Dual Purpose Riding the Lost Coast

 and push our mounts as the rider “paddled”
The Lost Coastalong a foot and half wide path. A fall to the right
 and the bikes would disappear below the murky
     The day had finally arrived to ride the Lostsurface like the USS Snapper did to evade the
Coast. Immediately upon being stationed back inJapanese warships seeking revenge. A fall to the left
Northern California I traded in my BMW RT 1100 forand the KLR’s would tumble down the cliff face
a 2008 KLR 650. What better route for an inauguralto the Pacific.    Riding the bikes across the narrow
ride? After many years of “hotel” touring Ipath was too risky as the path itself was muddy and
was transitioning back to my “pack it light, freezethe tires could possibly slip. A few adrenaline filled
at night” mode of travel. The Usal Road and Lostheartbeats later, the bikes were safely across,
Coast road conditions were an unknown. The winterloaded and moving at speed. Usal Road might support
months of 2008 had seen a lot of rain on the NorthKTM Adventures and BMW GS’s in the dry
Coast near Eureka California and my researchseasons but in the winter months anything larger
indicated that the roads could be impassable if wet. than a KLR would be difficult to navigate the
Would the KLR be able to conquer what thenumerous mud bogs. The bigger bikes would be
King’s Range and Sinkyone Wilderness threw ourexhausting to manhandle through calf high mud. When
way in late March? To hedge my bets I packed twowe finally reached Usal Beach we were rewarded by
motorcycle tie down straps that could possible doublepristine beaches. The ocean front was all but
as tow straps. My riding partner for this trip would beabandoned and the KLR’s proved capable of
a college roommate from 19 years ago. Glenn hadcrossing numerous streams as we explored the
called the day prior with a cryptic, “I’vebeaches. The “Bug” loved the fresh ocean air
bought something that will handle anything the roadbut the KLR 600 began to show her warts. On the
will throw at us.” Cryptic messages are usuallylast stretch prior to reaching Shelter Cove the KLR
never good. Maybe the extra space the straps would600 quite running on one of the steepest parts of
take was cheap insurance. Where we were goingthe route. Glenn rolled his chicken bones and sprinkled
Triple A would fear to tread.blood on the carburetor with no luck. Un-strapping
Sunday’s early morning start was delayed untilone of the tie down straps from my Givi I hooked it
3:00 pm due to Easter commitments. The afternoonto the 600 and the “Bug” transformed to
came and went. I received a call from Glenn that his“El Burro” as I towed the 600 up the hill. A
new mystery machine would not start. Certainly aday of many first. A quick dance to the motorcycle
dark harbinger of things to come. The afternoongods and the 600 fired up and we were Shelter
ticked by and 5:00 pm turned to 7:00 pm. GlennCove bound. The night at Shelter Cove was one of
limped into Rohnert Park, CA around 8:30 pm, cold,the most beautiful I have spent on the Northern
lost but armed with a hearty appetite and an equallyCalifornia coast. The wind was totally absent and the
hearty and upbeat attitude; definitely the kind ofstars shone brighter than the light in the
partner  and attitude you need when venturing intodecommissioned lighthouse. A couple of touches of
the unknown. The said mystery machine came in theKentucky Bourbon made the night complete.
form of a 1985 KLR 600! The $800.00 museum piece            A late start on day two due to
was a steal until the hard starting bike continued toGlenn locking his clothes in the dryer room and a
flood the aftermarket two stroke carburetor andnon-responsive “steal of a bike” delayed us
killed the battery (steal was the right term but onlyuntil 10:30. I began to sense who was the victim on
time would tell who the victim was). Ever resilient,this purchase and it wasn’t the “master
Glenn fixed the problem that Sunday and forgedmechanic” in Sacramento who sold Glenn the
ahead from Sacramento to Sonoma County. Mybike. Another quart of chicken blood and his bike
mom was all too happy to feed the tired roadroared to life. We entered King’s Range Road
warrior with a home cooked meal. We modified theand crossed into another world. The range had
game plan that night and decided not to ride thereceived more than its average share of rainfall that
Trinity Heritage National Scenic Highway (also knownwinter. The fog shrouding the greenery reminded us
as Hwy 299/3) and the Bigfoot Scenic Byway (Hwyof the rainforest of Costa Rica and Ecuador. Taking a
96) loop out of Eureka. The bikes were prepped andwrong turn we followed the rocky dead end road to
ready despite a little incident with my newlythe Lightening Trailhead. The rocks took a toll on our
purchased mount. I realized I shouldn’t havetires but the scenery was worth the cost in rubber.
procrastinated in purchasing a center stand. WhileThe tight, twisty, uphill, climb on the way to
filling the tires earlier in the day the bike fell over as IHoneydew was one of the best parts of the trip. It
pushed on the stems with a bit too much vigor. Towas only challenged by the route from Petrolia to
the KLR’s credit, the new plastic radiator shroudsFerndale. This portion of road twisted along the shore
withstood the tip over and the “Bug” (as myand then paralleled the crashing waves. Glenn played
daughter calls it) came away with only two minorthe part of ranch hand as he herded an errant cow
scratches.off the road and back into the field on his
 temperamental steed. Anything can be thrown your
The next morning we headed north on Hwy 101 inway on the Lost Coast.
the early Northern California chill, the two extremes Leaving the ocean behind us, we quickly climbed
of the KLR spectrum thumping along in harmony. At2,400 ft. to Bunker Hill and then descended into a
8:30am we decided to pull into Cloverdale and have abeautiful valley. As we crossed Bear River were it
quick bite at the local McDonalds. An old timer tookemptied into the ocean, Glenn pointed to the
an interest in our trip and told us how he used toswitchbacks climbing the hill. I pumped my arm in
race his Harley Davidson against the British invasionresponse and rolled on the throttle. In the ensuing
of BSA’s back in 1949 but lost to the lighter,climb we became one with our machines to the point
faster bikes when it came to cross country racing.where it felt as if the bikes disappeared and we
Over coffee talk turned to younger days. We sharedwere “skiing” through the picturesque
our experience in the Cavalry (Glenn a pilot in the AirNorthern California scenery. The environment was a
Cav, I a ground scout, and Don a sixteen year oldmix of Switzerland and Southern England, the narrow
Horse Cavalryman back in 1938). Soon after his horsetwo lane roads lined with shrubs, trees, and cattle
cavalry days Don was prowling the South China Sea.racing by. We were sad to see the Lost Coast
His new ride was the USS Snapper, a 1928 era subdisappear in our rear view mirrors but looked forward
that made it out of Manila Harbor prior to the fall ofto exploring Humboldt Redwoods State Park, the
the Philippines. He wished he could join us on our bikeAvenue of the Giants, and the Eel River.
trip but his knee replacement was in a few days. Any            Unable to find a camp ground in
adventure we would encounter paled to his depthEureka we headed to Fortuna were the KLR 600
charge experiences during the war. We thanked himdied on Main Street. Coaxing the bike to life Glenn
for his sacrifices and service to country as wemet me at the RV park were we secured a log cabin
headed northwest.for a pittance. Money well spent considering the
The bikes made quick work of Hwy 128 torainfall that night. After filling our belly’s with our
Mendocino as we fell into a smooth pace through thefair share of ale at the Eel River Brewery, Glenn filled
vineyards and redwood trees. At Fort Bragg wehis ego flirting with the very attractive female body
attempted to find a dirt route east towards Glenblairbuilder bartender. We needed sleep as the road
and back to 101 in order to shake down our loadbegan to take its toll. Tomorrow would be very
plans and bikes. We were thwarted by dead endstrying for us both.
and gated access but rewarded by the single laneThe next morning the KLR was DOA but Glenn was
dirt roads. Doubling back we proceed up Hwy 1loathe to admit it. After coaxing him into getting a
picking up the pace, energized by the crashing wavesU-Haul we doubled up on the “Bug” and
and redwoods. Passing Rockport we scanned formade our way through Ferndale. We were already
Hwy 435/Usal Road but were so enamored with thispushing 11:30 am so time was a factor as work
part of Hwy 101 that we were nearly in Leggettloomed the next day. In route Glenn spotted an ATV
before we discovered we had missed our turn.and Tire shop. Tom, the owner and mechanic, took
Backtracking we found 431. If it wasn’t for thepity on us and gave us the keys to his truck and the
fact that we knew it was at mile marker 90.88 weKLR 600 received a new lease on life. In two hours
never would have found it. The start point looked likewe were rolling south on Hwy 101 thanks to Tom
a private dirt drive. How this used to be aand his prompt attention. Although this was my
stagecoach route is beyond me. They must havefourth time down the Avenue of the Giants, I was
gone through multiple teams given the steep hills andamazed by the 40 miles of beauty. The coup de
rough conditions. The views were stunning as wegrace was when we received a free “Drive thru
peered down on the Pacific. Accompanying theTree” experience by a fellow KLR rider.
breathtaking scenery was a chance encounter with a The low point came 11 miles north of Laytonville.
bear cub ambling across the road. Startled by theThe KLR 600 gave up its ninth life and died on the
“Bug’s” growl he ran back to mama andwest side of 101. Suspecting fuel starvation I made
we continued our journey. The KLR weren’tdesperation run to Laytonville for gas. False hope as
challenged by the roads and we thought thethe bike had pulled itself off of life support.  A CHP
estimated 3 hrs to reach Shelter Cove was anofficer radioed a tow truck which arrived at 6:30 pm
erroneous estimate. We would soon learn 6 hrs wasand Glenn was on his own. Facing 35F weather  and
barely enough. I also discovered that years ofa 2 hr plus ride from Laytonville I raced south. Two
“hoteling” had taught me to over pack mythings helped me survive that trip; the Hotgrips on
Givi top case. The first and only flaw of my KLRmy KLR and singing every cadence at the top of my
became evident when Glenn yelled for me to stop.lungs. By 8:40 pm I was eating hot chow on the
Rolling down the hill was my Givi and half my KLRobjective while Glenn was writing a new chapter on
luggage rack! The tie down straps were pressed intomotorcycling on the edge. A day and a half later he
service sooner than I had expected.made it back to Sacramento. A story best told over
 several cold beers.
            Soon we encountered the first of            For pure diversity of terrain,
many delays. Mud, and lots of it. The KLR’s couldvegetation, animal and road conditions nothing can
not make it through the think soup, rear endsbeat the Lost Coast of California. Dual purpose riding
spinning out of control and flopping on their sides.milks the most fun per mile than pretty much any
Glenn and I ported our gear when necessary andbike I have ever ridden. Despite all the web noise
then manhandled our mounts, pushing and cursing theabout the fairing falling apart due to vibration and the
machines through the muck. At the worse point,new KLR consuming quarts of oil, it is simply has not
after we found a bypass to a seemingly impassablehappened with this bike. Despite an operator induced
portion of the road, Mark from San Jose (in a trickedtip over, the KLR fairing survived an encounter with a
out Jeep-the only other human encounter on theconcrete parking block and after 2,000 miles the
scenic roadway), destroyed the bypass (for bikes at“Bug” has not consumed any oil. The KLR will
least) as his Jeep chewed up the ground. Bouncingremain in the stable regardless of whatever type bike
off a tree he succeeded but erased any notions ofcomes along in the future. For pure versatility and
turning back. For better or worse we were“bang for the buck” fun, this bike cannot be
committed. No further than 200 yards down the Usalbeat.
Road we were forced to unload the KLR’s again