Yamaha XS1100: The Midnight Saga

Buddy Jeff gave me a hand getting the XS1100 home the other day; he's an enabler.

Getting it on the trailer was a bit tricky as the front calipers were seized.  A couple of whacks with a rubber hammer loosened them up enough to get the wheel rolling.  It took three of us to get it up onto the trailer - it's heavy (600lbs), had mostly flat tires and was still grabbing the brakes, but we finally got the job done.  We ended up settling on $400 as is, which gives me a working budget of about $1500 to get the bike back on the road.  It think it's doable.  The only other one like it for sale at the moment is asking $3300.  After looking at the bike again critically before agreeing to buy it, it's in surprisingly good shape for what it has been through.

Once home we had a victory beer after wrestling it off the trailer.  A bit later I had a go at it with a garden hose and some S100 cleaner.  The ride over had blown away most of the cobwebs, but the rest of the bike is quite astonishingly clean considering it has been sitting outside.  The S100 also has a corrosion inhibitor, but I also soaked the bike in wd40 in preparation of trying to remove any fastener on the thing.

Trying to muscle the 600+ pound bike into the garage earned my my first Yama-scar, but I eventually got it nestled in there.

In other news, here's something to know about bike ownership in Ontario (and probably elsewhere): if you're buying a bike off someone who bought it and never transferred ownership to themselves, you need to make sure you've still got chain of ownership intact.  This means either a piece of writing from the legal owner saying that the bike was sold to the intermediary or a signed ownership.  The kid I bought the bike off had neither (can't find them).  He's looking.  More updates to follow.

It's getting crowded in there - once the season ends
the garage will only need to hold the Concours &
the Yamaha, everything else will winter in the shed.

In the meantime, the history of this old bike is long and storied.  I'm the fourteenth (!) owner (almost).  It's a 1980, not a '78 as the kid selling it thought it was.  In the early '80s it went through three owners before finding itself at Norwich Collision Service in South West Ontario in the spring of '82.  The crash owner had owned it since Christmas and had probably been on the road for a few weeks in the spring before spilling it.  Idiots buying bikes too powerful for their experience level isn't a new thing then.  He got the bike back from repair and immediately sold it.

After the n00b crash and the repairs it got picked up by a guy who owned it for six years.  He then sold it on to a series of owners through the '90s and zeroes, the longest being eight years by a guy in Halton.  The last legal owner was a guy from Stoney Creek in 2009.  

Whoever said the Ontario vehicle history was boring or a waste of money?  This one reads like a Jane Austen novel!

I'll update the ownership situation as I hear more, hopefully it'll be resolved by the end of this weekend.  I'll hold off on working on the bike until I know I can own it, that seems prudent.

A Cure For Your Insanity Part 1: East Across Ontario

Due to financial constraints and various responsibilities I'd almost talked myself out of going to visit an old friend (we've known each other since he was 13) at his 50th birthday party last weekend, but I'm so glad I didn't.  Seeing the old faces and catching up was brilliant, but so was the chance to be out in the wind for days on my bike.  Sometimes it takes stepping away from your place in the world to gain the perspective you need to better understand it.

I left on a Friday morning as the sun beat down and temperatures started to rise.  I'd intended to take the Kawasaki but it picked up a flat last week and replacement tire isn't in yet so I turned to the trusty nearly 20 year old/84k Triumph Tiger to take me away.  Following standard GTA avoidance protocols I headed east instead of south to the crowded and manic highways of Toronto, which Google Maps always prompts me towards (getting there five minutes sooner is much more important than your mental health!).  Other than a traffic light in Centre Wellington not seeing me waiting (they're quick to road-tax me but slow to recognize motorcycles as a vehicle - I ended up putting the kickstand down and running over to the pedestrian button to change the light), it was clear sailing out of my increasingly crowded and poorly infrastructured home county.

Riding into the rising sun I made good time until I hit Newmarket, which was all poorly timed traffic lights and frantic citiots rushing to get one car ahead.  I was going to stop for a coffee but nothing presented itself in the strip-mall cookie-cutter desert of GTA expansion and rather than grate on about wearing masks all the time I preferred to just avoid the masses, so I pressed on out the other side and back into the country, except the country is now plastered with gravel trucks grumbling in and out of construction sites to build more housing for the ever expanding Greater Toronto Area.

I'd been on the road about two hours when I rounded the end of Lake Scugog on the Port Perry causeway and pressed on towards Peterborough.  At a four way intersection someone in a trophy truck (top of the line full-sized pickup with bling wheels and chrome that will never do a day of work in its life) ran the red light making a right hand turn in front of me.  I edged over in my lane ready to do something more drastic but he stopped.  The lead rider in a gaggle of Harleys coming the other way started making angry monkey gestures because he felt that I was encroaching on his lane (which he was cutting the corner on).  It's one of those things about riding in the insanity of Southern Ontario: everyone is very keen to tell you what you should be doing rather than making better decisions themselves.

I pushed on, hoping to get beyond the gravitational suck of Toronto driving culture.  Construction on the highway into Peterborough slowed things up again as people in massive SUVs rushed up the soon to be closed left hand lane to get a few cars ahead (and cause miles of backup), but if you're not driving a massive SUV and butting in line you're not doing it right.

Finally on Highway 7, I continued east toward Ottawa aiming for the Iron Rooster about halfway along the day one map.  Traffic thinned out and everyone settled into a less manic rush as the (sh)city fell behind.  After a stop in Marmora for gas I didn't really need but a stretch I did, I rolled on to the Iron Rooster for lunch.  I haven't seen any Ontario Provincial Police presence in my community for weeks, but on Hwy 7 there were multi-car speed traps set up every 300 feet or so.  By the time I stopped for lunch I'd seen over 20 police vehicles.  By the time I got to Osgoode (south of Ottawa) the number was over 50.  It's nice to know that the OPP is focused on bonus tax collection and making sure the insurance industry is getting its pound of flesh rather than looking after the communities it claims to police.

The Iron Rooster is a cool spot right off the highway with a big parking lot and indoor/outdoor seating that helps ease any covid anxieties (they roll up multiple doors to make the inside outside).  The entire place is motorcycle themed and specializes in rotisserie chicken in various sandwiches.  That focus makes for good food and I enjoyed "The Rossi" which was a "Rotisserie chicken tossed in pesto mayo with tomato, avocado and havarti cheese" on a toasted brioche bun, locally cut fries too, nice!

Moto-inspired philosophy on the wall...

A wee museum with some interesting old bikes in it and the walls covered in posters including everything from The Great Escape to On Any Sunday and Easy Rider - it was a great stop!

A 1918 BSA!

Coming out of the restaurant I ran into three native women who were out for a ride on their Indian motorcycles.  One of the nice things about riding is that it tends to remove the social barriers that prevent us from talking to each other.  We struck up a conversation about our bikes and I asked them if the name bothered them and they shrugged, saying it was a historical brand and they liked how the company represented their culture, and they loved the bikes (all three were on variations of Indian Scouts).  We then had a good talk about why we enjoyed riding so much.  Being out in the world on a bike puts you in touch with the thermoclines you're passing through and we all dug that you can feel the air and smell the smells when out in the wind; it puts you in touch with Turtle Island.

A distance was starting to form in my mind from where I've been feeling stuck in the village we moved into that is rapidly being converted into an urban subdivision.  As I rode away from the Rooster with a full stomach and some perspective, the old bones of the earth started to appear in the form of the Canadian Shield, poking up between pines and lakes (if you could see past all the police parked on the side of the road).

I had the smartphone clamped on the handlebars and when it wasn't barking instructions at me it was flashing speed trap warnings.  I used to drive Highway 7 quite often when I lived in Ottawa and the lakes, woods and stony Shield were always my favourite parts of the drive.  Fast food restaurants now litter the route and the prettiness is being chased away by an influx of people.  Those chain restaurants have done a good job of chasing small town diners out of business as well.  One of the magical things about urban expansion is that everywhere starts to look the same after a while.

Traffic was light and I made the occasional pass, but between the police blitz and volume of traffic, Highway 7 isn't the picturesque alternative to the 401 that it once was.  I wasn't in a rush to get to Osgoode but I found the smartphone's manic attention getting behaviour exhausting and when I did occasionally see a place I might stop it I found myself pushing on to keep to with the schedule Google had decided for me.  I finally turned it off and found I could enjoy the scenery and the ride more without all that noise.

Six and a half hours in I stopped in Perth to hang the phone back up and guide me in to Osgoode.  I rode past a the only non-franchise local coffee shop I'd seen on the entire ride because it was neck deep in construction and the phone was barking alternatives at me all through town.  As the sun started to stretch out the shadows I made my way into Osgoode on back roads and finally to a friend's place I could stop at for the night.

The ride east was enlightening and it started a process that has me rethinking many of the habits I've fallen into because of where I live.  There is a manic oneupmanship that is a central tenet of Southern Ontario driving culture, and it's something that makes everyone who buys into it supremely unhappy and stressed.  Getting one car ahead, even if it's wasteful and potentially dangerous is everyone's goal.

From many miles away I was thinking back to where I live as I rode the final miles of this Friday across Ontario.  Construction noises start before 7am every day.  Sitting outside for a morning coffee has you surrounded by the stucato gun shots of nail guns in the new housing division next to us harmonizing with layers of beeping from various heavy equipment backing up again and again.  This morning that was eventually drowned out by our neighbour's professional lawn service getting their industrial grade (helicopter-loud) lawn mower out (at 7:30 in the morning) to trim their golf-course perfect lawn.  With that never ending noise, dust and with thousands of new people moving into the area, my quiet village is no longer either of those things.  Looking back on it from that great distance across the province I wondered if I'm holding on too tight to something that simply isn't there any more.

Part 2

Part 3

Riding Versus Flying to BC for Work...

I've got a work thing in Vancouver next month which got me thinking about incorporating a ride to the west coast and back. Turns out flying is much cheaper (even with car rental) than riding...

Cost of flying/ ($200 return) + renting a car for the week (inc. gas + taxes = $1100): ~$1300 total.

Total mileage riding out and back: ~8800kms. at 0.58 cents/kms = ~$5100 (not counting hotels enroute). Flying is way cheaper! I'd save on having to rent a car while out there, but the costs of moving myself there (as opposed to being luggage on a plane) are significant.

If I took the week off before the week I needed to be in Vancouver, could I ride out there in that time? It's about 4400kms to get there. Saturday to the following Sunday is nine days on the road, which works out to under 500kms/day. Intense but certainly doable.

4400kms out at 500kms/day = 9 days (8 nights of hotel). Going cross-Canada on the way out: https://goo.gl/maps/zBYBMzkMqsxDrMx67 = 4436kms. 9 days on the road at 500kms per day = 4500kms.

After the week on the ground in Vancouver, I'd take 2 weeks off to come back through the States, hitting key points like Yellowstone National Park. The way back through the US, even with the detour down to Yellowstone, is 4462kms: https://goo.gl/maps/RHEUUiSrxCCj6V7g7

It would probably be wise to factor in a tire change at some point on this 10k odyssey. I imagine they're cheaper and easier to find in the States, so I'd throw on some new shoes and get an oil change and service once south of the border.

Riding out would chew up 3 weeks of vacation but would offer a chance to cross most of the continent on two wheels. In a perfect world I could find work related stops on the way out across Canada and get that week covered (mileage and hotels), then use 2 weeks of holiday for the return through the US.

Motels in Canada on the way out look to be between $120-150 a night (x 8 nights = $1200 in not fancy housing). If I stayed out of cities (where hotel pricing seems to have lost its mind), I could come in under budget if I was aiming at $150/night (taxes in) on average. Hotel prices in the States look similar.

Budget (assuming I covered all costs)

Hotel stays going out (8 nights @ $150/night avg taxes in) = $1200

Hotel stays coming back (12 nights @ $150/night avg taxes in) = $1800

Gas/day = $60* (= 2 tankfulls and ~700kms range/day on the C14) x 20 days on the road = $1200

Tires & Service: Bellevue Kawasaki in Seattle on the way back $1000

Travel eating: breakfast**: $10, Lunch: $20, Dinner: $30 = $60/day avg. x  20 days = $1200

Estimated total cost for a 3 week cross continent 2-wheeled odyssey: $6400

*  Well over what I'd need/day mileage wise and will be cheaper in the US
** If I'm staying a breakfast included hotel then I can save there

That budget isn't being overly stingy and I should be able to come in ahead on it. It might also be possible to shave days off if I get into a groove (say, on the Praries) and do a couple of big mileage highway days. If I got good at a last minute booking app like HotelTonight I could probably save a bit on the hotel stays too. Another alternative might be to stay at the same chain all the way across and save that way.

We did it by car preCOVID and it was an epic trip. Riding would make it even better!

Track Day Planning

I'm pretty keen to go do a track day, and I have a buddy who is the same.  The Grand Bend Motorplex does motorcycle open lapping on its track.   I found GBM through motorcycletrackdays.ca.  The upcoming SOAR racing event at Grand Bend offers open motorcycle lapping prior to their weekend events.  That might be a good time for two nØØbs to go as there will be experienced track day people on hand to help us fumble through the technical inspection.

I figured it would be a show up on what you rode here on and go on the track, as you would with a car, but bikes seem a bit more involved.  Here is the list of motorcycle specific technical requirements:

• Is your kickstand secured? Your spring return isn’t enough on a racetrack. Use a plastic strap tie or duct tape to secure your kickstand in the up and locked position before you come to tech. 
• Tape over your speedometer. It’s the rule.
• Make sure your throttle returns quickly and positively. We want to see it snap back when you release the grip. 
• Change your antifreeze for straight water. If your bike puts antifreeze on the surface, it shuts the entire track down and may result in suspension. Antifreeze is 100 times worse than water on asphalt (It’s like wet ice). Swap it out for water before you proceed to tech. 
• Tape over or remove lights, signal and mirrors. They all shatter and they all puncture tires. 
• Brakes: Make sure they’re properly functioning, front and back, with no leaks, because we’ll check. 
• Chain: Check your drivechain adjustment. Too tight or too loose means breakage. Refer to manufacturer’s specification. Also, check your master link. A rivet style link is preferred, but a standard ‘slip on’ while suffice if you put a dab of silicone on the key to secure it. 
• Now that you’ve ensured your brake lines don’t leak, check the rest of the bike. Your engine and suspension components must also be leak free. 
• Overall track worthiness: These are the small things that can lead to disaster. Loose lines can snag. If it can flop around, it can be snagged and lead to a crash. 
• Body: All body parts must be secured or removed. 
• Mechanical: Check your fasteners and ensure they’re secured at recommended torque. 
• Tires: Properly inflated, with structural integrity intact (sidewall, tread, steel-belts, bulges).

Most of that is common sense/maintenance, but there are a couple of bits that will require some thought.  Tying up the kickstand is all well and good, but that means you're bringing a rear stand to keep the bike upright.  Swapping out the antifreeze also means you need to bring some distilled water.  Some tools, disposable gloves and fluids would probably be a good idea too.  Suddenly the back of the bike I want to ride to the track day is looking like a hardware store.  You wouldn't want to ride an hour and a half to a track to find out you don't have what you need to go around it.  Short of asking for a pit crew to accompany you in a four wheeler, riding solo to a track day seems difficult if not impossible.

Of course, this leads you down the road to a trailer, which then begs the question, why use your road bike for track days when you can pick up an older sport bike for not much, not have to pay for road insurance on it and spec it out specifically for track days.  Stripped of lights and needless accessories like rear foot pegs and indicators, you'd be ready to ride as soon as you roll it off the trailer, and the machine would be tailored for the track.

I've been to several racing schools, but the one time I really got into it was while living in Akita, Japan.  Kyowa Race track was a small carting track deep in the mountains south east of the city.  Kazutoyo, a student of mine, was an avid racer (he came to Canada for a summer to participate in a Mosport racing mechanics program).  We'd go up there half a dozen times in the summer and spend the day hauling the carts around that bendy circuit as quickly as we could.

The vehicle of choice for the carts and the paraphernalia that went with them was a cargo van.  We'd be able to fit three people, the tools, the disassembled cart and spare tires and other odds and ends all in the van and head to the track.  Riding around at break neck speeds was awesome, but I have fond memories of all the fettling that when on in the pits too; it's all part of the race experience.

Ford Canada's handy Transit Van Builder got me all
set with a customized utility van that could carry two
bikes and gear with ease... things I'd do if I were rich!

Now that I'm thinking about doing a track day on two wheels I'm tempted to imitate those Japanese carting guys and get what I need to make a track day possible.  I've been wishing for a trailer several times this summer to haul lumber.  Having one on hand and a vehicle to haul it would be handy for more than just track days.  

Or just win the lottery and get the full on racing support van.

If Mechanical Sympathy were to go full on into racing, I'd grab that 1000cc VFR from Angus (in my Transit race van) and prep it for racing.  Stripping off all the lights and extras and minimizing it down to a race bike.  I'd be a dangerous man if I had more money.

In the meantime I'm still trying to look for ways to ride my Ninja to the track and do some laps without dragging along someone in a cage to support the activity.

Links:

Motorcycle track day primer: a good explanation of track days.
Beginner's Guide to Track Days in Ontario: a great checklist on how to approach track days - renting a bike is what I'm now looking into...

1971 Triumph Bonneville Restoration: Front Fork Rebuild

It's all snow and wind outside so I spent a good six hours in the garage this weekend rebuilding the front forks and the triple tree on the '71 Bonneville winter project.

The forks on the bike had been 'choppered' with massive fork tubes and spacers in them.  The bike came with new stock fork tubes so after a cleanup both front forks got rebuilt with stock fork tubes.  I'll put the chopper ones up for sale and see if it'll make a dent in the new parts order I got in.

The internals on the forks were in good shape (it has always been stored inside).  After a cleanup they went back together again nicely.  The picture on the right gives you an idea of just how long those fork tubes were (almost as long as the whole shock!).

The right side front fork went right back in no problem, but  the left side one won't fit in the lower triple tree mount (it has a bolt that squeezes it on but the circular clamp is too tight.  I've tried heating it up and wedging a screwdriver in the gap to respread it enough to accept a fork.  I shouldn't complain, this is the only thing that's being difficult on this fifty year old machine so far.

The lower fork unit as it came out of the giant chopper tubes.

The same piece cleaned up.

Parts diagram from the '71 Triumph's parts manual.

Meanwhile, the first parts order came in from British Cycle Parts.  They were great helping me clarify what I needed to get started.  The order was about $450 including shipping and got here quickly (within a week), one box from their Canadian warehouse and the other from their U.S. one.  I haven't started installing anything yet, but I now have what I need to rebuild the Amal carbs, sort out the electrical system and take apart the motor to prep it to run for the first time.

Motor gasket set!

Electronic ignition system and coils!

Amal carburetor rebuild kits!

Rubber bits!  This time 'round I got a new kickstart rubber & the gear shift rubber.

That's a stock style new rubber to replace whatever the f*** was on it.

The monkey who was choppering the bike put massive footpegs on the rear peg position,
but that doesn't make any sense on a chopper (they're usually feet up and forward).
These are the stock footrests.

Stock foot rests (and hardware)!

The plan is to rebuild the carbs, get the motor sorted, install the upgraded ignition system (which I suspect will also involve creating a new electrical loom) and then see if I can get it all to run.  Once I've got it a step closer to running I'll be back in touch with BritCycle to get the other bits and pieces I need to get it rideable.  The plan is still to get it to a place of getting a safety and putting it on the road next season.

I'm not a big fan of lost causes and I wrench to ride, so the point is to get the Bonneville back into service. After watching a lot of Henry Cole on TV, I like the idea of a 'rat bike', which also means I can focus on the mechanics rather than how it looks.  If I can get the mechanics sorted to the point where I can ride it, I'll do a season with it rough but rideable and then consider my options.  I got the bike and spares for $1500 and I've just put another $450 into it.  I think I can get it roadworthy for under $4000 and a non-running barn find bike of similar era was going for a grand more than that a few weeks ago online, so no matter what the Bonnie project won't ever drip red.

In a perfect world I'll get it sorted and some one will offer me more than I've put into it (cost, not time, I'm happy to put time in keeping bikes on the road).  Whether that's once it's roadworthy or once it's been cleaned up too, I'm easy.  Meanwhile the Bonneville is doing what I wanted it to:  giving me an opportunity to go deep on a motorcycle restoration and learn a lot in the process.

The motor's getting cleaned up and recommissioned.

Once the (now stock) forks are back in I'll wheel it out for a deep clean on the motor
and then start with the electrics before rebuilding the carbs.  With any luck the old Bonnie
will be to the point of starting by the new year.

Somewhere in between all this deep surgery, the Concours needs new brake pads and the Tiger has some new sprockets and a chain to install.  To be honest, these minor maintenance jobs are something to look forward to after the deep diving into the restoration project.

Last winter was a deep maintenance round on the Tiger, but even that pales in comparison to the scale and scope of the Bonneville restoration.  Practical Sportsbikes and Classic Bike are both magazines focused on hands-on motorcycle mechanics and both have talked about the dreaded project stallout that can happen when it all gets too much.  I'm taking the advice of both mags and breaking this up into chunks and then solving things subsystem by subsystem.  The small wins help me feel like like the project is progressing and prevent the dreaded project-stallout from being overwhelmed by the whole thing.

On the upside, the fact that we got 15cm of snow over the weekend isn't really on my mind as I'm keeping track of many things-to-do in the garage.

Sea to Sky and Back Again

My son and I are two up on a BMW F800ST on our way out of Sooke on Vancouver Island's south coast.  It's the last big stop before heading into the wild, and it's not that big a stop.  The road has met up with the rocky shoreline and I'm bending the bike left and right around constant corners, I'm seldom able to see more than a couple of hundred feet down the road.  From the steep hillside down to the Pacific Ocean a deer pops over the barrier onto the road right in front of us.  The BMW seamlessly comes to a stop five feet in front of the startled deer that tears off into the forest.  I wait for the inevitable follow up deer and see it next to the barrier watching us.  We pull away slowly and elect to ease off a bit and keep it under 80 kilometres per hour.  Even at speed limit speeds this road is something special.

I'm supposed to be in class, at work, instead I find myself over four thousand kilometres away from home on a cool and sunny Friday morning at the end of May with a rented motorcycle, beautiful weather and three hundred kilometres of astonishing roads in front of me, sometimes life offers up nice surprises.

I've only been riding on the road for just over a year.  I have my M2 license and I left an '07 Kawasaki Ninja 650R at home.  The BMW is only the second road bike I've ever ridden.  It's amazing how different two machines that do the same job can be.  The BMW is a bigger bike, with larger seats, it's much more comfortable according to my pillion.  The suspension is soft and supple compared to my Kawi, and the controls feel lighter.  The clutch take up is smooth and the brakes make me think I need to do the front pads and bleed my Ninja when I get home.  The BMW is a more mature bike in every sense.  The redline is a sane 8000 rpm, and with the soft suspension and big seat it's easy to ride for a long time.  Other than the weird left hand/right hand indicators it's an easy transition from the Ninja (one of the reasons I chose it).

The rider of this fine machine,
in his beaten up, old BMW
leathers was in his seventies!

We work our way down this increasingly empty coastal road until we stumble across the small town of Shirley and Shirley Delicious.  We'd been told by the technician at Cycle BC where we'd picked up the bike that the temperature can drop ten degrees on the coast, and he wasn't wrong.  After a hot coffee warm up and the best sausage roll I've ever had, we bump into another BMW rider who is in his seventies.  After some affable, Teutonic chat we are back on the long and winding road.

From Sooke to Port Renfrew,
endlessly entertaining

From Shirley we wind our way north west up the quiet coast of Vancouver Island.  The east coast faces Vancouver and is as busy as anywhere in Canada, but the west coast faces the endless Pacific and remains largely unpopulated.  From Shirley we saw only a couple of other vehicles as we chased the tail of this amazing road that clings to the side of mountains edged by ocean.  The switchbacks that lead down to single lane bridges over mountain rivers look more like Scandinavian fjords than Canadian back roads.

We stop and stretch about forty minutes into the ride at a scenic lookout, which along with many provincial parks, dot the route.  As we clear the straits between Vancouver Island and the mainland and begin to face the Pacific, tsunami warning signs and escape routes begin to appear.  You really get a sense of being on the edge of the world here.  The edge of North America, the edge of the former British Empire, facing half a world of ocean.

Port Renfrew is more an idea than an actual place; a few buildings scattered among the trees.  We pass through it in moments and find ourselves on a rough paved road into Juan de Fuca Provincial Park where we hope to find Botanical Beach.  We strip off the bike gear and stow it in the big Givi box on the back and head down the trail.  The tide is out and an amazing beach full of tidal pools awaits.

We warm up on the long walk down and soon find ourselves clambering over black stone jutting into the ocean.  The sea life is prodigious, with massive strings of clams, crabs and a million other things crawling on the rocks.  The smell of salt and sharp, clean air is magical. We're the only people we can see.

Jurassic Park has nothing on
Juan de Fuca!

We spend two hours wandering around the rocks, but I've only got the bike for the day and the sun is way past noon.  A quick uphill hike back to the bike has us both sweating.  I figure we should eat and the Coastal Kitchen on the way in looked like a good choice, but my son has a thing for chain restaurants and says he isn't hungry (though he was).  I don't get to the Coastal Kitchen, one of my few regrets on this trip.

I'm looking at my watch and wondering how I can possibly get back to Victoria since it's getting on for 2pm and we're not even halfway around our loop yet.  Lake Cowichan is halfway across the island.  It's only 63 kilometres away but this road is something else, you don't make time on it.  Around every corner (and there is always a corner) you find idyllic waterfalls, tumbling mountain rivers and absurdly beautiful alpine vistas.

Almost two thousand metres in elevation
changes, it's as uppy-downy as it's lefty-righty

The BMW is bending left and right over the patchwork surface of the road, the soft suspension soaking up the bumps.  I get into a rhythm and lose myself for a while chasing this road. 

Unlike the Ninja, I can barely feel Max back there until he uncharacteristically thumps into me as a I brake for a switchback.  He mumbles that he's ok, but we've been on the road since 9am, he's had no lunch and he's dopey, not a good combination.  I push on to Lake Cowichan, now more worried about him than enjoying the ride.  I really wish we'd eaten at the Coastal Kitchen before leaving Port Renfrew, we're not putting that to a vote next time.

We stop in Cowichan and eat lousy fast food at an A&W.  He perks right back up and we get back on the road quickly because it's getting on to 4pm and I've got less than two hours to return the F800.  But Cowichan marks the return to the populated side of the island and the highway out of it is the first 100 km/hr zone we've seen since leaving Victoria.  In a flash we're back to the Trans Canada in Duncan and, after a day spent virtually alone on twisting roads, we find ourselves in a traffic jam surrounded by box stores.  We wait our way through the worst timed traffic lights ever in Duncan and finally get moving south towards Victoria.

Even a commuter road like this makes most roads in Ontario look sad.  It's smooth (it barely snows here and frost heaves are all but nonexistent), and the asphalt constantly snakes over and around mountains.  Though very different from the west side wilderness, the highway ride back to Victoria was nice too.

At speed the BMW is surprisingly comfortable.  The tiny screen on the front had me doubting its high speed comfort, but now I understand how wind to the chest can keep your weight off your wrists.  At highway speeds you seem to lay on the wind, it's remarkably comfortable.  The minimalist aerodynamics on the F800ST do a surprisingly good job.

Once clear of Duncan we don't see another slowdown until entering Victoria, and it isn't a big slowdown.  By five o'clock we're pulling back into CycleBC's downtown shop, tired but elated.  The bike did the whole trip, over three hundred kilometres all told, on a single tank.  It also cast some perspective on my Ninja.

The BMW's suspension makes me want to look into the Kawi's, but a 650R is a very different kind of bike than an F800.  Given a choice though I'd take the BMW's buttery, compliant suspension over the teeth rattling shocks on my Kawi.  I thought the lack of a windshield would hurt the BMW but it was surprisingly good, and makes me question the turbulence I get off the aftermarket windshield on the Ninja.  The weird switch gear on the BMW wasn't convenient, but all of the controls were light and responsive, making the bike a joy to take down twisty roads.  It all sounds like a slam dunk for the BMW, but there is one place where the my older Kawasaki leaves the BMW behind.

It's pretty and capable,
but it has the heart of a tractor

After lugging that BMW engine around for a day I was happy to put it down.  At best it chugged down the road, but most of the time it sounded agricultural.  One of the reasons I fell for the Ninja was the sound of its engine, I've seldom heard anything happier.  Whereas the BMW goes about its business with conservative, grim faced determination, the Kawasaki is an eager accomplice, with a soprano's voice.  While the BMW is grumbling to its redline something magical is happening in the Kawasaki.  Happy up to 8000rpm, it dives to the 11,000 rpm redline with a euphoric banshee wail; the last half of the Ninja's rev range is something wonderful.  That it also manages to feel stronger than the BMW even though it's a much smaller lump is also telling.

I enjoyed riding the BMW, but it didn't move me.  The good news is I now have much higher standards for control feel, brakes and suspension, but without that all-singing engine I'm just not smitten.

As for the trip, it was unforgettable.  From sea to sky and back again, it was challenging, exhausting and completely worth it.  Were I to do it again, I think I'd get the bike for 24 hours instead of 8 and stay over in Cowichan before coming back the other way down the empty coast.  That road deserves two way attention, and I'd happily avoid the traffic in Duncan and the stress of trying to rush the bike back at the end of the day.  It also eat lunch at the Coastal Kitchen, damn it.  The days are long on Vancouver Island in the summer.  If you left at noon on one day, you could meander up to Cowichan enjoy a 10pm sunset and be on the road well after sunrise at 6am the next day looking forward to retracing those mad roads back to Victoria - you'd also miss rush hour on both sides.

CycleBC is located in downtown Victoria right under the conference centre attached to the Empress Hotel.  The staff are quick to get you on the road, know the area inside and out and offer up some great insider tips (why we ended up making a point of seeing Botanical Beach).  They offer a wide range of bikes from the F800ST I was on to a BMW GS, Suzuki Vstrom, Kawaski KLR, Triumph Bonneville and various cruiser options.  Everything looked to be in top form (they have an onsite technician), and the F800 was flawless for us.

If you get a chance to ride southern Vancouver Island, you won't be disappointed.  Next time I'm out there, I'm looking at a longer ride around more of the island.

Bike Bucket List: Ironbutt Glory & MotoGP photography redux

almost 1600 miles diagonally across North America.

My motorcycle bucket list includes earning the Ironbutt basics.  The first two rides are the Saddlesore (1000 miles in 24 hours) and the Bunburner (1500 miles in 36 hours).  The Austin MotoGP race happens to be just over fifteen hundred miles away, making it an ideal target for these badges of long distance endurance riding.

I'm not sure that I'd ever do an Ironbutt again, but it'd be nice to have done it once.

The MotoGP race in Austin is on April 10th this year.  Leaving on a Tuesday night would get me there for the event.  Even with a (more) relaxed ride back, I'd still only be on the road for seven days - 3 of them at the GP.

I roughed out hotel stops based on ideal distances, but it would probably be significantly cheaper to pick a hotel chain and stay with them throughout.  My hotel of choice would be Hampton Inn, so a revision based on where I can stop at those might be in order.

After Indy got cancelled, this is the only other race on my continent, so my only chance to ride to a race event.  It'd be nice to see the circus in action again this year, and Austin, while much further away, offers a chance at Ironbutt glory!

Video of MotoGP practice through the esses at Indianapolis.

I'd be nice to go down there with some good camera kit and see what I can capture.  I did pretty well with my little Olympus last summer, but another go with more effect gear would net even better results.

Many of the images I took had to be photoshopped a bit to hid the poor resolution and light intake of my camera (creating a simplified painted look in Photoshop hides these weaknesses).

 
 

I'm also getting frustrated with the lack of lens availability with the Olympus I've got.  I'm thinking of going back to a superzoom on my next camera.  The Nikon P610 has enormous reach (4x what the Olympus telephoto can manage with similar light loss).  What would be even better would be a full 1" sensor superzoom like the Pentax FZ1000, then I'd have a multipurpose camera with excellent low light ability - though they are three times the price of the smaller sensor superzooms.

I had a fixed lens superzoom a few years back and loved the flexibility, though it was one of the first electronic view finder cameras and lagged annoyingly.  It's light intake wasn't great either.  The new ones will benefit from much faster electronics and dramatically larger sensors letting more light in.

The Olympus PEN is an entry level mini-SLR.  I've enjoyed the size and convenience but the lenses are expensive and hard to find, and the kit lens has broken.  The body itself also broke under warranty when I first got it.  A second failure in three years has me thinking about moving on.  I'm looking for the simplicity and flexibility of a fixed lens superzoom again.  This would be especially handy when travelling on a bike where all the SLR clobber takes up too much space.

As a photographer I've always enjoyed being able to do more with less.  I've often seen people with suitcases of gear worth ten times mine take worse pictures.  As long as it can keep up with my eye and offer the control I need, a quality fixed lens superzoom will let me do that in spades.


Rough Planning Maps:

• Elora to Super 8 Airport North Austin: (20 mins from Circuit of the Americas)
• Elora to Best Western outside of Little Rock: 1045 miles 
• Little Rock Hotel to Austin Hotel:  535 miles
• CotA to Hampton Inn Marion (outside of Memphis) 654 miles
• Memphis to Fort Wayne:  584 miles
• Fort Wayne to home:  354 miles