This is a tale of two amazing rides. One threads its way through some of Northern California’s beautiful wine, lake, and hill country. The other winds its way through my very being to the center of my heart. 

Recently, my wife and I traveled to California’s Sonoma wine country to attend a ceremony in which our son‑­in‑­law, Lt. Col. Joffre Lander, assumed command of a squadron at Travis Air Force Base. Since I don’t like to be far from a motorcycle when traveling, I took my BMW G 650 X‑­Country along for the trip. 

A Wine Country Loop

During a lull in the military and familial activities, I snuck the BMW out for a loop ride through the golden hills and grapevine‑­lined terrain in the Sonoma region. I rolled out of Vacaville on Interstate 80 to reach the sweeping corners of narrow, scenic Wooden Valley Road, which is lined by trees and passes through rolling grasslands and vineyards. 

The turn onto State Route 121 provided even more varied terrain as rock outcroppings added texture to the ride. Various wineries staked their claims with stone archways and beckoning signage. As SR-121 morphed into State Route 12 on my approach to the town of Sonoma, the density of wineries increased.

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When I threw down my kickstand at Sonoma Plaza, I had no idea of the historical significance of the town of just over 10,000 souls. Across the street from the beautiful centerpiece park rests the Sonoma State Historic Park, which is a cluster of historic sites. It’s an open and easy stroll through locations like the Mission San Francisco Solano, Sonoma Barracks, Toscano Hotel & Kitchen, and other fascinating buildings. 

After walking back to the vibrant green shade of the 8‑­acre Sonoma Plaza, I stood in the shadow of the impressive Bear Flag Monument, which commemorates the spot where the Bear Flag Party raised the Bear Flag and declared California free from Mexican rule in 1846. After a walk around Sonoma City Hall in the center of the plaza, I continued my clockwise loop ride. 

See all of Rider‘s California U.S. tour stories here.

SR‑­12 led me to Trinity Road and other narrow, winding byways that are thoroughly entertaining, curvaceous rolls beneath trees, beside cliffs, and over hills, often with panoramic views. 

After passing through Oakville and Rutherford, I headed farther east on State Route 128. This stretch was arguably the most beautiful part of an already spectacular ride. I rolled past Lake Hennessy, Lake Berryessa, and several family wineries. Finally, I headed south back to Vacaville and to my daughter’s home. Would this be the end of my tale? Hardly.

A First Long Ride

In 2011, I welcomed my first granddaughter into this world. I vividly remember the overwhelming love I felt when I held little Skya for the first time. The tiny black‑­haired treasure in my arms was so perfect and so lovely that I was instantly and indelibly smitten. 

Over the dozen years since she was born, I have taken Skya on many short motorcycle rides around the yard or the block with her planted securely in front of me on the saddle. She has grown from a fragile cherub to a vibrant, smart, lovely pre‑­teen, and motorcycle rides have been a vital part of our deep and loving connection. 

On this occasion, Skya was waiting when I rolled into my daughter’s garage. As we sat and talked, it became clear she was ready for her first longer motorcycle ride. Parental permission was secured, and I fitted Skya in my wife’s riding gear. We discussed what it takes to be a safe and secure passenger on the back of a motorcycle.

With a wave to her mother and grandmother, Skya and I headed north for a loop ride. Almost instantly, she found the groove and became a settled “sack of potatoes” on the back of the BMW. The repeated portion of my earlier route took on a new significance as I could feel the wonder Skya was experiencing. She would occasionally tap me to point things out, and as we flipped up our faceshields to talk, I could see the joy in her green eyes. 

We stopped often to decide on routes, take in views, and just chat. At one stop, I pointed out the smooth, pale hills on the horizon. I mentioned that they reminded me of Hills Like White Elephants, a short story by Ernest Hemingway, and I recommended that she read it someday. Back on the motorcycle, Skya chose the routes, including a long road to a dead end that gave us both a laugh. 

I have ridden thousands of miles in my lifetime, and the miles that Skya and I shared that day are some of the most significant. We agreed that when she gets a few more years under her belt, we will reconvene for an extended ride. We can’t wait.

See all of Rider‘s touring stories here.

Sonoma Motorcycle Rides Resources

• Sonoma County Tourism
• Sonoma State Historic Park

The post Sonoma Motorcycle Rides, On My Own and With Family | Favorite Ride appeared first on Rider Magazine.

West of Gunnison, Colorodo, U.S. Route 50 was closed. We’d seen signs about the closure for at least 100 miles. Those signs were for other people, right? We’d planned to stay on the famous Colorado byway through the Grand Mesa, Uncompahgre and Gunnison National Forests as long as we could. But as we approached Gunnison, our shoulders slumped with the reality that the signs were for us. We’d have to rethink our whole route. And the weather was starting to look iffy.

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At the Gunnison County Chamber of Commerce, a note taped to the door underscored the closure. We went inside, paper roadmap in hand. At the desk, the clerk proffered her own map, opening it in front of us. She and John pored over it like kids seeking clues to lost treasure.

She confirmed that U.S. 50 was closed and suggested State Route 149 instead. It had less traffic and was more beautiful, she assured us. We compared her map to the Butler map for the region. (Butler Motorcycle Maps highlight the best roads, rating them on twisties, traffic, road surface, etc.) SR‑­149 was G1 (gold), Butler’s highest rating – perfect!

After filling our water bottles, we headed to the gas station. SR‑­149 is quite rural, so we wanted to be prepared. As John filled our tanks and I surveyed the darkening skies, a bolt of lightning ripped through the clouds. Thunder crackled. A guy next to us gassing up his pickup was watching too.

“Hope you’re not going that way,” he said, nodding toward the storm.

“Not anymore,” I said.

We paid for our gas as the storm clouds gathered closer and closer. Thunder rumbled, and lightning struck from cloud to ground in the near distance. We sped back to the park next to the Chamber and ran for the cover of a gazebo. Just as we stepped under, buckets of rain dumped from the sky, and lightning dashed all around us. The thunder was so loud that we ducked our heads each time it clapped.

Celebrating our excellent timing, we stretched out to nap on top of the picnic tables just as two vans arrived and disgorged two dozen kids. It was the local mountain‑­biking camp escaping the weather. We were instantly surrounded by kids eating popsicles and playing a raucous game of tag. Now each thunderclap was accompanied by the ear‑­piercing screams of prepubescent mountain bikers. One of the camp counselors checked in on our welfare, asked about the bikes, and offered popsicles, which we accepted.

The lightning eventually abated, though the rain drizzled on. The camp counselors packed their charges and drove away. We wrestled into rainsuits and got back on the road.

Related: C. Jane Taylor | Ep. 45 Rider Magazine Insider Podcast

SR‑­149 was as wonderful as described: a narrow, almost abandoned two‑­lane road snaking seductively through the San Juan Mountains and the Rio Grande National Forest. The weather was cold and drizzling, but the road was curvy, and the air smelled like earth and springtime in New England. We were in motorcycle heaven.

Ten miles down the road, oncoming cars flashed their headlights, gesturing to slow down. Thinking they were trying to warn us about a cop, I laughed. It had taken me five years to get up to the speed limit. We continued with caution until a mudslide stopped us in our tracks. If we hadn’t been wearing helmets, we would have scratched our heads in a “Now what?” gesture. Like U.S. 50, it seemed SR‑­149 would soon be closed too, but we gingerly traversed the shallow edge of the slide at the far‑­left side of the road. Alert to the changes in road surface and rambunctious streams in the gullies flanking the road, we pushed forward like children anticipating candy at Halloween.

Instead of candy, we sought groceries as we rolled into Lake City and its tiny country store whose proprietors seemed to be a badly mismatched couple. The woman in long braids glared at us as if we’d tracked mud onto her freshly mopped floor, while the man – handsome in a Willie Nelson kind of way, if Willie Nelson could be considered handsome – happily greeted us, teasing about our florescent green rainsuits. “We are not men, we are Devo,” he joked in a robotic voice referencing the ’70s New Wave band famous for their quirky spaceman costumes. We bought vegetables, tortillas, and cheese for quesadillas we would cook once we found a campsite for the night.

Lake City is an eye‑­blink of an old mining town with the down‑­at‑­heel aspect of a climate-change ski resort in shoulder season. The cold, damp weather did not bring any charm to the Grizzly Adams cabins lining the road.

I attributed the town’s creepiness to its horror‑­movie sepia tones and bad weather, but I later learned that Lake City gained notoriety in 1875 when Alferd Packer, the “Colorado Cannibal,” was charged with killing and eating the prospectors he’d been hired to guide through the San Juan Mountains after the group had become snowbound. In the spring, five bodies with human teeth marks were found at the foot of Slumgullion Pass. Lake City’s Hinsdale County Museum has an extensive collection of Packer memorabilia, including a skull fragment from one of his victims and several buttons from the clothes of the five men he ate. The area where the bodies were discovered is now known as Cannibal Plateau. Odder still, the area hosts an annual Alferd Packer Jeep Tour and Barbecue.

My unease was supplanted by the fear and exhilaration of climbing out of town along steep, wet switchbacks to Windy Point Observation Site and Slumgullion Pass. As we climbed, I chimed into the headset, “Don’t look right, Johnny.” The narrow two‑­lane highway had no guardrail, and the drop-off induced a vertigo that made me tighten my grip on my handlebar and tank. At Windy Point, we stopped to look back at the long narrow valley thousands of feet below us.

Evening was approaching, and we were still in the middle of a sheer climb on our way to North Clear Creek Campground, a destination we were not sure even existed, but the sky finally opened, and the tight switchbacks loosened as we topped 11,530‑­foot Slumgullion Pass.

The map we consulted – and re‑­consulted – showed the campground within 50 miles. Trying to keep from being swept up in the National Geographic beauty of the broadening landscape, I kept my eyes peeled for a Forest Service campground sign. We were hungry and cold, and it was getting late. We’d passed so little traffic, I was game to pitch the tent at the side of the road, but John persisted.

We finally turned off SR‑­149 and crossed a cattle guard onto Forest Road 510, which fell away to vertiginous Class‑­IV switchbacks. I groaned but also laughed. It was the “dropping hour.” We have a joke that on extended motorcycle trips, we often face the most challenging miles of the day right before arriving at our destination exhausted and hungry. The road toyed with us. I inched down its sharp gravel turns, determined but cautious given the hour. As I eased down one hill, a young woman on a dirtbike blasted up it. Encouraged that there might be an actual campground ahead and inspired by another woman on a bike, I sped all the way up to 2nd gear!

After almost missing the 70‑­degree turn into the campground at the bottom of the hill and duck‑­walking the bikes back over sandy gravel ruts, we casually rolled into the nearly vacant campground and found a suitable spot with a picnic table, breathtaking panoramic views, and a glorious sunset reflected off the peaks of the Rio Grande National Forest.

The next morning was cold and clear. With visions of coffee and pastries dancing in our helmets, we headed toward Creede, home to an underground mining museum, the Mineral County Landfill, a cemetery, a chapel, and an excellent little food truck/coffee shop that appeared to be set up during the pandemic like a one‑­way street, with one entrance and one exit. The pastry case was filled with buttery French confections, the air with the scent of espresso. Bon appétit! We took our pastries to a table outside where we lounged, sipping cappuccinos in the sun.

The road along the Rio Grande – which far downstream serves as the border between Texas and Mexico – was as good as the croissants. At South Fork, we headed south on U.S. Route 160 and climbed to 10,856‑­foot Wolf Creek Pass. It was cold at elevation, and we encountered traffic and threatening weather, but the road was smooth, wide, and curvy through Pagosa Springs and Chimney Rock. We lunched in Durango after a torrential downpour trapped us under a busy highway underpass.

U.S. 160 through the mountains near Hesperus Ski Area was fabulous despite the cold and wet. Things got warmer as we descended out of the mountains, and by the time we got to Mancos, we were sweltering in the heat of the desert. We took off as much as we could and poured cold water down the backs of our armored jackets. Body temperature management was a challenge we had improved at over time.

In the blazing heat, we headed west on State Route 184 toward Dolores, then north on U.S. Route 491 past Yellow Jacket and into Canyons of the Ancients National Monument, administered by the Bureau of Land Management and inhabited almost solely by spirits. The road narrowed and then narrowed again. There is something gritty and fundamental about these small roads, something secret and unspoken like the second indents of an outline of one’s life or the dark side of the moon.

The heat kept building. As we crossed into Utah, the landscape gave way to a barren, flat emptiness without trees or buildings. We traveled in silent awe, feeling exposed in the heat but excited about the ruins of Hovenweep National Monument.

Known for six groups of Ancestral Puebloan villages, Hovenweep contains evidence of occupation by hunter‑­gatherers from 8,000 B.C. until AD 200. We were finally going to visit the spirits we’d been sensing on this hot road.

We turned into what seemed the middle of nowhere, but John assured me this was the way. I saw only shrubs, grasses, and sage until I glimpsed a sign the size of a sheet of paper with an arrow proving him right: Hovenweep National Monument. We traversed a lunar landscape of sand, craters, dead volcanoes, and lava flows until we happened upon a herd of wild horses in the middle of the road. We stopped to gape. Shy and beautiful, they paused in their grazing to examine us. Though I wanted to join these beasts on a romanticized journey out of a dream, we had to keep moving. Standing still in the late afternoon heat was a torture neither of us wanted to endure – magical, wild horses notwithstanding.

Reminiscent of Death Valley with its lethal sun, long straightaways, and distant bluffs, Hovenweep Road also reminded me of the song by America “A Horse with No Name.” I started to understand the line “In the desert, you can’t remember your name.” In the heat and arid sameness of the landscape, time seemed to stop. I could tell we were moving, if only for the visual cue of the scenery receding in my mirror. I became flooded with the eerie sensation of being watched. It felt as if the ghosts of millennia were hovering just above the heat waves upwelling from the macadam.

“Hovenweep” is a Paiute/Ute word meaning “deserted valley.” As we rode into the scorched campground, I sensed that the ancestors were still there. A clan of attentive ravens seemed to be protectors – or just eager to see what food they could liberate from us.

After pouring rationed water onto our heads and down our backs, we hiked off to see the ruins, following a faint path between rock walls leading to a dry creek bed. Walking fast to beat the setting sun, we climbed down into the creek bed then up the other side until we saw what looked like a crumbling brick silo. Hovenweep at last! As we gazed in silence at the majestic ruins of a once‑­lively community, a rainbow broke through distant storm clouds. Back at our campsite, we cooked dinner in the waning light as a million stars began to wink.

See all of Rider‘s touring stories here.

The post Riding From Gunnison, Colorado, to Hovenweep National Monument appeared first on Rider Magazine.

Moab, Utah, is an ideal destination for a motorcycle trip. Where else can you find sandstone arches, red‑­walled canyons, snow‑­capped mountains, scenic byways, two national parks, and a fun, adventure‑­ready town? The best time to visit is in the spring or fall because it’s often too hot in the summer and roads can get icy in the winter.

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Since I live in Denver, on the other side of the Rockies, part of the fun of visiting Moab is simply getting there. Heading west out of the city, U.S. Route 285 climbs the Front Range before passing through mountain towns like Conifer (8,277 feet), Bailey (7,740 feet), and Fairplay (9,954 feet).

Riding through the Rockies means going over mountain passes, and on the way to Fairplay, you’ll cruise over Kenosha Pass (9,997 feet) and Red Hill Pass (9,993 feet) before descending into a broad valley. Such grand vistas across open range show the true beauty of Colorado. Fairplay is an old mining town named after the notion that all miners should have an equal chance to stake a claim. It’s home to South Park City, an open‑­air museum preserving a 19th century mining town, including over 40 original buildings and thousands of artifacts from the boomtown days.

Continuing south on U.S. 285, the road becomes U.S. Route 24 at Antero Junction and goes south and then north through Buena Vista (7,925 feet) and Granite (9,012 feet). At Twin Lakes, turning west on State Route 82 takes you across the Continental Divide at Independence Pass (12,095 feet), where the air is thin and always chilly.

The long, winding descent to the ski town of Aspen is pure pleasure. SR‑­82 ends at Glenwood Springs, and the next 134 westward miles follow a curving section of Interstate 70. If you have the time, I recommend the scenic Rim Rock Drive through the Colorado National Monument among the high cliffs above Grand Junction.

See all of Rider‘s Colorado touring stories here.

After crossing into Utah, take the first Moab exit for State Route 128, which is a scenic byway that winds through a majestic red rock canyon carved by the Colorado River. Highlights include the stunning Fisher Tower and Castle Rock, a finger‑­like spiral to the southwest that’s been seen in many films and commercials. 

At milepost 14 on SR‑­128 is the Red Cliffs Lodge, built on the old George White Ranch, another location used in many Western films. If you’re a cowboy fan like me, visit the lodge’s Moab Museum of Film and Western Heritage to see production stills, movie posters, autographed scripts, props from movies filmed nearby, and displays about Western heritage. Lunch or dinner at The Cowboy Grill is highly recommended.

The key attractions in Moab are Arches and Canyonlands national parks. Arches, located just a few miles north of town, is the more popular of the two, and the nearly 20‑­mile paved road through the park takes you past a stunning array of sandstone arches, petrified dunes, and red rock formations.

Canyonlands is the largest national park in Utah, and its diversity staggers the imagination. The park is 32 miles from Moab and has 20 miles of paved roads with many pullouts offering spectacular views. The Island in the Sky sits atop a massive 1,500‑­foot‑­high mesa, and on a clear day you can see over 100 miles in any direction. Sunrise and sunset are particularly beautiful times of day to enjoy these panoramic views of canyon country.  

Scenic State Route 313 leads to both Canyonlands and Dead Horse Point State Park, which offers unforgettable views of deep canyons and cliffs overlooking the Colorado River. I recommend taking time to explore side trails to see different viewpoints in this one‑­of‑­a‑­kind area.

See all of Rider‘s Utah touring stories here.

The La Sal Mountain Loop, a 36‑­mile scenic road that starts at SR‑­128 near Red Cliffs Lodge and goes through Castle Valley, up into the La Sal Mountains, and then back down to Moab near Spanish Valley, is another great local ride.

Moab is an ideal base camp for lodging, dining, and other adventures such as whitewater rafting, hiking, mountain biking, and off‑­road riding and driving (you can rent Jeeps, ATVs, and side‑­by‑­sides). One of my favorite places to stay is the Red Stone Inn, a rustic but clean and affordable motel with a communal hot tub and picnic area and rooms with a TV, free wi‑­fi, and a mini kitchen.

Whether you travel across the Colorado Rockies, through the red‑­rock canyons of southern Utah, or take some other route to get there, put Moab on your “must visit” list. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

See all of Rider‘s touring stories here.

Denver to Moab Motorcycle Trip Resources:

• South Park City Museum, Fairplay, Colorado
• Colorado National Monument
• Discover Moab, Utah
• Red Cliffs Lodge
• Red Stone Inn
• Arches National Park
• Canyonlands National Park
• Dead Horse Point State Park

The post Motoring from Denver to Moab | Favorite Ride appeared first on Rider Magazine.

If you blindly follow your GPS, a Flagstaff to Albuquerque motorcycle ride is a 320‑­mile drone on Interstate 40. That’s fine if Point A to Point B is your only plan. However, most motorcyclists are suckers for interesting byways and intriguing places, and I am no exception. 

Embracing that character trait, I planned a convoluted ride that would add about 180 miles and several hours to this trip. I was not just adding saddle time; I was also adding several historically and culturally significant landmarks. Instead of simply slaloming through long‑­haul trucks on the freeway, I would make a loop through three national monuments near Flagstaff: Wupatki, Sunset Crater Volcano, and Walnut Canyon. Continuing east, I’d visit Meteor Crater, Standin’ on the Corner Park, Petrified Forest National Park, and in New Mexico, El Malpais National Monument.  

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Before that roundabout route, I needed to spend some time in my all‑­time favorite small city, Flagstaff. I lived some of my most memorable years in these mountains. I am a graduate of Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff, and any time I’m in the sky‑­high city is a personal joy. 

As I rolled through the campus for some serious reminiscing, many of the buildings brought back indelible memories. There is one location that is uniquely special. I spent my sophomore year in the school’s stately Old Main building when it was still a dormitory. Decades before I was a gleam in anyone’s eye, my parents took a photo on its iconic steps. The historic red Moenkopi sandstone building was constructed in the late 1800s and is the centerpiece of both the beautiful campus and my love for Flagstaff.  

After leaving the campus, I rode through Flagstaff’s charming downtown area. Iconic hotels in the area like the Hotel Monte Vista and the Weatherford cast a historic shade over the lively, rejuvenated entertainment and shopping district.

There is no shortage of things to do downtown, including the Orpheum Theater, many dining options, and unique specialty shops. The area is much more polished and refined than when I was in college. 

As an undergraduate, I spent a fair amount of time “studying” in various Flagstaff watering holes, like the venerable Museum Club. This time around, as I dropped the kickstand in front of the log‑­built establishment dating back to 1931, visions of live bands and lukewarm beer flooded my memories. Some of Flagstaff’s history was lost on me while matriculating, but the slightly more mature “me” appreciates the vintage, mountain‑­chic nature of the city that lies on historic Route 66. 

After leaving Flagstaff, I headed north on U.S. Route 89 toward the scenic loop through the first two national monuments slated for my ride. This first little spur of my wandering route to Albuquerque was more of a flyby, as I have visited both Wupatki and Sunset Crater Volcano in the past. 

See all of Rider‘s West U.S. touring stories here.

Near the northernmost point of what is fittingly called the Sunset Crater‑­Wupatki Loop Road is a significant archeological site. In the early 1100s, Pueblo communities built Wupatki, a bustling center of trade and culture. The site is well worth a walkabout. After looping farther through the otherworldly landscape of this part of northern Arizona, I came to Sunset Crater Volcano. You can see virtually the entirety of the park from the saddle along the loop road. Peering directly into the mouth of the cinder cone is no longer permitted due to foot traffic erosion; however, a long view of the nationally protected volcanic field is still a wonder to experience.

After completing the loop road, I headed east on I‑­40 for a skinny minute to the access road for a national monument I had not visited previously. Walnut Canyon is just a short jog off the interstate through pines, oaks, and junipers. The endgame is a visually stunning canyon environment rich in rugged natural beauty and early human history. I did not walk the park’s Island Trail, a strenuous one‑­hour hike past the early cliff dwellings; however, I took in the big‑­picture experience of the park’s rim trail, which offers great views of the dwellings and the rugged topography. 

At this point in my Flagstaff to Albuquerque motorcycle ride, I had been in the saddle or exploring for well over an hour, and I was only 8 miles outside of my original launching point. I did say I was not taking the most direct route to Albuquerque! My eastward trek resumed on I‑­40 and was exactly what freeway travel is designed to be: fast, efficient, and boring. My speedometer needle was pinned resolutely at 75 mph as I rolled through the tall pines of northern Arizona, which melted into junipers and then grasslands as I made my way toward the next attraction. 

About 40 miles out of Flagstaff, I came to the exit ramp for Meteor Crater. There are numerous “teaser” signs along the access route that are intended to build anticipation for the natural wonder at the road’s terminus. As I approached, I saw the ultimate teaser: an enormous raised, round “lip” that is evidence of the cosmic collision that occurred thousands of years ago. 

I rolled into the parking lot and secured my pass to see the crater. On my way to the viewing areas, I enjoyed a series of museums and displays that cover the history of space travel, hypothetical (corny?) representations of aliens, and the scientific nature of the meteor that found its way to earth some 50,000 years prior to my visit. 

As I finally made my way outside the facility to the viewpoints along the rim of the crater, the massive bowl did not disappoint. One cannot help but stand in awe of the impact that created the earthen wound. There are several vantage points from which to view the crater, as well as preset telescopes for a closer look at its interesting features. Well worth the visit.

With the cosmic pockmark fading in the rear views, I was back on the interstate for a quick jaunt. Most of this ride was a survey in ancient places, but there was a little musical interlude singing its siren song in downtown Winslow. I pulled up to the intersection of Route 66 and North Kinsley Avenue, now designated as Standin’ on the Corner Park, where a flatbed Ford was conspicuously parked. 

Sure, it’s kitschy, but for anyone who has crooned along with the 1972 Eagles song “Take It Easy,” it’s a must stop. I took the requisite photo with a bronze Glenn Frey and searched in vain for the girl in that flatbed Ford. Winslow is also home to the historic La Posada Hotel, the Old Trails Museum, and Homolovi State Park.

Again heading east, the next town of note into which I rolled was another Route 66 remnant. Just off Holbrook’s main drag rests an iconic mid‑­century attraction. Over a dozen large, conical teepees make up the historic Wigwam Motel. Those structures and the classic cars staged around the property beg for a visit and photos. 

Just 30 miles east of Holbrook is the exit for Petrified Forest National Park. I rode due south on what would be an extended departure from any interstate highway. After paying my entry fee, I rolled into a lunar‑­esque landscape rich in pastel hues and forever views. The road through the heart of the park is 26 miles of intrigue.

I stopped at Newspaper Rock, which features hundreds of ancient petroglyphs of animals, weapons, and humans. The etched figurines tell a fascinating story, including how the exaggerated endowment on the male stick figures speaks to the fact that men never change. 

At my next stop, the park’s Crystal Forest, I pulled off my gear for a walk among the massive petrified logs that lay strewn throughout the undulations of the walking path. The path is a sojourn into a prehistoric wonderland. Logs lay as massive, independent rounds as well as segmented pieces where they fell millions of years ago. 

Geared up again, I exited the park to the south and continued on the longest side leg of this elongated ride to Albuquerque. I rode through the remote eastern Arizona towns of St. Johns and Springerville before heading due east on U.S. Route 60 into New Mexico. The grasslands and high chaparral landscape are wide‑­open and beautiful, making for a fun Southwestern riding experience. 

At the small New Mexican town of Quemado, I stopped for a quick look at the tiny Catholic mission on the outskirts of the hamlet, one of many such historic missions in New Mexico, before heading north on State Route 36. The high‑­desert riding continued on State Route 117 until I came to the last of my planned stops. 

The Narrows is a striking rock rim feature within the El Malpais National Monument. The road follows that sheer rim for a nice stretch before the ledge eases and separates from the tarmac. The next notable feature is a picturesque natural rock bridge to the north of The Narrows. A short walk reveals the grandeur of the La Ventana Natural Arch. After a visit, my route rejoined the freeway for the final stretch to Albuquerque. 

Nope, this was certainly not the quickest Flagstaff to Albuquerque motorcycle ride, but it was infinitely more memorable. 

See all of Rider‘s touring stories here.

Flagstaff to Albuquerque Motorcycle Ride Resources

• Discover Flagstaff, Arizona
• Wupatki National Monument ($20 per motorcycle, includes Sunset Crater)
• Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument 
• Walnut Canyon National Monument ($20 per motorcycle)
• Meteor Crater & Barringer Space Museum ($22 per adult)
• Petrified Forest National Park ($15 per motorcycle)
• El Malpais National Monument (The Narrows)
• Visit Albuquerque, New Mexico

The post A Flagstaff to Albuquerque Motorcycle Ride on a Less Obvious Route appeared first on Rider Magazine.

There is just something about southern Oregon. It can be difficult to choose between the area’s rolling grasslands, towering evergreens, high mountain lakes, quaint villages, and vibrant entertainment opportunities. In fact, it’s so hard to decide that I didn’t. To sample the cornucopia of Pacific Northwest treats, I spent a few early June days on an Oregon motorcycle ride aboard a BMW G 650 X Country, a scrambler-styled variant of the single-cylinder G 650 platform sold in the late 2000s.

The largest city in southwestern Oregon, Medford, is geographically central to each of the riding loops and entertainment opportunities I had planned, and my lodging for the two-day exploration was the Compass Hotel by Margaritaville.

While a tropically themed hotel by Jimmy Buffet may seem incongruous in the Pacific Northwest, it was an ideal home base – clean, colorful, comfortable, and fun.

(See RESOURCES at the end of the story for links to information about areas covered in this ride.)

Oregon Motorcycle Ride Day 1: Ashland, a Ghost Town, and Shakey Graves

I packed a small tailbag on the BMW with water, my hat, and some snacks and headed southeast for the short jaunt to Ashland. Upon entering the lively, park-like city, I took a side ride past the theater compound of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. While the festival was dark during this trip, I have been to several great Shakespearean performances at the OSF. One of these I highlighted for Rider back in 2016 in “Chasing Shakespeare: An Elizabethan Tour of the West.” If you can coordinate your visit to Ashland with an OSF performance, I highly recommend it.

After my roll through the spotless little city, the real ride began. I headed out on Dead Indian Memorial Road, which began as one of the first trans-Cascade travel routes in southern Oregon. It connects Ashland and the Rogue River Valley with the Upper Klamath Basin. The somberly named road begins as a gentle sway through grasslands before morphing into an evergreen-lined serpentine climb into the Rogue River-Siskiyou National Forest. The temperature dropped and the road coiled on the steady climb. Sweeping corners in wide-open grasslands became tighter in the high chaparral and hairpins in the tall forest. The light and nimble BMW proved perfect for the tightest of the corners on the route.

When I topped out into the dense forest, I took several jaunts onto the single-tracks and tight dirt roads that finger into the evergreen thickets. Again, the agile BMW was the perfect tool for the task. I came upon a sign indicating the crossing of the famed Pacific Crest Trail, a 2,650-mile hiking and horse trail that traverses the highest portions of the Cascade and Sierra Nevada ranges. The PCT was brought fully into the public lexicon through Cheryl Strayed’s self-discovery narrative Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail, which was later made into a Reese Witherspoon movie. Just a few miles later, the picturesque Howard Prairie Lake began to reveal itself intermittently as strips of deep blue through the stately emerald pines. I stopped at one of the lake’s boat ramps to take in the pristine waters fronting the snow-capped peaks in the distance.

More great riding led me alongside Hyatt Reservoir. While the southwestern forests near my home in Arizona are somewhat monochromatic, consisting of mostly one type of evergreen, the forests in this region offer up multiple hues of green from a wide array of tree varieties. I turned west onto the Green Springs Highway, also known as State Route 66, which proved to be a fantastic motorcycle road that winds back into Ashland. The first of my three Oregon loops was exactly as I had hoped it would be. After a bite of lunch in Ashland’s downtown, it was time for my afternoon loop.

See all of Rider‘s ‘Great Roads West’ touring stories here.

Just south of Medford, I turned on South Stage Road, which quickly brought me to the intersection of Griffin Creek Road, which becomes Poormans Creek Road, and then I turned onto Sterling Creek Road. Sense a theme here? These creek roads offered up wonderful stretches of entertaining tree-lined sweeping turns, often flanking – you guessed it – mountain streams.

At the intersection of Sterling Creek Road and Little Applegate Road, I rolled into the major reason I plotted this portion of the ride. The tiny ghost town of Buncom sits directly at the intersection, and only three of the original structures remain of the once-thriving town that was established when gold was discovered in Sterling Creek in the mid-1800s. The weathered wooden buildings, which consist of the town post office, a wooden bunkhouse, and an old cookhouse, hearken back to a time of starry-eyed dreams of riches – and likely also of dashed hopes. After some moments imbibing the history, it was time for the last leg of the day.

From Little Applegate Road, I turned onto Medford-Provolt Highway and rolled through farmland and thriving vineyards on the way to Jacksonville, which is a bit like a mini-Ashland with its historic brick buildings and homey atmosphere. It is also at the heart of Oregon’s prolific wine industry, so great local and regional examples are available everywhere. It was here that another highlight of the trip was planned.

Jacksonville is home to the Britt Festival Pavilion, a beautiful, intimate outdoor music venue. The nonprofit amphitheater, which hosts several big-name acts throughout the year, is named for Peter Britt, who opened Oregon’s first official winery in the late 1800s. The attraction for me was a show by Shakey Graves, an inventive artist in the loosely defined Americana genre from Austin, Texas. As the sun set over the Jacksonville horizon, I sat in the grass, sipped a little red wine, and enjoyed the amazing show. It was the perfect culmination of a fantastic day of riding. After the show, it was a short ride back to Medford for some rest.

Oregon Motorcycle Ride Day 2: A Longer Loop and Crater Lake

Having gotten my feet wet with some great riding on the first day, the next day was for adding miles. In southern Oregon, that means more miles of spectacular scenery. A short jaunt out of Medford on State Route 62 got me to a portion of the road fittingly named the Rogue-Umpqua Scenic Byway. The road sweeps through a wide variety of terrains, lakes, and rivers. Most notably, the tarmac clings to the bank of the Rogue River for long stretches.

Just after the northernmost crest of this loop, I got in line to pay the fee for my first visit to the world-famous Crater Lake. While the early June snowpack still rendered much of the national park’s roadway closed, I got to sample the spectacular ride up to the lake and several different perspectives. I have seen some of the most iconic natural landforms this country has to offer, and Crater Lake is a singularly jaw-dropping place. It is the deepest lake in the United States, and the water beneath those sheer volcanic cliffs is as strikingly blue as I have ever seen. The clouds reflected on the surface of that glasslike, frigid water makes for a surreal beauty, while the mysteries of its 2,000-foot depth add a dash of intrigue.

Massive melting snowdrifts still lined the roadway and made icy slopes up as high as many roofs in the park at the time of my tour. Runoff made riding vigilance of utmost importance as mini rivers crossed the park’s roads and water and debris were intermittently part of my rolling adventure. These road conditions and the abundance of wildlife make the “head on a swivel” axiom important for more than just taking in the scenery.

After riding out of the national park, I continued my loop ride on Crater Lake Highway to the southeast. Just after Fort Klamath, I made a westward turn and continued on the Volcanic Legacy Scenic Highway. As the highway took a southern turn, the extreme variety of the natural palate continued in spades. Expansive grasslands, towering trees, and rugged mountains took turns delighting my senses as I rolled toward Medford.

I motored past Upper Klamath Lake, which has the largest surface area of any freshwater lake in Oregon. In contrast to Crater Lake, Upper Klamath is shallow. On the final stretch of this loop, I rode through more majestic pines on the return to Medford. On State Route 140, I again crossed the path of the Pacific Crest Trail where it winds toward the base of the impressive Mount McLoughlin.

Just a month earlier, much of this ride would have been prohibitively cold and snowy. Even in June there were places, like portions of Crater Lake National Park, which were impassible. However, the mix of weather and topography was amazing on my three loops. I recommend this tour, or some variation of it, to any nature-loving moto-tourist. Extreme temperature variations are to be expected and should be reflected in what is packed in your panniers.

I rolled back to the Compass Hotel in Medford with a sore tail and a mind brimming with memories. My days in southern Oregon were amazing. Hundreds of miles on that BMW 650 proved to be a much more raw and visceral experience than it would have been on my bigger touring bike. More vibration? Yes. More wind? Yes. And more memories? For sure.

RESOURCES

• Medford, Oregon
• Compass Hotel Medford
• Oregon Shakespeare Festival
• Ashland, Oregon
• Jacksonville, Oregon
• Britt Music & Arts Festival
• Crater Lake National Park

With 50 years of motorcycling and 30 years of teaching English under his belt, Tim Kessel has melded those two passions into a gig as a motojournalist. Maybe that’s why there is always a permanent, satisfied smile under his full-face helmet.

The post Riding in Beautiful Circles: A Southern Oregon Motorcycle Ride appeared first on Rider Magazine.

While I waited for my steaming calzone to cool in the pizza restaurant in the tiny town of Orderville, Utah, and contemplated my impending southern Utah motorcycle ride, I studied the giant world map on the wall. A sign encouraged visitors to place a stickpin in the map to indicate their home. The colorful plastic balls that served as pinheads reflected an impressive worldwide span, with a truly remarkable density in most of the United States.

Southern Utah’s Dixie National Forest and the area’s national parks have a magnetic appeal for hundreds of thousands of visitors each year. For me, the promise of incredible scenery and winding roads drew me to the region on my trusty BMW. 

Scan QR code above or click here to view the route on REVER

Day 1: Zion, a Massacre, and Shakespeare

After a good night’s sleep in a comfortable and unique forest-themed room at the historic Parkway Motel in Orderville, I geared up and headed toward Zion National Park. I had no plans for dirt forays on this tour, but my big R 1200 GS was the perfect mount for the area just in case. I rolled south through lush farmland until I made the westward turn at Mt. Carmel Junction onto State Route 9.

The midweek traffic was moderately light on what is also known as the Zion-Mt. Carmel Highway. The muted hues and sweeping corners on the first stretch were a nice warm-up and ultimately led to the east entrance of Zion. After stopping to pay the park’s $30 entrance fee (good for one week), I soon rolled into the shadows of striking crimson cliffs and stratified sedimentary rock formations. 

The scenery morphed into the striking beauty for which Zion is famous, and the road coiled to follow the natural contours of the park’s stone majesty. After a stop to admire the massive geometrical etchings on Checkerboard Mesa, the curves became increasingly tight and entertaining.

To my delight, I spotted two mountain goats posing atop two rock outcroppings. Thankfully, they held their pose long enough for me to dismount and snap some photos. Just a few miles later, I rolled through a short but impressive tunnel carved into the red sedimentary mountain. This ride was off to a scintillating start. 

See all of Rider‘s ‘Great Roads West’ touring stories here.

Deeper into the national park, the traffic and tourist presence became denser but not so heavy as to spoil the stunning ambiance. I motored beneath sculpturesque rock formations dotted with vibrant evergreen trees. The colors were eye-popping. In stretches, the winding asphalt was crimson-hued like the cliffs, and at other times, it was the more traditional gray. After miles of riding, stopping, and photographing, I came to the Zion-Mt. Carmel Tunnel. After waiting for an oversized RV to be escorted through the tight passageway, it was my turn. 

The tunnel, which was carved during the Jazz Age of the 1920s, is over a mile long. However, it’s not the length that was so striking to me. There were intermittent arched “windows” along the span that framed glimpses of the majesty of the mountains though which I was passing. While stopping in the tunnel is prohibited, I moved at a snail’s pace to take in the living art. It was truly impressive. 

I emerged from the tunnel, flipped down my faceshield, and rolled farther into Zion. In the distance, white-capped mountains rose on the horizon. What I assumed was snow was actually the top layer of white Navajo sandstone on towers like the Great White Throne. I resisted the temptation of wide-eyed sightseeing while navigating the narrow, winding road. Frequent stops gave my kickstand a workout.

The western stretch of the park is much more developed and thus more visited. I motored over the cool waters of the Virgin River and into the community of Springdale, which rests just outside the western entrance of the park. This bustling community sits in stark contrast to the more natural and undeveloped eastern entrance. I have to say, I preferred the latter. 

With Zion National Park in the rearview mirror, I set my sights on a remote stretch of my tour. After a northern turn at St. George, I rolled onto State Route 18. This is a road that often parallels the route of the Old Spanish National Historic Trail through Dixie National Forest. The ride started with more of the red and white Navajo sandstone that graced Zion as I passed by Snow Canyon.

After several miles of the nicely sweeping road, I came upon a somber historical site. The Mountain Meadows Memorial commemorates a massacre that took place in 1857. The four-day series of attacks were carried out by members of the Utah Territorial Militia and targeted the Baker-Fancher emigrant wagon train. About 120 men, women, and children were killed in the tragic territorial dispute. 

I rode farther north through the high chaparral terrain until making a westward turn onto State Route 56. This stretch afforded me the space to use the higher gears on the GS and take in the expansive southern Utah views. Finally, signage welcomed me to
Cedar City. The “Festival City” would be my highly anticipated stop for the night. After unloading my bags in the El Rey Inn, I had a few slices of margherita pizza and a microbrew at the bustling Centro Woodfired Pizzeria near the campus of Southern Utah University. 

The university is home to a world-class theatrical experience, the annual Utah Shakespeare Festival, which runs from June to October. Anytime I can infuse a bit of the Bard into my tours, I do so with enthusiasm. In this case, I had secured a ticket to a preview performance of Macbeth. I settled into my seat at the beautiful outdoor theater and thoroughly enjoyed the spirited performance of “The Scottish Play” in the warm Utah evening air. 

See all of Rider‘s Utah motorcycle rides here.

Day 2: Cedar Breaks and Ski Slopes

The second day of my southern Utah tour would include a serious gain in elevation, so I layered riding shirts under my mesh jacket in preparation for the crisp morning ride. The climb out of Cedar City into the mountains of the Dixie National Forest was rapid and enjoyable. The vibrant mix of conifers beside the winding path of State Route 14 was more reminiscent of a forest in the Pacific Northwest than what one would normally find in the Southwest. 

I was glad I had put on extra layers. Even in late June, this mountainous area often reveals some lingering snow. I clicked on the heated grips for a spell in the early morning shade of the mountains as the temperatures dropped into the low 40s. Deep in the mountains, I made the northern turn onto State Route 148 and continued my curvaceous climb. (Due to winter closures on this part of the route, this ride is best done in late spring to early fall.)

Just a handful of miles into this stretch, I arrived at the impressive Cedar Breaks National Monument ($10 entrance fee). The Paiutes called the area “Circle of Painted Cliffs,” and the Native name is a perfect description. It is known as a smaller, less touristy version of Bryce Canyon, which is exactly why I opted for it on this tour.

It is a natural shale, limestone, and sandstone amphitheater with a rim elevation of 10,000 feet. The road follows that rim closely, offering several breathtaking views. After taking in those vistas, my ride out of the monument was flanked by mountains still laced with snow and flowing runoff streams. 

Just out of the boundary of the national monument, I continued north on State Route 143 and rolled into the ski resort town of Brian Head, which sits at an elevation of nearly 10,000 feet. Some of the forests near the town were ravaged by wildfires in 2017, but the unaffected ski slopes are lush and dense. The entire ride along Route 143 was amazing. 

I dropped out of the mountains, and after a short leg on the interstate, I headed southeast on State Route 20. I was fully engulfed in the sweeping corners when I noticed a series of metal sculptures that looked like a mule train in the tall Utah grass. The adjacent historical marker indicated that I was at an intersection of the Old Spanish National Historic Trail. At the end of this stretch, I headed south on U.S. Route 89. I rode through the small town of Panguitch, and then I turned west on Route 143 and rode through the Dixie National Forest for the last leg of my trip. 

I was back in the serious twisties as I passed Panguitch Lake. The expansive reservoir sits at more than 8,000 feet. Tall trees, meandering creeks, and crisp mountain air were the earmarks of the rest of the ride through the national forest. I detoured south on Mammoth Creek Road, and at Duck Creek Village, I headed east on SR 14, descending out of the mountains to U.S. 89 and back to Orderville.

My southern Utah motorcycle ride did not disappoint. My exploration proved to be an area rich in both natural and human history. The diversity of the ride kept it fresh and entertaining, and the roads were a motorcyclist’s dream.

See all of Rider‘s touring stories here.

Southern Utah Motorcycle Ride Resources:

• Zion National Park
• Cedar Breaks National Monument
• Utah Shakespeare Festival (Cedar City)
• Cedar City • Brian Head Tourism Bureau
• Old Spanish National Historic Trail

The post National Parks, Alpine Passes, and The Bard: A Southern Utah Motorcycle Ride appeared first on Rider Magazine.

Utah’s national parks – Arches, Bryce Canyon, Canyonlands, Capitol Reef, and Zion – are known as the Mighty 5. All feature impressive red rock formations, landscapes, and vistas, yet each is unique. In late September, after the worst of the summer heat and crowds, my wife and I toured three Utah National Parks on a motorcycle.

We were coming from California. Younger riders or those with iron butts may choose to endure the entire journey on two wheels, but we prefer burning the hundreds of interstate miles to get there and back in comfort, and we like to bring more for a two-week trip than can fit on a bike. We rented an RV and a trailer, loaded up my BMW R 1200 GS, stocked up on gear, food, beer, and wine, and hit the road from our home in Oxnard.

Scan QR code above or click here to view the route on REVER

We “glamped” in RV parks, all of which had wide pull-through spots with plenty of trailer and bike parking. Once parked, we saddled up for scenic day rides. Being on a motorcycle made it easier to cruise through the national parks and slip into smaller parking spaces. At the end of each day, we returned to our campsite for a sundowner by the fire. For this trip, we purchased a National Parks and Federal Recreational Lands Pass for $80, which paid for itself upon entrance to our third park and gave us access to other parks for a full year.

See all of Rider‘s ‘Great Roads West’ touring stories here.

Utah National Parks on a Motorcycle: Capitol Reef

On a perfect 70-degree clear day, we mounted the GS, departed Thousand Lakes RV Park in Torrey, Utah, and rode into Capitol Reef National Park, known for its 100-mile wrinkle in the earth’s crust called the Waterpocket Fold. It was formed as rocks were pushed upward and erosion sliced and diced through the layers, creating deep, narrow canyons and towering monoliths.

We rode past Panoramic Point down a short washboard dirt road to Goosenecks Overlook. I changed the GS’s suspension setting to Comfort mode and promptly received a “Thanks, Babe” from Nicole via our helmet comms. The view from Goosenecks Overlook of the river below and the slender S-curve it cut into the canyon was splendid.

Continuing into the park, we turned right at the visitor center onto Capitol Reef Scenic Drive, a paved road that turns to dirt after 8 miles at the Capitol Gorge Road picnic area. There is so much to see in all directions that we poked along at about 20 mph. Coming back, we turned onto a bumpy 2-mile dirt road and rode through a couple dry washes to the Cassidy Arch trailhead and Grand Wash. I checked the horizon for storms, as even distant rain could quickly make those washes impassable. The scenery as we approached the trailhead changed dramatically, making the detour a must-do.

Utah National Parks on a Motorcycle: Canyonlands

Due to a late start from our campsite at the Sun Outdoors Arches Gateway in Moab, we were turned away from Arches because it was at capacity. Even in the “shoulder” season, high-traffic parks like Arches fill up early, so depending on when you go, plan ahead and reserve a timed entry ticket. Even though Canyonlands is only a few miles from Arches, it gets much less traffic, so we headed there instead.

We had to wait to get into Canyonlands too, but Nicole and I passed the time by chatting and digging into our bag of snacks. Following the requisite snapshot at the park entrance sign, we proceeded along the huge flat-topped Island in the Sky Mesa and the 34-mile roundtrip paved road that connects the panoramic viewpoints. These overlooks are 1,000 feet above the surrounding terrain, so the views are spectacular.

Utah National Parks on a Motorcycle: Arches

A much earlier start the next day paid off. We began the tour of Arches at The Windows Section, home of Double Arch, the Parade of Elephants formation, North Window, and Turret Arch. We brought shorts and tennis shoes to comfortably walk amongst the sites, as well as a picnic lunch. My favorite was Double Arch, a pothole arch with a span that’s 144 feet wide and 112 feet high formed by water erosion from above rather than more typical erosion from the side.

A brisk 10-minute walk took us to North Window, standing 93 feet wide and 51 feet high, where we stumbled upon a group of local grade-schoolers with canvas and paintbrushes in hand, tapping into their inner artist. “Don’t get too focused on the sky, or you’ll end up with too much blue in your painting,” advised their teacher. We continued on and then enjoyed the solitude and scenery of the Windows Primitive Loop trail.

Back on the bike, other highlights included the Garden of Eden, Balanced Rock, and Wolfe Ranch, which is located at the trailhead that leads to the famous Delicate Arch featured on Utah license plates.

See all of Rider‘s Utah motorcycle rides here.

A Bonus Ride: La Sal Loop Road

On a cloudy 62-degree morning, we followed U.S. Route 191 south out of Moab and made our way to La Sal Loop Road, a winding paved route that climbs up into the La Sal Mountains. The temperature dropped and it began to rain, but luckily the road turned away from the storm. 

“Are you warm enough?” I asked Nicole, and when she answered in the affirmative, we pressed on. Just beyond the parking area for Mill Creek, we turned right onto Forest Road 076 toward Oowah Lake. This bumpy, rutted dirt road challenged me with sharp corners, steep climbs, and wandering bovines, but we were rewarded with the fall colors of the aspens.

We continued our counterclockwise ride on La Sal Loop Road. We stopped at La Sal Lookout Point, which provides sweeping views of Castle Valley and red rock formations that look like the inspiration for the old cartoons with the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote. A steep descent with multiple switchbacks took us down to the warmer air of the valley floor. At State Route 128, we turned left (west) and followed the Colorado River on our way back to Moab.

With so much great riding and scenery, we were reluctant to leave, but our allocated vacation time was coming to an end, so we packed up and headed home. Southern Utah is a stunning part of the country that should be on everyone’s must-see, must-ride list.

See all of Rider‘s touring stories here.

The post Seeing Three Utah National Parks on a Motorcycle | Favorite Ride appeared first on Rider Magazine.

BMW Motorrad USA is excited to announce its second partnership with adventure motorcycling nonprofit, Backcountry Discovery Routes (BDR) on their newest route – Oregon. This is the second BDR route on which BMW Motorrad has collaborated, the first being the Wyoming BDR, released in 2022.

Related: New Route: Wyoming Backcountry Discovery Route

The ORBDR represents the organization’s 12th route for adventure and dual-sport motorcycle travel, with free GPS tracks, travel resources, and a Butler Motorcycle Map scheduled to accompany the film’s debut.

Luciana Francisco, BMW Motorrad USA head of brand and marketing, said BMW Motorrad is proud to partner with Backcountry Discovery Routes for the second time in two years.

“In 2023, BMW Motorrad celebrates its 100th year anniversary and also marks 43 years of BMW GS motorcycles,” Francisco said. “This is the perfect time to share our passion for the adventure and dual-sport riding communities and show our continued support for the BDR organization and what they stand for. We look forward to both new and experienced off-road enthusiasts being inspired by the scenic routes of the ORBDR.”

Related: Backcountry Discovery Routes: Two Buddies on Yamaha Ténéré 700s in Utah and Arizona

To launch of the new Oregon route, Backcountry Discovery Routes and BMW Motorrad will kick-off with a film premiere event in Portland, Oregon, and selected BMW Motorrad dealer events on Saturday, Feb. 4. Additionally, over 70 film screenings are planned through spring 2023, hosted by dealers and clubs around the country. More information on the film screening locations is available at the Backcountry Discovery Routes events webpage.

The ORBDR expedition film features members of the BDR team and special guests from BMW Motorrad USA, Mosko Moto, and Edelweiss Bike Travel as they take a first run on the all-new ORBDR. Starting in the high desert landscapes of Southeastern Oregon and exploring North into the Cascade Range, the crew tests their endurance, riding cross-state through 750 miles of lava rock, silt, sand, and steep mountain roads. Highlighting the state’s many natural wonders including hot springs, pyroducts, caverns, buttes, and glaciated volcanoes, the route and film showcases why traveling by motorcycle is one of the best ways to discover the backcountry of Oregon.

Story continues below trailer for ORBDR Expedition

Bryce Stevens, Oregon Route architect & BDR co-founder grew up in the Pacific Northwest and said he has “always been fascinated by volcanoes.”

“The ORBDR is a route filled with natural wonders of the volcanic kind. We designed the ORBDR to show off different regions of the state and keep the route ever-changing,” Stevens said. “Oregon has vast high desert in the southeast, sparse pine forests in the central part of the state, and densely forested mountains in the Cascade Range. It almost feels like three BDRs packed into one.”

Related: Backcountry Discovery Routes: Ep. 33 Rider Magazine Insider Podcast

Joining the expedition team in Oregon was Ricardo Rodriguez, lead motorcycle instructor at BMW’s U.S. Rider Academy in Greer, South Carolina. Ricardo is a graduate of BMW’s rigorous International Instructor’s Academy and has been teaching on-road street survival, adventure off-road, and authority riding skills since 2010.

“The BDR Team has set out on a fantastic mission, helping keep public lands accessible to the adventure community,” he said. “I am very proud and excited about the relationship between BDR, BMW Motorrad, and the BMW U.S. Rider Academy. Having the opportunity to be a part of the Oregon BDR has helped build my experience as a rider and a coach. Overcoming the challenges along the ORBDR reinforced to me the value of the skills we teach daily at the US Rider Academy.”

Rodriguez continued to say that Backcountry Discovery Routes offers properly trained riders an opportunity to put their skills to the test.

“The Oregon BDR is a challenge and reward riding adventure.”

For more information, visit the Backcountry Discovery Routes website.

The post Backcountry Discovery Routes: BMW and BDR Collaborate on New Oregon Route appeared first on Rider Magazine.

During the long, dark winter in Minnesota, when the ground is covered in snow and ice and our motorcycles are mothballed for months, dreaming about riding in a warm, dry place gives us hope. That’s when my friend Craig and I started planning an adventure ride out West. We sketched out a route that included a mix of backroads, parts of the Arizona and Utah Backcountry Discovery Routes, other off-road tracks, and interesting sights along the way.

Scan QR code above or click here to view the route on REVER

In May, we flew into Phoenix and headed to EagleRider in nearby Mesa, where we were greeted by a friendly guy named Bob. After a quick paperwork checkout procedure, we packed our gear on two rented Yamaha Ténéré 700s and headed north on Interstate 17.

With temperatures in the triple digits, the frigid days of winter seemed like a distant memory, so we busted north to gain some elevation.

Related: 2021 Yamaha Ténéré 700 | Long-Term Ride Review

Even in full riding gear, we started to cool off as we rode farther north. Our bikes were unfamiliar to us, and they were stuffed to the gunwales with camping gear and other essentials. We soon grew accustomed to their added weight as we passed over the “Carefree Highway,” a 30-mile stretch of road made famous by Canadian singer Gordon Lightfoot that runs between I-17 and U.S. Route 60.

I have a lot of street miles under my belt, but this was my first adventure bike trip, so I wasn’t entirely prepared for the primitive roads where the gravel feels like marbles under your wheels. However, it didn’t take long for the combination of my ancient dirtbike experience and a few unplanned rear-wheel kickouts to provide a quick education on keeping the Ténéré upright. Enthusiasm tempered with caution was the order of the day.

We took County Road 59/Bumble Bee Road off I-17 to check out the Cleator Bar and Yacht Club. The name of this welcoming 4×4 oasis run by Tina Barnhart is a bit tongue-in-cheek, as it is located hundreds of miles from open water. Barnhart is also in the vehicle delivery business to such faraway places as Africa and is active in the Global Rescue Project based in Scottsdale, Arizona, which works to end child slavery and reunite children with their families.

The Cleator Bar is a must-stop location, complete with boats in the “marina” out back and a stage for live music. Interestingly, the entire town of Cleator, comprising 40 acres, a bar, a general store, a few other structures, and mineral rights, was put on the market by descendants of James P. Cleator in 2020 for $1.25 million, and it was sold at the bargain price of $956,000.

Related: Backcountry Discovery Routes: First BDR-X Route and YouTube BDR Film Library

Our next stop was Crown King, located another 13 miles along CR 59 at an elevation of 5,771 feet. A high-clearance four-wheel-drive vehicle is recommended on the deteriorated roads. The Ténérés managed well, and we soon found ourselves taking a load off in the Crown King Saloon & Eatery, one of the oldest continuously operated saloons in the state. We enjoyed a cold drink and a hearty lunch, and the $5 bottle of scotch we bought there (on sale courtesy of Mother’s Day) served us well during the rest of the trip.

Like a lot of small towns in the Bradshaw Mountains of Arizona, Crown King used to be a thriving mining community. In 1904, a railroad was built to help mining operations, but due to a lack of water and high transportation costs to process the ore, it was abandoned in 1926. The old railroad bed is still used today as the main access road to Crown King. 

While there, we met Chuck Hall, who is a great ambassador for the area – and a talented guitar picker to boot. He told us he’d lived there for over 30 years and recommended we check out the Senator Highway, on which he’d lost many an exhaust pipe from his old Dodge Neon. A former stagecoach route, the rutted road snakes 37 miles from Crown King to Prescott with many blind switchbacks, eroded surfaces, several water crossings, and spectacular scenery.

Hall recommended we visit Palace Station, a stage stop built in 1878 midway between Crown King and Prescott. Back in the day, the station had a bar and was a social meeting center for the miners who worked in the area.

See all of Rider‘s touring stories here.

We targeted the town of Jerome for the night. This old copper mining town earned its nickname, “Wickedest Town in the West,” during its heyday in the early 20th century. After the mining bust, the town descended into desperation, greed, and crime. It was revived in the 1960s as a tourist destination, and many of its historic buildings are now filled with restaurants, shops, and hotels. Jerome is said to be a hotbed of paranormal activity, and we stayed at the Connor Hotel, which is reportedly haunted by the “Lady in Red.” We didn’t see any ghosts, so maybe she had the night off. 

Related: Backcountry Discovery Routes: Ep. 33 Rider Magazine Insider Podcast

With a long day of off-roading ahead, we left Jerome and headed north toward the Grand Canyon on a series of unpaved national forest roads. We wound our way around the contours of Woodchute Mountain, crossed the Verde River, and ascended to the Colorado Plateau at more than 6,000 feet. We could see the volcanic San Francisco Peaks rising above the plateau to the east.

We crossed Interstate 40 near Williams, and after a few miles on State Route 64, we turned onto a national forest road to take an unpaved “back door” route into Grand Canyon National Park. We hooked up with Route 64 again where it’s known as East Rim Drive and enjoyed scenic views from the Grand Canyon’s South Rim.

After leaving the park, we connected with U.S. Route 89 and refueled at Cameron, where the highway crosses the Little Colorado River. At Bitter Springs, U.S. 89 splits to the east toward Page, but we continued north on U.S. Route 89A, crossing the Colorado River at Marble Canyon via the Navajo Bridge and following 89A west into an area known as the Arizona Strip. We rode with the majestic Vermilion Cliffs to our right, crossed House Rock Valley, and then climbed out of the desert and into the evergreens of the Kaibab Plateau.  

We stopped at Jacob Lake, a small crossroads that sits at 7,925 feet, and it was noticeably cooler at the higher elevation. Known as the gateway to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, Jacob Lake has a gas station and a hotel with a restaurant and gift shop. The town was named after Jacob Hamblin, an early Mormon pioneer who was shown the location in the mid-1800s by the Kaibab band of Southern Paiutes. And according to the hotel staff, the lake is more of a pond.

We continued west through Fredonia and crossed into Utah near Kanab, known locally as “Little Hollywood” because of its rich history in filmmaking – most notably Westerns, with more than 100 movies and television shows being filmed there.

Thus far we had stayed at motels, so we weren’t exactly roughing it. We decided we needed to get some use out of the camping gear we’d been lugging around. After riding through Zion National Park, where we were blown away by the majesty of the cliff faces and rock formations, we traversed the Dixie National Forest through Duck Creek Village to Hatch, where we found suitable dispersed camping.

It had been about 20 years since my last camping experience. I narrowly avoided putting an eye out with the tent poles, and after the camp was set and the fire built, it felt good to relax with that $5 bottle of scotch. It was a clear night, and the 7,000-foot elevation yielded cool temperatures. With the fire all but gone, it was time to turn in for the night. I live in Minnesota and am no stranger to the cold, but I clocked 19 degrees overnight in that campsite and don’t think I have ever been so happy to see the sun start to rise. Note to self: Next time bring a sleeping bag rated below 30 degrees.

Once packed up, we put Hatch in the rear view and were soon heading east on Utah’s stunning State Route 12, known as one of the most scenic highways in the nation. We visited Bryce Canyon National Park and its many rock spires and hoodoos and rode through the vastness of Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

At Boulder, we left the pavement and took the Burr Trail, a well-known backcountry route that passes through Capitol Reef National Park on its way to the Bullfrog Basin in the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. The trail was named for John Burr, a cattle rancher who developed the route to move his cattle between winter and summer ranges. The country was nearly impassable then and continues to be challenging to this day, with RVs and trailers “not recommended.” Southern Utah is one amazing vista after another, and this stretch featured outstanding scenery as well as many switchbacks on loose gravel that kept us on our toes.

Throughout the trip, we’d been battered by winds that were contributing to fire restrictions in Arizona and Utah. At this point, the wind was howling, with 50-mph gusts giving us a good sand blasting. After a quick stop in Bullfrog, we headed north on State Route 276 and then south on State Route 95 to Hite Crossing over the Colorado River.

We had violated our “never pass gas” top-off policy in Bullfrog, expecting to find a place to refuel in Fry Canyon. Given the time of year and possibly other reasons unknown, the gas pumps were closed in Fry, so we pushed on through some gorgeous country that might’ve been easier to appreciate if we weren’t worried about our dwindling fuel.

At one point, we pulled over to assess the situation. Craig had been smart enough to fill his reserve bottle, which he poured into his tank. My bike was still showing a couple bars of fuel left. I tip my cap to the Yamaha Ténéré 700. Even though my fuel gauge was blinking “empty” and both of us were expecting the pullover of shame, we made it all the way to Blanding. The Arch Canyon Inn was a welcome stop, but being informed that it’s a dry town put the “bland” in Blanding.

Leaving Blanding and getting on the Utah BDR was like visiting another planet. The Butler and Comb washes, the Moki Dugway, and Valley of the Gods were some of our favorite parts of this trip. With all the distinct rock formations, it was a challenge to stay focused on the trail and not get distracted by the scenery. In most cases, one blown turn can mean disaster, but the rewards are more than worth the risks. Again, caution saved the day.

The southern terminus of the Utah BDR is in the town of Mexican Hat, which I assumed was named after a mountain resembling a sombrero. Turns out, it is a distinctive disc-shaped rock about 60 feet in diameter that’s perched atop a smaller base at the top of a mesa. I’ll always remember it as the site of my first involuntary dismount from the Yamaha during a charge up a softer-than-expected mound of sand.

Related: (Mis)Adventures on the Utah Backcountry Discovery Route (BDR)

The area around Mexican Hat borders the northern section of the Navajo Nation into Monument Valley. This area is considered the sacred heart of Navajo country, and you can’t help but marvel at how iconic the straight-line stretch of road is as it leads into the horizon, framed with towering sandstone rock formations. Hiking in the park is highly restricted, with only one path that can be hiked without a guide. Monument Valley Trail Park had been previously closed after a movie crew was caught filming without a permit. It is now reopened at a reduced occupancy limit, but no motorcycles are permitted on the 17-mile loop due to deep sand dunes in the area.

Back in Arizona, we cruised paved highways to Flagstaff and then down into Sedona. Determined to camp at a lower (read: warmer) elevation, we found the Lo Lo Mai Springs Outdoor Resort. Lo lo mai is a Hopi Indian word that represents a greeting with many meanings, similar to the Hawaiian aloha. It also means “beautiful,” which the owners of Lo Lo Mai Springs say is where the resort’s name originated. The area borders spring-fed Oak Creek, which is a valuable and rare natural water source in this part of Arizona. The campground had some welcome amenities and was a lot warmer than the prior camping stop.

We spent our last day exploring some of the Arizona BDR tracks in the Coconino National Forest near Sedona and Flagstaff. With time running out, we finally hopped on State Route 87 and burned the final miles to Scottsdale, where the town was alive with nightlife.

Returning the bikes was bittersweet. Bob welcomed us back, relieved that the Ténérés had only a layer of dust and a bit less rubber on their tires after 1,591 on- and off-road miles. As we grabbed an Uber to the airport, I could not help but realize the vast additional riding world that adventure motorcycling opens up. Soon after getting home, I put one of my streetbikes up for sale, and an adventure bike could be in my future.

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Johnny Cash sang about fire, murder, heartbreak, and sin, and I think he would have appreciated the symbolism of this ride, given its route. Northeast of Las Vegas is one of the most visually stunning state parks in the Southwest. The added bonus for motorcyclists is that the park’s roads trace through the crimson landscape like slithering black mambas. A ride through Valley of Fire State Park and Lake Mead National Recreation Area makes for a fantastic motorized respite from the neon bustle of Vegas. 

Scan QR code above or click here to view the route on REVER

The Las Vegas Strip, with its massive themed casinos, sidewalk solicitations, and congestion, is not my cup of tea. That’s why my staging point for this ride was Fremont Street. While still over-the-top, this area has the feel of an older, more genuine version of Vegas.

The night before my ride, I watched a cover band play classic rock tunes under the lights and video canopy that spans Fremont and enjoyed a variety of street performers. The next day, I put a couple bottles of water and lunch in the saddlebags of my BMW R 1200 GS and mounted up. 

Read all of Rider’s BMW coverage here

Fremont Street is well north of the traffic and congestion of the Strip, so getting out of the city was much more convenient than it would have been if I had opted for lodging at one of the mega-casinos. On my way out of town, I rode past the Mob Museum and the Neon Museum – Vegas-themed tributes that were added to my post-ride entertainment schedule. 

The cruise northeast on the Las Vegas Freeway (Interstate 15) was a nice warm-up to this loop ride. The muted hues and desert views were expansive as I climbed out of the neon valley. There were a few floating cotton balls in the otherwise intense blue of the mid-morning Nevada sky. The line where the horizon meets the sky was as crisp and sharp as I have ever seen. 

After 30 miles of motoring on the freeway, I diverted the GS eastward onto the Valley of Fire Highway. The two-lane tarmac starts as a gently curving and undulating climb into the gray stone mountains that were part of the striking delineation I enjoyed just miles before. However, the monochromatic gray soon gives way to vibrant blotches of crimson. Contemplating the name of the Valley of Fire State Park, I couldn’t help but imagine those red spots as flare-ups caused by the wind-carried embers of an approaching wildfire. 

My first stop in the park was at the aptly named Beehives. There is little doubt what all the buzz is about. Cringe-worthy puns aside, the Beehives are a spectacular object lesson on the artistic creativity of erosion. The hives are stratified tributes to the power of wind, water, and time.

By the time I got to the turnoff for the park’s visitor center, I was fully engulfed in the figurative flames of the Valley of Fire. I live near Sedona, Arizona, and I have ridden extensively through the red rocks of southern Utah, so I have a solid base of reference for the hue of red sandstone. Valley of Fire is something different. The terrain carries a deeper, more blood-like patina in this region. It is stunning. 

I bought a $10 park pass at a self-serve kiosk and rode up Mouse’s Tank Road. The endgame of this beautiful ride was a short hike on The White Domes Trail, where I enjoyed a drink of water and a snack and took in the majesty.

I am not usually a fan of out-and-back routes; however, this ride, carving through the curvaceous rock formations of the park, is fantastic in both directions. It’s only about 6 miles from the visitor center to the end of Mouse’s Tank Road, so the ride through the heart of the park is short but very scenic.  

See all of Rider‘s touring stories by region/state here

Back on the Valley of Fire Highway, I was awed at the beauty around me. The road follows the undulations and sinews of the red rocks. I made a final stop at Elephant Rock and meandered up the trail in my Sidi boots. It was well worth the wear on the soles of those expensive kicks. Elephant Rock is yet another of the park’s formations that is stunningly indicative of nature’s wonders. 

If this were a full daytrip rather than a through-ride, I would have stopped and hiked several more of the park’s features, like Arch Rock and Atlatl Rock with its Native American petroglyphs. The park is deserving of more exploration than I was able to give it. 

Back on the BMW, I made my way to the end of the park’s highway at its intersection with North Shore Road (State Route 167). The referenced shore is the bank of Lake Mead. The “shore road” moniker is a bit of a misnomer. The Southwest’s unprecedented drought has drawn the reservoir down to a record low, so I was quite some distance from the lake. While not a waterside trek, the ride in the Lake Mead National Recreation Area is entertaining and beautiful. I was back in that fringe environment where red outcroppings dot the gray landscape. The fire was to my back this time. 

Farther west on my return toward Vegas, the flatter, muted desert landscape returned. Cactus, desert brush, and the occasional dwarf palm dotted the horizon, and the final leg was relaxing as I traveled back from the Valley of Fire to the valley of neon. With proper gear choices, this is a ride that can be made virtually year-round, and I will certainly be back. From the City of Sin to the Valley of Fire, it’s a heavenly ride indeed. The Man in Black would approve.

The post Valley of Fire and Lake Mead in Nevada | Favorite Ride appeared first on Rider Magazine.