and because you know what a fanatic I am about riding. This year’s ride is on September 30th and, ironically, my birthday is on September 29th. Now, I know you were going to send me some kind of gift (nudge nudge, hint hint), but in lieu of that, I’d prefer that you make a nominal donation in my name for this great cause. Or, better yet, join me on the ride. To do either (or both) go to www.gentlemansride.com/fundraiser/WilliamMurar227980
Thanks,
Ride Aware,
Bill
Bill, that’s awesome! Thanks for writing and we’re only too happy to post your request here on the ExNotes blog. How about it, folks…let’s help Bill in this most noble cause!
Highway 41 runs from the Gran Quivira ruins to Highway 380. Forty miles of easy dirt, (unless it rains), the road really doesn’t go anywhere I need it to go but I still take the route if I’m going north/south to Santa Fe and have time to kill. I have lots of time to kill.
There are old ranches in New Mexico. This dry land requires thousands of acres to support cattle or whatever hybrid, cactus-eating animals they raise out here. Access to these ranches is via roads like 41. The road cuts through warning signs and fence lines working its way past lonely muster stations that no longer thunder with the sounds of hooves and bellowing cattle. Time continues to function out here, hour by hour degrading nails and planks, erasing the best efforts of past generations. It’s a bygone landscape that appeals to a kid raised on a steady diet of Road Runner and Wiley Coyote cartoons.
I’d like to think I could have made a stand out here, been a solitary man roping and fence-mending in the bitter wind of a New Mexico winter, surviving by my wits and taming this vast, high desert. I would have mail ordered rockets and catapults from ACME, the cartoon version of Amazon. I’d build windmills and log cabins. I’d eat snakes and shoot quarters out of mid-air with a six-gun that I took out of a dead man’s holster. Then I’d write a Rustic’s poem about the dead man titled, “His Noted Life Was Not In Vain.” I’d have all the trappings of America’s western lore and I would have shouldered it in stride. A life without comfort or ease would be met with a steely-eyed stoicism that concealed deep emotions surging through my fully realized cowboy-self.
Highway 41 is remote, the kind of road that makes you worry about tires or if you have enough water. There’s no cell phone reception and you’ll want your rig in top shape to travel out here. I keep my rig in just-above-collapse shape. Clapped out with three broken engine mounts appeals to my cowboy-self. After climbing a small ridge, 41 becomes increasingly populated by ghosts. Bent and weathered power poles spread their arms, holding nothing. I should have brought more water and a jar of peanut butter.
If you have the time, and the back road leads somewhere you don’t really need to go, I recommend taking Highway 41. There’s adventure in every movement. Joy in discovering a structure that still stands despite it all. America’s private history is waiting to be discovered, starting with the insignificant bits first. It’s on us to record the passing of the Old West. We can be witnesses for unheralded battlefields where stoic cowboys fell to Time and Nature.
I posted this photo a year or so ago when I was writing the CSC blog, and it’s worth posting again.
The Reader’s Digest version of the story goes like this: When we did the Western America Adventure Ride (you can read all about that in 5000 Miles at 8000 RPM), one of the places my good buddy Baja John found to spend the night was Panguitch, Utah, just outside of Bryce Canyon National Park. The area and the little town of Panguitch were a lot of fun, we were having a grand time, and then I got to feeling guilty. That happens a lot on the group tours, and it’s because I’m not sharing the adventure with my girlfriend, Sue. But I have an app for that…I do the trip again and bring Sue along.
Fast forward a couple of years, and Sue and I found ourselves waiting to be seated at the Cowboy BBQ, the best restaurant in Panguitch (there’s always a line to get in). When we were seated, another couple came in behind us. Burt saw my Nikon and asked if I was a photographer. One thing led to another, and Sue and I and Burt and Roz had a great dinner that night. We became good friends.
Fast forward a little more and Burt sent the above photo to me, but it was not just any photo. Burt had just won a DPReview.com contest with it (the subject was newlyweds).
Nice work, Burt, and thanks for sharing your fabulous photo with us!
It’s as good as it gets, folks. Whale watching, Baja style. It’s the only place in the world were you can get up close and personal, and actually touch the whales. Combined with a motorcycle ride, it makes Baja even more special…
Figure on two days from the Los Angeles area to get down to Guerrero Negro. I’ve done it in one day, but that involves getting up at 4:00 a.m. to leave LA and riding hard for 700 miles…it’s not the best way to do it.
The ride south is awesome, especially once you get south of Ensenada. You could make this an easy 5-day run if seeing the whales was your main objective, and hey, I’m here to suggest it should be. We’ll talk more about that in just a bit.
The deal is this…the California gray whale herd spends its time migrating north in the summer (all the way to Alaska) and south in the winter (down to two major lagoons on Baja’s Pacific side). It’s the longest mammal migration in the world. The two lagoons where you can see the whales are Scammon’s Lagoon near Guerrero Negro, and San Ignacio Lagoon about an hour west of San Ignacio via a gnarly dirt road.
My preference (and my recommendation) is to do Scammon’s Lagoon from Guerrero Negro, as getting to the little boats only takes about 10 minutes. If you want to do San Ignacio Lagoon, you have to go with a service that picks you up in San Ignacio and takes you for a one-hour van ride to the lagoon. There are several whale watching services in Guerrero Negro; my favorite is Malarimmo’s or my good buddy Martin’s whale watching tour. It’s $50 per person, it includes a box lunch, and it’s literally a life-altering experience. Nobody does this who doesn’t come away moved by the experience. I know it’s hard to accept that reading a blog, but trust me, it’s what will happen.
The whales are cool. They’re longer than the boats we’re in. And like I said earlier, you actually get to touch them. Ever been kissed by a 45-foot California gray whale?
The whales are only in town (i.e., in Baja) from January through April, and then they’re back on the road headed north to Alaska. I like to visit with them in March; it’s when I think the whales are most friendly. This is a really cool thing to do.
I used to do these tours for CSC, and we’re thinking of opening it up for anybody in the ExhaustNotes crowd who wants to ride with us. You can be on any kind of bike, with a maximum number of people we’ll define at some point in the future. There won’t be any charge for this, folks, but you will have to sign up for our automatic ExhaustNotes email blog notifications to ride with us, and basically you’ll have to pass the personality test (that means you can’t be a jerk if you want to ride with us).
If you’re interested, let us know at info@ExhaustNotes.us (but only let us know if you’re serious; we not interested in a lot of “if” pre-qualifiers…you know, if I can get the time off, it my wife says it’s okay, if I can get my bike running, etc.).
Follow the ExhaustNotes blog if you want to know more about our planned Baja whale watching adventure ride. You should be reading the blog at least once every day, anyway (it will make you taller, thinner, better looking, and a better rider). Get your bike insured with BajaBound. We’ve got a lot of good info on Baja on our Baja page, and there’s more coming.
Stay tuned…there’s lots more to follow, but in the meantime, if you want to get a feel for what it’s like riding in Baja and seeing the whales, check out Moto Baja!
Another blog a few entries down (it was on my magical journey to Mompox, Colombia) told about the isolated and surreal nature of that beautiful town. We had to take a ferry ride down the Magdalena River to get there, and I mentioned in the blog that my ride leader, Juan Carlos, had told me they would soon be building a bridge to Mompox. Well, they are, and here’s a video Juan sent to me about it…
There’s an old saying that goes something along the lines of “bad roads bring good people, and good roads bring bad people…” I think Mompox is going to change with improved access. I’m glad I saw it when I did. It was a special place on a special ride.