20 000 mile review of the Royal Enfield Himalayan BS4

20 000 mile review of the Royal Enfield Himalayan BS4

Introduction

I first bought a Himalayan for a trip to South America in early 2020. I’d been looking for a cheap, smallish and simple bike that I could reach the ground from with my feet while sitting on it. It soon became apparent that such bikes were rare, and before long I narrowed the search down to one bike, the Royal Enfield Himalayan. A few weeks later I went to London to buy a second hand Himalayan from a Polish plumber. On the way back to Manchester, I suffered what turned out to be the only puncture I ever had on this bike. The chain was shot too, and the bike had a few scratches, but I’d got it for a very good price, so I wasn’t complaining. The bike had 7000 miles when I bought it, and finished my most recent trip (which unfortunately turned out to be this particular motorcycle’s last adventure) with approximately 24 000 miles on it- the clock said 19000, but much of my South American trip was done with the odometer broken. I added a few bits and shipped the bike to Buenos Aires, and set off on my first (and longest) offroad  motorcycle adventure for more than 30 years. For the previous 6 years I’d been riding a Harley.

I decided to combine this review with a list of spares etc I took on the recent trip I did to Morocco with Adrian Rose, a recent convert to adventure motorcycling who still refuses to be called a biker and who has a serious Lycra fetish (he’s a keen cyclist and I took the piss out of him as much as he did me for being a ‘biker’). I’ve also included here a few of my thoughts on adventure motorcycling in general- if you’re only interested in the bike, you can skip the last bit.

Background

My recent trip to Morocco was my second long trip on the Himalayan. The first trip was to South America in early 2020, when I covered about 6500 miles in Argentina and Chile over two months, about 1500 of those miles on dirt. I wrote a review of the bike after the trip, though shortly after that I had to replace the cylinder head, barrel and piston as the threads had pulled out of the cylinder head bolts while in Argentina. This was a known issue on early Himalayans. The cylinder head was also slightly warped, probably the result of thrashing the bike for up to 10 hours a day in temperatures up to 40 degrees in central Argentina, and the valve guides were burnt. I had a few oil seeps, but the bike kept going. Towards the end of my trip, the bolt holding the gear lever on fell out, resulting in a bodged repair by a lorry mechanic on the side of the road. This repair worked for the rest of the trip, and in fact I didn’t change it until two months after I got back to the UK. I blame myself for the gear linkage falling off- although I regularly checked the bike for loose bolts on the trip, finding several that needed tightening, I’d not checked the gear lever.

About 18 months ago I fitted a Tec cam, which changed the bike’s performance far more dramatically than I expected. I then fitted a 16 tooth front sprocket to enable faster cruising speeds on tarmac. My logic in doing this was to use the extra power to speed the bike up a bit, and I was very happy with the result-The Himalayan was my primary means of transport, and I rode to work on motorways. However, I’d not taken the bike offroad except for a few green lanes since fitting the 16t sprocket. Morocco would show whether this was going to work offroad. I changed the headstock bearings, which were shot, and the bearings on the shock linkages.  As a precaution, I also changed the wheel bearings a week before setting off to Morocco, though the old ones were actually still in pretty good condition. I also bought a booster plug from Roalde Ralfe, which cured the occasional stalling issue while warming up the engine. Adrian, who I met just 3 weeks before the trip, bought a second hand Himalayan with 600 miles on the clock from Bolton Motorcycles. He also fitted a Tec cam and 16t sprocket before our trip. When we set off, my bike had 14000 miles on the clock, although true mileage was closer to 19000- the odometer had packed up fairly early on during my South American trip.

 

Modifications

Tec cam-As already mentioned, both our bikes had the Tec cam fitted. I fitted mine myself, accompanied by much swearing as is usual when I’m working on motorcycles. I have a tendency to lose tools that were in my hand just moments earlier. I couldn’t fit the locking pin Tec provided, even after putting it in the freezer, so I used the one from the original cam. I understand that their cam now comes with the pin fitted. In my mind, fitting a cam is an essential upgrade to the Himalayan- it increases torque and power, this extra power especially noticeable at the higher end of the rev range. Along with the cam, we both also had DNA air filters fitted.

Lextek exhaust– I fitted this after my South American trip. It shaves 2.2kg off the bikes weight, is smaller and thus less likely to burn your soft luggage, and I think it sounds good too. Adrian’s bike still had the stock exhaust.

16 tooth front sprocket– this enabled relaxed cruising on long stretches at 65mph with the revs below 5000rpm. Overall pulling power and acceleration imo remains about the same as a stock bike with the standard sprocket, though second gear sometimes feels a bit tall, especially in sand.

INNOVV Power Hub –Spotlights, heated grips and USB port are wired through this. It switches off all ancillaries 10 seconds after the ignition is switched off, and delays power to them for 10 seconds after the ignition is switched on.

Oxford Adventure heated grips– Again, these were fitted before my first trip. To me they are essential, and I ended up having them on more often than not on the trip. In the first two weeks, the temperature didn’t get above 10 degrees, and we ended up riding in temperatures down to -5 Centigrade, on three occasions riding in snow. Adrian didn’t fit heated grips, but then he’s used to riding mountain bikes in crap weather and thinks wearing Lycra is cool.

Spotlights- Bought from eBay. They’re very bright

Dual USB port – I paid less than 10 pounds of eBay for this in 2019. It has two ports, a voltage meter and temperature gauge. It was still working when the bike got written off a few weeks ago.

ABS Switch– I also fitted this before my South American trip. It wasn’t used as much in  Morocco, but I was still glad I’d fitted it. Adrian didn’t bother fitting one, and didn’t have any issues.

Givi engine guards- I’d fitted these before my trip to South America. I like these guards as they have a bar that connects both sides of the guards using a bar through the frame. I suspect these have saved the engine casings from damage several times when dropping the bike on rocks.

Handguards– Again, these were on the bike since before my first trip. They were bought from CooperB. In spite of having no metal in them, they’ve withstood many drops without getting damaged. They can also easily be increased in size for winter riding using two cut down 2 litre Tesco plastic milk bottles and a couple of cable ties. They finally met their end when I got hit by a car a few weeks ago, but the entire bike was a write-off so I don’t fault them for that- only a small chunk of one handguard broke off.

Heel Guard– This was also bought from CooperB. It protects the rear brake master cylinder, and is in my mind an essential upgrade, especially if you ride offroad.

Front mudguard raisers– Bought from CooperB. Another essential mod if you’re riding offroad. These raise the front mudguard so that mud doesn’t jam up the wheel when riding in the sticky stuff.

Fuel cans– I had the two 3 litre cans I’d used in South America fitted. They turned out to be unnecessary for the trip to Morocco. One of them disappeared on a rough track somewhere in the desert. I’d not noticed it falling off, as I was standing on the pegs most of the day.

Tyres– Once again, I opted for Mitas E-07’s, which served me so well in South America. Adrian fitted the same tyres just before we left at my insistence- his bike was fitted with road-biased tyres when he bought the bike. The Mitas tyres are very good on most surfaces, but they’re not great in  thick mud or heavy sand, especially when the bike is loaded. They are, however, surprisingly good on wet tarmac. Once again, no punctures on the entire trip, on either bike. These tyres are very strong, which does however make removing them quite difficult. However, on this trip they wore out far faster than expected, much quicker than on my South American trip. After the 5000 miles we covered, both rear tyres were worn out and the front tyres probably had about another 1000 miles in them. I put this extra wear down to the long ride through Portugal on the way down on a never-ending series of twisties and the many rough rocky roads we rode on in Morocco. Adrian won’t go anywhere unless the road has lots of squiggles on the map. If I was going to the desert again, I would probably fit knobblies, either Mitas E09’s or Motoz RallZ. There is a company that regularly ships stuff from the UK to Morocco, so I’d send they knobblies down there and ride home on them afterwards. For any trip not involving heavy sand, I’d stick with the Mitas E07’s.

Luggage

Panniers

I used the same Lomo panniers that served me so well in South America. These panniers really are great value for money. My only criticism of them is that their stiffness is very dependent on temperature- on a hot day, they become quite soft, but when the temperature is around zero, they become stiff and can be difficult to roll closed, especially if the panniers are full. I would imagine this is common to all roll-closure soft panniers.

Tank Bag-In South America I’d used a Lomo tankbag, but I found it too big, and a bit of faff to get my camera out of due to the roll-closure. For Morocco, I bought an Enduristan Sandstorm 4H tankbag from Sportsbikeshop. Although fitting the front strap was a bit difficult and it’s too long, I really like this bag. It is completely waterproof, surviving a whole day’s riding in torrential rain without letting in a single drop of water. For me, this is essential, as I had two cameras and a couple of lenses with me. It also has a handy pouch velcroed to the inside for keeping your documents, and a removable map pocket fitted to the top of the bag with velcro. Although the bag is quite large, it didn’t ever get in my way. I’ll be modifying the front straps before my next trip though.

Top bag- A 40 litre dry bag that Lomo kindly donated for my South American trip. This bag has been used on both my adventures, at a dozen or so bike rallies and is the bag I use to put my bike gear in when I go to work. I’m amazed that it is still completely waterproof and hasn’t worn through anywhere. Amazing value for money if you’re looking for a simple, hard-wearing and completely waterproof bag.

Rok Straps- These are quite simply the best luggage straps ever invented. Easy to fit, easy to tighten, durable and simple, I’ll never buy anything else. Two of them kept my top bag secure on the roughest terrain, and they are also very handy for lifting the rear wheel when you’re putting it back on- simply put one over the rear seat and through the rim, then tighten it to lift the wheel.

Spares

Tubes etc– We took one front and one rear tube, a puncture repair kit and I had a Motopressor pump, the same one I used in South America. Once again, it got a bit of crud in it and I had to strip it down and clean it. I won’t be taking this pump again. Adrian had a small bicycle pump, and he could reinflate his tyres after leaving a sandy section as quick as I could get my pump out, connect it and inflate the tyres. I’ll be buying one for my next trip. I also packed a set of three tyre levers. I find it much easier removing tyres with three levers than two. We didn’t have any punctures on the entire trip, which is quite amazing considering the rocky tracks we were often riding on.

Clutch– The only spare part used on the entire trip apart from the oil filter. A spare clutch doesn’t weigh much, so I’ll probably take one on my next trip too.

Cables– I had a spare clutch cable plus a kit for making up new throttle or clutch cables.

Fuses

JB Weld- In my opinion an absolute essential on any long trip. For those unfamiliar with this product, it is a 2 part metal epoxy that can be used to fix metal. It can be sanded or filed after it’s dried. I also carry a piece of steel mesh to use with it on any major repairs. I’ve seen a big block V8 with a hole in the crankcase that was repaired with JB Weld and steel mesh, and it had been repaired over a year earlier and was still going strong. JB Weld will also glue anything together- in South America I repaired a hole in my air mattress with it, and the repair is still holding nearly 3 years later. Adrian also used it on our recent trip to repair the selfie stick he used to mount his GoPro on the bike.

Duct tape– This got used several times. Don’t leave home without it.

Cable ties– always handy to have some of these in different sizes. My number plate light ended up being held on by one.

Brake and clutch levers– I had them anyway, so chucked them in with the spares. They weigh next to nothing, but it was probably pointless taking them.

Oil Filter– we both changed our oil while in Morocco

Oil– I took one litre, used 100ml or so.

Air Filter– We both had DNA filters fitted, so I took a small can of filter oil. For cleaning filters, I found a great tip online about using stain remover mixed with soda water. We couldn’t find stain remover, so used body wash mixed with soda water instead. It worked really well.

Tools

Before a trip, I take all the tools off the bike before doing a full service. I then put all the tools I use servicing it to one side. Then I check the tightness of all the fasteners, bolts etc, and add those tools to the pile. I don’t take a ratchet for the sockets, I had one pack up on me once, so I just take a bar. The screwdriver in the tools provided with the bike is a bit crap so I added a screwdriver with a selection of bits. I also take a small mole wrench and Knipex pliers. Knipex pliers are far easier to use than an adjustable wrench and less likely to strip a nut. They tend to be my most used tool. Don’t forget to check you’ve got the wheel spanners and extension in the bike’s own toolkit. All my tools fit in a roll inside the tube mounted to the left pannier rail.

 

Mechanical issues-.We had two issues on the trip, both on my bike.

My front wheel was a bit buckled before we left, and I’d not managed to get it straightened as I’d had difficulty finding anyone to do it in time. On a particularly rough track in Portugal, I hit a rock and the wheel got bent even more. We found a mechanic in a village who straightened it on the bike by eye, and did an amazing job. It took him less than ten minutes. The boss of the garage wouldn’t accept payment.

The other issue was burning out my clutch in the desert. I was being careful not to ride the clutch, but I guess the 20 000 miles on the bike and all the offroad I’d done in South America had probably not helped. I’d brought a spare clutch with me, and paid a mechanic to fit it in a village in the desert. He’d never worked on a Himalayan before, but after fixing the bike told me he could have fixed it even if I hadn’t had new clutch plates.

Overall impressions

I loved the Himalayan anyway, and nothing from this trip has changed my mind. I’m quite short, with a 29 inch inside leg, so I find most adventure bikes too tall. I’m not an expert offroad, and prefer to be able to reach the ground- I can have both feet flat on the ground on the Himalayan. I also find the bike very comfortable for long distance riding, albeit it’s slower than the larger adventure bikes. Handling is excellent, both on and off road. Off road, it reminds me of an old Land Rover; it’s not as fast as the competition, but it will go absolutely anywhere. It’s an easy bike to work on and simple to maintain. Any roadside mechanic would be able to work on it. Overall, it’s been a very reliable bike. 

Conclusions and lessons learned

The Himalayan is a very capable motorcycle. It’s cheap, comfortable, handles very well and will go anywhere. As already mentioned, it’s been very reliable- The only time I’ve got stuck somewhere was on this recent trip when the clutch went. This could have happened on any bike. However, I was a bit surprised to find on returning from Morocco that the headstock bearings had gone again. The steering had started stiffening up towards the end of the trip, and sure enough the bearings needed replacing again. The upper bearing looked like new, but the lower bearing was rusted and starting to break up. I believe that someone sells upgraded bearing seals, so if anyone reading this knows where I can get some, please leave a note in the comments. I’ve ridden the Himalayan year round in the UK for three years, as well as the two longer trips I’ve done since buying the bike. It’s great in traffic as well as on dirt- the high seating position is ideal when you’re weaving through lines of traffic. I don’t mind getting salt on it as much as I do my Harley; I’ve always treated it with ACF 50 in the winter and rinse it off regularly with a hosepipe. The only rust I’ve found has been on the pannier rails.

The bike handles really well and has no vices that I’ve found. Adrian had never ridden offroad before, and hadn’t ridden a motorcycle for 30 years before this trip, but he had no issues on any of the terrain we rode on except initially in sand. His extensive mountain biking experience obviously helped, and also explained why initially he struggled a bit in sand- I don’t think mountain bikers venture into sand too often. However, I came off several times too. It’s part and parcel of adventure riding. Adrian was riding as fast as me on rough trails almost immediately. The bike inspires confidence, not that Adrian needed it- he’s a Grade A nutter who doesn’t know the meaning of can’t.

Some people complain about the brakes on the Himalayan, but my other bike is a Harley. The front brake needs a good squeeze sometimes, but the brakes are perfectly adequate.The Himalayan is easy to work on, parts are cheap, and it’s low enough that shorter riders can reach the ground with being on tiptoes. If the worst came to the worst and you had to abandon the bike somewhere, you’d not be out of pocket anywhere near as much as with more expensive bikes. You’re less worried about scratching it or getting it filthy. My bike has ended up with scratched paint, a badly dented bash plate, cable ties holding stuff on, but who cares? The Himalayan doesn’t have lots of electronics that can go wrong and is simple enough that any competent bike mechanic will instantly know how to pull it to bits. The bike also doesn’t attract the wrong sort of attention- I’ve been asked several times what it is, and how old it is, but no-one has ever asked me how much it cost. When travelling, personally I prefer to be on a bike that doesn’t advertise my relative (to the locals) wealth. 

My only criticism of the Himalayan, apart from the issue with the headstock bearings, is that it is a bit heavy. At 182kg,  I wish it was 20kg lighter, but it’s still easy enough to lift on your own if you use the right technique. It’s lighter than a Tenere or Africa Twin, and not as top-heavy due to it’s lower stance. Some people moan about it’s lack of top speed, but if you’re travelling at 75mph on a motorway, are you really on an adventure? For a trip to Morocco riding through Spain from Santander, you’ll probably lose 4 hours on the time it would take on a larger capacity adventure bike. I can live with that. We took back-roads, though I appreciate that not everyone has the time available for that luxury.

Our biggest mistake was taking camping gear. That’s down to me. Yeah, I know, some people told me not to bother before I left and I didn’t listen to them. You were right. We only camped for one night on the entire trip. Most of the time it was too cold, wet or windy to contemplate putting up a tent. I’ve spent a lot of time in Morocco in the past, my kids are half Moroccan, but I hadn’t been there for nearly 20 years. The country has changed, and for the better. The police don’t stop you for bribes any more. There’s plenty of cheap auberges and riads available, and competition means that the quality and prices are generally very good. They all love you putting reviews on Google Maps, so it’s very easy to find accommodation. Only one place was full on the entire trip. So why am I mentioning camping gear in a review about the bike? Because the extra weight of the camping gear proved to be an Achilles heel for the Himalayan, on 50/50 tyres, in sand. We ended up paying someone to take our luggage three hundred km through the desert, but the additional bonus with that was that they knew all the detours round particularly bad patches of sand etc. We would have really struggled with fully loaded bikes, especially without knobblies. If I was going out into the Sahara again (and I may be going again next year), I’d get a guide on his 50cc Chinese Docker motorcycle to accompany me, and I definitely wouldn’t be taking any camping gear. I’d also fit knobblies, even though with the bikes unloaded getting though the sand was much easier.

Postscript

Two weeks after getting back from Morocco, I was hit by a car pulling out of a side street in Bolton. I’d stopped before the impact, but the guy obviously never even saw me, as he was still accelerating when he hit me. To add insult to injury, while moving his car after the accident, he ran over the front wheel. Luckily I wasn’t injured apart from sprained thumbs and bruised and sore wrists. The bike was a write-off. I bought it back from the insurance and Bolton Motorcycles kindly removed some of the bits before sending it to a scrapyard who paid the same amount I’d paid the insurance. I’m gutted that a bike that I’ve done so much on, that took me through Argentina, Chile, Portugal, Morocco and Spain, as well as serving as my main transport for three and a half years is now a write-off, though as it was classified as category N, it may end up on the road again. I don’t have the time or the space to fix it myself. I had a quick think about what to get next. It didn’t take long. I’ve just bought another Himalayan from Alan, an old friend of mine. It’s the same colour as my old bike but with only 4000 miles on the clock, and its never been ridden offroad. It’s got the Hitchcock’s 462cc conversion on it, and Alan is fitting a Tec cam to it for me. Hopefully I’ll pick it up in a week or so. I can’t wait.

Often the hardest part about planning a trip is making the decision to go, and then committing to it. The rest is easy. We planned most of the route on the hoof- actually, Adrian planned most of it. He turned out to have quite a talent for finding remote roads full of snow, gravel or mud along with some incredible scenery. We never got to my original planned destination, a hole in the ground near the Mauritanian border, but I wasn’t really expecting to anyway. A destination is just a point to aim at to get you going as far as I am concerned. We weren’t keen on riding 1300km over flat terrain from what proved to be our furthest point south and west to get to it. I never reached my original destination in Argentina either, instead veering off into Chile to ride the Carreterra Austral to O’Higgins.

A few friends have asked me why I risk going on such long and potentially hazardous trips. What if something goes wrong? What if the bike gets damaged or breaks down and you can’t fix it? What if you have an accident? I think my accident in Bolton after covering nearly 12000 miles on foreign roads without incident proves the error in that thinking. One biker friend of mine recently told me that he’d never have the confidence to do a trip like the two I’ve done on my Himalayan. Why not, I asked him? I’m a 62 year old guy who’d not ridden offroad for 30 years before I went to South America at the age of 59. Adrian is a 60 year old guy with nerve damage that makes it difficult for him to get on the bike, and he’d never ridden offroad at all before we went to Morocco. Yet we had an amazing trip, on all types of roads. There’s nothing special about us, we’re not expert riders, we’re just two old farts who decided to do something extraordinary. And the trip was extraordinary- we saw so much amazing scenery, rode so many incredible roads and had such a good time that we’re both already thinking about where to go next. Adrian is looking at Sweden and Canada, I’m looking at South East Asia and maybe Morocco again. For the next two years I’m restricted to winter trips only, due to work.

I hope one day I get to do another trip with Adrian; he turned out to be the best riding companion I could have hoped for. Before I met him, I was planning on going to Morocco solo, as I did to South America. Now I’m glad Adrian turned up at my boat one day in December, to my utter horror clad completely in Lycra, to ask me about the Himalayan. He’d been put in touch with me by Bolton Motorcycles after he’d wandered in to look at bikes to pass some time, and his eye had been caught by the Himalayan.

Finally, if any of you have been dreaming about a long trip but have some reservations, just remember this- whether you think you can or you think you can’t, you’ll end up proving yourself correct.

I am currently writing a book about the trip, which should be out later this year.

 

Men and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Men and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Lately I’ve been hearing a buzzing sound between 2-3000rpm while riding my Himalayan. It’s been getting gradually worse, and I’m using the bike every day to go to work. At first I thought it was the new windscreen I fitted- it’s off a later model, and I had to bodge a bracket from a bit of aluminium. However, grabbing the windscreen while riding made no difference to the noise. Further investigation showed I couldn’t replicate the noise with the bike in neutral, so I started thinking it might be the front sprocket, which I know is worn. I’ve got a new chain and sprockets on order.

The other night, night on my way to work, I started really worrying about it. What if it’s not the sprocket, I wonder? What else could it be? Is there an issue with the engine? I arrive at work and forget about it for the night. It ends up being a late one, and I leave work at 5 am. On the way home, the noise suddenly gets much worse. Bloody hell, it’s the camchain, I think. I’ve knackered something when I put the new cam in. Maybe I didn’t tighten the bolts on the camchain sprocket properly? Perhaps I shouldn’t have reused that tab washer? Or perhaps I’ve installed the camchain tensioner incorrectly? Images flash into my mind of the camchain flapping around, slipping a couple of teeth, a valve hitting a piston. The rear wheel would probably lock up as the engine seizes, and if I don’t pull the clutch in quick enough, I’ll finally get to try out my airbag vest. Assuming the best, I’ll be stuck on the M60 just before rush hour.

Gingerly, I ride the rest of the way home trying to avoid the rpm range where the buzzing occurs. It’s too early to have a good listen to the engine while stationary, I don’t want to wake up the neighbours, so I put the bike in the garage and go to bed. In the afternoon, I do a bit of online research, which seems to confirm my fears. I get the tools out, and am just about to take the camchain tensioner off, resigned to the idea that I’ll probably having to remove the tank and cylinder head too, when I think why not put the bike on the centre stand, run it in gear, and have another listen? I wheel the bike out of the garage, put it on the centre stand, start it and put it in second gear. The noise is there, really loud without a slipstream muffling it. I take the bike out of gear, and the noise continues- for the first time, it’s also there with the bike running in neutral, so it’s definitely not the sprocket. Being able to listen to the noise from different directions rather than from the saddle while riding, it soon becomes obvious that the buzzing isn’t coming from the engine, but somewhere around the headstock. I try pressing the clocks, pulling the windscreen, but the noise is still there. Frustrated, I ask my wife to come out and have a listen. After a few seconds, she grabs the phone mount, and the noise stops. It seems an harmonic vibration was turning the phone mount into a tuning fork, but without any visible vibration. Relieved, and feeling rather stupid, I push the bike back into the garage. Thoughts turn to the Harley, which needs a service, and the rear caliper needs looking at, the pads aren’t wearing evenly. I’m sure the gearbox sounded a bit noisier than usual last time I rode it, too…..I wonder what that could be?

Feb 7: RP71

Feb 7: RP71

6 Feb 2020

No riding today, the weather in the national park was crap, it would have been foggy. Instead I got some laundry done and caught up on some maintenance. I had had a slight oil leak for a couple of days, and decided it needed investigating. The Himalayan is known to have problems with the two visible cylinder head bolts. The guy I’d bought the bike from had told me he had changed these bolts for longer ones, a known fix for the problem. As soon as I removed the bolts, I could see this was not the case. One of the bolts tightened up ok, the other came out with part of the thread, which had evidently separated from the cylinder. It would not tighten at all. I called Bolton Motorcycles, and they suggested trying a longer bolt (thanks again guys!). A quick internet search brought up a car and boat mechanic, Vitus Braig, here in Trevelin. I rode round to his yard, which was full of trucks, old cars, and a couple of boats. Vitus was a fit looking guy in his sixties. He didn’t speak any Engliash, but with Google Translate and a bit of sign language, worked, he soon worked out what I was after. He had a bolt that fitted. Vitus fitted it, and also made a replacement for the missing part from my fuel can, all at no charge! Unfortunately, he only had the one bolt the right length, but the other one was holding ok. Back at the camp site, I cleaned and lubed the chain, and gave the bike a good looking over, checking bolts etc. Then I just spent the rest of the day lazing around. In the evening,  I cooked some pasta on the gas stove. I was running out of gas.  After dinner, I had a shot of whisky, then called it a night.

Another sunset

7 Feb 2020

I woke up early, but didn’t get going until nearly midday. I cooked scrambled eggs with salami, had a coffee, then repacked the panniers yet again. And yet again, the load seemed to reduce. I topped off the fuel, bought a new gas canister, then headed for the Parque Nacional de los Alarces. It’s only 15km from Trevelin.

In the park, lots of lakes, pine trees and expensive looking hotels. The park has lots of camp sites, some free, and apparently it is not allowed to wild camp. Roads are a mix of tar and dirt at the start of the park, so I took all the dirt ones I could find. I was in no rush today, the park is only 70km long. I stopped at Lago Futalaufquen for a coffee and a tart made with Dulce con Leche, the caramelised condensed milk they like so much here. Weather was glorious, and it’s nice just puttering around for a change. Scenery looks a little like Loch Lomond.

Ripio!
Lago Futalafquen

Soon the road turned to ripio, varying from loose gravel, to hard packed sand, to rocks. Running along the eastern shore of Lago Futalaufquen, it’s a very pretty road. I passed a couple of campsites, including two that said free camping. I stopped at the second one. A Danish couple told me it was the best camping spot they had found in the park, and that the paid campsites are quite busy. They were travelling in an old battered camper van, which they had bought in Argentina. I had only ridden 60km, but I was not in any hurry. With the bike, I could get right down to the shoreline, so set up camp right next to the lake. The sun was shining, the scenery amazing, and I set up tent and then wandered down to the lake shore. I chatted for a while to the Danish guy, who was fishing, but he didn’t catch anything. Later on, his girlfriend caught a fish with her first cast. I took a walk along the rocky shoreline, and collected a bit of wood for the stove. The wind died down enough to fly the drone, so I got a bit of aerial footage. The gimbal on the drone had been playing up since I first flew it on RN40, so some of the footage looks a bit jerky. On the shoreline, and eagle took off in front of me.

Dinner was lentil, pepper and salami casserole, cooked on the Lixada wood stove. I really like this stove. It packs up very small, and burns twigs or cones, which are always easy to find. If using tins, you can burn them on the stove afterwards, which stops them attracting critters in the night, and also ensures the tins don’t end up stinking your luggage out before you can dispose of them.

Sunset view from my campsite
Eagle

Two very young couples turned up just before it got dark.. They couldn’t get a fire going. I didn’t know whether to offer to help. Eventually, I wandered over and got their fire going for them. They’d been putting green wood on it, so I gathered some dryer wood. One of them gave me a beer, and I chatted with them for a while before heading back to my tent. One of them knows 3 chords on the guitar, but they are quiet, which is nice.

Cooking dinner

Back at the tent, I sat drinking a whiskey and looking out across Laga Fuatlafquen. What an amazingly beautiful place.  The park is named after a tree, the alerce, which is the world’s second longest living tree.  They can live for over 3600 years. There was also a glacier in the park, but it takes a full days trekking to get to it apparently. I was wondering about spending another night in the park, but thought I’d probably continue towards Bariloche. I’d been thinking about trying to find a camper van, to explore the area with Jackie when she arrived. It had been a very short day, only covering 55km. But it was really nice to have a day with no compunction to cover miles.  It had been a great day, and very relaxing. It was also one of the best camping spots I had found so far. Tomorrow, on the recommendation of a local who offered me some mate tea, I would probably head to Lago Puelo.

Weather or not

As the days get longer, once again motorcycle forums on Facebook and elsewhere are filling up with debates on riding in winter. Of course, it’s everyone’s own choice as to what they do with their motorcycle. Personally, I ride year round, but that’s my choice. What doesn’t really hold water (pun intended) is that if you ride on roads with salt on them, your motorcycle will dissolve, turning into a rusty wreck in a matter of weeks. My Harley, a bike that it’s critics will tell you is a veritable magnet for rust, is now approaching it’s 5th winter. It’s still in very good shape. The key is preparation. I’ve just finished this years annual prepping of  the Harley for winter roads. This entails a very thorough cleaning, the application of Hammerite straight-to-rust paint on the few bits of the frame showing signs of rust, and a liberal coating of ACF50. During the winter, cleaning of the bike is replaced by hosing it down thoroughly to remove salt, without the use of detergent, so as to not wash the ACF50 off. I apply the ACF50 with a paintbrush underneath the bike, and in difficult to get to bits, and the rest of the bike gets wiped over with a cloth soaked in this amazing oil, which was originally developed to protect aircraft from corrosion. Just don’t get it on the brakes. If applying it on a cold day, heat up the container of ACF50 in a bowl of warm water before applying it. Now the bike is ready for winter, let’s ride!  I am no expert on motorcycling, but experience, a bit of common sense, and several frights over the years, have taught me a few valuable lessons. I commute to work year round on the bike, have done a few winter trips to Scotland, and have encountered a fair number of different road conditions. 

 

Riding in the winter can be great fun. The roads tend to be quieter, there’s less chance of roadkill, and nothing beats a crisp winters morning in the countryside imo. It just requires a bit of common sense. Your tyres won’t get as warm, so avoid chucking the bike into twisties, especially early on in your ride. Good tyres are always important, but in the winter especially so. Roads tend to be more slippery in the winter, and you need to be mindful of the possibility of black ice. Those dark shady patches under trees on a bright winters day could be 10 degrees colder than it is out in the sunshine. Black ice is very difficult, if not impossible, to spot, and in the shade, it’s effectively invisible. I tend to ride at lower rpm in the winter, and short-shift, to reduce the chance of breaking traction.  You don’t want to be exploring your bikes power band on a cold or wet road. For the same reason, I tend to revert to a more off-road style of braking, using the rear brake far more than I would on a dry summer road. The key is, keep everything smooth.  Sometimes, on a lonely country road, I will slow down, and then put a foot down on the tarmac briefly to get some idea of how much grip there is. This does however tend to shorten the life of my boots. Also, you need to be aware that, with a low sun in the sky, your shadow in front of you means that oncoming drivers are likely to be partially or even completely blinded by the sun. While on how visible you are, I found that fitting auxiliary lights seemed to drastically reduce the occurrence of potential smidsy’s, as well as appearing to make me more visible while filtering.

 

You do need to keep warm, especially your core and your fingers. I use heated grips, but even with those, my fingertips do sometimes get cold. My Himalayan has hand guards and heated grips, and this combination works better. For clothing, I use layers. Then it’s easy to peel off a layer or two when you stop. The last thing you want on a  cold winters day is to get back on your bike all sweaty. Wind chill will soon have you wishing you’d stayed at home. You don’t need to spend a fortune to keep warm on a motorcycle. My merino wool thermals, bought from Aldi, make a great inner layer. Merino is warm, comfortable, and wicks moisture if you sweat. Over that, I wear more layers, the amount depending on the temperature.  A long sleeved, polo necked wool top and a fleece is all I usually wear over the Merino underlayer. This wool top is fairly thin, so doesn’t restrict movement. There’s nothing worse than feeling like the Michelin man astride your winter hack. I have removed the thermal liner from my jacket, which is an Oxford Mondial Advanced textile jacket, and instead wear a lightweight down jacket, purchased from Decathlon.  A major advantage of this is, that when you stop, or when camping, you have a warm jacket to wear without having to walk around in your bike jacket. The Oxford jacket is good value for a laminated textile jacket, and served me well on my South American trip earlier this year. However, the first one I bought leaked, but it was replaced by Oxford. (A quick disclaimer here: none of the equipment mentioned is sponsored in any way. My main point from mentioning the gear I use is that you don’t have to spend a fortune to keep warm and dry). On my legs, I wear a merino base layer (two if it’s really cold), jeans, and  my old Arma textile pants with thermal liner. This is sufficient for me. The Arma pants were quite cheap, and I re-waterproof them every year. They have survived 4 winters, as well as my South American trip.  For socks, I use a thin pair of bamboo socks (Aldi again), and a pair of ski socks. Under my gloves, which are winter waterproof gloves from Halvarrsons, I wear silk liners, which have the added advantage of making it much easier to remove and put on your gloves. I carry two spare pairs of gloves on any longer trip; waterproof gloves may keep your hands dry, but evaporation from the wet outer layer has a significant cooling effect on your fingers.  For my neck, I use a waterproof neck tube from Halvarrsons, which I find comfortable as well as waterproof. If it’s really cold, I wear a thin generic neck tube under that. Lastly, in winter I always take a waterproof over-jacket and pants, not necessarily for rain (my textile pants and jacket are waterproof) but as an extra, windproof layer for warmth. A few years ago, riding along Loch Ness on a clear cold day in November, I was very glad to have this extra layer. It was so cold I also stuffed a fleece towel down the front of my jacket, a trick I first used in Qatar on a cold winters night, when my friend Mikey and me bought towels at a gas station while out on a desert ride. But, whenever you get cold enough that you think your riding ability is impaired, stop. Take a break, heave a coffee, warm your hands up. Lastly, the boots I wear, year round, are Sidi Canyon GTX, which, apart from being completely waterproof, are comfortable to walk around in. More importantly, they have soles with great grip.

The last thing I will say about adverse weather, though, is to do with riding in rain. I see a lot of comments from people on forums who don’t ride at all in the wet. While I respect their choice on when to ride, I think avoiding riding in the rain completely is potentially dangerous. What happens when you find yourself in a position where you are unexpectedly forced to ride in the rain? If you have no experience of it, you are likely to tense up, feel unsafe, and consequently not ride as well as you could if you had practiced riding in adverse weather. So, even if you have no plans to ride in the wet, make a point of doing it occasionally. Take a small trip out in the rain, close to home, on roads you are familiar with. Get a feel for how it feels riding on wet roads, force yourself to think about increased braking distance. Get used to using the rear brake more, especially when you find you’ve gone into a corner a bit faster than you’d like. Don’t forget that most tyres still have over 80% of their grip on a wet road. Get some confidence in how your bike handles in the wet. An unexpected downpour is not the time to learn wet weather skills. Get some practice in on your own terms, not when it’s forced upon you. One great bit of kit I have found is the Bob Heath V-Wipe, which slips over your index finger, and works as a windscreen wiper. You can see one on my glove in the pic above. It only costs a few quid, and it works really well.  A pinlock is also pretty essential for riding in cold and wet weather. 

So that’s my tuppence worth on winter riding. As I said, I am no expert, it’s just what works for me. Let me know in the comments what tricks or tips you have for winter riding.

Keep the blue side up.

 

Ode to a Harley

Ode to a Harley

Harleys seem to be the bikes everyone loves to hate.  I have to confess, before I became a Harley owner myself, I shared some of these ideas. Let me know if any of them sound familiar….

Harleys can’t go round corners, can’t stop, can’t be relied on. They cost too much and leak oil everywhere. They weigh the same as a small armoured personnel carrier and scrape their saggy frames over the slightest dent in the road. Their engine is based on the power plant of a failed tractor. They can go quite fast though. 80mph on a good day. Eventually. In a straight line. They make so much noise they set off any car alarm within a half mile radius. Form replaces function in an orgy of chrome, spangly paint jobs with flaming skulls, panniers with half an inch clearance from the road. In many cases, the complete removal of the rear suspension and extension of the forks makes them even more unrideable.  And then there’s  stereotyped ideas about the people who ride Harleys….

Bagger-form over function

Speak to most bikers, and Harleys are usually ridden by bank managers, executives, insurance salesmen or dentists, who want to look cool on the weekends. They like nothing better than to ride twenty miles to Starbucks, where they can coo over each others bikes while drinking caramel lattes and talking about exhaust pipes and awesome rides to the Harley dealer to buy T shirts. They all wear Harley branded gear, which means they can’t really wear any proper protection, and the really radical ones grow beards and wear large metal bracelets and bandanas. Corporate-branded bikers who can’t actually ride very well. 

Or, there’s another stereotype;  this stereotype is more commonly held by the general public, as opposed to other bikers. In this iteration, Harley riders  are dirty, unwashed, smelly middle aged men with bloodshot eyes and beer bellies. They like making noise and leering at your daughter through matted facial hair full of bits of the last pie they ate , and battering strangers to a pulp for looking at them. They drink heavily, and refer to their girlfriends as “the bitch”. They never wash their bikes and ride around in gangs. They ride bikes that are held together with zip-ties and wire, scratched matte paint that looks like it was applied with a coarse brush. The rear suspension has been removed and replaced with a rigid frame, bought off Ebay or welded together by a mate, and they have chopped enough off the rear fender off to have a permanent stain up the back of their jacket. They like nothing better than terrorising traffic in huge groups as they thunder along the motorway. They rebuild wrecked and stolen bikes in cold sheds while drinking beer, with the assistance of a friend to chop lines, roll joints and keep Metallica playing.

As I said, I probably shared some of these ideas.

Desert ride in Qatar
Jackie on her Heritage in Qatar

Then we moved to Qatar. It’s a pretty Conservative country. It’s pretty boring, unless you love shopping and sand. After a while, my wife and I met some bikers there. They seemed much more interesting than the weekend barbecue set. They also let us into a little secret; the Qatari people also like Harleys. In fact, they love them, especially blingy baggers. So, when you are on the road, disguised in your bike gear, the foreigners who make up the vast majority of the populace assume you might be a local, and causing you to come off your bike might result in them being flogged, imprisoned, fined a years wages, or deported. So they make sure they make way for you.  Jackie had always wanted a Sportster; she actually had a picture of one on her fridge when I met her. So we bought two 1200 Sportsters. Both of us hadn’t ridden bikes for 20 years or so. Buying a new bike comes with automatic membership of HOG (Harley Owners Group) for one year, so we started going for rides with the local HOG chapter, and met some great people, many of whom actually were bank managers and insurance salesmen. Then one Friday, we went for a ride with a local MC.  And these were actually really nice people. Not a 1% club, like the MC’s in the UK, but a group of very cool dudes who loved riding motorcycles and hanging out together. 

After a year of riding with Wataweet, we both became prospects, and, eventually fully patched members. I started looking at bigger bikes. One day, I took my Sportster for a service and the dealer lent me a Softail Slim, no doubt in the hopes that I would buy one.  I loved the Slim. Low seat, lots more power, great handling, and it looks pretty good too.  The one I bought had been customised by a fellow pilot. He blacked the whole bike out, which was very attractive to me, as the idea of polishing chrome or even washing my bike doesn’t appeal.

Not long after this, Jackie got a new bike too, a Heritage Softail, which she loves as much as I love my Slim. It’s got some chrome on it, but she doesn’t mind the odd bit of polishing.

So, why do I love my Slim so much? Well, how many bikes make you grin like a kid every time you get on them? How can you not love a low revving, high torque, 1690cc motor? Pls, being a short-arse, it’s very low, so I can flat-foot it. The centre of gravity is so low it will almost stand up on it’s own. It is also very comfortable, though only since I made a few mods. When I first bought the bike, it already had the ape-hanger bars on it; I originally intended to replace them with stock handlebars. By the time I got around to looking for some, I had changed my mind. Although they look very high, when sitting on the bike my hands are below shoulder height, so no numbness or tingling of fingers after an hour or so in the saddle. I got rid of the stock seat (which is awful), replacing it with a Mustang seat with a backrest. The backrest actually transformed the bike. With the apes, the upright position is not conducive to fast motorway riding. Above about 65mph, it feels like you are hanging on for dear life. A 300km trip through a sandstorm at high speed in Jordan convinced me of the need for a backrest. Now the bars are very comfortable. What I have noticed the most with these bars, is how intuitive counter-steering is. In fact, there’s no sensation of doing anything else. I don’t have to lean; if I want to go right, I pull on the left grip. If I want to tighten the turn, I pull harder. It’s very controllable, and very simple. Moving around on the saddle isn’t go to do much on a 304 kg bike anyway. Footboards are so much better than pegs imo. You can move your feet around. The bike obviously won’t lean as much as a pointy plastic bike, but it is incredibly stable in corners. The slimmer rear tyre means it’s actually pretty nimble. It’s rare that I scrape the boards, as I know exactly when they are going to connect with the road. The engine has torque available in any gear and at almost any RPM.

Now we are back in the UK. We brought three bikes back with us., the Slim, the Heritage and Jackies Sportster, which we actually shipped to the UK while we were still in Qatar. We can’t wear our patches here, but we still meet up with Wataweet for a tour once a year. Last year was Italy, the year before, Scotland. We go to 5 or 6 rallies a year, favouring the smaller MCC rallies.  I have done 3 trips around Scotland, one to Lands End on A and B roads, several trips to London, and I use the Slim year round for commuting. The bike now has 34 000 miles on it. I will never replace it. I am planning on getting a Royal Enfield Himalayan, but as an additional, off road capable, adventure machine. Meanwhile, the adventures continue on the Harleys.

Any bike can be an adventure bike…

I’ve recently put a windscreen on the bike; not a Harley one, but a generic screen off Ebay. I commute all year on the bike, so figure I’m allowed some wind protection, even though my club-mates say it looks wrong. The only other mod on the bike I have done since buying it is to change the front brake lever with an Oberon adjustable lever, which is easier to pull, and replaced the stock tyres with Michelin 888’s. These tyres really surprised me with how good they are in the wet, and how they don’t track tar-snakes. And belt drive…I just don’t understand why all bikes aren’t belt drive. No adjustments or servicing needed, super reliable, and they don’t get covered in dirt and need replacing every 20000 miles.

If you like rallies or camping, which we both do, then a Harley is definitely the way to get there. They can carry a lot of gear. Jackie and myself have been to several rallies the last few summers, bikes loaded up with camping gear and everything including the kitchen sink. Yep, really; a kitchen sink. How many of you take a kitchen sink on a camping trip? And a potty? My wife also has a bed; we have a table, 2 chairs, 2 mattresses, a twin burner stove; all the comforts we need for our large tent, standing room throughout, which was nicknamed “The Bungalow” at one rally we went to last year

Our bikes outside The Bungalow

So how does being loaded up like this affect the bike? To be honest, the only thing I notice that’s different, is that the fuel consumption goes up.(I am not going to pretend fuel economy is great to start with; my car is actually more economical).  Performance seems the same. Comfort is unaffected. Handling is also unaffected, save that I am guessing the brakes must be a bit less efficient (though I’ve not noticed).

How about traffic? I often get asked how big heavy bikes like the Slim or my wife’s Heritage fare in traffic. Well, I commute on it, and I don’t get stuck in traffic. The bike is great for filtering. The bars are above the height of normal car wing mirrors (though in Qatar the bars were the same height as the mirrors on the standard vehicle, white Land Cruisers. I confess I hit a fair number of them). The low C of G means it’s very stable at low speed. The loud pipes mean I never need to use the horn; a blip on the throttle does just as well. To be honest, I couldn’t tell you if the horn actually works. The three lights on the front, and the size of the bike, means I’m pretty visible. On the way to a rally a few months ago, we got caught up in a huge traffic jam on the M62, during Friday rush hour. Jackie led the way, and we filtered for 20 miles or so. After a few miles, we passed a guy hunched in the foetal position on his Yamasuki Ninjablade, who was also threading his way through traffic. He slotted in behind me and filtered with us for twenty miles or so before giving us a wave as he peeled off on his exit.

The bike will cruise effortlessly at 85mph. Do I really want to go faster than that? Not on a public road. The Slim is great on any road that is tarmac, however twisty, narrow or steep it is. Riding it up Hardknott Pass was a total blast (Video is on YouTube https://youtu.be/NycaojqS7cY if). I can (and do) do 10 hour days on the bike without any aches. I often see people peeling themselves off their Kwakabusa’s, clad in their thin, cold, leather power-ranger suits, taking ten minutes to straighten out their bodies, like they have just crawled out of a Kinder egg after a lengthy gestation. Though, I have also seen guys getting off hard-tail Harleys looking like they need new kidneys. While I like form, function takes precedence. I am as bemused by 30 grand flaming skull choppers that look unrideable, as I am by seeing 200bhp bikes that belong on a race-track being ridden on public roads.

 

But who cares? I’m very happy with my bike, and, whatever anyone else rides, it’s their choice. At least they are riding. I can’t see me ever buying a different road bike, but I guess I am now a Harley guy. I’ve even got a beard.