If you heard about my last major trip, you know it didn't go all that well. No, I didn't wreck, or get lost, or brake down in the middle of nowhere - all things that have happened before. But I ended up 'pulling the plug' and turning around only half-way to my Arctic destination. And that was a completely new experience for me. I vowed to do some things differently next time, and to take a few extra steps throughout the year, before attempting another 5,000+ mile ride.
This is the story of one of those intermediate steps - as well as checking off a mid-distance destination that's been on my list for years.
This first photo was taken in my garage, with both of my bikes fully prepped, loaded, and ready to depart. That's Jonathan on the right, a good friend of 15 years. We'd met in South America and traveled together with our wives in Bolivia, Peru, and Chile. He and I had also wandered the Andes Mountains and Amazon basin on motorcycles, and most recently the alligator infested swamps of Florida, en route to the jaw-dropping Overseas Highway out to Key West.
We'd been trying to arrange another moto adventure together for the past six years, but with Jonathan living six hours away and currently bike-less, it just never worked out.
Until now!
Part of the problem was my reluctance to take the aging KLR650, the green one, more than 50 miles from home. In its prime, I'd ridden it as far east as eastern South Dakota, and as far north as Canada's Northwest Territories. But since I'd gotten my first KTM, the smaller bike has served primarily as my commuter vehicle, getting me to and from work, year round, in all kinds of Northwest weather, for over 10 years now.
But there it was, nosed-in to the curb in Sisters, OR - already nearly 200 miles from anyone who would be willing to load it into their truck, and take it back to the safety of my garage.
And so... you're already beginning to see the flaw in this plan to regain my confidence on long bike trips. I brought along an experienced friend, to reduce my anxiety about dealing with any problem that might arise. But then I also brought along an old dirt bike with 70,000 miles, doubling the chances of a problem arising in the first place!
But once our food came, those fears began to fade. It was hot out, but under the shade of a big umbrella, and the cooling effect of a slight breeze, our outdoor table was the perfect place for a siesta.
Besides, we'd already conquered the first issue. Guess, I skipped that part. Twenty minutes out of town, Jonathan's voice came over my helmet intercom, "Should the radiator cooling fan be on?" It was still in the 50's... so no. But the temp. gauge was reading normal, so it surely wasn't the fan. We pulled over, and I took the 'Green Machine' for a short spin up the road. At about 30 miles per hour, a horrendous screeching noise began abruptly that was annoyingly loud, even through my helmet and ear plugs. I recognized it immediately. It was the speedometer cable.
I'd replaced it earlier in the year, then had to take it off twice more for additional lubrication before it finally quieted down. I hadn't heard a peep out of it for months - until now.
The fix was easy though, I'd done it before. Taking my multi-tool from its pocket in my tank bag, I unscrewed the bottom end of the cable from its housing on the front wheel axle. Then I taped it securely to the right fork leg, so it wouldn't get caught in the spokes - that would be very bad. I also taped up the open hole, so no crud would fall in and grind up the gear in there. He'd have to pace off of me to avoid speeding; and we'd always fill up together, so I'd know how far he'd gone on each tank of gas. No problem.
Why not just take off the cable entirely, you ask? Well, to do that, you have to remove the front fairing - which is quite a job. This would work - as long as the tape held.
After lunch, we made it through Bend, OR, then down Highway 31 to Summer Lake. I'd made reservations for us at 'The Lodge,' the only place in town; and we arrived around 5:30, after clocking just over 300 miles for the day.
That's another new thing I was trying on this trip - shorter days in the saddle. I commented to Jonathan that for the first time I can remember, I made it all the way to my day's destination without needing to take off my sun glasses!
Our room was behind the main building, motel style - which is great, because you can park right outside your window! Bringing in all our luggage was super easy. Now, the website said something about a fishing pond out back...
Oh yes! A little dock jutted out over the water, with a low mountain as scenic backdrop. There was a green chair - for Kawasaki riders, obviously, an orange chair - for KTM riders, a blue one for Yamaha or Suzuki - they couldn't make up their minds in the 80's, and a purple one for... I have no idea.
We sat and chatted about the ride so far, and even delved into religion and politics. Now that's a good friend! As the light faded, our stomachs directed us back to the main lodge, and one of the main reasons for picking this spot for the night.
On-site restaurant! We both ordered burgers, and quickly decided they would be the first and last burgers we would have for the entire four-day trip. They were amazing! There was no way a subsequent one could measure up. No reason to set yourself up for disappointment.
Before bed, the KLR took a little oil - OK, quite a bit of oil! It's always been a burner, but it had definitely gotten worse over the years. I'd packed a full quart for it, but it was now obvious, we'd be needing more before the 11 hundred-mile ride was over. The chains on both bikes were still well lubed and adjusted, though. Being brand new helps a lot with that. In fact, besides the chain and sprockets, I'd also given the KLR two new tires, a new air filter, spark plug, clutch cable, and front brake line. It was in better shape than it had been in a long time.
What I hadn't updated, however, was the somewhat tired suspension. To mitigate that, I was packing nearly all the tools, liquids, and spare parts for both of us. Jonathan had his personal gear in a tank bag, and his clothing in a waterproof stuff sack on the luggage rack, but was able to keep it pretty light. We'd also decided not to camp, which makes a huge difference.
Why all the concern for supplies, new tires, and weight? The answer to that now lay only a couple hundred miles to the south, in the wilds of northern Nevada. There was a reason we weren't riding big, comfortable Gold Wings. And that reason had a name...
The Black Rock Desert!
This was fun. I like the Northwest Territories decal on the KLR windscreen!
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