Well, not one to miss an opportunity and seeing how it rained pretty good here in nth Ca, early part of last week. That a fair weather window was swiftly moving in behind for the weekend, i cancelled all other obligations in favor of a long weekend on the Terra.
One of those throw it in a bag and call it good/seat of yer' pants whatever you fancy inpromtu kind of road trips. But to be clear it was more to discover the roads less travelled and the manner in which the bike would deal with them. Nothing extreme, but all within the desired parameters of my personal preferences for my type of riding and hopefully the performance capabilities of the bike.
But right from the very getgo on taking ownership of the bike, one thing struck me, ever so faintly at first. This bike bears characteristics of a top heavy nature, or HCG (high centre of gravity) .
Day 1 - Nth of San Francisco hwy1 early friday morning full tank of gas. With the preload backed off the rear end. A small day pack around 12lbs and a small set of Aerostich chuck overs mounted central and low, i was off!
Small adjustments go a long way, and it took some time before i could feel my way back into the saddle again. The bike still feels incredibly planted on the street, even unwound. I'd kinda' gotten used to the feeling of the firmness, as it really suits my style of riding on hwy 1 on regular coastal stints. But looking for some rear end relief, as in my personal derrier, i played for the softer approach. Feeling the need to unwind myself, as much as that shock and get back to a more tepid, lulled even tempo with life. There's something deeply satisfying about lumping along on a thumper on a twisty meandering road, that twists winds, rises and falls, with a slight sense of floatiness to it all. This bikes is happy in the low 40's and lazy 50's on such scenic backroads and byways. It already made it's mark on freeway slab, noted for it's effortless cruising and easy on the ear displacement. But back on these roads the shear single mindedness of the one lunger plays out over and again in an endless seem of pleasure. What strikes me about this particular stead and in many ways sets it apart from other bikes in it's division or class. Is that it really is in a class of it's own. heading up the 1 i have assimilations to Thruxton, Manx, Ducati, Sprint, Cafe racer . Somewhere between the thump of those twin pipes accelerating out of turns. And the resounding flutter following roll off on deceleration, likened midway between a rattlesnakes rattle and the spinning of a revolver chamber. With a few pops and crackles thrown in. The sun is shinning, the air is crisp and clear and Point Reyes bakery has my name on it!
Post graze and in the saddle, continuing north to Fish Rock, just nth of Anchor bay. Following a mild 'Terra wrist' attack round the Tomales Bay curves, just can't help me self there i'm affraid. Things settle back into a steady rythm. Winding up the Jenner Grade and along the rugged coastal line nth of Bodaga, the wind here often ushers in the change of territory with a certain harshness. Irregular blasts and buffeting are often the norm. Though not as strong on this occasion, never the less, it's blowin' pretty good and i'm again reminded of the asset of a few extra pounds of livery. Though i may favor a lower front fender, for such harsh cross and head wind encounters. There's still summit to be said for the up high one on the Terra. It more than hints at the possibilty of dirt, reminds you of it's roots. Besides, it flows so beautifully with the lines! Damn is this thing sexy or what!?
Heading east on Fish Rock the fun really begins. It's a dual sport adv delight, that moment when so close to home you encounter your first abrupt termination to the black top and enter the world of Terra!
Amidst this canopy of redwood, oak, pine and fir the road snakes a course that breaks daylight back out on hwy 128 between Cloverdale and the coast . Another short jog east and then a left onto coach house road, another sleepy little back road into the trunk route town of Hopland.
But meanwhile, back in the woods!
So it needs to be noted, this section along Fish Rock, although not my first unpaved encounter, was indeed the longest. One of those reminiscent old forest logging roads up and along the coast. Mainly hard pack, few loose rocks. Occasional pot marks the size of a childs head. For the better part hard pack. Under normal circumstances, ie anything other than wet. A pretty straight forward ride. But here were the early signs of things to come. That slightly top heavy nature coupled with a tire, that despite it's relative grippy street credability. Became knownst to me simply as 'breakaway'! Metzler Sahara? WTF were you pricks on when you cunjured up that one huh? This thing wouldn't make it across a kiddies sand box let alone the bloody Sahara for christs sake! You may have detected a slight undertone of dislike for this tire here. Well, in it's defense, though i'm certainly not advocating it's off street ability . Note that i said ability, not 'ties'. That being it will get you off the street!, Beyond that, it's 'ties' will repeatedly test your 'abilities' to do everything within your neuronpsychomuscular reflexs to prevent it from reducing your centre of gravity to dirt level! Anyhow, in it's defense this may in part, or largly, be in affliction, or confliction, with the top heavy naturedness of the bike. In a kind of bad food combination/ recipe for disaster kind of a way!.......... but more on this later.
Ah Hopland and that burger stand. Don't you just love knowing there's a little outpost, or in this case a descent sized grazing patch at the end of a road right about lunch fest. Well burger me if these folks didn't fall on their lucky spot. South end of town and smack at the intersection of 101, (which is reduced to a single hwy at this point) and Mountain House Rd. Ahhh just perfect, and it is, in this road voyager context, the ideal respite, unless you be vegatarian i guess?
Heading east replenished on this splendid spring day, 175 takes you through a wonderous series of curves as it sweeps through the sweetly scented fields of matured vineyards post harvest. Once over the grade one is rewarded with exceptional views across Clear Lake and the surrounding county range. The descending curves are of an equally fun nature with the added advantage of the odd inclined cambering here and there. For those more inclined to the sporty nature of the Terra. There's more fun than you can poke a stick here, in my opinion! However, i got ahead of meself there a tad.
Backing up along 175 just a handful of miles out of Hopland just prior to the ascent. there's a road off to the right known as the Old Toll Rd. I'd been looking forward to this one for sometime. Reputed for it's water fording and other such dirt oriented activities. Sadly the effects of feeling under the weather and basically 'shagged out' had already come to the surface. realizing the day was going to be cut short for mere need to rest and recharge. I opted in favor of pressing on. The weight of gravity was beginning to weigh heavy and much needed rest was soon to follow suit. Once fuel supplies were replenished in Lakeport i opted for a short jog on Scotts Valley Rd, onto hwy 20 up to Calpella. Then a short stint down the 101 to Ukiah and motel crash pad.
Day-2 !t could of gone either way! I awoke from a 10hr coma in morning fog that wouldn't lift. Fortunately or not, this was all in my head. Outside the day was bursting into life, sun was up, sky was clear. But why wasn't i on board with it all? Sometimes the affects of deep sleep have a somewhat counter productive almost dispiriting effect on the weary traveller. A lingering kind of haze accompanied by the persisting low energy and somewhat vague disposition had left me feeling kind of, well, blobbish. Like what the 'f' am i supposed to do with this, kinda' mood.
Surprising what a rousing shower, a full platter of sausage bacon and a small pale of caffeine will do to resolve such matters! But even so, as i approach Redwood Valley not but 30 mins ride north on that fabulous morning. I still couldn't get into my 'feeling' the mood, mood.
But the post graze and caffeine had the desired enough effects of reorienting my compass north. When i could of so very easily said, screw this, i need to go home and turn into a pumpkin or something.
Either way, what followed the moment we turned into Redwood Valley saw the end of that road, and the beginning of an adventure in earnest!
As is commonly the case on such venturous jaunts. I really haven't got much of a bloody clue where i am heading. Often times i couldn't really tell you where i was or more over where i'm heading, twice even! Allbeit that of a topographical nature. The journey is what's in front, in that moment, that's what i'm seeking, lusting and searching for. On any one day it could be a trip to the friggin' corner shop, i don't care. I just want to feel connected with life, the surging pulsing rush of all associated sensory responses that inform me that i am indeed alive and connected and a part of this movie. Participatory intrinsacle and all that groovy stuff. Even if i can't spell it!
Well, that early morn that's where it happened for me. Where the world i left, i finally left behind. Where the man and machine synergy became one focussed union. Where the pleasures of nature and scenery and wildlife burst into a frothing kaleidescope of endless pleasure. Finally my portal had appeared, i was in the rabbit hole before i even knew it!
Redwood Valley was a surreal welcome to wonderland. Maybe because i was wanting so much to break out of my fog . The lighting and the turning fall colours. the way the road ran a lazy course along side the creek. The stillness in the air, or was it all just a contact high from the endless scent of freshly cultivated marijuana that punctuated every twist and turn of this wonderously intimate road. God i love bikin'!
A small group of riders rolled past as i'd stopped to snap some pics in a vague attempt to capture some of the glorious perfusion of light filtering through the tree's.
Several miles along the way, at the point where the black top ceased. I encountered this friendly mob of like minded, yet lighter equipped dual sporters out on a 150 mile loop for the day. Including a fellow islesman from Wales also on a husky. Great bunch of blokes, we oggled and rattled for a bit. Then on a parting note they mentioned the water ahead and vanished up the gravel trail never to be seen again!
Now, at this point, somewhere between the pot farmers aroma therapy programme. The caffeteine fix, the injections of two wheeled bretheren all maigickal colours and lighting i was just about as on fire as you could get, with the exception of a red hot poker up the rectum!
The bike felt different, i was transformed and for a while, such utterings as 'shit f**cking Sahara Metzler 'Breakaway's' never crossed my mind, let alone my taughtly pursed permanently smiling lips!
The first water crossing was the best. Full face lid open, slimy decent. Didn't falter and deeper than expected. I couldn't even tell you what gear i was in. All i can say is the word water plough comes to mind. Yet again, the weight plays into hand. Had i of faltered on the descent however things undoubtedly would of played out quite differently. It was a decent drop in a slippery clay sorta' way. Spray all out and up the front over the tank and a full interior lid face wash to boot! Can't ask fairer than that......more please! And there were, more than a handful to come, but not 'more' than a handul! yet somewhere between the slimy entry and exit points. Indeed many points between, the front quite simply wanted to fold. To clarify there's breakaway, and there's just plain old fold. Anyhow, more on that later. Let's have some more fun ayh?
I later discovered, actually the following day, there were apparently 8 crossings in this valley. Full of mad hatter exuberance i could of swore there were but 4 or was it five or.......who bloody cares! I was just lovin' it. The bikes size and weight really don't bother me much for my intended use. The issues at test were more adequacies of the suspenders. Ride comfortabilty and develop a sense of what i could, or could not live with. It feels at home in this kind of terrain. Transitions well from street to dirt. Suspension could gain a modecum of travel, but then i half wander what price you'd pay back on the black top. Mind, i often thought about such things as 'dial a ride' becoming a viable item for the d/s segement, in a sort of logical kind of way. Something that you could shift modes on the fly from the bars, nay?
Well, time is against me and i need to get a jump on the day here. All being well i'll do another installment tonight, or at least soon. But just to bate the taste buds for the journey ahead here's on of the hi/lo points of the journey. I say hi/lo as i find this bike has many paradoxes, this image conjures up memories of such........enjoy!
One of those throw it in a bag and call it good/seat of yer' pants whatever you fancy inpromtu kind of road trips. But to be clear it was more to discover the roads less travelled and the manner in which the bike would deal with them. Nothing extreme, but all within the desired parameters of my personal preferences for my type of riding and hopefully the performance capabilities of the bike.
But right from the very getgo on taking ownership of the bike, one thing struck me, ever so faintly at first. This bike bears characteristics of a top heavy nature, or HCG (high centre of gravity) .
Day 1 - Nth of San Francisco hwy1 early friday morning full tank of gas. With the preload backed off the rear end. A small day pack around 12lbs and a small set of Aerostich chuck overs mounted central and low, i was off!
Small adjustments go a long way, and it took some time before i could feel my way back into the saddle again. The bike still feels incredibly planted on the street, even unwound. I'd kinda' gotten used to the feeling of the firmness, as it really suits my style of riding on hwy 1 on regular coastal stints. But looking for some rear end relief, as in my personal derrier, i played for the softer approach. Feeling the need to unwind myself, as much as that shock and get back to a more tepid, lulled even tempo with life. There's something deeply satisfying about lumping along on a thumper on a twisty meandering road, that twists winds, rises and falls, with a slight sense of floatiness to it all. This bikes is happy in the low 40's and lazy 50's on such scenic backroads and byways. It already made it's mark on freeway slab, noted for it's effortless cruising and easy on the ear displacement. But back on these roads the shear single mindedness of the one lunger plays out over and again in an endless seem of pleasure. What strikes me about this particular stead and in many ways sets it apart from other bikes in it's division or class. Is that it really is in a class of it's own. heading up the 1 i have assimilations to Thruxton, Manx, Ducati, Sprint, Cafe racer . Somewhere between the thump of those twin pipes accelerating out of turns. And the resounding flutter following roll off on deceleration, likened midway between a rattlesnakes rattle and the spinning of a revolver chamber. With a few pops and crackles thrown in. The sun is shinning, the air is crisp and clear and Point Reyes bakery has my name on it!
Post graze and in the saddle, continuing north to Fish Rock, just nth of Anchor bay. Following a mild 'Terra wrist' attack round the Tomales Bay curves, just can't help me self there i'm affraid. Things settle back into a steady rythm. Winding up the Jenner Grade and along the rugged coastal line nth of Bodaga, the wind here often ushers in the change of territory with a certain harshness. Irregular blasts and buffeting are often the norm. Though not as strong on this occasion, never the less, it's blowin' pretty good and i'm again reminded of the asset of a few extra pounds of livery. Though i may favor a lower front fender, for such harsh cross and head wind encounters. There's still summit to be said for the up high one on the Terra. It more than hints at the possibilty of dirt, reminds you of it's roots. Besides, it flows so beautifully with the lines! Damn is this thing sexy or what!?
Heading east on Fish Rock the fun really begins. It's a dual sport adv delight, that moment when so close to home you encounter your first abrupt termination to the black top and enter the world of Terra!
Amidst this canopy of redwood, oak, pine and fir the road snakes a course that breaks daylight back out on hwy 128 between Cloverdale and the coast . Another short jog east and then a left onto coach house road, another sleepy little back road into the trunk route town of Hopland.
But meanwhile, back in the woods!
So it needs to be noted, this section along Fish Rock, although not my first unpaved encounter, was indeed the longest. One of those reminiscent old forest logging roads up and along the coast. Mainly hard pack, few loose rocks. Occasional pot marks the size of a childs head. For the better part hard pack. Under normal circumstances, ie anything other than wet. A pretty straight forward ride. But here were the early signs of things to come. That slightly top heavy nature coupled with a tire, that despite it's relative grippy street credability. Became knownst to me simply as 'breakaway'! Metzler Sahara? WTF were you pricks on when you cunjured up that one huh? This thing wouldn't make it across a kiddies sand box let alone the bloody Sahara for christs sake! You may have detected a slight undertone of dislike for this tire here. Well, in it's defense, though i'm certainly not advocating it's off street ability . Note that i said ability, not 'ties'. That being it will get you off the street!, Beyond that, it's 'ties' will repeatedly test your 'abilities' to do everything within your neuronpsychomuscular reflexs to prevent it from reducing your centre of gravity to dirt level! Anyhow, in it's defense this may in part, or largly, be in affliction, or confliction, with the top heavy naturedness of the bike. In a kind of bad food combination/ recipe for disaster kind of a way!.......... but more on this later.
Ah Hopland and that burger stand. Don't you just love knowing there's a little outpost, or in this case a descent sized grazing patch at the end of a road right about lunch fest. Well burger me if these folks didn't fall on their lucky spot. South end of town and smack at the intersection of 101, (which is reduced to a single hwy at this point) and Mountain House Rd. Ahhh just perfect, and it is, in this road voyager context, the ideal respite, unless you be vegatarian i guess?
Heading east replenished on this splendid spring day, 175 takes you through a wonderous series of curves as it sweeps through the sweetly scented fields of matured vineyards post harvest. Once over the grade one is rewarded with exceptional views across Clear Lake and the surrounding county range. The descending curves are of an equally fun nature with the added advantage of the odd inclined cambering here and there. For those more inclined to the sporty nature of the Terra. There's more fun than you can poke a stick here, in my opinion! However, i got ahead of meself there a tad.
Backing up along 175 just a handful of miles out of Hopland just prior to the ascent. there's a road off to the right known as the Old Toll Rd. I'd been looking forward to this one for sometime. Reputed for it's water fording and other such dirt oriented activities. Sadly the effects of feeling under the weather and basically 'shagged out' had already come to the surface. realizing the day was going to be cut short for mere need to rest and recharge. I opted in favor of pressing on. The weight of gravity was beginning to weigh heavy and much needed rest was soon to follow suit. Once fuel supplies were replenished in Lakeport i opted for a short jog on Scotts Valley Rd, onto hwy 20 up to Calpella. Then a short stint down the 101 to Ukiah and motel crash pad.
Day-2 !t could of gone either way! I awoke from a 10hr coma in morning fog that wouldn't lift. Fortunately or not, this was all in my head. Outside the day was bursting into life, sun was up, sky was clear. But why wasn't i on board with it all? Sometimes the affects of deep sleep have a somewhat counter productive almost dispiriting effect on the weary traveller. A lingering kind of haze accompanied by the persisting low energy and somewhat vague disposition had left me feeling kind of, well, blobbish. Like what the 'f' am i supposed to do with this, kinda' mood.
Surprising what a rousing shower, a full platter of sausage bacon and a small pale of caffeine will do to resolve such matters! But even so, as i approach Redwood Valley not but 30 mins ride north on that fabulous morning. I still couldn't get into my 'feeling' the mood, mood.
But the post graze and caffeine had the desired enough effects of reorienting my compass north. When i could of so very easily said, screw this, i need to go home and turn into a pumpkin or something.
Either way, what followed the moment we turned into Redwood Valley saw the end of that road, and the beginning of an adventure in earnest!
As is commonly the case on such venturous jaunts. I really haven't got much of a bloody clue where i am heading. Often times i couldn't really tell you where i was or more over where i'm heading, twice even! Allbeit that of a topographical nature. The journey is what's in front, in that moment, that's what i'm seeking, lusting and searching for. On any one day it could be a trip to the friggin' corner shop, i don't care. I just want to feel connected with life, the surging pulsing rush of all associated sensory responses that inform me that i am indeed alive and connected and a part of this movie. Participatory intrinsacle and all that groovy stuff. Even if i can't spell it!
Well, that early morn that's where it happened for me. Where the world i left, i finally left behind. Where the man and machine synergy became one focussed union. Where the pleasures of nature and scenery and wildlife burst into a frothing kaleidescope of endless pleasure. Finally my portal had appeared, i was in the rabbit hole before i even knew it!
Redwood Valley was a surreal welcome to wonderland. Maybe because i was wanting so much to break out of my fog . The lighting and the turning fall colours. the way the road ran a lazy course along side the creek. The stillness in the air, or was it all just a contact high from the endless scent of freshly cultivated marijuana that punctuated every twist and turn of this wonderously intimate road. God i love bikin'!
A small group of riders rolled past as i'd stopped to snap some pics in a vague attempt to capture some of the glorious perfusion of light filtering through the tree's.
Several miles along the way, at the point where the black top ceased. I encountered this friendly mob of like minded, yet lighter equipped dual sporters out on a 150 mile loop for the day. Including a fellow islesman from Wales also on a husky. Great bunch of blokes, we oggled and rattled for a bit. Then on a parting note they mentioned the water ahead and vanished up the gravel trail never to be seen again!
Now, at this point, somewhere between the pot farmers aroma therapy programme. The caffeteine fix, the injections of two wheeled bretheren all maigickal colours and lighting i was just about as on fire as you could get, with the exception of a red hot poker up the rectum!
The bike felt different, i was transformed and for a while, such utterings as 'shit f**cking Sahara Metzler 'Breakaway's' never crossed my mind, let alone my taughtly pursed permanently smiling lips!
The first water crossing was the best. Full face lid open, slimy decent. Didn't falter and deeper than expected. I couldn't even tell you what gear i was in. All i can say is the word water plough comes to mind. Yet again, the weight plays into hand. Had i of faltered on the descent however things undoubtedly would of played out quite differently. It was a decent drop in a slippery clay sorta' way. Spray all out and up the front over the tank and a full interior lid face wash to boot! Can't ask fairer than that......more please! And there were, more than a handful to come, but not 'more' than a handul! yet somewhere between the slimy entry and exit points. Indeed many points between, the front quite simply wanted to fold. To clarify there's breakaway, and there's just plain old fold. Anyhow, more on that later. Let's have some more fun ayh?
I later discovered, actually the following day, there were apparently 8 crossings in this valley. Full of mad hatter exuberance i could of swore there were but 4 or was it five or.......who bloody cares! I was just lovin' it. The bikes size and weight really don't bother me much for my intended use. The issues at test were more adequacies of the suspenders. Ride comfortabilty and develop a sense of what i could, or could not live with. It feels at home in this kind of terrain. Transitions well from street to dirt. Suspension could gain a modecum of travel, but then i half wander what price you'd pay back on the black top. Mind, i often thought about such things as 'dial a ride' becoming a viable item for the d/s segement, in a sort of logical kind of way. Something that you could shift modes on the fly from the bars, nay?
Well, time is against me and i need to get a jump on the day here. All being well i'll do another installment tonight, or at least soon. But just to bate the taste buds for the journey ahead here's on of the hi/lo points of the journey. I say hi/lo as i find this bike has many paradoxes, this image conjures up memories of such........enjoy!
