An eclectic collection of Slipstream contributors’ motorcycling adventures: new-bike road tests, technical articles, opinion pieces, humourous travel anecdotes and more.
I woke up bright and enthusiastic to a sunny day – Castle Combe Skills day…. yippee! I’d opted to stay overnight in a hotel nearby as I was concerned I would be too tired to get the best of the day otherwise. It proved to be a good decision.
It was a short jaunt to the circuit although I, along with many others, missed the unobtrusive entrance first time past. So much for rider observation skills. The excitement hit me as soon as I arrived… lots of amazing bikes and people milling around. After registering it was off to get the decibels of my bike checked. I couldn’t believe my little Honda NC750X would break the noise limit but I slipped it into rain mode as someone said that reduced the noise. I needn’t have worried… passed with no problems and the sticker on my bike meant I was good to go.
Up until this moment I’d been fairly relaxed about the day. That started to change after the safety briefing as I understood what was ahead and I began to get a little nervous. I was in the novice group – first time on a track. A chat with our group leader then it was time for our first 15 minutes on the 1.9 mile track. We took the seven bends fairly easily including a couple of chicanes. It was fun although it felt a little slow. I was ready for more! My silent wish was granted when the leader decided to break the group up into other groups so he could concentrate on a particular rider. The new group I joined was faster and still only 6 riders. The flexibility of the organisers throughout the day was much appreciated.
Time for a coffee in the circuit cafe then the second session was upon us. This went really well…we used the markers for braking, turning and accelerating from the apex. Our group leader professed himself really pleased with us all and we went off for another coffee to celebrate. Our third session was before lunch and did not go quite as well. From heroes to zeroes in a 15 minute ride! As a group we went too fast, didn’t look up and our accuracy was pitiful. We shamefacedly went back to the cafe for lunch and to prepare for the afternoon sessions.
During the break I was able to enjoy the site and visit the memorial stone for the RAF pilots that trained there between 1941 and 1948. This was where my father had trained and we had previously had a very happy day visiting the village and re-living sites and some of the exploits that young trainee pilots with short life expectancy indulged in. It was poignant to be training at the same place albeit with less of a death wish.
Refreshed, our group salvaged some respect. Smoother, more accurate and actually faster laps. We even managed to spot the traffic lights on the circuit for the first time… the reward for raising our eyes from the track. From then on it just got better. We had three more sessions with quality feedback from the observers. This was when I reaped the rewards of not travelling to the circuit on the day and was able to hang in for all seven sets. The last session was a free ride and a chance to put everything together.
All in all, a fantastic and well organised day. I progressed my cornering skills enormously and the feedback from the observers was, as ever, outstanding. I learned to use my front brakes much more than the back which was a particular weakness of mine. Above all, I developed a ‘feeling’ for cornering that serves me well on the road. I also learned that track riding is addictive and that I will be back!
A couple of years ago (thanks to lockdown) I came back to biking after an absence of about 35 years, although my initial interest was about restoring older bikes. I started on a 1989 XJ600 with a full rebuild that I still haven’t quite finished, but it was a practice run that taught me an awful lot. In particular, it’s a bit like pulling a bit of wallpaper – don’t do it! Running and riding is good enough.
Having got my DVSA licence at the end of 2020, I didn’t have a bike that i could actually ride. To practice for my test I bought a 20 year old Honda Shadow 125 and, fun as it was, it wasn’t quite up to the job. I then bought an old BMW Funduro 650 that had been somewhat neglected and quickly got that running and riding and looking smart enough, soon followed by a 1995 Honda CBR1000F that had been stood in a garage for 20 years. I still have all these bikes, and really enjoy riding them. However it takes a level of dedication to maintain them in good running order.
What all these bikes have in common are A) carburettors and B) no rider technology. The CBR has linked brakes through a very complex mechanical solution but that’s about it apart from electronic ignition and I have no desire to go back to points.
When I started on my TVAM adventure a little over a year ago I quickly realised that I was going to have to buy a new bike. The risk of breaking down on my old bikes is just too high and wouldn’t be fair on Observers (what a fantastic bunch of people they are). Social rides were putting just too many miles on the bikes that generally have less than 25,000 miles on them. Looking for a new bike was an adventure in itself, with an opportunity to learn about all of the advances that had been made since I last bought a new bike in 1984. I knew very well that I wanted to avoid all of the current rider assist technology. I couldn’t avoid fuel injection or ABS (now legally required) but I could avoid all of the other stuff.
It’s not that I’m a technophobe. I work in technology. My house is brimming with multi-room tech. My car is pure electric with lane assist, adaptive cruise and active collision avoidance. But that’s because my car is a functional tool with the sole purpose of getting me from A to B as efficiently, safely and cost-effectively as possible. The sooner I can get a car with level 5 autonomy the better. But biking for me is purely a hobby. It’s my escape from tech. I don’t use my bikes for anything other than social riding and thoroughly enjoy practising and developing my skills both maintaining and riding the bikes.
Nobody talks about cadence braking anymore or how locking up the back wheel is sometimes what you need to do on a loose surface. I find a finely set up bank of carbs give much better throttle control than the snatchiness of fuel injection. I don’t have an issue with the amount of work that goes into keeping carbs running smoothly and efficiently, in fact I rather enjoy it. I’d really rather ride a bike knowing that it’s my inputs and only my inputs that are controlling the bike and know that I’m developing my skills every time I take a bike out.
BMW FunduroHonda CBR1000F
For a new bike I settled on a Yamaha XSR700 Xtribute, a retro modern bike that yes, has fuel injection and straight-line ABS, but nothing else. The throttle lever was attached to a cable. There were no rider modes, ABS settings, IMU’s or fairings. That suited me perfectly. An enormously fun bike that has to be ridden. The front end is light and wobbly and gets even lighter and wobblier at speed. The tyres are pseudo off-road with a bit of knobliness that feel like they might break away at any point. It takes practice and experience to ride it effectively. Trying to keep up with sports bikes and GS’s on social rides was an exhausting effort but so much fun.
Yamaha XSR700 Xtribute
One year on and I had to conclude that I needed a bike that could handle distances and touring. The Yamaha XSR700 is good for a 150 mile run, but anything more is just too much, and I’d like to do some touring or go on longer runs without needing a recovery day afterwards. And that means that I am going to have to adapt to a largeish touring bike with rider assist tech. So last week I traded in my XSR against a new Yamaha Tracer 900GT complete with panniers and a big screen and a 6 axis inertial measurement unit (IMU) and semi-active suspension and a plethora of modes to choose from.
Yamaha Tracer 900GT
A few hundred miles in and I don’t yet know whether it’s all good or all bad. I love the quick shifter although down shifts are going to take a bit of practice. There’s a green up down arrow to indicate whether the system is ready but who has time to look at that and, under relatively heavy braking with a down shift, I found the ABS kicking in on the back wheel, something that I have largely been able to finesse on my other bikes with a slow release of the clutch to give a bit of slip. So I might just stick to clutched down shifts.
The big perspex barn door that pretends to be a fairing is horrible, and I’ll have to find an aftermarket, less intrusive, solution. The semi-active suspension doesn’t appear too troublesome. There are 2 modes, soft and hard or, as the dealer put it, English roads and French roads. In soft mode the bike felt very stable, but I guess I’ve yet to push it hard. So far I have no idea whether the traction control and power modes have been interfering in any way. A six axis IMU is basically the same tech as you have on a mobile phone. The six axes are lean, pitch, yaw, thrust, heave and sway, with umpteen data points per second to determine whether the bike is sliding, skidding, spinning or wheelieing.
The intervention is really nothing more than a power reduction. Active braking as I have in my car is not a part of the setup. It is also largely a dumb technology. As far as I am aware there is no AI learning process to adapt to different riding styles, but I can imagine that will be the next step. So far I have no idea whether any of the parameters have been exceeded at any point. I can feel the forks extend under heavy acceleration, but I don’t know whether the system prevented the front wheel from lifting. I don’t know whether the back wheel was in danger of breaking traction in a tight corner, though I doubt it. I don’t know whether the system kicked in when I was accelerating on gravel. I guess full discovery will only come once I start pushing it.
My attitude to this tech is that I have to be a little more grown up about the whole thing. One day it may make the difference between getting around a corner or doing a bit of hedge trimming and possibly much worse. I will definitely keep riding my old tech free bikes. In fact, I now have more freedom to be a little more extreme in my choice of old bikes. I very much want to keep developing my riding skills. But for a long social ride or tour I’m happy to trade a small amount of pure riding fun for a bit more freedom to travel. I guess even Biggles might have traded his Sopwith Camel for a Cessna Caravan.
Speaking to fellow bikers, mine is not an unusual tale, but I hope it will bear telling all the same. My motorcycling journey, or almost non-journey, started back in 1930’s over a quarter of a century before I was even born. My mother lost a favourite uncle to a motorcycle accident.
My father’s distaste for motorised 2-wheelers came a bit later. Fresh back from Dunkirk, the army was setting up lookouts on major hills to warn of an invasion. Radios were in short supply, so pairs of soldiers were dispatched, each with a motorbike. My father’s plea that he didn’t know how to ride one was met with a simple “Well you bloody well better learn”. This was followed by him riding round the west country, identifying any open bit of land that could be used as a landing field and persuading the farmer to block it with old machinery or whatever was to hand.
His hatred of two wheels coupled with an engine became quite intense as he came off it several times after falling asleep. Most were while he was stationary and trying to cop some Z’s on the machine, but a couple were while moving and he ended up in the ditch.
So when I got to 16 it was obvious that hell would freeze over before I could have a moped. Several friends acquired knackered old mopeds and a couple even had Yamaha FS1’s or Gilera’s. I found out all about jealousy! At 17 I learnt to drive a car and may almost never have ventured out on two wheels if it hadn’t been for a schoolmate who got a Honda 125 and agreed to insure me on it. Good move, and his sister wasn’t bad either!
That morphed into a Honda 250 Superdream. Then he took his test, said he was going to get a 500 and if I didn’t take my test then that was the end of the deal. I didn’t, so it was. But his sister was still nice. No training back then and no safety gear. Ski mitts and ski jacket if it was a bit chilly. The first few rides were hair-raising as one fought with the clutch, gears and the traffic altogether without training. I’m glad that this phase of my motorbike career didn’t last long because I know that I wouldn’t have. A small taster of how utterly stupid I could be back then:-
I was in Nottingham and wanted to pop down to Birmingham and back. I borrowed the 250 as it would be quicker than my, then, 850 Mini. Mark warned me that it needed servicing and was not revving cleanly, missing a bit at the top of the rev range. I set off and I caught up with a Capri with a couple of lads in it. It was near No Man’s Heath in Warwickshire if my memory isn’t playing tricks, on what is now the B5493 but used to be the main road before the A42 dual carriageway. Normally the Superdream would have carried me effortlessly past them and on to better things but this time it was not going to play ball.
The Capri accelerated and I was stuck on the wrong side of the road with the engine missing. Of course I wasn’t really stuck at all, I only had to lift off and tuck back in. But I didn’t. The bend loomed up. The double white lines started. Still out there. A truck loomed round the corner, and braked. So did the Capri. I lived to tell the tale.
How stupid. I look back and my blood runs cold. Fate was smiling on me when it decided to remove my access to Mr Honda’s machinery. I wasn’t ready. The year’s rolled by. Rallying four wheels was replaced by marriage and mortgage, so motorbikes became a forgotten dream. In the late 1980’s there was an almost moment. I was commuting up to London and decided that a motorbike would cost about the same as a season ticket and be far more fun. But the job was far from fun, my boss was a pain so I moved companies.
More years passed, the hair grew thinner and I started to get an itch. A truly terrible itch for which there seemed to be no cure. Amongst several of our friends and work colleagues there were lots of motorcyclists. They had survived many years in the saddle, some with no incidents. The itch had started and was getting worse.
As I had never taken a test, I had to do the whole thing. CBT, Theory Test and then Direct access. While part of me said this was a pain, my sensible head told me it was not a bad idea as, after 40 years out of the saddle, it was best to start again. So I hatched a plan to cure the itch. If I did the CBT at the end of November, I would come back home cold, wet but with the itch cured. Epic fail. I came home with a grin from ear to ear. The itch was becoming an addiction.
Charles & Gerry at RoadTrip.
It was a bitterly cold day. An overnight frost meant the instructor advised that we might not be able to do the road part if it didn’t warm up. The morning round the cones etc was a good start and all the old skills started to come back. The lad who was on the course with me failed the eyesight test so he wasn’t going out on the road. So when we did go out we rode for ages, just the instructor and I eating up the miles with the cold seeping into my bones! Did I care? Not a bit, I knew I could crank up the heater driving home in the car.
So what next? I decided to get a 125 and get some miles in. I rode everywhere I could, regardless of the weather and about a year later decided to go for the direct access opting to do that in the outskirts of London so as to be more used to heavy traffic and less of the country bumpkin. The school allowed future pupils to visit early in the morning to do a couple of loops of their tarmac off-road area to assess how many days tuition they needed. I was told I could probably do it in a day but 2 days would be safer. I said that was great but signed up for the full 5-day course. Yes, I wanted the piece of paper but above all I wanted to feel happy to progress to a bigger bike.
What a great week that was! I got to go on some great rides and was rewarded with the two pieces of paper that gave me the new category on my licence. So the 125 had to go. Easy, sold to youngest daughter. Then the difficult bit, what to get? Like a lot of people who learn I leaned towards getting a bike that I had trained on. So a Suzuki V-Strom and a Kawasaki ER6 were top of the list. The Suzuki was quickly crossed off. Too expensive. My wife doesn’t like biking so I will always be buying at the cheap end of the market. But an ER6F was found that fitted the price tag and rode well.
Good choice. I had a lot of fun on it. I said that a 650 would be big enough for me forever but as my trips got longer and longer I found I wanted something more long-legged and more planted on the road. So, just shy of 2½ years later I acquired a Suzuki GSX1250 FA. Casual conversation with my cousin had led to him suggesting this as a replacement. A ride out one day with a mate led to a stop for coffee at a dealership where one was for sale. Conversation with a salesman led to a test ride. Hooked!
There have been a few comic moments. I went into the petrol station one day, got off the bike. Poor thing was obviously tired because it decided to have a lie down. So that’s what the side stand is for. Another day I popped over to see eldest daughter for lunch in the pub. Gravel car park so thought I would stop in the entrance to see if there was a useful bit of hardstanding for the stand (see, I had learnt from the petrol station incident). Put foot down but hadn’t twigged that I had stopped next to a pothole. By the time my foot was near the bottom it was only going to end one way. This time both the bike and I were obviously both tired.
I decided that more skills would not be a bad thing so joined TVAM and recently passed my advanced test. Thanks to John Stevenson for getting me through. I think he misses my after-ride emails where I make lots of observations and ask questions. I think that “you over think it” means “for goodness sake leave me alone”!
So what next on the journey? Long distance lunches are quite normal now. Bucks to Ashbourne, or Brecon, or Malvern/Ledbury. I’ve had a couple of overnight trips away. More longer trips are needed and being away for a few days at a time. I want to go to France. With TVAM I am getting into the back marking and run leading and I think the Observer route beckons.
I have also learnt that I should not have sold the 650. I understand that the secret of happy motorbiking is to never to get rid of the old one…
There are so many motorcycle riders out there, and there are also as many different mixed reasons as to why each does what they do.
For me it is mainly about relaxing and clearing my mind. It is also though about pushing my limits and seeing what I can do. From riding 200mhp on an open road (topic for a different conversation) to working on and customising my bike, making it my own and doing as many different things as I can for experience.
I am someone that loves ticking the “To-Do” boxes and will do almost anything once, especially the things that terrify me.
So, when I saw that there is a ride called an Iron Butt (IB) and not many have done it, I decided this was another box that I needed to tick. And if I were to do it, I might as well go big and do it on a bobber: no cruise control or any other creature comforts. It was time I became a member of the Iron Butt Association.
The What
To those not familiar, the Iron Butt Association is not a club as such. There are no membership fees. There is only one way to become a member – you must successfully complete and have certified an IBA Certificate ride.
An IBA ride is any one of many different rides (https://ironbutt.co.uk/w3/certifiedrides.php), but the entry level ride called the SaddleSore1000 (SS1000) requires you to complete a minimum of 1000 miles in under 24 hours.
Chatting about this ride with my mate Pierre Louw, he decided to join me on this trip. IBA recommends this is done either as a solo ride, or in pairs: any more riders increase fuel-stop times and increase chances of a breakdown.
The When
Having decided to go ahead with it, we agreed to do it mid-June (to be precise we did it on Saturday 11th June 2022) as the days are the longest then. We straight away shared the news with friends and family, which meant there was no turning back.
The Where
Although there are a few pre-planned IB rides in the UK, we decided to plan our own. This was mainly because of my small tank (12.5L): the route had to be planned fuel-stop to fuel-stop. Although my bike can do over 120 miles, we planned even shorter stops (every 105 miles) in case there were any issues with petrol shortages.
We also planned the route to start and finish close to home, so no need for trains or hotel sleepovers before or after the ride.
The Details
For anyone thinking about doing this, I highly recommend reading through the advice/guidance on the IBA UK site – from fuel, to stops, to food and what clothes to wear and take: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_xVdpmTsjiA-zfNG-DI75mvS0deTivmau0ZQCrwx_BE/edit
IBA recommends you do about 50-100 miles over the minimum 1,000 miles, because when you send your documentation proof for validation, they work it out on the shortest available route from stop to stop. For this, we planned our route from Wokingham, up to the west of Scotland, to the east of Scotland, then down to the south east past Norfolk, across to Worcester and finally back home to Wokingham. The plan was for about 1,050miles.
At the very least, you must have a receipt from the start and the finish and a picture of those receipts with your odometer at each point.
The Ride
#1 – Start: We started our ride from Regal Garage – Loddon Bridge, the one by Harley Reading at 03h06 (see pic above).
#2 – Solihull (B90 4EN)
#3 – Wigan – just north of Liverpool (WN6 9RB)
#4 – Carlisle (CA4 0AN) – from here on, in true Scottish tradition, we were met with rain and high winds in excess of 45-50mph: it was very funny looking at Pierre in front of me doing a wide right turn but leaning to his left to counter the wind: not something you see every day.
#5 – Glasgow (G68 0BJ)
#6 – Berwick-upon-Tweed- south-east of Edinburgh (TD15 1QQ) – Rain now stopped but still had wind for a while.
#7 – Darlington (DL1 3NL)
#8 – Retford (DN220PG)
#9 – Brandon (IP27 0ER)
#10 – Coventry (CV7 8NR)
#11 – Cirencester – Cotswolds (GL7 7JR)
#12 – Finish: We ended our ride back at the Regal Garage – Loddon Bridge, the one by Harley Reading at 21h51:
Total ride (excluding ride from home to start and finish to home) was 1,088 miles and took us 18 hours and 44minutes.
Only once I had plotted our actual ride on the map did I realise (and was pointed out by many…many other riders) we should not have finished in Wokingham, but should have continued to Colchester and then back up to Brandon.
During the trip, most parts of my body went through stages of pain and blissful numbness and back to pain. The worst part was my right forearm and wrist as I did not have cruise control.
Our trip started slower than average and ended up faster than average as the last 100 miles were the most painful, and the idea of getting off the seat and having a celebratory whisky and cigar became more inviting with every mile.
In summary, this was an outstanding ride with good company, but I will probably not do it again. I have the badge and pin to show for it… I do recommend everyone does it at least once.
Well having just completed my 5th Aardvark, I still can’t get to the bottom of how this almost mythical description evolved. What I can tell you however is that for an observer, it represents a unique bi-annual opportunity to have your riding skills assessed by some of the best on-road coaches money can buy. Namely Rapid Training.
For the 3rd year running I was recently buddied with one of my favourite TVAM riders Steve Harris and when we found out that once again Alan Thomas would be our Pro-Coach, we knew we were in for a treat. Alan’s irreverent sense of humour breaks the ice from the get go and his non-prescriptive coaching technique guarantees that we will spend the day more akin to a 3 amigo’s road trip than a headmaster embarrassing us in front of our class mates. I suggest you ask Steve or Alan about the squashed raspberries incident if you are ever in need of a pick-me up!
Unfortunately, just hours before our scheduled session with Alan, Steve’s rear suspension failed (his bike’s equipment of course!) and as a replacement buddy could not be found at such short notice, I was offered the opportunity to ride with Alan on a one-to- one basis which I readily accepted. Sorry Steve, hope you can forgive me.
I met with Alan in a Costa coffee shop in which he, offered me, a cup of coffee. A nice twist on the usual student offering the teacher an apple scenario. We then spent some time discussing my riding since we last met and by the end of the coffee, we had the day planned to match precisely what I wanted to do, which included a trip to the sea-side for ice cream as Alan lives in Christchurch.
Throughout the day and in equal measure Alan gave credit for my riding skills where it was due and offered, in a positive and encouraging manner, constructive commentary on those elements that could perhaps be tweaked a tad. From time to time he also provided a semi-guided tour of his home county as we were riding along which I felt was a bonus!
In addition to all of the above, Alan offered me the opportunity to observe and comment on his riding for a short period which I readily accepted. He immediately rode off in a spirited manner and it took every ounce of my riding skill to catch and finally stop this Class 1 roads policing pursuit officer to give him a piece of my mind! However, I managed to moderated my questioning and batted away the constant excuses he gave me, drawn no doubt from his decades of listening to people trying to talk their way out of a prosecution.
At the end of a very long day, I arrived home completely knackered but elated from the brilliant, confidence inspiring and totally fun time I’d had.
I’m aware that for some, the thought of attending an Aardvark session can be a bit daunting. So I’m hoping you can see that if you embrace the opportunity with an open mind it can be a huge amount of fun.
In April this year and after much planning, Kimberley and I spent ten fantastic days in Scotland, riding some of the most thrilling roads we have ever ridden in the UK. A motorbike trip to Scotland is no small undertaking for those of us based in the South of England, but the effort was well worth it.
Scotland. For Bikers. By Bikers.
You could say we ‘cheated’ in a way as, rather than ride the 400 plus mile journey to our destination near Crieff in Perthshire, we loaded our bikes onto our two-bike trailer, filled the car with all our suitcases, bike gear and our two Dachshunds and set off early to avoid as much of the Good Friday traffic as we could. The journey was almost all motorway and dual carriageway which we find are the best roads to use when towing. The fewer twists and turns the better when you are hauling a Ducati Multistrada and a BMW S1000R behind you.
For those considering towing, here is our first top piece of advice. The entries, exits and connecting roads at motorway services are often in terrible condition and you need to be extra vigilant for potholes, bumps and failed road surfaces here. We have towed the bikes for thousands of miles and the only two times we have had a ratchet strap bounce out of place is on the exits from services.
The journey took ten hours in total which is gruelling, but we arrived at our rented holiday home comfortable, tired but happy to be there and relaxed in the evening sun.
Our reason for choosing to stay near Crieff was so we could ride routes which make up the “Crieff Cloverleaf”. To explain, a group of bikers have devised a set of circular routes which start and finish in the lovely town of Crieff and have shared them on their website www.cloverleaf.scot. There are 4 main long routes named North, East, South and West ranging from 180 to 240 miles and 4 ‘little leaves’ which are all around the 100-mile mark. All the routes are available from their website in GPX and Waypoint formats and all start from the easy to find Crieff Visitor Centre.
We took it easy for the first couple of days as there is plenty to do in and around Crieff. The major landmarks of The Kelpies and the Falkirk Wheel are less than an hour away and Dundee, with its recently regenerated waterfront and historic railway bridge is also within easy reach.
On our third day there, we decided to take our first ride and chose the ‘Little Leaf Northwest’ as our first taste of Scotland’s roads by bike. Well, all I can say really is that from the moment we left the outskirts of Crieff, the roads opened up into rolling moorland full of twisty, well maintained, largely traffic free roads. The scenery was truly spectacular with dramatic mountains, tranquil lochs, and managed woodlands all around. Our first day took us through the confusingly Welsh sounding Aberfeldy, through the village of Dull (twinned with Boring in Oregon) and on to lunch at Killin.
The Kelpies
This first ride out had given us a flavour of what was to come, so our next full ride was the 240 mile ‘North Leaf’. This route included what we now think of as our new favourite road; a section of the A924 between Comrie and Kirkmichael. It really is stunning, with far too many twists and turns to count, it was a technical, spirited ride of long sweeping curves, rapid elevation changes and tight, almost chicane like dips and turns. I described parts of it as like doing Look, Lean, Roll in 3D. We arrived in the tiny village of Kirkmichael elated and ready for coffee and cake which was plentiful at the charming Community Village Shop. The shop is next door to a vintage car specialist and we spent a while chatting to the owner and admiring a Lagonda which dated back to long before it joined with Aston Martin.
Glencoe view
We were only about a quarter of the way round this loop at this point and the route continued North to Braemar, Tomintoul (for lunch) and Aviemore. Again, the roads were largely empty and utterly breath taking. We’d frequently ride over a crest and just say “Wow” over the helmet comms at yet another spectacular view.
Here’s another tip. There are a lot of elevation changes and hidden dips on these moorland roads so remember the advice that you “must be able to stop in the distance you can see on your side of the road”. Remember that the obstacle you might encounter is just as likely to be a sheep as a Range Rover in these parts. Also, for large sections of this route there are Snow Poles on either side of the road which are very useful for those crests where it takes a moment to resolve if the road goes straight on, left or right after the hump. The top of the snow poles will be your first clue and help you set up for the next bend.
Next, we rode the ‘West Leaf’, which takes in the southern part of the Highlands and passes through Glencoe, Oban and Inveraray and includes more beautiful Lochs than you can count. It also includes Gleaner Gas Station near the Bridge of Awe. I only mention this as it was nearby to where Kimberley got a puncture in her rear tyre. Fortunately, we had a repair kit with us and plugged the hole sufficiently to get back to the gas station for air. Our repair kit was lacking a blade for cutting the excess repair string off and we think it stuck to the road and was ripped out on the short journey. With a second string inserted, I popped in to see if I could borrow a blade, only to find they had them for sale in the hardware section of the general store. Can you imagine finding a petrol station that also sells 3 inch blades in Berkshire?
Kim & Dee
Kimberley’s tyre was close to the wear bars anyway by this point, so we called a tyre fitter back in Crieff who not only could fit her in the next day, but also had the specific tyres she wanted in stock and ready to go.
Top tip number three. The roads up in this part of the world are mostly the course gravel embedded in tar type that you may have encountered in Wales or the leafier parts of TVAM territory. These roads are really abrasive so make sure you have plenty of tread and take into account you’ll get less mileage than you think out of the rubber you have on.
Our last two riding days took in the full ‘Little Leaf Northeast’ route and on our last riding day, a hybrid route where we combined the start of the North loop with the Northeast loop in reverse specifically so that we could enjoy the A924 to Kirkmichael again. We stopped at the same Community shop again for more cake and coffee and a most delicious individual venison meat pie.
In our 10 days there, we were blessed with the most wonderful weather. Mostly sunny, not too hot, not too cold, though mornings were on the fresh side. We also scheduled our trip to be outside midge season. From what I read, most of the areas we rode in were not particularly prone to midges, but we felt it best to be on the safe side by going in April.
All in all, the trip to Scotland was well worth the long drive. Knowing what I know now, I’d say it could quite comfortably be done by bike all the way too if we’d not had the trailer available. All sorts of accommodation is available in the area, from swanky hotels to glamping pods. The Crieff Cloverleaf website includes plenty of advice on accommodation, places to eat and general information on making the best of your trip.
So, if you want to spread your wings further than the Thames Valley but don’t want to get on a ferry or Eurotunnel, Scotland might be just the place for you.
Jez leaves the house (in Woking) trying not to wake his wife. He does not succeed. He gets on his heavily-laden bike and pootles down the road, heading for the petrol station next to St Crispins to meet with David for the journey to Golgellau (pronounce as best you can – heard three separate versions so far!).
We meet up, Jez fills up and we head off. Jez created a route – first stop Oxford Services (not on the M40) and we made good time to get our first cup of coffee. David had advised Jez that he’d be on a sportsbike and so could the route be less…gnarly…than his usual preference? Jez (surprisingly!) acted and had planned the route with no roads with green in the middle!
Next stop is at Chipping Camden and the Bantam Tea Rooms – excellent place for a cuppa and some tea-cake. Proposed lunch was at the Cob House Countryside Park, where we met some other TVAMers en route to Llandriddod Wells. We were still full from mid-morning and so we had a cup of tea and continued. We next stopped at Aardvark Books in Brampton Bryan for lunch. Here we first heard the alternative to ‘Dolgellau’. Caused much hilarity!
We continued west, taking the B4355 out of Knighton, following the A489 and then the A470 back on to the A489 and over the pass between Mallwyd and Dolgellau. In the process we encountered the slowest car-transporter I have ever seen – the traffic behind was fun on the bike! We arrived at the farm in Dolgellau that was to be our base for the next couple of days around 5pm
We arrived at the farm in Dolgellau that was to be our base for the next couple of days around 5pm – the last to arrive! We were shown our rooms and bathrooms and then where the beer and tea were kept – important items!
We got to know each other: Jez Brown, David Naylor, Danny Wozny, Jon Draper, Mark Ward, Mary Hatton, Jess Luscombe and Tony Turner. We were all relatively nervous about the following day apart from Jon – who had been away from this aspect of motorcycling for a while and wanted to get back to it.
We are introduced to the term ‘Dick of the Day’ and encouraged the following day to keep an eye out for when people accidentally do something dumb. Falling off into a puddle etc. The equivalent of the Wooden Spoon but without the spoon – just the title.
Saturday 23rd April 09:00
Briefing. Jack is the trail leader. Steph is the sweeper. Pete and Darren are the folk keeping the newbies going where necessary. Jack gives a demo of how to stand on a bike when on a trail – and all encourage us to learn this skill as a part of the weekend. Mention is made of the protocols surrounding trail riding – leave enough room between yourself and those in front / be courteous to others / offer assistance where you can / don’t be a Dick.
We are told that the bike can move of its own accord beneath you – for those of you that have been green-laning or trail riding you’ll know about this. We didn’t – and the thought of it made us nervous. We were told how to stay loose on the bike – a tense rider will not enjoy the ride. When standing, don’t grip the bars as if they are the only thing between you and a grisly demise – stand as if you are going to poo into a toilet bowl from 2 feet above the seat – that sort of thing.
We get going. Jez is on a Himalayan and it feels steady on the road, although the knobbly tyres make it feel slightly bumpy – lol – as if I needed them to make it MORE bumpy! We follow a short route and find ourselves on a rock-strewn path. We stop and get our first practical lesson. “Keep the bike moving – sudden throttle will make the back wheel skid and make steering difficult – and look where you want to go. The bike will do the rest. Power and momentum.” Danny goes first. He gets to a lovely slow cruising speed then looks left – unfortunately he is a good five metres short of the 90 degree corner we are meant to be taking. Danny has the first fall – a contender for the DOTD! The guys get Danny and bike prepped again and he makes it around the corner, keeping the revs steady and looking where he wants to go. We all follow and make it to the top of the hill, where we are able to get a stunning view over Barmouth.
The day continues – more rock-strewn paths and then we stop for a while to let some 4×4 cars crawl away from us. This is also a superb area for us to tackle our first ruts. “The bike will go where it wants – BUT you can encourage it to go in the direction you want it to” we are told. “When you are in a rut, keep your feet close in OR lift them above the rut and paddle your way along if you don’t have the confidence” – this is excellent advice, but doesn’t really get into the brain until you’ve tried it…we give it a go. There are some offs and Mark decides to try and throw himself across the way. Jez tries to help but is in no position to a) stop without dropping the bike b) help him get the bike back up! Jez makes certain that Mark is moving and then shouts excuses as he rides past…Jez still feel bad about this, Mark.
Jez’ first gate comes up – we’ve been on relatively flat surfaces, but this is at the bottom of a slope and continues down. Jack pushes the gate back with his front wheel and leaves Jez to it…Jez tries to put the stand down on a patch of grass out of the way. Nope. Not happening. The angle of the slope is too steep and the bike will fall…Jez tries to turn the bike around and manages that, but now he’s in the way of everyone so hastily moves back to the left hand side and dig the stand into the soft soil. Jez jumps off the bike just in time to see Steph glide past me as I scramble back up the slope and shut the gate. Success! Now to get back on the bike and follow the others…
Next adventure is a downhill gravel (rock) trail. Whoever named this ‘green-laning’ seriously needs to update their naming conventions is all that can be said. The incline is a gentle slope but strewn – yes – with rocks. Again the advice is “Let the bike go where it wants – try not to fight it too much” Jez sets out on his turn – Jez is doing well. About half way down Jez experiences a sort of trans-dimensional twist as somehow Jez is immediately pointing left, whereas he’d been pointing straight down the slope literally a second ago. Jez manages to keep the bike upright and slowly potter (best word I can use here!) to the end where the others were parked. Jack flies down the incline and skids to a halt, nearly running into Darren’s bike and earning the potential DOTD award.
We stop for lunch – LUNCH? – we’ve surely been on the go for days, we feel, but no. Around four hours with plenty of water stops to keep us hydrated – feels like a lifetime!
We head to a petrol station to fill up the bikes – and as Jez puts the stand on the Himalayan down and gets off I hear a shout as it topples over. Jez is hugely embarrassed about this. The handle-bar is bent but nothing else appears to be damaged. Jez looks at the bike once more on its stand in disbelief. Jez has no explanation for this. Jack later advises that some Himalayans had been recalled since the swing arm gets stuck, not letting the suspension rise properly. As a consequence when I thought that the stand was down and all was well, the bike was literally balancing on its tyres. Jez felt better about this, but is still a contender for DOTD.
We continue for a few more miles then we start heading back to the farm and the thought of a shower and food warms us. A couple of the team decide that they will forgo the excitement and ask if there is a tarmac way back. Steph takes them back via tarmac – but we head back more or less the way we’d come cross country. Where we’d seen the 4x4s earlier we were advised to ‘stay right on the trail’ by Darren. Immediately three of the team decided that they knew better and started on the left! The way back was up rock ‘steps’ that we’d descended in the morning – they seemed bigger in the afternoon when heading upwards. These three all had difficulties and so we had some fun getting their bikes back upright and moving again, but we all made it to the top! Back down the other side and then to ‘Danny’s corner’ – this time heading downhill the skills we’d practised throughout the day made us feel good and we swept around the bend with nary a thought. Back into Dolgellau – more petrol for the bikes then back to the farm. Jack started repairing the bikes (those that needed it!). A hefty boot (apparently) adjusted my handlebars.
We all congratulated each other over an excellent days riding and had some first-rate conversation into the night, looking forward to the following day.
Jack was voted the DOTD as he was the most experienced rider to nearly crash into Darren’s bike! Phew! Jez escaped!
Note: Please be advised that you WILL fall off at some point as a beginner – this is all slow-speed stuff and the course is designed to help you get over the fear of dropping the bike – although preferably not onto concrete. It does not hurt! Pride may be damaged but in this learning environment with people explaining how things work and helping you back up this is one of the safest times I’ve felt on a bike!
Sunday 24th April 09:00
Briefing. Yesterday we’d gone south – today we were heading north. Jack again led the way and after 10 minutes we were heading down a fabulous single-lane – well, track – with over-hanging branches and animal tracks criss-crossing. Looking over the wall to the right we could see what appeared to be the trail we should have been on. We turned the bikes around (no mean feat!) and headed back to the last gap in the wall to join the correct route. Jack immediately gains nomination as DOTD. We continue through beautiful countryside and scorching weather (for Wales 15 degrees) plus of course picking up the occasional bike here and there and jumping on and off bikes to play the part of gate keeper. Fabulous!
The trails seemed a little harder this day – whether because we’d got used to the trails from the previous day or because we were tired from the day before or these were more advanced trails we don’t know! Travelling up a slight incline with large rocks in the middle Jez decided to try and make it over one of them (not intentional – bike decision) and ended up on his back on the right-hand side of the trail, laughing like a loon. Darren looked concerned until he heard me then helped me get back up and get the bike back upright. Confidence and skill improved for the whole group and we made (we thought) good progress. We came to a lovely trail sloping down to a bridge and on the other side of it we dismounted at the bottom of a 180 degree turn followed immediately by a 90 degree turn. Covered in small rocks and gravel, of course.
Darren and Jack made us walk the turns to get an idea of the way that we should go and then one by one we try to get up. “Stick to the inside of the hairpin then look for your route to go around the next bend” we were told. “Keep it smooth and steady”. Jess ‘You’re not the boss of me’ ignored all advice and revved around the corner, only requiring a small amount of push from Darren to make it through. Mary was similar. Jez was lucky and did not need help! Jez’ bike went where he wanted it to! Danny – well. The hairpin was good. Then the revs stopped as did the bike. As he toppled off the bike back down the hill we could see that the bike was good but he had rolled back down to where he’d started. Jez was videoing him at this point if you’d like to see it – but had to stop videoing because he was laughing too much. Danny looked to have the DOTD spot firmly in his grasp. We all made it to the top of the slope and rested for a moment. We’d been promised that a decision would be made as to whether we’d be going up ‘Tarmac Hill’ – a 200m stretch of gravelly/rocky/steppy incline that entices you to head for the only bit of tarmac at the top…but this hairpin/turn combination had been a test for us and we’d been found wanting. We had a chat and although disappointed that we wouldn’t do it this time, it would give us something to aim for next time we came trail riding in Wales. Safety first and a wise decision. Thank you Darren!
After this we trekked across some lovely ruts (not) and Mark tried to throw himself into a gate post. He seemed dazed but physically OK and we continued towards lunch. This was not a DOTD contender since there was genuine concern that Mark had damaged himself – however, he continued and so did we. Across the valley we were shown our next destination – a hill with winding paths – it looked awesome. We got to a very sharp left hand corner where immediately after I had gate duty. After the last rider was through Darren waited for me and we confidently set off along the trail. Beautiful scenery / side of a hill / slightly deeper ruts than I’d like but manageable. Puddle. Appeared to be about 20 feet of water in the left rut – no visibility of what was below the surface. 5 feet of water in the right rut with clearly visible tyre tracks from some of the other group. I tried to get onto the right rut – failed. “Ah well” I thought as I plunged into the puddle, giving the bike a bit more oomph to keep momentum. As the front wheel dipped into what appeared was a hidden dip, I went over the handlebars and landed on my back, luckily on a very soft piece of ground. Since I landed in a pile of weeds my new nickname was born – “Tumbleweed”. Definitely DOTD material if anyone was watching, that is. Unfortunately, Darren was keeping a very close eye on me! We struggled to get the bike out of the muddy rut – well, Darren struggled – I helped where I could. We re-joined the group and since my Himalayan had the engine light on we went through a few ‘resets’ to get the light off. Nothing worked, so Jack asked for all of the strong folk in the team to tip the bike upwards to drain any water from the exhaust. This done the engine light went off and the bike started and continued to run – hardy beasts, these bikes!
Without further ado we meandered to lunch.
Steph re-joined us for lunch and then left making her way back to the farm to sort out the running of business as usual. Jack and Darren finished off the day by taking us across a farmland area, then down what appeared to be a walking trail (!), then back along the road to Barmouth where we got the toll bridge across to Dolgellau and back to the petrol station before heading back to the farm.
Much singing and dancing was had in the evening celebrating our successes and commiserating any falls. Jez was indeed given the new name Tumbleweed and did get the DOTD award! I’ll say nothing of the entertainments for the evenings we were there, since to describe them will not do them any justice at all.
A few questions to myself…Did I enjoy it? Yes. Did I enjoy the way the course is presented to us? Yes.
Did I fall off more than once? Yes! Will I go again? Damn right!
A HUGE thank you to Steph, Pete, Darren and Jack – we definitely would not have had that best weekend without you.
So here I am at stupid o’clock in the morning – couldn’t sleep in following my return from the Isle of Wight Mini Tour yesterday. There are all sort of thoughts and memories buzzing around in my head so, in true Julie Andrews – Sound of Music style (never saw the film and that’s the truth), “Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start”.
I passed my test (IAM, or the big “I, am” as my wife calls it) more years ago than I like to admit, and spent many years on the committee of MAM (Middlesex AM) as Social Sec and Rides Co-ordinator. MAM and I parted company when I moved to Bracknell. I joined TVAM and the local RoSPA group and, following an old cliché “You get out what you put in”, I was keen to get to know people in TVAM and make a contribution. I also do the odd RoSPA ride sometimes.
It started when a certain antipodean young lady, and arguable the most conscientious Back Marker I’ve ever had the pleasure to ride with, came back from a TVAM day trip to the Isle of Wight last year. “We have to do that again and maybe have an overnight”, and that was it, with the “monkey on back” I decided to Go For It.
I managed to get 9 single rooms dirt cheap on Booking.com, advertised the idea on WOBMOB groups.io and all of sudden, and almost overnight, I had 20 names on the database. I received an email from Chris Brownlee warning me not to get into the realms of “Package Tour” so took his advice and contacted the TVAM Travel Agent (https://tvam.notjusttravel.com). I then contacted the hotel and the manager was more than helpful. He told me to cancel with Booking.com, gave me a better room rate and offered to get discount off the ferry crossing (£15 saving per ticket). I avoided the Package Tour by asking everyone to pay their own ferry ticket and hotel room. We ended up with a total of 19 on the trip.
After several sessions on the PC, pinching roads from a number of TVAM ride-outs, the breakfast stop from a RoSPA ride, and Google searching for interesting stuff, I cobbled together a cunning plan. Spreadsheet time (I’m famous for them with the Chilton Motorcycle Club – another part of my biking history not mentioned in the boring paragraph).
Riders, bikes, emails and ICE contacts captured, rooms allocated and breakfast/dinner orders accounted for, (Red and Green Yes/No conditional formatted check columns – I mention this for the spreadsheet nerds) I proceeded to inundate the unfortunate attendees with emails, email revisions, requests for menu selections, MRA invitations, Basecamp .gpx files and, and – Stop! Too much!
We had a great mix of NObs, LObs, TObs, Full Members, Associates and three who hadn’t been on a group ride before and one old friend and member of the Solent Group. It all went well.
The light rain and 2,000 cyclists on Sunday didn’t spoil anything. I could have done without the double decker bus on one of the nicest progressive roads across the island. I could have overtaken on a couple of occasions but you have to consider the 18 others behind and the likelihood of a “cluster-f…” (as my son used to say) at the next junction whilst waiting for the rest of the group to catch up.
We had a couple of interesting moments, nothing dangerous, but I can’t go into detail – What happens on tour, stays on tour.
I’ve always maintained that motorcycling is a solitary experience (unless you are grouped-up with state-of-the-art intercoms). You have to concentrate on what you’re doing and don’t have time for much else. It’s stopping that makes it all come to life.
120 colourful cyclists riding off the Chain Bridge at East Cowes was a sight to behold. I was a little bit disappointed they didn’t knock each other over and fall into a big heap; it came close.
The chat on the petrol station forecourt when you realise that there are two others in the group that have worked in the same environment as you for years and know many of your old work colleagues (it’s like LinkedIn for real).
Then the Australian Scotsman who has similar tastes in music and whose wife attends the same art class as your wife.
The comment from a NOb “that wasn’t an A ride, that was MotoGP,” as we stopped with big smiles after the TT – Military Road circuit. Riding is only 50% at most. I was very happy with the outcome and asked everyone to send me their memory in a few words.
I won’t bore you with all the comments but here’s a few to make you smile:
By the time we got to a fab and much-wanted full breakfast the group was running really smoothly.
Why not call this 3Ws? Wight, tour of the island Wisteria, we saw a lot of this on our way round Wild garlic, we could smell this as we rode through the IoW countryside
Around the proposed TT course three times which got better each time we did the circuit, fantastic!!
So let’s talk about fuel! Most bikes are OK with E10 but we had to find another station that had E5 for the 750 Honda, but one BMW owner thought his bike would run smoother on diesel. It was sorted and he made it to the ferry on time.
A great ride back home which included a tour of Basingstoke and the Town Centre (sorry, my mistake) and all the roundabouts. Thanks, Neil, for holding us all together and for our Back Marker, Allie, who rounded us all up.
Planning, preparation and execution couldn’t be faulted!
It was a great fun ride and a great opportunity for me to meet more TVAM riders.
Had a few learning moments.
Great routes, great pit stops and great company!
We had an absolute blast and are now sat enjoying a beer digesting just how much we enjoyed it.
Many thanks for letting me join the trip. I enjoyed it immensely.
Your organisation made everything very easy, the whole group commented how good it had been (I’ll take that!)
There aren’t enough words to describe the absolute and utter delight H is – and the IoW was just as charming, views are just as stunning, the roads are truly sweet.
My lessons learnt? – how to ride a motorcycle… by riding a motorcycle – LOTS!!
Here’s to the next time. Get your names down early I think there’s another monkey about to jump on my back. Isle of Wight, Minehead, Sidmouth, Bude – not sure which but watch this space.
It occurred to me that I had never been to Wales in all these years without “working” in some way; having to organise informal observed rides; observing in the runs; sorting out itineraries etc. Ian, Ness, Andy and I decided to create a brand new trip to Wales that was purely a social ride. After Ian came up with the name and our lovely mate Salli designed us the beautiful dragon logo, the Welsh Wanders was born.
The four of us took thirty-four hardy souls on the first trip in late April. All arrived safely at the Commodore Hotel, albeit contending farm vehicle blocked tracks, much leaning of bikes, folding of mirrors and avoidance of extreme uphill slopes!
The Commodore, as usual was home from home. Andrea and her team made us all so very welcome; fed us and watered us well and let us have the run of the place. It was lovely to be back.
Three runs set off the next day in gorgeous sunshine. And all I did all day was ride my bike with a big smile from the sheer joy of it all. Ian D took the run up to Lake Vyrnwy over the Hellfire Pass and then to Lake Bala for lunch. From there, we rode over to Tywyn, past Lake Mwyngil which is so beautiful and arrived on the seafront. We parked up the bikes and walked over to the ice-cream kiosk. Nick, being a mindful biker, did up his helmet; hooked it over his arm and walked across the road with it. “Mr Whippy with a flake please,” he requested. Unfortunately, he suffered a catastrophic cone failure with the contents finally ending up deposited in his helmet!
After a lovely run back on Sunday, I can only say what a huge joy the whole weekend was for all four of us. No pressure, great company, and brilliant days of riding. So happy were we with the weekend that we’ve already booked September and trips for next year, So check your Slipstream and groups.io calendars and come and join us, all badges welcome.
3Rs – a pared down version of 7Ws in name only. I can’t actually remember what any of the ‘R’s are but I’m calling all of them awesome. The format was conceived by the Training Team for Full Members to have observed rides in a two-to-one group, just so we don’t forget that we should never stop learning. Things that I learned: 1) Avoid tractors – even if you can’t see them: they lurk behind hedges, awaiting unsuspecting bikers. 2) Welsh squirrels are madder than English squirrels: they will run down the middle of the road for at least half a mile before casually diving for the hedge (thanks John). 3) Don’t drop your electronic airbag jacket on a crowded cafe floor or it will go off with a loud “BANG!”, startling the natives (thanks again, John).
I’ve been a full member for three years or so and whilst I will always jump at the chance to spend time on the awesomely swoopy, pothole-free roads of Wales surrounded by majestic scenery, the added benefit of spending time with like-minded bike-mad people, and learning from them, makes it into just about the most perfect way to spend a weekend I can think of (special thanks to Phil Jones, our Observer for the day – legend!)
As I sat in the Metropole Hotel dining room on Saturday night surrounded by 28 members, TObs, LObs, NObs (and possibly other acronyms that my tiny mind has difficulty retaining), I had cause to reflect on the wealth of knowledge and experience surrounding me – all at our disposal, freely and willingly given for the benefit and safety of our biking community. And those 28 people are just a fraction of the expertise contained within the club. And I feel humble and blessed to be part of it.
Xanthe Scott
KEEP ON LEARNING
My previous attendance at weekends like the 7Ws and the 3Rs falls before the events of the last couple of years. More importantly though whilst attending them I was an Associate. It has not passed me by that when making that journey from Associate to Full Member my priority for such weekends would be lowered. As someone who loves to learn this was definitely a downside to passing my test last October. Therefore, when I learned that the 3Rs would be a training weekend for Full Members, I had to get my name down.
I have just arrived home after a weekend of lovely weather and fantastic riding. It has been invaluable in so many ways; the wealth of knowledge and experience on hand; the like-minded social interaction and humorous stories; the fantastic roads and, of course, the cake, coffee, and ice cream. It is however the combination of all of these things that makes it such a wonderful experience. The environment that all of these create is perfect for enjoyable learning and self-development. Being able to immerse yourself in advanced riding in a fun and supportive way makes things so much easier and with everyone else doing the same it is such an enjoyable shared experience.
I would highly recommend it to anyone in the club and I will be keeping a keen eye out for the date of the next one!
The BMW S1000XR was a bit of a Marmite machine when it was first launched back in 2014. The first generation machine had the looks of an Adventure bike but an engine derived from the out-and-out S1000RR sports bike. Many GS riders tried them only to be put off by the four cylinder engine buzzing away and the fear of losing their license due to the way it so easily gobbles up the road. Sports bikers though loved the space the machine gave them with the more relaxed upright riding position yet retained performance very close on the road (and track) to that of their existing bikes. No more tummy-on-the-tank issues or aching elbows and the ability to pack luggage for those trips away. A winner!
I came to my XR in 2016 from my second K1300S sports tourer which was a model then being discontinued. For me the K Series ticked the boxes of lots of easy performance with touring capability. I was persuaded to test ride an XR as an alternative and within 200 meters of leaving the dealer’s I was hooked. It actually steered when you turned the bars rather than the K where you sent a postcard to the front wheel when a corner was coming up. So how does it stack up after nearly 6 years of ownership and 40,000 miles? And why didn’t I swap it for a newer machine after a couple of years as I normally did?
Let’s firstly run through the ‘improvements’ I’ve made and why.
The most obvious concern to someone of my stature was the seat height. With a 840mm high seat this is a tall bike. I can’t get both feet on the ground at the same time. The lower seat option only dropped it by 20mm and was rather lacking some creature comfort where it mattered so I instead braved the height and went for the posh HP seat with the letters ‘XR” embossed in red on the back – vain or what, but it still looks good. What I had to perfect though was planning every stop and getting the correct foot down. My slow riding also improved!
As this was possibly not a 100% guaranteed solution crash bungs were ordered from new, and yes, each side has been tested once during the past 6 years. The first when my foot went down a drain hole when being dropped as a marker on a grass verge and the second when paddling the bike backwards in a lay-by. Lessons learnt – look where you’re putting your feet when stopping on grass and don’t paddle the bike backwards but get off and wheel it as recommended in Roadcraft. But the crash bungs work at zero mph, only that rock in the lay-by did dent the very expensive Akrapovic exhaust.
The next care related extras were the radiator grills and front mudguard extender. I’d never seen a bike with so much expensive radiator exposed with so little protection. The R&G grills and carbon fibre mudguard extender have done their job as far as I can tell. No stone dents or water leaks so far. I also found some plastic bungs on eBay to tidy up the frame drillings (see photo left).
Then we come to the headlight. The XR came with an LED daytime riding light. A single vertical bar just 120mm long – 5 inches – which most would agree is not a lot. On a sunny day it’s easily lost amongst other bright reflections and if you think most car drivers are already not looking for a bike let alone a small, vertical LED strip at junctions, my thoughts were this was not a good solution. Out came the standard H7 dip beam bulb to be replaced with a H7 HID unit made in Germany. Is it legal? Is my life worth it? Since fitting it I’ve not had any issues with other road users not seeing me and I’d argue it’s only as bright as the daytime driving lights you see on many modern SUVs. At night it’s a bit bright but the main beam is brighter still – and I’m not being flashed by other road users which is my usability test.
Still on the subject of not being seen, the horn on most motorcycles are, I think we’d agree, a bit weeny. Cloistered in their Audis, Mercs, and BMWs whilst probably on the hands-free ‘phone they hardly penetrate the unsuspecting drivers’ consciousness. Given most drivers also relate sound to vehicle size this doesn’t help even if they do hear you. The answer – a Denali SoundBOMB air horn. At £35 it’s a winner for me. Seeing drivers jump out of the way when they think something the size of an HGV blasts them is most satisfying!
Moving rearwards the next change was the windscreen. Out-of-the-box the 1st generation XR was not a quiet ride with lots of wind buffering. It sounds like a big flag constantly flapping just above your head. Ear defenders help but on long motorway trips the noise is not good. The solution I came to (much too late after five years) was to replace the standard screen with an MRA screen, again made in Germany. For a little over £100 this has transformed the ride and I can now actually hear the engine above 50mph and even leave my visor open above 30mph. A must-do change for anyone planning a ride over a couple of hours on one of these 1st gen machines. I don’t know about wind noise on the 2nd gen, as the screen is different, but some owners have complained of the same issue in conversations.
Luggage was one of the attractions of the XR so I specified panniers from new. And yes they’ve been in the garage loft ever since I rode it home. Why? ‘Cause they are huge, make the bike look like a pregnant bumble bee and filtering is almost impossible. The solution – I bought the BMW semi-rigid top bag which hooks onto the rear rack. It’s large enough to stow gear for a 10 day trip around France, as long as you leave the hair dryer at home and are prepared to rinse through a couple of tee shirts and pants along the way. We’re planning to do Scotland NW500 this Spring so with the variable weather (wet, cold, hot, who knows) I might get the panniers out for the first time in nearly 6 years to stow the range of gear I’ll need.
What’s life been like with the XR?
Well, it does everything I want it to do and does it very well, to a level beyond my riding skills. From touring, track days, coaching on Skills Days at Thruxton, observing for TVAM and social rides out, it keeps up with everything else (even RR’s). Under the seat I stow two (different) types of puncture repair kits, gas cylinders, spare headlight bulb, tool kit and a set of waterproofs. A small rear box holds the paperwork for observing, spare gloves, shades, cap, drink, etc. which is replaced by the BMW bag when on longer trips.
Importantly it hasn’t let me down. It’s been around France and the Pyrenees at least 3 times, Nurburgring trips with TVAM twice, and Wales probably 20 times. It does 5 or 6 IAM Track Skills Days around Thruxton each summer and a few thousand miles observing each year, these though at a much slower pace.
It’s been serviced regularly every 6,000 miles with the two big (expensive) services at 18 and 36,000 miles. Otherwise it’s been consumables like tyres (regularly), a new battery at 3 years, chain and sprockets after 29,000 miles, and new front discs and pads at 32,000 miles.
I stripped the rear suspension and re-greased the bearings at 26,000 miles and replaced the side stand brass bearing insert after 5 years as the lean angle was getting worryingly high.
Age related work has been to change the cam chain adjuster cap, which cost £23, to stop the chain rattle, especially on start-up from cold. It’s a BMW part and recommended after 9,000 miles but they hardly ever fit them at a service. I fitted mine at 37,000 miles and the engine now runs much quieter and the rattle at cold start-up has largely gone. I’ve also just replaced the left footpeg mount around which the gear lever moves as this too was getting wobbly – a sure sign of middle age! At £35 it was cheap for a BMW part.
Lastly we come to the exhaust valve! Clearly made just to get the machine through type approval testing the exhaust valve flapper is an integral part of the 4 into 1 main exhaust system which goes from the cylinder head round to the slip-on muffler and includes the catalytic converter. The valve probably costs £25 to make but it’s welded into a part costing over £3,000.
Mine stopped working this last winter in a partly closed position. Hmmm I thought, this bike is getting smoother and quieter with age – only to discover the valve wasn’t moving. Another TVAM member’s jammed fully open recently and boy was it loud when burbling through town. There’s nothing on the dash to show the fault and only when connected to a diagnostic analyser do the error codes come up. Mine had three going from; “valve operating range incorrect”, through; “valve not operating” to finally; “lost communication with valve actuator”. Yes, the electronic actuator was bust, possibly as a result of the mechanical valve becoming very stiff or seizing. Replacement actuator from BMW £170! – eBay £60 from a bike being broken by a dealer. No contest and 30mins to fit with the help of a bit of string and a 10mm spanner. The flap took a lot longer to get moving freely with a lot of YouTube videos on how to get access to the bearing and which high temperature lubricant to use. Fingers crossed it’ll now work for another 36,000 miles.
But why have I kept the bike this long?
Firstly, because I just love it. Luckily mine doesn’t suffer from the vibrations some riders complained of, but having ridden 4 cylinder bikes most of my riding career maybe I’m a bit immune.
Secondly, because the XR dropped in value from new like a stone in a muddy pond. Add in the mileage I was doing and the depreciation on a 2 year old XR with over 15,000 miles on it was enough to make a grown man cry. It does mean that they make great buys if you’re in the market for a second hand one though. And if I changed it what would I get but the same with a smaller number on the odometer and many thousands of pounds less in my bank account. At 6 years old with 40,000 miles on the clock annual depreciation is now almost zero as it’s not worth very much anyway.
Lastly, because I think it still looks good, possibly better than the 2nd gen bikes (my personal view) which come in a limited range of colours. Why would I pay BMW extra money to have one in their team colours?
But do I miss the upgrades on the 2nd Gen? Certainly the large TFT screen looks good but as a consolation I treated myself to a Garmin XT satnav which also has a TFT screen. It doesn’t integrate with the BMW thumb wheel but do I need to know my lean angle or average throttle opening? (Usually only around 9% by all accounts).
I was hoping the shift cam engine would have trickled down from the RR but that wasn’t to be – but why would you need more than 160bhp in an adventure bike anyway? I’ve only ridden a 2nd gen machine a short distance so it’s difficult for me to compare new with old. I arranged a test ride when they first came out but a red engine fault light came up after a couple of miles so had to take it back. In that short distance it didn’t feel that different and the reviews I read around the time of the launch said it possibly wasn’t worth changing if you already had a series 1. What I do hear is the engine is more refined and has lost the ‘manic teenager’ mode above 8,000 rpm when the front goes light and it is possible to literally rip up the tarmac (yes, I did that apparently in France on a hot day – unintentionally obviously).
So there we have it. I’m trapped by depreciation and by having invested £s in keeping the bike running in good mechanical condition. I love what it does as a bike and haven’t yet found the motivation or had a compelling desire to buy anything else. As it’s reached ‘middle age’ it’s become more of a project as well as my ride. I was recently offered an XR engine with just 4,100 miles on it for £1,500. But what would I do with it? Do these engines fail? I haven’t seen anything to say they do, so fingers crossed….
It’s Friday 8th April and the 8am breakfast rendezvous point is The Wandering Kitchen Cafe near Berinsfield. My Observer for the day is Hev, who discusses with me the areas I want to improve on over the weekend and introduces me to my co Associate Ilhan. I was expecting a larger group, so delighted with the 2 to 1 ratio.
As I hadn’t ridden with Hev before she asked me to lead off as all the groups dispersed on multiple routes to Llandrindod Wells.
All communication is done via the mirrors, supplemented by arm signals, so all very clear and timely. I especially enjoyed the frequent stops to discuss aspects to work on and also how Hev would demonstrate techniques and elements of the system I was struggling with.
Ludlow Farm Shop, Bromfield was our lunch stop and the rendezvous point for the social ride to our destination, via some awesome roads led by Barrie. This really helped me to practice and reinforce the techniques I was shown by my Observer Hev.
An awesome day was rounded off by a swim in the hotel pool and a great dinner. I must also mention the after-dinner presentation from Sean Westlake which seriously awakened me to many facets of riding I was hitherto blissfully unaware of, and his colourful Welsh banter!
On Saturday I was paired up with my Observer Barrie and trainee Observer Aaron. I especially liked this format as from my perspective I had the benefit of two instructors! And what a day, just awesome on every level. I loved the challenging routes and the way both parties instructed, as well as the feedback given.
After a leisurely Sunday breakfast, I had to make a difficult choice on which Observer led run home to take with a choice of three no less.
A big shout out to Barrie, Hev and fellow Associates who got me back to Oxfordshire via some stunning roads.
I am now a much-improved rider, but importantly understand my journey is just beginning. Get yourself booked on this awesome learning curve that is the 7Ws. Thank you all so much.
The Full Member – by JB Staunton
Having recently passed my motorbike test and bought my first bike (a Honda CBR650F), I joined TVAM in October 2019, and although I didn’t get much riding in before the first lockdown, I had oft heard members tell me in hushed tones that the 7Ws trip as something “you had to do”.
I’d swear, that without exception, everyone who uttered the phrase “7Ws” said it with a wistful smile and glazed eyes – you could tell they were thinking back to some awesome riding on the twisty and windy roads of Wales. I knew from the get-go that I wanted a piece of the action too!
Although I knew the trip is focused on Associates, I applied for a place on the trip in January, knowing I’d just passed my advanced test in December ‘21 – I didn’t know if I’d get a place, but as my wife says “What do 100% of winners have in common? They try!” In this case I tried and succeeded.
This would be my first trip away on the bike and honestly, I was a little anxious of what to expect. I googled a few articles on “what to pack on a motorbike trip”, and, oh yeah, I also had to google “how to attach soft panniers to your motorbike”; luckily, I picked up a set at the St Crispin’s moto-jumble in January 2020 (they were a bargain!).
Despite Alan’s Sat Nav being a bit temperamental, and Rhona nearly running out of fuel, we had a great run down on the backroads of England and Wales. However, has anyone mentioned the rain, hail and snow, yes snow! Well, it wouldn’t be a good trip without a story or two, would it?
On the final leg to Llandrindod Wells, we had to climb over some hills and I wasn’t worried when it started to rain – it’s Wales in April right and what do you expect? However, I’d never ridden in hail before and was a tad nervous of this when it started, but it really wasn’t an issue as the hail just bounced off our helmets and clothing. The snow was a different story as it was that claggy and wet kind of snow that sticks to you, resulting in having to wipe your visor every 30 seconds or so (which was reminiscent of my advanced test). In all, the bad weather only lasted for a maximum of an hour, over the course of the weekend I hasten to add, but I was glad to get to the hotel in the end and I have some good stories to tell!
If you’ve not been on one of these trips before I would highly recommend it and I’d like to commend the organisers on how well things ran. It was an early start on day one, but along with a filling breakfast bap at our breakfast rendezvous point, I met the rest of my group for the trip to Wales – there were only half a dozen of us in total: Run leader Alan Heighway, back marker Marianne Myburgh as well as fellow TVAM members Konrad Marciniak, Neville Till and Rhona Ferry.
Saturday was a great day of riding too and our group was lucky enough to be paired up with ex-motorbike police officer, tour guide and 7Ws event guest speaker, Sean Westlake. Unfortunately for me the day started slightly embarrassingly insofar as my battery had died overnight due to the previous owner of my bike wiring the heated grips directly to the battery, and me forgetting to turn them off after our “Arctic” experience the afternoon before. I appreciate a number of fellow riders help in trying to bump start me (Konrad you star) as well as Neville letting me use his jump start battery (birthday/Christmas gift idea anyone?) and an unnamed member lending us his mini-jump leads!
In the end we got going 15 minutes late and not only did Sean bring us on a very scenic 150-mile route, he was able to give us the history of the places we visited too!
By the way the hotel worked very well for the group, with ample parking, a private dining room for us for both evening meals, decent food and a large bar, which was unsurprisingly frequented by TVAM members.
In summary it was a well-run event, which was great fun and certainly one I’d endorse. I’ll be aiming to attend another TVAM group trip as well as make it over to Wales again…oh those roads…..
The Observer – by Andy Hunter
Having completed my pre-ride checks in the afternoon, I packed and loaded my bike the evening before we set out.
So, Friday morning I was up and out early for my 45-minute ride to the meet point, arriving 10 minutes early to find the place already open and serving food. The coffee and bacon sandwich were spot on, perfect, just what I needed.
Top marks to the management and staff at The Wandering Cafe, they did a superb job of looking after us. Well done and thank you.
We had been previously allocated two Associates for the ride up, so having met both Sam and Ondrez, I started to understand what each was looking for on their observed ride into Wales. One had passed his crosscheck, the other of a very similar standard. From the Observer’s viewpoint it is very much easier if the Associates are of a similar standard, as it makes the route planning easier.
So shortly after 9am we headed out towards Abingdon, then on towards Burford to find the first planned coffee and chat stop, allowing a chance to swap the Associates over. A power cut derailed those plans and meant they were unable to serve anything as it had rendered their till out of action. We decided to continue towards Stow-on-the-Wold, then stopped for a slightly belated coffee as we entered Tewkesbury.
We discussed a few minor points for both Associates before getting back on our way, heading towards Leominster and picking up the A44.
As we were running well for time, we continued towards Hereford and found a golf club for lunch – ideal for the snack that we needed.
The weather was a mix of cloud with the sun breaking through, but as we approached Crossgates we experienced a 5-minute sleet storm. In fairness this was the only rain that I saw all weekend, so I still don’t know if my new waterproof gloves are any good or not!
We refuelled at Crossgates and, as we had arrived with time to spare, rode from Crossgates to Newtown and back. That rounded off an excellent day’s riding and we headed to the Metropole hotel, our accommodation for the two nights. Having used the Metropole many times, over the years, I knew that we were in for great hospitality and we were not disappointed.
Saturday morning, we were again allocated two Associates who were different from the Friday allocation. Again, I was blessed that both rode to a similar standard and they agreed that they wanted to work on riding bends. We headed south and west giving both Associates the chance to lead for a time before stopping for coffee at the West End Cafe in Llandovery. A true bikers’ cafe.
After coffee and a chat, we headed out towards Aberystwyth where we found the ‘Diner on the Prom’ to be very busy. We continued to find somewhere a little quieter for a slightly later lunch.
Returning to the hotel, from Newtown to Crossgates, we refuelled ready for the Sunday ride home.
Sunday was entirely a social ride. Having offered to lead a ride towards Henley, and getting a little banter from Mr Brownlee, it was agreed that anybody that wanted to take my route would meet at 9.30am for a briefing in the car park before heading out.
The run back was pretty much a re-run of my outward route, with myself, two Full Members, one other Observer and one Associate. It was all very relaxed, giving the Associate a chance to practice what he had learnt during Saturday’s session.
More top-quality riding skills were on display, stopping for a sandwich and drink at the filling station at Stow-on-the-Wold. We had agreed at the briefing that people would simply give us a wave and peel off at a point close to where they lived. Checking on my phone messages, it was good to see that everybody returned home happy.
Overall, this was a great weekend. It was a chance to meet and chat with old friends, introduce some Associates to the roads in Wales and reacquaint myself with a couple of great roads I have not used for some time.
Firstly, the Tewkesbury road out of Stow-on-the-Wold and then the A44 heading west into Crossgates.
I have no doubt that all of the Associates returned home with new or improved riding skills. We must not forget the importance of the team building benefits of these events.
Thanks to the Training Team and all that were involved in planning and running this event.
You might have seen the post in groups.io back in late August “For sale Kawasaki 650 Versys one careful owner.” I needed to put my glasses on to read the bit about breaking for spares or winter project. As they say every picture tells a story and this was one of the immovable force meeting the immovable object. Winter project was the bit that caught my eye. I had been looking for something old like a 1980s Yamaha two-stroke 250-350 but prices are a bit silly at the moment – unless anyone knows of one going cheap?
I am not mad keen on Adventure bikes, they are very big and very heavy and covered head to foot in plastic, I just don’t trust a bike whose handlebars are the same height as my nipples and I am not vertically challenged. This market seems to be taken over by BMW who have built a tank and then added a super tanker, they are as high as a 3-storey house and weigh as much as a cubic metre of bricks, and that is before you add the optional extras catalogue and fitted 3 kitchen sinks on the back. I take my hat off to Ewan and Charlie who must have wrestled these bikes across tough terrain in the “Long Way Round”. They are so popular that a TVAM run could be re-classified as a GS run, there is even a technique for climbing aboard these large creatures, just like a horse, one foot in the stirrup, swing the leg over, sit in the saddle, grab the reigns and ride off into the sunset. I have many a time stopped behind one at a junction while riders who are vertically challenged rock from side to side on tip toe trying to control their beast. By comparison, the Versys is about 60-80kg lighter, even though the handlebars are still at nipple height, but power to weight ratio is still king in the horse power world and 69bhp will still march you down the road at a fair rate.
Back to the bike in question, I almost bit off Simon’s hand to purchase this project (sorry Simon) and once agreed on a price, we met his mechanic to collect the pieces. On arrival, we were confronted by half a basket case, not my ideal project as I like to see what it looks like before it‘s in pieces. The mechanic had decided to do an engine removal to find the problem. It would have been easier to put a small endoscope connected to a smart phone down the plug hole to tell that this was terminal. Simon trailed the bike back to my workshop with all the bits in my car. With the bike on the work bench and the parts in boxes it stayed there for a few weeks while a plan was hatched.
The engine in question had a few problems….one such issue being the top end was past repair. It looked like one of the exhaust valves had a hairline crack, which over time cracked and punched a hole in the piston and disappeared into the depths of the engine. The other valve became bent in sympathy, broke off and buried itself into the top of the piston. With all this going up and down at 10,000rpm destroyed the valve guild and seats, end of story!
First thought was to fit another engine and get rid of it. I started to read some test reports on the bike to find that this was a good mid-range bike with many plus points, but on closer inspection things were not well with this particular bike, so the best course of action was a complete nut and bolt restoration. Let’s face it, it was halfway there already. An afternoon was spent disassembling the bike down to the last washer and putting it into piles, along with some pictures along the way to give me half a chance of putting it back correctly.
Painted parts to powder coating, special expensive looking bolts etc. to platers and small screws, bolts, washers etc. replaced with stainless steel items. Modern machinery design is full of small metal and plastic fittings held together with small substandard fasteners that rust very easily and plastic clips that are not very robust and end up being destroyed on removal. They also cover the frame in holes to hold these fittings, which can produce a stress point or the opportunity to let in water – not good. Needless to say, some of these fittings didn’t come quietly.
Engine next – even though this bike has been around since the early 2000s, there were not many Versys parts and, if available, they were very expensive. Any chance of finding a new top end was little to none, so next choice was a complete lump. The bike industry is very clever in their model line-up, the Versys and Ninja are almost the same bike with a change in riding position, different plastic, a change in suspension and of course the name on the side. The new Kawasaki Z650 which is meant to be a new retro model of the 1980s Z650 is also a Ninja with a different tank and plastic, but nothing like the old Z650 which we all know was a baby Z900. Based on this, I found a 2019 Ninja engine with 3000 miles that had bitten the dust early in its life, going very cheap. On checking the spec between the 2 bikes, it was on its way.
Like all good projects, work got in the way for a month, which gave time for the parts to arrive – postman not too happy with the heavy boxes. First job was to make sure the same parts had been returned (always take plenty of pictures first), clean and grease all threads, then bring out the pictures and manuals. Simon had put me on to a free online manual and along with the online parts catalogue from Cradley Heath Kawasaki, this was my reference library. First on was the wiring harness which had been the last off. This bike had 5 previous owners who had all added their personal touch to the harness. I wanted this bike to be standard and some of the connections were, should we say, ‘not good’. The parts I removed filled a carrier bag. All connections checked. Next on were the back and front suspension. Rear swinging arm was cleaned and checked ok, front was a different story, head bearings replaced, forks taken apart and filled with new oil. I had taken apart many right way up forks in the past, but never upside down forks. Afraid that the spring might pop out and go through the garage roof, I enlisted a mechanic friend to do the job while I watched. Point to note, it is easier to crack the top nut while clamped in the bike, if not use a rattle gun very carefully. Fork oil I think should be changed about every 4 years along with the brake fluid, but listening to members who are paying well over £1,000 for service with valve clearance check, I can see why it is not usually done. I can check my 6-cylinder 24 valve CBX in a morning, but there again I don’t have a lot of plastic to remove first.
I wanted to replace the after-market exhaust for a standard unit. I found one online close to me, but it was expensive, also it was not for the year of this bike, so I was unsure if it would fit. The bike at this stage was still sitting on the frame which would not allow me to check if it would fit correctly. As the item had been advertised a while there was no rush, but just at the point I was ready, it had gone. Never mind, 2 weeks later a new silencer came up for sale, cheaper than the other unit and the correct year. The owner had taken it off his own bike when new, fitted another unit and parked this in the corner of the garage – result!
Next in was the engine. This was easy as it was only a twin cylinder and light (compared to a Honda CBX), and having been used as a stress member, had no bottom tubes. Once in, bolts tightened, the bike was then strapped to the roof beams and the work bench lowered, this allowed me to fit the wheels and brakes. Wheel bearings and seals needed replacing. I had the wheel spacers machined out of stainless steel as the factory ones are of poor quality and become corroded very easily.
The brakes were another story, all discs worn below service limit, this was due to seized calliper pistons. A lot of money later, new discs, stainless pistons and seals and, whilst I was at it, new brake liners. Never mind, I did say things were not well with this bike. This all might sound very easy, but much midnight oil was burnt dry fitting parts many times until I was happy that was the best possible fit or correct to pictures manual etc. I am also a bit OCD about standardisations of parts and of the belief that if it looks right then it is right. This is left over from both my engineering days and career as a sparky. I could never understand electricians that would fix a socket with one screw 70mm long and the other 25mm, that is just sheer laziness.
The tank needed painting and removal of dents, the plastic also required repairing and polishing to look like new. Whilst this was happening, I started to fit the auxiliary parts to the engine. This is where we discover the 2 engines are not the same. The neutral switch was not the same – this was an easy swap of the cover and connection on the end of the selector drum. Next was the alternator which had a different plug on the end, this was also a swap of the internal components with same outside cover. The clutch was another story, the Versys and Ninja engines both have 2 different cable mounts, but the clutch operation mechanism was different. I could have once again switched them over but chose to take the best parts from a Versys and Ninja clutch cable and have a new one made. Yes, I have a non-standard clutch cable, but “Vinhill” cables are very good and last forever.
With the bike almost together and before fitting all the plastic, I needed to test the electrical system. I was still unable to start the bike as once more, some parts I had forgotten, needed powder coating and it was Xmas. On the bar humbug front, this is always a difficult time for my bike builds as everything closes down for 3 weeks and I am useless at planning ahead. No real issues with the electrics, apart from a few lamps (bulbs are what you put in the garden) a fuse and a bit of head scratching for an hour as the headlight did not work, until I discovered the engine needed to run. Xmas over and all parts back and fitted, fluids topped up remembering to fit the coolant drain plug, too late, button pressed, and it all works, or did it? The fault light (FL) came on and not sure why. Google is a wonderful tool for information. If I grounded out a certain wire in morse code, the FL would tell me what was wrong. It appeared that the air pressure switch was faulty and, on inspection, I had forgotten to fit the pipe to the inlet manifold. Don’t forget, this is part of the bike that I did not dismantle. Once gone through a few heat cycles, on with the plastic. At this point I found out the garage was only just high enough to fit the screen in between the rafters with the work bench extended.
Maybe it is me just getting old, but bikes designed and built in the late 20th century looked sexier with flowing lines from head to toe, this was maybe because everything was conceived on a drawing board with paper and pencil, designers were not allowed to use rulers but just their imagination and a sweeping pencil. Nowadays everything is Cad Cam and the computer just joins the dots and kicks it down the to the factory floor without seeing a human. This is probably why the more the build continued, the more I started to remember why I am not over the moon about adventure bikes (just my opinion!).
Was it worth it? Financially not. This will never be a collector’s item thank goodness and adventure bikes will go as quickly as they came. It was never my intention to do a nut and bolt restoration on a bike like this, but it kept me out of trouble for a few months. What am I going to do with it? Not sure, if a TVAM member offers me a very good price, I might just sell it. If not, I will use it during the summer to see what all the hype is about and then sell it as it doesn’t fit into my collection, or it might change my mind on adventure bikes altogether. It would have been nice if Kawasaki fitted it with a few luxuries, cruise control, quick shift or ABS, the sort of electronics you find on today’s machinery.
One more thing that was letting the side down was the standard rear shock, which was old and rusty and could be seen from every angle. So once more hand in pocket and, £330 later I fitted a YSS shock, very pretty. JOB DONE!
The “perfect” motorcycle does not exist. This is largely because every rider is different, as is every ride. Break things down to a sufficiently-granular level and we’d each be switching to a different custom-made motorcycle for every stretch of road. At the other end of the spectrum we have a selection of choices in showrooms across the country, all of them heavily compromised to try and be ‘good enough’ for the ‘average rider’. I’ve never met this ‘average rider’, but they’re clearly nothing like me.
That being said, I never expected to be writing an article like this about my 2017 Yamaha T-Max 530 DX. The whole point of buying the most tricked-out version of a relatively high-spec bike is to avoid the need to immediately replace half the parts with better ones. My Suzuki V-Strom was poorly-equipped from the factory but I was able to improve both its performance and my enjoyment through aftermarket upgrades. So why was this necessary on my considerably more expensive T-Max?
The T-Max’s forks are quality items, but thicker oil and re-valved shims provide dramatic improvements.
The pressed steel shock housing was already beginning to rust; the milled aluminium replacement won’t.
Let’s start with the suspension. I mentioned in my 4,000 mile review that it seemed fine, if a little soft in the rear for two-up riding, the centre stand scraping at relatively modest lean angles. Turns out that was only half the story. Since writing that article, Yamaha recalled all of that generation T-Max to replace the centre stand and springs with newly-designed ones. The original design allowed the stand to swing down under the momentum of heavy hits to the suspension instead of keeping it neatly pinned up out of the way, resulting in it scraping when it shouldn’t have. So far, no more scraping.
That being said, a trip to my favourite expert at MCT Suspension confirmed that the rear shock was no good and delivered the bad news that it was not re-buildable, with aftermarket options thin on the ground. I eventually saved up for the only good choice – a custom-made Öhlins unit – but the verdict on the front forks was even more of a surprise. It turned out that the lack of perceived weight transfer was caused by said forks fully compressing almost immediately under any kind of braking inputs, never mind downhill two-up into an Alpine hairpin. The good news was that these were fully re-buildable, being basically R1 cartridge forks, something MCT have a considerable degree of experience with.
The results were, as I should have expected, transformative. Harsh impacts are smoothed out gracefully, with the scooter now feeling lighter on its tyres than ever. There’s more confidence when cornering, more usable feedback from the road surface in all conditions, and less wallowing in high-speed corners. Furthermore, a rear shock is an incredibly easy component to install at home and a great opportunity to clean and grease the linkage bearings. I’ve said it before, but coupled with a good set of tyres a suspension upgrade is some of the best money you will ever spend on your motorcycle.
The special 5-pointed adaptor is cheap to buy, but necessary to service the one-piece front brakes.Mid-winter salt can’t touch the powder-coated brackets or stainless brake fittings.Many brackets on the T-Max are made of the cheapest metal imaginable, corroding quickly.
With the front forks now behaving themselves under braking, the true weakness of the front brakes was exposed. Outright stopping power was there if you hauled on the levers hard, but it was clear that the single-piston rear was having more of an impact than all eight of the R1-spec pistons up front, which made no sense. Braking power was also very difficult to modulate, a typical characteristic trait of squishy rubber brake lines expanding slightly under pressure and creating a less-than-linear hydraulic force delivery.
A new set of braided-steel aftermarket lines would solve this, although in the case of the T-Max that meant disassembling half the motorcycle to extract the five different hoses and shipping them to HEL Performance so that the originals could be measured. This ‘upgrade’, at least, would not be entirely frivolous as Yamaha themselves suggest that the original hoses should be replaced at the four-year mark. Given the unbelievable amount of work this involved, I suspect few other people ever bother.
Next, the brake pads fit as standard to many motorcycles – even performance-oriented models – are a little on the hard side. This means that they last longer, which many owners would appreciate and means that they have a much softer initial bite, and manufacturers claim newbies appreciate. Given that an inexperienced rider’s reaction to poor initial deceleration is usually to panic and grab a whole handful of extra brake, I’m not sure I buy that argument. In any case, I wanted the maximum bite and the maximum braking performance I could get and that meant a new set of high-friction pads. I opted for EBC’s HH formulation, having had good results with them in the past.
The final piece of any brake upgrade is simply a good service. Fresh fluid would happen as part of the hose upgrade – the whole system had to be drained during disassembly. But I also took the opportunity to dismantle the callipers themselves, pulling out and cleaning the internals in the process. The one-piece design means that a special tool is required to unscrew the five-pointed caps from the outside, but once done makes rebuilding the callipers far easier than most. The seals were in good condition and could be reused, but the pistons were filthy and already showing signs of corrosion. Word is that the ones used in R1s are titanium rather than stainless steel and do not suffer the same fate, something I intend to investigate for a future upgrade. But for now, I was able to salvage what was already on hand.
These three jobs done, the T-Max now has the honour of being the best-stopping bike in my garage. Feel, modulation, and power are all first-class, the big scooter now boasting better brakes than even my Kawasaki Ninja 1000 SX. It should come as no surprise that a similar new set of hoses and pads for the Kawasaki are already in the garage and awaiting a quiet weekend…
While I had the T-Max in pieces, I also took the opportunity to remove all the bracketry for the brake lines and have them professionally powder-coated. As you can see from the photograph, both they and the thinly-plated metal parts of the brake lines looked like they had been dredged up from a lake after just a few winter rides and, with the stainless steel HEL hoses holding their own, I didn’t want the badly-corroded brackets to ruin the show. Powder coating is cheap and as you can see, effective.
Electrical upgrades included a 12v charging socket mounted in the battery compartment door, along with a single-led charge-state indicator. I installed the former so that I could have a high-current connection to the battery for my heated jacket and compressor, and to make it easier to plug in a battery maintenance charger. Lockdown effectively killed the (surprisingly expensive) high-capacity lead-acid battery Yamaha shipped the T-Max with and, with a high-tech lithium-iron replacement actually available for less money, I jumped at the chance to shed over 2.5kg from the front of the bike.
A special charger is needed to keep the new battery topped up without blowing it up and I’m advised that I cannot safely jump-start a vehicle with a Li-Fe battery installed, but so far those haven’t been problems. Less successful is the Gammatronix state-of-charge indicator. It technically works perfectly, and I’ve installed them on many other bikes with great success. The idea is that it’s small and unobtrusive, communicating a lot of information with minimum fuss. Solid green means you’re charging the battery at the correct voltage, flashing green means you’re a bit low, flashing orange means you’re properly draining the battery, and solid red means that your rectifier has failed and you should pull over before you fry your bike’s entire electrical system. The problem is that I installed it next to the 12v socket – useful when running a compressor to warn you that you’re flattening the battery, but not exactly in your sight line while riding the bike.
The modern LiFe replacement battery weighs less than 30% of the lead-acid original.
The 12V SAE plug doubles up as a quick-release battery charge connector
It goes without saying that I switched to better tyres as soon as the original Dunlop Sportmax’s were getting low (around 9,000 miles) and have been much-preferring the Michelin Pilot Road 4 Scooter replacements. They’re fantastic in wet and dry, warm or cold, with neutral turn-in and will hold any line you choose. I suspect they may not last quite as long, and at just under 5k on them I’m not sure I’d attempt a full lap of Scotland as they are now. Frustratingly, Michelin still don’t make a version of their newer Road 5 tyres in the 15″ wheel sizes the T-Max uses, which are pretty unique. I shall have to hope that Michelin keeps making the current versions for a very long time…
The Michelin Pilot Road 4 SC tyres are great, but nothing newer fits the T-Max…
Titanium doesn’t rust, and it’ll hopefully either sound good or at least be quiet…
The last upgrade I want to mention has been a little bit of a rollercoaster. I like to be able to hear my internal-combustion-engined motorcycles, and given that the T-Max’s 360-degree parallel twin shares the same firing order as my Dad’s Triumph Bonneville, I hoped that a slightly louder exhaust would also deliver its excellent aural component. With the homologated Akrapovic titanium system retailing at over £1,200, I understandably sought out a less official option.
I soon struck gold with a lightly-used IXIL system at a low enough price that it was worth a punt, and sure enough – everything was in the box. What’s more, IXIL are one of the few aftermarket exhaust manufacturers who still equip their full systems with catalytic converters. Seeing as we all have to breathe the same air I prefer to pollute it no more than strictly necessary. Installation was easy, and it sounded pretty good at idle – a nice, purposeful burble. But a few test rides exposed an unexpected problem – it sounded terrible.
You see, the aural interest from an internal combustion exhaust note comes from the variation, specifically how the tone changes as the load on the engine is varied through throttle inputs and engine revs. But the T-Max’s engine load is kept constant at all times through the constantly-variable transmission, and twisting the throttle open further merely increases the engine speed. The result is like the engine note from a racing videogame a couple of decades ago – the same sound effect, looped, and then pitched up and down with no further changes. The ‘upgrade’ hadn’t made the T-Max sound better – it had just made it louder. Less than two days later I refit the original exhaust and put the IXIL system up for sale.
That should have been the end of the exhaust issue, my regular joke now being that I’d actually prefer the T-Max to be quieter, and that I was looking forward to the inevitable hybrid and electric versions. But given my now-apparent intent to keep the bike long-term, I was facing a quandary. You see, for reasons known only to themselves, Yamaha had apparently made the original exhaust system out of poorly-painted mild steel and it was already starting to rust. And so, I returned to my search, this time focusing on trying to find a quiet-as-stock aftermarket system that was made out of something more durable.
Annoyingly, there’s only really one option out there: the aforementioned Akrapovic system. Homologated to be exactly as quiet as the OEM system and made from titanium and carbon fibre, rust would not be an issue. It took more than a year of waiting until a new-in-box example popped up on eBay, courtesy of a Yamaha dealer clearing out old stock in preparation for Christmas. I guess they were sick of it taking up space in their warehouse, and you can tell from a glance at the classifieds that almost no one was willing to pay the recommended retail price when new. So the exhaust was listed at less than half-price, and I was happy to oblige. The original mild-steel system is going to see out one more salty winter, with my shiny new Slovenian exhaust waiting in its box for a quiet weekend in the spring.
A brand new T-Max costs £12,000, yet still comes fitted with a cheap, mild steel exhaust system.
The replacement centre stand isn’t any better protected from the elements; powder coating is in the future.
But what of the parts of the bike I haven’t touched? Are they already ‘good enough’ for me, or do I still have further improvements planned? In most cases, it’s that I’ve tried and failed, having found the limits of what I can do with off-the-shelf parts. The fuel range is frustratingly low, and a change in traffic or weather can be the difference between needing to fuel up every time I make the 90-mile round-trip to the office or being able to squeeze in a second day before coasting to the pumps on the way home. The T-Max is so great for long-distance trips that having to start looking for fuel as soon as you hit 140 miles is maddening. Predictably, there are zero manufacturers offering bolt-on aftermarket long-range fuel tanks for such a relatively-niche maxi scooter.
I’d love to move the handlebars further towards the rider, as I’ve done on my V-Strom 650, but closer investigation has revealed this to be prohibitively difficult. Under all that plastic it’s just a standard handlebar in a clamp, so risers would work – but there’s almost zero slack in the myriad cables, wires, and hoses routed to the controls and buttons with which the ‘bars are festooned. Brake hoses and throttle cables are one thing, but splicing and extending dozens of wires to the various multi-function control clusters is a recipe for electrical gremlins. I have decided, for now, to leave matters as they are.
Every bike should have a manual hand brake; it’s honestly really useful.
Other issues? Well, I wish that the headlights were brighter, and being LED units already makes further upgrades impossible. Spotlights could be an option, though the lack of anywhere to mount them makes that difficult. More power would always be nice, and in East Asia the popular solution is to fit a tiny little turbocharger directly under the fairing. The results look hilarious, but I’m not sure that I’m quite ready to take such a dramatic step just yet. Yamaha already rebuilt the transmission for me under a recall (belt slippage at high speeds) and I don’t feel like pushing my luck on that score.
Headlights look cool and cast a clean white light, just not enough of it for dark winter commutes.
Of course, there’s lots that I’ve really come to appreciate about the T-Max. The handlebar-operated handbrake is fantastic for holding the scooter at traffic lights, allowing you to relax both hands and feet while you wait for the light to go green. I wish all my bikes had something similar. I really appreciate the keyless ignition, especially when it means not having to take my gloves off in the rain to fish around for a key. The small wheels and (relatively) short forks mean that the T-Max steers with precision, and you can really place it anywhere you like on the road. You can focus on absolutely nailing your lines through the corners, and with the upgrades to the running gear I never find myself arriving at a curve faster than I or the bike are prepared to deal with.
And what about the recently-updated versions? A couple of years ago Yamaha bumped the engine capacity and somehow the fuel economy, finally switching the remaining front indicator bulbs out for LEDs. This year the bodywork has been thoroughly refined, resulting in a more leant-forward riding position and narrower stand-over. They’ve also retired the two-gauge dashboard in favour of an all-new colour screen, with the option to subscribe for on-screen GPS directions. Of course, I’d have to do pretty much all my upgrades all over again, and the price tags the top-flight versions are commanding at dealers are truly eye-watering. So no – as nice as some of those features would be, I’ll stick with what I’ve got. When Yamaha finally bring out a hybrid version that gets 80mpg and can manage 300 miles to a tank, then we’ll talk.
Most people think that a motorcycle trip requires time, planning, and the right bike. Most people think it requires warm, summery weather, and regular stops for coffee, cake and photographs. For them, riding a motorcycle is simply a more interesting way to get to the next wine-tasting event or interesting, sightseeing opportunity. Few people find enjoyment and relaxation in spending all day, every day, riding their motorcycles simply for the sake of it. Perhaps you can relate?
The North Coast 500 has become a victim of its own success. The sublime roads threading through varied and stunning scenery have existed for a long time, but a bit of publicity and branding have turned this 500-mile loop around Scotland’s northern coastline into a busy tourist attraction. I was lucky enough to sample the area years ago, before the fame really took hold and, gratefully take further opportunities to explore the beautiful Scottish hills, coasts and countryside. But, after over a year of restrictions and with Europe’s land borders still largely restricted, it was clear that every frustrated motorcyclist in England would be headed north this past summer. The North Coast 500 would be like the M25 at rush hour.
And so, early in the summer, I went to the Scottish borders instead and it turns out that they are indeed an undiscovered jewel. But that family trip was certainly a slower affair; 160-mile days with just four hours’ riding per day, split neatly into short low-speed hops and bookended with plenty of coffee and cake. There’s enjoyment to be had in that sort of journey, certainly, but it left me somewhat unsatisfied. And so, as summer wound to a close and school forced families to return home, I saw my chance.
I know how far I can safely and comfortably ride in a day, and even on the mixed roads of the Scottish highlands I was confident that 250 miles per day would present me no problems. This meant that the North Coast 500 (or my slightly modified version thereof with more twisty, nadgery coastal roads) could be wrapped up in a weekend. Of course, getting there from my home in Northampton would mean a long motorway ride, but nothing I hadn’t managed in the past.
Travelling solo would mean that I would stop only when I wanted, and fuel stops could be quick and efficient. Finding space for a single person to stay at short notice might be challenging during a busy tourist season, but I figured that I’d have my pick of desperate and cheap B&Bs or hotels all over Scotland in September. I could pack my own lunches, drink water on the go, and focus on enjoying the empty, desolate mountains, forests, and valleys. I would have Scotland all to myself!
Of course, it turned out that September was, for me, a busy month, and before I knew it most of my weekends in October were filling up too. I picked one before it was too late and booked the Friday and Monday off work, safe in the knowledge that I could cancel the entire venture and simply stay home if the weather report turned sour. My intention was to book accommodation each afternoon when I had a clearer picture of exactly how much further I would be able to ride that day – a strategy that has worked well for high-speed tours across Europe in the past.
Changeable weather, spectacular scenery and eye-watering fuel prices.Let’s be fair; with views and roads like this, there’s no “wrong bike”.First light over Applecross Pass; warm enough, dry enough, not a caravan in sight.Mansfield Castle Hotel, as the sun was setting.
What surprised me was that there were apparently others who thought that this kind of trip sounded like fun. A friend, a brother and my Dad all declared themselves interested, though each had reservations as to whether their bike would be ready for the trip. Scottish roads are extremely hard on motorcycle tyres and there were concerns that their remaining rubber would be insufficient. Some worried that my intended pace might be too much, or that ongoing reliability issues with their machines might halt the party. With so many miles to cover in so few days I could not afford to be waiting at every junction for dawdlers to catch up, allowing any cars I’d overtaken to once again get in front and ruin another set of bends. This would be a fast trip and those that came along would be expected to ‘make progress’ along with me.
I opted to take my still-new Kawasaki Ninja 1000SX on this rapid-fire lap of Scotland. You don’t need a lot of horsepower to maintain a rapid pace, but it certainly makes overtaking easier. The waterproof, lockable luggage would minimise the time spent faffing at the start and end of each day, even if the lack of a centre stand would make chain maintenance a frustration. The upgraded seat had proven comfortable around Galloway, even if the handlebars had not – but the faster pace would solve that problem. All my bikes have heated grips and installing the connector for my heated jacket was a five-minute job. A 200-mile tank range is smaller than I would like but was still further than some of my fellow travellers’ bikes could manage. I checked the tyre pressures, packed far more snacks and water than I really needed, and headed out.
I’d arranged to meet everyone 200 miles north of home on the Thursday evening at a cheap Holiday Inn hotel. I finished work, ate a hurried dinner and was on the road by 6:30pm. With minimal traffic at that time of night I made good time, and made sure to refuel before checking in and going straight to bed. The next morning we were back on the bikes by 7am and had already covered another 100 miles before breakfast. That turned out to be one of the most welcome warm meals ever, as the temperatures had plummeted overnight. With -1C showing on the dashboard north of Newcastle, those not wearing multiple layers of merino wool and heated gear found themselves horribly underdressed. Still, the sunrise was spectacular, and after a good (but quick) meal we were back on the road, the steadily warming sun rendering the hastily-applied extra layers less critical as we continued north.
After a short, congested loop around Edinburgh’s motorways we found ourselves at a familiar cafe in the heart of the Cairngorms by lunchtime. A quick lunch and a browse of Booking.com’s options showed a reasonably-priced pair of twin rooms available at the Mansfield Castle Hotel in Tain, more or less where I’d estimated we’d end up at the end of our first proper day of riding. We looped around Loch Ness to briefly join the ‘official’ NC500 and were checked in to the hotel before the sun set. Getting dinner was a challenge – a continuing theme throughout the trip, as Scotland’s hospitality has been utterly devastated by a combination of Brexit and Covid. No staff means no tables for those who haven’t booked, but with patience we were able to enjoy a good meal before bed.
Day two started with us ignoring a ‘Road Closed’ sign at the start of a 20-mile twisty back road, and sure enough – no-one was doing roadworks on a Saturday. We sampled the first of the Scottish Highland’s new trend towards unmanned, single-pump, and fully-automated petrol stations, a sign of things to come perhaps as increasing electrification of the UK’s vehicle fleet renders more isolated stations unviable in any other guise. We passed plenty that had clearly not survived Covid and experienced one or two tense moments when this resulted in big gaps between fill-ups during the trip. Don’t come to Scotland with a small petrol tank…
One of our party managed to lose their Ventura luggage, the bolts working their way loose over the bumpy roads and dumping the entire rack into a ditch at the side of the road, unnoticed until quite a while later. Fortunately, my brother had recently fitted a Tile tracker to the bag and was able to catch up with the rest of the group just a few hours’ later as we continued along the coast. We had a passing encounter with a hostile local who was clearly unhappy with the tourists using the road through his village, but I decided against stopping to trade opinions with the clearly suicidal individual. Someone who thinks it’s a good idea to try and step out in front of a moving vehicle in order to force an argument is not someone I’m interested in conversing with.
This is what 8am on a Sunday morning in October in Scotland looks like. I can’t wait to go back.
The Lochlinver Larder remains possibly the best pie shop in the British Isles and we all picked up what we intended to be next day’s lunch, having settled for roadside snacks earlier. With a rain front threatening to move in, we opted to aim for the Gairloch Hotel as our stop for the evening, having already more than cleared the days’ estimated mileage. Our early stop proved to be a mistake, as the aforementioned hospitality issues meant that we were unable to secure a dinner reservation until more than two hours later. A walk to a pub in the next village killed the time.
Negotiating another 7:30am breakfast meant we were once again on the road by just after 8am, just as the sun was coming up. The road to Applecross pass was utterly abandoned, with the many stops for truly spectacular sunrise photos still failing to negatively impact the Sat Nav’s estimated time of arrival. Clearly, even our reduced pace was still quicker than the average dawdling car driver. The few vehicles we encountered descending the serpentine steps of the pass’ southern side moved obligingly out of the way; a fantastic attitude I wish the Scots would find a way to export to the rest of the UK.
Monday morning, pre-dawn, before the long motorway ride back home.
We made such good time that we decided to push on and make our evening stop a good hour south of Glasgow, taking almost 100 miles off the following day’s monotonous motorway run home. Unfortunately, the drizzle that had descended late in the morning only got worse as we approached the city, with the final run through Duke’s Pass spoiled for those with rapidly thinning rear tyre tread. For my part, I can confirm that properly-serviced and modified suspension can turn even the most rutted of washboard roads into a smooth, confidence-inspiring experience. Michelin’s Road 5 tyres – the choice of three out of four riders on the trip – proved themselves extremely capable in the cold, wet conditions.
The motorways south of Glasgow were utterly drenched, with standing water and the resultant airborne spray reducing both visibility and safe travel speeds dramatically. Though the windshield on the Ninja kept the worst of the rain off my chest, I was thankful for the waterproof Kriega ‘wind blocker’ I’d decided to put on over my regular Buff earlier in the day. My Altberg boots proved as reliable as ever, though my many-years-old Richa gloves’ waterproofing has clearly, and finally, given up. They have served me well for many years and I may simply replace them with another identical pair.
Our ‘hotel’ for that evening was, in fact, a self-service cottage of sorts and, with no prospect of buying a meal in the tiny village of Wanlockhead, we were suddenly very glad indeed for the pies we had purchased the previous day. With the heating cranked up and drying motorcycle gear hanging from every doorknob we made use of the kitchen to warm up and thoroughly enjoy our well-preserved meal. An early night facilitated another early start with the group mostly going their separate ways to head home. My brother and I arrived at Lloyds Honda Motorcycles in Carlisle just as they were opening for an emergency rear-tyre swap and enjoyed a surprisingly good breakfast at McDonalds while we waited. I’m not sure I’ve ever had such prompt service from a motorcycle dealer anywhere in the world and we were back on the road in under an hour.
The final few hours were punctuated by regular stops for leg stretching and bathroom/drink breaks at motorway services, with rain dogging our heels most of the way south. But we couldn’t complain – we’d managed to get most of the way around one of the most changeable parts of the UK on clear, dry roads, and a motorway run in the rain is little different to one in the sunshine. In the end, my trip meter recorded just over 1,500 miles door-to-door, with those who’d travelled from South Wales logging even higher mileages. My Dad noted that our southbound crossing of the Scottish border happened almost exactly 72 hours after we’d passed it heading north.
It turns out that, not only is looping the most northerly part of the UK in a long weekend entirely achievable, it’s also not some sort of brutal, masochistic feat of endurance. We stopped far more often than I expected, and for longer, and still managed to easily beat our daily target mileage. A coffee and restroom stop does not need to take an hour and, the fact that I was riding the only motorcycle with more than 100 horsepower proved that you don’t need big speed to keep a snappy pace. My experimental North Coast Express was a resounding success and I will be back for another run at it as soon as the snow melts next spring.
Out of season means no traffic; mile after mile of fast, smooth, empty roads.
And what of the Ninja? It acquitted itself well, though oiling the chain twice a day when riding in the wet is extremely inconvenient. Doing so solo would be impossible without a trick stand to raise the rear wheel off the ground, as Kawasaki’s exhaust system design has made fitting a centre stand an impossibility. I found myself constantly missing the belt drive from my T-Max, or envying the drive shafts of the occasional BMW we passed. The easy 200-mile tank range proved a consistent comfort and, at more reasonable speeds, it was an eminently comfortable place to spend four long days. The practically silent engine robs some of the drama and excitement but does make for guilt-free early-morning getaways from sleep hotels and hamlets.
The Ninja worked well around the North Coast 500, making overtaking a breeze compared to my V-Strom 650 and soaking up the rough roads far better than my erstwhile Street Triple. I suppose next time I’ll have to try the T-Max…
Until Covid-19 put paid to the expo season last year I hadn’t missed a single Motorcycle Live since I first passed my test in 2009. A family event, my Mum views it as a nice day out with the family where she can snag a few bargains on next year’s touring gear. My brother and his wife poke sceptically at bikes while meeting up with friends. I use the opportunity to corner bewildered staff and bombard them with technical questions, climb all over every motorcycle I can find and try to take motorcycling’s metaphorical temperature.
Lots of great bikes, but is there anything really exciting?
My motorcycling obsession – and there is no other word – is about everything on two (or more wheels). I never got into it for the culture, or the machismo, or the bragging rights – I liked the machines. As such, stepping into the hall at the NEC is just…fantastic. Doing so on a weekday and discovering that there are half as many people crowding the space was a wonderful surprise, allowing me to get more time with more bikes. I usually come with a list of specific machines to get up close and personal with, but also try to get an overview and see if I can put my finger on the pulse of the British motorcycling industry.
This year was always going to be a bit weird; Covid-19 hasn’t gone away, and there are some manufacturers who, after getting stung last year, clearly gambled on the show not happening at all. But even ignoring the fact that the only Yamaha products on display were T-shirts and that the entire Piaggio Group failed to materialise, there was still something rather flat about the show this year. The stands that were present were a little more restrained; marketing budgets and general uncertainty contributed to this, but so did customs and border issues, slimming Honda’s line-up and stranding most of Ducati’s bikes in France.
Norton are back! And they’re offering the same V4 and retro twin they made before…
Ducati’s new 17″ Multistrada Pikes Peak was stuck in France, along with most of their other bikes.
Half the bikes I’d seen announced in manufacturer press releases in the previous weeks and months were absent. I was curious about the newly-updated Yamaha T-Max 560 and the all-new Moto-Guzzi V100 Mandello would have had my attention. Ducati’s Desert X was notable by its absence, and Triumph were only showing a camo-wrapped ‘pre-production’ version of its (since revealed) Tiger 1200. But even if those bikes had been there, they wouldn’t have been anything truly revolutionary. The only genuine surprise was BSA, unveiling for the first time their re-launched (Indian-owned) brand and very aesthetically-convincing new Gold Star. And that’s just a dressed-up old BMW/Rotax engine in a retro chassis.
It was cool to see (and sit on) Harley-Davidson’s new 1200cc adventure bike, the Pan America, and the suspension that automatically lowers as you come to a stop is a neat addition to the genre. Their new Sportster uses the same water-cooled engine and comes with so much plastic cladding that it makes a Kawasaki Ninja look naked by comparison. I like flat bars and I like feet-forward riding positions, but not on the same bike. I’m sure we’ll see ergonomic variants of that platform in the years to come as noise and emissions regulations strangle the life out of their air-cooled engines, but on this occasion, I was left feeling somewhat underwhelmed.
Dressed-up BMW engine in a 60s chassis and running gear. Cool, but not new.
And honestly, that’s my overriding impression of the entire show, and indeed motorcycling as a whole at the moment. In theory, we’ve never had it so good – choice, build-quality, features, performance…we’re living in a golden age of motorcycling. And yet, there’s no excitement, no passion, and no risk. Late-stage motorcycling has figured out what the best way to solve every problem is, and no-one’s trying anything new. They simply benchmark the leading competitors and remix their own version. And if a manufacturer is already the segment leader, then they just iterate and tweak the formula, so as not to upset their existing customers.
The Moto-Guzzi V100 Mandello should be a seismic event; Guzzi is finally going water-cooled! Piaggio has clearly decided the brand will live on and has stumped up the not-inconsiderable investment in an all-new power plant. But by all accounts, it’s yet another ~110bhp two-box half-faired sports-tourer. Harley-Davidson making an Adventure bike should have stopped the whole motorcycling world in its tracks, but instead, we’re informed that it’s merely another credible entry in the fully-saturated 1200cc Adventure market. One neat new innovation does not a groundbreaking motorcycle make. It seems churlish to complain about a bunch of really good new motorcycles simply because they’re not blowing my mind, but that’s what gets people out into showrooms. Nobody gets so giddy they can’t resist rushing out to buy a bike that’s basically the same as the one they already have.
Like Ducati discovered with the Diaval, making a modern bike look “authentic” takes a lot of plastic.
Honda’s new NT1100 is literally a restyled Africa Twin with a smaller front wheel. Same engine, same frame, same electronics suite. The Japanese manufacturer had more stand-space dedicated to a display of old Fireblades than their “all-new” sports-tourer, which says a lot. Suzuki’s GSX-S 1000 GT is an updated GSX-S 1000 with panniers; they fixed the obvious flaw from the old model and executed an extremely questionable styling pass. On paper, it finally trades blows with the Kawasaki Ninja 1000SX, but ignoring aesthetics it does nothing whatsoever to get my attention. That aside, Suzuki had nothing new to offer, and so tried to distract everyone with old race bikes instead.
Tucked in a corner of the Honda stand, the NT1100 looks fine but lacks “wow” factor.
If anything, that front fairing looks even worse in person.
Triumph added a half-fairing and luggage to their Trident to make the new Tiger Sport 660. I’m sure it’s fine, and I can summon zero enthusiasm for what will, I’m sure, be a very competent and practical entry in the segment. Honda added slightly bigger panniers to the Goldwing and refined a bunch of their scooters slightly. BMW added radar-guided cruise control to their R1250RT. Ducati rebranded the Multistrada 950 into the Multistrada V2, raising the price and reducing the engine performance to get past EU emissions regulations. There are updated variants of most of their bikes, so I guess they’re all better now…?
Kawasaki added some electronics to the Versys 650. Royal Enfield had me temporarily excited when I spotted a Himalayan with the 650cc twin-cylinder engine from the Interceptor, but I later learned that this was a third-party one-off and not a production model. CCM are still selling unlimited new variations on their 600cc single-cylinder naked retro thing, and KTM boosted their 790 Adventure to 890cc to create the new 890 Adventure. I’m sure it’s just like the old one, but slightly quicker.
Adventure re-skin for the Forza 350 scooter will probably see as much dirt as the average Africa Twin.
We’ve got a real problem here, folks. I normally find all motorcycles exciting and interesting, and yet looking at the current showroom options leaves me cold. There’s nothing new, nothing exciting, nothing that might make me sell everything in my garage in order to claim as my own some all-new and revolutionary new two-wheeled machine. The closest we’ve come of late are Kawasaki creating an insane 200bhp supercharged sports-tourer (a few years old, now) and Ducati stuffing a V4 in their already-excellent Multistrada. Light-weight adventure bikes are apparently all the rage, but Yamaha’s existing Tenere 700, MV Augusta’s new Lucky Explorer, and Aprilia’s just-released Tuareg 660 were all no-shows.
In theory, this apparent plateau could be explained by the fact that internal combustion motorcycling’s days are certainly numbered. The dates are already set for cars, and it’s only a matter of time before the two-wheeled world is given its own deadline. Against that backdrop, it makes sense to reduce the models and engine choices, re-use platforms, and recycle existing, winning formulas. Now is the time to maximise profits while they still can, because manufacturers sure as hell aren’t ready for the electric revolution.
Even with Formula 1 tech employed we’re still nowhere near parity with petrol.
Super Soco and various other Chinese manufacturers are working hard on building credible urban-use 125-equivalents for reasonable money, and at the other end of the spectrum you’ve got £20,000 Zeros and Livewires. There’s nothing with reasonable range, reasonable performance, and a reasonable price tag, which puts us about 10-15 years behind where electric cars currently are. My own calculations suggest that fitting enough batteries into an electric Ninja 1000SX to match the petrol version’s performance would result in a 750kg motorcycle. Electric cars are averaging over two tons, or around double that of their petrol forebears at the turn of the century. Like an obese diabetic vacationing at an all-you-can-eat fast-food buffet, Motorcycling can’t survive that kind of weight gain.
In short, I think that the entire motorcycle industry is holding its breath. No-one is spending any money developing any radical new internal-combustion motorcycles because they don’t know if that investment will pay off before the technology is banned. They also don’t want (or aren’t able) to sink the vast sums required into battery R&D, and know that current technology can’t meet their current customers’ expectations on price, performance, or range. They’re hoping that someone in the car world, where deep pockets are engaged in extremely expensive research, makes some kind of breakthrough (solid-state batteries, batteries-as-chassis etc.) that suddenly makes electric motorcycles a realistic proposition, and are saving up to buy said tech when it becomes available. They’re probably also hoping that said technology becomes available before internal combustion two-wheelers are banned from showrooms.
None of the established players are seriously developing marketable electric motorcycles yet.
Those of us who like to travel or don’t want to have to recharge every 70 miles when commuting or riding for fun will just stick to used bikes, maintaining what we have while we wait for electric bikes to become genuinely competitive. But many motorcycle manufacturers simply won’t survive that gap, if it comes. They need sales year-on-year to maintain R&D and staff budgets that will be required to develop, build, and sell future motorcycles. You need a healthy industry to attract new riders and fight over-regulation. If the new-bike industry goes into hibernation, it might never reawaken.
Will motorcycling survive the electric transition?
So; if you’re in the market for a new motorcycle, then go out and treat yourself. Enjoy it while you can. That’s what the whole industry is doing right now…
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Motorcycle Offsetters are introducing Carbon Negative Riding. By purchasing carbon offsets over and above what is needed to neutralise your CO2 emissions, your investment pulls more CO2 out of the atmosphere than you emit. In short, you leave things better than you found them.
How This Works
When you purchase carbon offsets, your money is spent on projects that, in various ways, improve the natural environment and reduce CO2 levels in the atmosphere. Carbonzero is our partner and offset provider. They are an award-winning, leading provider of high-calibre Canadian and international carbon offsets. Find out more about how your investment funds our project portfolio on the website at https://motorcycleoffsetters.com
Your Questions Answered
Q: What is a carbon offset?
A: A carbon offset is a way to compensate for emissions by funding an equivalent CO2 reduction or saving elsewhere
Q: What does carbon negative mean?
A: Going “carbon negative” means that the rider purchases carbon offsets over and above what is needed to neutralise the CO2 footprint arising from his/her motorcycle riding. The incremental cost to the rider to do so is minimal, but the cumulative effect of millions of riders doing so can be astounding.
Motorcycle Offsetters has been set up and is run by TVAM member Andreas Gneist. If you’d like to offset your riding, either on a single trip, for a group ride or annual basis, then head over to https://motorcycleoffsetters.com and you can input your motorcycle and purchase the relevant carbon offsets.
As the world focuses on COP26, we now have two member-led initiatives to help Club members offset the carbon footprint associated with their motorcycle riding.
The first is an update from Nigel Winstanley, following the proposal he outlined in Slipstream a little while ago. It’s taken a bit longer than we would have liked to get up and running but Nigel gives an update.
The second is a scheme developed by Andreas Gneist called “Motorcyle Offsetters” and Andreas explains all opposite.
So, if you want to offset your carbon, check out both and see if one works for you – it’s your choice. We will post any updates from both projects for your information.
Following the initial work done at the beginning of this year, you may recall that a page for collecting voluntary donations was set up on the TVAM web shop. The aim of this was that individual members were able to make donations which offset a proportion of their annual motorcycle mileage. In return the proposal was to plant trees in our local Thames Vale catchment area. This would have the secondary benefit of improving the local environment and amenity for residents in that local area.
The solution adopted was to search for a local charity with the expertise and experience to successfully oversee this type of project. The Club has recently agreed a plan and signed off on a Memorandum of Understanding, covering how we will work together on this initiative with a local sustainability charity, Trust for Oxfordshire’s Environment, or (TOE for short).
To this end the monies previously donated have now been transferred over to TOE so that they can use these funds to kick off our first pilot tree planting. Members who choose to make further donations will be able to directly to TOE. Work is now underway to identify a suitable site in South Oxfordshire or Berkshire, we will then update TVAM members.
The saplings will take around 5 years to establish, members will be able to ride out to see the trees (forest!) resulting from their efforts. TOE works with local landowners to ensure that the tree types planted are suitable for local conditions and to ensure a long-term sustainable biodiversity is created. These are not just trees planted for commercial forestry later.
An “average large motorcycle” will emit approximately one tonne of carbon in 5,000 miles of riding*. A tree will lock up about one tonne of carbon. Planting a tree costs £10. So, a £10 donation to TOE will offset 5,000 miles of riding and directly result in a new tree being planted.
05:40, Sunday 26th September 2021. Not exactly the best time for an alarm to go off. But it did and it did its job, tearing me away from the warm embrace of what should be a Sunday lie in.
This is the start of my first “big ride” with TVAM after getting my Green Badge only a week before. The weather report actually looks pretty good, rain that’s been promised all week might not show, fingers crossed.
Coffee, dress, pack and load up the bike. It’s still bloody dark, what am I doing?
Nice crisp ride to Chieveley Services, Keith’s already there with a few other bikes. There are a few cars starting to queue for petrol, is this the best time to go on a ride whilst the country has been told not to panic buy petrol? Well, my tanks currently full so let’s just wing it.
Keith’s told us individually (and collectively) that he’s easily got enough fuel. The GSA has hundreds of miles of range. That leaves the rest of us thinking about how good the anti-siphon mechanisms are on the GSA, maybe time will tell.
There’s a couple of drop outs, one (sensibly) stating concerns over fuel the other unfortunately not feeling too well. That leaves 12 of us to set off with one to pick up on the way.
Allie Gane steps up as (trainee) back marker as it should be good practice. Let’s see just how inept/unruly we are and just how much practice we give her.
Ferry is booked for 10:00 from Southampton giving us plenty of time to enjoy a scenic route to Romsey. Sun is coming up, although it’s pretty foggy but the first leg of the ride takes us through some cracking roads and quaint villages, Hurstbourne Priors and KinGSA Somborne and down into Romsey.
Andy Storey joins us on the way, increasing us to (an ominous?) 13 riders. We stop at the Shell garage in Romsey and amazingly there’s not a throng waiting to fuel! We all (apart from those with massive tanks) top up, breathing a sigh of relief that we’ve at least got a decent amount of riding left to do before the juddering splutters hit.
Keith struts around again regaling all of us about his rather copious quantities of remaining fuel. Fuel’s topped off so we head off to Southampton and the Red Funnel ferry. We pull up to the ferry terminal, book in and line up in the loading bay just in time to see the 09:00 ferry depart. With a decent run up I was sure I could jump the gap. But that’s not behaviour becoming of a new Green Badge holder.
We had a decent bit of time to grab a brew and have a chat with the other riders and have a poke about each other’s bikes. This is my first time taking a bike on a ferry and I’m pleasantly surprised. We got preferential loading, straight in first and right up to the front ready for a quick unload. So up to the lounge for another brew and a comfy seat whilst we wait for the breakfast service.
Ferry pulls in just before 11:00. We all mount up and the ferry loaders let us off first onto nearly foreign shores! The weather has really brightened up now, the sun’s out and there’s a decent amount of blue sky. Entirely pleasant riding conditions.
This is my first time on the Isle of Wight and I must admit I’m fairly blown away. It’s stunning, green and verdant, lots of little villages. Roads are billiard table smooth. Scenery is a mix of rolling hills, farmland, cliffs and sandy beaches. Truly stunning. So much going on in such a small package.
We had a quick stop to admire the scenery overlooking Sandown Airport (but I’m sure it was just an excuse for those on adventure bikes to feel superior on a stony car park) and a quick reminder from Keith that he’s got a massive tank and loads of fuel left.
So far the group has been nice and tight, the marker system working a charm and Allie still stoically shoring us up seamlessly. It’s off to Sandown Airport (the long way) for lunch.
Keith’s a regular there as he often flies into the airfield. Lunch is cracking, they’ve got a load of covered outdoor seating and offer a decent selection of burgers, wood fired pizzas and a Sunday roast. My pizza was excellent.
To blow out the after lunch fug, Keith had lined up a treat. We rode the proposed Isle of Wight TT route. First leg was the narrow twisty bit parallel to the Military road. It’s tight, high verged and seemingly way too scary for a full on TT blast through it. It then opens up onto the Military Road.
Just. Wow.
Perfect tarmac, stunning views of hills, cliffs and beaches. Very open so visibility is amazing and properly, stupidly fast. I definitely used all the 60 mph I was allowed.
This road is so good we did it twice, first heading southeast towards Blackgang, then a turn around and a wicked blast all the way from the southern tip of the island directly to the Needles on the western point.
This is where we had a slight wobble. In an unfortunate turn of events a random rider had done a U-turn in front of the tail end of our group and stopped at the side of the road opposite a junction we’d previously turned down. One of us saw this as a marker so turned off, causing a slight confusion among the rest of us at the tail end. It’s rather odd to see the chaps you’ve just turned around ride past you again in the opposite direction! By the time I got there the ‘phantom marker’ had gone so I blasted back down the Military Road again, with that niggling thought that I’d possibly gone wrong. Eventually I caught up another rider and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw a marker on the next junction. Bear in mind that this was a 13 mile leg with no marked junctions!
Once at the Needles we parked up (well, most of us anyway). Keith and Allie did a great job in scooping up the stragglers. We headed into the shops to grab an ice cream. Abject failure! The ice cream (and pretty much all other shops) were closed due to staff shortages. Another brew it was then!
So, once we were all back together again and suitably caffeinated we got ready to set off. At this point Keith’s massive tank was still mostly full, but the rest of us were past the point of no return, we needed fuel. In Paul’s case his GSAXR-750 can barely make it into triple figures of range, this coupled with no fuel gauge meant he was squeaky bum on fuel so motion lotion was now a very high priority.
We’d seen numerous petrol stations on our travels, all of which were frequented by nothing but traffic cones. Finding fuel was going to be a bit exciting. We reckoned Paul had about 30 miles of fuel left. Keith’s plan had us hitting Newport to find fuel, 25 miles away. So off we went with Paul short shifting to 6th in about 50 meters.
In Newport we found the last remaining open petrol station, with a nicely established queue already formed and only 4 pumps left open. We all (apart from Keith) filled up again with a huge sigh of relief again. It turns out this station only had 30 minutes of fuel stocks left so we were rather lucky. All fuelled up, we headed back to East Cowes as the ferry home beckoned. Again we got preferential treatment, first on and straight to the front. Nice!
Dinner was being served so many pasties were consumed, mainly by a single individual! No names, what goes on on Red Funnel ferries stays on Red Funnel ferries. It’s now dark by the time we dock at Southampton. It’s been a long day. The plan is to have a marked ride out of the city to the motorway then everyone for themselves. A sound plan but marked rides on busy city roads at night is definitely tricky. One wrong turn from Keith saw us take the long way out of Southampton. We somehow managed to keep it together (nice one Allie!) despite me seeing Keith as a marker near the end and sailing past him! Luckily I stopped and let him through and we all got out.
A cracking day’s riding was topped off by a dark blast up the M3/A34 and home. I still can hear Keith regaling people of his massive tank. I don’t think he’s filled up yet. My first day with a TVAM long ride was a roaring success, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Everyone was great, Keith and Allie did a fantastic job of managing the ride. My first trip to the Isle of Wight will certainly not be my last, the Military Road is just plain epic.
Those in attendance: Keith Miller – Run leader & Massive Tanker, Allie Gane – (Trainee) Back Marker, Andy Storey (that psychedelic top is truly awful Andy), Bob Griffin, David Naylor, Jackie Parker, Jon Wiles, Mark Ward, Paul Gilmore, Paul Tsarion, Phil Donovan, Stephen Cudd and me, Matt Poole.
Matt Poole
Note: Total run was 207 miles, TT Circuit was 11.7 miles. Keith wrote that his fuel tank holds 293 miles, but by the way he was talking it I think he’s dropped a digit somewhere.
First published in Slipstream November 2021
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