Show Us Your R2ADV Stickers!
Well we received our first photo of an R2ADV sticker out in public! This one came from one of our Charter Members from Ohio, USA, Matt Nemec. Thanks Matt for the photo! The sticker sure looks pretty on that awesome Wing you have!
So if anyone else wants to show off their bike, gear, car, whatever, with their R2ADV sticker, send us a photo and we’ll post it here. You know you want to, and of course everyone wants to see yours. You say you don’t have a R2ADV sticker? Paypal $1.00 US dollar to Ridetoadv@gmail.com and we’ll send you one worldwide (the sticker and the postage cost more than that). Please don’t forget to include your complete mailing address.
Mike
Ride To The End Of The World – Fin del Mundo (Part 7)
We awoke to more bright sunshine and the ever present strong and gusty winds. But it was another beautiful day and we were soon loaded up and ready to head back out onto the rippio of Routa 40 towards El Chalten. It was to be rippio for a large portion of the day and once near El Chalten, we would once again be on pavement for a while. Wow pavement, smooth, wide and potentially with road markings defining left and right lanes. At first I thought it would be a pleasant change, but then something odd hit me. I had become so accustomed to riding the rippio, with all its undulations, bumps, holes, random rocks, asteroid and pea sized gravel, sometimes very loose and very deep, sand, and unknown hazards, that I actually felt I was going to miss it. A lot!
Where was the adventure in pavement riding? Anyone could ride pavement! I suddenly didn’t want the rippio to end; ever! It seemed too sedate and boring in such an exciting and adventurous environment, it was truly going to be a let down once we reached it; or so I thought.
By the way, if you don’t know, click on any one of the pictures in the gallery below and it will open that picture into a full size picture and then you can click your way through the remainder of the pictures in either direction in full size.
With the push of the bike’s starter button the unwanted thoughts of the potentially smooth pavement ahead were ignited and expelled from my mind. The engines twin cylinder song sang sweet rhythmic melodies, raising my spirit with each rise and descent in the note of the engine. And as the wheels turned, the sound of crunching gravel beneath my tires crushed any concerns of boredom into nothingness, just like the Patagonian winds dispersed the dust of the rippio behind my bike.
Once on Routa 40, we rode many miles in two tire track ruts surrounded somewhat deep gravel. The road was straight as an arrow, as far as the eye could see, with scraggy brush extending to both sides of the horizon. First it was brown and as we headed south, it became greener and greener. It was easy going, but it was a bit mesmerizing and if we weren’t careful, we could find ourselves wandering out of the tire tracks and in the deeper gravel. That itself wasn’t really bad, but the wind was well and truly up which made recovery from the gravel all the more difficult.
We also had to keep our wits about us due to wild and unfenced animals. Cows and bulls roam free on the plains, as well as other plains animals like horses, sheep, foxes and rabbits. Sometimes they stay put at the side of the road and sometimes they bolt out right in front of you. Extra caution is necessary as you approach a heard or even a single stray animal. You really don’t know what they are going to do and help is pretty far away if something were to happen.
After about 5 hours of riding, we came upon a large lake. It was a sight to see, for we had been on open plains for days and had not seen a large body of water for quite some time. It was quite beautiful and we had to stop to take some pictures. We were getting a bit goofy since we were happy to see the lake, know that we were nearing El Chalten, our destination for the day, and that we were reaching pavement for the first time in days. It was just a strange brew of feelings poured into a single cocktail which we had apparently gulped down on empty stomachs. We were silly happy but we knew we were going to be somewhat sad once we got back on the pavement.
About an hour later, there it was; the pavement. It was indeed smooth, wide and it did indeed have excellent road markings. Oh crud, where’s the adventure in that? As a bit of an offset, the plains began to rise and turn into mountains. Green scrub turned into hills which turned into rock. Ultimately, the closer we got to El Chalten, the more we were surrounded by towering mountains; mountains with glaciers even. The thought of seeing the glaciers raised my spirits, and I was looking forward to seeing them. We stopped a couple of times to take some pictures but now the clouds were descending and the clouds had obscured some of the mountains from sight. Bummer! We did catch occasional glimpses of the end of a glacier, but nothing spectacular.
As we got closer to El Chalten, the temperature started to drop rapidly. In fact, it sort of started to plummet. The clouds that had started to lower, now appeared to be racing for the ground. Ice pellets were being flung from the cloud’s bottom and we knew we had to make a run for El Chalten before it really began to snow in earnest. We picked up the speed a bit and rolled on by a large lake complete with icebergs freely floating about. However, with the weather rapidly worsening, the only thing to do was to take a one handed snapshot from the handlebar of the bikes as we motored on past hoping to make it to El Chelten before the road coated with snow and ice.
It was becoming darker and the road was now wet. We were trying to beat the weather but it wasn’t clear who would win this race. Helmets down on the tank to beat the freezing snow/rain mixture, we made our way towards El Chalten. Cold, wet, and wind blown, we made it into town with minutes to spare. The wind started to really gust and we hightailed it to our little hotel. We quickly unloaded our bikes in the wind and snow and made our way into the warm hotel. It was a great feeling to be out of the wind and snow/rain.
So as I peeled off my riding gear I thought to myself, maybe it wasn’t so bad riding pavement on the last part of the day, for surely we wouldn’t have made it into town before the real snow and wind hit had we been on the rippio all day. So there it was, we could have adventure on pavement! I should have known better! With that thought, I was stoked, for tomorrow was a non-riding day and we would be exploring the hiking/climbing town of El Chalten where we’ll take you in part 8.
Ride 2 Adventure – Shrink the Planet One Ride At A Time
Ride To The End Of The World – Fin del Mundo (Part 6)
We overnighted in Perito Moreno in a drab little hotel room with bars over the one tiny window. It was dark and dingy, but it was warm and dry so we had no complaints. Striking out fairly early in the morning, we were soon out of the town limits and back on the gravel of Routa 40. The sun was brightly shining in a bright blue sky with some puffy white clouds. The road surface was fairly firm with some loose gravel strewn about, but overall it was easy going. The wind was up once again with a steady 30+ MPH wind blowing from a single direction. The upside was that the constant dust that had been our companion earlier was now destined to blow directly to the side out of whomever followed. It was a nice break from eating dust. However, necks soon became tired and sore from holding a crab against the wind. So it was a tradeoff of sorts, dust for neck ache. Hmm… which was better?
By the way, if you don’t know, click on any one of the pictures in the gallery below and it will open that picture into a full size picture and then you can click your way through the remainder of the pictures in either direction in full size.
The gravel seemed endless. While the scenery was beautiful, there were long stretches of straight, unrestricted view plains that ran until they were blocked by surrounding mountains. Sight planes disappeared in a “V” in front of us as the seemingly endless gravel road continued unabated and without a twist or turn. Every once in a while, we would reach the mountains that had previously been long in the foreground but were now immediately in front of us. This gave us the opportunity to lean the bikes a bike and twist the throttles. Kim especially took the opportunity to wick it up a bit, her confidence growing after riding in the wind for a couple of days.
Sooner than we knew it, we had made it through that mountain’s passes and were back on the plains gravel with fields of grasses surrounding us, wind blowing and miles of straight gravel road in front of us. So straight in fact that as we made our way toward Tres Lagos (Three Lakes) we came upon a sign that directed us towards three different towns, 16, 246, and 345 kilometers away. The thing was, they were arrowed all straight ahead. Guess that road was really going to be straight for a while eh?
Covering such distances with only your thoughts and the wide open spaces gives you time to think. Think about the beauty that surrounds you, about how lucky you are to have this wonderful circumstance that you are able to travel the world and see things like this unhindered and unfettered by day to day tribulations. It really makes you humble. Over the comms, I told Kim how I was feeling and we decided to take a few minutes to stop and just soak it all in.
There we were, somewhere in the middle of Argentina with nothing around us for miles and miles but open fields surrounded by mountains, blue skies and fluffy white clouds. Frankly, it was a wonderful few moments in time. It was like we were on our own little planet and we were so thankful to be there. But it was quite strange, we didn’t feel like we needed to keep it for ourselves, we felt like we needed to share it with everyone, hence the couple of pictures you see in the gallery here. You’ll know which ones I’m talking about when you see them.
After about twenty minutes of awe, gawking and picture taking, we got back on the bikes for the final leg of our ride to the Estancia La Angostura, a working ranch (estancia). We hit several zones of construction which made the going a bit slow in places but was not difficult. But it did bring to mind that Routa 4o is changing and that the gravel will soon turn to pavement. So if you would like to ride Routa 40 in its gravel state, do it soon, because change is coming (for the better of the people of Argentina).
Another two hours on the rippio and we found a small sign announcing our arrival but the estancia was nowhere to be seen. All that was nearby was a gravel and sand two track leading off Routa 40. Since there were no other signs and Routa 40 continued on straight ahead for miles, we followed the little gravel two track for about two miles and there it sat, the Estancia La Angostura. Surrounded by cypress like trees and wrapped in bushy like vegetation it was a haven from the continuous winds. Once inside the surrounding trees and bushes, the wind was almost non-existent.
The estancia itself did indeed look like a ranch house. A long plain white washed building with no-nonsense windows, you could see it was made for work and not for style. Still, it had a natural beauty as it blended into its surroundings and seemed to be perfectly in place with all that surrounded it.
Inside it was even better. The tools and necessities of ranch life adorned the walls and tables. An old coffee grinder here, a saddle there, a set of bolo balls hung from the walls as well as a well worn and abused revolver. Each was capable of telling a story of its life on the plains of Argentina and the work that it had done in making the Estancia La Angostura successful.
We walked around a bit and were shown to our room. It was a modest bunk room with little adornment. However, the people had done their best to make it cheery and leave their marks. Although the walls were bare, without even sheet rock to cover the walls studs, the insulation’s batting had been decorated with multiple handprints. The handprints were in different colors and were all over the wall. It made for a very nice personal touch and gave you the feeling that folks who had done hard work lived in the room and you were now their honored guests. It was quite comforting.
Before we knew it, it was time for dinner. Once again it was to be an asado of lamb and sausage. We walked to the dining hall where in the corner, an entire lamb was skewered and slowly cooking. We sat waiting for dinner to cook chatting with friends and drinking some wine when the owners came in with their pet dog and their other pet; a lamb! It was a strange feeling seeing your lamb dinner cooking on a skewer and then the owners come in with their pet lamb! But this one was special, it had been abandoned by its mother and had become their house pet. It would never see the skewer!
We had a marvelous dinner and soon were off to bed for the next days ride to El Chalten the climbers paradise, where well take you in Part 7.
Ride 2 Adventure – Shrink the Planet One Ride At A Time
Ride To The End Of The World – Fin del Mundo (Part 5)
Having enjoyed hugely comfortable digs for a couple of days we were ready to make our way toward Esquel. We’d be traversing some mountain roads, but it was to be easy going with smooth pavement all the way. But we did have some nice twisties and a few nice stops with overlooks. We could tell that we were truly enjoying the trip since we were bypassing the opportunity to stop and take pictures at some pretty beautiful spots. It’s just that there were so many opportunities to see them, we had to force ourselves from becoming jaded to all that we were seeing and were still to see.
We breezed along the mountain roads swooping and gliding, powering up steep inclines and gliding down the backs. There was great joy in twisting the throttles and rolling the bikes side to side. Magic. Our bikes and our bodies flowed with the earth and easily followed its contours. It was as if the mountain had a giant magnet under its road and our bikes were magnetically bonded to the earth as were we to the bikes. We passed beautiful valleys hemmed in by great mountains and made few stops along the way.
By the way, if you don’t know, click on any one of the pictures in the gallery below and it will open that picture into a full size picture and then you can click your way through the remainder of the pictures in either direction in full size.
Because of this, our first stint of the day on the bikes was fairly long, we had lost track of the time. One such stop was for lunch. We often packed power bars and some fruit in our top boxes for an easy and quick snack. Kim remembered that she had stored a banana in her top box and was ready to eat it for her lunch’s dessert. But we’d done quite a bit of riding that day and the sun was beating down on us and the bikes. In addition, the banana had worked its way to the bottom of Kim’s top box where it had been bouncing about with all her other gear for most of the day. When she opened her top box and searched for her banana, she found on the bottom, a fine banana and dust puree a mixture. Eww!!!
So we cleaned up her top box and got to the business of eating lunch and taking a few pictures. There were some local flowers that we took a few photos of and before we knew it, we were back on the road. Once again there were few pictures taken as we zoomed our way to Esquel.
It was a fairly long day in the saddle but time really did zoom by. In fact, before we knew it, the sun was getting low on the horizon by the time we reached the border of Esquel. We were fairly tired by the time we reached our motel which was like a little hacienda at the outskirts of town. Complete with wooden rail fences and a central square area in the interior it was a great place to stop and catch 40 winks before we once again got back onto the rippio (gravel) on the famous Routa (Route) 40.
The following morning dawned nearly overcast, the few breaks overhead letting the sun’s warmth through occasionally. Our spirits however were on high since today we were going to ride the rippio of Routa 40, famous for making its way southward to Ushuia and also for the Patagonian winds that blow. We were about to find out what both were like on the first day our journey over its length.
Shortly after leaving Esquel, we made our way onto Routa 40 and the rippio. The towns gave way to large open plains of tall grasses. Some were populated with cattle and horses while others were empty and open for as far as the eye could see. About an hour into the ride, we spied a splash of color, pink color, not too far off the road. Two pink flamingos, not lawn ornaments, but the real things, stood as a pair, wading in a marshy area. I said to Kim over the intercom, that we weren’t in the States any more and there was the proof.
Shortly after we passed the flamingos, the wind began to pick up. Lightly at first, but then more steadily until it became intense. Severe is the word that comes to mind. A consistent 30 – 40 MPH wind that gusted even higher making the riding quite challenging. We would get accustomed to the steady wind leaning the bikes and our bodies into the wind causing the bike to take on a significant lean just in order to ride straight. A gusting of wind would require even more lean just to stay on course. Complicating things even more was when the gust would stop, we’d have to quickly take out the lean or risk falling off. It was quite an interesting and tiring riding situation. But after riding a few hours in these conditions we were becoming accustomed to it and riding became more easily to us.
About half way into the riding day, we came upon our first of many Gauchito Gil shrines. We would come to find that these shrines were all over Routa 40 and were filled with drinks, money, cigarettes, gifts, prayers and requests for help. The shrines in memory of Gaucho Gil and if you are interested, you can learn a bit about it here:
Gauchito Gil
We stopped at several shrines and took some pictures and also took the time to get a measure of the wind. It’s difficult to explain the Patagonian winds. They’re really something you have to experience for yourself. Here’s a bit of a taste of how insistent they really are…
Roadside Patagonia Winds from Mike & Kim Botan on Vimeo.
Back on the road, we made our way towards the town of Perito Moreno and our stop for the evening. We came upon this rather interesting sculpture. At first we couldn’t make out what it was, but when we referred to the drawing at its base, it became clear what it was. It was pretty cool now that we knew what to look for and we enjoyed finding it in the middle of what was pretty open and deserted spaces. After another couple of hours on the road, in the distance, we could make out Perito Moreno. Tomorrow we’d be heading for a working estancia (ranch) out on the plains with no communications to the outside world. It was a marvelous place and we’ll tell you all about it in Part 6.
Ride 2 Adventure – Shrink the Planet One Ride At A Time
Ride To The End Of The World – Fin del Mundo (Part 4)
We rolled into Bariloche in quickly gathering darkness. Up a paved road past some houses and a barking dog who chased us for a short distance. Not to long thereafter, we found the sign for the hostel we were to call home for the next two nights. The road into the hostel was dirt and lazily curved and climbed the hostel grounds. We finally came to the place where we were told to leave our bikes which was not level and had deep random holes surrounded by tree roots. Kim attempted to dismount her bike in the dark and for the first time on this many thousand mile trip, dropped her bike. She was bumming big time since she rarely drops her machine. But it turns out that as she pulled up, there was earth below her right foot, but nothing below her left but a significant eight inch drop and a tree root. She semi fell and hopped off her bike and emerged only with a damaged ego.
By the way, if you don’t know, click on any one of the pictures in the gallery below and it will open that picture into a full size picture and then you can click your way through the remainder of the pictures in either direction in full size.
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Our beautiful little apartment
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Our asado dinner
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Near Llao Llao
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Roadside overlook
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Kim at roadside overlook
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Ski resort near Llao Llao
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Chair lift
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View from the resort
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Dusty gear before cleaning
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Riding gloves pot holders
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Guess who’s coming to dinner?
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- Our beautiful little apartment
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- Our asado dinner
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- Near Llao Llao
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- Roadside overlook
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- Kim at roadside overlook
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- Ski resort near Llao Llao
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- Chair lift
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- View from the resort
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- Dusty gear before cleaning
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- Riding gloves pot holders
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- Guess who’s coming to dinner?
By now it was fully dark and we were unloading our night’s gear from the bikes. We walked down the hill to the room where we would be staying. The owner unlocked the door for us turned on the light and wished us a good night. As we walked inside, we found a very nice apartment! We were not expecting anything like this, it was indeed a small house and we were inhabiting the entire downstairs. We had a bedroom, kitchen, livingroom, bathroom and even a nice porch. We were psyched! We couldn’t see the outside surroundings, but the inside was certainly nice.
In the center of the hostel yard was a dining area where were to be served a home cooked asado dinner by the hostel’s owners who happened to be South African expatriates. Dinner time was not too far off and we sat down with several of our friends for a nice home cooked asado accompanied by some nice Argentinian Malbec. Mmmm…. it was good. Good food, good company, good stories and good wine. What a great way to top off the evening and a great day. Before we knew it, it was almost midnight and we wearily dragged ourselves back to our little apartment. Tuckered out from a long days ride, terrific food and perhaps a bit too much Malbec, we were really ready for the sack. We just dropped into bed and were almost immediately sound asleep.
The following morning dawned bright and sunny and we were anxious to see what was outside our little apartment. We were not disappointed. We did indeed have a nice little house surrounded by trees and shrubs with other small houses nicely situated not too far away. There was even a little man made reflecting pond with flowing water.
After a quick breakfast, we got onto our bikes and rode out into the surrounding countryside. We came into the town of Llao Llao and rode around its beautiful lake and some of the surrounding mountains. There was a small turnoff at one particularly beautiful overlook and there were several school buses with children ages from about 10 to 15. They giggled and ran and played at the roads edge and took pictures of each other at the not so significant drop off overlooking the lake and the mountains behind. It was a time for all to enjoy what nature was offering and the kids were keen on doing their best to enjoy it. We milled around with them and soon we had integrated into their little group. They were a bit curious about our Aerostiches, but they did offer to take our picture as we did for them.
Soon their teachers called for them to get back on the busses and we were almost alone at the roadside overlook. The view was all the more exquisite in the peace in quite that now enveloped us. We lolligagged around a bit longer and soaked it all in until it too was time for us to be on our way. It was lunch time and we found a small out of the way restaurant and enjoyed a nice slow Argentinian lunch. This trip was clearly becoming a journey of contentment. With all the mountains in the area you might imagine that there would be ski resorts around and indeed there were. The resort had an almost European feel with chair lifts operating and out-door places to eat and view the mountain scenery.
With some more riding, we headed back a little early into Bariloche itself for a quick look at the town and to pick up some supplies for dinner that night. We bought that staple of travelers everywhere, pasta, and of course, some more Malbec to go with it. Some cheese and crackers and we had a complete and ready to go dinner that was quick and could be made with little fuss and few ingredients. As we got to the check out, I struggled a bit with my Spanish, but I was able to pay the correct amount (I think) and we left to return to the hostel.
Before dinner, we did a bit of cleaning and attempted to clean off some of the dust from the road. There was plenty of it and it took us a good hour to get everything fairly spic and span. By the time we had finished it was dinner time and we embarked on the journey to make our pasta dinner. We had most everything we needed. A deep pot, a colander, a smaller pot for some sauce, some spoons for stirring and a couple of forks. But what we didn’t have were any pot holders. Dang it! But Kim being the resourceful soul that she is, simply said, no worries and broke out her riding gloves and we were immediately provided with two insulated pot holders. Bravo!
Ultimately, we were able to get the pasta served, our cheese, crackers and wine ready and sat down at the table next to the outdoor porch. We looked outside and to our dismay saw we had an interloper. A good sized bird perhaps about a foot tall, waited on the rail of the porch looking for some handouts. He cawed at us and jumped around on the rail. When I opened the sliding door to the porch he would fly off, only to return. I wanted to leave him/her some pasta, but he/she would always fly away. Hmm… come to think of it, perhaps it wasn’t the pasta he/she wasn’t interested in, could it have been the Malbec?
I’ll never know what was on his/her mind, because he/she didn’t come back after about the fourth attempt. So we were left to eat our dinner in peace and have a nice quiet evening. Tomorrow we would head to Esquel and the beginning of the famous Ruta 40 and the infamous and fierce Patagonian winds. We knew they could be strong, but we’d really underestimated their ferocity. We’ll tell you all about it in Part 5.
Ride2Adventure – Shrink the Planet One Ride At A Time
Ride To The End Of The World – Fin del Mundo (Part 3)
Filled to the brim with Aurelia’s tasty empanadas, we wobbled over to the bikes for another few hours riding. We were quickly on the gravel and entered a national forest which winded its way alongside some beautiful mountains. We were at times completely covered by canopies of trees that made it appear that it was early evening as we traversed patches of mud from rain that hadn’t dried from who knows how long ago. Still it was great riding and the air smelled clean and fresh if not a bit humid even in the chill of the shadows.
We bumped along happily until we hit our first stretch of construction. The road was completely closed and what little traffic there was sat and waited while the graders, backhoes, loaders and dump trucks did their work. Some of the delays were quite short, just a minute or two, others were half an hour long or so. The work being done was quite impressive with large stone walls being created by sorting, fitting and piling rocks into “cages” of gigantic chicken wire like boxes. The rocks were well placed and there were few gaps between them. It looked as though they had been cemented together when in fact they had only been sorted and piled into the wire.
By the way, if you don’t know, click on any one of the pictures in the gallery below and it will open that picture into a full size picture and then you can click your way through the remainder of the pictures in either direction in full size.
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- Waiting at the construction site
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- Waiting at the construction site
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- Waiting at the construction site
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- The stone walls, neatly stacked and enclosed in wire boxes.
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- Finally past all the construction.
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- Old wooden bridge
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- Old wooden bridge
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- One of the wild roaming animals.
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- Kim, dusty but none the worse for wear.
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- A combination of old and new bridge
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- Getting late and wicking it up for Bariloche
What is really nice about being on a long adventure ride is that you really don’t “have” to be anywhere other than to get to the place where you are going to lay your head for the night. So it was no big deal for us to wait for the construction to finish. We had the opportunity to chat with other folks waiting in line and walk around a bit, take in the sights and enjoy the fresh air. So these little “impositions” in actuality increased the adventure of the trip somewhat. We met new people and saw sights that we might have bypassed if we had not been held up by the delays.
When we had cleared the last construction delay of the day, we were almost at the end of the forest and had the opportunity to turn the speed up a bit. The problem was that it was extremely dusty. Plumes of solid grey arose from the bikes tires and when a car or a truck (think construction vehicle) came from the opposite direction, it was a complete grey out for a significant length of time.
The dust rose in giant plumes with cauliflower heads that rose quickly and seemed to hang in front of you refusing to return to the earth from which they had sprung. Entering them was like diving into a vat of grey water. At first it yielded to your presence as your body left its impression on the face of the cloud. However, almost immediately, the cloud would recover its form and envelope you in a murky and misty grey nothingness where forward vision was all but lost. Our best bet for forward navigation was to look slightly forward and down for the road surface was about the only clear sight to be seen with everything else appearing only as ghostly shadows. Not a pleasant thought when you know that construction vehicles may be coming from the other direction.
Luckily for us, the heavy dust continued for only 10 miles or so, and the road turned more to the hard gravel surface it had been earlier in the day. That was a good thing since it was already getting later in the afternoon , the sun was starting to obscure vision and we’d rather not end up riding in the dark. We had come across too many wild and roaming cattle, horses, goats, sheep and dogs to feel comfortable riding with such reduced visibility.
We were determined to get to our stop for the night before dark but not so determined as to dismiss the beauty of the surrounding area. We were crossing a modern concrete and steel bridge when we noticed the old wooden bridge that it had replaced. It had been a multiple span bridge and the center span had long since fallen into the river. But the remaining spans framed by the mountains in the background and the still water, created a picture opportunity that could not be missed. So we stopped and got off the bikes to take some pictures of the awesome sight before us. While we stood on the modern technology of the concrete and steel bridge, the beauty and grace of the old bridge still reflected its brilliance upon the land.
After some oohing and ahhhing, we were back on the bikes only to come across a bridge that combined the two mediums of the new and old bridge we had recently passed. This one was composed of concrete and steel, yet had wooden decking and so combined the two eras together. Once again it made for a nice picture and of course we had to get one of us crossing the bridge over the River Mayo.
This day was becoming rather memorable for its sights and lack thereof in the dust. But sunlight was indeed running out and we needed to get to our room for the night in San Carlos de Bariloche. We did not know what our little room was going to look like, and when we finally arrived it was nearly dark so we weren’t able to see what our digs for the night looked like from the outside. Let’s just say we were not disappointed. We’ll tell you all about it in Part 4.
Ride To The End Of The World – Fin del Mundo (Part 1)
New Hampshire’s winter snows make for fine skiing, snowboarding and snowmobiling, but not exceptionally good motorcycling. With autumn over and the real winter rapidly settling in, our motorcycling would be relegated to our anxious dreams awaiting the spring. It is always a funny feeling knowing that our thoughts would be similar in nature to those of the hibernating wild animals tucked away in their dens awaiting the new growth fresh berries with the coming thaw of spring. Each year, to both of us spring couldn’t come too soon.
But this year would be different. We were traveling to a place where at this time of year it would be warm and there would be no snow except very high in the mountains. It was time for me to bone up on my Spanish because this winter we were going to ride to the Fin del Mundo, or translated into English, to the “end of the earth”.
We were flying from Boston, Massachusetts into Santiago, Chile where the following day we’d hop a short flight to Pucon, Chile to start our riding adventure. Our route would ultimately take us from Pucon, Chile a ski resort with its own volcano to Ushuaia, Argentina at the very tip of South America. In fact, it’s the furthest south you can get on any land mass on the planet. Antarctica is composed entirely of ice, so it does not count.
So as the days of November increased, instead of padding around in small circles worrying that the NH snow would soon blanket the roads and trails ending riding for another season, we were actually quite spry, gathering all our riding gear and stashing it in our luggage for the flight to Chile. No sitting about for us this year, we were ready to ride!
So when the appointed day came in mid November, we boarded our flight in Boston and after a quick stop in Dallas for a bowl of some rather spicy chile and nachos, we once again boarded another plane, our destination once again Chile, this time the country, not the kind you eat. The flight was crowded, loud and the lavatory on the aircraft overflowed, but other than that, the flight was uneventful. Upon landing, we cleared customs and grabbed a cab to our hotel which was quite nice.
It was warm and sunny outside so we decided that since we only had an overnight in Santiago, we’d better make the best of it and we went for a walk to take in the sights and grab a quick lunch. It immediately became clear that Santiago was an alive and bustling city. Traffic moved chaotically, people walked on the sidewalks and went about their business, while others sat at the sidewalk cafe’s enjoying lunch, espresso or just good conversation.
But as we walked around, we found that we weren’t apparently all that far from home. As we rounded a corner, we came to none other than a Dunkin’ Donuts shop. Complete with a sign in Spanish that read “Energiza tu vida!” or Energize your life! Jeez, I didn’t know that Dunkin’ Donuts did that. I wonder what different stuff they put in the donuts in South America? We continued walking around for a couple of hours, bought dinner and returned to our hotel to get ready for tomorrow’s flight to Pucon where our journey to the end of the earth would start in earnest.
When we awoke the following morning the weather was excellent and after breakfast we headed to the airport for our hour long flight to Pucon. That flight was indeed uneventful and we arrived rested and ready to go. We were picked up by a van for the brief ride from the airport to our hotel. Immediately we began to see signs for the ski resort there as well as Pucon’s own volcano. Ultimately, we were dropped at another hotel at the edge of town with an excellent view of Pucon’s own volcano, Villarica. It is indeed a majestic peak, with smoke slowly but consistently puffing from its crest. Villarica is in fact an active volcano and a fairly active one at that. With all that molten roiling fury below, you can just imagine the strength and power that an eruption would unleash. It would be a disaster as the town of Pucon sits almost directly below the towering dragon that is Pucon.
Wiped out would the quaint town in which we now ate gigantic steaks and drank local beverages like Pisco Sours. Gone would be the vendors that sold their hand made wares and the restaurants that serviced all the visitors. There’d only be empty streets to show for all that man had accomplished in that area for years to come. But for now, we were content to watch the sun go down on Villarica and enjoy the increasingly bright and magnificent glow that was now emanating from its face and sides. So as the sun went down, it was time for some Chilean beef. We ordered steak and a platter arrived which could feed an army. One thing that Chilean and Argentine people do not do is skimp on the beef and when our beef arrived for inspection prior to being cooked, it looked as though 3/4th of a cow had been brought to the table for early dinner. In any event, we ended up scarfing down a gigantic meal for dinner and we were ultimately chauffeured back to the hotel for a bright and early start of the journey on the following morning.
We’ll tell you about the beginning of the real journey in the next part.
Alaska – Gravel, Grandeur & Goofy Grins (Final Chapter)
Seward’s spectacular ocean beauty and sea life had left us slack jawed with amazement. It seemed that each time we went to a new location in Alaska, there was another gorgeous scene ready to unfold directly in front of us. But this day, there was another reason for our slack jaws and now droopy pouts. Today, we were to head back to Anchorage to end our Alaskan and Canadian Yukon adventure.
We had seen so much and met so many wonderful people, that we were indeed quite sad to be beginning the end of our journey. So with really heavy hearts and quite furrowed brows, we packed the bikes and headed northwest towards Anchorage. I can honestly say that the pace was purposely slow and the bike to bike communications between Kim and I were at an all time low; each of us lost in our thoughts and remembrances of the journey we had just experienced.
As we made our way to Anchorage, we took a meandering route to extend our time a bit more. The roads slowly and quietly hissed under our tires, interrupted only by the crunch of gravel and slight wobble of handlebars as we made our way over several sections of road under construction. Each time I was almost immediately returned to the hundreds of miles of gravel we had just covered. Soaring mountains capped with snow, glaciers creaking, groaning and calving new icebergs into a churning sea, wild animals roaming free and unafraid of man, soaring birds and amazing scenery could have conspired to effortlessly lift me from the bike and forever transform me from an itinerant observer to a permanent part of the landscape. I’d just become another part of what is the amazing natural life force that is Alaska. And if it had, I would have welcomed it.
But Alaska did not reach out and grab either Kim or me and we rolled into Anchorage late in the evening, very tired and each upset that our adventure was over. We’d get up leisurely in the morning, grab breakfast and ride over to the shipping agent. There we would unload our gear from the bikes and pack it in our suitcases for the plane ride home. We’d grab a cab back to the hotel and the following afternoon, catch a flight back to Boston and then drive home to NH. The agent would then crate the bikes up and send them home to NH.
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- 2,430.1 miles covered on pavement and gravel
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- 2,430.1 miles covered on pavement and gravel
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- Our trusty steeds at the shipping agent. Dirty, but none the worse for wear.
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- Unpacking the bikes at the shipping agent.
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- L to R – MaryLee, Tracy, Kim and Mike overlooking Eagle River, AK
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- Mantanuska Valley Horse Farm
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- On the road to Hatchers Pass
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- Tracy (rider) and Mike (pillion) going to pick up a bike in Hatchers Pass
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- Musk Ox
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- Kim and Mike on Chuck’s Ural
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- DeHavilland Beaver at Ft. Hood Seaplane Base
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- DeHavilland Beaver at Ft. Hood Seaplane Base
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- Super Cub waiting its turn to take to the skies at Fort Hood Seaplane Base, Alaska
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- Display at Fort Hood Aviation Museum
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- F-15 Display at Fort Hood Aviation Museum
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- Display at Fort Hood Aviation Museum
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- Display at Fort Hood Aviation Museum
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- Cessna 182 at Fort Hood Seaplane Base, Alaska
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- Valdez Harbor Merged Photo
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- Dempster Highway Merged Photo
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- Outside Cantwell Merged Photo
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- Outside Cantwell Merged Photo
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- Denali Highway Merged Photo
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- Denali Highway Merged Photo
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- View of Alaska from our jet on the way home.
The following morning dawned with decent weather and we walked to the Golden Corral near the hotel for breakfast. Believe it or not, Kim loves Golden Corral. Really! She had a hearty breakfast and I enjoyed seeing her enjoy it so that brightened the morning a bit. Well I thought to myself, that’s going to be the highlight of the day.
We walked back to the hotel and jumped on the bikes for the ride over to the shipping agent. We offloaded the bikes and took a few moments to take stock of our situation. Our two little trusty steeds had indeed done an excellent job and performed admirably. Kim’s Suzuki DR650 and my KTM 640A never missed a beat in over 2,400 miles of pavement and gravel riding. To be precise, they covered 2,430.1 miles with over 900 (almost 1,000) of that being on gravel. They hauled a pretty heavy load including the riders, their riding gear, survival equipment and camping equipment.
Not once did they sputter, stall or break down. They carried us through torrential rains, deep mud, asteroid sized gravel and did not so much as cough. The were filthy, covered in dust, mud, and the Denali and Dempster Highway’s calcium chloride. If you are not familiar with it, calcium chloride, is sprayed on dirt roads as a dust preventative. It is slippery as snot when wet and almost impossible to remove once dried. In fact, years later, there’s still traces of it on Kim’s DR’s exhaust.
Nonetheless, these two trusty machines carried on without complaint. The least we could do was give them a quick wash before boxing them up for the long journey home. So we did. The cleansing process helped ameliorate some of my dour mood and washed away some of my angst. The physical contact with the machine and the slow rubbing, scrubbing and rinsing that was necessary to remove only the top layers of grime was like a balm to my raw feelings of having to leave; and in some way, I got the feeling that the bikes felt better too.
Rinsed and ready for crating, we rode the bikes back to the agents and got a taxi to the hotel. There we sat in the room wondering what to do with ourselves until the following afternoon. It was not more than twenty minutes when the phone rang. It was Tracy, the gent who sought us out in Dawson City and whose acquaintance we had made only as a result of a conversation we had with a couple we met in front of Mt. McKinley.
Tracy lived in Eagle River. a town just outside of Anchorage. He knew we were headed out of town the following day, but wondered if we would like to go for a ride with him and his wife MaryLee today. Damn! We had just dropped the bikes off at the shipping agents and they were probably already well on their way to being crated I told him. I think Tracy could hear the despair in my voice because he immediately said, “That’s not a problem, my brother Chuck has plenty of bikes and he can lend you both one!”
Well I don’t smile with my teeth showing much, but in this case Kim immediately knew something was up and asked what was making me smile so much. I told her and almost immediately her expression matched mine. Two Cheshire Cat grins coming right up! We immediately jumped into the rental car and drove to Tracy’s house. We got the nickel tour and headed over to his brother Chuck’s house. He had a fine collection of bikes. Chuck said, “Choose one.” Yikes! It was difficult to choose, but ultimately, I chose his R100RS PD and Kim chose his R/65GS. They were great machines.
Before we knew it we were off and riding as a group. We rode through beautiful mountain scenery and some awesome horse country in the Matanuska Valley. Then we headed over to Hatchers Pass where we took a brief ride into the pass but were forced to turn back due to poor road conditions. We then headed over to a most unusual Alaskan farm. What’s unusual about an Alaskan farm you may ask? Well how about if the farm grows musk oxen? They are indeed unusual creatures. Raised for their fur which is very warm, they are quite large, sound like tigers when they vocalize and can be quite aggressive when provoked. They were very interesting animals.
We spent an excellent day just wandering around Alaska and before we knew it, it was time to return the bikes to Chuck. Little did we know it, but he had one more surprise waiting for us. When he arrived he showed us his beautiful Ural sidecar rig and literally insisted that we take it for a ride. Who were we to argue? So we jumped on with me as the “driver” and Kim as the passenger. It was a blast for me. As for Kim, I don’t think she was as amused as I was. I had never piloted a sidecar rig and with changes in power, the bike changed direction somewhat. So as we made our way down the road, we also made away across the road. While I had the huge grin, Kim had the worried, I hope I survive fake smile on. But she is a trooper and came through with flying colors (and uninjured I might add).
More quickly that we could imagine, the riding day was over and we had to say goodbye to Tracy, MaryLee and Chuck. They had made our last full day in Alaska a wonderful day instead of a downer. We still cherish our friendship with Tracy and MaryLee to this day and even went on another trip with them which you’ll hear about in another article. After many goodbyes, we got into the rental and drove back to the hotel to catch some sleep and get ready for the next day’s flight.
When the following morning dawned, we had reconciled ourselves to the fact that we were leaving Alaska. We grabbed breakfast and Kim was once again in her glory at the Golden Corral. Tracy and MaryLee knew that I was a pilot and mentioned that there was a seaplane base and an aircraft museum next to the airport that we could visit if we wanted to kill some time before our flight home. So off we went and we watched seaplanes taking off and landing for a while. While I have several “ratings”, I do not have a seaplane rating and watching them only increased my desire to get one. Watching the bird get up on the sponsons and then break contact with the water was exciting as was watching them glide easily and smoothly onto the water’s surface, some more smoothly than others.
We then walked over to the museum and learned a bit about Alaskan aviation history and how much a role aviation plays in Alaska. Not only did they have historic displays, they also had static displays of various aircraft from fully restored and flying to in need of restoration and in pieces. It was all very interesting and a great way to spend the morning and early afternoon.
But before we knew it it was time to head to the international airport for the flight home. We had spent the morning with small aircraft which do the day to day job of ferrying everyday Alaskans and their goods from point to point. These aircraft are literally the lifeblood to many remote Alaskan communities. It was similar to our small bikes on our journey. They had carried us and our gear from point to point and provided us with the marvelous opportunity to observe some of Alaska and the Canadian Yukon. We hope that someday we will be able to once again journey to Alaska and the Canadian Yukon and like Alaska’s small aircraft travel all over Alaska on our little motorcycles that can.
Over The River And Through The Woods To Adventure Ride We Go
It was a lazy weekend day in more ways than one. The temperature outside was warm and the sun was in and out of the clouds. Not too sunny and hot and not too cold, it was just right. I too was lazy in more ways than one. It was about 10:30 AM and I was still in my sweats and a t-shirt padding around the house planning how I might round out the rest of the day doing nothing.
That plan however, was soon to go astray, to my good fortune. For coming up the road, first softly but then more insistent was the sound of single cylinder motorcycles heading up our gravel road. Hmmm… I wondered. Who was going to go play on the class four road at the end of my gravel road? There were lots of downed trees and mud, it would be quite a challenge to run that I thought to myself. But as I daydreamed about who might be taking on the challenge, the sound of the bikes became louder. Not just louder as in closer as they passed my house, but louder as in they were coming up my gravel driveway.
It must be Fredo I thought, and as I scurried to the windows at the side of the house, I found it was indeed Fredo and another friend Joe. Fredo on his KTM 250 XCF two stroke and Joe on his KTM 690E four stroke. Awesome was my first thought. So as I semi-ran down the stairs to greet them, my second thought was, I think I may be going for a ride today! And ride we did. It was great, I’ll tell you all about it shortly.
But first let me tell you about Fredo. If you’ve ever wanted a riding buddy, someone who you could ride with just to go out and have fun, it would be Fredo. That definition doesn’t extend just to the riding times either. On and off the bike, Fredo’s the kind of guy that just hanging with is a joy. Always with a smile and something good to say about everyone, Fredo is the epitome of the guy you want as your friend.
Oh, and Fredo can ride, FAST. Although he claims there are other guys much faster than him, Fredo is one speedy and accomplished muchacho. For example, I was at the KTM shop where we both bring our bikes for service. I was talking to one of the techs about how Fredo kicks my butt each time we ride in the woods and he quickly added, “Hey, I’m in my 30’s and I can’t keep up with him.” Well dear reader, I’m here to tell you that I’m in my 50s and I can’t even stay near him when he’s on the gas. The truth be told, when I’m quickly vanishing in his mirrors, he’s probably not really on the gas for him. But he’d never say so. Oh well…
But that brings me to the point of this little article. I’ve been riding with Fredo for about 3 years or so now. We’ve ridden some pretty cool terrain. We’ve done wide gravel roads, we’ve done single track woods, we’ve done mud, water crossings, rutted hills, ridden in snow, over rocks, leaves, you name it we’ve ridden it. In riding with Fredo, I’ve learned a lot. More than I would have learned riding by myself in many, many years.
Sometimes, it hasn’t been very easy and frankly, I’ve fallen off quite a few times trying to keep up. In fact, on this particular ride, I had my first inadvertent off trail excursion. Coming down a hill with the speed up (for me) trying to stay with Fredo and Joe, I somehow managed to lose the front end and off the trail and into the woods I went. It was one of those moments when you get religion real fast. They say there are no atheists in foxholes, and I can now add another place. There are no atheists on careening motorcycles headed off trail into the trees.
Luckily, I did not have communion with any trees and the only injury I received was a severe bruise to my already battered ego. But once again Fredo came to my rescue. Noting that I was not in sight, he turned right around and found me off trail in the woods. He wouldn’t even let me ride out. Noting that I was pretty winded, he basically took my bike away from me and hand manipulated it back onto the trail which was no easy feat since I had gone down an embankment several feet.
What all of this leads me to is to tell you that you need not go a long distance to get adventure in your riding. The single track, woods riding, water crossings, mud, rutted hills, all the different and challenging terrain each present various forms of adventure. Take advantage of it when and where you can. This particular ride only lasted 3 or 4 hours but gave me a significant sense of adventure. It will do the same for you if you let it. Get out on some terrain that challenges you. Make it a bit of work and learn some new skills. You’ll be better off for it and with your new found skills, you’ll be able to conquer that kind of terrain when you go on that long “cross-country” adventure ride, or find yourself on terrain that you hadn’t expected. Bring a friend along who hopefully has better skills and learn together. It will be fun, you can count on it.
I would say you could ride with Fredo, but he already has enough of a challenge with me.
Ride2Adventure – Shrink the Planet, One Ride at a Time
Shrinking and Sharing The Planet Through Adventure Travel
A new private message arrived in my ADVRider email account and I opened it with unbridled anticipation. You see, the message was in response to our listing on the “Tent Space” thread where we offer food and lodging in our home to adventure riding motorcycle travellers. We’ve hosted travellers in our NH home from as far away as Australia and we’ve enjoyed every minute. We’ve generated new friendships and been able to share a bit of our country with people from other parts of the world.
It turns out that this traveller was not from very far away, in fact he was from Brooklyn, NY. He was finishing up a three week sortie of the Trans Labrador Highway, Newfoundland and Nova Scotia. Awesome! The Trans Lab loop was one of our favorite rides which we had last ridden 2007. We were anxious to meet the rider, hear about the Trans Lab and what he experienced during this trip.
We emailed our potential guest back and told him that we would be delighted to have him come and stay with us. We had a few back and forth contact emails and around 10:00 PM as we sat around the fire pit of our little VT getaway home, we could hear the familiar sound of a single cylinder motorcycle coming up our gravel mountain road.
We left our little fire and greeted our guest Ben Recchi. What a great person. We fed him some dinner since he hadn’t eaten in quite a while and had been on the road since early in the day. We stayed up and chatted until well past midnight talking about the Trans Lab, his and our travels, where we’d been, what we’d seen and where we’d like to go.
It turns out that Ben had been to many other places on a bike, including Central America more than once. To do so, he learned Spanish and was capable of communicating with the people he met. This made his journey more enjoyable and helped him share a little about himself with the communities he came in contact with. He really enjoyed Central America and said he would be happy to return.
We told him about our experiences and where we had been and a little about what we had seen. We briefly discussed our trips to Ushuia, Iceland and the Trans American Trail and we all agreed that riding to different parts of the world was an excellent way to learn and share. We probably could have talked longer, but it was getting late and Ben had to get back to Brooklyn and we were pretty tired. So we all adjourned for a good night’s rest.
The following morning, we chatted some more over breakfast and found that we were all also MotoGP and Formula 1 fans. Wow, another thing in common. Ben had planned to leave fairly early in the morning but when I told him that I had DVR’d the MotoGP race, I was able to convince him that he should stay a while longer and at least watch the race with us. With the remote and the skip commercial button, we could get the race watched and done in less than 45 minutes.
So we sat in the living room and watched the race together, commenting on what was happening in the race and the championship, who was going where at the end of the season and all the fun things that fans discuss when they are enjoying their sports of choice. It was like having a long term buddy in our living room, not just someone we’d met the evening earlier.
So after the race was completed, the victor announced and the trophies handed out, Ben started to pack for his final leg of his three week journey. We helped him load up his bike, took a few pictures of our new friend and wished him safe travels on his way home to Brooklyn. It was with real regret that I watched him motor down my driveway and onto the gravel road down the mountain back towards his home in NY.
We had made a new friend and shared some mutual experiences. We found much in common in the less than 24 hours that we shared together. We broke bread together and learned about each other, all in the spirit of friendship and sharing that is brought about by adventure motorcycling. What a great way to learn about other people and shrink the planet. Although in this case Ben was not from a far away land, we did share and we did make a new friendship. We were invited to come and visit him in his home when we came by his way.
So even though the distances between our respective homes was not great, I believe that the sharing that we did together did indeed…
Shrink The Planet, One Ride At A Time.
Get out there and shrink the planet a bit, please.
Transiting The Trans Labrador Highway & Canadian Atlantic Provinces – Final Chapter
We awoke in our small dark room to a steady soft rhythmic drumming on the roof of our rented cottage, the “Gold Miners Dream”. Was it rain or the spirits of the gold miners of the past letting us know that they were still among us? Perhaps a combination of both? We brushed aside the curtains and found it was indeed raining again, the miners weren’t with us this time. As the sky slowly grew lighter, it was time to get out of bed and pack the bike for the relatively long ride to Brier Island.
This ride would take us roughly two thirds the distance down the length of the Nova Scotia peninsula and across its width. We’d also get a couple of ferry rides in before we ultimately made it to our destination, the Brier Island Lodge. But due to the rainy conditions, we’d have to work a bit to get there.
Because of the distance involved, we decided to put in a significant amount of highway miles, something we rarely do. So on went the rain suits and as soon as we could hit the highway we were off and running. Things were pretty mundane for the first three hours or so. Just a moderate rain and some patchy fog here and there, but nothing special. However, as we were riding down Route 103 we came across a couple of signs at the side of the road that said in capital letters; “ROAD FLOODED AHEAD” but no flag men, cruisers with flashing lights or other signs indicating a detour or any other significant hazard.
So we continued onward at about 30 MPH in a 100 KPH zone (62 MPH) waiting for the flooded highway. Boy they weren’t kidding! We found the area first as some large puddles so we slowed down to a crawl; it was a good thing. As we slowly rode onward, the puddles turned into real water crossings. Not inches deep but over a foot deep and getting deeper.
It was amazing to be on a four lane highway (two in each direction) creating a bow wave of water with the water covering two thirds of the front wheel. Luckily, the deep flooding lasted only for about 500 yards and we were able to continue on. We did have the highway to ourselves as we seemed to be the only ones on the road at the time. Perhaps everyone else was smart enough to stay off the roads? But we were due at Brier Island, and other than the flooding we experienced on Route 103, it was just a steady rain ride.
We ultimately reached Digby, Nova Scotia where we caught our first ferry. While we were waiting for the ferry to depart, the rain slackened somewhat and I was able to snap a picture of Kim on her bike under the bridge of the ferry, aptly named Petit Princess. The picture then was quite apropos, my petit princess on the deck of the Petit Princess. Nice!
Unfortunately, the wind was up and the tide was going out. Since the ferry ride was so short, there were no tie downs for the bikes and we just sat on them with outstretched legs and planted feet as the ferry’s engines spooled up to take us across the bay. The ocean across to the next landing was very rough and as we chugged our way across, waves splashed over and across the bow. Sheets of water flew above the rail while ocean spray rose from its remnants covering our Roadcrafter suits with salty water droplets. It was another of nature’s reminders; she was still the boss when it came to man versus nature.
As the ferry lurched forward, we lurched in the opposite direction and strained to keep the bikes upright. With every pitch and yaw of the ferry, we put in a counter input. It was going to be a challenge just to keep the bikes upright for this crossing. But that off road riding skill came in handy and we were able to keep the bikes upright for the first ferry journey.
The second ferry ride was much smoother and we made it onto Brier Island without much drama. Since the island is so small, there’s not much riding to be had there, but it is a nice place to hang out and explore. There are walking trails right from the lodge that you can take to the other side of the island as well as to the lighthouse on the island.
If you like to look for beach glass, it has the most remarkable beach glass beach we have ever had the opportunity to search. Within a couple of hours, we had filled up a coffee can worth of quality beach glass and other beach baubles. We found rusty gears, pottery, chains and other interesting brick-a-brack.
It was also fun to go for a walk through the downtown area. On the day that we went, it was drizzling and foggy. But it just gave the scene a bit of a soft, ethereal feel, like a soft cotton swaddling. We were wrapped and comforted by the misty shroud. Pictures we took had a soft fuzzy texture, the hard edges of day to day life erased by nature’s weather made cocoon.
While we were out and about, we found some sights to be enjoyed. Some fishing boats nestled together in the fog, almost as to huddle closely together to share each others warmth, their brightly colored buoys hanging over their sides giving them each a different personality. Then there were a stack of lobster pots, stacked as if waiting their turn to re-enter the sea and play their role in the cycle of nature.
Finally, there was evidence of mankind’s shortcomings. As we walked back to the lodge, we passed a pickup truck. Inside was a sign advertising its status for sale. Unfortunately, the sign read, “House for Sale”. Hmmm….
We walked back to the lodge and got a good nights rest. When we awakened, the weather had cleared, but it was time to head home to NH. Yes, our Trans Labrador and Atlantic Providences Adventure was truly coming to an end. We grabbed a quick breakfast and took the two ferries back to Digby. From there we headed to Yarmouth and caught the catamaran car ferry called The Cat. A huge water jet ferry it could make the overnight crossing back to Portland, Maine in about 4 hours. In so doing, it sent rooster tails of water 25 feet into the air. It was an impressive sight, but it did indeed mark the end of this most excellent adventure.
Thanks so much for coming along on this ride. We hope that you have enjoyed coming along with us and that we have inspired you to…
Shrink The Planet – One Ride At A Time
Transiting The Trans Labrador Highway & Canadian Atlantic Provinces (Part 8)
Before we could make it to Lunenburg, we had an intermediate stop in the small seaside town of Charlos Cove. We were headed to a little inn called the Seawind Landing. Right on the water with great places to beach walk as well as grassy lawns to sit and stare at the ocean it was a wonderful place to hang out. To top it off, they had an excellent little restaurant with home cooked food and a nice wine selection. This was definitely going to be our “high-end” stop for the trip.
Traveling over the very bumpy and sometimes grass filled roads, we made our way towards Charlos Cove. The sky was bright blue with white puffy clouds seemingly racing us as we made our way to our destination. Some were fairly low and as we made our way up and down ridges and hills, I could see their shadows as they floated and squirmed their way across the pavement. They looked to be in a hurry to get somewhere but were relegated to moving in a straight lines. Although they can fly, I wondered if they wished they could traverse the twisties with us instead of flying straight. Were we clouds, it would a be a wonderful but tragic fate; to fly with the wind but be doomed to an unchangeable course set by it.
(By the way, if you click on any one of the pictures, a full size picture will open and you can then scroll through the entire gallery of pictures in full size in any direction.)
It was a long and bumpy ride, and by the time we reached our destination, we were pooped. Saddlesore and tired, we were more than ready to get out of our gear and have a nice quiet dinner and grab some shuteye. We unloaded our bags from the bikes and Kim normally quite resolute about long rides, said that the ride was so bumpy and filled with grass filled cracks, she’d almost have preferred to have ridden her dirt bike.
We were however, rewarded with a wonderful dinner, a room overlooking the ocean and a spectacular red sunset. Thoroughly satiated, we hit the rack for a great night’s sleep and a lazy rest day. We generally lay and sat about doing a bunch of nothing, reading, lounging in the Adirondack chairs in a grass covered field while taking in the sun and enjoying the day. But it couldn’t last forever and around 2:00 in the afternoon clouds began to gather. Shortly thereafter, the sky became grey and dark and a heavy rain shower began.
But it was just another beginning because it seemed like as suddenly as it had started, the skies began to clear and we were treated to a double rainbow and freshly scrubbed salty ocean air as the sun began to set. In doing so, its light cast a warm golden glow upon a nearby island and we sat and watched the end of a lazy perfect day.
The following morning we packed the bikes and headed towards Lunenburg for our actual destination, the Ovens Natural Park. Owned by the Chapin family, (yes if you know of the singer Harry Chapin, it is indeed his family that owns the Ovens) the Ovens is a combination campground (with rental cabins available), nature walk, sea cave exploring, and music wonderland. Right on the ocean not far from Lunenburg, the Ovens allowed us to get to know a bit of Canadian life, enjoy the ocean, walk the beach and explore several caves that run right out to the ocean.
We took half a day walking the nature trails which wandered among the sea cliffs and led to the entrances of the sea caves. There were beautiful views and paths that led directly into the caves for exploring. The caves are called the Ovens, which is what they look from the outside from the sea; hence their name.
Around noon, we headed into Lunenburg and were lucky enough to arrive just in time for the arrival of a Canadian national icon, the Bluenose. She was arriving into port with a full cannon salute and bagpipes piping. A crowd was anxiously waiting on the dock for her arrival and many camera were raised to take photos of the Canadian icon returning to its home port.
We quickly parked the bikes and joined the crowd. It was evident that there was a lot of pride in the Bluenose and it was great fun to be part of the crowd. With the Canadian flag proudly flying from her middle mast she majestically glided into the dock to great fanfare. Up close we could see that she was indeed a beautiful vessel, trim with sleek lines, a true portrait of the speedy racing ship that she was known and loved to be.
We took a few pictures of our own, chatted with a few people and decided to take a walk around Lunenburg to experience its sights and sounds. Lunenburg is known to be a bit of an artists colony and it did not disappoint us one bit. During its history, Lunenburg was a fishing town. Although the fishing industry is no longer its main source of income, its heritage has not been forgotten. As we walked down one of its main streets, we looked up at the street lamps and saw that they had been decorated with large, hand cut and hand painted metal fish of the Atlantic. They were great. Each light post had a different fish and they were in the fish’s actual colors. It made us want to walk the length of the street just to see the different fish!
Wandering along the streets of Lunenburg, we were treated to many galleries, shops, restaurants and even a museum. It was a grand afternoon of walking, visiting and just plain enjoying the sights, sounds and people. But the sun was rapidly sinking and it was time to get back to the Ovens before dark. We jumped back on the bikes and enjoyed a sea side setting sun ride back to our cabin. It had been a great day and we were looking forward to tomorrow. We had a fairly long ride to the tiny island off the coast Nova Scotia named Brier Island where we’ll take you in part 9.
Transiting The Trans Labrador Highway & Canadian Atlantic Provinces (Part 7)
We awakened to falling rain and fog. Our foggy heads cleared quickly, but the fog and rain outside refused to do the same. We resigned ourselves to more riding in the rain and reduced visibility, but that is part of the adventure isn’t it. We were more disappointed that we would be missing scenery along the way to the ferry at Port Aux Basques. Unfortunately, we didn’t see much for most of the ride, but as we approached the ferry, the rain did stop and visibility did increase somewhat.
Although the weather obscured the traditional scenery, we were in for a treat when the ferry arrived in port. Out of the fog, a giant ghostly shadow appeared. Moving slowly, it glided silently towards us with a nearly imperceptible rocking motion. We knew it was a ship, but we couldn’t clearly make out any detail. As it approached, it blew its horn and there was no doubt it was a large vessel. Then out of the gloom we made out the blue, white and gold of the MV Caribou. Although it was a very large vessel more than 565 feet in length, her impressive form glided more like giant kayak across the calm harbor waters than a ferry capable of carrying 1,200 passengers, 370 cars and 77 trucks.
Just as we thought she would pull into the dock and tie up, she gave us a special treat. What we hadn’t noticed was that the vehicles entered and disembarked from the rear of the ship. The Caribou was headed straight into the dock, so how would she unload her cargo. Ahhh…. A 270 degree turn would be necessary in the very narrow harbor.
So as easy as pie, the Captain of the Caribou turned his gigantic vessel around in the middle of the small harbor with very little clearance. It was an awesome display of seamanship. You want to see it? Well, OK…..
After a successful docking, we were able to load the bikes onto the Caribou for the ride to Nova Scotia. It was a smooth uneventful trip and before we knew it we were being discharged on the shores of Nova Scotia around midnight local time. Of course it was raining again and finding our hotel was a bit of a chore, but find it we did and we dropped into the rack to sleep the sleep of the dead.
Viola! We awoke to bright sunshine with only a few clouds dotting the sky. What a wonderful change! Having heard about the beauty of the Cabot Trail and the twisty roads that surrounded it, we made a beeline for the reportedly smooth pavement running along side the mountains and ocean. We were not to be disappointed; not one iota.
On narrow, bumpy and mostly deserted roads, we passed many small towns which seemed to have one thing in common; wonderful people. During our brief stops, or our overnight stays, it seemed that everywhere we went people greeted us and wanted to chat. All the greetings were warm and welcoming, we often felt like lost relatives. They wanted to know about us and they often told us much about their families and themselves. This give and take is in our opinion what true adventure riding is all about. We were really not all that far from home, but we were learning much from the folks we interacted with and I think we got a true feeling of what it was like to live in the Canadian Atlantic Provinces.
As welcome and comfortable as we were, we hightailed it towards Cape Breton and the Cabot Trail. The blue skies, clear blue ocean and sinuous mountain roads beckoned to us. As we rolled along the road that paralleled the bright blue ocean, we passed the tiny town of Wreck Cove and immediately the mountains which mark the beginning of the Cabot Trail became visible.
We could see the steep and twisting road immediately in front of us. A sharp hairpin turn led to the steepest part of the road that clung to the side of the mountain as the ocean lay calmly hundreds of feet below. There was only one thing left to do and it was to ride that road. And ride it we did. The road was steep enough at the beginning that we used first gear for the a significant portion of the climb. It was a bit interesting to be riding this twisting road only a couple of feet from the guard rail that was the only barrier a several hundred foot drop to the ocean below. But nonetheless, the view was spectacular.
As we crested the first ridge of the mountain, we lost sight of the ocean, but the pavement became very smooth and we were able to enjoy some twisties on a smooth surface. We both hooted and hollered into our communicators and told each other how spectacular the riding was and how much we were enjoying Nova Scotia. Although we were enjoying the twisties, we did take the time to stop and enjoy some of the spectacular mountain views along the top of the mountain pass.
Later as we began our descent from the top of the mountain, we were treated to another set of twisties, this time even more exciting than at the beginning of the day. Hairpins and decreasing radius turns awaited our eager throttle hands and wide open eyes. But this wonderful steeply descending road presented us with a significant dilemma. The problem was that the twisties were so technical that we dare not take our eyes off the road while navigating each corner. So you say, why would that be a problem? The problem was that just beyond that guard rail were the most amazing views of the north Atlantic you can imagine. The bright blue sea met an equally dazzling ocean and where they met at the horizon, it was as if the two were merged into one. The decision as to which to look at was mind rending.
But as we laughed to each other over our communicators, “someone has to do it,” we started down quickly scanning from road to sea, road to sea. If you know anything about instrument flying, it was an exercise in scanning. Don’t stare at anything, keep moving your eyes, soak it all in to your brain and make the correct control inputs. It was a test, but a wonderful one at that.
As the road straightened out a bit, it still provided awesome views of the ocean and of itself as it undulated up an over little ridge crests alongside the sea. To your left, green trees sprouted from the sheer mountain walls while to your right, the ocean vied for your attention. It was an amazing test of willpower just to stay on the road.
The mesmerizing ride took away all realization of time for us and before we knew it, we had completed the Cabot Trail and were headed back inland across the peninsula towards Lunenburg. A very lovely town with an artists flair, we were treated to more local sights and flavor. We’ll take you there in Part 8.
Transiting The Trans Labrador Highway & Canadian Atlantic Provinces (Part 6)
With significant regret we left our roadside whale watching motorized perches and rode on towards Blanc Sablon. I was somewhat gloomy leaving such a sight, and the darkening weather matched my mood. Overhead clouds were gathering and the skies brooded and darkened. By the time we reached our hotel, a cold misty fog surrounded us. We were looking forward to a nice warm room and a hot dinner. We were able to accomplish both and fell into the rack for a good nights rest.
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- Iceberg on the way to Newfoundland
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- Outside Gros Morne National Park
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- Gros Morne
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- Gros Morne
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- Moose at the side of the road
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- Approaching Rocky Harbor
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- Snow on the mountains outside Rocky Harbor
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- Entering Rocky Harbor
We awoke to overcast and heavy rain. It seems like each time we visited Newfoundland it rained and it looked like this visit would be no different. I dressed and we packed our bags for mounting on the bikes. It was while I was mounting the bags on our bikes that an older gentleman approached and quietly watched for a while. I clearly remember him. He was wearing a clear raincoat and a yellow Gloucester fisherman’s hat. I noticed he was wearing a Cessna belt buckle and he had the pilot’s wrinkles around his eyes from squinting into the sun. Just by looking at him, I could tell that this man had had some adventures of his own. Nearby, a tour bus idled its rough and slow diesel drone and he looked at it disdainfully. He would then watch me packing in the rain with a look of longing and desire. It truly appeared like he was ready to jump on and ride
After a while, he walked a bit closer and asked where we were headed and where we had come from. I told him that we had ridden from our house in New Hampshire and we were headed to Newfoundland. We chatted a bit about the trip so far and what the Trans Labrador Highway had been like. While we stood there in the rain, he looked me in the eye and looked over to the bus he would later board and he said, “I wish I was traveling with you.” You know what, if I’d had the space on the bike, I would have taken him along. Pilots have to stick together you know.
Before we knew it we were in line for the ferry getting ready to ride churning grey misty seas. Finally this signal was given and we rode our bikes aboard, tied them down and made our way to find some seating for the trip. Even though the trip started in the morning, the entire ride was dark and rainy. A few ghostly icebergs silently passed in the distance their silhouettes a grainy shadow against a backdrop of white-capped grey and green. A few whale and dolphins passed, breaking the water’s surface, spouting and seemingly pointing out the way. It seemed that in no time, we had arrived in Newfoundland and it was time to disembark and start our Newfoundland part of the trip.
Unfortunately, for most of this journey through Newfoundland, poor weather surrounded us and we decided to make a beeline to our first destination near St. Anthony, the Glacier Manor Resort. Now closed, it was a wonderful little place being built by a couple; John and Edna Simmonds using their own two hands. Dinner was home cooked by Edna while John literally serenaded us on the guitar while we ate. It was terrific. We sat and chatted and discussed the US and Canada and before we knew it we had transitioned from acquaintances to family in the breadth of a few short hours. Together with John and Edna, we’d been able to shrink the planet a little more on this trip. Wonderful!
We went out for an early evening walk in an attempt to see some moose. As the sun set, we came across a pair of very large great horned owls. One flew off quickly and the other stayed for a while and watched us watching him. We remained very quiet and did not make any quick movements or loud noises which might scare him off. Finally he had had his fill of watching us and as he flew away. But as he did, he left us a gift of one of his large feathers which we still have to this day. It was if he were saying, thank you for not disturbing us. For doing so, I leave you a part of me to remember us and Newfoundland by.
As the sky grew darker, we walked towards the more open fields and waited for the moose to come out. They did not disappoint us. They came out in fairly large numbers and quietly and calmly walked across open fields looking for some snacks. We watched in amazement wondering how such large animals could move about so silently. We watched for an hour or so and headed back to the resort for a good night’s rest.
Come the morning we made our way towards Newfoundland’s table top mountain National Park Gros Morne. It was green and gorgeous. Sheer walls of green with bare spots of rock shot straight up. Not to points, but to vast flat table tops that stretched for miles. Surrounded at the base by trees, as they rose, the mountains lost their leafy cover and instead were covered in huge patches of velvety green moss. The moss often undulated up the sides of the mountain giving the slope a wavy texture until reaching the table top. They were extraordinary sights.
While we stared at the table topped mountains, we were also treated to ocean view stretches. We rode alongside twisty two lane ocean roads with clouds racing perpendicular to our course. Fresh air treated our senses with variety. When the wind blew from the sea, it was sweetened with the brine of the deep. When if came from the land, it was pungent with pine. This ride had turned into a truly sensory delight.
We made a brief stop for lunch in a small town called Port Aux Choix. It was a charming place and it was clear that we were in Canada. One of the locals had hand carved a Viking statue and outfitted him full hockey gear including stick and shin guards. Of course, because he was cool, he was also outfitted with some rather trendy shades. Of course, we had to take a picture with him.
Continuing our southward ride, we made our way towards Rocky Harbor. To get to there, we again found ourselves on narrow twisty mountain roads with mountain and ocean views. At the higher elevations, snow was still on the ground and it was mid June! Along the way we spotted moose grazing and running alongside the road during the day. Beautiful to look at, but also an important reminder to be alert when rounding corners.
Rocky Harbor turned out to be another small town surrounded by mountains and the sea. When we arrived they were having a local regatta, and the townspeople were out and about in all sorts of small craft plying they way all over the harbor. It was a day of community on the water. We enjoyed the festivities for a while, but we really had to get going for our time was running short. The following day we had to be in Port Aux Basques to catch the ferry to Nova Scotia.
Arriving at our little hotel, which consisted of several separate little cottages and a restaurant, we caught a quick dinner and turned in for the night. Before we fell asleep the rain had begun to fall and tomorrow looked to be a damp ride to the ferry to Nova Scotia where we’ll take you in Part 7.
Marc Coma Takes A Poduim in the Baja 500, Honda Winning Streak Broken
From Ultimate Motorcycling
MRW rider Marc Coma has added another achievement to his already impressive resume, taking third place in the Baja 500 team competition held in Ensenada, Mexico, this past weekend.
The 450 mile (724km) rally pitted three-man teams against one another. Coma’s KTM USA squad was completed by Mexican rider Iván Ramírez and US representative Mike Brown.
Marc Coma (MRW Repsol KTM) says: “I am very happy with the experience; riding in a team event has been really positive for me. Discovering new things always allows you to improve as a rider and I had a really good team behind me: Both in terms of machinery and personnel.
“We had problems with the bike due to a crash and couldn’t take any risks after that, because we needed to conserve tire life and finish the race. In any case, the result is a good one.”
Owing to a big crash during Ramírez’ first stint, the team’s sole bike was badly damaged and they were only able to trail the leading outfits. An exhaust pipe of the KTM 450 enduro machine used had to be changed as a result of the fall. The bike is a smaller and more simple version of that used by Coma in the Raids World Championship.
Marc Coma’s expertise in navigation was not needed for this event, as the Baja 500 features markers along the course and not the road book typically used in Raids and rally competition.
Mike Brown was the rider for the second stint and he managed to cut the gap to the leader, whilst also gaining positions in the overall standings. The crash had affected the bike severely, which created some constant mechanical issues right up to the end of the race.
The final stint was undertaken by Coma, who started at a speedy pace but resisted the urge to take risks with tire preservation such a key factor. The MRW rider rode the coastal route which was divided into two very different sections: The first was a tricky, mountainous run, the second a quicker, wider route similar to familiar competitions like the Dakar Rally.
The trio of Robby Bell, Steve Hengeveld and David Pearson were the winners of the Baja 500 onboard a Kawasaki, completing the race in a total time of 9h 10m 03s. Two minutes and twenty-eight seconds behind were Honda riders Cotton Udall, David Kamo and Timmy Weigand. KTM USA and Marc Coma rounded off the podium, close to seven minutes off the winners.
The next event for Marc Coma will be the fourth Raids World Championship race, held in Sardinia from June 23-28. The Spaniard currently leads the series.
2012 Baja 500 Final Results: 1. R. Bell, S. Hengelveld, D. Pearson 2. C. Udall, D. Kamo, T. Weigand 3. M. Coma, I. Ramirez Jr., M. Brown
Forced Marriages – Do they work?
Forced marriages? What does the topic of forced marriages have to do with motorcycling or adventure riding? Have they lost their minds over there at R2ADV? Not really, for the most part. But what brings this topic to mind is the recent purchase of motorcycle manufacturer Ducati by automobile manufacturer, Volkswagen, AG through their division Audi for a reported $1.13 billion USD. Many financial analysts have questioned the purchase as making no business sense, saying that there is no concrete business case for the purchase.
So why would Volkswagen/Audi (let’s just call them Audi for now on) a German automobile manufacturer known for precision engineering, spartan, efficient, and practical transportation want to purchase Ducati, an Italian, motorcycle company known for beautiful design (sometimes at the expense of functionality), passion and racing prowess? Can the two heritages be aligned and successfully combined into one big happy family in this apparent shotgun marriage?
Well the conjecture is that Audi wanted a trophy in its cabinet and its purchase of Ducati certainly represents a big shiny one. Huge racing heritage, cutting edge styling and maker of perhaps the most iconic motorcycle ever to be manufactured, the Ducati 916. In addition, prior to the purchase, Ducati had been recently leveraging its racing heritage and begun moving and promoting its brand image to and even wider audience.
With the introduction of the Streetfighter, Hypermotard, Multistrada (version 2) and most recently the Diavel, Ducati had moved from a racing company to a full market motorcycle company. But, and this is a big but, styling has always been a HUGE priority with Ducati even over cost, functionality and dare it be said, winning races.
But the question remains, how will Audi reconcile this styling priority with its engineering practicality philosophy? Can/will Audi listen to the Italians when they say but this design is beautiful, you shouldn’t change it? Will process and engineering controls overwhelm passion and styling at the new Ducati?
This brings me to question what the new Audi/Ducati might do to their adventure bike; the Multistrada. Ducati, so fixated on performance, installed the engine from their world class superbike, tuned for torque, and fit it between excellent suspension. Based on all this power, suspension adjustability and perhaps styling, Ducati decided to mount a solid cast 17 inch front wheel. This is not an optimal wheel for off roading, but it certainly looks swoopier and handles better on pavement and at high speeds. Ducati just could not force themselves to fit a 21 inch front spoked wheel which probably couldn’t handle the projected power of the Multistrada, nor does it look especially nice. Especially limiting is he fact that no tire manufacturer made a “knobby” tire in 17 inch rim sizes. In fact, Ducati had a tire made by Pirelli especially for the Multistrada that they hoped would fit the adventure mission.
It was not a hit with the off road community. In fact, it was the reason I sold my Multistrada. It just really didn’t want to be an off road bike. It was an awesome machine on the pavement, but anything more than wide gravel roads were a chore for the bike. I should have known that from the start with the 17 inch front wheel.
So what will the new Audi/Ducati do? Will the new company use the Audi approach and fit the engineer’s choice 21 inch front wheel or stay with the 17 inch wheel. Recently, Continental Tire came up with a true “knobby” for the 17 inch rim so now the Multistrada has a knobby tire available. They are “low profile” knobs, but they are knobs. Will that be enough, or will the new Audi/Ducati start anew with a new design and a fresh sheet of paper, throwing away the Italian legacy?
Interesting question eh? I did find that Wunderlich, a german motorcycle accessory and tuning company had been working with Continental and developed this machine based on the BMW S1000RR. (picture from Motorcycle USA)
It’s an interesting looking machine to say the least. Wunderlich has no relationship with Audi that I am aware of, but does this impart an idea of German thinking? Such a comparison is pure conjecture, but it’s interesting to think about.
Well the jury is not only out, it’s yet to be selected. But once selected, it will be interesting to see whether this forced marriage betweenVolkswagen/Audi and Ducati is given the thumbs up of survival or the thumbs down of business failure.
SENA SMH-10 Bluetooth Motorcycle Communicator Eval
Communications are probably one of the single most important topics on trips that are undertaken that are not solo. To ensure that everyone understands what is intended, we must all communicate the plan and we must do it well. Well Kim and I have used a number of the two way motorcycle communicators and we’d like to tell you about our experience with the Sena SMH-10. Overall, we’re pretty pleased.
By way of background, the Sena SMH-10 is the first Bluetooth communicator we have used. Previously, we had used the Collett series of radios the last being the Collett Platinum 900. While we found the communicators to be good performers, we did not find their reliability to be so great. They do have a 3 year 100% warranty and Collett does honor their warranty well, but who wants to have the down time associated with yearly repairs which is what we experienced.
So back to the Sena’s. Overall we’ve found the range performance of the Sena to be pretty good especially considering that it is a bluetooth device. Sena claims a reception range of “up to” 980 yards (900 meters). We’ve found that the distance in unrestricted terrain to be somewhat less, perhaps 500 – 700 yards at best. Frankly, if you are riding with friends, how often are you more than a quarter mile from them? If you are going to be that far away, perhaps you should call them on the phone, eh? For us however, the real world test of performance is in more restricted space such as in the woods or around corners in twisty terrain. Here, the range of the Sena varies significantly.
If you are in the city and are several turns ahead of your riding partner cut off by buildings, range is signifcantly decreased. The same goes for being in the woods. The more dense the terrain, the shorter the range of the communicator. However, we can say with confidence that with all our adventure riding in non-densely wooded terrain, the Sena has given us totally acceptable reception. This is really important to me as I like to know how Kim is doing when we are in the woods and I don’t always have her in sight. I believe the same goes for her wanting to keep tabs on me. As far as range goes, we’ve seen as little as 100 yards in the woods, but frankly we were really buried in there. If you’re looking for a communicator strictly for the woods, you probably do want to look elsewhere though.
As you can tell from R2ADV, we have ridden all over the world and we ride in all sorts of weather and conditions. We are constantly riding in the rain. Pouring rain; as in downpours for hours. We continued to use the Senas in these conditions and we can report that the Sena did not suffer an water related failure in 2 years of use. That’s something that the Collett couldn’t claim. We ended up returning the Colletts 3 times in 3 years for repairs.
We also ride a lot of gravel and in very dusty conditions. Both in South America and during last years Trans American Trail ride, we rode extensively in very dusty conditions where visibility was almost nil due to the bike in front or an ocassional vehicle we caught up to or passed coming from the opposite direction. We literally were covered in thick dust at the end of the day and the Senas still worked flawlessly.
The Sena’s charge fairly rapidly. Ours are the V3.0s and the V4.0s are now widely available. The V3.0s will fully charge in 3 – 4 hours. Sena claims that the V4.0 will charge in 2. We can’t confirm that claim since as we said earlier, our experience is with the V3.0. but it seems a bit strange to this non-engineer that a firmware update would reduce the full charging time. Perhaps an EE can comment in our comment section and voice an opinion.
Ultimately, after two full hard years of use, we have experienced some problems with one of the Senas. One unit must be positioned just right to receive a charge. It seems that there is a poor connection inside the unit. In addition, the audio has become extremely distorted and has almost become unuseable. It transmits well, but the receive audio is so bad it is almost impossible to understand the incoming communication. Since the Sena comes with a 2 year warranty and these units are out of warranty. Unfortuately, we won’t be able to test Sena’s warranty support on the older failing unit. However, we do have a replacement pair that were shipped to us new in non-working condition, so we’ll let you know how Sena handles their warranty service as this plays out.
So when all is said and done, would we recommend the Sena SMH-10. The answer is a fairly enthusiastic yes with a couple of caveats. As long as you are not depending on the Sena SMH-10 for 100% woods riding, or very long distance communications, the Sena is a pretty good tool. Our experience has been with these kind of electronics, a couple of years use is about what you can expect to get for service. Priced at about $300 for a pair, they are not inexpensive, but for the communications, added bit of safety and overall communications, we think they are worth it.
We hope you found this review helpful.
Mike and Kim
Ride2Adventure – Shrink The Planet One Ride At A Time
Transiting The Trans Labrador Highway & Canadian Atlantic Provinces (Part 5)
The ferry Sir Robert Bond effortlessly cruised up the bay so as to deliver us on time and early in the morning in Cartwright. The short overnight cruise had been uneventful and we slept heavily until the morning arrival announcement awakened us. Offloading was a cinch and we found ourselves deposited in Cartwright hungry and in need of fuel. First things first, we immediately made… breakfast the priority.
Not being a very large town, not too far from the ferry dock we found a small diner where the locals were busy getting ready for the day. We joined them, munched down some good local fare and inquired about obtaining fuel. They told us the only gas station in town would open around 8:30 and it was now 7:30. Kim and I looked at each other and decided that with the extra fuel I was carrying we would head on towards Port Hope Simpson where fuel was available and where we planned to stay for the night.
By the way, if you don’t know, click on any one of the pictures in the gallery below and it will open that picture into a full size picture and then you can click your way through the remainder of the pictures in either direction in full size.
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- Somewhere on the TLH.
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- Dave Noel and his sons.
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- Just outide Red Bay. If you look closely, you can see the icebergs floating in the harbor.
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- Look closely and you can see the mist from the whale spouts.
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- Look closely and you can see the mist from the whale spouts.
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- Look closely and you can see the mist from the whale spouts.
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- Look closely and you can see the mist from the whale spouts.
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- Icebergs in Red Bay Labrador
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- Icebergs in Red Bay Labrador
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- Icebergs in Red Bay Labrador
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- Icebergs in Red Bay Labrador. Notice the whale spout in the foreground.
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- Icebergs in Red Bay Labrador.
We meandered along the TLH enjoying ourselves and the scenery, just soaking everything in. It was decent weather, we were in no particular rush and in fuel saving mode. We’d been traveling a couple of hours. Cruising along, I looked into my rearview mirror and saw a dust cloud and two headlights coming our way at a high rate of speed. They weren’t spaced evenly so it wasn’t a car or truck. As I stopped to see what was coming, my guess was confirmed. It was our friends Roy and Jeff from the ferry. They had waited for the gas station to open and were high tailing it to try to make the ferry at Blanc Sablon. They had covered in one hour what we had in two. They were moving!
We chatted briefly and they decided to get going so they didn’t miss the ferry at Blanc Sablon. We wished them well and their bikes and their dust cloud soon vanished in the distance. Their bikes having disappeared over the horizon, it was time for us to make our own headway towards Port Hope Simpson to get the fuel we needed and obtain respite from the black flies which had recently made themselves known in full force. In fact, for one photo stop, Kim refused to open her faceshield lest she immediately be swarmed by the nasty little critters. She was right, it was better to keep moving.
After some beautiful riding and some very abbreviated photo stops, we arrived in Port Hope Simpson and found the General Store that also sold fuel. To our surprise, we found some familiar faces. Yes indeed, it was our friends Roy and Jeff from the ferry once again. It seemed that the power was out in town and therefore, the fuel pumps were not working. We chatted and walked into the General Store to find out if they knew when the power might come back on.
The clerk there told us not to worry, that the power should come back on in an hour or so. She told us that this always happened when the guys down at the saw mill turned up the power without calling first and it trips off the breaker. That puts that part of the town out of power until the circuit could be reset. So we waited around for about an hour and sure as the sun rises the power came back on and we were able to fill all our bikes.
Unfortunately for Roy and Jeff, they were now truly under a time deadline and they REALLY had to make a beeline for Blanc Sablon if they wanted to make the ferry before it left the dock. (We found out later that they did make it but only by a matter of minutes.)
Fully fueled, we headed to the only accommodations in town and settled in. We were sitting in our room relaxing when the phone rang. Kim and I simultaneously looked at each other with bewildered looks. Who would be calling us in a little tiny hotel in Port Hope Simpson in northern Labrador? I walked over to the phone and picked it up wondering who might be on the other end.
A unfamilar voice said “Mike”? Yes, I replied warily. The voice on the other end said, “Hi, it’s Dave Noel. We’ve been corresponding on the Ride The Rock forum and I thought I’d come over and say hi.” I was shocked but really pleased. Dave and I had been chatting on the excellent Ride The Rock forum (you can find the link on our links page) when I was planning the TLH ride and Dave had been following my postings on ADVRider.com (you can also find their link on our links page) He took it upon himself to ride over 25 miles on gravel from his home town Mary’s Harbor, just to say hello to someone he had never met. In what other community would that kind of hospitality be shown? I was amazed and pleased to no end. I met Dave in the “lobby” and we went back to our room for a chat and we decided that the three of us would ride together tomorrow for a while. We would meet at Dave’s house and ride from there.
The following morning we easily found Dave’s house and met his family, his wife and two sons. Soon we were on the TLH headed towards Red Bay. The trip had been cool, and along the way we found how cool it had been. It was mid June and we found large patches of… SNOW! More than enough to make snowballs and enough for Dave to try to sneak in a couple of sneaky snowball attacks! However, I am pleased to report that he was unable to connect any either of these New Hampshire natives.
As we approached Red Bay we stopped for a couple of pictures. We were on an elevated portion of the TLH with a partial view of Red Bay. In the distance we could see the bay and I could see white specs in the water. I was somewhat speechless. I told Kim to look closely behind her and look in the bay. Did she see what I saw? Were there really icebergs in the bay? Now we were really excited because neither of us had ever seen icebergs in person. Dave humored us and we descended into Red Bay.
As we approached, it became clear that the specs were indeed icebergs and they were majestic. Sparkling white and huge, they floated silently in the bay. We did not sense any motion, but they floated there like barren white islands of various shapes and sizes, daring you to describe them. Some were gigantic, towering monoliths of ice, jutting out of the water. It amazed us to think that fully two thirds of the berg lay under water. Others were smaller and flatter, still white almost silver in color, again defying description.
We stopped at a small restaurant in town and had lunch with Dave. He needed to get home so we wished him the best and thanked him for taking the time to come and meet us and share this journey with us. We remain friends to this day.
After we said our goodbyes, we rode closer to the bay to gain the best view of the icebergs and yet another magical thing happened. As I was sitting on my KTM staring, I noticed a spray of water in front of the iceberg. Then another, and still another. My mouth dropped agape. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There from the side of the road, right in front of me, were several icebergs and in front and around the icebergs were several pods of Humpback whales feeding! They were breeching and if I listened carefully, I could even hear them blowing. It was a spectacular sight. One that I will probably never experience again. There must have been more than 100 whales feeding.
As I sat beside the road, a local came out of his house and said, “Pretty good show huh?” They were here all day yesterday and today.” I was dumbfounded. All I could mumble was, “Yes, it’s a great show, I am so happy to be here to enjoy it.” So everyone, I was lucky enough to have my little point and shoot camera with me which had a video mode. Because it’s a little point and shoot the video isn’t excellent, but I think it’s worthwhile. Therefore, I am indeed pleased to share with you the best whale watch I’ve ever been on, (including those on boats hehe) that was taken from the side of the road on my KTM motorcycle. You can find it here:
We sat there for an hour watching and listening to the whales. It was an amazing experience. Words just can’t describe it, it’s one of things that you just have to experience for yourself. We could have watched for hours, but we too had an appointment with the ferry at Blanc Sablon and it was time for us to make our way there. So with significant regret, we mounted up again and made our way towards our next stop at Blanc Sablon and the ferry to Newfoundland where we’ll take you in Part 6
Motorcyclists – Who Are Those People And Why Should They Share?
Having written R2ADV for a couple of months now and expounded on the virtues of recording your journeys so that you can recall them yourselves and also share them with others, a comment on a recent post has gotten me to thinking. After telling you all to do so, an anonymous poster commented that all the scenery etc. pictures were nice, but the one Kim and I would always allow us to remember the journey and the good time we had. Thank you anonymous poster!
So with that bit of wisdom, I had to think I failed to reinforce how important those recordings are to the person who takes the picture as well. Stopping to take the picture is not only for sharing with others, but for sharing with yourself later. OK you say, so what? Well, you might not look at that picture for years or you might look at it regularly, but if it re-kindles the passion for the ride that you took, then you have succeeded. Succeed in getting yourself out to ride and perhaps getting someone else excited enough to get out there as well. So that’s a big deal on two levels, that’s what!
It also dawned on me that we’d never properly introduced ourselves, or given you a taste of how we share our adventures. Frankly, we always ride together on journeys of any significant length, and almost always on shorter journeys. What could be better than traveling with your best friend eh? It’s with this thought in mind that I thought that I would share with you on two levels; the first level is an attempt to show how important taking pictures for later enjoyment and sharing can be. The second level is to act as a brief introduction into who we are. I think you’ll get the idea. We hope you like these pictures and the inspire you to do the same on your travels. Perhaps you’d be so kind to share some with us here?
We hope you enjoy these. If the response is good, we may even put up a second set.
By the way, if you don’t know, click on any one of the pictures in the gallery below and it will open that picture into a full size picture and then you can click your way through the remainder of the pictures in either direction in full size.
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- Somewhere in Vermont, USA
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- Somewhere in Vermont, USA
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- Baie Comeau, Quebec, Canada
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- Near Mt. McKinley, Alaska, USA
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- Near Mt. McKinley, Alaska, USA
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- Somewhere on the Trans Labrador Highway,
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- Chicken Creek, Alaska, USA
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- Cabot Trail, Nova Scotia, Canada
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- Port Hope Simpson, Labrador, Canada
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- Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, Canada
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- Dawson City, Yukon, Canada
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- Root glacier, McCarthy, Alaska, USA
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- Greenland Maine, USA
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- At the helm outside Seward, Alaska, USA
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- Kim and Mike at Rocky Harbor, Newfoundland, Canada
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- Dinner and too much wine at the Fresh Water Inn and Bistro, Gambo, Newfoundland
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- In line for the ferry, Argentia, Newfoundland.
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- Getting in line for the ferry. Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, Canada
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- Side car fun in Eagle River Alaska, USA
Transiting The Trans Labrador Highway & Canadian Atlantic Provinces (Part 4)
We awoke to light drizzle but with an increasing outlook for sun. We were headed for Goose Bay, but we’d have an intermediate stop in Red Bay and it was to be an exciting experience, one that we’d not soon forget. We left our combination hotel, restaurant, supermarket, high school building and packed the bikes. Soon we were off the paved roads of the town of Churchill Falls and back out on the gravel of the Trans Labrador Highway.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, so did our spirits as the clouds parted and the temperatures rose. Today was going to be a truly nice ride and we were about to reach one of our milestone places, Goose Bay. From Goose Bay, we were going to take the ferry to Cartwright and the final run through Labrador to Blanc Sablon where we’d take another ferry to Newfoundland. Goose Bay was to be , the beginning of another adventure in our adventure. We were psyched!
By the way, if you don’t know, click on any one of the pictures in the gallery below and it will open that picture into a full size picture and then you can click your way through the remainder of the pictures in either direction in full size.
During the day’s trip, the gravel was to transform many times. We were had been impressed with the overall condition of the TLH, the stories we’d heard of how dangerous it was for bikes hadn’t seemed to be true. Caution was indeed necessary as was demonstrated by Kim’s get off outside of Labrador City. But overall, the gravel had been fairly uniform and other than the hazards presented by the road graders, the road condition had been pretty good.
Today however, was a day of road and sky transformations. It seemed that the road condition changed with the sky. The clearer the sky became, the deeper and looser the gravel became. Later in the day as it began to cloud up again, the road firmed up and became almost like pavement. It was truly strange. But enough about the road conditions. We were headed for Goose Bay!
We traveled over and between verdant forests. Many shades of green contrasting on the same hill or mountainside. It was an irregular patchwork of greens, a pattern chosen by nature into a decoration of magical proportions. All the while, we swooped and dived between the mountains on a path of stone and sand. It was a symphony of nature and music for my ears was unnecessary because the music of nature before my eyes played in my head as I rode.
Time passed very quickly even though by this time we were in and out of rain showers. Before we knew it we made it to the greeting sign for Goose Bay and Happy Valley. It had stopped raining for the moment and it gave us the opportunity to take some pictures in front of the sign as evidence that we had made it. Someone had left a marker of their achievement as well and built a rock man figure to the left of the sign letting all others know that people they had been there previously. and now so had we.
Shortly thereafter, it started to rain again and we headed to our hotel for a day and a half layover since the ferry would not be leaving until then. We parked the bikes and unpacked the gear we needed in the rain. Once in our room we dried off and warmed up. It had become quite chilly by this point and the warmth of the hotel was greatly appreciated. Now all we needed was a hot dinner. Luckily for us, there was a small restaurant right next to the hotel and we headed on over.
They were serving a buffet and we passed a gentleman in the line. I guess we look like “bikers” because he asked are you the two on the bikes? We told him that indeed we were. He said that he noticed our New Hampshire license plates and remarked that we had ridden a long way from home. We told him we enjoyed the ride, especially over the TLH and that we were now headed to the end at Blanc Sablon and the ferry to Newfoundland, then on to Nova Scotia. He said he was very interested in our trip and asked if he could join us for dinner to chat about it. Of course we said yes and we had a terrific dinner discussing where we had been and were going on this trip and about adventure riding in general. In return, he told us about himself and his family. He was the local pastor in Goose Bay and had travelled there from Quebec a few years earlier. His flock was growing and he was enjoying being in Labrador where he said could be a part of a community where people were like family. After dinner, we wished him well and we returned to our hotel room feeling like we had become a bit part of the Goose Bay community, we learned about them and they about us. It was a nice feeling.
The following day, I did a little preventative maintenance on the bikes and we did a little looking around Goose Bay. But late in the afternoon, it was time to head to the ferry terminal to pick up the ferry to Cartwright where we continue our journey to the end of the TLH in Blanc Sablon, Quebec. Little did we know that this part of the trip was to become very, very special.
We arrived at the terminal fairly early and found ourselves one of the few vehicles in the lot. Parked at the pier was our ride to Cartwright, the Sir Robert Bond, our ferry. She was a sturdy looking vessel and we were somewhat impatient to get on board, tie down the bikes and get underway for Cartwright. It was to be an overnight trip and we had rented a berth so we could arrive fresh and rested to start the beginning of the end of our TLH ride.
Loading time came and was orchestrated very well. It was an easy process and we were supplied with tie downs for the bikes. Faster than we thought possible, we were on board and ready to depart. We walked around the Bond looking for some dinner and they did have a cafeteria. Well, it was a cafeteria, and the food quality merited the name cafeteria food, but it was food and we were hungry. Fed, we were ready to hit the sack and we adjourned to our berth for a good night’s rest. Along the way, we met a couple of other riders, from all places, Massachusetts, the state right next to New Hampshire. They too had been riding the TLH albeit at a much higher rate of speed. They were really zooming and had covered much more ground in much less time than we had. We had a good time joking around and having fun with them. In fact, so much fun that I guess we drew a complaint from someone and a member of the crew staff asked us to keep the noise down. Ooops!
Our partying done, now it was time to hit the rack. The last of the TLH lay in front of us in the morning and well tell you about this and the very special happenings (the pictures will knock your socks off!) in Part 5.
Transiting The Trans Labrador Highway & Canadian Atlantic Provinces (Part 3)
In a misty drizzle just outside of Fermont, we rounded one of the corners beyond a railroad crossing. A road grader had recently passed and left a rather high gravel and dirt berm near the middle of the road. It has also apparently stopped there and made a slight turn because it had left a small pile of gravel and dirt a couple of feet to the right of the high berm. It wasn’t that big but that was part of the problem. It was difficult to see and it was also solid since it was filled with gravel. Soft enough to dig into but not soft enough to plow through.
I was about 100 yards ahead of Kim on my bigger KTM 950 and saw it in time to take evasive action. I don’t know why I didn’t signal her or tell her about the berm on the communicator. I guess I just figured she would see it. Dummy! Well she was on her smaller BMW F650 single and she hit it fairly dead center causing her to fall off and pile drive the big toe of her right foot into the gravel of the roadway. It also knocked off one of her panniers and tweaked the pannier frame and lock.
By the way, if you don’t know, click on any one of the pictures in the gallery below and it will open that picture into a full size picture and then you can click your way through the remainder of the pictures in either direction in full size.
I turned around and Kim was more concerned about the bike than herself. She said her foot was a bit sore but was more concerned about how we would get her pannier closed, locked and back on her bike. (It turns out that Kim had actually broken her toe and rode the remainder of the trip with the second bone in her big toe split in two, almost down the center. I told you she’s pretty intrepid!) I had good tools and with a few tie wraps, a couple of temporary bolts, a bit of bending with pliers and smacking with rocks, we were ready to go again. Of course, the rain had to pick up and we pressed on in the rain and gathering darkness towards Labrador City for a rest and to get some appropriate bolts to fix Kim’s panniers.
When we arrived in Labrador City, it was fairly late; almost 9:00 PM. We hadn’t had any dinner and we were wet, cold, tired and hungry. The restaurant was already closed and we asked about nearby places to eat. It turned out there weren’t any open within walking distance, but the hotel folks graciously opened the bar area to us and got us some hot soup and a sandwich which we gratefully accepted. What nice people!
The following morning, it was still raining and raining with abandon. We went in search of hardware for Kim’s panniers and were given directions to a small store in town. They unfortunately did not have what we were looking for and we were standing in the parking lot trying to figure out our next move when a somewhat familiar voice said, “Hi you two, what are you doing here? We looked over and there was the woman who we had met while we were in a small hotel in Baie Comeau. We had chatted a bit and she had said she and her family lived in Labrador City and they were returning in the process of there when we met them at the hotel. Now here she was at this chance meeting! We told her of our predicament and she said she could help us out and led us to a hardware store that did indeed have the parts we needed to fix Kim’s bike. We thanked her and before we could get her full name and address, she was off. The kindness of people is amazing.
With Kim’s bike repaired, it was only a short ride on pavement until we got back onto the gravel of the TLH. “Civilization” quickly faded as the gravel grew deeper and the trees grew thicker, taller and greener. We were headed to Churchill Falls and we were really into some isolated country. It was gorgeous, but it was indeed immense. Mountains surrounded us in many shades of green. Light green and dark greens literally covering the mountains like a patchwork quilt of trees randomly distributed over and around the mountain sides. Once off the mountains, large plains could often be seen, sometimes populated with thriving green trees or sometimes with the dead trees that had expired in forest fires or been killed by flooding. And as we traveled on, not a glimpse of man made civilization was to be found. Not a sign, telephone pole, street light or manhole cover. It was wilderness and it was amazing.
After traveling for a few hours we decided to stop for a snack of a powerbar, some nuts and water. By stopping, the presence of the wide open wilderness became even more omnipresent. It was overcast and no breeze blew. It was very quiet. The road and surrounding terrain was flat and we cold see it disappear around a wooded corner in the distance. Nearby, a large sand berm approximately 10 feet tall offered a better vantage point to view the surroundings so I climbed it to look around. With the view from that berm, I could see even farther into the open and vast space around me, bracketed by verdant mountains. It was beautiful and scary at the same time. I looked down from the berm to see Kim standing 20 yards away and she looked miniscule framed by the surroundings. It was a surreal moment, one where you feel like you are only a very, very small part of the earth.
Wake up! I told myself there’s a lot more of Labrador to travel so I disengaged my mind from the scene and climbed down from the berm. We needed to get to Churchill Falls before dark and we still had plenty of miles to go. After what seemed like many hours in the wilderness, we arrived in Churchill Falls and the beginning of paved road again. Churchill Falls was built exclusively as a town to service the nearby hydroelectric dam. It is a small self sufficient town complete with hotel, high school, supermarket, and restaurant but all are in the same building. When you have to be self sufficient this far out, there’s little credit given to waste. So if you are going to build a large public complex, you may as well build them all together at the same time and that’s exactly what the folks in Churchill Falls did. Bravo.
We did get to experience a bit of what the locals must have to do all the time. When we went looking for food in town, the restaurant was closed because they didn’t have a chef. But we were told that the local bar had food. So we went there but they were a bit low on supplies as well. Kim ended up having fried cod chunks and water, and since I don’t like seafood, I ended up with mozzarella sticks and beer as a 100% nutritionally complete dinner.
The following morning we got up early for our ride to Goose Bay and the first major ferry ride of the trip. We’ll tell you more about that in Part 4.
Signs Of A Great Ride
Sometimes your “adventure travel” can become a bit mundane but if you look around, but even in the mundane there are sights to be seen. I know that as we’ve traveled to many places, we’ve seen signs that have made us say wow! Sometimes humorous and sometimes amazing, not only in print form, you may see signs that make you laugh, think, or take action. Seen any like these…?
So while you are out on your adventure, make sure you always stay alert for signs of adventure.
Ride2Adventure – Shrinking The Planet One Ride At A Time
Aerostich Roadcrafter 1 Piece Suit Long Term Test Ride
For about six years now, Kim and I have been doing nearly all of our daily and adventure riding in an Aerostich 1 piece Roadcrafter suit. We thought that perhaps you’d like to know a bit about the suits themselves and how they’ve performed for us. The short answer is “remarkably well” with only a couple of reservations.
So let’s talk a bit about the suit itself. With its “armor” inserted, it’s big, fairly heavy, and at first not really easy to get on and off. Are you put off by this? You shouldn’t be, because here’s the complete story about the suit.
The suit is made of 500 Denier Cordura (i.e. heavy weight) which is highly abrasion resistant and which although not as abrasion resistant as leather, is pretty damn good. It’s also made of man’s single greatest accomplishment in textiles since the first diaper; Goretex. I am convinced that Goretex was a divine miracle of some sort. Water resistant (nearly water proof) and breathable, this fabric can keep water out and breathe (letting hot damp air out) at the same time. If you have ever ridden in the rain on a warm/hot day and you are wrapped in the sauna of an non-breathing rain suit, you know the miracle that Goretex represents. You stay dry and cool. Nice!
There are some bugaboos however. Downpours of greater than an hour or so will ultimately overcome the Goretex fabric and you will get wet. Light rain or drizzle for extended times can be handled without issue and you will stay dry. One issue that does occur on a hit or miss basis depending on the suit is what’s been known as “Aerocrotch”. After extended periods in the rain, water can accumulate in the crotch area of the suit and ultimately soak through leaving you with a wet crotch. It’s uncomfortable riding with a wet crotch and even more so when you arrive at your destination and you take off your suit with that “I just pee’d in my pants look.” Strangely, this doesn’t occur in all suits. I may have something to do with the fit of the suit. For example, I can get Aerocrotch, but Kim does not. Hmm….
I do note that Aerostich has redesigned the zippers of the one piece Roadcrafter suit and they claim the Aerocrotch issue has been solved. They are now offer retrofitting of old suits with new zippers and I was so satisfied with my suit that I sent mine in. Unfortunately, I still get Aerocrotch on occasion.
The suit has plenty of vents to let air in. One opens across the entire portion of your back and there is one under each arm that travels from mid-bicep to mid ribcage. There are also two hip vents just behind the hip pockets. As a result, as long as you are moving, you can get quite a bit of cooling air through the suit. Our experience has been that you can be comfortable in the suit as long as you are moving into the high 80s, low 90s. However, if you consistently must travel in a lot of stop and go traffic with temperatures in the high 80s or greater, you might want to seek another option.
A total of 4 large pockets are available as well as zippered pockets that allow access to your pants under the suit. You can carry just about anything you could possibly need in this suit. There are two velcro closable pockets on the thighs of the legs, a large zippered compartment on the chest, one on the left arm and two large pockets where pants pockets would normally be.
The neck and wrists are adjustable for size (and air flow) with velcro tabs. Options galore exist for the suit including clear map pockets for thigh, arm, made to specification sizing, extra comfort neck material. You should really go to their website at http://www.aerostich.com/roadcrafter-one-piece-suit.html to check out all the options.
After you learn how to put the suit on, it is really, really easy to get on and off. Literally, you can get the entire suit on or off in less than 30 seconds. Really. When you first get the suit, you feel very clumsy putting it on or taking it off, but as you learn how to get in and out, and the suit softens up (it is a bit stiff when you first get it – sort of like blue jeans) you’ll put the suit on or take it off just as fast as you take off all your other clothes. It really is that easy.
All in all, we really, really like these suits. They have served us very well in our travels all over the world including our rides on and off pavement. If you consistently ride in very hot temperatures in stop and go traffic, the regular Roadcrafter one piece suit is probably not for you. However, we note that Aerostich has come out with Roadcrafter Light and Ultralight suits that offer less abrasion and armor protection but are reportedly cooler and lighter weight. We have not tried either of these suits so we can not render an opinion on them. Oh and BTW, if you ever have a problem with the suit, or want it reconditioned (which we have done after abusing our suits for 5 years), Aerostich has fabulous customer service and will repair and refurbish its suits for a nominal charge. They offer the same service for crash damaged suits.
So what does this all boil to? If we were to use a star rating system, we would give the Aerostich Roadcrafter one piece suit 4.5 stars. We’ve seen a lot of suits and a lot of options, but the Aerostich Roadcrafter works best for us.
I’m Going To Stop To Take A Picture (Part 3)
When you are out adventure riding, there are certain moments that beg to be recorded. The problem is that the timing may not appear to be right to take a picture or a video. You are too busy enjoying yourself, you are angry about a situation that has occurred (the 4th puncture of the day may be such a time), you may be very sad because of a sight you’ve seen or been part of someone’s plight. But the recording of such events, while at the time appearing to be too maddening, too difficult, or almost inappropriate (and there are inappropriate times I would suggest), in the fullness of time actually call to be recorded. Who will remember these times? How will these times be shared without such recordings?
Do yourself and the world a favor and record the happenings. And… once recorded, share them with others so that they too can experience what you have done, seen, and experienced and they in turn pass it on to others. Such times do are short in duration, but can be made to last forever if you just take the time to record them.
Ride2ADV 