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Tested: Adventure Spec Linesman jacket

Tested: Adventure Spec Linesman softshell jacket

Where: 1600km off-road tour in southern Algeria, a few days in Morocco in April and another month riding in Morocco in November.

UK price: ~~£249~~ £349
Supplied free for testing by Adv Spec

Weight: 1011g + armour; size tested: Large (me: 6ft 1in/186cm • 205lbs/93kg)

Additional photos by Dan W, Dave K, Karim H and Robin W

• Light and comfy to wear
• Stylish, low-key design makes it wearable off the bike
• Ready for armour (not included)
• Lots of pockets, including on the back
• High collar
• Sleeves zip off
• Vertical back vents work with a daypack

• Expensive now
• New colour scheme (right) looks less good than 1st-gen green
• Not that breathable; for warm conditions try the similar but open-weave Mongolia or the Atacama Race
• Don’t expect the protected feel of a fully armoured Cordura jacket

What they say:
A windproof and breathable trail riding/rally jacket reinforced with Du Pont™ Kevlar® fabric on the key abrasion zones. Reinventing the trail riding jacket, via the tracks of the Trans Euro Trail.
For decades the trail rider had very limited options when it came to riding jackets. Either big bulky motorcycle kit that was restrictive and heavy, or lightweight outdoor gear that offered little protection. It always seemed like too much of a compromise. The Linesman Jacket is the culmination of the depth of expertise that Adventure Spec has established helping many tens of thousands of riders travel untold miles around the world.

Review
In 2018 Adv Spec introduced a batch of own-branded jackets including the vented Atacama Race, the similar open-weave Mongolia and a softshell Linesman aimed at trail riders. It has been named after the volunteer researchers on the Trans Europe Trail (TET) which Adv Spec support – comparable with Touratech US’s Backcountry Discovery Routes (BDR); a riding gear outlet sponsoring and even under-writing well researched ride routes.

I miss my old Mountain Hardwear softshell (right), left on a bus in Delhi after a couple of epic Himalayan bike rides. Back then, outdoorsy softshell was quite pricey; a stretchy polyester outer fabric bonded (sometimes via a breathable membrane) to a soft, micro-fleece liner producing a lightweight shell that’s nice and non-rustly to wear while keeping the windchill at bay.
What makes Adv Spec’s Linesman different from an outdoor-sports softshell is the lack of a membrane (my Mountain Hardwear was annoyingly sweaty; not really breathable) or even a DWR coating. Instead you get a kevlar overlay on the high-wear or impact areas (the green parts) as well as front chest pockets which work as vents to purge through similar zipped slots on the back.

Your Linesman is not intended for tearing around Brands Hatch on you Gixxer, nor touring Alpine passes in late summer. It’s aimed at trail riders who’ll be doing their riding and crashing at much lower speeds. To make that less painful there are armour pockets at the elbow, shoulders and the back.

If you add in a hook or velcro tab at the top, this back sleeve could double up as a bladder holder. The Atacama Race comes with this feature; however it’s done, it would be good to see it added to the Linesman, even if a useful two litres might put a strain on the jacket. It’s nice to not have to use a day pack to contain your hydrator.

The shoulder armour pockets thoughtfully pin up out of the way towards the collar because on the Linesman you can zip-off the sleeves. The theory is, with the sleeves stashed in the rear pouches, the jacket more wearable in hot conditions. While I’m pretty blasé about armour, I’d still rather ride with sleeves. If I’m getting stuck into a sweaty work like a tube puncture, I’d probably just take the jacket off. But I can see the value in removing them while retaining the security and utility of the pockets, perhaps on a warm TET evening in southern Europe for an amble down to the village bar. Update: In Morocco in April it was over 30°C so I did ride unsleeved and very pleasant it was too. The other two were cooking in their membrane jackets.

There are no less than eight pockets: two on the outside at the hem as big as your hand; two smaller vertical chest pockets which double up as vents (so probably not a place for your phone or wallet); two more zipped pouches above the back hem which you can just reach with the jacket on; and two huge and very handy mesh ‘drop pockets’ inside (below left). I find these most useful and have added mesh versions to my other riding jackets; an easy and secure place to stash gloves of maps without having to interact with zips apart from the front one.

I can see the thinking behind water-resistant YKK zips on the front pockets/vents, but unfortunately this makes them too stiff to operate one-handed on the move and as you can see left on the top zip, the press-seal doesn’t close up fully to keep water out.
Seeing as these are the more-used zips, I’d prefer the conventional, freer-flowing zips as used on the rear vents and pockets (the lower zip pictured above). After all, the main front zip is the same. This ease of use applies especially to the front chest pocket/vents which are handy to open or close on the move while leaving the rear vents open. Like on my Klim Overland, these rear vents are inaccessible with the jacket on, let alone on the move; it’s often easier to ask another rider to zip you up or down. If it’s raining valuables are better off in a waterproof pouch while you either get a bit wet or pull on a mac.

What did the others wear in Algeria?
I have a rather casual sense of dress in the desert and prefer not to feel hot or sweaty. I don’t like being weighed down or in-your-full-face lids or synthetic legwear and I don’t mind being cold for a short while. I wore: TKC Baja boots, Klim Outrider trousers, the Linesman with a wicky/merino undershirt plus a Shoei open face. I was comfortable with these choices and unlike many, couldn’t be bothered change once at the camp.
Of the dozen other riders; 10 wore full-face MX, most with goggles; 3 had neck braces; at least 5 wore full armour underjackets over vests or jackets; 7 wore Cordura riding jackets all the time and probably with armour – the rest wore jerseys most of the time; 1 wore waxed cotton + armour; 10 wore nylon riding (over?) pants probably with armour; 1 wore jeans with armour and 1 wore leather trousers.

The sort of riding I did in Algeria added up to a half-day on the plateau highway at elevations up to 1600-m, regular gravel pistes, gnarlier soft sand and 2nd-gear sandy tussock oueds, short dune crossings, churned up sandy canyons, and wide-open sand sheet down at 500m, all with regular stops to allow regrouping and playing the sand. Temperatures ranged from freezing mornings to the upper-20s Centigrade.

Underneath I wore a wicky T-shirt or long sleeve, either synthetic (right) or merino when chillier. That’s quite a mix of terrain, speeds and temperatures wearing similar kit; I tend to put up with short-term discomforts rather than faff about with layers. Through it all the Linesman unobtrusively coped with the occasional opening or closure of the rear vents. I wore mine with only Forcefield elbow armour (left). I must admit I’d have felt better crashing hard in a Cordura jacket, with or without armour. Softshell has a rubbery feel which would snag as you slide and tumble, especially on the road where thick Cordura abrades almost as well as leather. Luckily that’s not something I’ve done for decades and on this trip it was just the usual slow/no speed spills.

Best of all, I like the Linesman’s plain styling while not being yet more boring grey or all-black. Others, including non-bikey types, commented on the stylish, look too; something you can wear off the bike without handing over a pizza. Maybe it’s the design or maybe it’s the stretchy fabric which see a total lack of adjustability using cinch-cord, poppers or velcro. The plain elasticated cuffs and neck don’t need doing up or pinning down once the Linesman’s on. It all helps enhance the look without detracting from the jacket’s function.

It’s probably not the only biking jacket you’d want to own, and you do wonder how durable the softshell will be after a couple of years of inevitable scuffing, but the Linesman does represent a new type of biking jacket with as much optional impact protection and storage as a typical Cordura-and-membrane coat, but more on-the-road windproofing than the fully vented jackets like Revit’s Cayenne Pro, Klim’s Inverse or Adv Spec’s own Mongolia and Atacama.

Tested: 7 years with TCX Baja Mid boots

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In a line
Did the job for 7 years on 13 bikes

Where tested: Algerian Sahara, southern Morocco, back garden chainsawing, etc

Cost: £200
Supplied free for review by TCX UK

Weight: 1017g each

In 2025, after seven years one mismatched strap was bodged on, then I managed to poke a hole in the toe of the other. I left them in Marrakech.

What they say:
Designed for Adventure both on and off road, and on and off the bike, the TCX Baja Boots are built to be protective on the bike and walkable on the trail. Full grain leather upper for durability and lasting good looks. Polyurethane inserts at the ankle, heel and toe. The perfect hybrid of a low hiking boot and a high motocross boot, the TCX Baja Mid Cut Boots will take you where the adventure leads, over any terrain, through any weather. [Revzilla]

Full grain leather upper
Suede front and rear padded areas increase comfort
Soft padded upper collar
Waterproof membrane lining
CFS Comfort Fit System
Ergonomic shin plate reinforcement
PU malleolus [ankle bone], toe and heel inserts
Leather shift pads
Inner suede heat guard offers maximum grip
2 interchangeable, micro-adjustable ALU6060 aluminum buckles for superior fit
Anatomical and replaceable footbed
High performance rubber compound sole with differentiated grip areas for stability and traction on any terrain
CE certified

No longer listed by TCX in early 2024. Forma Adventure Low Boots look similar.

What I think:

• Light, do-it-all boots for gravel-roading and even hiking off the bike
• Solid construction lasted years of desert and mountain tracks
• Easy to operate, adjustable buckles
• Look good in natural brown
• Non-clammy and wading waterproof membrane

• Depending on the bike’s peg size, soft instep gets sore standing off road after a while
• One buckle clamp frequently came undone, eventually fell off and could not be correctly replaced
• Would prefer some tread on the soles, which other Adventure boots have

Review
My old Altberg road boots were showing the years. Bought from a junk shop for 20 quid, they were OK for my Morocco tours but didn’t have solid protection nor a stiff on-the-footrests instep for a two-weeker in Algeria on an XR400 in 2018.

I’ve been eyeing up the Italian TCX brand, in particular the Baja Mids from the ‘Touring – Adventure’ line looked good in natural hide and looked like they fitted my needs.
For my sort of non-competitive desert riding I don’t believe full-height, full-on MX boots are necessary. Looking back I see I only wore such things (Alpine Stars; right) on my very first desert trip in 1982.

In the real world I’m not blasting through shallow rivers or showers of stones on my way to the chequered flag, but solid ankle support and foot protection are important for any form of biking, particularly off-road where a typical slow speed fall-over often sees the bike drop on your foot (as happened to a rider on our trip, cooling his sore foot, left). After another crippling accident on our ride, a couple of us wondered whether in a foot-catching-a-side-rut scenario, a solid, full-height MX boot transfers more twisting force to the knee than a mid-height boot like my Baja which lets the shin bones twist a bit before a knee ligaments snaps.

I’ve had problems with narrow hiking boots, over the years, but the UK11 / EU46 Bajas fitted me just right. Your foot slips smoothly into the padded lining where you can replace the basic footbed to suit your needs, though for bike riding they’re not that critical. Everything clamps down with two micro-adjustable buckles which look like they could take the odd whack from a rock and should be replaceable, but weren’t. This is all a lot less faff than the zips on my old Altbergs which have lasted, but occasionally refused to budge until you reboot, so to speak.

Being mid-height means tucked-in trousers may tuck-out on the move. I also found if wearing short socks the padded edge of the upper collar chaffs on bare shins, as any boot would. The solution is knee-high socks or as I did, tuck trouser-ends into the short socks. Or of course you can wear them OTB for hipster soirees. Being short, they’re light too at just over a kilo each, same as my Lowa desert boots. I never had that encumbered, boxy feeling I recall from full-height MX boots.

When it came to standing and riding over rough terrain, as long as the pegs are larger-than-standard the Bajas supported my feet comfortably and with no pressure, just like a proper MX boot. Elsewhere, the instep gets sore after a while.

I occasionally wander into rivers and puddles and the Baja’s waterproofness holds up, and all day in the deserts they never become uncomfortably clammy to wear which suggests a more breathable, higher quality membrane.

There’s no word on what the membrane is on the Baja description, but TCX’s generic Gore-Tex page suggests all TCX boots use one grade of Gore-Tex or another. In my experience, cheaper membranes err towards waterproofness rather than true breathability which results in clamminess round the clock.

Fast forward to early 2024 and the Baja Mids are hanging in there, getting used at least twice a year in Morocco on whatever I’m riding at the time. I don’t even bother cleaning the dust off any more and they just do the job unobtrusively. One of the clamps that was always opening up fell off and I couldn’t find an exact replacement; a bodged on clamped worked OK.

There’s never been an occasion where I wished they were full-height which might rub on the side of the bike. Depending on the size of a bike’s footrests, my insteps might a bit sore after 20 minutes of standing off-road, but larger pegs cure that. I’m sure I’ll get another five years out of them but spring 2025 a rock or something poked a hole in the toe (top of the page) in the High Atlas meaning fords resulted in a wet foot. I also wonder if the waterproofing membrane had has its day.

All up, after about 12 months and about 25,000km of sustained, actual use over the years, in 2025 I left them in Marrakech and bought a pair of similar but treaded Forma Adventure Lows (left) which I hope will last as long and be a bit more grippy when scrambling up rocky banks to grab a photo.

Honda XR400 in the Algerian Sahara

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Additional pix by Dan W, Dave K and Robin W.
For the full story on our tour read this.

Having had a couple of XR400s on previous desert tours, I’ve long wanted to try one for myself and finally got a MY 2000 model in late 2017. I rode it up and down the road, got some man-caving mates to fix a few things up, then loaded it into a van bound for Germany and Algeria.
Even if they’d have made easier work of it, I couldn’t bring myself to splash out at least twice as much for a KTM and the like. There’s very little in this old category but the XR was a safe, undemanding choice which I was pretty sure wouldn’t disappoint me on the sort of riding I was expecting.

Quick stats
• Produced from 1996-2004
• Air-cooled, dry-sump, RFVC, 5-speed
• 34hp @ 6500rpm
• 116kg dry
• 36.6” / 930mm claimed seat height
• 9.5 litre tank (~150km range)
• Disc brakes and 18/21-inch wheels
• Go from around £2000 used in the UK

• Light
• Easy kick starting
• Enough power
• Great suspension, all things considered
• Looks great if you’re of a certain age

• Tall seat height
• Unimpressive, carb-era economy
• Kick only
• Dry-sump oil-level checking faffery
• Was never a contender as a good travel bike (skimpy subframe)
• No modern version exits

Some other bikes I considered were:

• DRZ400
Has the button but 15-20kg heavier, more trail bike less dirt bike and finding a decent one with few owners and that’s not covered in naff Monster stickers is tricky.
• Husaberg FE450
Liked the unusual engine and good reputation of later models but obscure = hard to sell on and anyway, it’s a hardcore enduro racer.
• KTM 500 EXC`
Less frantic than a 450, lighter than a 690 and easy to sell on, but efi ones cost thousands and anyway ‘KTM relaxed’ ≠ XT500.
• KLX450R
Unchanged since 2008 and said to be the ‘softest’ of the Jap 450 enduros but carb’d and rare in the UK. But again, softest is all relative.
• KLX250S
Better suspension than a CRF-L but it’s still only a 250. I’ve had enough 250s for the moment.

My XR showed 8550km (5300m) on the clock and looked in good nick. It had a small rack, bashplate and an OK front tyre so not much needed adding of fixing for a fortnight in the desert: a new Mitas E09 on the back with Slime in the tubes and self-tapers through the rims to stop tyre creep.
New wheel bearings (old ones rusted right up – jet wash victims, I guess) plus fatter pegs and a Trail Tech temperature gauge. Air- or water-cooled, I’m a believer in closely monitoring actual engine temps in the desert. I also got TTR-Simon (on the tour) to add my old Barkbuster Storms and Rox risers, plus a disc of HDPE (chopping board plastic) melted and bolted under the side stand foot – a light and simple way of doing it.

Before flying out to Algeria I had a thought that my kick-only XR might take a lot of starting after being transported across the freezing Alps, the salty Med and half the dusty, arid Sahara. But came the day in Illizi I nearly fell off the seat when it lit up first kick and proceeded to do so throughout the rest of the trip, whether baking hot or freezing cold.

Once geared up, leaving Illizi we were thrown in the deep end with a short but sandy ride to our first dune camp. Those new to sand or who’d not ridden it for ages – like me – were a bit startled but eventually remembered what to do: gun it and hold on. The XR felt light, well sprung and reasonably responsive (this was on road pressures), though not enough to make me want to blast up wayside dunes for the hell of it. Most of us felt the same way; there was plenty of rugged riding ahead.
FYI, the other bikes on the tour were a CRF250L (DNF); two BMW XChallenges (1 DNF; injury), two KTM 690s, Husaberg 450, two bored-out 315-cc Yamaha TTR250s, KTM 350 EXC, Husqvarna TE300 2T, XR250R and an old KTM 640 Adventure. All of these bikes appeared to cope as well with the riding and, like the XR, none of them needed anything more than the slightest attention. Read the full ride report on advrider.

Fast forward a few days and my XR had impressed me and saved my arse many times; most commonly when I was certain I was about to go over the bars following an unexpected drop-off, trench or general gnarliness. I thank the light weight – it really is the answer to so many issues on the dirt – and the Showa forks on whatever setting the bike came with. The rebuilt rear Showa shock also did a great job without any meddling. It goes to show that good quality suspension on a light bike works well over a broad spectrum – or how easily pleased I am.

The XR is relatively short and tall and George (who followed us in the pickup over the tour) observed that the Jap bikes (XRs and TTRs) appeared relatively less stable compared to the generally racier European bikes. My XR does look short and high alongside a long-swingarmed 690 and I can’t say it rode the sand seas like an ocean liner, nor trickled through grassy tussocks like a Montesa. That may have caused fatigue and palm blisters after a few days, but the relative skittishness never made me to crash outright.

Dave (690 fan) and I have an ongoing banter about why I should get ‘the best trail bike ever’. While the 690 KTM does appear to give you your cake (lightness, economy, power, tough build) so you can eat it; I still find it and the similar Husky 701 I rode in Morocco too full-on, narrow-saddled and vibey; still more enduro racer than trail bike. A quick spin on Rob’s 690 (left) didn’t change my mind and anyway, for the use I’d give it, with the attention it needs and my lack of secure parking/well-lit workshop space, such a bike would be an extravagance.

Kick-starting may be old school but the only time my XR took some starting was after it fell over long enough to drain the carb. Soon enough I learned to just keep kicking away whereupon it eventually coughed then fired up. This can be awkward (on a dune) or just plain tiring after a couple of minutes, so a button would be great. It can be done on an XR by fitting a motor (or crankcase?) from a Honda TRX400 quad – try and find one of those on ebay in good nick. TTR-Simon is currently engaged in such a project; he’s also producing a 350 barrel kit for the electric TTR 250s. Neither job’s an easy solution, but both these bikes – one too small cc, the other unbuttoned – comes with the great suspension and to make it worthwhile – possibly.

A couple of days in, looping some loops I smelled burning oil which turned out to be my bike. Dave (690 and ex-XR400) said the ‘RFVC‘ radial valve set-up tends to ovalise the valve guides due to non-inline forces. Sounds plausible and as the motor never started rattling as long as I kept the oil level up, I was sure it would complete the ride. The strain on the motor and transmission when hauling me over deep, soft sand or up a dune slope is not what I’m used to in the desert, but I never felt the XR needed to be nailed WFO to get the job done. That’s why we like 400-450s over 250s.

I’m guessing RFVC was an over-complicated way of optimising power by improving gas flow with the biggest possible valves. I was also told I might have released more power by easily removing the baffle, but I doubt it would’ve made a noticeable improvement – just a lot more noise which is often mistaken for the same thing.

Though I forgot to consider it before departure, the 14/45 gearing on my XR turned out to be spot on for what we were doing; ie: on the low side. On the road, 90kph and once or twice 100 felt like enough and the close-ratio, 5-speed box never bogged (the XR250’s gearing was a lot wider). The chain was feeling the strain too, and needed two clicks during the 1600-km trip; what a pleasure those old school snail cams are to use. Low and close gearing also meant the clutch was never under strain.

Fuel consumption was pretty poor by my recent standards – down to just 100km to a tank or 150 to dry (45mpg). I bet the bigger efi 650s and 690s were doing much better – small engines aren’t always more efficient when you take into account power-sapping terrain or high-speed roads. I didn’t pull the spark plug but the bike did feel like it may have been running rich, even if starting and carburation were spot on. Better to leave it that way in the desert, even at the cost of mpg as the engine runs a little cooler.

Measured off the cylinder head, that temp gauge was handy for reading overnight ambients down to zero. On the road the bike ran in the 80s °C and up to 120 when pushed hard on slow dirt, heating briefly up another 10C or more when stopped or ticking over after a hard run. Though I didn’t like doing it, switching off after a couple of minutes seemed best as ticking-over saw the temps climb and climb, even with a breeze. Turned off, it only rose for a few minutes then dropped away quickly. I seemed to be the only one pre-occupied about cool running, but for an old, air-cooled engine I’m sure it’s important. Mechanic Simon (who knows XR4s and engines more than me – since diagnosed light glazing on my XR’s bore which will hone out with new rings and a lapping of the valve seats with new seals. As he says: ‘I think when stationary the engine should be off unless there’s a strong breeze. Combustion chamber temp should not rise further with no source of heat, but the temperature [spike] will move towards the outside of the engine as the temperature gradient changes (imagine it like a wave [of heat] radiating from the plug to the fins) which is why the sensor [briefly] records a continued rise.

The rear Mitas E09 (non Dakar; 1 less ply and a bit lighter) wore very well, (right: after 1000 miles), but on the sands 1 bar / 15psi was still too hard for this stiff tyre on a light bike, even with my weight. On the last day on sand I tried 12psi (~0.8 bar) and noticed less squirreling when pulling away and improved traction elsewhere. Tough as a Michelin Desert but less than half price, I’d use one again for similar riding. I had no punctures (nor did anyone else on this trip).

So thumbs up for the classic XR4; one of the best trail bikes of its day and still with nothing newer taking its place, including the so-called 450L. I’m pretty sure that motor-wise, it was a better ride than the slightly heavier WR250R I used last year.
The other day I put out a daring Twitter: ”Like’ if you want to see a modern XR400 such as a CRF450L’. I got the most responses to anything I’ve ever posted. Let’s hope that bike might come one of these years, while not weighing a ton. (It did, but it wasnt).

Tested: X-Lite X551 GT Adv helmet review

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My other hamlet reviews

Tested: X-Lite X551 GT Adv helmet

Where: Scotland, Spain Morocco

Paid: £250 on ebay from Germany

Quick spin: 2017 Honda X-ADV review

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The reaction to Honda’s category-bending X-ADV ‘X-cooter’ seems to have been positive; most reviewers get it or accept it for what it is. Credit to Honda for trying new stuff, though it’s said good sales haven’t followed, probably due to the £9600 price alongside more conventional maxi-scooters used most commonly as commuters rather than travel bikes. The X-ADV suggests you could do both.

• DCT transmission
• Brakes
• Low-tuned, 270-degree motor
• Reputed economy
• Adjustable screen
• Front fork
• Tubeless spoked wheels

• Pricey
• Tall for a scooter
• Scooter seating position
• Dreary in silver

Under that bodywork and between those small wheels they’ve slung the low-tuned, 54-hp 750cc twin from the Integra scooter and NC range and best of all, the DCT auto/manual gearbox which – don’t ask me how – gives a real neutral plus a more direct drive, unlike a typical scooter’s mushier CVT and belt drive.
And unlike the NC motorbikes, you stash your lid under the seat not ‘in the tank’. On the ADV that space is the air between your knees, though I was a little disappointed there was no ‘glovebox’ in the frontal bodywork – looks like the air filter sits in there.
And getting on wasn’t so scooter-easy; you need to do an awkward frontal leg swing through the mid-section – I could see the plastics here getting all scuffed by clumsy boots. It’s quite high for a ‘scooter’ but maybe a better technique develops with use and some yoga. The 32-inch-high seat sounds low, but with the wide bodywork getting both feet flat on the ground wasn’t possible without shuffling forward.

One the move, sitting with your feet forward or even right forward ‘highway-pegs-style’, means your unfolded legs don’t take much weight so the bum-to-seat interface becomes all the more critical. Despite the X having a generous bucket seat, I can’t say I fully adapted to this position. Like a lot of riders on regular bikes, once in top gear I find putting your toes on the footrests is comfier for long rides; it pre-tensions the legs and angles you forward to take more weight off the butt. On the X you’re sitting upright, feet forward, like on a chair.

One thing you can’t grumble about is the near-seamless DCT gearbox. You hear the clicks as it changes, but you rarely feel them. What a pleasure it is to ditch all that clutch and foot-changing business. Some say quick-shifting has rendered DCT redundant. Never tried it, but I can’t see how; you still need to work a clutch and a foot-shift lever. With DCT it’s like an auto, with a Sport mode (higher rpm changes) plus a manual override with paddles on the left bar. It’s the cake-and-eat-it best of all worlds. Let’s hope they introduce DCT on some other smaller trail bikes before we all end up riding electric.

Just before getting on a motorway I pulled over and cranked up the adjustable screen to the max with the easy-to-figure-out knob (left) on a clever parallelogram hinge. Back on the move I can’t say I felt swathed in a hushed bubble of still air, but at 5°C, without that screen and the frontal bodywork keeping the legs out of the wind, I’d have been freezing, even with the heated jacket plugged into the cig plug under the seat. I bet there are wider, taller screens available and anyway, the X-ADV rolled effortlessly up to a stable 80mph which equals just 4000 rpm.
The engine is another one of those characterful 270° twins as on my XSR700 (and ATs, TDMs, Super Teneres, some Triumphs, the forthcoming BMW 850s and 800cc KTM). The biking world has gone 270-° crazy and I’m all for it. It sounds a lot better on its standard pipe than my XSR, even if its twist-and-go acceleration isn’t as crisp. (One benefit of DCT autos over conventional CVT scooters is the reduced ‘rubber band’ lag.)
The Honda has 30% less power than an unrestricted XSR700 (my XSR actually runs 47hp) and nearly 30% more claimed weight.

Good thing the brakes are brilliant twin, four-pot radials on the front; you want good brakes with a heavy auto. It wasn’t till nearly back at the shop that I remembered the left lever works the equally meaty back brake and is not a locking parking brake (as on my old 400AT Dream, above). That late 1978 bike was a doddle to despatch round town; a neutral + two-speed clutchless box which left the left hand free to operate a radio, eat a turkey and coleslaw bap or wave cheerily at tourists.

I should have taken the X-ADV down some backlanes but didn’t want to get caught out on a sunless icy patch. Even then, you could tell the suspension felt better than my XSR, especially the adjustable cartridge USD fork (I couldn’t see a way to the rear shock which comes with spring preload only, but no remote HP adjuster that I could see).

Oddly, even in official promo literature no mention gets made of the tubeless spoked wheels; shame the AT didn’t get something similar. What some reviewers described as a ‘fully enclosed chain’ is just a wraparound chain guard; more a chain-spray catcher than a proper crud-cover like an old MZ or a CD175.

There’s plenty of easy-to-read data spread over the digital display which can doubtless be reconfigured. Fuel consumption was displayed in miles-per-litre; not seen that one before but makes sense in the UK; ‘13.2’ (left) adds up to just 60mpg average, but the NC twins are famously more frugal than that, getting closer to 100mpg is possible if really trying.

I’m won over by the DCT just like I was on an Africa Twin a couple of years back. One day I’ll get a DCT bike, but I didn’t warm the X’s scootery layout like I thought I might. It’s not much easier getting on and off – something that increasingly bugs me with tall saddled dirt bikes. Plus I miss that conventional poise which would feel more natural on the dirt, and couldn’t visualise enjoying riding this bike on my easy Morocco tour dirt routes.

I’m not sure that ‘sat-at-a-table’ seating would be comfy on a long ride either – too much pressure directly on the crumbling old spine, although the bars looked like they could’ve pivoted and raised forward without fouling the screen.

I’ve seen accessory front footrests which bolt on behind the boards around the swingarm pivot (left) and which may enable a better road / off-road stance, as well as possibly being able to grip the seat for better control when standing. Interestingly, all the dust-kicking promo shots below and in the link at the end for the 2018 model have these pegs fitted, but as I found on the XSR, this leg-to-bike contact area needs to be well thought out and comfy if it’s to work sustainably.

The bland 2017 silver ‘Mondeo’ livery didn’t really work for me and may have contributed to my tempered enthusiasm for the X-ADV. The red-black-and-whites look much more like it, but silver is clearly popular in Caterham as the shop had two other low-mileage silvers going used, presumably by commuters who didn’t get on with the genre-busting X-ADV.

If DCT is so good but an AT is too pricey, what about the much cheaper NC750X (left; I rode one in 2019)? I’ve thought about that one before, but the only real benefit over my XSR700 would be the DCT. The stock suspension is said to be as basic, and the claimed 220kg weight is 34-kg greater (but 18kg less than the X-cooter), even if it’s positioned lower. Getting suspension right is costly and can be hit and miss.
What would be great is an NC750X-ADV with a 19-inch front and better suspension all round, but that would come too close to an Africa Twin.

Scoot my Dirt
I was recently reminded what would have been fun is a bigger-engined version of the Honda Zoomer or current Ruckus (left). Genuinely hop-on low and light enough to chuck about – sort of in the vein of the fat-tyred Yamaha Ryoku concept.
In fact there was a Big Ruckus 250 about decade ago (right) more here), but at 160kg, it looks as heavy as it is and presumably never proved as popular as the Ruckus.

I was a bit surprised I didn’t take to the X-ADV for my intended use. Perhaps a longer ride on a warmer day may have made a difference. As a road bike it’s fine, but then so are just about all the other road bikes out there.

The 2018 model out in a couple of months will come in a 34-kw A2 license version (6kw less than normal). It will also have the AT’s G-switch (less clutch slip for off-road traction), as well as lower ratios than other DCT Hondas and switchable, two-level Honda Selectable Torque Control (HSTC). The engine’s red line is also set 950 rpm higher at 7500 and it will cost 200 quid more.