TENERE 700!!!

Finally!

After almost five years of waiting none-too-patiently, there was a blue (sorry, "Ceramic Ice") Tenere of my own to swing a leg over.

My dealer had called me on a Friday afternoon--as surprised as me--to say that a bike with my name on it had been dropped off unexpectedly at his store. Would I like to pick it up that afternoon? Well, that wasn't going to work because my wife and I were headed 100km in the opposite direction to get her a brand new e-bike (Trek Verve+ 3, for the curious; more on this later, as e-bikes are totally addictive form of two-wheeling).

But you're here for the Tenere, as was I the following morning.

What should've been a simple, 30-minute bit of paperwork ended up being a 3-hour epic while I stewed in my riding gear and my infinitely patient wife sat in the car (COVID and all) waiting to find out if I was going to be riding home on a Yamaha, or riding shotgun in her Honda. Yamaha Canada's dealer site was all messed up, not calculating my bill correctly and, in the end, requiring someone from their IT department to work some magic in the back-end system.

Got sorted just in time to leave ahead of some looking thunderclouds--reminiscent of last summer's experience picking up the Africa Twin.

As soon as I left the dealer's parking lot, I had to laugh: the dreaded instrument shake was unbelievable. Looked like somebody hadn't bolted things to the bike, but nope: that's a feature, not a bug. So if you're getting a Tenere and only do one mod, it should be fix the display shake. In anticipation of this, I'd already ordered the CamelADV stiffeners which fit perfectly, take about 20 minutes to install, and transform the tower into a readable form. This is your #1 accessory:

Waiting at home was a bunch of other farkles I'd ordered early in the hopes the bike would arrive soon. Didn't want to get skunked later, when everyone else got their bikes and started clearing out stock. Some of the bits on order or installed include:

• Rally Raid fork preload caps
• Rally Raid 85 N-mm shock spring
• Rally Raid crossbar GPS mount
• Rally Raid wheel tool (this is really an essential and handy piece of kit)
• Rally Raid wheel spacers
• Eastern Beaver PC-8 fuse box
• Outback Motortek skid plate
• Outback Motortek lower crash bars
• Double-Take Adventure mirrors
• Oxford heated grips - Adventure model
• Barkbusters Storm hand guards
• CamelADV Voltmeter
• Mosko Moto Hood tank bag
• B&B tail tidy (Note: They were not shipping to Canada because of COVID. As of June 8, they will be shipping again, as their support just confirmed to me.)

Here are some pics of the PC-8 installation, to which I've wired all my accessories as well as a charging plug and heated jacket plug. The voltmeter is attached with double-sided tape.

Haven't decided on a pannier rack yet--either the Touratech or Outback Motortek. Rackless luggage would be nice, and Mosko Moto's Reckless 80 v3 looks great--but it would cost over $1000 by the time I factor in the exchange rate to Canada. Also looking at the Giant Loop Siskiyou panniers since I like having the weight low, and it would be great to get almost everything off the seat except for maybe a RotoPax. In future posts I'll review all this stuff and why I chose each item.

The Tenere has a 1000km break-in period where you're not supposed to exceed 5000 rpm for any lengthy period. Then you change the oil and keep it below 6000rpm for another 600km. Here are my thoughts on the bike after 500kms, after coming from a WR250R (which I still have, with 43,000km of dualsport riding on the clock) and a 2019 Africa Twin (which I sold after only a few weeks and about 3500km of mostly paved riding).

The engine is smooooooth
It's like an electric motor: lots of torque off idle, very easy to control, utterly predictable. Easily the nicest engine I've ridden. Makes me a pro dirt-rider without effort: lean the bike, weight the outside peg, lean over the front wheel, add some throttle, and feel that back end power slide around the corner in perfect control. It's like magic. I never really felt this type of connection with the WRR--it doesn't corner nearly as well as the Tenere. And the Tenere sounds so good, even with the stock exhaust.

As others have also pointed out, throttle control benefits from taking out the cable slack. I didn't find anything twitchy with the throttle as some have complained; it's just smooth-as-snot power when rolling on the gas.

The suspension is clunky
Yeah, there's a lot of talk about the suspension being unrefined out of the box, and I have to agree. I gave my WRR a professional tuning for valves, springs, and oil, and it totally transformed the handling offload and with baggage. No reason why the Tenere can't benefit from some similar attention. I've installed the pre-load top caps but haven't installed the shock spring or really played with settings. Will do that once the spring's in, and then this fall I'll send the whole bike out for a proper tune. It's money well spent in my experience. For reference, I'm 195lb/86kg without riding gear on, and the stock spring (69 N-mm) is aimed at riders weighing 60-65kg carrying no luggage.

It's super easy to work on
One of my complaints with the Africa Twin was how hard it was to open up and work on. Changing the air filters required stripping dozens of fasteners and fiddly bits of body work, and even though I'd done it a few times, it still felt like a 2-hour job each time. Must've been designed by a car engineer. By contrast, the Tenere seems to have been designed by a motorcyclist. The panels are thoughtfully attached, and it's easy to strip and reinstall without having mysterious hardware left over. I can have the forks off, opened at the top, and reinstalled in the bike in 45 minutes. Removing the rear shock can be done in about 10 minutes, and doesn't require removing the rear wheel or other components besides a mud flap and two side panels. It's a cinch.

The stock seat is tolerable
Coming from a Seat Concepts on my WRR, and a comfy couch on the Africa Twin, I was worried the Tenere's perch would be rock hard. It's not too bad actually - I rode 350km of paved and dirt roads today over 8 hours, and was only feeling a bit antsy at the end. Nevertheless, a taller seat would help open up my knees a bit, which are more bent than on the WRR.

Handlebars need to be tilted forward a bit
Not sure if they are set at the factory or by the dealer, but several people have reported the need to tilt them and I'd agree. Results in less wrist strain.

Tires are surprisingly good
Coming from full knobbies, I was expecting to slide around more in the dirt given the svelte profile of the stock tread on the Tenere. However, they are great on pavement, and hook up much better and more predictably than you'd expect on loose dirt, sand, and gravel. On the Africa Twin, I always found it tended to plough the front end when turning on loose stuff, so I was expecting something similar for the Tenere. Not so: both the front and rear handle with balance and a clear sense of the limits, and like I said earlier, a simple twist of the wrist is all you need to break loose the rear and turn with confidence.

Wind noise is tolerable
At 6'-1"/183cm, I'm too tall to hide completely behind the windscreen. Nevertheless, even though the redirected air hits the peak of my Shoei Hornet, it doesn't buffet me. This is a major improvement over the Africa Twin, which had (for 2019, at least) a notorious blast up the fork-tunnel, and required a baffle to redirect the flow or the bike was practically unrideable above 50km/hr. On the Tenere there's a steady rush of air past my helmet, but not so bad I can't listen to music on my headset (with ear plugs in).

Fuel economy
Following the Ryan F9 break-in method (which I've done for all my bikes and cars) has worked great for longevity, although all that accelerating takes a hit to fuel economy. My low fuel indicator flashed at around 200km, and I filled up at around 225km with about 12 liters into the 17 litre tank. The manual says the low fuel indicator flashes at around 4.3 litres, so no surprises here. Once everything's broken in, I should easily be able to get 300km to a tank, and with a 1-gallon RotoPax, that'll give me plenty of range for the trips I do.

Weight and handling
It was a surprise to discover the Tenere feels less top-heavy than it looks. While it's no 1250GS in the centre of mass department, it's certainly not like my old KLR and handles its weight very well. I never felt tippy in the dirt or when doing tight maneuvers on pavement. Amazingly, it feels almost the same as the WRR--just a little heavier--but not as heavy as the WRR loaded with gear. And it feels waaaaay lighter than the Africa Twin--even when it had nothing on it. The Tenere truly feels like a slightly larger version of the WRR, with so much more power and real brakes. It's less tiring to ride, has a good view of the front wheel (unlike the Africa Twin, which felt like navigating a boat), and feels slim and dirt-bike-like at the waist. It's easy to flat-foot. Paddling the bike backwards on dirt can be tricky--that's one area where you notice the weight over the WRR. However, my net impression is I'm getting about 60-75% of the WRR's capabilities, but with tons of power to make up the difference. Has me questioning whether I should even keep my trusty old WRR. Let's reassess at the end of the riding season.

Overall
Zero regrets, tremendous fun to ride. Biggest issue is the suspension needs tuning, but I expected that. The power is more than adequate, the handling (even with untuned suspension) is excellent and surprisingly good in the dirt. Tank bag sure is handy but should probably be a minimalist version (e.g. Mosko Moto Pico) or not at all, if you want to really get over the tank for dirt riding and don't want your dangly bits getting slapped repeatedly. Biggest areas to lose weight are the exhaust and battery--as with any bike. On the Tenere, that could shave an easy 5-10lbs from a relatively high location. The benefit of having the bike introduced to North America a good year after other markets is we benefit from the many great accessories already on the market, and the experience of other riders who've now flogged the bike through all sorts of conditions.

Yamaha's created a real winner here, as North American riders will finally get to discover for themselves. The Tenere ticks a lot of boxes for a reasonable price, leaving budget for accessories to suit your own particular needs.

Incoming: New Mosko Moto Reckless 80L bags

Mosko Moto is about to introduce a new version of their popular 80L rack-less bag system, dubbed the Reckless 80 "Revolver v3.0".

According to Jenn from Mosko Moto, major upgrades to v3.0 over the current v2.0 (seen above; it's now sold out) are as follows:

• Adjustable leg angle to improve fit to different bike frames (hence the "Revolver" name)
• Removable dry-bag-equipped auxiliary leg pockets
• Updated Hypalon MOLLE
• Leg-holster-opening adjuster straps
• Rivet-reinforced leg holsters

Availability is expected "in the next couple of weeks", but with all the COVID-19 issues in global supply chains lately, I wouldn't be surprised if stock becomes limited or delayed.

Although I haven't used Mosko Moto products myself, I've been following the company's progress for several years and have a great deal of respect for their business philosophy and approach to design and testing. This is well-thought-out gear. Having planned to get a rack for my soon-to-arrive Tenere 700 so I could re-use my existing Wolfman and Nelson-Riggs panniers, now in the interests of saving weight and not having a repeat of a rack fitment fiasco, I'm reconsidering all my luggage. Nothing wrong with the Wolfman bags - I've lived out of them for a total of several months now. However, I never got a chance to use the Nelson-Riggs bags which I bought to get just a bit of extra space.

Here's how the Nelson-Riggs compare to the Wolfman Expedition, each mounted on my WR250R with a basic pannier rack. For offroad riding, The Mosko Moto approach should eliminate some deadweight in favor of more carrying capacity, while achieving a narrower load with more centralized mass.

  

Continental Divide ride - Part 15

Part 14

Our arrival into Ellis on the Yankee Fork trail turned out to be the last dirt section of our journey. By now we'd been on the road for over a month, living in close quarters and sharing helmet space with each other for almost the entire time. I'd finally run out of dad jokes and bad puns (much to Pete and Jeff's relief) and in the heat and smoke of what would be a record summer for forest fires, we all felt as grimy and in need of some TLC as Jeff's bike.

Even though we were now slabbing our way back north on Interstate 93, there were still some interesting things to see along the way. To our west lay the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness that we had intended to traverse on the Idaho BDR. As we passed through its eastern foothills, our 250s struggled to keep ahead of traffic in the passes. But our effort was nothing compared to the incongruous struggles of a lone unicyclist outfitted with touring bags we spotted coming jerkily in the other direction. I guess the advantage of having just one wheel is a 50% lower chance of getting a flat tire. Since I wasn't able to stop, I didn't get the name of the rider. A web search improbably showed several possibilities for unicyclists crossing the country on a large green wheel. I thought it could be Ed Pratt from the UK, but when I emailed him he said he was safely back home after riding around the world. So, somewhere out there was at least one other green-wheeled unicyclist tackling mountains one crotch-rending, janky pedal stroke at a time. 

  

Just south of Missoula, MT is the town of Lolo with the fantastic Lolo Peak brew pub that's well worth a stop. The tacos and beer were delicious, and that's not just the day's hunger speaking.

Continuing north, we battled hours of gusty cross-winds on the Interstate, made worse by passing semi-trailers and our loaded small bikes. A reminder of our mortality came in the form of a nasty car crash we passed, that had apparently just happened. Frequent stops at unremarkable truck stops were needed to rest our forearms, which burned from the effort of staying on track and upright. One such stop had this beauty:

Our route again lead towards Kalispell, MT, intersecting our outbound path from a month earlier where we'd bought a SIM card for Jeff's phone. Just before Kalispell was Flathead Lake, which gave us an unexpected stunning vista across the water with golden, late afternoon light and great pavement. This side of the lake was studded with orchards and nifty cottages and lakefront properties. Not at all what I'd expected to find in the area, but proof of what's possible when fresh water abounds. Our search for a particular campground was a bust, as there were no vacancies and so we had to push on to find a motel in Kalispell. This was a familiar ritual for us, usually done late in the afternoon. It's always tough to balance the desire to make miles, with the need to stop early enough to get a place for the night. It's one of the reasons why I love traveling in the back-country, because you can stop pretty much anywhere and find a campsite all to yourself.  

Our only option for the night was an exceedingly grimy motel where every room was apparently fumigated by decades of stale cigarette smoke. Outside, a large horde of loud, drunk, and aggressively unfriendly Harley riders on their way to Sturgis had convened for the night, as well as a few other ADV riders on big bikes. It was a strangely tense atmosphere. The Harley dudes threw some shade our way, adding to our own tension from fatigue and hunger. That night it was Pete's turn to sleep on the floor, and he accepted his duty like a champ, all cozied up to our smelly riding gear.

Of course, being in the USA we were surrounded by guns. Jeff had the brilliant idea of visiting a nearby shooting range where we could try weapons that are prohibited back in Canada. While we waited for the range to open, a young mom and her kids arrived to shoot, as well as an old guy in an expensive Audi. A couple hundred bucks later, we were outfitted with 500 rounds of 9mm ammunition, two pistols, and an MP5 machine gun. Since I'd only ever shot rifles before, this was a real thrill! Jeff, a competitive pistol and rifle shooter, instructed us while a humorless and jacked range officer looked on with a pistol on his own hip, and then we let loose.  

For a first-timer, my pistol groupings were pretty good, but anyone standing in front of my MP5 would've probably been safe. Between my unsuitable eyeglasses and the poor downrange lighting, I couldn't really see where I was hitting, even in single-shot mode. In full auto, I was surprised by how much muzzle climb there was--it takes an aggressive stance and a lot of control to aim. For the first time I could truly understand how an inexperienced shooter could completely miss their target, even in full-spray mode. Challenge accepted though: three-gun competition would be a lot of fun to train for.

Since we still had our national park passes, we wanted to head back to Canada through Glacier National Park via Going-to-the-Sun Road. On our trip down, we'd been unable to take that route because it would've meant backtracking right at the start. It proved to be an amazing ride, and should be on everyone's bucket list--as it evidently was, judging by the traffic.

Carved into the steep side of a glacial valley, the road is steep and narrow with small pull-outs. While there was a good amount of traffic when we rode through, during a peak weekend day it would've been frustrating to maintain any kind of pace on a motorbike. Parking was hard to find for cars, but no problem for our motorcycles which could sneak into designated spots.

The steep landscape gives the impression that the mountains are much higher than they actually are. For instance, Reynolds Mountain, one of the prominent peaks, tops out at 2781 metres. For comparison, much of our journey along the Continental Divide was above 2000 metres and up to almost 4,000 meters on some of the Colorado passes. No wonder our little bikes (and ourselves) suffered for power up there!

Side trails hinted at some interesting day hikes, but suited in our riding gear and pressed for time, we'd have to explore them on another trip.

Sadly, Glacier National Park will soon be a misnomer due to global warming. Measurements predict that all the glaciers will melt away within the next 50-100 years. Photos of the park taken over the last 100 years clearly show how rapidly the ice has receded.

Descending from the sky and continuing north, we passed by Saint Mary Lake, which on a sunny day offers spectacular photo opportunities.

Soon the road flattened out, and all of a sudden we noticed that the mountains had slipped away behind us along with the crowds of tourists. Bison grazed in the distance.

Once again, it was just the three of us on a deserted highway. The Canadian border lay ahead. As if to welcome us back home after a month of parching heat, the skies turned black and ominous. No shelter from lightning out here, and we became concerned for our safety.

As we were passing through First Nations lands, there were no options for camping and so we aimed for the small town of Cardston. At our motel, we were struck by all the different nationalities and languages we heard among the other guests. Other than in Moab, we'd seen almost no visible minorities on our entire trip in the US. It's not remarkable until you're suddenly presented with the obvious differences.

Cardston is notable for being one of the most northerly Mormon communities that arose when the daughter of Brigham Young (the founder of Salt Lake City and Mormon religious leader) headed up from Utah in 1887 to find new lands to settle. Intended originally as a temporary stopping point for the winter, the Mormons ended up staying and eventually building a town, much to the displeasure of the Blood Tribe First Nation, who already inhabited the area. Thus began a long dispute until the present day over rights to the lands, which had been recognized as Blood Tribe territory under a landmark treaty with the Canadian government. It's a complex issue with no easy answers. Nevertheless, after decades of litigation, the Blood Tribe finally won its land claim in 2019 - a major milestone in our shared First Nations and Canadian history. Hopefully this win helps the local First Nations achieve some prosperity after more than a century of challenges and oppression under the federal and provincial governments.

A must-see stop in Cardston is the Remington Carriage Museum. Admittedly, the three of us were initially skeptical of what we'd find there, but this is undoubtedly a world-class attraction for history buffs. As the name suggests, the museum hosts an extraordinary collection of restored carriages dating back to the earliest days of the wild west. The displays and explanations are engrossing: they really bring to life the challenges that European settlers faced as they traversed the continent. You could smell the adventure. We had the place to ourselves and enjoyed an inexpensive breakfast of bacon and eggs in the on-site cafeteria.

 

The museum also has a restoration workshop where original tools and methods are used to repair and build carriages.

This was one of the original stagecoaches that plied a route through Helena, MT where we'd ridden.

And tucked away was this marvel of history: the original frame of the covered wagon that Brigham Young's daughter drove north from Utah to settle what would become Cardston, the first Mormon town in Canada.

The Coen Brothers movie The Ballad of Buster Scruggs gives an entertaining look at the wild west era. The production incorporated meticulous reproductions of the clothing and other artifacts of the time, and was filmed in several of the locations we rode through on our journey.

Now we could smell home, although a more rain stood in our way.

The skies soon cleared by the time we reached High River, where there's an original frontier fort situated at the end of the Redcoat Trail running from Fort Garry in Manitoba. Once again we were plunged into heat for the remainder of our trip.

Colossi's Cafe, also in High River had the best coffee of the entire trip, and it certainly ranks among my top-10 of all-time. It wasn't just the mood and end of trip euphoria that made it taste so good; this was damn good coffee! It was also the only place we could find open in the entire town.

Finally we rolled into Calgary, ending our journey where we'd started 5 weeks earlier.

Pete and I spent a day wandering around and eating while Jeff made a mad run east to visit the dinosaur museum at Drumheller. I'd hoped to visit this as well, but taking a break from riding felt great and I needed the mental break to prepare for my return to work, family, and responsibilities.

After steak and dessert and beer, we packed up our bikes with the shippers and flew home.

Final thoughts

When we started out on this trip, I thought it would be ample time to scratch my itch for a long adventure, and that by the end I'd be more or less sick of riding. But arriving back in Calgary, I realized the opposite: more than anything, the trip kindled a deep desire to just keep going. I really didn't want to go home, or back to routine, or back to the complexities of professional life. Living on a 250, eating when hungry, resting when tired, and following a natural schedule driven by sunlight proved to be incredibly stimulating and healthy. 15 pounds had melted away in just over a month, and  all that standing on the pegs in riding gear and at altitude also proved to be good cross-training for cycling. (Afterwards, pedaling 120km felt like a breeze!)

The mental journey was life-changing for me as well. As I write now, 16 months after the trip ended, not a day has gone when I don't think about the riding and scenery, the camaraderie of Pete and Jeff, the people we met along the way, the heat and dust, and the pure thrill of just going. Pete, Jeff and I have continued to ride together, and we regularly discuss new adventures and share thoughts on gear, bikes, and life in general. Pretty good outcome considering the various stresses and challenges we endured on the trip, and the fact that we'd only just met earlier that year via my ADVRider posting looking for trip buddies.

So, where next? Despite its large urban areas, the vast majority of North America consists of unpopulated wilderness that varies from mountains to forests, deserts, tundra, lakes, and ocean. Since it's got a bit of everything and it's a fantastic place to explore by motorbike, I do find it irresistible. Much of the built environment--particularly in the west--only dates back to the mid-1800s. Arid conditions have preserved many remnants of this past. It's as if the emigrants on the Oregon Trail had only temporarily left these artifacts within my own lifetime--the history is so palpable and relatable. At the same time, the forlorn and remote outposts of those migrating Americans amplify the sense of isolation and wilderness. It's a truly rugged area to travel in alone; a lot can go wrong quickly and far from help. The people we met were moulded by this environment and gave a sense of being highly independent. While friendly and polite, they also seemed mildly suspicious of outsiders.

We noticed how little news of the world outside the USA seemed to penetrate the hermetic bubble we traveled through. Many Canadians believe the US has a similar culture (and it's hard not to, given all the US media Canadians consume!). However, I was surprised by the culture shock I felt on my return. Calgary was a riot of different races, colours, languages, and foods that we hadn't seen in over a month. So, traveling in the US really does feel to me like traveling in a foreign country. It certainly poses many unknowns.

When planning this trip, I admit to having some trepidations about our personal security given the politics of the day and the seemingly endless reports of shootings and police acting with impunity.  Fortunately we didn't encounter any of these problems. Other the few gun-carrying Nazis we met in Butte, the vast majority of people seemed nice enough--as was the case in the 30+ other countries I've visited. We did sometimes attract strange looks for riding our small Japanese bikes in places where heavy cruisers rule. Despite what the magazines and forums suggest, ADV riding is still very much a niche pursuit. In fact, we met only a handful of other cross-country ADV riders during our entire trip--and that's on one of the more popular routes.

I'd like to ride the route again, next time pushing farther west along the TAT, heading up into the Pacific Northwest, and back to the Bitterroot. Not sure when or even if that may happen. But in the meantime, thanks to all the wonderful people who helped us along the way. I hope to visit more of your country soon!

Here's Part 1 if you want to read the whole series.

Continental Divide ride - Part 14

Part 13

Camping next to a river has its pros and cons. Pros include access to washing and drinking water, and for some people the gurgles and white noise of nearby rapids can be a great backdrop for sleep. Cons are the gurgles and white noise of nearby rapids can be a terrible backdrop for sleep, and the water attracts other beasts in the night. Indeed, the three of us were spurred wide awake by industrious and sudden loud noises outside our tents. Was it a bear? Couldn't tell for sure, but I wasn't keen to find out while zipped into my cocoon. (Years before, while on a solo hiking trip in the fall, I was awakened by three bears that had entered my camp while I was zipped up to my nose in a mummy bag. One of the bears pushed its muzzle repeatedly into my face to sniff me through the fabric of the tent, while the other two bears peeled apart an unoccupied camping trailer parked nearby. Eventually they took off, but it was one of the longest hours of my life and a good reinforcement of why I never bring food into my tent.)

After the night's excitement we were a quiet bunch at breakfast. Some further reconnaissance of our route to Featherville showed where a bike had crossed the river to a rough island beside where the road used to be.

We weren't prepared to risk this unknown option with loaded bikes, so we turned back the way we'd come and headed south to find another way to connect with the Idaho BDR. It ended up being a 3-hour detour, joining the BDR at Pine and then continuing up to Featherville (just kilometers from where we'd camped the night before) to intersect with the TAT. Nevertheless, it was beautiful riding--first through the plains, and then north on the sandy fire roads back into the mountains.

Part of the route wound its way through a river canyon, following the crystal-clear North Fork of the Boise River, which provided welcome opportunities to wash off the powdery dust that caked onto our sweaty faces. Many great places to camp and fish here, and few people.

According to our Idaho BDR information, we expected to cross a much narrower bridge at this location.

The corrugated road surface, dodgy traction, heat, and massive dust clouds took a toll on our patience and required us to spread out by several hundred meters to ensure we could each see where we were going. While waiting at one intersection, only Pete showed up behind me, and since we had been out of radio range, I was surprised to learn that Jeff had decided he'd had enough of the dirt riding and had bailed out to a highway, with the idea of rejoining us later.

As this was a remote area with limited to no cell reception, and Jeff didn't have a satellite device we could text to (Pete and I each had one), it wasn't clear how or where we'd reconnect. Pete and I decided to continue along the planned route, but our luck ran out a just couple hundred meters further when we reached a gate closing the road due to prior forest fire damage. Even if we'd decided to break the law and go around, our progress would've been stymied by considerable deadfall across the trail. No sense adding more hassles to our trip.

So, we turned around and tried to catch up to Jeff, who had a good head start by now and was on a much faster bike. Although I was at first disappointed to bail out onto pavement, the consolation prize was discovering a truly remarkable long section of twisty and steep asphalt, the Ponderosa Pine Scenic Route that wound its way into the hamlet of Lowman on the Payette River. After some faffing about to find Jeff in Lowman (we discovered that the gas station where we'd agreed to meet was out of business), we decided to push on to Warm Creek a few kilometers further, where there was also a gas station. This was where Jeff had stopped and waited for us, and we arrived just in time to buy a sandwich and fill up before they closed for the day.

After some discussing the day's events, it was clear that Jeff had had his fill of dirt on the trip. He was ready to slab it back to Canada. Considering that if we continued on the Idaho BDR we would be entering one of the roughest and most remote sections of the journey through the Bitterroot wilderness, it didn't make sense to add more stress to the journey. So, we all agreed to abandon the planned route and find another way home. For the rest of the day we followed the Ponderosa Pine Scenic Route up to the town of Stanley, where our luck changed again.

While gassing up after a dinner stop, we met Laura and her friend Dave who were topping up their KTM 690s. Laura was a dental hygienist and Dave was a NASA engineer. Both were from Oregon but had connections to Idaho where they liked to come regularly for the spectacular single-track riding. They had a plan and told us to grab some beer and follow them up Highway 75, which we did.

Soon we were soaking in the Sunbeam Hot Springs near Yankee Fork road, drinking beer into the night and adjusting rocks to achieve the perfect mix of hot and cold as the Salmon River flowed around us. Admittedly, we were all inspired by Laura's lifestyle, her incredible van camper conversion which somehow fit a bed and her 690 inside, and her riding adventure stories. Right then and there, Pete and Jeff decided to abandon their current lives and move to Oregon.

What a great way to end the day!

Laura and Dave recommended we continue our journey via the Yankee Fork Road along a historic stagecoach route through the site of a former gold rush. This is a route not to be missed and it helped quash any doubts about our earlier decision to abandon our original route. Thanks to both Laura and Dave for sharing these backcountry treasures with us. (Now married to one of her long-time riding buddies and on matching 790Rs, Laura doesn't seem to have slowed down one bit!)

Yankee Fork Road follows a watershed where extensive deposits of placer gold were found lying under the tumbled river stone. Along the side of the road for about 10km was a winding ribbon of this  stone piled high. It was deposited by a most remarkable dredging machine which was painstakingly transported to the area in the 1940s. The dredge floated in the river, scooped out the stones some 30 feet down to the bedrock, separated out the gold in the fines, and discharged the stones in swathes behind it. The resulting piles turned the river into an environmental shamble in need of restoration to a natural and sustainable state. This work was underway, and we had to stop for work crews.

We finally reached the dredge itself, land-locked in a pool of stagnant water at the end of the tailings trail, where it ended its gold-digging journey decades ago. The dredge is open for tours led by locals with extensive knowledge of the history, some of whom lived in the camp when it was operating. Well worth a stop.

Inside was a maze of giant machinery that was hauled over the mountains to this remote location in pieces and assembled in situ. The entire machine was designed and built in something like 8 months.

Cable drums controlled the position of the barge and booms.

Electrical switchgear was primitive and probably not OSHA-compliant.

In the bowels was the machinery to separate out the rocks from the fines.

The fines were then sent to vibrating wash-tables, where the heavier gold particles were separated from silt and other debris, collected, and melted into ingots. Incredibly, the ingots themselves were simply mailed by USPS to a refinery in the east.

Engine porn: two 350HP Ingersoll Rand motors for producing electricity to drive the cable drums and other machinery.

Further down the road and back in time we reached the ghost town of Custer which sprang up in the late 1800s to serve prospectors and the original mining operations in the area. Remnants of the town and other artifacts remain in remarkable condition along the road.

Newspaper was pasted on the walls of this home to help keep out winter drafts. The following section was dated September 11, 1937 and contained a story about German-Americans in Salt Lake City denying ties to Nazis in Germany, who were of course a rising power at the time.

Our hot-spring soak was much more satisfying than this arrangement could possibly offer, although a tub must've been quite a luxury at the time.

This was in the gold assayers office.

Here were the ruins of the original General Custer stamp mill and namesake of the town, dating back to 1887. The original mining operations saw the ore-bearing rock blasted from the hills and crushed in the stamp mill to separate out the gold.

Now the road became a proper stagecoach trail, with remnants of the original buildings used to support the original operation still visible.

The original stagecoach route was a toll-road, brilliantly located in the only passable part of the region but nevertheless on the side of a very steep gully that posed many safety challenges to horse-drawn wagons on the downhill run.

The forests gave way to open country and the frontier town of Ellis.

It's a rough-and-tumble area with no discernible industry these days except for tourism. Lots of Harley riders passing through, probably en route north to the Sturgis rally.

Soon we were back to pavement and headed north along the Lewis and Clark Trail, where we planned to rendezvous with Jeff's in-laws (with whom we'd stayed in Eagle, CO weeks earlier), who were now camping in Idaho. A persistent, hot, dry wind like a blast furnace sapped our energy. We welcomed a stop to cool our boots in a river.

Jeff's in-laws were camped at a beautiful site on the Salmon River just west of the Lewis and Clark Trail. Here we rested for a bit before continuing north ourselves.

Part 15 (the last one!)