Mind Games at 11,000 Miles
So MotorMilt & I finally got back on the bikes, well the beemers anyway, and hit the canyons this morning. I’d like to be able to say that it was a typically wonderful saturday morning ride, but it wasn’t. My head was somewhere else. Focused not on the enjoyment of the this particular ride, but rather on the ride I wasn’t having. One on a Ducati. Part of me feels like this is an absolute shame since it was a steller morning as far as the mountains and canyons go. Light traffic, basically open roads, a bit overcast but still warm. All the ingredients were there for a wonderful ride. Yet no matter how much I pushed it in order to break myself out of the funk, I couldn’t. Unfortunately given recent events I just can’t seem to shake my preoccupation with what is missing. What could have been… And I know that’s unfortuante since for the immediate future until all of this insurance crap gets sorted out I have no choice but to ride the beemer if I want to ride. And part of me feels very silly for even acting like they’re boring dull motorcycles, but somehow in my eyes through all of this that’s what they’ve become. As I rolled over 11,000 miles on the way home on the pacific coast highway I kept wondering why even bother with two bikes if your heart really isn’t in one of them anymore? I have yet to find a good answer, except one. Trade in the BMW when I go to get another Ducati. That seems like the most economical, emotional, and logical thing to do. Even though it hurts me a bit because part of me still loves the ‘idea’ of the beemer, I’ve come to the realization that I no longer love the ‘ride’ of the beemer. And that’s the bottom line.
The Beginning Of The End For The Beemer?
Got another ride in this morning, which was nice. Knowing that MotorMilt & I are about to hit the road for work for the next two weeks we decided it was probably a good idea to run the Beemers. Now I could be wrong but it seems to me that when the dreaded, “we have to run (fill in the blank) because otherwise the battery will run down and die” syndrome sets in you probably ought to realize that whatever mechanical object you’re referring to is headed towards the end of its lifecycle. I mean both of us knew that this work trip was coming up, yet we’ve been avoiding riding the Beemers in favor of the Ducs for the past two weekends. Perhaps that should tell us something?
In this case by the tine MotorMilt & I got to our breakfast local, we spent the entire meal talking about what our ideal sports-tourer motorcycle would be and I hate to say it, but in a number of categories the Beemers simply no longer satisfy either one of us. It seems amazing to me to suddenly find so much fault with two motorcycles that we both have enjoyed so much over the past several years. Of couse that was before the Ducs invaded and I don’t think it takes a rocket-scientist to realize that they have opened our eyes to a different kind of riding. A different feel if you would. Suddenly things like not having ABS brakes seems ok to both of us. Before the Ducs I was scared shitless about this, but now even with the ABS the Beemers feel weak compared to the Ducs and their monster front end power. And oddly enough I suddenly feel safer on the Ducs than the Beemers. Granted the Beemers still offer a wonderful blend of sports and touring. I just jones for more sports and less touring.
So we talked at length about it and basically what I think I would rather find is a bike that;
A) Has more power between 4k and 8k in the RPM band (perhaps even higher as well since the Beemers top out at 8k) B) Something that feels less upright C) Something with less girth between your legs D) More powerful brakes E) A bike that knows how to find its grove.
What I mean to say is that the Beemers require quite a bit of counter-steering, which up until now I’ve been a big fan of, but since the Ducs have come along I’ve come to realize that there are motorcycles out there that simply want to lean. That want to dive right into a corner and stay there, holding a firm line. And while I rode my ‘S’ this morning with more flair than I used to, it simply no longer feels as solid in a corner, as secure when stopping or as powerful when getting on the gas. It’s too refined. To mellow almost. And I hate to sound like I’m bitching about it because they are wonderful bikes in their own way, I simply yern for something else now…. Something with less slack.
So where does that leave either MotorMilt or I? Honest answer is that I don’t know. Obviously after one new bike purchase each, neither one of us is able to run out and do something drastic right away. But then the logical side of my mind kicks in and says, ‘hey stupid, you’re paying for the Beemer so what’s the difference if you change the bike your making payments on?” and again, I don’t have a good answer for that line of thinking.
And of course we need to go test ride some of these other beasts. Even though we only take long coastal trips three or four times a year, I believe that we both find them so relaxing and important that we have always considered the Ducs second bikes. Only now we’re finding out that they’re not. They’re number ones. So if we’re having this hypothetical discussion then what we’re looking for is a second bike that is a sports-tourer with the emphisis on sports. So where does that leave us? Well, as of tonight my mind is drifting to checking out a Ducati ST3, perhaps a Ducati ST4, a Triumph Sprint, Perhaps a Multistrada (although the styling is neither here nor there for me), possibly a Honda Interceptor VFR, and perhaps the new BMW K1100S (although I think it’ll be to expensive)… I guess I’ll have to wait and see what happens next…
Got A BMW R1100S?
Feels like I’ve been spending a lot of time on the blog writing about the glory of the new Duc, but very little on the Beemer…Which really isn’t fair to such a wonderful bike and such a brilliant marque.
In case anyone’s missed it, sitting next to the Duc in the garage is a 2002 BMW R1100S - which if you ask me is one the most forgotten bikes in all of motorcycling. Here you have a truly fantastic bike that everyone at BMW Motorcycles has forgotten about. I’ll be the first to admit that their marketing department has a incredibly tough task - here’s a BMW bike that is neither a full blown sport bike nor a full blown tourer and I think it’s safe to say it’s probably not even the sportiest sports-tourer in the current BMW line up. It’s something else entirely. Almost a throw back and yet a modern evolution. Clearly a rip off of the Ducati 916 body style and yet somehow entirely German in aesthetic. A bike that carries the famed BMW ‘S’ designation and yet has ABS.
In many ways the only definite thing you can classify it by is it’s contradictions.
Matter of fact if you look at it’s touring characteristics, it’s not a bike you can tour all day through the Rockies or Alps on and you won’t win or place in an Iron Butt rally race with it. Swing all the way over to the other side of the fence, towards the true sportbike side and you don’t stand a chance if you aspire to beating the 600cc or liter class bikes off the line. Yet even though it doesn’t excel in any one category, it’s a tremendously well rounded bike. Something that let’s you enjoy the ride for two hundred miles on the superslab before you get to the real ride.
And perhaps it’s just human nature and something that happens to every marque, but ultimately the ‘S’ is a fantastic model that fits none of the categories that most people attribute to BMW Motorcycle community. This was not a bike built to satisfy the BMW faithful nor cater to their bike buying demos. It was a bike built to hark back to history and probably a bike built to satisfy David Robb or one of the other BMW designers’ passion for the brand. I doubt anyone in Münich ever thought the ‘S’ would sell in gigantic numbers. In many ways I’ve always thought that the ‘S’ had to be intended as a loss leader, a bike purely built to stand on the cover of next years model guide and ‘look’ sexy.
It’s also clearly a parts bin bike. BMW already had the engine, the front suspension and all the cockpit features. The only truly original items here are the body work and exhaust system. Add to that the fact that when BMW Corporate recently updated the boxer engine, bumping the displacement from 1100cc’s to 1150cc’s and then eventually 1200cc’s, they didn’t do it with the ‘S’. They did it with the ‘R’ (1150) and the ‘GS’ (1200). Today the ‘S’ continues to be sold with the 1100cc Boxer engine. Honda, Yamaha or Ducati would ever introduce a larger displacement engine in anythhing but their sportiest bike.
Yet for all the bike’s awkwardness, it still has something that few other motorcycles have, an amazing ability to morph to your tastes. So many bikes today are what they are; a Yamaha R1 is a full blown sport bike and you really can’t do much else on it, and conversely a Gold Wing or KLT doesn’t go to the track. Yet the ‘S’ plays in both fields, equally well. And as an added bonus if you want to park it next to a Duc at the Rockstore nobody thinks twice.
I’ve had my ‘S’ now for over 10,000 miles and roughly two and a half years (give or take half a year). It’s as rock solid as the day I left Marty’s BMW in Torrance, CA and it’s been just about everywhere in California. From ‘The Lost Coast’ to the middle of the Central Valley to the Shoreline from top to bottom. And I have yet to discover so much of this great state. I can ride it for 8 hours and cover 150 miles or cover 300 miles and be just as happy.
While I love the Duc, it’s a luxury. The Beemer on the other hand is the life saver.
A Beemer Kind of Day…
I just got back from a wonderful solitary ride - MotorMilt didn’t kick it with me today, he had other plans 
- and I’m feeling whipped right about now. Did about 100 miles today, 80+ were nothing but curves. Just fantastic. Which I have to admit I was no expecting. Today has been one of those days.
Knowing that I wanted to get a great ride in today, I got to bed early last night. I’m a big believer that “Rest is a Weapon” (as a total aside, the line is stolen from one of the early Jason Borne novels by Robert Luldlum). But of course I couldn’t sleep. Woke up at 3:30 anxious to get the day started. Don’t know if something was on my mind or I just plain excited to get out on the Duc once more. In any case, since I didn’t sleep very well and ended up going back to bed twice (highly unusual for me), I decided that it felt more like a beemer day…. I know it’s a tough life to lead when you’ve got to choose between two different and yet wonderful bikes… Anyway, the idea of having ABS, a less sever seating position and a less twitchy throttle just seemed more sensible.
I struck out from the pad around eleven - usually I’m headed back by then - and while traffic was heavier, it really wasn’t that bad. Finally got up to the canyons and it was delightful. There wasn’t another soul anywhere (except of course the PCH, everyone was cruising)… Ended up hitting the Agoura Deli for a second breakfast. Who can resist two doses of French Toast on a lazy Saturday? Apparently it was just what I needed because after the meal I was on fire. Everything felt great. Unlike the trip up to the Deli where I was fighting the bike, once I got back on the bike everything just flowed. Is there a better feeling in the world if you’re a motorcyclist? I doubt it.
So instead of heading back home right away, I took Kanan up to Encinal Canyon Road - a definite top ten road for the Santa Monica Mountains. I don’t ride it enough because it’s a bit of a trek and extends the ride a good 35 miles… I know the Iron Butt Association is probably laughing at me, but when we’re riding around our backyard we take short trips but hit it hard… Anyway to get back to the story at hand, Encinal was perfect. Again nobody was there. Just me and the road and the scenes… Bottomline is that while it was a shitty morning, it was a glorious afternoon and I feel so thankful to own two killer bikes and live in such a sportbikers’ paradise.
I’ve add some picts to the photo gallery from today - you can view them by clicking Here.
Here are some others just for fun (the photo gallery software doesn’t like the panoramics so that’s why they’re not there…)
Round 2 for the Weekend
Got another short ride in today - felt like it would be a shame to finally start being able to get back on the bike only to not do it because I felt lazy… Uncharacteristically, I went for an afternoon ride. Which as it turns out is actually quite nice… Traffic was heavy on the way up the coast, but a joy on the way back - which was around 5pm. Why LA vacates the beach after 4 in the afternoon on a sunny day is one of those things that I’ll never understand. Still warm, still sunny… Knowing that I wasn’t all there, I dialed it back a bit and actually found it quite nice to ’swoop’ through corners that I’m normally hitting hard. Obviously wasn’t leaning as much as normal, but somehow as I was getting more and more back in touch with the bike, I was feeling more and more stable. By the time I hit Stunt Road back to Los Floras Canyon it was almost like I was on rails. And that’s perhaps one of the most amazing feelings there can be on a bike. When you take a line, see it, react to it, and hit it all while feeling in tune with the machine. Just glorious…
The Lost Coast Expedition of 2004
The Lost Coast Ride… 2004… What follows is as brief a description of our travels as I could manage. It was perhaps the greatest motorcycle ride I’ve ever been on and most definitely the best vacation I’ve ever had!
Day 1: LA to Morro Bay
The first day of our trip started out on a gloriously sunny California day heading up the Pacific Coast Highway (also called Route 1 or the “PCH” for short), traffic was light and the sunlight hitting the coastline was just magnificent. It was a “bay watch” sort of morning when anything felt possible. And then we hit the end of what I consider to be the southern cal part of route one - Point Magu Naval Base. If you have ever seen the end to “The Two Jakes” - the less than stellar sequel to “Chinatown” - then you’ve seen the last hard right hand corner before the PCH slides into a northeastern curvature until you find yourself winding your way through the beginning of Ventura County’s farmlands.
It’s sudden and shocking transformation. For the last forty or so miles it’s nothing but beautiful beach front property and then over the course of one Navel Base and a hard right hand turn it’s nothing but migrant workers and crops. Greens and browns bounce all around you.
Once the first farmland tour is over, then it’s the North bound 101 Freeway, which happens to also be route one. It’s a rather boring bit of asphalt, but it takes you up, up and away. Towards the most glorious coastline in California and I would offer the United States. At some point you realize that you’re heading to Santa Barbara. Since we’ve taken the 101 here several times previously on the bikes, this trip we opted to take Highway 154 - commonly called “The San Marcos Pass” - which cuts out part of the 101 and instead introduces you parts of the Santa Barbara Mountains. At first it’s a very winding road, nice sweepers and sudden curves.
Slowly the curves fade away until what is left is an outright super speedway trapped in a mountain road. Eventually Highway 154 cuts past the outskirts of San Ynez and then eventually reconnects with the 101. Here’s a link to Pashnit.com’s write up of Highway 154.
We decided to stopped for lunch at about the halfway point on Highway 154 based on a recommendation from Mad Maps. They’re awesome motorcycle based maps suggested a joint called The Cold Spring Tavern - a delightful road house if I’ve ever seen one - I highly recommend it and the chili - it’s a cross between LA’s “The Rockstore” and “The Saddlepeak Lodge”, two of my favorite LA spots, so I felt right at home. Although I have to say it had a substantially better wine list.
Once lunch was over we finished the fun part of 154 and got on the 101 again, until we reached Pismo Beach - another of California’s golden locals - then eventually San Luis Obispo. SLO as many norcal’ers call it is a nice spot - very collegiate, but decent enough - What makes it sparkle in my mind is that it sits less than 20 miles from perhaps the greatest Californian destination spot - and my personal relaxation mecca - Morro Bay.
Spanish explorer Juan Cabrillo was the first non-native American to find Morro Bay. He saw the giant rock and one of California’s few coastline accessible protected harbors. Once the Spanish left, quarrying became the big industry - one that dramatically changed the face of the big rock itself. This was just the first of several reincarnations for the area. Once the quarries died out, fishing became the big business. Eventually that too dried up and in the late eighties tourism took over. Lucky for me I guess - because Morro Bay has always felt like a home away from home for me. I’ve now been there on the bike probably a half dozen times, with no regrets or feelings of been there done that. It’s just a wonderful place where the sea hits the shore with a sound of solitude. Life there moves slow, but not in millimeters and it’s always quiet. It’s the kind of place that would make a writer feel right at home. And it’s the only place I know of where the fog is beautiful not annoying!
Day 2: Morro Bay to San Francisco
Waking up to seagulls always makes me smile and a morning at The Inn at Morro Bay doesn’t disappoint. It’s just you, the bikes, the birds, the slowly sauntering and the road. Ah, and what a road. This is the best of the PCH. From Morro Bay until Carmel is about 120 miles of the most pristine coastline that exists.
About forty miles from Morro Bay stands Hearst Castle and as you glide by on a bike you realize that Hearst might have been a jackass, but he knew a great local when he saw one. We didn’t stop for the tour, but it is routinely considered one of the better tourist traps in California.
On our first several trips up the coast Carmel was the end - slowly over time as we’ve fallen in love with long distance riding up the coast we’ve pushed it further and further. This trip was the most extreme example because what once was a 150 mile day turned into a 300+ mile day.
We followed route 1 in several iterations from Carmel to Monterey to Watsonville and then to Santa Cruz. Stopping in SC for lunch was quite a thing. I hadn’t been there since I was a kid, but the downtown is a bustle of life with no parking. None.
After lunch we headed up for the next grad adventure - the Santa Cruz Mountains. A wonderful stretch of twists and turns through a grand mountain range.
This is not only a great collection of roads (we took route 9 to route 236, which loops back to route 9, then hung a left on route 34, commonly referred to as Skyline Boulevard - a brilliant stretch of twisties that passes by Alice’s Restaurant - one of the definitive biker hangouts in Nor Cal.
Once we finished tearing up the Santa Cruz Mountains we popped back on to the freeway and headed into San Francisco. As fate would have it we arrived to some of the best weather I’ve ever seen in SF proper. The crowds were starting to shuffle into PacBell as we crossed over on to the city streets. A glorious day of riding finally came to an end as we pulled into another one of my favorite hotels, The Park Hyatt near the financial district.
Milt and I in Golden Gate Park:
Day 3: San Francisco to Mendocino
After a great night out in North Beach with my friends Kaveh, Carrie and Erica, we headed up to The Lost Coast ? the great stretch of route 1 above Marin County (the famed home of George Lucas’s empire).
In many ways this particular part of the trip was the impetus for the entire trip. Neither Milt nor I had ever done The Lost Coast and according to everything we had ever read it was supposed to be a great ride. Unfortunately what I came to realize is that while it was a wonderful day and beautiful scenery, the road itself lacked any true excitement for me.
Touring for tourings sake is not exactly my cup of tea - I’m much more interested in fun rides that are length. And when I say fun, I mean twisting, rising, diving, turning, curving, sudden breaking, hard accelerating, joyous symphonies of concrete and asphalt. Not 15 MPH traffic filled tourist traps and long dull straight aways with no place to safely pass.
Motorcycle journalist Clement Salvadori wrote in his guide book to Californian roads, “Motorcycle Journeys Through California” that, “this is one of the great rides in California, if not the world… The ocean is backed by the Coastal Range of low mountains, and dashing in and out of the many valleys is downright good fun… You could do the whole stretch from the Golden Gate Bridge to Leggett in one long day, but [that] would be about as bright as buying a $150 bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label and mixing it with Coke. Savor this ride”.
While I generally agree with most Clements’ observations in his book, in this particular case I have to disagree. Compared to The Santa Cruz Mountains, The Santa Monica Mountains, or even the inland ranch filled route 25 (I’ll get to that later, I promise!) this is one big, long dull ride. Great pictures, little chance to lean the bike over and let go of life for a while. A very different kind of riding - for me at least.
We wrapped up the day in Mendocino, at a nice quaint Abe Lincoln styled hotel. Not a bad place, but not my style. I do however find the history of the area fascinating. Apparently no one knows for sure who founded Mendocino, but in the 1850s it was a bustling lumbering community (Milt & I saw plenty of lumber related eighteen wheelers here and it really slowed down traffic on a one lane, twisting 15 MPH coastline - basically it sucked - anyway I digress…). In fact the lumber produced in this area is responsible for much of early San Francisco. For the next fifty years Mendocino flourished, until Fort Bragg up the coast dead in 1911.This sent the city in a serious decline that lasted until after World War II. Basically in the late part of the twenty century artists settled up here to get some peace and quiet and eventually city dwellers found them a fun weekend escape. Soon tourism was booming and now it is the major industry. House prices in the area are obscene, ranging anywhere from the 500,000s to the 2.5 million range.
Day 4: Mendocino back to SF
Due to a bad tire gauge that resulted in low tire pressure, Day 4 started out with a change of plans. Instead of riding with 46 psi in my back tire, I had been running at 24 psi. On a track that would be ideal, on a long trip it’s a really, really bad idea.
So instead of heading back down the coast, we needed to find the shortest route possible to the nearest BMW dealership, which as it turned out was in Santa Rosa.
What was a bummer of a morning, worrying about my rear tire, turned into a great accident. Instead of taking route 1 back down the coast as we had planned we consulted our old trusty map and found route 128. Little did I know that it was yet another California’s superb motorcycle roads! Here’s a link to Pashnit.com’s page on route 128.
After the disappointment of the day before, route 128 turned me into a lost coast believer. It was just amazing. We shot through the base of the redwood forest at 75 MPH while the sun was rising and the most classic of light rays pierced their way through the tree tops. From an oil painter to a 3D artist, I don’t believe that anyone could ever capture the beauty of what we saw. I would have popped off the bike to take a picture, but the ride was even better than the sights! Every corner was hard, left, right, left, right, right, left, 180 degrees. No sweepers in sight. Just you and the forest doing battle. Ah what glory! If there is one road from up north that I wish I could copy and replicate down south, this would be it. It was that good.
Luckily for me when we arrived in Santa Rosa, Dennis, the manager of Santa Rosa BMW fit me in during the middle of some kind of local Santa Rosa parade (the shop was located on the parade route!) and set me up with new set of tires.
Day 5: San Francisco to Pismo Beach
We changed our plans early on day five, deciding not to stay at Morro Bay again - even though we love it - because we felt that Pismo Beach would be a more logical final destination for the trip. I say final destination because on trips like this the last stop for me is always the night before we head home. On the last official day I’m always starting to think about what waits for me back home, but on the day before I’m still focused on the trip and relaxing. And this particular day was no different. Matter of fact it had all sorts of adventure!
The day before while shooting the shit with Dennis and the gang at Santa Rosa BMW, they had told us about this great road called route 25. One fellow in the shop actually had pulled out a map and insisted that I let him show me where the road was because he swore that it was the best road to get to Paso Robbles from Nor Cal… And he was right.
Route 25 is akin to California Ranch styled living 50 years ago - lots of crazy lefts and right that you’re sure are there to keep the drunk ranchers awake after a hard night of drinking and because property lines must be all messed up. It’s a wonderful 70+ stretch of nothing but nothing and one amazingly great road!
Okay, so here’s the story… I for one always assume that I’m nailed everytime I see a cop. Natural habit from time spent growing up.
And on the usual roads Milt & I ride through the Mullhulland Canyons in LA, the cops don’t care who you are or what your story is, it’s just “license and registration please” and then “here’s your ticket”. And if I’m not the guy being pulled over, I’m watching it all happen to someone else. Some weekends are worse than others, but basically you’ve really got to get away from the usual motorcycle roads to find peace and quiet.
The only exception to this is when I get away from LA and head up the Coast towards SF on the PCH or one of the other wonderful roads up there. On day 5 of the trip, Milt and I were riding back from Santa Cruz and decided to make up some time after hitting route 25 on the western side of the central valley (great road btw, wish it was closer).
So we hoped on the 101 freeway for about 20 miles. Up where we were it’s two lanes in each direction with a weedy median about two lanes wide. The day we were coming back It was fairly windy and we were riding our BMW R1100S’, so both of us got in as serious a tuck as you can do on those bikes to get out of the elements.
Minutes later I see a cop fly by us in the opposite side of the freeway. Again, as I always do, I assume we’re nailed, so I start pulling over into the slow lane and dialing it back on the speedo to match the legal limit. Milt doesn’t pay any attention, he keeps let it out. By the time he looks up and back into his rearview mirrors he sees me pulling over on the shoulder. Still has no idea why. Finally once he stops and puts his kickstand down he see’s a california motorcyclists favorite friend, the highway patrol standing next to me.
While we’re watching Milt walk toward us, the cop asks me if I’m with him , I nod and start telling him we’re on our way home from a vacation. Cop listens to my whole story at which point he looks at me like I’m from outer space and asks me to remove my helmet. Yeah, that one had sliped my mind. I tell the story again, cop listens and asks for our licenses. Asks to see proof of our “motorcycle endorsement”. I pull mine out license and I guess by instinct hand over my registration. Only it’s out of date. Cop shakes his head, I assume the worst. He then says, “Come on, I know you’ve got the right one in there, just find it”… Cop then asks if we’re part of some motorcycle club - we both have matching leathers, it’s a father and son thing, so Milt pops off and says, “yeah, a club of two”. I shake my head, think to myself what the hell are you saying? Only the cop finds this amussing, hands back the licenses and says, “I know you were both well in excess of 80, but I don’t know for sure how much, so take it easy and have a safe trip home, we don’t want to see anyone get hurt” and then he lets us go.
Breathing a bit easier, we get back on the bikes and pull off at the next rest stop area - where after we arrive two different people who were driving cars come up to us and tell us that the same cop had given them tickets only a few miles before and they ask how much ours were for…
Moral of the story as I see it; make cop laugh, always remember to take off your helmet before looking like a jackass, anyone in a tucked position on a beemer is asking for trouble, and finally, mirrors are only valuable if you use them!
Day 6: Pismo Beach to Home
The last official day of the trip we headed home. Buzzing past bikes, cars and farmland for about 100 miles until we reached the top of the LA portion of the pacific coast highway. I toyed with the idea of popping into my usual canyons as a way to extend the clock, but decided after 1,200 miles I was ready to take a break. So this concluded the longest motorcycle trip I’ve ever taken, but perhaps the best one yet. It was just a glorious week alone with my thoughts during the day while on the bike and a wonderful father and son weeklong adventure off of the bikes! If I could only figure out how to get paid to ride a motorcycle all day long up and down the California coastline, I’d be a very happy camper. If there is a more diverse collection of scenic landscapes, I don’t know what they are. In one elongated state there are oceanfront vistas and John Ford farmland ranch westerns. Mountains and valleys, both of which span extreme heights and sea level lows. So much diversity it’s scary. After you seen such a wide canvass even the most novice rider has to be left wondering how much better it can get elsewhere in the world. I’ve been to the Alps and quite frankly I don’t think it compares. This is truly god’s country - the most majestic real world track I can imagine and it’s just a blast to ride, no matter which roads you take or which direction you’re heading… What a trip!
