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This is my first long distance Dual sport motorcycle ride, and my first ride report. I warn you that I tend to be a little wordy. I personally enjoy detailed ride reports posted by other riders; the more detailed the better. My ride report is going to be no different.... and yes, I ascribe to the time honored tradition of having my motorcycle in nearly every picture.
I am riding an '08 KLR 650. I added SWMotech crash bars just prior to this trip in the hopes that if I fell out there in the middle of nowhere, I would not be stranded with a broken radiator, reservoir or water pump. I have a plastic dry box on the rear rack that holds all my tools, tubes and air compressor, chain lube, extra oil, maps, batteries, etc. I used some CorTech saddle bags in which I carried all my clothes, rain gear, heavy jacket and gloves, flip-flops and water. All my clothing was placed inside resealable zippered plastic bags. I placed my tent, sleeping bag, and air mattress in a thick gauge plastic bag and put that inside a heavy fabric duffel bag that I'd treated with a water proofing spray. The duffel back was bungee'd to the motorcycle on the seat behind me. The saddle bags stuck out horizontally nearly a foot on each side, and the duffel bag was not much narrower. This would create a fair amount of wind drag and affect fuel mileage, as I would learn later. I estimate that everything on the bike weighed about 80 lbs. That would push the weight of the bike close to 550 lbs., with a full tank of gas. I carried a waterproof Garmin Etrex Vista hand held GPS which I wear on a tether around my neck. The GPS hangs down in front of me as I ride, and I can easily pick it up and read it as I ride. I created and loaded routes for my entire trip and several alternate routes as well. I also carried copies of all the map pages from the Road of Texas atlas that included my route. These were to be my back-up plan in case my GPS failed and I had to navigate the old fashioned way.
Here is a map of my route based on my GPS track files (first 3 days):
...And a second map of the remaining 2 days (since Google Maps won't show all the tracks on a single map)
Here is my track file in GPX format, which can be opened in Garmin Mapsource or Google Earth. View attachment 13891 . Right click the hyperlink, choose 'Save link as...', then save on your computer; add .gpx to the file name if necessary.
I hope that you enjoy my ride report as much as I enjoyed my ride...
Day 1, Monday March 16, 2009
Mileage: 504 miles, 10.5 hours
I originally planned to leave Saturday March 14, but the weather was not cooperative. Likewise Sunday’s forecast deteriorated, but Monday through the rest of the week the weather looked great, so I left on Monday, 8 am.
Thanks to Day Light Savings Time, the sun isn’t up until 7:30, so 8 am is not at late as it seems, or so I kept telling myself. The air was cool and damp at 42 degrees, with a fog ceiling at about 300 feet off the ground. The sky was clear further west and it got colder. I guess the hill country had a clear sky that night and the overnight temperature must have been near freezing. I would guess that it was 36-38 degrees as I road out near Llano, but clear as could be. It’s going to be a great day.
This being my first long distance ride on a dual sport bike, I did not know how far, or how fast I could ride, or for how long. I’ve never ridden the bike loaded down with saddle bags, tent, sleeping bag, etc. The plan was to ride from northwest Austin along highway 29 through Burnet, Llano, Mason, Menard, then pick up highway 190 to Fort McKavett. The idea was to cover as much ground as quickly as possible without being mind-numbingly boring. Highway 29 is a nice ride and speed is 65-70 mph. I jumped off of Hwy 29 about 12 miles east of Menard onto FM2092. FM2092 is nothing special, but more interesting that Hwy 29. FM2092 connected directly with 4-Mile Rd. in Menard, which I intended to be a short cut to Hwy 190 west of Menard, according to the map. Unfortunately there was a sign posted stating that the road dead-ended in, what else, four miles. I decided to have a look anyway, and this is what I found.
The untimely end of 4-mile road west of Menard TX
I think that FM 2092 used to go all the way through Menard along this route. There must have been a bridge or low water crossing on the road that was washed away, and they never bothered to replace it, hence FM2092 west of Menard became 4-Mile Road which sure enough, ended four miles west of Menard. I backtracked and followed Hwy 29 to Hwy 190 and continued west toward Fort McKavett.
My next little diversion would come a couple miles prior to the intersection of Hwy 190 and FM 864 where I’d take a little short cut down Dunagon Road. There was a very long low water crossing on this road passing a very picturesque hill country stream with a broad emerald green pool. Naturally the water crossing road surface was slick as ice, but I had no trouble. Now on to Fort Mckavett. Since the primary objective of this journey was to get to Big Bend, I did not visit Fort Mckavett. I’ve been there before. I just took a picture at the entrance and continued on.
Entrance to Fort McKavett, TX
From Fort McKavett I would travel a county road (CR2450 or 245) that parallels FM864. This county road begins just a few hundred feet from the entrance to Fort Mckavett and is known locally as old Fort McKavett road, which becomes Bond Rd. just outside Sonora, and then becomes Poplar Street within Sonora, passing right through the middle of Sonora, past the county court house. But first I have to get there… Shortly after leaving Fort McKavett I am quite surprised to run out of gas in the main tank. I’ve only gone 185 miles, and I usually go at least 225 before going on reserve. I am immediately reminded of an old rule of thumb; always buy gas when you can, no matter how unnecessary you may think it is to do so. I also learned a knew rule; My KLR gets lousy gas mileage loaded down, with wide saddle bags/tent/sleeping bag in the wind, doing 70 mph. I averaged 39 mpg for the trip within a range of 35-44. I usually get 48-50 mpg. Running on reserve 10+- miles south of Fort Mckavett presents a problem. I don’t have any idea where I might find gas since this region is somewhat remote and unfamiliar to me. I do know that there is nothing near me for at least 30 miles the way I’ve come, back to Menard. Normally I can cover that distance on reserve, just barely, but with the lousy mileage I am getting, I am worried; very worried. The route I am on is the most direct route to Sonora and is the same distance as it would be back to Menard. I really have no choice but to slow the pace and ride for maximum mileage and hope I make it to Sonora. I made it, just barely. Poplar Street intersects Hwy 277. I get gas and water at 211.6 trip miles. I put 5.4 gallons in the tank or about 1/10th less than what is considered usable in this tank due to its design (without laying the bike on it’s left side to drain fuel from the right side of the tank to the left side. Definitely a last resort with all the luggage attached).
I ride south out of Sonora on Hwy 277 toward Juno. Along the way I see a large owl roosted on a fence post. I debate whether to make a quick turnaround to take his picture since most large birds of prey that I try to photograph usually fly away before I can get close to them. Seeing an owl is really rare though, and there is no traffic around me, so make a U-turn and ride back a few hundred yards, kill the engine and coast as close as I dare. Get out my camera and take a few shots at maximum optical zoom (10x), plus 4x digital zoom. Then I walk slowly closer and closer taking pictures as I go. Eventually the owl takes flight. This bird probably stood 2 feet tall.
Notice the claws around the fence post. His feet were size of my hands and his claws were the size of my fingers. The wingspan was probably 5 feet.
Owl perched on a fence post between Sonora and Juno, TX
This is as close a shot as I could get. The owl flew away a second later.
I jump off Hwy 277 onto Hwy 189, a narrow two lane blacktop through the increasingly dry scrub brush vegetation, over numerous dry lower crossings, until I reach Hwy 163. I take Hwy 163 south to Juno Rd. Juno Rd. is unpaved and connects Hwy 163 with Ranch Road 1024.
Juno Road between highways 163 and 1024
Along the way I spot some rocks at the side of the road suitable for supporting the bike while I lube the chain. It’s been about 270 miles of high-load riding and the chain looks dry. I could use a drink myself. Not a bad spot for a pit stop.
Big rocks at the side of Juno Road are used to prop-up the motorcycle while lubing the chain.
Continuing down Juno road I reach RR 1024. Riding along Hwy 1024 I have a couple close calls with a Turkey Buzzard and some real Turkeys, that want fly right into my path, and one deer that wanted to leap over me.
Then I ride west to Pandale. Here pavement runs out and I’ll be on limestone gravel roads for a while. A couple miles south I cross the Pecos river. Last time I was here the road crossed the Pecos river directly on the limestone river bed with a few patches of concrete placed here and there over the deeper sections. Now there is a modern concrete bridge over the river.
The Pecos river at the Pandale crossing
The boundary of Amistad National Revervoir/National Park has been pushed all the way up to this point on the Pecos river. I guess that means no more free camping here like there used to be.
From the Pecos River I ride west for 35 miles on limestone gravel, dirt and sand, on Felder Draw road, which becomes Pumpville road about midway to Hwy 349. Felder Draw road is pleasant enough. At its east and west ends the terrain was hilly. It gets a little tedious in the middle though where it is flatter. The road has a tendency to undulate with small mounds that typically obscure pools of water on their blind side. The water is left over from the first real rain central and west Texas has seen in six months or more. I am able to ride around the edge of the water pools, squeezing between the water and the vegetation, which has become increasingly prickly the further west I ride. One particular puddle however lies between fence posts at a gate. This was interesting; wrestling a 500+ lbs loaded motorcycle through this slippery slop (what I imagine it would be like riding a big GS). I managed to stay upright even though I was swinging the bars left and right, almost to full lock, to maintain balance.
The only pool of water on Felder road that I could not get around, and therefore had to ride through.
Note the wiggly track as the front wheel packed with mud and slid back and forth.
Here you can see the track I made through the puddle. My new Bridgestone TW18 has done a good job on all the surfaces I’ve ridden so far, and it tractored right through the mud too.
Closer to Hwy 349 on Felder Draw road the Bungee Cord Fairy left me a surprise in the middle of the road. Never one to pass up a free bungee, I stop for water and take the bungee cord with me.
This is typical of the terrain along Felder Draw between the Pecos river and hwy 349.
I ride hwy 349 south to Dryden at Hwy 90, encountering one construction delay where the road was down to one lane for a couple of miles during some kind of resealing treatment. Other than the construction crew, I saw no one else on Hwy 349. There is no gas in Dryden, but I’m in good shape at 155 miles and only 20 more to Sanderson where I know there will be gas. It is at this point I have to decide whether I can make it all the way to Big Bend before it gets dark. It took 4 hours to get to Sonora (211 miles), four more hours to get to Sanderson (175 miles). It’s 4:25 pm, and from Sanderson there is 100 miles to go before I get to the old Ore Road in big Bend. I’ve been averaging 50 miles an hour overall, so I figure that’s 2 more hours arriving at my destination for the day by 6:30 pm, and it doesn’t get dark now until 7:30pm thanks to Day-Light-Saving time. I decide to press on, and even though I haven’t eaten in 24 hours I don’t feel the least bit hungry. Unlike all those skinny people out there, I can skip a few meals and not even feel it. Having learned my lesson, I buy gas again in Marathon just 50 miles west of Sanderson, then I head south on Hwy 385 for the final leg to Big Bend. I arrive at the persimmon gap entrance station just after 6 pm and find that there is no one there, or at the Ranger station, so I continue on.
Big Bend Park entrance at Persimmon Gap
15 miles into the park I find Dagger Flat road to my left. Two miles on Dagger flat and I hit the Old Ore Road. The plan is to ride to the first unoccupied primitive camp site I can find and pitch my tent. That proves to be McKinney Springs camp ground 7 miles down the Old Ore Road. The Old Ore Road is not a difficult road, though it has its moments. It is a narrow two-track on natural limestone, heavily encroached upon by Creosote bushes and all manner of prickly cacti. To ride the road requires concentration to avoid the rough sections, getting pricked, or running over something thorny causing a flat. Not the easiest thing to do after just having continuously ridden over 500 miles in 10+ hours, especially with long shadows crossing the road, but I manage.
The remote camp grounds in big Bend are supposed to be reserved ahead of time, and there can only be one party at a time at any given site. I roll up to the McKinney Spring camp site only to find another party already there. A gentleman my age, his wife and their adult son. They have a Jeep, and van with a purpose built flat bed trailer designed like a chuck wagon in which all their camping gear and food is readily accessible. The elder gentleman says they don’t usually associate with people who ride KLR’s. He must know bikes since he recognized my KLR, so I ask what is his preference in bikes; what does he ride, “… a KLR…”. He tells me to join them, have some Frito pie and a beer. He asks if I reserved this camp site. I tell him no. I had no idea when or where I’d be by sundown. He says “good, we’re squatters too”. We surmise that if the site were reserved then surely someone would have arrived by now. He explains that he parked in an area of the road that approaches the site just in case the rightful owner of the site shows up, then the camp site proper remains open for their use. I follow suite and find an out of the way spot 100 feet away to pitch my tent without encroaching on the camp site proper. I pass-up the offer of food and libation. I am not a social type of person and it makes me uncomfortable to accept the generosity of others when I cannot reciprocate. Besides I am here for the solitude, and the other nice folks stated that they were a quiet bunch and would turn in early; I’d never know they were there. They were true to their word. I set up my tent, inflated my air mattress and rolled out my sleeping bag. I then turned my attention to the KLR. I checked all the bolts and screws for looseness, lubed the chain and added more oil (second time today). I’ve added nearly ¾ quart so far today. In just over 500 miles. I write the first entry in my trip journal as it gets dark. The air begins to cool off from the upper 80’s it had been earlier in the day.
I decide it’s time to call it a day. Home sweet home... for tonight anyway.
McKinney Springs, a short hike from the camp site.
Day 2, Tuesday March 17, 2009
Mileage: 125 miles, (mostly dirt), 10 hours+-
The morning air is cool at about 45 degrees. The sun will soon crest the hills to the east. I hear my neighbors moving about so I decide it’s time to get up. I repack all my gear and admire the eastern face of the Chisos mountains in the morning sun.
Sun rising on the Chisos Mountains as seen from the McKinney Spring Camp Group on the Old Ore Road.
The ride down the Old Ore Road to the Rio Grande is 40+ miles. I plan to stop at Ernst Tinaja along the way. The Old Ore road from McKinney Spring camp ground south has a few more elevation changes where the road crosses small valleys that extend out from the mountain to the east. The riding is interesting, though not particularly challenging. The road is still narrow two-track, and the vegetation continues to crowd the road. I have to pay close attention to the road however to avoid loose rocks, ledges, and thorny vegetation that might flatten my tires.
I reach the intersection of old Ore and Telephone Canyon Roads.
I explore a couple of side roads that lead to primitive camp sites; all occupied. I was pretty lucky to find McKinney Springs unoccupied, aside from my fellow squatters.
Finally, I reach Ernst Tinaja, which is a canyon cut by erosion that reveals amazing contortions of sedimentary rock layers, and circular pools carved out of the limestone.
The parking area is crowded with 4 very dusty SUVs and numerous people around them drinking water and changing shoes etc. These are the first people I’ve encountered since leaving McKinney Springs this morning.
The trail from the parking area to the most interesting part of Ernst Tinaja is only a ¼ mile walk up a dry creek bed. I see what appear to be some prehistoric pictographs on the canyon wall, one of which has been defaced. I photograph the portion of the pictograph that has not been damaged.
I photograph the portion of the pictograph that has not been damaged.
I reach the most interesting part of the canyon a short distance further and take several pictures. Right away it’s apparent that this is no place to be if it is raining, or even threatening to rain. This is a narrow slot canyon with shear rock walls. If there were water running, without the threat of flash flooding, the pools would be a neat place to swim. As it is however, the water is still, and not suitable for bathing. Still a very nice place.
After the walk back the parking area it becomes apparent that my riding boots are not well suited to hiking. My feet hurt. Back on the bike, I ride the remaining 5 miles of the Old Ore Road down to the highway that spans Panther Junction to the north and the Rio Grande Village to the south.
The Chisos Mountains as seen from the Old Ore Road.
I head south to Rio Grande Village photographing the tunnel along way.
An obligatory shot of the tunnel near Rio Grand Village in the southeast corner of Big Bend national Park.
I stop at the Ranger station to pay my entrance fee, since I entered the park too late the previous day, and to inquire about camp sites along the River Road, and Juniper Canyon. The rangerette tried to charge me $20 for a single car full of people, rather than $10 for an individual on a motorcycle. There is no information about the availability of backcountry campsites, but it is suggested that I can camp anywhere in the back country by hiking my gear ¼ mile away of any road or water source, leaving my bike at the road. Not too appealing, but an option I suppose. In the course of our conversation the ranger stated that the River Road West was closed, and would be for 8 weeks, except on weekends. The roads to campsites and creek crossings etc., were being repaired following the recent flooding. It was Tuesday, so I would not be riding the western half of the river road, which is shame as all indications are that the western half is the better half.
I sit and watch a DVD presentation about the park. It is cool and dark in the theater room in the visitor center. After the presentation is ended, I ride a ½ mile further down the road to the Rio Grande Village store. I buy gas and water.
At this point in the trip, I am making-up the itinerary as I go. I decide that I will ride west as far down the River Road as I can. At the point I find the road closure, I will double back to the north along Black Gap and Glenn Springs roads. I am not sure where I’ll be, or what I’ll be doing this evening come sundown. I decide not to ride down to the Hot Springs. I’ve been there before, although the aftermath of the recent flooding might have been interesting to see. I’ve seen pictures of water several feet up the old boarding house walls.
The East River Road is an easy graded gravel road. It crosses a few washes, but other than that it is easily traveled by the many SUVs that are indicative of the number of people in the park this Spring Break week. The quantity of people around also suggests that there are no backcountry campsites available anywhere along the south side of the Chisos Mountains.
Along the way I see these strange rock formation comprised of softer eroding rock interlaced with veins of a harder white rock, creating an unusual pattern in the rock face.
I reach the Mariscal Mine, where quick-silver (mercury), was mined in the 1940’s. I take several pictures
The view out over the desert to the north as seen from the Mariscal Mine site.
A remnant of another time in this place.
A straight-six. A big engine in its day.
Closer shot of the remaining structures at the mine.
The tan colored brick strewn about this site is a high temperature brick used in chimneys and furnaces, therefore I assume this structure was a furnace of some sort.
It’s getting warm now; about 90-92 degrees. I follow the East River Road to its juncture with Black Gap and the West River road. I decide to ride as far as I can down the West River Road. You never know about road closures. Someone may have been misinformed, or may have forgotten to post a sign or close a gate… no such luck.
Wally-World is closed. If there was a moose around I'd punch it square in the nose (from the National Lampoon movie "Vacation", Chevy Chase, Beverly D'Angelo...) That's what it felt like anyway, to ride all this way expressly to ride the full length of the River Road, only to find the western half of the road closed, and will be for another 8 weeks. The road is reopened on weekends, but I won't be here then.
I double back to the Black Gap road. The ranger warned me that Black Gap was the roughest road in the park. The park service doesn’t even bother to maintain Black Gap road. The road starts out much like the Old Ore road, but a little narrower. The gravel is deeper and more course. The prickly vegetation is more invasive.
I encounter a black Jeep blocking the road. There is a white Jeep Cherokee on the other side from the opposite direction, also blocked by the black Jeep. Apparently the black Jeep won’t run due to a broken throttle position sensor connector. The owner had tried to piece the connector back together with electrical tape and tie-wraps, but the Jeep still would not run. The owner was about to make a second attempt at rebuilding the connector while I spoke with the people riding in the Cherokee about the road ahead of me. They had ominous things to say, questioning my ability to ride the road. Big boulders, steep climbs, loose rock, etc. They advised against it. Hmmm... Soon thereafter a guy road up on a Suzuki DR, 400, I think, riding two-up. I told him that I thought twice about riding this road with 100 lbs of gear on my bike, but I would never consider riding it two-up. He said the girl on the back didn’t weigh 100 lbs, and he hardly notices her; “little more than a backpack” he says. She is a tiny woman. We offer to push the black Jeep off the road, but ultimately ride around the Jeep being VERY careful to pick our way through abundant thorny bushes and cactus. The DR is gone before I know it, and a couple bikes ride up from the opposite direction; an ’09 KLR and another DR Suzuki. They echo the previous description of the road ahead of me, but are more optimistic about my chances of survival. They said it was good that they road it together so they could “spot” each other on the roughest sections. Hmmm again…
It is always difficult to gauge the advice one receives without knowing the relative ability of the person giving it. What may seem intimidating to some is easy to others, and that is inherently reflected in their statements and advice. I typically find that obstacles are not as difficult I am told they might be, so I am inclined to heed the advice of guys on the ’09 KLR and DR Suzuki, and soldier on. Soon enough the road does definitely becomes much more interesting as it winds up and down the various fingers of eroded hills and washes.
This is a the gap that I believe the road is named after.
The camera doesn't show the true steepness of the road.
My KLR chugs up the hilly sections like the true torque motor that it is, even in second gear. The only problem I have is that my gearing is too tall for the really rough and slow section where I either forced to ride a little faster than I’d like or I use the clutch when I have to ride slower than minimum engagement speeds. I maintain momentum and find that I have no difficulty riding the road, but it is rough on the bike, which will cause problems later on... Overall Black Gap road is comparable to some of the roads I’ve driven in a 4x4 in Moab, except not as steep, and without tall ledges or really big boulders.
Black Gap Road.
Steeper than it looks.
I finally reach Glenn Spring road. I talk to guy in a Toyota Highlander who is about to head down Black Gap road, and I advise him against it. The Highlander is all wheel drive, but doesn’t have the ground clearance or short approach/departure angles needed for Black Gap road. I advise him to continue down Glenn Spring road to Mariscal Mine. I ride up Glenn Spring road to the Juniper Canyon cut off. I debate whether to ride up Juniper Canyon road on the off chance that there is an unoccupied camp site there. It is 5.3 miles one-way up to the camp site and its 5:00 pm. I decide that it is not at all likely there will be any camp sites available, so I really should not spend the time to go 11 miles up to Juniper Canyon and back. Besides, the road looks comparable to the Old Ore road, and I’ve had my fill for the day. I continue up Glenn Spring road, which itself is only a little wider that the Old Ore road, with deeper gravel, but I can ride it much faster.
I reach the highway and ride some 20 miles up to the basin, just because I like the higher elevation mountainous environment up there. The ranger station is closed, so I ride through the camp ground… just in case there was a cancellation or a no show, or overflow. No such luck. I grab some water at the Chisos Mountain store, sit in the shade watch all the humanity milling about the place. You really have to wonder why half these people even bother to come here. It’s like sitting at a shopping mall; very much at odds with what this park is really all about. They should have just stayed home. I am glad there is no room to camp around here. I want solitude, peace and quiet. I want to hear coyotes, birds, bugs and the wind, not MP3 players and loud conversations. Nonetheless, it really is a beautiful setting in the Chisos Mountain basin.
I decide it’s time to ride over to Terlingua and pay ‘Uncle’ a visit. I ride back down the Chisos Mountain road enjoying the scenery. As I descend to within 2 miles of the intersection with Hwy 170 I suddenly see black shiny object emerge from the dense brush at the right side of the road to. It’s a big black bear! I slam on the brakes as the bear runs across the road a very short distance ahead of me, looking back and forth over his shoulders as he crosses my path. The bear disappears into the brush on the left side of the road just as I come to a stop. I park the bike at the left edge of road, grab my camera and head off into the waste high brush to get a picture. About 20 feet in I stop and realize that even though I know there is a bear nearby, I have no idea where he is; he could be 10 feet way from me right now!. Furthermore, I am not in my truck, so I have no safe place to run if said bear decides it is he who should be chasing me. And then I see the bear again as he sticks his head up above the brush, about 40 feet ahead of me.
I note that the wind is from left to right, so the bear cannot smell me, and it is windy enough that he can’t hear me either. I take several pictures at various zoom levels as the bear meanders down a ravine and up the hill on the other side. The bear frequently stops, sits and surveys his surroundings.
I stand and watch the bear as he wanders further away, then I walk back to the road. I am excited that there is a bear nearby, and I want to share this rare event with other park visitors. I try to point out the bear to passing motorist. A few cars slow down upon seeing the motorcyclist at the side of the road, pointing emphatically to the hill. They seem leery of the excited motorcyclist, but eventually some one stops and asks what I am looking at. Then they notice the big black bear sitting amongst the green vegetation and tan grass. Instantly they too become excited upon seeing the black spot with big round ears sitting a couple hundred feet away on the hillside. Within a few moments there are a half dozen cars parked in the road marveling at the bear as I get back on my bike and ride on.
I ride west to Study Butte, exiting the park, and then I initiate my GPS route to Uncle’s place based on the coordinates provided by his nephew Richard. By now my butt is sore, my back is sore, and after two long days in the saddle I am ready to get off the motorcycle. Even though it’s only a few miles to Uncle’s place, it seems to take forever to get there. I turn off the highway at what I think should be the right dirt road, and sure enough, there’s Odie the Coyote; this must be the place.
Odie the Coyote
Odie has welcomed many a motorcyclist.
I ride over a small rise in the road to see a couple RV trailers, some bikes and a cargo trailer, and a gentleman relaxing in a hammock who seems none too alarmed at the sudden appearance of a strange motorcyclist. I introduce myself and explain that Richard suggested I pay Uncle a visit for advice on where to ride around Terlingua, and oh, by the way, could I pitch my tent here for a night or two. Uncle agreed to let me stay on his place, and he showed me a map of the better riding routes above Terlingua. I pulled up a chair and we chatted for a while. Uncle let me bunk in his cargo trailer, saving me the trouble of pitching my tent. The trailer has a bunk in it with a foam pad and a light, but it needed to cool off after sitting in the hot sun all day.
I explained that I hadn’t eaten in two days and offered to buy Uncle dinner. He’d already eaten and suggested I try the High Sierra Inn for dinner. I would join Uncle later, at the “Porch”, to have a beer after I’d eaten. I am off to the High Sierra. Right away one must acclimate to Terlingua. It sure ain’t the suburbia so familiar to me. There is a certain kind of “charm” to everything and everyplace in Terlingua. Nothing is new. Everything is informal and unstructured. While waiting for my dinner I catch up on phone messages and let my wife know that I am alive and well. I take and send a cell phone picture of the Chisos Mountains in the setting sunlight as seen in the distance from the deck of the High Sierra.
The Chisos Mountains viewed from the balcony patio of the High Sierra restaurant, Terlingua TX.
The restaurant service is slow but the food is good. I leave the restaurant by 9 pm, ready to ride up to the “Porch” to meet Uncle. It is dark as I fire up my motorcycle only to find that I have no headlight. No low beam, no high beam, no high beam indicator and no tail light. I have instrument panel lights, horn, turn signals and brake light. I surmise that all of the items I did not have were on a single fuse, and I guess that all of the rough riding may have caused the fuse to fail, or worse… there may be an electrical short somewhere in that circuit. I decided to skip the “Porch” and just ride back to Uncle’s place… in the pitch black darkness before the moon rise. I road down to the highway in the darkness, waited for a passing car, then followed the car using their headlights to see the road ahead and the turnoff to Uncle’s place. I used the light from my turn signals to find my way down the dirt road. I decided there was nothing I could do with the bike that night, so I marveled at the night sky, so thick with stars. Uncle returned a short time later and I explained why I could not join Uncle at the ‘Porch’. While I am speaking with Uncle I see a falling star. I decided to sit in chair and look at the sky for a while. Uncle retired for the evening. It’s been a long hard day of riding, and boy do I feel it. Time for me to turn-in as well. And so ended day two.
Day 3, Wednesday March 18, 2009
Mileage: about 20, worked on the bike all day
Wednesday morning, day three, up soon after the sun. First thing on the agenda is to buy Uncle Breakfast at Kathy’s. Problem is though, Kathy’s is closed. We go instead to the Chili Pepper. It is fairly obvious early on that Uncle knows everyone and everyone knows Uncle. As we sit at the Chili Pepper with another gentleman who knows Uncle, everyone who walks through the door is another familiar face to Uncle.
I ask Uncle where I can buy fuses, and am told to try CycleTek, across from the Wild Horse on Hwy 118 a few miles north of Study Butte. After breakfast we head back to Uncle’s place so I can work on the motorcycle and Uncle plans to play golf in Alpine. I get started taking body work and the seat off the KLR to access the fuse that controls the errant lights. I replace the fuse and it immediately pops again. I pull off the tank cowls, the gas tank, the rear rack and fender, and the wind screen inspecting all the wiring as I go. I find nothing rubbed, melted, burned, cut, kinked or loose. The wires are fine; nothing loose or bent. I wiggle the harness on which all the failed lights are connected, as well as the high beam switch wires and the instrument panel wires, specifically the high beam indicator. Put in my last fuse, and it pops again. I am stumped. I know that this very problem is the subject of a recall for which I was only recently notified by mail from Kawasaki. I have ignored two previous recalls for the muffler bolts and turn signals. I figure that if they haven’t failed in the last 17,000+ miles, they aren’t going to fail. I see no need to take the chance on having a tech at the dealer create new problems while performing recall work. This strategy however may have just backfired on me.
I ponder my options. The variables are whether or not the bike will run OK without the standard electrical load, (including head light and tail light), and will more rough riding cause the problem to get worse by involving other more vital circuits. I call my brother, an electrical engineer and long time motorcyclist. He does not know how the electrical system on the KLR is designed; whether it is a shunt type regulator or not. It is possible he says, that with a shunt type regulator, prolonged use without a proper electrical load may cause the regulator to fry, which in turn will cause the alternator to fry, and that requires serious money to fix. Alternatively, the regulator may function just fine without the headlight on. Hmm…? I call the dealer and the service tech there says there is no problem running without the headlight, and by the way did I know there was a recall out for this problem on the KLR. Yes… thanks.
I put the bike back together and ride out to find CycleTek. The bike is running fine, but no sign of CycleTek. I pull into the Wild Horse and ask the proprietor, a nice older women, if she knows anything about CycleTek. Indeed she does. It’s right across the highway down a rough dirt road. She suggests I call them first to be sure they are there. She has their business card. I make contact and tell the owner I’ll be over in a few minutes, but first I want to buy something from the helpful lady for letting me use her phone. I buy a bottle of water. I sit and drink my water and chat for moment all the while being ‘inspected’ by a variety of Chihuahua dogs. The lady says she is very busy with all their cabins rented for spring break. Her adult daughter walks in carrying a wiring harness that she is fixing. The lady says they have a Mexican working for them, but he messes things up more than he fixes them, so they fix things themselves when he is not around. The harness is off of a golf cart they use on the property. The lady moved here from Houston with her husband 22 years ago. Her husband died several years back and she has run the place ever since then. My water is gone and another customer strolls in asking for a room, but the Wild Horse is full. I ride over to CycleTek. Typical of every business in Terlingua, the shop is run down, chaotic yet relaxed, very simple and basic, and very disorganized. I explain my problem, and the owner suggests the problem is in the instrument panel where the wires break loose from their connectors. He confirms the only easy access is to remove the windscreen, as I’ve already figured out. While the owner tries to locate the mini plastic fuses, I admire a vintage BMW and Harley on the cycle stands, apparently being repaired &/or restored. Fuses found, I buy three and I am on my way. I eat lunch at the Chili Pepper. I have a CFS. While I am eating a small dog escaped from the kitchen. I suggest that the dog may need to go out since he headed straight for the front door and acted like he need to go to the bathroom. Later on there is some discussion about a rather large man who has been sitting in his pickup, seemingly motionless, for the past couple of hours. The proprietor knows the man, and wonder if they should go an tap on the glass to see if the man is OK. A volunteer does just that and man comes to life. The man was reading a book in his lap that we could not see from outside the truck, and that made him appear to be slumped over. Glad he was OK. I don’t guess Terlingua has a library.
On the way back to Uncles I photograph several locations around Terlingua...
Kathy’s
the Passing Wind
The ghost town, including the Starlight Theater
The abandoned buildings and the cemetery
Here are few homes, typical of those around Terlingua. They have a very nice view of the Chisos Mountains to the southeast.
Back at Uncles around 2:30-3:00pm, I decide that it’s too hot now to work on the bike again. It’s not as cool as it was this morning, and there is no shade yet under Uncle’s awning. Besides, and I am not sure what more I can do except to more closely inspect the instrument panel wiring. Instead, I decide that while at Uncle’s place, do as Uncle does…put a chair in what little shade there is this time of day and relax. I find it difficult to relax. I figure out how to retrieve voicemail outside of my home area code. I respond to people who called. I update my trip journal. Then I sit and watch as all manner of critters meander through Uncle’s place, including Quail, other assorted birds, lizards and rabbits.
A covey of Quail drinking water at Uncle's place.
The view south from Uncle's place. Notice the fire pit and wood used during social gatherings at uncle's place (center-frame).
Finally there is some shade and I get to work on the bike. I strip off the side panels, seat, and windscreen. After I fiddle with all the wiring on the instrument panel, finding nothing wrong, I put in one of the new fuses I just bought, and I hear a different kind of pop, this time from under the tank. I then realize that I have no electrical power of any kind. No starter, horn, signals, nothing. Well now I’ve done it. My only chances of riding home are fading fast. I determine that the new fuses are junk, and failed to pop like they should. They are the correct amperage. I notice that they have an s-curved wire in them rather than a bell shaped wire, like the OE and Buss fuses I used originally. The wire in the fuse appears to be intact even after it should have popped. I don’t know if or why that would make a difference, but I do know the fuse didn’t do its job. (NOTE: I later learned that the fuses I bought at CycleTek were fine. The electrical short involving the 20 amp main fuse had nothing to do with the 15 amp light fuse. This was just a quirk of the electrical short). I find a 20 amp main fuse near the starter relay, and it has popped. I pray that replacing the 20 amp fuse will solve the newest problem. First I put a blown OE fuse back in the 15 amp fuse box by the battery, then I replace the 20 amp fuse at the starter relay with my only spare. Key on and nothing happens. No 'pop' is Good. Instrument panel lights, neutral light, Horn, signals, brake light, starter, all work again. Very good. Now I am Back where I started, albeit without a head light and tail light, but at least I can ride.
I decided that I’d better not risk doing any more rough-road riding. Thursday I’ll ride back toward Austin and hope the electrical system is not harmed by riding without the electrical load of a head light and tail light. I’ll just have to ride and see how she holds up. I call my wife to inform her of my plans.
About that time Uncle returns home from his day in Alpine. He says it was an enjoyable day of golf. I wonder if Uncle used his Foot-Wedge, as he calls it; kicking the ball. I ask Uncle if he’ll be making his usual pilgrimage to the “Porch”, and if so, can I buy him a beer. He says that he takes his own beer to the porch. I am confused. Is the Porch ‘BYOB‘? Well my confusion is soon cleared up upon realizing that what I thought all along was a business establishment known as ‘the Porch’, serving adult beverages, is in reality just a porch, in front of the general store in the ghost town. The porch is lined with benches, and the locals gather on the porch in front of the store to visit and knock back a few cold ones. Who’da thunk. Couldn’t happen in Austin… way too many rules in Austin. But such is life in Terlingua.
As usual, Uncle knows everyone and everyone knows Uncle, as we sit on the porch. Uncle learns that Butch Hancock is playing at the Starlight Theater. We decide to drop in. Now, in Austin we’d have to get in a car, drive 30-45 minutes, find a place to park, wait in line for 30 minutes, pay a cover charge… you get the picture. In Terlingua, we just stroll down the ‘porch’ 50 feet to Starlight Theater, walk right in the place, stop at the bar to order a couple beers (Bass) select an empty table, sit and listen. Butch Hancock is a guitar picking, harmonica playing, folk singer, and a mighty fine one at that. During the performance I notice that someone’s dog has wondered out of the kitchen, and is soon chased down and walked back through the kitchen door. A similar scenario occurred at the Chili Pepper at lunch today. Seems to be a common occurrence in Terlingua as no one so much as batted an eye. We order some chips and queso, and enjoy the show. During a break, Butch came over to our table because, of course, Butch knows Uncle and Uncle knows Butch. Uncle buys a CD for his collection. Uncle points out to me the owner of the Starlight, his wife, Butch’s wife and daughter. Did I mention that Uncle knows everyone in Terlingua. I consider myself very fortunate to be in the company of Uncle and I enjoyed my stay in Terlingua.
Thank you very much Uncle!
Day 4, Thursday March 19
Mileage: 412 miles, 10+ hours
Up at sunrise. Slept better last night despite a pack of noisy coyotes nearby. I even heard one sniffing around just outside the trailer. I packed my gear and loaded the bike, ready to go as soon as it was light enough to ride without a headlight. Uncle was off to Kathy’s for breakfast. I would have liked to join him, but I had a long way to go. 7:45 am and I am on the road. It is cool, about 50 degrees. I honk and wave as I pass by Kathy’s. I get gas in Study Butte, and I buy more fuses at a garage next to Far Flung Adventure Tours… just in case. The bike seems to running fine. As I ride north toward Alpine on Hwy 118, it is getting colder, then I realize that I am going uphill. My elevation tops out at about 5500 feet above sea level, and the temperature drops to 45 or so. I stop to put on my heavier gloves. I stop again at a border patrol check point. Several vehicles are being inspected. I am merely asked if I am a US citizen, and sent on my way. The wind is stronger now, out of the northwest, quartering my direction of travel. It’s gets colder. I rolled into Alpine at 9:30. I am really surprised at much Alpine has grown, especially Sull Ross University. I buy gas and look for oil, but no 20w50. I add all of the oil I have left. There are several DPS troopers at this gas station buying gas and food. I hope that they don’t notice that I have no headlight. Since the bike seems to be running fine, I decide to ride the more remote Hwy 90, rather than up Hwy 67 to IH 10. It continues to be cold until I start to loose elevation. I pass through Marathon, and again I am impressed at how much the town has matured. Tourism has revived the town, and the Gage Hotel seems to be the center of activity. I arrive at Sanderson at 11:15 am. I buy gas and have lunch at a little local burger joint known as the Dairy King. In the window are two posters.
One states the Hwy 285 will be closed between Fort Stockton and Sanderson for the open road race in April.
The other poster is an advertisement for the race. Apparently you run what ever class of vehicle you want as fast as you can go for more than 50 miles.
There was a DPS trooping eating in the restaurant and I mentioned to him that I did not realize that the race was still being run. He said he’d only recently been transferred here from the northern part of the state, and knew nothing about the race. I told him it would be and interesting day on patrol if he knew nothing about the race and had numerous vehicles fly by him at over 150 mph. I overhear the owner of the Dairy King tell another customer that there was a chance of rain today. It was sunny and cool at the moment, but as I ride further west the sky becomes ominous. The air cools considerably and it becomes very damp. I may have to break out the rain gear. By the time I reach Langtry however, the sky is clear again and it is getting rather warm.
I stop in Langtry to buy gas, but there is none. I also stop at Judge Roy Beans to see if I can get some county maps of surrounding counties. No such luck however, so I continue on. I take pictures at the Pecos River, which is full now. The river was little more than a trickle for many years due to drought, but now that the Amistad reservoir is full, the Pecos river has been restored to it's former glory.
The Highway 90 bridge over the Pecos River. Old Hwy 90 actually ran down along the cliffs of the Pecos River canyon, across the river and up the other side. The highway is serving as a boat ramp nowadays.
Here you can see the old abandoned highway as it ascends the opposite canyon wall, then passes under the modern bridge used today. The bridge is in the process of being renovated and repainted. Down to one lane, there is a makeshift traffic light controlling traffic allowing groups of vehicles to cross in one direction at a time.
I’ve been good about getting gas as often as I can, but there was no gas in Langtry or Comstock. I ride north on Hwy 163, then Hwy 189. By the time I reach the intersection of highways 189 and 277, I have to decide which way I can go based on the amount of gas I have and the likelihood that I’d be able to find any gas until I reach either Sonora, 22 miles away, or Rock Springs nearly 40 miles away.
I prefer to go through Rock Springs rather than Sonora, since the only way to get from Sonora to Junction is via IH 10. The problem is I don’t know how much gas I have left since I’ve been riding 70 mph with a cross wind. I have 170 miles on this tank. At that speed I’ve been burning fuel at roughly 37 mpg which means I would get only 200 miles out of this tank of gas. I figure that I have thirty miles of gas left. Rock Spring is further than that, so I head up Hwy 277 toward Sonora. When I fill up in Sonora, it only takes 4.7 gallons tp fill my tank at 211 miles traveled. I could have gone to Rock Springs after all. I hate it when that happens. Oh well, better safe than sorry. I bought some water and went to the Sutton County Court house grounds where I sat and relaxed while drinking my water. I needed to get off the motorcycle for a few minutes, having ridden over 350 miles so far. It was 3:45 pm. I am not looking forward to riding the interstate to Junction some 58 miles away. As I ride up the entrance ramp to IH10, I realize that I’ve forgotten to put in my ear plugs. I pull off IH 10 at the Hwy 864/Fort McKavett exit to put in my ear plugs. That’s when I see Hwy 3130. A quick check of the map reveals that Hwy 3130 runs practically on top of the interstate all the way to Junction, morphing into Hwy 1674 along the way. I did not notice this before because the roads are so close together on the map they appear to one road; IH 10. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be. My guess is that Hwy 3130 predates the interstate, and when the interstate was built they maintained Hwy 3130 as a kind service road. Hwy 3130 is a much nicer ride than IH 10. Even though 3130 runs very close to IH 10 it is typically separated by trees or hills such that you really don't see that much of IH 10. I spot some large rocks beside the road near Roosevelt which I use to support the bike while I lube the chain. I then ride the final leg of the days’ journey to Junction.
I arrive in Junction at 5:30 pm; 411 miles ridden. I get a room at the Hills Motel. Then I buy more oil having used the last of my spare quart in Alpine that morning. In Junction, the oil level was lower than I thought, and it took nearly ¾ of a quart to fill. That’s nearly 1 ¾ quarts consumed in 1047 miles of riding. I asked the people at the parts store about Coopers BBQ. They warn me that Coopers in Junction is not like Coopers in Mason or Llano. Here you can’t pick what you want, as much as you want, and the prices are much higher. I decide to grab a CFS at Isaac’s. As I am leaving Isaac’s, I see a strange looking trike in the parking lot. It is the back half of a Pontiac Fiero, grafted to the front half of a motorcycle. The Fiero was a mid-engined two seat sports car made by Pontiac featuring plastic body panels. Because if it’s mid-engine design, the back half of the car is a self contained power train and axle and therefore readily lends it self to this kind of use. If that wasn’t strange enough, this trike was towing a trailer that was an identical twin of the back half of a Fiero. All were painted a bright yellow, with a large stuffed gorilla on top.
Now there’s something you don’t see everyday…
I try to ease back into normal life after the last few days of solitude and life in Terlingua. I take a hot shower, watch TV, update my trip journal, and listen to the noisy people outside my hotel room, as apposed to the howling coyotes outside the trailer in Terlingua. I catch an interesting movie called “No Country for Old Men”, with Tommy Lee Jones. You’ll never guess where the movie is set… right where I’ve been all week, in the Big Bend country.
Movie over, lights out. Not a bad day of riding, even if it was all on paved roads.
Day 5, Friday March 20, 2009
Mileage: 160 miles, 6 hours of riding
No chance to sleep in Friday morning, Day 5, March 20. Too many noisy people moving around outside at 6:30 am.
It’s still dark. I make a concerted effort to sleep in anyway. I get up at 8 am, load the bike, buy gas and water, and head for Fredericksburg. I don’t get far though because the steel bridge over the Llano River is still closed for maintenance. I know this routine from my last visit to Junction. I head down Hwy 377 a road the turns off to the Texas Tech Campus, crossing over the Llano river on a narrow low water bridge. A couple of left turns later and I am on the opposite side of the steel bridge. I head down Hwy 2169 to Segovia, then down Hwy 479 to Hwy 290. I really hate not being able to ride the Kimble county roads, but I do plan to ride the county roads in Gillespie country since they are all paved, and thus pose no threat of roughness that might aggravate my electrical problem. I cross over Hwy 290 and continue down Hwy 479 to Klein Branch Rd., to Hwy 783, to White Oak Rd., to Hwy 2093, to Hwy 16 into Fredericksburg. I stop to eat at a fifty’s-looking burger joint that actually serves Tex Mex fare. I don’t see anything on the menu that appeals me, so I ask them to make me a special fajita burrito with rice, beans, and cheese inside, and queso on top. I notice an old guy in the parking lot looking at my motorcycle. He comes inside and asks me about it. He has quite a few tales of motorcycling adventure to tell. My burrito is served and the old guy likes what he sees and decides he’ll have the same. Later I meet the owner and he mentions the popularity of the burrito I custom ordered and suggests that he may add it to the menu.
Before I get back on the road, I call my wife to arrange transportation from the Kawasaki dealer in southwest Austin, to our home in northwest Austin. I buy gas and water at HEB and head for Hwy 16.
I ride up Hwy 16 to Knopp School Rd., to hwy 1623, to Hwy 1620, to Hwy 1323, to Hwy 281. A ¼ mile up Hwy 281 and then right on Cypress Mill Rd., to hwy 962, to Hamilton Pool Rd., over the Pedernales River. South on Hwy 12 to Fitzhugh, east as far as Trautwein Rd (aka CR185), then south to Hwy 290. The Kawasaki dealer is just a mile and half east on hwy 290.
And so ended my first long distance Dual sport ride. Adios...
Total Trip length is approximately 1225 miles. 26.7 gallons, averaging 45 miles per gallon overall. $55 in fuel. $33.90 hotel. $100 in cash spent on food water and fuses. Total expenses: about $190
UPDATE: Because I've taken so long to write this report, it is now a week later and I have the KLR back from the dealer. I was glad to learn that the bike popped the main fuse while the dealer was working on it, which made it easier for them to find the problem. I was worried that the dealer would replace the recalled wiring harness and mater-of-factly jiggle other wires that were causing the problem on some other harness, giving the impression that the bike was fixed, only to have it fail again soon thereafter. To the contrary however, the dealer did positively find a chaffed and burned wire under the gas tank in the very same wiring harness that is the subject of the recall. The bike was fixed at no cost to me. They even replaced my 'spent' spare fuses.
I am riding an '08 KLR 650. I added SWMotech crash bars just prior to this trip in the hopes that if I fell out there in the middle of nowhere, I would not be stranded with a broken radiator, reservoir or water pump. I have a plastic dry box on the rear rack that holds all my tools, tubes and air compressor, chain lube, extra oil, maps, batteries, etc. I used some CorTech saddle bags in which I carried all my clothes, rain gear, heavy jacket and gloves, flip-flops and water. All my clothing was placed inside resealable zippered plastic bags. I placed my tent, sleeping bag, and air mattress in a thick gauge plastic bag and put that inside a heavy fabric duffel bag that I'd treated with a water proofing spray. The duffel back was bungee'd to the motorcycle on the seat behind me. The saddle bags stuck out horizontally nearly a foot on each side, and the duffel bag was not much narrower. This would create a fair amount of wind drag and affect fuel mileage, as I would learn later. I estimate that everything on the bike weighed about 80 lbs. That would push the weight of the bike close to 550 lbs., with a full tank of gas. I carried a waterproof Garmin Etrex Vista hand held GPS which I wear on a tether around my neck. The GPS hangs down in front of me as I ride, and I can easily pick it up and read it as I ride. I created and loaded routes for my entire trip and several alternate routes as well. I also carried copies of all the map pages from the Road of Texas atlas that included my route. These were to be my back-up plan in case my GPS failed and I had to navigate the old fashioned way.
Here is a map of my route based on my GPS track files (first 3 days):
...And a second map of the remaining 2 days (since Google Maps won't show all the tracks on a single map)
Here is my track file in GPX format, which can be opened in Garmin Mapsource or Google Earth. View attachment 13891 . Right click the hyperlink, choose 'Save link as...', then save on your computer; add .gpx to the file name if necessary.
I hope that you enjoy my ride report as much as I enjoyed my ride...
Day 1, Monday March 16, 2009
Mileage: 504 miles, 10.5 hours
I originally planned to leave Saturday March 14, but the weather was not cooperative. Likewise Sunday’s forecast deteriorated, but Monday through the rest of the week the weather looked great, so I left on Monday, 8 am.
Thanks to Day Light Savings Time, the sun isn’t up until 7:30, so 8 am is not at late as it seems, or so I kept telling myself. The air was cool and damp at 42 degrees, with a fog ceiling at about 300 feet off the ground. The sky was clear further west and it got colder. I guess the hill country had a clear sky that night and the overnight temperature must have been near freezing. I would guess that it was 36-38 degrees as I road out near Llano, but clear as could be. It’s going to be a great day.
This being my first long distance ride on a dual sport bike, I did not know how far, or how fast I could ride, or for how long. I’ve never ridden the bike loaded down with saddle bags, tent, sleeping bag, etc. The plan was to ride from northwest Austin along highway 29 through Burnet, Llano, Mason, Menard, then pick up highway 190 to Fort McKavett. The idea was to cover as much ground as quickly as possible without being mind-numbingly boring. Highway 29 is a nice ride and speed is 65-70 mph. I jumped off of Hwy 29 about 12 miles east of Menard onto FM2092. FM2092 is nothing special, but more interesting that Hwy 29. FM2092 connected directly with 4-Mile Rd. in Menard, which I intended to be a short cut to Hwy 190 west of Menard, according to the map. Unfortunately there was a sign posted stating that the road dead-ended in, what else, four miles. I decided to have a look anyway, and this is what I found.
The untimely end of 4-mile road west of Menard TX
I think that FM 2092 used to go all the way through Menard along this route. There must have been a bridge or low water crossing on the road that was washed away, and they never bothered to replace it, hence FM2092 west of Menard became 4-Mile Road which sure enough, ended four miles west of Menard. I backtracked and followed Hwy 29 to Hwy 190 and continued west toward Fort McKavett.
My next little diversion would come a couple miles prior to the intersection of Hwy 190 and FM 864 where I’d take a little short cut down Dunagon Road. There was a very long low water crossing on this road passing a very picturesque hill country stream with a broad emerald green pool. Naturally the water crossing road surface was slick as ice, but I had no trouble. Now on to Fort Mckavett. Since the primary objective of this journey was to get to Big Bend, I did not visit Fort Mckavett. I’ve been there before. I just took a picture at the entrance and continued on.
Entrance to Fort McKavett, TX
From Fort McKavett I would travel a county road (CR2450 or 245) that parallels FM864. This county road begins just a few hundred feet from the entrance to Fort Mckavett and is known locally as old Fort McKavett road, which becomes Bond Rd. just outside Sonora, and then becomes Poplar Street within Sonora, passing right through the middle of Sonora, past the county court house. But first I have to get there… Shortly after leaving Fort McKavett I am quite surprised to run out of gas in the main tank. I’ve only gone 185 miles, and I usually go at least 225 before going on reserve. I am immediately reminded of an old rule of thumb; always buy gas when you can, no matter how unnecessary you may think it is to do so. I also learned a knew rule; My KLR gets lousy gas mileage loaded down, with wide saddle bags/tent/sleeping bag in the wind, doing 70 mph. I averaged 39 mpg for the trip within a range of 35-44. I usually get 48-50 mpg. Running on reserve 10+- miles south of Fort Mckavett presents a problem. I don’t have any idea where I might find gas since this region is somewhat remote and unfamiliar to me. I do know that there is nothing near me for at least 30 miles the way I’ve come, back to Menard. Normally I can cover that distance on reserve, just barely, but with the lousy mileage I am getting, I am worried; very worried. The route I am on is the most direct route to Sonora and is the same distance as it would be back to Menard. I really have no choice but to slow the pace and ride for maximum mileage and hope I make it to Sonora. I made it, just barely. Poplar Street intersects Hwy 277. I get gas and water at 211.6 trip miles. I put 5.4 gallons in the tank or about 1/10th less than what is considered usable in this tank due to its design (without laying the bike on it’s left side to drain fuel from the right side of the tank to the left side. Definitely a last resort with all the luggage attached).
I ride south out of Sonora on Hwy 277 toward Juno. Along the way I see a large owl roosted on a fence post. I debate whether to make a quick turnaround to take his picture since most large birds of prey that I try to photograph usually fly away before I can get close to them. Seeing an owl is really rare though, and there is no traffic around me, so make a U-turn and ride back a few hundred yards, kill the engine and coast as close as I dare. Get out my camera and take a few shots at maximum optical zoom (10x), plus 4x digital zoom. Then I walk slowly closer and closer taking pictures as I go. Eventually the owl takes flight. This bird probably stood 2 feet tall.
Notice the claws around the fence post. His feet were size of my hands and his claws were the size of my fingers. The wingspan was probably 5 feet.
Owl perched on a fence post between Sonora and Juno, TX
This is as close a shot as I could get. The owl flew away a second later.
I jump off Hwy 277 onto Hwy 189, a narrow two lane blacktop through the increasingly dry scrub brush vegetation, over numerous dry lower crossings, until I reach Hwy 163. I take Hwy 163 south to Juno Rd. Juno Rd. is unpaved and connects Hwy 163 with Ranch Road 1024.
Juno Road between highways 163 and 1024
Along the way I spot some rocks at the side of the road suitable for supporting the bike while I lube the chain. It’s been about 270 miles of high-load riding and the chain looks dry. I could use a drink myself. Not a bad spot for a pit stop.
Big rocks at the side of Juno Road are used to prop-up the motorcycle while lubing the chain.
Continuing down Juno road I reach RR 1024. Riding along Hwy 1024 I have a couple close calls with a Turkey Buzzard and some real Turkeys, that want fly right into my path, and one deer that wanted to leap over me.
Then I ride west to Pandale. Here pavement runs out and I’ll be on limestone gravel roads for a while. A couple miles south I cross the Pecos river. Last time I was here the road crossed the Pecos river directly on the limestone river bed with a few patches of concrete placed here and there over the deeper sections. Now there is a modern concrete bridge over the river.
The Pecos river at the Pandale crossing
The boundary of Amistad National Revervoir/National Park has been pushed all the way up to this point on the Pecos river. I guess that means no more free camping here like there used to be.
From the Pecos River I ride west for 35 miles on limestone gravel, dirt and sand, on Felder Draw road, which becomes Pumpville road about midway to Hwy 349. Felder Draw road is pleasant enough. At its east and west ends the terrain was hilly. It gets a little tedious in the middle though where it is flatter. The road has a tendency to undulate with small mounds that typically obscure pools of water on their blind side. The water is left over from the first real rain central and west Texas has seen in six months or more. I am able to ride around the edge of the water pools, squeezing between the water and the vegetation, which has become increasingly prickly the further west I ride. One particular puddle however lies between fence posts at a gate. This was interesting; wrestling a 500+ lbs loaded motorcycle through this slippery slop (what I imagine it would be like riding a big GS). I managed to stay upright even though I was swinging the bars left and right, almost to full lock, to maintain balance.
The only pool of water on Felder road that I could not get around, and therefore had to ride through.
Note the wiggly track as the front wheel packed with mud and slid back and forth.
Here you can see the track I made through the puddle. My new Bridgestone TW18 has done a good job on all the surfaces I’ve ridden so far, and it tractored right through the mud too.
Closer to Hwy 349 on Felder Draw road the Bungee Cord Fairy left me a surprise in the middle of the road. Never one to pass up a free bungee, I stop for water and take the bungee cord with me.
This is typical of the terrain along Felder Draw between the Pecos river and hwy 349.
I ride hwy 349 south to Dryden at Hwy 90, encountering one construction delay where the road was down to one lane for a couple of miles during some kind of resealing treatment. Other than the construction crew, I saw no one else on Hwy 349. There is no gas in Dryden, but I’m in good shape at 155 miles and only 20 more to Sanderson where I know there will be gas. It is at this point I have to decide whether I can make it all the way to Big Bend before it gets dark. It took 4 hours to get to Sonora (211 miles), four more hours to get to Sanderson (175 miles). It’s 4:25 pm, and from Sanderson there is 100 miles to go before I get to the old Ore Road in big Bend. I’ve been averaging 50 miles an hour overall, so I figure that’s 2 more hours arriving at my destination for the day by 6:30 pm, and it doesn’t get dark now until 7:30pm thanks to Day-Light-Saving time. I decide to press on, and even though I haven’t eaten in 24 hours I don’t feel the least bit hungry. Unlike all those skinny people out there, I can skip a few meals and not even feel it. Having learned my lesson, I buy gas again in Marathon just 50 miles west of Sanderson, then I head south on Hwy 385 for the final leg to Big Bend. I arrive at the persimmon gap entrance station just after 6 pm and find that there is no one there, or at the Ranger station, so I continue on.
Big Bend Park entrance at Persimmon Gap
15 miles into the park I find Dagger Flat road to my left. Two miles on Dagger flat and I hit the Old Ore Road. The plan is to ride to the first unoccupied primitive camp site I can find and pitch my tent. That proves to be McKinney Springs camp ground 7 miles down the Old Ore Road. The Old Ore Road is not a difficult road, though it has its moments. It is a narrow two-track on natural limestone, heavily encroached upon by Creosote bushes and all manner of prickly cacti. To ride the road requires concentration to avoid the rough sections, getting pricked, or running over something thorny causing a flat. Not the easiest thing to do after just having continuously ridden over 500 miles in 10+ hours, especially with long shadows crossing the road, but I manage.
The remote camp grounds in big Bend are supposed to be reserved ahead of time, and there can only be one party at a time at any given site. I roll up to the McKinney Spring camp site only to find another party already there. A gentleman my age, his wife and their adult son. They have a Jeep, and van with a purpose built flat bed trailer designed like a chuck wagon in which all their camping gear and food is readily accessible. The elder gentleman says they don’t usually associate with people who ride KLR’s. He must know bikes since he recognized my KLR, so I ask what is his preference in bikes; what does he ride, “… a KLR…”. He tells me to join them, have some Frito pie and a beer. He asks if I reserved this camp site. I tell him no. I had no idea when or where I’d be by sundown. He says “good, we’re squatters too”. We surmise that if the site were reserved then surely someone would have arrived by now. He explains that he parked in an area of the road that approaches the site just in case the rightful owner of the site shows up, then the camp site proper remains open for their use. I follow suite and find an out of the way spot 100 feet away to pitch my tent without encroaching on the camp site proper. I pass-up the offer of food and libation. I am not a social type of person and it makes me uncomfortable to accept the generosity of others when I cannot reciprocate. Besides I am here for the solitude, and the other nice folks stated that they were a quiet bunch and would turn in early; I’d never know they were there. They were true to their word. I set up my tent, inflated my air mattress and rolled out my sleeping bag. I then turned my attention to the KLR. I checked all the bolts and screws for looseness, lubed the chain and added more oil (second time today). I’ve added nearly ¾ quart so far today. In just over 500 miles. I write the first entry in my trip journal as it gets dark. The air begins to cool off from the upper 80’s it had been earlier in the day.
I decide it’s time to call it a day. Home sweet home... for tonight anyway.
McKinney Springs, a short hike from the camp site.
Day 2, Tuesday March 17, 2009
Mileage: 125 miles, (mostly dirt), 10 hours+-
The morning air is cool at about 45 degrees. The sun will soon crest the hills to the east. I hear my neighbors moving about so I decide it’s time to get up. I repack all my gear and admire the eastern face of the Chisos mountains in the morning sun.
Sun rising on the Chisos Mountains as seen from the McKinney Spring Camp Group on the Old Ore Road.
The ride down the Old Ore Road to the Rio Grande is 40+ miles. I plan to stop at Ernst Tinaja along the way. The Old Ore road from McKinney Spring camp ground south has a few more elevation changes where the road crosses small valleys that extend out from the mountain to the east. The riding is interesting, though not particularly challenging. The road is still narrow two-track, and the vegetation continues to crowd the road. I have to pay close attention to the road however to avoid loose rocks, ledges, and thorny vegetation that might flatten my tires.
I reach the intersection of old Ore and Telephone Canyon Roads.
I explore a couple of side roads that lead to primitive camp sites; all occupied. I was pretty lucky to find McKinney Springs unoccupied, aside from my fellow squatters.
Finally, I reach Ernst Tinaja, which is a canyon cut by erosion that reveals amazing contortions of sedimentary rock layers, and circular pools carved out of the limestone.
The parking area is crowded with 4 very dusty SUVs and numerous people around them drinking water and changing shoes etc. These are the first people I’ve encountered since leaving McKinney Springs this morning.
The trail from the parking area to the most interesting part of Ernst Tinaja is only a ¼ mile walk up a dry creek bed. I see what appear to be some prehistoric pictographs on the canyon wall, one of which has been defaced. I photograph the portion of the pictograph that has not been damaged.
I photograph the portion of the pictograph that has not been damaged.
I reach the most interesting part of the canyon a short distance further and take several pictures. Right away it’s apparent that this is no place to be if it is raining, or even threatening to rain. This is a narrow slot canyon with shear rock walls. If there were water running, without the threat of flash flooding, the pools would be a neat place to swim. As it is however, the water is still, and not suitable for bathing. Still a very nice place.
After the walk back the parking area it becomes apparent that my riding boots are not well suited to hiking. My feet hurt. Back on the bike, I ride the remaining 5 miles of the Old Ore Road down to the highway that spans Panther Junction to the north and the Rio Grande Village to the south.
The Chisos Mountains as seen from the Old Ore Road.
I head south to Rio Grande Village photographing the tunnel along way.
An obligatory shot of the tunnel near Rio Grand Village in the southeast corner of Big Bend national Park.
I stop at the Ranger station to pay my entrance fee, since I entered the park too late the previous day, and to inquire about camp sites along the River Road, and Juniper Canyon. The rangerette tried to charge me $20 for a single car full of people, rather than $10 for an individual on a motorcycle. There is no information about the availability of backcountry campsites, but it is suggested that I can camp anywhere in the back country by hiking my gear ¼ mile away of any road or water source, leaving my bike at the road. Not too appealing, but an option I suppose. In the course of our conversation the ranger stated that the River Road West was closed, and would be for 8 weeks, except on weekends. The roads to campsites and creek crossings etc., were being repaired following the recent flooding. It was Tuesday, so I would not be riding the western half of the river road, which is shame as all indications are that the western half is the better half.
I sit and watch a DVD presentation about the park. It is cool and dark in the theater room in the visitor center. After the presentation is ended, I ride a ½ mile further down the road to the Rio Grande Village store. I buy gas and water.
At this point in the trip, I am making-up the itinerary as I go. I decide that I will ride west as far down the River Road as I can. At the point I find the road closure, I will double back to the north along Black Gap and Glenn Springs roads. I am not sure where I’ll be, or what I’ll be doing this evening come sundown. I decide not to ride down to the Hot Springs. I’ve been there before, although the aftermath of the recent flooding might have been interesting to see. I’ve seen pictures of water several feet up the old boarding house walls.
The East River Road is an easy graded gravel road. It crosses a few washes, but other than that it is easily traveled by the many SUVs that are indicative of the number of people in the park this Spring Break week. The quantity of people around also suggests that there are no backcountry campsites available anywhere along the south side of the Chisos Mountains.
Along the way I see these strange rock formation comprised of softer eroding rock interlaced with veins of a harder white rock, creating an unusual pattern in the rock face.
I reach the Mariscal Mine, where quick-silver (mercury), was mined in the 1940’s. I take several pictures
The view out over the desert to the north as seen from the Mariscal Mine site.
A remnant of another time in this place.
A straight-six. A big engine in its day.
Closer shot of the remaining structures at the mine.
The tan colored brick strewn about this site is a high temperature brick used in chimneys and furnaces, therefore I assume this structure was a furnace of some sort.
It’s getting warm now; about 90-92 degrees. I follow the East River Road to its juncture with Black Gap and the West River road. I decide to ride as far as I can down the West River Road. You never know about road closures. Someone may have been misinformed, or may have forgotten to post a sign or close a gate… no such luck.
Wally-World is closed. If there was a moose around I'd punch it square in the nose (from the National Lampoon movie "Vacation", Chevy Chase, Beverly D'Angelo...) That's what it felt like anyway, to ride all this way expressly to ride the full length of the River Road, only to find the western half of the road closed, and will be for another 8 weeks. The road is reopened on weekends, but I won't be here then.
I double back to the Black Gap road. The ranger warned me that Black Gap was the roughest road in the park. The park service doesn’t even bother to maintain Black Gap road. The road starts out much like the Old Ore road, but a little narrower. The gravel is deeper and more course. The prickly vegetation is more invasive.
I encounter a black Jeep blocking the road. There is a white Jeep Cherokee on the other side from the opposite direction, also blocked by the black Jeep. Apparently the black Jeep won’t run due to a broken throttle position sensor connector. The owner had tried to piece the connector back together with electrical tape and tie-wraps, but the Jeep still would not run. The owner was about to make a second attempt at rebuilding the connector while I spoke with the people riding in the Cherokee about the road ahead of me. They had ominous things to say, questioning my ability to ride the road. Big boulders, steep climbs, loose rock, etc. They advised against it. Hmmm... Soon thereafter a guy road up on a Suzuki DR, 400, I think, riding two-up. I told him that I thought twice about riding this road with 100 lbs of gear on my bike, but I would never consider riding it two-up. He said the girl on the back didn’t weigh 100 lbs, and he hardly notices her; “little more than a backpack” he says. She is a tiny woman. We offer to push the black Jeep off the road, but ultimately ride around the Jeep being VERY careful to pick our way through abundant thorny bushes and cactus. The DR is gone before I know it, and a couple bikes ride up from the opposite direction; an ’09 KLR and another DR Suzuki. They echo the previous description of the road ahead of me, but are more optimistic about my chances of survival. They said it was good that they road it together so they could “spot” each other on the roughest sections. Hmmm again…
It is always difficult to gauge the advice one receives without knowing the relative ability of the person giving it. What may seem intimidating to some is easy to others, and that is inherently reflected in their statements and advice. I typically find that obstacles are not as difficult I am told they might be, so I am inclined to heed the advice of guys on the ’09 KLR and DR Suzuki, and soldier on. Soon enough the road does definitely becomes much more interesting as it winds up and down the various fingers of eroded hills and washes.
This is a the gap that I believe the road is named after.
The camera doesn't show the true steepness of the road.
My KLR chugs up the hilly sections like the true torque motor that it is, even in second gear. The only problem I have is that my gearing is too tall for the really rough and slow section where I either forced to ride a little faster than I’d like or I use the clutch when I have to ride slower than minimum engagement speeds. I maintain momentum and find that I have no difficulty riding the road, but it is rough on the bike, which will cause problems later on... Overall Black Gap road is comparable to some of the roads I’ve driven in a 4x4 in Moab, except not as steep, and without tall ledges or really big boulders.
Black Gap Road.
Steeper than it looks.
I finally reach Glenn Spring road. I talk to guy in a Toyota Highlander who is about to head down Black Gap road, and I advise him against it. The Highlander is all wheel drive, but doesn’t have the ground clearance or short approach/departure angles needed for Black Gap road. I advise him to continue down Glenn Spring road to Mariscal Mine. I ride up Glenn Spring road to the Juniper Canyon cut off. I debate whether to ride up Juniper Canyon road on the off chance that there is an unoccupied camp site there. It is 5.3 miles one-way up to the camp site and its 5:00 pm. I decide that it is not at all likely there will be any camp sites available, so I really should not spend the time to go 11 miles up to Juniper Canyon and back. Besides, the road looks comparable to the Old Ore road, and I’ve had my fill for the day. I continue up Glenn Spring road, which itself is only a little wider that the Old Ore road, with deeper gravel, but I can ride it much faster.
I reach the highway and ride some 20 miles up to the basin, just because I like the higher elevation mountainous environment up there. The ranger station is closed, so I ride through the camp ground… just in case there was a cancellation or a no show, or overflow. No such luck. I grab some water at the Chisos Mountain store, sit in the shade watch all the humanity milling about the place. You really have to wonder why half these people even bother to come here. It’s like sitting at a shopping mall; very much at odds with what this park is really all about. They should have just stayed home. I am glad there is no room to camp around here. I want solitude, peace and quiet. I want to hear coyotes, birds, bugs and the wind, not MP3 players and loud conversations. Nonetheless, it really is a beautiful setting in the Chisos Mountain basin.
I decide it’s time to ride over to Terlingua and pay ‘Uncle’ a visit. I ride back down the Chisos Mountain road enjoying the scenery. As I descend to within 2 miles of the intersection with Hwy 170 I suddenly see black shiny object emerge from the dense brush at the right side of the road to. It’s a big black bear! I slam on the brakes as the bear runs across the road a very short distance ahead of me, looking back and forth over his shoulders as he crosses my path. The bear disappears into the brush on the left side of the road just as I come to a stop. I park the bike at the left edge of road, grab my camera and head off into the waste high brush to get a picture. About 20 feet in I stop and realize that even though I know there is a bear nearby, I have no idea where he is; he could be 10 feet way from me right now!. Furthermore, I am not in my truck, so I have no safe place to run if said bear decides it is he who should be chasing me. And then I see the bear again as he sticks his head up above the brush, about 40 feet ahead of me.
I note that the wind is from left to right, so the bear cannot smell me, and it is windy enough that he can’t hear me either. I take several pictures at various zoom levels as the bear meanders down a ravine and up the hill on the other side. The bear frequently stops, sits and surveys his surroundings.
I stand and watch the bear as he wanders further away, then I walk back to the road. I am excited that there is a bear nearby, and I want to share this rare event with other park visitors. I try to point out the bear to passing motorist. A few cars slow down upon seeing the motorcyclist at the side of the road, pointing emphatically to the hill. They seem leery of the excited motorcyclist, but eventually some one stops and asks what I am looking at. Then they notice the big black bear sitting amongst the green vegetation and tan grass. Instantly they too become excited upon seeing the black spot with big round ears sitting a couple hundred feet away on the hillside. Within a few moments there are a half dozen cars parked in the road marveling at the bear as I get back on my bike and ride on.
I ride west to Study Butte, exiting the park, and then I initiate my GPS route to Uncle’s place based on the coordinates provided by his nephew Richard. By now my butt is sore, my back is sore, and after two long days in the saddle I am ready to get off the motorcycle. Even though it’s only a few miles to Uncle’s place, it seems to take forever to get there. I turn off the highway at what I think should be the right dirt road, and sure enough, there’s Odie the Coyote; this must be the place.
Odie the Coyote
Odie has welcomed many a motorcyclist.
I ride over a small rise in the road to see a couple RV trailers, some bikes and a cargo trailer, and a gentleman relaxing in a hammock who seems none too alarmed at the sudden appearance of a strange motorcyclist. I introduce myself and explain that Richard suggested I pay Uncle a visit for advice on where to ride around Terlingua, and oh, by the way, could I pitch my tent here for a night or two. Uncle agreed to let me stay on his place, and he showed me a map of the better riding routes above Terlingua. I pulled up a chair and we chatted for a while. Uncle let me bunk in his cargo trailer, saving me the trouble of pitching my tent. The trailer has a bunk in it with a foam pad and a light, but it needed to cool off after sitting in the hot sun all day.
I explained that I hadn’t eaten in two days and offered to buy Uncle dinner. He’d already eaten and suggested I try the High Sierra Inn for dinner. I would join Uncle later, at the “Porch”, to have a beer after I’d eaten. I am off to the High Sierra. Right away one must acclimate to Terlingua. It sure ain’t the suburbia so familiar to me. There is a certain kind of “charm” to everything and everyplace in Terlingua. Nothing is new. Everything is informal and unstructured. While waiting for my dinner I catch up on phone messages and let my wife know that I am alive and well. I take and send a cell phone picture of the Chisos Mountains in the setting sunlight as seen in the distance from the deck of the High Sierra.
The Chisos Mountains viewed from the balcony patio of the High Sierra restaurant, Terlingua TX.
The restaurant service is slow but the food is good. I leave the restaurant by 9 pm, ready to ride up to the “Porch” to meet Uncle. It is dark as I fire up my motorcycle only to find that I have no headlight. No low beam, no high beam, no high beam indicator and no tail light. I have instrument panel lights, horn, turn signals and brake light. I surmise that all of the items I did not have were on a single fuse, and I guess that all of the rough riding may have caused the fuse to fail, or worse… there may be an electrical short somewhere in that circuit. I decided to skip the “Porch” and just ride back to Uncle’s place… in the pitch black darkness before the moon rise. I road down to the highway in the darkness, waited for a passing car, then followed the car using their headlights to see the road ahead and the turnoff to Uncle’s place. I used the light from my turn signals to find my way down the dirt road. I decided there was nothing I could do with the bike that night, so I marveled at the night sky, so thick with stars. Uncle returned a short time later and I explained why I could not join Uncle at the ‘Porch’. While I am speaking with Uncle I see a falling star. I decided to sit in chair and look at the sky for a while. Uncle retired for the evening. It’s been a long hard day of riding, and boy do I feel it. Time for me to turn-in as well. And so ended day two.
Day 3, Wednesday March 18, 2009
Mileage: about 20, worked on the bike all day
Wednesday morning, day three, up soon after the sun. First thing on the agenda is to buy Uncle Breakfast at Kathy’s. Problem is though, Kathy’s is closed. We go instead to the Chili Pepper. It is fairly obvious early on that Uncle knows everyone and everyone knows Uncle. As we sit at the Chili Pepper with another gentleman who knows Uncle, everyone who walks through the door is another familiar face to Uncle.
I ask Uncle where I can buy fuses, and am told to try CycleTek, across from the Wild Horse on Hwy 118 a few miles north of Study Butte. After breakfast we head back to Uncle’s place so I can work on the motorcycle and Uncle plans to play golf in Alpine. I get started taking body work and the seat off the KLR to access the fuse that controls the errant lights. I replace the fuse and it immediately pops again. I pull off the tank cowls, the gas tank, the rear rack and fender, and the wind screen inspecting all the wiring as I go. I find nothing rubbed, melted, burned, cut, kinked or loose. The wires are fine; nothing loose or bent. I wiggle the harness on which all the failed lights are connected, as well as the high beam switch wires and the instrument panel wires, specifically the high beam indicator. Put in my last fuse, and it pops again. I am stumped. I know that this very problem is the subject of a recall for which I was only recently notified by mail from Kawasaki. I have ignored two previous recalls for the muffler bolts and turn signals. I figure that if they haven’t failed in the last 17,000+ miles, they aren’t going to fail. I see no need to take the chance on having a tech at the dealer create new problems while performing recall work. This strategy however may have just backfired on me.
I ponder my options. The variables are whether or not the bike will run OK without the standard electrical load, (including head light and tail light), and will more rough riding cause the problem to get worse by involving other more vital circuits. I call my brother, an electrical engineer and long time motorcyclist. He does not know how the electrical system on the KLR is designed; whether it is a shunt type regulator or not. It is possible he says, that with a shunt type regulator, prolonged use without a proper electrical load may cause the regulator to fry, which in turn will cause the alternator to fry, and that requires serious money to fix. Alternatively, the regulator may function just fine without the headlight on. Hmm…? I call the dealer and the service tech there says there is no problem running without the headlight, and by the way did I know there was a recall out for this problem on the KLR. Yes… thanks.
I put the bike back together and ride out to find CycleTek. The bike is running fine, but no sign of CycleTek. I pull into the Wild Horse and ask the proprietor, a nice older women, if she knows anything about CycleTek. Indeed she does. It’s right across the highway down a rough dirt road. She suggests I call them first to be sure they are there. She has their business card. I make contact and tell the owner I’ll be over in a few minutes, but first I want to buy something from the helpful lady for letting me use her phone. I buy a bottle of water. I sit and drink my water and chat for moment all the while being ‘inspected’ by a variety of Chihuahua dogs. The lady says she is very busy with all their cabins rented for spring break. Her adult daughter walks in carrying a wiring harness that she is fixing. The lady says they have a Mexican working for them, but he messes things up more than he fixes them, so they fix things themselves when he is not around. The harness is off of a golf cart they use on the property. The lady moved here from Houston with her husband 22 years ago. Her husband died several years back and she has run the place ever since then. My water is gone and another customer strolls in asking for a room, but the Wild Horse is full. I ride over to CycleTek. Typical of every business in Terlingua, the shop is run down, chaotic yet relaxed, very simple and basic, and very disorganized. I explain my problem, and the owner suggests the problem is in the instrument panel where the wires break loose from their connectors. He confirms the only easy access is to remove the windscreen, as I’ve already figured out. While the owner tries to locate the mini plastic fuses, I admire a vintage BMW and Harley on the cycle stands, apparently being repaired &/or restored. Fuses found, I buy three and I am on my way. I eat lunch at the Chili Pepper. I have a CFS. While I am eating a small dog escaped from the kitchen. I suggest that the dog may need to go out since he headed straight for the front door and acted like he need to go to the bathroom. Later on there is some discussion about a rather large man who has been sitting in his pickup, seemingly motionless, for the past couple of hours. The proprietor knows the man, and wonder if they should go an tap on the glass to see if the man is OK. A volunteer does just that and man comes to life. The man was reading a book in his lap that we could not see from outside the truck, and that made him appear to be slumped over. Glad he was OK. I don’t guess Terlingua has a library.
On the way back to Uncles I photograph several locations around Terlingua...
Kathy’s
the Passing Wind
The ghost town, including the Starlight Theater
The abandoned buildings and the cemetery
Here are few homes, typical of those around Terlingua. They have a very nice view of the Chisos Mountains to the southeast.
Back at Uncles around 2:30-3:00pm, I decide that it’s too hot now to work on the bike again. It’s not as cool as it was this morning, and there is no shade yet under Uncle’s awning. Besides, and I am not sure what more I can do except to more closely inspect the instrument panel wiring. Instead, I decide that while at Uncle’s place, do as Uncle does…put a chair in what little shade there is this time of day and relax. I find it difficult to relax. I figure out how to retrieve voicemail outside of my home area code. I respond to people who called. I update my trip journal. Then I sit and watch as all manner of critters meander through Uncle’s place, including Quail, other assorted birds, lizards and rabbits.
A covey of Quail drinking water at Uncle's place.
The view south from Uncle's place. Notice the fire pit and wood used during social gatherings at uncle's place (center-frame).
Finally there is some shade and I get to work on the bike. I strip off the side panels, seat, and windscreen. After I fiddle with all the wiring on the instrument panel, finding nothing wrong, I put in one of the new fuses I just bought, and I hear a different kind of pop, this time from under the tank. I then realize that I have no electrical power of any kind. No starter, horn, signals, nothing. Well now I’ve done it. My only chances of riding home are fading fast. I determine that the new fuses are junk, and failed to pop like they should. They are the correct amperage. I notice that they have an s-curved wire in them rather than a bell shaped wire, like the OE and Buss fuses I used originally. The wire in the fuse appears to be intact even after it should have popped. I don’t know if or why that would make a difference, but I do know the fuse didn’t do its job. (NOTE: I later learned that the fuses I bought at CycleTek were fine. The electrical short involving the 20 amp main fuse had nothing to do with the 15 amp light fuse. This was just a quirk of the electrical short). I find a 20 amp main fuse near the starter relay, and it has popped. I pray that replacing the 20 amp fuse will solve the newest problem. First I put a blown OE fuse back in the 15 amp fuse box by the battery, then I replace the 20 amp fuse at the starter relay with my only spare. Key on and nothing happens. No 'pop' is Good. Instrument panel lights, neutral light, Horn, signals, brake light, starter, all work again. Very good. Now I am Back where I started, albeit without a head light and tail light, but at least I can ride.
I decided that I’d better not risk doing any more rough-road riding. Thursday I’ll ride back toward Austin and hope the electrical system is not harmed by riding without the electrical load of a head light and tail light. I’ll just have to ride and see how she holds up. I call my wife to inform her of my plans.
About that time Uncle returns home from his day in Alpine. He says it was an enjoyable day of golf. I wonder if Uncle used his Foot-Wedge, as he calls it; kicking the ball. I ask Uncle if he’ll be making his usual pilgrimage to the “Porch”, and if so, can I buy him a beer. He says that he takes his own beer to the porch. I am confused. Is the Porch ‘BYOB‘? Well my confusion is soon cleared up upon realizing that what I thought all along was a business establishment known as ‘the Porch’, serving adult beverages, is in reality just a porch, in front of the general store in the ghost town. The porch is lined with benches, and the locals gather on the porch in front of the store to visit and knock back a few cold ones. Who’da thunk. Couldn’t happen in Austin… way too many rules in Austin. But such is life in Terlingua.
As usual, Uncle knows everyone and everyone knows Uncle, as we sit on the porch. Uncle learns that Butch Hancock is playing at the Starlight Theater. We decide to drop in. Now, in Austin we’d have to get in a car, drive 30-45 minutes, find a place to park, wait in line for 30 minutes, pay a cover charge… you get the picture. In Terlingua, we just stroll down the ‘porch’ 50 feet to Starlight Theater, walk right in the place, stop at the bar to order a couple beers (Bass) select an empty table, sit and listen. Butch Hancock is a guitar picking, harmonica playing, folk singer, and a mighty fine one at that. During the performance I notice that someone’s dog has wondered out of the kitchen, and is soon chased down and walked back through the kitchen door. A similar scenario occurred at the Chili Pepper at lunch today. Seems to be a common occurrence in Terlingua as no one so much as batted an eye. We order some chips and queso, and enjoy the show. During a break, Butch came over to our table because, of course, Butch knows Uncle and Uncle knows Butch. Uncle buys a CD for his collection. Uncle points out to me the owner of the Starlight, his wife, Butch’s wife and daughter. Did I mention that Uncle knows everyone in Terlingua. I consider myself very fortunate to be in the company of Uncle and I enjoyed my stay in Terlingua.
Thank you very much Uncle!
Day 4, Thursday March 19
Mileage: 412 miles, 10+ hours
Up at sunrise. Slept better last night despite a pack of noisy coyotes nearby. I even heard one sniffing around just outside the trailer. I packed my gear and loaded the bike, ready to go as soon as it was light enough to ride without a headlight. Uncle was off to Kathy’s for breakfast. I would have liked to join him, but I had a long way to go. 7:45 am and I am on the road. It is cool, about 50 degrees. I honk and wave as I pass by Kathy’s. I get gas in Study Butte, and I buy more fuses at a garage next to Far Flung Adventure Tours… just in case. The bike seems to running fine. As I ride north toward Alpine on Hwy 118, it is getting colder, then I realize that I am going uphill. My elevation tops out at about 5500 feet above sea level, and the temperature drops to 45 or so. I stop to put on my heavier gloves. I stop again at a border patrol check point. Several vehicles are being inspected. I am merely asked if I am a US citizen, and sent on my way. The wind is stronger now, out of the northwest, quartering my direction of travel. It’s gets colder. I rolled into Alpine at 9:30. I am really surprised at much Alpine has grown, especially Sull Ross University. I buy gas and look for oil, but no 20w50. I add all of the oil I have left. There are several DPS troopers at this gas station buying gas and food. I hope that they don’t notice that I have no headlight. Since the bike seems to be running fine, I decide to ride the more remote Hwy 90, rather than up Hwy 67 to IH 10. It continues to be cold until I start to loose elevation. I pass through Marathon, and again I am impressed at how much the town has matured. Tourism has revived the town, and the Gage Hotel seems to be the center of activity. I arrive at Sanderson at 11:15 am. I buy gas and have lunch at a little local burger joint known as the Dairy King. In the window are two posters.
One states the Hwy 285 will be closed between Fort Stockton and Sanderson for the open road race in April.
The other poster is an advertisement for the race. Apparently you run what ever class of vehicle you want as fast as you can go for more than 50 miles.
There was a DPS trooping eating in the restaurant and I mentioned to him that I did not realize that the race was still being run. He said he’d only recently been transferred here from the northern part of the state, and knew nothing about the race. I told him it would be and interesting day on patrol if he knew nothing about the race and had numerous vehicles fly by him at over 150 mph. I overhear the owner of the Dairy King tell another customer that there was a chance of rain today. It was sunny and cool at the moment, but as I ride further west the sky becomes ominous. The air cools considerably and it becomes very damp. I may have to break out the rain gear. By the time I reach Langtry however, the sky is clear again and it is getting rather warm.
I stop in Langtry to buy gas, but there is none. I also stop at Judge Roy Beans to see if I can get some county maps of surrounding counties. No such luck however, so I continue on. I take pictures at the Pecos River, which is full now. The river was little more than a trickle for many years due to drought, but now that the Amistad reservoir is full, the Pecos river has been restored to it's former glory.
The Highway 90 bridge over the Pecos River. Old Hwy 90 actually ran down along the cliffs of the Pecos River canyon, across the river and up the other side. The highway is serving as a boat ramp nowadays.
Here you can see the old abandoned highway as it ascends the opposite canyon wall, then passes under the modern bridge used today. The bridge is in the process of being renovated and repainted. Down to one lane, there is a makeshift traffic light controlling traffic allowing groups of vehicles to cross in one direction at a time.
I’ve been good about getting gas as often as I can, but there was no gas in Langtry or Comstock. I ride north on Hwy 163, then Hwy 189. By the time I reach the intersection of highways 189 and 277, I have to decide which way I can go based on the amount of gas I have and the likelihood that I’d be able to find any gas until I reach either Sonora, 22 miles away, or Rock Springs nearly 40 miles away.
I prefer to go through Rock Springs rather than Sonora, since the only way to get from Sonora to Junction is via IH 10. The problem is I don’t know how much gas I have left since I’ve been riding 70 mph with a cross wind. I have 170 miles on this tank. At that speed I’ve been burning fuel at roughly 37 mpg which means I would get only 200 miles out of this tank of gas. I figure that I have thirty miles of gas left. Rock Spring is further than that, so I head up Hwy 277 toward Sonora. When I fill up in Sonora, it only takes 4.7 gallons tp fill my tank at 211 miles traveled. I could have gone to Rock Springs after all. I hate it when that happens. Oh well, better safe than sorry. I bought some water and went to the Sutton County Court house grounds where I sat and relaxed while drinking my water. I needed to get off the motorcycle for a few minutes, having ridden over 350 miles so far. It was 3:45 pm. I am not looking forward to riding the interstate to Junction some 58 miles away. As I ride up the entrance ramp to IH10, I realize that I’ve forgotten to put in my ear plugs. I pull off IH 10 at the Hwy 864/Fort McKavett exit to put in my ear plugs. That’s when I see Hwy 3130. A quick check of the map reveals that Hwy 3130 runs practically on top of the interstate all the way to Junction, morphing into Hwy 1674 along the way. I did not notice this before because the roads are so close together on the map they appear to one road; IH 10. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be. My guess is that Hwy 3130 predates the interstate, and when the interstate was built they maintained Hwy 3130 as a kind service road. Hwy 3130 is a much nicer ride than IH 10. Even though 3130 runs very close to IH 10 it is typically separated by trees or hills such that you really don't see that much of IH 10. I spot some large rocks beside the road near Roosevelt which I use to support the bike while I lube the chain. I then ride the final leg of the days’ journey to Junction.
I arrive in Junction at 5:30 pm; 411 miles ridden. I get a room at the Hills Motel. Then I buy more oil having used the last of my spare quart in Alpine that morning. In Junction, the oil level was lower than I thought, and it took nearly ¾ of a quart to fill. That’s nearly 1 ¾ quarts consumed in 1047 miles of riding. I asked the people at the parts store about Coopers BBQ. They warn me that Coopers in Junction is not like Coopers in Mason or Llano. Here you can’t pick what you want, as much as you want, and the prices are much higher. I decide to grab a CFS at Isaac’s. As I am leaving Isaac’s, I see a strange looking trike in the parking lot. It is the back half of a Pontiac Fiero, grafted to the front half of a motorcycle. The Fiero was a mid-engined two seat sports car made by Pontiac featuring plastic body panels. Because if it’s mid-engine design, the back half of the car is a self contained power train and axle and therefore readily lends it self to this kind of use. If that wasn’t strange enough, this trike was towing a trailer that was an identical twin of the back half of a Fiero. All were painted a bright yellow, with a large stuffed gorilla on top.
Now there’s something you don’t see everyday…
I try to ease back into normal life after the last few days of solitude and life in Terlingua. I take a hot shower, watch TV, update my trip journal, and listen to the noisy people outside my hotel room, as apposed to the howling coyotes outside the trailer in Terlingua. I catch an interesting movie called “No Country for Old Men”, with Tommy Lee Jones. You’ll never guess where the movie is set… right where I’ve been all week, in the Big Bend country.
Movie over, lights out. Not a bad day of riding, even if it was all on paved roads.
Day 5, Friday March 20, 2009
Mileage: 160 miles, 6 hours of riding
No chance to sleep in Friday morning, Day 5, March 20. Too many noisy people moving around outside at 6:30 am.
It’s still dark. I make a concerted effort to sleep in anyway. I get up at 8 am, load the bike, buy gas and water, and head for Fredericksburg. I don’t get far though because the steel bridge over the Llano River is still closed for maintenance. I know this routine from my last visit to Junction. I head down Hwy 377 a road the turns off to the Texas Tech Campus, crossing over the Llano river on a narrow low water bridge. A couple of left turns later and I am on the opposite side of the steel bridge. I head down Hwy 2169 to Segovia, then down Hwy 479 to Hwy 290. I really hate not being able to ride the Kimble county roads, but I do plan to ride the county roads in Gillespie country since they are all paved, and thus pose no threat of roughness that might aggravate my electrical problem. I cross over Hwy 290 and continue down Hwy 479 to Klein Branch Rd., to Hwy 783, to White Oak Rd., to Hwy 2093, to Hwy 16 into Fredericksburg. I stop to eat at a fifty’s-looking burger joint that actually serves Tex Mex fare. I don’t see anything on the menu that appeals me, so I ask them to make me a special fajita burrito with rice, beans, and cheese inside, and queso on top. I notice an old guy in the parking lot looking at my motorcycle. He comes inside and asks me about it. He has quite a few tales of motorcycling adventure to tell. My burrito is served and the old guy likes what he sees and decides he’ll have the same. Later I meet the owner and he mentions the popularity of the burrito I custom ordered and suggests that he may add it to the menu.
Before I get back on the road, I call my wife to arrange transportation from the Kawasaki dealer in southwest Austin, to our home in northwest Austin. I buy gas and water at HEB and head for Hwy 16.
I ride up Hwy 16 to Knopp School Rd., to hwy 1623, to Hwy 1620, to Hwy 1323, to Hwy 281. A ¼ mile up Hwy 281 and then right on Cypress Mill Rd., to hwy 962, to Hamilton Pool Rd., over the Pedernales River. South on Hwy 12 to Fitzhugh, east as far as Trautwein Rd (aka CR185), then south to Hwy 290. The Kawasaki dealer is just a mile and half east on hwy 290.
And so ended my first long distance Dual sport ride. Adios...
Total Trip length is approximately 1225 miles. 26.7 gallons, averaging 45 miles per gallon overall. $55 in fuel. $33.90 hotel. $100 in cash spent on food water and fuses. Total expenses: about $190
UPDATE: Because I've taken so long to write this report, it is now a week later and I have the KLR back from the dealer. I was glad to learn that the bike popped the main fuse while the dealer was working on it, which made it easier for them to find the problem. I was worried that the dealer would replace the recalled wiring harness and mater-of-factly jiggle other wires that were causing the problem on some other harness, giving the impression that the bike was fixed, only to have it fail again soon thereafter. To the contrary however, the dealer did positively find a chaffed and burned wire under the gas tank in the very same wiring harness that is the subject of the recall. The bike was fixed at no cost to me. They even replaced my 'spent' spare fuses.
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OK, I'm better now. Glad you enjoyed the ride, and please do explain the differences between the halves, even if you don't have pictures 
not to rub it in or anything 
