Epic US Ride - "Western Expansion" - Summer 2012

A quick ride through the "Date Capital of the World" and I ascend the San Jacinto Mountains





Coachella - an island of green in a sea of desert.





It was hard not to feel on top of the world. I had made it across the most remote areas on my trip without a major catastrophe. Kamikaze animals, a wheezing starter on its death-bed, slippery mountain passes, hidden gravel patches, nor fuel scares in the lonesome desert could stop me.

As I rose away from the hostile desert into more temperate climate of Southern California, an immense feeling of victory took over. I was one with the motorcycle, swiftly navigating the twists through the beautiful hills.

Motorcycles are inherently dangerous, any sane rider will agree. However, while the machine and road hazards present a tangible danger, it is within the machine where an even more pernicious danger lies. It does not exist in the physical sense - one could take the machine apart and never find it. However, upon riding the machine, it manifests itself into the mind of the rider and, like the deadly fumes of a carbon monoxide leak, it can sneak up on the rider without him or her realizing it. It grants the rider a feeling of euphoria; one could almost feel as though they were immortal.

That sense of euphoria is the most dangerous hazard; reckless driving ensues. It just takes one turn taken too sharp, one turn taken too fast, to discover the reality of this fundamental truth. I very briefly lost control of the motorcycle, just enough to cause it to skid into the opposite lane. I quickly corrected my course and continued on, much more carefully.

The experience left me shook up and humiliated for being so careless. I imagine other riders pull a similar move at some point, and I was lucky enough to be part of the percentage that doesn't pay for it. However, as I cruised through the beautiful California valleys, it was hard to not still feel a bit giddy.

I would be staying with my grandparents for a few days, simultaneously visiting relatives. Getting pampered for a few days would be a drastic, and welcome change to life on the road.

I hadn't visited Vista in a few years, but it didn't stop the flood of memories as I cruised through places familiar from my childhood.



The younger me always admired this unique house. I had to snap a shot of it.



As an arrival gift, my grandparents and aunt took me out to a swanky supermarket to "buy anything I wanted". My grandmother had a fear that I might "go hungry" at any point during my visit. After a few weeks of eating mostly oatmeal and lentils, I was very happy to graciously accept their hospitality.

After a few days of catching up with relatives, playing tourist around San Diego, and lounging by the pool it was time to depart yet again. I was bound to meet some friends in Los Angeles!



Samosas at Venice Beach!



Nearby was a place where you could pay $20 to get your "medical marijuana" card. Gotta love Cali.



Somewhere around the Malibu/Thousand Oaks area - a very different feel from the city.

Later Socal!

It was maybe 2 hours north of LA where I encountered the unexpected: the Pacific Coast climate. At first, it was just a slight drop in the temperature. It eventually progressed into a numbing coldness which I would become well acquainted with for the next 1500 miles.

While it was colder than I expected, the scenery was just as I had imagined it. I had found the west coast I was looking for!



Despite my smile, I am a bit numb from the cold in this photo.





Big Sur is beautiful, but there are no options for low-cost / guerilla camping. I covertly pull into Andrew Molera State Park just before nightfall.

It was my first night with a sleeping bag (I had mine shipped out to my grandparents house). It was a good night of sleep - comfortably warm in the sleeping bag and listening to the Pacific waters wage their never-ending war on the rocky cliffs.

I leave at the dawn, before the park attendants arrive. Judge me now, but keep reading and you'll discover why I don't regret my frugality one bit.

The coastal fog comes in and ride gets even colder. A fellow in Santa Barbara had mentioned the "June Gloom" common this time of year.



According to my broken odometer, I had only traveled about 9 miles since leaving Maryland.









There is no shortage of beauty in this place. The less-than-ideal coastal climate supports a lovely diversity of wild flowers and brightly colored chaparral.





This is where I start to curse. For those of you who plan on riding through Big Sur in the future - if you find a side cover for a R100RT, you will know who to send it to.

I continue up the coastal highway through the fog and chill, short one side-cover. The cover had fallen off several times prior (thanks to the PO's jerry-rig), so I was hardly surprised. At least it found a majestic resting place on the cliffs of Big Sur.

The Pacific Coast Highway alternates between coastline, agricultural areas, and maritime towns. I stop off in Monterrey to check out the famed aquarium; the admission price puts me back on the highway.



Artichokes in Santa Cruz. I stop for coffee nearby to warm up. A surfer chick takes a look at my license plate and asks me how sore my butt is.

The foggy riding continues and I ponder my unease. The couchsurfing host I arranged to stay with wants to first meet at a local cafe. It's a completely reasonable request, considering that we never met in person before, but I fear an interview so far from home with so few alternatives. What if she doesn't like me? Or decides that I'm a creep? She carries an irritable tone over the phone, and I wonder whether I made a poor choice for lodging arrangements. I have no alternative but to swallow my anxiety and ridge through the damp, cold fog.

The damp coldness weighs down on my thoughts and turns anxiety into fear. My mood continues to spiral - frigid ocean winds blow. Suddenly, a sharp bend in the highway leads to a tunnel. I emerge into a warm forest with no fog and moss hanging from the trees. It was unlike any forest I had ever seen. I then descend to a sunny cove and beach town. The highway took me across the valley, where I could look back to the other side and see the cold Pacific fog slamming into the steep hill above the tunnel and dissipate as wisps in the burning sunlight. My spirit rekindled by the beautiful sight, I cracked a smile and flew to the city.

Soon San Francisco came into view in all of its glory.







I rode into town to meet my to-be host. Upon arriving at the coffee shop rendezvous, I promptly tipped over the bike in plain view of the shop windows.

I was expecting to walk into a gale of laughter, but I found the typical coffee shop scene: folks buried in their laptops, their caffeine-laced attentions narrowly focused. My host was sitting in the back. Rather than the cold encounter I feared, I was greeted with a warm hug and friendly conversation. She insisted on riding the motorcycle with me. Whatever fears I had dissipated, just like the Pacific fog burning in the sunlight.

The goal now was to find a spare helmet for my host. I flipped through the Anonymous book and even posted a thread here. In the end, the helmet came to me. I was approach by a vintage motorcycle enthusiast as I stood by the bike, who was more than happy to lend a helmet.

Little did I know he was the owner of a 1940's military-issue Indian Chief and a 1934 Harley "hill-climber"!


*Pictures courtesy of the owner, as I lost mine.

The night (which happened to be the 4th of July) was spent dining on mexican cuisine in the Mission and cruising down Van Ness to the view of fireworks between the skyscrapers.

The city isnt so big and intimidating when you have a friend to share it with.

Enjoying your Journey. Keep-em coming.

OK - so its been officially way too long since I last updated this. Sorry, life got in the way. But now I'm in between jobs and have some free time on my hands :)

I snapped this shot just as I was leaving the city. Of all the cities I visited on my trip, San Francisco was my favorite.






Big deer.



Big Trees.



Big Beautiful Trees.

The redwood forests give a spooky sense of sentient presence, like you are in the company of a intelligence not quite comprehensible to the human mind. I definitely will visit this magical place again one day.



Thanks to a tip from a friend, I found this campsite off the beaten path. Yet another victory for the Awesome Adventure at a Discount Plan.





The next day marks my final leg of the trip before hitting the farm I had arranged to work on. It filled me with a very strong sense of accomplishment. I was looking forward to a change too. I had been spending all of my time no where in particular, and now I was about to be somewhere.







Traveling on the road makes us realize and appreciate those little miracles.

Keep on keepin on, man . You are doing a great job , at this !


Thank you, for putting forth the effort .



Ken

I stayed in Southern Oregon for a few weeks. While I wasn't working on the farm, I managed to get out and explore a bit.

Here's the Oregon Country Fair!











Hanging with goats:



Coquille, OR:





Farm Hangin'

It was nice to spend a few weeks relaxing, gardening, brewing, and being an all around salt-of-the-earth hippy . Little did I know how the course of my trip was to be dramatically altered by the unexplored insides of my motorcycle.

I had made great time since my departure a month ago from Maryland. The accident that delayed my departure several weeks did not prevent me from traversing the awesome mountain passes, foggy cliffs, and bustling cities I desired to see. However, it did prevent me from really looking at the bike as I should have before any large trip. So upon getting to the farm, it was high time to have a look at the bike, and perform some basic maintenance.

Through the BMW anonymous book I found a fellow in Coquille who was generous enough to let me use his garage space, tools, and even walk me through the basic maintenance tasks. We changed fluids, serviced the spark plugs, and took a good look at the bike. Things were going swell until the cylinder head nut torquing. I noticed one particular nut was loose on the stud! As I attempted to torque it, it immediately began to pull the stud out of the crank case.

A pulled cylinder stud: it was a scary realization to have 3000 miles from home. My host and I left it alone, set the valve clearances, synced the carbs, and I waved him a grateful, yet gloomy goodbye. His departing words: "You could have problems in ten thousand miles, or at the next rock."

As I rode back to the farm, I stood up and leaned forward on the motorcycle to gain a better vantage point. Oil was visibly weeping from the cylinder head/crank case junction. Yikes!

I called the nearby BMW shop, a very well respected shop in the area. It was mainly to humor myself - the cost of shop work would undoubtedly be out of my budget. I was expecting to get an estimate around 2k, but I was a little surprised when the shop owner told me that they couldn't help me regardless. Understandable, as they had a business to run, but it made the situation seem all the more hopeless.

The ADVrider community has a penchant for turning the impossible into possible. I put out another SOS, and it didn't take long before I was connected with a local mechanic near Portland, one with a great reputation and who was willing to help a stranger in a situation. After a month of living on the farm it was time to pack up and continue my way up the Pacific Coast.

One of the our "fellow" ADV'rs (hardwaregrrl Jenna, a good friend of your Atlanta buddy blake) just posted your ride report in the Airheads... man, you just made my day.....read through the entire report, and wishing (vicariously!) to be doing what you are doing. Good on ya' for setting out, far too often we plan so freeking meticulously that we lose the JOY in just... doing it. You have my respect and gratitude for what you do...

...put the cell phone down and go out and feel what life is about, amen!

I just caught up on this as well. btw, I'm in Nashville.

Fred, you're welcome at my place anytime. You as well, Bob.

Awesome RR. Stuff like this is what gets me through the day.

I'll be leaving soon on a journey of my own, and I just have to ask about the stuff you were putting in your nostrils in the desert? Is the hot, dry air prone to give folks nosebleeds? I'm a brain-frozen Minnesota boy and know nothing of these "deserts."


<mytubeelement data="{&quot;bundle&quot;:{&quot;label_delimitor&quot;:&quot;:&quot;,&quot;percentage&quot;:&quot;%&quot;,&quot;smart_buffer&quot;:&quot;Smart Buffer&quot;,&quot;start_playing_when_buffered&quot;:&quot;Start playing when buffered&quot;,&quot;sound&quot;:&quot;Sound&quot;,&quot;desktop_notification&quot;:&quot;Desktop Notification&quot;,&quot;continuation_on_next_line&quot;:&quot;-&quot;,&quot;loop&quot;:&quot;Loop&quot;,&quot;only_notify&quot;:&quot;Only Notify&quot;,&quot;estimated_time&quot;:&quot;Estimated Time&quot;,&quot;global_preferences&quot;:&quot;Global Preferences&quot;,&quot;no_notification_supported_on_your_browser&quot;:&quot;No notification style supported on your browser version&quot;,&quot;video_buffered&quot;:&quot;Video Buffered&quot;,&quot;buffered&quot;:&quot;Buffered&quot;,&quot;hyphen&quot;:&quot;-&quot;,&quot;buffered_message&quot;:&quot;The video has been buffered as requested and is ready to play.&quot;,&quot;not_supported&quot;:&quot;Not Supported&quot;,&quot;on&quot;:&quot;On&quot;,&quot;off&quot;:&quot;Off&quot;,&quot;click_to_enable_for_this_site&quot;:&quot;Click to enable for this site&quot;,&quot;desktop_notification_denied&quot;:&quot;You have denied permission for desktop notification for this site&quot;,&quot;notification_status_delimitor&quot;:&quot;;&quot;,&quot;error&quot;:&quot;Error&quot;,&quot;adblock_interferance_message&quot;:&quot;Adblock (or similar extension) is known to interfere with SmartVideo. Please add this url to adblock whitelist.&quot;,&quot;calculating&quot;:&quot;Calculating&quot;,&quot;waiting&quot;:&quot;Waiting&quot;,&quot;will_start_buffering_when_initialized&quot;:&quot;Will start buffering when initialized&quot;,&quot;will_start_playing_when_initialized&quot;:&quot;Will start playing when initialized&quot;,&quot;completed&quot;:&quot;Completed&quot;,&quot;buffering_stalled&quot;:&quot;Buffering is stalled. Will stop.&quot;,&quot;stopped&quot;:&quot;Stopped&quot;,&quot;hr&quot;:&quot;Hr&quot;,&quot;min&quot;:&quot;Min&quot;,&quot;sec&quot;:&quot;Sec&quot;,&quot;any_moment&quot;:&quot;Any Moment&quot;,&quot;popup_donate_to&quot;:&quot;Donate to&quot;,&quot;extension_id&quot;:null},&quot;prefs&quot;:{&quot;desktopNotification&quot;:true,&quot;soundNotification&quot;:true,&quot;logLevel&quot;:0,&quot;enable&quot;:true,&quot;loop&quot;:false,&quot;hidePopup&quot;:false,&quot;autoPlay&quot;:false,&quot;autoBuffer&quot;:true,&quot;autoPlayOnBuffer&quot;:true,&quot;autoPlayOnBufferPercentage&quot;:42,&quot;autoPlayOnSmartBuffer&quot;:true,&quot;quality&quot;:&quot;medium&quot;,&quot;fshd&quot;:false,&quot;onlyNotification&quot;:true,&quot;enableFullScreen&quot;:true,&quot;saveBandwidth&quot;:false,&quot;hideAnnotations&quot;:true,&quot;turnOffPagedBuffering&quot;:true}}" event="preferencesUpdated" id="myTubeRelayElementToPage"></mytubeelement><mytubeelement data="{&quot;loadBundle&quot;:true}" event="relayPrefs" id="myTubeRelayElementToTab"></mytubeelement>

Wonderful writing style. Looking forward to your trip back east.

Anxiously waiting to hear how you dealt with the loose cylinder stud . I had the same problem on my R100GS while at the national rally in Salem, OR last summer :eek1.

Dave

Is this the same Fred that didn't have enough bad luck with one low-side, and apparently just had to add a deer-hit somewhere out Oregon-way? Hope you're still trying to keep the shiny side up,

Marc and Marsha

Great story. It must be a blast. I keep expecting to read a "boy meets girl, boy leaves girl, girl meets boy later, type ending.

Its good to hear from everyone. Blake you better be careful what you wish for - I might just end up at your doorstep again on a work night with some awful mess for you to deal with again.

Akula, I used a product called aquaphor. It seemed to work only marginally in the Mojave. Riding through that place was literally like pointing a blow dryer in my face for several hours, even with a full-face helmet (which was extremely nice to have in that environment). That stretch of I-10 was an exception to the other deserts I rode through. The deserts of the Southwest are magical, I highly recommend visiting them.

As I mentioned in my last post, I was connected with a mechanic near Hillsboro who was willing to help me fix the issue. I had never met the fellow, and I had no idea what to expect.

I left the farm on a strongly optimistic note. I had been in one place for too long and it was refreshing to be on the road again. I was going to grab the horns of the mechanical issue that could ruin my trip. The oil was dripping away, but I knew the bike was going to get me to my destination.

Some accidental video footage of the Oregon Coastline:


I was lucky enough to meet a diverse group of folks through an internship the previous summer. One of those friends was currently studying in Newport - a perfect midpoint between Coos Bay and Portland. We met and promptly headed to the beach for a surf outing. I didnt have a surf board or wet suit, but it felt great to crash head-first in the frigid Pacific for as long as I could stand it.

It was the perfect place to stop for the night, or so I thought...

The following morning was typical for the Pacific Coast, cold and foggy. I was ready to hit the road though. I knew that day was going to be the it - I would meet the shepherd who would guide me from the shadow of doubt that followed me throughout the trip. "What is this engine hiding?"

I saddle up my bags and check tire pressures and oil. I hop on the bike and press the starter button.

ZIT-ZIT-ZINGGGGGG

....

"Theres no way"

press again

ZING-ZING-TZZZ

....

The starter was emanating a noise that sounded like grinding gears. My mind was a vacuum.

ZING-ZITT-CHINNNG

Vacuum mind. I simply refuse to believe whats happening is happening, now, on this day, of all days. My obstinance eventually pays off.

VROOMMM VROOM VROOM

So now its a ride to Hillsboro with as few stops as possible. After a refuel, I managed to get the bike started after another series of nasty grinds.

Maybe there is something to be said for simply refusing to accept a reality despite overwhelming evidence.



Pulling the starter out only left me confused. The magnets had collapsed, seizing the rotor and destroying the actuating arm. To this day, I wonder how I made it to Hillsboro without a pick-up truck.

I understand life getting in the way and all.... but this is a big cliff to leave us hanging on for so long....

Yikes! I really have neglected this thread. Sorry to anyone who was paying attention to it

I last left off having just arrived to the mystery mechanic's house in the nick of time. My starter decided to blow up after 4,000 miles of cross-country traveling. I suppose it was sheer dumb luck that it happened en route to one of the most skilled airhead mechanic's in Oregon!

The magnets in the Valeo starter had collapsed, causing the actuating arm to seize and snap at the hinge. No bueno!



After ordering replacement parts for the starter, we decided to tackle the busted cylinder stud.



Carefully disassembling the cylinder to prevent damage to machined surfaces



It was easy enough getting everything apart, but we found that someone had already tried to repair the busted threads with a heli-coil which subsequently had failed. Wirespokes had the standard timesert sizes, but because of the previous heli-coil installation, we had to order a larger size.

While we waited for parts to come in, I decided to give Wirespokes, who had been nice enough to give me a place to stay, a break from my constant presence and check out Portland a little.



Not having much in the way of money, I was able to find a place to stay; some people who took in "couch-surfers" on a casual basis.



Drinking beers and sharing stories in the "hot tub"



I rode bicycles around the city with my impromptu hosts. This is a tall-bike, which is how the jock-hipster-bros of Portland display their social status.



Who needs to buy food when it grows everywhere for free? These blackberries walls were a common sight around Portland.



I returned after the weekend to find that many of our parts had arrived! Now the fun begins!



The process required reaming an appropriately sized hole, while periodically backing out to clean off metal shavings and applying fresh grease. We then ran a tap through the hole appropriately sized for the time-sert. (note: It is best to run the tap through in one go to prevent cross-threading of the soft aluminum)



So much depends on so small an object!



It is necessary to use red loctite to secure the time-sert, and take care not to plug up the oil galley positioned directly above the stud. We did this by using a pick to precisely apply the loctite.



We made the mistake of reaming all of the way through the crankcase. When we threaded the stud in, we realized it would not seat. So we used red loctite to secure the thread in place, and used the jig to keep the stud squarely positioned as the loctite cured. Not an optimal outcome, but sometimes you have to just go with it. 8000 miles later everything seems to be working fine, but I would do it differently if I could do it again. (*Edit 12/28/15 - According to Terry, studs aren't supposed to be bottomed - only threaded in finger tight. In his opinion, it doesn't make any difference that the crankcase was tapped all the way through. The main challenge with the inserts is getting them seated to the correct depth so the o-ring seats properly."

We put everything back together then checked for oil flow from the studs by manually turning the engine over with the cylinder heads off. Satisfied with what we observed, we fired up the bike. Voila! The bike ceased leaking gratuitous amounts of oil from the cylinder connection and the stud nut now securely fastened the drive train components down. I could now take the journey home with the ease of mind I so needed.



By the time we had gotten the bike back together, it had been a serious few days of hard work. I was grateful for the hospitality and effort put forth by someone who just a few days ago was a complete stranger.



Its not everyday that someone just welcomes you in their home.

Really great RR. NICE JOB,

I had to laugh at a coincidence. In September last year I had just completed the Trans America Trail after a 5000 mile ride (for those not familiar, it's 90% off pavement from TN to Port Orford OR). After dipping my DRZ400's front wheel in the Pacific I headed to Portland to ship my bike home. I made it to Newport where your starter died and spent the night there. The next morning I packed up for my last day of the trip and my bike wouldn't start! Never had an issue before on the trip. Had to bump start it on a very big hill. Made to Portland, shipped it home, and i couldn't get it to start! Pulled the top end apart and found compression rings frozen. New piston/rings, still wouldn't start. Got it bump started, rode 5 miles, started while warm, but next day no start. Another tear down, still won't start 5 months after end of a great trip! I have it narrowed to a couple electrical issues now, BUT, in Portland I developed two major issues that have stopped a bike that ran perfectly for 30 days and 5000 miles in all kinds of crap!

Stay out of Portland you guys!