In 2016, an ambitious plan took shape between myself and a friend named John: to tackle the legendary Backcountry Discovery Routes (BDR) of Utah and Colorado on motorcycles. Our shared passion for two-wheeled adventures had ignited a couple of years prior, amidst the unexpected backdrop of corporate intrigue in Malaysia, where I was investigating fraud for John’s California-based company. The details of that Malaysian escapade are a story for another time, but suffice it to say, amidst the chaos of Ipoh, a mutual love for motorcycles and the open road was born.
The BDRs, meticulously charted by adventure motorcycle enthusiasts, are a network of off-road trails and dirt roads that crisscross America’s most stunning and iconic landscapes.
The Utah BDR stretches for 871 miles, a tapestry of sand trails and gravel roads winding through iconic locations. Imagine riding through Moab, the Valley of the Gods, the majestic Abajo and La Sal Mountain Ranges, the enigmatic Nine Mile Canyon, and the rugged northern Wasatch Mountains.
The Colorado BDR, in contrast, begins at the symbolic Four Corners – where New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, and Colorado meet (a nod to the “Breaking Bad” fans out there). This route elevates riders through high-altitude trails, challenging mountain passes, and the verdant valleys carved by the Colorado River. Prepare to be awestruck by landmarks like Telluride, the San Juan Mountains, the Continental Divide, the Collegiate Range, the northern Rocky Mountains, and the historic town of Leadville.
My Colorado BDR attempt with John in 2015 on my trusty KTM 1190 Adventure R was unfortunately derailed by a severe bout of peritonitis. It was a close call, a brutal dance with sepsis and gangrene that nearly claimed my life. But fate, it seemed, had more riding in store for me.
Rescheduled for September 2016, providence aligned with the arrival of the new Honda CRF 1000 L Africa Twin in the USA. Instead of shipping my KTM from South Africa, I opted to rent the Honda from a shop in Boulder, Colorado.
First hurdle: reaching Boulder. Maps confirmed it was conveniently north of Denver, Colorado. A budget-friendly ticket with United Airlines came with a sting – a mere 23kg baggage allowance for all my motorcycle and camping gear. The solution? Wear it. Enduro motorcycle boots, heavy biking kit – all became part of my airport attire.
I drew a few curious glances clomping through airports, but nothing compared to the stares I received years ago when boarding a flight with a paraglider strapped to my back! After all, what use is a parachute in the hold if the plane decides to disassemble at 30,000 feet?
Predictably, the flight was a marathon of misery. In-flight sustenance was dispensed with the charm of feeding livestock, yet rendered palatable by generous lashings of Tabasco sauce – a fiery contraband I’d somehow smuggled through security. Unlike most Asian airlines, United offered no in-flight entertainment, and I’d forgotten a book! It promised to be a long haul.
My seat in the aircraft’s rear was amidst a lively contingent of Chinese passengers from Fujian or Guangxi. Their enthusiasm was… boundless. The entire flight was a symphony of animated arguments, shouts, seat-swapping, lavatory mishaps, and a persistent, pulmonary orchestra of coughs. A very long flight indeed.
San Francisco International Airport was my port of entry to US customs. Navigating the charming TSA, I lumbered in my motorcycle boots and gear to the domestic departure gates for my Denver connection, arriving just in the nick of time.
Sinking into my seat, gazing out at the unfolding tapestry of desert and mountains below, my spirits lifted instantly. Excitement surged. Down there, somewhere in that vast expanse, lay the routes that would define my next few weeks.
Thanks to the marvels of time zones and our spherical Earth, I landed in Denver before my Hong Kong departure time, my body clock bewildered by bright sunshine and blue skies.
A shuttle bus whisked me directly to Boulder and “House of Motorrad,” where my rental motorcycle awaited. Early evening on a long Friday, I introduced myself to Benjamin, the owner, with whom I’d corresponded for months.
Anticipation was high. I was eager to lay eyes on one of America’s first Africa Twins. However, stepping into the shop, the sight of my designated ride was… underwhelming.
Grey?
Apparently, in the land of red, white, and blue, Honda chose to export a drab grey version, forsaking the iconic red, white, and blue Africa Twins prevalent elsewhere. Japanese logic, perhaps?
But color was secondary. My attention was riveted by the tires. Street tires. Slick, 100% road tires – the kind the bikes were likely shipped with. Utterly, catastrophically unsuitable for the BDR trails looming ahead.
A quick email history check with Ben confirmed my repeated requests for Metzler Karoo 3s or Continental TKC 80 tires. Dunlop D606s, Pirelli MT21s – anything remotely off-road oriented would have sufficed. Seriously?
I raised the tire issue with Ben. His pronouncement? The current tires were “good enough.”
Hackles rising.
In my best John Cleese impression, I politely countered that they were, in fact, “not good enough.” But I sensed this American believed this limey “pom” was clueless.
“Where you going, anyway?” he inquired, feigning interest.
“As per my emails, the Colorado BDR… meeting a friend in Park City tomorrow.”
“Utah?”
“Yes, the Utah BDR as well.”
Alarm flickered across Ben’s face. Long story short, he declared the Africa Twin unsuitable for the BDR, quoted an additional US$421 for a tire change, and reiterated ad nauseam my liability for the first US$1500 of any scratch, nick, dink, or damage, however minuscule.
Jet-lagged, weary, and deflated, I was easily swayed into renting a KTM 690 Enduro instead. At least it sported proper tires, and I do have a soft spot for that bike. Agreement struck, I took the KTM.
Abruptly, the shop shut down, staff vanished, and I found myself in a deserted parking lot, wrestling with strapping my gear onto a slim, tall enduro bike… and failing miserably. Luggage space was critically deficient.
Darkness had fallen. Two days awake. A US$100+ grotty motel room in Boulder was unappealing and unaffordable. Decision: ride into the wilderness, find a campsite.
GPS rental (US$10 a day) declined. Sygic maps app on my iPhone would suffice. In this age of smartphone map apps, a dedicated GPS feels redundant, akin to a Betamax player.
A US SIM card acquisition had been missed amidst the airport rush. Boulder’s stores and malls became my SIM card hunting ground. Open cellphones and “pay as you go” GSM SIM cards, it seemed, were not the American way.
SIM card secured, phone activated, a barrage of WhatsApp messages from John flooded in. He was en route from Walnut Creek, California, to Park City, Utah, and my motorcycle choice had clearly displeased him. His digital suggestion? Return the KTM, get the Africa Twin as planned, and “fork out” for proper tires. He may have used the phrase “stingy git.”
I reminded John of his “client” status – responsible for my fees for untangling his company’s Far East debacle – and that my financial constraints were, technically, his fault. Logical, in a roundabout way.
Exhaustion was setting in. I rode about 10 miles outside Boulder, luggage teetering precariously on the KTM’s rear. Spotting shadowy figures by a fire on farmland, I inquired about pitching my tent.
“Sure, buddy,” a voice emerged from the darkness, “watch out for cactus – and rattlers!”
Cactus and rattlesnakes paled in comparison to my exhaustion. Tent up, ground mat inflated, sleeping bag unfurled – practiced drill. Seconds later, I was cocooned in my “maggot,” oblivion claiming me, location and surroundings unknown.
Dawn painted the sky purple, then red, then orange.
As the sun peeked over the horizon, I was already packed, heading for that ubiquitous American diner, Denny’s, for my standard breakfast: eggs, spinach, and a quart or two of black coffee.
Three days unwashed. Certain male anatomy requires hygiene. Denny’s restroom beckoned. Early hour, few patrons. Strategic utilization of a low hand basin ensued. Hygiene prioritized, naturally. Hand dryer deployment for drying… other regions… was, thankfully, avoided. Pragmatism has limits.
Refueled, watered, rested, “cleaned,” I could assess the situation rationally. Daylight clarity led to a decision: heed John’s sensible advice. Return the KTM, incur the extra costs, get proper tires on the Honda, repack, and head west to Utah.
Ben was arriving as I waited in the House of Motorrad parking lot. Mind changed, I announced. Original plan reinstated. Africa Twin it would be, and off-road tires were now a necessity.
Mitas E07 tires were presented – unfamiliar to me, 30/70 dual sport types. Not ideal, not TKC80s or Karoo 3s, but… options were limited.
Ho gwoh mo, as they say in Hong Kong.
Ben, convinced of my impending bike-dropping destiny, insisted on fitting more robust SW Motech engine bars, superior to the standard Honda ones – admittedly, more cosmetic than protective.
Saturday morning. Five other rental bikes awaiting preparation. My indecision had relegated me to the back of the queue. A long ride ahead, but arguing from a position of weakness is futile.
Hours to kill. All morning, in fact. I laid out my gear in the parking lot, culled unnecessary items, and entrusted my large travel bag to Ben. Then, I prepped the KTM 690 Enduro, already paid for, and took it for a Boulder exploration.
Boulder exploration ensued – hill roads, biker chats, excessive coffee consumption, REI camping supply run, Barnes and Noble book acquisition (Johnny Rotten’s autobiography, “Anger is an Energy”), motorcycle shop browsing, and a verbal berating from an irate “Karen” for an alleged “wheelie” incident.
Years of American travel have taught me: finding good tea in America is akin to finding an American who can locate Shanghai on a map. Englishman, tea purist – spiced, herbal, fruity teas are abominations. Lukewarm water, tea bag dangling precariously from a “tampon string” – sacrilege. Had King George III been less… challenged… America might still be a colony, tea would be tea, served with marmite toast and Victoria sponge.
Culture shock anticipated and pre-empted. Tabasco sauce for culinary enhancements, copious Yorkshire Gold teabags pre-imported.
Starbucks tea inquiry: “Use my own tea?”
“LIKE, TOADALLY, LIKE, NO, LIKE,” from the tattooed, nose-ringed barista. Insurance policy lecture ensued.
“Boiling water then?” I inquired.
“Hat Warder? OKaaay, like, I gess so, like.”
Problem solved. How hard could it be?
American tea ceremony concluded, I returned to House of Motorrad. Africa Twin, ready and resplendent.
Ben had excelled. Quality aftermarket accessories – adventure riding essentials – impeccably installed.
Altrider belly plate (tough, effective), SW Motech engine bars and luggage racks (well-designed), Wolfman soft panniers and tank bag (superb), Barkbuster enduro handguards (strong, protective), and Doubletake mirrors (clever design).
https://www.doubletakemirror.com/
Strapping my gear onto the excellent luggage rack – familiar configuration honed over years – another Ben lecture commenced. Theme: bike-dropping inevitability, dire consequences. “$1500 liability” drumbeat.
Message received. Brain imprinted: DON’T DROP THE FUCKING BIKE. Mantra adopted. Trip dampened. Wings clipped. Confidence sapped. Next time: ship my own bike, or buy and sell locally.
One glaring issue remained: the tires. Still disliked them.
(Rant Initiated!) Africa Twin off-road experience in Wales on Metzler Karoo 3s. KTM 990 Adventure, KTM 1190 Adventure R, and other bikes across challenging terrains: Rift Valley (Kenya), Sahara, Nubian Desert (Sudan), Kalahari (Botswana), Namib (Namibia), Baviaanskloof (South Africa), Serengeti (Tanzania), Masai Mara (Kenya), Sinai (Egypt), Cardamom Mountains (Cambodia), Gobi (Mongolia), Tibet, Gansu, Qinghai (China), Simpson Desert (Australia), Alps, Dolomites (Europe)… (Rant trajectory established). Motorcycle and rider capability – unquestionable… provided setup decisions are mine, not coerced.
Grrrrrr!
(Rant Terminated, Temporarily)
Circumstances dictated. No recourse. Itching to ride.
Destination: Steamboat Springs, Colorado Rockies. Highway 40 route planned. Camping intention. Park City, Utah rendezvous with John (Yamaha) at Hilton Hotel, 12 noon next day.
Roaring into the mountains, Africa Twin touring comfort immediately apparent. Cornering prowess – top-tier adventure bike handling.
Silky smooth engine, gearbox. Riding position – perfect, seated or standing. Seven-hour standing stretches – comfortable, balanced. Pleasing engine note. Just right.
Niggle: indicator/horn switch swap. Honda quirk. Decades of riding muscle memory – betrayed. Indicator cancellation replaced by tinny horn blast. Every. Single. Time. Annoying, potentially dangerous in traffic. Fortnight in, still looking down for the wretched indicator.
94 BHP – not a powerhouse. 230kg bike + 35kg gear + 19kg fuel + 93kg Rupert = power-to-weight ratio inferior to, say, KTM 1190 Adventure R. Yet, deceptive capability. High-performing adventure machine.
Overtaking – power deficit occasionally noticeable. Open highways – 100+ mph cruising, RV and monster truck overtaking – effortless. Single-lane highways, Rockies cruising – 70-85 mph, supremely comfortable.
Saturday afternoon. Mountain ascent outside Denver. Roads congested with recreational vehicles, outdoor enthusiasts. SUVs adorned with kayaks, bicycles, dirt bikes, camping paraphernalia.
Harley Davidson weekend warriors – droves of them. Silly bandanas, grey goatees, leather waistcoats, unnecessary chains, chrome bling, daft trousers, warrior gang/Big 4 accounting firm affiliations.
Thousands of motorcycles encountered. American biker greeting: left arm outstretched, pointing earthwards. British nod: nonchalant sideways tilt.
“Terminator” pub encounter later in trip. Harley ranks outside. Inside: biker gang. Scrutinizing gaze, dismissal: “new fangled adventure rider,” foreign variety.
Greeting offered, collective grunt, nod, resumption of activities. Trip’s end: red dust coated, vile aroma, shaved head, grey beard, patchy sunburn, bloodshot eyes. “Flock of Seagulls” or “Pet Shop Boys” jukebox request – wisely withheld.
Rockies traverse. Course adjustments to evade RV hordes. High mountain roads, sparse traffic. Small towns, sprawling commercial parks. Steamboat Springs ski resort, tourist hub, arrival.
Camping sites sought – awful RV parks. Soviet gulag charm. “Paul” alien comedy RV park vibe. Expensive. No thanks.
Dilemma. “When in doubt, buy beer.” Craft IPA acquired roadside. Pushing on as light faded. Isolated bar, glowing in the dark, spotted 20 miles further.
Center of attention upon entry. Local clientele, obvious outsider status.
Friendly bunch. Huge pork rib sandwich (hunger pangs addressed), beers procured, Donald Trump excuses offered, campsite directions provided. Elk/deer road hazard warnings, graphic wildlife-vehicle encounter horror stories reinforced.
Enjoyable, quintessential American evening. Good people. Good fun.
Elk-Honda close encounter risk taken. Campsite found just off-road in darkness. Woke, packed, pre-dawn departure – bitterly cold. Tent, ground sheet – ice-encrusted. Water bottles – frozen solid.
North Face expedition sleeping bag – ummed and aahed about bringing. Himalayan camping experience (China trip with Fanny). Bulky, but not heavy. Compression bag – effective.
Bringing it – wise decision. Weeks ahead: cold nights in Utah deserts, 10,000+ foot Colorado mountains.
North Face tent, top-tier ThermaRest sleeping mat – bed-like comfort. Trip-long brilliant sleep.
Pre-dawn rise. Coffee, porridge. Riding before sunrise. Camping love affair. Weeks ahead: campsites wherever possible – woods by streams, “creeks” in American vernacular.
Morning ride through mountain passes. High altitude lakes, reservoirs – speed boats, kayaks, water skiers, recreation galore. Hillsides ablaze with autumnal colors. Picturesque.
Park City arrival, noon, as planned. Ghastly Hilton Hotel check-in. Snobby reception staff, characterless, gloomy rooms. Not my style. But…
John had booked a twin room. Pre-BDR rest. Mistake: TV activation. American TV – awful. Commercials, lowest common denominator programming, painfully annoying.
Click off.
Beer – superior alternative to annoying drug commercials and incomprehensible sports.
John arrived on his Yamaha, Bonneville Salt Flats crossing from Walnut Creek (900 miles). Epic ride.
John treated me to steak dinner, good wine – bet repayment. Weight loss wager, two years prior. Victory mine. Internal organ removal – John’s “cheating” accusation. Bet’s a bet.
John’s motorcycle/pedal bike collection – extensive. Touring, trail, dirt, track – proficient rider across disciplines. Successful, wealthy American, comfortable lifestyle… man toys aplenty.
Room sharing – decades since last time (except with other half). Earplugs deployed against John’s nocturnal cacophony. Dreadful racket.
Morning awakening, John’s alarmed stare: “Shit, you are a fucking noisy sleeper.”
Camping from now on. Tents strategically distanced.
John – GPS navigation lead. BDR waypoints downloaded to Garmin. Sensible division of labor.
Problem: north-to-south Utah travel, BDR waypoints – south-to-north orientation. Immediate wrong turn upon expedition start. Ominous? Yes.
Utah BDR – tar roads interspersed with gravel, sand tracks. Stunning countryside, rural idylls, mountain trails, impressive deserts. Off-the-beaten-path locales.
“Back Country Discovery Routes” – big adventure bike suitability debate. John’s Yamaha Super Tenere, KTM 990/1290 Adventures, BMW R 1200 GS, Honda CRF 1000 L… OR… smaller enduro/dirt bikes (450cc, 250cc), lighter luggage preference?
We shall see.
GPS waypoints guided turnoffs. First BDR turn, Park City outskirts – numbered post, only indication. Route numbers changed without warning.
Remote, off-grid feeling – instant. Initial section – hard-packed gravel roads. Meandering, undulating. Pine-covered hills, deciduous trees, Aspens – autumnal greens, browns, reds, oranges, yellows.
Beautiful.
Autumn day temperature – perfect. John – slower pace than my norm. Rhythm found. Valleys, streams, woods, ranches, rocky outcrops – enjoyment amplified. This is it.
Utah BDR – initially easy, enjoyable, picturesque.
Day’s end: scenery shifting – less wooded, increasingly open rocky desert. Sunset approaching. First campsite – just off-track, uphill. Settled in. Day’s ride recap, what lies ahead. John’s Colorado mountain cold anxiety. Motel/lodge inclination.
My camping preference – entire trip. Camping gear – prepared. Unlike John, hotel funds… limited. Phobia shared: lightning. Absolute fear. No exposure risk, storms. Claggy mud ground, rain, visibility, dangerous riding.
Lightning phobia origin: Namibia deserts, 2000s rainy season. Storm entrapment. KTM 990 Adventure – tallest object, horizon to horizon. Metal lump. Terrifying.
Windhoek campsite incident: tree struck by lightning meters from tent. Unrelenting, frightening storm. Hong Kong island home: tree outside apartment – multiple lightning strikes.
Rockies lightning fatalities (August). Afternoon storms – avoid. Forecast check: desert lightning prediction. Micro-meteorologist (paragliding background), Geography “A” level, “astraphobia” sufferer – cloud recognition, weather forecasting aptitude.
Late next day start. Diner breakfast faff, petrol/water stop. John – technical, challenging trail section. Immediate thought: wrong route. 30 miles a day – impossible pace. Steep rocky section encountered. John – wise turnaround. Bypass decision.
Return to gravel road. Certainty: wrong route taken. “This” – not BDR section for dual-purpose bikes. Mountain goat challenge level.
15 minutes back. Pulled alongside John. Stop demanded. “Wrong BDR section… missed turning… backtrack.” Plea made.
Backtracking ensued. Correct turning found. Long gravel track, desert expanse.
Hour or so. Sequence of John’s wrong turns. Every wrong direction. Mountain ascent, high-altitude communication station detour. Cliffs, steep sections. Sky darkening. Cumulus nimbus cells, lightning grounding around us. Rain starting – heavy.
Rocky outcrop stop. Camping contemplation – storm passage wait. 5-day forecast: sunny, sunny, sunny. Desert storm exposure risk – unnecessary. Motorcycle – no Faraday cage effect. John – “wuss” perception anticipated.
Area scouted – campsite options identified. Gust front shelter, rocky mound. Glance left. Snake face, 10cm away. Snake? Forked tongue – confirmation. Fook me!
John – rattlesnake nest concern, greater than lightning. Undecided.
Storm cell moving across desert valley. Communication station maintenance truck. Conversation with John.
John’s shout: “Campsite down by canyon wall, 3 miles away.”
Dash decision. Mountain descent, desert valley crossing (lightning zone), campsite refuge. Storm wait-out.
No hesitation. Wet mud track descent. Junction found – 3-hour detour origin. Mud track hoofing. Honda, Mitas tires – mud-gravel competent. 60-70 mph charge. Next storm cell detonation – anticipated.
Five miles. Campsite – no sign.
Few miles further. Isolated municipal information station, shelters. Tents under shelters – suitable option. Another massive black cloud, stratosphere reach, cloud-to-cloud lightning explosions.
“Staying here,” announcement to John.
John – motel pursuit, town 30 miles away. Not having it.
Storm – huge, developing, heavy rain evident. Weather forecast – heavy storms all night.
“Nope, you go, I’m staying here. Meet you Green River morning.” John rode off – storm direction.
Desert isolation. Partial concrete shelter. Storm drift, northward across valley. John parting – not ideal. Coercion against better judgement – rejected. Route detours – numerous, but schedule ahead due to previous day’s progress. Late afternoon.
Area recce. Campsite above spectacular canyon. Lightning show – distant. Riding into that – crazy. Flash floods, canyons. Sand road – gooey quagmire potential.
Two hours. Storm cell drifted north. Other cells – west. East towards Green River – clearing. John reunion priority. Mud extraction possibility. Fast run to Green River decision.
Sun low. Route through rose-colored canyon. Setting sun glow. My normal pace – reinstated. Ruts, corrugations skimming, back-end slides – joy. More like it.
Sandy track, steep canyon. First time that afternoon – genuine enjoyment. Fair lick pace. Honda – beautiful ride. This is it.
Better than KTM 990 Adventure? Perhaps a bit. Smoother, more comfortable. KTM 1190 Adventure R? Perhaps not. 50+ BHP more, suspension more robust off-road. All – outstanding motorcycles.
30 minutes. River bridge. John roadside, tent setup under burnt-out tree – lightning victim.
“Didn’t go far,” joking challenge. Happy reunion.
Tent setup – same spot, trees avoided. Rei freeze-dried camping food – surprisingly good. Brew on. Second night – beer amnesia. Yorkshire Gold it is.
Sunset. Spectacular lightning storm. Canyon echo chamber. Rain starting. Lightning striking cross-shaped valley.
Municipal concrete ablution block. “Bringing my stuff in there… pouring tonight. River bed camping, lightning-struck trees – not ideal.” “Heads” relocation. Ground mat, sleeping bag setup.
Slightly turdy disinfectant aroma – tolerable. Safe, dry – prioritized.
John – joins me. One-man tent, contents – small concrete structure occupancy. Camping chairs – outside, storm viewing platform. Greatest show on Earth. Storm lasted till 5:30 am. Flashes, bangs – canyon amplification. Amazing.
Porridge, coffee next morning. Packed up. Green River bound. Desert sandy tracks, Highway 70. City routing. Refuel stop. Tank refills – opportunity seized. Fanny and my expedition habit – fuel security priority. Africa, Asia – fuel scarcity reality.
Honda Africa Twin – 5-gallon tank. Petrol: US$2.10 – 3.50/gallon (remoteness factor). US$2.70 average for 91 Octane.
Trails/tracks, 2nd/3rd gear riding – 57 mpg. Good. 80+ mph hoofing – 46 mpg. Not bad.
230-mile safe range per tank. John’s Super Tenere – 6-gallon tank, lower mpg. Similar range.
Green Point departure. BDR continuation – Moab destination. Gravelly sand trails – manageable. Lost a few times. John – rocky, steep trail detour, uphill through hills. Route doubt – surfacing. Steep sandy inclines, deep ruts, large rocks, twists.
Trip’s first tire limitation manifestation. Bike weight accentuated. Front end – all over the place. Constant slide rescues. DON’T DROP THE BIKE brain loop. Confidence – dwindling. Point of risky technical riding vs. manageable gravel track, same scenery?
John – unfazed. Big beast sand/rut riding veteran. Very good technical off-road rider.
Slower pace than desired. Mistakes creeping in. Riding poorly. Bike? Just one of those days? Confidence deficit? All of the above. Confidence – greatest risk, riding performance detriment.
Back tire traction – sufficient. Front – sliding in sand, large rock deflections. John’s dust wake – unhelpful.
Head down, not up. Paddling, not standing. Elbows down. Doing it all wrong. Off-road, sand riding – head game. Brain – on strike.
Caught up with John. Sand struggle confession. “This is Utah, man, all sand from now on,” John’s pronouncement.
Continued following. OKish when speed increased, flow established. Following at John’s pace – constant adjustments to stay upright. 1st/2nd gear switching – should have stayed smooth 2nd/3rd.
Then it happened. John immediately ahead. Track lost. Bike drop avoidance maneuver – off piste. Vertical section, sand pit plunge. Upright wrestling. Steep slope, steeper drop right. Frozen. Immobile.
Composure regaining wait.
Bike loss, deposit forfeiture – flashing through mind. Pristine bike return to “Doubting Benjamin” – paramount.
Stuck. Bike dismount – sideways toppling risk. John return wait.
Waited. Waited.
Coming back? Evidently not.
Self-extraction required. Bike lean – uphill sand side, left pannier/hand guard support. Trapped leg extraction. Not easy. Done. Steep sandy slope – scratch-free soft landing anticipated.
Bike against sand slope, leg free. Situation assessment. Trail clamber, scenery survey. Still no John. Surely he’d realize, return.
No.
Bike ride-up attempt – standing, Honda Wales U-turn practice on steep slopes. Back wheel slide, front end sand burial. No option. Luggage unload, haul back to trail. Unladen bike ride-up steep slope.
Executed plan.
Luggage unloaded, breather taken, mood improved. Purposeful, confident bike ride-up – 125 trial bike style. Luggage re-load. Continued onward.
“Good old Honda… crap old tires,” muttered monologue.
Further along rocky trail. John’s bike spotted. John – laughing, smoking. Drawn up alongside. “Why no help? Track departure!” shout.
John’s mumbled explanation – quarter-mile walk back, give up decision. Red mist descended. Unhappy camper. Further John chat – unproductive. Left him – cigarette, Cheshire Cat grin.
Bad mood speed-off. Ridiculous pace.
Bike – suddenly in its element. Trail zipping. Faffing attitude – evaporated. Groove – re-established.
Trail end. T-junction, tar road ahead.
Waited. Looked back. Waited. No John. Right turn, pull over, wait. Still no John.
Route planning – John’s domain. But… Route 128 – Colorado River, Castle Valley, Route 191, Moab. By chance, navigated onto it.
Colorado River hour ride. Uncertainty, tiredness (riding, sand bike-handling). Camping contemplation. Calmed down. John lost. Phone – no signal. Stomping off – regret setting in.
Colorado River campsites – plentiful. Utah/Colorado campsite norm – pay fee for plot, no facilities. Pointless. Free camping elsewhere, no facilities, possible. Moab – check it out, rest. Urban area – phone signal hope, John message possibility.
Moab – tourist trap. Outdoor activity, adventure sports hub. Lardy RV people, “born to be mild” Harley types – excessive. Supplies stocked up, messages/internet checked. Continued south. Remote campsite – “The Needles” lookout. Stunning location.
John – Moab bed and breakfast assumption. Camping preference. Needles campsite – most beautiful ever.
Rest up. John contact attempt. Route ahead plan – contingency. Colorado BDR link-up – inevitable. Run into him, contact made, eventually.
Solo riding, navigation. BDR GPS waypoints download, iPhone configuration – Rever program (Moab). Utah/Colorado paper maps, routes/waypoints plotted. Butler BDR maps (John’s) – superior, but… sufficient.
Camping setup – near perfect. Years of tent living, expeditions. Freeze-dried camping food – trip duration supply. America – not Africa. 7/11, Taco something, Denny’s, coffee shop, supermarket, petrol station – ubiquitous. Tap water – drinkable, creek water – option if necessary.
Fanny FaceTime. 14-hour time difference. Conversations – evening/early morning (signal permitting).
“Where’s John?” – first question.
“Oh um, lost him, separate ways,” evasive answer.
“AAAAAIIIIYAAAA! KNEW you wouldn’t last THREE DAYS, typical, 孤独狼 (lone wolf),” inevitable reply.
For sure.
America impressions, Utah perspective.
Cowboys and Indians, Coyote Road Runner land. Scenery – spectacular. Culture? Brutal honesty – lacking. “Old,” “historic” – exaggerated disappointment. Natural scenery – only real draw. Nature, landscape – truly spectacular.
Food? Controversial opinion (Englishman, country with historically awful food). American food – edible, unexciting.
Liked: scrambled eggs with spinach, super spicy hot buffalo wings. Pizza, hamburgers, taco things, hotdogs, sandwiches – uninspired. Will eat them, will eat anything. Cat skull in Chinese hotpot – ate it (paid for it). Didn’t taste like chicken.
American “foreign” food – Americanized to point of…? Unrecognizable. Excessive sugar. Petrol stations – lard, sugar overload, supersized everything. Bucket of soda for breakfast? Common sight.
Coffee shop queue observation. Locals ordering strange drinks. “Mocha chokka something with organic almond milk.” Huh? Black coffee request – Millennial shop assistant’s dog-sleeping proposition stare.
America, England – divided by a common language.
Animals? Fewer than hoped. Small dogs, ground squirrels, big dogs. Bear, Coyote – no sightings. Deer, antelope in mountains – yes. Hunters – hundreds. Honey Boo Boo Child southern hick characters. ATVs, gun racks.
Trees – mountain landscape dominance. Aspens – glorious autumnal colors. Unspoiled rivers, streams – picturesque. Mountains – impressive. Deserts, canyons – spectacular.
World travel experience. America’s best – Soul of the Universe creation. Continent-scale country, magnificent natural beauty, big skies. Amazing food, interesting cultures, historical sites, diverse flora/fauna – Africa, Asia, Mexico – better options.
Saddest trip aspect: Navajo indigenous “reserve” entry. Native Americans – aimless wandering. Very sad.
Global phenomenon. Nomadic, proud peoples – Australian Aborigines, South African Bushmen, Canadian Inuit, Mongolian herdsmen – uprooted, modern Western assimilation – involuntary.
Childhood 1960s England memories. Proud Apache/Sioux warrior on bareback horse, full regalia, American wilds – “magnificent” imagery. Cowboys and Indians play – always wanted to be an Indian. Coolest ones.
Now… bewildered folk, abandoned cars, Doctor Pepper quarts, staggering, drunk – better reality pursuit.
Anomie by any measure.
Next morning – refreshed, positive frame of mind. Daylight revealed southern Utah beauty. Not completely alone. Canyon-side campsite. Porridge/coffee breakfast. Other campers – greetings, chats.
Solo travel – more people met. Solitude perceived, approachability increased. Group/companion travel – less interaction.
Exception: Fanny travel. Extreme popularity. Lovely, kind, gregarious, super smart, unusually loud Shanghai woman. Huge adventure motorcycle – attention magnet.
Me? Grey balding middle-aged “gammon” (snowflake descriptor), mid-life crisis stereotype. Honda Africa Twin – attention magnet. Bikers, travelers – chats, motorcycle impressions requests. Favorable impressions, consistently.
Africa Twin scarcity in US at expedition time. Bikers – waiting lists. Curiosity about rider, journey.
Not easy explanation. Englishman, Hong Kong resident, Shanghai resident, UK resident, South Africa resident, homes in all locations.
Journey start point? England, Hong Kong, Cape Town, Boulder.
Journey start date? Thirty years ago, ten years ago, June 2010, last week. Confusion likely. Certainty: my own.
First solo day morning – route ahead planning. BDR adherence (mostly), detours for interesting sites.
Evening campsite setup, morning pack-up – quick, rehearsed, efficient luggage system. Wolfman soft panniers – spacious, easy loading. Yellow dry bags inside panniers – pull out, fill, push back, strap down.
Food, water, cooking gear – one pannier. Biking kit, camping chair, tools – other pannier. Camping gear, spare clothes – yellow North Face dufflebag. SW Motech luggage rack, bungees – secure strapping. Black sheepskin seat cover – rarely used, Honda seat – supremely comfortable, superior to KTMs.
Small Wolfman tank bag – camera gear, maps, chargers, cables. Valuables – Rev’It riding gear secret pockets. Larger tank bag (bigger map pocket) preference, Wolfman soft panniers – highly impressed, “perfect adventure bike” kit list addition.
Tourist lookout point – “The Needles.” Panoramic Canyonlands, meandering Colorado River views. Arches park – tourist hordes, Harley/touring bike destination. US$25 entry fee – avoided. Free views all around.
Small store, petrol station near national park. Slightly pricier, 85 Octane “gas.” Tank topped up. Cross-country course set. BDR pick-up, Duchesne, Price, Horse Mountain, Twin Peaks, Bluff, Mexican Hat, trip highlight – Valley of the Gods.
Right turn off tarmac. Days without tarmac roads. Gravel, light sand trails – Africa Twin perfection. Solitude – most of day. Mountain ascent – husband/wife couple, Suzuki 250s, New York holiday.
Surprised by big bike in dirt bike territory. Hunting season warning – ATV hunting parties.
Thick woodland, single-track mud trails. High above hot desert expanse. Enjoyable, cool temperature.
Maps – few tracks shown. Reality – hundreds of unmarked trails, crisscrossing directions. Deer, antelope – forest bounding, startled freezes.
Hunters – local wildlife persecutors. Honey Boo Boo “make merika great again” camouflage. ATVs, 4×4 trucks, woodland camps. Chats with a few. Animosity disguised. Normal people – seemingly. Animal shooting attraction – incomprehensible. America, expensive trucks, ATVs – starvation not a factor. Killing – survival situation only, imaginable.
Don’t get it. Don’t want to get it.
Mountain trail riding, up and down. Streams, dry sandy river beds crossings. Long sand sections – tire limitations, bike weight – apparent.
Scenery – remote. Sunset approaching. Trail drift – west, not east (Blanding direction). No worries. Campsite options – plentiful. Rivers, streams, fire-friendly locations. Wilderness solitude. Mind drifted – bear-food attraction prospect. Bear warning signs – noted. Mountain lions – reported abundance. Leopards in Africa analogy – rare encounters. Bear/mountain lion sighting – desired, despite creature-eating potential.
Night sky – clear, full moon – bright. Isolated, peaceful campsite. Firewood – abundant. Stream water – crystal clear, pure taste.
Camping food – pretty good (Tobasco enhancement). Mexican low-alcohol beer – large can. Utah beer laws – daft religious reasons, low alcohol only. Soul of the Universe alcohol content beer mandate – unremembered. Arse-wiping hand directive – also absent.
Johnny Rotten autobiography – entertainment. Few pages before sleep.
Middle of night – scuffling noises. Deer outside tent. Unbothered by me. Happy presence. No rain, not freezing. Tent outer cover off. Stars visible through flysheet. This is it. Day riding, beautiful surroundings, superb motorcycle, camping under stars, fire in woods. Bliss.
Next day – quick pack-up. Route plan – Utah BDR remainder to Four Corners. Detours – Monument Valley (Wile Coyote scenery, buttes), Mexican Hat, Route 261 switchbacks, Valley of the Gods highlight.
Enjoyable day’s riding. 485 miles total. Much of it off-road. BDR – 850 miles. Significant diversion on Utah section’s last day.
Mexican Hat, Monument Valley – impressive, tourist crowds – blunted impact. Valley of the Gods – trip highlight. Unearthly scenery.
Standing on pegs, bright red dirt, rock structures, arches, spires, buttes. Solitary open-top white sports car, well-dressed couple. Excited waves. Lady jumping, filming. Driver beaming, David Hasselhoff doppelganger.
Only in America.
Four Corners monument – “Breaking Bad” TV series. Take a look decision. Scruffy Navajo Nation settlements. Poverty trophies: broken down cars, discarded goods, tatty trailers.
Navajo petrol station/ten-pin bowling center/burger bar. Burger – indigestion regret. Bowling ball preference.
Native Indians in the flesh – large numbers, first time. Asian appearance – surprising. Chinese discover America theory, Bering Straits migration.
Four Corners – pay to see man-made, unexciting monument. Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, Colorado confluence.
Seen, done, 10-second visit.
Early evening ride to Cortez. Colorado BDR leg 1 start. Strange structure right side. Volcano? “Close Encounters” mountain?
Ship Rock.
Wikipedia description:
Shiprock (Navajo: Tsé Bitʼaʼí, “rock with wings” or “winged rock”[4] ) is a monadnock rising nearly 1,583 feet (482.5 m) above the high-desert plain of the Navajo Nation in San Juan County, New Mexico, United States. Its peak elevation is 7,177 feet (2,187.5 m) above sea level. It lies about 10.75 miles (17.30 km) southwest of the town of Shiprock, which is named for the peak.
20-mile detour from Cortez route. Closer look. Truly surreal. Radial arms, clock-hand like. Volcano throat erosion remnant. Navajo reverence, protection – understandable.
No hanging about, Navajo Nation camping restrictions. Cortez – pleasant surprise. Restaurants, bars, motels.
Bar visit. Spicy buffalo wings, beer. Talented, entertaining musicians. Late night realization. Campsite search – no time. Cheapest motel – curry corner shop smell (1970s England).
Depressing motel. Washed up. Exploration re-commenced. Another bar, down the road. Superb one-man band – Hurricane Jake (https://www.facebook.com/HurricaneJakesOneManBand/).
Really good. Small audience – one third of it. “Blues and Brews” festival – Telluride. People gone there. Telluride – next day’s plan.
Vindaloo Motel escape motivation. Late-night supermarket run. Fruit, veggies stocked up. Bike refuel – “gas station” across road.
Two young Norwegian lads – Christian Mørck Røde, Peter Saxhaug Solnør. “Adventured up” Kawasaki 650 KLRs.
KLRs – fondness. Fanny and I – Hong Kong one.
Alaska to Argentina ride – Chasing Borders (www.chasingborders.com). Great to meet excited, positive explorers. Admiration, envy.
Next day – BDR route to Telluride ski resort. Gravel tracks, Beaver Creek stream.
Hunting camps, ATVs, horses, cattle – track sharing. Few other motorcycles. Mountain coolness – noticeable. Mitas E07 tires – OKish, back end slip on steeper slopes.
Telluride – earlier arrival than expected. Packed with people. Motorcycles, RVs, SUVs, camper vans. Upmarket ski resort. Warm, sunny arrival. Festival goers – party mood.
“Blues and Brews” festival gates. Camping – no room. US$250 admission!!! Ruled out. Bands, lively bars/restaurants – Telluride alternative.
Black Yamaha Super Tenere in street. John? Caught up? No. Young lad from Oregon. “Ironbutt” ride across America. 1000 miles/day, 14 hours/day. Tough stuff.
Chat, team up, campsite search. Telluride evening beer plan.
Mountain campsite – 8 miles from Telluride. Government site. US$15 fee, shared cost. Cable car to Telluride valley – free. Camp “guards” (retired couple fee collectors). Campsite setup, cable car to Telluride.
Lively evening. Local ales, good bands sampled. 8 pm – fading fast. Craft IPAs, salad, chicken wings – only sustenance. Whacked. Cable car back up, campsite return.
Extremely cold night – 12,000 feet, Rockies, autumn. Out for the count. Deer/elk nocturnal visit.
Next day – bright and early. Steepest, highest Colorado BDR sections ahead. Anxiety – Ben’s warnings.
Utah BDR – sand tire limitations proven. Sani Pass (Lesotho), Mushroom Farm Pass (Malawi), Rift Valley (Kenya) – zipped up on fully laden KTM 990 Adventure. World riding experience. How hard could it be?
Ophir Pass direction. Signs – 4x4s only, impassable when wet.
Ophir Pass – rocky, steep scree slope right side, uphill. Pictures seen, steeper in reality.
Midway stop – picture taking.
Big Mistake.
Bike started slipping backwards. Heck! Engine on, 1st gear engaged. Back wheel spun, bike backwards acceleration. Large rocks, recent rains, washed-out gravel, slippy boulders, gullies, uneven rubble. Not good!
Rock jammed front wheel. Back wheel – skidding, squirming. This ain’t good!
Honda traction control (4 settings) – activated. Easy button access, left grip, on the go. Heavy bike – still backwards slippage.
Continued, backwards slide into ski resort. Upright – unlikely. Bike drop on sharp rocks – significant damage. Luggage unload, tire air release – only options. Steep rocks – tire slippage, valve rip risk.
Full bike gear, steep scree slope perch. Dry bags out of Wolfman panniers, North Face bag off. Luggage carry uphill. Bike return.
Scree slope slide back down to bike. Rocks removed from front tire. Smooth path gouged out. Bike re-mount, traction control #1 engaged. Bike gradually moving again.
Big bike riding secret – correct tires (knobbly ideal), smooth riding, 2nd gear, momentum maintenance, confidence, skill modicum, confidence paramount.
Huffing, puffing – exertion, high altitude. Flow established. Luggage collection stop – resisted. Steep, rocky surface ahead.
Hiccup – 180 switchback turn, loose gravel, exposed rocks, awkward camber, poor riding. Back tire squirrelled, managed turn.
Pushed on uphill. Gentler incline – bike parked. Luggage retrieval hike down slope. Exhausting.
Luggage hiking start. 4×4 SUV, elderly ladies, uphill crawl. Scandinavian-sounding driver (Finnish), American friend. Following me, struggling observation. Luggage collection offer. Nice of them.
SUV back seat hop-in. Gushing appreciation. Ophir Pass – easy for rally/F1 driver land woman. Hotel locals warned pass washed out, ungraded.
Heavy laden bike, Mitas tires – limits tested. Africa Twin, Metzler Karoo 3s, zipped up. Less luggage, more confident rider. KTM – breeze. Sani Pass (Lesotho), Baviaanskloof (South Africa) – 1190 Adv R, TKC 80s, full luggage. Himalayas – Chinese CF Moto 650, road tires!!!
Stop faffing about Utley.
Ladies thanked at pass top. Bike re-loaded. Less steep tar/gravel road descent. T-junction, Million Dollar Highway.
BDR options to Lake City: Animas Fork (direct, eastwards, mountain ridges), Ouray (north-eastwards, Sunshine Mountain). Ouray choice. Good choice. Easy off-road ride, stunning scenery.
Utah BDR similarities – tarmac interludes, twisty steep gravel roads, high altitude passes. Reasonably quick pace. Momentum lesson learned. Tires – cursing continued. Rental bike limitations – reinforced. Bike buy/sell alternative – longer expeditions. Not feasible for <month rides.
Early still. Pushed on through Cathedral. Good gravel tracks, twisty mountain tracks, valleys, streams, lakes. Late afternoon – Taylor Park Reservoir. Trading Post – fuel, coffee, water refill.
Arrival, mid-sized dirt/enduro bikes in car park. Restaurant entry. Riders eating. Introductions, chats. Older chaps, more challenging trails.
Area knowledge shared, route advice given. Restaurant specialty – homemade apple pie and ice cream – treated me. Delicious, welcome.
One chap – 70+, stripped down, modified DR 650, enduro battle mode. Camped with buddy. “State of the art” camper van/recreational vehicle. Super luxurious, better equipped than most homes. Trailer – assortment of off-road/touring motorcycles.
“That’s the way to do it… if rich.” Donald Trump modesty level. “Very rich” assurance. Apple pie guilt – alleviated.
Taylor Park camping thought. Cottonwood Pass nearby. Cottonwood Creek campsites, Rainbow Lake – free, plentiful. Traders gas station intel.
Ophir Pass struggle – Cottonwood Pass evening battle reluctance. Cottonwood Pass – easy, enjoyable. Great views, wide hard-packed gravel uphill, tar road downhill.
Tar road drift towards Buena Vista. Campsite abundance. Wooded campsite, beautiful creek, campers pitched already.
KTM 1290 Super Adventure couple – next to me. Conversation attempts – shrew-faced woman damper. Thin mean lips, blonde dyed hair, irritating “Fox News” accent, unpleasant disposition. KTM man – eternal peace, happiness, motorcycle garage fantasy.
“Go on man, do it, last chance. Wilderness bad things. Blame it on bears, I’ll witness!”
John Lydon chapter reading attempt. Out for the count. Another comfortable, enjoyable outdoor camp.
Valley campsite. Sunlight – hour after sunrise. Breakfast, route charting. Coffee in Buena Vista, BDR deviation – Aspen (ski resort, “Dumb and Dumber” movie, wealthy skier destination).
Buena Vista – not far. Nice little town. Refuel, coffee, internet catch-up – nice coffee shop. Delicious, extra-large muffin temptation.
Locals chatted with. BDR pick-up to Leadville, doubled back to Twin Peaks, Aspen. Endless Aspen forests, rainbow colors. Golden yellow – last color before winter leaf fall. Perfect timing.
Perfect riding, stunning scenery.
Aspen entry – very upmarket. Confusing one-way system, top-end shops, restaurants. Carmel, California vibe. Rich, snobby.
Aspen’s only Australian coffee shop – chance encounter. Orange 2007 KTM 990 Adventure parked outside – Fanny’s “bigbiketrip” twin.
Coffee shop entry – unwelcome vibe. Smart casual clientele – recoiled. Sight, smell – undeniable. Server – snobby Millennial type, curt manner, unattractive disposition. Outside coffee, Fanny WeChat chat.
Trip end approaching reflection. Time passed quickly. John – no contact. Colorado northward ride continuation? Southern Utah, Eureka/Reno route back to Walnut Creek?
Much later – Fanny update. John – missus departure threat followed through. Truckee cabin retirement. Well played, Sir.
John, South Africa ride invite. Lend you my 1190 Adv R, I’ll ride Fanny’s 790 Adv R. Proper riding. Promise to last till day 4!
Coffee, KTM 990 Adv owner suggestions. BDR pick-up via Meredith, Basalt. Stunning trout fishing river – meandering, sparkling.
Fly fisherman in waders. Magical surroundings. Twilight years whiling away option – mental note.
Turnoff route – mountains to Eagle. Gypsum destination – wrong turn, challenging gravel, extremely rutted hard-packed mud.
Impassable when wet. Mud rut tops – high. Balance beam gymnast riding. Hunter on ATV – rough time too, bikers further down – worse.
Group of motorcyclists. Adventure bikes. All on sides, stuck in ruts. Standing on pegs, 2nd gear weave, skim across mud crests. Enthusiastic wave as passed.
Couldn’t stop, couldn’t take pictures/video. Foot down – ruts, bike topple. Adventure bike gaggle – already experienced.
Rode by – stupidly superior feeling. Pride before a fall – self-check.
Ride enjoyment. Technical section – surprisingly similar to Honda Wales off-road course. Drier conditions. Tires – sand, steep rocky scree enemies. Loose gravel, hard-packed mud – E07s no problem. Varied Mitas tire reviews – understandable.
Mountain trail descent. Tar road – Eagle to Gypsum. Gravel trails alongside Colorado River. Valleys to Steamboat Springs.
Steamboat Springs south arrival. Wyoming northward extension – no intention. Trip finish – Pikes Peak blast. Guy Martin Pikes Peak hill climb video – inspiration. See it.
Dark now. Campsite near Lake Catamount. Highway 40 south direction next day, Colorado Springs. Steamboat Springs – touristy, free camping scarcity. Northernmost point.
Exposed, windy next to large lake, high Rockies. Sleeping bag comfort. Illegal camping likely (water source regulations). Early pack-up, Pikes Peak direction, good progress.
Midday arrival. Highway 40, 70 fast road riding. Pikes Peak summit – visible from distance. Wrong turn. Batteries dead – electrical devices. 12v socket charging – power cable broken.
Pikes Peak with Guy Martin
Wrong way in Pikes Peak foothills. Neck sting – nasty red welt, weeks lasting. Unusually painful insect sting. Unknown culprit. Half-hour stop – eyesight blurry, nausea. Strange.
Pain subsided – carried on. Correct route found. Twisty road to Pikes Peak summit. Small entrance fee. Weather – less clear than previous week. Brilliant view nonetheless.
Summit – bikers, train tourists.
Summit – interesting, ride more fun. Mountain descent, Colorado Springs direction.
Bike return prep, Hong Kong flight prep. 3 days remaining. Urban camping site near Denver airport suburbs – AirBnB.
AirBnB pictures/description – great. Denver arrival, rush hour traffic, destination – Colfax Avenue. Increasingly depressing, run-down. Neighborhood – revolting. Drug addicts, prostitutes, predatory lowlifes – street corners.
Street of run-down bungalows. Broken down cars, washing machines, appliances – front yards. Street potential – mess cleared up. Lowlifes – productive activities, drug cessation.
Taxi Driver 1979 vibe. Saxophone tune, Robert DeNiro narration – twilight zone impressions.
Runner thought – booking money abandonment. AirBnB host – appeared. Kite-high appearance. Stoned pretense. Back alley ride, bike park next to chained wire fence, back garden advice. Tent, fairy lights – garden. Out of place.
Grand scheme of things. Get on with it.
Unpacking, belongings securing. Zombies walking around – potential theft. Food search.
Big mistake.
Former policeman instincts – unsafe area after dark. Anglo Saxon, sober disposition – caution prioritized. Foxtrot Oscar. Shooting celebration country, cannabis legal, anything else illegal country. Law and order – Aspen, 100 miles away. Post-apocalyptic nightmare – this Denver part.
Backtracked to tent. Freeze-dried beans and chili, tea mug, shower in house, host’s nice elderly mother chat, book chapters, sleep.
Pre-dawn rise. Bike still there – hurray! 40-mile ride to Boulder, bike return. Dennys Diner breakfast. Obnoxious, loud, obese waiter reprimand – motorcycle parking spot offense. Car parking spot, not motorcycle parking spot.
“Where’s motorcycle parking spot?” irritable question.
“There ain’t one, man, MOVE IT.”
“Then it will stay where it fucking is,” quiet English accent reply. “Please may I have a menu.”
Subdued waiter, menu drop, in his own time.
Waiter upsetting – not good idea, food service reality. Rude sanctimonious yanks pontificating – had enough. Nice, friendly, interesting people met in America. Obnoxious, arrogant ones – too many.
Eggs and spinach breakfast – eventually arrived.
Coffee refill – never happened. Fat waiter tip – “no carbs after 5 pm!“
Day going well so far. Not.
Spot on 10 am – Africa Twin return to Ben. Undamaged, no drops, pleased to report. 4000 miles clocked. Ben fussed about bike collection two weeks prior. Dick Dastardly and Muttley medal deserved – two BDRs, fully loaded Africa Twin, wrong tires, scratch-free return.
Played it down, of course. Point made. Amen!
Hong Kong flight next morning. Boulder wandering for day’s remainder. Zombieland return postponement.
Pearl Street patrol, pretentious coffee shops, bars. Regional Transport District (“RTD”) bus back to Denver, central station connecting bus to Colfax. Few dollars.
African-American, Hispanic ladies on bus, work return journey. Good chat. Only Anglo Saxon on bus – standout. Female bus driver – funny, animated. Africa travels described – African American audience. Boring them? Fascinated, prompting for more. Africa visit desire expressed, danger concerns. Colfax Avenue bus window view. “Considerably less dangerous than where we are,” assurance given.
Comfortable, peaceful ghetto campsite night. Early next day – Uber taxi, cheerful, friendly driver Charles, Denver International airport.
Uber taxi – first time. Third of regular cab price. iPhone app tracking, driver bio, car description. Technology – great.
Hong Kong return, jet lag recovery. “Small bike trip” in USA reflection.
Honda Africa Twin – great adventure motorcycle. Utah, Colorado scenery – truly magnificent. Clean, tidy, unpolluted air. Perfect autumn weather. Kind, friendly people (mostly). Super fun desert tracks, mountain trails riding.
As good as Africa?
Of course not, no elephants.
