|
|
||||
Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog
The Just One More Mile story of Paul's Trans Americas 2009 motorcycle expedition.Tuesday, 18 August 2009
Into John Wayne country...
Today is a relatively short day, with just over 200 miles or so to Moab, Utah, so Kevin instructed us not to leave before 9am, so that we wouldn't arrive too early and have to hang around outside the hotel in all our bike gear until the rooms were ready. Then he proceeded to set off early himself, saying something about wanting to get a good spot to take some pictures...
As instructed, Nick and I waited to the departure time, and rode out of Vernal together. Across the plains towards the town of Dinosaur (yes, really... it's the home of the Dinosaur National Monument, which is a 60-mile round-trip detour, so we skipped that), where we took highway 64 towards Rangely. This section was fairly straight, passing across scorched fields and rolling hills, before we then took highway 139 towards Grand Junction and over the Douglas Pass. That's when things got a little more interesting, as the road started to wind it's way across more hills in a series of wide-open and fast sweeping bends. Nick was clearly in the groove, and our speed increased as we started to really enjoy the roads. At the start of the Douglas Pass, as the road started the long climb up to the 8,300 ft summit, we caught up a group of the others, including Max & Christine, Gerald and Andy, who were just behind a camper-van, sandwiched between it and a pick-up. As we lined up an overtake, 4 deer broke from the woods atop a steep sandy bank to the left, and ran down and across the road, right in front of the camper-van and bikes. Good job everyone was alert, as brake lights went on and the deer were allowed to cross safely. With everyone slowed down, Nick and I managed to get passed and then saw Kevin further up the road, kneeling down with camera in hand – clearly some exciting bends were coming up... By now were were fully warmed up from the ride to the start of the pass, and the mixture of switchbacks, open and tight bends were challenging but great fun, as Nick and I both rode hard over the pass, fast but in control. Once down the other side, we pulled to the side of the road to chill and chatted like schoolboys after an exciting game of football, recounting the bends in a flurry of excitement. I'd had my MP3 player on, but only noticed when we stopped as I was concentrating so hard on the ride, I could have sworn the only thing I heard was the noise of my engine. Great fun, and we have to take advantage of these roads whilst we can, because once we cross into Mexico the riding will take on an entirely different flavour, from sheer enjoyment to sheer survival, I suspect...
After we cleared the valley and came down off the final section of the Douglas Pass, the landscape did another of those amazing switch-like changes, with the rolling hillside giving way to flat plain. So dramatic was the change, that I pulled over at the side of the road to take a couple of photos, first looking back at the hills hiding the jewel of the Douglas Pass, and then forward to the road disappearing into the distance...
The remainder of the ride was more sedate, the straight roads lending themselves to riding chilled out, listening to the tunes on my MP3 player and enjoying the warmth of the sun, the temperature rising with every mile. Nick pulled over to take some video shots, so we got separated for a while and I rode on alone, through Loma and onto Interstate 70 (think “motorway”), where there was no choice but to relax into the ride, feet up on the engine bars to relieve my tired knees and feet. The route notes mentioned a view point and toilet, which I determined would be my next stop, and just after crossing the state line back into Utah (having crossed into Colorado around Dinosaur) there it was. The scenery was expansive, the distant mountains we'd crossed visible in the haze, but not making a great picture. I took the opportunity to eat some of the snacks I'd brought, and before long Nick, Chris and Danielle all joined me in the rest area. With appetite abated for a while, and plenty of fluids on board, we rejoined the interstate, riding in formation until we reached exit 214 for Cisco, and the jem of a road into Moab (which was signposted as being many miles further along the interstate, but Kevin had found a much better riding road for us to take). This little road was barely 2 lanes wide, and completely devoid of traffic. So much so, that I decided it was a good time to stop again for another photo, to show just how remote we were, so with the bike parked in the centre of the road on its centre stand, I did just that...
You might be thinking that doesn't look like a particularly good road for riding bikes on, and you'd be right, except that we turned off onto highway 128 a little bit further on, and that road dropped us down off the plateau, through an area used for many of the John Wayne westerns, and then through over the Colorado river, at the site of an old bridge, and then alongside the river, the rocks around us changing from the burnt sand colour of further north to the deep red of southern Utah...
Our riding now was much slower, with frequent stops to take photos of the changing scenery with great big red rock buttresses and canyons all around, the river winding its way alongside the road. Quite beautiful...
At one point, Chris and I rode a short way down a dirt track, so he could take some pictures of me riding (I've not got copies of them yet), and then I got one of him as he rode out, looking like he should be on a horse and not a BMW GS motorcycle...
With the others then dropping back taking ever more photos and detours, I rode on into Moab and to the hotel, arriving around 1.15pm, far too early to check in. However, I was lucky as one of the rooms was ready and so I unloaded the bike and took a shower, changing into shorts and then dealing with emails and updating the blog for yesterday. When the rest of the group arrived, we were joined by another BMW GS, this time complete with side-car...
It was a father-and-son combination, the father taking his son to college on the west coast from their home on the east coast, going “the longer way round”. Wonder if it's a viable option for Tracy and me?
The next excitement came when Richard and Karen arrived, their rear tyre looking decidedly worn. After 5,400 miles or so, riding 2-up and with Richard's instinct for quick riding, they'd worn out the rear tyre. With Karen unpacking, he rode off in search of a replacement. Now, Moab is a tiny little town, popular with tourists visiting nearby Arches, Canyonlands and Deadhorse National Parks, and not a buzzing metropolis full of motorcycle dealerships and tyre fitters. We were therefore very surprised when about half an hour later, he returned with a new Metzeler Tourance under his arm. Ok, he'd not found anyone to fit it, but he had found a brand new tyre, exactly the same type and size as the worn-out one. With the new tyre procured, it was time to enrol Jeff the Van Man, expert overlander and tyre-fitter. If you've never seen a tyre fitted in a hotel car park, as opposed to Kwik-Fit, the following instructional photos should help explain the process. Hover your mouse over them for a description of what they show. Hope you find this as riveting as I did (I stayed to watch and take the pictures, despite Kevin offering a cool beer in a bar he knew just down the road)...
At this point, the rim is now completely devoid of a tyre, and should be cleaned, and examined for damage, the spokes checked, etc... Then, after applying a little washing up liquid to the bead of the new tyre, it's time to fit it...
Step 10 (no photo): Take it to a garage and use their air-hose to inflate the tyre, the extra pressure available should be enough to force the bead onto the rim.
Now, imagine trying to do that in the pouring rain, in a remote village in Central America... let's hope we don't have to...
With the tyre replacement almost complete, I headed to the bar to join Kevin, Julia and Nick. On arriving at the bar I was met by a big guy who introduced himself as Frankie D, the owner of the bar, and he promised me cold beer. And then delivered it, a cool pint of “Uinta Cutthroat”, brewed in Salt Lake City by a wind-powered brewery (no sniggering, please...). It was delicious. He then went on to try and convince us to stay and eat, proclaiming his ribs and chicken to be “superb”. Nick went to investigate the kitchens with Frankie, and some time later sample plates of chicken and ribs were produced, and they were fantastic, the meat just dropping off the bones at the slightest touch. But tonight is a Globebuster's group meal, and a table had already been booked. So after a few beers (rather too many for a pre-dinner session) and a few games of pool, we wandered back to the hotel and met up with the rest of the group, then walked up town to Eddie McStiffs, chosen more for the comedy-value of the name than the food, although the food was pretty good. But the highlight of the evening was Jim's poem. Jim, my roomie and the most laid-back American I've ever met (and that's saying something), is the only rider not riding a BMW GS motorcycle of one flavour or another (we have 2 x 800 GS, 3 x 1150 GS and the rest are 1200 GS, there being a mixture of standard and Adventure models). He's riding a Suzuki 650 V-Strom and getting an awful lot of stick about it (I increased its value once by using it to hold up my washing line, proving it's not all bad). This is his poem, an “Ode to the GS”...
Ode to the GS
"The Beemer GS is an adventure for sure,
No young punks please, you must be mature.
Built in Bavaria by an Arian team
It’s a long distance rider’s very wet dream.
With an eye for detail and a mind for invention
The designers created a grand penile extension.
Big and industrial, and great for off-road
It carries two people and all of their load.
Its legend is real, its history extensive
Although it’s not pretty, at least it’s expensive."
Quite...
After the meal, a few of us returned to Frankie D's for more beer and pool, desperately trying to improve our game ready for the inevitable tournament in latin America...
As instructed, Nick and I waited to the departure time, and rode out of Vernal together. Across the plains towards the town of Dinosaur (yes, really... it's the home of the Dinosaur National Monument, which is a 60-mile round-trip detour, so we skipped that), where we took highway 64 towards Rangely. This section was fairly straight, passing across scorched fields and rolling hills, before we then took highway 139 towards Grand Junction and over the Douglas Pass. That's when things got a little more interesting, as the road started to wind it's way across more hills in a series of wide-open and fast sweeping bends. Nick was clearly in the groove, and our speed increased as we started to really enjoy the roads. At the start of the Douglas Pass, as the road started the long climb up to the 8,300 ft summit, we caught up a group of the others, including Max & Christine, Gerald and Andy, who were just behind a camper-van, sandwiched between it and a pick-up. As we lined up an overtake, 4 deer broke from the woods atop a steep sandy bank to the left, and ran down and across the road, right in front of the camper-van and bikes. Good job everyone was alert, as brake lights went on and the deer were allowed to cross safely. With everyone slowed down, Nick and I managed to get passed and then saw Kevin further up the road, kneeling down with camera in hand – clearly some exciting bends were coming up... By now were were fully warmed up from the ride to the start of the pass, and the mixture of switchbacks, open and tight bends were challenging but great fun, as Nick and I both rode hard over the pass, fast but in control. Once down the other side, we pulled to the side of the road to chill and chatted like schoolboys after an exciting game of football, recounting the bends in a flurry of excitement. I'd had my MP3 player on, but only noticed when we stopped as I was concentrating so hard on the ride, I could have sworn the only thing I heard was the noise of my engine. Great fun, and we have to take advantage of these roads whilst we can, because once we cross into Mexico the riding will take on an entirely different flavour, from sheer enjoyment to sheer survival, I suspect...
After we cleared the valley and came down off the final section of the Douglas Pass, the landscape did another of those amazing switch-like changes, with the rolling hillside giving way to flat plain. So dramatic was the change, that I pulled over at the side of the road to take a couple of photos, first looking back at the hills hiding the jewel of the Douglas Pass, and then forward to the road disappearing into the distance...
The remainder of the ride was more sedate, the straight roads lending themselves to riding chilled out, listening to the tunes on my MP3 player and enjoying the warmth of the sun, the temperature rising with every mile. Nick pulled over to take some video shots, so we got separated for a while and I rode on alone, through Loma and onto Interstate 70 (think “motorway”), where there was no choice but to relax into the ride, feet up on the engine bars to relieve my tired knees and feet. The route notes mentioned a view point and toilet, which I determined would be my next stop, and just after crossing the state line back into Utah (having crossed into Colorado around Dinosaur) there it was. The scenery was expansive, the distant mountains we'd crossed visible in the haze, but not making a great picture. I took the opportunity to eat some of the snacks I'd brought, and before long Nick, Chris and Danielle all joined me in the rest area. With appetite abated for a while, and plenty of fluids on board, we rejoined the interstate, riding in formation until we reached exit 214 for Cisco, and the jem of a road into Moab (which was signposted as being many miles further along the interstate, but Kevin had found a much better riding road for us to take). This little road was barely 2 lanes wide, and completely devoid of traffic. So much so, that I decided it was a good time to stop again for another photo, to show just how remote we were, so with the bike parked in the centre of the road on its centre stand, I did just that...
You might be thinking that doesn't look like a particularly good road for riding bikes on, and you'd be right, except that we turned off onto highway 128 a little bit further on, and that road dropped us down off the plateau, through an area used for many of the John Wayne westerns, and then through over the Colorado river, at the site of an old bridge, and then alongside the river, the rocks around us changing from the burnt sand colour of further north to the deep red of southern Utah...
Our riding now was much slower, with frequent stops to take photos of the changing scenery with great big red rock buttresses and canyons all around, the river winding its way alongside the road. Quite beautiful...
At one point, Chris and I rode a short way down a dirt track, so he could take some pictures of me riding (I've not got copies of them yet), and then I got one of him as he rode out, looking like he should be on a horse and not a BMW GS motorcycle...
With the others then dropping back taking ever more photos and detours, I rode on into Moab and to the hotel, arriving around 1.15pm, far too early to check in. However, I was lucky as one of the rooms was ready and so I unloaded the bike and took a shower, changing into shorts and then dealing with emails and updating the blog for yesterday. When the rest of the group arrived, we were joined by another BMW GS, this time complete with side-car...
It was a father-and-son combination, the father taking his son to college on the west coast from their home on the east coast, going “the longer way round”. Wonder if it's a viable option for Tracy and me?
The next excitement came when Richard and Karen arrived, their rear tyre looking decidedly worn. After 5,400 miles or so, riding 2-up and with Richard's instinct for quick riding, they'd worn out the rear tyre. With Karen unpacking, he rode off in search of a replacement. Now, Moab is a tiny little town, popular with tourists visiting nearby Arches, Canyonlands and Deadhorse National Parks, and not a buzzing metropolis full of motorcycle dealerships and tyre fitters. We were therefore very surprised when about half an hour later, he returned with a new Metzeler Tourance under his arm. Ok, he'd not found anyone to fit it, but he had found a brand new tyre, exactly the same type and size as the worn-out one. With the new tyre procured, it was time to enrol Jeff the Van Man, expert overlander and tyre-fitter. If you've never seen a tyre fitted in a hotel car park, as opposed to Kwik-Fit, the following instructional photos should help explain the process. Hover your mouse over them for a description of what they show. Hope you find this as riveting as I did (I stayed to watch and take the pictures, despite Kevin offering a cool beer in a bar he knew just down the road)...
At this point, the rim is now completely devoid of a tyre, and should be cleaned, and examined for damage, the spokes checked, etc... Then, after applying a little washing up liquid to the bead of the new tyre, it's time to fit it...
Step 10 (no photo): Take it to a garage and use their air-hose to inflate the tyre, the extra pressure available should be enough to force the bead onto the rim.
Now, imagine trying to do that in the pouring rain, in a remote village in Central America... let's hope we don't have to...
With the tyre replacement almost complete, I headed to the bar to join Kevin, Julia and Nick. On arriving at the bar I was met by a big guy who introduced himself as Frankie D, the owner of the bar, and he promised me cold beer. And then delivered it, a cool pint of “Uinta Cutthroat”, brewed in Salt Lake City by a wind-powered brewery (no sniggering, please...). It was delicious. He then went on to try and convince us to stay and eat, proclaiming his ribs and chicken to be “superb”. Nick went to investigate the kitchens with Frankie, and some time later sample plates of chicken and ribs were produced, and they were fantastic, the meat just dropping off the bones at the slightest touch. But tonight is a Globebuster's group meal, and a table had already been booked. So after a few beers (rather too many for a pre-dinner session) and a few games of pool, we wandered back to the hotel and met up with the rest of the group, then walked up town to Eddie McStiffs, chosen more for the comedy-value of the name than the food, although the food was pretty good. But the highlight of the evening was Jim's poem. Jim, my roomie and the most laid-back American I've ever met (and that's saying something), is the only rider not riding a BMW GS motorcycle of one flavour or another (we have 2 x 800 GS, 3 x 1150 GS and the rest are 1200 GS, there being a mixture of standard and Adventure models). He's riding a Suzuki 650 V-Strom and getting an awful lot of stick about it (I increased its value once by using it to hold up my washing line, proving it's not all bad). This is his poem, an “Ode to the GS”...
Ode to the GS
"The Beemer GS is an adventure for sure,
No young punks please, you must be mature.
Built in Bavaria by an Arian team
It’s a long distance rider’s very wet dream.
With an eye for detail and a mind for invention
The designers created a grand penile extension.
Big and industrial, and great for off-road
It carries two people and all of their load.
Its legend is real, its history extensive
Although it’s not pretty, at least it’s expensive."
Quite...
After the meal, a few of us returned to Frankie D's for more beer and pool, desperately trying to improve our game ready for the inevitable tournament in latin America...
posted by Paul # 23:23 
Archives
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]