Life is dreary in the Pacific Northwest. About the last time of the season I tried to ride was taking my dual sport up a logging road with a friend only to find just how slippery logging road mud can be. I ended up in a ditch, but thankfully it was slow speed and neither I or my bike were injured. That’s life, I guess. When I bought the KLX300 in the middle of 2024, one of my DS friends said that putting it down was a part of dual sport riding and to just accept that it wasn’t going to stay pretty.
But I digress, because I’m just complaining about the
weather. Kind of like how I should have written a blog post to talk about the
Lolo Montana trip I took in September ‘24 with a buddy and how the weather
really sucked. How much did it suck? Thunderstorms and cold rain for two days
straight while wearing summer leathers with just a rain jacket over the top.
Riding all day in rain and 40s temperature while…. Well, you get the idea.
Sometimes you gamble on the weather and it throws a curveball at you. Which is
pretty much every time I tried to ride out to Lolo, except that this time I
made it.
Okay, maybe I am complaining about the weather because this
year I finally did what I’d been fantasizing about for years. Well one of the
things anyways. I took another trip into the Southwest, during February.
Granted it was another gamble weather-wise because even Southern Arizona where
I was aiming to go does actually get cold in the winter. In fact, some of the
mountains down there even have closed roads!
Since Arizona is a two-day drive just to get there, I
decided to fly to Phoenix and rent a bike. I won’t get into the math, but the
time cost made it worthwhile to spend a tiny bit more to do it that way. It was a mental toss up whether to rent from a
random person through a share service or rent from an agency, and out of
paranoia I went with Eagle Rider. By the way, this isn’t an endorsement for
them, I’m not an influencer getting paid for it, and in fact I’ll mention some
things that might turn you, dear reader, off from using Eagle Rider.
Eagle Rider rents more than Harleys, even if they operate
out of HD dealerships. Not all their locations have non-HDs, but the one in
Mesa (part of the Phoenix sprawl) has Yamaha, Triumph, and BMW. I selected a
Triumph Tiger Sport 660 because it’s size/weight/fuel range seemed appropriate.
Besides that, I bought new gear because a lot of my textiles are worn out and
or suck.
It was also a gamble on what to buy because there was
no telling what kind of weather I’d see. Turns out it was a warmer than usual
February, so selecting three season gear was right. The other gamble was
whether it would arrive on time because it was coming from Italy and there was
a snowstorm here that delayed a lot of shipping. Why from Italy? Because in my
infinite wisdom I ordered direct from Dainese and the specific jacket/pants I
ordered is not normally sold in the US.
I wasn’t trying to be special; I promise. But on the bright
side it seems that since I got the EU spec items, they came with the higher-grade
shoulder/elbow/knee armor instead of the lower grade stuff sold in the US
market because we don’t have regulation. I don’t care for the government
telling me to do things, but this time it kind of worked out. Funny thing
though, the back protector I ordered can’t be bough in California or New York
because of chemicals. P65 warnings were on all of it.
Everything booked, I boarded a flight Friday afternoon and
ended up in Phoenix, Arizona. I’m unfamiliar with Phoenix, so it was another
gamble whether any particular area was better to stay in. I also didn’t want to
spend $300 on a motel room so I selected a Motel 6 that didn’t have bed bugs in
the reviews. It kind of sucked anyways though for a number of reasons, but I
won’t get into that. In the morning, I Ubered my way over to the Eagle Rider
agency and walked in with my roller bag in tow.
They were waiting for me. Kind of literally. The old Harley
guy working there joshed me by pretending that they didn’t have the Triumph and
were sending me out on a Sportster! He got me good, then they brought out the
Tiger. Visually it wasn’t in bad shape at first glance and I was in an excited
rush to get going so I didn’t pay attention to a few details. I mean, I had the
extra insurance on it, so I could have crashed it and not paid a dime extra to repair
or replace it.
Turns out previous renters had dumped it on both sides. Part
of the brake lever was broken and it hadn’t been replaced. The clutch lever was
loose, the whole housing was kind of damaged. It was a pain to get it adjusted
correctly which took several days of fiddling with it. It was either tell them to fuck off and take that Sportster they joked about or take the less than perfect Triumph. At least the tires were
in good shape. With my luggage strapped onto the bike I set out.
Because of a freeway shutdown and detour I spent half an
hour in city level traffic just to get to a different highway. An hour just to
get mostly out of the Phoenix sprawl. Sprawl literally because it seems just as
you’re getting out of Phoenix there’s another new subdivision with it’s usual
retinue of chain stores and restaurants. I had lunch in one of those sprawls
then continued finally into open air where it cooled down.
On the Butler map, the area around Prescott and south on 89
are good riding. In reality it’s just more sprawl and traffic. Just like in
2020, going through Prescott made me feel like I was a poor plebian compared to
the obvious money that lives, or has a vacation home, there. Once onto 89 I was
stuck in traffic for ten miles before finally breaking free and getting some
good curves in. Unfortunately the base model Tiger’s suspension kind of sucks
and this particular bike needed brake service.
89 is worth it for the curves, if you can break free of
traffic, and the views. I had planned to make my way into the Ambrosia Mill
area but due to some navigational errors associated with not having a written
plan or using a GPS, I ended up going through Wickenburg and Vulture Mine.
What’s kind of odd, at least to an Oregonian, about this area is how you’ll be
riding through the desert admiring rolling hills and cacti then you’ll run into
a “resort community” in the middle of nowhere.
Houses, golf courses, airstrips, all that. Just like someone
said “here’s some cheap land, let’s build a community for rich Californians”.
Then just on either side of that nonsense you’ll find RVs, trailers, and
recreators of all shapes and sizes in the desert. Side by sides are quite
popular and can be plated for road use here. Vulture Mine Road was a beautiful
ride and eventually it’s paved section ends.
Given the lack of curves I’m glad I was on a more upright
bike and not worried about burning out my sport tires because there was plenty
of upright riding and curves were a rarity. With some more navigational
challenges I made my way onto a major highway that led down into Gila Bend.
While the Best Western there is nice, the rest of Gila Bend is a shithole
including the pizza joint I had dinner at. It’s claim to fame, which I
sincerely doubt is true, is that Prince Harry ate there. They have a cutout of
him and the woman he married and everything. I didn’t ask them whether it was
for real.
Either the greasy pizza or the “continental” breakfast
didn’t quite agree with me the next day. Riding south into Organ Pipe Cactus
National Monument was kind of chilly but it warmed up quickly and I was peeling
layers off. This was real Southern Arizona and I started seeing CBP checkpoints
and vehicles everywhere. Down in the park there’s even signs advising tourists
that they may see smugglers and such and to report them.
I made my way into the park and stopped at a camp site where
there was a 1.5 mile loop trail. After stripping off my gear and changing into
shoes, I lashed everything to the bike and hoped that none of the tourists in
the camp site would mess with my stuff. After all, why would Californians and
Minnesotans in Sprinter vans dick around with someone’s motorcycle gear?
The loop trail was pretty although a lot of stuff was brown
due to the season. But Tim, it’s the desert, isn’t it always brown? No. Just
the sand and rock! Brush and cacti do have a growing season when they’re green.
Some things were even still in bloom although I missed the cacti blooms. I took
pictures, enjoyed walking in the sun, then the bad food I’d eaten came back to
haunt me as I was furthest from the campground toilets. Good thing the restroom
there has running water so I could clean myself up, because it wasn’t just the
desert that was brown.
Anyways nobody had dicked with my gear, I put it all on and rode south to the border, turned around, then back north. At the Why junction there’s kind of nothing so I continued to an Indian casino where they advertised having a restaurant. Turns out the restaurant is just a hot deli counter that took nearly 30 minutes to turn out a cheeseburger. At least it was a decent burger. Riding through reservation land is always depressing.
It's like nobody had bothered to build or repair houses
since the fifties. Junk gets left where it dies, and people all look unhealthy.
Yeah, yeah, white man’s fault and all. I got stuck behind a law enforcement
vehicle for probably twenty miles of what should have been decent curves, only
to find it was a CBP, not sheriff, and I probably could have passed him without
worries. This whole trip I really kept my speed down because AZ seems to have
more cops (not just CBP) than all of Oregon.
Getting up Kitt Peak would have been more fun except for
slow minivans and that the road surface was at least fifty percent tar snake.
AZ as a whole seems to be tar snake country, but that section especially. It
gets chilly again at the top but I spent a while just standing there eating a
Cliff bar and enjoying the view. Time on a vacation shouldn’t be an issue
except when I’ve made motel reservations and want to get somewhere before dark.
Continuing on, I got to experience some local culture in Three
Points where my very obvious “not from here because I’m wearing Dainese
motorcycle textiles” clashed with the locals who were coming back from a hunt
wearing camo and all rocking some serious iron on their hips. When I was
checking them out and one of them stared at me, I nodded and complimented his
Staccato then mentioned I have a Prodigy for competition.
Ice broken a little bit and we talked gun stuff for a few
minutes until they departed. I guess some things down here in the mountains are
open season all year, and this close to the border sidearms aren’t for bears or
cougars like in the PNW. From Three Points I made haste down to Arivaca road.
It was just another highlighted road on my Butler map, and it didn’t disappoint
besides the depressingly low speed limit.
Arizona is weird. Instead of just posting suggested speeds
on corners, they lower the speed limit. I was paranoid and didn’t break the
limit too much, but Arivaca road was still fun. Kind of rough in places,
especially where the road dips into an arroyo. The views are nice too. On the
eastern side there’s some new construction, adding onto the sprawl for people
moving to AZ from shittier and or colder states.
That was it for the “fun” riding and the rest was a high
speed, and I mean eighty plus was the traffic average, run down into Nogales
where I checked into a Motel 6 that didn’t suck. The local Mexican food was
pretty good, and I slept pretty good.
In the morning I put on my warm layers and rode out to Pena
Blanca Lake. I was probably the first person out there in the morning and
didn’t see any other traffic. Which was nice since it’s a curvy road. Technical
really because there’s lots of 10mph corners. One of those corners almost did
me in because it was in an arroyo and there was a lot of sand washed across the
pavement. A bit of luck, praise be the motorcycle gods, and maybe a touch of
skill kept me from crashing. Which is especially good because this was out of
cell reception.
I doubled back and made my way east on Patagonia highway
which was pretty and interesting. If you imagine the typical Patagonia clothing
brand aficionados, then made an assumption about a town in Arizona called by
that name, then you’d probably be right. Patagonia is kind of a rich people
Disneyland version of the American Southwest, right down to the Sheriff deputy
waiting at the drop from 55 to 25mph.
He didn’t have reason to ticket me thankfully. At Sonoita I
turned south to go down to Parker Canyon Lake. This road was nice and curvy but
in generally crap shape with lots of tar snakes. One arroyo still had water in
it and I had to slow down and wade through the shallower part. Getting south it
really struck me how much “middle of nowhere” it was. Also the mountains and
hills here have a lot of low trees and brush, it’s not just all desert like in
a Roadrunner cartoon idea.
The last seven miles to Parker Canyon Lake is single lane
and narrow. You know the phrase country people use “we don’t dial 911 here!”?
Well that’s probably true out here not just because of the aversion to inviting
LE onto one’s property as it is because there’s no cell reception. It’s really
isolated and it’s not far from the border. CBP probably comes out there more
often than the local sheriff and for good reason. From Parker Canyon you can
see the CBP aerostat moored on the other side on the mountain at Fort Huachuca.
Talking with one of the locals I found that every year some
of the people trying to get into the USA try to do it through the mountains in
places like Parker Canyon. Many of them don’t make it because they’re not ready
for the cold overnight temperatures at elevation. CBP finds a lot of corpses in
the mountains. But I digress. Parker Canyon Lake is like Pena Blanca,
unimpressive, so I turned around and went back.
Just onto the two-lane section I passed a gigantic
overlanding rig with Alaska plates. If I’d been a few minutes later I would
have encountered his gigantic ass in the one lane narrow twisty section! I had
wanted to take Canelo road because it’s highlighted, but a civilian like me
can’t get all the way through because it goes through Fort Huachuca cantonment.
On the way back to Sonoita I encountered some javelinas (Google them) who ran
away rather than let me stop and take a picture.
There’s nothing really to eat in Sonoita so I continued on,
then turned down towards Sierra Vista. Let me digress again. At high elevation
in the southern desert, my eyes were just plain killing me. That’s with a
visor, sun visor, and my glasses. Just straight up I could barely focus by the
time I pulled into a Wendy’s in Sierra Vista. There’s a tethered aerostat at
Huachuca which I couldn’t focus on. I popped some Excedrin and waited for my
head to clear.
It occurred to me that with the thinner air, the UV
radiation was higher. So instead of regular glasses I started wearing my
polarized prescription sunglasses underneath my visor and sun visor. That combo
screws with colors but it helped with the headache and stuff. At the
restaurant, I briefly talked with a new rider who wanted to know about my bike.
Unfortunately, I was too out of it at the time to probably make much sense. Oh
well.
After Sierra Vista I took another Butler map highlighted
road, Charleston Rd, into Tombstone. The road was cool but too much traffic to
really have fun on it. I rode through Tombstone but didn’t stop because of the
parking situation. South towards Bisbee got interesting again, at least in that
isolated desert way with long vistas and endless rolling hills. When I pulled
into Bisbee, besides the touristy “old town” which fairly stank of blue state
money, what floored me was seeing the Grand Canyon.
Except it wasn’t the Grand Canyon. It was a giant artificial
canyon where copper had been mined for years. It’s a tourist trap now although
the mining company still owns most of the land and there’s rumblings about
getting the mining going again due to the first world’s demand for it. The bad
food from Gila Bend was still giving me problems and thankfully the visitor
center had a restroom. I toured the old Lowell downtown, shot pictures, then
followed my friend Marv and his wife Suzie out to their home in the O’Neal
area.
Marv used to ride. I don’t mean that in a derogatory manner
like some people. He crashed hard and shattered his collarbone. The doctors
didn’t fix it because the shards were close to his jugular, I think they were
just being lazy VA doctors though. He still rode for a decade after, although
had to give it up eventually. Marv and Suzie moved from Oregon to the middle of
nowhere in Arizona. I accepted their hospitality, we went to dinner at a nice
unpretentious Vietnamese place in Sierra Vista and talked and talked.
In the morning I made my way back to Tombstone and walked
around the “old” section. It’s hella touristy like you’d expect. Most of the
shops weren’t open yet because I was early. After Tombstone I made my way
north, connected with the freeway towards Tucson, and again was one of the
slower vehicles on the interstate. Never be the fastest, that’s how to avoid
tickets. On the interstate there were lots of snowbirds. Everything from
multimillion dollar RVs to beater camper trucks and Sprinters, all with northern
states license plates.
It took about 45 minutes to get through the east side Tucson
sprawl to get to the road up Mount Lemmon. On the Butler map it’s a good road.
In reality it’s… a good road. Too much traffic though so it took a few partial
runs up and down to really get my curve addiction satisfied. At the top, over
8,000 feet I was a little bit dizzy since I’m a low-lander with Asthma. There’s
lots of pull outs and vista areas on the road and I had a short conversation
with some people about my bike. Turns out some of them were from Oregon. Small
world.
Mount Lemmon is worth the ride, as long as you’re willing to
go up/down a lot to get the whole thing. Get stuck in traffic? Turn around. Get
a few miles of clear pavement before more traffic, then repeat. Lots of bikes
up there and not just motorcycles. To my genuine surprise there were bicyclists
riding up that mountain. I mean serious bicyclists, probably pro or semi-pro.
Riding up 8,000 feet of mountain at a pace that I couldn’t keep up for a mile
at my best.
One thing about the locals in Phoenix and Tucson. Fitness
seems to be a real lifestyle there. Sure there’s the usual assortment of shapes
and sizes, but it does seem that there’s a slightly higher percent of people
that take care of themselves, at least compared to some other areas like where I live.
I finally had enough and rode back, checked into my motel, and had a quiet evening. The next day I rode to the Pima Air and Space museum. It’s near the Davis-Monthan airbase, which is home to the legendary airplane graveyard. Not just graveyard, but storage. Without the GWOT actively going on, there’s hundreds of military cargo planes stored there in addition to the planes waiting to be scrapped for spares and shredded.
The museum itself is huge. It’s a whole day kind of visit.
To that end it surprised me how much crap they gave me about my little backpack
for carrying my water bottle, camera stuff, and other odds and ends. It’s no
bigger than a big purse but because it has two straps, it’s bad. They let me
through after I complained and pointed out that I’d come by motorcycle and
there was no leaving this crap behind. After all with as much as the museum is
out doors, it makes no sense to make people carry water, sunglasses, hat, etc
while traipsing around. Just a few of the pictures I snapped:
Other than that, the museum is great. They had a huge
selection and will have more in the future including a military vehicle museum
next door. Their F-117 is still in pieces waiting for it’s replica parts before
it can go on display. If I want an already restored one I have to go to Palm
Springs. Maybe I should go to Palm Springs next winter? Another quiet evening
followed, including a pretty decent lasagna at a little bistro near my motel.
My last day of riding started with another thirty plus
minutes to get clear of urban sprawl. It was cool and stayed cool on my way
north and up in elevation. It was mostly kind of boring desert, as opposed to
interesting fun desert, until Winkelman where the canyon carving started. Dumb
me didn’t notice the signs advising of a detour and closure, but we’ll get to
that. Highway 77 north goes up into the mountains and has some good curves.
Along the way I stopped at a small monument to the mines
that used to dot Arizona. Gold, Silver, Copper. Entire mountainsides washed
away to get at them.
Unfortunately, it seemed there was a plethora of heavy haul
on the road which made it suck. Also it went into the mountains where it got
cold and misty. Like a dry mist, not a condensing mist. Fortunately, my three-season
gear was fine in it. On the other side, pulling into Globe, I realized that the
detour and closure was on the very highway I had planned to take into Phoenix.
That meant doubling back and down to Winkelman.
At first I was cursing myself except that once I got past
some trucks I had a nearly clear run over the mountains and through the canyon
to Winkelman! I was a little worried about the time since I had to get the bike
back to the rental place by two PM. I made great time and then once on the
major highway 60 made even better time. The mist and coolness was replaced by
dust and Phoenix heat all the way into Mesa. I pulled into Eagle Rider right on
time.
The guys at the rental place asked how the bike ran, and I
told them the entire truth. It stalled on me twice while riding, threw a CEL, the clutch
lever assembly is screwed up, the brakes need service badly, and the suspension
needs to be refreshed. His eyes glazed over because Harley guys don’t
understand anything other than “add more accessories and power mods”. Whatever.
I changed, repacked my rolling duffel and caught a ride to the airport.
Airports are a good place to catch an expensive afternoon
buzz, then eventually get on a plane and back to reality. Two days later and I
was already planning my next trip.
Do I recommend Eagle Rider? Yes and no. The Mesa location
had a lot of Harley Davidsons available. If that’s your thing, go for it. The
Triumph they rented me shouldn’t have gone out the door. I think like any
rental agency they just run their equipment into the ground. If you wanted an
HD then you’d probably be getting something lower miles, but who knows really
the condition of the one you’d get. Since they’re primarily an HD operation,
you’d probably get a better roll of the dice. Probably. During or after Bike
Week you’re throwing a crap shoot.
Given the cost difference, I might try out a motorcycle
share service and see about renting from some random joe. That’d be about half
to two thirds the rental cost. Flying in and renting a bike has it’s
time-advantage as opposed to trailering to a destination, storing my car, and
then riding.
What do I think of the Tiger Sport 660? It's seat was awful. Not a comfortable all day seat. Riding position was comfortable. It needs more power. The base model suspension is just... basic. With the factory hard bags and a little better in the above departments it might be a hit sport-touring wise. The trim level I rode was just a commuter bike.
