The beginning.
October 1, 2025
August 16, 2025 was the date that John-Mark, Britt, Clayton and I had selected as the departure date for a two week trip on the Trans-America Trail. We had purchased the maps and started working on the logistics of making the trip happen.
In May of that year, John-Mark, the leader of "Team Loctite" (you learn some hard lessons when you go into Mexico without it) died in a track accident at Buttonwillow. We were broken-hearted.
John-Mark had purchased one of my DRZs from me, which he rode on our Baja trip. Britt, now widowed, had to deal with all of his belongings, including several bikes. I asked Britt if I could buy the bike back — it would be my permanent reminder of all the good times with "Juan-Marco."
Fast forward to almost three years later. Turns out that Wayne also had always wanted to do that trip so we've made it our goal to do it this autumn, probably mid to late September. We're going to ride the DRZs, which should be well-suited for the trip due to their beast-of-burden reliability and non-exotic parts.
Now begins all the planning and preparation that goes into a month-long back country trip.
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Thanks, Juan-Marco, for the inspiration. This trip is dedicated to you.
Original mileage.
November 3, 2025
This was the original mileage chart we had worked out with John-Mark.
The distance between stops was based on ending up somewhere where we had a chance of getting a motel. Now that the trip has taken on a camping focus and has been extended by two more weeks, the route will be dramatically changed. I'll post the revised mileage when we whip it into some sort of shape.
Suzuki DRZ400S status.
December 15, 2024
Bito, the yellow DRZ, hasn't run in over a year. Before it went into hibernation in my basement, I tried a couple of carb rebuilds with no success — the bike would continue to stall after it was warmed up. Since it wasn't my main street or dirt ride at the time, I gave up trying to fix it. Now that it's become the TAT weapon of choice, Wayne's job is to get it running again.
HMS Juan-Marco, on the other hand, has been in frequent use and has no problems once he's warmed up. He just needs a little TLC to make him stellar again.
Wayne and I sat down and came up with a list of things we need to add, fix or replace on the bikes:
The dog.
February 2, 2025
I never in my life had planned to have a small dog, so let me explain how I became in possession of one.
A couple of years ago I had to say goodbye to my best friend, Lucky. He was 17 and his most vigorous, non-self-soiling years were behind him. Lucky, loyal to the end, had seen two husbands come and go:
Putting down your first dog is one of the suckiest thing you'll ever do. I knew I would get another dog some day, but I wanted to take a break before I got attached to a new one.
Then came Simon.
Robb, a moto pal, said he had a friend who needed to find a home for a Jack Russell Terrier. The son was allergic to the dog and the family had tried a variety of ways to remedy the situation, with no luck. I wasn't sure if I wanted another dog so soon, let alone a dog so small the local possums could easily strongarm him for his lunch money, but Robb said Simon had a great personality and was at least worth meeting. I met Simon, he charmed me, and we've been together now for two years.
I can't really remember why one fine day I bought a dog backpack for him. It was a little small, but the sunroof kept him from having to be doubled over. Every now and then when he was with me in the car and I had to duck into a store to buy something, I'd put him in the pack.
Ever curious about what animals will tolerate, the next natural progression was to see if he'd sit patiently in the backpack while I rode around on the bicycle. He hardly moved, so his future as a bike passenger seemed promising. The original backpack was too uncomfortable to wear for more than a few minutes, so I dug out an old hiking backpack and made some modifications to it.
Before too long, Simon was associating the backpack with going to fun places. All I had to do was put it on the ground and pat the bag and he'd voluntarily climb in. I took him on bike rides along the bay and he was content to watch the world go by.
So what's to stop us from taking him on the TAT? Don't say it's dangerous because plenty of dogs are killed in car crashes. Even more get run over wandering into traffic. If Simon can prove himself worthy company, then he's got a spot in the road show.
Buncha bike work.
February 16, 2025
The back end has been lubed. The grease was pretty dirty, so not putting this off any longer was a good thing.
The airbox finally got the 3x3 cut job along with the JD jet kit. Bito is finally running after a long lay-off and both bikes are much less cold-blooded.
The stock automatic cam chain tensioner has been replaced with the manual one.
The stock vacuum petcock got switched out for a more streamline one. My only gripe is that now I have to remember to turn the gas on and off; hence, the message on my bike.
The tail piece has been tidied up. The only problem is that without that extra plastic, I've lost a good place to put my This Side Up! arrow.
Simon's street ride.
March 5, 2025
Simon recently took a very short street ride on the DRZ. He was calm throughout the ride so it was time to advance his training with a longer street ride. The plan: Hook up with some friends in Fallbrook and visit the twisty north county roads.
Although a street ride lacks the bumps of a dirt ride, we could at least determine if Simon could tolerate a full day in the backpack and hours of random movement.
The ride was going great up to one point: We were on a twisty low-to-medium speed road behind a woman on a cruiser. She blew a right-hand curve just as a car was approaching and before I knew it, I was watching her slide on the ground. I could tell she was sliding back into my line and my first thought was SIMON!!!! Today was most definitely NOT the day to get pitched off The Tard. I held my line and stayed on the throttle and watched as her gloved hand slid under my left footpeg. While I dodged her to the right, Wayne, just behind me, had to cut left to avoid the vague kaleidoscope of man and machine moving across the ground.
We pulled over and went to assist the woman. Her bike had come to rest pointing in the reverse direction of travel and she had slid all the way back to the right edge of the road. She appeared to be in her late 50s and while she was in some amount of pain, nothing appeared to be broken and I don't think she had a head injury — as far as crashes go, it was a smooth lowside. I don't know if this was her first ride, but she seemed fairly new due to her gear: jeans, hiking boots, hooded sweatshirt, and brand new dirtbike gloves. We made her as comfortable as possible and then we split when the ambulance and CHP showed up.
We stopped every now and then to let Simon out. He was always happy to get back in so that was an excellent sign. On our way home we dropped into Dudley's Bakery. Non-service dogs aren't allowed in eating establishments, but I wanted to see if anybody would even notice the snout pushing out of the bag. We bought a sandwich, sat down at a table, and went unnoticed by any of the employees. This semi-stealthiness could be handy if we want to sneak him into a diner while we're on the TAT.
By trip's end, Simon did 200 street miles. He passed his first major hurdle in punching his ticket for the TAT.
Next up: Dirt.
Simon's border ride.
April 2, 2025
With Simon surviving the street ride, it was time to get a more accurate representation of the TAT by taking him to the dirt so we headed south to the road that runs along the border fence between US and Ol' Mexico. Why there? Because it's a good stretch of dirt that's an easy ride from the house and it's not so rough that the border patrol SUVs can't handle them. Better than that, there was a chance we'd come across something interesting, like smugglers shoving lead-laced candies or tariff-shirking pinatas through the many holes in the fence.
I carried Simon on the street sections while Wayne carried him in the dirt. It's been a long time since I've ridden the DRZ in the dirt and I had to get used to the weight of the bike again. There were plenty of roads on which to shake off the cobwebs.
When we stopped for a snack break, I thought Simon would be fairly mellow after some bouncing around. In fact, he was fairly spun up and ready for some giant stick chasing.
Ever mindful of raising my dog with a sense of social responsibility, I pointed out the Mexican houses just on the other side of the fence and how dogs that lived over there probably didn't eat boutique dog food and get de-shedded every evening with a Furminator.
By the end of the day we had logged 180 miles of mixed pavement and dirt. Simon passed yet another TAT test.
Next up: Camping.
Rack-n-roll.
April 16, 2025
The racks will need to support 30 days' worth of gear (including a Rotopax gas can), all the while withstanding constant shaking and occasional hard jarring (i.e., a crash). Wayne didn't find anything that met our needs so he decided to make it. It first started with him disappearing into the garage for an hour or two at a time to scribble on an engineering pad. After that, he bought some tubing. Finally, it was time to go over to his friend's house, whose Man Cave far exceeded the minimum suggested male content of a pool table and neon beer sign.
Tube cutting:
Making fishmouth joints:
Checking tubes pre-weld:
Welding top rack together:
Welding angled tubes to support top rack:
A working top rack:
The side rack pretty much came together the same way the top rack did: tubes were cut, ends were fishmouthed, and welding was done.
To make sure the side racks weren't put on all wonky and uneven, Wayne put together a frame to assist with the placement:
Here's the end product with the Rotopax gas can mounted:
Wayne added the crosspiece because if we* lay the bike down it'll reduce the likelihood of one side getting bent. It also offers a good place to attach a tow strap and if you've never had the pleasure of towing a dirtbike on a rocky, undulating trail, worry not, because you have missed out on something very much worth missing out on.
The tube ends will be getting caps and the completed racks be powdercoated black (because black is slimming!).
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* I really should use "I" instead of "we."
I think I've seen Wayne down once and that was owing to wet clay, nature's version of Crisco.
Bags galore.
May 14, 2025
Let me preface this entry by saying that we're packing as light as we can without having to suffer for a month on the trail. We plan to camp most nights, with the exception being when it rains. When possible, we'll stay at campgrounds with showers so we can reduce the discomfort that comes with excessive sweating and dirt accumulation, the kind that makes you feel like a breaded and deep fried meat product at the end of the day:
Wayne opted for a medium MotoFizz bag while I stuck with a Nelson Rigg bag that I've been using on my street bike. We're both using the Chase Harper 3850 Dual Sport Saddle Bags.
The saddle bags didn't have any mounting points that would work with our rack so I sewed on straps and velcro at strategic points.
I cracked one of the plastic liners when I yanked it out of the bag. The plastic seems to be a little brittle so we picked up remnant plastic and made a reinforcement layer for the bottom of each bag.
As extra protection for the bags, Wayne made a heatshield for each bike. It's a bonus item: If we're desperate for a shovel we know where we can find one.
Backpack mods.
May 10, 2025
The backpack that I'm using for Simon carbon dates to around 1990. It was my climbing pack and served me well on many trips. You know the pack's dated because in this photo I'm wearing an early-era Swatch. Hard to believe they were as cool as rolled up sleeves on a blazer.
The Mountainsmith pack is made out of good old Cordura, a fabric that has long since fallen out of favor with outdoorsy people, who have been lured away by the sexy sheen and pleasant weightlessness of ripstop nylon. Who can blame them? When we decided Simon was coming along, I went to REI to see if a newer backpack would serve as a better mobile kennel.
After looking at dozens of backpacks, I decided that my twenty-something bag was the best candidate for the job. It's the Chuck Taylor of backpacks, and look how well that uncomplicated shoe has served multiple generations. The nylon packs don't offer enough structure; at higher speeds the walls would be snapping at Simon's face.
The first thing I did was put a foundation in the bag so Simon could easily shift around. I took a cheap plastic stool that happened to be the perfect size and cut off the feet (the legs stayed on for extra bracing), as well as any raised edges. Next, I used a heat gun to push out all the curves that encroached on the underside, buying Simon just a little more room. Finally, I covered all the rough edges with duct tape.
We learned on one of our test rides that if the backpack gets knocked around enough, the stool — despite being wedged in there — could flip. I sewed velcro retaining strips on the inside to prevent the stool from moving.
Initially I just left the top part of the pack unzipped so Simon could look out. Although he never tried to jump out, he did like resting his upper body along the edge that was open, which resulted in poor weight distribution. I ended up buying some fish netting and sewing it on so he could look out but not violate outer airspace restrictions.
The side portholes are just big enough for his head to fit through. To prevent him from being able to push extra hard to rip them open, I sewed two layers of hem tape around the edges of the portholes. If he can push past that fortification, I'm going to have him genetically tested because it may mean he's a Chupacabra in a dog suit — who wouldn't love to claim they own a genuine Goat Sucker? I sure would.
Throw in some ass-soothing pads* and Simon has a Cadillac ride.
He is so delighted with his home away from home that all I need to do is unzip the pack and he'll climb in. I can only hope that halfway into the trip in Nowhere, Utah or Empty Hell, Nevada he doesn't have a nervous breakdown, because other than flagging down a car with a driver willing to return him to San Diego, he's screwed.
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* It's an ungainly mix because of our motto: WWMGD? Yes...What Would MacGyver Do? MacGyver, the greatest creativist ever, certainly would not be caught dead at a crafts store buying a chunk of perfectly sized foam.
First serious shakedown.
May 15, 2025
With the rack done and Simon dirt prepped, it was time to load up the bikes and try a one-night camping trip. We headed out Friday around lunch time and slabbed it up to Lost Valley, where we got our first taste of dirt while loaded up.
Initial thought after getting through a couple of the rockier patches: "30 days of bloated yak wrestling? Well... let the crying begin!" After our recent relatively unladened trip to the Grand Canyon on a KTM 530EXC and Husky TE450, the packed-up DRZs were an abomination. Wayne had to carry Simon in all the dirt sections because I was sure I was going to pitch sideways at any time. I knew I was being mental and I knew the bike would turn if I would just quit stiff-arming it. After the miles went by, the yak and I eventually came to an agreement that if I would quit squeezing its horns like I was trying to get milk out of them, it would stop thinking about laying down on me.
The road up the Santa Rosa mountains was a typical occasionally rutted mountain road. We went up to Toro Peak to check out the view. We weren't sure what we were looking at until we saw the north end of the Salton Sea through the haze.
We camped at Stump Spring camground (7,710 ft). The campground had about five concrete picnic tables scattered throughout a fairly level area. Although stretches of road that we had traveled on en route to our destination had the smell of fresh rain, we never saw a drop. The threat of rain could be why nobody else showed up while we were there.
Wayne boiled water for the dried tortellinis while Simon ate his kibbles — probably should've withheld the meal so he'd be that much lighter tomorrow.
The two-man tent went up easily. With the Thermarest pads thrown in it looked snug but not overly tight.
But when we brought in the rest of the stuff we didn't want to get damp overnight, the joint was crowded. Simon is the white spot in the middle of the picture.
I was reacquainted with my tremendous distaste for mummy bags. It's not that they're just claustrophobically uncomfortable, but my legs need to be in goofy positions to keep a couple of pinched nerves from killing me. So I ended up unzipping the bag to accommodate my legs, which meant less warmth. This will need to be addressed since the TAT trip will run into mid October and there's a good chance we'll see much colder nights. Honestly, I'd rather be in a motel every single night, but most places don't allow dogs and, frankly, even if we stayed at places running about $60 a night we'd be spending almost $2k by trip's end just for soft beds, hot showers, uncramped comfort, total climate control and buffet-style electricity. Compare that to the character building from pissing in the early morning cold and darkness, night after night... priceless, I say!
The memory of one of the worst nights of sleep I've ever had was dismissed by a rejuvenating cup of instant coffee. I can put up with a lot of shit as long as it all ends with a cup of coffee. Here's Wayne, a non-coffee drinker, summoning his riding mojo in his own way before a new day of dog-toting and yak wrestling.
The weather was still looking good as we came down the mountain. Getting an early start with blue skies and a pleasant view is hard to beat.
After dropping down from the mountain we headed over to Bautista Rd and then up Thomas Mountain Rd. A few riders passed us. We thought maybe they were SDAR folks. Then a few more passed us. While taking a bio break, a couple of more riders came along. They also stopped for a bio break so we asked if they were part of a group. Turns out the OC dualsport club had a ride going on and if we didn't get a move on, we'd be on the trail with many, many more people. We got off Thomas Mountain as quickly as we could so we wouldn't get caught up in a rolling clusterdoodle (with our heavily loaded selves being the primary doodle).
After lunch in Idyllwild, I took over the dog carrying duties. By now I was feeling pretty confident on the yak and adding another 20 pounds didn't seem beyond my scope. We dropped back down into Hemet via the San Jacinto Ridge Truck Trail.
The ride down was filled with undulations so I stood most of the way, using my legs as another level of shock absorption to keep Simon from getting "car sick." Wayne said Simon didn't look the least bit distressed so next time I'm going to alternate standing with sitting so my knees can get a break. During the times I was sitting I felt like I had Simon in a rock tumbler, but maybe I was being overly sensitive.
After turning onto Bee Canyon Truck Trail near the bottom, we came across some stopped vehicles. They were towing a US Forestry truck from the trail. We asked what had happened and some folks who had been waiting a couple of hours said the sport ute had flipped. The ranger had been badly hurt and airlifted out. We were lucky enough to pull up shortly before the trail reopened.
Wayne and I agreed that the hardest part of the ride was the long slab back from Hemet. The DRZs are running with their stock gearing, so the bike is not fun for long, straight pavement stretches. As we neared Mataguay, the wind was ripping, the sky was overcast, and we were getting cold. We made one last stop at Dudley's to let Simon relieve himself and for us to scarf down some snacks. You can see that Simon is desperate to get at my trail mix so he can shit whole almonds tomorrow.
We had a great shakedown ride and came away with some good ideas on how to improve both the bikes and the camping experience. I've also come away pretty sure I can handle the DRZ in rougher conditions, which is a big load off my mind. Wayne has extensive training on a true barge of a bike — a KTM 950 Adventure — so if that bike is his version of a yak, then the DRZ must've been like a gazelle.
And as for the most important part of the test, Simon ended the trip upbeat. He never threw up and his enthusiasm never waned so he passed his third test as a passenger.
Next up: A multi-day camping trip and more backpack prison time for the hairy rapscallion.
Instrument panel garbled.
May 17, 2025
On the recent trip my instrument panel started misbehaving. It would be either blank or show garbage characters. After not finding any wiring issues, Wayne decided to take the instrument cluster and put it on the other DRZ to see if it did the same thing — it did. He opened up the unit and found this:
One of the transistor terminals broke away from the board. It got soldered back on and now works perfectly.
The spine compactor.
June 6, 2025
In case you didn't know, dirtbikes are tall. If your inseam is less than 32 inches and you can't break 125 fully geared, odds are excellent your legs will be swinging in the air when you're on the bike — not very confidence-inspiring when a tipover is imminent. As one of those bipedal air-scrapers, I hated the situation so I changed it by putting on a lowering link and removing most of the foam from my seat. You can see from this photo how I'm left with an obscene plank:
It wouldn't be all that uncomfortable if it were a streetbike, but with the pounding served up by dirtbikes, between my DRZ and my comparably gutted Husky, my spine has been rudely compacted and my tailbone has been repeatedly chafed raw.
Enter a solution that has served me well for the past few years:
Yes, the ass-caressing sheepskin cover. The only problem with it is that if it rains — surely we will see foul weather over the course of 30 days? — it'll get soaked so I'm looking for a solution that's built in. I decided to tuck multiple layers of anti-skid pads (the thick kind) under the cover. I didn't just stack it on top of the seat; I built out the edges of the seat so the base was a little broader and friendlier to the female pelvic girdle.
Between the aging cover and the anti-skid pad pattern showing through, the seat was looking ghetto so I pulled another cover off of an unused Moose seat (never went on right anyways). Because I have no idea if this mess is going to feel like shit or not after several hours, I didn't want the semi-permanency of staples so I put grommets at strategic points and screwed on the cover. This will allow me to make adjustments on the trail without having to bring along a pneumatic staple gun and an air compressor.
I will report if the seat mod is a success or failure after the next shakedown trip in a couple of weeks.
Gas n oil.
June 11, 2025
After Wayne rebuilt the carb, Bito was running great. But a few hundred miles into the rebuild, it got harder and harder to start when it was warm. We were going to ride the bikes over to the hardware store to pick up a few things, but a mile into the ride a car pulled up next to me and the driver honked, pointing at the bike. I looked down and either oil or gas was spraying from the bike — turns out it was both.
The breather hose had come off the air boot and a gas/oil mix was coating the left side of the bike. I pulled into a parking lot and Wayne went to get his truck. Bito got the Ride of Shame back to the house.
After some internet research, Wayne decided to check the needle valve. Sure enough, it was showing its age (and extended period of disuse) and had been letting gas overflow from the float bowl, resulting in unsactioned fraternization with the engine oil. When I did the oil change, the thin mixture that sprayed out was both alarming (can't be good for the bike) and relieving (finally, the source of the starting problem).
The old and new needle valve assemblies:
Cleveland Forest ride.
June 18, 2025
We were hoping to get in another camping ride this weekend but fellow riders have reported that the flies are biting at Corral Canyon, our destination. We'll probably encounter flies and mosquitoes on our trip and perhaps this would make for a good test, but suffering only builds character where biting flies are not involved. You know what biting flies build? Welts and anger.
So we opted for a day trip with our loaded bikes to continue the vetting process. Although we stiffened up my suspension settings, the bike is still a little too light in front. Under 65 it's ok, but anything over that the front end starts to oscillate. An easy possible fix would be to swap out the lowering link for the stock one — with all that weight on the back my feet are on the ground so I could probably give up an inch and still maneuver the bike on the balls of my feet.
When we got off the freeway we headed for a smooth dirt road that wound through the Cleveland National forest. I was fully expecting the DRZ to have a bad front-end push on the ball-bearing surface, but it was actually handling surprisingly well. I handed Simon off to Wayne so I could work the DRZ a little harder without worrying about a passenger.
One good test we got in was a deep water crossing — it reminded us that even if we don't expect rain, whatever's in the sidebags should be protected in case water comes from below and not above.
The recent carb needle replacement solved the hot start problem (we had also checked valve clearances to make sure that wasn't a contributing factor). My seat rework also felt good, at least where a single's day ride was concerned.
HMS Juan-Marco has been a total champ. I think I have Wayne drinking the delicious DRZ Kool-Aid.
I'm a German Shepherd
June 19, 2025
A year ago Briana, Julie and I hiked Mt. Whitney. We did it in a day and while it wasn't easy, none of us came away exceptionally stressed from a physical standpoint. About a week after that hike I had some minor hip pain. I figured all I needed to do was rest and recover, but the pain wouldn't go away. Being self (and marginally) employed and having an enormous medical deductible, I put off seeing a doctor, who would most likely order xrays and MRIs that showed nothing. I would end up paying a bunch of money just to be told to rest and take NSAIDs. Fuggedaboutit.
Over the course of the past year, the pain never really went away but at least there were days when the hip actually felt normal. I thought it was just soft tissue damage and with a little help of a yoga routine and deep tissue massage, it would eventually go away. Besides, I could still ride.
Recently, my hip kept jamming up on a mild hike. It felt uncomfortable and I had to keep stopping and shaking my leg loose. Huh...the ante appeared to have been upped: The ball and socket were officially announcing their candidacy for President of the Shittiest Body Parts. Just like those '02 DRZs, I was far from shiny and new, and would require additional troubleshooting.
I finally saw an orthopedic surgeon. Upon viewing my xray the doctor said, "You have hip dysplasia." To which I said, "Wow, I'm a German Shepherd!" Sadly, the joke was lost on her*. Nothing worse than a wasted joke. Except, maybe, fucked up hips:
In addition to the hip dysplasia the doctor mentioned osteoarthritis, which means I'm not only a German Shepherd, but a senior citizen. I'm ok with being a dog, but slouching towards being an AARP card holder excites me not at all. Old isn't the problem; decrepit is.
The doctor told me to make an appointment with the hip resurfacing specialist at UCSD. If I have to go down this path, the question will be if I try to get it done ASAP so I can rehab by mid September for the trip (if that's even possible), do the surgery after the trip (another planned non-riding trip makes this complicated), or postpone the trip until next year. I'm just not going to know until I see the doc (if you're an orthopedic surgeon, feel free to chime in on what you see above).
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* If the joke is also lost on you, google "hip dysplasia" and take particular note of the images. Hint: People don't have tails.
Second opinion first.
June 28, 2025
I haven't seen the ortho who specializes in hip resurfacing yet, but I am fortunate enough to have a friend whose cycling buddy is an ortho and I got his opinion on my xray. The bottom line is that there's no way around surgery. He believes I'm better off with a total hip replacement for several reasons, but he also recommended that I see the other ortho so I can make an informed decision.
Here's your quickie lesson on the difference:
In a hip resurfacing (photo, right), you get a new top-half of a femoral ball and a new socket. In a total hip replacement (photo, left), the entire ball and femoral neck are replaced, along with the socket.
I've done a lot of reseach on both surgeries and except in obvious cases, you could take either path. I would say that the camps are divided enough that you may as well post on a moto forum "What's the best oil to use?" From what I've read, I'm the best candidate for hip resurfacing while also being the worst candidate for hip resurfacing.
I can't walk very far without some sort of ambulatory device, but the TAT is about riding and not walking so we're going ahead with the trip as planned. I'll get surgery as soon as we return.
Big Bear test trip.
July 28, 2025
We thought about trucking the bikes up to Big Bear to avoid the two-hour freeway ride, but then we slapped ourselves back into reality: The first day of our trip is going to be a six-hour pavement party to Phoenix. If two hours of droning up I-15 was going to be that mentally tiresome -- no sipping doppio lattes while in transit?! -- where were we going to find the Right Stuff to gut out an extra four across the desert? We decided to ride from San Diego, but with a compromise: We'd take the back roads so we could get in some twisties and then we'd camp the first night on Thomas Mountain, south of Big Bear.
I'm not sure if they exist elsewhere, but in the national forests of San Jacinto and San Bernadino, there are "yellow post" campsites. Unlike the regular campgrounds, the yellow post sites are dispersed and offer no amenities, except for maybe a picnic table and/or fire ring. They're better than regular campgrounds because a) you're not right next to some jackass with a boombox and b) it's free. You mean we get to pay zero to NOT be near some dude with an alcohol-fueled voice modulation problem? Fucking SIGN ME UP.
Thomas Mountain was quiet on this early Friday evening. The only vehicle we passed on the fire road was a Rhino-like ATV trundling down with a father/son-looking combo. We eventually came across a yellow post campsite and set up camp in the perfect windless evening.
Wondering why "perfect" can't co-exist with "windless"? Here's a hint: bzzzzzzzzzzz...SLAP. Yes, mosquitoes. When it's windy, not only is your irresistible carbon dioxide and other fragrant whatnots dispersed, but the bastards' little wings aren't strong enough to allow them to pull up a chaise lounge and probe you silly. Between the gnats, flies and mosquitoes, there was a whole lot of slapping going on. I did pack insect repellent, but I figured I'd forego it for one night and just go with the interactive killing method. Huge mistake. A few days later as I type this, I am still scratching at the many bites. I blame my ignorance on being a coastal San Diegan. We have no insects here. No kidding -- they are turned away at our many Border Patrol checkpoints. The BP agents will even look under your car with a huge dental mirror to make sure no insects are clinging to the undercarriage. It's fabulous the lengths they go to to make San Diego a safe, insect-free place. Given my lack of transparency to insects, I'm going to buy one of these:
Hold your sartorial jabs. I'm well aware that I will look like a suburban dork on safari, but sacrificing my pride is superior to scratching until I'm bloody.
One important thing I brought that we didn't have on the last trip was an extra rainfly from a retired tent. Is it necessary? No. Is it awesome? Yes! It gave us a place to disgorge the contents of our bikes (we're not always going to have a fancy picnic table). I know camping is a dirty undertaking and I should just suck it up, but women (and possibly tranvestites) have special needs in that we can't stand sand in our lip gloss. It's as appealing as a crunchy jelly donut. Hence the need for just a modicum of domestic tidiness.
Bonus: Before turning in for the night we could wrap up the stuff in the rainfly to keep the dew off of it. However, the one piece of gear I won't leave outside are the helmets -- one ant infestation episode many years ago taught me the intimate discomfort of Things With Mandibles. Never again.
I made two key sleeping changes for this trip: 1) I left the wafer-like Thermarest at home and took the Big Agnes pad, and 2) I modified my mummy bag to have more leg room. The problem with the Big Agnes pad is that it takes a while to blow up. I figured I wouldn't have any problems if I took a break now and then. Well, after the first round of blowing I was lightheaded and had no desire to do any more so Wayne was gentleman enough to take over.
As for the mummy bag, I sewed a stretch panel across the lower part of it so I can leave it unzipped but still keep air from freely moving in and out. When it gets really cold I still have the option of zipping it up. If it weren't for the fact that in the past year I've become an insomniac, I would've slept fabulously. Still, the hours I did sleep instead of tracking the moon's path was sound. Share with me my future between the hours of 11pm and 2am:
The next morning we headed over Idyllwild, through Beaumont, and then up to Big Bear. Along the way there was a nice stretch of road that went through the town of Oak Glen -- check it out if you ever find yourself in that area.
Not hot enough yet for Simon to go into panting mode:
After months of trying to dial in the suspension, this trip was an important milestone. My DRZ has a lowering link and the extra 50 pounds over the ass end made the front way too light (spare gas, three liters of water, and a month's worth of dog food is nearly half the weight). At freeway speeds the front-end weave was simply dangerous. To address this issue, Wayne modified the forks by cutting down the springs and machining spacers. This critical change returned the DRZ to a level stance so my suspension now had a fighting chance.
When we hit the rockier stretches the bike stayed planted -- epic, spine-tingling relief! I now had a machine that would work both on the freeway and in the dirt. Still a pig? Yeah, but nimble is not the primary goal -- not being murdered by every mile travelled is. To that end, the bikes were perfect.
There was a good mixture of terrain where we could test our loaded bikes:
Recovering burn area north of Holcomb Valley:
Weird still life moment: I call it "Rover, Please Come Home."
As late afternoon came, we started keeping our eyes open for an unoccupied yellow post campsite. Except for this one shadeless site in the burn area, all the ones we came across were occupied.
We eventually came across a ranger and asked him if he thought the farther-flung yellow post campsites were occupied.
He said they might be and asked if we planned to have a campfire. We said no. If that was the case, then we could camp anywhere as long as it was 200 feet from the road and water sources. That surprised me because I had perused the San Bernadino Forest Service web site many times and it was never clear that "dispersed camping" was different from yellow post camping. In fact, if you go to the Dispersed Camping page, it lists a bunch of yellow post sites; hence, my conclusion on why they were one in the same. The friendly ranger told us of a good camping spot nearby and also wrote us a permit to legally use our little Jetboil unit. Bless him and any ranger-tots he may have!
Once again I got through a round of inflating before I had to hand the task off to Wayne. Since getting home, I've resolved this inflation issue, which I'll cover in a separate post.
The next morning we took the backroads back to San Diego. We're actually feeling like we may be ready for the TAT.
Surgery is on.
August 12, 2025
It'll happen in late October after the TAT. Next week I have to attend a two-hour class for patients getting hip replacements. I'm stoked at the prospect of making some new octogenarian friends at this get-together; there's no better way to feel young than to surround yourself with old.
The hip socket will be made of cross-linked polyethylene, which means I'm going to be just like my CA Cycleworks Hypermotard fuel tank. I can start drinking gasoline without causing any damage to the new and improved socket. You know what Chaz would say about that?
Here's to hoping that both DRZs don't break down at the same time and require us to hike for miles. I currently walk like a penguin and we all know how fast those Pillsbury doughbirds can go.
I've created another Pirate Monkey Cult logo for those who are damaged, but refuse to give up the ride:
Front rack.
August 15, 2025
The front plate is held on by rubber attachments. It can handle a moderately loaded plate bag, but Wayne likes to put tools in his plate bag so he wanted a more robust mount. And so was born the front rack:
1. The lower bracket raises the headlight as well as offers a mounting point for the the rack. Raising the headlight allows the beam to clear the fender bag.
2. The upper bracket offers another mounting point and also holds the charging outlet.
3. I bought a universal battery charger that works on a variety of lithium ion battery sizes. The charger itself will sit in the bag.
4. The rack is welded steel and spray painted in an attractive shade of black.
5. I usually keep a bottle of water, eyeglass/visor cleaning items and a few small tools in my front bag. I don't like to stuff too much into it because I have a bad habit of riding off with it unzipped. That's just less to lose.
6. I tuck my map bag behind the front bag so it's easy to access.
Wayne likes to easily get to stuff so I sewed a couple of bags that attach to the sides of the racks. The heavy duty zippers were pilfered from an old motorcycle jacket that had since been turned into a materials donor.
And finally, Wayne fabricated an additional mount for his Garmin Nuvi. It will be critical in helping us locate 7-11s along our route so I can regularly purchase and ingest nature's most perfect food: the Slurpee.
Mattress and bag.
August 16, 2025
If you recall, I tried sleeping on a Thermarest on our first test camping trip. In a word: disaster. I really wanted to go lean and mean with the very slim and very easy to inflate Thermarest, but the discomfort level was off the scale. I packed my Big Agnes mattress for the last trip and slept much better. The problem: It takes a bit of blowing to get inflated and when you're tired from a long day of riding and have sea-level lungs, it's unpleasantly dizzying.
Big Agnes makes a bag that doubles as a dry sack and a mattress pump. I thought maybe there was something special about how it attached to the mattress nozzle (e.g., a rubber gasket) until I read a review where someone complained that the attachment point was nothing more than a drawstring. If that was the case, then I was going to MacGyver my own since I had a few unused rip-stop nylon bags.
I cut a hole in the bottom of the bag just big enough for the nozzle to fit through and then sewed a cord around the opening.
The cord lock cinches the cord against the nozzle and the strip of velcro wraps around the nozzle to guide the air into it.
Now all I have to do is roll up the bag and the air gets pushed into the mattress. It's not blazing fast, but it's still faster than me trying to blow it up between fainting spells.
I resolved the too-tight mummy bag problem by sewing a panel of stretch fabric across the section where my legs need to flail. It's now the sleeping bag equivalent of maternity jeans. Here's a pic of the bag turned inside out; I still have access to the zipper in case it's really cold and I have to go back to the olden days of encasing myself like a sausage.
Mattress and bag.
August 28, 2025
The bikes have been twiddled and massaged into TAT form so we did a final test ride. Temps were expected to reach triple digits and while we didn't look forward to sweating our kidneys dry, it was a good opportunity to see how we'd do in outrageous heat.
We left the house at around 8:30 and and headed east towards Ramona. Even though it was still early in the day, the sun was hammering away. Any remaining optimism for a tolerable day was quickly burned off. Here's Simon soaking in the morning sun -- he doesn't realize he's about to get those stabbing rays in spades.
We topped off our tanks in Ramona and headed to Palomar Divide. The temperature wasn't bad as we climbed, but as soon as we started dropping back down towards Aguanga, it felt like we were getting the hot iron face punch. It didn't matter how fast or slow we went; wind chill factor was a fanciful concept.
The forecast said there might be rain in the mountains so I decided to capture the clouds as they grew. One minute there was the standard fluffy stuff.
A few minutes later it started getting more vertical.
By the time we were off the mountain, the clouds had gotten a lot grayer and a lot more spread out.
Even if it rained, it didn't matter. We were so hot -- Wayne's digital thermometer was reading 105 -- that we were actually excited at the idea of some refreshing rain. The sun and/or sand was hot enough that when I stepped out of the shade to take this picture, Simon followed but soon ran back to the bikes under the tree.
To help Simon keep cool, I rubbed some water into his fur before he went back into the pack. I was pretty relieved that he didn't balk at returning to his little prison.
As we headed into Anza, we could see lightning in the distance. A light rain started to fall, taking the edge off of the heat. Sweet! Now was a good time to grab some lunch and enjoy the cooler weather.
We weren't sure how much Simon was stressed from the high temps so we used the traditional test to check if a dog is sick: Put food in his face. If he is rapt, he is not sick. As you can see below, the test returned a favorable result.
Nary a sign of listlessness. There was only crisp, militaristic target fixation, which meant the dog was a-ok.
After lunch we headed towards Lost Valley Road to make our way back home. By now the thunder was booming so loudly I could easily hear it through my helmet and music player. The overhead shade of grey was continuing to deepen. Still, I wasn't worried since I was delighted to no longer be drying up from the inside out.
Unfortunately, the opportunity to not worry was fleeting. The lightning was becoming much more frequent and seemed uncomfortably close. If Wayne wasn't standing on his pegs, I sure wasn't standing on mine because I did not want to be the high point!
I grabbed this still from a video I shot. Looks like Wayne is heading off to some Highlander-esque destiny.
This not-overly-dilapidated RV looked recently dumped (or perhaps a victim of very bad driving?). I would've loved to have stopped and taken a peek inside, but the weather said keep moving.
Drops of rain began to fall. They were infrequent but notable for their size -- it was like getting hit with the occasional soft, fat insect. I dropped my faceshield. SPLAT, pause, SPLAT, pause, SPLAT. Minutes later it was SPLATSPLATSPLATSPLATSPLATSPLAT. The thunder and lightning was now all around us. The wind kicked up and the rain entered a lashing phase. We never stopped to put on our rain gear because we figured we'd be hot again as soon as we dropped off the mountain. This was a tactical error, as I will explain shortly.
Hail was added to the weather mix. It felt like we were on the receiving end of a target practice using frozen peas.
It hurt too much to leave the face shield up, but when it was down the trail was a smear. I alternated between taking fire and being blind -- I just switched whenever I couldn't take the current option any longer.
There's a tipping point for motorcyclists when you're being rained on: You can feel that you're wet and unless it's cold it's not all that uncomfortable. You just have something wet laying on your skin. The tipping point comes when all the exposed parts are saturated and the only place left for water to go is down into to your Secret Garden. VIOLATION! It's like a levee breaking, but instead of it happening in the Mississippi Delta, it's happening in your pants. Beyond discourteous!
We finally left the worst of the weather behind. It was still raining, but I could sense there was an end to the punishment. Then, the bike hiccups. Or did it? I goose the throttle and sure enough, it stumbles. The motor dies. There's a gentle grade so I drop my feet and start paddling to bump start the bike (which is an unpleasant task given the spongy load in my pants). The bike would catch but die immediately. I'm paddling away like Fred Flintstone, not sure how long I can keep it up. Finally, I hit a steep enough stretch where I can get some speed. When I dump the clutch the bike catches and thankfully continues to run. I catch up to Wayne and we get off the mountain without any more stops.
We reach the 79 and it's all pavement from here. A few miles into it my bike stumbles again and dies. Wayne takes a look at it and after a bit of pondering he jams a stick up the gas tank vent hose to see if it's clogged. Bingo! Thankfully, he had experienced this before on his KTM and although that episode took a lot longer to resolve, the stored knowledge got us out of our situation in minutes.
We made our final and traditional stop at Dudley's Bakery. Wayne took this opportunity to get some sun on his chili peppers. I was wearing padded cycling shorts so unless I also had a blowdryer, dropping my pants would've gained me nothing but unnecessary comments.
I'm glad we got this beatdown. It's one thing to be heading home where you can throw everything into a dryer. It's another to be camping and hanging your junk from a tree hoping they'll dry by morning when you've got no choice but to put them on again.
Lesson learned!
The route.
September 6, 2025
We're starting from San Diego and we're finishing in San Diego. Of course, this does not include unforeseen circumstances like me meeting my dream cattle rancher in Nevada or Wayne meeting his dream campground hostess in Oregon. That's why we carry separate GPS units: because life is like a box of chocolates and successful chocolate eating always favors the prepared.
Total mileage is around 4,100. Average daily mileage will be 140.
We went, we saw, we conquered.
Read the trip report!