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.

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

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.

January can be a cruel month for motorcyclists. Even in sunny southern climates, chilly temperatures can make extended rides an exercise in discomfort. That’s why I make an annual winter sojourn south to the land of tequila and tacos for some riding and music at the January Jam in Puerto Peñasco – or Rocky Point – Mexico.

After topping off my tank at the lone American border gas station in Lukeville, Arizona, pleasant ambient temperatures mixed comfortably with radiating heat from the cylinders of my BMW GS as I idled in the slow parade at the border crossing. Rumble strips, remote cameras, armed agents, and concrete barriers marked the intimidating border security protocol.

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

My anxiety was tempered by the knowledge that I had my ducks in a row. I had purchased my three-day Mexican motorcycle insurance, and I had my passport, registration, and license handy. The camouflaged border agent motioned for me to lift my tinted faceshield and then waved me through. Just like that, I was in hustling, bustling Sonoyta. Men rushed at cars with squeegees, women held up packages of tortillas for sale, and traffic was frenetic. 

I knew what to do in this dusty border town. I kept my head on a swivel and rode below the posted speed limit. Local police cluster by the border and on the southern fringe of town with eagle eyes for tourists who drive like they are still in the U.S. It is not a cheap ticket if you get stopped.

Sonoyta has the colorful, informal vibe of most Mexican towns, but I kept riding south. While the temperature back home in Arizona was hovering in the 40s, I smiled as the reading on my dash indicated 72. Yep, just what the doctor ordered.

Related: Baja Enlightenment: Riding Mexico’s Lower California Peninsula

On Highway 8 toward Puerto Peñasco, I passed dozens of descansos (“resting places” in Spanish), memorials that are intriguing, sobering, and often quite beautiful. They range from miniature concrete shrines to thematic collages. One honored a Dallas Cowboys fan.

I also passed a sign that read “Hassle Free Vehicle Zone.” Uninformed tourists often mistake these signs to mean relaxed traffic and speed rules. Not true, my friends. They just mean fewer paperwork regulations for tourist travel.  

The road from the border to Puerto Peñasco is straight and barren, but there is something to be said for an open-throttle roll through the warm desert in the dead of winter.

At the end of this 70-mile stretch, I came upon a group of Mexican sportbikers who were chatting along the dusty roadside. The half dozen crotch-rocketeers waved and saluted as I approached. They were more than happy to pose for a photo for a lone gringo moto-tourist before pulling a group U-turn and roaring back toward the coast. 

Just as Puerto Peñasco/Rocky Point goes by both Mexican and English names, it has two distinct personalities. There is the old town itself, teeming with street vendors, rusted vehicles, and colorful buildings, exuding the character of a traditional fishing village. Street taco stands waft aromatic clouds, and small motorcycles mounted with massive transport containers serve as delivery vehicles. 

Then there is the new, mostly American-owned resort community in Sandy Beach north of town. Upscale resorts line the blue waters of the Sea of Cortez. What Sandy Beach lacks in traditional character, it replaces with comfort and safety for international tourists. 

Both locations served as staging points for my weekend’s activities during the January Jam, which is the brainchild of Roger Clyne, the charismatic front man for Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers. Clyne is an entertainer with a voluminous catalog of great songs and an enthusiastic following in the Southwest and beyond. 

For the jam, Clyne assembles a lineup of accomplished musicians and invites fans to congregate in Puerto Peñasco for three days of music, golf, and general reverie. Music fills the sea air, and tequila flows, especially Clyne’s own premium spirit, Canción, fittingly named after the Spanish word for “song.” 

There are daily and nightly concerts at Clyne’s watering hole, Banditos, as well as performances at other venues in Sandy Beach and Rocky Point. We enjoyed the familiar tunes of Clyne’s band as well as David Lowery of Cracker, the Mexican-influenced sounds of The Jons from Tucson, and the lively rock blend of Miles Neilson and the Rusted Heart.

After a weekend of sampling traditional Mexican food, listening to great music, and riding to nearby fishing villages, the time came to head back north. It was over too soon.

January Jam Favorite Ride Resources

• Mexico Motorcycle Insurance
• January Jam
• Banditos
• Sonoran Sea Resort

The post Rolling to the January Jam in Rocky Point, Mexico | Favorite Ride appeared first on Rider Magazine.

You can drink a Tecate in Tecate, you can take a bath in Bath, and you can wear a fez in Fez. One of most intriguing eponymous pairings a moto-loving person can imagine is riding a Royal Enfield Himalayan in the Himalayas. The popular adventure bike has gotten a complete makeover for 2024. The question is: Can the new version bring the Himalayan into the technological present and still retain the character and charisma of the original?

Royal Enfield, the oldest global motorcycle brand in continuous production, launched the Himalayan in 2016, but we didn’t get our first ride on one until 2018.

Powered by an air-cooled 411cc Single, it has been a favorite of riders seeking a simple, versatile, and affordable motorcycle. Royal Enfield is a decidedly and intentionally retro manufacturer, so the company was meticulous, even plodding, in its development of an upgraded Himalayan. But the wait is over.

Related: BMW G 310 GS vs. Kawasaki Versys-X 300 vs. Royal Enfield Himalayan Comparison Review

Royal Enfield Himalayan: What’s New

It is not hyperbole to say that everything about the 2024 Himalayan is new. Starting at the heart, the air-cooled 411cc Single has been replaced with a liquid-cooled 452cc Single with DOHC and 4 valves. The claimed 39.5 hp (up from a barely adequate 24) is reached at 8,000 rpm, and 29.5 lb-ft of torque (up from 24) arrives at 5,500 rpm. The new Himalayan’s entire power curve surpasses that of its predecessor, and the engine revs out farther.

The forward-canted cylinder is a visual and technological departure from the previous model’s vertical air-cooled powerplant. The engine is now a stressed member of the frame, and a new gearbox has six speeds instead of five and is part of the unit-construction, semi-dry sump engine case. Located under the fuel tank is a new airbox that provides a pleasing intake growl. Exhaust gasses run through an under-frame catalytic converter that also muffles sound, which allows for an attractively short silencer.

Related: 2023 Royal Enfield Super Meteor 650 Review | First Ride

Suspension and braking changes are just as substantial as those to the engine. The previous conventional 41mm fork has been replaced with a Showa cartridge-type inverted fork with 43mm tubes, and the rear shock is now a linkage type with adjustable preload. Suspension travel is 7.9 inches front and rear, keeping front travel the same but bumping up from 7.1 inches of previous rear travel.

As before, the Himalayan rolls on spoked wheels with tube-type rims, 21-inch front (90/90-21) and 17-inch rear (140/80-17). Royal Enfield reps said certain up-spec models will be offered with tubeless spoked wheels, but details have not yet been finalized. There are still single disc brakes front and rear, but the 2-piston front caliper now squeezes a 320mm disc (up from 300) and the 1-piston rear caliper squeezes a 270mm disc (up from 240). ABS is standard and can be disabled at the rear wheel for off-road duty.

Front and center, the Himalayan has a new 4-inch TFT display that combines a multitude of innovative and modern features in a retro-style round gauge. It offers Bluetooth connectivity to a rider’s smartphone for music and navigation. The latter is powered by Google Maps and is the first of its kind for the display type and shape. On-the-fly toggling between screens is actuated by an easily accessible hand control. The Himalayan features LED lighting all around, and the tail lighting is innovatively integrated into both rear turnsignals. A USB-C port keeps a smartphone charged.

The overall aesthetic of the bike was crafted to retain core design elements of the original while projecting a more modern look. The midsection is narrower, and the bike has a lower center of gravity. There is an easily adjustable dual-height seat (32.5/33.3 inches; an optional low seat adjusts from 31.7 to 32.5 inches), and a beefier handlebar is adjustable fore and aft in two positions.

The new model’s wheelbase is just over 2 inches longer than the original at 59.5 inches, and ground clearance is right at 9 inches. The redesigned fuel tank holds 4.5 gallons (up from 4.0), and Royal Enfield claims a range of more than 280 miles, which translates to about 62 mpg. The Himalayan is available in five colors inspired by its namesake region: Hanle Black, Kamet White, Kaza Brown, Slate Poppy Blue, and Slate Himalayan Salt.

No adventure bike is complete without a few farkles, and the Himalayan accessory list includes handguards; a taller windscreen; touring mirrors; protectors for the engine, radiator, and headlight; aluminum panniers and top box; and a rally kit that includes a rally-style seat and tailsection and a higher aluminum exhaust can.

Related: 2023 Royal Enfield Hunter 350 Review | First Ride

Royal Enfield Himalayan: Riding Impressions

Before I get into the nitty gritty, you must understand that riding in northern India is like a schizophrenic dance. When traffic is light and the tarmac is intact, it is a sweeping and graceful waltz. The ballroom is stunning in the shadows of the towering Himalayas. At other times, the dance is a frenetic mosh pit of activity with the soundtrack of blaring horns. Colorfully adorned and bedazzled commercial trucks use the tarmac dance floor in any lane they choose. Small-displacement motorcycles and scooters weave and maneuver, carrying passengers and payloads in clear excess of their design limits. Cows wander and sometimes sleep in the road as if they are fully aware of their spiritual significance in Indian culture. The “dance floor” is a constantly changing platform that varies from intact to fractured to nonexistent with no warning at all. This is exactly the dance for which the new Himalayan is designed.

Related: An India Motorcycle Trip from Head to Toe

After a briefing on how to handle riding in the region, our test ride took us up into the mountains on a crisp late October morning. The Himalayan proved to be an easy bike to adjust to. The controls are user-friendly, the shifting is precise, and response from the new throttle-by-wire is smooth and controllable. Braking, while not exemplary, was predictable, and the ABS performed well. Predictability was particularly important as I negotiated the ever-changing conditions of the northern Indian roadways.

The work that Royal Enfield engineers put into the new model’s ergonomics is obvious. The seating position is natural and neutral with a comfortable reach to the bar, and there is ample leg room to the footpegs. What impressed me most about the new ergos is how comfortable the bike feels in a standing position. I’m 6-foot-3 with a 34-inch inseam, and some smaller bikes force me into a semi-crouch when standing. As the conditions constantly changed on our ride, it was easy to shift around on the bike and stand over its narrow midsection.

Climbing to more than 10,000 feet in elevation, it was crucial to keep the 40-hp Single in the appropriate gear. Exiting a corner in a rev range that was even slightly too low required quick downshifting to find acceleration. To that end, the new slip/assist clutch made gear changes nearly seamless. When in the right gear, the engine performed remarkably well. I wonder what kind of performance boost the engine would realize at sea level.

Gear Up

• Helmet: Alpinestars Supertech M10 Flood
• Jacket: Alpinestars Ardent 3-in-1
• Gloves: Alpinestars Bogota Drystar XF
• Pants: Rev’It!
• Boots: Alpinestars RT-7 Drystar Boot

The Himalayan is a very competent bike on pavement. The chassis is notably stiff in its new configuration with the engine as a stressed member. Cornering on the serpentine sections of Himalayan tarmac proved to be stable and confidence inspiring. I repeatedly dragged the pegs and felt comfortable doing so. Wind protection from the small screen was adequate, keeping some of the blast off my torso. However, I would opt for the accessory tall windscreen for touring.

On our way into the mountains, I got intermittent hints about how the bike would handle off-road. There were many sections where the ravages of the Himalayan environment had washed away the pavement, leaving dusty and rocky stretches. I often encountered these sections at high speeds, and the bike handled the changes in footing admirably. In the villages, the bike’s predictability was crucial as I negotiated that aforementioned dance – braking, weaving, and accelerating through the traffic frenzy.

After several hours of riding into the mountains, we were given the opportunity to hit the dirt. The conditions offered up sandy and rocky sections as well as some heavily rutted inclines. The updated suspension, stout frame, and 21-inch front wheel negotiated these conditions well. The front suspension felt more sorted than the rear, but I bottomed out the rear shock only once. Cranking up the rear preload a bit would have helped. The off-road capability of the bike is enhanced by the overall light feel and relaxed ergos. It felt stable and planted in the dirt even on the road-biased tires.

Later in the day, I had the chance to ride some icy declines and limited water sections. Again, the Himalayan was up to the task. I felt fully in control of the bike on the slick sections, and switching off rear ABS negated any unsettling freewheeling sensation from the rear brake. All in all, the new Himalayan handled everything admirably. The bike was stable at speed on the tarmac, predictable in the dirt, and controllable on dodgy surfaces. What else can you ask of a lightweight ADV?

If adventure bikes are the Swiss Army knives of the motorcycling world, then the light, versatile Himalayan resides comfortably in that pocket. The new model is a marked upgrade from its already popular predecessor. This is not a bike intended to wow your riding buddies with power numbers or cutting-edge technology. Rather, it’s a reliable, comfortable, competent all-around motorcycle available at a reasonable price (U.S. pricing is not yet available, but it shouldn’t be drastically higher than the $5,449 base price of the 2023 model). If the Himalayan can handle the extremity of the conditions in the region after which it is named, it should continue to be a popular choice worldwide.

The answer to the question posed earlier is a resounding “yes” – the new Himalayan brings the model into the present and still emits its fair share of character and charisma.

Check out more new/updated bikes in Rider’s 2024 Motorcycle Buyers Guide

2024 Royal Enfield Himalayan Specifications

• Base Price: N/A
• Website: RoyalEnfield.com
• Warranty: 3 yrs., unltd. miles w/ roadside assistance
• Engine Type: Liquid-cooled Single, DOHC w/ 4 valves
• Displacement: 452cc
• Bore x Stroke: 84 × 81.5mm
• Horsepower: 39.5 @ 8,000 rpm (factory claim)
• Torque: 29.5 lb-ft @ 5,500 rpm (factory claim)
• Transmission: 6-speed, cable-actuated slip/assist wet clutch
• Final Drive: Chain
• Wheelbase: 59.4 in.
• Rake/Trail: 26.5 degrees/5.0 in.
• Seat Height: 32.5/33.3 in.
• Wet Weight: 432 lb (factory claim w/ 90% fuel)
• Fuel Capacity: 4.5 gal.
• Fuel Consumption: 62 mpg (estimate)
• Range: 280+ miles (factory claim)

The post 2024 Royal Enfield Himalayan Review | First Ride appeared first on Rider Magazine.

As I sat in the fantastic Belly Up Aspen concert venue in Colorado listening to a great performance by The Wallflowers, I did not imagine that “belly up” was a condition I was going to have to actively avoid the next day. You see, the following morning I was going to ride Independence Pass, one of my favorite stretches of pavement in the Southwest that I had taken some months previous in the fall.

That night in Aspen, Wallflowers front man Jakob Dylan was on top of his vocal game and filled the intimate venue with all of his best work. Ironically, the band’s song Angel on my Bike chronicles salvation from either a real or figurative motorcycle crash. Turns out I was going to need that angel on my pillion seat.

The crisp Colorado mountain air had me zipping up my jacket vents as I started the ascent out of Aspen. The early ride was just what I had hoped for. Smooth pavement traced through the evergreens, and traffic was light. I quickly fell into that perfect groove as I slalomed up toward the pass.

See all of Rider‘s Colorado touring stories here.

I was only a handful of miles into the climb when I got the first hint that this would not be a normal ride. Just after a blind curve, a mother moose and her offspring bounded in front of me. The mother was quick and agile as she leapt to safety. The little one was confused and halting, and I was forced into an abrupt evasive swerve. As my heart settled, the two disappeared into the forested depths.

As I continued my climb, that smooth blacktop transformed into recently applied chipseal. The tar-coated gravel began the telltale cacophony of sounds as it flung from my tires onto my fenders and bodywork – a far cry from the melodic offerings of The Wallflowers the night before. I cut my speed in half and made the requisite adjustments to my cornering technique.

I rode up to one of the two stop lights on the pass that control traffic in the one-lane Narrows sections of Independence Pass. The light was just changing to red, and I slowed to a stop in anticipation of the oncoming traffic taking its turn in the Narrows. In my mirrors, I saw an SUV barreling toward me. I was already planning my escape maneuver in what little room I had on the side of the road. Without any slowing, the Range Rover barreled into the oncoming lane and passed me, pelting me with gravel as he ran the red light and endangered me and all of the potential oncoming traffic. Close call No. 2, plus challenging riding conditions.

After continuing on when the light turned green, I came upon the crew applying the chipseal. At this point, the road became even more challenging as the surface was newly applied. One lane was gravel and the other was fresh tar. The combination of this variable surface with the twisty, guardrail-less pass made for tricky riding. Accelerating, braking, and turning all had to be muted and modulated. The road remained like this all the way to the 12,000-foot apex of the pass.

After stopping for the views – and the bathroom – at the top, I started the descent on the other side of the pass on established pavement with actual markings and no gravel or fresh tar. It was not, however, the end of the challenge.

It became clear that the prior winter had taken a toll on the pass, which had been much more intact only months before in the fall. While not as challenging as the way up, the frayed and crumbling margins of the tarmac and the potholes made the descent worthy of extreme vigilance.

In the end, I made it unscathed (other than tar on my boots and a few chips on my BMW bodywork). I did not end up belly up, maybe due in part to an angel on my bike. Now that I’m on the other side of this particular Colorado motorcycle trip, I highly recommend catching a concert at Belly Up Aspen, attending a show by The Wallflowers wherever they might be playing, and avoiding assumptions about a favorite road based on the last time you rode it.

See all of Rider‘s touring stories here.

The post Angel on My Bike: A Colorado Motorcycle Trip 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.  

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

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.

I am not one to repeat most motorcycle rides, and I am certainly not one to revisit my old articles. However, there is a curious symmetry to this Spring Trifecta piece. Two years ago, virtually to the day, I wrote a web article for Rider titled, Spring Training: A Good Reason to Dust Off the Bike. I penned the piece after intertwining some great southern Arizona motorcycle rides, Cactus League spring training, and concerts at the appropriately named Innings Festival. It was a great time, but the precipitous onset of Covid-19 followed immediately cutting spring training short and rendering gatherings like music festivals a thing of the past.

This spring, with Covid loosening its talons on society, I was going to return to spring training to watch the boys of summer hone their skills and to the Innings Festival for more good music. I had already traced new southern Arizona motorcycle routes. This time, it was not a novel virus that interfered; it was a dispute between those same boys of summer and their bosses that silenced the baseball diamonds. With one leg of my trifecta of fun severed, I cancelled my spring riding and concert plans.

A few weeks later, the baseball owners and the players’ union agreed to an eleventh-hour deal, and spring training was green-lighted for a late start. My routes were already in place and bats were again going to crack. All I was missing was a musical component to complete my return to southern Arizona and some semblance of normalcy. An Internet search revealed that Roger Clyne, the rock balladeer of the Southwest, was to perform at the intimate and beautiful outdoor Mesa Amphitheatre, which is just a stone’s (or hardball’s) throw away from the Arizona training facility of the Chicago Cubs. Perfect!

As it turns out, it was perfect. My ride south of Phoenix was amazing. Towering cacti stood sentinel as I wound though Sonoran Desert National Monument. Blue skies and rugged mountains served as backdrop in my loop ride even further south through the Southwestern desert. Things like labor disputes, global viruses, and two years of missing many of my favorite things blurred in my rearview mirrors.

The night after my sojourn into the arid version of God’s country, I settled my saddle fatigued posterior into my seat at the Mesa Amphitheatre. Intermixed in the enthusiastic audience were Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers concert shirts and various iterations of baseball jerseys. Clearly I was not the only one enjoying a vibrant melding of spring activities. Under the Mesa, Arizona, stars, Clyne played his raucous mix of original songs, threw back shots of his proprietary tequila, and generally whipped his fans into a communal frenzy. I offer up a strong recommendation. Experience a Roger Clyne show as it is very easy to become a fan.

In the couple of days that followed, I embarked on another much-needed and spirited desert ride through Arizona’s burgeoning wine country. The high grasslands of southeastern Arizona are fertile ground for both grapes and entertaining riding. I rode past isolated vineyards and unique small towns in the high desert expanse. My big BMW R 1200 GS seemed as happy to free from the stagnancy of winter, variants, and quarantines as I was.

I followed the riding with a bit of sun-warmed bleacher time watching the relaxed pace of an early Cactus League practice at the Cubs spring training facility. Listening to bats cracking and the banter of players returning to their diamond sanctuary was just what the doctor ordered.

So there you have it – one man’s return to some kind of normalcy. Baseball is back, concerts are returning, and riding is always there. There is a smile on my face. Trifecta complete.

The post Spring Trifecta: A Return to Riding, Concerts, and Baseball appeared first on Rider Magazine.

Covering three states and several desert ecosystems, this ride was a survey of contrasts, from arid sand dunes to thriving wetlands, whimsical Joshua trees to towering palms, bustling humanity to sublime solitude. An exploration of the Mojave National Preserve and lower Colorado River was just what the doctor ordered for the off-season riding blues. My timing, at the tail end of fall, was perfect as the region’s summer inferno had cooled into near-perfect riding weather. 

Walking, fully geared up and helmet in hand, through the Laughlin, Nevada, casino, it struck me how many people were tugging on slot machine arms at 7 a.m. The only handles I would be pulling were the ones bolted to the triple clamp on my BMW GS. While satisfied with the casino buffet and grudgingly entertained by the Queen tribute band the night before, Laughlin was simply my staging point for a ride through some of the most subtly beautiful scenery in the Southwest. 

My westward ascent out of the neon-lit gambling community on the banks of the Colorado was immediate and welcome. Riding on Veterans Memorial Highway (U.S. Route 95), I passed through the tiny town of Cal-Nev-Ari, named after three states in close proximity and, fittingly, the same three I would navigate on this trip.

Once out of the Colorado River Valley, I rode through the beautiful desert “forest” on Joshua Tree Highway (Nevada Route 164). As if conjured from the mind of Dr. Seuss, the Joshua trees seemed to have a sense of humor, each with its own stylized take on what it means to be a tree. The highway crossed into California near Nipton, a historic railroad town dating to 1905. If the Joshua trees had a sense of humor, then Nipton was in on the joke. Interspersed among the town’s small general store, restaurant, hotel and cluster of “eco cabins” are metal art sculptures and classic cars wearing bright, wild paint jobs. 

A few miles west of Nipton, I turned south into the Mojave National Preserve. After riding through low shrub and sandy desert terrain, I rolled into another beautiful Joshua tree forest. Traffic was nonexistent, and I made several jaunts on sandy side roads to delve even further into the desert solitude. Deep sand sections challenged my street-biased dual-sport tires, but the preserve is a good playground for an adventure bike in any configuration. It’s important to stick to established and open roads in the preserve, so I kept an eagle eye out for wilderness boundaries. 

After stopping to explore a rustic, timber-fenced cattle corral, the first evidence of human habitation was the ghost town of Cima. A former water stop for trains laboring up the long Kelso Valley incline, it’s now home to a sometimes-open store and a few crumbling historic buildings. Continuing south into the heart of the preserve, the Joshua trees soon faded away and the forever views of the open desert emerged. Much of the preserve’s 1.6 million acres was visible in panorama on this stretch. It was the kind of riding that allowed for an open throttle and a free mind. Other than dodging a few sand drifts and tumble weeds, I welcomed the time to think and just ride. On the horizon, golden sand dunes shimmered in the morning sunlight and invited me onward. 

After paralleling a train track, I pulled into a cluster of languishing historic buildings with a beautiful red tile-roofed centerpiece. The Kelso Depot opened its doors in 1924 and was a transportation hotspot until the early 1960s, and the surrounding community had 2,000 residents during the railroad’s boom years. Following its heyday, the depot sat empty for years. After nearly being razed in the early 1990s, it is now a beautifully restored visitor center for the Mojave National Preserve. I walked the park-like grounds, discussed the area’s history with a park ranger in the depot’s lobby and took in Kelso’s oasis-like ambiance. 

Leaving the depot, I rode past the Kelso Dunes that I had been eyeing for miles. This impressive pile of sand rises 650 feet above the desert floor and covers 45 square miles. It’s also a prime habitat for the desert tortoise, and signage warns to keep an eye out for the big slow-movers on the roadway.

Beyond the dunes the road got more winding and outcroppings of stone dominated the terrain. After a short stint on Interstate 40, I caught old Route 66 through Goffs on my way back to the Colorado River. The river defines the state line, and crossing it took me into Arizona, where my route followed the southern flow of the river. Route 95 brought a scenic mix of desert straights and rocky mountain passes. 

Sitting on the bank of its namesake reservoir, Lake Havasu City is fed by the cold waters of the Colorado. Spanning a short portion of the lake is the city’s most notable and incongruous feature. In the heart of the city, I found myself riding in the shadows of several waving Union Jacks. Had the British conquered Arizona? No, but I did ride my GS over a massive stone bridge that once arched over the River Thames. London Bridge was built in 1830, and in a strange and fascinating move, it was dismantled in 1967 and relocated to Arizona. A heavy undertaking by any measure, it was rebuilt stone-by-stone over a period of three years and now connects the city to an island in the lake. 

Continuing south on the 95, the winding and diverse river valley made for a fantastic near-winter ride. The Colorado River cuts a stark and beautiful visual contrast between the high-volume blue of the water and the muted browns of the desert. As my route made a turn from southeast to southwest, it made an environmental turn as well. In the heart of the desert is another contrast — a wetlands area teeming with life. The Bill Williams River National Wildlife Refuge is a shag carpet of living, vibrant greens at the tip of the big toe of the Havasu reservoir. 

Next came a short spur to see the structure that makes Havasu a lake. Built in the 1930s, Parker Dam is a concrete arch-gravity dam across a narrow section of the Colorado. Like an iceberg with only its concrete lip exposed, the true extent of its impressive engineering is underwater. Parker is the deepest dam in the world, and legend has it that enormous catfish feed in the watery depths on both sides of the massive structure.

Beyond the dam is the Parker Strip, one of the most visually striking portions of the ride. The winding road clings to the red-hued rocks that line this stretch of the Colorado River Valley. As I motored on, the river flowed blue and deep on one side while statuesque stone walls rose up to the clean Arizona sky on the other. Watercraft created V-shaped wakes in the Colorado’s flow as aquatic birds flew in the same formation above. It was intriguing to contemplate that the water I was riding beside had already made the bulk of its 1,450-mile trek from the Rocky Mountains of central Colorado, through several states and the Grand Canyon, and ultimately toward Mexico and the Pacific Ocean. 

My ride ended at the BlueWater Resort and Casino in Parker, which has a marina, an indoor water park, several restaurants and balcony rooms with great views of the river. Lady Luck had been my passenger on this ride, so I did not test her generosity on the casino floor. I simply watched the changing hues of the sunset over the Colorado and reflected on a truly memorable ride. 

Mojave National Preserve: From Neon to Nirvana Photo Gallery:

The post Mojave National Preserve: From Neon to Nirvana appeared first on Rider Magazine.

The Lone Star State is huge, and this land of cattle, oil fields and tall pickups seems even bigger from the saddle of a motorcycle. Near the end of a recent and long tour of Texas, I found a hidden treasure. Nestled between the Rio Grande and New Mexico rests an area that features some of the best riding Texas has to offer.

In my map study of far West Texas it became clear that the attractive loops of highway in the Big Bend area would require more than a day’s ride. Those loops also seemed to have a clear central axis—the town of Fort Davis. I booked a room at the Harvard Hotel, an incongruously named but truly outstanding hotel in the center of the small, historic town and settled into the heart of this motorcycling wonderland. Fort Davis sits at nearly a mile in elevation and is the home of the historic site of the 19th-century frontier fort of the same name. The fort was of particular interest to me because of my fascination with the Buffalo Soldiers. In the late 1800s, Fort Davis was the regional headquarters for all four regiments of these iconic soldiers.

Big Bend Loop – Splendid Isolation

I studied my map over a tasty patty melt at the Fort Davis Drugstore, a quaint diner which dates back to 1913 and sits adjacent to the Harvard Hotel. My goal in route planning, as always, was to put together intriguing rides with minimal road repetition. I decided that I’d do the long ride first—the Big Bend National Park loop. I packed my camera and plenty of water, gassed up and headed south on Texas Route 118. The descent out of Fort Davis was beautiful as it wound through sculpted rock formations and small stands of oak and juniper trees.

About 25 miles southeast of my starting point was Alpine, Texas. This bustling college town is considered the gateway to Big Bend. Continuing south, Route 118 was a mix of straights and sweeping high desert curves. It was an arid departure from the more mountainous nature of the Fort Davis area. The road was fun and fast, and the traffic was light. At the southern extremity of this road, Big Bend National Park sits massively to the southeast and there is a junction that leads into the park.

However, my route dictated a west bend onto Texas FM 170. Also known as the River Road due to its symbiotic relationship with the Rio Grande, this road was a true delight. After the ghost town of Terlingua, the terrain becomes more rugged and rocky and the tarmac tightens into nice curves. In spots, there are rollercoaster-like elevation changes and the Rio Grande is often visible from the roadside. Much of this stretch is through the heart of Big Bend Ranch State Park. Route 170 follows the Mexican-American border closely for about 60 miles before reaching the town of Presidio, Texas.

The northern turn onto U.S. Route 67 spells a return to straighter, more open riding similar to the southern ride on Route 118. I rolled through another interesting ghost town, Shafter, on the trek back toward Fort Davis. After Shafter, my straight, high desert ride continued to the town of Marfa. This is another town that reflects the historic, artistic, eclectic nature of many of the towns in this area.

The last leg of this loop ride before returning to Fort Davis was a portion of U.S. Route 90. This ride brings back hilly, sweeping twisties and elevation changes. The Marfa Lights Viewing Center is an interesting stop in the middle of this jaunt. The Marfa Lights are glowing orbs that appear over the desert on a dozen or so nights a year. There are many theories as to what they may be, from the supernatural to the scientific, but they remain an intriguing phenomenon. I took a quick look through the center’s viewing scopes, but the time of day during my stop made spotting them a fun but futile endeavor. My return to Fort Davis ended a wonderful 280-mile day through the rugged, muted browns of the Big Bend area.

The Davis Loops – Mountain Magic

I woke with anticipation as the day’s route promised exactly the kind of riding I love most. The jagged figure eight that I had highlighted on my map traced through curvy mountainous topography that held incredible promise.

On my way out of Fort Davis to the northeast, the sunrise illuminated the buildings of the historic fort with a warm yellow glow. I carved my way up Texas Route 17 through the rugged rocky terrain. It was a very different ride than most of the open, desert landscape of the prior day. Bridges, guardrails and Falling Rock warning signs emphasize that change. Aside from the beauty, three things struck me on this stretch. First, Texas does a great job with signs that alert drivers to share the road with motorcycles. Also, rest stops in the area are frequent and beautiful. Finally, interesting historic markers are common along West Texas roadways.

After Wild Rose Pass in the Davis Mountains, the road settles into a descent of sweeping view-filled curves on the way to Toyahvale. The ride northwest out of the town was a straight, arid respite over FM 3078 and a short stretch of Interstate 10. It was the calm before the wonderful storm of curves that the northern portion of Route 118 would bring.

The southern ride on Route 118 starts as a treeless roll through high desert grasslands. In the distance, mountains began to become visible and I knew that I was headed toward the heart of the Davis range. I came to a fork in the road with Route 166 to the right and the continuation of Route 118 to the left. I made my premeditated left turn without remorse, as I knew I would sample enticing Route 166 later in the ride.

Instantly after the fork, the road becomes a serpentine ribbon into a kind of terrain I had not witnessed in Texas. Trees grow taller, views grow longer and the road grows tighter. It was all that I had imagined earlier with highlighter in hand. After several miles of fantastic riding, the white domes of the McDonald Observatory glowed in the mountain sun. After a stop at the observatory, I began the winding descent back toward Fort Davis. Again, the views opened up. The grin-inspiring joyride continued all the way back to the fort.

Despite being back at my starting point of the day, my ride was not over. Remember this route is a figure eight and it was only half traced. I saved this last loop like you save that last great slice of steak at dinner. Heading south out of Fort Davis and linking up with Highway 166, I embarked on what the locals call the Davis Mountain Scenic Loop. The early part of the loop undulates through farm and ranchland. Off in the northeastern distance is a different view of the Davis Mountains that had made for such great riding earlier in the day. At various points in this beautiful stretch, Mount Livermore is clearly visible. Livermore is the tallest peak in the range at over 8,000 feet in elevation.

As the loop makes its gradual arc to the north, the road becomes twistier and more mountainous. To say the traffic was light would be an acute understatement. I may have passed two cars total before returning to that wonderful Y in the road that I mentioned earlier. You may recall that I stated that one of my tenets in route mapping is minimal road repetition. There are exceptions—sometimes wonderful exceptions. On this day, I was going to get to re-ride what may be the best motorcycling stretch of road in Texas. I was back on Route 118 to connect the dots back to Fort Davis on this figure-eight ride. It was just as good the second time! For the last 200 miles I traced my way around and through the stunning Davis Mountains in wonderful West Texas.

I have ridden thousands of miles over the very best roads that the American Southwest has to offer, so I can be a bit hard to impress. Let’s just say, I left my days in West Texas thoroughly impressed with the Big Bend and Davis Mountains region. It is an area of great roads, historic towns and stunning scenery. It is worthy of a spot on any motorcyclist’s bucket road list.

 

The post Wonderful West Texas appeared first on Rider Magazine.