Tag Archives: CRF300L

CRF300L: 10,000 miles • Final Thoughts

After a year of logging routes in southern Morocco – most intensely with several visits since last October (including occasionally renting 4x4s) – just a mile from completing my final piste on Jebel Ougnat I came across a pipe trench dug across the track that had yet to be filled in. They were improving this entire route but oddly, there was no way round this one. To one side, a local on a 125 had slithered down the steep bank and up the other side. I scrambled down to see if it would be rideable, and as I did so, a guy on a moped turned up, took one look and turned back (below).

Hmm. Would those planks take the weight of a jury-rigged launch ramp?

I cleared a few stones and figured I could do it, getting off and pushing if I had to. It’s always easier than it looks and anyway, I was one sodding mile away from finishing months of research. I wasn’t going to turn back now and mess up my final hard-won GPS tracklog!
I managed it with ease, but it was the anticipation of tackling such rare obstacles – not least an exhausting riverbed in the Anti Atlas a few months earlier – which validated my choice of getting the 300L for this big Morocco guidebook update. Whatever its other shortcomings, the CRF was as light and lowered as practicably possible, while having enough power, range and protection, plus more than enough suspension and clearance to complete the task.

Full-frame greenery near Meknes. Quite a shock on the eye after a month down south

Another late revelation came on the ride back across Spain which I was dreading, principally at the thought of enduring saddle soreness while wanting to get the miles in with a ferry to catch. I gave myself spare days just in case, but came the day that agony never materialised. I got another agony instead.

I’d had an amazingly good run this winter, often achieving more than I planned, but the turbulent springtime weather had broken in Morocco, with a violent overnight dust storm sweeping through Tinejdad. That meant I had to abandon a final high-altitude recce on Jebel Ayachi so, lacking the time to sit it out and wait, I may as well head home.
I started with a 400-km day from the desert up to Meknes, covered it with ease and getting in just as a hail storm rolled off the hills and hammered at the hotel room windows. Next day, neither of the forecast heavy downpours (one said morning, the other, afternoon) materialised, so I whizzed past the Hotel Sahara in Asilah to Tan Med and caught the next ferry to southern Spain, ending in wind and rain to Alcala.

I’d underestimated the Honda and my ability to cover distance, so decided to put it all on red and next day went for 600km along the familiar and effortless A66 ‘Ruta de la Plata’ to Salamanca – effectively a deserted motorway. It was a gamble made easier by knowing fuel and leche bars were frequent, as well booking a couple of days at a roadside hotel in Mozarbez, while in a holding pattern for the Santander ferry.
Unfortunately I didn’t anticipate single-figure temps and a numbing southwesterly. I was cold for the entire 9-hour ride to Mozarbez which ended in sleet at around 3°C. I arrived seriously frozen, but comfort-wise, had magically acclimatised to the CRF’s seat with the help of the Moto Skiveez.

I was grossly under-dressed for all this, recalling teenage biking sufferings when I knew no better. Increasingly desperate stops for fuel and hot food were needed. On-bike exercises – a new ploy – eased the long distances in the bitter cold and occasional showers, which saw me edging towards hypothermia.
I rarely exceeded a true 100kph, but had the weather been what I’d hoped for in March, that 600-km ride might have been stretched to 700 or around 440 miles. A pretty amazing distance on a 286cc donkey. All you need to do is try not to ride for more than two hours at a time.
That said, even with the strong southwesterly pushing me, fuel consumption was down to 70mpg/25kpl; an all-time low. (Fuel log here). Imagine what a CB500X would return holding a true 100kph in the same conditions? My guess is a lot more – or a much faster transit if riding at whatever 70mpg is – probably 120kph. This is the often overlooked payback with small motos. The only benefit is lightness, but of course that matters a whole lot when roaming around alone on the dirt. Sadly, you don’t gain good economy at highway cruising speeds as well. After >10,000km the 300L averaged a verified 30kpl / 85mpg / 70.8US. I tried but never quite managed to get a true 100mpg, but I think a lighter rider could.
I was the slowest private vehicle on the Plata, inching past trucks while cars raced up to my mirrors, but the Honda did a lot better than I expected. Was I wrong about the 300L being a compromised travel bike?

Stepping back a bit
The bike I rode home was a little modified to what I’d ridden out from Malaga in October. By now both tubeless wheels had been properly sealed with a continuous band of Puraflex 40 by the mechanic at Loc in Marrakech. I’m a bit slack on checking; turns out the tyres still lose a bit of air, same as I’ve found with proprietary sealing systems like BARTubless. But on typically stiff TL tyres, it has to get really low – 1 bar or less – for you to notice. It might be leaking from the bead/rim face and it might settle down. DIY TL sealing needs to be checked regularly, just like tubed tyres. Or fit TPMS.

By now the stock-sized AX41s had worn out and I was running over-fat Mitas E07s as that’s all they had in Marrakech. These bigger tyres – 130 80 17 and 110 80 19 – improved cornering confidence on the road and were fine on the dirt for what they are. The front did slip a bit more on the loose stuff than the knoblier AX41, but felt more reassuring on wet or dry asphalt.
By the time both fat Mitaii had been fitted, the NiceCNC ‘Schmouba’ link didn’t lower the bike that much. And the Skiveez ended up the best all round solution to saddle woes. That and trying to stand more which is actually quite enjoyable until my insteps start to ache. Refitting rubber inserts into the pegs didn’t solve this; it must be my TCX boots or I need massively wider pegs.

The Rally Raid suspension hasn’t sagged that I can tell. The fork seals have held up amazingly, and the DID chain has been adjusted once in 10,000 miles with hand cleaning and lubing as often as practicable.
The lame front brake holds me back from going full WFO supermoto in the canyons – well, that and a lack of nerve and skill. There’s still loads left, but I’ve ordered some EBC pads even though I may not reap the full benefit before the bike gets serviced and sold.
I tried swapping the grips in a bid to reduce vibration at the bars, but fell for some ‘duo-foam’ marketing with no improvement. Perhaps fatter, Moto Gloveez are a better idea.

So the answer is no, I wasn’t wrong about the 300L as a travel bike. It’s still a 28-hp ‘300’, bought for on-trail lightness, not it’s ability to generate motorcycling joy as you pull away or power out of a bend. It’s about where you can take it with confidence. Thanks to the low first gear (resorted on fitting the same-tyre-ø-as-OE Mitas) the power is absolutely adequate on the sort of dirt I ride and loads I carry. But I bet most 300L owners have another bigger ride or two in the garage.
Satisfaction may be found with something with a bit more poke, machine #65 I think it’ll be. As I won’t be off-road exploring so much and my skills in recognising what’s doable will have improved over the last year, the expected added weight of <200kg juiced up will have to be manageable, providing the seat height isn’t in the clouds. And ideally, unlike the Honda, it won’t need masses of added kit and mods to turn it into a good traveller for road and trail.
What is that bike, you ask? Click this.

Honda CRF300L 9000km review

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CRF300L Index Page
CRF300 Rally quick ride

In a Line
Light enough to tackle any trail I dare, but too tall and uncomfortable as a do-it-all travel bike for most.

Rally Raid suspension
Great range with Acerbis tank
19-inch front wheel conversion
Screen with MRA lip
You know it will start and run like clockwork
Inexpensive and easy fit NiceCNC lowering link
Weighs about 162kg tanked up and with all the gear

Needs loads of add-ons to make it a functional traveller
For a trail bike, stock 894mm seat height is ridiculous
Negligible power increase over CRF250L
Seat comfort on long or rough rides
‘Average Mpg’ or ‘remaining fuel level’ read-outs both out by 10%+
Reduced stability with big tank and other add-ons
17-inch rear knocks out speedo accuracy (unless you size up the tyre)
Acerbis fuel cap always cross threads
Front brake is weak
Front brake switch failed ;-O
Negligible lowering with 17/19 wheel combo

Review
October 2023 I got my CRF shipped to southern Spain to leave in Morocco for six months. I flew down to carry on scouting new tracks for my next Morocco route guide, while also leading my one-week tours with 310GSs in between times.
I’m not quite finished with the 300L yet, but last week it turned 10,000km (6200 miles). High time to share my impressions after 8 months of riding.

Taking comfort
I bought a very well equipped 2021 300L from its second owner with just 1000 miles on the clock. It still needed a bigger tank, radiator protection and tubeless wheels (plus whatever’s shown in the graphic above). The bike came with a lowered seat (read: thinned out). At 34.5″/876mm it was 0.7″/18mm lower than Honda’s claimed OE specs of 35.2″/894mm. I tried to make the thin seat more comfortable by adding a 20mm neoprene pad under a Cool Cover which increased my back end’s mileage. But judged by side stand angle, the 17-inch rear wheel with a stock width AX41 tyre didn’t lower the back noticeably.
I then bought a stock black seat (full foam) and, with my added padding, probably went up to 35.7″ or a whopping 907mm. Then one day in Morocco I knew I’d need a low seat for a tough day, so removed the padding and Cool Cover. My backside was pummeled at the end of that 300-km ride, but I never refitted the Cool Cover and kept the neoprene slab held down with a bungy.

Later, I ditched the neoprene too and wore some Moto Skivvies and have settled for these plus opiates on a bare stock seat in a bid to keep it as low- and me as comfortable as possible. It’s still too high for easy mounting/dismounting, though the anterior agony got muted on some days. As we all know, once the drugs wear off, getting off/standing up for just a few minutes can offer respite.

286cc
The 300 is only 36.4cc bigger than a 250L when you’d hope that’d be nearer to 50cc. I owned a 250L in the US a decade ago and for what it was (left) enjoyed it greatly. Along with other factors (like the existence of the CBR300R and worldwide >300cc licensing regs), I guess there’s only so much metal in a 250L barrel to bore out.
I knew it before I bought it of course – a quick ride of a 300 Rally didn’t set my hair ablaze – but the increase in power on the 300 is negligible. It’s still essentially a ‘250’ with the same-ish 27hp as a WR-R, along with all the inherent benefits and limitations: light enough to tackle or turn around on anything the seat height allows, while being a slog on long uphills or a headwind, plus uncomfortable after more than an hour or two. So not much different to my previous WR250R or KLX250 then. In many ways my less powerful Himalayan 400 suits my ‘old man’s’ riding style better, but was no faster on the road.

The best things about my 300L are the easy 400-km range from the Acerbis tank (despite the maddening cap) and the Rally Raid suspension. While both ends might benefit from a bit of tweaking for my mass, it just works; very occasionally bottoming out at the back and never at the front. After a few weeks in Morocco I thought the rear shock was sagging a bit, raking out the forks and slowing the steering. So, lacking the shock tool, I dropped the clamps around the front forks 5mm to produce the same levelling-off effect, but can’t say it rode any better.

Ten inches of suspension and clearance?! Way higher than it needs to be for most users.

Something’s Off
The way I’d set it up something felt off on my bike. For a while I thought it was the tubeless AX41 tyres. No so much the tread pattern which is pretty conventional, but perhaps the added sidewall stiffness in the tubeless carcass, intended for GSs and the like, not dinky ‘250s’ weighing 100 kilos less. Airing down to as much as 20psi didn’t help.
Then I tried dropping the forks 5mm, as mentioned; no noticeable change. So was it a high CoG, especially with a full 14 litres on board and exacerbated by the tall screen, radiator bars with side bags and so on? It certainly felt less stable tanked up, but no more than you’d expect. I tried to avoid setting off for potentially tricky unknown tracks with a full tank. I even blamed the hefty Outback Mototek rad bars, but while heavy, they’re actually set pretty low down.

17/19 wheels. Was it worth it?
My main motivation was to convert the stock wheels to tubeless, not have smaller wheels. I knew the stock front 21 rim wouldn’t have the required ‘MT’ safety lips. As MT 21s are rare anyway, I thought I may as well try a 19 as an experiment; it’s a better all-round travel size and there’s more tubeless tyre choice. Then it turned out the rear 18 wasn’t MT either, so I may as well try a 17 which also offers greater do-it-all travel tyre choice and might even lower the bike. Note: fitting a 17 raises the gearing a bit – you won’t pull away in 2nd so often. But it also throws the speedo out from ~8 to 14%. You’re going a lot slower than the speedo indicates and may want a DRD or similar black box to correct it. But: fitting an oversized Mitas E07 at 10,400km put the speedo error back in the ~8% ballpark. DRD not needed.
I rushed the original job and had a manageable slow leak from the 17 and a meltdown on the 19 front arriving in hot Marrakech (fitted a tube). But the 21 I left at home has held its air fine for months. In Marrakech the mechanic re-sealed the rear in between my trips, cleaning then applying a continuous band of Puraflex. He then did the same to my 19 front and both hold air fine now. Summary: technique works if you take your time and allow a day or two of curing.
All done, the bike was barely lower and, as mentioned below, the 19’s benefits only became evident with the screen removed. Obviously, I can’t tell a 17 from an 18 on the back, but running a front 19, at the donkey speeds I ride at I can’t say I noticed any detrimental effects on the dirt over a 21. Crossing gravelly oueds, I did try riding feet-up, but the front soon tucked in and deflected, as you’d expect. Through thick bull dust same thing: go deep and the wheel folds. So much for improved flotation from the fatter front: you need to attack such crossings with momentum to push the front through (see AMH8, p205), while wrangling the bucking bike and spinning back end. We know how that can end, so I often paddle like a duck.
Bend swinging on the road the AX41’s ‘50% vacant’ contact patch held me back, but I did perceive – or persuaded myself – the 19 tracked better through bends than a 21 would. Occasionally banked over it would twitch, but the asphalt surface is rarely pristine and debris-free in Morocco. So 19: no difference over a 21 on dry, loose dirt at trail riding speeds. Deep sand, mud ruts and snow may be different. On dry asphalt it corners with more perceived confidence, depending on tyres and minimal CoG interference.

Talking of the Bridgestone AX41s, the rear TL had had it by the time I rolled back into Marrakech, having covered only 7000km or 4400 miles. I ran it at around 25psi, though it would lose about 7-8psi overnight. I went out of my way to select a tyre of identical width to the stock 18-inch IRC, but next tyre am going fatter all round: a less knobblesome 130 80 17 Mitas E07, partly because that’s the nearest the shop in Morocco can get in TL. It span less readily on loose dirt and certainly rode the roads better, like a 310 with its massive 150 rear. The front AX41 got replaced 2000km later with a bigger 19″ E07. Initially it felt heavier but the bike rode more like a supermoto on the road and is OK on the piste.

Returning in December for a week, I got to the bottom of it. Undertaking day rides, I left my baggage in the hotel (<6kg), but also removed the screen (1.5kg?) with an MRA spoiler. The bike now felt a lot more chuckable and connected. I could even ‘feel’ the 19-inch tyre’s benefits and managed the odd side-slip on the dirt, as on other bikes.
Was it purely height + weight, or also a ‘vision’ thing? Who knows, but after a week I refitted the screen and all my clobber for the ride back to Marrakech over Jebel Saghro, including a tricky a ‘4WD only’ descent, and the bike felt OK. My parameters had been reset, though I’ll definitely remove the screen again for day rides and even tours. It’s not needed and only takes 5 minutes.

In the late 70s I remember my 900SS was mysteriously transformed once I removed the half fairing. On that bike it was definitely about being able to see the front wheel (or just the front) directly, a bit like a forward control (‘cab over’) vehicle like a a VW Kombi or my old 101.

Ditching what little overnight baggage I carry certainly helped (and no tailpack made swinging the leg over so much easier), but removing the screen turned the 300L to what I’d expect: a fun, nippy, lightweight trail bike.
And yet every bike I’ve had for the last 15 years has had a screen of some sort, including the 250L (a plain, light Slipstream windshield which I reused on several later bikes). With the 300L I think it was a cumulative amassing of stuff, not just the screen, but the bigger tank, heavy radiator bars with side bags, handguards, tankbag, GPS, breakfast. From the Mototek crashbars upwards, and with a full tank, that’s up to 18kg of added mass over a stock 300L all up on the front, or way over 10% of the bike’s stock weight. Too much.

With that sorted, it’s only really comfort that holds me back, not helped by the fact that my knees are going (or are having a bad year). I’ve always been a lazy ‘sit when you can; stand when you must’ rider, but now I’m less able to hop onto the pegs or even just weight the footrests like I ought to to spare the hit when crossing a run-off ditch. Standing up is actually a good stance (compared to a 310GS), with knees pressing into the cushy sides of the seat just like they should. There’s a bit of a stoop for me (6′ 1″) at the bars, but that’s without any risers that I usually have to fit.

I do stand up on smoother terrain at the end of a ride to revive the backside and stretch out, but find, even in my TCX dirt boots, that my insteps ache after 20 minutes. Fitting wider footrests is something I overlooked in the prep, I now realise. Africa Twin Rally footrests fit right on they say, and have a third bar to support the load, but I bet other pegs fit too. The cheapest AT pegs I found were £80 on ebay, with DRC, or similar but unbranded Chinese alloys, costing around £50. Then I realised that replacing the missing footrest rubbers for 20 quid a pair will probably have the same effect, but same soreness so must be much TCX boots.

On the dirt I wouldn’t want any more weight nor need more power, but would love an inch less height for what I do. In the US (and maybe elsewhere one day) they now offer a 300LS, with inch less suspension and an inch less in the seat. For those without a calculator to hand, that’s two inches lower seat height.
The 300LS should have been the stock 300 back in 2021, with an ‘HS’ option for the lanky hardcore. Over ten inches of travel is excessive for a trail bike like the L; the CoG is too high making it twitchy, and it discourages ownership by less tall folk. I’ve never came close to hitting the bashplate which could easily be 2 inches lower, as on the LS. Honda could even take another inch out of the springs and put some padding back on the saddle where it’s still needed.
It’s a shame the TracTive shock from Rally Raid isn’t length-adjustable like the Wilbers on my XSR700 or YSS on the Him, though of course there’s nothing to stop me fitting a lowering Kouba Link (or similar knock off), then raising the forks in the clamps some more. In fact I have talked myself into trying just that for the next lap.

There were some long spells of oued paddling (too loose or rocky to ride) at which time the low first gear was just right, ticking over at 2mph or so, with no need to feather the clutch. But as mentioned, my speedo read-out was way out until I fitted a fatter Mitas when it went back to stock 8% error.

All in all, while the 300L was a great deal and is making my task out there easy, I’m at an age where I want a lower saddle alongside the low weight to be able to chuck it about with greater confidence, and get on and off without scuffing the saddle with a boot. I’ve matured into one of those old guys I met on my 250L in Canyonlands 10 years ago who’d ditched their KTMs for TW200s (left). Plus I’d like more day-long comfort, like a 310GS, though am not sure I’ll ever get it. All this holds back the fun of being on a planted bike like the 400 Himalayan.

On one of the tours one of the riders who owned a 450L wanted to try my adapted 300L, so I hopped on his rental 310GS. What a great bike that was, and not just the cushy, full-width saddle! Something about the steering also felt just right (this was before my de-screened epiphany). He also thought my 300 was off, and put it down to the 19-inch conversion. As John M at Rally Raid will tell you, the 310 (especially with his RR mods) is a much under-rated bike, though he rides a low-wheel 300L too.

Snatchy throttle? Can’t say I’ve noticed by found this tip on Advrider.

Of course I never expected a 27-hp 300 to be the long sought after do-it-all travel bike. That machine is more likely to be a twin or single around the 450cc mark, like the forthcoming CFMoto 450T or the Himalayan 450. I bought the more dirt-focussed CRF for the specific purpose of bagging pistes in southern Morocco while leading a few tours. I could’ve saved myself the transit costs by hiring a 310GS, but the Rally Raid sprung 300L is a better ride off road, especially if you don’t know what’s ahead. And anyway, I wanted to try the popular 300L, and can’t wait to do another couple of months riding in Morocco. The long ride back to northern Spain in late March, not so much.

Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda.
Next time I will…

Not rush the DIY tubeless sealing, or just cough up for CWC Airtight.
Get the Adv Spec radiator brace instead of the heavy Outback Mototeks and find a way of hanging the side bags off the tank to cushion the rads in a fall
Hardwire in the GPS, then [buy] a proper USB plug, not the unreliable cigarette-bodge
Leave the Cycle Pump at home and rely on the handheld USB pump
Try some Moto Skivvies for long runs
Get a Rally Raid HPA for the shock
Try a lowering link

CRF300L: Ready for Morocco

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CRF300L Index page

After a summer of tinkering and trail riding, my desert-ready 300L sits in the corner of a foreign carpark that is forever Malaga, washed by fluorescent lighting, blest by the suns of Andalucia.
Ahead of me, weeks of piste logging broken up by a couple of tours to help pay for it all.

For nearly a year I’ve been scouring aerial images and OSMs while building up Google My Maps to five new regions for my next Morocco guidebook. I’m amazed how many pistes there are out there if you look closely. Many lead into areas where I’ve long thought ‘I wonder if there’s anything down there?’. Usually there is, as well as a number of new asphalt backroads not yet on any maps. I won’t be able to cover it all in the next few weeks, but I’ll leave the bike in Marrakech and come back for more later in the winter.
Although I cheated and got it trucked across Spain, once in Morocco the 300L should be the ideal bike for this job. Sure, less seat height would be nice. but it’s light, economical, nimble and should be reliable. Let the winter games commence ;-)

300L – Dorset’s Great Western Trail 2

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CRF300L Index page
Dorset’s Great Western Trail 1

The other day’s inaugural run along the TET’s Great Western Trail in Dorset was unnervingly easy and enjoyable. I wasn’t wrong footed and barely put a foot wrong. Today’s westward continuation was going to be my difficult second album.
For more afteride bike impressions, see bottom of the page.

Rights of Way (skip if boring – E&OE)
The last time I looked into it, to establish the status of a right of way in England & Wales (Scotland is a write-off) you had to inspect a county council’s definitive or ‘master’ map (DM) held in its offices and viewable by appointment. This is why people ride wasteland, join clubs or go to Morocco. Now we have the internet county councils publish this map online for all to view anytime for free. Vehicle access wise, the map will identify the very few Byways (aka BOATs), as well as much more numerous Unclassified Country Roads, (UCRs) which I called ORPAs (‘other routes with public access‘, on OS maps). But according to this typical statement, the Dorset Definitive online map (example below) doesn’t have the legal status of the county’s official Definitive Map held in a glass vault in Dorchester Castle. So while you cannot fully rely on the online county master map, it ought to be more up to date than the latest OS edition and is free.
Perhaps the best online map for trail biking is produced and maintained by the Trail Riding Fellowship. It’s viewable at greenroadmap.org.uk where it says guests (non-TRF members) can register and view the map with limited features, but I couldn’t manage it. This is why we like the simplicity of UK TET with the GWT. One 3800-mile gpx download and you have enough to be getting on with.

Only one Byway in red, but quite a few ‘UCRs’ in light and dark blue, some of which join through.

These UCRs or ORPAs – shown on OS maps as small red spaced dots on 50k maps • • • • , or green on 25k • • • • – have been a bit of an eye opener to me just lately, still stuck as I am in the 1980s RUPP era, but ORPAs have been on OS maps since 1997 and RUPPs were downgraded or mass reclassified as Restricted Byways by 2006. All this has passed me by over the decades. Clearly I’ve spent too much time in the desert where, by and large, an RoW is determined by the terrain and you and your vehicle’s ability to navigate it.

UCRs might be sealed or just tracks, passable or otherwise, but providing they don’t dead end at some backwoods ‘dueling banjo’ meths compound (as I stumbled on the other day), you have the promise of a through route. So I can now verify that track I followed in mid-Wales the other week was a UCR and doesn’t even get any special annotation to the Powys Definitive online map. As DK and DW, a pair of intrepid travel bikers and TRF lifers clarified to me “In 99% of cases, you can legally ride a bike on a UCR“. When you view the Dorset GWT on an OS background, you can see it aligns with UCRs and the much less frequent Byways as well as regular metalled yellow ‘C’ roads.

The TET gets offensive
The forecast was a bit shaky; I’d probably get a hose-down at some stage but would dry off eventually, given global climate patterns. I was planning on reaching Lyme Regis, about the same distance as the other day, though something about today’s route looked more challenging and maybe more typical of the GWT.

Maiden Newton to Lyme – only 36 miles. No biggie then…

I set off along the same trail through Sares Wood to Tolpuddle to make sure I didn’t make it up.

That’s more like it! I feel at home now.

I get in a tangle around Dorchester and then miss the road to Maiden Newton; I find I often mess up the nav when I half know the way; a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, grasshopper. To make amends I consider this shortcut down a hillside to Maiden, but at a gate I re-scrutinise the Garmin’s OS map and it’s only a Bridleway, which I confirm later on the county DM. Can’t be going there.

Back on the GWT, I turn onto my first trail, sorry – unclassified road. I’ve made the Garmin’s GWT tracklog green to make it easier to see.

I think ‘Public Route’ may be a kind of ORPA. Back on the asphalt, my front tyre seems to be making a lot of noise. It was 19psi this morning, not a pressure I run. There’s a lot of debris down the middle of these hedgebound, single track lanes. Have I got a slow puncture on the presumably crappy OEM IRC tyre? (Yes). I’ll top up at the next servo.

Many roads lead to Hooke. I wonder if houses in Poorton are cheaper than Powerstock? Hooke in the Domesday Booke

Hooke’s dinky, red sandstone church of St Giles. ‘Only’ 600 years old.

I still find it hard to believe I’m allowed to actually ride ‘footpaths’ like this. I am what I am and I’m one of the sheeple ;-)

I emerge by a field where hidden ruts alongside a 2000-volt electric fence help concentrate the mind.

First gate of the day – good for the abs.

I pass through Beaminster town with half an eye out for an airline, before burrowing back into the undergrowth like a motorised hedgehog.

Never seen a BOAT sign before. Encouraging.

I’m knocked back by a couple of limestone rock steps on a stoney slope. It would have needed quite a launch plus some artful finesse – not a combo me or the 300L share at this time, thanks for asking. Alone, a bad fall could end… badly. The TRF call this lane an ‘old favourite’. Not me.

I don’t even think about it and walk the bike up in 1st, but it gets jammed on the bigger step, then the chain comes off. A bigger tyre with less air might have clawed its way up. Never had a chain derail on a moto but at least it’s not broken nor has cracked the crankcase (had that on a KLX once – ruined engine). Luckily, this time I left home with tools. I drag it back down – this is where old-school **tubular** **rear racks** pay off. I prise out the very slack chain which easily rolls back onto the sprocket. Did the derailing stretch it so much? Along with my imminent flat tyre and the darkening skies, I’m a bit unnerved.

Nearby there’s evidence that fourbies struggle here too.
This lane – Meerhay or Mintern’s Hill (50.825716, -2.733489) throws me, but there’s no mention of it online. Even coming downhill I’d think twice, but it must be just me and my age.
Returning to Beaminster, a delivery driver stops and asks about getting through. He knows about the BOAT and meanwhile, points me to a car garage in town.

I pop in for a shot of air, just as the clouds unzip, let loose and shake off. Aired up to 30psi to get me home, I pretend to fiddle with the GPS until the downpour passes.

I’m aiming to rejoin the GWT as it heads down to Bridport. At a crossroads I stop and tighten the chain with my new Rally Raid tool. It took 2.5 full turns of the nut. WTF? It wasn’t hanging off after a wash and lube two days ago. Is the Regina suddenly shot at just 1500 miles on this 28-hp donkey? Very odd, but better to know now than on Jebel Saro.

Beferned phone box. A sign of the times.

Beferned 300L. Not more of the psychedelic type, I hope.

My mojo has rebounded so I continue west out of Bridport towards Lyme on the GWT. North of Symondsbury I come across a ‘closed road’ sign. Shame, it’s a nice track – Hell Lane in fact, as featured in ABR magazine a few years back.

It’s a ‘public route to a public path’ which must mean something legally.

Had I read the TRO more closely I’d have seen it expired last year. Specsavers, I know, but ditch the red sign already!

I try a way round to the north but I’m blundering around. This isn’t a moto RoW.

The chain thing and all the rest has worn me out so I scoot south to the seaside for a seafood snack by the seashore. Let’s try West Bay. I was hoping for calamari at a quaint 1770s cobbles and thatch Smugglers Inn – I get 1970s bucket & spade in batter with chips.

Little West Bay seems to be a bikers’ hang out.

Heck, they even have a Helmet City! The sweet smell of creaking leather…

Yep it’s ‘Broadchurch’. Remember all the hype over that show?

That night a nearby cliff slid down and made the news. That would have been a heck of a reverse tsunami.

A couple of weeks later, after a lot of rain, West Bay / ‘Broadchurch’ cliff, itself had a big rockfall.

Lyme in the far distance, one for next time.

I head home on backroads. It’s Chesil Beach! Never been there neither, here’s my chance.

Gravel; large amounts. ‘*The origin of the beach is a matter for scientific speculation*‘ says an info board.

Backroading homewards, near TE Lawrence’s grave, two roads diverged in a wood and I took the ORPA less traveled by. And that has made all the difference; I got home 4 minutes earlier. I’ve done 100 miles and I am now quite tired.

After thoughts on L
I’m getting a feel for the 300L off-road. No, really! The stock gearing feels spot on for this sort of riding; a full load might change that. But the fuelling is a bit on-offy in lower gears; good for engine breaking. I recall the WR250R (same hp) had the same issue and there were alternative, slow-action throttles or some such available. It’s an efi thing.
The stock tyres are good but I don’t think will prove very durable; iirc my CRF250L IRC rear didn’t even make 3000 miles in SW USA. As said, the Rally Raid suspension seems dialled in, or if not it won’t be hard to do so. I notice the throttle cables jam solid on full left lock as a result of the taller Renthals; to be expected for a stoop-free standing stance – without risers! Easy to fix or not that important. On the road it zips up to an indicated 60 – going faster needs a big yank on the handle; it’s a 286cc after all.
I do wonder about this 19er front business, but trying is knowing. In return for on-road stability I hope the steering won’t get too sluggish on the trails. I have a spare front hub which I was going to lace to an unbranded 19-er and flog, but I think now I’ll fit an SM Pro 21 MT (tubeless; and at £170, £50 cheaper than an Excel) instead. Then I’ll have a three-wheel full tubeless set up: 17 + 21/19. The 2.15 SM Pro MT is half an inch wider than the stock 1.60 x 21 which will mean a heavier, wider tyre that won’t help trail agility, but might aid faster, bend swinging stability and wear.

I’m still not fully satisfied with my seat bodge. It has a dip in the front so it’s either fully sat back (OK for high speed) or perched up front. This may be where they shaved it down to make it lower. It would be nice to have a fully flat seat to slide around on to spread the pain.
A mate sent me a pic of his normal L seat (left) and there is definitely more meat to it; he’s my weight and finds it fine. I could’ve got mine rebuilt locally in leopard skin metal flake, but decided to simply buy a new black OEM 2023 seat from Partzilla discounted to $105 (30% cheaper than a red 2021 seat). Add shipping and UK tax and that’ll be about £150. I ought to get most of that back for my low seat.

300L – Dorset’s Great Western Trail 1

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CRF300L Index page
Dorset’s Great Western Trail 2

This summer I find myself relocated in the English countryside far from London and with a usable trail bike, not some fraken-mutt. ‘Dorset’s good for green lanes’ I was told, but it didn’t look like it on an OS map.
As it is, I gave up on English green laning long ago, convincing myself that, certainly the southeast of the country was too congested for trail bikers to mix with ramblers, Nimbies, Just Stop Trailbikers and all the rest. I know well it’s the same limited access story – worse, in fact – with river paddling in England. A ride around adjacent mid-Wales a couple of years ago didn’t raise my hopes much either: beautiful country but more gates than Terminal 5 on a bank holiday getaway.
But we can thank the Trans Europe Trail (TET) initiative, based on the successful BDR project across the fabulous western US – some of which I’ve ridden and which may have been inspired by the legendary TAT. Supported by Adventure Spec among others, knowledgeable local volunteers across Europe have threaded together a network of TET routes which you might struggle to unravel yourself using maps. It’s all laid out on a plate and once figured out, TET releases 1000 of miles of trail biking adventures in the form on a free .gpx tracklog to stick in your digital navigation device. See the TET link above. Users send in updates and you can view this post as one. In a way it’s a bit my like route finding guidebooks. There’s also a Dorset TRF behind a private FB page (not all regional TRF groups are like this). I was happy to send a donation to TET.

A mile of track here and there seems insubstantial, but thread them all together and you’re in business, and the road sections give you a chance to recover. And compared to up north, ancient Dorset dodged the last Ice Cap and is thick with prehistoric trails most of which became today’s footpath, lanes, green or otherwise. It means there are enough footpaths and bridleways to share. I also suspect inland Dorset is helpfully overshadowed by its spectacular Jurassic Coast. Add no conurbations away from Poole/Bournemouth, no National Trails, outstanding medieval cathedrals, or even motorways. Things might be different in Devon and Cornwall.
Of course most of England won’t be like North Africa or SW USA where dirt trails can fill a day, but it’s the best we have and gets you out exploring your nearby countryside on your bike.

The Great Western Trail is one of two named TET UK sub-routes – an 800-mile loop reaching down from Wiltshire to Land’s End and back. It’s pitched at more agile trail bikes, not giant Advs.
It has a southern arm of about 60 miles from Poole to west Dorset. Being close to it, I set off from Wareham one afternoon on the 300L to see what I might find. I fully expected to encounter frequent or locked gates, road closures (TROs) and maybe even hostile natives unschooled in the legal status of green lanes. I could not have been more wrong.

First, I needed to fill up. The true (verified) mpg was actually 31kpl or only **88mpg**. It’s not looking good for a true 100mpg

I’m trying pricier E5 this time. Some say it’s better all round, including mpg.
But 99 octane? I never knew there was such a thing away from a drag strip. No wonder the planet’s on fire.
A fellow L-head told me there’s a setting on the dash to show **volume consumed since last fill**; a more useful way of gauging range once you’ve verified your capacity (13.8 litres or on my Acerbis). Actually my bike seems only to display gallons, maybe because it’s set to miles, but my volume is **3 Imp gallons**.

Is the bike running smoother and pulling better on E5, or do I just think it is?
Still, it’s nice to be bimbling along deserted backroads and heading into the unknown.

North of Bovingdon the tracklog flicks left up a wooded track.
It feels deeply transgressive to be riding here, and in sleepy Dorset too, not the North York Moors. Can it really be a right of way?
Looking later at a 50K OS map, red dots indicate ‘**other routes with public access**‘, or **ORPA** as I will now call them (below), along with the better known BOATs and RUPPs. Never knew that one, but I wouldn’t be surprised if like some of the latter, an OPRA does not necessarily indicate a vehicular rights of way. On the day, how can you tell? You have to hope the TET Linesmen did their homework and the status is unchanged.

A very pleasant 4km trail through the woods leads to the famous village of Tolpuddle.

Home of the Tolpuddle Martyrs, hard-up farm workers who, following a pay cut in 1834, formed a legal workers’ union but got trapped and 7 years transportation for ‘swearing a secret oath’. Again, you’d expect a story like this up north, not in quaint Dorset.

The TET takes a bridge over the A35 and winds its way along farm tracks.

Surely any minute now I’m going to get harangued by some angry bloke in a tractor?

But what can be better than a lonesome track winding its way down a grassy valley, like a scene from the Hobbit.
Down the bottom some blokes reposing by a pond gave me a chummy wave. Later on, some dog walkers did the same. Where are the brandished fists? Have I unknowingly brushed against a psychedelic fern and slipped into a parallel universe?

The post office in Milborne St Andrew after a shave and a short back and sides.
Internet fact: Dorset has more thatched roofs than any other British county, with nearly 10% or around 4 per square mile.

I knew it was out here somewhere. This week there’s been much chatter about the Portland barge. The bloke at the MoT place was not impressed. Portland is to Dorset as Barrow in Furness and Windscale are to the Lake District.

I toodle along deserted country lanes which, but for their asphalt coatings, would all be BOATS, etc.

A semi overgrown shortcut. On an OS map this is marked as a yellow road.

It leads down to Piddletrenthide. All this Piddle and Puddle is Olde Saxon for ‘stream’ or ‘wetland’.

Piddletrenthide high street after I digitally tidy away unsightly cables.
Immaculate, postcard pretty villages like this are two-a-penny in west Dorset.
Interestingly, there is a misleading T-junction sign at the top of this road, but it leads to an unsealed BOAT on the TET which I suppose would flumox a campervan.

I pass through Cerne Abbas, home of the famous Giant.
You’d hope this is a pre-Christian representation or someone is going to be saying a lot of Hail Marys.
It was actually carved in the Saxon era.

A stony trail leads from Up Cerne up Seldon Hill. Along with ruts hidden in long grass, about as technical as it got. Hereabouts the trail peaks at 260m (850 feet) and joins the main GWT loop to Lands End.

I decided to wear my Moto 3 for the first time since my AT debacle, but next time I’ll wear the HJC so I look less Darth. This goodwill can’t last, can it? Obviously there is much to be said for bimbling along and silencers the size of locomotive pistons, but being alone in mid-week must aid tolerance too.

We walked this way one very hot day a few weeks ago. Also very enjoyable.

The rolling hills of west Dorset. It’s great to be out but don’t show this picture to Theresa May.

The L occluded by thistles and grasses. The bike is of course effortless to manage but around here I check the tyres which seem a bit hard. In fact they’re at a lowly 25/20; maybe I’m under-eating. The Rally Raid suspension is barely taxed. I do wonder how the bike will ride such trails with the fat 19er front I have in the pipeline. Nothing I’ll ride today couldn’t have been managed on an AT, GS, T7 or a Chinese 125 scooter, come to that.

My second and last gate of the day which has been a big surprise – or is it just mid-Wales that is gate crazed? Last year on the Glyndwrs Way I counted 70 gates in 15 miles walking. A sheep thing perhaps.

Wessex in mid-summer – not a gigafactory for miles (off to the left in Somerset, actually).

Unusually overgrown. I’m getting splattered with exploding seeds.

I reach a ruin and realise I’ve followed a footpath by mistake. The red tracklog line on my Montana is extremely thin and hard to see. I fiddle with the settings but can only change the colour to green. Later I find my answer:

Who may have lived here and where did they go? Why did they leave the place in such a mess?

Road signs from a Famous Five era. Many of Enid Blyton’s FF adventures were based on Dorset where she vacationed annually for decades.

Crossing the infant Frome near Cattistock and which meets the tide from Poole harbour at Wareham quay (below).

Wraxall Lane – another ORPA. It gets a little muddy; the CRF tiptoes through.

I pop out of the thatch and meadow wonderland at Maiden Newton on the A356 north of Dorchester and where this ornate ancient church catches my eye. It’s now nearly 6pm; 2.5 hours to cover 40 easy, fun miles. I’m hungry so it’s either buy something or ride home. I head back 25 miles. From Maiden it looks like the same distance along the GWT to Lyme Regis on the Devon border. I can’t wait to tick that one off and maybe inch my way west with what remains of the summer.
Who knew in 2023 I’d rediscover trail riding in England after 40 odd years! Sure no track is more than 2 miles to the next road, but old tracks are thick as ascents down here, and it’s not really about what’s under your wheels, it’s where they lead you. And as we know it’s the ‘Blue Highways‘ and dirt roads where adventures and discoveries are easiest to find. More to come.

Dorset’s Great Western Trail 2

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