Passes & Canyons Blog

A different kind of long day today on this Great River Road ride with the RMMRC. We left St. Charles in the cool of the morning, with mist over everything. Very magical. We rode to the river at Alton, where we crossed on a new bridge very unlike the old one I drove over tripping on acid 50 years ago. That’s a story but it doesn’t bear telling here.

Then we turned north on the road that runs right along the river—very nice. This is MO 100. There were high bluffs for miles and I was kicking myself for not having my camera at the ready. Another negative of riding with a group; on my own I would have stopped and gotten my camera out. We passed through Grafton, which looks touristy but interesting. Then on to Pere Marquette State Park where we stopped and checked out the rustic old lodge. This would be a nice place to bring your wife to if you’re into these sorts of things. It’s definitely on my list of places to visit with Judy.

We rode up to a viewpoint and that was where we lost Tom. When we were ready to go, he went along on the road we were on, while the rest of us backtracked. He expected it to come back to the lodge but in fact it comes out to the river about three miles further down. We never saw him the rest of the day. I don’t know if he doesn’t read maps well, didn’t know what the planned route was, or what. Reaching him later by phone we found that he was many miles away from where we were and he had just decided to head straight to Davenport, our night’s stop.

The rest of us rode on to Hannibal and had lunch. We came through some nice country, rode along the river at times, but didn’t see the river at all for much of the time. From Louisiana, Missouri, to Hannibal was the nicest part.

In Hannibal, after lunch, the plan had been to visit the Mark Twain Boyhood Home & Museum, which comprises several sites around the town but it was blazing hot and everyone wanted to just go on. Except me. I said I’ll see you later but the main site was swarming with school kids so I said forget this and headed out. I stopped at a former Suzuki dealer a little later and bought a new helmet because the one I had worn was literally falling to pieces.

I took what turned out to be a side trip over into Quincy but then crossed back into Illinois to follow US 61. A little further on I took the business route through La Grange and Canton, both right on the river and then followed the highways up to Keokuk. From Keokuk, on the Illinois side following IL 96 it was a nice road right along the river, going through some historic areas. I stopped in Nauvoo for an ice cream break. This was another of the questions I had asked the day before: Don’t you guys ever make a stop for ice cream? Heck the OFMC makes it a point to have an ice cream break pretty much every day. Ice cream is synonymous with motorcycle riding isn’t it?

Some of the group had talked about wanting to stop and see a lock and dam along the river. I have to admit, as much of my life as I lived along or near the Mississippi River I had no real idea that there were dams on this mighty river. That’s totally illogical because my uncle, who lived in Granite City, Illinois, worked at a lock there. But there are dams, a lot of them, on the Mississippi. I made it a point to sit on the shady side of the street in Nauvoo eating my ice cream in case I had passed the other guys and they should just happen to come along at that time. It didn’t happen, at least in part because they never did stop at a lock, though we came past several of them.

From Nauvoo I mostly followed signs for the Great River Road and some of it was very nice but some not worth it. I was really glad to reach the hotel and get a shower. And good to relax and have a beer. This was not a 450-mile day again but it was darn near a 400-mile day by the time it was over. That’s a lot of riding and I was just glad to have taken the second part of the day at my own pace.

Biker Quote for Today

Knock knock! Who’s there? Iona. Iona who? Iona brand new motorcycle, wanna go for a ride?

I’ve got a really good Shoei helmet and a perfectly good Icon helmet but, illogically, I have most frequently worn what I take to be a fairly crummy Hawk helmet for a number of years.

The thing with the Hawk is that it is modular, but I almost never flip it up, and it has a Velcro-attaching patch of fabric across the front to keep cold wind from blowing up by your chin. In winter especially I like that bit of fabric. Plus, the helmet itself is comfortable. Or was, I should say.

Setting off on the Great River Road Ride I chose to wear the Hawk. But that’s not what I came home with.

I got the Hawk a long time ago, as a freebie, to do a review of, back when I was writing for Examiner.com. The main feature was that it came Bluetooth equipped. Theoretically you would link your phone to the Bluetooth in the helmet and voila, you had in-helmet communication. It never worked. I tried linking it to the phones of several friends and we could never get it to work. But it was very comfortable so I used it.

Early on I ran into some issue and as I fiddled with the helmet to fix whatever it was that was wrong I discovered that the flip-up part was only attached to the rest of the helmet by what appeared to me to be fairly flimsy clips. I wondered if, if I had a crash, those clips would give and that part of the helmet would just fall off. But I liked the helmet so I kept wearing it. Hey, I’m not going to crash, right?

Well, on the first or second day of this trip I noticed that where the two pieces attach they appeared to be pulling apart. That didn’t seem good. Plus, I had been having trouble keeping the helmet liner assembly–the plastic pieces that fit together to hold the foam liner in place–in place. At one stop Tom brought me a piece of plastic asking if it came from my helmet. It had. And now, when I took the helmet off, the entire fabric liner seemed to want to come out along with my head. This was just not OK any more.

On the third day of the ride we stopped for lunch in Hannibal, MO, and I checked for a local motorcycle shop. I found a Suzuki dealer on our route ahead about 20 miles and resolved to stop there. I was splitting off from the rest of the group after Hannibal anyway so this was perfect.

I got to the shop and it turned out they are no longer a Suzuki dealer, but they did have exactly six helmets still in stock. Only one of them fit me. I bought it. This was a Zox helmet.

Now, to me, Zox is a no-name brand and who knows how good it is. I did later Google it, however, and found that it apparently is well-constructed, meeting both DOT and SNELL standards, and is aimed for the low end of the market. Works for me; I only paid about $105 for it, and the lady was glad to get it out of her inventory. Five more left to unload. I gave her the Hawk to throw away. (She also said she had some good Suzuki luggage she’d like to sell me for a good price but I passed.)

About an hour later I was having second thoughts. The foam liner was pressing into my forehead and hurting. I’ve had helmets like this before. My first two helmets were Bieffes and they did the same thing. For years I wore helmets as little as possible because they hurt. I tried pounding on the foam in the specific spot and that had helped some but I was glad to finally get rid of that first Bieffe and I still have the second but never wear it.

The next day we stopped at a battery shop because Dave was having issues and we all hoped it was just the battery. There was a motorcycle shop just across the street so I went over there to look at helmets. They had a good selection, and some were not overly expensive. Did I really want to buy another new one and abandon a one-day-old helmet?

I spoke to a sales guy and asked him why some helmets are like this. He said some helmets are shaped more for round heads–like his–while others are for oval heads–like mine. I looked at him and by golly he really does have a round head, and mine is definitely more oval. Well that explains it. You just have to pay attention to what you’re getting. Not that I had much choice buying the Zox.

I decided I could get home with the Zox, even if that meant discomfort. But then I decided to try compressing the foam in that spot as I had with the Bieffe. And amazingly, it didn’t take much and it made a world of difference. I can actually continue to wear this helmet now. Sweet. And I’m so glad I got home without suffering the whole way.

Biker Quote for Today

The idea is to die young as late as possible.

We left McPherson, Kansas, very early with a lot more miles to cover this second day of the Great River Road Ride. Riding in early morning is frequently magical and it was this day. Plus, eastern Kansas is a lot prettier than the western portion. Winding through emerald green hills broken by the jagged red clay banks of little streams it was absolutely beautiful.

Crossing into Missouri we followed smaller roads all the way across the state. From Jefferson City we followed MO 94, which follows the Missouri River. Judy and I drove this road the other direction just last year and I knew it was a nice road. I did not remember that there were considerable stretches that were hilly and twisty and perfectly designed for motorcycles.

I was riding second behind Dave and we got into the good stuff and he cranked it up, as he typically will do. I am not an aggressive rider normally but in this case I did not want to hold up everyone behind me, plus, I figured my V-Strom has to be more agile than his big honking Beemer so if he can take this road at a rapid clip I can, too. And I did. I kept tightly with him every mile of the way and you know what? It was fun. It was a lot of fun. That evening on our way to dinner he told me “You did some fine riding today.” I knew that, and I know that I’m probably a better rider than a lot of folks, but it feels good to have that competence recognized by someone who is himself an excellent rider.

At one point Dave made a wrong turn and I’m guessing his GPS told him we could get back on track if we just took this one small road a few miles. We turned off and paused. Initially at least it was gravel. I was on the V-Strom so no problem for me but I wondered about the others. We continued and so did they and we reached pavement in just a few miles and all was well. Then we were back into the twisties. And who knew these Missouri hills were so full of wineries?

By this time we had come a long way and I know I was long past wishing for a stop. We came by several places I felt were perfect to pull over for a while and I was praying Dave would take them but no, he kept cruising. And then we were into the mess of suburban St. Louis afternoon commuter traffic. A couple more navigational glitches slowed us down more and even put us a bit at hazard but we finally worked our way into St. Charles, our stop for the night. Oh man, another 455 miles on top of the 470 the day before. Let me off this bike!

Biker Quote for Today

You can’t ride all day if you don’t start in the morning.

Eight riders from the Rocky Mountain Motorcycle Riders Club (RMMRC), including me, headed out on this approximately 3,150-mile ride. Gathering very early on a cold Monday morning at Patty Ann’s in Kiowa, we set out to reach the Mississippi River at Alton, Illinois, and follow the river upstream to its headwaters at Lake Itasca in Itasca State Park in Minnesota. The series of roads from New Orleans to the headwaters is known collectively as the Great River Road.

My own journey to departure was anything but smooth. I planned to ride the Concours and the day before was performing standard pre-trip maintenance. Checking tire pressure I found that the valve stem on my rear tire was totally rotted out. Somehow the tire still holds air, though low, but when I tried putting air in it took a bit and then started blowing back just as much as was going in. This was Sunday and I needed to be rolling by about 6 a.m. the following day–no way to get it fixed.

Fortunately that’s not my only motorcycle. I moved all my gear from the Kawi bags and loaded the V-Strom bags. Now I was ready to go. I thought.

Monday morning I went to load the bags on the bike and found that two mounting bolts for my left bag were absent. One had already fallen off some time before but things still worked fine with the other and the latch in the middle on top that held it securely in place. But there was no way I was going to trust that latch all by itself with no lower support.

Of course I’m a certified holder of a man card so I have various containers of random nuts and bolts. I fished around and found four that fit. I screwed two in and put the other two in my pocket in case I needed them. Now I was ready to go.

The temperature at this point was about 40 degrees so I was fully dressed in my warmest gear, with the exception of my heated gloves. I had those but figured I could get to Kiowa without them even if it was very cold. And if it was all that cold I could then put them on before we left Kiowa. And yes, my hands did turn to ice but it was warm enough when we left that I didn’t put on the heated gloves and never did need them after that.

The ride down to Kiowa was very interesting. About the time I reached the Pinery there was fog down in the low-lying area to the west of the road. Very unusual for Colorado. And then as I continued the fog enveloped the road and I rode through it all the way to Franktown. It cleared at Franktown but then there was more on the way east on CO 86 to Kiowa. Very cool, very odd.

We had breakfast and headed out. The route was 86 to I-70 just west of Limon and then southeast on US 287. On that southeasterly stretch we encountered fierce winds out of the southwest, which is to say, at 90 degrees to us. I leaned that bike over so far that my left hand was directly in front of me and all I could see in my left mirror was my shoulder and chest. That wind never let up all day but at least once we turned due east it was not bad, mostly at our back. That is, until we got near McPherson, at which point the wind shifted to the south and so we were blasted again.

Turning south at Kit Carson, we then headed east on CO 96, which becomes KS 96 across the state line. None of us had ever been on this road before and it annoyed me to be with the group because I’ve been trying for years to get photos at all the state line crossing around the state. But I blew right through this one without stopping. That’s one reason I really prefer to travel alone.

KS 96 goes straight across Kansas to McPherson, our first night’s stop. The temperature rose, a lot. By the time we reached McPherson I was sweating profusely and had been drinking Gatorade to stay hydrated. Along the way we stopped once for gas and again for gas and lunch. That’s 421 miles with two stops, another reason I prefer to travel alone. One of those legs was 180 miles and I was dying. I’m sorry, I just don’t like that kind of riding. And I was not the only one unhappy with this; this would become an issue as the trip progressed. But the two main leaders on this ride, Bob and Dave, are both Iron Butt types and they don’t like to stop any more than necessary. I’d say stretching your legs and getting your butt off the bike for a while is necessary.

Nobody is right or wrong here, it’s just different preferences. I think in future rides I’m going to do what I can to make sure less aggressive riders like me have options. We had intended to ride in two groups but after several others dropped out the decision was made to go in one group. I suspect two groups, even if small, would have been better with one consisting of those of us who don’t care if we reach the day’s destination half an hour or an hour later. It’s not like we have a deadline.

So that was Day 1. I’ll pick back up with Day 2.

Biker Quote for Today

Any day is a good day to leave some miles behind.

This is the second part of a post I started a few days ago. You may want to go read it first.

As we’ve gotten older and more affluent our equipment has gotten better, so some years went by and I started becoming acutely conscious of how when we would stop my buddies would just pull their helmets off and stash them and their jackets in these large top bags they all had come to have on their bikes. I have chain-type locks on all my bikes for my helmet and I always just carried my jacket with me. I was getting jealous.

Then I got my V-Strom. And it came with two of the biggest Givi bags I’ve ever seen. These things are so big, when I travel alone on this bike I don’t ever bother to do any deliberate packing. I just toss it all in and have way more room than I need. At the same time, the bags were not quite so very big that I could easily get my helmet and jacket in along with all the other stuff I carry. I could, but not easily.

The answer was still a top bag and I bought one for the V. I was surprised it was not ungodly expensive, and the color was actually a terrific match for the bike, which I don’t care about a lot but it’s nice. It looks good. Now, once again, as long as I didn’t have a lot of stuff in the top bag I could put my helmet there and put the jacket in a side bag.

I’ve only ever gone down one time when I was moving, and that was at a very slow speed so no injuries. But every one of my bikes has been dropped or fallen over more than once. More than twice. With the V-Strom I’m thinking at least six or seven times.

I’ve concluded that the reason this top bag cost what it did was that it was not ruggedly built. After the bike had fallen a few times with the top bag on, the top bag was looking like it might not stay on much longer. It is mounted on a rail system and there were four bolts. The bolts were set into the plastic underside of the bag and two of them are no longer there. Cheap work. Now I flip a bungee over the bag just to add a bit of stability. But I often forget and leave it hanging there, although it’s attached at both ends and there is no end flapping free. I still have some concern about how if that bungee fell off it might get entangled in the chain or the wheel. Some day I’m just going to need to get a better top bag for this bike.

In the meantime, thanks to getting dropped, the Givi bags no longer make as good a seal so some small amount of water can get in. Plus, the bags mount onto pegs on a rail and one of the pegs broke off.

And now the ultimate of ultimates. I’ve had a very good (I think and hope) top bag put on the Concours. This bag is large–no problem throwing the jacket and helmet in. One thing I know for sure is that the mounting is good. I haven’t dropped this bike in a long, long time–and I really don’t want to–but I suspect the bag would hold up a lot better than the one on the V-Strom.

I had expected to get my second opportunity to put this bag through the paces on this 10-day Great River Road trip. That was not to be. On the day before we were to leave I was packing and doing stuff like checking tire pressure, and when I went to put air in the rear tire I discovered the valve stem is rotted through and leaks profusely. There was no way I could take this bike; I’m surprised the tire wasn’t flat. So I shifted everything over to the V-Strom and that’s my bike for this trip. I guess I’ll have to discover the flaws of this new top bag on the Concours some other time.

Biker Quote for Today

If I actually did “ride it like I stole it” I’d be in jail.

I’m probably like most long-time motorcycle riders in that starting out my means of carrying things with me on the bike was kludgy at best. As soon as I bought the CB750 I bought a sissy bar with a rack behind and a pouch to stash stuff in. For years I just bunged stuff on.

Then I discovered cargo nets and thought that was beyond great. I soon learned differently. I lost a good atlas one day down by Taos when I stuffed it between the net and the rest of the stuff. I almost lost a sleeping bag, too. And I found that cargo nets, much more so than bungee cords, quickly stretch out and then never stretch back.

For a few of the early OFMC trips I just bungeed my sleeping bag to the seat behind me and strapped my tent and a gym bag of clothes on the rack behind the sissy bar. That worked and it gave me something to lean my back against. It didn’t do anything to block rain, however, so I took to putting these things in plastic bags before strapping them on. Of course then there was the constant flapping of the loose bits of bag it was impossible to completely prevent.

Eventually I found the ultimate, a set of soft sidebags that I could just throw over the bike behind me. But I didn’t feel totally secure with those. Although I could put one velcro strap under the seat to make it harder, nothing would have really stopped anyone either from taking the whole shebang or just opening them and helping themselves. I didn’t worry too much about that, and I never had any reason to as nothing has ever been stolen, but there was still always that feeling of unease in the back of my mind.

Then I got my Concours. This bike had it all. Hard bags standard, and large. And it really did do the job wonderfully. But man, unloading was not wonderful. Unlock both bags from the bike and carry them into the motel, then the helmet, jacket, tank bag, everything else. I became a big fan of those luggage carts hotels have. But it’s OK.

Until it wasn’t quite OK. We were pulling out of a parking lot in Jackson one day, backing out, and I wasn’t watching closely enough. Randy stopped and I rolled back into him. All that hit was my right side bag against his tire, so nothing at all with his bike, but this shoved my bag and the clasp that holds it to the bike all askew and it has never been the same again. More than once I have discovered that the bag is off the rail entirely, floating out over the road held on by only the clasp. That thing must be strong.

So now I wrap a strap around it and through the passenger grab handle. But that makes it a lot more inconvenient for getting into the bag. Plus I lost my first strap coming out of Canada four years ago when we stopped just past customs to get everything arranged properly. And I forgot to reconnect the strap. It occurs to me that, as it worked its way off, if it had gotten wrapped around the axle or through the wheel things might have gone badly.

OK, this has run long and I’m only about half way through so I’m going to stop here and finish this piece in my next post. Sometimes you get started and you just keep going.

Biker Quote for Today

Sorry, out to live. Be back “soon.”

ADV has an ongoing thread I like to dip into at times, asking what the most stupid question you’ve been asked while on your motorcycle. Here are a few more.

• I was once at the Slickrock trailhead in Moab & a Valley Girl asked me: “Do those dirt bikes work on the rock?”
• Again today after having ridden to work I got “Did you ride your bike today” (me with full gear on walking into the building carrying my helmet). I finally cracked and said, “Nope… I’m just REEEEEEEEEALLY careful when I drive.”
• I swear to God, I get this all the time when I pull up on my KLX covered with mud, knobbies and all: “Is that a dirt bike?”
• I stopped by a huge dealership one day to grab something on the way home, still in my one piece leathers, carrying a helmet, and some sales guy asked me if I had a bike. How do you even justify that with a response?
• Not stupid… but about five years ago my buddies and I (sportbikes, full leathers, you know the look) were having breakfast at an IHOP before going on a Sunday ride. As we were getting up to leave, a little boy, maybe about 4 years old, walks right up to one of my buds and goes, “mister, are you a Power Ranger?” I just about died laughing on that one.
• My son used to ride with me and he always wore his helmet into the store he was so pleased to be on the back of a bike. Cashier asked him if he was on a m/c. He said no, I fall down a lot. I was SO proud of him!!
• I was at a local motorcycle shop, and a prospective rider was asking about the different brands of bikes. I was looking though the tires on the rack, minding my own business, when I heard the prospective rider ask the shop employee, “KTM, hmmm, where are those made?”
  “Australia” he responded… I couldn’t take it, so I respectfully interjected:
  “Actually, they are made in Austria.”
  “Really,” the shop employee said, “I thought they were made in Europe.” He was being genuine.
  Geography, without it, you’re nowhere!
• I get to work one very cold day, a girl asks me as I walk into the office with all my gear still on,” did you ride your motorcycle today? ” I replied, no way it’s to cold, so I pushed it in!
• A couple months ago I broke my collarbone. I must have had 10 people ask me “were you wearing a helmet?”
• I get strange looks at stoplights when on my bike but I guess it’s because I have a yellow mohawk on my helmet. I had one woman roll down her window and ask why I had it. I told her that it was for safety. She gave me a strange look and I explained that since she put down her cell phone and looked at me – in disgust – that it had served its purpose. You don’t have to like it, but you do see it. Haven’t had anyone pull out in front of me while I’ve had the mohawk on. I take it off when going to see customers because I want to give a more professional appearance – as best as I can while riding an old school bright yellow superbike.

Biker Quote for Today

I’m not speeding, I’m qualifying.

We were up in Eagle at Willie and Jungle’s earlier this week and to our pleasure and surprise, Mario was there, too. You’ll understand what a surprise this was as I tell you Mario lives in the Yukon. He’s a long way from home.

We met Mario four years ago on a ride Judy and I did with Willie and Jungle and some others up to British Columbia, to Banff and Jasper, along the Ice Fields Parkway. Mario flew in from the Yukon to Calgary, rented a car, met us in Radium Hot Springs, then cruised with us for about five days. Super nice guy.

So among the many things we talked about, Mario told us of a road north of where he lives that had been built across the tundra. I don’t recall if he said anything about the purpose of the road or where it went to and from, but the road itself was the item of interest. First off, it’s hard to build a road across the tundra. As the soil freezes and thaws the road gets lifted, sinks, and you end up with mile after mile of some terrific whoops. Whoops are great fun for a short distance but not something you want to drive on for a couple hundred miles.

To build this road they laid down some kind of fabric as wide as the road was to be and then covered it with sand. We’re talking some honking big rolls of fabric. Let’s see: 18 feet by 150 miles . . .

You can see how this type of road could better handle the freeze and thaw and the shifting. But there was some kink that nobody had expected. In the first couple months it was open, Mario said, the EMTs had to go out something like 50 times because motorcycles had had bad crashes. And primarily these were all heavy cruisers, Harleys mainly. What the heck was going on?

Mario went out to ride the road himself on his Kawasaki KLR 650. Everything was fine at first but then it got to where he felt like he was floating. He came close to crashing but managed to ride it out. What the heck?

Riding on, more cautiously now, the same thing kept happening. He had a hunch, and he pulled over to see if he was right. This is not a busy road so he had to wait awhile but eventually another vehicle came along and he saw just what he expected to see. It was like this.

The fabric material was waterproof, and beneath it, with the sun beating down on the sand, heat permeated and melted the permafrost. This released water, which had nowhere to go so it sat there. When a vehicle would come along some of the water would get pushed along under the fabric, gradually building up to something of a wave, which would start lifting the front end of a motorcycle up–the floating feeling–until such time as the front wheel would go on over the crest of the wave and suddenly the biker was running steeply downhill ahead of the wave. Then you hit level ground at a steep downhill angle and things do not go well.

Once he had this figured out Mario pushed on, cautiously, and eventually found what seemed to be the best way to ride it. He would stand up on the pegs and lean back, like you would on sand going down a hill. Hard to do on a big Harley, but OK on a KLR. So he rode to the end of the road and then turned around and rode back. Fun in the Yukon, huh?

Biker Quote for Today

More people die in their sleep than on motorcycles, so sleep less, ride more.