After zipping through the Andes Mountains in Colombia for a week on RS3 motorcycles with my good buddies Juan and Carlos (the RS3 is the carbureted version of the RX3), I spent a day in the AKT Motos plant. AKT Motos is the importer and assembler of Zongshen motorcycles in Colombia.
The AKT factory was impressive, and not just because of the fact that they make motorcycles there. I’ve been in and around factories for most of my life. There are good ones and there are bad ones. I can tell the difference as soon as I walk in just by looking at the people who work there and the condition of the facilities. The vibes were all good…AKT is a good place to work and the people there love what they do.
Here’s the AKT Moto assembly line:
Juan Carlos grabbed the photo below of yours truly with Enrique Vargas, AKT Moto’s General Manager.
Here’s a video showing the AKT Motos plant in action:
Enrique is a genuine nice guy and he’s the real deal. He rides a different AKT Motos motorcycle to work every day (in Medellin traffic, that’s no small feat), and he races motocross on the weekends. Enrique is the guy who invited me on the Colombia trip, and I had a wonderful time on that ride. You can read about the adventure in Moto Colombia, our book about the ride through Colombia. It was the ride of a lifetime, and the book makes a great gift.
That photo at the top of this blog? It’s yours truly leaving the ferry that had carried us down the Magdalena River to Mompox, one of my favorite places in the world and unquestionably one of the more exotic spots I ever visited on a motorcycle. Here’s a video I did on that ferry ride with a few scenes in Mompox at night, and another riding through the Andes.
When I wrote the blog for CSC Motorcycles, we organized several multi-day rides (trips through Baja, the western US, China, Colombia, and more). One of my favorite rides was the Destinations Deal tour. It started out as an idea by the real marketing whiz in the CSC organization (who likes her anonymity, so I won’t mention her name), with directions to include some of the best destinations in the southwestern US. As I organized the ride, I realized all the spots I selected were featured in stories I wrote for Motorcycle Classics magazine. CSC wanted to offer a discount on any new bike purchased for the event, the Motorcycle Classics columns were all titled Destinations, and the ride quickly became known as the Destinations Deal Tour.
The ride was awesome: Topock, Laughlin, Oatman, the Grand Canyon, Route 66, Zion, the Extraterrestrial Highway, Tonopah, Death Valley, Shoshone, Baker, and then home. Just over 1500 miles in 6 days on 250cc motorcycles…it would be exactly what the doctor ordered.
The Destinations Deal was one of the best rides I ever did. Old friends and new friends, great weather, great stops, great roads, and great stories combined for an awesome week. The roads, the riders, the restaurants, the camaraderie…it all clicked on this one. But don’t take my word for it. Take a look at the photos.
Leighton and a killer hot dog in Topock on the Colorado River just as we crossed into Arizona. You get a discount coupon for the local coronary care unit when you order this meal.A few of the boys and their RX3s in Oatman. Clark Gable and Carole Lombard stayed in this hotel back in the day.Wild jackasses roam the streets in Oatman. I could have a lot of fun captioning this photo.On our first night, we stayed in the Colorado Belle, a riverboat hotel on the Colorado River in Laughlin, Nevada. It was our first day and we rode through three states already. Gresh and I closed the bar that first evening. They had a live group doing ’60s Motown hits and the music was fantastic. Or maybe we just had a few too many cervezas. Or maybe it was both. The trip was off to a great start.Day 2 on the way to the Grand Canyon. The weather was perfect for the entire ride.Velma and Orlando, who rode two-up on a brand-new blue RX3. Orlando taught me Spanish on this ride: El naranja es el color más rápido.Another shot of the most photogenic couple you’ll ever see on an adventure ride, this time using a super-wide-angle lens on my Nikon. You can actually see the curvature of the earth in this photo.Good buddy Rob, with who I’ve ridden several times in the US and Mexico, buys a drink for a new friend at the Grand Canyon.On the road to Zion along Arizona’s Highway 89A after visiting the Grand Canyon. This was a glorious ride.Marble Canyon in Arizona as we re-crossed the mighty Colorado River.Zion, the Crown Jewel of our National Parks. This was shaping up to be one of the best trips ever. From left to right, it’s Dan The Man, Orlando and Velma, Gary in the back, Leighton, Willie, and Rob. Add Gresh and yours truly, mix well, and you have the makings of a grand adventure.My buds in the rear view, as we waited for a group of big horn sheep to cross the road. You could say the delay was baa-aa-aa-ad, but it was worth it to see those magnificent big horns.The next day it was on to Nevada for the long trek to Tonopah. We took the world-famous ExtraTerrestrial Highway. Here’s a shot of shot ET after he phoned home.Selfies in Rachel, Nevada, where Joe Gresh made friends with an elderly waitress. She schooled Uncle Joe on the finer points of place settings, ketchup assignments, and more. You had to be there to fully appreciate the training session. It was funny as hell.On the ET Highway, headed toward Tonopah. The riding was incredible; the camaraderie even better. We set a sedate pace to conserve fuel. Everyone did over 70 mpg (even Orlando and Velma, riding two up). Folks commented that they liked the slower pace. I did, too.After a night in Tonopah, it was on to Death Valley (entering from the northeast) the next morning. It was awesome. That’s Willie, Dan, and Gary.The entire valley, as seen from Dante’s Peak. Death Valley is an exceptional destination. If you’ve never been to Death Valley, you need to go.The crew (from left to right) included Gary, Willie, Orlando, Rob, Velma, Dan, Leighton and me (I was on the other side of the camera). Gresh was there, but he spun off to see Stovepipe Wells in Death Valley that afternoon. He had his reasons.We stayed in Shoshone our last night. The Shoshone Inn had a fun firepit outside. Gresh bought the beer. It had been a grand ride and it would end the next day. I think we doubled the population the night we were in Shoshone.Dinner in Shoshone. Like every meal on the road, it was awesome.Back through Baker after a freezing early morning ride, breakfast at the Mad Greek (another great meal and a popular motorcycle stop), and then home. What a week!
We did a lot of grand trips at CSC, and it did a lot to help publicize the RX3. Baja, the Western America Adventure Ride, the China ride, the Colombia ride, and more. I did a similar ride for Janus Motorcycles (Janus makes another great 250cc motorcycle) through northern Baja with a couple of their execs and it, too, was awesome (you can read about that one here). There’s a lot to getting these rides organized and there are always things that can go wrong (personalities, bike issues, etc.), but I’ve been lucky. Every one has been a hoot!
This is a good time to buy a CSC or Janus motorcycle. Both companies are running awesome Thanksgiving sales. Check out both motorcycles; you’ll be glad you did!
There’s something about 3-wheeled utility vehicles that interfere with our brainwaves. They’re cool and most of us want one. Let me give you few quick examples.
When Gresh and I rode across China on RX3 250cc motorcycles, we started with a tour of the Zongshen plant in Chongqing. It was just the beginning of what was one of the grandest adventures of my life, and we met a lot of great guys over there, including Sergeant Zuo, a retired Chinese Army NCO who was to be our ride captain. That’s Sergeant Zuo in the video below.
Chongqing is exotic in many ways (think foreign city, 34 million people living in 80-story apartment buildings spread across a rolling and lush green landscape, incredible dining experiences, and one of the largest motorcycle manufacturers on the planet). More exotica? A tour of the Zongshen R&D facilities and a sneak preview of what was in the works (I rode the RX4 while it was still a concept, and we saw the new 400cc twin mocked up in clay). The vehicle that really lit Gresh’s candle, though, was a three-wheel 500cc diesel trike utility truck (it’s the one you see in the large photo above). “I have to get me one of these,” Gresh said, in tones that intimated an impending orgasm (that’s inference on my part, as I’ve never actually heard Gresh in such a situation, at least that I know of, and I’d like to keep it that way).
I mean, that yellow trike was nice, but Gresh’s reaction to it floored me. While I was still at CSC Motorcycles, Gresh was relentless in his full-court press to get me to get CSC to import the things. Go figure.
Next up? That would be a very recent Facebook post by good buddy Jackie showing a new passenger three-wheeler, no doubt intended to meet the pressing demand for tuk tuks (that’s what they’re called in the third world). I immediately asked Jackie what the powerplant would be (it’s an internal combustion engine for now, with an electric one slated for a follow-on version).
I shared the Zongshen post on my Facebook feed, and it drew an immediate response from good buddy Colorado Dan. He wants one. Maybe I could have predicted that…Dan is a guy who has an Enfield Bullet, a Ural, and a couple of Zongs in his garage. And a friendly moose or two in his backyard. Like the cannibals say, there’s no accounting for some people’s tastes, I guess.
I’ve sort of been bit by the bug, too. When Juan, Carlos, and I were assaulting the Andes in Colombia a few years ago, we stayed in a very rustic hotel on the outskirts of beautiful downtown Barichara (it’s pronounced Bah-de-chah-da, with the accent on the first syllable). Juan called a taxi to take us to dinner (it had been a long day on the bikes). I suppose I was expecting some sort of bright yellow sedan to appear, but nope, it was a little tuk tuk. All four of us squeezed in, and we all laughed like madmen on the ride down. It was a downhill ride and that little one-lunger didn’t have to work very hard (gravity is your friend going downhill), but while we were laughing, I was wondering how the thing would do bringing us back up that steep mountain. A couple of hours and an outstanding Italian dinner later, I found out. We could feel every stroke of that little tuk tuk’s motor on the climb up, and we laughed even harder. It was a fun evening.
Then there was Bangkok. Ah, Bangkok. It’s unquestionably one of the most exotic cities in the world. I’d seen these tuk tuks all over Bangkok, but I’d never been in one. It was a character flaw I aimed to correct. The video is a bit long at 16 minutes, but hey, you won’t have to suffer the 17-hour flight in a middle seat to get there (like I did). Just imagine 100-degree temps and humidity that’s off the charts, and you’ll have the compleat Thai tuk tuk travel experience.
I think CSC gets $3995 for a new RX3 these days, and that’s with all the goodies…skid plate, luggage, ABS, 300W alternator, auxiliary accessory switches, the 19-inch front wheel, and probably a few more things I don’t know about. That’s my RX3 in the photo above. I’ve been riding it for more than 5 years. For the Sinophobic haterbators out there, I’ve never found any fish oil in it, I’ve spent substantial time in the factories where they make the RX3 and there are no children chained to the manufacturing equipment, and the Zong techs are most definitely not slave labor. My RX3 has been and still is a good motorcycle.
Looking over the windshield, on the road in Baja.
I know you can buy a used Sportster for what a new RX3 costs if you shop around; the topic comes up nearly every time I mention the price of an RX3. It’s a silly thought, actually, because I’m still looking for that prospective buyer who is trying to decide between a used Sportster and a new RX3. I’ve been on that quest ever since I started writing about the RX3 six years ago, when the keyboard commandos first started pushing the used-Sportster-in-lieu-of-an-RX3 argument.
Here’s a hot flash: That person (the dude or dudette struggling with such a decision) doesn’t exist. You either want an ADV motorcycle, or you want a used bar-hopper with “much chrome” (as the Sportster ads often highlight). I have never met, or even heard of, somebody pondering whether they should buy a used Sportster or an RX3.
Behold: The financial equivalent of a new RX3.
I hear the same kind of keyboard drivel when Janus motorcycles are mentioned. They’re stunning motorcycles, and I’ve had good times riding them through northern Baja. Invariably, though, the used Sportster financial comparison will emerge. Janus is always polite in their responses. Me? I’m a noncombatant and I don’t respond to such Internet drivel. If you want a used Sportster, it’s a free country. Go for it.
To listen to the keyboard commandos, there must be a lot of folks out there dreaming about used Sportsters. Maybe that’s the answer to Harley’s problem. Even though motorcycle sales in general are up sharply since the pandemic started, Harley’s sales most definitely are not. In fact, to read The Wall Street Journal, Harley is circling the drain. Not to worry, though, because I think I have the answer: Rather than rewiring or hardwiring or screwing around with $30K electric motorcycles, or hiring high-priced executives with zero motorcycle experience (as they seem to love to do), Harley should simply stop production and only traffic in used Sportsters. There would be no need for a factory; that’s a huge savings right there. More savings? Harley wouldn’t need to spend anything on advertising; there’s a potful of worldwide web wannabe wizards pushing used Sportsters already doing that for free.
Used Sportsters. Who knew?
Back to my RX3: I’ve covered a lot of miles on it here and overseas. I had it out this Sunday charging through the smoke we call breathable air here in the Peoples Republik of Kalifornia. I hadn’t ridden the RX3 in a couple of months, but it started right up (like it always does) and it’s still running strong (like it always has).
Good buddy Greg on the road to the cave paintings in Sierra San Francisco, Baja California Sur.
It’s kind of a funny story about how the RX3 came to America. I was in China on a consulting gig for another client when CSC asked me to poke around for a 250cc engine for its line of Mustang replicas. It’s funny in the sense that a lot of Internet people told us they’d buy the Mustang if only the bike had a 250cc engine (instead of its 150cc engine). I found a source for the 250cc engine (Zongshen; they weren’t very hard to find). CSC put the 250cc Zong engine in the Mustang and sales…well, they remained essentially the same. All those yahoos who said they’d buy one if the bike had a 250cc motor? They went MIA. I don’t know what they did after CSC introduced the 250cc engine, but they sure didn’t buy a new Mustang. Ah, I take that back…I do know what they did…they posted more comments on Facebook. It’s hard work being a keyboard commando, I guess, and it’s lonely down there in those basements. But they kept at it. Why buy a CSC Mustang, they said. You could buy a used Sportster for that kind of money, they said. Actually, most of the CSC Mustangs were optioned up by their customers so much that their cost approached and sometimes exceeded what a new Sportster would cost, but that’s neither here nor there.
A 250cc CSC Mustang, accessorized to the max.
The arrangement with the Big Z was a good one, and it led directly to things like the RX3, the RX4, the City Slicker, the TT250, the SG250, and more. It’s how I came to own my RX3, and like I said above, I am still riding and enjoying it. Even though I could have bought a used Sportster.
Good buddy Kyle from China, somewhere in South Dakota’s Black Hills. Don’t worry; he’s not armed (and if you’re wondering what that’s all about, you can read that story here).
I’ve been up and down Baja lots of times with lots of RX3 riders. I’ve been across China, including the Gobi Desert and the Tibetan Plateau, and I’ve ridden around the Andes Mountains in Colombia. I’ve ridden to Sturgis, then back across the top of the US, and down the Pacific Coast with a bunch of guys from China. Gresh rode with me on a lot of of those rides. I know, I know, he didn’t get invited on the Colombia adventure, but hey, he didn’t invite me on the Russia ride, either. But to stay on topic: It’s all been on the RX3.
Riding into the Gobi Desert with Joe Gresh as my wingman. Or was I his? In 6000 miles and 40 days of riding across China, we did not see a single Sportster, used or new.
Those early RX3 rides were marketing demos, basically, designed to show a few guys having the time of their life and demonstrating to everybody else that the RX3 had real chops as an ADV bike. But don’t think I wasn’t nervous. We took 14 guys and one gal on a 1700-mile ride through Baja literally the same week the first RX3s arrived in the US from China (I was sweating bullets on that one), and then we immediately took another 12 or 15 guys from China and Colombia (and one motojournalist from Motorcyclist) on a 5000-mile ride from southern California to Sturgis, back across the top of the US, and down the Pacific coast on what was arguably one of the most highly-publicized (in real time, too) motorcycle publicity stunts ever. I was scared the entire time, thinking something might break and generate a lot of bad press. I guess I didn’t realize how well things were going until the last night of the trip, 4700 miles into it, when Gresh told me to relax. “You won, man,” he said. He was right. But just think: I coulda had that used Sportster.
Our last day on the road in Colombia was just a few days before Christmas, and it was a fine ride down from the Volcan Nevado del Ruiz back home to La Ceja. It had been a grand adventure, and I had mixed emotions about it coming to an end. I was looking forward to going home, but I felt bad about wrapping up what had been one of the greatest rides of my life.
Posted on December 22, 2015
Yesterday was our last day on the road. It was yet another glorious day of adventure riding in Colombia.
The night we spent under the Volcan Nevado del Ruiz was freezing. It was the coldest night we experienced on this trip. I had on every layer of clothing I brought with me when we left. Juan told me not to worry, it would warm up as we descended. As always, his prediction was right on the money.
I had mixed emotions as we rolled out that morning. This ride has been one of the great ones, and I am always a little sad on the last day of a major ride because I know it is drawing to a close. But I am also eager to get home. This was a magnificent ride, and it was a physically demanding one. We experienced temperature extremes, from the humid and sultry tropics to the frigid alpine environment we were leaving. The riding was simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. We road magnificent winding mountain roads, but at times the traffic (especially when we were passing the big 22-wheeled tractor trailer trucks) was unnerving. My neck was sore, most likely from the stress of this kind of riding. But it was grand, and riding Colombia is one of life’s grand adventures.
Juan knows all the good spots in Colombia, and he took us to this one where we could grab a few photos with the volcano steaming in the background.
I had to get a shot of the three of us with the bikes, using the D3300’s self-timer. If we look like three guys (the three amigos) who were having the ride of their lives, well, it’s because we were.
We rode on. We went through towns, we went through the twisties, and we passed more trucks. Another day in Colombia, another few hundred miles. At one point, Juan took us on a very sharp 150-degree right turn and we climbed what appeared to be a paved goat trail. Ah, another one of Juan’s short cuts, I thought. And then we stopped.
“This is Colombia’s major coffee-producing region, and we are on a coffee plantation,” he announced when we took our helmets off. Wow. I half expected Juan Valdez (you know, from the old coffee commercials) to appear, leading his burro laden with only the finest beans. It was amazing. I had never been on a coffee plantation (or even seen a coffee bean before it had been processed), and now here we were. On a coffee plantation. In Colombia. This has been a truly amazing ride.
That big stand of lighter yellowish-green plants you see just left of center in the above photograph is a bamboo grove. More amazing stuff.
These are coffee beans, folks. Real coffee beans.
The beans are picked by hand, Juan explained. It’s very labor-intensive, and these areas are struggling because the world-wide coffee commodities markets are down.
Juan picked a bean and showed me how to peel it open. You can take the inner bean and put it in your mouth like a lozenge (you don’t chew it). To my surprise, it was sweet. It didn’t have even a vague hint of coffee flavor.
As we were taking all of this in, two of Colombia’s finest rolled by.
Juan told me that the police officers in Colombia often ride two up. I had seen that a lot during the last 8 days. Frequently, the guy in back was carrying a large HK 7.62 assault rifle or an Uzi. Colombia is mostly safe today, but that is a fairly recent development.
Vintage cars are a big thing in Colombia. A little further down the road we saw this pristine US Army Jeep for sale. I thought of my good buddy San Marino Bill, who owns a similar restored military Jeep.
Here’s one last shot of yesterday’s ride…it’s the Cauca River valley.
The Andes Mountains enter Colombia from the south, and then split into three Andean ranges running roughly south to north. You can think of this as a fork with three tines. There’s an eastern range of the Andes, a central range, and a western range. The Cauca River (which we rode along for much of yesterday) runs between the western and central Andes. The Magdalena River runs between the central and eastern ranges.
Okay, enough geography…we rolled on toward Medellin (or Medda-jeen, as they say over here) and dropped Carlos off at his home. Juan and I rode on another 40 kilometers to La Ceja (or La Sayza, to pronounce it correctly) to Juan’s home, and folks, that was it. Our Colombian ride was over.
Like I said above, I always have mixed emotions when these rides end. It was indeed a grand adventure, and I don’t mind telling you that I mentally heard the theme from Raiders of the Lost Ark playing in my head more than a few times as we rode through this wonderful place.
In the next few days, I’ll post more impressions of the trip. In a word, our AKT Moto RX3s performed magnificently. The RX3 is a world-class motorcycle, and anyone who dismisses the bike as a serious adventure riding machine is just flat wrong. I’ve been riding for over 50 years, and this is the best motorcycle for serious world travel I’ve ever ridden. Zongshen hit a home run with the RX3.
I’ll write more about the minor technical distinctions between the AKT and CSC versions of this bike, my experiences with the Tourfella luggage (all good), and more in coming blogs. I’ll tell you a bit about the camera gear I used on this trip, too (a preview…the Nikon D3300 did an awesome job).
Today I’m visiting with the good folks from AKT Moto to personally thank them for the use of their motorcycle and to see their factory. It’s going to be fun.
More to come, my friends…stay tuned!
Get all of the blogs on Colombia here. If you want to read the book about this ride, pick up a copy of Moto Colombia!
I visited Chiriaco Summit and the Patton Museum last week (we’ll have a blog on it soon) and it was awesome. But wow, was it ever hot. As in 111 degrees when we left, and that’s not an unusually warm day out there in the Sonoran Desert. The next town over is called Thermal, and a little further north there’s this place called Death Valley. Death Valley recorded a whopping 131 degrees three weeks ago. Sensing a pattern?
Looks like the Mojave, doesn’t it? Nope. That’s Joe Gresh in the Gobi Desert. Gresh and I rode across it after coming down off the Tibetan Plateau. It was a bit warm out there.
Yeah, it gets warm in these parts, and in other parts of the world as well. Hot weather is not ideal riding weather, to say the least, but sometimes we find ourselves riding in shake and bake conditions. I’ve done it. I rode a 150cc scooter all the way down to Cabo and back in Baja’s hottest month of the year (September, when it was well over a hundred degrees every day). It was humid down there, too, once we crossed over to the Sea of Cortez side of the peninsula. We were literally entering the tropics as we crossed the Tropic of Cancer. Whoa, that was rough riding!
Simon Gandolfi, suspenders flying in the breeze, riding my Mustang replica bike south of the Tropic of Cancer in Baja California Sur. It was one of the hottest rides I ever experienced.
When we did the Western America Adventure Ride with CSC and the guys from Zongshen, we rode through the same corridors described earlier above, riding across California and the Mojave Desert, through Joshua Tree, and on into Arizona with temps approaching 110 degrees. That was brutal riding.
King Kong and Mr. Zuo in Joshua Tree National Park. That was another brutally hot day. Higher higher temps were still in front of us when we later rolled through Amboy, California. This picture became the cover photo for 5000 Miles At 8000 RPM. You should buy a copy or three (they make great gifts).
The ride across China that Joe Gresh and I did had similar challenges. It started out hot, then it got cold as we rode into the Tibetan Plateau, and then it became brutally hot and humid as we descended into central China and rode east to Qingdao. That was a 38-day ride, and I’d guess it was well over 100 degrees for at least 30 of those 38 days.
The risk, of course, is heat stroke, and it’s often not the kind of thing you can feel coming on. You’ll think you’re okay one minute, and the next you’re waking up in an emergency room wondering what happened. If you start to feel a headache while riding in hot weather, you are already perilously close to heat stroke. You need to stop, drink copious amounts of water, and get some shade. The better approach, though, is to not let yourself get anywhere near that condition, and that’s what this article is all about.
It almost seems like heresy to say it, but my first bit of advice about riding in hot weather is: Don’t. Given the choice, postpone the ride. But let’s assume that this is not an option, as was the case for each of the rides mentioned above. Okay, then…here’s my guidance on the topic.
12 Hot Weather Riding Tips
One: Don’t ride naked. I’m not trying to be funny here, and I’m not implying you might be the kind of person who would go down the road wearing nothing at all (although there is that story about Gresh riding around with only a bathrobe). Nope, what I’m talking about is not shucking your safety gear. You have to wear it. All of it. ATGATT. All the gear, all the time. You can’t peel it off just because it’s hot. It’s saved my life.
My Viking Cycles mesh jacket and the mighty Enfield.
Two: Wear a good mesh jacket. These are available from several sources. I have a Viking Cycles jacket I’m wearing these days and it works well. I wore a Joe Rocket mesh jacket on the ride across China and it made a big difference. You can get them from Viking Cycles, CSC Motorcycles, British Motorcycle Gear, and other sources. Trust me on this…you need a ventilated jacket for riding in hot weather. EDIT: We’re getting interesting comments advising not wearing a mesh jacket in hot weather. Make sure you read the comments below, and for those of you who responded, thanks very much!
Three: Use a cooling vest. These things actually work, but they’re not as easy to use as it sounds. They don’t work for long, but they work. The idea is you soak them, and then wear them under a jacket. The airflow causes the water in the vest to evaporate and that cools the vest and you. I’ve found that on really hot days these vests need to be remoistened about every thirty minutes, but you should be stopping that often anyway (more on that later). It’s the remoistening part that I don’t like. It seems like they take forever to soak up water when you remoisten them. I’ve found it easer to just get my clothes wet (see the next point below).
Four: Go soak your head (and everything else). Don’t laugh; I’ve done this. On the Baja ride I mentioned above, it was so unbearably hot that we took to pouring water down the inside of our riding jackets and inside our helmets at every stop. We became rolling evaporative coolers. It helped.
Five: Change your riding hours. On the really hot days, I like to hit the road at 0:Dark:30. Get out and get a hundred or so miles in before it gets unbearably hot. You’d need good lighting on your bike to do this (I generally don’t like to ride at night, but I’ll make an exception when I know it’s going to be hot). This is difficult to do when riding in a group because it’s hard to get everybody moving that early. If it was just me and Gresh or Welker, we’d leave way early and get in a couple of hours of riding (or more) before the sun comes up.
We knew it was going to be brutally hot riding through Joshua Tree and the Mojave Desert, so we left just before sunup on the first day of the Western America Adventure Ride.
Six: Drink a lot of water. The problem with riding in high temperatures is you don’t realize how much water you lose through perspiration. My advice is to stop every 30 minutes and drink a bottled water. Like I said above, most of us ain’t spring chickens, and you might be wondering if this means you’re going to be stopping a lot to pee. Hey, it’s a common old guy problem, but it won’t be in hot weather. Drink a lot of water; you’ll lose it through perspiration as you ride.
Seven: Avoid alcoholic beverages. Alcohol will cause you to dehydrate more rapidly, and that’s the opposite of what we’re trying to do here. You shouldn’t be consuming alcohol on a motorcycle ride anyway. Drinking any kind of alcohol while riding in hot weather is just stupid. Where I found you really have to watch this is when riding in a large group (there will be one or two riders who have to have that beer or two at lunch).
Beer is good, especially when it’s a Tecate at the Old Mill in Baja overlooking Bahia San Quintin. But save it for the end of the day, when the bikes are parked for the night.
Eight: Stop regularly to cool off. Find a bit of shade or someplace air conditioned, and get off the bike to cool down. When I ride in hot weather, I usually stop to cool off and rehydrate every 30 minutes or so.
Stopping to cool off at the Tropic of Cancer. Wow, it was hot and humid down there! We were off standing in the shade, drinking bottled water.
Nine: Keep your tires at recommended pressures. Another thing you definitely don’t want on a hot day is underinflated tires. Tires flex with every rotation, and flexing causes the tires to heat. Throw in high road surface temperatures with underinflated tires, and you’re flirting with a blowout. This is especially important to remember if you’re one of those guys or gals who deflate their tires for dirt riding. Don’t forget to pump them back up when you get back on the asphalt.
Ten: Don’t speed. Tar melts on hot days, and melted tar is slick. Factor that into your riding when it gets toasty.
A meal fit for a king, but not for lunch. You wouldn’t want to ride in hot weather immediately after this Baja seafood extravaganza.
Eleven: Eat light. Don’t over indulge. Heavy meals put a strain on your digestive system and your heart, and that can elevate your body temperature. When I was involved in testing munitions out in the Mojave on hot days (where it was sometimes over 120 degrees), we always brought along melons for lunch and nothing else. We didn’t need to keep them cool. They were a great treat, they seemed to make it a little cooler on those horrifically hot days, and they help to keep you hydrated. Good buddy Sergeant Zuo seemed to know all about that in China, too. We were riding through Ledu in central China one ferociously hot day when our favorite Chinese NCO stopped the group, disappeared, and returned with a couple of watermelons. That was a welcome respite and a marvelous treat. We ate a lot of watermelon in China.
Gresh taking a break in Ledu, China. That’s the Yellow River (China’s Mother River) behind Uncle Joe.
Twelve: Lighten up on the low sodium schtick. A lot of us older guys try to watch our sodium intake. When I was in the Army, they actually gave us salt tabs on really hot days when we were in the field, the theory being that we needed the sodium because we were losing so much through perspiration. I later heard the Army reversed that practice, but the fact is you lose a lot of minerals through perspiration. I don’t worry about my sodium intake when riding on hot days.
So there you have it. You know, most folks who ride motorcycles these days…well, how can I say this delicately? We aren’t spring chickens anymore. Motorcycling tends to be a thing mostly enjoyed by full-figured senior citizens, and we have to take care of ourselves, especially when we venture out on hot days.
If you other ideas about hot weather riding, let us know in the Comments section. We love hearing from you.
The Canton Fair: I’d heard of it many times, and it has been billed as the world’s largest motorcycle trade show. I don’t know if that latter statement is true, but the Canton Fair is certainly China’s largest motorcycle trade show, and China is one of the world’s dominant motorcycle producers. Biggest or not, I had an opportunity to attend the Canton Fair in 2017, and who could say no to something like that?
Inside the Canton Fair’s motorcycle exhibit area.
So, after a midnight departure from Los Angeles International and 15 hours in a center seat on a Boeing 777, I arrived in Guangzhou at around 8:30 p.m. either that day, the next day, or the day before (I can never get the time change thing right). Those 15 hours in the big Boeing flew by (literally and figuratively) quickly, clearing Chinese Customs and Immigration in Guangzhou was efficient, finding a cab was easy, and before I knew it, my Chinese Mario Andretti cab driver was shepherding me through the rain-slicked streets of late night Guangzhou. I’ve spent a lot of time in China and it felt good to be back. A lot of folks hate China these days. I’m not one of them. I’ve had too many good times and I have too many good friends in China.
Receptionists at the Paco Hotel somewhere in Guangzhou.
I stayed at the Paco Hotel, only a couple of miles from the Canton Fair. A hotel right next to the Fair was a cool $1000 a night, so that was a nonstarter. The Paco had what I thought was a good buffet and I ate heartily on all but my last day in Guangzhou. On that last day, a cockroach the size of a small bird ran across a tray of noodles just as I was reaching in, and that killed my appetite for the Paco buffet. I guess I’m lucky it happened on the last day.
Here’s a shot taken while I was on the bridge crossing the Pearl River. The oval building on the left bank is part of the Canton Fair complex. That tower you can barely see in the distant haze is Guangzhou’s radio tower, which is a cool quarter of a mile high. For a few years, it held the title of the world’s tallest structure.
The next morning, my first full day in China, it was off to the Canton Fair. I had no idea what was in store for me. Think big, think big crowds, and think “I have no idea what I’m doing or where I’m going but I’m following the crowd,” and you’ll start to get a feel for what getting into the Canton Fair was like for me that first day. My leg was killing me (an old motorcycle injury), it was hot and humid (hey, it’s China) and it took a good two hours from the time I left the hotel until I was actually inside seeing new motorcycles. There’s the Guangzhou traffic. It’s normally heavy, but as we got closer to the fair (after crossing the Pearl River, which bisects Guangzhou), things really got thick. And there were the crowds.
The crowd entering the Canton Fair. There were a lot of people.
There was a press of humanity trying to get into the fair once I was off the bus. I walked along with a heavy crowd for a good mile, with my sciatic nerve on fire every inch of the way. Getting into the fair was a process, and it started with guessing which crowd to follow. I got lucky; I guessed right. I had to buy a pass, and I opted to get the 100 RMB buyer’s badge. 100 RMB is about $16, and that allowed me to enter the Canton Fair all week (as opposed to paying 30 RMB for a spectator’s pass every day). But I couldn’t just buy the badge. Lines, lines, and more lines. And for every one of them, I had to guess at which one to follow. I had to go through a metal detector after standing in one long line. Then I had to stand in another long line to fill out an admission application form. Then it was another long line for a photo. Then it was another long line to take the photos to the folks who made the badges. Then it was another long line to pay for the badge. Then it was another long line to get the badge. And while all this was going on, the crowds were deep and pushy. But they were friendly.
Oddly, I didn’t bump into anybody from the United States. I met several interesting people from other countries. One guy pushed up into me and asked where I was from. When I told him, he told me he was from Iran. Wow. Iran. An American, and an Iranian, literally pushed into each other. He asked me what I thought about what Mr. Trump had done in Syria a few days ago (The Donald had lobbed a missile in). Hmmmm. This could get interesting, I thought. “You know, Don doesn’t call me as often as he used to,” I told my new friend, “and even if he had called this weekend, I was on a 15-hour flight to get here, so I would have missed the call.” My new buddy stared at me for a couple of seconds and then he started laughing. I did, too. He took a selfie of the two of us. Me. Working for world peace, one Iranian at a time. My photo is probably in the ayatollah’s database now, but hey, you do what you gotta do.
Badges? We don’t need no stinking badges!
Things were moving along. I had my photo, I had my badge, and there was one last line: The line to get inside and actually start seeing motorcycles. And then it started raining. On us. Standing in line. Outside. Hey, if it was easy, everybody would be doing it.
Inside, much to my surprise, I still wasn’t in the motorcycle part of the Canton Fair. The complex is immense, and I had to ask around a bit to find my way to the motorcycle area. I finally made it, though, and the Zongshen booth was the first one I saw. It was one of many and I knew several of the guys from Zongshen, so we visited a bit.
The Zongshen booth. Recognize that bike?
Zongshen, as one of the Big 4 Chinese motorcycle manufacturers, has a lot going on and they have a lot of interesting products. They make motorcycles, they make workhorse trikes, and they make a lot more.
Zongshen’s 500cc diesel trike. Gresh fell in love with these when we saw one in Zongshen’s R&D area in Chongqing.
There were a lot of motorcycle manufacturers showing their new products at the Canton Fair. I enjoyed seeing them all.
Tien Ma. Never heard of them, like most of the manufacturers I saw displaying motorcycles at the Canton Fair. Lifan (the booth behind this one) is one of China’s Big 4 motorcycle manufacturers.XGJao, another one I never heard of. One of their sales guys was named Elvis.Loncin, another one of China’s Big 4.
My buyer’s badge gave me status. There are motorcycle parts suppliers at the Canton Fair, and when they see a buyer’s badge, they’re on it. They all wanted my business card and they all wanted me to have theirs. That’s another bunch of databases I wormed my way into, I guess. I still get four or five emails every day from manufacturers trying to sell me stuff. I could have made a killing on N95 masks. And I can buy digital watches for 88 cents each if I buy a thousand or more. Who knew? And the exhibitors? They all seemed to hire attractive young women who wanted me to buy their motorcycle stuff.
Motorcycle component supplier booths at the Canton Fair.A young lady selling motorcycle batteries.
More than a few of the bikes and trikes were interesting. Some had names that were funny as hell. And some were styled to fit regional preferences. Take a look.
Now, I ask you: Who wouldn’t want a Yamasaki? It might go nicely with your Kawazuki.Monkey bikes, miniature versions of the real thing.Appropriately named, of course.Behold: The mighty Zarang. Check out this CG-engined trike cargo hauler sold in Afghanistan. If I was marketing this thing, the music would be Zarang Me, sung to the tune of Johnny Cash’s Hang Me. “Zarang me, Zarang me, they ought to take a rope and hang me…”The Zarang’s lighting and hornage. Think about that poor alternator!
The Canton Fair has a restaurant row that must have 100 restaurants, ranging from exotic Middle Eastern foods to all kinds of Chinese food to Papa John’s pizza. I had Chinese food every day (it’s a “when in Rome” kind of thing for me). The beef dumpling soup was a whopping 25 RMB (that’s $3.96 in US dollars), and it was delicious.
The Canton Fair’s restaurant row.
There are people here from the Middle East, Australia, South America, Africa, and other places. Yesterday while I was enjoying my now-standard lunch of beef-and-onion dumplings, an older fellow asked if he could sit at my table (the seating is very crowded because there are so many people here). “Sure,” I said. His English was a little rough, but he reached into his bag and pulled out a piece of flatbread. He broke it in two and offered half to me. Not wanting to be rude, I accepted it. I asked my new friend where he was from and his business. He was a construction guy from Lebanon. My guess is that piece of flatbread was from Lebanon. Imagine that…a guy from California at a motorcycle show breaking bread (literally) with a construction guy from Lebanon. A small world indeed, and I was living it, one flatbread bite at a time.
Beef dumpling soup, best paid for with true money.
I had another interesting experience one day at lunch when I attempted to pay. I peeled off some the Chinese currency I had and the young lady at the cash register examined it closely. “Not true money,” she exclaimed, in English, and loudly. Other folks around the cash registers looked at me. “Not true money,” she said again, the volume up another notch or two. And then, just in case I was hard of hearing: “NOT TRUE MONEY!!!”
So there I was, attempting to pass counterfeit currency in the Canton Fair, with what seemed like fifty thousand Asian faces taking in the drama unfolding before them: An American (me) trying to pay for his soup with counterfeit money. I had visions of rotting in a Chinese prison. Maybe worse (they have capital punishment over there, you know). I fished out more bills and handed them to Miss NOT TRUE MONEY, and her focus immediately shifted from prosecution to sorting. She studied each bill, giving some back to me and keeping others. The line behind me continued to grow. Weirdly, nobody seemed to mind my attempted criminal behavior or the delay it had induced.
Miss NOT TRUE MONEY was finally satisfied with the cash she selected, and the soup, as always, was delicious. When I left the restaurant area, there was a young guy selling ice cream outside. I found an ice cream bar that looked good and paid him, using some of the bills Miss NOT TRUE MONEY had rejected. He looked at each one suspiciously, but he ultimately accepted them. That ice cream was delicious, too. I admit: It was kind of a rush, committing a felony in a foreign land. I’m only writing about it now because I think the statute of limitations ran out.
When I returned to the hotel, I hit the ATM around the corner to get more (and hopefully, more true) cash. When I reached into the ATM hood, my hand started burning. Something either stung or bit me. I had an immediate and big welt on the back of my hand that hurt like hell, and within an hour, the entire back of my hand turned black. Maybe it was a murder hornet before they gained fame here in the US. My Mom would have told me it was God punishing me for passing that counterfeit money. Whatever it was, it sure hurt. It was gone by the next day, but wow, my experience with all things related to Chinese currency was not pleasant.
I had been sticking to the motorcycle exhibits during my time at the Canton Fair, but I took a different entrance one morning. Silly me: I thought the Canton Fair was only motorcycles. Nope, it’s everything. There are a lot of exhibits marketing to the construction industry. China was still building furiously, and they evidently supply construction materials to a lot of the world. I imagine Lowe’s and Home Depot have been here more than a few times. Here are a few shots as I walked through these areas.
Surprisingly, I didn’t meet a single US person in the motorcycle area during my several days at the Canton Fair. There were lots of folks from Asia, and more than a few from the Middle East, South America, and Europe. But no Americans (other than me). Go figure.
The Canton Fair was canceled this year due to the Covid 19 pandemic, but it’s going to be back. If you ever have a chance to roll through Guangzhou in April, the Canton Fair needs to be on your bucket list. It’s a cool thing to see.
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Every once in a while we do a blog that covers a bunch of topics, and this is one of those times.
Good buddy Mike Huber and his friend Bobbie motorcycled Mexico (Baja, to be specific, almost another country all by itself), and he most recently published an excellent story about being stranded down there by the Covid 19 pandemic. It’s not often that we recommend another blog, but hey, Mike’s writing is outstanding and it’s a great story. Take a look; it’s very good.
My favorite motorcycle magazine (that would be Motorcycle Classics) sends out marketing emails on a regular basis, and in those emails they include links to past (and sometimes recent) articles. I write for MC, and the most recent email that slipped into my inbox included a link to my Destinations piece on Hearst Castle. You might want to read that story; I love Hearst Castle. It’s closed for the pandemic, but the pandemic won’t last forever. Hearst Castle will be there when it’s over.
We’re having a heat wave (both here in the Peoples Republik of Kalifornia and at Tinfiny Ranch). That prompted us to start a piece on riding in extreme heat. My first recommendation would be: Don’t. But things don’t always work out the way you want them to. I once rode the length of Baja on a Mustang replicas with several friends, and due to a lack of research on my part we did the ride in Baja’s hottest month (and that’s September). You can read about the 150cc Baja ride through Hell here. Do you have any advice for riding in high temperatures? Please share them with us (info@exhaustnotes.us) and we’ll include your recommendations here on the blog.
We have more motorcycle, gun and other stuff coming up, including info on Ruger’s new Custom Shop and their Super GP100 .357 Mag revolver, favored loads in the Henry .45 70 Single Shot, a piece on Turnbull’s iconic color case hardening and restoration services, a stunning (and tack-driving) Kimber with exhibition grade French walnut, the wrap-up of our ride through the Andes Mountains in Colombia, the Canton Fair, and for you fans of The Ten Commandments, making bricks without hay and mortar. And a whole lot more.
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!
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!
