I'm at the end of a month long drive across North America and back. It's time to have a go at the RV/motorhome crowd after being stuck behind these monkeys for hours on end. The woman who got out of her truck/trailer combo near Creemore on the weekend, blocking half the pumps and causing a line just shrugged and said, "they'll have to wait." It's that kind of thinking that seems to typify the RV owner's outlook. The Germans renting them to drive across Vancouver Island to Tofino on the very twisty and rough Highway 4 also seemed particularly adept at getting in front of you and then stopping, but then they're driving large, awkward, unfamiliar vehicles in a foreign country on difficult roads.
Since you end up spending a lot of time looking at the back of RVs while driving across the continent, a recurring annoyance are the names manufacturers give to the damned things. Popular ideas revolve around freedom, power and exploration, all things that RVs don't do. What they actually do is create a huge amount of drag and cost to your trip while giving the impression of independence, as long as you like living like a refugee (Tom's right, you don't), and taking your housework with you.
We spent a few days at Pacific Playgrounds near Campbell River on Vancouver Island and I was astonished at the size and cost of the trailers and RVs on display. In addition to the (I'm told) tens to hundreds of thousands of dollars dropped on a trailer or RV, they were pressed together inches apart in this trailer park. The sound of poorly raised children screaming would begin at sunrise every day and continue throughout. What little space you had was considered public and you could expect dozens of people to walk through it daily without batting an eyelash. That people would spend upwards of fifty grand for a trailer or more than my first two houses for motorhome and then enjoy single digit mpg figures while having no space is living the dream, but it isn't mine.
A big motorhome holds about 150 gallons of gas - at the three bucks US a gallon it was on this trip, that's a $450+US ($585CAD) fill up each time, and that's with cheap US gas. In Canada you can expect to drop about eight hundred bucks (!!!) on each fill up. If you're enjoying 8mpg, as seems typical for these things, then you're getting just over a thousand miles to a tank. If you're moving like we were on this trip, averaging over 500 miles a day, then you're looking at $200+US a day in gas - we paid just over $100 a day for our hotel stays (all of which included breakfast) and we didn't have to do the dishes, or drive like turds blocking the roads. You might make a bit back by not eating in restaurants all the time, but unless you really enjoy housekeeping why would you take it on holiday with you?
After following around Nomad Explorers and Freedom Masters for
weeks on end, I've got some more realistic suggestions for RV names.
In case you can't tell, I am not a fan of the RV/motorhome lifestyle. You can find comfortable, long distance capable vehicles that get above 30mpg, cost a fraction as much and will commute you to work capably instead of sitting in your driveway costing you time, money and space even when not in use. You'll also get to sleep in real beds and skip the dishes with the money you aren't pouring into an RV in gas costs (I'll leave the transmission rebuilds, toilet maintenance and the fact that campsites cost you half what a motel room does nowadays out of the equation). To top it all off you won't have to live like a refugee in a trailer park.
Listen to Tom, he knows...
Mid-thirties MPG, quick in the mountains, effortless on the plains, our Buick Encore was a comfortable and efficient way to see the continent. That's a geothermal vent in Yellowstone making the steam, not the Buick.
Ignoring the hundreds of thousands of dollars I'd have had to pour into a motorhome or trailer and truck to pull it, the cost of us doing this same trip using a recreational (and I use the term lightly) vehicle would have been stratospheric. Ferry fees for a motorhome/RV onto and off Vancouver Island are six times what we paid, costing you well north of six hundred bucks for each crossing. Averaging mid-thirties miles per gallon in our little SUV, we spent well under a thousand bucks in gas carrying three adult sized people and their luggage comfortably. An 8mpg (typical) RV would have cost us more than seven grand just in gasoline!!! We paid about five grand in hotels over the month on the road, some of that included a house rental. Our hotel and gas costs were less than gas alone in an RV. Had the three ferry trips been with the take-all-your-shit-with-you RV variety we would have been looking at a two grand ferry bill instead of the less than three hundred we paid. I would have enjoyed a bit more space, and I've often wondered how big a vehicle I'd need to bring a motorbike along on a big family road trip, but with Honda Ridgelines and other efficient crew cab trucks getting high twenties in gas mileage, and modern, large utility vans getting up there too, there are agile, non-road blocking options that let me still get close to 30mpg while bringing a bike along, and I don't have to live like a refugee while using them.
The idea of a reasonably sized vehicle to move people ends for me in the realm of a minivan. The thought of a hyper efficient human mover appeals though. VW is looking a few years down the road at re-producing a futuristic version of its mini-bus. That's as far down the RV lifestyle path as I dare to tread. What VW is doing looks a bit sci-fi and improbable, but an efficient hybrid people mover that could carry a bike? I'm in.
This time of year always feels like about as far from a ride as I'll get. It's in the minus twenties outside and it's been snowing for days straight. Time for some cost-no-object daydreaming... If I jumped on a plane late in the evening on Friday, December 22nd at the beginning of our holiday break, it's a long slog because there is no direct flight to Athens, but I would eventually get there on Saturday afternoon. A night in Athens and then I could begin a long ride in a warm climate across the north coast of the Mediterranean on Christmas Eve, passing through the heart of the Roman Empire on my way west to Lisbon for a flight in time to go back to work.
I have to be back at it on Monday, January 8th. There is a direct flight from Lisbon, Portugal back to Toronto on the Saturday before. Could I get from Athens to Lisbon in thirteen days? It's about four thousand kilometers through Greece, Italy, France and Spain to Portugal. That works out to an average of just over three hundred kilometres per day which means plenty of time to stop and see things or a big day of riding followed by a day off. Because it's Europe there are always autostradas to make up time if needed. It appears Athens to Lisbon is a very doable two week ride. Here's a possible day by day breakdown with a couple of days off. All the maps are highway averse, looking for local roads and the time it takes to ride them. Should things get backed up, big highway miles could happen to make up lost time:
Here's a link to the spreadsheet with working links to maps.
There are a couple of longer days in there, but there are also two days off completely and some short, half days of riding. There is plenty of time to stop and soak things in en-route to our western return point.
My weapon of choice for this trip would be the new Triumph Tiger Explorer I'm crushing on, in matt cobalt blue. Tall Tigers fit me well and this one is perhaps the best one ever made. As a cross countries mover there is little that can beat it, and that new blue is a lovely thing. I think I'd do a burnt orange on the engine guards and pannier logos. I'd also redo the badges in matching orange. The new Tiger Explorer is 24 pounds lighter than the old one, gets better mileage and has a host of advanced features that make an already good long distance bike better. The big three that powers it would comfortably carry a passenger if I could convince anyone to do this with me. If we're touring two up I'd luggage it up and make sure we could carry everything with us, but if I was solo I think I could just get by with the panniers and leave the back end looking less luggage-y.
Outfitting it with luggage and a few odds and ends from the extensive options catalogue is always fun. I only got myself into four thousand dollars of trouble there:
In a perfect world I'd get my Tiger shipped from my garage in my England house to the Triumph Dealer in Athens where I'd pick it up on December 23rd. I'd drop it off at the Triumph dealer in Lisbon on January 6th and either convince my cousin to ride it back to the UK or get it shipped back.
I've got the kit needed to do this now, but having a look at the latest European gear, I think I'd spring for a new helmet to do this ride with. The Roof Carbon is a piece of industrial art that gives me the benefits of a closed face when I need it and an open face when I'm in need of some wind. The iridium face shield would make this thing look like something out of battle of the planets. Since it's a daydream, it ain't cheap. I'd fly business there and back, so flights are north of seven grand. Getting the bike delivered wouldn't be cheap, assuming it was waiting for me in Europe to begin with. But hey, if you can't daydream big, why daydream at all?
NOTES:
Sat Dec 23 to Sat Jan 6
13 full days + 1/2 a day on each end ~4000kms - 307kms / day
It's the time of year again. My next chance to go for a ride is months away. As the dark descends I need to get my head out of the idea that I'm stuck in a box for the next four months. I wonder what it would cost to set up a series of self-storage nodes across the southern US to enable year round riding. With some clever placement I'd be able to fly in and access a wide variety of riding opportunities all year 'round. Looking at companies that provide self storage I like the look of Cubesmart. They get great reviews, offer good sized storage units with electricity and lighting and look to be well maintained. They also offer parking and other services that would make picking up and dropping off a bike easy. Storage with the same company means I'll also get looked after better. Setting up all three nodes in the south near airports means I could fly in and be on two wheels in no time. WEST COAST NODE: a storage unit in San Francisco The Cubesmart I'd aim for is in Freemont, about 40 minutes from the Airport. $140US a month gets you a 90 square foot storage area that could easily swallow a bike or two and some gear. There are dozens of best rides around the city, so this makes for a target rich centre for motorbiking. A winter ride doing the PCH north of SanFran and through the mountains back to the city would be a lovely idea...
If San Francisco were my West Coast base I'd have access too all of California and could still reach out to the South West even in the winter months. That'd be the nicest time to ride the deserts anyway.
EAST COAST NODE: a storage unit near Knoxville, TN Cubesmart has a 10x10 foot storage unit just north of Knoxville for under ninety bucks US a month (about half what San Francisco is?). It's about an eleven hour drive from where I am now out of the snow and into the Smokey Mountains, or a couple of hours by plane. I could proceed south to the Tail of the Dragon and further on into Georgia, the Atlantic coast and Florida or west towards New Orleans. The run south into the Smokey Mountains is a quick one: Austin, Texas and the lone MotoGP appearance left in North America is only a couple of long days west. Then again, Austin would make another good network node... Central/South West Node: a storage unit near Austin, TX There'a another Cubesmart less than 20 minutes away from the Austin airport. Like the Knoxville one it's less than a hundred bucks a month for secure, lit and electrified storage (which will be handy for getting the bikes ready to go).
Outfitting Each Node
I'd build up a package to keep with the bikes in each storage depot. A duffel bag with basic tools, fluids, an extension cord and a battery jumper just in case I have to give things a spark to get them going. I'd make a point of putting the bikes away well, but you never know how long it might be until someone is back to exercise them, so having the kit on hand would be helpful, especially if I'm getting there at 4am after a red-eye for some much-needed two wheeled therapy. Licensing bikes in Ontario for riding elsewhere would be a stupid idea as Ontario is one of the worst places to own a motorcycle. If I could find a reasonable place to make a residence (like BC or Alberta), I could license a number of bikes and leave them scattered around North America. If I hadn't been there in a while all I'd need to bring along is maybe a new plate sticker if needed. Off hand, my 3 remote stables would look like this: West Coast Kawasaki Z1000R: my favourite super naked motorbike. With a look like something out of Pacific Rim it would keep up with the image conscious West Coast. As a canyon carver little comes close. It's a bit extreme, but isn't that what riding the West Coast calls for? I'd have an SW-Mototech EVO cargo bag that would let me turn the big Zed (and the Suzuki below) into a tourer for those longer trips. East Coast
With the Tail of the Dragon right around the corner, Knoxville calls for a bike that can handle the corners but can also cover distances if I wanted to ride to the Florida Keys or New Orleans. Most sports bikes look small under me, but not the mighty Hayabusa. It isn't as skinny and dynamic as a sports bike, but it's still more than able to handle twisties while also being a surprisingly capable distance muncher. BIKE Magazine just took one across the USA. Central For long distance reach and also the chance to ride into the desert when needed, I'd go for the new Triumph Tiger for the Austin depot. A good two up machine that'll do everything well, it also has good cool weather capabilities for riding in mountains in the winter. That's three very different machines for each storage point down south. Swapping machines between depots would also be a cool idea, so riding the Triumph to San Francisco and then riding the big Zed back to Austin if I felt like changing up the options. Setting up each bike drop would also make for a good end of season ride down south. ***
California Dreaming
The snow is blowing sideways in the dark, only visible as it passes through the dull orange of the sodium parking lot lights. The car crunches to a stop in knee deep drifts. I shut it off and the cold immediately begins to creep in through the cracks. Grabbing the duffel bag on the seat next to me I make a mad dash for the monorail entrance at the end of the long term parking lot, the car is already being buried in snow. A big Boeing thunders overhead, lights invisible in the swirling darkness.
The monorail slips silently through the night into the terminal. The airport is dead, barely a soul in sight. With a printed e-ticket I walk straight to security and US customs and pass through quickly. Two hours later the Airbus is thundering down the runway and I'm watching snow vortex off the wings as we slip into the night. Its a five hour and forty minute red-eye flight ahead of the coming dawn; we land in San Francisco at 4am local time. With no luggage to wait on I'm out of the airport in minutes and in one of many waiting cabs heading to Freemont. It's a foggy nine degree night as the cab quickly makes its way down empty streets to the storage lockup. Sunrise is beginning to hint in the east as I unlock the roll up door to reveal a covered motorbike in the shadows. The bike underneath gleams black and green in the predawn light as I pull the blanket off. If I was tired before, I'm less so now. I transfer a few clothes from the duffel to the hangover soft panniers and belt them to the bike. I give it the once over and make sure everything is ready to fly. With the key in the ignition I turn it and watch LEDs play across the dash. The breeze outside smells of sea salt and the fog is beginning to lift; I feel like I've landed on another planet. The big Zed fires up on the touch of the starter so I roll it forward out of the container and let it settle down into an idle. I check everything again and make sure the panniers are secure on the back. While the bike warms up I change out of travel clothes and leave them in the duffel hanging on the wall. A few minutes later I'm in boots, riding pants and leather jacket and feeling warm in the cool morning air. It's mid-winter here too, but a Northern Californian mid-winter is a very different thing from Ontario. The forecast is calling for fifteen degree days, no nights under five and mostly crisp, sunny weather. This would be ideal fall riding weather back home and this Canadian riding gear is built for cool days like these.
The PCH is calling so I throw on my helmet and saddle up as the sky brightens. The 880 is still quiet as Oakland is just beginning to wake up around me. I'm through Oakland and over the Bay Bridge before rush hour builds. Traffic is just beginning to build in town as I roll through San Francisco and out through The Presidio and onto the Golden Gate Bridge. I pull into the Shoreline Coffee Shop in Mill Valley just north of the bridge for a big plate of eggs and bacon and some good coffee; it's just past 7am. I've got six days ahead of me to explore the coast and mountain roads around here before I've got to go back to the land of ice and snow.
Almost three hours into an interminable visit to the local walk-in clinic last Friday night I'm told that I'm over a hundred degrees, in terrible shape, but it's just a virus and I have to suffer through it. I should go home, rest and feel better, except I can't because this is the Haliburton Birthday Weekend. We're on the hook for a hotel that won't cancel a long weekend booking, even under a doctor's advice. I go home, sleep poorly and take lots of pills. The next morning I'm shaky and either sweating or freezing cold, so a perfect day to go for a three hundred plus kilometer ride across the province. The original plan was to leave early and take my time picking off must-ride roads in the south end of the Haliburton Highlands before finally arriving at our hotel near the town of Haliburton. That didn't happen. Instead, I followed my wife and son in the car on the shortest possible route. We stopped frequently and a sunny, relatively warm day meant it wasn't as miserable as it could have been. We all fell into our room after five o'clock and collapsed. I could have driven up in the car, but the whole point of the weekend was to ride the Highlands, so bike it was. Sunday morning dawned overcast with heavy clouds. The rain held off until I saddled up after a late but brilliant breakfast at the Mill Pond in Canarvon. I was doped up on fever and flu medication and as good as I was going to get. The plan was to wind up Highway 35 to 60 and then into Algonquin Park. If the weather was atrocious or I fell apart physically I could always turn around, but if I'm going to do it, I'm going to do it; turning around isn't in my nature. I'd originally planned to stop often and use the new camera, but needs must and I was on a mission to complete that fucking loop. The backup plan was to use the Ricoh Theta 360 camera on the fly. It's a push button affair that is easier to use than a satnav. Hit power, press the shutter button, put it away. The tank bag that came with the Tiger has a handy little pouch at the front that fits the camera perfectly. I'd never tried using the Ricoh by hand like that before, but it seemed like a good idea when my time on task was at a premium. Since it takes in everything at once you don't need to worry about aiming or focusing it either.
Heading north out of Canarvon the rain closed in immediately. On the upside, it was chasing away a lot of the holiday traffic, though this is Canada, so what you're looking at above was pretty typical for this ride... on a long weekend.
Highway 35 dodges and weaves around lakes and Canadian shield as it works its way up to meet 60. If you're not blasting through the dynamited, rocky skeleton of Canadian Shield, you're winding your way around muskeg, never ending trees or scenic lake shores. And it does all of this while being a bendy roller-coaster of a road. The gas station in Canarvon was shut down, so I suddenly found myself running onto empty as I powered north into the big Canadian empty. Fortunately, I came across a Shell station at the intersection with 60 and filled up.
By that point the rain was more steady than not, so I stepped into the rain suit and wove my way into Algonquin Park. Suddenly the roads were full of people with GTA tagged SUVs all driving around aimlessly looking confounded by all the trees. Throughout the entire loop Algonquin was the only time I was stuck in traffic. I pulled in to the Visitor's Centre and had a coffee, stretched my legs and soaked up the ambience. The lady at the counter was nice enough to give me ten cents off on my coffee because I didn't have change.
Fifteen minutes of crying babies and screaming kids and I was longing for the wind and silence of the road again. The Visitor's Centre was near the half way point in the loop, and with a coffee in me (my first caffeine in days) I was ready to go all the way. The weather was occasional spotty rain, so it wasn't as terrible as it could have been. I was warm and dry in the rain suit and the drugs had beaten back the fever, so on I went.
I'd never been out the East Gate though I've been to Algonquin since I was a relatively new, ten year old immigrant to Canada. It feels older than the West Gate, looking more like a toll booth than an art deco entrance to one of the biggest and most famous parks in the country. Once out of the park traffic evaporated and I was once again alone in the woods. I'd originally planned to head all the way over to the 523 for a wiggly ride south, but 127 cut off some kilometers and I was already feeling the hours in the saddle. It was an empty trek down the 127 to Maynooth, albeit with some pretty scenery.
The rain came and went and I got so used to riding on twisty roads that it became second nature. What would have been a ride to road where I live was just another road in Haliburton. The Tiger spent very little time on the crown of its new Michelins. I pulled up in Maynooth for a stretch before starting the final leg of the loop back over to Haliburton Village.
Strangely, and for the first time since the trip began, the roads dried up and the sun started poking through. Up until now I'd been on local highways; fast, sweeping roads that, while curvy, were designed for higher speeds. Out of Maynooth I took Peterson Road and got to enjoy my first local road with lots of technical, tight radius turns and elevation changes. Peterson and Elephant Lake Roads were dry and a lovely change from the wet highways I'd been on before.
On a short straight between the twists on Peterson Road out of Maynooth.
Those 41 winding kilometres to
Pusey flash past in no time!
The local traffic was apparently very familiar with bikers making time through the area with several trucks pulling over and waving me through; some country hospitality on a long ride. The pavement continued to dry and the Tiger got friskier and friskier as I rode on to Pusey and then Wilberforce. I was lucky to see another vehicle in either direction on this busy long weekend - just my kind of road trip. No matter how sick I'm feeling there is nothing like a winding road and a motorbike to put a spring in my step. For the first time on this ride I wasn't carefully monitoring my health and the weather, I was just enjoying being out in the world on two wheels.
The sun battled with clouds all the way under Algonquin Park and I soon found myself lining up for an approach back toward Haliburton, this time from the east. Once again I elected to cut some extra miles out, forgoing a ride to Gooderham for the joys of the 118.
Swooping through the lake of the woods while leaning the ever eager Tiger around lakes, trees and rocky outcroppings had me in nirvana; it was like riding through a Group of Seven painting.
By this point the drugs were wearing off, I'm starting to wilt and the deed is almost done. The last few miles into Haliburton turn ominous as dark clouds fill the horizon and the temperature drops. I steel myself for the final push.
As the sky fills in and the rain starts to fall again, my goal is in sight. I pass through the small town of Haliburton like a ghost and pull up just as house keeping has cleaned our room (the family is out at the pool). Ten minutes later I've taken another round of drugs and I'm in a whirlpool tub getting the heat back into me.
The logic I followed doing this was: any day on a motorcycle is a good day. Even with a fever and a nasty virus I had a great ride and a real sense of satisfaction in completing my birthday loop of the Haliburton Highlands. It would have been nice to do it without feeling like I'd been turned inside out, but hey, any day on a motorcycle is a good day.
The ride: a 270 km loop through Algonquin Park and back around to the town of Haliburton. All told I was on the road for about four and half hours, including a gas stop, a coffee at the Algonquin Visitor's Centre and a leg stretch in Maynooth.
The camera: a Ricoh Theta SC. It takes two hemispherical photos in both directions and then stitches them together, which makes the camera disappear in any photos it takes - which is pretty freaky. Having all hardware buttons, you don't have to futz around with a smartphone to interface with it like you do with the Fly360. As a camera to use while photographing a motorcycle ride it doesn't come much easier than this. It'll do video and save it in 360 format so you can look around in the video on a smartphone. It does the same thing with photos. The photos in this piece were opened in the Ricoh software and then screen captured. That's how I cropped images to show various things. The original, unedited photos are pretty funky (see below), but look good with some judicious cropping. Where we stayed: The Pinestone Resort just south of Haliburton. The prices are reasonable and you get a nice room. The facilities are good with golf on site (if you care about that sort of thing) and a salt water pool and sauna. The onsite restaurant had us waiting 90 minutes (in my case for a French onion soup and salad) and isn't cheap. Eating elsewhere might be a good idea, especially on a busy weekend, but anything else is at least a ten minute drive away in town. We stayed there last summer on our ride back from The Thousand Islands and it was good - they seemed to have trouble handling the traffic on a long weekend this time around though.
Standing on the side of the road futzing with a smartphone interface.
360Fly: The one benefit of the Fly is it's more weather proof than the Theta, so I set it up on the tachometer of the Tiger in light rain and left it recording a time lapse video of the ride from Maynooth to Haliburton - it's about an hour or riding compressed into 20 seconds. The much fiddlier smartphone connected Fly wasn't ideal for a ride like this, unless I was going to set it and forget it, like I did. It also doesn't take a full 360 video, it only has one eye unlike the two on the Theta.
Things have tightened up around the total solar eclipse that crosses The States in August. If I can make it back for the 23rd I've got a conference I can attend to demonstrate virtual reality, and who wouldn't want to do that? The conference would also pay for the trip, so that's nice. Timing and weather are the key factors in making this work. This eclipse is also a two for one deal because it happens right over the Tail of the Dragon at about 2:30pm on August 21st.
There are a lot of very detailed maps out there showing you where the path of totality is thundering across the Earth's surface at over six hundred miles per hour. From 1:05pm local time to about 4pm is the time it takes for the moon to go tip to tip over the sun. Totality only lasts from 2:33:54pm to 2:36:25pm - a scant two and a half-ish minutes, then daylight returns.
I've seen partial eclipses before but I've never seen totality, so that's the goal (that and riding the Dragon). Fortunately Deal's Gap and the road to the Fontana Dam are right in the path of this once in a life time (in North America) event. I've got to boogie home after seeing totality. If I'm on the road by 3pm local time, how much time can I make before stopping for the night? Now for the iron-butt portion of the trip. The conference kicks off late morning on Wednesday, August 23rd in Toronto. As long as I've gotten my ass home by Tuesday night, all is good in the world. It's a 360 mile interstate blast to Dayton, Ohio (home of Les Nessman!). Google Maps says just over six hours. With a couple of stops call it seven. If I'm on the way by 3pm, I should be stopping for the night between 9 and 10pm - just after a late summer sunset. Day two is a long distance run up to the Canadian border and back home - just over four hundred miles. If I were under way by 9am, with a few stops and some lunch, I'd be home by 6pm-ish; totally doable.
With the back end compressed, the front end of the trip becomes my only chance to ride the Appalachians on the way down...
South through Buffalo and into the mountains, then it's three days of winding Appalachian roads and Blue Ridge Parkways south to Cherokee in the heart of the Smokey Mountains. If I left on the Thursday before, I could do Thursday and Friday nights on the road south, Saturday and Sunday nights in Cherokee near the Tail of the Dragon, Monday night near Cincinnati on the way back and then home again. It's a lot more interstate than I'd normally go looking for, but it's still a once in this lifetime opportunity.
