Corona, NM – Logan, NM

275 miles

Today I got up 6:15am to get an early start to make the big push to Logan, NM. As I crawled out of my tent in a remote corner of the town park of Corona, I felt a little like a homeless person with a cool bike. Throughout the night, I could hear freight trains passing through the center of town.

In this age of FedEx and email, train transport seems almost antiquated, but it was cool to see that this part of American history was still being utilized (despite keeping me awake in my little hovel). I drove back to the gas station I visited last night, fueled up and strapped water to every conceivable point on my bike. I was in no mood to run out water like yesterday. I had my biggest day of off roading ahead and I wanted to make sure I was prepared.

I headed 30 miles east of Corona to find the trailhead to get me back on route. However, one problem with following the Shadow of the Rockies Trail is that rest stops and towns are far and few in between.

At one point when I was about 5 miles back on the trail, a pickup truck started heading towards me. Bear in mind, this is the FIRST time I’ve seen another vehicle on the roads I’ve been riding. The driver stopped and I stopped, bracing for a lecture that I had somehow wandered upon private land (I get lectured a lot). The driver was nothing else but friendly and confirmed that I was indeed riding on county roads, not private.

Pick-Up Truck Driver: You know where you’re going?

Me: Surprisingly, I actually do. I’m trying to get to Logan today riding off road.

Pick-Up Truck Driver: Hmmm…not much between here and Logan.

Me: Yeahh…I made sure to fill up on gas and water.

Pick-Up Truck Driver: Well, good luck to you.

I continued on, passing many horse and cattle ranches. Long roads of gravel and dirt stretched out along straight trajectories taking me deeper into the prairie. The temperature didn’t seem as oppressive as the last few days, but I’m still riding in the high 90s.

After the drama from yesterday, I’m feeling a little hesitant to be off road. I hated the reality of being trapped behind a fence with no way out (a situation entirely of my own making). Yesterday, I just got lucky. Today, I made the decision to turn around if I encountered any closed fences.

For the most part, the riding was very mellow, mainly following country dirt roads that bordered ranches. I seem to have left the high desert area and am now entering the Great Plains region (I’m only a few miles from the Oklahoma border).

I was pleased to be riding at a more subdued pace, and I was slowly getting my mojo back after dropping the bike yesterday.

Then things went very bad, very fast. I was riding along a ranch road that had a single strand of barbed wire running across the cattle crossing. It had a few plastic bags tied at the ends that allowed me to see it at all. Unfortunately, I didn’t see it until it was too late. I jammed hard on the brakes and my front tire washed out in the loose dirt, sending me over the handlebars and the bike crashing into the ground. Again, I’m fine (always ride with protection people!), but the bike took it’s hardest hit yet.

I didn’t even have time to take a macabre photo as fuel was already leaking out (the gas cap popped open). Fuel is a precious commodity out here so I stumbled over quickly to get the bike back upright. The windshield was cracked and 3 out the 4 auxiliary lights got pretty mangled. Pretty damn shitty because of a single wire gate. I was (and still am) pissed.

Luckily, the bike started up (I had already began calculations as to how far I’d have to hike out). These BMWs are built like goddamn tanks.

Yeah, no kidding…

Sadly, that last fall really put damper on the rest of the day. Riding through the remote plains was beginning to feel monotonous. Controlled burns were going on everywhere and the high winds were kicking up massive soot clouds. It was hard to see at times and my eyes were tearing nonstop.  You can see the scorched earth in this photo.  Really sort of eerie driving through it.

I met these guys along the way, and stopped to tell them how low I was feeling. They seemed to sympathize or at least faked it pretty well.

I took it slower again, and the roads were still pretty mellow. I was just a bit shaken, and the fear of getting caught with mechanical issues this far out was starting to gnaw at me.

The best thing happened all day when I crossed 1-40 and found the glorious Russell’s Truck Stop. Man, it felt like Disneyland inside these massive traveller centers. I felt like Templeton the Rat from Charlotte’s Web, basking in the air conditioned splendor and running around trying to sample and look at everything. It had an entire grocery store inside along with maps, gifts, beer, sandwiches, a full service diner and…an antique car museum. I know – WTF? But there weren’t just shleppy cars from a junkyard. This truck stop has some serious wheels.

It was nice to get a little bit of (I cringe as I type)…culture at the truck stop. I feel like the last several days have been so much about riding and making miles that I’m not interacting with my surroundings other than enjoying breathtaking scenery.  Maybe I’m just not drinking enough water…

I made it to Logan. So damn thrilled. I debated getting a motel, but ended up at Lake Ute State Park. I’ll splurge on a hotel when I head west to Santa Fe tomorrow after finishing the New Mexico leg of the Shadow Of The Rockies trail.

WHAT HAVE I LEARNED / DISCOVERED TODAY: No such thing as riding too slow. Having the bike fail in a remote region is dangerous and potentially a trip-ender. Also, I’m considering taking my next rest day exclusively at a truck stop. I’d get to meet interesting people, eat and drink well and catch up on my straight to DVD backlog of titles.

Capitan, NM – Corona, NM
67 Miles

Today was very tough, hard day.

I started the day leaving the tiny town of Capitan and looked to continue the Shadow of the Rockies trail north. As you recall from the last post, the reason I stayed in Capitan was because I had some confusion as to where actual the trail was. So far, the directions I’ve downloaded have been spot on. Staying on-course is a cause of some concern for me as I’m venturing 50 miles into ranch country and national forest and if I get lost…well, let’s just say the blog posts would be getting a lot more sporadic.

But around Capitan, things got confusing. Remember that I had a choice of two roads, the righthand route took me into the groovy teen bible camp.

The lefthand route was actually far more gnarly and gated off by the Forest Service. Apparently, due to the drought, there was an extreme risk of fire so Lincoln National Forest was shut down to visitors or any type of motor traffic. At first I figured there was no way that it was part of the Shadow of the Rockies Trail.  It seemed much greater in difficulty than the roads I’d experienced thus far.  However, I knew via my GPS coordinates that I was in the right place.  Clearly by process of elimination, the left route was the correct one.

Only one problem.  A big fat locked gate blocking the entrance.

But in my infinite wisdom, I also saw a really easy way around the gate, and surely the person who sent me these directions would have told me if I should avoid the National Forest.

So I went.

Holy God in Heaven was that a tough route.  I really haven’t been that nervous in a while.  You can see by my distance that it took me most of the day just to do 60 miles. Part of that was due to the increasing numbers of locked gates that I had to maneuver around or partially disassemble in order to pass. I would have never committed myself so far into the route if I had any idea how tough or inaccessible the roads became as I ventured further.  Also, the top of the pass (pictured below) was at almost 10,000 feet and I was getting winded easily.

The problem is, the road only really runs north. It’s much harder to negotiate the bike going south which meant that I had to keep going with the trail no matter what it threw at me. There was no turning back.

The other reason I took so long is that I had a few crashes. I’m fine but poor Bumblebee finally went down. I knew it was only a matter of time, but still it was very sad and very frustrating to deal with.  I really, really love this bike and it just looks wounded lying down on the ground.  The bike weights over 700 lbs so moving it out of a ditch by myself was a sincere challenge.

Soon, insipid thoughts start creeping into your head. What if I can’t get it out? What if I’m stuck? What if I have to leave the bike and walk out 30 miles? How will I ever get the bike out with the roads being closed and totally unreachable by most 4-wheel drive cars. I’d have to leave the bike here for weeks.  What if I actually got hurt?  Nobody is coming and nobody can help.

What if I really fucked up?

Luckily, after about 2 hours of wrestling and revving I was able to get my bike out of the two ditches she landed in. But I had used up most of my strength, all of my water, and fear was starting to get the better of me.

I finally got the bike through Capitan Pass and around all of the locked Forest Service gates. I was heading for a blessed paved road, Route 246. It stood a mere 10 feet away from me. One problem. Another locked gate. This one was big and there was no going around it. I had also ventured onto private land, which generally isn’t a big deal as long as you stick to the roads (assuming they’re open).

I stood there stumped. I’d be able to overcome every other exhausting obstacle so far, but there was no way I could move forward, and I sure as hell couldn’t go back. I was stuck and there was no way out.

Finally, a truck passed towing a large horse trailer.  It slowed down enough to allow the driver to stare menacingly at me.

Me: Hi there!

Ranch Owner: <silence>

Me: Boy, I sure am lost. Am I on your land?  I feel like I might be.

Ranch Owner: You are.

Me: Well, I’d like to get off it as soon as possible. I’m very very sorry.

Ranch Owner: How the hell did you get in there? The gate is locked.

Me: I came the other way. Over the mountain pass from Capitan.

Ranch Owner: But mountain is closed right now.

Me: I know. It’s been a long day.

Half an hour passes and the Ranch Owner finally comes back with a key for the gate, allowing me to pass. He was definitely a little pissed (rightly so) that I had been trespassing on his land and on the State’s Land when there were clear signs forbidding it. I think my saving grace was that I tried to be as apologetic and polite as possible, but also I had New York plates. Everyone knows New Yorkers are pretty worthless when it comes to ranches so I think he might have written me off as an example of dumb Yankee tomfoolery.

At that point, I was feeling pretty sure that I wanted to bail and just stick to paved roads for a while. But deep down, I knew that wasn’t the spirit of this part of the journey. Despite the difficulty of the riding today, I was still rewarded with some of the most stunning vistas I’ve seen the entire trip.

I pushed down Rt. 246 another few miles until I got to the trail head for the next leg of the trip. Now that I was off the mountain, I was driving on flat country and ranch roads which were much easier going. I traversed the Hasperos Canyon and passed a dozen or so cattle ranches along the way. Beautiful country. I’m so amazed how these ranchers can live such an isolated life. All of them (including the guy I trespassed on) seemed very nice.

Yeah, I went over this…

I made it to another paved road, Route 247, but I was pretty spent at this point. The map wanted me to continue right, but I could see that the small town of Corona was 30 miles on the left. I needed water and I hadn’t eaten much all day. In these situations, I go for the known value, as opposed to risking the unknown.

I’m in Corona now, and despite a promising name, there’s not much here. I stopped at the local gas station / deli and filled myself up with Gatorade and water. I asked the kind woman at the counter if there were any motels or restaurants nearby. She informed me that the nearest of either were about 50 miles away.

I asked about camping and she said nobody would mind if I pitched a tent on their local town park. I feel a little shady and vulnerable, but I think it will all be good.

I came looking for adventure, and today I got mine super sized. I’m a little full now.

WHAT I LEARNED / DISCOVERED TODAY: When a road is closed, leave it closed. I’m pushing it already by going off road solo. Today had some strong elements of stupidity that I’m not proud of. I’m also going to do my best to stay off private property (although it’s a little hard to know the difference between public and private in this neck of the woods). I just got insanely lucky that the ranch owner happened to drive by. Otherwise, I’d still be there. Lastly, BMW School saved my life today. Despite laying the bike down twice, I rode well and kept my cool.

Greenville, South Carolina

0 Miles

I arrived in Greenville, South Carolina along with my friend Frank from New York to attend a two-day BMW Offroad Riding Clinic held at the company’s U.S. manufacturing headquarters. I had been waiting for this weekend for months. This was going to be awesome!

Two days of driving MY EXACT BIKE through terrain and obstacles I would never have the courage to attempt. But because it’s BMW’s bike, one can afford to make small mistakes (like dropping the bike and letting it roll down a gravel hill or smashing it into someone else’s bike – both of which I witnessed).

We showed up at the gorgeous facility that BMW calls its Performance Center. The company hosts a variety of other programs at this location which features a huge winding test track for their automotive clinics (including a slick pad that is kept wet and allows drivers to correct spinout due to loss of traction) as well as miles of off-road riding for the motorcycles. They also constructed a huge gravel pad, sand pit, hill climbs and a myriad of other obstacles to help us learn what our motorcycles are capable of, given the correct technique.

As the elephant said to his mistress, the mouse, – nothing is easy, neither was BMW Off Road School. In its literature, the school states that riding continues through rain or shine. It also continues in the 100+ degree heat wearing helmets, armored jackets and pants along with knee-high riding boots. I thought my earlier riding through Alabama, Mississippi and Texas were tough. But leisurely riding on paved roads paled in comparison to the physicality of off road riding in the heat and humidity in South Carolina. I was utterly drenched in sweat all day, and even overnight my riding pants couldn’t completely dry out. It was crazy hot.

Three instructors, Ross, Blair and Ricardo, would be our sensei in all aspects of offroad motorcycle proficiency. When you finally decide that you want to ride your motorcycle across Mongolia or traverse the Darien Gap, this is the place you come for training. These guys are the best of the best.

Our class was comprised of eleven students of varying ages, although the average probably skewed a bit past 35. The instructors remarked that despite our class being all male, they usually had at least one female in attendance. None of us possessed any extensive off road riding experience, and a palpable sense of anxiety permeated the room as we watched a marketing video depicting motorcycles slogging through deep mud and catching air off 6-foot ledges. One guy asked if anyone had any Advil or Aleve.

After a brief classroom session, the eleven students (including me) went out to the racetrack to meet our steeds for the next two days. A BMW motorcycle buffet was presented to us featuring F650GS, F800GS, R1200GS, and of course my favorite – the R1200GS Adventure.

The class started with a presentation of the different motorcycles and their varying operation. The instructors then surprised us by taking one of the R1200GS bikes and laying it on the asphalt.

“You’ll be dropping these bikes a lot over the next two days so the first thing you better learn is how to pick one up.” Blair explained to the class.

Bear in mind, these bikes weigh over 600 pounds when fueled so “picking one up” is not a trifle matter, especially when one has been eating at Waffle House and scarfing BBQ for the last two weeks. Blair demonstrated an ingenious method of turning your back to the motorcycle and “walking the bike up” using your legs and opposed to throwing out your back. I’m not saying it was easy, but it was clearly doable.

With the basics out of the way, we proceeded to mount our bikes and head out to a gravel field where we learned the next foundation skill – standing on the pegs. We were expected to be riding standing up at all times to facilitate greater control over the motorcycle. This way, the instructors explained, the bike can be jostling underneath you, while you stay above it and in control. This also meant that yours truly would performing a half squat for 6 hours each day. Please review the above descriptions of the South Carolina heat and my poor dietary choices before comprehending how arduous this might be.

But man, the instructors were right! Standing up afforded us far greater control over rough uneven terrain that sitting down ever could.

“Stand up, and stay in control. Remember if you’re sitting down, you’re just along for the ride.” The lead instructor Ross continually told us.

We proceeded to ride in long ovals practicing standing up while alternating lifting our legs from each peg, then riding with one foot tucked underneath our butts, then graduating to riding sidesaddle. This is where the part about dropping these behemoth motorcycles came to fruition.

Bam! Crash!! Crunch!! Bikes started dropping like hail as we tried to master riding while having our LEFT legs standing on the RIGHT peg. Think about it for a sec. Pretty damn hard.

Luckily, Germans don’t make wimpy motorcycles and all the bikes are fitted with roll bars protecting them from the inevitable put downs. The curriculum quickly accelerated to riding our bikes over sets of ruts, small hills, and drop offs.

The overriding emphasis focused on accomplishing these riding challenges in a slow and controlled fashion. Pinning the throttle to plow through whatever lay ahead would only result in launching a 600-pound bike though the air possibly landing on top of you whenever your body should choose to crash back to Earth. This was sadly proven to the class through example on more than one occasion.

I found myself doing well balancing the bike though slow tight maneuvers on the enduro course and I had a pretty good sense of exactly how much throttle to apply when I approached hills and camelhumps. But soon, I would meet my nemesis.

Sand.

Unghhh! I HATE driving a motorcycle through sand. Earlier this year, I went on a motorcycle trip with my brother to Baja, Mexico where we rode through hundreds of miles of sand. I hated almost every minute of it. That’s because I totally suck at it.

The trick to riding in sand is hitting it with enough speed that you effectively surf on top of it, as opposed to sinking into it. This increased speed means that every bump and ridge on the surface gets translated into your handlebars that much faster.

I did Baja with my 300-pound Husqvarna 510TE motorcycle. Now I was at BMW School with a big GS bike weighing more than double.

As soon as my front tire hit the deep sand pit, my handlebars started gyrating like a drunk Elvis impersonator. Of course, the inbred male response to all predicaments automotive is to give the fucker more gas. I heard one of my earlier driving instructors refer to this masculine phenomenon as “red mist”. This sudden application of throttle in deep sand results in either the bike spinning around 90 degrees tossing you unceremoniously over the handlebars (I call it the Bavarian rodeo) or your bike promptly sinks two feet into the sand. Both suck.

Sadly, I was never able to successfully negotiate the sand pit without laying my bike down (or shooting off into the grass on a diverted 90 degree angle – that’s really fun too). I tried keeping my head up and eyes looking forward, not down. I continually maintained a steady application of throttle. But, I just couldn’t keep my bike upright in the deep sand. On the bright side, I have now learned that should I encounter such sand during my off road travels in New Mexico or the Southwest, I should promptly turn around and seek the safety of the nearest Waffle House. Good to know these things in advance.

However, my off road education ended on high note, literally. Throughout the school session, there was one monster hill near the center of the endure course that kept winking at us, daring us to scale its heights with our trusted bikes. None of the instructors would tell us when we would be tackling this hulking obstacle but all the students suspected that it would somehow pop up on the final exam.

In the last two hours on the second day, our class broke up into smaller groups each lead by one of the instructors through the enduro course. Everything was fair game as we tackled all the forest, bridges, ruts, bumps, and drop offs that we had encountered previously, albeit at higher speeds this time. Finally, my group pulled up beside the Big Kahuna and I looked up at 50 feet of steep loose gravel that lay before me.

“Are you guys ready to hit the big one?” our instructor Ricardo asked.

Now, what do you say to that? In an all-male class, declining a testosterone laced challenge like gunning your motorcycle up a steep hill followed by a sheer drop off would by like admitting to knowing the lyrics to Les Miserables. The only acceptable response to the instructor’s question was “hell yes!” or faking a mild cardiac arrest.

I approached the steep hill cautiously, applying a committed burst of throttle as my front tire reached the incline and the motorcycle’s suspension compressed. I quickly remembered to keep my eyes forward and to look straight ahead which startlingly meant I was now staring straight up at a cloud formation and a Continental commuter flight on final approach to the nearby airport. But just then, my bike managed to summit over the peak and my straight-ahead gaze was rewarded by seeing a gravel path leading me back down to Earth. Pretty goddamn thrilling.

Overall, the class was a game changer for me. It greatly expanded on my existing riding skills and made me appreciate my own motorcycle even more. I’m not sure what roads lie ahead as I tackle the Great West and some of our nation’s largest national parks. But now I feel I like I have the skills and confidence to negotiate most terrain (or at least know what to turn around and run away from).

On a side note, Frank and I did manage to sneak away from school long enough to visit the Zentrum BMW Museum where they showcase some amazing vehicles from BMW’s past, present and future. I could try to describe some of the amazing cars and bikes we saw but I think I’ll let the pictures do the talking.

WHAT I LEARNED / DISCOVERED THIS WEEKEND: The most important lesson about motorcycle riding is where you look. Your head is always up high, eyes on the horizon looking ahead not down in front of you. Feels sort of like a life lesson.