Spanish Raid (October 2016)

What a trip! It all started with an email earlier in the year from Alan Mossman, informing us of an upcoming trip in September to the Picos de Europa in Northern Spain. We have been on a handful of trips with the bike in in the past couple of years but this particularly appealed to me as we would be in one hotel for the five days. We did some research on the area and immediately got in touch with Sue Kennedy who signed us up. We were amazed at how reasonable it was too. I had some reservations about the ferry trip as the Bay of Biscay has a reputation for being a little choppy at times, however, we had pretty smooth crossings both ways.

On the day of departure, Ian and I set off after lunch and took the usual scenic route via the Meon Valley and meandered down to Portsmouth. We arrived in plenty of time and met up with the rest of the group – 17 in total with 15 bikes and one car. Many of the group were seasoned ‘Raiders’, whereas this was our first experience. I was initially disappointed as I was the only pillion, but Kate, the owner of that lovely Mazda, did also ride two up.

There were a lot of bikes on the ferry and it took a while to get them loaded and strapped down. Then it was time to settle into our surprisingly spacious cabin and explore the decks. Sue had booked us all into the ’a la carte’ restaurant that evening and we had a lovely buffet meal which also proved a great opportunity to get to know our fellow Raiders. It felt more like a cruise liner, with some of the older guests dressing up for dinner.

After a restless night’s sleep and a day at sea, we arrived at Santander about an hour later than scheduled as dusk was falling. Sue informed us that, ideally, we should be through the gorge before dark. No one had mentioned a gorge…in the dark! We made haste to reach our hotel, the Hotel Infantado. Not the usual venue for this trip, but I was very impressed with the rooms, food and location – just over 1 kilometre from Potes itself. Once again, Sue did a magnificent job of booking a table for dinner in the hotel restaurant for us all that evening.

We awoke to a fairly chilly, cloudy morning but the view from the room was fabulous. We were looking forward to our first Picos ride out and we were not disappointed. The area itself was absolutely stunning – breathtaking views wherever we went. I cannot count how many times I said, “wow”. At one point, we stopped at a beautiful village which clung to the side of a cliff. It was like something out of a fairy tale, complete with pretty waterfall which cascaded into a ‘blue grotto’ on the opposite side of the road. It was hard to imagine that this was Spain, being more used to the ‘Costas’.

Day two was as equally brilliant, although somewhat different, to that of the previous day. There were numerous reservoirs, dams and fabulous open, twisty roads. We felt a slight disappointment on reaching a view point to find it still shrouded in cloud but, as we meandered back down the mountain, the clouds soon dispersed, revealing the views beyond.

I decided to take a rest on day 3 as being pillion takes a toll on my back. Plus, I thought Ian would enjoy the ride more without my weight on the bike, as well as some peace and quiet with the earpiece switched off. I watched the group depart and, after a coffee on the terrace, I noticed the hotel staff were busy preparing for a wedding. I wandered into Potes and took in the sights and the shops in this very pretty little town. As I walked back, an elderly Spanish man spoke to me and said, “Que calida?” (“Isn’t it hot?”). I replied that it was very hot (in Spanish) and felt pleased with myself. My spanish is a bit rusty, but it did come in handy on occasion (although I have since forgotten the word for brake fluid). I decided to make up my own baguette (bocadillo) and took it back to hotel. By the time I got back, the wedding guests were starting to arrive, so to keep out of the way I headed for the pool with my ‘picnic’ and book. I had the whole place to myself. Bliss!

Sometime later, the rest of our group began to return and I was eager to hear of their day’s riding. They had seen lots more gorgeous scenery and pretty little mountain villages, by all accounts. Although I felt a little disappointed to have missed that, I was glad to have had the opportunity to explore Potes, which was equally picturesque, with its stunning mountain backdrop, its pretty river with arched bridges, and its cobbled backstreets.

Sunday was a ‘rest’ day for everyone to do what they wanted. Steve and Kate persuaded me to brave the cable car and I didn’t regret it. The views were spectacular. There were some very brave goats on the top too. Ian and I then decided to check out the gorge we’d ridden through in near darkness upon our arrival. It was pretty impressive and I hadn’t realised how long it was either.

I was really sad to leave the Picos and have taken away some very fond memories of the rides, scenery and especially the people in our group. What a great bunch of guys and gals! We had some real laughs along the way – the multi-coloured gins contributed! It was also our 30th anniversary during the trip.

A great big ‘thank you’ to Sue for her magnificent organisation, Steve and Kate Warren for great ride leading, and Salli for leading and back marking, particularly for the ride back to Santander via that fabulous coastal route. Thanks also to the rest of the 2016 raiders for making it so memorable: Tony and Simon (what a couple!), Julian, Steve S, Chris, Sid, Issy, Kelly, Ray (aka Kelly’s Dad), Mike, Andy and last but certainly not least, thanks to Ian for putting up with me on the back of the bike (note to self: keep the volume down when shouting through the earpiece), and for his patience with me not quite mastering the art of packing lightly – although I’m getting better at it!

Sue, please sign us up for the next one, preferably in 2017 though, as I can’t wait 2 years! I hope you decide to use the Hotel Infantado again too. It was in a great location and had good facilities. Anyway, we have a few more gins to try out. Oh and Tony – don’t forget your torch!

Roll on the next Raid!

Julie Colville (pillion for the moment)

The wrong kind of salt (October 2016)

Trying to achieve 400mph on two wheels was never going to be easy. Racing the Isle of Man TT or the Dakar Rally is hard, but they’re more about endurance and consistency than they are about breaking new ground. It’s all been done before and you’re following in brave footsteps, aiming to beat the next man on the road – but pointing a 25ft, 1000bhp streamliner down a featureless salt strip at 400mph is a trip into the unknown. Nobody really knows what’s going to happen. But that’s also the thrill; both physically and from a technical point of view – you’re going where nobody has been before.

To quote the most famous salt pioneer of all time, Burt Munro, “You live more in five minutes flat-out on a bike than most people do in a lifetime.” And that’s why thrill-seekers and pioneers have been chasing land speed records on the Bonneville Salt Flats since 1914.

The desolate 40 square miles of dry lake bed isn’t a nice place to spend your time. There’s no shade, and no escape from the heat, but – as the record breakers will testify – land speed record attempts require a huge amount of patience, the conditions have to be perfect. That means sitting on the salt for days on end – waiting. The salt has to be rock solid, the wind has to be under 3mph and the bike has to be running absolutely perfectly. But conditions aren’t perfect. The crusty salt is too soft in places, recent rain having pooled into localised lakes, before evaporating back into the endless skies. It’s not baked hard, and that means trouble.

The FIM require the bike, and Guy to jump through hoops, resulting in another flurry of activity as a bike inspection leads to modifications required to satisfy racing regulations. Guy has to be able to exit the Streamliner unaided within 30 seconds, and having squeezed himself into the fuselage, he manages an exit again in just 15 seconds. Now he just needs to post a 300mph run to get the green light from the FIM to go for the record. Surely that’s easy? Guy nailed the Streamliner down the salt at 274.2mph just a few weeks earlier after barely more practice than you’d get test riding a bike from your local dealer.

The salt won’t give up its speed that easily. While being towed down the course for a sighting shakedown the Rocket gets caught in a rut, and turns over, sliding on its right hand side like a million-pound carbon fibre slug. Guy’s out in seconds, unharmed, but the spill means a return to the pits. Again, we wait. Days pass like this. Dawn on Sunday 9th October looks promising, and again the team run through the insanely convoluted process of readying the Rocket. Guy climbs in, the FIM are ready to observe, and he’s off under his own power. It looks good for around a mile, and then suddenly the Rocket is sideways, and sliding down the salt on its side again.

It’s an ignominious end to the attempt – but time has run out, and the Infor Rocket Streamliner needs too much attention to make it possible that they can get out again any time soon. It’s over, it’s time to leave the salt and regroup, to wait for another window of opportunity, to wait for perfection. Lady luck wasn’t on the team’s side this time.

“It’s all part of the job boy, isn’t it? Feeling our way,” said Guy. “I guess if it was an easy thing to do everyone would have done it by now. So we’ll get a plan sorted and get on with the next go at it as soon as we get the chance.”

(From MCN report) 

 

Honda NC750X DCT Review

I rode this bike’s predecessor, the NC700X, back when it first launched in the UK in 2012. There have been several minor changes since then, not least the engine growing 50cc and 7 horsepower. But this year Honda, dramatically restyled the whole 750 lineup, eschewing much of the chunky black plastic in favour of gorgeous metallic paint, with stiffer forks and full LED lighting topping the list of functional updates.

Despite this, on paper the NC remains a cheap, boring motorcycle. 230kg in DCT flavour, the 750cc 270-degree parallel twin manages a peak output of just 54bhp, and a single, lonely two-pot sliding brake caliper tasked with stopping the whole front end. The frame is a low-tech steel-tube cradle, the swing arm a similarly basic extruded steel girder, and a low 6,500 RPM redline completes the apparent picture of sporting-motorcycle antithesis.

And the fact is, the original execution of this concept resulted in a bike rather like a toaster. It did exactly what it said on the tin, competently, efficiently, and with zero chance of raising your pulse. Plenty of people bought them, loving their easy 70-80mpg fuel economy and ridiculously low running costs, with screw-and-locknut valve adjustments and easily-accessible engine making servicing a cinch.

So why on earth did this mildly-updated model catch my eye? Well, aside from the fact that I think Honda’s styling team did a fantastic job, lots of subtle little changes have added up to make a big difference. For one thing, that small power boost actually represents a 16% increase over the original. For another, the new suspension, while not in the same league as Nitron or Öhlins, is surprisingly firm for a stock setup, and does an excellent job of making the NC feel light on its feet.

“If I didn’t already have the V-Strom, and if I hadn’t already spent so much time and money turning it into a ridiculous high-riding GSX-R, I might have put down a deposit this morning. ”

And then there’s the gearbox. Yes, you could buy the original NC700 with Honda’s optional double-clutch engineering marvel. And yes, you can conversely choose to purchase your new NC750 with a manual transmission instead, and receive a bike that is 10kg lighter, and leave your wallet £400 heavier. But this double-clutch automatic gearbox is a world away from the sluggish prototype we saw back in 2012.

A frequent complaint of the manually equipped NC series is owners accidentally running into the rev limiter, even during normal riding. With the automatic gearbox swapping cogs in fractions of a second with or without user input, you never have this problem, and the new Sport mode is happy to hold each gear until the bitter end. Every stop light becomes an excuse for a full-throttle drag race, the surprisingly rewarding exhaust note from the stock silencer egging you on.

The gearbox actually has four modes, Drive being the default, and Sport 1 through 3 providing progressively more aggressive shifting. For maximum contrast I stuck to Sport-3 for fun, twisty roads and then switched back to Drive for town riding, motorways etc. Riding my local twisty B-road at maximum attack back-to-back with my Street Triple, with the gearbox making the most of the 750cc’s low-end torque, I’m not sure I ever really noticed the power deficit. The rider of the Ducati Monster 1200 I overtook certainly looked suitably surprised.

One thing to be very aware of is that in Drive, the gearbox will seemingly only shift down to avoid actually stalling the engine. This means closing the throttle to slow for a corner will result in a complete lack of engine braking, the low-compression engine and high gear combining to give the feeling of a freewheeling bicycle. Gears can be overridden at any time with thumb and forefinger switches, but the first sharp corner I encountered while in the default mode certainly took me by surprise.

This also means that, when in Drive, the gearbox stubbornly refuses to kick down, no matter what, even if you demand full throttle just off idle. I know that this sort of riding behaviour should be reserved for one of the Sport modes that will quite happily drop several gears in response to such ham-fisted inputs, but finding myself completely ignored while in Drive was still somewhat bemusing.

So, compared to the previous model it’s a night-and-day difference. The new bike is fun and frugal (70mpg during spirited riding), and proves very much the less-is-more ethos that makes it so much fun to embarrass faster, more expensive bikes on apparently lesser machinery. But it’s certainly not perfect.

I applaud Honda for choosing too firm over too soft when it comes to the suspension tuning. All too often, sensible bikes are under-sprung and under-damped in order to impress buyers on a timid test ride, then let owners down once they turn the wick up. But while the NC750X feels nicely buttoned-down when attacking a fast, smooth road. My backside quickly became numb from the battering it was receiving over bumpier tarmac, to say nothing of drain covers and potholes.

What’s more, brake hard from higher speeds over a less-than-perfect road surface and you’ll find your stopping distances alarmingly long, as the ABS reacts to the forks inability to track the tarmac with any precision. As always, I’m aware that I’m pushing the running gear beyond its design limits, but its something I’d look to remedy before I found myself unexpectedly parked in the back of someone’s SUV.

I also wish that Honda had managed a nicer-looking swing arm. Extruded steel screams low budget, even if it happens to be a perfectly good engineering solution for lower-power bikes. With everything else about the NC750X now implying a retail price several thousand pounds more than the £7,049 of this DCT-equipped example, this one thing is a bit of a let-down.

Beyond that, we really are descending into pedantic nitpicking. Yes, the stock windshield is, like on most bikes, neither here nor there; it provides too little coverage to block motorway wind, yet is tall enough to push turbulence right into your helmet. Yes, handlebar-mounted switches for the dashboard would be nice, as would a temperature gauge. And yes, a practical all-round commuter like this really should come equipped with handguards as standard.

The seat is a little too firm, the bars could be a little further back, and having to unload a tail pack to access the under-seat fuel filler could become tiresome. The storage where the traditional fuel tank would normally be almost makes up for this, and keeping the weight low helps the bike feel far lighter than the specification suggests. If only fuel capacity were a little more generous than its meagre 14 litres, the impressive fuel economy could make for a real mile-muncher.

But honestly, that’s it. If I didn’t already have the V-Strom, or if I hadn’t already spent so much time and money turning it into a ridiculous high-riding GSX-R, I might have put down a deposit this morning. Honda’s weird, low-revving, double-clutch-equipped ugly duckling has finally grown into a sure-footed, sweet-handling, sparkling blue swan. Go ride one!

First published in Slipstream, September 2016