The last leg of my Southwest tour followed the southern UTBDR down to the Arizona border (map, right or here) to arrive in time for the Overland Expo near Flagstaff in a few days time.
In late 2020 a few miles south of the Lockhart Trail, the mysterious Utah Monolithmade global news but within a week of its discovery it was removed by the ‘Leave No Tracers’.
The remains of the BDR could be broken up into three stages:
• The Lockhart Basin alternative route for experts only.
• From Montecello over the Abajo mountains, around Elk Ridge and back down to Blanding on the highway.
• Then over Snow Flats Road towards the Valley of the Gods scenic loop and the Arizona border near Monument Valley.
After a few days of rain in Moab, temperatures were set to soar again.
I set off along a road following the placid Colorado River.
Lots of relatively lush camping spots up here in the first few miles.
I rise to a pass and see the WRT and Island in the Sky on the far side of the river, with the blue Potash mine ponds below.
I’d waited in Moab for the rain to clear; it made the soft sand approaches no worse than this.
The Lockhart track looks great on Google Earth.
At this point, about 24 miles and an hour 15 out of Moab, you turn left and things get tougher.
I didn’t know where to go, or should I say I didn’t believe where the tracklog was leading me, up to the left and into the cliff.
Along this narrowing gully with plenty of rock steps to the bench up on the right; a GS12 would struggle here; an F800 with good protection might make it. High gearing is hard on the clutch and side baggage limits options.
Up on top I watched these dirt bikers from SLC also struggle to work out the right way. After some 30 mins they head in.
They ride up the narrow creek bed…
… up to the apex
About half were on TW 200s; never heard of these being used as desert bikes but why not: low, light and easy to handle.
With a bit of yellow paint you could make yourself a Ryoku from a TW.
The rough terrain continues for 2 hours and 14 miles to Lockhart Canyon northside, with quite a few ‘one chance only’ launches up rocky steps and climbs. A regular, unlifted 4×4 would not manage here.
Martin, one of the SLC guys shoots me.
The north rim of Lockhart canyon is where things ease up. Another 24 miles and an hour 15 to the Canyonlands road.
The SLC guys were looking for a T33 plane wreck from the early 1950s. They found it.
Despite the recent rains, crossing Indian Creek was easy.
On the way west to the Outpost I’m surprised to look back and see what appears to be fresh snow on the La Sals.
Time for a cup of tea at Canyonlands Outpost. A bench and table make things so much easier.
Canyonlands to Mormon Pastures short cut The Benchmark Utah Atlas showed a possible direct route towards the UTBDR as it ran west of the Abajo mountains round to Elk Ridge. It avoided the road section to Montecello where fuel may not be needed and was also a way around the Abajos, should they be snowed under or too muddy. I took a day off at Canyonlands Outpost, and rode up North Cottonwood Creek to see if I could connect with the BDR. (If you want a GPS .kml tracklog for this route, it’s in this post).
My planned route; one side of a triangle avoiding Montecello.
Initially the track was wide but occasionally corrugated.
After 10 miles in you split left steeply down to the river and at the bottom keep right – soon you pass an old ranch house.
Then up the side of Stevens Canyon, looking back on North Cottonwood Creek.
Great views back down North Cottonwood and the La Sals beyond.
The track gets a little rougher, but in the dry nothing a 12 couldn’t handle.
Was this Mormon Pasture Mountain – or maybe Round Mountain?
Wherever I was, it was less than 2 miles from the BDR at the white arrow.
I’d ridden to a dead-end at a dry cattle tank below a high ridge. The good thing with Benchmarks is they have a lat/long grid with which you can plot your exact position off a GPS and work it out from there.
I backtracked to a junction and took the other turn which led to the BDR at Mormon Pasture. Lots of flat grassy camping up here at around 7000′
Abajo Mountains and Elk Ridge Pleased my recce to Mormon Pastures had panned out, next day I headed down to Montecello. The L was a bit more underpowered than normal; old fuel at the Outpost? You never know.
First stop, the Peace Tree Cafe on the north side for a breakfast or two.
Out of town I turn onto the BDR and am soon up in the birches. The smell reminds me of Alaska and Yukon: rain, mud, insects.
At 9300′ and only 8 miles from town a snow bank lay across a steep slope. I walk on, panting; it clears but the Cooley Pass is another couple of miles at 10,000 or more. There’d be more snow for sure.
What I thought were small bear tracks. Apparently it’s something else – a big dog?
I decide to turn back. The thought of pushing the revving bike through the snow crust for who knew how long was too much like hard work.
But there was no lower track around the Abajos, so I coast all the way back down to Montecello, take the highway to Blanding, dump the gear at a motel and after some trial and error find the way up to the sunny south side of the mountains to hook up with the BDR again.
The track curves round a basin towards Elk Ridge in the background, a big loop out of Blanding populated by friendly Utes.
An easy dirt road was drying out, but annoyingly I fall off on some hard ruts, break a mirror and scratch the plastics. There goes the resale value!
I pass the Mormon Pasture junction from yesterday’s ride and here am looking northeast at the Abajeros from Elk Ridge.
After an hour I’ve got over the annoying fall and am back in the groove.
Coming back off Elk Ridge towards Blanding, with the snowy San Juan mountains 120 miles away, behind Durango.
This sign shows that South Cottonwood connects across the basin up to Round Mountain and the Canyonlands turn off.
Back at the gas station I am staggered at the range of drinks – thee must be over 100 different types. And there are several gas stations in Blanding. This one also has a bowling alley. I don’t think there are any normal shops, the servo sells it all.
Fuelling up I meet this guy from Reno on a 690. He tried a lot harder than me to cross the Abajeritos that same morning from the south side but gave up too. So I did the right thing. He’s just cramming his earplugs back in as I start to drone on about how marvellously economical the 250 is.
Snow Flat Road to Monument Valley The last section of the BDR was set to be a hot day, with soft sand and bull dust on the menu, but spectacle right up to the AZ finishing line.
I take a parallel route to the BDR along Comb Ridge Road – easy enough, but the sand- and then the rocky rodeo over Snow Flat Road wears me out.
Coasting down Moki Dugway to the baking desert floor below.
The famous pinnacle bend in the Valley of the Gods. As I leave I recall it featured in an earlier edition of AMH by Tom Grenon.
Checking in at Goosenecks – the awe-inspiring sites just keeps on coming.
I head on towards the start and my finale of the UTBDR.
One final dirt ride around Monument Valley. At just $5 it’s a bargain and a great way to kick off your UTBDR if heading north
In Kayenta a rare sit down meal at a Navajo resto – but the motel prices here are nuts.
So I ride on and as the sun sets pass through a violent bug storm. I am caked in insect entrails as they splat against me like gravel, but keep riding to Tuba City where I give in and settle on $125 for a motel. Occasionally you get caught out.
Next day is a short, 70-mile ride to Flag. To string it out I detour via Wupatki ruins and Sunset Crater.
I arrive in Flag but that evening resign myself to dashing back to Tuba to retrieve my laptop’s power lead. I forgot a lot of things in motels. The old brain is going… ‘Day-zee, day-zee… give me your ans er, do…’
A couple of days later the crowds pour into the Overland Expo near Flagstaff.
Austin Vince rocks up on a Touratech Sertao. He’d just been recce’ing the forthcoming AZBDR until he did his knee in.
Show shown, talks talked and books sold. Back in Phoenix it’s 99F. After a month of trying I manage to sell the Honda with a total of 4200 miles on the clock for a good price just 12 hours and 22 minutes before my plane departs for London.
My 3200-mile ride through AZ, CA, NV and UT barely scratched the surface. Tons more to see in all directions out here in the fabulous American West.
Let me tell you, I’ve done my share of mind-blowing desert biking, seen attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion and all that, but Utah’s WRT will be among the best 150 miles you’ll ever ride in a day.
Bike mag, November 2021
You left me crossing into Utah trapped inside the lyrics of the Long-Legged Guitar Pickin’ Man. The rear tyre split hadn’t grown and overnight in Cedar City the temperature dropped by over 30 Fahrenheits to less than 50; good for tyre longevity. So I plugged in my Aero’ Kanetsu electric vest and took off up UT14 into the pines planning to follow 143 over the Cedar Breaks and down to Panguitch.
Even before I got to the turn off, it was getting on for 10,000′ but the CRF held its own. Altitude doesn’t really affect it – just strong winds and steep hills.
But at UT148 junction the snow barrier was down.
As I stopped, KTM man from yesterday in Pioche rocked up, this time on his Multistrada 1200, Ducati’s answer to the big GSs. Never actually seen one of these being used.
On the far side at the roadhouse on 89 I tucked into my daily Subway against a warm sunny wall. I have convinced myself they’re a healthy form of cheap, fast food.
Certainly healthier than these unidentified objects – battered lamb’s testicles on a stick?
North now, into the fierce and freezing northwesterly. By the time I got smart and added another layer, my arms were quite numb from the cold.
Did I say it was windy? The Flags of the World do not lie.
I stop off at Koosharen (pop: 327) for a one dollar coffee and a warm up. ‘Ain’t it cold on that li’l cikle?’ asked a man in a John Deere cap. A small shed of his had just blown off down the road.
Next day, out of Torrey on the edge of Utah’s Tourist Zone, but even here they have a Subbie! (There are no less than 40,000 franchises in 99 countries RTW). From here farming and mining takes a back seat to scenic drives past red rock cliffs and canyons.
I follow the Fremont River after which the pre-Anasazi Indian culture was named. Their enigmatic petroglyphs adorn the canyon walls.
I detour down the Goblin Valley Road and doze out of the wind and in the sun for an hour. Then I cut off along an old road that leads to Green River, avoiding unnecessary interstate. I like these old roads with grass growing up through the cracks.
At the back the snowy La Sal mountains rise to nearly 13,000′
Green River has its own hooning hill. I like to think it helps reduce anti-social behaviour.
In Moab I score a cheap private cabin at the old Lazy Lizard hostel. I stayed here 20 years ago, but the Lizard has not responded to the ‘flashpacking’ boom; in Moab no one has yet. The Lizard is like an old style hostel, which is both good and bad. Then it dawns on me I’m in outdoor adventure central with a trail bike, cheap accommodation and time to spare; I better book up all the nights they got!
I join a rafting trip on the Colorado just out of town, with an inflatable kayak alongside for those who want it.
Annoyingly this couple from SLCity were in the IK for the best bit – rats!My cheap online Kenda tyre won’t be here for another few days so I buy a Maxxis Desert up the road for around $110 and leave it on the roof to soften up. It’s an old Indian trick.
Then I go and rent an MTB and have a crack at the Slickrock Trail I remember well from ’94. I don’t get so far – it’s got a lot steeper over the years; I blame erosion caused by global warming, though other age-related scenarios are possible. But on a $2000, full-susension Santa Cruz SuperLight 29 with more traction than a gecko on a jam jar, it’s a lot of fun.
Creaking and screeching 4x4s share the Slickrock but not the same trail, although motos can ride the cycle trail. In fact, the Trail was invented by motards back in the ’60s. I wonder about coming back on the Honda, but even unloaded I don’t want to risk the clutch on some of the sudden, very sharp ascents.
If you dig MTBs you must come to Moab for the Slickrock and all the rest.
That split never grew in 500 miles but I still think the right flake on a dirt road would have nabbed the tube, Slime or no Slime.
The Maxxis is a 110/100 – the worn OE was a 100/80, so new tyre is a bit taller but still black and round and on the road has been just as smooth and predictable.
Even once sun-warmed it’s a stiff tyre, but with technique and a bit of WD40 it slips on with just two levers.
Time for a ride. I set out on a 90 mile loop, part of the UTBDR north of Moab.
Up lovely Onion Creek with a dozen or more shallow fords to cool the feet.
Then steeply up onto the La Sals at some 8000′. A bit chilly now and the over-sprung shock chatters on the rocky ascents.
La Sal – don’t know which one.
Castle Valley, I do believe.
Helmet-free riding is a rare pleasure, especially when doing errands round town.
And back east, down part of the MTB Kokopelli Trail and along easy Sand Flats Road past Slickrock where I detour for a quick one, just to say I did it.
In town I spotted this old 136cc 2WD Rokon on a trailer. Little changed from the 1960s, I think you could call that a ‘functional-brutalist’ design. They still make them today: rokon.com.
It’s time to finally tick off the White Rim Trail. Twenty years ago I tried to rent an XL500 off Arrowhead to do the WRT but the guy was not so keen. Even today it’s hard to rent a road legal trail bike in Moab. Plenty of other OHV stuff to be had if you have a trailer or a ute, but they’re not allowed on the WRT.
The weather was not so good; it had rained overnight, hopefully enough to settle the sand and dust but not turn it into mush. I saw a few bolts of lightening through the day but only got rained on for a few minutes.
At the end of Mineral Bottom Road is the big drop to the Green River valley.
A plucky MTBer takes the last big climb after 3 or 4 days on the WRT.
From then on, it was kind of sandy, but only for 200 yards at a time. No rain dampening here so to be on the safe side I paddle laboriously. I hoped it wasn’t to be a 100 miles of this… How do these MTBers manage?
At times you’re right by the Green River; lose the front and you’ll make a splash. Elsewhere you climb ‘inland’. I think it was the tricky climb up Hardscrabble Hill that made me glad I wasn’t towing luggage or another 1000cc. I actually stopped and looked back over my shoulder at the 1:2 sandy hairpin on the way down and thought, cripes, that would have been hard to get up.
I’ll let a few pics do the talking… (but note: parking among vegetation off the trail is bad form)
At the top of another long climb, Murphy Hogback around Mile 70, I meet a guy on a fully laden 1150. And I mean fully loaded like he was going to Alaska. On Anakee tyres too…
I didn’t know it then but I’d nearly completed the harder, sandier half of the WRT which he was heading into. I warned him about Hardscrabble Hill and doubted that tank would make it, but he seemed a confident rider.
The 1150 is a speck at the bottom of the photo.
Soon, I turn back north at the halfway point: White Crack turn off. I stop to fill up the tank and finish off my footlong Sub. Someone had advised not to bother with this side – I presume because it’s easier?
But that suited me just fine at that stage; I was riding more fluidly after the morning’s efforts and the spectacles kept on coming, now with the Colorado River on my right.
I reached the Shafer Trail turn-off about 5pm; the Trail seemed to disappear into the cliffs. Many rave about the Shafer Trail.
So I rode up to the top; Island in the Sky.
And coasted back down to keep the brake pads warm in the evening chill.
I learned later that I’d passed under the rim of Dead Horse Point where Thelma and Louise took their fateful leap, gunning their Thunderbird into the abyss, yelling “You’ll never take us alive!”. For a Hollywood movie, that was a great ending. I continued along the Potash Road, 30 miles back to Moab; a bit rough, or I was starting to feel the miles by now.
The mining works after which the Potash Road is named were originally a regular digging mine. Then they adapted it to effortless ‘solution mining’ by dissolving the subterranean potassium out with the aid of brine, pumping it up and then allowing the water to evaporate and the minerals to crystalise in shallow ponds.
Blue dye is added to help the solar process. They separate the salt from the potassium later.
I rode back into town nine hours after setting out, just as another deluge got ready to drop its pants over Moab.
Let me tell you, I’ve done my share of mind-blowing desert biking, seen attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion and all that, but the WRT will be among the best 150 miles you’ll ever ride.
I’m now waiting for the weather to clear before heading down through Canyonlands’ Needles District and on to the AZ border. It seems the temps are about to take another 20°F hike up the scale.
IN A LINE Good looking, comfortable and cheap full-visor open face, but as usual, visor actuations can get problematic.
DESCRIPTION Light, vented, full visor open face helmet with integrated sun visor and a short beak.
WHERE TESTED Riding around SW USA on backroads and dirt roads. And a few trips in Morocco.
COST Discounted to something like $75 delivered from motorcycle superstore. Original rrp was $169. Discontinued model; superseded by Mag Sena 9 at around $180.
PRO
Very comfortable for the price
Quiet compared to others
Looks cool; no naff graphics
Integrated sun visor is exceedingly useful
Inexpensive
Velvety padding has pop fasteners like an Arai, not cheap velcro
CON
Lifting main visor gets notchy
Sun shade visor lever sticks sometimes (probably dust)
Peak wants to be lower/longer to be an effect low-sun shade
REVIEW I’ve always had a soft spot for Bell helmets from the era of Kenny Roberts flat tracking and my own Moto III (right). I’m sure glad I never had to crash in that old head brick, though!
Needing to save weight on the way to the US, I saw the new Mag Sena announced and liked the look of it, with its jaunty centurion-like anterior lip. It took me a while to work out there was a non-Sena (intercom system) available and that it had been around for years: the Mag 9.
Not only did the looks appeal, but it turns out to be one of the best lids I’ve had in years. At first I thought I’d bought a size too small; in the US what is labelled Large is usually a Medium in Europe – not unlike everything else over here in fact – from food to vehicles. So it was with the Bell; my much repeated head measurements lined up and the Mag 9 in medium was snug out of the box but now fits just right.
It may not look very ‘ay dee vee’ like the ubiquitous Arai XDs which come free with a GS12, but give me a lid without the in-your-face chin guard any day. For moto travelling in AM Zone (right) the advantages of an open face are well known. You can show your face to the peasants and the cops and generally get a better response as a recognisable human being, compared to the full-face spaceman image. And like I’ve said, for me the less I feel I’m wearing a lid the better. You can pay for the gas while wearing this – being Arai-d up might set off the alarms. Then you can add the fact that you can feed yourself on the move and scratch an itch. Outside of winter, for world travels, this is the helmet style for me.
The ‘ear pouches’ envelope the ears. I don’t wear them, but no need for ear plugs here; this is one of the quietest helmets I’ve had (though used mostly with a short screen and at low speeds). As for the vents, I’ve long believed these make little difference on the road and I’ve no reason to change that view with the 9.
The sun visor is such a handy feature as long as it’s kept clean. Shaded main visors are not so convenient for reading glaring satnavs or of course night riding; flip down the sun visor and you’re in business. I also like the dirt-bikeresque beak element on the Mag 9 for riding into low sun angles where no shady visor can help, but it’s not low enough to do that well. It’s something I see that Arai have on their CTZ (right), but, snakes alive, is that an ugly contraption for no less than $500.
The linings on the Mag are plush and cushy and pop out easily for a wash and the visors are easy to clean with the windscreen wipe stick you get by the pumps.
But, as with the Airoh and the expensive XLite, the sun visor actuation gets stiff; it usually seems to be a problem with leverage, although with the Bell it’s become more likely dust from the trail has jammed the lever and release mechanisms a bit. I’ve tried rinsing and may go for a full-on hose down to clean it out. The sun visor retracts with a nudge if necessary but lifting the main visor has become really notchy – don’t know what the problem is there. The racket it makes and effort needed doesn’t make it an enjoyable and slick manoeuvre.
I also recall I read reports that the Mag 9 suffered from the main visor not lifting high enough. I suppose that is true though you can tip the whole lid backwards to get it out of your eye line. Being out on the country, not riding in town, I usually have the visor down. I think it’s safe to retire my Airoh TR1 now; comparatively, it feels like wearing a milk crate.
After wearing it for a month on Morocco and four years use, in 2017 I left my Mag 9 in a dumpster in an industrial estate near Malaga. The visor was getting on a bit, the D-ring buckle seemed to loosen up easily, and the peak assembly was duct taped on after a few rough transits and very strong headwinds out of Tangier. It was starting to feel a bit cheap but I like the look and features and can safely say I got my $75-worth out of that lid.
After a week of good living in a mate’s cabin out of Truckee it was time to get going again.
The CRF is poised on the launchpad, showcasing v2.1 of the packing system with double undertubes and a fuel can instead of that tedious fuel bag. On the CRF I have to fill up 2-3 times a day. The good thing is it makes the seat more tolerable.
Out past Reno which I rode through last week on a day ride to Virginia City, a mining boom town that, architecturally at least, seems to have missed out on the 20th century (other touristic aspects have kept up). It’s a fun, bendy ride up to V City, btw.
The trouble with Reno is I ended up with “I shot a man in Reno…” in my head for the next couple of days, but there are worse songs to be stuck on. Well I know I had it coming, I know I cain’t be free But this song keeps a playin’ And that’s what tor-chures me…
Look at the error on the Honda – shocking – and the odo is even worse, some 12% under. All verified with GPS, TT Vapor and freeway mile markers and SMSs from the Pentagon.
I turn off 80 to 50 – much less traffic. After Fallon range follows basin, follows range. Some basins have a salt pan and all along this one people had left messages in black stones.
Soon I pass the Nevada Shoe Tree. Got some smelly old trainers? Chuck ’em up here.
I then turn off 50 onto ‘Old 50’ or 722.
Looks like pictures of Route 66 but traffic is close to zero so I can go as slow as I like. With a hot backwind 55 feels good.
Over there the heat is stirring up dust devils on the pan. The Vapor says ambient is low 30s C – what’s that, getting on for 90?
I’m eyeing up a track over the range to the next valley. This one looks a bit thin but I give it a go. Within a mile it peters out. I have committed the cardinal navigational error of pre-emption. I tell you what though, that sage sure smells nice once your panniers brush past it.
The Nevada flag – or it ought to be. Blue blue-grey over Salt over Sage.
This is the right track heading east to the next valley. I hope to cross that range at the back, but despite me sweating like a kipper it looks a bit snowy up there and on the far side it’s only tarmac. My new ankle-level shooting technique. What else can you shoot when alone? When this is all done I’m going to produce a photo moto book: Southwest Ankle USA.
On the far side I take the dirt road south, passing a few ranches, like where The Virginian used to work. Benchmark maps are a great nav resource when combined with a Nuvi, but I could be on the limit with fuel although it’s getting much more economical. I poured in a gallon can after 80 miles and the tank was full. Here I am updating my fuel log. I was going to camp here but…
… I went for a wander and found a much nicer and more protected spot 5 mins away. It was still 7500′ – a week or two ago and only 100 miles from here I turned away from camping at that height, but I guess Spring has finally sprung.
I make a fire, ignoring the beer bottles in there. After about half an hour one explodes like a shotgun cartridge. Luckily I wasn’t staring wistfully into the flames at the time. What sort of rank idiot wastes a full bottle of beer? There was another one in there – pretty cooked by now. There was also a packet of sausages lying around – I threw them in too and they exploded, splattering me in smoked hickory sausage fat. Better than broken glass I suppose. I hope I didn’t wreck someone’s upcoming picnic stash…
I thought I brought my fly sheet only (more space) but I had my inner (less bugs). As long as it’s not raining it’s a more agreeable way to wake up.
Besides flat ground, all you need is grass and a few trees to make an ambient camping spot (no, really!). Trouble is in Nevada you have to climb to over 7000 feet to find both. Below that is sagebush and dirt. Not nice Saharan sand, just dirt.
I ride on south on this GS12-able track. A lovely clear day after yesterday’s muggy overcast. The good thing with camping is you’re on the road early.
I notice my back tyre is wearing very fast. 2500 miles from new and it’s got 5-6mm left. I better do something about that quick.
Far in the distance the snowy Sierra Nevada on the other side of Death Valley where I was a couple of weeks back.
I emerge from the mountains and follow a network of gravel tracks south to Tonopah where I hope they have wifi with the fuel.
I pass this strange tower. I am just north of ‘Area 51’ – anything could be possible. Turns out it’s one of those parabolic solar generators. An array of mirrors on the ground focus on the tower top like magnifying glasses and generate intense heat and I presume steam. The Southwest should be covered with these, IMO. You barely even see a solar panel out here…
Most of the bikes otr are Harleys. This one’s rear luggage arrangement caught my eye. It looks way out back there, like a luggage vending machine, but on a full dress Hog it probably doesn’t affect the handling noticeably – and anyway is something to lean on. Outside of a Freddie Mercury video I’ve never seen assless chaps before either.
Tonopah turned out to be an old mining town – rather more characterful than Fallon. It reminded me of Tennant Creek in northern Australia. But no wifi at the servo so I jog on.
Really? Oh dear – let me recalculate. Well I can theoretically get that out of the 2 gallon tank now and have a can on the back so I should make it.
This is the ‘ET Highway’ to Rachel, north of Nellis AFB and it is hot enough to melt a flying saucer.
I pull over at 83 miles and can’t even get 1.1 US gallons in there. Hot backwinds are helping me get nearly 100 miles to the Queen’s gallon. If it’s over 30C at 5000+ feet in April, what is August like?
As I pass Nellis I wondered whether I’d see any sign of the sinister activities that make the place famous amongst the tin foil hatters. Those vapour trails are not a Boeing 787 being put through its paces, that’s for sure. Two jets fly off into the ionosphere at high speed.
This must be Rachel, NV. Again, reminds me of the Wycliffe Well roadhouse south of Tennant Creek, NT. Same silly UFO theme to lure the weary and bored off the highway.
I find some welcome shade to eat and drink. I’m heading over those ranges in the background on a 60-mile dirt road. Let’s hope it’s cooler up there.
It’s an old ranch house (though in fact these dilapidated old cabins are all over the west). I notice they call the bigger ones ‘stations’ out here too.
I meet a man taking his horse for a drive. Yes the road goes over the pass and down the other side, he reassures me. Are those ass-filled chaps you’re wearing there, son?
Did I say it was hot? It’s a tad gnarly too, and the Honda struggles with its wide road gearing on the dirt. Some climbs I’m in first and have a few front end moments. I ride watching the temp read-out and when it gets to 100°C I turn it into the wind for a bit. I may put in some thicker 10-40 oil in Moab. Nice views up top, but.
Down the other side I coast to cool the motor. I tell you I would have been in a right old muddle up here without the Nuvi, even though it cuts out a lot from the vibration. My Nuvi only shows dirt roads when you ‘Go To’ but was still $70 well spent. Tracks in all directions, you see. You still need the Benchmark for planning though.
Out of the hills and I need a drink right now. My head is nearly as red as the fuel can.
Coming down to the highway I see either a blue wall of some kind of lake. It’s Lake Nesbitt! I ride right through the gate for a mini wash. That’s better; time now to look for a motel. I am shagged out.
Down in Ash Springs its 82 mpg at the servo. (98 UK) Amazing but then that’s why one compromises on a 250. Though on the dirt it’s no compromise at all. The man recommends the Alamo Motel down the road: great spot and a friendly guy. Later I wander off to the gas station for a treat and find a huge supermarket/hardware/cafe/auto store/green grocer/bakery behind the counter. In a little two-motel town? I suppose like a loan, they consolidated all their stores into one manageable item, bigger than my local Safeways.
Today I had a great ride planned over to Utah, crossing the border on a 80-mile dirt road. But as I check on the state of the back tyre I’m not too surprised to see a nasty 2cm gash in the middle of the tread probably picked up on that ride out of Rachel. I’ve already ordered a new tyre to arrive in Moab c/o a helpful advrider, but looks like I better stick to the highways across Utah or I’ll end up like Everett Ruess. Luckily south Utah is not the worst place to be stuck on a road. I marked the gash to see if it grows, as they can do. If it grows too fast I make have to think of something else before Moab.
Nevada border – report ends
I hear that train a comin’ It’s rolling round the… SHUT TF UP!!!
My bike came with the commonly fitted Stage 1 performance kit: an EJK fuel controller, FMF Q4 pipe with MegaBomb header, drilled air box sides, spark screen removed from air filter element and a 13T sprocket. All probably great for recreational dirt biking; not so well suited to slow backroad touring where fuel economy and not breaking something is a priority.
To help ensure the former I’d done my old trick of marking the throttle (right) to see at a glance how open it is. In a headwind or on a gentle upgrade it’s possible to not realise you’re unnecessarily WFO, bogging the motor and possibly wasting fuel.
Before I even rode the bike I refitted the original 14T, and after a dirt ride in the Phoenix hills I knew that FMF pipe had to go too, even after we tried quieting it. I was also not so keen on extra holes in the air box sides; that’s the last thing you do for long-range desert riding, though apart from sandstorms, it’s trailing others’ dust that’s usually the problem.
So when I left Phoenix I was on the original heavy but quiet pipe, the non-standard air box holes taped up but with the EKJ programmer unmodified (i.e.: still set at Stage 1 settings). I kind of hoped the ECU might deal with it, but realistically expected the bike to run rich now it was ‘choked up’ to near original specs. Heading into Nevada against strong winds, sudden increases in elevation, a full payload and little experience of what was normal, it was hard to tell how the bike was running but it didn’t feel fabulous. After a couple of days blown around at 55mph and with mpg as low as 42US (50UK) and even just 54US (65UK) while coasting 5000 feet down to Death Valley and dirt road plodding, I was ready to try something and improve things.
After Death Valley I pulled off the air box tape and immediately thought it ran better. Sure enough, the bike climbed steadily along Highway 395 from 4000′ to nearly 8500′ in the Sierra Nevada after which I stayed at 7000′ most of that day at up to 65-70mph. The tank was now returning 58US or 70UK mpg, peaking at 73US/88UKmpg around Lake Tahoe. That was more like it.
I could have left it at that, but preferred to tape up the non-standard air box holes to preserve the air filter which was already a little grubby (right), having followed Al on his KLX250 and Christian on his KTM950 along dusty dirt trails for a couple of hours. This of course would require leaning out the EJK programmer which was initially confounding; I’d not come across these ‘black boxes’ before.
In fact they are exactly what they claim: an ‘electronic jetting kit’, just like swapping jets, needle heights and float levels on a carb to get your bike running better following performance mods or as a response to radical altitude variations. Only now it’s done by simply pressing buttons on a black box to tune three fuelling modes: cruising; acceleration and WFO – as well as the rpm ‘switch’ point between those modes. Importantly the EJK (Gen. 3) only increases fuel delivery (richens) – it does not lean out the Honda’s original settings which as we all know are probably leaner than a kangaroo steak.
It took me a while to get my head around modulating the EJK, not wanting to bugger up the settings and end up with the CRF running like a tractor. The online guidelines, videos and users’ versions were a little unclear or contradictory, but once you’re pretty sure what to do, it’s easier than most TV remotes. One source of confusion is the so-called ‘yellow’ light mode (acceleration) which is more orangey-red (left) although red (wide open, max power) is clearly red.
I presumed my EJK was on the Stage 1 settings as shown left: 3 cruise, 3 acc, 6 WFO with switching at 5, 4 and 4.5.
An email to Dobeck who make EJKs (my red unit is branded ‘FMF’ but is an EJK) came back with a very quick response suggesting: 1.5, 1.5, 2.5 and with the switch points unmodified.
So, running at tickover, Light 1 flashes slowly in green; blip the throttle and it flips up to three green lights then down to one or two green lights.
Press the Mode button once and you should get three green lights flashing quickly (‘3 cruise’ Stage 1 setting). It means the green mode is live and ready to be modified with the + or – buttons to either side. But as Dobeck admit, the sensitive Mode button can jump to the next ‘orangey-red’ yellow phase. No worries, either scroll through the other 5 modes by pressing Mode until it comes back round to 3 greens flashing. Or do nothing for a few seconds and mode change will deactivate and revert to whatever the settings were. There is nothing to be risked pressing Mode to see what happens or just to establish your settings (mine were indeed set at ‘Stage 1’ as above). Only pressing + or – buttons will modify things. And of course best of all there is no need to plug into a laptop, smart phone or remote programming device; it’s a self-contained programable unit.
Once I understood all this I went back to first three green lights flashing in Mode live, and pressed minus until it was flashing green between lights 1 and 2 which equates to 1.5 as Dobeck suggested. Press Mode again and the same setting change for yellow (orangey-red) mode. And then Mode again for the big drop from wide open red (which I rarely use) from 6 to 2.5. As mentioned, Dobeck recommended not changing the three rpm switch points so that was it. Once understood it took less than a minute. After cleaning out the dusty air box and greasing the inner surfaces to catch dust before it got to the element (below left), I taped up the six 1-inch holes on the air box side lid and went for a run.
I’m at 5500 feet right now, among hilly backroads and it was a chilly morning, but a short run showed the bike running a little quieter (less induction throb with the taped airbox) while it cruised and accelerated up to 65 as well as ever, if not better.
The Dobeck man did say running stock with his suggested settings would improve torque and that was my impression (or it’s what I want). The next few mpgs will tell; I’m expecting it to stay at around 60USmpg (73UK) or above – just what you’d expect from an efi 250. To optimise everything I may even nip over to Reno and buy a new air filter element (but then grind off the restricting spark screen, as most users do).
When efi came on the moto scene some complained that meddling with the fuelling was no longer possible. Clever techy types soon came up with aftermarket software to do just that, but the foolproof, self-contained, adjust-on-the-fly EJK black box has got to be the best tuning solution so far. Off course it cannot alter timing to deal with very low octane fuel in the AMZ, but the CRF-L runs a low-compression engine that needs only 86 RON or more. That leaves ECU-generated error codes disabling the bike, but again the Honda seems simple in this respect. Certainly swapping pipes didn’t cause the ECU to flip out and anyway, it seems lately that vehicle manufacturers have learned their lesson and ‘limp home’ modes (where present) are only implemented as a last resort.
Finally you ask, is the EJK as it is set up now substantially better than the stock bike? Is it worth spending $225 without taking the full Stage 1 route which includes modifications less suited to overland travel? I guess I’d have to ride a stock CRF alongside my current bike to find out but I suspect there’s something in it – perhaps 10% more power with fuel economy barely altered, compensating for the stock super-lean fuelling. If an EJK hadn’t come ready-fitted to my bike I’m not sure I’d have bothered; if I wanted more power I would have bought a bigger bike. But as it is now I’m pleased it’s there and is so easy to retune further down the road. It seems to run about the same as the press bike I tried in February, but as said, I suspect that bike was tuned a little above standard and possibly as result returned fuel consumption a good 20% below what I’d expected.
Next day I follow dirt tracks over to Reno, highways out to Virginia City and back on the freeway (no luggage or screen: 69US/83UK ;-).
Adventure Motorcycling Handbook 