Big, Medium or Little? What To Do, What To Do?
I was at another website the other day and found a post that asked whether true “adventure bikes” should be big, medium or small. It was and excellent and interesting question. So I had to stop and ask myself, “do I really think there is a best size of bike for adventure riding?” After some thought, I came up with an answer that really wasn’t an answer. From my perspective there were a bunch of variables that could define what the “best” adventure bike would look like. If I were on a long ride with only pavement and well maintained gravel roads to deal, it seems to me that the full size adventure bikes (e.g. BMW GS1200 or GS800, KTM 1190 or 990 etc.) would be the “best” for covering those distances in comfort, load capacity and speed. However, if there was some real rough stuff ahead, I’d rather be on a lightweight easy handling bike (e.g. Yamaha WR250, Honda CRF250L etc.) might make it the “best” choice. I wouldn’t have to worry about the technical tracks, but of course the light weight nature and size of the bike would limit the amount of cargo I could carry and potentially impact range.
So where does that leave us? Do we need to compromise comfort, range and speed over ease of handling on technical sections? Perhaps not. What about those middleweight machines like the KLR650, Vstrom 650 and KTM 690E? Could they be the answer? Well, after I thought about it a while, I came to the conclusion that everything is a trade off. The middleweight machines weren’t especially heavy, nor were they exceptionally small. They provide the rider with relatively good comfort and can carry quite a good amount of cargo. Not bad, not bad… But when you looked at the entire equation, the Middleweight bikes really constituted a trade off on just about everything. They were neither highly comfortable platforms, nor were they light and “flickable” as the lightweight small bikes.
So where does this leave us? Big bikes do certain things very well, little bikes do certain things very well and the middleweight machines don’t do much with excellence. Therefore, it would seem that the right size for a true adventure bike is the bike you feel confident on that will get you through the terrain you plan to travel. Kim and I travel all sorts of terrain, the majority of which will be maintained gravel roads and fire roads. As such, we’re taking the middle ground and going on middle weight machines. We’re planning a 2800 mile ride through six states in the west this summer, so it’s a KTM 690 for me and a DR650 for Kim. I still have to get Kim’s bike into “adventure” shape, but I think my KTM 690E is coming up to snuff.
So what do you think? Let us know what you think the best size for adventure riding is. We want to hear from you!
Mike and Kim
Ride to Adventure – Shrink The Planet, One Ride At A Time
Traversing The TAT (Trans-America Trail) Chapter 7
The following morning, the sun rose quickly and immediately heated the muggy air to a grey haze. We finished a quick breakfast and headed out to the TAT once again. We were quickly back on the TAT and were greeted by narrow twisting roads under a lush green canopy from the surrounding trees. The traffic was non-existent leaving us to enjoy the swoopy corners and somewhat cooler air.
Again I was riding at the tail of the group, and clouds of dust rose from the gravel track. But it didn’t diminish the pleasure that the TAT was gifting to us. I watched from the back of the pack as Tracy faded into the distance and MaryLee and Kim played a kind of moto tag with each other. MaryLee would lead the way and Kim would sprint up to her until the dust began to get too heavy and faded back. I was enjoying the playful component of the ride immensely.
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.
But after about an hour, the verdant canopies began to part and we found ourselves in farm country. Green fields contrasted with golden fields of grain. As we rode along, we saw evidence that the locals were working the fields to get the crops of grain in. We were used to seeing the huge plastic rolls of hay that are widely seen in New England. But the stacks we were seeing were vastly different.
Small piles were neatly stacked along side each other. The stacks consisted of what appeared to be individually bound bundles tossed in opposing directions making for a tightly bundled and geometrically shaped pile. We had never seen stacking like this and to us, it didn’t seem to be prepared by the large farm equipment that roams some of the fields back home. But something was stacking these small works of art dotting the fields. Who or what could be doing it?
It wasn’t long before we got our answer. As we turned from one small road onto another, there in a field directly in front of us was a pair of beautiful harnessed draft horses. As draft animals, they were huge and they dwarfed their owner who stood close by. Clad in jeans and a shirt topped off by a large brimmed black hat, a young Amish man watched as we approached and ducked down seemingly trying to hide. So it was him who had been making these beautiful stacks of grain.
Tracy stopped to take a picture and the farmer insisted that he not to take one, so as requested, Tracy put away his camera, said hello and rode off. As we continued our way through the county, it became clear that we were in fact in an Amish enclave. Good sized farms were all about but suddenly I noticed something a bit odd. At the roadside, there were no telephone poles and no wires running into the farms. They had no electricity!
Kim’s uncle is a farmer and we know how hard and thankless a job farming can be. Many, many hours are spent in the fields trying to bring a crop in and/or taking care of the animals. It has to be one of the most difficult and exhausting jobs in the world. And then it dawned on me. As difficult as it was to be a farmer, they often use electricity and power tools to accomplish the day’s tasks. Now take away the electricity and all the power tools and you have the life of an Amish farmer. It makes you think about how committed those people are to their beliefs. Forsaking even the most rudimentary of power equipment, they still carry on the difficult day’s work without complaint. It truly is an amazing act of faith to maintain such a life.
It also made me think about the little works of art that were the grain piles. No farm equipment making 10 foot rolls of hay were being used. The Amish used their own two hands and made each bundle individually. When you looked at the size of some of the fields, I felt a deep admiration for those people who toil so hard, while the tools to make their lives easier went unused. Their faith was their tool and they used it well to maintain a hard but appreciated life. Witnessing this, I thought to myself that to be Amish, you have to be a very stout person. Very stout indeed.
The enclave was fairly large and it took us about 10 minutes to pass through it. Along the way, we passed one of their well known plain black buggies. Pulled by a single horse, the buggy made its way along the road, with its lantern headlights and tail lights. Two women sat in the buggy, one middle aged and another old. I could just make out their black clothes and bonnets as I rode by.
It made quite a contrasting scene. Immediately in front of me were two women in a single horse drawn wooden carriage. While just ahead, I could see two women riding on small horses of steel and aluminum that far eclipsed the power of the larger single horse buggy. Riding through this little enclave, really helped me put things into perspective and open my eyes to a different way of life. A way of life that could be more physically demanding, but for them, more meaningful.
Soon after passing the buggy, once again the fields started to fade and we found ourselves traveling through very sparsely populated land. The road narrowed and the trees closed in. The road was now barely large enough to fit a single car, but it was nice to be in the shade at times. What structures there were on this road were very old and most abandoned. Wooden planks of siding sagged from the buildings, age having long since taken the remnants of colorful paint away. But in their grey hued glory, they told a story of remote living and of farms that had long since come and gone.
We lazily dawdled along in the oppressive heat under the canopy of green leaves and grey branches. At times, the gravel road gave way small concrete water crossings an inch or two deep. At first they were no more than 50 feet across, but they soon got wider and more treacherous. You might ask how a couple of inches of water might constitute a treacherous hazard. How could water on a hard surface only one or two inches deep cause any problems? We’ll talk about that in the next chapter.
Traversing The TAT (Trans-America Trail) Chapter 6
We knew that to find some cool air we’d have to get off the TAT for a while. So we found the nearest paved road and hightailed it towards the nearest town. Along the way we found a small marina perched on the side of a narrow green river. A dirt parking lot greeted us with a single large willow tree drooping in the heat. We parked the bikes under its branches to get out of the sun.
As we walked towards the marina, the river’s yellowish green water sluggishly churned under an old rusted metal railroad bridge. The water looked to be moving as slow as we were, both of us slowly making our way towards our final destinations. We walked towards the marina boat house hoping to find somewhere to could cool off. Unfortunately there weren’t any apparent public areas. The few people at the marina looked at us but didn’t utter a word. We must have been quite a sight in our dusty, sweaty gear with our riding pants open at every vent. We smiled at the people, said hello but other than a short hi, there was no other response. It was clear that this place wasn’t going to provide us a respite from the heat so we returned to the bikes and got under way again.
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.
Luckily for us, about 5 miles down the road, we came to a small gas station with a little restaurant and… air conditioning! We were elated. Kim and I needed fuel, but the cool air beckoned and we just couldn’t wait to get inside. We almost immediately ripped our gear off and rushed towards the restaurant. It was one of those 3 Stooges moments, each of us racing to get our gear off and looking at each other. Who was going to make it into the cool air first? If we had all gotten to the door at the same time, I could have seen me pulling Tracy backwards while I clawed at the door while just as I got to the threshold, MaryLee would jump on my shoulders knocking me to the ground and plunge for the entry way… until Kim would have grabbed MaryLee by her ankle and pulled her from the entry. And so it would continue until one of us had established our supremacy and fell through the door with a triumphant yell with the others hot on their heels.
Once inside, it was literally a breath of fresh air. Cold air blew from not one, but two air conditioners. So cold that Kim got goosebumps from being chilled; she was quite happy with that result. As we surveyed the rest of the scene, we found pure country. The gas station part of the store had all the little things that a local small town family owned store might have for its residents. Gum, fishing lures, comic books, pliers, firewood; you name the little market had it.
The restaurant was even better. The walls were covered with farm implements and the tools of farming. Fastened to the wall just above our table was a horse collar that had been converted into a mirror. Next to it was an empty feed bag and next to that were a couple of scythes. It was just a wonderful mix of eclectic farming implements used to make the place feel like all were welcome. It was a terrific place to stop.
Settled at our table, we read from a paper menu filled with down home items like meatloaf with gravy, hot dogs, hamburgers, sandwiches, potato salad, fries and chips and the like. There was no fancy stuff here, just comfort food. Having been cooled off, we were ready to eat. No sooner than we sat down, than almost as by magic a waitress appeared and took our order. Our requested food arrived in what seemed like no time and we got down to the business of eating.
By now we were very hungry and ready to shovel the tasty food down. But in this cool air, none of us was in a rush to finish and get back into the heat and humidity. We even took the time to order and eat dessert! By the time we were done, our 30 minute lunch had turned into an hour and a half meal. Ultimately we could delay no longer, and we ventured back out into the heat.
Once outside, we returned to our bikes and the girls decided that they’d had enough of the heat for the day. A suggestion was made to leave the TAT for the rest of the day and head towards the hotel at all due speed. Normally, we’d want to spend as much time on the gravel as possible, but in these conditions, no-one objected.
As we prepared to mount our bikes, Kim found that she had a visitor and it looked like he wanted to get a drink too. A three inch wide moth walked his way over the top of Kim’s gear and nestled himself (or herself) up against Kim’s water bottle. It looked like he was settling in for the ride and slaking his thirst before we departed. We tried to give him a little motivation to be on his way but he decided he wasn’t going anywhere but with us. Ultimately, we had to remove the little guy by hand and send him on his way so we could get started towards the hotel.
Moth removed, we put on our gear and went to fuel up the bikes. As we pulled up to the pumps, we noticed a small handwritten cardboard sign inside the pump proclaiming NO ETHANOL. Wow, no ethanol! In the US, no ethanol fuel is quite a find and is non-existent where we live in New Hampshire. So with our small tanks, Kim and I proceeded to fill our bikes to the brim with the undiluted high octane fuel. Little did we know that this one decision would have grave consequences on our ability to finish our TAT journey.
During lunch we had decided that we would take the shortest route back to the hotel due to the heat and humidity. Once again it would be all pavement to the hotel at this late time of day. But some fun times would still be had before we arrived at our evening’s destination.
Although it was really, really hot, we were having fun on the lonely twisting roads. We were not on powerful bikes, but it was still a joy to be on a lightweight machine swooping back and forth, playing with and on the curves. Speeds and spirits were high until I rounded a corner and saw the unmistakable markings of a police cruiser. I was about to grab the brakes but just beyond the cruiser sat another car parked next to the cruiser. It was an orange Dodge Charger with Confederate stripes on the roof.
Wait a minute, flashed through my head, that’s not a real cruiser. As I got closer, it was clear that it was not a real cruiser and the Charger was a replica of the General Lee from the old TV show Dukes of Hazzard. Cool!!! For this, I had to stop and the rest of the gang stopped to let me take pictures. I was never a big fan of the TV show, but both replicas were really well done and I had to get a few pictures. I placed the bike in front of both cars and snapped a couple of pictures as a remembrance of this nice chance encounter.
It was soon time for us to get underway and once again fortune smiled down on us. Our route would take us across the Natchez Trace. A brand new smooth ribbon of asphalt twisting through a forest. It was a two lane road with broad grass shoulders that made the whole road seem like a ride through a carefully manicured park. The road was virtually deserted and once again we had a chance to play on the curves of the road without any traffic. The heat of the day was almost forgotten as we swooped our way through lazy open sweepers, our group snaking lazily through the woods.
Once again I was tail end Charlie, but this time I wasn’t eating any dust and I was really enjoying the views as we made our way towards our hotel for the evening. Even though we were on the pavement for another hour and a half, the time literally flew by and before we knew it we had arrived at our hotel for the evening. We’d need to clean up a bit before dinner, but all of us were happy with what we’d done and where we’d been on this day.
Tomorrow would be another hot day, but we were undeterred, we were having a great time and with the next sunrise, we’d be on gravel most of the day. We were psyched and with a little rest, we’d be ready to attack the TAT once again.
Traversing The TAT (Trans-America Trail) Chapter 5
Our brief night’s sleep was followed by a morning dawn of bright blue sky. Although the sun had set on our first day’s ride, the heat of the previous day had never broken. I stuck my head out the hotel door to sample the temperature and immediately a wall of heat and humidity streamed into the room. It was already sweltering.
I walked back into the room and I guess that my face told the story. Kim just looked at me and said “It’s sweltering isn’t it?” I gave her the look that said yes and she smiled and just started to get ready to ride for the day. We both stared at our dusty riding gear laying on a chair across from the bed. Neither of us really wanted to put on all that gear in the sweltering heat.
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.
But the TAT was calling and the longer we waited, the higher the temperature would climb. So we put on our dusty gear and headed out for the day. Tracy and MaryLee were ready and we wasted little time in getting underway. A quick stop to pick up some fuel and a little meddling with the GPS and we were soon on the TAT.
After only about 15 minutes on pavement, we were once again back on the gravel of Tennessee passing verdant fields and small family farms. On today’s ride we would not see any of the massive commercial farms, only those run by enclaves of dedicated families who tilled the earth to bring us the food we eat each day. As we rode, proud but weary buildings told stories of those people who toiled each day to scratch a living from the earth. Some once proud very large barns had now given their all and leaned precariously or fell completely under the sweltering sun. Patches of once bright paint clung to the barn board that was now grey with age and withered with time.
Trucks from the 1950s and 1960s with their dulled paint and pieced together bodies sat side by side with newer expensive dual wheeled, closed cockpit air conditioned tractors. Each of these tools had its role, and each would be used until it could no longer give any more. Then like an old animal, it would be put out to pasture to lay in the sun, watching the seasons pass until it was no more.
We were only in this farmland for a couple of hours but with each passing farm scene I could see that each was but a chapter in the very beautiful story of how nature and man are inextricably intertwined. Viewing them made me feel very small and the world very large. Having taken all this in, I was awed by how unbelievably important our farmers are to us and how little we think of them and fail thank them each day.
It was now getting hotter with both the earth the riders baking in the sun. It was time to do something to get some relief. Anticipating some heat, Kim and I had brought cool vests for extreme heat. It was now or never and we put them to good use. Cool vests are vests that you wet down and then wear close to your body. As you move through the air, the vest retains the water but allows a small amount to evaporate cooling its wearer.
Both Kim and MaryLee were really suffering in the heat so I gave mine to MaryLee and Kim put hers on. Tracy and I could almost see immediately that the girls were more comfortable and the vests were doing their job. Under our riding gear, Kim and I were also wearing pressure suits. Pressure suits are like jackets made of mesh with molded in plastic armor. Not ideal for pavement but sufficient for gravel roads. Kim and I decided that we would offload our jackets and ride with the pressure suit as our jackets. Anything to get some cooling air past our bodies.
Lighter and somewhat cooler than when we started the day, we rode along taking in the farms and the green countryside. As we rounded a corner we approached a barn with a pond in front. Not unusual you might think, and as to barn there was nothing unusual. It was the pond that was a bit different. Inside the pond, a big black blob appeared to be moving slowly back and forth. What the heck could that be I thought to myself and as we got closer, we found that it was not a rock. It was something far more interesting. It was black with small splotches of white… and it was furry. It was a cow standing belly high in the pond.
As we approached and ultimately passed, the cow looked at us impassively and merely got back to the business of cooling off. Now I didn’t feel so bad. No I wasn’t a wuss, no sir. It was so hot that the cows were standing in the ponds to cool off. That my friends is pretty hot. Even though she had a leather jacket on, I did not give her any credit. Some of us were out riding in the heat, and others of us were simply lounging around in their natural pools.
We continued riding gravel and found ourselves somewhat lost. The TAT isn’t always that well marked and sometimes you just have to make a decision to go one way or the other until you can find the next section. So as we mosey-ed along, we came to another gravel road that could have been the right one for this segment of the TAT. The girls were pretty hot so Tracy and I went on ahead and scoped out the possible turn. What we found was pretty cool.
We rode a section of rather loose rocky gravel enclosed by trees. Branches of all sizes littered the road and there were some tree falls partially blocking the road as well. We rode around the tree falls and branches enjoying the somewhat cooler air in the trees. Ultimately, we ended up at a locked swinging gate that was supposed to barricade us from a wooden topped dam. We could ride around the swinging gate, but at the other end of the dam was a tall chain link fence that we could not get around.
I walked across the dam taking some pictures of the dam itself and an apparent power station. It must have been overly dry or they must not have needed the energy because although one side of the dam was full of water, the lee side of the dam was mostly dry. A mostly dry river bed ran to an impressive building and large array of power lines, but no water was churning any generators. It was a bit strange seeing all that engineering sitting idle while the supply of water it needed to produce electricity sat on the opposite side of the dam waiting its turn to go rushing through the generators and empty out into the river below.
Time passed very quickly during my little dam inspection and when I returned to the meet with the rest of the gang, it was clear that Kim was really suffering from the heat. She was all flushed and she literally had to sit down to keep her head clear. It was time to get into some cooler air pronto, so after we had plied Kim with water and recharged her cooling vest, we got under way to find some cool air and some food for our road worthy women.
Traversing The TAT (Trans-America Trail) Chapter 4
The increasing heat and humidity turned the once bright blue skies and surrounding air to shades of grey. A murky haze surrounded us completely; so dense it appeared to be making everything sweat. Little did we know it at the time, but each of the pictures we would take this day would have a washed out, grey hue.
Our initial riding section was to be through some dirt country lanes. Plumes of dust were hurled skyward by each bikes tires. Dust clouds slowly rose and as each bike passed, the dust became more intense. As the fourth out of four riders, visibility was greatly reduced but it still didn’t dim my excitement about riding the TAT.
Our environment was beautiful. Trees surrounded us from both sides and overhead. We continued our ride thinking that the more we rode under the leafy canopies overhead, the cooler it would become. But the heat was unrelenting and even as we rode in the shade, the temperature and humidity continued to rise. I opened all the vents on my lightweight Goretex off-road gear, I an attempt to get some cooling air. However, as the tail end Charlie of our group, the vents only let in the dust which rapidly transformed from its airborne state to a muddy goo inside the suit. It was truly damned if you do or damned if you don’t situation.
It was beginning to become quite uncomfortable, but we were there to ride and we wanted to get the most from our adventure. It just so happened that at this moment,the adventure was becoming more difficult. So we continued our ride in the stifling heat and humidity taking brief stops here and there to drink some cool water.
As we were approaching one of those stops, I think the heat got to me. Tracy, MaryLee and Kim had already pulled to the side of the road to have a drink and check the maps. For some reason, I took this as an opportunity to do a bit of a fly by. Coming off the corner and approaching the trio, I twisted the throttle and went flying by letting them eat a bit of my dust for a change. Wooo…. Hoooo…. I thought as I passed them all.
However, my victory pass would be very short lived. I turned the bike around and then pulled up behind them. I turned the bike off and started to dismount. As I alighted from the machine, I lost my balance and dropped the bike to the ground in an exceptional display of ineptitude. Marvelous. Sometimes the heat can do crazy things to you. I scrambled to pick the bike up as quickly as possible using my best, “I meant to do that” look, but nobody was buying it. They merely looked at me like an insolent little child and went back to cooling off and checking the map.
We decided it was time for some fuel, something to eat and the possibility for some air conditioning. So we made our way through the canopies at greater speed hoping that we would soon come across a suitable stopping place. After about an hour, we found a small gas station with an attached mini-mart and restaurant. We had struck gold. We pulled in and fueled up quickly. We rolled our bikes away from the fuel pumps and quickly shed our outer riding gear.
Just as we were heading into the restaurant, a group of bikes pulled in, then another and still another. We had arrived at a bike rally of sorts. All different types of bikes were represented. From sports bikes to cruisers to our dual sports bikes, they were all there. We stopped and chatted about various topics and the types of bikes we were riding. We would have chatted with everyone, but not everyone was human. One of the riders had as his passenger, his small dog complete with goggles and skull cap. It was a great meeting of riders on diverse types of machines. But they were only there for fuel and while standing in the sun the heat was intense. Before we knew it, they were all on their way.
Our conversations completed and wilting from the heat, it was time for cool air and some food. We quickly made our way inside and the cool air was amazing. As I stood looking at the menu, I realized how hot it really was. Finally clear of all the covering gear, sweat poured from my head and into my eyes. My under layer shirt was totally soaked and I could feel the rivulets of sweat pouring down my back and into my pants. Being inside seemed only to intensify my awareness of how hot I had been. I thought to myself that I might be eating this meal very slowly to extend the time I had in the cool dry air. I didn’t want to hold everyone up, but I was really, really hot.
I needn’t have worried though. As we sat at the table together eating our sandwiches, we exchanged knowing looks that indeed all of us were feeling the effects of the heat and sun. There were only 40 trail miles left to go on the day’s ride, but we each knew it was 40 miles of dust, gravel, sun and heat that none of us wanted to continue in. The temperature was well over 100 degrees and the humidity was unbearable.
We decided that although we probably only had about two more hours of trail riding to go, we’d stick to the pavement and head straight to our hotel and air conditioning. Once we had eaten our sandwiches and hydrated ourselves, we put our gear back on and made for the hotel in Crossville, Tennessee. There would be no gravel roads on this final leg, just smooth pavement where we could maximize our speed and reduce our exposure to the heat.
Thus ended our first full day on the TAT. We had enjoyed our introduction, but we were rapidly learning that the TAT commanded respect in all aspects. We’d been taught respect for the roads and trails, as well as environment in which we rode. We knew that the TAT would provide some challenges, but we’d underestimated all of the types of challenges that the TAT could throw at us. We were now well schooled, and with new awareness we readied ourselves for day two.
Traversing The TAT (Trans-America Trail) Chapter 3
We packed the truck quickly, cramming in all our gear and loading the two little KTMs into the bed of our little truck. The passenger compartment had three occupants, one more than would be riding the TAT. For the journey to Tennessee, we had Kim’s dad Dick along for the ride. Dick would drop us off and then drive the truck back to New Hampshire after stopping to meet some relatives along the way. It was a great deal. Dick got some someone to chat and keep company with on the way down (and past) and we got free transportation of the truck back to New Hampshire. It was a win/win situation for us both
Finally, we were ready to depart for Tennessee. The pressure associated with the decisions surrounding the extra fuel tanks was over since it the design was done and anyway, we would have to live with it at this point. The mood in the truck was pretty light as we all looked forward to things to come. Kim and I could hear the TAT calling and Dick was ready to have a visit with the relatives.
The trip to Tennessee was pretty straight forward with no real issues. As we made our way south, we passed through some areas that had just been struck by tornadoes and the damage looked pretty severe. Light posts were bent at odd angles, house were leveled or portions were in shambles. It gave us pause to think how lucky we are not to not usually have to worry such destructive displays of mother nature. We may get the odd blizzard or two or lose power for a while, but at least our house would still be standing after the blizzard had passed.
We stopped along the way for some Bar-B-Que at a roadside stand and it was good. We thought we must be getting closer to the south because you sure can’t get good Bar-B-Que in the north-east. At about 7:00 P.M. we decided to call it quits on the driving for the day and got a cheap hotel. Up early the next morning, we were raring to go. The TAT awaited! We quickly checked out and got back to the truck. Good, there were still two bikes in the back, so we were good to go. Soon back on the highway, we watched as we scooted past towns, rest areas and truck stops. The music was on, there was some light chat and we were feeling good.
In case you don’t know it, if you’d like to see any of these pictures in full size, simply click on one and you will be taken to a full size gallery where you can page by each picture you’d like to view.
Before we knew it was lunch time and we needed to stop to get fuel. Off at an exit that promised fuel, we found a mini-mart type gas station. In scorching heat, I filled the truck up and as I was looking around, spotted this most amazing sign. A smiling chubby pink pig in a chef’s hat leapt about and beckoned to us. His recommendation, the Sweet Lips Diner; Come In & Pig Out!
Well, this we had to see. Once the truck was fueled, we headed just down the road a bit and there it was. A long diner like you’d expect to see in a rural area. A dirt parking lot surrounded it and it was packed. We took that as a good omen and headed inside. We were seated at wooden tables and served home cooked Bar-B-Que. What do you know, the pig was right, the food was good and there was plenty of it. We stuffed ourselves on the great Bar-B-Que and waddled our way to the door. Our next stop would be Jellico and our long planned meeting with Tracy and MaryLee.
Back in the truck the time flew by. Before we knew it, we had made it. Just up ahead was the exit sign for Jellico, Tennessee and the hotel where we would meet Tracy and MaryLee. We pulled off and there it was, our hotel for the evening, the meeting place and our departure point for our TAT journey. It sat at the top of a small hill and as we pulled up the driveway, we saw two bikes. Both with Alaska plates, Tracy and MaryLee were in the house!W
We registered at registration desk and picked up our keys. As we were unpacking our gear, out came Tracy and MaryLee. They were a great sight. We hadn’t seen them in almost two years and here they were, ready to ride with us again on another adventure. We were psyched. We hugged and shook hands and had all the banter that good friends have when they haven’t seen each other in a while. The excitement of seeing them again was multiplied by the excitement of the upcoming TAT journey.
It was dinner time by the time we unpacked our gear and bikes from the truck and made it ready for packing on the bikes. There was time for a few “group” photos and sooner than we imagined, it was starting to get dark. Hunger overwhelmed excitement so we drove over to a small pizza joint and toasted our upcoming TAT journey with pizza and beer. The excitement was palpable and each of us was a bit giddy at the thought of starting the ride for real. We soon finished our dinner and headed back to the hotel. We wanted to get an early start so we called it an early evening and racked out for the night excited by the thought that by daybreak, we would be on the TAT.
When we awoke the following morning, it was already very hot; like 85+ degrees hot. You could cut the humidity with a knife and by the time the bikes were loaded, we were all somewhat overheated. I filled my hydration system with ice cubes and cold water and hoped that they would last for a while. I knew that water was going to be important.
We said our goodbyes to Dick and my little truck we were finally off. We took a leisurely pace and the first part of the morning was mostly on pavement. But as we wandered along, the sun rose and the air heated and stilted. The horizon turned grey with hanging moisture, and seemingly our bikes cut their own wakes through the murky moisture. It was as if we had an extra burden of pushing the laden air in front of us, each carving and then leaving our own wakes. The heat was growing so intense that in our full riding gear it was almost unbearable for these four northerners. We thought we might be somewhat unaccustomed to the southern humidity, but when we spoke to the locals, even they said it was overly hot. Boy did we pick a tough time to ride.
But as we entered the afternoon, things began to change to the better. We left the pavement and got onto gravel, a place where we all felt more at home. In addition, as we left the beaten track, we got into some wonderfully green and canopied lanes. Immediately the air was a bit cooler and we were shaded from the intensity of the direct sun.
Riding along was like being in a strobe lit verdant wonderland. Bright flashes of sun briefly blinded us to the terrain ahead. The view was then almost instantly replaced by wet, deep dark greens, soothing to the eyes and cooling to the body. We knew it was hotter than Hell, but with the show presented before us none of us wanted, or dared, to stop.
Traversing The TAT (Trans-America Trail) Chapter 2
Time was indeed running out to complete our bike preparations. Two similarly colored red unbreakable fuel containers lay on the concrete. They were both supposed to be the same color but for some reason, one was bright red and the other was an organish red. From the cold concrete, they stared at me like non-identical twins, begging me to take them along for the ride. Oh well, at least we’ll be able to tell the two apart.
I was in a bit of a panic to get them on the bikes; but how? They were tall, slim and would be full of explosive gasoline. I searched the lines of the bikes to try to figure out where I would fit two fairly large odd shaped canisters on a very small bike. Normally, the back of the bike would be an ideal place for the fuel tanks, but that area would be consumed by our Giant Loop saddlebag crammed to the gills with our supplies for the trip. There was no way that they were going to go on the front. The front fender was only a couple of inches wide and lacked any real rigidity. Besides, that space was already taken up with our spare tubes and tire tools.
Where the heck was I going to put these absolute necessities? I thought about manipulating the bracket a bit to mount it low and on the side of the bike. But the right side was consumed with the exhaust and the exhaust exit. I wasn’t really keen on putting a fuel tank just forward of the hot exhaust and exhaust gasses. The left side was available, perhaps I could put it there, with the bracket hanging the tank over the left side. But the more I thought about it and looked at the actual position of the tank, the more I decided I didn’t like it. I did not like it one iota. As placed on the left side of the bike, it was in the perfect position to take the brunt of a fall. We would be riding on unknown (to us) terrain, so the likelihood of dropping the bike onto a rock or gravel and piercing the plastic tank was a fair possibility. I really wasn’t sure what to do.
I admit, I was stymied for a few moments. There really wasn’t any more space on the bike normally associated with where a fuel tank would be mounted. Anger began to boil inside me for having not thought through this issue earlier and also for not being able to solve it correctly now. It was one of those throw the wrench across the garage to feel better moments.
So as I stood in the garage, anger welling inside me, one of my fuel tank orphans stared at me from the concrete floor and the other waited patiently in my hand for a miracle solution. Unfortunately none seemed imminent and the phone rang. I put the tank I had in my hand on the tail of the bike and ran into the house to answer it. It was a call about my real job and that didn’t make my mood any better.
I finished the call as quickly as I could and hustled downstairs and into the garage. When I got there I found a sight that changed me altogether. There on the floor was the fuel tank that I had put on the back of the bike. Lying next to it, was the plastic cap of the fuel tank broken into two large pieces. I was mortified. My concern about mounting the tank anywhere a direct impact was likely, was correct. All I could then think about was Kim dropping the bike on the left side on a rock on the gravel. Fuel spraying all over from a broken cap or a split in the tank as Kim lay trapped under the bike. After seeing the cap lying on the garage floor in pieces, broken from a fall from about three feet on a non-moving bike, I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t mount the tank on the side of the bike.
If we were going to bring the extra fuel, it was clear that some sort of drastic measures would be necessary. The tanks were designed to be used on ATVs and to be mounted upright. Hmm… Could I mount them upright just behind the seat but behind the Giant Loop saddlebag? It was this or nothing, and not having the extra fuel was out of the question. So I proceeded to mount the tank in an awkward position, high but in the center of the bike furthest away from direct contact with the ground in the event of a drop or fall.
It looked ridiculous. Mounted straight up, rigid at full attention, the tank cried out for a better design. But there was none to be had in such a short period of time due to my inattention. Matched side by side, the two tanks stood on the bikes like sentries guarding the bikes and all the goods on them. I felt foolish. But it was the only way we were going to get extra fuel on the bike.
In case you don’t know it, if you’d like to see any of these pictures in full size, simply click on one and you will be taken to a full size gallery where you can page by each picture you’d like to view.
I showed the mounting set up to some of my friends and some rightly chided me for the installation. “I had to be kidding; Didn’t I know anything about center of gravity?” He was right, the extra fuel weight would be up high and reduce stability. But I did not have to fill the tanks completely to maintain a significant addition in range and in total the weight would be less than 15 pounds, tank and mount included.
Others offered non-tank solutions such as canteens filled with fuel held in panniers at the side of the front fuel tank or other similar suggestions, but I did not like other aspects of these suggestions and besides, we were out of time. We needed to get going, Tracy and MaryLee were already on the road and headed towards Jellico, Tennessee for our meeting.
It was time to load up the truck with our bikes and gear and head for Tennessee. We only two days to make it to Tennessee in the truck and a total of two weeks (including the two days in the truck) to make it from there to New Mexico. We’ll tell you how the trip went to Tennessee and the beginning of the ride in the next chapter.
Traversing The TAT (Trans-America Trail) Chapter 1
One of the mainstays of R2ADV is to suggest that by riding motorcycles all over the planet, you have the opportunity to meet new and interesting people, share and learn a bit about each other. Well such is the genesis of our story to traverse of the Trans American Trail, better known as the TAT. This journey to cross most of America actually began at a lodge in Alaska near Mt. McKinley. We had made a quick stop for a bite to each and as we were walking back to our bikes, it was there that we met a couple who we had a wonderful conversation with.
They had seen the New Hampshire license plates on our loaded bikes in the parking lot and wanted to talk about how our journey had been. We chatted for about half an hour and told them that we often blogged about our trips if he wanted to see more. They were excited and the man of the couple said, “We have a friend that rides motorcycles and he would love to meet talk to you. Do you mind if we give him your email address?” We said that we’d be happy to correspond with this new to be friend and the couple took our email address and left.
In case you don’t know it, if you’d like to see any of these pictures in full size, simply click on one and you will be taken to a full size gallery where you can page by each picture you’d like to view.
- Tracy and MaryLee our TAT ride partners
- Kim & the KTMs
- Tracy and MaryLee’s bikes.
- New bashplate.
- Renazco seat.
- Kim’s horn.
- 1st install GL
- Correct install GL
- MaryLee’s ready.
- Our bikes 1.
- Our bikes 2.
- The KTM cockpit.
A couple of days later, sure enough I received an email from Tracy, the person the couple had mentioned. He said that he lived in Alaska and he would like to meet if we had the time. We responded that we would be happy to meet and that one of our stops would be for an adventure riders gathering in Dawson City in the Canadian Yukon. Tracy said that he might be going as well and he’d try to find us there.
To make a very fun story short (you can read all about it in our ride story: Alaska – Gravel, Grandeur & Goofy Grins found elsewhere on this site) We met Tracy as we literally first got off our bikes in Dawson City. We had stopped at the visitor center to use the facilities and as we dismounted, a man approached us and said, “Are you Kim and Mike?” Tracy had found us and we had found him. We spent 2 days in Dawson City and then a full day with both Tracy and his wife MaryLee in their home town in Alaska, and we had a great time! We had made a great friendship that continues to this day.
Tracy and I continued to correspond to each other and tried to figure out ways that we could get together and ride. When the TAT ride was agreed upon as a mutual ride, we both set out to make preparations for our ride across much of America. Tracy and MaryLee would actually start from Toledo, Ohio and we would be starting from Jellico, Tennessee. The two couples would meet in Jellico and start our TAT ride from there. We picked early June to start our journey thinking that we would beat much of the well known midwest heat. Boy were we about to get a lesson in heat. But we’ll tell you much more about that later.
Making preparations for our trip consisted of a lot fun intertwined with moments of frustration and anger. We had decided to go “light” and take our two identical model KTM 250 XCF-w bikes upgraded for long distance travel. The thought was, if some of the terrain became difficult is much easier to manage a lightweight bike. In those instances where the terrain might cause a fall, we thought it much easier to pick up 250 pounds than 400 plus pounds.
So I set off to obtain the proper equipment and modify the bikes for the long ride ahead. Kim and I already had the majority of the gear necessary, we just needed some of the equipment that would be appropriate for a long distance journey on lightweight bikes intended for brief jaunts in the woods or single track, not on a 2,500 to 3,000 mile journey.
First to be purchased were the storage containers and for that we purchased some excellent Giant Loop saddlebag type panniers. I also installed some brush guards/hand protectors and sent the stock seats out to James Renazco at Renazco Racing to have them re-fitted for longer distances than the mostly stand up, sit down on occasion stock seats.
I also installed a couple of sturdier bash plates and road safety equipment such as mirror and horn so that we would be 50 state legal on those occasions where we were on public ways. To complete our retrofitting ensemble, I installed a couple of fender tool kits with tools and extra tubes and a GPS. Oh and Mr. Cotton, my mascot for most of our adventure rides jumped aboard as well and securely tied himself to the handlebars to keep an eye on me.
There, I thought we were ready to go. But about a week before the trip, one of my friends asked a fairly simple question. “What are you two going to do between fuel stops? I’ve heard it can be more than 200 miles between gas stations.” Drat! I thought I had thought about everything and this simple, but unbelievably important item had completely slipped my mind. Our little KTMs, although fuel sippers, had small fuel tanks and there was no way they would make it 200 miles between fill ups.
Thus began the quest to develop a standby fuel storage system for our two wheeled transportation. KTM did not make anything and even the aftermarket had nothing to fit the little KTMs. Double drat! So I went about my way to quickly find a portable fuel container to put on the bikes with less than a week before blast off. My head was spinning. There was little time for mail order and we needed whatever solution fitted on the bike and ready to go in less than a week.
I rooted through bike magazines and websites and all sorts of places where I thought I might find small fuel containers. Ultimately, I found a small plastic unbreakable 1.5 gallon fuel container with mount from an all terrain vehicle supplier. It was pretty much that or nothing for a factory engineered fix. I placed a rush order and got two of the containers and mounts. They arrived two days before we were set to leave and they needed to be installed in a way they were not originally intended to be. Yikes. Oh yeah, did I mention we both had day jobs to take care of as well?
I’ll tell you more about the install and the beginning of our journey in the next chapter.
Ride To The End Of The World – Fin del Mundo (Part 16)
After only a few minutes but for what at the time seemed like hours, we reached the crest of the mountain. Snow continued to fall but still did not accumulate on the surface of the road. We were quite thankful that as we descended, the snow turned rain and the temperature turned from freezing to merely uncomfortably cold. But we did count our blessings as a motorcycle trip down a snow-covered twisting mountain road would have been foolish endeavor.
We continued down the mountain in rain and by the time we reached its base, we were ready for some fuel, a respite from the weather and a dry warm place. Onward we traveled in the rain on good paved road until we reached the crossroads town of Tolhuin. There at a four corners stop was a gas station and even a mini-mart of sorts. Bravo! Time for a break.
We quickly parked up the bikes, bought some fuel and headed directly to the mini-mart. Inside were all the accoutrements that you’d normally find in such a place. Maps, oil, a small assortment of dry groceries, trinkets for bored traveling children and soft drinks. As we marched around the place in our dripping rainsuits, Kim strolled over to the cooler to look for a Coke. Ultimately she did find it, but she also found a can of liquid refreshment the likes of which we’d never seen.
In a slim white and pink can decorated with a big pink heart, there it was. Our first sighting of can of; “Mr. Love”! Advertised as pheromone enhanced, it was supposedly an aphrodisiac drink. Wow, and to think, I wasted all that energy courting and being nice to Kim all these years. All this time, the answer was actually in a can near the tip of South America. The things you learn on a trip to the end of the world! Although we didn’t purchase any of the drink, it did make for a good picture and we snapped several as the amused (or not so amused) attendant watched.
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.
We drank our drinks, dried off and warmed ourselves up in the free warmth of the mini-mart. But it was time to get moving and after about a 30 minute stop, we got back on the bikes and making our way towards the southernmost city in the world; Ushuaia. Luck was with us and the rain gods decided to have some pity on our souls and ceased unleashing their moist and chilly droplets onto us. As we rode on, pavement started to dry. Our spirits began to rise as the rain ceased; it was a perfect antithesis. For as the falling droplets diminished, our spirits rose to meet and eventually surpass the cold and misery that had been deposited on us. We were almost there; Ushuaia. And it was only a couple of hours ride away.
Before we knew it, the road was completely dry and took on a smooth flowing and curving demeanor. It wandered through forests and along streams that meandered beside the mountains which had guided the rushing water along its current path. Shots of sunlight occasionally burst from the clouds above, seeming like nature’s own camera, taking flash pictures of motorcyclists wending their way southward.
And then the realization hit me. We were almost there and nearing the end of our journey. This had been a wonderful trip. One that I will never forget. I was extremely grateful for the opportunity to have made this ride, but the joys, challenges and excitement were nearing their conclusion.
So it was at this time that I had an experience that I had never had before. Simultaneously, I was overjoyed but also sad to be near the point of tears. Exultation ran through me as I knew that we had made this trip, enjoyed it, its sometimes challenges and all the people we had met to its fullest. But at the same time I was extremely sad. I felt as though I was experiencing a personal loss. The loss of the continuing journey and the loss of all the first time experiences we had encountered. It was a very strange emotion and not one that I’ll ever forget.
I suppose that many “travelers” experience this feeling at the end of their journey. But it was the first time for me and I can tell you that the feeling was as intense as many other firsts you will experience in your life. This feeling I would wager, is the kind of feeling that keeps “adventure motorcyclists” or any other kind of traveler, wanting more.
So as we rode the final few miles to Ushuia, it was very quiet on the comms between Kim and I. I think we were both experiencing the joy and sorrow of completing what was such a wonderful journey together. I would have it no other way, since for me sharing these experiences especially with someone you love, is something that can never be matched.
Emotions in check, I now sprinted on the twisty road towards Ushuaia. Before we knew it we were there. Approaching a stop sign at the end of the woods stood a 15 foot tall stone and wooden sign. At its side large letters proclaimed the location’s name. Hand carved in the wood and painted gold was the word “Ushuaia”. Additional boards jutted from the side of the masonry and rock exclaiming in hand carved letters “Bienvenidos A La Ciudad Mas Austral Del Mundo”; “Welcome to the Most Southerly City in the World”. We had made it.
It was time for some pictures and a celebration of sorts so we parked our bikes and set out to take some souvenir photos. Now I was elated. We had made it and enjoyed every minute. There we were standing in front of the evidence. There was nothing more than joy. No sorrow could be found, it was just pure joy. Pictures taken and hugs made, it was time to get to our hotel in the city. We had little time before we would fly home and we wanted to take the time to see what Ushuaia had to offer and of course, ride to the end of the furthest south road on the planet. We’ll take you there in the next chapter.
Ride 2 Adventure – Shrink the Planet One Ride At A Time
Ride To The End Of The World – Fin del Mundo (Part 15)
Due to the strong currents the captain had to keep the ferry’s engines running. The current was indeed swift and strong and the ferry continued to try to wash itself ashore. But with excellent seamanship the captain jockeyed the ferry so that it remained at a 90° angle to the landing. Soon all the other traffic had offloaded in it was our turn to ride right onto the ferry. Luckily for us, as motorcyclists we took up little space on deck and we were the first to board with a few cars and abundance of tractor trailer rigs following behind.
It was cold and windy and as the ferry lurched left and right with each new tractor trailer rig, we decided to go inside try to warm up a bit. A very narrow passageway led to a cramped cabin area, but it was an escape from the strong winds and the spray of the cold ocean waters. We sat side-by-side in the narrow compartment stamping our feet trying to get warm. Still chilled to the bone, we overheard somebody talking in the compartment saying there was something outside to see. We had no clue what was out there, but what the heck, how many times would we be crossing the Straits of Magellan? Not knowing what awaited, we wandered outside to have a look.
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 docking ferry waits to disgorge its cargo.
- A tractor trailer rolls off the ferry as we wait our turn to board.
- The yet as unknown ambassadors of Tierra del Fuego.
- Commerson’s dolphins lead the way to Tierra del Fuego.
- We are welcomed to the land of fire. Tierra del Fuego.
- Back on the gravel.
- A memorial to the Malvinas War.
- Lowering clouds on the way to Ushuaia.
- Wet roads heading up the mountain.
- Still it’s not snowing.
- It will soon be snowing as we climb the mountain.
At first we saw nothing. Jeez, here we were standing in the wind and cold spray for what? But then, someone pointed at the water and I caught a glimpse of something. At first it was a darkish blur gliding through the water alongside the ferry. It looked like the reflection of a cloud on the surface of the water, but it was moving with amazing speed and zigzagging through the water.
Suddenly it breached; more like leapt from the froth of the wake of the ferry. A small black and white dolphin accompanied by two more friends. We would later find out that they were Commerson’s dolphins, and these guys were one of about 3,400 in the Straits of Magellan. They continued to follow us for about 10 minutes leaping from the water in graceful fluid arcs. They were the best ambassadors to the land of fire that we could have ever wished for.
About twenty minutes later we were nearing the coast of Tierra del Fuego; The Land of Fire. The wind, the overcast and the increasing rain couldn’t dampen our enthusiasm to reach our destination. Before we knew it, the belly of the ferry was scraping on the shore of the land that just weeks ago seemed just a distant dream. Yet we had made it and we were here. We were very, very excited.
As we rolled off the damp and slick ferry ramp, I was a bit overwhelmed. It was dank and dreary, but I was elated. We had come a long way, over thousands of miles on gravel and through high wind, and there in front of me suspended from a large sign were the words in Spanish, Bienvenido a Tierra del Fuego; “Welcome To Tierra Del Fuego”. We had made it and we only had a bit over a day’s ride to reach the very tip of the South American continent. In fact, the most southern habitable place on the planet excluding those small scientific camps in Antarctica.
After about 15 minutes on pavement, we once again returned to the gravel. The rain began to intensify and we still had a few more hours to ride before reaching our hotel for the evening. Our route took out through the small coastal town of Rio Grande. The rain, wind and cold were beginning to take their toll and we decided that we should stop somewhere to eat and warm-up.
We roamed around the town a bit and found a small local shop selling roasted chickens and 2 foot long sandwiches. The shop itself was tiny. It was nothing to talk about and full of smoke from the chicken roasting in a brick hearth inside. Still to us, it looked like a haven of gigantic proportions. It was a take out only place, but we asked the owners if we could sit down on our little foldable portable chairs and eat in their tiny little rectangle that was warm and dry. They were more than happy to let us and as we squatted in their shop, we ate hot empanadas and slowly dried among the sizzling chicken and baking dough.
After stuffing ourselves on empanadas, we were somewhat dry and feeling much warmer than when we arrived. We thanked our hosts and got back onto the bikes in the drizzle and wind. As we exited Rio Grande, we rolled past a memorial to the Malvinas War (Falklands War). A single, easily 4o year old jet fighter stood perched on a pole in a small park. It was a symbol of pride for the Argentines and a remembrance of lives lost in that war. As we passed the still bird held aloft not by the air under its wings, but by a rusting piece of steel, it was a bit of a solemn reminder for two riders that the world doesn’t always get along.
Not long after passing the memorial, we were once again back on pavement and heading over mountains that loomed ahead. The weather continued to deteriorate and the heavy clouds began to descend quickly. From these clouds, tendrils of virga appeared as fingers reaching for the earth, hoping for a handhold lest they be torn apart on the jagged mountain peaks. As we climbed on the mountain roads, it was unclear whether the clouds were descending upon us or we were climbing to them or a combination of both. But as we climbed, the visibility continued to drop and then… it began to snow.
Large wet heavy flakes drifted towards the pavement and impaled themselves on us as we rode onward. Our visors quickly began to frost up with ice forming around the edges. Still the snow was not yet accumulating on the pavement and we were quite thankful for that. We thought it best to ride on and hoped that we would soon be descending into warmer temperatures so that the white wet flakes would soon return to their 100 percent liquid form. With increasing anticipation, we rode onward knowing that we would shortly start our descent from the mountain. We’ll tell you about the ride down the mountain in the next chapter.
Ride 2 Adventure – Shrink the Planet One Ride At A Time
Experiences Never Die
I’ve gotten to thinking lately about how lucky I’ve been to have discovered two wheeled transportation. Even more so, having discovered two wheels powered by an engine.
I can still remember my first pedal bike very clearly. Those early experiences, spent on two wheels molded a desire for adventure and adventuring. That machine, powered by the force of muscle and the breath of a young boy, was in reality powered by the imagination of a young mind, imagining and longing for adventure.
As I rode that 20″ framed machine, a pair of young legs thrust its rider toward unseen and previously imagined horizons. Two wheels became the means to cover great distances at great speed. I can still remember the rush of the air by my face and the wind tousling my then full head of hair. Just the thought of being able to cover what appeared to be vast distances at what was then great speed, gave growth to a longing sense of adventure to new places and adventures yet untaken.
As the years passed, older and not necessarily much wiser, motorized two wheel transportation came within my reach. Motorized two wheel transportation, to a budding adventurer, young or old represents a waiting magic carpet. Often attractive in looks, slim, sleek and comfortable, freshly cleaned tassels (farkles) glittering, it awaits those who would simply climb aboard and enjoy the ride to the next adventure.
For those that do take that magical leap, the world and a world of experiences await. The only barrier, the willingness to take off on the journey and an open mind with which to experience the world. Should the rider climb on, grab the tassels, and consent to set the journey in motion, the experiences of the world await. Both good and bad.
Whether those experiences are good or bad will be decided by the magic carpet rider. Only that person, the one who has the intimate experiences, can pass judgement on them. For those who truly savor an adventure, the good and the bad are what make up the adventure. These experiences combine to provide a soup for the soul. A tablespoon of fun, a cup of local hospitality and perhaps a dash of mechanical difficulty all combine to flavor the pot with a rich and hearty flavor. Such adventurers know that a soup made of only a single fine ingredient will never match the taste of one made with many different standard ingredients.
So that brings me back to the title of this little article. On any adventure, is it worth it to risk good and bad experiences, with the bad potentially outweighing the good? At the end of the journey, will the adventurer be any better or worse for having taken the adventure? Let’s examine this a bit and see what we can come up with.
Let me give you a real world scenario. My father had frontal lobe dementia, a disease sort of like Alzheimer’s, that first robbed him of his memory, and ultimately his life. A brilliant scientist, as the dementia took hold, his memory was severely reduced and he was a mere shell of the experiences he encountered and the education he obtained. So was it worth it for him to work hard, get two undergraduate and two post-graduate degrees, have a family, raise children, and risk all the hardships that raising a family can bring. The simple answer, of course it was! My father lived a full life and enjoyed his family and his interactions with others despite some of the hardships that came with it.
With the passing of my father, did his experiences die? No, they were had, felt and responded to by him and others. These experiences molded him into the person he would later become. Without them, he and indeed the world itself, would be different. Both he and the people he met had changed, no matter how slightly, by their interactions.
So the same might be said of that would be adventurer thinking about jumping on that two wheeled motorized magic carpet. Is it worth it to take that magical leap onto two wheels and commence your journey of new life experiences to new places and new people? There could be difficult times during the journey… For those that wish to experience the world and those in it, the answer is a clear; yes!
Although we all will eventually die, the experiences we have had, together with the interactions with those we have met, will live on in those people and their children. So by riding the magic carpet, we will have made the world and ourselves, a little richer and better at each waypoint of the journey.
So jump on your magic carpet and take off on that journey!
Ride2Adventure – Shrink The Planet One Ride At A Time
Because It’s There!
Why? That’s the old question asked of mountain climbers by risk averse earth bound mortals who can’t fathom why anyone would risk life and limb to climb a mountain. The well known and sometimes quoted response… “Because it’s there!” attributed to British mountain climber George Herbert Leigh Mallory seems to be a somewhat enigmatic response. Was he really saying that the only reason that he attempted to climb Everest was because it was in front of him? Hmmm…..
One of my acquaintances recently asked a similar question having seen parts of the Dakar Rally, arguably one of the most challenging, exhausting and perhaps most dangerous sanctioned racing competitions on the planet, especially on a motorcycle. Why would someone, particularly a privateer with no corporate sponsorship and no real financial motivation, enter such a competition?
A clearly dangerous activity, racing the Dakar on a motorcycle is one hugely intrepid undertaking. Towering mountains, vast deserts, blistering heat, high speeds on rough terrain and long days in the saddle are merely part of the challenge that is Dakar. Numerous competitors have lost their lives over the years and not just from solo falls, but from collisions with other competitors, getting lost, days long sand storms, dehydration, and some would even say, sheer exhaustion. Some days you ride over one hundred miles just to get to the start of the day’s race. Stages (timed sections of the race) can be so long that by the time many competitors make it to the bivouac at the end of the day, they barely have enough time to eat some food, service the bike and take care of bodily functions before the start of the next day’s stage. Sleep is a commodity that is often in very short supply making this grueling, physical two week feat all the more difficult.
So once again, people may ask, why do they do it?
I’ve never been a Dakar competitor so I can’t say with any degree of certainty why the men and women who take on this challenge and pay huge sums of money to do so, risk it all for a competition that many people don’t even know exist. I know that I’ll never ride the Dakar and probably will never have half the skill necessary to undertake such a racing adventure, but being a so-so rider always trying to improve, I think I may have an inkling of what drives a privateer to enter the Dakar.
The Dakar is a gigantic ever changing and shifting monster. High as the mountains, covered in deep sand and jagged rock, it breathes its hot windy breath like fire onto all who would try to take it on. Its call is a mesmerizing one for those who hear it, at first a chant, but increasingly becoming more of a taunt. “You can’t beat me and you know it. You can’t beat me and you know it. You can’t beat me and you know it.”
To those who hear the chant and taunt, the Dakar is an affront to their abilities. Some people come equipped with an excess of drive; drive to excel, succeed, and overcome challenges that many others might find overwhelming. To them, the Dakar monster represents an irrepressible challenge, the triple dog dare of dares. It’s one they just can’t turn away from. The Dakar confronts them and thus the monster must be slayed.
Thus they risk financial hardship and potentially financial ruin, trying to prepare a Dakar ready and worthy effort. Then there’s the physical training necessary to undertake to ensure the requisite fitness to endure such a travail and maximum opportunity to reach the monster. Finally, there’s the task of slaying the monster. If you are able to financially and physically make it to the Dakar, you have reached a major milestone, but you just begun your journey. The monster awaits.
Over two weeks, you will engage and fight the monster. Some days you may feel like you are winning, but most you will feel battered and lucky to be alive. The monster is that tough. It will fight you long and hard, with all of its elemental power raining down on you trying to force you to fail or quit. If you are lucky, you will do battle for the full two weeks with this unrelenting force of nature few can overcome. But, if you have worked hard enough, if you have trained hard enough, if you have tried hard enough and lastly if you are brave enough, the monster can be tamed, temporarily at least.
Your reward will be your own knowledge that you, using your own skills, strength, stamina and bravery have beaten an “unbeatable” beast. The ultimate recognition that using your own abilities and wits, you overcame and conquered an insurmountable challenge. This time. And for those who have heard the chanting and taunting of the beast and emerged victorious, the question will be, “Was one victory enough?” For this beast never truly dies, it just goes back to where it came from and waits for you or others to try to beat it again. For those who failed, the chant and taunt becomes louder and fiercer. Only the truly daunting will attempt another attack on the beast.
So why would anyone with a sense of riding and racing adventure risk it all to ride the Dakar? The answer is simple, “Because it’s there!”
Can You Have An Adventure On A “Guided” Motorcycle Tour?
I had often asked myself whether was possible to have an “adventure” on a guided motorcycle tour. Or put more succinctly does a guided motorcycle tour constitute an adventure ride? Is it really an adventure if somebody has done all the homework, planned all the routes, figured out all the stops, determined the best places to ride and you just follow behind them? Purists would probably argue that it’s not really an adventure if you follow somebody’s planned route, enjoying the fruits of their labor and simply enjoying what’s presented in front of you. Others would argue that as long as you embrace the idea of adventuring you are indeed on an adventure ride.
So where do I stand on this issue? On this one I am firmly in the middle. For me there’s no doubt the planning your entire route doing all the homework, planning all the stops, and managing all the issues that pop up during the trip really do require quite a bit of work and hence could make the ride seem to be more “adventuresome”. Then there’s the other side of the coin that says if you plan everything, and there are no unknowns, there is no adventure. But wait, there’s even a third side to the coin (now that’s something!) and that is riding in a guided motorcycle tour. In this case, someone has already done all the planning and on top of it, there are people on the trip that help you manage any issues that may pop up. Some might ask, “where’s the adventure in that?”
I must admit, that until a little while ago, I was one of those persons who held that if you didn’t do all the planning and manage the issues on your own, it wasn’t an adventure ride. But with age, my stance has softened quite a bit. Frankly, as I’ve gotten older, I really don’t care about what people think. I don’t need to be a symbol of “macho-ness” and I don’t need to obtain anyone’s approval of how a ride was executed. Whether I ride solo or travel with friends in a group led by a company that we paid to support our ride. I don’t care because how I ride really doesn’t make the ride an adventure or not.
If you want to ride solo into the heart of Eurasia with nothing more than a dual sport single and soft luggage, great. But if you want to do a similar trip with a company who helps you get across borders, assists with mechanical fixes and carries your gear in a support vehicle, that’s great too. It’s what you get out of the ride, what you encounter, experience, share and learn along the way that is important. Did you make something of your trip? Did you see new things and interact with new people? Did you learn a thing or two along the way? Did you encounter weather, road hazards, mechanical problems, difficult people, whatever. All of those things are part of the adventure ride and they exist on any kind of ride be it solo or with a paid group. In fact, one might argue that riding with a group is more of an adventure because you have to deal with a group of people in close confines which itself can be quite an adventure!
So what does this boil down to? For me, adventure rides aren’t really just the planning or the execution of a ride or riding in difficult terrain or conditions. When you step back and think about it, adventure rides are more about the experiences aren’t they? Planning, riding solo or with very limited supplies and no support can be elements of making an adventure ride fulfilling for the rider. But I would argue it’s not the most important part. No, it’s what you get, what you take away and what you share during the ride that really makes the trip an adventure.
Ultimately, it’s really how you approach the ride that will tell you whether it was an adventure or not. Adventuring doesn’t just happen as a result of your planning it happens as a result of the overall experience. Don’t let someone tell you that your ride was or was not an adventure. You are the only one that can make that decision. If you felt the excitement, if you felt the challenge, if you had some new experiences, then I say you had an adventure. The hard part is keeping all the excitement, challenge and new experiences in your rides so that you can continue to feel the adventure.
So, can you have an adventure on a “guided” motorcycle tour. Sure, it’s what you take from it that will be the mark of the adventure. At, least that’s my take. Let’s hear yours! Please leave some comments with your thoughts!
Ride To The End Of The World – Fin del Mundo (Part 14)
Another Patagonian morning dawned cold and overcast. Once again, we dashed for the luxury of the hot water showers. Warmed and cleaned, we were anxious to commence the final leg of our journey to the End of the World at Tierra del Fuego. We ate a quick breakfast and returned to our tents to put on our gear, clean our dusty helmets and get back on the gravel. We would certainly miss Torres del Paine, but the end of the earth was now calling more loudly than ever.
Back on the gravel, we continued to experience towering mountain views and twisty mountain roads. Riding up and over mountain passes and down steep roads, we felt like we had become one with the surrounding landscape. In fact, in some areas, we literally became one with the surroundings. Recent road construction had chopped huge chunks out of the surrounding granite. Walls of rock surrounded us on both sides, while chunks recently rendered from the earth lay at the road’s edge and sometimes in the road itself. Looking up at roughly hewn rock walls at both sides of the road, we made our way through the earth towards Tierra del Fuego.
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 docking ferry waits to disgorge its cargo.
- The docking ferry waits to disgorge its cargo.
Along the way, we had the opportunity to cross beautiful rivers of multi-hued blues on wooden bridges. Of significant length, the bridges were in good repair but consisted mainly of trestles lined with rows of wood and then overlayed with unsecured planks for two tire tracks.
Before long, it seemed like we had changed continents. Large flat green plains dotted with trees and giant rock outcroppings covered in roots and vines made us feel like we had somehow made it to the plains of South Africa. Wire and wooden fences designed either to keep animals in or people out, or both lined the gravel roadway and served as a frame to the beautiful scenes.
We rode across what seemed like African prairies while an ocassional large bird soared overhead on unseen currents of rising air. Circling and gliding surveying all below and perhaps looking for a mid day meal. Had the temperatures been 50 degrees more than the 50 degrees fahrenheit it was, I would have sworn we were somehow transported to Africa.
We continued on the good gravel on an undulating course. As we motored along we came upon some giant rocky outcroppings. We had to stop to check this out. Standing just at the side of the road was a gigantic wall of rock. Seemingly rising out of the ground for no reason, it looked like a giant anvil surrounded by some trees and covered with brush. Nothing around it was so grand in size it just seemed so out of place and so random in what had been fairly open riding.
I asked Kim to get off her bike and stand near to the rock tower and the enormity of the rock was clear. Kim was barely discernible as she stood by the roadside. In fact, if you look at the picture in this selection, you will see her standing at the right side of the road standing beside her bike looking up at the rock. You can barely make her out on the right side of the road. It was truly impressive for a single rock.
Back on the bikes again, we made our way towards the little town of Puerto Natales on the coast of Chile. It was a pretty ride sometimes along the cost as we meandered into town and back onto pavement. But it was what happened in town that was about to make the day a little more interesting. We had stopped at a little diner in town for lunch for a quick little meal. As we left the restaurant, a man stood outside and explained that he was a newspaper reporter. He had seen us ride into town (there’s more to this story) and he’d like to talk about our journey for the paper. After a brief discussion, we were on our way southward once more and we found that the next day, a brief article was published about us in the local newspaper.
Back on the pavement we paralleled the coast for a while and passed a few small towns which had been abandoned. The buildings were still in pretty good shape, but to townspeople had apparently moved on in search of something better. It was a bit of a strange feeling seeing all these buildings, it good condition, and not a soul around. Not far from he abandoned town, we came across an even more unusual scene. Just outside of the last town we passed not even totally out of the water, lay the hulls of two ships.
One, lay mostly beached, its hull mainly intact and its but the stern of the ship had mostly rusted away and had nearly departed the remainder of the hull. The other, laying on its left side had been reduced to its ribs and spars, the skeletal remains of a once seaworthy craft. We decided the sight deserved some closer attention so we stopped and took a walk around both ships. The more intact one was interesting, but the one that had been reduced to its skeletal remains brought about some terrific opportunities for pictures.
We walked around and through the ship’s hull taking pictures from different vantage points. Once fully inside, you got the feeling that you were indeed inside the belly of some beast. Ribs surrounding you and diminishing in size as it made its way to the sea. With a little imagination, you could envision yourself in the story of Jonah trapped inside a whale. This time, a whale with iron ribs which were slowly melting with time. It was quite a little short term adventure.
Unfortunately, we didn’t have much time to dawdle around the wrecks since we still had to make it to our ferry for the trip across the Strait of Magellan. So we hopped back on the bikes and continued our way southward. A couple of hours later, we came across another quite interesting sight. In the middle of nowhere, we came across what appeared to be some aluminum poles with some circular twisted tubes of metal at the top. There were several of the poles all in a row and they were on both sides of the road.
Of course we had to stop and check out the poles and find out what they meant. When we got closer we found that the poles and the metal at the top of the poles were designed as art and as an homage to the wind circling the globe. What that perspective, the poles easily started to make sense and the artistic viewpoint was readily seen. There was another learning experience for me as well.
On one of the poles was a plaque that indeed said the posts were an homage to the wind. However, there was also a globe inscribe on the plaque and Antarctica was on the top! Since we were in the southern hemisphere and the wind was from the south, the orientation of the globe for this artist was the opposite of what we were used to.
Each of these little stops was eating into our time and we really needed to be making time towards the ferry. Back on the bikes we straight lined it to the ferry and made it in plenty of time. Phew! As we pulled up to the ferry station, we had a little time to look around. There it was in front of us, the Straights of Magellan! Choppy waters awaited us but the ferry had not yet arrived. We looked for the dock, but none was to be found. This ferry was to arrive, pull up to the asphalt that ran to the ocean and drop a ramp to allow us to embark and other vehicles to disembark.
After about an hour of waiting, the ferry came into view. There was quite a strong current and the ferry had to crab heavily in order to run itself aground at close to a 90 degree angle. Seconds after it landed, the ramp came down revealing a heavily loaded ferry with several tractor trailer rigs and many cars waiting to unload. However, it was clear that the loading and unloading had been done many times before and it wasn’t long before it was our turn to board the ferry for the crossing of the straits and landfall at Tierra del Fuego where we’ll take you in part 15.
Ride 2 Adventure – Shrink the Planet One Ride At A Time
Ride To The End Of The World – Fin del Mundo (Part 13) Video Shots
So you’ve seen a lot of pictures and read quite a bit of our story in the Ride To The End of The World – Fin del Mundo. But sometimes, words and pictures take a back seat to being there. Here are a few video shots that bring you on our ride to Torres del Paine’, hopefully putting you on the bike with us.
We had stopped at a rather remote border crossing at the Argentina/Chile Border. The wind was way up and non-stop, in fact, it was so up, that the border guards stopped what they were doing, came out of the border facility with their cameras just to waive us through and wish us luck on our ride. What an experience!
Wind at the Argentinian Border from Mike & Kim Botan on Vimeo.
You must also remember the moments I spoke about in Part 11 where my attention was divided by the beautiful mountains, winding road, pristine blue lakes and grazing guanacos. Well let me take you there for a few seconds to see for yourself.
A Great View At Torres del Paine with Guanacos from Mike & Kim Botan on Vimeo.
Thanks for riding with us!
Mike and Kim
Ride 2 Adventure – Shrink the Planet One Ride At A Time
Ride To The End Of The World – Fin del Mundo (Part 10)
We glided over the paved narrow two lane following the contours of the fjord. The mountains rose even higher around us and the peaks were covered in a gleaming white snow. The brightly shining sun bounced from mountain top to the water’s surface and back creating a spectacular sparkle. Sunglasses were indeed necessary as we wended our way closer to the Perito Moreno glacier.
We stopped at a little toll booth at the entrance to the park and paid a small fee to see what would be yet another marvel on this trip. Just a few more miles down this winding and now forested road, lay an icy giant, silent and seemingly unmoving, yet amazingly powerful.
At road’s end, we found ourselves in a fairly large parking lot complete with a few tour busses and hundreds of cars. A couple of well maintained and new buildings sat to our left, providing places to eat and relax at what is one of Argentina’s natural treasures. There were several walking paths and we randomly chose one that split the two buildings.
Soon we were on an elevated and grated walking trail above the surface of the ground, heading along the water and then… There it was, the first close up sight of the Perito Moreno glacier. Just the far end was in bright sun and the remainder was in shadow, but the size and the power of the glacier could not be hidden.
Giant spires of ice rose from the face of the glacier like the pikes of an advancing ice army. As we got closer, the shadows could no longer hide the spires and they became clearer and larger. The immensity of this frozen monolith was as apparent as its ability to act as an irresistible force of nature. As the sun navigated its way in and out of the clouds, the ice sparkled, and the snow changed from dark grey to gleaming white, changed merely by the passing of clouds and will of the wind. Nature could indeed paint pictures using its own natural pallete.
We lazily walked our way closer towards this awesome sight on the elevated metal corrugated carpet, eyes riveted to the ice and snow. Just when we thought we’d seen it all, almost right in front of us, a grey fox rambled by us, not so much in a rush to hide from us, but more interested in finding a tasty morsel to dine upon. We were truly getting the whole show today.
As close as we could get to the glacier on our man made walkway, it was nothing compared to the up close and personal look we would get from the giant sized catamaran that would take us to within 100 feet of the glacier. As the time for departure approached, we eagerly boarded in anticipation of catching the aura of the glacier.
We were not disappointed as we slowly cruised out to the glacier. It was far better to slowly cruise out to it. The mountains framed the glacier perfectly and the passing clouds provided a cottony backdrop. Never had white taken on some many different shades. White ice, white snow and white clouds were all different shades of white and they were perfectly offset by the black of the rocky mountains and grey blue of the sea and the sky.
After about ten minutes of cruising, we reached the glacier. For a brief period of time, the giant catamaran turned off the engines and the glacier came alive. At times, we could hear the ice creak and groan as if it were restless and yearning to move faster. A cool and sometimes downright cold wind flowed from the top of the glacier and spilled over the edge like a waterfall of cooled air. Jackets were zipped and hats securely fastened in response to the glacier’s cold heartbeat of air.
So while we stood and stared in awe, we heard a gigantic crack like a single clap of thunder and a then a slight rumble. About 500 yards away, a large chunk of ice had wrested itself free of the glacier’s face and plummeted to the water below. We saw but did not hear the gigantic splash made by the ice and the waves generated by the bus sized chunk of ice now floating before us. It was an awesome sight. We were on a nature overdose and loving every moment of it.
But like all good things, our time at the glacier passed so very quickly. Soon it would be time to start our ride back to our little hotel in El Calefate for the night. As we walked back to the bikes, we marveled at how much we had seen in such a short period of time and how much we had enjoyed ourselves already. But still, we had a two hour ride back through gorgeous country to the hotel to look forward to. Not bad, not too bad at all.
After what seemed to be a very quick night’s sleep, we were back on the road early and covering some significant miles on mountainous yet smooth pavement. We swooped around corners and leapt over the tops of the mountains and dove down their backs. Four hours of pavement passed almost instantaneously.
But almost as suddenly as the road had been smooth and mountainous, we entered the plains again and were back on gravel. As much as we had enjoyed the pavement, it was good to be back on the gravel and heading into some remote areas again. As the mountains began to fade, the wind began to increase and once again we found ourselves crabbing into a steady wind with our 2 wheeled craft.
But we would not be too long without our friends the mountains, for we were headed to Torres del Paine and the most impressively beautiful mountain sunsets we have ever seen. We’ll take you there in Part 11.
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.
Ride 2 Adventure – Shrink the Planet One Ride At A Time
Ride To The End Of The World – Fin del Mundo (Part 8)
Having sneaked our way into El Chalten in the midst of a snow and rain storm, we had been quite pleased to make it to our comfy little hotel snuggled in the back of this hiking and trekking town. The rooms were small and spartan, but they were indeed warm and inviting and we took off our cold and damp riding gear and put on some nice dry warm clothes. It just felt good to be out of the wet and wind.
We hung around our little hotel catching glimpses out the back picture window of the hotel of what was supposed to be beautiful mountain scenery. But rushing clouds and quick bursts of sun only served to tease us with a quick sighting of a sheer rock wall or shining ice, which would almost immediately become engulfed in a roiling mass of heavy wet cloud. If these gringos wanted to see the mountain scenery, they were going to have to be patient.
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.
- Torres del Paine is out there…
- Torres del Paine escapes from the clouds
- Some of the peaks of Torres del Paine
- Torres del Paine
- Our little hotel. Second from the left.
- The hand painted tiles in the side of the house.
- Close up fo the hand painted tiles in the side of the house.
- Cave paintings on the side of a house.
- A look up at the plateau from El Chalten
- The view from the plateau down onto El Chalten.
- The view from the plateau down onto El Chalten.
- The entry road into the town within the town of El Chalten.
- The entry road into the town within the town of El Chalten.
- El Chalten ambassador.
- El Chalten ambassador.
- El Chalten ambassador.
- El Chalten ambassador.
- Locals working on their homes in the chilly wind.
- Kim with Waldo in the background heading for cover.
- Where’s Waldo? Can you see him?
- Where’s Waldo? Can you see him?
- Locals chatting in native garb.
- Not so local in partial native garb.
- Not Waldo.
It began to get a little later in the evening so we decided to stroll into town as the days wind started to diminish as did the rays of the sun. Whether it was it the setting sun taking pity on us or the spirits that surround El Chalten, something seemed to want to take pity on us and the rain and snow stopped as quickly as it had started and the clouds raced away to parts unknown. For as we walked out of our place of respite and looked behind us, two towering behemoths came into view. Pointed and sharp as only newly minted mountains can be, they pointed skyward, appearing to rend the clouds from the sky. Then a third smaller pike came into view, these rock monoliths were not to be ignored, they wanted their presence known.
They had made their points. We stood there slack jawed, clicking pictures at alarming tourist rates. It was a conundrum of sorts. I wanted to take pictures to have memories, but I didn’t want to experience the sight solely through the limited view of a camera lens. I must have looked pretty foolish, camera up, camera down, camera up, camera down. The net result, fuzzy pictures and an even fuzzier remembrance of the exciting scene. Next time I’ll have to choose.
Ultimately, we were able to tear ourselves away from the scene and do a little strolling, get some dinner and even a little shopping done in town. Kim got some fun things and even I got something that you’ll see later (shade your eyes and hide small children). We chatted with the shop keepers as best we could and even a couple of locals. Overall we had a pretty nice late afternoon in El Chalten but we were pretty tired from the day of riding in the weather so after filling ourselves with empanadas, we headed back to the hotel for a good nights rest.
When we awoke the following morning the sun was out but the wind was again up. However, we weren’t going to let that stop us from investigating the rest of El Chalten. We’d heard that as well as being a climbing and hiking center, El Chalten also had a reputation for being a bit of a hippie throw back town. This we had to see.
So we started out after breakfast and just started walking around the small mostly dirt streets. Houses were in varying condition from very good to not very good, but everyone in the town seemed to be in good spirits and even though the town did not seem affluent by any stretch of the imagination, people seemed to take pride in what they owned and they tried to make their places look nice. Some folks were very creative in their decoration.
Hand painted tiles were fitted into the sides of buildings leaving a rather beautiful adornment to what would otherwise be a very plain house. Another had used stencils to make “cave paintings” on the side of their house. There was just a great deal of creativity amongst the townspeople. But we would find even more later in the day.
As we walked to the back of the town, we found a staircase that led up to the top of a plateau. You could see that it led up, but you couldn’t ultimately see where it was leading to. So curiosity obviously not under control, we marched our way up the stairs to the top of the plateau and found… another town!
Yes, there was another little town within the town of El Chalten. It had a glorious view of the town below as well as the surrounding mountains. It was breathtaking. But there was more to come. This town was just being built and many of the houses had yet to be completed. Some were actively under construction while others seemed to be waiting for their next phase to commence.
But what was really cool about this little town within a town was that each street had its own ambassador waiting to greet you as you entered. Hand crafted from whatever was available, there were statutes of birds, bicyclists, guitar players, skiers, and whatever the towns people felt would be a nice welcome to their little street. It was great to see that the residents of this little town had taken the time to build a little more charm, a warm welcome for themselves and everyone who came to visit them. It was great!
There was also another ambassador of sorts. An Old English sheepdog that had a habit of sneaking around following Kim wherever we went, but never got close enough for her to pet. He must have been the shy type. But he did indeed turn up in several pictures, pictures that I didn’t know he was in when I was taking them. He was sort of like a Where’s Waldo dog!
We enjoyed ourselves immensely up on the little plateau taking pictures and strolling the streets with Waldo. Ultimately we had to head back to the hotel because the wind was still up and it was getting chilly. So back down the stairs we went and we spied a couple of the locals chatting in local clothing. I just loved the look of their local garments. It make me aware of the fact that I was in Argentina where there are still Gauchos! Awesome.
As we made our way back to the hotel, we were thankful for all that we were able to see and do in El Chalten. We’d enjoyed every minute we’d been there, and tomorrow, rain (or snow) or shine or heavy wind, we were headed off to El Calafate where we’ll take you in Part 10.
Ride 2 Adventure – Shrink the Planet One Ride At A Time
KTM Releases Videos of 1190 Adventure
The adventure riding market segment is indeed becoming a very crowded one. First KTM leaks the news of their new 1190 Adventure, then later formally announces it. BMW announces its new water cooled GS1200 and Honda announces that it is returning to Dakar with a CRF450 based rally bike. Phew! Is it hot in here or what?
Well apparently KTM doesn’t think its hot enough in the kitchen and has released these two videos of the 1190A in action to turn up the heat even more. So take a look-see and decide whether you need to turn on the air conditioning.
So BMW, what have you got up your sleeve to turn up the heat a bit?
Show Us Your R2ADV Stickers! Vermont Style!
Here’s our next picture from Fred Scott, AKA Fredo. If you look closely, he’s the subject of an article elsewhere in R2ADV and he really deserved it. Well Fredo has taken the time to show off his R2ADV stick VERMONT style. I’m sure that sticker will be out on the gravel and in the woods, covered in mud pretty soon! What more could R2ADV ask for? So Fredo, thanks for showing us your sticker, you do us proud at R2ADV and the Green Mountain State of Vermont!!!
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
Show Us Your R2ADV Stickers! Texas Style!
Here’s our next picture from William Rich. He’s out there and showing his R2ADV stuff off! Way to go William! Thanks for showing us your sticker, you do us proud in the great state of Texas!!!
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
Stats for September 27, 2012
Thanks to you all, we continue to grow. As of the 27th of September 2012, we have been viewed in 81 countries, an increase of 3 countries since last month. We have 23o followers, an increase of 10 followers and the site has been viewed over 17,000 times an increase of 3,000 visits. Thank you so very, very much! If you have any ideas on what you’d like to see, please leave a comment or send us an email at ridetoadv@gmail.com and we’ll see what we can do.
Want to see where you are all from? Well here you go:
Show Us Your R2ADV Stickers!
Here’s our second sticker picture from our faithful Charter member Willy Maria Lopez from Florida, USA. Thanks Willy for showing us your sticker, it looks great on your vehicle!!!
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
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







































































































































































































