Triumph Tiger – The ExhaustNotes Blog

Sonora, Mexico

By Bobbie Surber

When is the perfect time to ride Sonora, Mexico? Any chance you get!

Fresh off a ride in Ecuador, I was itching to hop back on my Triumph Tiger GT Pro 900, fondly named Tippi, when my pal Destini (an ace adventure rider) suggested we hit up a rider’s event in Banamichi, Mexico. I did not hesitate for a second. Hell yeah, I’m in!

The first stop on our adventure was a pre-trip visit to Destini’s home in Bisbee, Arizona, an old mining town. Tombstone, a nearby a wine district, and plenty of riding were nearby to keep us busy. Our plan included riding to Agua Prieta, a quick ride from Bisbee, to sort out the next day’s border crossing. With our paperwork ready, we were back on the road aiming for the best tacos in Bisbee!

After enjoying a delicious meal of epic tacos, we gathered in front of the impressive motorcycle shrine at Destini’s (and her husband Jim’s) Moto Chapel. We officially christened Tippi by adding her name to the tank. The Moto Chapel, a vision brought to life by Jim, never fails to catch the attention of visitors. It is a small garage with a pitched roof, complete with air conditioning and even a bathroom. It’s a true paradise for gearheads and motorcycle enthusiasts alike.

On the road again, with Destini leading the charge on her GS 800 named Gracie, we breezed towards the border. Or should I say, Destini and Gracie breezed through, leaving Tippi and me oblivious to the inspection signal, which led to a comical episode of me doing my best to charm the officers while trying to avoid a bureaucratic whirlwind between the US and Mexico. With a little acting (okay, a touch of exaggerated age and frailty), we were back on the road and free as the wind.

We savored every moment— zooming down the desert open roads of Mexico’s Highway 17, enjoying the breathtaking mountain vistas and sweet tight twisties along Sonora Highway 89. That is, until we faced a water crossing. Destini, cool as ever, told me to keep my eyes up and just go for it. Turns out it was a breeze, but then she casually dropped a story about moss and a rider wipeout on a previous ride! Thanks for the heads-up, Destini…you did well telling me afterward!

Our destination was Banamichi, a charming town steeped in Opata indigenous culture and Spanish colonial history. Banamichi was a bustling trading hub, attracting merchants from far and wide. We strolled through its charming streets, greeted by well-preserved adobe houses adorned with vibrant colors and traditional architectural elements. The town’s rich cultural is evident in its festivals, art exhibitions, and handicrafts that highlight its residents’ talent and creativity.

We settled in at the Los Arcos Hotel, hosted by Tom and his lovely wife Linda. Their hospitality matched the hotel’s enchanting courtyard and old-world charm. The weekend whisked by in a blur of exhilarating rider tales, mingling with the aroma of delectable food and more than a few Mexican beers to ease the heat. The morning included a tour by the mayor, including the town square’s church.

Lunch that day included a visit to a small local ranchero for Bacanora tasting. Bacanora is akin to Mezcal, a beverage to enjoy while being careful about how much you are willing to partake! The tasting and lunch were a leisurely affair. We savored the flavors of this year’s Bacanora harvest while enjoying a laid-back lunch with regional dishes that appeared abundantly and effortlessly.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, evenings were a symphony of vibrant hues, margaritas, and captivating rhythms of Folklorico dance. Each of the dancers’s steps told a story—a mesmerizing tribute to Sonora’s rich cultural tapestry.

And as the second night ended, my mind buzzed with the tales of fellow riders and the warmth of the Bacanora nestled in my belly. The air hummed with laughter and camaraderie, each story adding another layer of adventure to the weekend’s memories.

Sunday morning heralded a poignant end to our short escapade—a bike blessing conducted by a local priest. It felt like a closing ceremony, encapsulating the spirit of our epic weekend. As we bid farewell to fellow riders, we reluctantly rode out of Banamichi. Its charms lingered, a reminder of the joy found exploring quaint towns. It was a weekend filled with epic riding, new friendships, and a gentle nudge to continue seeking such delightful adventures.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Don’t forget: Visit our advertisers!

Four National Parks, One Inspiring Ride, and Fuel for the Open Road

By Bobbie Surber

Embarking on a spontaneous journey this past October to explore multiple national parks, my dependable Triumph Tiger 900 GT Pro (Tippi), and I escaped from an approaching winter. The objective? An inspiring tour encompassing White Sands, Carlsbad Caverns, Guadalupe, and the Petrified Forest National Parks. With an insatiable love for national parks, these scenic wonders often become a focal point during my motorcycle travels. Spending around 60-70 percent of my time on the road, I am drawn to these incredible natural havens.

Starting from Sedona on a crisp fall afternoon, I cruised through Oak Creek Canyon, reveling in the solitary road and the vibrant autumn leaves adorning the red rock landscape. Petrified Forest National Park is a familiar stop with ancient petrified logs and captivating vistas.

I continued through the desolate upper desert plains, making my way to Springerville, Arizona, before the next leg of my adventure.

The next morning’s journey steered me toward Faywood Hot Springs in New Mexico, but boy, was it a wild ride! Wrestling with savage winds that rivaled a cyclone, I stumbled upon a rider down on the road. As we righted his bike, we ascertained the downed rider was scraped and bruised but fine. My nerves shot, I sought respite from the tempestuous gusts and made a beeline for Alpine, where winds had gone rogue, hitting outrageous gusts of 80 miles per hour. Amid what seemed to be tornado-like chaos, I found solace in the embrace of snug and hospitable Alpine, Arizona.

Rolling into Faywood Hot Springs in New Mexico a day late due to the windstorms, I was greeted by humble cabins and campsites stretching across the desert with views of distant foothills. As Tippi’s tires crunched on the gravel, I found myself in a moment straight out of a motorcycle comedy flick. Decked out head to toe in my riding gear, I sfound myself in a nudist colony! Out of nowhere two mostly naked gents emerged, strutting towards me to help park my bike. Picture this: two bare souls, one bike, and a dangerous scenario brewing. They helped with the genuine enthusiasm of a nudist biker pit crew, and I could not help but nervously accept. However, my mind raced faster than Tippi’s engine, worrying about potential mishaps—my bike toppling over one of them or an accidental heat encounter with certain sensitive areas. The stakes were high, at least for them, and my concern was off the charts!

With Tippi safely parked (and the naked pit crew miraculously unscathed), I swiftly ditched my gear and clothing for the remainder of the day, joining the affable and entertaining guests at the bathing suit optional pools. Trust me, regaling the encounter turned into a comedic highlight of my adventure, spinning a tale of the night’s shenanigans that truly supported my aforementioned moto flick!

Eager to witness the sunrise and embark on my ride, I packed Tippi. I anticipated a solar eclipse, but not before a detour to the City of Rocks State Park (a hidden gem a few miles away). Although time allowed only a brief hike and a few photographs, the park’s charm put it on my must-return list.

Continuing my journey, a stop at Hatch, New Mexico, promised a feast of authentic Mexican cuisine renowned for its chili. It lived up to its reputation as I dove into a plate of green chili smothered enchiladas. But before my feast the anticipation of the eclipse lingered as I parked by the roadside with Tippi and a few fellow travelers, hoping for an unobstructed view. Unfortunately, a thin veil of clouds dampened our expectations, casting a shadow over the anticipated celestial spectacle, although the shifting light added its own atmospheric drama.

The adventure continued as I resumed my ride, following I-25 to I-70 for a two-hour journey leading me to White Sands National Park. Here, nature unveiled a captivating spectacle as I ventured deeper into the park. The landscape transformed into a mesmerizing sand festival, each mile revealing taller and more majestic sand dunes that stretched endlessly to the horizon. The park’s beauty and ethereal ambiance made my farewell bittersweet.

Leaving enchanting White Sands behind, I ventured onward, headed for Cloudcroft, New Mexico, where a charming hostel awaited. This oasis in the mountains promised a restful evening, a sanctuary after a day filled with unexpected turns and nature’s breathtaking displays. I am a huge fan of hostels while traveling solo, not only for the inexpensive lodging but also for the opportunity to meet with fellow adventurers. Cloudcroft Hostel did not disappoint! It is labor of love by a transplant named Stephanie, a fellow rider from Germany. The night’s stay even included a house concert with a traveling performer. I drifted off to sleep that night with the thought of returning to this delightful place.

Bright and early the following morning, I embarked on a dual adventure to Carlsbad Caverns and Guadalupe National Park. My first stop was in Carlsbad, where I had a planned visit with a fellow rider. Parker and I arranged to meet at a historic restaurant. Meeting this captivating rider in person matched the fascination I felt from afar. Our interaction was brief as I had to rush to make my 1:00 p.m. to the caverns. Negotiating the winding roads with enthusiasm, I navigated to the visitor center while maneuvering through the curves, passing slower vehicles, and arriving on time. The caverns exceeded expectations, and I leisurely explored the most picturesque chambers.

Daylight was fleeing, and I knew I had to rush to Guadalupe National Park before sunset. To my delight, a pleasant surprise awaited me as Parker joined me. Guadalupe, an unassuming jewel of a desert park boasting Texas’s highest peak, instantly captured my heart with its desert sunset over the rugged peaks. The night flew by quickly as I prodded Parker for more tales of his exhilarating riding adventures. It made this stop an unforgettable highlight.

The following morning greeted me with thoughts swirling about the completion of my four-park tour and the route home. In a moment of whimsy, I yearned to revisit Cloudcroft for another night. Such impulses are the joys of traveling by bike…logic takes a backseat to wanderlust! Retracing the previous day’s path, I arrived in the afternoon, affording me a chance to explore the historic downtown area.

In a move that defied logic (as is the norm in my travels), I reasoned that it made perfect sense to detour back home through Mesa, Arizona, for my bike’s much-needed service. The return ride, riddled with its own set of challenges, became a tale, featuring unexpected twists and yet another memorable encounter at a unique hot spring. It’s a story for another time!

As I reflect on my incredible journey filled with unexpected encounters, stunning landscapes, and fellow riders’ camaraderie, the allure of the open road and unpredictability of travel are the true treasures of my motorcycle expeditions. Each detour, unplanned stop, and quirky encounter combined to create a tapestry of unforgettable experiences. It is what fuels my passion for exploration and two wheel travel. Until the next adventure beckons, I will carry these memories as fuel for the road ahead.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Don’t forget: Visit our advertisers!

My Solo Motorcycle Journey from Sedona to Canada: Part IV

By Bobbie Surber

A quick recap: In Part One, I kicked off this solo motorcycle journey on my trusty Triumph Tiger 900 GT Pro, lovingly christened Tippi. As I bid farewell to Sedona, the road promised a majestic odyssey. From the winding bends of the Colorado River to the breathtaking grandeur of Lees Ferry, Marble Canyon, Jacobs Lake, North Grand Canyon National Park, and Zion National Park, each mile etched indelible memories on my soul. Part Two unveiled the treasures of Bryce Canyon, Capitol Reef, and Great Basin National Parks, along with the legendary Loneliest Highway in America, Highway 50. The roads led me to Lake Tahoe, where I encountered unique wonders and overcame challenges that enriched my adventure. In Part Three, I entered the landscapes of Yosemite, Kings Canyon, Sequoia, and Lassen Volcanic National Parks. I visited the town of Bigfoot and the Lost Coast. Amidst these joys, there was a bittersweet encounter with my boyfriend, Mike, marking the end of a significant chapter in my life. Now, let’s continue the ride through northern California and the Oregon coast.

In the embrace of an early summer morning, I stood alone, a solitary figure beside my trusted motorcycle, Tippi. The sun painted the horizon in hues of gold and pink, casting a spell of serenity. This was the moment of bidding farewell to Greg, a friend whose hospitality touched my soul. The road stretched before me, an endless promise. As I eased Tippi out of Greg’s driveway, it felt as if the entire world held its breath, echoing the emotions that propelled me into this adventure. This journey, forged from the ashes of heartbreak and kindled by an insatiable wanderlust, was poised to unfold a voyage of self-discovery and emotional renewal.

Just the night before, I had embraced a decision steeped in emotional turbulence — a poignant farewell to my boyfriend, Mike. It was a decision marinated in profound sadness and the weight of loss. Despite the heaviness in my heart, I clung to the belief that the open road cradled an undiscovered trove of experiences, encounters, and life lessons. Each mile seemed to hold the promise of a fresh beginning, and as I departed McKinleyville, California on that Sunday morning, the marine mist hung in the air like a wispy veil. It created a backdrop to my reflections on the past and the enigma of the future. The chill in the air mirrored the swirling mix of emotions within me, signifying the dawn of a new chapter in my solitary adventure.

Surrounded by towering redwoods and glimpsing fleeting vistas of the boundless Pacific Ocean as the last remnants of marine fog dissipated, the morning unfurled in all the splendor I yearned for. We journeyed up the coast, passing through the awe-inspiring realm of Redwood National Park. This marked my tenth rendezvous with a national park in just a month of travel. Each park visit hammered home the vital importance of preserving our public lands, and standing amidst these colossal arboreal titans served as a perpetual reminder of their awe-inspiring grandeur.

Reluctantly, I bid adieu to the towering redwoods as Highway 101 gently steered me slightly inland, ushering me towards Elk Meadow. Here, nature unfolded a spectacle that stole my breath — an assembly of elk, the largest gathering I had ever witnessed. I yielded to the irresistible urge to halt and pay homage to their beauty, immortalizing the moment through the lens of my camera.

After our parting with the majestic elk, I made a brief sojourn in Crescent City, a pause to refuel Tippi and replenish my spirits with a cup of coffee. It was in this picturesque spot that I stumbled upon kindred spirits — two gentlemen on Ducati motorcycles. We shared a common destiny: Canada. While a twinge of envy for their sleek machines grazed my heart, I cherished the chance to engage in a brief yet warm-hearted conversation with fellow travelers.

With renewed zeal, Tippi and I resumed our journey on Highway 101, eager to cross into Oregon, the fifth state to embrace our adventure. We traversed familiar terrain, including the enchanting Harris Beach State Park and Whaleshead Beach in Brookings. While my original goal was Bandon, the unyielding coastal winds encouraged me to pursue the unknown paths that Oregon had hidden.

Coos Bay welcomed us with an uproarious windstorm, a tempestuous force of nature that consistently left me feeling exposed and vulnerable. After a hasty search on Rec.gov, I secured a campsite on the north side of Coos Bay. However, our path to the campground presented a challenge—an encounter with a bridge at the northern edge. Anxiety surged within me as a flashing warning sign taunted me with its “High Wind Alert” and “Overturned Vehicle” messages.

I wish I could recount the crossing of that bridge with calm and composure, but the truth was far from it. My grip on the handlebars was vice-like, my white knuckles bearing testimony to my sheer terror. My aversion to fierce winds reached its zenith, and adrenaline coursed through my veins as I navigated to the other side. Upon reaching the campground, my heart sank as I discovered an RV occupying the very spot I had reserved. The encounter with the RV owner left me frustrated and disheartened, an unfortunate epilogue to the nerve-wracking bridge escapade.

Thankfully, a benevolent camp host emerged as my savior, guiding me to an alternative sanctuary shielded from the relentless wind. After a modest dinner, I indulged in a generous pour of Irish whiskey, surrendering to the soothing embrace of slumber, grateful for the tranquility of the night.

As the sun greeted me with a gentle caress, I found myself back in the saddle on Tippi. An early morning ride past Florence unfolded, each curve of the road a thrilling waltz with the remnants of marine fog. This was my sanctuary — a joyful communion with the open road and splendid vistas without a hint of traffic. All too soon, Tippi beckoned me onwards, leading to Yachats, Oregon, a captivating seaside village promising both coffee and a well-deserved breakfast.

On a whim, I reached out to an old friend from Sedona, Elaine, her presence a comforting tether to the past. Hoping she and her gracious husband could join me for an impromptu cup of coffee, I was delighted when they not only accepted my invitation but also extended a generous offer for me to spend the night. It was the 4th of July, and their cottage, adorned with breathtaking views of the bay, surpassed all expectations.

I soon found myself immersed in the heartwarming tapestry of small-town America, a 4th of July parade, and savoring dinner with their friends by the bay (a diverse ensemble of souls who graciously embraced me). The day culminated in a spectacular sunset and an awe-inspiring fireworks extravaganza over the ocean (as you can see in the photo at the top of this blog).

Early the following morning, as I reassured my friends of my competence on a substantial bike, I negotiated their lengthy gravel driveway. But I inadvertently tipped Tippi over. My pride was slightly bruised, but with concerted effort, we righted Tippi, and my journey continued. The weather was perfect as the road led me along the rest of the Oregon coast, passing through my beloved coastal havens like Cannon Beach and Surf Pines before culminating in Astoria.

My journey reached a momentous juncture as I approached the Astoria-Megler Bridge, an imposing truss bridge spanning an astonishing 4.6 miles, suspended 192 feet above the majestic Columbia River. This crossing marked my entry into Washington State, and contrary to the daunting tales of ferocious winds, I was pleasantly greeted by a smooth and rewarding journey. I took a moment to document my arrival in my sixth state in just over five weeks on the road. With newfound enthusiasm, I revved up Tippi and continued my pilgrimage to the charming village of Westport, Washington, where my family eagerly awaited my arrival.

What an extraordinary adventure it has been, with the promise of even more to come. Along the way, I have cast aside heartache, embraced the highs and lows of the road, and found solace in the arms of independence, the kind of independence that comes from conquering challenges that nudge us beyond our comfort zones. I wholeheartedly embrace my addiction to solo motorcycle travel, cherishing the serendipitous encounters with strangers who become cherished friends, and savoring the freedom of the open road.

Stay tuned for the forthcoming chapter, where I will unveil my family adventures in Washington and the epic odyssey through Canada. I extend my heartfelt gratitude to you for joining me on this narrative journey. Your comments, suggestions, and unwavering support are a source of immense inspiration. Until then, whether you embark on a bike, in a car, on a bicycle, or simply with your own two feet, I implore you to heed the call of your own epic adventure. Safe travels, fellow adventurers!

Please visit our advertisers!

My Solo Motorcycle Journey from Sedona to Canada: Part II

By Bobbie Surber

Welcome back to the next chapter of my solo motorcycle journey from my hometown of Sedona, Arizona, to the captivating landscapes of Canada. In Part One, I shared the exhilarating start of my adventure, from Sedona to the awe-inspiring beauty of the Grand Canyon and the mesmerizing Zion National Park. Now, as I continue northward on my trusty Triumph Tiger 900 GT Pro, lovingly named Tippi, join me in experiencing the next leg of this epic ride.

As I left the captivating beauty of Zion National Park behind, I couldn’t help but marvel at the magic of solo travel. The open road stretched out before me, promising new adventures and the opportunity to connect with the world in ways that only solo exploration allows. My heart swelled with anticipation as I headed north into Utah, a state known for its stunning natural landscapes.

A Return to Bryce Canyon

My next destination was my beloved Bryce Canyon National Park. The ride to Bryce Canyon was a scenic marvel in itself. Utah’s highway 89 to Route 12 made its way through crimson canyons, past towering rock formations, and into high-altitude forests. Every twist and turn of the road revealed a new panorama of breathtaking beauty.

Arriving at Bryce Canyon, I was greeted by a surreal landscape of hoodoos—towering, otherworldly rock spires that seemed to defy gravity. I hiked once again the trails that wound through the park, taking in the views from vantage points like Sunrise Point and Inspiration Point. Wall Street trail was closed for repairs, but trusty old favorites satisfied my need for a day of hiking. My camp spot at Sunset Campground gave me the chance at an early morning sunrise the next morning. A predawn wakeup found me walking to the rims edge to watch the sun slowly rise below the horizon, the hoodoos took on a fiery glow, casting long, dramatic shadows that danced across the amphitheater-like terrain. Bryce Canyon’s mystical allure left an indelible mark on my soul, reminding me why I embarked on this journey in the first place. After a second night at Bryce, I was ready to tackle another epic day of riding Route 12 through Escalante to the sweetest underrated Capital Reef National Park.

Exploring Route 12 and Capitol Reef

Continuing my adventure, the following morning, I eagerly resumed my route on Highway 12, heading towards my favorite section of the road, high above the captivating Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. This expansive and remote region boasts rugged canyons, vibrant cliffs, and extraordinary geological formations. The landscape, with its impossible rock formations, treated me to endless twisties, creating a sense of otherworldliness. My Tiger 900 was as happy as I was as I relaxed into the ride and allowed her to remind me again what her three cylinders can do. Both of us were in sync as we leaned into curve after curve as we blasted down to the bottom of the canyon.

As I reluctantly approached the tiny town of Boulder, Utah, I realized I had made short order through the endless twisties of this section of Route 12. However, I was unexpectedly greeted by an old-school cattle round-up, complete with cowgirls and boys herding a large herd down Highway 12! After a brief turnaround, I found solace in my favorite restaurant, the Burr Trail Grill. Their farm-fresh ingredients delighted my taste buds, whether it was their fresh arugula salad topped with local goat cheese or their beastly-sized burgers that proved a challenge to conquer.

Resuming my journey on Highway 12, I found myself in an unexpected predicament. The cattle herd’s progress was slow, and I crawled along, clutching endlessly as I felt my left hand about to begin a serious complaint! Amidst the frustration, two memorable moments emerged. Firstly, a passerby exclaimed, “Dude, you have the sweetest bike and setup!” We shared a laugh as he realized I was indeed “dudeless.” Secondly, after navigating my way to the front of the line, I convinced the lead cowboy to move the herd slightly to the right, allowing me to pass. Maneuvering my bike through the cows became a comical adventure, with prayers that the sound of my motor wouldn’t startle them. Experiencing this traditional cattle drive in 2023 felt like a slice of Americana and added yet another reason to love Utah.

Leaving the cattle behind, I ascended Boulder Mountain, where endless views revealed the backside of Capitol Reef on the right and scenic meadows with clusters of aspen, fir, and spruce trees on the left. Surprisingly, the mountain still boasted more snow than expected for June. Camping, fishing, and wildlife viewing opportunities abound in this mountainous region, with numerous campgrounds and dispersed campsites available. I’ve personally spent nights here, savoring the breathtaking vista overlooking Capitol Reef and the sprawling valley floor. Soon enough I was descending Boulder Mountain and into the small town of Torrey, UT, and just a short few miles away from Capitol Reef National Park for two more nights of camping. A quick setup of my camp, and I was off to town for a much-needed shower and a cold beer! Later that day, a lovely couple I met in Zion joined me at my campsite and I was treated to a homecooked Korean chicken dinner, which was a far cry from the instant ramen I was planning for dinner. A lovely couple who reminded me that the gift of travel is the unexpected friends we make along the way.

The next morning found me out on the trail a hump up to the top of the mesa for a panoramic view of the park. The air was crisp with hints of the heat to follow. The trail descends into a slot canyon then an arroyo wash to the other side of the park and beyond. Reluctantly heading back, I got on Tippi and explored the nearby petroglyphs. All in all, my short stay was a rewarding two nights and now headed to the not-so-famous outside of crazy riders who seek out remote roads Highway 50, billed as the loneliest highway in America!

Highway 50: The Loneliest Highway with a Detour to Great Basin National Park

I made a short order of breaking camp, and in no time Tippi and I were on highway 24 with the goal of making it to my 5th National Park, Great Basin. Following Route 24 goes through a rural farming section of the state with many small Mormon communities and opportunity for a breaks, food, and gas. I was eager to blow through this well-familiar route to get to Highway 50 and cut my teeth on a section of road I had been warned NOT to ride.

As I picked up Highway 50 off Interstate 15, I soon hit the famous first road sign and stopped to document my ride on her with a pic. With once again threatening storms, I glanced at the mountain ahead and thought how bad could it be? It was bad, I was wrong once again guessing the threat of a storm. A short very wet ride later, I left behind Highway 50 for a few days to visit the park. As a first timer to Great Basin NP, I was truly blown away! You enter the tiny town of Baker on the desert floor then 20 minutes later you are in the mountains with thick forest and views overlooking the high desert plains that seem to go on forever. Not to be missed is a guided tour of Lehman Caves. Truly the highlight of my stay. I selected one of the higher small campgrounds and was rewarded with a huge site surrounded by trees and brush with the river roaring behind me.

Reluctantly bidding farewell to Baker, I rejoined Highway 50, heading towards my next destination, South Lake Tahoe. Contrary to the dire warnings of scarce gas stations, I discovered that this notion was unfounded. Approximately 70 miles down the road, I arrived at Ely, another small mining town with plenty of services. After a quick refuel, I resumed my journey, realizing that the otherwise flat stretches of road were intermittently punctuated by mountain passes exceeding 7000 feet in elevation. These segments offered breathtaking vistas and enough twists and turns to satisfy both Tippi and me.

My first mountain pass, before descending into Ely, Nevada, presented an exhilarating ordeal with rain, lightning, and a brief ten-minute ride through hail. Eighty miles further, I found myself in the town of Eureka, where the threatening skies curtailed my exploration time. Nevertheless, I managed to visit a few must-see attractions, including the Opera House, built in 1879, the still-functional Courthouse of the same vintage, and a brief excursion to the town’s cemetery, where a variety of burial sites represented different social organizations, religious groups, and ethnicities. This walk-through history provided a fascinating glimpse into the town’s past.

Continuing on Highway 50, with the ominous skies in my rearview mirrors, I was reminded of the urgency to press on towards my next stop—Austin, Nevada. This old mining camp retains its rustic charm and has evolved into a haven for camping, hiking, and mountain biking, thanks to its proximity to the towering Toiyabe Mountains. During a pit stop, I encountered a large group of riders following the Pony Express Trail, who praised my adventure, while I vowed to return in the near future to explore that historic route.

Reluctantly bidding farewell to this enchanting mountain town, I embarked on another 112-mile stretch to Fallon, Nevada. This promised a well-deserved lunch break and refueling opportunity before the final leg of my journey to Lake Tahoe. As hunger pangs intensified, I hurriedly pulled into the first gas station I encountered. Curiously, the ground appeared slanted, making it impossible to safely park my bike with its kickstand without an extreme lean. Oddly, as my kickstand tends to be a bit high, I often worry about Tippi toppling over. Trying another station, I realized that my kickstand was not misaligned but broken—a sudden and unfortunate realization. With every ounce of strength, I fought to prevent Tippi’s full weight from pinning me between the gas pump curb and the engine crash bar. As I cried out for help, a kind soul named Caleb rushed to my aid, assisting me in righting Tippi. Examining the kickstand, I conceded that my lunch break was a lost cause. I refueled while seated on my bike and came to terms with the fact that I would have to ride the rest of the way without lunch and with a dangling kickstand, just inches off the ground.

Continuing Towards Lake Tahoe

Arriving in Lake Tahoe was like reaching an oasis after a day filled with challenges and stunning scenery. The sight of the crystal-clear waters surrounded by towering pine trees was simply breathtaking. I met up with Mike Huber, a fellow adventure rider, as we eagerly exchanged stories of our respective journeys over drinks and pizza. Mike is a seasoned rider with an incredible collection of travel stories and insights, and this blog, which is a treasure trove of motorcycle adventures.

We decided to make the most of our time in Lake Tahoe by exploring the area together and spending time with our dear friend Yvette who had left Sedona for the mountains and lakes surrounding Tahoe. Two up on Tippi, our first stop was a visit to Emerald Bay State Park, a gem nestled on the lake’s southwest shore. A short hike up a roadside trail took us to a stunning vista overlooking Emerald Bay below. The clear blue waters and Fannette Island in the middle of the bay made for a postcard-perfect scene. At sunset we were even rewarded with a surprise pop up of a brown bear who a few feet away provided us with a pose straight up worthy of National Geographic!

Lake Tahoe, with its stunning shoreline, pristine waters, and surrounding mountains, offers many outdoor activities. We decided to spend the next afternoon cruising around the lake, taking in the panoramic views and stopping at scenic overlooks. Riding around Lake Tahoe was a highlight of my journey, and I couldn’t have asked for better company.

Conclusions

As I reflect on the second part of my solo motorcycle journey from Sedona to Canada, I’m filled with deep gratitude for the experiences and sights that have unfolded before me. From the awe-inspiring beauty of Bryce Canyon to the challenging twisties of Route 12, from the serene landscapes of Great Basin, this adventure has been a testament to the power of the open road and the indomitable spirit of solo travel.

Every mile has been a lesson in self-discovery, a reminder of the world’s beauty, and a celebration of the freedom that comes with embracing the unknown. The road has been my companion, and the landscapes have been my muse. And as I continue to ride north into Canada, I know the journey is far from over. There are more roads to explore, adventures to embrace, and stories to tell.

Stay tuned for the next chapter of this solo ride from Sedona to Canada. The open road beckons, and I’m eager to see where it will lead me on this journey of a lifetime.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

My Solo Motorcycle Journey from Sedona to Canada: Part I

By Bobbie Surber

As a passionate female solo rider, I often find myself facing a barrage of incredulous looks and questions from both strangers and friends. They ask the usual list of queries: “Is it safe?” “Where will you stay?” “What if your bike drops?” It’s become almost customary to respond by sharing my blog or articles that capture the essence of the joy I find in solo travel, whether by foot or by bike. This brings me to my latest and most epic solo adventure – a motorcycle journey from my home in the enchanting town of Sedona, Arizona, all the way up to the stunning landscapes of Canada. Covering over 6,700 miles of magical terrain, this journey was a test of my spirit and a celebration of my love for long distance motorcycle travel.

It all began last fall when the idea of a ride to Canada took hold of me. I knew that this was the journey I was meant to embark upon. I was determined to take my time, to savor the journey, and to visit as many National Parks as possible along the way. My plan was simple yet liberating: I would make up my route no more than a week in advance, pack light, and camp as much as possible off my trusty motorcycle, a three-cylinder Triumph Tiger 900 GT Pro, lovingly named Tippi.

On the crisp morning of June 2nd, with the sun just beginning to warm the high desert of Sedona, I geared up for my adventure little did I know then that I would be gone for 11 plus weeks. The air carried an unusual coolness, a welcome departure from the scorching desert temperatures. My first stop was an obligatory one – Flagstaff, Arizona, just a short 30-mile ride from Sedona. The journey up Oak Creek Canyon was a visual feast, with Red Rock views and sinuous twists and turns that are a motorcyclist’s dream. I found myself at a Starbucks in Flagstaff, sipping on a well-deserved Americano, wondering what the day had in store for me as I charted my course towards North Grand Canyon National Park.

Leaving the comfort of Flagstaff behind, I embarked on Highway 89-A, leaving the tall pines of the city in my rearview mirror. The road led me to Lees Ferry, a spot where I could steal a quick moment with the majestic Colorado River. Riding through this part of Arizona on 89A felt like transitioning to another world. The landscape shifted from rugged mountains to a breathtaking desert expanse. Sandy plains, cacti, and the awe-inspiring sight of the Colorado River slicing through towering cliffs and canyons greeted me. Every time I ride through this area, I feel like I’m letting go of the worries of the world and immersing myself in the raw beauty of nature.

Arriving at Lee’s Ferry, I gazed in wonder at the grandeur of the Colorado River. Red Rock bluffs reached skyward, casting their reflections onto the water’s surface. A few photos captured the essence of the moment, and then I was back on the road, with Tippi carrying me across the vastness of the desert landscape with mountains looming in the distance with turbulent looking skies, laden with the threat of rain seemingly daring me to press onward.

Press on I did, and by the time I arrived at Jacob Lake, I was soaked to the bone. The reward, though, was immediate and satisfying. The general store at Jacob Lake had the antidote to my damp spirits – a hot cup of coffee and the most heavenly homemade cookies I’ve ever tasted in Arizona. While I warmed up and indulged my taste buds, I chatted with fellow riders who regaled me with tales of epic early June snowstorms they’d encountered that day while riding back from the Grand Canyon. It’s moments like these, swapping stories with fellow riders, that make a solo journey so enriching.

A swift pit stop at Jacob Lake was followed by the task of setting up my tent, which proved to be a bit of a challenge in the rain. But that’s the essence of adventure riding, isn’t it? You adapt, you overcome, and you keep moving forward. With my campsite established, I wasted no time and headed to North Grand Canyon. Fortunately, I was spared the snow, but a wicked hailstorm tested my resolve as I carefully made my way further up the rim.

By the time I reached the park, the weather gods seemed to have taken pity on me. Dry weather prevailed, and I was treated to the most dramatic skies one could hope for when visiting the North Grand Canyon. As I stood there, gazing out into the vast expanse of this natural wonder, I couldn’t help but feel humbled by the forces of nature and the grandeur of the world we live in. It was a moment of pure serenity amidst the chaos of my journey.

The following morning, I bid farewell to North Grand Canyon, heading down into Kanab for a quick gas and coffee break before completing the remainder of my ride on Highway 89A, with Zion National Park as my next destination. With two days and one night to immerse myself in the beauty of Zion, I was eager to experience the park in all its glory.

Entering Zion National Park on a motorcycle is a unique adventure. The winding roads and the freedom to embrace the open road add an extra layer of exhilaration to the journey. Plus, if you time it right, like I did, arriving early can help you avoid the epic traffic jams that can plague this popular destination.

Setting up camp as quickly as possible, I wasted no time in hopping onto a shuttle ride to the park’s lodge. From there, I embarked on a day of hiking, exploring several of Zion’s shorter trails. I couldn’t resist attempting to secure a permit for Angel’s Landing, a trail known for its breathtaking, albeit nerve-wracking, vistas. Alas, the permit eluded me, but that didn’t dampen my spirits. Zion offered me an array of other trails and sights to explore, and I reveled in every step I took.

Zion’s rugged beauty is a testament to the power of nature’s sculpting hand. Towering sandstone cliffs, cascading waterfalls, and the vibrant colors of the Virgin River create a landscape that feels otherworldly. With my camera in hand, I captured every nuance of this remarkable place. Hiking a portion of the Narrows, with water rushing around me, was a highlight I’ll carry with me forever. Zion National Park, with its mesmerizing mix of desert and oasis, and once again confirming why I love this park so much.

As I lay in my tent that night, listening to the sounds of the wilderness around me, I couldn’t help but reflect on the incredible journey I’d embarked upon. From the stunning landscapes of my hometown of Sedona to the awe-inspiring grandeur of the Grand Canyon and the mesmerizing beauty of Zion, my solo motorcycle ride to Canada had already been a whirlwind of experiences. And this was just the beginning.

My journey would continue northward, taking me through more National Parks, enchanting towns, and breathtaking vistas, mountains, desolate beaches, and new friends I’d yet to meet. Each twist and turn of the road held the promise of new adventures and the opportunity to connect with the world in a way that only solo travel can offer. The open road called me, and I was more than ready to answer its invitation.

In the world of solo travel, there’s a unique freedom and self-discovery. It is a chance to test your limits, embrace the unknown, and find solace in the beauty of the world. My motorcycle journey from Sedona to Canada was not just a ride; it was a pilgrimage of the soul, an exploration of the heart, and a celebration of the indomitable spirit of the open road. As I drifted into sleep under the starry Utah sky, I couldn’t wait to see where the road would lead me next on this remarkable adventure.

My fellow adventurers, I invite you to stay tuned for the next captivating chapter of this solo ride from Sedona to Canada. The open road stretches before us, brimming with the promise of extraordinary experiences and inspiring tales yet to be written. With each twist of the throttle I embrace the unknown, and I can’t wait to share the unfolding journey of a lifetime with you.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

A Triumphant Change from my BMW

By Mike Huber

The 4^th of July is a perfect time to tell my riding story from this weekend spending two days riding a British motorcycle. This was a 180 from my usual chant this time of year of “Screw the British,” but my BMW GS1200 happened to be in the shop for another week waiting parts from Germany so getting on any bike for a weekend was just what my soul needed. My girlfriend allowed me the honor of taking her 2023 Triumph Tiger 900 GT Pro out to tear up 200 miles of Route 299 through northern California. Along this stretch of highway, it is more important than ever to be alert as it is Sasquatch Country.

I was excited to ride this portion of northern California but didn’t expect to be that impressed with the Triumph. Previously having test rode several Triumphs I was familiar with them. They are wonderful machines but they never really spoke to me or my riding style, so I steered towards Ducati or BMW. However, one of my favorite guitar players, Billy Duffy (from the band The Cult) is a HUGE Triumph rider. I had the pleasure of meeting him last November and being semi star struck. All I could mutter was “I am sorry I ride a BMW GS, but my girlfriend rides a Triumph, and oh yeah…you’re an incredible guitarist.” I guess there have been worse encounters with celebrities than that. He high fived me, we shook hands, and we had a laugh over my awkwardness (more him than myself I am sure). Anyway, back to the Triumph Tiger and Sasquatch hunting along Route 299.

This bike is fast. It doesn’t hesitate to go once you twist that throttle, and the acceleration is smooth. Coming from a background where torque is king it was almost a relief to not have to worry about your front wheel leaving the earth every time you go to pass someone, although I have always felt wheelieing by cars as you pass them is just…. Well, it’s cool.

The Tiger is 60 pounds lighter than my BMW GS1200, and the weight is distributed much lower. This makes it extremely easy to just throw into turns, which I did numerous times along Route 299. There are no longer chicken strips on the tires. The Tiger is also much easier to maneuver due to this, which is helpful in sand, difficult terrain, or having to move it 8 feet into a different parking spot.

Changing modes on the BMW when switching from on road to offroad modes you simply hit the button and shift gears. With the Tiger you need to stop the bike, place it in neutral and switch modes. This is a minor complaint I understand, but I was in the heart of sasquatch country and any delay could result in serious injury or death by being mauled by one of these magnificent beasts.

For some reason Triumph didn’t add a steering damper, or weights on the handlebars ends. This can at times cause a wobble at high speeds and it is not a wind friendly design. When bringing this up to the Triumph dealer they stated it wasn’t supposed to go over 85 MPH with a full load and he asked how fast I was riding it. Without divulging the answer in this write up I will say he raised his hands and walked away at my answer (this happens frequently with me when I am too honest).

Overall, I am much more impressed with this motorcycle now than I was previously. It was a breathtaking 200-mile ride in northern California as the road snaked along the Trinity River and in Six Rivers National Forest. The twisties were a blast and by simply clicking down two gears I was able to rocket past slower vehicles with no problem and put any threats far in my rearview mirror (to include Sasquatch). Speaking of which, we didn’t see any Sasquatch along this route. I swore I could smell them as I dropped into Humboldt County but I suppose that could have just been the marijuana cultivation.

Disclaimer- I moved the Triumph to the other side of the Starbucks parking lot as soon as I saw several GS riders pull up.

Highway 50: The Loneliest Road in America

By Bobbie Surber

Embarking on a motorcycle trip from Arizona to British Columbia I set two goals for myself: to visit as many national parks as possible and to explore remote and intriguing roads. During my pursuit of the latter that I stumbled upon Highway 50, also known as the “Loneliest Road in America.” It offered the bonus of passing through the Great Basin National Park.

Like any good planner, I turned to social media for advice on surviving this desolate route (add in a touch of sarcasm). The responses I received were mostly negative, with warnings about the challenges of riding alone, extreme heat, lack of gas stations, and overall boredom. However, a few seasoned riders who were familiar with the road reassured me that not only would I survive, but I would also have the opportunity to earn a certificate attesting to my survival. With this mixed bag of feedback, I embarked on my journey, eager to uncover the truth about the Loneliest Road.

Highway 50, stretching from West Sacramento, California, to Ocean City, Maryland, is a scenic route that earned its moniker from a 1986 Life magazine article that described it as desolate and isolated. The section of Highway 50 referred to as the Loneliest Road is in Nevada. This road winds through vast stretches of remote desert landscapes, featuring rugged mountains and expansive plains that contribute to its reputation.

Traveling along the Loneliest Road offers a unique experience, characterized by long stretches between services. It is essential for travelers to come well-prepared, as gas stations, restaurants, and accommodations are few. Adequate fuel, extra food and water supplies, and an acute awareness of weather conditions, particularly during extreme heat or summer and winter storms, are crucial.

Despite its reputation for solitude, the Loneliest Road in America showcases stunning natural beauty, allowing travelers to immerse themselves in the vastness of the American West. Along the route, one can encounter remarkable attractions such as the Great Basin National Park, Lehman Caves, and several ghost towns. These highlights offer a glimpse into the unique charm and allure of this road less traveled.

Let’s dive into my own epic experience along this renowned route.

My journey began when I left my home in Sedona, AZ, riding my trusty Triumph Tiger 900 GT Pro, affectionately nicknamed “Tippi,” as she likes to take what I call unscheduled naps tipping over often at inconvenient locations. Loaded with gear for a summer of adventure, I set off on a bright June Sunday morning, spending five days exploring North Grand Canyon, Zion, Bryce Canyon, and the captivating Highway 12, before spending two nights in Capitol Reef.

Leaving Capitol Reef, I eagerly anticipated joining the long-awaited Highway 50, where it intersected Interstate 15 in Utah. Initially, the road meandered through open plains with scattered ranches along the way, offering nothing too remarkable. However, about an hour later, the ride became more intriguing as the winds picked up. As I glanced ahead, an ominous sky threatened an impending storm. Riding past sand and salt fields, I witnessed a bewildering phenomenon—the salt in the fields seemed to defy the wind, rising straight up in vertical columns rather than blowing or swirling. Bracing myself against the wind’s force, I pulled over to capture this puzzling sight but struggled to capture it adequately, settling for a short video clip as proof of my encounter.

Continuing across more plains, I found myself nearing the turnoff to Baker and the Great Basin National Park, my intended destination for two nights of camping and sightseeing. As I gazed at the mountain, I found an angry and ominous sky with snow-covered peaks that seemed to dare me to face the challenges of reaching its 7700-foot elevation to my destination at Upper Lehman Campground. Rain and lightning accompanied me as I rode into the tiny town of Baker, where I hastily stopped at the Visitor Center to check the weather report and determine how cold it would get during the night. Assured of temperatures above freezing, I pressed onward, rewarded with an epic campsite at Great Basin. Nestled alongside the rushing Lehman River, my campsite offered complete privacy, and I reveled in the wonders of the park over the next two rain-filled days and nights. The Lehman Cave tour was an unforgettable highlight not to be missed. As an avid hiker I loved that I was able to experience an epic 7-mile round trip hike along the mountain following ever upwards along the Lehman River complete with snow covered meadows and towering views of the mountain summit.

During my stay in Baker, Nevada, I discovered two places that I highly recommend. The first is the 489 Grill and Whispering Elms Motel and RV Park, which boasts a bar, RV and tent camping facilities, firewood, and the best burger I have ever tasted. Trust me when I say this is a significant claim, as I am a true burger aficionado. The food is not the only remarkable aspect; the owner and staff are incredibly hospitable, making your visit all the more enjoyable. The second recommendation is the Bristlecone General Store, a quaint establishment offering unique local gifts, an unexpectedly diverse selection of food options given its small size, and a coffee bar serving locally roasted beans by a blind roaster with an extraordinary sense of smell, resulting in a delightful brew devoid of the bitterness found in commercial beans. Among the store’s charms, one staff member named Rachel stood out for her warmth, hospitality, and willingness to share insights about Baker and local hidden gems. I was informed that Sandra’s Food Truck serves excellent and affordable Mexican cuisine—an experience I now eagerly anticipate for my future visits.

Continuing on Highway 50, with the ominous skies in my rearview mirrors, I was reminded of the urgency to press on towards my next stop—Austin, NV. This old mining camp retains its rustic charm and has evolved into a haven for camping, hiking, and mountain biking, thanks to its proximity to the towering Toiyabe Mountains. During a pit stop, I encountered a large group of riders following the Pony Express Trail, who praised my adventure, while I vowed to return in the near future to explore that historic route.

Determined to soldier on, I pushed forward to Carson City, Nevada, before ascending the switchbacks and descending towards Lake Tahoe. The ride and the stunning view of the lake were awe-inspiring. I completed the remaining portion of my day’s journey with ease, covering over 400 miles. A warm hotel bed awaited me after seven nights of camping, and I eagerly anticipated reuniting with my boyfriend, Mike Huber, a fellow adventure rider who also happens to be a badass. I recommend checking out his posts on ExhaustNotes for a combination of insightful rides and outrageous travel stories.

In conclusion, my time on the Loneliest Road in America was an unforgettable experience. Despite the dire warnings I received, I found this historic stretch of highway to be well worth the ride. Contrary to popular belief, there are plenty of services available along the route, and the road itself is intermittently adorned with scenic mountain passes. The friendly locals and the sense of freedom that permeates this lightly traveled road are rare treasures that I seldom encounter. If you’re seeking a unique journey through the American West, I wholeheartedly recommend venturing onto the Loneliest Road in America.

Don’t forget to help bring content to you: Please click on the popup ads!

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

The World’s Greatest Furniture Salesman

By Joe Berk

I’ve always loved Triumphs and I always thought they were not only the coolest bikes around but also the best bang for the buck. I rode Triumphs in the ’60s and ’70s when they were air-cooled and I rode them when they were made by Hinckley. I always thought the ’65 Bonneville was the best looking motorcycle there could ever be until the Speed Triple came along and took that title. But the one that stole my heart was my ’06 Triumph Tiger in Caspian blue. I loved everything about that motorcycle. Seeing Bobbie Surber’s Tiger has me thinking about my Tiger again.

My Tiger in Baja. We both spent a lot of time patrolling the peninsula.

I wasn’t planning to buy a new motorcycle when I walked into Doug Douglas Motorcycles in 2006 and saw the one that would become mine. But none other than old Doug Douglas himself noticed how I reacted to it. Doug knew his business, and he told me he’d sell it to me for whatever the number was, which seemed like a reasonable deal. Reasonable, however, was not the adjective that was governing my thought process when I saw that motorcycle, and Doug recognized that. I gave Doug the only response I could think of at the time, which was: I’ll take it.

Keep us going…click on the popup ads!

Sue hit the roof when I came home and told her she needed to give me a ride back to Doug’s to pick up a new motorcycle. She stayed upset longer than usual when I told her how much it cost and that I would be taking the money out of the checking account. “What happened to the money you got from selling your Suzuki?” she demanded. It was more of an accusation then a question.

I had to think for a minute, and then I remembered. “That mother-of-pearl and onyx bracelet I bought for you…I used the money I got for the TL to buy it” I said, and Susie mellowed. Visibly. It was like de-arming an IED. “Oh,” was all she said, and then she was her usual cheery self.

When we arrived at Douglas Motorcycles, the tempest was over. I introduced Susie to Doug and she said, “You must be the world’s greatest motorcycle salesman…my husband told me he took your first offer, and he never does that…”

Doug smiled. “Oh, I’ve sold a few motorcycles,” he said, “but that’s not my real strength. My real strength is furniture. I am the world’s greatest furniture salesman.”

Stopping to let the fog blow over along Baja’s Transpeninsular Highway enroute to Bahia de Los Angeles.

Sue was perplexed, as was I. Had I missed something? Did Doug Douglas Motorcycles have another wing that sold furniture?

“Yeah,” Doug continued, “there are a lot of couples who bought new bedroom furniture and new dining room sets when the husband came home and told the wife he bought a new motorcycle from me…”

Riding Baja? Insure with the best. We always do.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

More Baja adventures? You bet!

Meet Bobbie Surber, our newest ExNotes writer

By Joe Berk

A couple of months ago Joe Gresh wrote a blog seeking new writers. We picked up Mike Huber, who we already knew from a couple of guest blogs, we have another guy who may come on board (more about that when it’s confirmed), and most recently, Bobbie Surber agreed to join the ExNotes team.

Bobbie’s Tiger. Blue is the fastest color on a Triumph.

Bobbie is the real deal. She raised four daughters, she’s a construction manager, she’s a rider, and she’s a writer. I know Bobbie rode a G 310 GS BMW all over Baja, she rides a blue Triumph Tiger these days (I used to ride a blue Triumph Tiger, so I know she has good judgement), and she did the Vietnam adventure ride with Mike Huber (a ride you read about on these pages).

Bobbie on her BMW GS in Monument Valley.

Bobbie is an adventurer and she writes well. She will be bringing stories to us on all the above and more, and to start, Bobbie is writing a series on hiking the famed Camino de Santiago across Spain, Portugal, and France. The first installment of this European adventure is going in the queue in the next few days, and I think you will enjoy it. I sure did.

Stay tuned; as always, there are more good stories coming your way.