Cold maintenance rides

This is the time of year when I seldom ride for fun. I commute occasionally, as weather and errands allow (I oftentimes have to run errands that require the use of a four-wheeled vehicle). I also try to ride each bike at least once a week just to keep it running. I don't like to let my vehicles sit.

One tip I've read is to either park your bike with a nearly empty tank and fuel stabilizer added, or better yet, park it with a full tank of fuel. When bikes sit for long periods, water condensation can form on the inside of the tank. If the tank is full, there is very little exposed surface area inside where condensation can form. That is why I choose to keep my tanks full when they are parked.

I'm not a mechanical expert by any means, so if any of my knowledgeable readers want to pipe in and comment on the validity of this approach, I'd appreciate it.

Review: Cortech Scarab Winter Gloves

A few months back I purchased a pair of Cortech Scarab Winter Gloves from MotorcycleSuperstore.com for $78. I wanted a 1) leather 2) gauntlet-length 3) waterproof glove with 4) knuckle armor. I also didn't want to spend more than $180 for the pair.

After reading a LOT of product reviews, I chose the Scarabs. My short review is: they have met my expectations.

I have worn them while riding my 2012 Suzuki GSX-R750, which has no hand guards or heated grips, in temperatures ranging from 70 degrees down to 40 F. I have worn them on my 2007 Suzuki V-Strom 650, which has hand guards but no heated grips, in temperatures from 55 degrees down to 40 F. The gloves are surprisingly warm, which is code for: it takes 45 minutes before my hands get cold instead of 15 minutes like most multi-season gloves.

They are somewhat stiff when operating controls but after putting a few dozen hours in them I can tell they are breaking in and loosening up a bit. They are comfortable, easy to put on and take off, and don't make my hands sweat (which is rare; I have sweaty hands). I've not tried to put the gauntlet under my jacket sleeves and I doubt it would work if I tried. These gloves are allegedly waterproof, but I've not yet ridden in anything other than occasional showers. Normally when it's raining hard, you want your jacket sleeve to fit over the glove. The gauntlet on these is big enough that it's not feasible to do so. If I were wearing these in anything more than moderate rain, I'd wear my Aerostich triple-digit rain covers over the top.

My ultimate test of a product's worthiness is value: does it's features and quality exceed the cost? In the case of the Cortech Scarab Winter Gloves, I definitely feel they do. They are a good value in an armored, gauntlet-style waterproof glove.

Update: 12/31/2012

I have since worn the Scarab's in colder temperatures, down to the upper 30's, riding both my V-Strom with hand guards and my Gixxer (no hand guards). The gloves work reasonably well and I maintain adequate dexterity. I have used them with a pair of silk glove liners and find my hands are comfortable quite a bit longer before they get cold. So far I would say these gloves exceed my expectations.

Racing R1s from Detroit

After a ride to Detroit and back on Saturday, the fantastic riding weather was too tempting to deny so on Sunday I headed out once again on the Gixxer.

I fueled up in Estacada, then rode straight through to Detroit where I drank a Frappucino and ate a Snickers bar before heading back. I didn't get gas in Detroit as I usually do, making the calculation that my bike would make the roundtrip on a single tank of gas (Gixxer's don't have a fuel gauge). Once I left Detroit, I caught up with a guy on a Yamaha FJR1300 that was loaded up for a long trip. He quickly waved me past and I zoomed forward. He followed me until the turn off to Timothy Lake, at which point I saw him do a U-turn in my mirrors. I think that was the way he wanted to go.

Not much farther down the road I heard a "Whoosh!" and saw a guy on a black Yamaha R1 zoom past me. I quickly caught up with him and was soon riding up his tailpipe on the corners. He was riding fairly aggressively, going fast in the straights, but he had a disjointed style in the corners and wasn't taking them very efficiently. Soon I passed him as well as numerous cars.

Before I knew it I got to Ripplebrook Ranger Station and stopped under some shade in the parking lot. Less than a minute later he pulled in and parked next to me. We chatted for a couple of minutes before his buddy on a red and white anniversary edition R1 showed up. Finally their third buddy on an FZ1 pulled in and the four of us talked for about five minutes about bikes. They couldn't say enough good things about my GSX-R750 and were blown away when I mentioned it apparently has a top speed of 180 mph, stock. The stock 1000 cc R1 can only go 6 mph faster than that. They were in somewhat of a hurry to get back into town so they pulled out and headed down the road. I put my gloves and helmet on and sought out to catch up to them.

It didn't take long before I was right behind them, on the hill down to the river crossing at Indian Henry Campground. Between there and the next bridge just before Three Lynx I passed the FZ1; he didn't appear to be a very good rider. Soon after the red and white anniversary edition R1 waved me past. I was then up the tailpipe of the first guy on the black R1. Again, he wasn't riding very smoothly, actually tucking down against his tank when going into corners. This is opposite of what should be done. I quickly went past him, too. They had a hard time keeping up.

The three guys finally caught up with me at the construction stoplight just west of Promontory Park. They followed me the rest of the way into Estacada where I pulled into town to get gas and they continued on westward.

It was a fantastic ride and I had a huge grin on my face when I got home.

A funny thing happened on the way to happiness

I've put over 600 miles on my Gixxer 750 since I bought it two weeks ago. During that time I've ridden my 2007 V-Strom 650 once; I commuted to work on it one day last week. When I bought the Gixxer I planned to ride both bikes for a year, at which point I would decide which bike I liked better and sell the other one.

Obviously, these are very different bikes. They serve different purposes and are suited for completely different types of riding. Many will say that a V-Strom can carve up the twisties nearly as well as a sport bike. Wait, who says that? Oh yeah, I've said it. Many times. And it's true, up to a point. Ultimately it all depends upon the skill of the rider. A good rider on a dual sport will do better than an unskilled rider on a sport bike, and not to brag, I have proven that to be true in my own experience (while riding my V-Strom).


This past weekend I rode to Detroit and back with my buddy, Keith. He was on his 2006 Ninja 250 and I was on my 2012 GSX-R750. The weather was great, the road was in good shape, and most of the traffic was going the other direction so very little passing was required. It was a fantastic ride.

I noticed that my cornering speed has been improving steadily as well as my comfort level with the bike. I can take the same corners faster and with greater ease than before. I've also noticed that I can take the same corners substantially faster than I can on my V-Strom. [I ride many of the same roads repeatedly for practice, so I've become familiar with every corner.] If my doppleganger was on my V-Strom trying to follow me as I rode my Gixxer, he would be lagging behind almost immediately. The difference is noticeable.

When I got home from the 160 mile ride I also noticed that I felt very little pain or discomfort from the ride. Normally, by the time I get home on my V-Strom I can't wait to get off the bike and give my body a rest. I'm getting used to the Gixxer's riding position and am learning how to grip the tank and use my feet to remove weight from my wrists and hands. Sport bikes are still not designed for comfort, but this is far less uncomfortable than I anticipated.

When I ride my V-Strom now, the brakes, suspension and acceleration feel mushy. The handlebars feel like they're a yard apart and the whole thing feels really tall. By comparison, my Gixxer feels like a total hard body, a toned and fit athlete that is ready and capable to handle anything I throw at it.

When it comes to which bike will be leaving my stable next year, I can see where this is going. The one test remaining is to take the Gixxer on a road trip. I've got saddlebags on order. Stay tuned.

A brand new baby Gixxer

I just added a new steed to my stable. It's a brand new 2012 Suzuki GSX-R750, and it's a beauty. As you can imagine, riding it is quite a bit different than my V-Strom 650 (yes, I still have my venerable 'Strom) both in handling and acceleration. The Gixxer gets up and goes like nobodies business, but only when I tell it to; it's very well behaved otherwise.

This bike was purchased from Lanphere's Beaverton Motorcycles in Tigard, Oregon. I handled all the sales and arrangements over the phone with their salesman, Delaney. I originally was seeking a GSX-R600 but both Delaney and I felt the increased torque, especially in low- to mid-range RPMs of the 750, better suited my riding style. I'm not a red-line kind of rider and that's where the 600's prefer to live.

I rode the bike home, took a break, then took it on a 30 minute jaunt on a nearby semi-twisty road. I'll take it back out again tomorrow morning. This process of ride, rest, repeat is a 3x heat cycle that breaks in the new tires. A common misconception is that motorcycle tires need to be scuffed up to break them in. Actually, they need to be heated up through riding and then allowed to cool down to do so. Usually three times is the charm. Otherwise, ride them nice and gentle for about 100 miles and that covers it, too.

The forward riding position is quite a bit different than the upright neutral position I'm used to on the V-Strom. I feel like a great deal more of my weight is on my hands, which is true. When riding at freeway speeds a lot of the oncoming rush of air against my chest helps alleviate some of that pressure on my hands. I also get a lot more bugs on my helmet's face shield due to a lack of windscreen protection. But on the plus side, the bike is super smooth, very capable, and truly feels at home when cornering. The 750 is considered to be one of the finest all-around sport bikes ever made and I'm confident I made a good choice. I look forward to putting a lot of twisty miles on it.

Latest gear: HJC CS-R2 helmet and Garmin Zumo 220 GPS

When you ride as much as I do, no matter how well you take care of your gear it will eventually wear out. So is the case with my Garmin Zumo 450 GPS and my HJC SyMax II modular helmet.

My Zumo 450 GPS partially crapped out in Nevada on a recent 5,000 mile trip. It still showed my current location, speed, elevation, etc. but the touch screen stopped registering my input. The unit had been reliable although it occasionally became confused, as most GPS units are prone to be from time to time. I had to navigate the rest of the trip the hard way, using paper maps and turn logs that I would plot out the night before.

Getting around is easy enough the old fashioned way, but a GPS unit on your bike is very handy in some other ways. When you're in a city, they can efficiently guide you to nearby gas stations, restaurants, and motels. In larger cities, they help you find your way through the concrete jungle to critical junctions and highways leading out of town. A GPS can also tell you how far you are from the nearest gas station, which is invaluable when determining if you should fuel up now or head on down the road.

Garmin Zumo 220

I replaced it with a newer model, it's little brother, the Zumo 220. It is a no-frills unit that gets the job done with the features I need. Unlike the previous unit, the 220 uses a mini-USB connector to attach to the bike's power. Rather than snapping it into its mounting cradle, you must first plug the mini-USB connector into the back of the unit, then lock it into the cradle. This is an extra step, and it makes me miss the docking station used by the 450.

On the plus side, the 220 seems to lock onto satellites much quicker and the display is easy to see. I've yet to rely on it for city navigation or route plotting, but most of the functionality I need seems to be present.

HJC CS-R2 Storm Helmet

My first helmet was the HJC SyMax. It lasted about two years before an upgraded model came out, the SyMax II. Of course I upgraded, even though my old helmet was still functional. The SyMax II was comfortable and versatile and has served me well for several years and tens of thousands of miles. One of the drawbacks to both models, however, was an ill-fitting face shield. During moderate to heavy rain, water would run down the inside of the face shield because the top of the shield didn't seat completely against the rubber gasket across the brow of the helmet body. On especially cold rides I could feel the chilly air coming through that gap and onto my cheeks.

I'm loyal to the brand, both because of its value and because I know that their head shape fits me. My SyMax II has been showing its age lately and helmets should be replaced after 3-5 years of use anyway -- due to the gradual collapse of the interior padding, lessening its protective effectiveness in a crash -- so I shopped around for a suitable replacement.

This time I decided to go with a full-face model instead of a modular design. I wanted reasonable cost and features, no internal flip-down sun shade, and DOT-only certification; no Snell rating (Snell rated helmets subject the human skull to higher G-forces in an impact event; look it up). I also wanted a helmet with a design pattern on the outside rather than the plain colors I've been wearing to date.

I settled on the HJC CS-R2 "Storm" in grey. It is lightweight, has the feature set I wanted, and was surprisingly inexpensive. I paid $98 for it with free shipping from Motorcycle-Superstore.com.

I've ridden about 500 miles with it so far and really like it. I have to get used to the fact that I can't flip up the whole front part of the helmet like I could with my modular SyMax II. One downside is the face shield only has three detent positions; the first is barely open, which is great when fogging occurs, the other is in the middle and the top is all the way up. I wish it had 5 positions instead of three. The fit is fairly tight around my cheeks, so I find I ride with my mouth slightly open -- this narrows my cheeks, basically. I'm assuming the padding will deflate slightly over time. The size was spot on; I wear a small in all three HJC models I've owned. There are no hot spots, either. Although the helmet is quiet, there is a slight amount of wind noise from the top air vents, even when the vent is closed. When I raise my head into the full oncoming rush of air above my wind screen I can tell that a decent amount of air passes through the helmet. This is handy when riding in hot weather.

I've yet to wear the CS-R2 in rainy conditions, but close examination (and online reviews) show the face shield is pressed firmly against the brow gasket. Although I haven't treated the inside of the face shield yet, it fogs up very easily. I also noticed the clear face shield that comes with the helmet seems to have a slight gradation of tinting or perhaps polarization from top to bottom. It's subtle. I've ordered an additional shield, the HJ-09 in "Silver", from Motorcycle-Superstore.com, to provide better tinting in sunny conditions.

5,000 miles in 16 days

I just returned from a solo 5,000 mile trip around ten western states that took 16 days to complete. I left Oregon, went south to California, then across Nevada, Utah, and northern Arizona into Colorado. I then turned north into Wyoming and spent a night in South Dakota before turning west back across Wyoming, into southern Montana, across Idaho and back into Oregon.

The trip ranged from sea level (the Oregon coast) to 14,115 feet (Pikes Peak) and saw temperature extremes from the upper 30's (Beartooth Pass, Montana) to 120 degrees (Zion National Park). The farthest south was Kaibito, Arizona, the farthest east was Mt. Rushmore, South Dakota, and the farthest north was Missoula, Montana.

From a gear standpoint, my bike -- a 2007 Suzuki V-Strom 650 -- ran without complaint. In the 5,000 mile journey it used up about 3/4 of quart of oil (which is pretty normal for modern bikes). The odometer rolled over 50,000 miles during the trip. My Garmin Zumo 450 GPS half-died about 1,000 miles into the journey. It's 5 years old so that's a pretty good lifespan for an electronic gadget that gets exposed to the elements. The standout gear of the ride, however, were my ExOfficio convertible pants. I wore them under my Firstgear Kathmandu riding pants and made the trip a lot more comfortable, especially when riding in high desert heat. They retain zero odor, and I could wash them in my motel sink, ring them out (roll them up in a towel and step on it) and they'd be dry in a few hours. Plus they are super light and pack really small, which is a huge bonus when traveling by motorcycle.

The standout scenery was Beartooth Pass in southern Montana, just northeast of Yellowstone Park. The low point in terms of interest was probably Laramie, Wyoming. The town has the character of day-old dry toast.

I met some really cool people (Jeff in Fortuna, CA; Pam in Deadwood, SD; and Myles and John in Greybull, WY) and saw some shameful racism in many rural areas toward our President.

The trip went without a hitch, basically. There were no pucker moments or involuntary get-offs and no run-ins with law enforcement. It barely even rained -- a few drops while visiting Mt. Rushmore.

Speaking of Mt. Rushmore, it was probably the biggest disappointment of all the big-name places I visited. It's much smaller in person than I thought it was from all the pictures and video I've seen of it on TV. In fact, the rock formations surrounding the monument are far more interesting. Devil's Tower in northeastern Wyoming was kind of a 'meh' moment, too, not because it isn't cool -- it is -- but because it's exactly like I've seen in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. It was a kind of "Been there, done that" sort of moment.

I hadn't planned to visit Zion National Park but had to detour that way because of a road closure. Wow, what a place! I realize it's cliche to say so but pictures can't begin to do it justice. It's as if Mother Nature consulted some big-name Hollywood filmmakers when designing it.

One thing that kept crossing my mind was the viewpoint that several fundamentalist Christians hold concerning the age of the earth. I'm all for the freedom to hold personal religious beliefs, but anyone that thinks the planet is only 7,000 years old is exhibiting a willful denial of reality bordering on malignant ignorance. Just travel around the west and look at the mountains that were built up, eroded away, and built up again and see if that kind of geological activity could happen in a few thousand years ... or even in a few million. Wake up. It's okay if the planet is 4 billion years old. Really. It won't make you any farther from God to acknowledge what is obvious. If it makes you feel any better, remember what an old friend of mine used to say when asked about his view on dinosaur fossils vs. the Bible, "I don't know how it happened, I just believe God was involved."

When I go on these trips, I am often admonished by friends and family to takes lots of pictures. I took some, and I even took some video. In my tank bag was a GoPro HD camera and while riding I would often take it out and hold it with my left hand, filming various angles of the action. I've reviewed some of the footage and it worked pretty well. I plan to turn my photos and live footage into a produced video, with distribution to select individuals. Some photos will be posted here, but don't expect too much. Philosophically, I have been taking the attitude that these places aren't going anywhere; if you want to see them, go there yourself. I put in a lot of time, money, and sweat riding there and I feel somewhat reluctant to let others vicariously enjoy the benefits of that journey without paying some dues for the privilege. Sorry, but that's just how I feel.

Meanwhile, my bike is filthy and needs an oil change. My chain is also in dire need of replacement and my Aerostich Darien jacket looks like it's been to the moon and back (I love that jacket!) I also have 7 GB worth of video to edit. I'll report back when I have something to report.

Touring Tips: How to Ride Long Distance Like a Pro

I ride an average of 9,000 miles per year, more than half of which is during long-distance trips. Those miles have occurred without a single get-off and took place during all types of weather and road conditions. During that time and over those miles I've learned a few things, some of which are included below. Most of these tips pertain to long-distance touring rather than short single-day trips or commuting.

1. Take classes and practice specific skills. Take the Basic Rider's Course from the Motorcycle Safety Foundation to get your endorsement, then after 5-10,000 miles, take a more advanced course. I suggest Lee Park's Total Control.

2. Don't buy cheap gear. Quality is a higher priority than price. Quality gear is usually more comfortable, making the ride more enjoyable.

3. When buying gear, get pants and a jacket that is waterproof via the outer layer. Gear that uses a removable waterproof inner liner is a waste of time and money.

4. Rub Pledge furniture polish on the outside of your face shield to make rain bead up and run off. Rub shaving cream on the inside of your face shield to prevent fogging.

5. Keep some kind of tool kit on your bike. My suggestion for its contents are: flat repair kit, DC air compressor, electrical tape, adjustable wrench, allen wrenches, multi-tool, small can of WD40, rubber gloves, paper shop rags, and one large black plastic bag.

6. Keep a bottle of water and a power bar in your tank bag. It's also a good idea to keep a half-roll of toilet paper in a ziplock bag.

7. Wear earplugs.

8. Look down at your side stand when you put it down. Be sure of the surface before resting your bike's weight on it. Crush a pop can and put that under the side stand foot to give it more stability on loose surfaces like gravel or sand.

9. Leave cotton clothes at home. Use merino wool socks, even in the summer, and wear synthetic wicking underwear and t-shirts as your base layer, especially during warmer rides. In colder weather, use polar fleece as an insulating layer under your jacket and pants; bonus points if your polar fleece is the wind blocker variety.

10. When it's hot, wear a vented or mesh jacket and get your t-shirt wet underneath. You'll actually get a better evaporative cooling effect this way than riding without the jacket at all (warm air compresses against your chest and is actually warmer than the ambient air temperature).

11. This is a tip about riding in general rather than specific to long-distance touring: look ahead, don't look at the road right in front of your bike. Your cornering will be a lot smoother and more efficient, and you'll even be able to take the same corner faster than you would otherwise.

These are some rules I live by:

Riding is optional. Never ride when it isn't safe to do so, either because of weather conditions, the mechanical condition of your bike, your physical health or mental state (don't ride stressed or distracted, etc.)

Never drink and ride. Ever. No exceptions.

Your ability + current conditions = riding safety margin. Never exceed this.

Take care of your bike. Pay attention to maintenance items like fluid levels, tire wear and pressure, chain cleanliness, etc.

Ride respectfully. Be courteous to other riders regardless of their brand of bike. Be respectful of the communities you ride through. Be a positive reflection of motorcyclists and never leave a negative impression of riders upon those you meet.

Some people consider All The Gear, All The Time (ATGATT) to be a flexible matter of personal choice. I don't. I consider it a basic rule that should never be broken. I value my health and safety too much to violate the rule or even bend it, regardless of conditions.

Always wear a helmet, even if one is not required by law. Keeping your brain contained inside your skull is more important than keeping the wind on your face.

Never buy a used helmet. If you drop your helmet, replace it. They suffer internal damage that is not visible or detectable and you need it to be factory-fresh in case of an accident.

Looking good is nice, but never sacrifice safety for the sake of fashion.

If another rider needs assistance, do what you can to help. You may need help someday and good karma is a handy thing.

Never underestimate the V-Strom

It was a beautiful Spring weekend and I rode 330 miles (210 Saturday, 120 Sunday) to take advantage of the weather. Saturday was a convoluted route up the Clackamas River to Ripplebrook, down to Stayton for lunch, over to Silver Falls State Park, then back home to Sandy.

Sunday was up the Clackamas yet again, this time past Ripplebrook up NF46 to where I got stopped by snow on the road several miles past Austin Hot Springs (at the junction with 4660 if you care).

There were a lot of bikes out and a fair share of slow cars. Saturday I saw a funeral procession going by in the other direction, heading from Colton to Estacada, for a young fireman that died.

One thing I realized over the weekend is that the Suzuki V-Strom is a truly versatile and capable bike. I've harped on this topic before but it's true. The Strom doesn't excel at any one thing -- it's not as off-road capable as a KTM Aventure nor as fast as a Yamaha R1 -- but it can perform the same kind of function that both bikes provide. It's excellence is its versatility.

I am strongly considering getting a 600 cc in-line four sport bike, not because I feel the need to go faster in a straight line or around corners -- I already carve up the twisties fast enough on my V-Strom, thank you very much. A 600 sport bike provides a much more immediate experience with the road. It's more intense.

But in the meantime, if you need a one-bike-does-it-all solution, the V-Strom is an outstanding choice. There are some other bikes that probably equal the Suzuki in capability and versatility, such as the Ducati Multistrada and the new Triumph 1200 Adventure, but they can't do it for the low purchase and maintenance cost of the Suzuki.

When it comes to getting your bang for the buck in a single motorcycle, never underestimate the Suzuki V-Strom.

A snowy ride

I wanted to test my new Firstgear Kathmandu overpants in bad weather and that's exactly what happened over the weekend. Cutting to the chase, the pants performed admirably but that's not the interesting part of the story.

Keep in mind, it's the middle of March and Spring officially starts tomorrow. March in western Oregon can be mild and meek and pleasant, and it can also be hellish and fickle and tumultuous. So far, it's definitely been the latter.

It was sprinkling lightly when I left the house but I had honest-to-goodness rain within a few miles. My goal was to ride up the Clackamas River highway to the small community of Three Lynx, turn around and then come back home, hopefully through as much rain as possible. I put Pledge furniture polish ("Lemon, mmm!") on the outside of my helmet's face shield and shaving cream on the inside, made sure the zippers were all closed on my pants and jacket, donned my Aerostich tripple-digit overgloves, and hit the road. All of my gear worked great, although my hands eventually got cold (which is nothing new).

The highest elevation my route traversed was 1,210 feet, just east of Estacada as the highway passed above North Fork Reservoir. I saw snow flakes in the air but nothing was sticking on the ground. It rained off and on, heavy at times, all the way to Three Lynx where I turned around and headed back. This pattern of weather continued, with rain falling at least 80% of the time.

When I got back to Eagle Creek the rain turned to big, fat snowflakes and it started to stick on my fairing, arms, legs, and helmet. I used the squeegie on my tripple-digit glove covers to wipe the building snow from my face shield. The snow wasn't sticking on the road surface but it was sticking on the ground next to it. By the time I got home a few minutes later, I had to wipe the snow from my face shield every 5-8 seconds and visibility was reduced from the volume of snow flakes in the air. Snow had built up on my bike's fairing and completely obscured the view through it. I had snow over my boots, knees, and covering my arms and shoulders. There was also 1/4" of snow built up on my helmet (only the face shield was free of snow buildup).

Within 20 minutes, the sun was shining and the 1/2" of snow on my front yard was melted and gone as if it never happened.

March ride with Firstgear Kathmandu overpants

We had a rare, almost Spring-like sunny day over the weekend so I took advantage of the nice weather and gave my new Firstgear Kathmandu overpants a 130-mile test.

The first pair I ordered from MotorcycleSuperstore.com were size 32, and based on reviews, they were supposed to be true to size. They were. However, they were a little snug in my belly, which wasn't the pants' fault, so I sent them back and exchanged them for size 34s. They fit perfectly.

The Firstgear Kathmandu pants are meant for adventure-touring and have numerous features that are suited for that type of riding. They have a waterproof ripstop outer shell, which is far more convenient than pants using a removable waterproof liner. I don't want to have to stop and do a hopping two-step trying to get a liner inserted inside my riding pants every time a rain shower passes overhead (which happens almost every day that I ride). I want gear that is waterproof on the outside.

They come with a removable insulated liner that is very effective, although riding in temperatures below 40 degrees would require the use of street pants. Anything below 30 degrees probably requires thermal underwear under that. This is standard, however, and something I'm used to.

The cuffs have a snap and elastic enclosure that fits around my boots. These are not meant to be truly waterproof but instead to prevent or delay the invasion of water into the top of my boots during heavy wet weather riding or during stream crossings. It takes slightly longer to put the pants on because of this but the added protection is a nice feature.

The knees and hips use D30 armor, which is lighter, thinner and more flexible than standard rigid armor found in most riding garments. This reduces the overall weight of the pants and the armor is barely noticeable when I ride. The D30 armor is supposed to become instantly rigid during an impact event and is the latest technology.

The Ride

After getting suited up, I left the house mid-morning and headed through Estacada and Molalla before hitting the highway south toward Silverton and Stayton. What was bright, warm sunshine at home turned into overcast and foggy cold weather once I left Molalla. The temperature dropped 15 degrees in a short distance and soon I was wishing I had another layer underneath my pants and jacket. By the time I got to Stayton and stopped at the Dairy Queen for a quick lunch I was eager to get inside and warm up.

After chowing down a chicken sandwich, I suited back up and headed north toward home through the chilly fog. The sun came out and the temperatures rose once I got to Molalla. A few twists and turns and another 40 minutes of riding brought me back home.

The Kathmandu pants proved to be the most comfortable riding pants I've ever worn (they are the first pair of Firstgear pants I've owned, my previous two pants were both Fieldsheer) and my cold ride was my fault for not wearing enough layers. I think if I had left in the insulated liner they would have been comfortable in both temperature extremes. I look forward to wearing them in rain as well as in warmer temperatures.

Update 3/7/2012: I rode to work this morning wearing the Kathmandu's with the insulated liner installed. It was 25 degrees with clear skies. The pants worked flawlessly and I had no hint of cold nor were they too hot.

Comparison: Suzuki V-Strom 650 vs. Yamaha FJR 1300

Purists would claim that these two bikes are dissimilar enough to eliminate the possibility of comparison. That misses the point, at least for me. I'm trying to find out which bike is best for me so this is a subjective comparison based on my own criteria. Some of my readers may find this comparo to be irrelevant while others may find it to be the right stuff at the right time. Read on if you dare...

2007 Suzuki V-Strom 650 (model: DL650)

I currently own this bike. In fact, the bike pictured here isn't something I grabbed off of Google, it's my bike. I've put 43,000 miles on it since February 2007 when I bought it new. It cost $7,995 and I've put more than $2,000 worth of farkles on it, although the engine, suspension and brakes are all original factory equipment (well, I replaced the brake pads once). Only the tires, seat and wind screen are after-market brands.

The Good

This bike is very versatile. It can carve up the paved twisties, shoot me across unpaved deserts, and carry me on mountain fire roads all in the same day. It is inexpensive to buy, inexpensive to accessorize, inexpensive to insure, and inexpensive to maintain. Parts are relatively cheap and service is available just about everywhere I would choose to go. It has also been extremely reliable, with TPS sensors being the only part that's gone bad.

The Bad

Because the V-Strom is a dual-sport, by its very nature it is meant to be reasonably good at several different types of riding. Because of this it doesn't really excel at any of them. It excels at being versatile so it makes an excellent single bike (not everyone is rich enough to have a different bike in their stable for every riding style). The V-Strom can be modified with knobby tires, skid plate, etc. to work as a great adventure tourer, and if you were to specialize a Strom this is where it shines. But if your love lies on asphalt, this bike has a problem. It is very flickable and can carve up the twisties with the best of them, but it lacks in raw horsepower and off-the-line grunt. Top speed tops out around 110 mph and 0-60 performance isn't something that will make you say "Whoa!" anytime soon. The brakes are mushy as well. Unlike accessorizing the Strom for off-road performance, there are very few options to boost on-road performance and most only provide single-digit improvements in horsepower.

The Ugly

There really isn't anything particularly ugly about the V-Strom. It has no major faults or warts.

2011 Yamaha FJR 1300A

This is the bike I am currently researching as a possible replacement for my 2007 Suzuki V-Strom. It is Yamaha's flagship sport-touring model and is highly rated for its performance, comfort, and styling. The reliability of the FJRs has been excellent, with a few kinks in early models worked out in subsequent releases. Compared to competing models from BMW, Kawasaki and Honda, the FJR wins in motorcycle press shootouts time and time again.

There are several characteristics and features about the FJR that appeal to me. It has a very sporty engine that is powerful yet manageable. Unlike liter-class sport bikes such as the Suzuki GSX-R 1000, the FJR won't get out from under you because you gave the throttle the tiniest extra bit of unintended twist. Despite it's 670 pound wet weight, the FJR is surprisingly flickable, especially at low speeds, and this has made it a strong player among mounted law enforcement agencies.

The riding position is somewhat sporty but still upright enough to allow high-mileage multi-day rides without requiring frequent visits to the chiropractor. The seat and handlebars are height-adjustable as well. The wind screen is power-adjustable and the fore- and aft-seat densities vary, giving pilot and pillion their own appropriate level of cushion.

Hard side cases with removable soft bag liners are included and after-market top cases are readily available, including offerings from Givi, a brand I've grown to love. The grips are heated as well. The drive train uses a low-maintenance shaft drive and oil changes are a snap. The styling is dramatic and appealing without looking gawdy.

Because the FJR puts out close to 140 horsepower and has a top speed in excess of 150 mph, insurance rates are relatively high. It has a 6.6 gallon fuel tank but only gets around 40 mpg, so range is about the same as it is for the V-Strom -- which is more than adequate. The purchase price is also around $14,500 so initial cost is twice that of the Suzuki. My insurance agent told me the FJR will cost $140 more per year for the same coverage I currently have on the V-Strom.

At this point in my research, need to find a dealer willing to let me take an FJR for a test ride. If none will, I need to find a rental shop that will rent one to me for a day. I'm not willing to buy a new bike without test riding it first.

In the zone, and wanting more

Saturday I went on a mid-day practice ride on Marmot Road, but it was far too short. I wanted more. Sunday, mid-afternoon, I tackled the NF46 run to Detroit to make up for it. My bike was running good, the conditions were excellent, and I was in the zone.

And I wanted more.

It was the fastest, smoothest run I've had on that route to date and it felt incredible. I found myself feeling as if I was beyond the capabilities of my bike. The Suzuki V-Strom 650 has been described as "perhaps the most shockingly competent bike" available by the press, and for good reason. It is very capable and versatile, and in my opinion, the single best value in motorcycles today.

Part of the problem with that versatility is the tendency to become a Jack-of-all-Trades and a master of none. The V-Strom can be customized to be an outstanding dual-sport machine, rivaling the BMW GS series in capabilities -- at substantially lower cost and arguably better reliability. It can't be customized to be a true road machine, however, at least not in comparison with some other bikes that are available. Horsepower is the biggest limiting factor. You can add a few hp here and there but nothing substantial. Suspension upgrades are rather limited as well.

I am finding that I get a lot more smiles from carving up a run of paved twisties than I do taking my V-Strom off-road. In fact, riding off-road makes me somewhat nervous and I ride rather cautiously, mostly from lack of experience (it's not the bike's fault, in other words).

So despite putting 43,000 wonderful, trouble-free miles on a fantastic bike, I'm feeling the increasing desire to switch to a more road-oriented bike.

Right now I'm researching the Yamaha FJR 1300. More to come...

A new Shinko 705

I have put close to 7,000 miles on my set of Shinko 705 tires. The front looks damn near new but the rear has very little tread left down the center stripe and about 50% tread remaining on the sides. For an $83 tire, that's a very low cost-per-mile. The Shinko's have been outstanding tires, providing excellent grip in cornering and especially on wet roads.

Normally I replace both tires at the same time. With previous brands, including Bridgestone Battle Wings and Metzeler Tourances, the front wore down enough to justify replacing it at the same time as the rear. With this set of Shinko's, however, the front will last another 5,000 miles or so. As a result, I'm only changing out the rear tire.

This is how I rode to work this morning. I will swing over to Yamaha Sports Plaza after work to have the new rear tire mounted.

The long way north

When I left Mark's house Thursday morning, my goal was to reach Coos Bay. I could go straight up Highway 101 for about 220 miles or I can take the long way getting there. You've got two guesses which way I went, and the first doesn't count.

Once in Arcata, I turned inland on Highway 299 and rode to Willow Creek where I gassed up. I then turned north on Highway 96 through Hoopa. There is a section of 96 that was carved out of the cliffside that is very dangerous. The road is narrow, the turns are tight, sightlines are abrupt or absent, and it would be a long way down if you went off the road. Although I gave those curves a run for their money, I remained within my abilities and the conditions and made it through without incident.

Highway 96 follows the very scenic and rugged Klamath River, usually from high up the canyon walls. The sun was shining, slow traffic was practically non-existent, my bike was running well, and I enjoyed the ride very much. Eventually I was in the small town of Happy Camp, a place I have visited many times before, and stopped for a much needed snack. I then rode north on Indian Creek Road.

Soon after crossing the unmarked border back into Oregon, I stopped at a construction zone and chatted with the flagger for several minutes before heading back down the hill. At the junction with Highway 199 I turned northeast and rode into the busy town of Cave Junction for fuel and lunch. The Dairy Queen was busy and as I ate my lunch I saw numerous bikes, mostly large cruisers, rumbling through town.

I mounted back up and headed southwest on 199. I waved two people on sport bikes past me, but was soon parked behind them at a construction zone. I had my iPod running and couldn't hear anything they said but somehow we managed to communicate with each other that they would lead and I would attempt to follow them. It was a man and a woman, and I noticed she had a sticker on the back of her helmet that said, "You were just passed by a girl." Although I couldn't determine the brand and model, their bikes looked to be in the 600 cc supersport category. Both riders were dressed in black leathers and appeared to know what they were doing.

Once we were allowed forward, they soon began to pull away in the straights. I don't like to ride more than 10 mph over the speed limit, so I assumed I wouldn't see them again. After three or four corners, however, I was riding up the tailpipe of the woman -- the man was riding in front of her. They both stuck their knees out and leaned into their turns, which looked impressive, but their cornering speed was at least 5 mph slower than mine. I began to get frustrated because the road surface was pristine, sight lines provided excellent through-the-corner visibility, and all conditions allowed fast cornering.

She noticed that I was really pushing for faster speed, so she waved me forward. I waved thanks as I rode past and was soon tailgating the lead rider. He had more impressive form and was slightly faster in the corners, but again my surprisingly flickable V-Strom was exceeding his ability or willingness to corner faster. After a half dozen corners he waved me past as well, shaking his head as I rode by. He gave a friendly wave, however, so I waved back, gave a short beep-beep on the horn, and zoomed ahead through the rest of the route to the coast.

I reached Highway 101 just north of Crescent City and began the long slog north to Coos Bay. There was a head wind and a fair amount of slow traffic, which combined to make it a tiring leg of the day. I stopped at a rest area overlooking the wind-chopped ocean below and took a quick break. Soon I was back on the road and made it into Coos Bay at 5:30 pm. I had been riding since 8:00 that morning and clocked 370 miles for the day. I was exhausted but happy.

Dinner was again at the Blue Heron, with a different entree of course. I slept well. The next morning I took the shortest route home: North to Reedsport, east to I-5, then follow the freeway all the way home. Riding the superslab at 70 mph was just as tiring as the zigzagged 370 miles I clocked the day before ("My butt never hurts unless I'm riding in a straight line.") I got home safely, however.

The total trip included 3,400 miles over 11 riding days, crossed into British Columbia, Canada, and touched Washington, Idaho, Oregon, and California. The northernmost point was Lillooet, BC and the southernmost was Mad River, California. The farthest east was Lewiston, Idaho, and of course the westernmost point was the Pacific Ocean.

The Big Loop

Wednesday, Mark rode his Kawasaki ZZR1200 while I rode my V-Strom down to Fortuna, then we headed inland on one of my favorite riding roads: Highway 36. It was overcast but traffic was light and the road seemed to be in relatively good condition. As we rode to the top of the first pass we had to slow down for construction, shrouded in clouds, but once we crested the pass we had sunshine the rest of the way. We stopped in Mad River, hoping to get a snack at the small store/cafe there, but it was closed. We continued onward to the junction with Highway 3, where we turned left and continued on to Hayfork.

The section of Highway 3 between Hayfork and Weaverville is difficult to describe in words, but anyone that rides it knows what I mean when I say it is absolutely delicious. Unfortunately, CalTrans decided to hock a loogie into that particular dish. The road was resurfaced with a slurry-seal and gravel kind of compound so riding was slow. As we dropped down the eastern slope of the pass the pavement was solid but there was lots of gravel in the corners. That leg of the trip was ridden safely but the fun was spoiled.

In Weaverville we stopped at the Trinideli for a fantastic turkey and bacon sandwich. It was getting warm so after we ate we changed our riding gear for better venting, fueled up, then continued northeast on Highway 3. Our goal was to check on Mark's boat tied up on Trinity Lake. We got stuck behind a string of very slow cars in a construction zone and never really got past them until we got to Trinity Center, 30 miles up the road.

Mark's boat was fine, and after chatting with the owners of the boat launch, we suited back up and headed back into Weaverville, this time with a bit less slow traffic. The curves were nice but soon we were back in town. To continue the loop, we headed east on Highway 299, the main road between I-5 and the coast. It was well into the 80's by this point and the riding was intense. The curves on 299 are faster than 36 and have much better sight lines, so carving them up is definitely a faster affair. We had to pass several slow vehicles as well as some tractor trailers, but they were nice enough to use pull-outs to let us pass.

We stopped in Willow Creek for fuel and water, then rode onward. Once we crested the pass at Blue Lake the air temperature got noticeably cooler. We stopped at an empty weigh station and changed back into warmer gear, then continued into overcast Arcata. The road up to Kneeland was free of fog so we took those tight, bumpy turns at a quickened pace. My V-Strom kept right up with Mark's ZZR1200 and when we got to his house, Mark commented on how well the V-Strom corners. By the time we got back we had ridden 315 miles.

During dinner, a female raccoon came up onto the deck and pressed her face against the window, looking for a treat. Mark threw some dry cat food into a bowl and set it on the deck table for her consumption. She chowed away, mere feet outside the window, looking at us with every bite. Eventually she had enough and probably heard something scary in the woods. She grabbed one more nibble to go, then left.

Kneeland on a Kawasaki

Breakfast was provided gratis as part of my motel stay. Once I was fed and suited up, I headed south on Highway 101 through Bandon, Port Orford, Gold Beach and Brookings before crossing the border into California. Traffic was light for the coast highway -- it can be notoriously slow. I fueled up in Crescent City, then continued south until I crossed the Klamath River where I cut off and headed up into the trees and hills overlooking the coast. There were numerous people stopped along the Klamath River, looking down at the water. I didn't know what was up until I returned from my trip and asked around. Apparently a mother and calf whale had come up the river and lingered for several days, causing folks to check it out.

Farther down Highway 101 I came across a group of elk, both bulls and cows, laying in the grass alongside the highway. I stopped and took several pictures, some very close, before continuing south.

The road was blocked before I could enter the Prairie Creek Redwoods park area so I backtracked and continued south on 101 to Arcata. My destination for the next two nights was the home of my friend, Mark. He and I met the previous year in Weaverville, California and had traveled together, along with his wife, Janice, to Steens Mountain in September of last year. Following Mark's directions, I left 101 and headed up a narrow, bumpy paved road to the tiny community of Kneeland where I promptly got lost. Dick, my GPS, thought Kneeland was about two miles past the post office (the closest thing to a 'downtown'), so I had to backtrack. To make matters more challenging, the entire area was socked in with low-lying clouds (Kneeland sits at about 2,100 feet elevation) and visibility was near zero at times. After a bit of riding very slowly and using my intuition, I found the tiny Kneeland post office and used Mark's directions to find his house.

After I got settled, Mark suggested we hop on his two Kawasaki ZZRs and go for a short ride up the road. He rode his ZZR1200 and I rode his 2003 ZZR600. I had never been on a sport bike before so I as apprehensive about its speed and handling. At first it felt very difficult to turn, seemingly wanting to snap back to vertical. Once I got used to how it handled, I realized it needed more body English to initiate and hold a turn than does my much taller V-Strom. The acceleration of that little bike was intoxicating, however. It was quick yet smooth and controllable. I never needed to get into third gear and quickly learned how to tackle the narrow, tight corners of that remote country road.

We headed a few miles up the road and stopped at a turn-around in front of the tiny Kneeland air strip. Several cows blocked the road and we had to patiently and cautiously wait for them to move (there were bulls among them). At the top we stopped and chatted for several minutes. The scenery reminded me of the Scottish Highlands.

We headed back down to the house and parked the bikes in the garage for the night. We had a long loop ride scheduled for the next day and needed our rest.

24-hour Bike Camping Trip

I had a 24-hour window of opportunity this past weekend to go for a quick bike camping trip. I loaded my gear on the V-Strom and set off by noon. The sun was shining and it was in the upper 60's, quickly climbing into the lower 70's. I fueled up in Estacada, then headed up the Clackamas River highway to Ripplebrook, where I continued east on NF58 past Harriett Lake. The road turned to gravel for about 10 miles before crossing the earthen dam at Timothy Lake's outlet.

I followed the road around the southern shore of Timothy Lake before hitting Skyline Road (NF42). It was a quick 8-mile jaunt to a brief run south on Highway 26 before continuing east onto NF43. This road connected to NF48, and soon was I zooming past Rock Creek Reservoir and hitting the long straight into the tiny community of Wamic.

I grabbed two snacks, ate one and saved the other for later that evening, then chatted with two guys from Hood River riding tall off-road bikes with large home-made sidecars as they stopped to fuel up. Soon I was backtracking to Rock Creek Reservoir where I followed some narrow forest service roads to a particular campsite within the Mt. Hood National Forest.

There was another group set up about 75 yards away, but despite smoke still coming out of the campfire, no one was home. I wanted to ask permission first before I made camp, just as a courtesy, but in their absence I made the decision to go ahead and set up anyway.

I soon had my tent erected and my gear stowed inside. I propped my bike up on its center stand, sat aboard, leaned back against my top case, and pondered the sky while listening to several different species of birds arguing about the various disposition of seeds in light of recent changes in the world economy.

Weary from the ride and mentally relaxed from contemplating the heavens, I retired into my nylon and aluminum structure, struck a face-down horizontal pose, and remained inert for over an hour. My slumber was disturbed by the return of my neighbors. I decided it was dinner time anyway so I emerged and began making dinner.

The freeze-dried beef stew was unappetizing but wasn't foul, either; it served its purpose. Once I got my mess kit cleaned up, I returned again to the comfort of my tent and pulled out my iPad to watch a movie. iPads are fantastic for travelers and I highly recommend them. You can watch a movie, read a book, play a game, compose a blog, etc. When you have Wi-Fi or 3G access you can plan a trip's route or check the weather forecast.

By this time it was getting dark so I brushed my teeth and prepared for bed. Just as the last hint of light was fading, I heard "Huff! Huff!" outside my tent. Thirty seconds later I heard it again. I figured it was a cow, although I had never seen any cow pies in that area. I wondered if it was an elk, as the noise was fairly loud and actually seemed pretty close by. I heard the creature stomp the ground twice, then walk around. It sounded as if it was close to my bike, parked about 20 feet away from the entrance to my tent.

I grabbed my small flashlight, unzipped my tent, and peered outside. I saw nothing. No bodies, no glowing eyes. I knew I had heard a large animal of some kind but couldn't find any physical evidence of it, so I zipped the tent back up and crawled back onto my sleeping bag for some iPad solitaire. Less than 5 minutes had gone by before I heard another "Huff!" accompanied by a large animal walking around close by. I grabbed a different flashlight, with a broader, brighter beam, unzipped the tent, and looked outside. Standing 20' away was a female deer. She was grazing on some grass on the edge of the creek and seemed completely unfazed by my sudden emergence from my tent.

I was getting annoyed by the interruption at this point so I began to make my own huffing noises back at the creature. She gave me a look bordering on contempt, then returned to her grazing. I grabbed a pine cone and threw it at her, but it wasn't very heavy and fell short. The deer remained unimpressed. I put my sandals on, stepped out of the tent completely, and began looking for a rock. The doe adopted more of a "Bring it, homeboy!" expression. The rock I found was at least as big as a grapefruit. I heaved it underhanded toward the doe. It struck the ground a few feet short, bounced up and smacked her in the rear flank. She leaped at least three feet straight up, then bounded a quarter of the way around my camp before heading into the woods up the hill and out of sight. That will teach her to mess with a top predator!

I brushed the dust off my hands, took off my sandals, and crawled back inside my tent. I put my iPad away, undressed, and crawled into my sleeping bag. Another five minutes went by before I heard two different deer walking around outside my tent. One even pawed at the corner of my tent fly, as if to say, "Oh, no you di'nt!" I decided to ignore them, treating them like I would a semi-crazy person trying to engage me in conversation about UFOs on a crowded subway train. Eventually they wandered off and I fell asleep.

The next morning I awoke at 5 AM, daylight beginning to filter through the trees. Although I normally get up around that time, I had no reason to this particular day and didn't want to disturb my neighbors (who had stayed awake quite late into the night playing music and even shooting guns). I allowed sleep to return and awoke again two hours later. The sun was hitting my tent broadsided and lit it up so bright I had to squint.

Once up, I made coffee and ate a granola bar as I took my time packing up. I refilled my water bottle with my Katadyn filter down at the creek, checked that everything was tied down on my bike, then mounted up. I rode back up the same gnarly, rocky, dirt road that brought me there, fortunately without any mishaps. Back on the pavement, I boogied back into Wamic where I had a more substantial breakfast at the Sportsman's Pub-n-Grub. The decor was nasty and the waitresses were friendly but slow. The food wasn't half bad, however. Fed, I mounted up again and headed west along NF48. I passed the spot where my wife and I had gotten stuck in a snow drift just a few weeks earlier, this time the pavement was dry and clear. At the junction with Highway 35 I was flagged down by one of six riders parked nearby. He spoke with an Australian accent and wanted to know if the road to Wamic was clear. I assured him he and his BMW-riding buddies could make the route just fine as I had just come from there. He thanked me with a smile, I wished him a "Shiny side up!", and I merged onto 35 and headed back over the mountain to home.

Take Him To Detroit!

On the third try in a month, the NF46 road from Ripplebrook to Breitenbush / Detroit is finally clear of snow. They even swept the tree debris! On Sunday I had a fantastic ride to Detroit and back, scraping my left peg on a hard hairpin just below the pass. My new Shinko 705 radial tires are fantastic, providing excellent grip on wet pavement and confidence-inspiring cornering with increased lean angles.

They posted speed limit signs from the pass south to Detroit varying between 40 and 45 mph, which is ridiculous. Those twisties are excellent and the road surface is in great shape.

Snow in June?

We left the house Friday afternoon and rode back into town before crossing the swollen Columbia River via the I-205 bridge and catching SR14 eastbound. My wife, Corina, hadn't been on my bike since last summer and our planned overnight trip to my sister's house outside Goldendale, Washington was a great way to get back into it.

The sun was shining and it was forecasted to be the warmest day of the year so far after what has been an unusually wet and cold Spring. We stopped at a gas station/market in North Bonneville for a snack break, then continued to Lyle where we turned north onto highway 142. Riding through the small community of Klickitat, we continued up out of the river valley and onto the breezy plain west of Goldendale.

We stopped at the 76 station in Goldendale for fuel and were joined by 10 guys on BMW and KTM adventure bikes. Fueled, we continued east on Bickelton Highway another 30 minutes before arriving at my sister's house.

The next morning, after a relaxing but far too short visit, we backtracked to Goldendale before heading south on 97 for ten miles, then SR14 west to Dallesport where we crossed back over the mighty Columbia. The water was roiling and turbulent in the spillway under The Dallesport Dam, letting out a massive volume of water every second.

We rode south on 197 into the tiny town of Tygh Valley before heading west toward another tiny town, Wamic. The only store and gas station in town was abuzz with locals celebrating the store's 25th anniversary as well as a large group of off-road motorcyclists. They were fueling up during a large rally organized out of Hood River.

Rolling through town, we cut off into the woods at Rock Creek Reservoir. Our destination was an unmarked campsight used during deer hunting. The rough gravel road was rutted and washed out in several places and interspersed with many large mud puddles. After a little slipping and sliding, we made it to the campsite. Off the bike, we explored the trees surrounding the camp, looking for a cross we mounted to memorialize Corina's father who had passed away two years prior. We were pleased to see the cross was still there, no worse off despite the passage of both time and weather.

We mounted up and headed back up the gnarly road and made our way back to the highway westbound. Our intention was to ride NF48 to where it linked up with Highway 35 next to White River. About a mile shy of the junction we came to a large patch of snow across the road.

There were tire tracks and ruts crossing it and the snow didn't look overly deep, so Corina dismounted and let me ride forward. Within 30 feet into the snow the bike stopped. The snow was nearly 2 feet deep and the bike high-centered on the skid plate, reducing weight and therefore traction on the rear tire.

We rocked the bike side to side to create more space, then dug at the snow with sticks and our hands. The temperature was easily into the 70's and combined with the elevation we were both sweating and breathing hard, seemingly without progress despite the intense effort.

Corina got behind the bike and pushed while I worked the throttle and pushed with both my legs. After a great amount of effort and straining, the bike inched forward about 4 feet before getting stuck again. We had at least another fifty feet of snow drift to cross and we began to wonder of it would be possible. We could see another snow drift just like this one waiting for us 100 yards ahead.

With more digging, pushing, heaving, grunting, and groaning, the bike moved slowly forward. We made it through and parked the bike on bare pavement, then took a break to catch our breath. After a brief respite, we rode on to the next drift. Approaching it, our hearts sank. We could see that this drift was even deeper and had no tire tracks through it. Whoever had driven their four-wheel drive vehicle through the first drift had turned around and gone back before attempting to cross the next. Within a mile of a snow-free highway 35, we knew we had to go back across the snow drift that took us an hour to cross the first time.

Corina got off and walked while I slowly rolled ahead to the snow drift. I hoped that the rut we worked so hard to cross would be easier to traverse. With a lump in my throat, I gave the bike some gas and entered the snow drift. Halfway across the bike stopped. I killed the engine, then began rocking the bike side to side. The rut was deep enough that the bike was being pinched on the sides, effectively reducing the weight on the back tire and therefore reducing traction. I wondered if attempting to ride across a section without ruts would have been more effective, but the bike probably would have just sunk into the deep snow and stopped.

As Corina approached the back of the drift, my effort to clear lateral space around the bike and my pushing forward with my legs while working the throttle was just effective enough to help me inch forward. With a loud "Whoo hoo!" I got purchase on the widened rut we dug out on our way through the first time and emerged triumphantly onto bare pavement.

Stopping, I put the bike on it's side stand and located a small stick to scrape off the snow embedded into every cavity on the bike's underside. Corina caught up to me and we smiled, still out of breath. We chugged some water, then noticed three off-road bikes from the rally group riding up the road toward us. We waved them to a stop and warned them of the struggle we had just gone through. Even though their tall bikes with aggressive knobby tires would have no doubt had better luck crossing the snow, they decided caution was the better approach and turned around and headed back the way they came.

The guys said they would try to ride NF43 and connect with Highway 26. Corina and I discussed that route, but I had run into snow on that route in previous years so we decided we would ride all the way back to Wamic, gas up the bike and grab a snack, then backtrack to Tygh Valley where we would continue south on 197 to highway 216. It was a longer way home but we knew that the entire route would be plowed and snow free.

I had just switched from a set of Bridgestone Battle Wing 90/10 tires over to a more 75/25 oriented tire, the Shinko 705. Considering the depth of the snow and the mud and gravel I had ridden so far, the Shinko's had done a decent job. They also perform great on the pavement, cornering very capably.

Back in Wamic, the gas station/store was hopping with off-road rally riders and anniversary celebrants. We struck up a conversation with Sam Cobb, the owner of a small tavern in Tygh Valley, who was present to celebrate the store's anniversary. Fed and fueled, we said our goodbyes, then worked our way back home.

The original route should have been about 160 miles and lasted only four hours. Instead, we rode well over 250 miles and got home four hours later than intended. It was an adventure and we pulled through it together, no worse for the experience. Having a folding shovel on board would have been helpful, but using the most important tool of all - our brains - would have been far more effective. Even if you can see the other side of a snow drift, it can easily be too deep for a motorcycle to cross. Mud puddles are the same way; you can't tell how deep they are just by looking at them.

The funny thing is, when I woke up the next morning, I felt like getting back on the bike and heading right back up into the mountains for another go.