Author Archives: Chris S

Tested: 450 Himalayan 3000km review

After selling my Honda 300L, summer 2024 I was all set to buy Enfield’s new Himalayan 450, but in tubeless it cost well over £6k; 10% more than the more unusual CFMoto 450MT. so I went Chinese and didn’t regret it. I sold the MT after 8 months/7000 miles and, still Himi-curious, just got back from eight days in the Moroccan Atlas with a mate on a pair of Himalayan rentals, covering 2900km.
My MT was a bit juicy for a 450cc, plus I knew at first sight its size would limit solo off-road exploration, even with the low seat height. Luckily, I did loads of that the previous winter on the 300L for my new Morocco 4 guidebook from which I span off the Trans Morocco Trail. I missed my 300’s go-anywhere ability, even if crossing Spain was a slog. Could a Him 450 pull off both? We were here to find out. I was in Morocco with Jon. We last rode together in 2003 on Desert Riders out as far as the northern Tenere’s Lost Tree.

I also owned the Him 411 a few years back and loved its ploddy thumper vibe; my sort of bike for slowly exploring trails, despite the weight being similar to the new 450. But I did get it transported to southern Spain and back which meant that like the 300L, it wasn’t a true contender as an all-round travel bike.

In a line: Economical, but heavy for what it is, we both agreed the Him was better off-road than on, but wasn’t great at either.

• Carries its mass low which results in good tracking and stability
• Low seat height, and can go lower still
• The economy of my 300, giving up 600km range
• Stock, the minimally adjustable suspension is pretty good
• Optional tubeless wheels (ours weren’t)
• Feels better made– and fixed many of the 411’s shortcomings
• No low-speed fuelling issues!
• Stock CEAT road tyres have at least 18,000km in them (which is annoying)
• Almost don’t need bar risers
• Centre stand – some added weight is worth having
• Tail rack and tank bars; ditto
• Shock preload easy to access (but I didn’t)

• Tanked up, it’s heavy and feels it on the trail
• Saddle soon gets uncomfortable
• Needs softer grips
• ‘Screen’ does nothing useful other than offer mounting points for something effective
• Display selection is a bit tiresome, and always resets
• Should an engine crash bar bend that easily?

Review
There are a couple of places renting Him 450s in Marrakech now. Ours had around 15,000km and cost €65/day with worn-out stock CEAT tyres (despite me requesting good tyres in advance). So far, so Moroccan. But both bikes looked in great nick and my bike had engine crash bars. And I have to confess: what I thought was an ugly bike in late 2023 now looks pretty good, even with the naff graphics.
I checked for a toolkit and was amazed to find something resembling a 1970s BMW or MZ. Everything’s there (below left), including an adaptor nut to remove the front wheel with the rear wheel wrench. What a shame the rental shop didn’t think it through and import tubeless models; I’d have happily paid more. We borrowed a rear tube, expecting to need it. With the seats off, I also noticed the height adjustment pegs on the front saddle (below right). I left mine on high which is still pretty low.

One annoyance was the USB-C charging port under the handlebar mounts. I was hoping for a regular USB2/3. I suppose I might have tried to buy an adaptor in Marrakech, but luckily my Garmin runs for up to two days on a battery, so I made do.
Sorry, but I didn’t waste my time trying to make the display’s Tripper mapping app work, even had my phone been Android, as it uses inadequate (for Morocco) Google Maps and can’t run offline.
Lifting the bike off the side stand and turning the bars, with tank ¾ full, the front end felt incredibly heavy, and even getting it onto the centre stand took quite a heave. It was a sign of things to come. We were on our way to Anergui, about 300km to the east, tucked in a remote High Atlas valley.

On the road the Him’s brakes were fine; the rear perhaps over leveraged, but ABS sees to that. The dash was clear enough, but doesn’t save settings afaict, and unlike Jon, I didn’t bother getting to grips with it. My gear change was nothing special, the clutch a bit heavy and the screen little more than a console G-string.
Jon and I were initially underwhelmed: the power-to-weigh ratio didn’t add up. We realised later we were on Eco mode which reduces power in the bottom four gears, though we were rolling along mostly in the upper two. And does 40-hp actually need softer power modes, or was it just a ‘because we can’ gimmick? On top of that, while looking wide and feeling soft, the saddle got painful after less than two hours and would remain so. Had 15,000 rental kms done the foam in? It didn’t feel like it, and had been the same on my 411 which I adapted with neoprene slabs and a Cool Cover. Shoulda brought my Skivvies.
This was the only part of our ride on fast, straightish roads. Perhaps the vibration might have eased up, but with no screen and my wind catching Bell lid, I didn’t have the urge to push on beyond 100kph and hold it there. Jon was the same.

The last 40km into Anergui follows the precipitous Assif Melloul gorge (above; video below) with some big drops into the river you’d not want to attempt. Getting weary, I did overcook it a couple of times – perhaps the ABS led me astray.
I even managed to poke a hole in the toe of my ageing TCX boots (left) without anything clouting the bike, far less spotting a sharp rock. I know the pegs are low, and sliding forward on the saddle points feet downwards, but this was a first for me. The wide gearing felt fine providing you kept it above 3000rpm. First was a tad tall as usual ~6-7kph @ tickover? – but clutch slipping and grunt pulled it round steep switchbacks.

Ouaouizaght to Anergui via Assif Melloul gorge

On arriving in Anergui we both decided the Him was better off-road than on, but it wasn’t great at either. The weight – 200 kilos with the 17-litre tank brimmed – is set low and combined with the low seat height made the Him stick to tracks like glue, but it still took a fair amount of effort to ride. The barely adjustable suspension felt good, especially the cartridge? forks. I could’ve backed off the rear rings a bit to reduce chattering, but neither end bottomed out during our ride. Nor did the bash plate scrape. We checked the tyre pressures, and dropped them from 36 to 30psi.

At the Anergui auberge we met up with Simon on his nicely set-up, over-bored TTR315 (left), as well as a couple of Germans on an AT and a 901 who’d both just discovered the TMT. They’d got here via TMT Stage N which had just become accessible again after months, but not without a few fall-overs. By November 2025 Stage N was rideable again. Until the next big storm.
I rarely visit Morocco this late in the season, but was staggered by the size of tourist bikes used out here. Maybe they weren’t all piste bashing, but as it is, regular mountain roads are often missing the surface or capped with dried mudslides, so a giant Adv trounces a giant tourer.
Old Man Norden said he was on his Last Bike Adventure, recognising he was becoming a bit of a liability. ‘Get a lighter bike!’ and give yourself another decade, we all thought. Feeling the same loss of ability, that’s what I’ve done.

On Day Two a rattle became evident under load. It had probably done it out of the shop but now unplugged, I could hear it. Jon’s bike was fine and his gear change was better too: I traced the latter down to a loose lever. It took a thread-stripping amount of cranking to close up the gap with a bit of added soap.
Over the next day or two we prodded various bits to try and pin down the noise: cush drive looser than Jon’s; tightened my chain (centre stand – yay!); loose rad or crash bars? Nope. Eventually I placed the rattle under the tank and, as it didn’t get worse or affect anything, I left it. Probably like the previous customer and the next one.

Both Jon and I were amazed how well the rubbish tyres tracked on dry trails, providing we backed in appropriately. In that way the low CoG is a benefit; light bikes can feel skittish. But my new thin gloves didn’t agree with the Him’s hard plastic grips combined with the need to manhandle the 450. Weeks later I still have calluses on my palms. Along with the seat, this discomfort may have jaded our impressions of the Enfield.

Economy
Having covered nearly 400km since filling up, in the Ait Boumengueze valley and with 50km range showing on the read-out, we took on a couple of litres. By the time we topped right up at the Kelaa servo next morning, I recorded 26.6kpl / 75mpg with a lot of steep and slow trails. That was already better than my MT ever managed.
The next fill up after crossing Jebel Saghro off-road and recrossing back to Dades came in at 34.5 kpl or 96mpg. These match the impressive 450 figures I’d seen bandied about and add up to a potential 600km range. I read that Acerbis have produced a 24-litre tank for the Him. Why bother? The final fill-up back in Kelaa after crossing and recrossing the High Atlas was around 86mpg / 30.5kpl which was the average. This frugality was partly what had attracted me to the new Him. And unlike my CF Moto, the low-rpm fuelling was spot on, while briefly over 3000 metres – nearly 10,000′ – the loss of power was barely noticeable at the sorts of speeds we were able to ride at.

Arriving in Imilchil the next night after long road ride recrossing Saghro and the High Atlas, it sure felt nice not to have been pummelled. Is it the weight of the bike, or my advancing years? Probably the latter, as others manage fine.

My impressions waxed and waned, but in the end settled on wane. Not helped by the discomfort, the Him wasn’t fulfilling all my expectations and Jon, who rides a 690SM, was even less impressed. Even with inner tubes, I was rather hoping the Him could become my fly-in rental hack to save me running a bike in the UK, but without improving the comfort, it’s not for me – the bane of WYRIWYG rentals.
Were I to own one, I’d fix the saddle, change the grips, fit an actual screen and change the shock and tyres. That’s pretty much a regular list you’d do to any bike – unless it’s a CFMoto 450MT, of course!

Still, all this grumbling didn’t stop Jon and me having a brilliant last couple of days in the High Atlas. We recce’d a new start to Stage N out of Imilchil that dodges a sometimes troublesome gully, then winged it off the map to discover a fabulous 50-km off-road crossing of the High Atlas back to the Dades valley, peaking at over 3000m. You really need to set the bike on full-power mode in this sort of terrain; the day or so we wasted in Eco we’ll never get back.

I was expecting the Him to be my sort of bike – more Trail than Adv which is the way my riding prefs are going – with better economy than the 450MT but still with enough grunt to chug around steep switchbacks. I also expected the lack of frontal bulk to make it less cushy on the road while giving an impression of greater agility on the piste. But for me, along with the discomfort, the weight just kills any benefits. The former could be fixed but the latter is largely there to stay and only increases once the bike gets outfitted for travel.
Looking back at my 411 review, they’ve fixed many of the flaws and even made the 450 more economical and a lot faster on the road. Yet, perhaps because I improved my 411, as we do with all our own bikes, I think I got on with my old Him better than this rental.

It was great to have tried the Him 450 on the sort or terrain I like to ride. My replacement is waiting for me on a farm up north and is a bike I’m quite excited about. What could it be?

Tested: Kenda Big Block review

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The chunky Kenda Big Block has been on my ‘tyres to try’ list for years, so when I set off for Morocco on my near-new 450MT last October, I arranged for a 140/80-18 (7.1kg) and 90/90-21 (5.2kg) to be dropped off in Marrakech, assuming the bike’s stock CSTs would not last long or soon degrade. I know John M from Rally Raid is a fan of the Kendas (below).
The rear is listed as 140/70-18, but I’m told this size is rare, so the 140/80 rear Kenda would be a bit wider, taller and probably heavier.

In the meantime, road and trail, I was quite impressed with the stock Cheng Shin (CST) Ambro 4s which bear a striking resemblance to the Pirelli Scorpion Rally STR.

With probably a 1000 miles left in the Ambros (above left) at around 4600 miles, I decided to get the Kendas fitted in Marrakech while I still had a chance to test them on the trail, before heading back home across Spain. Out of town, as expected they initially felt odd on the road, like new knobblies can do. That settled down, hummed a bit more than the CSTs on smooth asphalt, but later on the dirt they felt too stiff at 30-psi road pressures (like many tubeless tyres), spinning out when stalled on a steep ascent, for example. I dropped to the mid/high 20s, but there felt little difference on the rocky or gravel tracks. Some bends I’d slice through like a pro, others I edged round like like a junior MX-er on their first day out.

On a heavy bike like the loaded 450 (195kg wet + gear) it can be hard to get your flow on some loose, stony bends. Meanwhile, on the few bits of deep sand (rare in Morocco), I did notice the 450 tracked well once you’d disabled the traction control. That’s as you’d expect with big blocks, though I think is also down to the 450’s unusually good steering and weight distribution.

On the road the Kendas still gave their moments: Once back on bendy mountain roads in southern Spain, I wasn’t cornering the way I could on the Ambros. A lot of this must be down to knobbly-on-asphalt syndrome: some rough or grooved surfaces set the tyres shimmying, even in a straight line. I’ve been used to that for decades and you just ride through this, but on the bends was another matter. Are the Big Blocks a knob too far?

Riding damp, winding mountain backroads from Seville to Granada, I had a couple of slips and at one point was so sure both tyres were punctured, I pulled over to check. Both were solid as. It wasn’t icy but I thought maybe I’d ridden through some unseen, oily agri-slime, or the dealer service in Seville the previous day had whacked up the pressures. Both tyres checked in at the regular 30psi.
On other occasions I thought perhaps the rubber needed to warm up in the chilly morning temps. This uneasiness came and went right across Spain until I thought: I can’t sell this bike with these Big Blocks, even if they make the bike look rufty-tufty and purposeful. Whoever buys it is likely to be a road rider. Once back in the UK I fitted some Mitas E07s (below) and will flog the Big Bs.

Yamaha’s XT Ténéré travel bikes

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My Tenere Travels
1982: XT500 • Algeria
1985-86: XT600Z 55W• London–Dakar
1987-88: XT600Z 1VJ • Algeria
1990: XT600Z 55W • Marseille–Mauritania
2007: XT660Z • Morocco
2018: ‘Tenerised’ XScrambleR 700

I well remember the day in 1983 when I first clocked Yamaha’s original XT600Z Ténéré outside Maxim Motorcycles in Parramatta, west Sydney.

I crouched down for a good look at the machine which appeared to have addressed just about all the deficiencies of my 1982 XT500 desert bike: front disc brake, huge 28-litre tank, monoshock back-end, 12-volt electrics, folding lever trips, oil cooler and a thrifty ‘twin-carb’ set up. And all at around 140 kilos dry.

The 34L XT600Z Ténéré, named after the most gruelling Saharan stage of the Paris-Dakar Rally (see below), was desert-ready right off the showroom floor.

‘Tenere’ – What’s that then?

Tenere – or as the French write it: Ténéré – is one of the many Tuareg words for ’emptiness’ or ‘desert’. The more familiar Arabic Sahra [Sahara] means the same thing, but like the Inuit and their snow, the nomads of the Sahara distinguish between many types of desert and regions. The Tenere is a particularly desolate and waterless flat expanse which fills the northeast corner of Niger (left).

In the Dakar Rally’s 1980s heyday, the crossing of the Tenere from Algeria to Agadez in Niger via the dunes of the Bilma Erg, typically decimated the field and helped establish the Tenere’s already notorious reputation of the ‘desert within a desert’.

In 2003 we rode to the famous Arbre Perdu or ‘Lost Tree’ in the northern Tenere (below) where Dakar Rally founder Thierry Sabine had his ashes scattered following his death during the ’86 rally.
Good French page on vintage Dakar and all the Teneres and similar bikes.

I bought my first Ténéré in London in 1985 to tackle my own London–Dakar adventure. This was the slightly modified 55W version of the original 1983 34L, produced for just one year. The changes were small: front disc brake cover, stronger DID rims, revised chain adjuster, longer, all-red or blue seat and most easily spotted: sloping speed blocks on the tank.
Modifications to my 55W amounted to nothing more than adding thicker seat foam and some Metzeler ‘Sahara’ tyres – a rubbish choice for the actual Sahara, even back then. Using no rack was another mistake which nearly cost me the bike when my baggage caught fire.

In fact, there was so little to do that I went to the bother of moving the oil cooler from next to the carbs up out into the breeze over the bars. And I painted it black because I was still hadn’t shaken off my juvenile Mad Max phase. With my £5 ex-army panniers slung over the back, in December ’85 I set off for Marseille, bound for Dakar via Algeria, Niger and Mali.

85xt60-dakarmap — My 1985-86 route to Dakar in green.

This was my first overland trip which succeeded in actually crossing a few African borders – and it proved to be as eventful as my first Sahara ride on the XT500 (and the Benele quickie which followed). On the way I learned many must-do-next-times as well as several more never-do-agains, all useful material for my Desert Biking guide published a few years later and which evolved into the current AM Handbook.

Blazing saddles near the Niger border

I met Helmut in Tamanrasset and we set off across the Sahara together. Sadly he crashed and burned, never to reach the Niger border. I also had a smaller fire a day or two later, but was thrilled to have finally crossed the Sahara into West Africa.
As I wrote later, reaching sub-Saharan Africa was like switching a TV from black and white to colour.
A few weeks later, with many more adventures and worthwhile lessons under my belt, I shipped my charred Tenere out of Dakar and flew on to Spain to catch up with it. You can read the long version of that trip here.

tenere85 — Camped by the Niger river, Niger

Yamaha’s original 34L and 55W Ténéré was the first proper, well-equipped lightweight travel bikes, created on the back of Yamaha’s success in the Dakar Rally which I encountered on a few occasions out there.
That bike – not the BMW R80G/S everyone goes on about – was a game changer, with the brakes, range, suspension, economy, power and lack of weight which ticked all the boxes. In Europe they absolutely loved them; over a decade the French alone bought 20,000 Teneres; over 30% of all production. They were never officially imported into North America. From 1987 the KLR650 filled the same niche but in Europe the KLR was largely ignored and Suzuki DR600s and 650SEs made a bit more of an impact. A good early-Tenere page.

The next Tenere was the 1VJ model (left and above) with kick and electric start, firmer suspension and the air filter positioned, rally-style, under the back of the tank. But costs were cut elsewhere, it supposedly had over-heating problems and it just didn’t seem as durable as the original kickers. Mine sounded pretty clapped-out by the time I returned from a 3000-mile Sahara trip.
You can read about my 87-88 trip here.

I never owned one, but the classic twin-lamp 3AJ Teneres (above and left), was said to be a better machine, even if it had by now gained some 25kg. There was said to be a 5th gear problem common to other 600 Teneres, but only if you rode them very hard and lugged the motor.

The 5-valve XTZ660 Tenere from the 1990s (left) still looked great but by now had gained even more weight and lost some cred. On top of that, poor electrics and other flaws managed to lose the Ténéré mojo in the face of KTM’s dirt-focussed 640 Adventure (right).
After the 5-valve was dropped, for nearly ten lean years in the Noughties there were no Teneres in production. BMW’s 650 Dakar became popular big single travel bike; Teneres were seen as an 80s throwback.

Then, in 2008 Yamaha’s legendary desert bike returned as the XT660Z. Based on the injected XT660R and X produced from 2004, the fuelling was much improved and again, it ticked many boxes, even if it now weighed over 200 kilos and, at times, felt it. Fuel consumption varied widely but averaged 25 kpl, giving a range of about 570km/360 miles from the 23-litre plastic tank.

I bought a barely used one soon after they came out, did the usual kerbside makeover and set off for Morocco to research the first edition of Morocco Overland. Read about that bike here.

By 2016 ever-tightening emissions regs killed off the hefty 660Z Ténéré. but 2019’s long awaited XT700 Ténéré, based on the brilliant twin-cylinder CP2 motor, as in my 2017 XSR700 has become a worldwide hit (read my early impressions here). Though taller, a T7 is not much heavier than the 660Z and just like the original 34l, is another desert-ready hit right out of the crate.

CFMoto 450MT 11,000km review

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CFMoto 450MT index page
See also: 2026 Moto Morini Alltrhike 450

Updated February 2026

• Stock CST Ambro tyres good on dry dirt, great on road and could have got 10,000km from them
• Smooth, grunty engine easy to manage and great sound
• Zero issues in 11,000km
• Suspension soaks it all up when laden (stock settings changed)
• Seat is low and good for up to 600-km road days
• Standing just about sustainable with 25mm risers on stock pegs (me: 6′ 1″/183cm)
• Lights light up the night like lights should
• Spoked tubeless wheels held up very well

• Wet weight feels high off road when tanked-up and laden (+15kg baggage)
• ~70mpg fuel consumption nothing special for a 450
• Gear change not brilliant
• Jerky throttle at low rpm sometimes (mapped out at 10,000km service?)
• Kenda Big Blocks were no better on the dirt and gave a few moments on tarmac

Review
Back in the UK after leaving the MT in Morocco for the winter, doing two one-month spells on backroads and tracks with groups on mostly KTM 390s, plus a 5-day run along the TMT with big twins. Some rain damaged pistes were quite brutal, but still rideable with outriggers extended, the odd over-balance or best idea of all: stock suspension settings adjusted!

I stuck with the stock CST Ambro 4 tyres (Pirelli Scorpion Rally copies) mostly run at 30psi to protect the untested protruding tubeless rims which have held up very well. I just tapped the spokes and all are ringing nice and taut. Next time I’d feel confident to drop to 25 for a cushier ride. Wet roads, dry trails and everything I’ve encountered in between, I’m impressed the Ambro tyres, and when I changed them at around 8000km, there was a good 1000km left. That wasn’t enough to do one more lap plus get me home, so I had some Kenda Big Blocks fitted in Marrakech for the Last Tour and the 2000-km ride back.

After 5000km it was definitely time to meddle with the stiff but fully adjustable suspension. Result: much better. Now it bottoms out where it should and handles all sorts of rocks and other roughage if taken at appropriate speeds. Prior to that, dropping the tyres to 26psi didn’t really make much difference along stony Acacia Avenue near Foum Zguid.

The grunty engine is so satisfying to use on tight trails and bendy roads. Suboptimal gear? No probs: the engine picks up from low rpm without the shudder of a big single, and the offbeat ratta-tat-tat from the pipe adds to the enjoyment you don’t get on a CRF300L. Sometimes I think the kangarooing at low throttle openings has gone away (having the chain tension right helps), at other times it’s there but not enough to make me want to rush to some good internet and upload an OTA remap. Could it be to do with air pressure/humidity/ambient temps/fuel grade? Who knows, but a new chain and a full service in Spain made it less noticeable and may have gone altogether.

The MT’s gear change was never that slick from new and was only shown up by the quick-shifting 390s I rode with for a while – let alone the Desert X Rally which was like clicking a dial. Then I had the bright idea to adjust the clutch cable tension at the bar even though it felt fine and guess what: now the gear change is normal. And with a new chain on the way back it was better still, but never that snickey.

With regular hand lubes, chain hung in there for 11,000km. Another example of quality consumables, unlike my recent Jap bikes

I’ve been trying to unlearn the clutch habit and change just with the foot and a blip – it’s often seamless up and even down. I really need to try and do that more, but a long decade of urban despatching has made clutch use a reflex.

Real-world fuel consumption was nothing special for a 450, especialy when compared to my early CB500X. All up I averaged 24kpl – 68UKmpg – 56.6US – probably no better than a T7. I did get a suspiciously good 81mpg (28.7kpl) one time without really trying. Sometimes I wonder if my tankside bags create the drag you’d expect. But my 300L had the same set up and got nearly 100mpg, so I don’t think so. Either way, the range is good for 400km, but with 17 litres up high, I try to stretch out the range on the piste.

No complaints about the brakes. One good front disc is all you need for a bike of this weight and power. On the dirt I leave the ABS and TC on. One day on a steep climb I looked back to check on the group and nearly steered myself over the edge (like you do), but the ABS caught me. I had to be pulled back. Similar happened a couple more times when I was too tired to react to yet another bend. The MT’s ABS hauled me up safely. Why would you ever turn it off.

I did not noticeably activate the TC as the 40-hp cross plane motor just hooks up and does the work for you. That was until one dark night when the 6km track to our lodgings had stretches of deep soft sand. With tyres at road pressures, the TC got in the way and I was going down, not forward. It had been a long, hard day and it took me a while to remember and then fumble for the easily accessible TC/ABS kill button on the bars which did the trick. Another time, stalling on a steep climb, the back wheel span then cut with the TC. Again, killing the TC did the trick. I’ll keep the ABS on 24/7 but TC can get in the way on loose dirt. I really don’t think this bike needs TC at all.

My unconventional rackless placement of a Kreiga low and forward on the LHS pillion footrest worked faultlessly, even with plenty of paddling through oueds and over rocky sections. I never even noticed it was there. The weight position must be as optimal as it gets, and it hasn’t budged. It’s such a neat idea next time I’ll do both sides and ditch that tail pack which, handy though it is, makes getting on and off elegantly a pain.

I fell over once with a 3/4-full tank, inching down a rain-gouged switchback. The bike landed downhill but with all the others ahead, I was relieved to find I could lift it myself, helped by those grab handles at the back. But the Chinese plastic on the aftermarket handguard cracked like an egg. I replaced it with proper ABS Barkbuster guards.
There could have been a couple more such low=speed falls-overs, but they’re avoidable thanks to the low seat. Yes, the lowness takes a bit more leverage to stand up on the pegs, but I’ll take getting my feet on solid dirt every time.
On the trail, I’ve lowered the screen and MRA deflector to better see what’s ahead; a 2-minute job. Meanwhile, the bash plate batted back the odd flying stone but I never scrapped the base.

The 450MT is a mini T7, just like they say, but a bit big and heavy for solo trail exploring. Read about following the TMT with a 1250GS and a Ducati Rally X.

CFMoto 450MT • Quick suspension fix

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CFMoto 450MT index page

Once I got to Morocco I rode a couple of 1000 clicks on tracks and trails before deciding yes, it was time to fiddle with the suspension settings which I’d not touched from new. Some tracks – made rougher by the September floods – were giving me a hammering. The suspension was too harsh as many reviewers attest, especially at the lower speeds I ride at. I did try one stony stage with tyres aired down to 26psi, but it didn’t seem to make much difference, TL tyres being natively stiffer. I didn’t want to go lower on the untried rims – though they’ve since proved to be up to the job. On one ride without my 15kg of travel baggage (above) the bike was nice and agile but even harsher on very rough ground without the extra payload.

Amazingly for the price, the CF has fully adjustable suspension, and taking a cue from this ADVRider 450MT suspension thread, I should have started by setting the rear sag – a well-known metric for getting the rear suspension in the ballpark – but I didn’t. I never do. But I should.
Instead, I dialled back – unscrewed – the shock’s combined compression/rebound setting (below left; no tool needed; nice) from 11 down to 3. Then with a flat screwdriver I backed off the fork rebound (left fork) and fork compression (right fork) by one full turn (360°), and unscrewed the fork preload with a 14mm spanner by half a turn – and later another half turn. This was a definite improvement, especially on the trail.

By now I was riding with £22k of top-of-the-range Desert X Rally, and an HP 1250GS with similarly sophisticated suspension. On the roughest trails I was unable or reluctant to keep up with them. Three times more hp may have helped, but the MT’s springs lacked the solid yet plush feel of the Ducati which I rode briefly and which lapped up anything that was thrown at it.

So the stock set up is far from plush, but just a couple of minutes of easy tweaking has improved things a lot. The back-end bottoms out now (as it should on the biggest hits) and the fork has done the same on a couple of fast ditch impacts. When I get back in February I may crank the rear preload up half a turn which should help tighten up the steering and reduce G-outs. Plus try dropping the tyres again to 24-ish.

As it is now the 450MT is not quite as good as my Rally Raid sprung 300L from last year, nor my factory set-up Hyperpro 650 XCountry, but both had €1-2000 of added springware. I’ve spent nothing on the MT, bar a few minutes on adjustments. It all just underlines what a well configured machine the MT is.

Adventure Motorcycling Handbook

The Website of the Book