Adaptive Curmudgeon

I don’t like when “adventures” involve shopping. However, sometimes you need good gear. Luckily, my bike didn’t need much. The essentials remain totally stock and all I added was small details. I’m as impressed as anyone that it worked. I ran that poor beast to somewhere around 9,500’ elevation on a bone stock carburetor! Honey Badger is tough as nails and didn’t give a shit. So long as I kept it in a low gear she’d climb to the moon… at the speed of patience.

Before departure I paid a shop to install handguards. They look cool. I probably overpaid but I like the idea of not breaking fingers or bending levers if I dump the bike. I did an oil change too. I wanted handlebar risers but parts weren’t in stock locally and I had no time to wait. I wanted to change the chain but ran out of time.

I’d been fiddling with cheap aftermarket lights ($35!!!) but hadn’t installed them. In 2023 I wired switches but I hadn’t figured out the light mounts. In desperation, I paid a welder to solve all my problems. I was as surprised as anyone when I flipped switches that have been wired but unused all this time and everything functioned. This was done 3 days before departure.

I’d also wired a super heavy duty cigarette lighter. This was meant to power my air compressor. This would go with the new patch kit I’d acquired. I also bought new tubes. Unfortunately, the tubes were too big to carry. They remained behind in my truck.

I installed a plug so I can use my Noco GB20 to jump start the bike directly. That eliminated carrying jumper clips. During the ride I depleted my GB20 trying to keep my cell phone charged. Good thing I didn’t need a jump (and I can bump start).

I installed a sheepskin. The OEM seat sucks. It’s not a perfect solution but it’s DEFINITELY an improvement.

I bought a Tusk Olympus (Large) tank bag, which was the thing I used most (aside from the lights which were life savers).

My bike has Milwaukee Packouts that stack on the Cycleracks back rack. (Note: I get a small kickback from Amazon if you buy anything. I have no association with Cycleracks at all.) It also has Rotopax containers on hard racks; 1 gallon Rotopax gas can on one side, 1 gallon Rotopax water can on the other side. They’re overkill but I used them anyway. No point in going “light” on water and gas, at least until I’d seen a BDR myself.

The Packouts are glorious for afternoon fun rides but didn’t work well for the heavier packing of multiple days. That frustrated me! With the clock ticking, I purchased Nelson Riggs Hurricane Dual Sport Saddlebags. When the saddlebags didn’t fit over the very wide ass of a TW200 with 2 Rotopax, I called them. They recommended a Velcro extension. I ordered it right away and it did exactly what I needed.

I have a tool tube but didn’t like the high mounting I’d used for years. I paid the welder to weld a mounting plate to one of the Rotopax brackets. This moved it lower and it rode flawlessly.

In something not quite panic but approaching one, I purchased a shitload of tools, components, replacement bits, and other emergency errata. I’ll describe it all some other time. I crammed all that stuff onto my heavily loaded bike. It rode well but I needed almost none of it. Does that mean it was dumb? I don’t think so.

I bought a Zdrag. I didn’t use that either. It felt like overkill but then again I only have to need it once.

Also, solo. Solo changes things.

I tested out my existing tent and it wasn’t going to work. I bought a new tent; that’s a story for another day. I tested a cool sleeping solution that sounded great but it wasn’t good either. I whimpered about the cost but bought a new sleeping bag. The tent and bag were big ticket items for this trip but they did indeed serve me well.

At the last minute I picked up an overpriced REI compression sack. It turned out to be worth it’s weight in gold. I got some thermal underwear too. The elite douchebag at REI insisted on calling it “base” (as if “base layer” is too many letters for the truly enlightened). Also they wouldn’t give me a bag to carry my purchases because Greta Thumberg would cry or something. I put up with their shit when I need the very best gear but I dislike REI in general. The store reminds me of the person who hangs an Ansel Adams calendar on their cubicle and then lectures me (who really goes out in the shit) about “mother nature”.

Buying fancy camping gear was particularly nerve wracking. But it had to be done. If “a million miles from nowhere in Wyoming” isn’t a time for good gear what is?

Mrs. Curmudgeon helped by insisting I get whatever I felt necessary. I think she wants me to live. That’s so hot!

I programmed my Baeofeng handheld (HAM radio) with NOAA weather channels and all the WY repeaters… then left it behind. Not enough room. I loaded navigation gadgets with GPS waypoints. I charged everything that needed charging.

I did absolutely nothing about my riding clothes. I have an Aerostich suit, a cheap but full face helmet, adequate boots, and two pairs of gloves (one nibbled on by mice). That’s what I’d wear to cruise the interstate and it’s what I’d use on a BDR. It’s what I own. It was a bit bulky but otherwise OK.

My truck decided it wanted in on the fun. I dropped a shitload of cash rectifying deferred maintenance for the Dodge. This included a rear brake job. A few days after that “annoying” expense I was rolling down a steep Wyoming mountain pass at 9% grade for miles. The brakes functioned like a boss. Money well spent!

Finally the day came. There was no more I could do in the time allotted. I climbed in my Dodge and rolled out with my TW200 “Honey Badger” perched on the trailer.

I breathed a deep breath. I was more nervous than I’ve been in years. Which was the whole point.

You’re never quite as ready as you’d like.

Once mentally committed to the WYBDR, it’s “most remote” warning became the most important fact. Combine that with “solo” and I was no longer screwing around. It was time to exercise care. The first step in preparation was to make sure my camping/motorcycle gear is top notch. It wasn’t. I threw money at the problem (actually a lot less than you’d think) and that seemed to help. Then I obsessed over my motorcycle.

My motorcycle choice is “unorthodox” (and I’m sure many people I met on the trail silently muttered “lame” when they saw it). The Yamaha TW200 looks oddly toy-ish but it is an unkillable spud of a bike and has the heart of a lion. Yamaha launched it in 1987 as an “ATV Killer”. (It failed. Look how many ATVs are around!) It’s crude and obsolete and silly and slow. It’s more suited to hauling a bucket of feed to your cattle than grand adventures. It costs about 1/3 what the cheapest ADV costs and has 1/50th the cool factor. (Many, perhaps most(?) of the riders I actually met on the BDR spent more on their hard bags than I did on my whole motorcycle!)

Suffice to say, a TW200 is NOT well suited to State spanning distances. Only a loon would try.

Then again maybe the world needs more loons? As far as I’m concerned there’s a true thing that we should never overlook:

“The best motorcycle for a trip is the one you have.”

Also, I trust my little death turtle. That’s huge! Even if I could afford a new or used “Adventure bike” (ADV), it would add uncertainty to my calculations. I’ve flogged my uncomplaining TW200 like a rented mule. It just keeps going. It has done anything I’ve ever gotten into my fool head. I bought that dumb little brick because I always want to get home… if slowly.

When you’re solo and remote it’s time to distrust technology and avoid things like a high center of gravity. ADV bikes look super cool but they’re technological wonders. For example, they have anti-lock brakes, which is almost a necessity to handle their mass on rough ground. The TW200 is so lame it has a drum brake on the back! Then again it’s so small and slow that the drum and the front disk are sufficient. (I said sufficient, not impressive.) The overlooked advantage is there are no sensors, circuits, or gadgets to break. The brakes are sufficient but also hard to break.

The TW200 is squat and not super comfortable. ADVs are tall and have excellent suspension, in part because you need it to handle an ADV crunching over rocks. The TW200’s short dumb suspension beats the hell out of the rider but it too has little to break. And it’s so short, the ground ain’t far away if you dump it.

I theorize the whole ADV idea (which is super popular) is necessarily a series of compromises. Excellence on roads is gained in exchange for “tall but pretty OK” on dirt. For most people, that’s a good trade off. Not for me. For one thing, I’m as short and stout as the TW200. I can’t flat foot a bike with a 34” seat height and there’s no point in wishing otherwise. For another, I insist on doing stupid shit that includes words like “remote” and “solo”.

As “research”, I slavishly watched many BDR Youtube videos (there are thousands and they’re a hoot to watch!). I expected the videos to chill me out. Instead, they threw up red flags. I saw far more drama than I expected. A lot of nice people wound up mildly battered and occasionally seriously injured. More than a few groups of 3-5 lost a few members to “minor setbacks” during a week long BDR! Yikes!

The proximate cause was rarely related to the environment itself. I would expect and hardly notice a few examples of heat exhaustion or mechanical failure or something funky like being trampled by a buffalo. Yet, most “drama” involved a big ADV falling over, and as it does so pushing some body part in one or more unpleasant directions. Eeek!

A minority of the videos showed smaller dual sports. This doesn’t confer immunity to mishap but the dual sport riders really did seem to motor along with less drama. This was an informal YouTube sample. It could have been through chance or bias of videographers. Maybe dual sport riders bite it just as hard but carry fewer cameras due to limited carrying capacity? All I can say is what I noticed.

Also, nobody videoed themselves on a BDR with the odd duck TW200. That made me nervous.

This bothered me. Finally I found external validation. I watched Yammie Noob’s “Adventure Motorcycles Through the Eyes of a Sportbike Guy”. It was a well meaning romp on bikes and meant in fun. But at 10:05 he dropped a truth bomb I’d been sensing:

“The average aging father really can’t buy a BMW GS, add $4,000 in accessories, and expect to go tackle a BDR.”

Bam! That’s it right there!

I’m probably not an “average” aging father. In fact, who knows what that “average” means? But I was going solo and I’m no spring chicken. Solo ventures merit caution!

Before I skate too far on thin ice let me say that ADVs look cool and Yammie Noob likes exaggerating for humor. (I still laugh myself silly at his description of “Wilbur” in The 7 ADV Riders You Will Meet (Thermonuclear Edition). I am not Wilbur but someday I might be!) Also, lots of people take their bike choices personally and it’s none of my business. Nor does my (or Yammie’s) logic comport with popularity. About 80% of the bikes I saw on the BDR itself were ADVs. None were splayed on the ground or parked at an ER and they universally looked super cool. So I could be full of shit.

(Actually I saw very few bikes on the trail at all. Most were parked at gas stops and whatnot in the very infrequent towns. Even parked, you could tell they were outfitted for the trail and yes, they look cool as hell… even when parked! You know what, I’m mis-stating the thing; on the trail itself I saw very few humans of any sort. I saw perhaps a few BDR groups, a picturesque group of horse mounted non-ironic real life cowboys, one road grader that seemed to hate me, and a smattering of dented ranch trucks.)

The remaining 20% of bikes I saw on or near the trail were smaller (but still kitted out) dual sports. I don’t know why, but dual sports just don’t look as cool. (Side note: sometime folks will refer to an “Enduro” motorcycle. That means roughly the same thing as “dual sport”; a dirt biki-ish thing that is street legal and a little less awesome at dirt but more practical. Also, most articles on the subject say something like “ten best bikes to buy in 2024” and they utterly ignore the obsolete and weird TW200.)

For my entire trip, the only idiot on a TW200 was me. I’m sure it happens but I never saw another one!

I saw one Royal Enfield Himalayan. It was kitted out nicely but parked haundreds of miles from the trailhead at an REI store. I’d scoff but I was at the REI store too. I stopped at for last minute gear and my TW200 was perched on a trailer. So what do I know?

I’m not saying you can’t complete a BDR on a heavy ADV, it happens all the time. I merely theorize it’s riskier and more physically challenging. Also, most people consider a BDR a “group effort” thing. Every video of an ADV dumped on a BDR showed a handful of men working hard together lifting it. Fred dumps his ADV. Mike, Ralph, and Barney leap off their bikes and hustle to help Fred. In exchange, Fred hustles to help his friends when they dump. A circle of goodwill unavailable to the solo rider!

A solo guy like me will never ever have a single foot pound of force granted by charity. Part of why I chose a cheesy, little, small, stupid, crude, and slow machine is that I can always pick it up! Also I like its performance in the rough stuff. It favors traction over speed. Most dirt machines zip along using speed and excellent suspencion. TW200’s tractor along slow and steady; like mules.

As for my experience (I have returned after all) the TW200 excelled at the worst parts of the trail. The tougher the trail the more I liked it. It’s not very photogenic or exciting because it chugs along rather than flinging great rooster tails of dirt, but it’s damn good at simply getting through.

I paid for it for performance though. The TW200 has shitty ergonomics. It beat my ass and was very wearying on any long sections.

I should also mention, I was the only solo rider I met. That surprised me, but it’s true.

Stay tuned for more…

[Note: After I returned from my adventure, I sat down to write about it. I’m not done yet. (Writing takes time and none of us have extra time.) Rather than make y’all wait, I posted what I’d typed. Almost immediately a few “coffee donations” came through. THANKS! I’d still do stupid adventures even if nobody cared, but the donations make writing it up seem like I’m not just pissing into the wind. That’s a big deal to me.]

The BDR website for the Wyoming route says “[t]he Wyoming Backcountry Discovery Route is a multi-day off-pavement ride for dual-sport and adventure motorcycles through the most dramatic and rugged landscapes in Wyoming.” They weren’t exaggerating. It was all the dramatic and rugged I could handle.

(Note: The BDR people pair the state’s abbreviation with the suffix BDR. Thus, the Wyoming BDR is WYBDR. Colorado is COBDR. Etc…)

I had this weird idea that Wyoming is somehow tamer than Utah or some shit. Why? I dunno, I’ve been to most western states and they’ve all got plenty of opportunities and challenges. Yet, for some indefinable reason, Wyoming always seemed more approachable. It fits me. Of course, I can’t stand a few corners of the state. All states have “lost territories” like that. Jackson Hole has the snobbery of Vail Colorado and resides (like Vail) on my list of pretty places too infected with rich dweebs to enjoy. Also, as much as I like Yellowstone National Park, I wasn’t eager for anything “off road” in that locale. I don’t know if there are dirt roads near Yellowstone but if they did exist the Park Service would pile on rules until it was intolerable anyway. Luckily, WYBDR completely ignores Jackson Hole and Yellowstone. (It’s impressive that Wyoming has room for a multi-day “discovery route” totally independent of the huge and beautiful National Park.)

I laid the map on my table and pondered. “What am I getting myself into?” Challenges and logistical details weighed on my mind. The FAQ listed the mileage as 950 miles!

Nine hundred fifty miles. Great gibbering goose grease! I did not have time for a thousand miles of dirt… especially if I’d be doing it on a Yamaha TW200, which is a slow bike. I’d have to work on that.

Quoth the website: “[t]his is the most remote BDR, so plan ahead and be prepared to have a true backcountry adventure.”

OK, so now we’re looking at not only a thousand miles but tracks that happen to be “the most remote”. Talk about a wicked combination!

It’s hard to underestimate this; there’s “the middle of nowhere” and there’s “the middle of nowhere in Wyoming”. I would have to take that into account.

Most people, indeed great swaths of humanity, have never been in truly remote situations. Thus, they don’t have a good picture of how bad things can get and how quickly. There are people from Narobi Kenya who haven’t experienced Wyoming emptiness. Most residents of Paris or Manhattan or Los Angeles would cease to exist if teleported even for a single minute to Wyoming’s desolation. Never underestimate the desert!

The route’s logistics aren’t “twenty miles to the next Starbucks” it’s “how much spare gas do you have, and did you pack a tent”. There are less people in Wyoming than any other state. Including Rhode Island, which is about the size of one lawn in Wyoming. I think some of the BDRs will land you in a decent sized town most nights and some BDR riders plan for hotels. (I’m new at this so I’m not sure.) Such a thing is totally off the table on the WYBDR.

Next item up for analysis? I’d be going solo. This exponentially increases the importance of “remote”.

It’d be just me. Not me and five friends. Most (almost all!) riders travel BDRs with a gaggle of like minded people, meaning they have all the backup one could want, including multiple functioning motorcycles should one break. Not me. There would be no buddies to pick up a bike if I drop it. Nobody to help me up I break a leg. Not even a spare person to take a picture of me as I lay there dying.

Soloing 950 miles of “most remote” is serious.

That’s the best part!

Stay tuned for more…

I started my last post trying to extol the virtues of adventure. It veered off into a rant. So be it. I posted it anyway.

Whether my ramblings struck a chord or not, I needed adventure. I needed it now! I needed to get my ass out there and do something. I needed it done before the next election and more importantly I needed to get it done before winter clips my wings. All my favorite adventures happen outdoors.

In the midst of a very busy period of time I picked my adventure. I did so in haste, because it’s easy to wait too long for the right time. Doing cool shit is always inconvenient. It’s always over budget. It’s always something you can delay because you’ve got other things to do.

I dropped everything and deliberately elected to do my own thing. I encourage you to do the same. It’s not as easy as it sounds.

Part of the price to pay is that I haven’t mowed the lawn. Do I really care? Not really. It’s a fuckin’ lawn. Who cares about fuckin’ lawns?

I decided to go because I must. I decided to go on an arbitrary looming date because it wasn’t going to happen without an immediate urgent crash project to make it so.

The good news is my chosen adventure was just right. Well outside my comfort zone. At the edge of my physical capacity. Some of my gear was inadequate. There were unknowns. There were risks. It was an all around pain in the ass that disrupted my daily chores; which was exactly the purpose. Also it was a challenge that I could do. If you don’t have the body or finances to summit Everest, don’t wither away regretting your limitations… climb something smaller. Dream but don’t be a dumbass. Keep your feet planted.

My two likely options were ventures on my little homemade sailboat and ventures on my little dirt bike. Arbitrarily, I chose the Yamaha. (It’s not that I dislike my sailboat, it’s just that I only had time for one “thing” and the bike won.) Note that last year I bought an excellent 1989 Honda Pacific Coast 800 for “road trips” but this year, when the time came, it didn’t make the cut. I’d planned for a road trip but exploring pavement is too solidly in my comfort zone. I’ve done it before; many times. This year everything seems so artificially dire that my heart rejects small efforts. That’s another way of saying I needed to do something “new”.

I found an outfit with the somewhat marketer-iffic name of Backcountry Discovery Routes (BDR). They explore areas, concoct extended routes by piecing together bits of trail, map it, and promote it (as well as try to inspire off road motorcycle trips in general). (There are many such outfits. They all have pros and cons. My selection doesn’t mean the others are bad, only different.)

BDR has dozens of paths already mapped. No need to reinvent the wheel! That convenience is part of why the boat sits forlorn in the yard while the bike is happily covered with a patina of desert grime.

According to their web site: “Backcountry Discovery Routes® is a non-profit organization that creates off-highway routes for adventure and dual-sport motorcycle travel.” I suspect they were created to either juice or harvest the booming ADV motorcycle market (or perhaps the associated motocamping accessory market). I’m perfectly happy with that.

Roughly speaking, each “BDR” crosses a state. There are ten western states with a BDR. There are two multi-state BDRs in New England, which makes sense if you look at a map of New England. California’s BDR is split in two, north and south, which makes sense if you look at a map of California. There’s a couple smaller one or two day loops, called BDR-X; which is nice because crossing a whole State is a big bite of a huge sandwich.

The point is, these folks map out the trail and become cheerleaders for it; which makes it easier for those that follow. I salute them! Starting from scratch would have been a nearly insurmountable task. Crossing great swaths of nature on obscure trails known mostly to locals would be pretty sketchy!

BDR maps kindly break routes into digestible bites called “sections”. Sections don’t necessarily match a “day’s ride” but they can. They also mark important things, like gas stops and campsites (or hotels, if any can be found).

BDR maps assume you’re traveling the route in a specific direction (i.e. from south to north). Barring weird local anomalies, there’s no reason whatsoever you must travel a route in any particular direction. I didn’t.

They picked routes based on motorcycles but you don’t have to do a BDR with a motorcycle. I met a nice young couple following BDR waypoints in a Toyota. More power to ‘em! One limit is that sometimes the routes interact with main paved roads. Whatever you drive ought to have a license plate. This is a shame because doing a BDR with an ATV sounds pretty fun to me.

If you need an adventure, have a bike that can do dirt, and don’t feel like starting from scratch, I heartily recommend Backcountry Discovery Routes. I loved my trip.

The maps cost $20 and they’re high quality. It’s money well spent. They’re cheap considering you’re financing a shitload of research. A professional guide would burn two orders of magnitude more money. You don’t have to buy the map. You can download their GPS data, which is free. (I downloaded it myself on two digital navigation gadgets.) However, I bought a map because sometimes paper is better and also I appreciate all their efforts. Incidentally, I was out of cell phone range most of my trip. Another reason to have paper as a backup.

Now that I’m back home, I’ll probably buy a sticker, because why not? I’m grateful the BDR people had much of the complex shit figured out in advance. And my bike has earned a farkle!

I’ve been dancing around the details. I’m a pretty private guy and you don’t need to know where I’ve been. But this time I’ll spill the beans. My hope is that a few people who “need” adventures get a little inspiration from my story, regardless of whether it’s a BDR or something totally different.

The BDR I picked, was Wyoming.

More to come.

It’s hard being a normal person. It feels like you’re the last one. Social media bombards you with visions of a society crawling up it’s own ass. Your kid’s teacher looks like a circus freak. Your neighbors fight among themselves over trivial matters. Your civic leaders are unlikable douchebags.

Former beacons of excellence are filled with rot. Universities no longer educate; they train human irritants who grind the workplace to a halt. Boeing strands people in space and Disney hasn’t made a good movie in years. The nation that produced Sinatra has topped out at Taylor Swift. Systems suffer self inflicted damage; Harley Davidson decided to Bud Light itself, the national debt is zooming toward Zimbabwe, and nobody knows how long the woke Navy will keep their boats floating.

You don’t want to be the last real, actual, normal, well adjusted, semi-coherent, vaguely self-reliant human left in a sea of dithering mediocrity do you?

Hell yeah you do!

Spit that fuckin’ black pill right out! We’ve all been mistreated but we have free will. Use it! If everyone else is demoralized, that’s not your problem. Rise above and, if necessary, walk away. Be happy.

It’s a function of our times. We’re enduring the first few decades of a vast experiment in human mind control. Gutenberg’s press upended nations, peoples, and whole social orders. Wars were fought. Lives were altered. Yet some people, the wise and the lucky, rode the wave. They thrived, or at least persevered.

Gutenberg’s press was a speed bump compared to what we face today. Since the 1950’s, mass media bludgeoned us with bullshit. TV did us no good but at least the intellectual sinkhole was chained down in a single room. By the turn of the century, mass media was refined into social media. Now it has crawled into your pocket. You pay monthly fees to “enjoy” a mental parasite carried on your person.

You know I’m right. You can feel it yourself. Your mind has been drilled, probed, tweaked, explored, manipulated, and addicted. You’re told all sentient beings have a certain set of beliefs but none of these spring organically from interaction with the natural world. The more outlandish the belief the better. Your doctor can’t define “woman”? Is that what you need in an oncologist? Would you hire a mechanic that can’t identify “exhaust manifold”.

Humans, which start as herd animals with occasional notions of greatness, have devolved. Now they’re frantic gaggles of self-destructive spastics. Groups form for no other reason than to signal their adherence to whatever shit they’ve been programmed to accept. Then, lacking depth, they dissolve. Societies and nations spanning centuries are pecked to death by barely sentient fools. Our world is pried apart by phone toting semi-evolved apes seeking a dopamine hit they’ll forget in an hour.

If the world is mad, why do you wish to bathe in it? Let that shit go!

Even if everyone marches straight into hell, the main thing you need to do is… NOT. Don’t pin your hopes on external forces. If the grid goes down. If free speech is terminated. If the masses give up on fair elections, proper governance, or even the possibility of objective truth, that doesn’t have to be you. Don’t be of the masses. If nearly everyone winds up beaten and broke; sitting in their leased EV and eating bugs while the “news” explains we have always been at war with Eastasia… that’s them, not you. Shrug it off. Hold on to hope. Build yourself.

Society has gone to shit before. Each time, some measure of the populace have elected for a better path and persisted. If you can find no other reason, stay sane just to spite the bastards!

What you need is an adventure. Actually I don’t know what you need. I’ll backtrack and say that’s what I needed.

Maybe you need a puppy, or a good book, or a stiff belt of bourbon, or to see a rainbow, or a sunrise, or just an “attitude adjustment” upside the head. Notice the commonality of the things I listed? None come from political or social forces! Books, puppies, sunrises, and a good dope slap are all available regardless of the malaise of the times. Whatever you need, go get it. As my grandma once said “it’s good for what ails ya’”.

My obscure blog posits adventure is the soul of man. It’s not pointless, it’s why. We are not beasts of burden, born to serve. We are not economic units on a Marxist’s game board. We are more.

Taking the time to ponder such things is good for you. You are always capable of using free will in pursuit of better. If you’re not, that’s on you. Sitting on the couch wishing someone else would fix shit, dithering until you’re hauled off on a stretcher, that’s nobody’s problem but yours; and it means you played your cards (whatever they were) poorly.

Wow. I guess I had to rant. Grandma probably would have said it was good for me to get it off my chest.

I’ll try again with more focus in my next post. Stay tuned.

Nothing broke, I didn’t break. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t too hard.

Perfect.

I spent forever studying maps, planning, fretting, tweaking my motorcycle (“Honey Badger”), and then a ton of seat time in my truck trailering to the middle of nowhere. But now I’m here! The trailhead (which remains classified for now) is gorgeous. I’m in the high and lonely mountains. I can feel the thinner air at this altitude but my motorcycle and I both seem to idle ok so far. We’ll both take it easy.

I spent last night in my new tent (more on that later) snuggled in my new sleeping bag (probably more on that too) in a campground at an outfitter’s lodge. Cows were mooing most of the night… something had them pissed off! I was tired and slept pretty well for a guy my age in a backpacking tent on a mountain.

There’s no cell service anywhere. But at the bar there’s WiFi (and beer!). Of course I have my SpotX. Failing that, there’s a mysterious ancient artifact bolted to the wall… a payphone. As much as the pay phone is neat, I’m damn glad to have a SpotX.

From the bar, I’m taking this chance to check in. I’m as prepared as I can get and as clueless as anyone would be on their first such trip.

I’ll post again if I find another bar with WiFi. It may be a while. It might be tonight. I have no idea. Which, I guess, is the point.

Some people hire guides, others join groups. I learn the hard way.

One the one hand it’s good for ya’. On the other hand, it’s a hassle. I’m tired of fretting over spare parts and ordering stupidly expensive sleeping bags.

I’ve done a million motorcycle trips (always on pavement and staying at hotels). I could ease into it by cruising interstates but camping at parks. In 2023 I bought a bike for just that purpose. But, being me, in 2024 I ignored 2023’s mellow plans. It’s 2024 and I’m doing a different thing.

I’m outfitting “Honey Badger”, my tiny dual sport, as if I expect the Apocalypse. Soon I’ll head to a place as yet unannounced. This trip is definitely beyond my comfort zone… but it’s just a thing I need to do. I’ll be solo. No guide. No traveling companions. No shit.

There’s a thousand details to which I must attend. I fret over a budget which I’m trying to keep low. Logistics must be sorted out. The truck I’m going to use to trailer to the trailhead is a Dodge and therefore needed expensive maintenance (seems like that what it always needs). It’s all very harried.

In the midst of all this I’ve been a bit “off” health wise. I’m fine but it’s slowing me down. When I need my usual 100 watt lightbulb of confidence I’m mustering a 5 watt CFL of “meh”.

To distract myself (and also chill while equipment comes via mail) I’ve  watched plenty of YouTube videos about motocamping. This has been a mixed bag. Some videos are glorious. Others scare me away. It’s definitely a mix of up and down.

Ed Marsh is basically unkillable. He always makes me smile. He’s the only guy that makes a 200cc motorcycle seem “large and confidence inspiring”. Yay Ed!

Itchy Boots is in Africa. Every episode is a spectrum from sublime to just plain uncomfortable. Recently she wound up eating caterpillars in an “Indiana Jones 2” dinner. (I haven’t finished her season 7 so don’t spoil the ending for me.) The point is Itchy Boots is having a super epic adventure but it’s definitely hard work. She also has a superhuman ability to take shit while smiling. I’m not sure I’d be so stoic. Especially the smiling part. In particular, I’d lose it if I needed that many canoe type river ferries! I don’t consider myself even in the same dimension of existence as Itchy Boots.

Motogiant has always had a sort of laid back full fledged American redneck charm. I tuned in hoping to get my mojo back and he lost a fuckin’ leg! Christ on a cracker! Now I’m wanting boots made of titanium. Alas, Robocop boots are not in the budget or plan. Motogiant, who’s awesome, freaked me the hell out.

On the Wyoming BDR a group of dudes selected smaller Dual Sports over larger ADV bikes (which is my approach too) and traveled together. That (traveling as a group) seemed so much safer. Then they lost 2 of 5 riders in just a few hours! Holy shit! This ain’t helping my confidence. (Don’t panic. They were injured enough to head for the ER and abandon the ride, but nothing like Motogiant’s getting a limb ripped off.)

I found a different video of two dudes doing the Colorado BDR. They seemed so chill and philosophical that I relaxed. Then BOOM, broken leg! Holy shit on a stick! Just now I went back to YouTube to get the link for y’all and it’s memory holed. I guess the big algorithm in the sky thinks I can handle the shock.

On the other hand, there are a few sources of unceasingly positive vibes.

Nick Adams has a voice like Bob Ross and an attitude like a Buddhist monk. He and his old MotoGuzzi never ruffle a feather. (I’ve read several Nick Adams books this year.)

Also, Michael of Emporium Outdoors, who was a well established ATV/UTV guy dipped his toe in the water of two wheel camping. Even without his show stealing dog, he posted a relaxed mellow ride. Thank goodness for Nick and Michael! I couldn’t take another video that implies an ER visit!

Hm… the two most “chill” folks are posting out of Canada. Have I learned something?

Summer is fleeting. It’s easy to miss the moment. I’m trying to do better; I aim to carpe the living shit out of the diem. An epic camping trip is on my horizon!

“Motocamping” is nothing special, just carry your stuff on a motorcycle instead of in your car. I planned for that with my Honda PC800 (“Marshmallow Fluff”). I even packed my stuff. It wasn’t going to be “an adventure” but it would be fun. It didn’t happen.

Knocked down by fate, I came back off the mat swinging. Ha! Fate ya’ whily bitch! You didn’t see that coming did ya’!

I’m about to do the motocamping thing but I decided to do a real “adventure”. Rather than pavement and parks, I’ll be going from remote to remote, campsite to (hopefully) campsite. This will (I think) be almost entirely on dirt. I’m going to do it solo and I’m going to do it soon.

There’s about a thousand ways this can go wrong. Logistics alone have driven me batty! But it’s coming together. I can almost taste it!

Allow me to ruminate. Motorcycles are specialized critters. Sportbikes, tourers, and cruisers aren’t particularly happy on dirt. Here’s a photo from Sturgis. Check it out. It’s an assload of very cool motorcycles! Almost none of them are well suited to off road. Yes, they can be pressed into service for light trails, but in general they aren’t.

I’ve been to Sturgis. My first motorcycle was a cruiser. I love my cruiser. But I’m not really a “motorcycle rally” guy. I don’t hang out in crowds, I don’t ride in groups, and I get bored with chrome and t-shirt kiosks.

I’ve crossed America several times on my cruiser. Then I started to crave different adventures. A little over ten years ago Ewan McGregor & Charlie Boorman had me hooked. I watched the show and loved it.

Link is here. I warn you, it’ll fill you with wanderlust!

Deep in every man’s heart is the desire to ride a motorcycle around the world, or sail the seas, or climb Everest. Don’t deny it. Accept it. Embrace it. Do what you can within your limits. If you can’t summit Everest, walk up a hill. Better than than sitting on a couch complaining about the cost of an Everest expedition!

Oh heck, what am I saying, if you want to sit on a couch bitching, go right ahead. It is 2024 after all.

As for me, the whole “ride forever, including on dirt” dream had me lusting after a type of motorcycle called the “ADV Bike” or “adventure bike”. This is more a marketing term than a mechanical optimization.

The thing is this, a bike that can cross continents will spend a lot of time on highways. It absolutely needs to be highway compatible. Conversely, it need only handle as much dirt as the Earth’s limited wilderness can provide. An ADV will definitely do better on dirt than a chromed out Harley bagger or a massive Honda Goldwing land yacht, but it’s not really great at dirt.

As for the story I loved so well, Ewan and Charlie had their fare share of Siberian mud. They also did plenty of miles on American/Canadian superslab and that’s the stuff that didn’t get as much screen time.

Here’s Charlie Boorman on what I believe to be a BMW 1150 GS. I (like many people) lusted for years after a bike like that.

The thing is, once you move beyond “daydream” to “novice doing the thing” your perspective changes. Charlie’s awesome BMW 1150 GS used to look great. Now it looks like a boat anchor! It’s top heavy. It’s complicated. It’s HUGE! It’s a sprained ankle with monthly payments!

Picture that bike at the bottom of a ditch. Suppose the beast was buried in mud; hard to grip and pull and with water slowly penetrating irreplaceable circuit boards. Imagine conditions of rain and snow and hail. Because I have a weird imagination add wolves. Yes! The wolves are circling and you need to deadlift the friggin’ bike out of a bad spot; this isn’t politics or social media, it’s reality, if something is too damn heavy for you to lift, it’s too heavy for you to lift. You can’t talk your way out of physics.

What’s Charlie going to do? Is he going to lift a 600 pound motorcycle with 200 pounds of gear… while wolves gnaw on his arm? The real answer is that almost nobody rides a big ADV solo and on trails. They stay in packs for safety and help lift each other’s bikes.

I ride solo. If Charlie generously gave me to keys to his monster ADV I might wind up stuck wherever the bike gets stuck.

ADV motorcycles are awesome in theory but they don’t get used like you think. Off road, they’re too much of a good thing. Too much weight. Too many fiddly gadgets to break.

Oh, and I should mention that the current version of Charlie’s cool ADV motorcycle is the BMW R 1250 GS. A machine like that will set you back at least $25 grand! If you spend 25 grand on a shiny piece of machined German excellence will you be inclined to ride it into a swamp?

If you’re really going to do rough terrain, especially if you’re solo like me (and perhaps if you’re getting a bit grey in the beard, as I am), you need a lighter bike. The term for this is “dual sport”. That means the bike is very much at home in dirt but it has enough lights and stuff to make it street legal. Dual sports can ride on pavement. They’re not great at it, but they can do it. They’re the mirror image of the ADV which isn’t great on the trail but can do it.

Itchy Boots posts all about her solo trips. I’m watching season seven, in which she goes all over Africa. Africa, at least from her videos, appears to be made entirely of mud. Plus there are other obstacles. When she gets to a river locals often put the thing in a rickety canoe for the crossing. A hefty BMW would never get across those rivers.

Itchy Boots (Noraly) uses a Honda CRF 300. She goes places that’ll make your hair curl. That’s where the “dual sport” shines. Her spunky little “dual sport” somehow endures while Africa’s geography tries to murder it.

A brand new CRF 300 only costs about $6 grand. You can buy one and then buy three more, just to add up to the cost of an ADV motorcycle.

Personally, I bought the cheapest simplest wheeled mule I could find. It’s an archaic, obsolete, underpowered, yet charming and unkillable Yamaha TW200. Here’s a photo from a few years ago (link):

It’s probably the least cool “dual sport” in current manufacture. It’s slow. It’s carbureted. It has virtually no electronics. It’s basically unchanged since 1987.

On the other hand, I know I can pick that bike up because I have. Often. I’ve submerged it in a pond. I’ve rammed it into trees. I’ve run it hot. I’ve run it in snow. The bike just keeps churning away. It’s a machine with zero fucks to give.

I call it “Honey Badger”.

Oh yeah, I paid $4500 out the door for that plucky little spud. Suppose I completely destroy my entire motorcycle by riding it into a lava pit or something. It’ll set me back only a little more than a new set of tires for my Dodge.

There’s only one problem, it sucks on the road. It tops out at 55 MPH and is very buzzy. When I’m forced to endure pavement, I tend to keep it at 50mph or under. If I tried my plodding little mule on the Interstate, I’d wind up splattered across the grill of a Kenworth. That’s its kryptonite!

I have to trailer my dual sport to the trailhead. An ADV can get to the trailhead on it’s own. That’s where ADVs shine.

When an ADV gets to the end of the trail, it rolls back onto pavement and goes home. That’s kind of cool too.

When my dual sport gets to the end of the trail but my truck is still parked hundreds of miles away… um then what?

Hm….

Ring ring ring!

“Hello? UHaul? I’d like a one way reservation for your smallest truck. Yes, I’ll hold.”

ADVs totally rule in terms of logistics. Getting my dual sport (and me) home is going to be a bitch.

More later.