Desert Rose Riding

                                               http://www.adventureridingacademy.com/

Before meeting Patsy I have to admit feeling slightly wary, she is a woman whose forthrightness and opinions are formed from much experience, and I was a mere journalistic upstart. A brilliant rider and having to spend her time dealing with Richard (Bro inLaw) and I two middle aged would be adventurers may not have been her idea of fun. However I could not have been more mistaken or surprised. A straighter more likeable  character would be hard to find. After a cup of tea sitting in a field at her training venue and a quick once over on the bikes we were off.

"You know any idiot can ride a bike fast" she said "but when its tight and narrow thats a different matter".  We spent most of the morning on narrow single track trails that would have been a challenge on a good mountain bike, standing on some sections and sitting Enduro style through others.

Steep descents, off camber trails, mini clutch control circuits with a few zips around the Enduro Hare and Hounds trail to let the bikes cool-off. For me most of the technical stuff was actually surprisingly ok but where I did suffer was not looking far enough ahead and and therefore not setting up the ride well enough for some of the tighter corners. Its really the same for any sport, snowboarding in trees, Down Hill riding and climbing for that matter, all require forward vision and anticipation. Once we got used to the bikes this did come.

The bike was revelation, bigger and heavier than the 250 exc Patsy was riding, it still was mighty capable. It was like riding a big down hill mountain bike in comparison to the lumbering GS and the top heavy Tenere'.  I had never ridden a bike where you could move around so easily and get you weight so far forward on the bends and loose corners. A bit of Motocross skill would have been a help but by the end of the session we were both letting the back end slide out a bit and cornering foot out and pushing through the outside pegs. Sliding the bike around a dirt hairpin using the back brake, did however elude me. I was more concerned that if I messed up, Patsy who stood at the breaking point, was in maybe more danger then maybe she realised, and hospitalising a biking icon may not have looked like such a good move.

Suitably pumped in the forearms and after having been given the chance to stretch the 690,s legs all to soon the day was over.

Convinced the 690 was more capable, I and knowing that a return visit to learn more from Patsy was required, we left with MX shirts proudly tucked away in our arms.

Patsy Quick and the KTM a "Gateway to New Horizons"

You know when you bought that album based on the one good track you heard, or the top selling single you liked, and then you get it home and the rest is awful, its a bit like being cheated. It may it only have been £15, but there is sits, its spine or case a reminder of an impetuous moment of excitement. It leads to an age of disappointment, until that moment 10 yrs later when you take it to the second hand shop, where there it sits, marked down to 50p for another ten.

I have done this with cars, the MGB GT which would never start on damp mornings, the third edition of the Land Rover LR Disco which died at 3am in Chamonix when it was -18deg c. and now a Vuaxhall Antara which I have inherited from my mum.

Whilst the BMW F800GS was a nice road bike it did not fill me with confidence off-road. Falling out of love either with a woman, man or a thing, often starts with an off-hand comment. This fateful end of life comment for the F800GS, came from Patsy Quick, famed  Dakar Rally Rider and boss at the Desert Rose Riding Academy. When I visited her stand at the Goodwood Festival of speed in 2014,  the rot set in. So now the BMW is gone, what to do?.

The Yamaha Tenere' 660 for me was too heavy, Morocco proved that, the Beta Alp 4.0 was a small mans toy, Yamaha WR250's looked good but a clean one was rare, the promising new CCM 450 Adventure thingy way too expensive, untried and just maybe 450cc was just too small on high Alpine roads where I love to ride (lack of a dealer/service network for the CCM was a huge issue for me). So I kept coming back to the KTM 690 Enduro R, with all its know short comings.

Lack of fuel range, poor lights, seat etc are all well discussed, but the number of companies making bits for the KTM are huge and there is an active eBay market for the add-ons if required.

My first experince with a KTM 690 Enduro was on a trip in 2012 when a friendly German we were riding with lent me his 2010 machine for a short road section. My first impressions were that it was slow, agricultural, rattled all over and had an awful gear box. I was not impressed. But I have been watching the slow evolution of the 690r for the last few years and at last EIMCA show in Milan the bike looked vastly improved. New Fly by Wire throttle, new Duke engine, and slightly more refinement. But before I was going to spank nearly £7000 on an "album" that promised a lot but ended up in the local Cancer Charity Shop I though I had best try on before buying.

So I called Patsy Quick's  http://www.adventureridingacademy.com/  and headed to Englandshire to learn something and see what I and it could do. After all she promised a "Gateway to New Horizons" 

Morocco Late Spring 14

 

It's not often you manage to pull together 6 busy bikers and get them to commit to downing tools and heading off to Africa together.  But this spring we managed it. Organised by our local Yamaha dealer Moto74 in Sallanches, France using there linked travel company Anarouz Voyages from Geneva Switzerland, Greg, Will, Brain, Alun, Jon and myself headed to Marrakech in early May  to test our skills on the Yamaha 660 Tenere' that we were using for the trip. 

1300km later most of us had dropped the bikes at least once, and had gone through many moments of sweaty hot amazing riding. The full article will appear in the Sept edition of Bike Magazine in the UK, so I can,t give to much away here suffice to say, although heavy two of us on the trip have bought Yamaha,s and one more has bought a 660 Tenere' on recommendation. For my tastes coming from the F800GS the weight of the bikes was too similar for me to go for one. But once the Yamaha is up to speed it's more balanced, more capable off-road and more fun than the BMW.

On this trip we were followed by a 4x4 with cook, driver, spare machine in a truck and rode with a local bike guide. Hardly out-there in terms of comfort and the 5 hotels we stayed in over the 5 days of riding, all had swimming pools and most had importantly beer. For those wanting to dip into desert riding it was a great introduction and great value. The full article will be in Bike Magazine soon. Once it is published I will copy it here. 

In the mean time if you fancy a Moroccan moto trip which offers you good value without the need to ship your own bike try Anarouz Voyages.

Guid 2 Roues

www.guid2roues.com
64 Avenue de Champel – 1206 Genève	email : contact@guid2roues.com

www.anarouz-voyages.com

BMW GS or Bust

A fully kited out ABR  - Icon Suit notwithstanding

The BMW 800GS was my second bike, quickly purchased post a brief and profitable foray with a Suzuki VStrom which I picked up for a song. Suckered into the GS fraternity by promises of adventures by Ewen Macgregor,  (Charley, was the sidekick at that time) it was fully kitted out with Caribou Panniers, Jesse Side Bars and Heidi Tyres and it really looked the part. The 30th Anniversary Paint job finished off the required ABR look. A frustrating digital subscription  to Adventure Bike Rider magazine complete with articles by "Dave an ABR from Brighton" on his latest foray though the Rhine Valley war fields via some rubbish cafe in Strasbourg should have sounded the warning bells, but no.

It took a hairpin 2000m up an Italian Alp to really seal the deal. "ABRism" and its love of the tank like BMW GS was fetish I had finished with. A marketing con for me at least, which came crashing down in a heap of dirt and rubble. These machines I now believe are the motorcycle riders equivalent of the Caravan Club "car of the year recommendations".  Great for towing you home about behind you but rubbish in a fight.

Its the add-ons which turn an already Scorpion Tank like ride into a Chieftain Tank width and weight machine. Don,t get me wrong they handle the weight of the 4 lights, steel panniers, engine bars, bash plates, huge luggage racks strong enough to anchor a Mule to and a repair kit so extensive you could repair a jumbo jet with, quite well, and they are good on the road. But when you drop them you need your entire family and a the accompanying film crew to pick them up. (Episode 2 - The Long Way Round)

Having ridden quite a lot of mountain dirt roads with my GS, it was not until Greg Watts, a fellow, at that time GS owner, struggled up and down the Col du Prapaillion, described the experience as "survival riding and not that much riding fun" did the penny really drop.

The suspension sucks, they dive and wallow under the weight (even with progressive springs), they are way to heavy by at least a 100kg loaded and impossible to pick up on your own if you happen to drop them on a road thats even just off the flat. The 800GS seems worse the the 1200GS as its carries its weight differently. Furthermore they are way to pretty to scuff, scratch and dent. Fine if your using someone else's on a dirt course in Wales, but drop your £15,000 machine on a sharp Italian rock and you will cry. Its not the zippy carefree fun it should be. Time to move on.

The Col du Prapaillion - France

Jupiters Travels

If you have never read this book maybe you should. Written by journalist Ted Simon it tracks his progress as he circumnavigates the globe on an old Triumph. Heralded by the Moto community as the best and first Adventure Motorcyclists bible, it has inspired many a budding adventurer to say goodbye to their jobs, family and friends and step over a smoking beast and ride off into the Blue Yonder. 

It is inspiring, as it tracks both the physical and metaphysical journey which he goes through. Loneliness, fear at times, despair, reflections on lost love, fantasies about love sought and the excitement and boredom of the open road. For me it highlights one of the great problems for the modern Adventure Motorcyclist (whatever that is); its been done before. Most of the wild roads have been ridden, documented and mapped. Magazines are full of dull accounts of many miles of mud and dirt roads, the "escaping from the humdrum" however real to the individual, is a cliché and the majority of the writing as tedious as the motorway and dirt miles they cover. So many blogs, books and films are being produced about "great motorcycle journey" that what was once the abnormal is now it seems the norm. For me however motorcycling has always been less about the road and more about the emotion, less about the miles covered and more about the internal journey explored, and this is truly unique to the individual. Ted Simon's book for me only really comes alive when he strays from the road into the mind, and these internal conversations only really exist in the last couple of chapters. Maybe you need the preamble of the miles to enter the minds own rambling, but I am not so sure. So as I embark on a set of new journeys I think I maybe more interested in the mind than the matter.

Part 2

I naively had no idea that the process thus far would be so challenging. The new EU motorcycle test itself took time, the various practices and tests ranging from room based “Hazard Perception” to the mod 1 and 2 handling test took me over two months to complete. But from the moment I stepped over a full powered road machine I was hooked and road driving went from being a chore to a joy. An intense, engaging, frightening, exciting escape and in the process I have entered an exclusive tribe which at one time seemed remote hostile and exclusive.

I suppose I wanted a new challenge. Mountain and road biking were too familiar and although my rock climbing and off-piste snowboarding still hold the ability to push me to my limits, to a degree they are a familiar frison. Adventure motorbiking is a new thrill accompanied by new sensations, the heat of the engine, the smell of leather, hot tires, oil and dirt, it’s an intoxicating addictive mix. It comes with a set of sub cultures, folklawe, music and stories yet street fighters, café racers, gangs and global travellers all appear bonded by a camaraderie gained from riding motorcycles. It links the Harley Davidson loving accountants with retro clothed oil splattered “wrench monkee”. For me the attraction is adventure, it’s the lure of the Mongolian desert that draws me into this niche, or at least the idea that I may travel there that does.

1000 Km of Cols and Dust 1.

1000 Km of Cols and Dust.

The track gets rougher and rougher as it climbs up over 2,400m. The gravel of the lower altitudes has given way to melon sized rocks which lie scattered over the trail, sharp and threatening. The handle bars of the laden 250kg BMW buck and wrench from side to side pulling its bulk alarmingly across the 2m wide track. I am repeating my mantra given to me by my enduro trainer: ‘Keep your head up, look beyond the obstacles, keep light, and let it move underneath you. Don’t grip hard.’ At no other time, on no other ride, and on no other 2-wheeled machine, has this been more important to me than it is right now. On one side of me there is a solid rock wall hand cut by long dead Italian troops, and on the other side? A huge drop off. A 200m cliff. Beckoning, spiralling, crashing, fireball, imagined oblivion.

I am riding The Ligurian Border Ridge Road a 19^th century monument to a more tense period of European history when France and Italy were more likely to have been trading bullets and territory than pleasantries. Today it is increasingly frequented by a growing band of adventure motorcyclists and I am pretending to be one of this growing tribe; although I have to say I fancy myself more as Ewan than Charley. Exactly one year ago to the day on a cold wind-blown Industrial estate in Inverness, I was handed my full motorcycle licence. Call it a mid life crisis - the other symptoms are definitely there - but whatever trigged the journey that I now find myself on, I have no regrets and only adventures that await my twisted throttle progress.